#Under the Radar

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 1

Started a new AU called Affectionate Obsession, with Steve Rogers as the first Character Story Series to be told I hope you all enjoy and don't be afraid to tell me what you think.

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

The low hum of the factory machinery buzzed in my ears as I sat in the breakroom, staring at the sad sandwich I’d slapped together this morning. How did I end up here? After years of hard work and late-night study sessions, my Finance degree didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Instead of crunching numbers and living the life I’d dreamed of, I was here—packaging cardboard boxes and watching my future slip away.

I glanced down at my phone, a knot forming in my throat. Rent was coming up in two weeks, and I had no idea how I was going to scrape the money together. The thought of moving back in with my parents twisted my stomach in knots. No way could I go back to their judgmental looks, the snide remarks about my life choices, or their constant need to belittle everything I’ve done. I'd rather sleep on a park bench than deal with that.

My phone buzzed on the table, jolting me from my thoughts. I looked down at the screen and felt my heart sink a little deeper.

Sharon.

Of all the people who could be reaching out, she was the last person I expected—or wanted—to hear from. We hadn’t spoken since graduation, and that was by design. Things between us hadn’t ended well, and the fact that she was contacting me now couldn’t mean anything good.

With a sigh, I swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Wow, you actually picked up," Sharon's voice dripped with that same smugness that always made me grit my teeth. "I wasn’t sure if you were still alive."

I rolled my eyes, immediately regretting answering. "Yeah, still kicking. How are you?" I shot back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm.

"Fabulous, of course." Her voice was so sugary sweet it made my stomach churn. "Anyway, I’ll get to the point. A few of us are going on a trip—Maldives. One-month private villa. You should come."

I blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. A month-long vacation in the Maldives? Out of nowhere?

"Uh… I don’t think I can," I muttered, the discomfort rising up my spine. "I’m working right now, and I can’t afford a trip like that."

There was a brief silence, followed by Sharon’s familiar, annoyed huff. "Steve’s paying for everything, so don’t worry about that."

As if money was the only issue. I shook my head, feeling my frustration rise. "It’s not just about money. I can’t take off from work for two months."

"Why not?" she snapped, sounding genuinely confused, like the concept of having to work to survive was foreign to her. "Just quit."

I almost laughed at how ridiculous she sounded. "I can’t just quit, Sharon. I need this job. Some of us actually have bills to pay."

"Whatever," she sighed, clearly losing interest. "Look, if you change your mind, you’ve got three months to figure it out. We’re leaving in July."

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smart remark. "I’ll let you know."

And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone, my mind spinning. Why now? Why was Sharon suddenly interested in inviting me on this extravagant trip after all this time? After everything that happened?

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I shook off the nagging feeling. Whatever she and her clique were up to, I wasn’t about to fall for it. Not this time.

I had more pressing things to worry about—like making it through the rest of my shift without falling apart.

***

Three weeks after Sharon’s call, I found myself standing in the manager’s office, trying to make sense of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Budget cuts,” Diane said flatly, as if that explained everything.

“But I’m the only one being fired,” I pointed out, confusion mixing with anger. “How does that make sense?”

Diane shrugged, clearly uninterested. “It’s just how things are.”

I knew better than to push back too much, but it still gnawed at me. Budget cuts? No way. This factory wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but I’d seen plenty of new hires lately. So why me?

As I walked out of her office, I thought back to the time I’d corrected Diane on… well, something trivial. She’d been going on about a new process we had to follow, and I’d pointed out a mistake in her instructions. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I remembered she’d gone all red in the face, tight-lipped, and I could tell she didn’t appreciate being corrected, but it seemed like she was over it.

Did she have something to do with this? It didn’t make sense. I was practically invisible at the factory. Why would she care?

Still, it stung. Whatever the real reason, I was out of a job.

A few weeks later, my luck hadn’t changed. I spent every waking moment job hunting, praying something would come through before the end of the month. But it didn’t.

When it became clear I couldn’t afford my rent anymore, I had to make a decision: drown in debt or swallow my pride and move back in with my parents.

I hated the idea. But bills were piling up, and the pressure was too much, so I chose my parents.

The moment I walked through the door with my boxes, my mom took it upon herself to help me unpack—which, of course, meant a nonstop commentary on all the poor decisions I’d made in life.

“I told you this would happen,” she said, folding one of my shirts with military precision. “You never listen. You should have stayed closer to home, gone into something practical. But no, you wanted to follow your dreams.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap. It was always the same speech: how I should’ve done this, should’ve done that. As if I didn’t feel bad enough already. But I stayed quiet, nodding along while she reminded me just how incapable I was.

I’d been living with my parents for a month and a half now, and I was at my breaking point. Their constant nagging, the tension, the way they hovered over me—it was driving me insane. I needed out.

One week before Sharon and the girls were set to leave for the Maldives, I caved. Desperation took over, and I found myself texting Sharon, asking if there was still space for me on the trip.

Honestly, I didn’t expect her to respond. But then, there it was: a yes. Along with a list of things to pack and an address of where to meet them.

I stared at my phone in disbelief for a second. I was actually going to do this. Anything to get away from my parents.

When I told them about the trip, their reaction was immediate approval. Of course, the second they heard Sharon and Steve would be there, they were practically pushing me out the door.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” my mom beamed. “Sharon’s such a successful young woman. You should really try to get back on her good side.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course they loved Sharon. She was everything they wanted me to be—successful, put together, and always in the right circles. And Steve? They practically worshiped the guy. The heir to a tech empire. Who wouldn’t?

“Just make sure there’s no more falling outs this time,” my dad added, like I’d ever intentionally ruined things with Sharon.

I remembered the first time I told them about our fallout. They acted like I’d told them I was addicted to drugs, and they never really forgave me for it.

Now, it seemed I was being given a second chance to make everything “right.”

And honestly? I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but at this point, I’d do anything to get away from here.

***

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole trip might be some elaborate prank. I half-expected to show up and find a hidden camera crew waiting to embarrass me. But here I was, standing in front of a private jet, struggling with my heavy luggage.

“Need a hand?” a man’s voice cut through my thoughts. Before I could even respond, he was already taking my bags, prying them from my grip with an ease that felt almost dismissive.

"Uh, thanks," I muttered, watching him haul the luggage up the steps of the jet. Was this even real?

Inside, Sharon was waiting, her bright smile as fake as I remembered. “Kiwi! Oh my God, look at you!” Her eyes swept over me, lingering on all the wrong places. “Still… you,” she added, her tone too sharp to be anything close to nice.

“Yeah,” I replied, biting back the instinct to roll my eyes. Same old Sharon. Still poking at me for being shorter and curvier than the rest of them. “Still me.”

I looked to Natasha, Jane and Pepper and waved before following them into the Private Jet.

Sharon smirked, gesturing toward the jet's sleek interior. “Welcome aboard. I bet it’s been a while since you’ve ridden in anything like this?”

I didn’t bother with a response. There were a million reasons why I didn’t fly on private jets, one being that I couldn’t afford too, but it wasn’t worth the energy. I followed Sharon inside, catching sight of the group lounging around like they belonged there.

Steve was the first to greet me, his golden hair practically glowing in the soft light as he flashed that easy smile. “Hey, Kiwi,” he said, patting the seat beside him. His tone was friendly—maybe a little too friendly—but I hesitated. Before I could move, Natasha grabbed my arm and steered me toward a different seat.

“We saved you a spot over here!” Natasha chimed, squeezing my arm with just a bit too much excitement. She shot a quick glance at Steve, then back at me, like there was something I wasn’t picking up on.

Peter was already seated across from me, leaning back with a casual confidence that made me uncomfortable. His dark eyes met mine for a split second, and he gave a small nod. There was nothing awkward or out of place about him—if anything, he looked like he belonged here. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Glad you could make it,” Peter said, his voice smooth and low. There was something about the way he said it, something that felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The conversations around me were light, but every now and then, I’d catch something—a quick glance between Steve and Peter, a soft chuckle from one of the boys, or Sharon’s eyes sparkling with something that wasn’t amusement. It felt like they were all in on something, like the air was thick with an inside joke I wasn’t a part of.

