#More specifically she said she set a hard limit and had a ''If I win I win and if I don't I don't'' mindset going into it

[royalarchivist]

Ironmouse: The jacket? Amazing! Beautiful! Holy sht, incredible! Incredible jacket! I can't believe it! Cellbit is cra– he's so talented! He hand-painted that stuff! He hand-painted!

[rennyji]

Nikki Haley-the sharp candidate with heart

the sharper candidate

I saw the state of the presidential GOP primary race on television today, given by Nikki Haley.

I do not mean to put pressure on one candidate over another, but we need someone sharp, and able to finish sentences and perspectives, as does Nikki Haley, or someone equally good who measures to the bar of hard work she set.

Something I extracted from her speech is her immense spirit for wanting to take on the uphill battle of not just becoming President of the United States, but on a more preliminary level: the nominee for the Republican Party.

What she's doing, and quite a lot at that, is what she is willing to do, just to become the "nominee of her party," even when the odds/statistics are stacked against her.

She shows grace and eloquence in speech and demeanor. It alludes to mental sharpness. She doesn't sound on low volume like Joe Biden, and she completes a thought, unlike Donald Trump.

Biden and Trump symbolize brain dullness. If there is a minimum age to become President (I think 35, so that a person has some life experience), shouldn't there be an age limit, as well, to address biological/genetic mental acuity?

On Trump completing a thought, this is what he said after winning one of the primaries - the quote is from The Daily Mail from his speech:

--- The quote:

"'These are very dishonest people and you're always fighting that, and just a little note to Nikki: She's not going to win,' Trump said. 'But if she did, she would be under investigation by those people in 15 minutes and I could tell you five reasons why already. Not big reasons. A little bit of stuff that she doesn't want to talk about. But she will be under investigation within minutes,' he said, introducing suspicion without specifying any particular inappropriate conduct."

My take: Now if Trump is so confident in his accusation, why doesn't he list the five reasons Haley should be under investigation? Who are "those" people? And really? "15 min?" And if they're "not big reasons," what is the accusation? It's how Trump talks. He makes a claim, walks a little backward, and gives no specification, after. What his supporters seem to like is his vengeful tone, which seems synonymous with raising America from the dead.

But what his supporters need to remember? Enthusiasm only last for so long, whether its sourced in vengeance or something else. What lasts is conviction and will power. Nikki Haley believes in her ability, she believes in this country, and she exercises immense will power to win support to her cause. Haley shows she can go the distance, that "she will be here" today, as well as "tomorrow", not just for the duration of the enthusiasm.

Today, 2/20/2024, when Trump got off the plane in - I think - South Carolina, he said, Nikki Haley? "...We had enough of her." Just at that, his supporters indicate their approval. But "enough of what?" What's the topic?

Trump never specifies. And his supporters don't care.

Everyone views the Reagan administration in high regard. If you were to look at the warm presence of Reagan congratulating someone or empathizing with someone, is he more like the vindictive Trump or the sociable Nikki Haley? Did the GOP just settle on someone who carries the most sway with people for a quick win? Seems like they settled for the quicker option to carrying out their agenda, from what's seen with the minimal progress in the House of Representatives, since the ousting of the Speaker and the endless Continuing Resolutions. Did the GOP give up on the substance or content of one's character for just the idea or notion of MAGA? Whose more likely to do the work of making America great again?

I'll be honest. I like Trump's drive to influence crowds and his determination in saying things like "we're going to drill" in Alaska. But did he actually build the great beautiful wall on the southern border, that he touted, and did he get Mexico to pay for it? All that influence and determination...and yet, Trump left the wall to be built under the Biden Administration, through restriction of funds allocated to building a wall, through the Impediment Act. And What kind of a wall was ultimately built? Not one made of solid stone, but of removable wooden pillars. If Trump did what he said he was determined to do, would it have resulted in the border crisis under the Biden administration?

Regarding Trump's influence of crowds... those people who fought to overturn the election under his suspicions - aren't they in jail while Trump returned to his life and endured his court cases? What about his lawyers? Did they get paid? What about the mayors, and congressman that supported him? Didn't he turn on them? What about Fox News contributors who suggest something to help him in his day to day chaos? Despite daily loyal support, doesn't he lash out against them on True Social or Twitter, by calling them RINOs? Some of those contributors, just yesterday were facing "fakes" accusations on Twitter, for constantly supporting him without the slightest Thanks.

***

If you can't express a difference of opinion to a leader, causally or comfortably, then you have what Alexei Navalny and his family went through in Russia.

If I need help because my car stopped working in the middle of the road, who's more likely to call me a cab: Donald Trump or Nikki Haley?! Who is likely to continue the argument on when life begins, or the "life of soul" (more than the body) begins - Haley, a mother of two? Or Trump, connected with two recorded infidelities and a related lost recent court case?)

Who is likely not to separate children from parents, when deporting illegal immigrants - Haley or Trump?

Who is likely to help their neighbor in countries across the world like Ukraine and Israel - Haley or Trump?

Who addresses China's potential to hack America's power grid - Haley or Trump? Haley.

---

Biden? The gaffs are endless. You often see him wander from one direction of the podium to another, unsure of where to go, or forgetting where to go. This is after 8 years as VP and 4 years as President.

He was asked today, 2/20/24, "Who would you rather run against: Nikki Haley or Donald Trump?" He apathetically says, "He doesn't care."

And that's the thing. He is a well intentioned, accomplished individual. However, from such statements, from his low volume, especially in comparison to the enthusiasms of Trump, it's hard to wonder if he cares enough for action. Maybe Biden's tired... When asked about closing the border, Biden was heard saying "Congress doesn't give me the money." So that's it? You gave up? You have to assume he did, because for the past year alone, there's 5000 asylum seekers daily, according to an average, where there could be a total of 25000 asylum seekers, weekly. How can there be that many asylum seekers, weekly, for just this past year alone?

Then the current administration, that doesn't have money to close the border or build The Great Wall, finances health care, credit cards, & housing for asylum seekers, while San Francisco, alone, is lined with native homeless people on its streets.

---

Nikki Haley is a candidate, who chooses to, and can, appear on CNN and Fox News, whereas Trump may not be CNN's favorite, and Fox News is conversely supportive of her contender. Nikki shows she can lead both parties, or both sides of the isle, just by being able to make comfortable appearances on both channels.

She is toiling away for a position, that her contender, Donald Trump, believes is assured to him.

While Trump uses non-mandatory court appearances to not debate or campaign, Nikki Haley is slaving away for a belief, a hope, a dream. Isn't that the process towards the American Dream? I heard in some shape or form, that the American Dream is money, power, & respect. While Trump rides on the praises of his affluence or the image of money, Haley clearly seeks the "respect," earning the power (and consequently the money/perks) of the Presidency. She makes this clear by standing her ground and knowingly going against statistics.

It reminds me of something I heard, growing up. I had a second cousin who was quite talented in academics. Me? My focus, was not that good. My second cousin became comfortable in what he saw as a sure thing to getting A's. We were a competitive pair. He felt so comfortable over the edge he had over me, he started taking it easy. I continued to toil away. I realized if my focus wasn't good, I can still do equally well by notating and memorizing everything the teacher said. I became acquainted with the saying, "When talent doesn't work hard, hard work beats talent." That semester, and every semester after, I was on the Dean's List, while my second cousin got second honors or less.

In the case of my second cousin, and maybe Donald Trump, when things seem like a sure thing, you kind of coast by. For something like an election, you're not showing that you really want to take on a task, that revolves around leading and helping others.

For the evangelicals and Middle America that somehow rise to Trump,

Is it Trump, from sitting idly/playing victim of the government, or Haley toiling away,

that composes the individual who made 10 coins, 20 coins? Who is coasting by, burying the one advantage, the one coin, they currently have?

Who is the "persistent servant" of the people, who should get the Blessing of Victory from the Divine Master?

---

The infamous 14th Amendment used against Trump says:

No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice-President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any State, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof. But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability.

My take:

Everyone gets hung up on the word "insurrection." Trump may not have said, "overthrow the government," but he did instigate a "riot." By now, with his derogatory sayings of court clerks and others, Trump knows those people are going to fall victim to the hate of his supporters. His supporters are a passionate group. They have fire and that's as clear as day. I think it's safe to say, Trump knows of their passion. When he encourages a rigged election notion, he should be cognizant and responsible to expect the kind of reaction received in that fateful January.

That being said, I get hung up on the word "officer of the United States."

Maybe Trump sees himself as Putin. Maybe, just for the 1st day, he wants to be a dictator so that he can "drill, baby, drill" in Alaska to lower gas prices.

However, from his mannerisms, I don't think he, like others, realize that the office of the President is not King or Dictator, but an office of service to the people. It is not an office for praises and glory, but of humility.

In my opinion, the office of the President is the epitome of the line: "officer of the United States."

If the Christ figure, believed as God, in Christianity, can lower Himself to wash the feet of His disciplines, the President, is and can be, an officer of the people. Even if Christ were to be a character in a story, His humble action of washing feet extends into applicable reality.

---

If Trump is talent, because of his influence, Nikki Haley is hard work. Trump, just yesterday, was debuting his sneakers, while Nikki Haley was still trying to indicate why she is the better candidate. Again, "when talent doesn't work hard, hard work beats talent." "Heroes come and go, but legends never die."

Heroes make headlines, but legends make history.

Haley knows the numbers. But she still faithfully continues out of conviction.

Trump is saying things like "if Nato members don't pay what's owed, then he will encourage oppressors to rage against them."

A leader, especially the American President is not a tyrant, but a figure of compassion. Haley embodies the latter.

When I write about something, it's usually because it's something thought provoking, that doesn't require much thought: it just flows.

Writing my support of Nikki Haley, is not something I had to think about, especially if you're seeing me type this as I'm typing. It just flowed, from all the things I've seen and heard. I don't have to think about whether she is the right candidate. On people's minds, there is Biden, Trump, Haley. Only Nikki Haley makes sense.

I do not mean to put pressure on one candidate over another, but we need someone sharp, and able to finish sentences and perspectives, as does Nikki Haley, or someone equally good who measures to the bar of hard work she set.

[xipiti]

[EDITED TO ADD:]This post is about 2 cats who are named Jean and Jorts, cat tax HERE :

UPDATE is here

THE STORY We have two workplace cats in one area of our worksite. They add value to the worksite, we all love the cats and the worksite cat presence is not the issue. One of the cats (Jean) is a tortoiseshell cat we have had for years. The other cat (Jorts) is a large orange cat and a recent addition.

Jorts is just… kind of a simple guy. For example, Jorts can’t open a door even when it’s ajar— he shoves it whether he is going in or out, so often he closes the door he is trying to go through. This means he is often trapped inside the place he was trying to exit and meows until he is rescued.

My colleague Pam (not her real name) has been spending a lot of time trying to teach Jorts things. The doors thing is the main example — it’s a real issue because the cats are fed in a closet and Jorts keeps pushing the door closed. Jean can actually open all the other interior doors since they are a lever type knob, but she can’t open this particular door if she is trapped INSIDE the closet.

Tortie Jean is very nice to poor orange Jorts, and she is kept busy letting him out of rooms he has trapped himself in, so this seems easy to resolve. I put down a door stop.

Pam then said I was depriving Jorts of the “chance to learn” and kept removing the doorstop. She set up a series of special learning activities for Jorts, and tried to put these tasks on the whiteboard of daily team tasks (I erased them). She thinks we need to teach him how to clean himself better and how to get out of minor barriers like when he gets a cup stuck on his head, etc. I love Jorts but he’s just dumb af and we can’t change that.

Don’t get me wrong— watching her try to teach Jorts how to walk through a door is hilarious, but Jean got locked in the closet twice last week. Yesterday I installed a cat cutout thing in the door and Pam started getting really huffy. I made a gentle joke about “you can’t expect Jean’s tortoiseshell smarts from orange cat Jorts” which made Pam FURIOUS. She started crying and left the hallway, then sent an email to the group (including volunteers) and went home early.

In her email Pam said I was “perpetuating ethnic stereotypes by saying orange cats are dumb” and is demanding a racial sensitivity training before she will return. I don’t think it’s relevant but just in case, Pam is a white person in a mostly minority staff (and no she is not ginger/does not have red hair).

TL;DR: AITA for ‘enforcing an ethnic stereotype’ by joking that orange cats are often dumb?

The Update:

Original HERE

Thanks for responding to my query which had truly upset me. I work to have a good relationship with my team and the situation had gotten weird so gradually that I lost perspective.

I just met with HR, she had already met with Pam. HR was concerned about Pam’s comparing ethnic stereotypes with giving a cat a doorstop and they addressed that which went well. HR will follow up to make sure Pam understands. (The replies to my query were helpful to me for this discussion.)

HR also addressed Pam assigning other staff Jorts-related tutoring, as it is not appropriate for Pam to assign others work. This also went well.

We both think Pam had a hard time with the transition from volunteer to staff, and may have “new kid” sensitivity projected to Jorts. Pam got emotional about her perception that I favor Jean over Jorts and gave specific examples. Some of these things are fair. Jorts deserves respect as a member of our team.

There are 3 buildings in our workplace. Jean and Jorts are limited to one. HR told me there were 5 holdouts about vaccines, and restricting unvaccinated people from entering the building (to protect Jean and Jorts) was enough to win over 4 of them. That’s CRAZY, but great.

More importantly: the cats’ presence greatly enhances our work with our clients, and Jorts’ friendly nature has been so great. Both cats truly are doing important work. Truly Jorts deserves to be treated with respect.

We all deserve to be treated with dignity at work, so I will apologize to Jorts about some things that were insensitive or disrespectful.

a. Jean has a nice cat bed with her name on it, while Jorts has chosen an old boot tray in my office with a towel in it. Recently a visitor put wet boots in the boot tray and Pam saw Jorts sleeping on the wet boots. I bought a bed for Jorts today and a name tag has been ordered.

b. I will apologize to Jorts and remove the sign saying “DAYS SINCE JORTS HAD A TRASH CAN MISHAP: 0” Jorts likes to fish dirty paper cups out and he often falls into the bin or gets a cup stuck on his head, etc. (He is able to get out of the bin by tipping it over so it isn’t a safety issue.)

c. Jean’s “staff bio” has a photo of Jean, while Jorts’ bio has a photo of a sweet potato. I did not actually know either cat had a staff bio, but we will use a photo of Jorts instead of a sweet potato.

HR also suggested changing Pam’s duties so she is “in charge” of the cats. This I refused, the cats are my staff, not Pam’s. I think Pam was well-intended but actually not meeting the needs of either Jean or Jorts so they remain under my supervision. (Pam is also not to put cups on Jorts’ head or intentionally put him into frustrating situations given his unique needs.)

Lastly, and this made us both laugh so hard we can’t deal with it in person and will be said via email: Pam admits that she has been putting margarine on Jorts in an attempt to teach him to groom himself better. This may explain the diarrhea problem Jean developed (which required a vet visit).

Pam is NOT to apply margarine to any of her coworkers. Jean has shown she is willing to be in charge of helping Jorts stay clean. If this task becomes onerous for Jean, we can have a groomer help. I am crying laughing typing this.

added: I’m so glad this brought joy. Fan mail can be directed to jortsandjean @ gmail dot com.

or follow the Jorts and Jean joke account on twitter @JortsTheCat

[dragonmuse]

if you’re still taking prompts, I would love to see Izzy interact with Olu — or more specifically, Teal. I think it would be cool to see him interact with someone from the gang in a drag context without the baggage that comes with Eddy or the metamour dynamic with Pete, and as he and Jim are pretty much fixtures in each other’s lives I think Olu/Teal would be an interesting choice.

( Always taking prompts! I know I don't answer them every time, but I love getting them and sometimes will return to quite far back to pick and choose through them!)

“What do you think about the fountain?” Teal asked. One of the feathers in her headpiece was drooping a little. 

Izzy turned to take in the setting. He’d agreed to do the photoshoot because Jim had asked with a hint of sincerity and it was hard to say no to that.  

“Might take over the shot, but could be worth a try,” he decided.  

“Great, okay.” 

They started there, but Teal seemed a bit flummoxed as a model. While Izzy was more comfortable taking pictures of people these days, he was still mostly interested in candid shots, so he didn’t have much advice to offer. They reached an impasse a few minutes in when Teal had grimaced through a few dozen photos.

“Fuck,” She sighed and sat down on the edge of the fountain. “I hate this.” 

“It shows,” Izzy grumbled. 

“Sorry,” she pushed at the drooping feather. “I appreciate you doing this. If I knew that winning regionals meant having to get ready for nationals, I probably wouldn’t have gone.” 

“Jim would’ve kicked your ass.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she smiled fondly. “But seriously. If this is just a waste of time, we can just go.” 

“Why would it be a waste of time?” Izzy looked up from the setting he’d been messing with. 

“I mean if we can’t get a good shot, then why are we here, you know?” 

“We’re going to get a shot,” he said with iron certainty. “You’re dressed up. I’ve got a camera. Just need to figure out the right way to do it.” 

“It just feels really forced. What do I care if someone sees a picture of me and decides what kind of person I am?” The feather flopped over again. “If I’m a ‘winner’ whatever that means. I put on the dress to have fun, you know?” 

“I...don’t know,” Izzy admitted. “Never really thought about it. Tell me about it.”  

He sat down next to Teal, and looked at her expectantly. 

“Wait...really?” 

“Really.” Izzy shrugged. “Might help if I understood what you’re getting out of it.” 

“Huh, yeah okay,” she sat up a little straighter. “I always liked frilly things. Maybe it was growing up in such a feminine household. Mom never made anything off limits, so I got to play dress up like my sisters. So it was always around a little. When I got out of college, I started going to clubs. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, but  when I saw my first drag show, I knew that’s what I wanted to do. Like it clicked in my soul, you know?” 

“I know the feeling,” Izzy nodded. He’d known the first time he saw Eddy tear through a fight that that was where he belonged.  

“I love being on stage. How you can make a room of people happy just by pretending to sing someone else's song. It’s magic. And if you can do it in heels and a big dress, then that just makes it even more joyful. It’s really hard to be sad when you’ve got glitter on.” 

“Ok then,” Izzy considered. “Then you should perform. Right now.” 

“Uh,” Teal gestured around them, “this isn’t exactly a stage. And you’re not much of an audience.” 

“And you’ve got fake tits on that we're both pretending are real. So what? It’s all fake until it isn’t.” He said, then warmed to the idea himself as he was saying it. “Put something on your phone that you like.” 

What Teal liked was Motown apparently. It didn’t work right away, but the music helped and as she loosened up, Teal started strutting across the lip of the fountain and Izzy moved faster. The light was fading on them, but that looked good too. 

