#ah yes one of the gripes i have with big blog

[evil-mcytblrconfessions]

nah why do the big blog mods get so weird when people don’t know stuff

when they asked for whitepine confessions i sent a silly “idk what whitepine is and i’m too afraid to ask” and they gave me the sassiest response like sorry i don’t know everything about it???? i’m just now hearing it exists?????????

.

[aerynwrites]

I would absolutely love to see what happens if Knight Din witnesses Reader accidentally injurying herself. 🥺

AHhh yes omg! I love me some hurt/comfort! It’s in my top three favorite tropes. So I hope I delivered well, lol.

Slip up

Knight!Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k ( i have no self control. I’m sorry)

Warnings: Blood, Injurys (not graphic), terrible medical practices, soft Din.

You knew you should have gotten the fence gate fixed when it had broken all those months ago. But at the moment, it didn’t seem like that big of an issue. It still did its job well enough, it kept the chickens and goats in the yard, and that’s all it needed to do right? So, you just chose to ignore the dangerously sharp piece of metal jutting out from the sodden gate, in favor of convenience,  Today, however, the choice seemed to have caught up to you.

The first snow had fallen overnight, and you woke up this morning to your father running about trying to keep the house warm all while instructing you to check on the animals. He kept muttering about how Genevieve would have his head if he let her favorite egg-laying hen die from the cold. You had held back a chuckle at his words, knowing they’re true. Genevieve often came over to buy your extra eggs for her bakery, claiming that your hens laid the “biggest and tastiest eggs around!” - how she could tell that you weren’t sure. So, you abide by your father’s request and headed outside. 

It was frighteningly cold, and you pulled your coat tighter around you as you trudged over to the overhang on the side of the house to grab a bail of hay to spread in the hen house. You went about the usual routine for the animals when it was cold and were satisfied to see that none of your chickens or goats were in bad shape. Just a little cold and hungry for breakfast. 

You were just spreading the last of the chicken feed when you heard a familiar voice call your name. You turned around to see Din pulling up in his horse, a bright smile on his face as he waved at you. A smile matching his own burst onto your face and you set the bucket of feed on the ground before walking quickly over to the gate to meet him.

You reached the edge of the yard, and without thinking you grabbed onto the top of the gate to push it out of the way...at the same time your foot connected with a patch of ice on the ground. Your feet are taken out from under you as you slip on the slippery patch of ground, and you instinctively brace on the gate. Your hand slides off of its place and glides painfully across the jagged piece of metal jutting out of the wooden gate. A sharp gasp slips from your throat as hit the ground, and Din rushes over to you, concern etched onto his features when he sees the blooming patch of red spreading in the snow beneath your hand. 

“Your hurt,” he says as he gently helps you to your feet once more. 

You cradle your injured hand, in your free one and watch as crimson drips from your palm onto the bright white snow below you, and you whimper slightly, “I knew I should have gotten that gate fixed months ago,” you gripe, as Din leads you over to your house, “Now look what I’ve gone and done. It will be weeks before I can use my hand properly again...what about all the work I have piled up? There’s a festival coming up soon, and the queen needs another gown, and now I can’t -”

“Hey,” Din’s soothing baritone cuts you off, when he sits you down at the table in your kitchen, “You don’t need to think about that right now,” he tells you, “Can I take a look at your hand?” 

You sniffle slightly and nod, holding your hand out for him and watching as he gently takes your hand in his own. You watch as he slowly uncurls your fingers from your palm, pausing when you flinch, and continuing only when you give him a small nod. He looks quickly over the wound and hums low in his chest.

“It actually doesn’t look bad, it’s not deep. You won’t even need stitches,” he tells you warmly, before he looks around the room, “Do you have any medicinal supplies?”

Your eyes widen at his words and you shake your head, “You don’t have to do this Din,” you tell him, “I can take care of this on my own.”

He looks at you with a slightly teasing gleam in his eye and stands, “What kind of knight would I be if I left a lady all alone after she injured herself?” he asks playfully before his eyes soften and he kneels down in front of you once more, “Please let me help you.”

You sigh, unable to resist him when he looks at you that way, and you point into the kitchen, “There are some supplies in the cabinet to the far left,” you tell him softly.