I tried to brush it off, joining in on the small talk and ignoring the strange tension. But with every shared look between the boys, every lingering gaze from Sharon, that unease just kept creeping back.

It was like they were waiting for something.

Something I wasn’t in on.

***

I stirred awake to the gentle shake of my shoulder and a soft voice calling my name. “Hey, Kiwi, we’ve landed,” Natasha said, with a small grin, wiping her own hands on her lap. “You’ve got a little drool there.”

Still groggy, I wiped at the side of my mouth, feeling my face flush as I tried to erase the evidence of my nap. I sat up, blinking a few times, trying to get my bearings. When I looked around, I noticed the plane was emptier than before.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

Natasha stretched, her arms raising above her head. “They already headed to the villa. I guess they didn’t want to disturb you.”

I glanced over at Peter, still slouched in his seat, eyes closed, completely knocked out. The soft rise and fall of his chest made him look so peaceful, like the weight of the world wasn’t even a concern. He hadn’t noticed anything either.

Natasha smirked, shrugging. “I felt bad leaving you two alone, so I stayed back.”

I looked between Natasha and Peter, my stomach twisting. “Oh… right,” I muttered, feeling a familiar awkwardness settle over me. My head dropped slightly. It wasn’t the first time I felt like an outsider with these people, but moments like this seemed to make it worse.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she gave me a look, one that spoke volumes without needing words. Then she moved toward Peter, giving him a nudge. He jolted awake, eyes wide as if he had no idea where he was. “Where is everyone?” he asked, his voice a little too casual.

Natasha repeated the same thing she told me, though this time, there was a teasing edge to her tone. “They left for the villa, but I didn’t want to leave you two sleeping on the plane.”

Peter ran a hand through his messy hair, giving a lazy stretch before standing up. I wondered if I was overthinking things, but Natasha’s earlier look stayed in the back of my mind.

“Alright, let’s catch up,” Peter said, flashing that easygoing smile of his.

As soon as I stepped off the plane, the warm, salty air hit me, carrying the scent of the ocean and sun. Waiting outside was a sleek black car, ready to take us to the villa. Peter led the way, while Natasha shot me an encouraging smile, like she knew exactly what I was thinking but wouldn’t say it out loud.

But once we got in the car, the excitement that had been bubbling inside me during the plane ride started to fizzle. Reality was sinking in, fast. I stared out the window as the scenery blurred by, and that familiar, sinking feeling crept in.

What am I even doing here?

Every part of me was screaming that this was a mistake. I didn’t belong here. These people had made me feel out of place back then—why would now be any different? I had spent so much time trying to distance myself from them, so why was I here now, in the same circle that made me feel like I wasn’t enough?

Was it going to be like this the entire trip? A constant feeling of not fitting in? The idea of spending two months like this, constantly questioning why I came, made my chest tighten.

I imagined stopping the car right there, getting out, and figuring out a way to go home. But how? I came here with them, and I was stuck until they decided to leave. There wasn’t exactly an easy way out.

I sighed, feeling a knot form in my throat as the tears threatened to well up. But I fought them back, forcing myself to take a deep breath. ‘Hold it together,’ I told myself. There was no way I was going to fall apart in front of Peter, Natasha, or anyone else.

I stared out at the horizon, the villa still nowhere in sight, trying to clear the anxious storm swirling inside me. I would just have to figure this out somehow. I always did.

***

When Natasha, Peter, and I finally arrived at the villa, the others had already claimed their rooms. The place was breathtaking—open spaces, stunning ocean views, and a luxurious atmosphere that screamed money. I was almost tempted to be impressed until Sharon appeared, smug as ever, pointing to the far side of the villa.

"Natasha, Peter, your rooms are down the hall," she said with a wave of her hand before turning to me. Without a word or explanation, she just motioned to the other side of the villa, not even bothering to look me in the eye.

I stood there for a second, waiting for...something. Maybe an explanation, a reason for the sudden isolation, but nothing. No one said anything. Natasha gave me a quick, apologetic glance, but even she stayed quiet.

“Guess I'm on my own then.”

I walked in the direction Sharon had pointed, my suitcase bumping against my heels as I made my way down the corridor. The villa was massive, sprawling in all directions, but as I got closer to my room, I noticed how much plainer and utilitarian the space became. The opulence of the rest of the villa seemed to vanish the farther I went.

And then I found it—a small, one-off room that looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought. My stomach twisted as I stepped inside. It didn’t have the same elegance as the other rooms I’d seen. The furniture was basic, the decor minimal, and there was no sign of the luxury that was displayed on the other side of the villa.

It looked like a remodeled servant’s quarter. I knew the vibe all too well. Being around people like Sharon, I had seen enough servant quarters to know what one looked like, no matter how much they tried to pretty it up.

I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. There had to be at least one or two other rooms left over in this massive villa, but I wasn’t given one of those. No, this room was chosen specifically for me. The message was loud and clear: *Know your place. *

I set my suitcase down with a sigh, biting back the frustration swelling in my chest. I should have expected this. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the invite.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my half-unpacked suitcase, trying to figure out a game plan for the next two months. The thought of spending all that time with these people—people who barely knew me, or worse, remembered me only for what I wasn’t—made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to be ignored the entire trip, but becoming a complete recluse would probably just make things worse. What if they just... left me behind?

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. The walls seemed to inch closer, squeezing the air out of the room. My anxiety gnawed at me from the inside. Was this really worth getting away from my parents?

Before I could spiral any further, a light knock on the doorframe jolted me from my thoughts. I turned to see Natasha standing there with a soft smile and a casual “Hey.”

I forced a smile in return. "Hey," I said, trying to sound less flustered than I felt.

Natasha stepped inside, looking around the room before glancing back at me. “Nice room,” she commented.

I glanced at her, trying to figure out if she was joking. Was she being serious? Because this room—my room—was anything but nice. It was clearly the smallest, most tucked-away space in the entire villa. My little corner of the world, far from everyone else.

“Yeah,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.

“They’re about to get ready for lunch in like two minutes,” Natasha added, a little too breezily, as if she hadn’t noticed how awkward this all felt.

"Okay," I said, figuring that was her cue to leave. But instead of leaving, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze still fixed on me, like she was waiting for something.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. “Was there… something else?” I asked, hesitantly, trying to figure out what this impromptu visit was really about.

Natasha took a deep breath, still staring me down before stating “Sharon invited you to keep Peter busy.”

  I froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief as Natasha’s words settled in. "Wait… what do you mean I was invited to keep Peter busy?"

Natasha’s shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze for a moment before facing me again "Look, it wasn’t meant to be a big deal. Sharon didn’t want things to be awkward, you know? If you didn’t come, there would've been an odd number, and Steve didn’t want to leave Peter behind."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So, I was invited to… what? Be Peter’s distraction?”

She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. "Well, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You two are both nice people, right? It’s not like it was meant to offend you or anything"

I stared at her, still trying to process this. Peter? Then it hit me.

"What about Clementine?" I asked, my curiosity spiking. Last I heard, she and Peter were still together. Sure, she hadn’t been on the plane, but I figured maybe she was meeting up with us later. They were inseparable, after all.

Natasha shrugged again, but there was something uneasy in her eyes this time. "I don’t know. Sharon thinks they broke up, but…"

"But?" I pressed, sensing there was more to it.

She sighed, glancing away. "Clementine kind of just… disappeared. She stopped coming around, and Peter stopped talking about her. It’s weird, though. I don’t think anyone really knows what happened."

The room suddenly felt colder, and the walls seemed to close in again. Clementine disappeared? And now I was supposed to… what? Be Peter's distraction? None of this made sense, and yet, it felt like I was being pulled into something I wasn’t ready for.

I stared at Natasha, my mind spinning as she casually shrugged off the fact that Clementine had just disappeared. Clementine wasn’t the kind of girl to just vanish without a trace. She was... put together. Confident, smart, driven. The kind of girl who had her entire life mapped out from the moment she could walk.

Clementine had been a scholarship kid, just like me, but that’s where our similarities ended. She had that type of grace and poise that people like me only dreamed of. I remember seeing her around campus, always looking so polished, so in control, even though she came from a background as modest as mine. She had Peter wrapped around her finger—he adored her. At least, that’s what I’d always thought. They were practically inseparable.