“Is that enough? You think you got something?” she asked between songs. She was starting to sweat, beads of perspiration making her makeup run a little. 

Izzy nodded vaguely. He was thinking about Jim, oddly. How they always took the most ridiculous risks to get what was needed and how it drove him up the wall, but was hard to argue with their results. 

Teal loved Jim. Probably for a good reason. 

“Hey,” he took a quick glance around. “What do you think about getting in the water?” 

“No,” Teal said quickly, then paused. “Really?” 

“Take off your shoes if you’re worried about them. We’ll do it quick.” 

“You sure?” But Teal was already kicking off her heels and hiking up her dress a little. 

“Why the fuck not?” 

Teal landed with a small splash. The water wasn’t very deep and it held the color of the sky. The sheer ridiculousness of the moment seized Teal and the far more familiar, warm smile spread over her face as she kicked at the water and sent up a rain of droplets. 

Hours later, alone in his apartment, Izzy carefully color corrected and cropped. He selected two shots, one of Teal posed in front of the fountain, very professional looking and clean. Perfect headshot material if that’s what she wanted.  And the other was a Teal with her head thrown back, beatific smile on her face, eyes closed against the orange light of the setting sun.

Izzy: If you want to see others, we've got plenty to work with.

Oluwande: Are you kidding? I love it. Ok if I send it to Luc for social media?

Izzy: It's yours.

And if that meant Izzy got a biting kiss of a compliment over it later, that was just the icing on the cake.

[broadwayandnetflix]

Slow Down - Bill Hader x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff + 1/4 of Angst

Summary:  Hi I’ve literally been binging all of your fics and I didn’t know if you were still taking requests, but I was wondering if I could request an imagine with Bill Hader where the reader is sick and passes out at SNL and Bill helps them and takes them home

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Ahh thank you so much for your patience @bduchrnskei​ I really hope you enjoy this fic and it met your prompt expectations. I absolutely loved writing this one amongst all of my evil schoolwork, but what can you do? 

Living in a small-sized New York City apartment was not all that it’s cracked up to be. Whether it’s the heavy traffic and clutter of construction that never halts or the extreme temperatures during any season.

In this case, in particular, winter.

Or, more specifically, in this case, your heater broke, and it had become like an iceberg within your apartment space. As stated by your landlord, the repairmen were supposed to come on Saturday night, and as of right now, it was Thursday.

So bundling up had to do, in a way, you kind of missed the heater’s incessant rattling, as it had become a sort of a white noise these last few months.

You hadn’t been in New York City for very long, a little under a year, maybe? It wasn’t like you to pack up and move randomly to the Big Apple, but after clearing a spot as a new cast member with Saturday Night Live. It was most certainly a must.

Ever since you were little, you’d always had a knack for making others laugh or just getting to see someone smile. Saturday Night Live became your goal, and to secure it was like winning a million dollars. Even if it meant having to endure New York’s extreme seasonal changes.

This week was no different in the typical workflow; you were technically a new cast member. So the number of sketches you had been in was significantly limited. Still, you loved it nonetheless, with the lack of skits that you had been in lately allowed you to get to know your cast members more.

Specifically, your other recurring cast members like Nasim Pedrad and Jenny Slate, the three of you would often meet up for coffee on Sundays. Taking the time to decompress and discuss your favorite sketches of the week. It was nice to have a group of people you could relate to and find solace in, especially when the weeks became stressful or exhausting.

And oh boy, did your week’s become exhausting, especially on Saturdays. You shuddered at the thought of dress rehearsal as it stretched late into the night; losing sleep was worth the excitement.

You looked at the clock, it was nearing close to four in the morning, and you still had been awake at this point. Maybe it was the cold or the thousands of thoughts swirling through your mind, much like the snow accumulating outside.

Work was gonna be a bitch tomorrow.

You sneezed at the thought, sighed, and made sure to set your alarm before letting sleep take over.

-

You awoke with a headache and a blaring alarm that was erupting from your phone. Groaning, you shut the phone off and tried to ignore the incessant pain protruding from your forehead.

Swallowing some painkillers, you got dressed, grabbed your keys, and headed to work. Totally not picking up a coffee and a breakfast sandwich on the way.

“Why good morning Y/N!” Jenny chirped as you walked into the room, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“You sound oddly chipper, what happened?” you said as you put down your stuff, eyeing her curiously.

“She got some sleep, that’s what happened.” Nasim replied, nursing a cup of coffee in her hands, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Lucky duck,” you murmured, instinctively reaching for your coffee as well. It coated your throat nicely, you sighed in content.

Jenny only smirked before starting up another conversation with Nasim; you let your eyes wander across the room. Everyone in motion, working hard to make sure shit got done. That’s the thing about working at 30 Rock; no one ever really stopped moving.

One thing that you still had not gotten used to was Monday’s. The grueling and exhausting twenty-four hour stretch period of planning and concocting up sketches. It was a scary feeling, as if you could ever compare to everyone else.

Every now and then, a pitch you threw into the ball pit would get picked, the tiny butterflies in your stomach reminding you why you did what you did.

Your eyes landed on a particular figure as he strolled into the room. His hair beautifully tousled, eyes half-open, and shirt resting ever so comfortably upon his chest. You diverted your eyes quickly, only to feel yourself begin to sneeze.

Fuck, for the love of all that’s holy, please do not sneeze in front of Hader.... too late.

He looked up, meeting your widened eyes, and gave you a soft smile. It lingered for a bit until Andy swept up from behind and hugged him along by the arm. For a second, you could’ve sworn he was gonna look back, but Andy had appeared to say something.

“Bless you!” Nasim and Jenny said in unison.

You mouthed thanks and leaned back against the wall, replaying the scene over and over again.

“Thinking about Hader again?” Jenny asked, following your line of sight, as she nudged you in the side playfully.

“Jenny! Not too loud, he might hear you.” you frantically whispered, a stern look aglow in your eyes.

“Oh honey, it’s so obvious.” Nasim chimed in, Jenny nodding eagerly in response.

“Plus he’s too far away, you’re more than safe Y/N, I think it’s cute that you like him. All the more reason to make fun of you.” Jenny says quickly before she is shoved by Nasim.

“I’m joking! I’m joking! Okay maybe not fully joking.” Jenny yelps, giving you a wicked grin.

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your eyes in embarrassment. It was so bad, crushing on cast members, but man, was he handsome. Although you had denied it, a lot of your favorite sketches from the past weeks always seemed to involve Hader.

It was not like it was gonna go anywhere; you two barely spoke, and plus you’d probably be a mess if you did. Every now and then, though, you’d often find Hader sitting beside you at table reads. His laugh is always so goddamn infectious, and Jenny and Nasim eyeing you playfully like schoolgirls.

God, you were a mess, and it seemed like everyone knew it. Maybe even Hader knew; let’s hope he doesn’t.

“You know Y/N, I’ve never seen Hader as shy as he is when he’s around you. I mean the man literally sniffed my hair yesterday,” you quirk a brow, “But- but with you, he’s soft” Nasim’s voice crowds your thoughts, and you instantly look up to meet her in disbelief.

“Bullshit.” you retort, trying to ignore whatever attempt she was trying to make.

“Girl, you’ve kind of got a point. He’s not as jokey as he usually is whenever he’s around you Y/N.” Jenny adds, only to be interrupted by Lorne calling for a meeting.

Ah, how could you forget? Dress Rehearsal. While these days didn’t run as long as the others, they were equally draining and stressful. The three of you walked to Lorne’s office just in time as the rest of the cast stood beside you.

You felt yourself to begin to shiver unexpectedly, hugging yourself tightly. Since when was 30 Rock so cold? You felt Nasim look at you questioningly, and you shrugged her off.

Lorne had discussed the skits’ arrangements for the day, murmurs of excitement beginning to spread like wildfire around the room. Everyone just itches to get out and see if their sketch would succeed or bomb.

You took your seat in the audience as the sketches would come and go, meeting your cues whenever necessary. At the same time, your painkillers had seemed to wear off as your headache only seemed to get worse.

You made your way backstage to find the building’s first aid kit, only to brush past another coworker. That just so happened to be Bill Hader.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out, slowly clamping it shut; his eyes met yours in slight confusion before softening slightly.

“Woah, hey Y/N, everything okay? You were in kind of a hurry there.” he asks; you could barely meet his eyes as they searched yours for any sort of response.

“Oh,” you gulped, “Yeah I just have this crazy headache, um I was just looking for the first aid kit.” you say, shifting the balance on your one foot to the other. 

His eyes widened before nodding quickly as if he was just reminded of something. The butterflies in your stomach crescendo as he quickly rested his palm upon your shoulder. You didn’t even know how to act, your body practically freezing at the contact.

“Actually to save you the trouble I have some painkillers upstairs in my dressing room. Not that I have like tons of drugs, but it’s no problem with me if that’ll help your headache.”

You quickly nod in response, trying to hide back a small smile before following him up several flights of stairs. God, you hated being so shy around Bill; it wasn’t like he was some mean old jerk; he was oh so genuine and thoughtful.

The two of you halt at a labeled Hader door; he looks back at you almost to check if you’re still there. Opening the door, he led you in, giving you a quick smirk, before crouching down and digging through the contents of his bag.

You had realized that this was the first time that you had ever been in a specific cast member’s dressing room. In particular, Hader’s room was neat and tidy, but you could see bits and pieces of his character sticking out. You couldn’t help but smile at it all, so caught up in the intricate details you didn’t even notice him get back up.

“Y/N, you good?” he asks; you focus your attention back on him quickly.

His hands outstretched, one holding a bottle of Advil and the other clamped tightly around a water bottle.

“Oh, um yeah. Thank you so much you have no idea how much I appreciate you for doing this.” you say rather quickly, but Hader doesn’t seem phased by your awkward nature.

You reach for the bottle and water, fingers gently brushing against his. The two of you looking down at the contact before parting ways.

Hader clears his throat, and you feel your stomach begin to tighten. Slipping two pills into your mouth, you unscrew the cap and down it carefully.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” he asks while placing the pill bottle back within his bag.

“A little I guess, I mean I tend to get nerves closer to the show. I’m sure at this point though, you’ve become an expert at staying calm.” you reply, his gaze falling towards the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m a wreck Y/N. This show is so stressful it eats at me every week, no matter what. I mean, clearly I’m doing something right and Lorne’s not gonna fire me, but, my anxiety gets so bad.” he says quickly. His eyes widened, and his posture became slightly tenser than before.

You couldn’t help but soften your gaze; you had no idea that he even went through this every week. Even now, with the buzzing tension in the air for tomorrow night, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Let alone the fact that he made the time to help you out.

“I wouldn’t have ever noticed,” he looks back up at you. “I mean, you’ve always just looked so...confident. I just can’t even begin to imagine what’s that like, every week constantly. I’m so sorry you have to go through that.” you quietly admit.

He shakes his head quickly, putting out a hand almost as if he was trying to stop you.

“No, no, it’s fine. Thank you though, it’s awfully sweet to hear that. Especially from someone like you.” Hader’s eyes filled with such warmth.

Was Hader blushing? Or were you losing it? Probably losing it.

“Oh about that headache, everything okay up in there?” he murmurs, stepping just a tad bit closer to you.

“It’s probably nothing, but I do appreciate the help.” you look back at the door, “We should probably get back? Right? Don’t wanna miss our dress.” you say quickly.

Hader nods within an instant, eyes widening at the realization of how long you two had been gone for. He led you to the door, giving you a quick smile before he ran out, murmuring something about a skit that had something to do with the guest host.

You giggle softly, heaving a contented sigh. It definitely was gonna be a long day, and you could’ve sworn that the temperature had just dropped.

Strange.

-

You couldn’t have stumbled into it until at least one in the morning, but sleep had been desperately calling your name. Oh, how you missed having a regular sleep schedule; it would make mornings less of a struggle.

Except this morning was different, or more so than you were used to. The headache that had arrived less than twenty-four hours earlier was now ten times worse. Your body ached, and you couldn’t decipher if the bed was too hot or too cold.

This was torture, and quite possibly the flu, not to mention, you had the show tonight, shit. You practically sprang upwards before feeling the instant aftermath of that decision settling in. It felt absolutely criminal to leave those sheets as you groaned and grimaced your way towards your kitchen cabinet. Eyes barely opened while you blindly searched for the thermometer you had kept.

One quick temperature check later, you were running a low-grade fever. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I mean, you couldn’t miss the show, right? It just didn’t seem plausible, or maybe it did?

You frantically wondered while your fingers grazed over the Google search bar whether going to work with a low-grade fever would be beneficial?

Every answer didn’t really seem to fit the unrealistic expectations that you had set for yourself. Still, one disgusting shot of Dayquil later, you were out the door.

The day went by in a haze, and the headache never really did seem to falter. It was almost like yesterday in a sense, but seeing Hader waltz into the room made you smile. He smiled back.

Of course, Jenny and Nasim knew something was up; they always did. It wasn’t like Lorne was gonna fire you for missing one show; it was the flu. Except, you had made it this far, how bad could it possibly go?

-

The lights were too bright, far too bright for you to even think properly, and your fever was sure burning up. Or maybe it wasn’t, you always had to ask others around for that sorta assistance. Except, this was the primary night of the week and you weren’t gonna ask a cast member to feel your forehead.

Imagine if Hader did, Y/N, please stop being a dork.

You found solace in a large water bottle, but it didn’t do much to help the way your body ached miserably. You looked like a mess, you felt like a mess, but this was the big leagues.

The last time you had checked, the previous performance of the musical guest had been underway. Which meant you had survived, but the exhaustion that had been ever-growing was begging for you to lay down.

The floor looked so good right now, yeah, just for a hot second, ugh why is everything burning up?

Slowly closing your eyes, you let yourself press up against the wall, except there wasn’t a wall right there, and down you went with a thud.

-

Bill had been anxious all night, of course for the show, but for you in particular. You usually always looked so put-together, but tonight something about you was just off. It was beginning to rub him the wrong way.

“Andy, do you notice anything strange about, um, Y/N over there?” he said, trying to muffle the concerned edge that rested within his voice.

“Y/N? Oh that new cast member you like?” Andy replied without much thought, earning a stern look from Hader.

“She’ll hear you, god man you sure can be loud. Whatever, she just looks kind of off man, I’m a little nervous for her.”

Andy’s gaze softened just a tad until something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

“I mean normally I would say that she looks fine and you’re just crushing, but I don’t think that is normal.” Bill’s gaze instantly locked onto the same thing, which was you fainting onto the floor.

His body going rigid before ultimately bolting upright, he wasn’t gonna catch you in time. Still, he definitely was gonna help if he could. Although he most definitely wasn’t the only one, other stray coworkers who happened to be backstage stood, jaws dropped.

There you went, tumbling to the ground, and Bill couldn’t help but feel his heart drop. Maybe that headache was worse than you had let up. He felt guilty for not speaking up sooner, but there was nothing he could do now.

They called a medic on the site, trying to keep it discreet as possible. It was a live show; he didn’t think it would be professional if broadcasted that shit.

He tried to fill in all of the details of how you had been acting the past few hours. It felt like he couldn’t do much to help, but he didn’t wanna leave your sight. It was odd; something about you really drew him in, leaving him reaching for more.

Plus, at this point, the last thing he had to do was go on stage while they rolled the credits. Bill was optimistic that this would count as a good reason.

He watched anxiously while the medic’s placed you upon a stretcher, his feet following without much thought. They wheeled you out to a waiting ambulance; he gulped at the thought of you having to be taken to the hospital.

Surprisingly they allowed him inside the ambulance; he was so convinced he’d be forced to wait until god knows how long. The vehicle provided seats off the side, allowing him to catch his breath and try not to worry about his current state.

That is until he saw you looking back groggily at him; now, this was definitely normal, as the medic had explained. He just didn’t see it coming; you blinked a few times, looking around at your surroundings.

-

“Hey, saw you took a little snooze there.” he teased, his gaze never leaving yours.

The ambulance rattled slightly, and you gasped a little before focusing your attention back onto him.

“Is this an ambulance? What happened?” you sat upright, feeling ten times worse, trying to piece together precisely why you and Bill Hader, of all people, were in the ambulance?

“Y/N, you fainted. The doctor’s said you’re burning up, they’re taking you to the ER.” he explained carefully, as you groaned in frustration.

He cocked his head slightly, clearly not expecting that response.

“About that, yeah I think I have the flu, I had a low-grade fever this morning.” you admitted sheepishly, not even daring to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry what?” he exclaimed, his eyes as wide as literal saucers. “Lemme get this straight, you went to work, with the flu?” you nodded, and he ran his hands over his face.

“Listen, I didn’t wanna disappoint Lorne. I mean it’s the night of all nights.” the words came out softer than you had intended; Hader practically melted.

“Oh, did you really think that Lorne’s gonna get pissed at you for having the flu? Oh sweetie, you know your health comes first right?” his words falling ever so sweetly off his lips.

You could barely look at the man, let alone control the multitude of butterflies that jolted in your already queasy stomach. Not to mention that he even thought to tag along, you nodded, not saying a word, focusing on his blue eyes like they were a safety net. Until you closed them, letting sleep overtake you.

-

You awoke once more to the sounds of machines beeping, people going from room to room, and an incessant tapping of one’s shoe.

This was most definitely the emergency room, your eyes scanning its surroundings until they landed on one person in particular. He looked exhausted, more so than you did, and you felt awful given the time it was at night. In fact, it was practically morning.

“You’re still here,” he sat upright, rubbing his eyes, “Thanks for sticking it out, Bill.” you tried to give him the most genuine smile you could possibly muster.

“Of course, I mean I overheard the doctor anyway. You’re cleared to go when you wake up, and definitely have to get some rest. I already spoke to Lorne.” you gaped, but he only stood up.

“Bill, what did he say?” you whisper.

“That you should listen to the doctor, and me.” you raised a brow. “Okay maybe he didn’t say me, but you get the point?” he exclaimed as he helped you get out of the bed.

The two of you walking towards the desk in which you had to sign out some papers, the pen unsteadily perched upon your fingers. Bill’s hand holding securely upon your back, in hopes you wouldn’t stumble. In reality, just being near him set your heart aflutter.

“Now I’m taking you home, but first I was thinking I could get you some soup for home. That sound good?” you could only look at the man in pure awe.

“You don’t have to do this Bill, really, I mean you’ve already done enough.” you gulped, only to see the man give you a smirk, his eyes glinting at you mischievously.

“Soup it is.” his hand clamping against yours, he led you out of the hospital and into the cold streets of New York City.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach the little soup shop he’d been talking about; it was cozy and apparently open twenty-four seven. Against his offer, you paid for two soups that looked the most delicious and cupped the cups while strolling back to your place.