He nods, telling you he will be right back before disappearing into the kitchen. You hear him shuffle around for a few moments before he returns with several items in his hands. He sets down a few bottles and containers on the table, a few strips of cloth bandages, a bowl of water, and a clean rag. He pulls a chair up so he is sitting in front of you and dips the rag in the water before taking your hand gently in his own. His hands are strikingly warm compared to your own cold ones, and you can’t help the way that your face heats up as he begins to slowly clean the blood away from your wound. You have seen this man fight other knights twice his size and unseat men from their horses with grace and ease. So, to witness him being so gentle and caring sends a warm feeling to your chest. Neither of you speaks as Din tends to your injury, both of you afraid to break this slightly intimate moment between you two. You are only sitting a hair’s breadth away from your knight, the curls on his head moving slightly with each breath you take. You can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves as if he were a human furnace himself. The moment is only broken when Din begins to spread an herb salve over the cut, causing you to hiss and jerk away instinctively. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes instantly, taking your hand back in his own, “I just have to wrap it, and then I’ll be done.”

You nod and give him a small smile, “It’s alright Din,” you whisper.

Din takes the cloth bandages and quickly wraps them, once, twice, three times before neatly tying it off with a small knot. He then turns your hand over and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles before taking it away from his lips. Your hand is still in his and he runs his thumb soothingly across the back of it as he looks at you, eyes sparkling with reverence as he does so. 

You give him a smile and cover his hand with your free one, “Thank you, Din, you didn’t have to do that.”

He shakes his head and gives your hand a gentle squeeze, careful not to hurt your injury, “No need to thank me.”

You look away from him for a moment, your head turning with what to say before you finally turn shyly back to him, “Would you…” you trail off, your courage waning slightly before you force yourself to continue, “I still need to finish the chores with the animals, and with my hand, I don’t know if I can -”

“I would be delighted to assist you,” he interrupts, voice eager despite his best efforts not to appear so. 

You smile and nod, standing from your chair and he does the same, “If you don’t have any other duties to attend to today, you are also more than welcome to stay for dinner later.”

You feel your face flush as you realize what your words could mean and you rush to explain, “But only if you want too, you by no means have to feel that you-”

Din stops you before you reach the door to your house and he turns you to face him. He smiles at you before he reaches up and pulls his scarf from his neck and begins to gently wrap it around your shoulders. He takes your hand in his once more and places another soft kiss to your knuckles.

“I would love nothing more,” he assures you, eyes brights and cheeks slightly flushed. 

You can’t help the smile that splits your lips as you open the door and you both walk back over to the yard, hand in hand. At this moment, you are suddenly happy you never got that gate fixed.

*Usernames bolded and crossed out means I couldn’t tag you. Make sure you are visible in your blog settings.*

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[qqueenofhades]

So I stumbled across your blog because of the old guard and am staying for the medieval history. I’m currently in my last year of history undergrad and thinking about pursuing a PhD soon. If it’s not a trouble, do you have any advice on how you found your historical niche? I’m all tangled up in pilgrimages, queer history and religious history at the moment (with a side dose of currently hyperfixating on the 11th century bc of certain immortal husbands)

Oof. I wish I could say that my academic career was a result of a neat progression through degrees while knowing what I was doing the whole time and having a precisely defined subject, but it was often....  not that. If you’re interested, I have a school stuff tag where I have answered similar asks to yours and explained a bit about my process of ending up in my current field. This one is the most recent, from just about a month ago, which may be helpful to you. (I also warn you that the tag contains a lot of me griping about sundry academia annoyances, so yes. Don’t expect it to be nothing but scintillating brilliance. Ahem.)

I did medieval history in general for undergrad (along with English), but I ended up in crusade history for my M.A. and PhD largely thanks to Richard the Lionheart, because I wrote a book about him in 2010 and (obviously) crusading was a big part of that. I started my M.A. in 2012 and my thesis was about the intellectual genealogy of the crusades in the Euro-American historical narrative, which then meant I was looking to apply to PhD programs as a crusade historian. I emailed back and forth with the professor who became my PhD supervisor before I ever actually got into the university or he officially took me on; I had some ideas and a vague notion that I wanted to work on the crusades, but he helped guide and shape it into an actually defined and doable topic within a specific geographic and chronological span, and which filled a gap in the current historiography of the crusades. (As I noted in an earlier answer today, the resulting dissertation is now my academic book about the crusades, which I can tell you where to buy if you wanna DM me and have money to blow on such things. Ah, academic publishing.)