The last time I heard anything about her, she was starting some fancy job after graduation, and Peter was supposedly gearing up to propose. That’s what people like Clementine did. She climbed the ladder, no matter where she came from, and she always seemed to have everything fall perfectly into place.

I couldn't wrap my head around this. How did she go from being Peter’s "forever" to just... disappearing? And now *I* was here? Supposed to "keep Peter busy" like some sort of replacement? None of this was making any sense.

Natasha’s voice brought me back to the moment. "Yeah, it was weird, right?" she continued, leaning back casually. "Peter just stopped mentioning her, like she never existed. He’s been pretty chill about the whole thing. But Sharon thinks they broke up, and... I don’t know, maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why you’re here."

I shook my head, trying to process. "Clementine wouldn’t just disappear. She wasn’t like that. She had a plan, she was going to—"

Natasha cut me off. "Well, plans change, right? Maybe she wasn’t as perfect as you think. People always hide stuff. Maybe Peter saw something in her that no one else did."

The idea didn’t sit right with me. Clementine always seemed untouchable, like she had everything figured out. Now, she was just… gone. And here I was, caught in some ridiculous plan to "keep Peter busy."

I started gearing up to confront Sharon, but Natasha quickly stepped in front of me, stopping me before I could make it to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her voice edged with concern.

"I just want to have a little chat with Sharon," I replied, trying to sidestep her. But Natasha moved again, blocking me. She lowered her voice, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

"You're being ridiculous. Just calm down and think about this." Her eyes darted around nervously. "This is supposed to be a vacation. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You could still enjoy yourself, Kiwi."

I paused and turned to face her, frustration bubbling up. "That was always the plan, but why did you have to tell me about Sharon’s little setup with Peter?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was sharp.

"I was just giving you a heads up," Natasha said softly, her eyes pleading.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. But I couldn’t just let it go. Without saying another word, I turned and marched toward Sharon and Steve’s room, Natasha trailing behind me, still begging me to think it through.

When I reached the door, I didn’t hesitate—I slammed it open. There, on top of Steve, was Sharon, practically tangled up with him. She scrambled off him the second she saw me, her face flushed. Steve, on the other hand, just stayed where he was, smirking like the whole thing was a joke to him.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sharon snapped, straightening out her clothes.

I didn’t flinch. "I want to go home."

I thought about calling her out right then and there, exposing the whole plan about setting me up with Peter. But I couldn’t do that—not without throwing Natasha under the bus. As much as I was irritated with her, I wasn’t ready to burn that bridge. So I kept it simple.

"This whole trip has been uncomfortable for me since I got on the plane. If it’s going to be like this for a whole months I don’t want to stay."

Sharon's expression shifted, her irritation melting into a smirk. "Sure, whatever."

Just as I was about to turn and leave, Steve’s deep voice cut through the air. "No."

I froze, watching as Steve got up from the bed, his frame towering over me. It was then that I realized how much bigger he was compared to me. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on mine.

"Why not?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave me a cold, calculated smile. "The itinerary is already set, Kiwi. We can’t just change everything around because one person is feeling a little uncomfortable."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’ll pay you back," I offered, even though I knew it was a desperate move.

Steve laughed, a low, mocking sound. "You have over a hundred grand to pay back?"

My stomach dropped as he kept going. "I heard you were working at some factory for, what, twenty bucks an hour? I’m guessing since you suddenly had time for this trip, you lost that gig, huh?"

I could feel my face flushing as I tried to think of a way out. "I don’t need a private jet home," I said quietly. "Just a ride and an economy seat. I’ll figure it out."

Steve shook his head, stepping even closer. "You still owe me for your part of the trip," he said, his voice cold and final.

The reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was trapped, and Steve was making damn sure I knew it.

Steve’s eyes softened as he stood in front of me, his posture relaxed, like he was trying to show he wasn’t a threat. He moved to block my way, but not in an intimidating way—it felt more like he was trying to keep me from making a mistake.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice gentler now, almost coaxing. “I get it, Kiwi, I really do. But leaving right now? That’s not what you really want.”

I frowned, crossing my arms, my defenses already up. “I’m uncomfortable, Steve. Why would I stay?”

He sighed softly, brushing a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “Look, I get that things have been a little weird, but think about it. Going back home, what’s waiting for you there? Things weren’t exactly great, were they?”

I blinked, surprised by his words. It was vague, but it still struck a nerve. My chest tightened at the reminder of how suffocating life at home had been.

Steve stepped closer, but there was no malice in his movements. If anything, his presence felt like it was wrapping around me, enveloping me in something familiar yet foreign.

“Why rush back to all that?” he asked, his voice low, almost tender. “You’ve got a chance here to take a break, to really breathe.”

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. He wasn’t exactly wrong. I hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of going back to my parents’ house—being treated like I’d failed, like I was just in the way.

“That’s not the point,” I muttered, my voice not as strong as I wanted it to be. “I didn’t come here to feel like an outsider.”

Steve’s expression shifted, softening even more. He moved closer, but not threateningly—just enough to let me know he was serious. “You don’t have to. No one here is against you, Kiwi. You’ve got space here to be free, to enjoy yourself. You’re not stuck.”

His words, smooth and almost too perfect, started to chip away at my defenses. He wasn’t wrong. There was a kind of freedom here that I didn’t have back home. No hovering parents, no endless job hunt. Just sun, sand, and a chance to let go of the chaos.

“I just want you to give it a shot,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “If, after a week, you still feel like this… I’ll make sure you get home. Personally. But for now, just relax. Let yourself enjoy it.”

I hesitated, my mind a tug-of-war between the stress and frustration that had been building and the calm that Steve was offering. He seemed so reasonable, so understanding. Was I just being paranoid? Maybe I needed to take a step back and see if things improved.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice soft. “I’ll stay. But just for a week.”

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, his satisfaction clear, though he tried to hide it behind his cool demeanor. “Good. I knew you’d see things my way.”

He stepped back, giving me space, and for a moment, I felt the weight lift just a little. Natasha, who had been quietly watching, caught my eye, but her expression was hard to read. Maybe I wasn’t seeing the full picture. Or maybe I was just overthinking everything.

Am I making the right call? ***

Steve moved me out of the servant’s quarters and into a small, luxury room. It wasn’t anywhere near the others, but it was closer to the pool in the back, so I figured I could make do. At least it didn’t feel like a forgotten corner of the house.

As I unpacked, Natasha stayed with me, folding clothes and organizing things like she was trying to smooth over the mess from earlier.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, not entirely sure if I believed her or if she was just trying to stay on good terms. The side-eye I gave her must’ve said enough because she added, “Seriously, Kiwi. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

I sighed, my shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s fine,” I muttered. "Just... don’t spring shit like that on me again."

Natasha nodded, her expression softening. “I promise. I just want you to enjoy the trip. We all do.”

Enjoy the trip. Right. That’s what I kept telling myself. I needed to enjoy myself, no matter what. To hell with everyone else. To hell with Sharon’s power plays and the thinly veiled insults. To hell with my parents, and their endless nagging about how I should’ve been more like Sharon. To hell with all of it.

I glanced around my new room, taking in the sleek design, the comfortable bed, and the view of the pool. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe I could actually breathe for a while. Just focus on enjoying the sun, the beach, the space.

Yeah. Fuck everyone. I was going to make this trip mine.

[beautifulpeoplearoundtheworld]

[boonesfarmsangria]

i wanna know how do you go all the way up

[iwritewhump]

"I thought you were dead" + under the radar + trail of blood

day 15 of @whumptember

432 words

warnings: poisoned whumpee, blood, character death

---

Hero pulls the window open the rest of the way and falls inside. He gasps and rolls onto his back with a hand covering his stomach. 

The hallway light flickers on and Hero curses. He pulls himself over to the shower and pulls the curtain closed just before the bathroom door opens. 

Villain pushes into the bathroom and turns the light on, instantly noticing the puddle of blood below the window that leads to the shower. She steps into the bathroom and tries to peek past the shower curtain, “Who’s there?”