“How do you think you got the flu?” he asked gently, looking at you with curiosity.

You had to try not to laugh; I mean, at this point, it was your fault, you subjected yourself to the tundra in your bedroom for the past few nights.

“Well, my heater has been broken for the past few nights. I assume that’s how I got it.” a smile aglow upon your face, giggling at Hader’s shocked expression.

“It better be fixed tonight when we get to your apartment complex. That’s ridiculous, Y/N.” you kept giggling, and soon he joined in with that gorgeous laugh of his.

You enjoyed your time with Hader even though internally you felt like shit; he made it so much more bearable. The air was light between the two of you, he made it easy to open up, and you wanted to know so much about him.

God, wait till you let Nasim and Jenny know about this night. They’re so gonna flip; you just knew it. Not to mention, the big looming ‘I told you so’ that was so coming your way.

“This is it.” he came to a halt, admiring the quaint little building that you happened to call home.

“You do know I’m not leaving until that heater is back on, right?” he ordered, but underneath his serious tone, you could see the concern.

“Oh come on Hader, let’s go see.”

The two of you taking the steps at a time, your body wanting to collapse, but you couldn’t let him know. He stood beside you while you inserted your keys into the lock, twisting it, before walking inside.

“What’s that rattling noise?” Hader wondered aloud.

A huge grin meeting your lips, you looked at him in pure delight, and he soon got the memo. His eyes widening before heaving a sigh of relief, only to halt.

“You call me if you need anything okay? Get some sleep, and um, stay warm. That’s an order, you hear me?” you could see his performance wavering as he tried desperately not to laugh.

“Yes, Sir.” you saluted weakly, but he only began to break instantly.

You really did love that laugh.

Thanks, Bill, for everything, really.” you said as he turned to head to the door, stepping up on your toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

His face instantly turned red before trying to compose himself as he walked away. You watched while he left the residence, giving you one last smile.

-

You awoke in a drowsy stupor that next morning to a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Want me to bring you some coffee and breakfast? - btw, this is Bill. Hope this l wasn’t too creepy. I ain’t no stalker.

Maybe: Bill: ps. How do you like your coffee?

Bill: ps.s yes or no?

You fell back on the bed with such a shit-eating grin, only to groan in response to the mistake you had just made.

You: Yes 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Hi there! We're changing things up a little this week :)

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Alright, post Book 1 but pre-Ethan fleeing to South America Ethan x Naomi coming right up! I feel like that time would have maximum tension because they’re trying to find their footing again after fucking the souls out of each other’s bodies and sending them into orbit, and lowkey falling in love sleeping together, while maintaining professionalism.

~v~

For Both:

When I first saw them, I thought__________

Naomi: I thought “thank God someone else is here!” I was in over my head with that patient, and I didn’t even notice that The Ethan Ramsey was the one assisting me until much later.

Ethan: I thought she had guts. You don’t see too many first day interns that are ready to jump into the fray like she did.

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Naomi: He says Christ and any iteration of the word damn. Dammit, goddamn, goddammit, you get the gist.

Ethan: She says fuck.

Naomi: You’ve never heard me say that.

Ethan: She says fuck a lot, especially when she’s...*Ethan trails off and catches himself before he finishes that sentence. It’s a moot point all the same because now all he can think about is the young intern in front of him, hands pulling his hair, nails raking down his back, moaning the obscenity into his ear, into his pillows. He awkwardly clears his throat* Just trust me, I’ve heard her say it. Multiple times.

*and now he’s mad at himself*

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Naomi: Blue. They’re kinda hard to miss.

Ethan: Her eyes are brown.

Three people at work your coworker hates?

Naomi: He hates everyone, except for me and Naveen.

Ethan: Except for you? You think pretty highly of yourself, Rookie.

Naomi: Am I wrong? *Ethan doesn’t deny it, instead staying silent and Naomi smirks* Exactly

Ethan: I don’t think she dislikes anyone. I’ve never met a person like her, she makes friends with everyone.

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Naomi: He fiddles with his glasses a lot.

Ethan: She’s constantly biting her lip, especially when she’s really focused.

*she’s actually surprised that he picked up on that* Naomi: You notice that?

Ethan: I notice everything...about everything. It’s the nature of the job.

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

*they both share an awkward glance before looking away and declining to answer*

Never Have I Ever...

Come into work hungover

Ethan: When I was younger, yes. But now that I’m older, I know my limits.

Naomi: No, because I don’t get hangovers due to my magical hangover cure.

Ethan: That god-awful drink is...surprisingly effective.

*the interviewer asks Ethan to elaborate on the time Naomi gave him whatever her hangover cure is, and he adamantly refuses*

Had a fistfight

Naomi: Yes, but in my defense I was drunk.

Ethan: *snorts* How is that a defense?

Naomi: I’m the daughter of an attorney, I usually try to resolve my issues with my words. But drunk Naomi is a little feistier.

Ethan: You mean you have a level of feistiness that I’ve yet to see?

Naomi: Oh yeah. Anyway, I was in college, I was drunk at a bar, someone spilled a drink on me, and it escalated. I think I broke her nose.

Ethan: An arrest record wasn’t on your file when we hired you.

Naomi: Like I said, I’m the daughter of an attorney, and the granddaughter of a DC judge. That has its perks.

Ethan: Yes, I’ve gotten into a fist fight before. I punched Nash in the face. And before that, i fought my old med school roommate.

Naomi: Ooh, what did he do?

Ethan: That’s not a story I’d ever divulge while sober.

Been kicked out of a bar

Naomi: Yes. Circle back to the previous question.

Ethan: No, because I’m an adult.

Gotten a tattoo

Ethan: Absolutely not

Naomi: I have a tattoo of the Cancer symbol on my left hip. It’s my zodiac sign.

*this stuns Ethan into silence because he’s seen her naked on more than one occasion and been...very well acquainted with the body parts below her waist, and for the life of him cannot remember a tattoo*

Broken someone’s heart

Naomi: No. At least, I don’t think so. I’ve had my heart broken, if that counts.

Ethan: Same as Naomi. I don’t think I have.

*they make a pointed effort to not make eye contact with each other, and Naomi bites down on her lip, letting the silence hang in the air. The alternative would be informing Ethan that he has indeed broken someone’s heart, and that just won’t do.*

Been in love

Naomi: I don’t know. Maybe? I thought I was in love with my med school boyfriend, but now that time has passed, I know that wasn’t love. At least, not the good kind. And there was a near miss after him, but nothing came out of it. The emotions were a lot stronger the second time around though, and i think it’s the closest I’ve come to it this far. I’m a hopeless romantic, so I hope I find it someday.

Ethan: No. Call me a cynic, but I just don’t see love as something that’s feasible and attainable. Putting that much trust and dependency in another person is not realistic.

For Naomi (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Naomi: I don’t know what’s left for a man like Ethan Ramsey. He’s already done so much in the field of medicine, unless he reinvents the entire wheel and turns it upside down, which I can see him doing. I can see him writing more, publishing more research, and of course winning more awards. If he wasn’t so anti-administration, he could be running this place. Or maybe he’ll start his own non-profit.

Naomi: As far as his personal life, I don’t know. You heard loud and clear that he doesn’t really believe in love. I hope one day he changes his mind or finds a companion, because underneath his extremely prickly exterior, he’s one of the best men I know and he has a heart of gold. He deserves the chance to let someone take care of it for him.

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Naomi: From afar, Ethan seems very larger than life, but I think the most impressive thing about him is his dedication to not just medicine, but his patients. I’ve never seen him not go above and beyond for someone he was treating.

Last thing he texted you?

Naomi: “Please consult Diana in HR regarding your official diagnostic team fellowship application. I know this year has been unorthodox to say the least, but there are still some steps that must be taken before the start of your second year. Thank you.”

Naomi: I’ve never received a text message that long.

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

*her cheeks heat up furiously and she pulls her bottom between her teeth before answering, her eyes bright and watery*

Naomi: Am I a total glutton for pain for saying I’d jump at the chance?

For Ethan (Naomi is not there)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in her personal life?)

Ethan: Dr. Valentine has so much potential and she’s going to be one of the greats. She’s going to be running the diagnostics team if she chooses to stay at Edenbrook, and I can’t see Naveen not trying to keep her here. She’s going to win awards, have awards named after her, publish research, lead trials, whatever. I hate to sound banal and cliche, but the sky really is the limit for her. I chose her for a reason, and I plan her helping her reach all of that potential.

Ethan: As for her personal life, I don’t know. Hopefully she finds someone that’s good enough for her.

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Ethan: A-attractive? *the word comes out in a squeak, but he coughs to cover it up* Why on earth would you assume that I’m attracted to her?

*he goes on a ridiculously long tangent about how inappropriate it is to be attracted to your coworkers, especially your subordinates, and how he would never jeopardize Naomi’s career on something as trivial as attraction, and anyone with an ounce of common sense can tell that he doth protest too much*

Ethan: But if I absolutely had to pick something besides her good looks, it’d be her spirit. She’s warm and empathetic and optimistic, and I’ve never seen someone care as much as she does.

Last thing she texted you?

Ethan: “👍” I sent her a message about her upcoming fellowship and she sent back a thumbs up. Just that. I was a little annoyed.

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ethan: As um...flattering as that might be, I would say no. I am an attending, she’s an intern, my soon to be fellow. That is crossing too many ethical lines, lines I refuse to breach.

Ethan: And I would say no because Naomi is...just a good person. And maybe I’m being biased, but I don’t know if anyone will ever be truly worthy of her. But I can say without a shadow of a doubt that she deserves so much better than me or what I could give her.

[sparkkeyper]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Word Count: 3,797

Warnings: None    

Summary: Old habits die hard. Crowley and Aziraphale’s habits are very, very old. Building their own side is difficult when 6000 years of instincts won’t shut up. 

(Originally very loosely-based on the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" but then it kind of did its own thing, haha. I was originally going to post this for Advent  Omens but uhhh you can see that didn’t quite happen. Written as ace but you can read it however you want, really. Guess what fools, it’s Soft Boi hours again!)

(Now on AO3!)

-----------

The snow had started early in the day. When Aziraphale arrived at the Mayfair flat it was just a dusting. But the flurry had become a proper snowfall, and then quickly decided 'go big or go home' and transitioned into a flat-out storm.

This didn't phase the two immortals in the slightest, of course. If anything, the swirling flakes outside made it feel even cozier inside. Crowley's sleek, minimalist flat had grown a fireplace for the occasion, and a very surprised new chimney on the roof of the building found itself venting smoke that somehow managed to bypass three floors.

They sat together on the plush sofa (obtained at Aziraphale's insistence several months prior, on the grounds that he wasn't going to continue coming over if there was nowhere comfortable to sit, and Crowley couldn't have that) and drank wine and talked and laughed and reveled in the feeling of being cozy and warm on a cold, blustery day.

Time had traveled on in the usual manner since Armageddon failed to happen. The two of them were unwinding slowly. Thousands of years of looking over shoulders did not evaporate in an evening, benevolent Antichrist or no, and 'our side' was a concept they were still carefully exploring. But what a glorious exploration it was.

There was no limit to the amount of time they could spend together. It was a dizzying concept that they were both adjusting to, but one that carried a thrill through it all the same. Crowley had been sorely tempted to buy tickets to every concert, play, and musical revue London had to offer and do nothing but attend shows for the foreseeable future, the two of them together. In public. He very well might have done too, if Aziraphale hadn't talked him down amid giddy chuckles. "We have time," Aziraphale had reminded him, and Crowley was ecstatic to realize that it was true.

He had relented to two a week.

It was elating. They stood closer together, they sat beside each other on public transportation rather than one behind the other, they gave each other teasing nudges with elbows.

And sometimes - when they were both at least a bottle in - one of them might even bump their hand against the other's, and fingers might intertwine, and an electric tingle would flood Crowley like a live thing, and most importantly neither would pull away for at least two solid minutes and oh wasn't that alone worth saving the world for?

Crowley spent a previously-unheard-of amount of time at the bookshop and Aziraphale's face always lit up like the sun whenever he walked in. He arrived early, stayed late, sometimes didn't bother going home at all, often showed up with wine or snacks, and they were together and it was wonderful. He had fallen asleep on the bookshop couch in the past, but these months he got the impression that Aziraphale had zoned the piece of furniture as specifically his. There was a permanent place set aside for him in Aziraphale's home, in Aziraphale's life. It made a warmth pool in his stomach to think about it despite the creeping winter chill.

Aziraphale had begun to visit Crowley's flat in return. The angel had never once set foot in the place until the night after the airfield - Crowley had never given him the address, to be fair - but now that permission had been granted Aziraphale was here increasingly often. It was so like the easy evenings at the bookshop, just with more austere surroundings. Music, alcohol, debates and memories and slightly drunken speculation. The occasional temporary twining of fingers. It was good.

It was overwhelming sometimes, this new 'good'.

Aziraphale always left the flat at the end of the evening, usually around ten. He had no reservations whatsoever about chatting until dawn in the bookshop but the flat was a new environment, Crowley supposed. Possibly something to do with propriety.

Possibly something to do with thousands of years of distance that they were both still figuring out how to cross.

But that was Aziraphale, all right: as slow and steady as a glacier when it came to his set, comfortable ways. So much had changed in the past few months and the angel had had to adapt quickly. Crowley didn't begrudge him taking a few things slow. Old habits were hard to break and their habits were very, very old.

Crowley understood well how shadows could linger even in the bright daylight. It was all well and good to say he was off Hell's payroll. It was another thing entirely when instinct crept up on him screaming that he needed to watch his back, to sit a row behind Aziraphale on the bus, to have forty excuses ready for when Dagon came auditing. It took considerable effort to override those instincts and remind himself that 'together' was okay. It was allowed. And still he'd so far only managed to turn the volume down on them, not silence them completely. He didn't know if he ever would. Crowley didn't doubt Aziraphale had similar instincts of his own. If the angel felt better setting himself a curfew, Crowley certainly wasn't going to judge.

But tonight they were here, and warm, and sheltered from the blizzard. As 'retro' had begun to slide back into style, Crowley had picked up a sleek addition to his stereo system that was at once a record turntable, radio, tape deck, and CD player, with added Bluetooth capability for good measure. Strains of Vivaldi swam through the room from a vinyl, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the clinking of wine glasses. Aziraphale was settled deeply into the sofa, his posture several steps short of perfect which was how Crowley knew he was truly relaxed. Crowley, as per usual, was draped over the couch like he'd never seen one before in his life, as though he had too many limbs and didn't know what to do with them all. It was good.

Life was good.

It was a little after ten when Aziraphale spoke up. "It's getting late." His voice was a bit distant as he looked out the window, snow glinting in the reflected light as it fell. "I suppose I ought to be going."

There was a note of regret to his voice, a lack of conviction in his eyes, that Crowley had learned to read over the long years of the Arrangement. A smile pulled at the corner of the demon's mouth, covered up easily by another sip of wine. It was a very old game they played, treading carefully along the outside edges of things that could not or should not be said aloud. Expectations, angelic ones in particular, built a lot of barriers. Aziraphale wanted something that wasn't allowed him - or wasn't supposed to be allowed him - and couldn't bring himself to reach out and grasp it. It was Crowley's job to find ways for him to justify the forbidden something to himself.

In the subtle language they shared, the angel was asking Crowley to tempt him, and how could Crowley pass up a request like that?

"Awfully cold out there," the demon drawled, gesturing languidly toward the window with his wine glass. "Snowing like nobody's business. Wind and ice and subzero chill. Terrible night to be out in."

"I'm sure it's not so bad."

"Not so bad? It's been raging for hours! Look at it! It's knee-high! You expect me to try and drive my poor car out in that mess?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon. "Ah yes. Imagine if humans invented other forms of transportation aside from your horrid car."

The demon's argument was all bluff and they both knew it. The Bentley could slice through the snowdrifts like a hot knife through butter if Crowley wanted it to. It wasn't the strength of the argument that mattered - it was whether or not Aziraphale could twist it to bypass the metaphorical roadblocks. Crowley rose to the challenge by sprawling back on the sofa with a smirk. "Other forms of transportation? You mean a bus, in weather like that? And good luck finding a cab out there, angel. City's practically shut down."

Aziraphale stood, giving his back a tentative stretch. "I could walk, of course. I've done it loads of times. It doesn't take much more than twenty minutes, not counting the care that has to be taken for ice."

"Walk, he says!" Crowley tossed back the remainder of his wine like a shot glass. "Think of it - the first angel in history to catch pneumonia! Bad job I'm not working for Hell anymore; they'd give me an award!"

"If doing those temptations in Qashliq for you didn't give me pneumonia, I'm quite sure nothing will."

"Are you ever going to let that go? It was over four hundred years ago!"

"It was February in Siberia, no I will not."

"Suppose you did stay a bit longer," Crowley ventured, changing tactics. It was a risk, coming at the problem from such a direct angle when they were both so used to ghosting along edges. "Bookshop wouldn't go anywhere, would it?"

Aziraphale blinked at the abrupt transition. "Well no, I shouldn't think so. It's just...I mean if I don't return home someone might notice of course and well...people will talk."

Crowley leaned forward over his knees, seriously. "Angel. When, in two hundred years in that bookshop, have you ever given a single fuck what your human neighbours think?"

Aziraphale drew himself up with a huff, and Crowley was delighted to see familiar indignation winning out over nerves. "I am an upstanding member of the community, I'll have you know. And it's not just my neighbours, of course - it's yours as well. That little old lady who lives on the floor below, for example. She always gives me that look when I pass her in the lift."

"What look?"

"You know! That look! Like she thinks she knows what's going on between the two of us."

The demon grinned like a Cheshire cat and gave a suggestive wiggle of his shoulders just for the expression it painted across the angel's face. "You're worried that my neighbours are going to think you and I took a tumble in the sheets?"

"They already suspect! Or at least she suspects." Aziraphale was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but mirth glinted behind his eyes. "Do you know what she said to me as she was getting out of the lift the other day? 'Don't forget to use protection; you don't know where he's been!'"

Crowley howled, leaning so far back in his laughter that he fell off the couch.

"I don't know what's more outlandish, the idea that we're in here having a lurid physical affair or the idea that I don't know exactly where you've been."

Crowley wiped his eyes dry and held out a hand so the angel could help pull him up from the floor. "Remind me to miracle her fridge so that all her milk keeps past its date. 'Don't know where he's been' indeed."

Aziraphale fought to get his own smile under control, for the sake of his argument if nothing else. "Yes, but it just goes to show, Crowley, people do notice. And they will talk, I'm sure of it."