While I was working on that, I was also pursuing my interests in medieval gender/queer/social history on the side, giving conference papers mostly about the crusades and gender, and suchlike. My contract for my planned next book (which I still need an institution/job to host....) is about medieval queer history, so I have written/published/will eventually be published on both crusade history and queer history. (I also have some journal articles in the interminable draft stages that touch on both these topics, including my article about Richard.) Those are still my main subject areas, expertise-wise, though I have done a lot of reading on general historical topics and my current sub-field of interest is 20th-century Europe during the Cold War.

So yes, I have a lot of different things that I work on to some degree, and getting something down to a central (and manageable) thesis question is always hard. It takes practice to know what a good research question is and how much you can actually manage, but you get a feel for it after a time. My dissertation was supposed to be a limit of 100k words before submission, but I think revisions and such ultimately took it to about 115k for the book version. That was ultimately 304 pages in thesis format, so... yeah. It is a LOT of work, and the most work I have ever done on anything in my life. I finished the M.A. in 2 years, as usual, and then the PhD in technically-three-but-ultimately-four-years (due to administrative/bureaucracy times); I did them separately and at different universities, but if you’re applying to PhD out of undergrad, you’ll get the M.A. first and then proceed on from there.

I am happy to consult on PhD advice (I did my PhD in the UK, so I know more about how that version of the program works, rather than the American system, but it’s hopefully still helpful) and whatever else. I salute you for deciding to go ahead with it in these grim times, but I am delighted that you are.

Good luck!

[lainaraquel]

Something There

During the fall of their second year at U.A. a trip is taken to a well-known hero training facility called Alderaan. During her time there Momo is paired with the person she least expects and unearths parts of him and herself that she never thought was there before.

Series: Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakumomo, Bakugou x Yaoyorozu.

Rating: T (canon-divergent)

Word Count: 5,473

A/N: Hello, yes hi. This is my first fic for an anime series so I’m so sorry if the honorifics are off! I tried my best to do the best research I could. Feel free to kindly correct me if you notice anything off about them for next time. I would also like to say that I have another side blog called @bakumomoandco where I will answer any questions, do headcanons, take fic requests and more. The Bakumomo discord should be up this week as well! Thank you if you take the time to read this. It can be taken as shippy or non-shippy, but I hope you like it! :D p.s. sorry for any mistakes I tried to catch them all.p.s.s. If you catch a certain Disney reference, it is intentional. Lol.

Momo had always been a slow walker. It was something her mother constantly criticized saying that she needed to pick up her pace and keep focused. She couldn’t help it though, her mind would wander and before she knew it she was trailing behind everyone else. It was never intentional, but it had become sort of a favorite pastime to trail behind her class. She liked to hear everyone chatter, study how they moved, or maybe even how they acted when they thought no one was looking. She used the excuse of Iida leading the class in front and so as his second she would trail behind to make sure everyone kept in line. So, maybe it wasn’t something her mother particularly liked, but it did help her focus. It gave her the sharpened eyes she used today to analyze a situation.  

Aizawa-sensei said that they were going to a legendary gym called Alderaan. It was a fancy gym that even still some of the best pros trained at. It was in a secluded location and it had been rumored that U.A. students sometimes got to visit-- but no one had ever known for sure. It was quite the workout since you had to hike to get there, but they weren’t surprised at this rate. This was still much easier than when they had to find their way to camp last summer. However, they weren’t allowed to use their quirks, they just had to walk. Momo didn’t mind, she liked the quiet and she was sure their training would be quite challenging-- so it was probably best not to waste their energy now.

Her thoughts came to a crashing halt when a shoulder collided with hers. “Move, Ponytail” the blond huffed, nudging her sideways with his shoulder again. Momo felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she realized she was about to hit an electrical pole and he had stopped her.

How humiliating she thought, her hands coming to her face in embarrassment.

“Thank you, Bakugou-san,” her tone sincere, but filled with surprise at the same time. She didn’t think anyone noticed her back there, nor did she ever look behind her. Was he always there? So much for being observant.

He only shrugged keeping his hands tucked away in his pockets.

“Yao-momo!” Ashido chimed as she turned with a big grin on her face. “Hurry! We’re nearly there.” Jirou waved her over as well and Momo turned back to the blond who was now looking elsewhere. She picked up her pace to a quick jog; the cool fall air against her cheeks as she caught up with them.