A muffled whumper is all she gets in return. She pulls the curtain open and her jaw drops. “Hero?” 

He pushes himself up against the wall and smiles weakly, “Surprise!” he coughs and slouches forward. 

“Oh my god,” she says, falling to her knees and reaching out for him. “I thought you were dead. I…I looked everywhere for you.” 

She pulls him into an embrace and his head falls into the crook of her neck. She peppers him with kisses and pulls away with tears in her eyes. 

“Where were you?” 

His smile falters, “Supervillain…he figured out who I was. I had to-had to leave quickly so he didn’t find out about you, too. Sorry, uh, sorry I didn’t say goodbye.” 

She shakes her head and wipes his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs, “It’s alright, you’re here now.” 

“Not for long,” he says. He tries to pull her closer to him, she obliges and rests her forehead against hers. “He killed me. Well, he’s killing me.” 

She shakes her head, “What are you talking about? You’re safe now, you’re away from him and with me.” 

“It’s a slow acting poison, um, he let me go because there isn’t an antidote. So, he just didn’t want to clean up.” he leans further against her and sniffs. “I’m sorry I came here, I don’t know…why I did that. Last time we talked I was horrible to you, so I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this. I’ll leave.” he pulls back from her and tries to stand. 

She shakes her head and holds him steady while he sits back down. She sits next to him in the shower and holds his hand. 

Hero leans his head on her shoulder and frowns, “I’m sorry, again.” 

“Shut up,” she snaps. She runs her thumb over his knuckles and leans her head on his. “I’m glad you came here because I don’t want you to be alone for this.” 

And he doesn’t argue with her. Its not until a few seconds later that she realizes why. 

[yourapple56-blog]

Some sad news.

I noticed that a favorite fashion model of mine, The Late Helen Williams, died way back in July without any recognition from the public. All she had was a paid-for obituary on some obscure newspaper's website. I really couldn't understand how this woman could pass without any kind of fanfare.

So, I gathered some articles and videos about Helen and emailed them to The New York Times. This was back in mid October, so I thought I'd give them a chance to digest the material.

Well, November came so I decided to check and see if there was any obituary on Helen Williams in the New York Times.

There was nothing.

Oh, well.

I tried.

I really did.

I really don't know what the requirement is in order to get a featured obituary in any newspaper, much less The New York Times, because I've seen individuals much less impressive who ended up with an obituary on a big paper.

This hurts.

But, it is what it is.

@lovetheawesomeness

This is for you...

Michael Nyqvist is at 3:27 :D

Thanks again :D

[shrinkrants]

Two Cheers for Anarchism In the historical struggle over property rights, the antagonists on either side of the barricades have used the weapons that most suited them. Elites, controlling the lawmaking machinery of the state, have deployed bills of enclosure, paper titles, and freehold tenure, not to mention the police, gamekeepers, forest guards, the courts, and the gibbet to establish and defend their property rights. Peasants and subaltern groups, having no access to such heavy weaponry, have instead relied on techniques such as poaching, pilfering, and squatting to contest those claims and assert their own. Unobtrusive and anonymous, like desertion, these “weapons of the weak” stand in sharp contrast to open public challenges that aim at the same objective. Thus, desertion is a lower-risk alternative to mutiny, squatting a lower- risk alternative to a land invasion, poaching a lower-risk alternative to the open assertion of rights to timber, game, or fish. For most of the world’s population today, and most assuredly for subaltern classes historically, such techniques have represented the only quotidian form of politics available. When they have failed, they have given way to more desperate, open conflicts such as riots, rebellions, and insurgency. These bids for power irrupt suddenly onto the official record, leaving traces in the archives beloved of historians and sociologists who, having documents to batten on, assign them a pride of place all out of proportion to the role they would occupy in a more comprehensive account of class struggle. Quiet, unassuming, quotidian insubordination, because it usually flies below the archival radar, waves no banners, has no officeholders, writes no manifestos, and has no permanent organization, escapes notice. And that’s just what the practitioners of these forms of subaltern politics have in mind: to escape notice. You could say that, historically, the goal of peasants and subaltern classes has been to stay out of the archives. When they do make an appearance, you can be pretty sure that something has gone terribly wrong. -- James C. Scott, Two Cheers for Anarchism

[myfavebandfizz]

Under The Radar Interview

[princessmisery666]

I woke up to comments on every chapter of my Under The Radar series on AO3 and I cannot tell you how much I needed it!! I have been struggling with my writing as of late and seeing the comments it truly made me smile and realize I am just going through a rough patch.

Readers - PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave comments, even if its just an emoji or a gif, something to tell the writer that you read it and liked it. Reblog it to share with other people who might like it.

[tunneltub]

worken NINE to FIIVE what a way tomake a livingg barely GET! TIN! BY! it’s all taking and no giving they just. LOSE! YOUR! MIND! da dada da da da it’s enouuugh to drive you! CRAZY IF YOU LET IIIT

[laurastudarus]

Don’t get us wrong, we love Europe’s greatest hits. There’s a reason cities like Paris, Rome, and Barcelona reel in the tourist masses every year—especially during the warmer months when visitation hits capacity. But if you’ve already collected your passport stamps, shelled out for London hotels and high tea, and want to experience something a bit more off the beaten (and exorbitant) path, now's the time to dodge the usual throngs in Europe and opt for alternative hideaways that are equally spectacular and often more affordable. 

Red more

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 3

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

I started to settle in more than I thought I would. The awkwardness from the first week wasn’t as obvious anymore. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, things started to feel less forced. Daily activities like yoga on the beach, lounging by the pool, and group dinners became easier. I found myself laughing more, sharing more, and getting used to the rhythm of this strange little bubble.

Sure, they were still spoiled rich kids, but there was more to them than I’d initially thought. While I wasn’t entirely convinced about Sharon and her sway over the group, it was becoming harder to see them solely as the superficial snobs I had first assumed them to be.

That morning, after yoga, I was ready to return to my room and have some alone time. But Steve wasn’t having it. “Why don’t you stay out here with us?” he asked, flashing me one of his playful grins. “Hang with the crew?”

Something in his voice made it clear it wasn’t really a suggestion, so I felt the need to give in and sat down on a couch in the living room. Steve wasted no time sliding into the seat beside mine, his leg pressing against mine. The closeness threw me off a little, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

I guess this was normal for them.

Sharon was still holed up in her room, recovering from whatever had her down. I worried for her but pushed it to the back of my mind. She had plenty of people to take care of her. I didn’t need to be that person.

To ease the awkwardness I felt from Steve sitting so close, I pulled out my phone and opened the book I’d downloaded the day before, hoping it would be a good distraction.

Steve glanced over his breath against my face. “Is that the book you were talking about?”

I blinked, a bit surprised he even remembered. “Yeah, this is it.”

“Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly before returning his attention to the TV. He casually placed his arm behind my head, resting it on the couch acting so casually.

I tried to focus on my book, but it was hard. Everyone was so nice and considerate of me, much different from when we were in university when they’d either be outright rude or ignore me. Despite everything, maybe this trip wasn’t so bad. Maybe I was just overthinking things.

Sharon was starting to act... off. By the middle of the second week, it was impossible not to notice. She was constantly tired, missing yoga three times a row, skipping meals, and staying shut in her room. For someone like Sharon, who thrived on being the center of attention and orchestrating everything, it was bizarre. And yet, she was barely keeping up with the group. 

One afternoon, we decided to keep it simple and go to a beach nearby. I had already gotten comfortable in the sand, watching Natasha and Pepper chat while Thor, Peter, and Bruce waded into the water. Tony opted to stay on the beach and tan. But Sharon kept to herself, not saying much. But when I looked at her, she was pale, and I could see the sweat collecting at her temples. Something wasn’t right.

She stood, aiming for the cooler, stumbling along the way. 

I stood up immediately, but she waved me off with a shaky hand. "I’m fine, just tired," she mumbled, but even from where I stood, it was clear she wasn’t. No one else moved to help her, not even Steve, who was just lounging, watching the scene unfold before him.

Seriously?

 I felt my frustration spike but now wasn’t the time. I didn't want to let her collapse on the beach. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked, catching her just as she was about to lose her balance completely.