"Let them," he waved it off. "I've seen tissue paper with more durability than human gossip. It'll all get forgotten in a day or two." Crowley leaned over and refilled both glasses.

"Right. I suppose it will." The angel took a tentative sip and sat back into the sofa again. "Silly thing to get worked up about, really."

On a regular night that might have been the end of it. They'd had their verbal tennis, they'd had a laugh, and Aziraphale had accepted another drink. But try as he might, the angel couldn't seem to settle. There was a stiffness, a tension to his spine that would not unwind. He fidgeted with the stemware, shooting furtive glances at the window, the fireplace, the clock. 

The ceiling.

The final notes of Vivaldi faded out, leaving the room in silence, and Crowley rose to swap the record. The discomfort radiating off the angel was almost palpable and it made his own spine crawl. "Aziraphale--"

"Only, the wind really looks dreadful," Aziraphale blurted out, jolting to his feet and crossing to the window. "I really ought to go before it gets worse."

"Can't get much worse than it is, I think," Crowley countered carefully. "Best stay where it's warm."

"I don't..." Aziraphale stared out at the London skyline, nearly invisible in the storm. Pale fingers worried absently at the hem of his waistcoat. His mouth was down to a thin line and there was quite a lot behind his eyes. He looked pained. "I shouldn't impose."

"You're not imposing if I'm offering."

"It isn't...it isn't right for me to stay!"

The demon set down the vinyl he was holding, something dangerous layering his words. "Says who?"

"I've been ignoring protocol too much as it is--"

Crowley gritted his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. "There is no protocol on our side!"

"I know!" Aziraphale snapped. There was a beat of silence and the anger in the angel's face melted as suddenly as it had come, leaving his expression frustrated and upset. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, almost apologetically. "I...I really can't...surely you understand why I can't just..." He ran a hand through his hair helplessly, eyes darting to the ceiling.

The demon set his glass down and moved over to the window.

It was a very old game they played. Crowley was good at his job and Aziraphale was good at the mental gymnastics required to fit through some of the more dubious loopholes. But every now and then they still lost.

He positioned himself in front of the principality, forcing Aziraphale to look at him.

"Angel," he said quietly, as though someone might overhear. "If you want to head home, I'll take you. You know I will. I'd just rather it be because you want to rather than because they would want you to."

Aziraphale looked truly miserable. "Crowley, you've been a marvelous host, you really have, but...I'm so sorry, I..."

Crowley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. For just a moment the demon's face was soft, genuine. A bit sad but still impossibly fond. "Don't be." He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's late. Get your coat, angel, it's cold out there." He doused the fireplace with a wave and stretched his back out. "Give me a moment to sober up and I'll start the car."

Aziraphale sighed, clearly frustrated at a great many things, but headed for the coat rack while the demon forced the alcohol from his system. "It ought to be fine," he muttered as the wine bottles in the corner finished refilling. "It ought to be fine. I can't explain it, I..."

"It's like someone's standing too close inside your personal space," Crowley finished for him quietly, pulling a coat of his own from the ether. "Like you're driving on the motorway and you end up in the blind spot of a lorry. There's no great outward change but all of a sudden the hairs are up on the back of your neck and your skin is crawling. And you just have this overwhelming sense of this is not a good place to be, get out."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured unsteadily. "Yes, that's it exactly." His eyes found Crowley's, apologetic, searching.

"It is what it is, angel," he assured him softly. "We have time."

A weight seemed to lift from Aziraphale's shoulders. "I...thank you. Truly." There were things unspoken that Crowley could hear beneath that simple phrase. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being patient with me.

Don't say that, hesitated on the tip of Crowley's tongue. Instinct was, of course, very old and very strong. He swallowed down the words and searched for new ones to replace them.

"You're welcome," he said quietly. The syllables tasted foreign in his mouth.

There was silence in the flat as he buttoned up his coat. Despite the passing months they truly had only moved the barest steps away from where they had been.

They had so very far to go yet.

But it was true. They had time.

"Right." He tried to break the mood as casually as he could, slipping dark glasses on and turning his voice into something light and easy. "Shall we be off then? After you, angel."

The lift ride down was silent, subdued. Something complicated was warring behind the blue eyes and Crowley wasn't going to even begin to touch on it until they were in the car. Aziraphale's steps faltered as he reached the glass doors of the lobby, and Crowley was halfway down the outside stairs before he realized he wasn't following.

"Oi, you coming?"

Aziraphale stared down at the space beyond the door with a peculiar expression: uncertainty and determination and anger and hurt. "I - I don't..." There was a moment of indecision, of frantic debate on his face, then he backed quickly over to the lobby bench and sat down hard.

Crowley pulled his coat tighter about himself as the wind bit through his clothes and ducked back into the building.

Aziraphale held very still, eyes closed and fingers gripping the edge of the bench.

"Angel?"

"Give me a moment. Please."

Crowley paced a cautious half-circle around him, instinctively scanning the principality for damage and the storm beyond the glass wall for threats. Another old habit - nearly useless now but one he wasn't going to be able to drop any time soon. He sat down beside the angel and the lobby was quiet for a very, very long time.

"I think," murmured Aziraphale at last, "if it's all right with you, I'd like to stay."

Crowley studied him closely. "Are you sure?"

"No." Aziraphale met his gaze. "I haven't been sure of much of anything, recently. Not since Tadfield. But I do not want to be forced back to the bookshop tonight."

"Shouldn't force yourself to stay if you're only going to be miserable."

"It's not so bad down here, that's the silly thing. But for some reason the idea of going back upstairs is just..." He laughed wryly. "What a mess I've made of the evening."

"It was a fine evening," Crowley told him earnestly.

"I thought so too, at least until the end there." He straightened, and looked a bit more like himself to Crowley's eyes. "And it's my most sincere hope that, with some more wine and another record, it might be again. Give me a few minutes. I think I can work up to it."

The demon took his glasses off and studied him closely. The determination in those eyes, the set of that jaw, were so familiar they hurt. There was a nervousness there, but there was a stubbornness as well. Like the glacier: slow, steady, but deep down so, so strong.

Crowley reached behind himself and retrieved a pair of full wine glasses that suddenly and thoughtfully decided to exist. "You know, I reckon..." he said quietly, handing one to Aziraphale, "that these will taste just as good right here as they would upstairs."

Aziraphale blinked. Glanced from his glass to the demon to the lift and back again. And his expression softened considerably.

"And if music and wine is what it takes to hang onto your company for a little longer, I s'pose that's the sacrifice I'll have to make, won't I?" He sat his phone down beside him and with a few taps Mozart began to play from its speakers.

Aziraphale stared deep into his wine glass, a smile spreading across his face that he didn't seem quite ready to share with the world yet. "A little unorthodox, isn't it?"

"And?" Crowley shrugged. "Last I checked, there's no protocol on our side."

"So there isn't. Do you know, I think I like that about it."

The demon lowered his voice. "Say the word any time, you know. We'll go, no questions asked."

"I know." Aziraphale let out a long breath and settled back onto cushions that were suddenly far more plush than anything the lobby bench had seen before. "But at the moment I'd rather be here."

The storm howled beyond the glass wall but the central heating vent behind them kept any stray chills at bay. They sat in gentle silence for a long time.

Piano Sonata No. 14 wound through the room, mingling with the warmth and the wine to kindle a sense of calm: a concoction of human magic that miracles, for all their power, could never replicate. Clever things, those humans.

Crowley traced a finger around the rim of his glass. "Can I ask what changed your mind?" he asked softly.

Aziraphale gazed off into the distance for a moment before looking back to his companion. "It was the 'you're welcome', funnily enough. You've always objected so vehemently to being thanked before."

"Yeah, well..." Crowley took another sip of his drink so as not to meet Aziraphale's eyes. "Like being in the blind spot of a lorry."

Aziraphale nodded. "It's..." He trailed off. Took a swig of wine and swallowed it down hard, as though for courage. "It's a comfort," he admitted so quietly that Crowley had to strain to hear him. "To know that it's not just me."

Crowley pursed his lips. "Not by a long shot, no" he confessed, equally quiet.

"I know accepting gratitude doesn't come easy to you. But you managed, tonight."

"It isn't a footrace, angel. I'm not asking you to keep pace with me."

"I know that. And I'm grateful. It's just... seeing you be brave makes me feel like...like I can be as well."

That smile was tugging at the edge of Crowley's mouth again. He reached out and clinked the edge of his glass with Aziraphale's. "Course you can be. Always have been."

The angel smiled back at him, warm and glowing and grateful, just the faintest hint of pink darkening his cheeks. With a daring Crowley had only seen behind the safety of closed doors and wine bottles, he placed a hand on the bench between them, palm up. 

Crowley took it.

Meeting him in the middle, as always.

"Careful, angel," the demon murmured in his ear. "Remember, you don't know where I've been."

Aziraphale gave an undignified snort into his wine glass and their laughter echoed throughout the lobby.

The storm raged cold outside, but here, in their own little in-between place, they were warm.

[celebritytgcaptions]

Requests (5/23/2021)

Hi lovelies! I’ve been getting so many requests & I’m working hard to get all of them in the queue. Thanks for sending them my way! I’m writing to let you know that the queue is now full until the end of June. I was able to get every requests from my May 8th post in there except for a few. Requests from May 8th for captions featuring Katy Perry, Jenna Fischer, Marisol Nichols, Addison Rae, Ariana Grande, Erin Kellyman, Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, Jhene Aiko, & Kirstin Maldonado will be posted in early July.

But there have been an absolute ton of requests since then too, yay! So I’m listing all the requests that I haven’t gotten to below. If you made a request but don’t see it below that might be for a few reasons. 1) I’ve written it already and it will be posted in June. 2) It’s one of the requests I posted on May 8th so I won’t talk about it here. 3) I considered it a demand not a request (for example, I received two that said “Anything with,” that wasn’t really a request just telling me to do it. Sorry if this bothers some of you but it is an issue with me so make sure you word your requests AS requests). Either way, thanks for the love, lovelies! :D

Anonymous said:

Could you do one with either Kelley O’hara or Alex Morgan from the USWNT about a guy soccer player watching the US win the world cup and then want to be them or something like that?

I actually know who both those are (shockingly enough, I don’t really follow sports) so sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Could you do lorengrey captions? She’s so hot

Sorry sweetie, don’t know who that is. :(

Anonymous said:

Hi I just had an idea for a game you could do. It could be where someone has to say as a boy what they’re like physically in stages. So first stage is hair color for example, second stage could be height, third stage could be body type, etc. An example would be if I was a black hair, short height, thick body type, I would match up with someone like Nicki Minaj. Just an idea which you could extend on. Hopefully it makes sense. I appreciate you!

I actually have a game like this mapped out called “Build a Sissy” where you choose age, hair color, and bra size, but it would take a LOT of work to make so I haven’t written it yet. Maybe some day though. :)

Anonymous said:

I would love to see a Tori Kelly caption. Her hair and body are not typical but beautiful for a white girl. I say that last sentence respectfully. I think having a caption with her would be great

Sure thing! Tori Kelly is a cutie. :)

Anonymous said:

Ok I'm not sure if u'll know these 2 cuz even I had to look them up for the names but anne dudek and maitland ward theyre the 2 blonde sisters from white chicks not sure if uve seen it but if u can could u make a caption for them please?

I DO know who they are! I’ve been thinking about doing a White Chicks caps because there’s a lot of cute looks in that movie (especially for Busy Phillips who I just love) so sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Could u do Yvette nicole brown from community? Id like to see some big girl love

Sure thing!

Anonymous said:

I already know that this request is probably gonna be a No but I still have to ask whats the ruling on GCI enhanced celebrities like Taylor swift from Cats?  Or is that too much like "Furry" stuff. Now I'm Feeling this will be a No for multiple reasons

So it is not an issue with CGI “enhanced” celebrities but for Cats it is because I do not have a Furry fetish and I get uncomfortable thinking about writing caps for it. But I write caps with “manips” all the time (photoshopped images of celebs) so I’m not ruling out CGI enhanced celebs all together.

Anonymous said:

Can you do one of Lindsey stirling? And for the story can it be a guy trying to learn Violin but he cant seem to focus he even tried hot female teachers but it didnt work then he gets a male teacher than he starts focusing and wanting to please the teacher he becomes a sissy sorry its a long request

Sounds fun, sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Hi big fan and I think you’ve been doing amazing work. Is there anyway you could do a story about a guy who loses a bet to sorority girl and is forced to get his nails painted and turned into a girl? I love the idea of having a boys nails painted against his will. I’d love one with Selena Gomez but if you think another celeb would be better I leave that cumpletely to you.

Totally! This sounds fun. :D

Anonymous said:

Can you do thelma and Louise?

I’m assuming you mean Geena Davis & Susan Sarandon from Thelma & Louise so yes. Yes I can. :)

Anonymous said:

Can you do a caption from the movie bridesmaids? Like when theyre all trying on dressess or something?

I haven’t seen Bridesmaids (I know I know) but I can try something. :)

Anonymous said:

it would be super cool if you could do some more games! They’re my fav

Glad you like them! As long as I’m not on hiatus, games will be posted every second Saturday. I’ve already got two set for June. :)

Anonymous said:

Hey huge fan of your recent work and super excited about new caps!! Do you think you could do one about a college guy who drops out in pursuit of being a stand up comedian, but the comedy club needs a female comic so they turn him into a girl? I was thinking maybe Nikki Glaser, she so funny and sexy. Thanks can’t wait to see all your new stuff!!

Oooo, Nikki Glaser is great. Sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Can you make a caption about a guy who makes fun of curvy and thicc women, where the women get their revenge and turn the guy into Nia Jax?

You got it!

Anonymous said:

Hi Me again on the topic of the assembly line worker caption sequel if you do it i just an idea for the story like before depicting the sissies "first time"  but you can have it be that the coworker doesnt know and is telling everyone about the chick he slept with last night and the sissy is just thinking "if only they knew"idk i thought it was good anyways thank u again

So this message is in reference to a sequel caption that was requested & that I did write and will be posted in June. I’m sharing it here to let the anon know that I wrote the cap BEFORE I got this second request so there will be a followup but the story will be different. I hope that’s ok.

Anonymous said:

Hi idk if u watch wrestling or not I see u have some captions of wwe womens wrestlers but im not sure have far ur knowledge of it is? Could u do a caption of Rhea Ripley if u know her?

I have never seen a single episode of WWE, I do not watch wrestling, and yet somehow every time someone requests a wrestler I know who she is. Don’t ask me how because I do not know. Anyways, yeah I can do a Rhea Ripley one. :)

Anonymous said:

Could you do a caption about a janitor for sissy co. That finds out the strange goings on at work and tries to blow the whistle on the whole operation but is caught and turned into a sissy maid for the sissy co. Corporate office abit specific I know but ive been thinking on that awhile however u do it will be perfect thanks

You got it!

Anonymous said:

Could you do katheryn Hahn from wandavision specifically the 80s look with the Big hair and aerobics outfit

Oooo, sounds nice. I’ll type that up for sure. :)

Anonymous said:

Hi big fan of your caps!! Do you think you could do a cap where a football player wants to go to the NFL but gets hurt, so they turn him into a female commentator, maybe Lauren Rutledge? If you don’t know her, she’s been a college football reporter for awhile and was also a former Miss Florida. Anyways I just think any guy would be lucky to be turned into her and I love your caps keep up the great work!!

Me: *googles Lauren Rutledge to see if it’s who I’m thinking of* How do I know who this is? Anyways, yes I can write this. :)

...for some reason there are no GIFs of her though so I’m just gonna move on.

Anonymous said:

Hi I'm the one that requested the LONG list of celebs I'm still really sorry about that I didnt realize how many it actually was till I looked back so I wanna retract some for your sake tell ya what if you havent done any already just do the ones that are specifically marked (as in the ones detailed by movie or show theyre in) the ones that are just names you can leave out i knoe its still alot but hopefully that takes some weight off of ya sorry again

You don’t have to be sorry! Like I said, in the future I’d ask that folks limit requests to no more than 3 celebs at a time but you didn’t know that. I’d never said that before. I typed up every celebrity and they’re going to be sprinkled in during June. Hope you like them! :)

Anonymous said:

Hello ^^ I love your work. Can u make a caption with the name "jules" and Ariana Grande please? Thank you

Sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Hey, not really an ask, but something I needed to share

I'm the one that asked for the Stephanie Beatriz caption from a whole back, and I absolutely loved how it turned out. Each time you roll out a new caption is like a small thrill to me and I read them right as they're released.

Now this wouldn't be an ask if I wasn't asking something, right? Well, next month sees the release of the "In the Heights" movie, and there's an opportunity there to do a series of captions using stephanie Beatriz from that same movie.

In conclusion, I love your captions so much, you're amazing!

Awww, this is such a sweet message. Thank you! And YAAASSSSS! Ever since the first trailer for In the Heights dropped I was like, “I must write a caption with her in this!” So you can imagine how fun it’s been waiting this entire time. *eye twitches*. We’ll have to wait until the movie comes out for me to be sure I can find a good image but this IS a caption I want to write. :)

Anonymous said:

Hi I just recently came across your blog and fell in love with it!! The caption with the football player being turned into Bella Thorne is one of my favorites!! I’d love so much if you could do a sequel or something to that cap it was so amazing and I need to know what else happens to “her”. I’m not sure if this is possible or if you even do sequels but this cap was great and I look forward to all the others!!!

Glad you like it! I’m always looking for sequel captions to write on Throwback Thursday so you’ll get this for sure. :)

Anonymous said:

Hey big fan! Do you think you could do a caption where a short guy gets made fun of by all his girl friends for how short he is? Ariana Grande is fairly short and I think a caption of her (of age of course) would be awesome

You got it!

Anonymous said:

Can you do one with the bella twins as two guys who fought over the same girl then the girl turns them both into look alikes of her but then they start fighting over the same guy

Yep!

Anonymous said:

Do you know suzy berhow? Or angie Griffin? If so would love a caption of either of them please

Sorry sweetie, I don’t know who those are. :(

Anonymous said:

Would appreciate more Sia captions please when u get the chance

I will remember that. :)

Anonymous said:

Can make some Winnie Harlow caption please? I adore her style

Sorry lovely, I don’t know who that is. :(

Anonymous said:

How about instead of removing the captions with Demi in them ,the images of Demi were just replaced with another celeb and if Demi is mentioned by name in the caption then that could be edited  to mention a different celeb. I respect Demi's decision I do but lets not lose some well made captions. Also if you could please make a caption where Amy Adams feminises a fan and raises them as her daughter and Kristen Stewart makes you her submissive wife that would be appreciated. I'm a fan of them.