In her sight line was a view of white buildings, some circular, some tall and skinny, while others were wide. The architecture had pristinely carved patterns along each one as if it were crafted by angels.They were all taken back by this sight. The air crisp from the high altitude, but it wasn’t the reason they were all stood there breathless. It was a dream for them to be there and maybe it was just her imagination but it seemed as if the buildings were glowing.

They were directed to the dorms they would be staying in for the week. Class B would be sharing with them which would be interesting. They didn’t spend too much with their other classmates, but Momo had made friends with Kendou and the other girls seemed nice-- so dorming should go over well. The class reps were in charge of assigning everyone a partner for the week. Aizawa-sensei said it was a good judge of leadership to see if they could pair people up with those suited for them.

“Of course, a test!” Iida spoke his hands pointed straight and stiff. “Leave it to U.A. to test our judgment as class presidents to see how well we know our fellow classmates. I will value your input greatly,” he spoke to Momo, Kendou and the other class B rep.

“This is not just about who you get along with. Conflict can be a good thing. Remember your exams and how some were paired up for more than quirks that compliment each other. People are more than their quirks. My one rule is that you cannot pick for yourself. Trust your fellow classmates. You have one hour, that is all.” Aizawa said swiftly turning away from them.

“Yes, sir!” the four replied as he exited shutting the door behind him.

How were they supposed to make these kinds of decisions?! Momo had analyzed her classmates sure, but it wasn’t like she had in depth notes. That was more Midoriya’s thing. Were they allowed to ask him for his notes? No, they could do this. Couldn’t they? She sure hoped so. The last thing she wanted to do was steer things in the wrong direction.

“Yaoyorozu-san, are you alright? You seem tense.” Iida stated. “Ah I see, you’re worried. No need! I have full faith in our ability to live up to this task!” His expression never once faltering from its serious state.  

Kendou gave her an encouraging smile, “Yeah, we’ve totally got this. What do you think we should do first?” she asked.

“Maybe make a list of everyone’s quirks and then think about their personalities?” Momo suggested. An hour just didn’t seem like enough time to make this decision. This was a week with this person and one wrong choice could result in someone not getting the full benefit of this trip. That was a lot of pressure-- these were decisions teachers normally made for them. But she supposed that was the point.

“That’s a great idea!” Iida spoke and began writing. He quickly jotted down the quirks of everyone in their class and slid the paper to Kendou to write down everyone in her class. At the very least it was a starting point.  

“And I don’t think we should pair anyone together who was already paired together for final exams,” Kendou added as she slid the paper back to Iida.

“Ah, yes, very perceptive! They would probably be disappointed if we reselected their former picks. We should get to work. We have fifty minutes left.” Iida stated as he looked over the list before him.

The hour passed by a lot quicker than they thought it would. They had agreed to pair each other first and then leave it a surprise until the end. From the four names crossed off she knew who her potential partners could be, but she didn’t expect what she read on the paper. She scanned over it one more time to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

Class 1-A and 1-B Partners List:

Denki Kaminari and Kyoka Jirou

Eijiro Kirishima and Izuku Midoriya

Fumikage Tokoyami and Shouto Todoroki

Hanta Sero and Yosetsu Awase

Katsuki Bakugo and Momo Yaoyorozu

Koji Kouda and Pony Tsunotori

Mashirao Ojirou and Ibara Shiozaki

Mezo Shouji and Neriengeki Shouda

Mina Ashido and Tsuyu Asui

Minoru Mineta and Manga Fukidashi

Rikido Satou and Kinoko Komori

Tenya Iida and Ochako Uraraka

Toru Hagakure and Hiryu Rin

Yuga Aoyama and Jurota Shishida

Itsuka Kendou and Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

Monoma Neito and Juzo Honenuki

Kojiro Bondo and Kosei Tsuburaba    

Reiko Yanagi and Sen Kaibara  

Setsuna Tokage and Shihai Kuroiro   

Togaru Kamakiri and Yui Kodai

Nope. She had not read it wrong at all. Although she supposed it could be much worse. It could be Mineta she was paired with. She shuddered at the thought. She knew that she was supposed to trust them, but she was curious as to why they would pair them together. However, she didn’t get a chance to even bring it up.