Steve didn’t budge. He just kept lounging, watching with his casual look, before he got up and headed toward the water like everything was normal. I clenched my teeth but focused on Sharon. Whatever Steve’s deal was, it wasn’t helping right now.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the villa,” I said, looping my arm around her waist to support her. Sharon leaned into me, too weak to even protest. I glanced back a few times, hoping someone would come around to help, but no one did.

Back inside the villa, I helped Sharon sit down and grabbed her some water. She looked rough, her face flushed, and her eyes half-closed, as if she were fighting to stay conscious. She took small sips of the water, her embarrassment evident.

“Thanks,” she murmured, clearly not used to being this vulnerable. For a second, I saw something past the confident, borderline cruel persona she usually showed.

I nodded, not saying much. Despite everything between us, I wasn’t the type to let someone suffer, even if that someone was Sharon. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said after a while, waving her hand like she wanted me to go. But I didn’t leave right away. Something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t about to leave her alone, especially after Steve just... bailed.

 I sighed, sitting there with her, knowing I wouldn’t feel right unless I saw this through.

Sharon was getting worse, fast. I tried to get her to drink more water, but she barely sipped, her words coming out all slurred and jumbled. Panic crept up my spine as I watched her skin turn clammy. And then, without warning, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped forward, completely out.

My heart leaped into my throat. “Shit,” I whispered, bolting out of the room like my life depended on it. I practically sprinted toward the others by the shore.

"Sharon needs help! She needs a doctor!" I shouted, breathless, my voice shaky, as my lungs tried to keep up. 

Steve barely glanced up from where he was lounging. “Are you sure she’s not just being dramatic?” he asked, annoyed, like I was overreacting.

 I grabbed his hand and rushed him back to the villa without thinking. When he saw Sharon unconscious on the floor, his face went pale. "Oh shit."

 Finally. he rushed over to her, kneeling beside her, and placed his hand on her forehead. Bruce was close behind, calm as ever, entirely in control of the situation.

 Bruce crouched next to Sharon, checking her pulse like he’d done it a hundred times before. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression serious. “She’s severely dehydrated.”

 I shook my head, my chest tightening. “But she’s been drinking water. I’ve been making sure of it!” 

Bruce stayed focused on Sharon but nodded. “Her body’s not absorbing it. It could be heat exhaustion or something else. We need to get her fluids, fast.”

 Pepper was already on the phone with emergency services, and Bruce carefully turned Sharon onto her side, ensuring she stayed breathing.

 “We need to cool her down,” Bruce added, glancing at Steve. “Get some towels soaked in cold water. We’ve got to bring her temperature down.”

 Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He darted out, leaving me standing there, feeling completely useless. I hated being helpless and standing on the sidelines while everyone else knew what to do.

 Bruce glanced at me, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine once they get her some fluids.”

 I nodded, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen. I wasn’t going to relax until Sharon opened her eyes again.

 Sharon had been out cold for 16 hours straight. I stayed with her the entire time, only leaving once to shower quickly and change back at the villa. Steve was there, too, leaning against the wall. His usual laid-back attitude was gone, replaced with genuine concern, hopefully feeling guilty for ignoring Sharon's state.  

When Sharon finally stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Steve. There was this glimmer in her eyes like his presence was some kind of comfort to her. But then she spotted me, and that glimmer quickly vanished, replaced with tears.

 Medical staff rushed in to check her vitals, making sure everything was stable, but her tears didn’t stop. She turned to me, her voice shaky and almost resentful. "This must make you happy."

 I blinked, completely thrown off. "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

 "You…seeing me like this. It must make you happy," she repeated, her words cutting deeper than I expected.

 For a second, I didn’t even know how to respond. Was she serious? Then, as disbelief turned into frustration, I shook my head. "Never," I said more firmly than I intended. "Sharon, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only ever helped you. Every time." My voice softened a bit, but the truth in my words was undeniable. "You’re the one who’s thrived on watching me fall apart."

Sharon didn’t say anything for a while; she just stared at me with her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but something held her back. Finally, she sighed and sank back into her pillow.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, barely audible, but it was there, a reluctant kind of gratitude.

I nodded, but the air between us was thick, the tension still hanging. "You're welcome," I replied quietly, wondering if this little moment of honesty meant anything to her or if she’d just return to her old ways the second she recovered.

Two days passed, and things finally came to a head. I sat in Sharon’s hospital room with Tony and Pepper, chatting idly. Sharon still looked pale but was doing much better, which was a relief. She broke the quiet, her voice firm.

"I want to go home."

I glanced at Thor, expecting him to talk her out of it, but he nodded like it was no big deal and pulled out his phone. "Okay," he said, already texting Steve.

I was a little surprised. I mean, I figured Steve would push back or suggest Sharon stay a bit longer to rest up. I thought the medical scare would have him in protective mode, but apparently not. Maybe it did get to him, and he just wanted her home, safe and sound.

Maybe. 

Back at the villa, Natasha and I helped Sharon pack. We were in her room, folding clothes and zipping up suitcases. It was almost too quiet, with this weird tension hanging in the air. I kept thinking about what Sharon had said earlier. Sure, she was always dramatic, but something felt… off.  

Once everything was packed and ready, Sharon paused and gave Natasha a look, almost like she was sizing her up. Then, out of nowhere, she hugged me. And not the usual Sharon hug, either. This was tight, like she meant it. I was so thrown off I barely hugged her back. While we hugged, she leaned in close and whispered, “Be careful.”

I froze, unsure of how to react. I mean, what? What was I supposed to do with that? But before I could even process it, Sharon had already pulled back and moved on to hug Natasha.

“Take care,” she said to Natasha, sounding casual. 

Steve was waiting by the door, ready to walk Sharon out like the doting boyfriend, but Sharon, true to form, brushed him off. “I’m fine,” she said, barely looking at him. She kissed him on the cheek like she was going through the motions.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip,” she said, her tone neutral. But when her eyes flicked to me, I saw something else. Concern? A warning? I wasn’t sure, but the look stuck with me.

And then she was gone. I didn’t know what to think. Was I supposed to read into all that? Or was Sharon just being Sharon?

Everyone seemed to fall back into their usual routine in no time, but I couldn’t shake what had happened to Sharon. How quickly she’d spiraled, how fast she was just… gone. It stuck with me, swirling in my head while I sat in my room trying to make sense of everything. Natasha was sitting next to me, doing her best to comfort me, saying Sharon would be okay, I didn’t need to worry so much, and I should continue enjoying my vacation.

 It eventually went quiet, and Steve was standing at my doorway when I looked up.

Natasha gave me a quick look, then stood without a word and left, leaving me alone in the room with him. He didn’t hesitate, walking over to sit beside me on the bed, his usual confident demeanor softened.

“The last few days were pretty scary, huh?” Steve said, his voice calm. “But at least we can all have peace of mind now, knowing Sharon’s okay.”

I nodded, trying to push away the uneasiness still clinging to me. “Why did you let her go?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. 

Steve glanced at me, his eyes soft but steady. “She’s not well, Kiwi. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her here, away from home” 

His reasoning was precisely what I expected, but I still didn’t like it. 

Steve stood, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come on, everyone’s going shopping,” he said, his voice warm and persuasive. “You should come. Take your mind off of all this.”

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. “Okay,” I agreed, letting him lead me out of the room and into the main area, where everyone else was already waiting, ready to head out.

Sharon was still on my mind, but if she was going to be okay, maybe I could try to enjoy the rest of this trip. It was what I came here for, after all.

A few days after Sharon left, I finally got a text from her.

–Feeling much better. Thanks for everything.

That was it. No long explanations, no dramatic thank you, just that simple message. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Knowing she was okay should’ve given me peace, but I couldn’t shake this odd sense of... detachment. The days here at the villa were starting to blur together, each feeling like the last.

Morning yoga, lounging by the pool, and fancy dinners were like living in some beautiful, surreal bubble. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was drifting through it all, like none of this was real, and I was just waiting for something to snap me back to reality.

Maybe it was because Sharon wasn’t here anymore. Or perhaps it was because I couldn’t help but wonder if things would change now that she was gone.