So about the Demi Lovato captions: I understand your feelings but I’m still going to delete the original captions. Because of how my captions are made I can’t just go back in & swap out an image or edit the text, I have to remake it from the ground up. I am hoping to do that with some (maybe all) of the Demi Lovato captions & re-publish them, but I’m still going to delete the originals.

I can do the Kristen Stewart one for sure and I’ll TRY to do the Amy Adams one I just am not 100% sure I can find a pic for that but we’ll see. :)

Anonymous said:

If it’s possible before your summer hiatus could you do a caption with Amanda Crew (silicon valley, sex drive)?

I will do one with Amanda Crew but I can’t commit to doing it before the hiatus.

About the hiatus: I don’t know when it’s going to be. I want to TRY to make it to at least July 18th because I have a specific game in mind I want to post for 5 years of Celebrity TG Captions games, but after that I have no idea. I’ve been writing caps for a longer stretch of time since normal since I’ve switched to a part-time blog so I might burn out at any second but for right now I’ve still got some juice.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Spring(ish) Cleaning -- Jalice Secret Santa 2020

@jalicenetwork

Pairing: Jasper/Alice

Summary: It’s that time of the year again, and Jasper doesn’t take it quite as seriously as Alice would like. Fluff! Domestic life! 

Disclaimer: I’m not making any money from this nor do I own anything recognizable. 

Word count: 1280

Warnings: None

A/n HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! And happy Secret Santa, @alice-cullen-is-an-angel :) I hope you like it <3 

“Jasper Whitlock Hale, you get back here right now!”

Jasper squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before setting his book down on the table. From in front of the TV, Emmett chortles. “Busted.”

With quick movement, Jasper pushes his brother’s head to the floor, then darts up the stairs, dodging Emmett’s retaliatory shove with a full second to spare.

Feeling Alice’s frustration, Jasper puts on what he hopes is a charming smile and hurries up the stairs to their room. “Yes, my love?”

Alice rolls her eyes at her husband’s faked innocence. “You said you were just getting a book.”

The edges of Jasper’s lips twitch. “And I did.”

“You’ve been gone forty-five minutes!”

Jasper rubs the back of his neck with a scarred hand, sheepish. “Well, then I settled down with the book and it got really good, so—”

Alice skips forward and jumps to place a kiss on his nose. “The book will still be here when we’re done.”

Jasper sighs, wanting to put up just a little more of a fight, even though he knows he’s already lost. “The closet will still be here when the book’s done, so…” He trails off under his wife’s death glare.

“You promised we would do this last April. It’s now January first. You know how the humans say—‘new year, new me’, well I say, ‘new year, new clothes’, and new clothes need space so we have to get rid of old clothes. Now sit.” With a measure of strength incongruent for her size, Alice shoves Jasper onto the bed, where he obedient sits with a resigned chuckle. It’s true. He had been putting this off for over nine months. He just hates going through their entire wardrobe—an achingly tedious task that takes hours due to his wife’s love for fashion. Back in the mid-1900s, they only had to do this once every five years or so—clothes weren’t produced as quickly, then, so it really slowed Alice down. Now, she has no limits, and it definitely shows in the size of a walk-in-closet that’s bigger than their actual bedroom, and three storage units scattered across the United States’ northern boarder. So now, Jasper’s least favorite chore occurs at least every eighteen months.

Wonderful.

Alice disappears in the closet and returns within a millisecond, clutching a thick grey button up from Jasper’s section, holding it up for him to see.

“Keep.”

Alice scoffs and quirks an eyebrow, raising the button-up into the light as if that would help Jasper see it through her eyes. “It’s six years old, Jazz.”

Jasper bites back a smile. The shirt is in excellent condition, but the disdain emanating from Alice when she declared the shirt’s age means it clearly has to go. Jasper shrugs, unaffected by parting with the shirt. “Donate, then.”

His wife smiles approvingly, tosses it into a pile, and returns with a nearly identical shirt in deep blue. Though, since this one is only from November, he’s allowed to keep it.

They continue like this for hours, the ‘donate’ pile growing ever larger due to Alice’s strict criteria for keeping an item in their rotation. While Jasper doesn’t enjoy this task, he basks in the one-on-one time with Alice, and mentally chides himself for putting this off for so long. It’s nice, being in their shared space, acting as a husband and wife would. Cleaning out a closet feels very normal, almost human.

He notices Alice taking longer than usual to return with the next item of clothing, and pushes off the bed to investigate. Her emotions hint at amusement, and he’s definitely intrigued. She hears—and mentally sees—him coming, and quickly hides something behind her back, moving to toss it in to the depths of the closet. He’s faster than her though, and locks a hand around her wrist, halting her movement.

“What have you got there?”

Alice gives him his second death glare of the day, though the amusement hasn’t faded. “Nothing. It’s none of your business.”

Jasper raises an eyebrow, slowly snaking his other arm around her back to pull her against him, taking her other wrist in his free hand. He pauses momentarily to enjoy her sharp intake of breath, then continues in his scrutiny. “If it’s in my closet, I’m pretty sure it’s my business.”

“Well, this specific thing isn’t,” Alice shoots back, quite obviously fighting a smile.

He acts on instinct alone, not even giving her second-sight warning before he switches his grip of her wrists to one hand and squeezes lightly, forcing her to drop the object into his free—and waiting—hand. She lunges forward, intending to steal the object back and make a run for it, but Jasper uses his grip to keep her steady, holding the object high out of her reach for both of them to see.

And he dissolves into laughter.

Alice takes advantage of his distraction and extracts herself from his loosened grip, snatching the gaudy hat and holding it in her crossed arms.

“Wha-what is that thing,” Jasper sputters, reaching for the hat. Alice takes a step back, shaking her head resolutely. “No, c’mon, please,” he chortles, raising his hands in mock-surrender. “I’ll be nice, I promise.”

Despite her expression that clearly says she doesn’t believe him, Alice hands back the hat, biting her lip against embarrassed laughter of her own.

Jasper straightens, examining the hat with forced seriousness. “It’s interesting.”

“I got it in Milan,” Alice defends, despite knowing that it won’t help her case against Jasper. Rosalie, maybe, but not her fashion-safe husband. “It’s couture, actually.” At his stuttering laugh of disbelief, Alice nearly stamps her foot. “You just wouldn’t get it!”

“You’re right,” Jasper grins, radiating pure mischief. “I don’t get it. I think it might help if I could see it on.”

“Ohhhh no,” Alice warns, taking a step back. “I’m not giving you any more ammo.”

“Alice,” he coaxes, grinning wickedly. “I’m just a student of fashion trying to better understand the trends of the time. An expert such as yourself wouldn’t deprive me of that, right?”

She knows she won’t win if she’s trapped like this. He’s already got the plan worked out in his mind—back her into a corner and simply take the hat, putting it on her head. So, she tries for her only other option.

She makes a run for it.

Her visions allow her to dodge the arm he throws out in an attempt to stop her, and she makes it into the bedroom. But then he switches to acting on instinct, and it’s all over.

They end up tangled on the bed, laughing wildly as he wrestles the hat from her grip. All too soon he’s won, and he places a soft kiss on her lips before settling the hat firmly on her head, much to her obvious annoyance.

He fights hard to not laugh, but it’s a losing battle.

The hat is somehow as large as a five-tiered cake, which looks absolutely comical on Alice’s four-foot-eleven frame. The extra-wide brim extends way past Alice’s shoulders, plunging the majority of her face into darkness. The hat is a fierce lime green, with bells made of ribbon zig-zagging up to the very top of the hat, upon which, sits an intricate design reminiscent of a bird’s nest.

“You’re beautiful,” he tries, his voice wavering with barely-restrained laughter.

“Donate,” she says firmly, gritting her teeth.

Jasper shakes his head, grinning as he tilts the brim back to see Alice’s less-than amused expression. He fully loses it then, burying his head in the crook of her neck as he shakes with laughter. “Keep.”

A/n Once again, Happy New Year everyone! My requests are open so send me a message if there’s anything you’d like for me to write :) And if you have a moment, it would mean the world to me if you checked out my masterlist! You are all loved, you are strong, and I’m here if you need me <3. 

[rennyji]

the sharper candidate

I saw the state of the presidential GOP primary race on television today, given by Nikki Haley.

I do not mean to put pressure on one candidate over another, but we need someone sharp, and able to finish sentences and perspectives, as does Nikki Haley, or someone equally good who measures to the bar of hard work she set.

Something I extracted from her speech is her immense spirit for wanting to take on the uphill battle of not just becoming President of the United States, but on a more preliminary level: the nominee for the Republican Party.

What she's doing, and quite a lot at that, is what she is willing to do, just to become the "nominee of her party," even when the odds/statistics are stacked against her.

She shows grace and eloquence in speech and demeanor. It alludes to mental sharpness. She doesn't sound on low volume like Joe Biden, and she completes a thought, unlike Donald Trump.

Biden and Trump symbolize brain dullness. If there is a minimum age to become President (I think 35, so that a person has some life experience), shouldn't there be an age limit, as well, to address biological/genetic mental acuity?

On Trump completing a thought, this is what he said after winning one of the primaries - the quote is from The Daily Mail from his speech:

--- The quote:

"'These are very dishonest people and you're always fighting that, and just a little note to Nikki: She's not going to win,' Trump said. 'But if she did, she would be under investigation by those people in 15 minutes and I could tell you five reasons why already. Not big reasons. A little bit of stuff that she doesn't want to talk about. But she will be under investigation within minutes,' he said, introducing suspicion without specifying any particular inappropriate conduct."

My take: Now if Trump is so confident in his accusation, why doesn't he list the five reasons Haley should be under investigation? Who are "those" people? And really? "15 min?" And if they're "not big reasons," what is the accusation? It's how Trump talks. He makes a claim, walks a little backward, and gives no specification, after. What his supporters seem to like is his vengeful tone, which seems synonymous with raising America from the dead.

But what his supporters need to remember? Enthusiasm only last for so long, whether its sourced in vengeance or something else. What lasts is conviction and will power. Nikki Haley believes in her ability, she believes in this country, and she exercises immense will power to win support to her cause. Haley shows she can go the distance, that "she will be here" today, as well as "tomorrow", not just for the duration of the enthusiasm.

Today, 2/20/2024, when Trump got off the plane in - I think - South Carolina, he said, Nikki Haley? "...We had enough of her." Just at that, his supporters indicate their approval. But "enough of what?" What's the topic?

Trump never specifies. And his supporters don't care.

Everyone views the Reagan administration in high regard. If you were to look at the warm presence of Reagan congratulating someone or empathizing with someone, is he more like the vindictive Trump or the sociable Nikki Haley? Did the GOP just settle on someone who carries the most sway with people for a quick win? Seems like they settled for the quicker option to carrying out their agenda, from what's seen with the minimal progress in the House of Representatives, since the ousting of the Speaker and the endless Continuing Resolutions. Did the GOP give up on the substance or content of one's character for just the idea or notion of MAGA? Whose more likely to do the work of making America great again?

I'll be honest. I like Trump's drive to influence crowds and his determination in saying things like "we're going to drill" in Alaska. But did he actually build the great beautiful wall on the southern border, that he touted, and did he get Mexico to pay for it? All that influence and determination...and yet, Trump left the wall to be built under the Biden Administration, through restriction of funds allocated to building a wall, through the Impediment Act. And What kind of a wall was ultimately built? Not one made of solid stone, but of removable wooden pillars. If Trump did what he said he was determined to do, would it have resulted in the border crisis under the Biden administration?

Regarding Trump's influence of crowds... those people who fought to overturn the election under his suspicions - aren't they in jail while Trump returned to his life and endured his court cases? What about his lawyers? Did they get paid? What about the mayors, and congressman that supported him? Didn't he turn on them? What about Fox News contributors who suggest something to help him in his day to day chaos? Despite daily loyal support, doesn't he lash out against them on True Social or Twitter, by calling them RINOs? Some of those contributors, just yesterday were facing "fakes" accusations on Twitter, for constantly supporting him without the slightest Thanks.

***

If you can't express a difference of opinion to a leader, causally or comfortably, then you have what Alexei Navalny and his family went through in Russia.

If I need help because my car stopped working in the middle of the road, who's more likely to call me a cab: Donald Trump or Nikki Haley?! Who is likely to continue the argument on when life begins, or the "life of soul" (more than the body) begins - Haley, a mother of two? Or Trump, connected with two recorded infidelities and a related lost recent court case?)

Who is likely not to separate children from parents, when deporting illegal immigrants - Haley or Trump?

Who is likely to help their neighbor in countries across the world like Ukraine and Israel - Haley or Trump?

Who addresses China's potential to hack America's power grid - Haley or Trump? Haley.

---

Biden? The gaffs are endless. You often see him wander from one direction of the podium to another, unsure of where to go, or forgetting where to go. This is after 8 years as VP and 4 years as President.

He was asked today, 2/20/24, "Who would you rather run against: Nikki Haley or Donald Trump?" He apathetically says, "He doesn't care."

And that's the thing. He is a well intentioned, accomplished individual. However, from such statements, from his low volume, especially in comparison to the enthusiasms of Trump, it's hard to wonder if he cares enough for action. Maybe Biden's tired... When asked about closing the border, Biden was heard saying "Congress doesn't give me the money." So that's it? You gave up? You have to assume he did, because for the past year alone, there's 5000 asylum seekers daily, according to an average, where there could be a total of 25000 asylum seekers, weekly. How can there be that many asylum seekers, weekly, for just this past year alone?

Then the current administration, that doesn't have money to close the border or build The Great Wall, finances health care, credit cards, & housing for asylum seekers, while San Francisco, alone, is lined with native homeless people on its streets.

---

Nikki Haley is a candidate, who chooses to, and can, appear on CNN and Fox News, whereas Trump may not be CNN's favorite, and Fox News is conversely supportive of her contender. Nikki shows she can lead both parties, or both sides of the isle, just by being able to make comfortable appearances on both channels.

She is toiling away for a position, that her contender, Donald Trump, believes is assured to him.

While Trump uses non-mandatory court appearances to not debate or campaign, Nikki Haley is slaving away for a belief, a hope, a dream. Isn't that the process towards the American Dream? I heard in some shape or form, that the American Dream is money, power, & respect. While Trump rides on the praises of his affluence or the image of money, Haley clearly seeks the "respect," earning the power (and consequently the money/perks) of the Presidency. She makes this clear by standing her ground and knowingly going against statistics.

It reminds me of something I heard, growing up. I had a second cousin who was quite talented in academics. Me? My focus, was not that good. My second cousin became comfortable in what he saw as a sure thing to getting A's. We were a competitive pair. He felt so comfortable over the edge he had over me, he started taking it easy. I continued to toil away. I realized if my focus wasn't good, I can still do equally well by notating and memorizing everything the teacher said. I became acquainted with the saying, "When talent doesn't work hard, hard work beats talent." That semester, and every semester after, I was on the Dean's List, while my second cousin got second honors or less.

In the case of my second cousin, and maybe Donald Trump, when things seem like a sure thing, you kind of coast by. For something like an election, you're not showing that you really want to take on a task, that revolves around leading and helping others.

For the evangelicals and Middle America that somehow rise to Trump,

Is it Trump, from sitting idly/playing victim of the government, or Haley toiling away,

that composes the individual who made 10 coins, 20 coins? Who is coasting by, burying the one advantage, the one coin, they currently have?

Who is the "persistent servant" of the people, who should get the Blessing of Victory from the Divine Master?

---

The infamous 14th Amendment used against Trump says:

No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice-President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any State, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof. But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability.

My take:

Everyone gets hung up on the word "insurrection." Trump may not have said, "overthrow the government," but he did instigate a "riot." By now, with his derogatory sayings of court clerks and others, Trump knows those people are going to fall victim to the hate of his supporters. His supporters are a passionate group. They have fire and that's as clear as day. I think it's safe to say, Trump knows of their passion. When he encourages a rigged election notion, he should be cognizant and responsible to expect the kind of reaction received in that fateful January.

That being said, I get hung up on the word "officer of the United States."

Maybe Trump sees himself as Putin. Maybe, just for the 1st day, he wants to be a dictator so that he can "drill, baby, drill" in Alaska to lower gas prices.

However, from his mannerisms, I don't think he, like others, realize that the office of the President is not King or Dictator, but an office of service to the people. It is not an office for praises and glory, but of humility.

In my opinion, the office of the President is the epitome of the line: "officer of the United States."

If the Christ figure, believed as God, in Christianity, can lower Himself to wash the feet of His disciplines, the President, is and can be, an officer of the people. Even if Christ were to be a character in a story, His humble action of washing feet extends into applicable reality.

---

If Trump is talent, because of his influence, Nikki Haley is hard work. Trump, just yesterday, was debuting his sneakers, while Nikki Haley was still trying to indicate why she is the better candidate. Again, "when talent doesn't work hard, hard work beats talent." "Heroes come and go, but legends never die."

Heroes make headlines, but legends make history.

Haley knows the numbers. But she still faithfully continues out of conviction.

Trump is saying things like "if Nato members don't pay what's owed, then he will encourage oppressors to rage against them."

A leader, especially the American President is not a tyrant, but a figure of compassion. Haley embodies the latter.

When I write about something, it's usually because it's something thought provoking, that doesn't require much thought: it just flows.

Writing my support of Nikki Haley, is not something I had to think about, especially if you're seeing me type this as I'm typing. It just flowed, from all the things I've seen and heard. I don't have to think about whether she is the right candidate. On people's minds, there is Biden, Trump, Haley. Only Nikki Haley makes sense.

I do not mean to put pressure on one candidate over another, but we need someone sharp, and able to finish sentences and perspectives, as does Nikki Haley, or someone equally good who measures to the bar of hard work she set.

[loftec]

Hi! in this prompt, could we know about Mickey's ex boyfriend or something? I think his name was Matt?

thank you for participating + pre NTW - Mickey's POV 👀

Anon: tell us about Matt

Yevgeny: his name was Mark

Mickey, pinching the bridge of his nose: Martin, and no. I’m not gonna tell you about Martin.

Narrator: little did Mickey know that he had zero say on the matter, let’s goooo.

April 13, 2013. Saturday.

Mickey is just off the L when his phone rings. For a moment, he considers ignoring the buzzing in his pocket as he lights up a cigarette and bounds down the metal steps. The list of people likely to call him is very limited, and most of that list is very welcome to fuck off to voicemail on a Saturday evening. Work can fuck off, telemarketers can doubly fuck off. On this particular Saturday, even his extended family can fuck off. It might be Martin, wondering where he is, but he can quite frankly also fuck off, seeing as Mickey is no more than five minutes away from their agreed rendezvous.