“Time’s up, hand me the list.” their Sensei spoke. His expression stayed straight aside from the smallest curve of his lip. But if you were to blink you would completely miss it. “Get to the common area with the others. You have a big day tomorrow.” He cleared his throat, “Spend tonight setting a good example for your classmates. There will be festivities for some reason,” he shrugged. “Use that time to bond with your partner.”

“Yes, sir!”

The fire crackled as students sat around it attempting to stay warm. Momo had created scarves for everyone to help. She had one left that she had yet to deliver to her partner. He wasn’t usually so receiving or even social for that matter. He was sitting off to the side by himself and he didn’t exactly look thrilled to be there. Momo wondered if that was an act. Couldn’t he simply have just gone to bed by now?

“It’s getting late! I know I cannot speak for class1-B! But we should all turn in by 10:30 class 1-A! So we can assure proper rest and be good partners tomorrow.” Iida announced into a megaphone that echoed loudly.

“Where did he get a megaphone?” Jirou griped rubbing her ears. They were sensitive to sound and it didn’t help that Iida had been standing right near them. “Cut it with that,” she sniped at him.

“Oh, my apologies!” he yelled into the megaphone. He quickly released it realizing he had done it again.

“He puts my teeth on edge,” Jirou grumbled.

“More than Kaminari?” Ashido teased, nudging her gently. “No,” she shot back quickly. “That’s different, he’s entertaining because he’s so stupid.” she snickered.

“Uh huh,” A coy smile on the pink girl’s lips.

“What is that look for?” Jirou asked eyes narrowed.

“Nothin’- I just think it’s cute.” she giggled. “Don’t you think so, Yao-momo?”

“Wha?” she asked being pulled from her thoughts once more.

“It is not cute. He’s gross,” Jirou grumbled standing up. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?” she asked Momo.

Iida was right, it would be wise to get rest, but she also had yet to approach Bakugou. She held the scarf in her hands bunching the material between her fingers. “I’ll be up soon,” she spoke softly as she stood.

She could only hope this conversation would go well. It wasn’t like he was known for being a conversationalist of any sort. The only person who could seem to talk to him was Kirishima. Should she stop to ask him for tips? It only made sense to learn about him as much as possible. Similar to her quirk it would help if she had prior information. She scanned the crowd for them but found him laughing with Midoriya and some others. Maybe she shouldn’t bother him with her questions. She could figure it out for herself.

His back was turned as he sat on a log overlooking the view.

“Bakugou-san?” she cleared her throat.

He turned toward her. A pause.

“What do you fucking want, Ponytail?” he asked.

So vulgar.

Momo cringed at such harsh language and held out the scarf to him. Her cheeks were bright red and hands were now trembling. Why was she trembling? It wasn’t like she was afraid of him. She had called him out in their first battle at school. And she knew him long enough to know his bark was much worse than his bite.

She supposed it was just her nerves of talking to him one on one, but even looking at him now-- he wasn’t scary. He was difficult sure, but not scary.

“Why are you giving me this?” he asked, voice gruff. “I’m not fucking cold.”

“But your hands,” she trailed now noticing that his were trembling too.

“I’m fucking fine!” he growled but grabbed the scarf from her anyway. “See you tomorrow, Ponytail. Don’t be late.”

“I would never be late!” Momo gasped, offended. Her hand colliding with her chest in shock.

Bakugou just smirked as he walked away from her. Maybe being paired with her wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him. At the very least he could mess with her a little and she wouldn’t slack off on any of their work. Yeah, he could work with her.

It was late afternoon the next day when they were told they were dismissed. It had been an extremely challenging day. They had to work an obstacle course, had to trust their partner to guide them through a maze blindfolded-- Bakugou blew up three of them. He was lucky Yaoyorozu could recreate them or they could have failed. By the third one, she had scolded him and said he needed to put some type of faith in her.

Her mind was still replaying the moment-- he had never said something so honest in front of her before. Maybe these exercises were put together to push them in more ways than one.

“I hate not having control, alright? It’s fucking terrifying. I need to see where I’m going, what target I’m aiming at-- I don’t do teams.”

And Momo understood that completely, before U.A. she hadn’t met anyone as skilled as herself, at least not anyone her age. She expected to, of course, she wasn’t naive, but it still could wear on a person's confidence. Even someone who seemed indestructible like Bakugou. He was just as terrified as the rest of them so much so that he isolated himself to keep a laser focus. Part of her always suspected this was why, but it was nice to gain confirmation from him.