I don’t know exactly when it started, but over the next few days, Steve got a lot more comfortable around me, too comfortable, if I’m honest. It wasn’t just the casual arm draped over my shoulder anymore or how he’d guide me by the small of my back. Now, it was more.

One afternoon, after a long day by the pool, Steve came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me slightly off the ground. I squealed, surprised, but he just laughed and set me down, pressing a ‘playful’ kiss on my cheek.

“Hey, you!” he said, that usual charming grin on his face as if this kind of intimacy between us was completely normal.

I blinked, frozen in place for a second, trying to process what had just happened. No one seemed to care or even notice. Peter and Natasha were too engrossed in some heated conversation by the pool. Bruce was off somewhere with Jane, Thor, and Pepper.

What the hell was that? I thought. But I smiled back, brushing it off like it was nothing.

Another day, during a group hike, he held my hand the entire time, something he hadn’t done before. It wasn’t like we were lagging behind or needed help climbing; he just... held it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I remember feeling that odd, familiar discomfort creeping back in, but no one said anything. Not Natasha, not Peter, not anyone.

Then came the moment that threw me off. We were all gathered outside around the fire pit one evening, laughing about something silly Tony had said, and Steve, turned to me, all giddy from whatever had amused him so much,  peppering kisses all over my face, forehead, cheeks, nose, all in this overly affectionate, playful way.

“Steeeve!” I protested, trying to push him away, but I was laughing, shocked at the sudden intimacy. He was grinning ear to ear like a little kid, completely unbothered by my attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

“Come on, it’s just a little love!” he teased, finally letting me go, still beaming like he’d won some game.

I sat there, feeling a little off-kilter. What the hell was going on? Since when had we gotten to this level of closeness, and why wasn’t anyone calling it out?

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to call us out or ask if I was okay with it. But there was nothing, just more laughter and easy conversation. It was like this was normal, like Steve’s sudden affection wasn’t something to question.

I didn’t know how to respond to it, didn’t know if I wanted to respond to it. 

After a wild night with the group, I practically stumbled into my room, still feeling the effects of my drinks. I barely remember hitting the pillow before I was out cold. The following day, this unfamiliar warmth was beside me, and I could hear the softest snoring in my ear.

I blinked, groggy and confused, slowly turning my head to see Steve, lying in my bed. His arm was draped over me, and he was shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. What the hell?

Carefully, I inched out from under his arm, moving as slowly as possible so I wouldn’t wake him. My mind raced, trying to remember if I had invited him into my bed last night. Had I? No, I couldn’t have. I didn’t do stuff like that. Or, at least, I didn’t think I did. But everything was fuzzy.

I tiptoed out of the room and into the hallway, my heart still pounding as I tried to make sense of the situation. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was practically shaking.

Natasha was already there, casually sipping her coffee like any other morning. Like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

 I also bonded with Natasha in a way I hadn’t expected while on this trip. She started opening up more, dropping her usual aloofness, and I realized she wasn’t as hard to read as I’d initially thought. We talked more about life, and awkward moments and even shared a few laughs that made me feel a little more at ease while on this trip.

We sat together eating breakfast, and Natasha seemed more relaxed, telling me about how exhausting it could be keeping up appearances with their friend group, especially with Steve and Sharon always in the spotlight.

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “It’s like you’re always on, you know?”

Natasha smiled, but it was tired as if the weight of those expectations had never fully gone away. It made me feel a little less out of place, knowing that even within their circle, not everything was perfect.

We continued chatting about random things when I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Hey, is it just me, or is Steve... I don’t know, acting different? Like, friendlier than usual?” 

Natasha shrugged it off, barely looking up from her plate. “Oh, he’s like that with everyone. Real touchy-feely. It's just Steve.”

I don’t remember him being like that back in University.

I frowned. Sure, Steve was always friendly, but this was different. Before I could push it further, Steve appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his pants barely buttoned like he had just rolled out of bed. He looked at us with a grin. “You guys started breakfast without me?”

I froze as he bent down and kissed my cheek quickly, then moved over to Natasha and gave her a peck on the top of her head. She stiffened before reverting to a more relaxed position. She looked at me, her expression almost smug as if to say, See? Told you.

But I wasn’t buying it. The entire interaction was already so weird. Too familiar. Too uncomfortable. But I kept my doubts to myself. 

By the afternoon, everyone had scattered to do their own thing, and the villa felt a little too quiet for my liking. Needing a breather, I wandered out for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help me clear my head. No destination in mind, just the need to escape for a bit.

As I strolled along the path near our villa, I noticed a man lounging on the porch of the neighboring property, casually sipping from an iced coffee. He caught my eye and waved me over with a lazy smile.

"Afternoon," he greeted, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "You look like someone who's just been subjected to one too many rich-people conversations. Tell me, how long until you snap and start throwing caviar at their faces?"

I snorted, surprised at his bluntness. "Oh, I’m, uh… actually with them."

I wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I guess my clothing didn’t look as fancy as everyone else I was with.

“Lloyd”, he introduced himself. He raised an eyebrow, eyes covered by sunglasses pretending to clutch his chest dramatically. "No! Say it ain’t so. You’re one of them? And here I was, thinking I’d found a sane person in this gated paradise."

I laughed nervously, unable to help myself. "I guess I blend in well, then?"

He smirked. "Sure, if ‘blending in’ means looking like you’d rather be elsewhere. Let me guess, they’re already planning which island to buy next while you’re just trying to figure out how not to roll your eyes?"

"It’s not that bad," I replied, though my smile probably gave me away.He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I’ve met their type. The kind who consider ‘roughing it’ to mean forgetting their designer sunglasses. God forbid they experience a single unfiltered moment."

“Aren’t you one of them?” I asked. Crossing my arms. It seemed like he was here with his own personal Villa, so I had no reason not to believe that he was no better than the ‘rich kids’, I’d been spending time with.

“Only half,” he responds. “I lived with my mom in Brooklyn, New York, for most of my life, and Papa Bear decided he wanted to be a father. Turns out he’s loaded.”

I raised my brows, not expecting that. 

He smiled, his mustache was almost endearing. “Well, don’t just stand there, come have a seat.” He pats the chair next to him, the invitation as casual as his grin. I hesitate for a second, but then the thought hits me—what’s the harm in learning more about my temporary neighbor? I needed a break from everybody else and it was refreshing to meet someone outside of that.

I step forward and sit, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and ease.

I wasn’t sure when my light flirting with Lloyd had turned into actual interest. Maybe it was his dark humor, or maybe it was just that he was so different from everyone else in my life, grounded. He wasn’t part of Steve’s wealthy, entitled world. It felt refreshing, something I didn’t even know I needed until now. 

 He leaned back, eyeing me thoughtfully. " What’s the story? How’d you end up with the royal brats?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice called out my name. I looked up to see Steve, standing in front  me with his usual confident grin, though there was something more possessive in the way his eyes clung to me.

"Lunch is almost ready," Steve said, not even glancing at Lloyd. "We should head back." He point over his shoulder to our villa.

I was caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, but I quickly introduced them, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Oh, uh, Steve, this is Lloyd. He’s renting the villa next door."

Lloyd stood and offered his hand, smirking as they shook hands. "Nice to meet you. So, you must be the one keeping our girl here trapped in luxury hell."

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but there was a noticeable tightening of his jaw. "Something like that," he replied, his tone smooth but clipped.

Their handshake lingered a second too long, each of them standing tall, as if silently sizing each other up. Lloyd didn’t back down, though his grin stayed playful, almost like he enjoyed ruffling Steve’s feathers.

Steve’s turned toward me "We should go. Don’t want to miss lunch."

I barely had time to say goodbye to Lloyd before Steve was pushing me back toward the villa dropping his arm over my shoulder on the way there. As we walked, Steve leaned down, whispering, "You’re too sweet for your own good."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

He didn’t answer, just gave me a look that sent a small shiver down my spine, before we continued walking, leaving me wondering what had really just happened.

The drinks were definitely stronger that night. I could feel the warmth spreading through me, my head swimming just enough to make everything feel a little too slow, a little too blurry. The laughter around me was still loud and bright, but I was barely holding on. Steve must have noticed because, without saying anything, he stood up and gently pulled me to my feet, guiding me back toward the house.