That only leaves one, and the thought alone is enough for Mickey to step out of the flow of people rushing to and from the platform, and check the damned call. Seeing the ID, he quickly picks up, pressing the phone to his ear.

”What the fuck?” he asks, unsure if he should be annoyed or alarmed and figuring this would best cover a bit of both.

”Hey dad,” his son says, unexpectedly.

”Yev?” Mickey says, inching towards annoyed. At least his son is unharmed enough to dial a phone, so it can’t be too bad. ”What’s wrong? Where’s Sonya?”

”She’s right here,” Yevgeny says, he sounds fine, normal, good, ”we can’t find the cake poking thing.”

Staring at the empty space in front of him, Mickey feels the rest of his mood swan dive head-first into annoyed. ”The what?”

”The thing we use to poke cakes, to check if they’re done? We can’t find it and we need it, the cake is almost done.”

Taking the forgotten cigarette from his lips, Mickey angles the burning end away from his face as he rubs at the deep line between his eyebrows.

”Kid,” he says, trying to sound calm, ”give the phone to Sonya.”

There are some muffled noises over the line, and then Mickey can hear his son’s distant voice. ”He wants to talk to you.”

”Hey Mickey,” Sonya comes on, breezy as anything. ”Is it supposed to be in the cutlery drawer? Been rifling through that thing for a good minute already.”

”Are you fucking kidding me?”

”What? It’s not such a weird guess, is it? I’d say it’s cutlery adjacent at least.”

”I’ve been outta the fucking house for less than forty minutes!” Mickey says, calmly. He is absolutely not screeching loud enough to have people on the street give him concerned looks. ”And you call me about some fucking–, I don’t have anything like that! Who has a thing specifically for poking cakes?!”

”Oh please,” Sonya scoffs. ”Plenty people do, you being one of them!”

He wants to point out that this is categorically not what he meant when he said ’call me if there’s an emergency’, but he’s got a feeling that this is only going to get him into an argument about the definition of ’emergency’ that he’s not going to win, and besides, he’s got bigger fish to fry right now.

”I absolutely do fucking not!” he splutters, glaring at a couple throwing him side-eye as they rush past him. ”Are you outta your mind?”

”I know you have one, because I gave it to you,” Sonya says, clanking sounds in the background from where she’s still presumably rifling through Mickey’s shit. ”Remember? When you moved in? I got it in Sweden when I was visiting for my cousin’s wedding. It was hand crafted, Mickey, you better not have thrown it out!”

”That thing?” Mickey balks, smoothly electing to not point out that they both know Sonya came home from her trip with like ten of those in her luggage and then spent the next two years giving them to all her friends and family whenever she’d forgot about getting gifts for an occasion. ”I stuck it in Merida.”

The silence on the other end of the line is palpable, and it takes a second for Mickey to hear what he just said.

”Who is Merida, and do I want to know why you stuck my hand-carved Swedish cake poker in her?”

Mickey sighs, and decides that he doesn’t have to answer that. He can try, at least. ”Tell Yev it’s in Merida.”

”I most certainly will not tell your sweet summer child that you’ve stuck the cake poker in–,” her increasingly high pitched voice abruptly falls to a hiss, ”–Merida, who is Merida?”

Luckily, Mickey can hear his son in the background, saving him from having to explain. ”It’s this thing?”

There’s another silence, Mickey takes the opportunity to smoke and accept the inevitable.

”Two questions,” Sonya says, her usual good humor back in her voice. ”One, you stuck my hand-carved Swedish souvenir in a potted plant? And two, you named the plant Merida?”

”It’s cartoon character–,” Mickey starts, before realizing what he’s saying and cutting himself off, ”I didn’t name it, obviously.”

”But you still call it by its name.”

”Whatever,” Mickey blows out a puff of smoke and can’t help smiling. Sometimes he just has to stop and take stock of how fucking ridiculous his life has turned out. And how much he fucking likes it, despite himself. ”Congratulations, you found it. Any other emergency you needed me for, or can I get back to my–”

He swallows, catching himself mid-sentence, suddenly unsure of how he intended to end it.

”–thing.”

”You’re there already?” Sonya asks, sounding genuinely remorseful now. ”Sorry, you left so late I thought for sure you’d missed the train and would still be en route, or I wouldn’t have told Yev to call. How’s the date going?”

Mickey swallows again, throat dry. He starts walking down the street in the direction of the bar.

”It’s fine, still on the way,” he says, ”and it’s not a date.”

”Like heck it isn’t,” Sonya tuts, ”you’re out on a Yev weekend for the first time since I’ve known you, and I saw that shirt you’re wearing.”

He runs a hand self-consciously along his belt, his button-down still tucked in and in place. He refuses to worry about it.

”You looked good, Mickey, I meant to tell you,” Sonya continues, and she doesn’t even sound like she’s teasing anymore which Mickey knows even less how to handle. ”And you’re undeniably on a date.”

”Shut up,” Mickey mutters and smiles to himself when Sonya laughs. Feeling a little more himself, he chucks his cigarette to the curb and stops to look across the road at his destination. ”Maybe.”

He hadn’t really considered the possibility, before Martin asked him. But the sex was always good, they got along really well, and when Martin looked up at him from his bed as Mickey was pulling on his jeans, his hair rumpled and lips still shiny, and asked if he wanted to go to some kind of hipster showcase gig together, Mickey had barely even hesitated.

”About time, too,” Sonya says. ”Was starting to think the guy wasn’t all there, taking his sweet time. Maybe he was waiting for you to ask.”

”Ey,” Mickey shakes his head, ”it’s only been a couple of months.”

”Try six! That’s half of a whole year.”

”Try minding your own fucking business,” Mickey says and frowns. Maybe it has been that long since the first time they hooked up, but it’s not like they’ve been fucking on the regular the whole time since then.

”Just happy for you, Mickey,” Sonya says, like it’s an easy thing for her to say. ”You like him, right?”

He doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t outright deny it either, which probably tells Sonya everything she needs to know.

”Gotta go,” he says instead, ”and don’t call me again unless it’s an actual fucking emergency. See you tomorrow.”

Not waiting to see if she’s got something to say to that, he hangs up and shoves the phone back into his pocket. Staring at the unassuming building across the street, he allows himself a moment to take it all in. He’s just casing the joint before he enters, it’s normal fucking behavior. He isn’t stalling.

It doesn’t look too busy from the outside, there’s no line, and no bouncer or guard by the propped open double doors. The walls of the building are littered with layers of posters, on both sides of the doors and across the covered windows. Not much can be seen through the doors from his vantage point, but he assumes that it’s a front room leading to whatever’s going on inside the building.

There’s a guy standing off to the side of the doors, smoking. He’s got a lanyard shoved down his back pocket, ID badge dangling in clear sight. Most likely someone working at the bar, out on a break. His shoulders are hunched and he’s got a phone clutched to his ear, head bent and lips pressed together in a thin line. He nods at whatever is being said to him over the phone. Mickey looks up at the worn sign above the door.

”Fuck it,” Mickey mutters and, pushing aside the last of his niggling doubt, makes his way across the street and through the doors. It’s dark enough inside that his eyes need a second to adjust, before he quickly orients himself and heads toward the noise and lights leaking out from behind a set of swing doors beyond the coat check.

”Excuse me!” someone pipes up behind him, and he turns back to raise his eyebrows at the girl standing behind a counter by the entrance. ”We’ve got a showcase tonight, you need to buy a ticket.”

She makes an apologetic face as Mickey gets closer and pulls out his wallet.

”25,” she says when he gives her a questioning look.

”Christ,” he mutters, but forks over the money. ”This better be good.”

”We’ve got a really exciting lineup tonight, all local acts,” she says, obviously relieved now that he’s payed and she can tuck away his hard earned cash in her little lock box. ”I’m hoping I can take a break soon so I can sneak a peak of the headliner.”

She winks at him as she hands over a ticket, and he has zero fucking clue what he’s supposed to do with any of that.

”Okay?” he says and accepts the ticket. ”What’s this for? I’m already here.”

”In case you want to go in and out,” she says, and then tacks on when she seems to remember something she’s supposed to say; ”there’s no smoking in the venue.”

Mickey shrugs and pockets the ticket, biting back the urge to tell her that there’s no fucking smoking anywhere these days, thank you very much. The girl is still smiling at him when he turns his back on her and heads for the bar.

”Have fun!”

Finally inside, the place seems to be a collection of smaller rooms with some walls knocked down to make a larger, oddly shaped space. The bar is crowded, three bartenders moving around each other and pouring drinks in the narrow space behind it, and all the tables tucked away in the dark half-room next to it seem occupied. In the main room, Mickey finds the small, raised stage with a bigger crowd gathered in front of it. There’s a guy on stage, talking about something and looking like he’s about to cry while getting thoroughly ignored by a majority of his audience.

Mickey included, when he spots Martin a bit to the left of the stage. He’s talking to a couple of people he must have met in the crowd, smiling in that carefree way of his, eyes squeezed together and head tossed back when he laughs. He seems to do that a lot, laugh and talk and make friends wherever he goes. Open about himself in casual throw-away lines as he lets Mickey into his apartment, takes his clothes off, catching his breath, seeing Mickey off again. It’s nice seeing him out here, in the real world.

Maybe this could work. Mickey really should have tried harder to be on time, leaving your date to make new friends while he waits for you to show up seems like a bad move, now that he thinks about it.

Shit. Here goes nothing.

”Hey!” Martin exclaims, face lighting up with a wide smile when Mickey walks into his line of sight. He doesn’t sound upset, really doesn’t look it either when he pulls Mickey in for a quick kiss. It’s over before Mickey’s had the chance to do much else than blink in surprise.

”I’m late,” he acknowledges and hopes Martin will take the attempt at an apology for what it is.

”It’s fine,” Martin gins at him, tilting his head in the direction of the stage, ”you haven’t missed anything good.”

”– have you ever noticed that?” the guy on stage mutters into the microphone, ”I mean–, uh, I’ve noticed, that–, sometimes–”

Tuning the guy out again, Mickey looks past his date at the two people still standing on his other side, regarding them curiously.

”We got a problem?” he asks them, raising his eyebrows further when the woman just smiles at him.

”Oh,” Martin says, angling himself so the four of them make a little semi-circle in the crowd. ”My friends, Nora, Ethan, this is Mickey.”

Mickey stares at the side of Martin’s face for a moment, before he notices Ethan’s outstretched hand. He feels confused enough to grab it in a quick handshake. The woman, Nora, just keeps smiling.

”Nice to meet you, Mickey,” she says, clearly hiding something. People generally aren’t this smiley without an agenda, in Mickey’s experience.

”Sure,” Mickey says, glancing at Martin for some clue as to what he’s supposed to do now.

”You wanna go get yourself a drink?” Martin asks, pointing in the direction of the bar. ”This comedy train wreck should be over soon, hopefully.”

”Sure,” Mickey says again, wrong-footed by the whole odd situation and frustrated with himself for not being able to shake the feeling that he’s made a huge mistake.

”Go with him!” Nora says, making Martin take a half-step closer to Mickey by shoving lightly at his shoulder. ”We’ll save the spot.”

She gives Martin a pointed look and some kind of silent communication seems to happen between them, ending with her looking victorious and Martin dropping his head back with an exaggerated sigh. Then he turns to Mickey and playfully gestures for him to lead the way.

”Sorry about her,” he says once they’ve reached the bar, leaning in closer to speak directly into Mickey’s ear. The warmth of his breath makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. ”I keep telling her to back off, but she’s got it in her head that we’re doing something we’re not.”

Mickey swallows and turns his head to look at Martin when he leans back.

”And what are we doing?” he asks, and he doesn’t realize how it sounds until he sees Martin’s gobsmacked expression.

He lets out a startled laugh. ”Are we really gonna talk about this now? Here?”

And technically, Mickey agrees with him. He really doesn’t want to have the ’what are we’ conversation, and he definitely doesn’t want to have it now, here. But he’s already said it, and now he needs to know.

”Maybe,” he says and frowns when Martin just stares at him for a moment.

”I don’t know?” Martin eventually says. ”We have fun, right? I didn’t think you wanted it to be more than that?”

Mickey can barely hear his own thoughts over the noise from the bar, but he can practically feel his heartbeat in his throat. ”Do you?”

Martin makes a pained face, like it’s an involuntary reaction to the mere idea, before he shrugs helplessly and gives Mickey an uncertain smile.

”We don’t really have anything in common, Mickey,” he says. ”I don’t know, I just don’t see it going anywhere.”

”Thank you for participating,” the guy on stage says, his voice louder and verging on hysterical. It gives Mickey a reason to look away from Martin’s face for a second, hating the sympathetic twist to his lips. He feels like a fool.

”You suck!” someone yells in the audience.

”Yeah? Right back at you buddy!”

”Get off the stage!”

”Sure,” Mickey says, and nods. ”No, sure. You’re right.”

”Sorry?” Martin says and grins when Mickey rolls his eyes. ”And we can still have fun, right? Hey, I’ll buy you a drink! What do you want?”

”Anything, a beer,” Mickey tries to focus on Martin, on the list of prices pinned to the wall behind the bar, but there is suddenly too much noise, too many people, too much… stuff. ”I just gotta–”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, so he stops. He doesn’t know what he wants, but getting out of this room would be a good start.

Martin looks confused, and then tuts reproachfully when Mickey pulls out his pack of smokes and gestures in the direction of the doors. He hates it when Mickey smokes, always makes him brush his teeth before they do anything. Guess that’s another thing they don’t have in common. Mickey hadn’t given it much thought.

He leaves Martin by the bar to fend for the bartender’s attention on his own and goes back outside, ignoring the surprised look on the girl by the door when he strides past her. Once outside, he’d hoped the fresh air and relative silence would knock him back on track, but it doesn’t. Everything is exactly the same, only now he can add ’running away like a pussy’ to the list of tonight’s embarrassments. He hates this, this isn’t him.

He should go back inside, show Martin and his friends that he doesn’t give a shit. Have a couple of beers, get through the night, make that asshole suck his dick until he can’t feel anything but a warm mouth and his own pleasure. But he’s not repaying any favors, not tonight, let that shithead take care of himself, since he can’t see it going anywhere. Fuck that. It’s fine.

”I know–, no, I know…”

Wrapped up in his own bullshit, Mickey hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. The same man from before is still on the phone, and he looks if possible even more miserable than he did when Mickey first arrived.

”That isn’t–, no, I know you didn’t… listen–”

Mickey ignores him, taking out a cigarette putting it to his lips. Might as well, he’s already out here. He lights it up. He, lights it up… come the fuck on, he lights it up. His lighter is out. Fucking great.

”Ey,” he says and turns to the guy on the phone, ”you got a light?”

The guy stares at him, and Mickey absently thinks he looks even worse up close. Like, disturbingly hot and built enough to properly toss a guy around if he wanted, but absolutely worn down by whatever it is he’s doing with whoever’s on the phone with him. Whatever, not Mickey’s problem. He shakes his empty lighter when the guy doesn’t immediately react.

”Oh,” the guy blinks, his eyes are red. He digs out a lighter from somewhere and hands it over. ”Here.”

”Thanks,” Mickey steps close enough so he can reach out and take it, and consequently hear the distant sound of a man’s voice on the other end of the line. He can’t make out any words, but the tone is unmistakable. The guy frowns and turns away slightly.

”Jesus, Jace, what the fuck?” he says, voice low and sharp. ”Are you serious right now? I’m not–, you know what?”

Mickey lights up and takes a couple of steps away to give the guy some privacy, but might still watch him out of the corner of his eye and hear pretty much everything he says. Call him a nosy bitch, but he really needs the distraction right now.

”I can’t do this right now,” the guy sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ”We’re on in like ten minutes and I can’t–, I can’t do this with you right now. I asked you for time.”

He listens, and whatever it is that’s being said to him seems to hit a nerve. The general air around him of annoyed resolve slowly shifts into something more resigned.

”Yeah, I know… I’m sorry,” he says, and Mickey doesn’t know him or his situation, but he knows this can’t be right. ”Tomorrow, we’ll talk. I promise. Yeah, thanks… I will. Love you, too.”

Mickey shouldn’t be listening to this, he should finish his cigarette and go back inside. Find Martin and enjoy the night, have some fucking fun. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t want to.

He wants to go home, put on some fucking comfortable clothes and watch a movie with his kid.

”Heads up,” he says and waits until the phone guy looks up before he lobs the lighter back at him. He fumbles, but catches it. ”Fuck him, you deserve better.”

The guy stares at him, and rightly so. Mickey doesn’t know why he said that, he doesn’t know anything about it. But the guy looks… he looks a bit like Mickey’s feeling, deep down and buried many times over.

He looks lost.

”You deserve better,” Mickey repeats, because he already said it and he’s nothing if not all in. The guy opens his mouth on a shaky exhale, but he doesn’t say anything. Probably thinking of ways to get away from the freak accosting him on the street with unsolicited affirmation bullshit. Which, fair enough. Guess that’s Mickey’s cue to fuck off. If the guy would just stop staring at him like that.

A hand-holding couple suddenly walks right through their intense moment, heading for the doors. Mickey comes back to himself and, thinking quick, he takes out his ticket and waves it at the couple to get their attention.

”No thanks,” the man said, probably thinking he’s trying to sell it.

”Just fucking take it,” Mickey grumbles, shoving the ticket at them.

”Uh, thanks?”

Mickey waves a dismissive hand at them, already on his way.

”Thank you!” someone shouts after him.

He can’t wait to get home. Kick off his shoes, wash out the gel in his hair. Untuck his fucking shirt. Investigate whatever that cake poking business was about, hopefully cake. Watch his kid watch a movie, see his little face light up and mouth along with the words. Absolutely ignore Sonya’s inevitable attempts to get him to ’talk about it’.

His life is fucking fine the way it is, he doesn’t know why he got it in his head to try and make it something it isn’t.

[missmaxime]

how do you feel about the show making rio so unlikable? is the backstory a fix it?