“Well, for this exercise, I’m your eyes. So let me do my job.”

“Whatever.” He mumbled clearly regretting being so vulnerable.

She handed him a bottle of water as they sat there together trying to catch their breath. “Here, you should probably hydrate.”

He smirked, looking away from her to hold back a chuckle. It wasn’t really like him to hold back laughter when it came at the expense of someone else.

“What?” she asked him growing self-conscious in the process.

“You’re like a fucking, mom.”

Momo was taken back by this. She just liked to be prepared and water was essential to helping them stay on top of their game. How did that make her like a mother? She cared about their well being and wanted to do well? Didn’t he also want to do well? 

 “Perhaps I’m just very prepared.”

“Like a mom.” He reiterated and she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Does that upset you?” he asked her.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Wha?” she asked him, eyes wide.  

“Something should fucking upset you-- you’re too agreeable.”

And then he left her standing there again, dumbfounded. Why did he keep doing that?! And did he have to swear so much? He was so-- well he was so uncouth.

The rest of the week went by quickly. Each day provided new challenges and sometimes they would have to work with not only their partner but other teams. Each night they went to bed exhausted, dragging their half dead bodies into the comfort of their temporary beds.

She could even say that she understood why Midoriya admired him so much. No one was unaware that Bakugou was powerful or talented, but there was much more to him than that. He had come quite a long way from that guy she analyzed in their first test. He listened more, he never made her feel weak, and eventually, he seemed to rely on her too.

It was like they were an actual team and when Momo was working with him she felt a boost to her own confidence. It made her feel like anything that he could do she was somehow capable of doing it too. And strangely enough, when she hesitated he didn't yell at her. His voice could get gruff, but that was just how he spoke.

“Keep going, Ponytail. Try. again.”

“Stop thinking about it-- trust your damn gut.”  

And yes, maybe he pushed her buttons too, but she caught on quickly that it was just because he liked seeing her get flustered. Which frankly was quite rude.

Now that the week was over she was almost saddened. She was sure that they would go back to their friend circles slightly intermingling but no longer speaking like before. Maybe Momo could keep her olive branch extended by offering for him to eat lunch with them sometime? No, he probably would just laugh at that ‘I don’t want to eat lunch with your shitty friends.’ And then she would be taken back by how vulgar he was and remind him those are his classmates. But he wouldn’t care.

“Since you’ve all done so well, surprisingly so-” Aizawa-sensei began.

“Aw, come on, Aizawa-kun give them more credit. They’ve worked hard!” All Might interrupted him. “Because of that, we have decided you can have this last day off to rest! Or train in the gym if you like, but these are your leisure hours! We leave first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

It was rare for U.A. to ever cut them a break like this, but most of them could hardly move-- so maybe recovery was necessary for today. Momo knew exactly what it was she wanted to do after she got in a workout of course. She wouldn’t completely slack off-- her studies were too important to her.

Two hours later Momo had her bag around her shoulder and began her small trek to a place of relaxation. They had stumbled upon an area with a quiet spring during one of their training exercises and she wanted to return there for the day. The fresh air was nice, the sun shining brightly making it a nice temperature for a fall day. The trees were shaded with different colored leaves and some already crunching under her feet as she walked.

As it came into a view she couldn’t help the big smile that came over her face. It was a breathtaking sight. The water cascaded off the rocks and into the cool blue water. A few of the autumn leaves had blown in almost like drops of vibrant red, yellow, and orange paint swirling around. She found a spot under a shady tree placing her blanket down and getting comfortable. She reached into her bag pulling out a few snacks and a stack of books. She had some fresh blueberries, peeled orange slices, and walnuts to enjoy.  

Their training had been so vigorous that Momo was too exhausted to read at night like she usually did. And she had earned it since she still trained today, right? Right. Maybe she should have stayed two extra hours. Three hours of training probably would have been better than the hour and a half she did today. Maybe she should go back or she could get more hours in this evening. Yes, that would work.

“I could smell your brain frying from a mile back,” a now very familiar gruff voice spoke. “What are you over thinking now?” he asked.

“Bakugou-san?” her eyes wide.

“Nothing,” she blushed cracking open her book and attempting to read. He only smirked which slightly infuriated her. Why was he always smirking at her like that?! She didn’t see what was amusing. She was almost tempted to ask what he was doing here but decided against it.