I barely remember the walk inside. My body felt like it was made of lead, each step heavier than the last. By the time we made it to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even think about changing into pajamas. I just rolled over, letting my eyes close. Sleep was right there, pulling me under, but something made me crack an eye open.

Steve was pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside with his sandals. His movements were casual, like this was normal for him, like he belonged here. The lights clicked off, and before I could say anything, I felt the bed dip beside me as he climbed in.

“Steve… go to your room,” I mumbled, trying to form the words properly, but they came out thick and slurred. I knew I should’ve been pushing him out, but I couldn’t make my body cooperate. Then his arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. His warmth was overwhelming, and every part of me knew this wasn’t right.

But I was so tired

 My brain told me to fight it, to deal with him, but my body refused to move. I’d deal with this tomorrow, I promised myself. I’d give him hell in the morning.

For now, though, I’ll just closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over

The next morning, I woke up alone, feeling groggy with a mild headache and my body aching in a way I hadn’t expected. For a second, I forgot Steve had been in my bed last night, but the room's quiet made me realize I was alone now. I groaned as I sat up, my head pounding a little too loudly, and all I could think about was finding some Tylenol and going back to bed.

Except I didn’t have any Tylenol. Of course, I didn’t think I’d drink this much on this trip, so I hadn’t packed anything for a hangover. I could ask one of the girls. Pepper seemed like the type to be prepared, but we weren’t exactly close, so I decided to go with Natasha. Maybe she’d have something.

I dragged myself out of bed and over to Natasha’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and soft music was coming from inside. I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to barge in, but I needed something for my head, so I nudged the door open.

 And immediately regretted it.

There, in the middle of the bed, were Natasha and Bruce, naked as the day they were born and completely entangled in each other. My brain barely had time to process what I saw before I quickly closed the door, my heart racing. I stood there momentarily, holding my breath, praying they didn’t see me. The lack of any sudden movement or panic behind the door told me I was in the clear.

I shut the door as silently as I could, ensuring they had their privacy, and retreated to the kitchen. My headache still pounded, and now I was too embarrassed to ask for anything. I figured I could make myself some tea instead and hope that would help.

As the tea brewed, I searched the villa for any kind of pain relief—Tylenol, ibuprofen, Vicodin, anything. But I came up short. Of course, this fancy villa didn’t have any necessities like that. By the time I finished rummaging through the place, my tea was ready, and I grabbed it, deciding to take it outside for some fresh air.

I stepped out by the pool, hoping for a quiet moment to rest my head. But someone had already beaten me to it.

Peter.

He was sitting by the water, looking out at the horizon. I felt awkward, like I was interrupting something, so I mumbled an apology, ready to leave him to his thoughts.

"Don't worry," Peter said, turning his head to look at me. "You can sit with me if you want."

I hesitated for a second, but then I decided to stay. I sat across from him, sipping on my tea, and we fell into some small talk. Nothing too deep, just idle conversation about the villa, the weather, the usual. 

But the more we talked, the more curious I became. My mind kept circling back to something nagging at me since I arrived. Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“Whatever happened to Clementine?” I asked.

The moment the name left my lips, Peter’s entire demeanor changed. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing slightly. There was a stiffness in the air now, thick with tension.

I remember when Peter came to university with a girlfriend, MJ. But they’d broken up, and then there was Clementine. I remembered how inseparable they seemed, always affectionate, always together. It was hard to picture them apart, and yet, Clementine hadn’t been around this trip. No one had mentioned her.

I quickly added, noticing how tense Peter had become, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The air between us hung heavy with the weight of my question.

Peter sighed and waved off my concern. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost casually, he added, "She went crazy."

I blinked, unsure what to say, but he continued before I could ask.

“When we both graduated, I was supposed to start mentoring under my father, you know? And Clementine, she landed a job right out of university. Everything seemed to be going great. Then, I proposed.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “She rejected me. She said she wanted us to be more ‘stable,’ which didn’t make sense to me because we were both financially secure. But apparently, there were other types of stability we didn’t have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration evident in his voice. “A month later, she breaks up with me. At first, I just let it go. We were done, right? But then I started hearing these rumors about how she lost the lease on her apartment and got fired from her job. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We weren’t together anymore. It wasn’t my problem.”

Peter’s gaze drifted away, his voice quieter now. “Next thing I know, I get a call from her parents. They were begging me for help. She’d ended up in a psych ward, and they couldn’t afford the treatment, and they made too much money for government assistance but not enough to cover her medical bills. So, I stepped in.”

He glanced at me, his eyes darkening with the memory. “You should’ve seen her, Kiwi. She’d lost so much weight; it was like she was disappearing from the inside out. I couldn’t just leave her like that. So, I took custody, her parents transferred her power of attorney, and Now, she lives with me at my place.”

I stared at him, shocked. I had no idea things had gotten so bad with Clementine. It was the complete opposite of the girl I remembered.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The thing is, she can’t talk to anyone else. I seem to be one of the only people she can communicate with. So, I’m careful when I bring others to my place. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” I said softly, unsure what else to say. It felt the wrong thing to say, but it was all I had.

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. She’s doing better now, but... she still finds it difficult to leave the house. I’ve been doing everything I can, but I get pretty protective myself. Probably too much, honestly. I’m working on it.”

I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t expected any of this. It was hard to imagine Peter caring for Clementine like that, to think of her in such a fragile state. The whole situation felt like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for him.

"You're a good person for helping her," I finally said, unsure what else to offer. Peter just nodded the heaviness of the conversation lingering between us.

[ruleof3bobby]

LOW TIDE (2019) Grade: C+

Clever plot and good production value. Could have had more mystery surrounding it. Some characters don't get flushed out enough. Ending was a let down. Still a good indie film.

[utterrandomnesswithlulu]

Under the Radar: SurrealEstate

Following a real estate agency Roman Agency, this real estate not only lists houses but also cleanses them of negative entities, spirits, and monsters.

SyFy aired this series in 2021 and unfortunately canceled it after one season. Or so it was thought, SurrealEstate was resurrected in May 2022, and it was un-canceled and green-lit for a second season, which will air sometime in 2023.

SPOILERS, obviously.

THINGS THAT GO BUMP

Luke Roman (Tim Rozon) is the boss of a particular real estate business, The Roman Agency. Not only do these agents sell houses, but they also deal with the beyond. The Roman Agency specializes in selling and helping those unable to sell their houses without a much-needed cleanse.

The Agency is small but close-knit and scrappy. It consists of Luke, boss man extraordinaire, Father Phil Orley (Adam Korson) a lapsed priest, August “Auggie” Ripley (Maurice Dean Wint) the tech king, Zoey L’Enfant (Savannah Basley) the office manager, and new-comer Susan Ireland (Sarah Levy). Susan originally came from another estate agency, and unfortunately, is a fish out of the water with this new group of agents. She is kept in the dark about the Agency’s specialties, but does know it by reputation.

Luke and Susan take on their first job together at the Lenore household, who are at their wits’ end with objects randomly flying around their house. Believing that the house is haunted by a poltergeist, they send in Auggie and Phil, who reveal that all their tests come up negative. As things escalate at the Lenore house, Luke has taken a special interest in another holding, the Donovan household.

The Donovan house is special and immensely haunted. Off-the-charts metaphysical disturbances plague the house, and its current occupant, Meghan (Tennille Read).

As The Roman Agency fights demons, ghosts, and possessed houses, the Donovan house makes reoccurring appearances because of the sentimental attachment it has to Luke. Years previously, Luke’s mother went into the house and never left. Luke has seen her ghost several times lingering in the house, and she is not a nice person. But Luke’s father (also a ghost) says that she was a sweet and kind person, but didn’t seem like she could handle Luke’s gift of seeing the other side. Leaving him and his father behind years before.