Let me start of with that I don’t think the show is making Rio more unlikable. I don’t know if you mean that they are visibly showing him committing more violence and crime. But I’m assuming this is an ask in response to the wire-scene from Sunday’s episode.  Watch me under the cut go through the past three seasons and a little some season 4 to tell you how I see Rio’s character progression. I’m not really sure if this is what you’re asking an answer to, but if it’s not tell me! * Rio’s (non) POV * Escalation in violence * Different views on S3 * More into the wire-scene * Prediction for 4x06 / Backstory

Rio has always been shown to be a ruthless and violent criminal. In the beginning of S1 he had no problem murdering the girls, and has made death threats ever since. He shot Dean, killed Eddie, had Turner assassinated and murdered Lucy in front of the girls. I don’t know how people can see him any other way, it’s not something that was ever hidden by the show. He’ll go through every length to protect himself and his business.  We know Beth has been a soft spot for him since Season 1 too. In the beginning because it was a fun and interesting business opportunity, but we’ve seen their relationship develop for better and worse across seasons. I think we have to keep in mind that Rio is a character we’ve seen almost exclusively through POV that aren’t his own, and mostly through Beth’s. And we as viewers see a limited amount of information about him, that we translate in our own ways. I’ve seen people interpreted the 2x01 scene where Rio shows Marcus to Beth through such rose-colored glasses for example. I can see how a viewer, and Beth, could see it as a scene that would frame him as more likeable. But I also see how that was exactly Rio’s point; He wanted Beth to see that it’s not just her who has kids on the line with her crime-life, as a way to invalidate her constant argument of ‘being a mom’ and ‘having a family’ as if that would make her special or something. She’s a drug dealer and counterfeiter like him, not a criminal with a heart of gold because they happen to have a child. Season 2 really started unpacking Rio’s character more. In Season 1, if the whole Rio/Beth – CH/MM chemistry hadn’t existed, I could definitely see the character of Rio being done late Season 1/early Season 2. But that’s not what happened, so now Rio had to become a person with connections and feelings and deeper motivations – but it’s still a character that’s in the base there to drive Beth forward as a character and deeper into crime. Which is a tricky balance, and I don’t think the show always made that work. Obviously the most clear example of that is the loft scene in 2x13. Now there’s more than one thing to be said about that scene, but I’m focusing now Rio himself. It’s the big finale, a lot of things needed to come together here and explode. Overall I don’t think the build-up was executed well, but it doesn’t help that we have no Rio POV here. His decision to kidnap Beth, confront her with her lack of taking responsibility and lying about her rotten eggs, and his complete oversight of her response to being pinned his fall guy really dropped out of – maybe not completely thin, but at least barely medium thick – air for me. Concerning the racial element I think THIS POST by @septiembrre explains this much better than white, non-American me ever will.  Regardless of the fact if the racial element of 2x13 affects a viewer, this poorly executed finale left lots of people unsatisfied at best. When Season 3 started we did start to see more Rio POV, or parts of his story told through Rhea, even though it was limited. I know there’s a lot of critique on the S3 we got, that I personally don’t understand – I loved it, it was so amazingly angsty, especially the Beth and Rio interactions were so loaded and simmering with guilt and anger and sadness and desperation – but if you’re searching for catharsis in a way of Rio coming back with a vengeance with guns ablaze, then that’s really not what you got. What Season 3 did do was putting the violence and cruelty Rio is capable of more on the forefront, and making us feel the weight of it more (I don’t know about the rest of you, but in the previous seasons I felt they really underplayed a lot of it). Rio had competing gangs taken out through Turner, has Turner assassinated along with a lot of other FBI agents, he fully intended on killing Beth before the pregnancy lie, kills innocent Lucy through Mick and disposes her body gruesomely, has the girls deliver Boomer with all intention of harming him (if not murder) and full on frames Beth for Lucy’s murder with her prints on the gun. I don’t think these kind of actions weren’t going on in the previous seasons, but now it’s more on display because Rio made Beth a part of this side of crime (and with that, us the viewers). In the beginning of Season 4 I feel like we’re making a bit of a jump when it comes to Beth and Rio’s relationship, maybe one that’s a little too big compared to the distance we ended on in Season 3 (even if they seemed friendly in their last Boland Bubbles scene). Lucy’s body is found and we learn that said gun was also used to taking out some gang member of an opposing gang of Rio’s, so after Turner’s sweep he apparently wasn’t done. That gun now becomes a much bigger thing to hold over Beth (and I’m speculating because we don’t know for sure, but we can guess that now Annie’s prints are on it – which is an ever bigger press on Beth because she won’t let her little sister take the fall, while she would do so herself. And I think she’s up for a rude awakening that while she’s under the impression that Rio has always employed the three of them, what was actually going on is that Rio employs Beth, and he sees Annie and Ruby as Beth’s employees and thereby offers them zero protection). So her counter with his print doesn’t come a moment too soon. I feel like Beth asking him to murder ‘Dave’, albeit with a lie about his identity and not as straightforward as Rio might wish, is a positive shift for him. She might not pick up a gun herself to do the deed, but much like Rio has Mick shoot Lucy, she very deliberately gives a killing order through him. And with a very drama heaux set-up we see him personally – and he has no reason to not have Mick do it – shoot Fitzpatrick. Aside from the fact that I have no doubt Rio may not have knew the specifics but he knew Beth had something orchestrated, the fact that some sniper dude was the target has it really drive home to him that it’s something else than Secret Service, and that they are still active around Beth. So we’re finally here, 4x05 The Banker – which I’m gonna guess was the reason you send this ask in the first place. In particular the wire-scene. In the first scene we learn that Rio has found the tracker on his car, and he turns it off or breaks it – so he knows he’s still being watched. It makes the most sense that even if he takes the leap that he put down a Secret Service agent, that they just replaced them and Beth is likely still working for them. He meets her in her kitchen – which isn’t that common at this point, last we know he was there is after the failed hit on him. And she doesn’t even jump when she sees him, just accepts it. He motions for her to be quiet before slowly stepping into her space, and she very logically responds with a ‘what are you doing?’, and he stares back long and hard to say that he means business. He has all the reason to suspect her wearing a wire, even if this wasn’t a planned meeting, and it wouldn’t be the first time she lied to his face. It’s clear to me (but I’ve seen this interpreted differently) that Beth fast finds a solid stance in this powerplay. Rio doesn’t seem happy about the fact it has come to this, and neither does she. I’m not sure if you send me this ask because you have negative feelings about this scene, but I can tell you I can’t answer those. This scenario could have been portrayed so wrong with any other actors or the way they shot it, but I feel like they delivered superbly on it. It’s in no way sexual or intimidating like I’ve seen some posts suggest, I just see two brokenhearted people who see the little trust they rebuilt fall apart in in thirty seconds. At the end Beth ends up winning, a bitter win maybe, this confrontation. Rio’s obviously still suspicion, but she also gained some trust with her asking him to kill ‘Dave’, so setting her up as The Banker is some sort of twisted reward and punishment and test at the same time. It’s not explained, but I think ‘The Banker’ might have been a hidden figure before Beth stepped up to show her face (before her flunky’s came to collect in name of The Banker) – making this an even better set-up if it’s so because that takes Rio out of the equation altogether even. We end the episode on the note where Rio tells Beth he has people he answers to, and that they want to meet her. Which, again, sound like both a reward and a punishment and a test. We’ll have to see next Sunday what it really means. IN this episode we’ll meet some of Rio’s family, likely his boss(es) and get backstory on him. I don’t see that as a fix-it, but mostly because I don’t see anything needed of fixing. I’m glad we’re getting an insight into Rio’s past, and I love that it likely will broaden his backstory and motivations more. But I feel like the way Rio’s character and the amount and the way of it seems very fitting to the story and the perspective it’s told through. I’m not sure if this is an answer to your question, so feel free to send me a more specific one if you want to!

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

*

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

*

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

*

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

[sepublic]

Amity’s ‘role’ in Luz’s fantasy

          So recently I had an epiphany thanks to @lost-gatesofhell, about Luz and her initial interest in Amity. I have to wonder if at first, Luz was partially interested in befriending Amity because it’d be like Azura befriending HER rival... In the sense that she’s trying to live out her fantasies, without considering that Amity is her own person and not a ‘prize’ to be won. I hate to compare Luz like this... but it could’ve been like how Warden Wrath was drawn to the ‘allure’, the IDEA of Eda as someone who was ‘hard to get’, a prize to be won... Of course in Luz’s case, she’s a lot less patronizing and objectifying of Amity, as seen when she respects the girl’s boundaries as soon as they’re set.

         Still, there’s this idea that while Luz is working on it, she hasn’t totally overcome her penchant for applying fantasy to real life and projecting her little adventures over what’s actually happening, for the sake of living them out... Obviously she learned her lesson in Episode 2, but like anyone else she’s not perfect and still liable to making the same mistakes from time to time, even if they’re a lot less frequent. Particularly, Luz learned not to expect the Boiling Isles to specifically cater to her fantasies, and to recognize situations for what they actually were. If Luz wanted a ‘magical destiny’ or adventure or anything like that, she’d have to work for it to happen, as Eda suggested.

         Of course, while Luz learned not to be entitled nor to expect life to just hand over her fantasies to her, there’s still this expectation and willingness to use Amity to fulfill that enemies to lovers friends trope, under the idea that at least Luz is ‘working’ for it. Luz knew then that things wouldn’t automatically be how she wanted them to be, and that she had to recognize this; But she’s still willing to make them fit her idealized fantasy regardless... Again tying back to what Eda said about having to ‘make your own destiny’, but there’s also the issue of boundaries and limits to be set, especially when actual people are involved.

        Sometimes, you just can’t live out your fantasy, period… Nor can you expect reality to change into it, even if you DO put in the work to alter it accordingly. Even if it is possible, is it ethical and worth the effort to steamroll over the autonomy of others, and see them only as tropes and roles to fulfill in your story? Not as people with their own stories? Maybe it’s pointless to try to make up for this by occasionally ‘fulfilling your part’ in another person’s story, because nobody should have to deal with that sort of expectation at all, period! Even if it’s consensual on behalf of both parties, it’s still pretty sus... And it ties into the ideas of the Coven System, of Witches having to fulfill a certain role, be it as the Bard, or the Oracle, or the Illusionist... That you have to stick to a particular trope, that there’s no mixing parts or being creative with this!

       Everybody has to be quickly and readily defined by a specific role they can neatly fit into, as ordained by Belos; There’s no room for growing beyond that, save for special people like those who fit into the Emperor’s Coven, the kind who are worthy of being ‘main characters’ in a sense, and thus allowed to be fleshed-out and ‘unique’! Everybody else, though- They’re a side-character, an NPC. It’s like those jokes of friend groups consisting of ‘the smart one’, the ‘funny one’, ‘the jock’, etc., but taken to a dark and far too literal extreme. There’s no room for someone to be the funny one AND a jock, that guy’s already a jock, don’t encroach on other people’s roles, you’ll get distracted from the specific function you have to fulfill!

        (There isn’t anything wrong with doing this in writing of course, especially since one is handling fictional characters and not real people; But from an in-universe perspective, these characters ARE actual people to one another. After all, in real life one wouldn’t define someone as JUST a chef, they also have other aspects and interests to their life that aren’t solely related to food! It’s like the revelation that teachers have lives outside of school, or how that person you know on the internet probably has a job unrelated to whatever interest they’re talking about. People aren’t JUST the jobs they do, and it’s unreasonable to expect them to dedicate their entire existence to fulfilling that role. People should have breaks and be allowed to pursue different interests, maybe even leave their ‘job’ if it’s no longer for them. So YES Karen, this person’s job IS to help customers, but that doesn’t mean their entire worth and meaning as a person solely revolves around this, nor should this person be expected to help customers 24/7 when their shift has already ended anyway.)

          But back to the subject... Luckily, Luz’s issue with molding reality into her fantasy is confronted and further resolved by Wing it like Witches. And even if Luz was projecting her stories onto Amity a bit in order to live out a ‘rivals to friends’ fantasy... It’s worth noting that Luz was also legit interested in Amity as a friend, too! Not to mention Luz is VERY concerned about earning Amity’s approval in Adventures in the Elements... Maybe part of Luz’s motive is not wanting to mess up with an ‘elusive’ friendship, or that’s what Luz tells herself... But more than likely, it’s indicative of a crush that Luz isn’t aware of. Sadly, this girl hasn’t had enough social interaction to differentiate between plantonic friendship desires and being romantically attracted to an actual peer VS a fictional character!

         Which is yet another reason why I love Lost in Language, it’s that Luz was interested in the idea of befriending Amity, of a rival turned friend, rather than just Amity herself... And maybe Amity overheard this when Luz mentioned “First I befriend the siblings, then Amity!” and that contributed to her tomato face of anger- Having the painful barriers she’d erected as a trauma response and the loneliness that came from that being trivialized isn’t great. Amity didn’t appreciate being objectified like that, solely for the emotional barriers she’d set up for a reason. It’s one thing to want to be Amity’s friend the way Boscha and others did- But is Luz really interested in Amity, or just in the idea of her? Is this love conditional on Amity’s social status, which Amity is told is both inherent to her as a Blight, and yet something she has to constantly earn and maintain? Especially the idea of ‘winning’ Amity, that’d be particularly patronizing… But very quickly, Luz remembers that Amity is her own separate individual, who doesn’t exist to fulfill her fantasies.

        Luz appreciates Amity as she really is (perhaps not coincidentally after getting insight into the girl’s true personality through her diary entries), which leads to Luz working to protect Amity’s boundaries by keeping her diary from Emira and Edric! There’s the idea of getting to know and appreciate Amity for who she really is, and Luz working to let the girl embrace that part of herself both internally and externally as well... Which again ties back into the idea of projecting the idea/image of fantasies onto someone/something, VS accepting what/who they actually are, and thus appreciating them even more as a result!

         Amity, of course, realizes that Luz is genuine and actually wants to know about the person she really is... And she’s baffled. While she was no doubt offended by Luz possibly seeing her more as a trope to fulfill than an actual person, it probably wouldn’t have been anything new to Amity; The idea of others seeing her as a means to an end, given how her own parents and Lilith did the same! Disappointing, but not surprising...

        But now it IS surprising, because Luz wants to know about Amity- And she’s not used to good things in life, alas? And how to respond? She’s well familiar with the process of rejecting people, but when it comes to accepting someone- What does she do then? And this plays into Amity’s insecurities and confusion about Luz and how she feels, not wanting to lose a friend, not wanting to hurt them, not wanting to ruin things if Luz wants her only as a friend... Not sure if Luz really means it or not because she’s still insecure, and OF COURSE the idea of a crush, and wondering what Luz could see in someone like her?!

        Amity at least better understood Luz’s motives back when she assumed it was just to fulfill her Azura fantasies, because Amity was familiar with those and her own desire for them. But now that Luz has given up on that... Why does she continue to be so interested in Amity, of all people? And even if Luz was still living out her fantasies, what more could Amity accomplish anyway, now that she’s a friend to Luz; Why does Luz continue to express interest in Amity, and be willing to do so much for the girl? Luz already got her Rivals-to-Friends trope in Amity, but she continues to hang out with the girl of her own volition and unconditionally help her; And Amity is possibly freaking out on what Luz’s motives are, even though she at least knows the girl isn’t a bully and means well!

        Mostly, I think Amity KNOWS that Luz is interested in being a genuine friend... But she’s still overwhelmed by the idea of someone being romantically interested in her, or at least more interested in Amity as a friend compared to others; Because the girl underestimates her own worth too much, she doesn’t see herself as worth getting to know if she doesn’t specifically accomplish a purpose! Odalia and Alador conditioned Amity to evaluate others based on their usefulness, or else be useful to others... So Amity is wondering what about her is so specifically appealing to Luz, especially when Luz has disregarded all of Amity’s other traits that make her ‘worthwhile’, such as her intelligence, social status, knowledge on magic, etc. The only thing left about Amity, to appreciate... Are the things that define her as individual, not as a Blight or a Top Student! And it’s unimaginable, or at least surreal to the girl, for Luz to be interested in that...

       Amity only knows friendship in terms of being ‘useful’ to someone else... Emira and Edric were genuinely interested in Amity as a person, but she’s probably dismissed this as a given since they’re family members, not to mention Ed and Em have admittedly done their part in making Amity doubt how much she means to them. So what does Amity do, when Luz expects nothing of her? No doubt Amity feels like she’s a ‘parasite’, that she’s leeching off of Luz’s good nature and not giving back enough... Maybe she’ll feel like she has compensate for their friendship and justify it, only for Luz to make it clear to Amity that just being with the girl, and seeing her be happy, is all she’ll ever need! And it’ll amaze Amity, and mean so much to her, to realize that she’s inherently worthwhile, and that she doesn’t need to ‘prove’ herself to others in order to be lovable...

         TL;DR Luz was initially trying to live out a ‘rivals to friends’ story, but learned not to objectify Amity like this... And when confronted with a growing crush on the Blight girl, Luz possibly assumed she was just relapsing into old habits. But inevitably, Luz is becoming more and more aware of how much she just genuinely likes Amity as a person, no strings attached, that the girl is irreplaceable to her. And when Amity recognizes that there’s no big secret to why she means so much to Luz, other than just being herself, that Luz’s love isn’t dependent on superficial traits that could easily be replicated by someone else, that Amity is irreplaceable to Luz... It’ll do wonders for her crippled self-esteem, as she learns that she doesn’t need to impress people in order to be loved. Amity, as she already is, without having to make any efforts to improve herself, is already worth loving both in the platonic and romantic sense!

      As for Luz, well- She didn’t get the fantasy she expected... But she still got to live out a different one. Amity really IS this girl’s fantasy, and this time, I mean it in the best way possible!

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia: Ivy on The Run and After the Rain Reviews

Hello all you happy people! We’re into week two and after far too long we finally get some answers.. well okay not the ones we thought we were getting but hey you take what you get sometimes. Point is it’s a big week, with a fun ivycentric episode that fleshes her and Felcia out and a far more serious episode that finally explains a few things, not saying what things because spoilers. So join me under the cut for some smiles, some tears, and a bit of Muay Thai and Myagi-Do as I break things down. 

Ivy on the Run:

I was pleased as punch to find out Ivy was getting an episode. While I couldn’t say she was a faviorite of mine, I always found Katie Crowns performance exceptional, and her a delight to watch. The character wasn’t bad.. but EVERY episode up to this one involving her was about her and Sprig’s relationship which while really fucking precious left little room to flesh her out beyond a love of ambushes and being into the same kid stuff Sprig was into. 

This episode not only corrects that but also takes another suprising leap for the series in having Ivy clearly be the main character of the episode. While this isn’t the first episode to spotlight a citzen of wartwood.. it’s the first where the Plantars are side characters in the plot instead of just as important as whoever got focus or usually more important. Here Ivy is the lead of the episode: We open on her waking up for the day (Or rather having been awake for hours to trick her alarm clock), get a sense of her personality.. and of the episodes conflict: Ivy’s desire to be free and explore versus her mothe’rs constnat anal renttientve insistence she do tea related stuff like fold swans properly. IT’s a decent enough conflict that gets elevated by hte twist at the end. 

So she runs out after that to meet up with Sprig, and ambush him because that’s how thier relationship works. And what I really like here is while their relationships still present in the episode it’s thankfully not the focus or even realy lreated. Their clearly together, it’s just not the focus of the episode> Just some nice ranch dressing atop this salad. While they go to hunt for glitter beetles, Anne is teaching Polly, Muay Thai. The martial art of champions.. specifically one eyed ones who like to put tiger in front of their moves. As for why she took it up her mom wanted somewhere to put her energy, as seen in a flashback with a young Anne adorably banging on pans while singing her own version of Wannabe by the Spice Girls. It’s fucking precious. 

So the couple happily go beetle hunting i’ts precious.. but Ivy’s patience with her mother starts to run out as her mother loudly interupts her hunt to return her for tea practice: stirring it, setting tables, folding swans that sorta thing. All things she clearly dosen’t WANT to do or like and gives the impression Felcia is trying to force her daughter to become more like her and less like herself which... no. Just no. 

Ivy eventually hits her limit with this bullshit, tells her mother off and then stomps off to her room whiel her Mom fails ot understand that MAYBE being hypercirtical of your daughter, even if it turns out you have a good reason, might backfire. Ivy is encouraged by her posters, great scene by the way, to run away and leave town, and take Sprig with her.. whose relcutant as he talked himself up as being really well liked and savy out there but was just okay in practice. 

Meanwhile Polly and Anne continue training but Polly can’t get it as she just can’t calm down and focus, and Anne easily blocks her. In constrast Wally shows up, having apparently been watching them. 

And picks it up instantly. I can see why; Wally seems a bit scatterbrained due to his weird and wonderful nature.. but we’ve seen him be entirely capable when the chips are down, and to be a talented musician. So while he’d SEEM like he’d lack focus, it’s probably way easier to him than the impatient tadpole who just wants to kick ass without getting it takes a few steps. 

Meanwhile Sprig tries to talk his girlfriend out of running away together at 10 only for Sylvia to tail them with those bee phone things she used earlier.. and also be there, as once they clear those out she’s waiting and both end up at the Muay Thai class. Things finally hit their breaking point and Ivy wishes she never had family... and I think this is what finally gets it in Felicia’s head she messed up. She meant well.. but sh’es clearly been so hard on her child that, even if she instnatnly regrets it, she’s willing to disown her own mother if it means getting away from her. 

So Felica gives her a way out: Martial Arts Match. Because nothing says parental love like fighting your daughter for her freedom. Though in her defense things are pretty fair: three matches, and Ivy just needs to win ONE by getting a point on her, like in a martial arts competition. I only know that’s what they were going for because I binged Cobra Kai last month along with the first two Karate Kids. 

And that refrence isn’t for nothing as Felcia easily dominates the first two matches using Miyagi-Do esque moves i.e. pure defense, and with a Miyagi style lesson inside as for the final one.. she has Ivy repeat the various tea things she’d had her do, and just like that amazing fucking scene from Karate Kid, Ivy can now fight and realizes her mother was training her the whole time, as her mom simply wanted her to be readly and as for why Felcia herself is a karate master, she picked it up while gathering tea as naturally it’s incredibly dangerous in amphibia.  

So Felcia let’s her daughte win and expalins she just wanted her to be safe.. which is nice but while her devistaiton earlier clearly shows it, it still dosen’t QUITE justify how hard she was or not telling her why when her daughter is a clear tomboy. I do get the Miyagi-Do training style: it builds muscle memory and means you can defend without thinking, fight without having to plan every punch and kick. It’s brilliant.. but you have to match the training to the student. Daniel hated his traning too.. but Miyagi clearly KNEW he would, knew he’d give out and set it all up that way. Felcia.. nearly pushed her daughter into running away and never apologized. It’s not all terrible as there is the implciation this whole match was Felcia realizing she had to make it clera what she was doing, but it’s still fairly torubling the episode never adresses her behavior outright., even if they make up and Felciia plans to take her along next time. Also Polly punches wally in the face... eh he’l lbe fine. 

Final Thoughts on Ivy on the Run: This one was decent. As said the final part feels a bit... ehhh..as it feels they don’t adress Felicia’s controlling attitude enough.. but it dosen’t detract from a pretty fun episode, especially the Muay Thai stuff. That was an unexpected treat. And let’s face it after recently getting in deep with the franchise thanks to cobra kai, I can’t hate anything that reminds me of  the Karate Kid. In a good way at least. 

After The Rain:

Well this was both a long time coming and as painful as I expected. And after over a year and a half, we FINALLY get some answers.. not ALL the answers but some. Look you know what this episode is about, I know what this episode is about, let’s get cracking in round 2. 

So Anne’s got a letter, anne’s got a letter I wonder who it’s from. Marcy.. it’s from Marcy. Turns out she’s ready to go to the first temple, and even sent them a check list: weapons, food (check and check) and armor. Hop Pop already thought of that.. but instead of badass and practical armor.. it’s padded sumo suits that they can’t move in because “less mobility means less trouble”. Or you’ll get eaten by a hawk.. which given this show is probably also on fire and can shoot acid out of its’ eyes. Or lasers. Or acid lasers. The point is their gonna die. THey also naturally need the music box... which Hop Pop about craps himself hearing. Gee it’s almost like not getting the box sooner when you knew damn well abotu the temple thing and that they’d need it kinda bit you on the froggy bottom Hopidiah. 

It gets worse for him as while he mentions his ‘contacts” again.. that night he goes to dig it up. Problem is, Anne follows him when she hears footsteps, and while she initially assumes i’ts just him being a weirdo and plans to suprise him... we instead get the gut punch we’ve been anticpating for the last year and a half.  Hop Pop shouts about the box being gone, clearly panicked... and Anne hears him, utterly devistated and rightfully FURIOUS. He confesses the truth, clearly feeling guilty for what he’s done and lying all this time but Anne dosen’t want to hear it and storms off. 

Yeah as you can tell this is a rough one. So next morning Hop Pop, who clearly hasn’t slept and given his surrogate grandaughter just rightfully walked out on him why would he, confesses to the kids what he did. And while neither like what he did .. they prioritize getting Anne back, sending him to go fix his mess while they find the box. 

The box turns out to not be the only thing missing: various other things around town have been stolen, including a talisman that if Maddie dosen’t get it back will have horrifying consequences. Classic Maddie. As for why Swampy Joe has the answer: the magpie beetle, a beetle that emerges once every 20 years to steal stuff to use as a shell to impress mates. They find the box.. but it’s in a seatle of beatles and soon get swamped.  Meanwhile Anne’s returned to the cave and... okay i’m just going to have to power through or this episodes going to kill me with sadness. After some bits about her and her rock rocky, Hop Pop finds her and she still has nothing to say to him, again for good reaosn, but before he can get to telling her WHY he did it, they hear the others crying for help and Anne tries to rescue them herself, only helping hop pop do so when he points out they NEED to and even if she rightfully dosen’t trust him she needs to for now. THey save the kids.. and Anne STILL wants to leave.

We then get an even bigger gut punch. It turns out Hop Pop didn’t hide the box for some big reveal.. regarding the box. Turns out it’s not the box itself, his book just says it’s dangerous and w’ell likely find out any specifics it had next week. It’s Hop Pop’s lingering trauma. While we don’t find out why the Box is dangerous.. we do find out what hapepned to their parents. And I just want to say before we get into that Bill Farmer’s acting this WHOLE episode is some of hte finest, if not THE finest in his career. HIs guilt, his pain.. it’s all so raw and palpable. Brenda Song’s no slouch either, Anne’s pain and anger is likewise very well done, but Bill is far and away the mvp of the episode.. and this scene is why. 

He reveals he’s been so cautious, so scared for the kids and so overly protective in general.. because of how the kids parents died, something they don’t blame him for but he does: He was out of town on buisness.. when a pair of herons attacked. Sprig and Polly got to the family bunker in time.. their parents... weren’t so lucky. It’s not the big bombastic arc related death we all thought was coming.. but I like it for it’s brutal nightmarish simplicity. They didn’t die some heroic death, they aren’t still here.. they just died like SO MANY background frogs have. Two wild giant animals they coudln’t possibly defend against got em. Nothing could’ve been done no matter what Hop Pop thinks, theirs no way they coudl’ve been saved, and i’ts LUCKY their children didn’t share the same fate. But their gone and it gives a new, awful meaning to Hop Pop’s overproectivness. Before it was mildly justified if a bit strict.. now.. i’ts him trying not to loose what he has left. Trying to hold on tight to his grandkids so he dosen’t loose anyone else.

He hid the box because his trauma and guilt were so severe he did something very stupid, and regretted it ever since and begs anne to forgive him in THE best line read of Bill Farmer’s long and storied career. And she does, hugging her Hop Pop gently, realizing that while he fucked up.. she gets WHY he did.. and that he’s sorry for it. He wasn’t tyring to keep her from going home or any messed up shit.. he just was trying to keep her and his other kids alive. And as Sprig and Polly say it’s not his fault, it never could’ve been.. he can’t help but feel that way. You just feel.. powerless when you loose someone, like you could’ve done something even though 9/10 you couldn’t have and it leaves a hole you never quite fill. So this hit like a truck. But our family is reconclied and the kids get a look at the entry in  Hop Pop’s ancestral book. What does it say besides it bad? what does this mean? We’ll find out next week. For now it’s just good to have them all together again. 

Final Thoughts on After the Rain: This episode is a masterpiece. It’s exepertly crafted, sticks in a few gags for flavor and only has the sprig and polly plot to help keep the main meat of the plot as light as it needs to be.. and it works. The few scenes we get with Anne and Hop Pop are just plain brutal and exactly what’s needed. It’s one of the series best, painful, raw and with a twist I dind’t see coming. I expected, again like most of us for the kdis parents deaths to be tied into it.. but instead.. it’s just trauma. But it’s satisfying enough that it feels like a great payoff, that it wasn’t some big dark secret like misdirected... it was just an old man who didn’t want to loose what family he had left. And that’s fucking brilliant. 

Next Week: THE FIRST TEMPLE BABY! The Plantars and Marcie head into the woods to fight moblins and ggghosts! I mean.. that is what the forest temple is right? 

Until then follow me for more reviews, follow me on my patreon your support would be appricated and see you at the next rainbow. 

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E96 (February 25, 2020)

Tonight’s guests are Taliesin Jaffe and Liam O’Brien!

Announcements: The Chicago live show and C2E2 are imminent! The live show will be on Thursday night, but an hour earlier than usual, at 6 PM Pacific/8 PM Central! Liam will be at the live show, but unfortunately has to leave C2E2 early and won’t be able to make it on Sunday. On Friday, the first behind-the-scenes video for The Legend of Vox Machina animated series was posted on YouTube, introducing the writing team!

Episode 96: Family Shatters

Stats for this week’s episode! Of the 16 times Caleb has cast Teleportation Circle, the M9 have remembered to contact someone prior to their arrival 7 times. Of those 7 times, they were successful at contacting someone at the location only 3. Taliesin: “We’re playing this game like Skyrim, we’re just going through people’s houses breaking pottery.” Caduceus got the straw hat that he gave to Clarabelle in episode 31, about 188 in-game days ago. There were 17 cow-related puns. Dani: “Is that above or below average for a Critical Role episode?”

“Clay was kind of built relatively quickly. I didn’t give Matt a ton to play with. I gave him the order in which they left, I gave him Clay’s attitude and his impression of his family members, which was usually just one sentence, and some basic idea of what their power set might be if they had one. I always thought of him as, from a family perspective, of what would have happened to Percy if nothing went wrong.” He was happy to be the one to run the family business and just hang around at home and run the shrine. “I think the rest of the kids’ wanderlust probably put them at odds quite a bit.” He liked being able to play that conflict and show what Caduceus was like when he was annoyed. Cad took after his father, the girls generally wanted to leave, and Colton is “just sort of a doofus.”

Caleb was an only child, so seeing this many kids was a lot. “They clearly had their grudges and their different dynamics with each other, but that’s normal, for sure. Caleb’s very unfamiliar with it.” He also keeps looking at Nott and thinking about how everything he’s doing is about wanting to rebuild his family, whereas Nott is so conflicted about going back to hers. “He doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t want to push it” or judge her for it. “I thought I had a really defined direction at the start of the campaign, but my seven best friends have knocked it silly.”

What’s keeping Cad with the Nein? “Caduceus is not ready to go home at all. He’s not done with his walkabout. He feels like he wants to see a bit more. He feels he has an intense debt to pay. He feels he has a mission to see everybody else through, at the very least. Or at least he’s telling himself that. So he’s saved his home, or at least he thinks he’s saved his home, and his family’s all right, so now it’s debts that must be paid. He’s not somebody who thinks you can just get off the bus.”

“Caleb was going to ask [the hag] about the ability to travel backward through time, not really believing that she could do that, but was still like, show me what you’ve got.” Even if she’d said it, he would have thought she was a liar. “Probably would’ve offered to kill the M9″ in exchange, then would’ve turned around to hit her with a surprise Disintegrate. Liam notes repeatedly that nothing could possibly have been as cool as what Laura wound up doing.

On the Nein not worrying about places Cad considered sacred ground, Caduceus “is fine with conflict. He doesn’t even really have to have conflict, he could assert himself if he were so inclined. It’s that he’s aware that there are limits to what these people can do. It’s very much the philosophy of ‘children and drunks can do no wrong’.” He’s picking his battles.

Was there a defining moment where Caleb started seeing the Nein as family? No single moment. “It’s like love by a thousand cuts.” Liam notes that he’s still not sure how Caleb would react if he suddenly had the means to carry out his plans. “He’s got the recovering-addict mentality.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Pumat! (CriticalHitical, photo by Minniemooncos on Twitter)

Taliesin notes that Caduceus is definitely feeling more connected to the group. “If anything, Caduceus is really embracing his role as the spiritual guide to the group. He feels like he really has a lot to offer from that perspective of being the roving therapist. Or at least, he thinks he’s a roving therapist.” Liam notes that Cad is the most mysterious of the group to Caleb. “He’s the most religious character I’ve ever played, too. He’s fun! He really came together very nicely.”

On Caleb being more lighthearted on occasion: “He’s been out of practice being a human being for a long time.” The Nein’s brand of ridiculousness is rubbing off on him.

Why hasn’t Cad been pranking the Nein? “They don’t treat him poorly in that way yet. Siblings, man. I have quite a few siblings, and there is an energy. It’s the same way like when you’re around your parents, you revert to a 15-year-old.” Same with siblings. “There’s just something-- just the urge to torture them is so overpowering.” The moment he got the whistle, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. Liam was reminded of Taliesin’s real-life siblings while watching these interactions in the game.

On Caleb’s laying on compliments for the Traveler: “The thing about time travel is it’s so implausible. It’s so implausible that I could see us finishing this campaign and Caleb will still have it in the back of his head for the rest of his life. But maybe Artagan could help with that. He certainly sees the potential in Artagan, and it was a balance between wanting to support everything Jester has devoted her life to, so it just felt like everyone was ready to write it off. Life is often like this, life isn’t what you thought it would be, it is what it is. Let’s not damn this yet, let’s feel it out. And if I can use this situation to possibly eradicate ultimate evil, that’s a win.”

Cad found it tough to have family and friends in the same room and play both roles. “I don’t know how much it came across that he was trying to keep them, not necessarily separated, but ‘family, guys, guys, family, ANYWAY.’” He did want to get his family on their way as quickly as possible. Cad is the equivalent of his early 20s, so something like 85-120 years old for a firbolg. 

Liam is asked about the conversation between Caleb and Yasha on watch several episodes ago. "You know what one of the best parts of that scene that played out was, is about 20 minutes or 30 minutes before that happened, I texted Ashley at the table and said, ‘Want to take watch? I have nothing planned, it could be fun.’” He wasn’t expecting it to go that far. “I think he had such an extreme reaction because he felt that he had done a good job of hiding things, and he was suddenly worried that he was transparent, that everyone had been able to read him this whole time when he’d thought that he was-- well, he’s a little in love with Jester Lavorre, and has been for a while, uselessly in love with her. The waltz was probably a little pebble. And in that moment-- this doesn’t play out verbally too much in the show, but he just was worried that this thing that he’s never going to admit to because it’s useless, she’s finding herself, and has her whole life ahead of her, and has other people around her who care about her and are a whole lot better for her than he is. And he’s aware of the way those two [Fjord and Beau] feel as well. It’s just there in the background fucking up his shit. It’s really just a problem. Big fucking problem.” 

Fan art of the week: a gorgeous Clay family portrait! (by Teaweltzer on Twitter)

On Clay being absent for the renewal of his home: “I don’t think his arc’s ending off-screen. I think his arc ends when he comes home to see what’s become of it.”

Is Caleb worried about Beau since the confrontation with her father? “Of course he is. She’s ignoring all the advice that she gave him. He doesn’t like to see her that hard on herself when she’s so competent and probably the backbone of the group. It’s the most judgey Caleb’s been of anybody, really, but he’s very aware of the pain of family and personal stuff. She knows her, and even though he broke his shit in half, he could still see the dynamic in the room when we visited his family, so he feels for her. We need you and we love you and we will miss you, you don’t fucking get to go.”

Each of the temples has a secondary god; what was the Blooming Grove’s other god? “The Blooming Grove is for the Archeart because it is a gift of beauty. It’s the Allhammer, the Changebringer, and the Archeart. It’s kind of a powerplay from the Wildmother, in my opinion. They’re all three based off of very specific types of funereal practices that are common throughout the world.”

Caleb saw giving over the transformation spell to Essek as a returning of one of his many favors. “Caleb likes Essek a lot. They’re like two highly gifted kids at school together. And, you know, he’s quirkily charming and handsome. There’s just no reason not to, in his mind. Outside of the M9, he’s probably the only person that Caleb would see as a friend that he’s made. Everyone else is just sort of scenery around the M9.”

What’s next for Cad? “It’s a little bit of finding himself, or at least finishing himself would be the way to put it.” (cue snickering from off-camera) “He’s also vaguely aware of some of the things that are going to possibly emotionally damage the party on the horizon, and he wants to be ready to deal with, in vague order, whatever’s going to happen to Jester, and then whatever’s going to happen to Fjord, and then whatever’s going to happen to Nott, and Yasha, and Caleb. He doesn’t know how to deal with what Beau’s going through. It’s the one thing he has no experience of, because he has no experience with that family dynamic. When he met people with that family dynamic, it was always at the end of it.”

Some fans sent in death whistles. Brian encourages Taliesin to play one on the plane.

The hat for Calliope was a last-minute thought. The flute could also have gone for Colton, depending on “who I could sneak up on”.

Caleb took a symbol of the Archeart from the Labenda Swamp. “I think it was familiar to me. I think I might have either correctly or mistakenly thought it reminded me of the woman who helped Caleb in the Sanatorium.”