The season comes to a head at the Donovan house, which has been gaining strength steadily thanks to the misguided attempts by the Roman Agency. The portal in the house, which they thought allowed ghosts and spirits in, actually allowed them to cross over. Because they closed the portal in episode one, all of these ghosts and spirits haunted the house in agony, unable to leave. The house was able to make a personified incarnation of itself thanks to the lost souls stuck within its walls. Auggie, Zooey, Susan, and Phil all encounter lost loved ones, a wife, a mentor, a father, and an ill-fated sweetheart. Luke also sees his mother, or rather his sister.

Luke was a twin, and the woman he believed to be his mother, is actually his sister who lost her life when Luke’s umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. Because she died during Luke’s birth, his abilities came from being born in the shadow of death. His twin wants to switch places with him, and the only way for that to be achieved is that he dies. As she strangles Luke, in the basement, the crew is able to open the portal and all the trapped souls are sucked into it, including Luke’s sister.

The Donovan house is purged of its ghosts, and the crew stumbles outside, grateful to be alive. However, Luke distances himself from everyone. Why? He’s lost his ability to hear and see the spirits that had attached themselves to him since he was a child.

RESURRECTED FROM THE GRAVE

The paranormal drama was canceled originally. Ratings and viewership seemed to have been the main reason for its cancellation. George R. Olson, the creator of SurrealEstate, tweeted in October 2021 the unfortunate news that SyFy wouldn’t be moving forward with a season 2, but to not give up hope and they were looking for a new home for the paranormal procedure.

Hulu began streaming season 1 of SurrealEstate starting October 6 and it was revealed on May 2022 that SyFy had decided against officially canceling SurrealEstate when it talked about new and returning series in an article.

CONCLUSION

I rate SurrealEstate 3.9/5, I’ve loved Tim Rozon since his days on Wynonna Earp as the immortal gunslinger Doc Holliday, which was also unfortunately canceled after its fourth season by SyFy. No worries, Melanie Scrofano (Wynonna) guest starred in episode three and played a fanatic homeowner trying to sell her cottage (such a fun episode).

SurrealEstate is character-driven, and with a heavy-hitting cast, the characters are believable and loveable. Even with the extra bits thrown in (Roman’s ability to see ghosts, and Ireland’s telekinesis and pyrokinesis) and the haunted houses, the heart is still there and beating strong. It was sad that at first it looked like we would be leaving on such a cliffhanger, with Luke losing his powers and knowing his mother was alive somewhere.

SurrealEstate is ALIVE and will be airing on SyFy sometime in late 2023. As of October 12th, you can catch up on season one on Hulu.

[thepermanentrainpress]

UNDER THE RADAR: APRIL 2023

April's Under The Radar brings new releases from Porteau, The Evan Williams Project, Grace Chiang, Hotel of the Laughing Tree, Down the Lees and Odum Abekah.

1) Porteau - “Split Screen Eyes”

Sometimes, it takes a hurtful dynamic to uncover quiet strength.

“Split Screen Eyes” is helmed by inner monologue—an emotional push and pull from “caring for someone with mental illness and concurrent substance use.” Victoria Williams and Craig Stevenson acknowledge the codependence and create distance with some whimsical, less orthodox language. The single combines Williams’ winsome vocals, relaxed guitars, synths, harmonies, and a hint of harmonica. “Aberration is uncomfortable but it’s what I need,” Williams sings, setting boundaries and deepening the sentiment simultaneously. Porteau’s sophomore album What I Need is out June 2, 2023.

Written by: Natalie Hoy

2) Hotel of the Laughing Tree - “Faraway Friends”

“Faraway Friends” is a fun and throbbing melody despite isolating emotions. It was lyrically inspired by the majority of their band members moving away from New York, and is sung from the perspective of vocalist AJ Estrada, who remained in their home state. “No need to let go, please keep me in your world / Back in your old back seat / Time never slows when I want to leave the scene...” Time can be unforgiving when you’re going through a period of change and uncertainty. The result is woozy, beautiful, bracing—vocals, drum machines, keys and guitars trying to shake the rearview mirror.

Hotel is comprised of Estrada, Brandon Peterson and Jonathon Streker. “Faraway Friends” is the title track off their fifth full-length album, out now.

Faraway Friends by Hotel of the Laughing Tree

Written by: Natalie Hoy

3) Grace Chiang (featuring Rebecca Sichon & Amanda Na) - “Played”

A modern day love triangle that leans on the shared experiences of women is at the core of “Played.” Encapsulating the manipulation and betrayal of a lost lover, the song’s use of two female vocalists plays on the misplaced anger and fraught emotion. It’s a sublime debut single from producer/songwriter Chiang, creating notes and tones that are sultry, distracted and resentful. The harmonies and vocal runs between Sichon and Na are sweet to the ear – a division and predicament that reaches an understanding towards each other. In the pop/R&B realm with a soulful lining, soft piano is richly elevated by punchy hip hop beats.  

I couldn’t be more thrilled to hear that Chiang is collaborating with other female artists and creatives from underrepresented communities, in a project set for release later this year. “Played” celebrates the strength of emerging women in music and encourages us to let go of those who don’t show us the same loyalty and respect.

Written by: Chloe Hoy

4) The Evan Williams Project - “Contact”

“I know that prison in the palace of a demagogue / Is ever better than the curse of being free.” 

Scott McGowan’s struggle with his spiritual belief is heard in “Contact,” omnipresent thoughts that err on regret and a looming end. They bring a new definition to raw—creating music while going through an honest bout of questioning one’s faith and mental health. It is less of the heavy, hard rock found in past releases, instead having a progressive, ambient feel built by vocal layering, clean guitar leads, and reverb. McGowan and his sister Launey have a perpetual quality to their voices that linger in the weight of Christianity and desperation. They have a mysterious, almost vigilant sound rooted in questioning reception and our existence; a very compelling listen and a story far from its conclusion.  

The Evan Williams Project is fronted by McGowan, with Allayne (Launey) McGowan (drums), Isaac Robinson (keys) and Jaxon Russell (guitar). Their new album Willpower is out now.

WILLPOWER by The Evan Williams Project

Written by: Chloe Hoy

5) Down the Lees - “Dead and Over”

Oh so bleak and penetrating as they veer into frustrating territory in “Dead and Over,” a release of negative emotions felt over the course of the past few years. Laura Lee Schultz fronts the post-rock/shoegaze act, carrying a piece of her soul and a jaded energy to elevate the single. Her voice is tired and anxious, angry and embattled in a losing fight. I love the mystifying sound, it’s both biting and tormenting as instruments crash in and out. In addition to the general overcast of the pandemic, they address artist mental health struggles and ageism in the challenges faced by older female musicians (“No one gives a f*ck about aging women”). 

For any creatives who have faced doubts about ability, recognition, assumed retirement or expiration, the band carves out the best of what is left—which is plenty of passion and perspective. Something to remember. Down the Lees is Schultz, Chris Carlson (bass) and Andy Ashley (drums).

Dead and Over by Down the Lees

Written by: Chloe Hoy

6) Odum Abekah - “GOOD FOR YA”

Odum Abekah’s “GOOD FOR YA” started with a sinuous beat, and blossomed into a dancefloor special with its lush layers and persuasive tone.

Originally from Fredericton, NB and now based in Calgary, Abekah is a graduate of both Humber College and Mount Allison University music programs. His sound is uplifting and put-together—retrowave mixed with modern rock guitars and sturdy drums. Abekah’s slick vocals play the part of wooing a potential lover well (“But the world they capture's digitized black and white / You deserve some colour”). “GOOD FOR YA” is a song with no regrets; leaving everything on the line for a shot at something special.

Written by: Natalie Hoy

[shakespearenews]

Even so, there can be surprises, usually not welcome ones. The Japan Society, which has long imported experimental Japanese performance, ran into a hitch with “Hamlet/Toilet,” an absurdist, pop culture-inflected work from the playwright and director Yu Murai and Theater Company Kaimaku Pennant Race. As the work is based in part on Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” Yoko Shioya, the Japan Society’s artistic director, had to argue what made this work culturally unique to Japan. Asked by the consular official to submit further evidence, she focused on the production’s toilets. (Murai is also the author of “Romeo & Toilet.” Toilets are a recurring motif.)

“Everybody who first goes to Japan, their jaws drop at the toilets,” she said. The official approved the application.

[the-pessimists-paradigm]