He sat down next to her and an audible gasp escaped her as she peered over the top of her book. He turned to look at her and she quickly buried her face back into the pages. She reached for the container of her fruit holding it up to offer him some.

Bakugou had spent the better half of the morning working out and figured he might get in a few more hours later. Kirishima had tried to talk him into hanging out with everyone else-- and he almost considered it. Maybe if Ponytail girl was there he could annoy her or something-- hang out with Hair For Brains for a while. It could be worse.

Eventually, he decided that none of that was worth it. Solitude would be a much better use of his time. Everyone was so damn loud all the time and got on his nerves. He could just sit for a while by that dumb spring Yaoyorozu Ponytail found so interesting when they discovered it on Wednesday.

He hadn’t been expecting her to actually be there. He thought for sure they would have all roped her into hanging out with them. But, at least she was a classmates company he could tolerate. Maybe even more than Kirishima because she didn’t bother him as much. He liked that if he wanted to sit in silence she didn’t really feel the need to say too much. What was the point in opening your mouth if you didn’t have anything to fucking say?

He surprised himself by sitting right beside her, but she was sitting under the shadiest tree. Maybe he enjoyed her company more than he would ever admit. As she held up her fruit container there was a part of him that wanted to flip it out of her hands for being so nice to him. Why the fuck was she so nice? She didn’t need to share her food with him and why didn’t she yell at him for invading her space?

“I don’t want any.”

“You mean, no thank you, Yaoyorozu-chan,” she corrected, “Or Yao-Momo.”

“Hey, I didn’t swear doesn’t that fucking count?” he asked balling up his fists. He was playing right into her trap. He could see the smirk rising up on her lips and he was almost proud? “Hey! Don’t you fucking smirk at me, Ponytail! I’ll fucking kill you right here.” His eyes were glowing and he could feel the small explosions firing off in his hands.

“No you won’t,” she stated simply. “You’re all talk Bakugou-san. I’ve got you figured out, you can’t hide from me.” She brought the book back to her attention, popping a blueberry into her mouth and he was furious. His blood boiled and his breathing grew heavier because she was fucking right. He blamed Kirishima for making him weak and more sociable. He blamed her for being too damn nice and himself for growing used to her kindness.  

He stood towering over her now. His eyes bright red, though Momo was secretly nervous she didn’t show it. In one swift motion, he picked her up, tossing her book over to the wayside. “Put me down!” she yelled hitting his back. He didn’t care though. 

“DIE!” he screeched as he tossed her into the spring before him. That would show her that he wasn’t all fucking talk. He stood at the edge on a rock watching as she swam up to the surface with his signature grin present on his lips. That would teach her to ever see him as anything less than a man of his word. He was not weak.

Momo was shocked the moment she hit the water, it was cold, but not as freezing as she would have expected. She was quick to rise to the surface and she was torn between crying and killing him. “Bakugou-san!” she jumped up grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him in with her. 

Normally she never would have done something like this, but she was angry. Here she was just trying to enjoy her day off and he had to come spoil it by throwing her in the spring. She held him under the water for a few seconds, surprised she was even able to do so. He wiggled out of her grip coming up from the water with a gasp.

But he was laughing? That was almost more terrifying than an angry Bakugou. It wasn’t a smirk or even a chuckle-- he was actually laughing. Momo’s face grew red as she looked around to see what he could be finding so funny. “What are you laughing at?!” she asked him, panic present in her voice.

“You make a great face when you’re pissed off. Your nose scrunches up and your eyes get fire in em’. It’s a good look on you.” he snorted climbing out of the water. He extended his hand back towards her. She expected him to pull some dirty trick like trying to push her back in and she would have clung on to take him back down with her-- but he didn’t.

 “It’s fucking cold, neither of us needs to get sick.” He grabbed the blanket off the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders without even thinking twice about it.

Momo’s eyes were wide with concern. Had the spring water cleansed the monster out of him or something? She had read something before about water having healing properties--or maybe this spring was somehow magical. Perhaps this was actually just what Bakugou was like under all of the armor he wore. No one could ever really figure out why Midoriya and Kirishima thought so highly of him. It was true that he was skilled and everyone in the class respected that-- but not many actually liked him. It could be that she was catching a glimpse of the hero that lived within.

She didn’t mention his kindness, instead she just quietly thanked him. She turned away opening up her shirt under the blanket and made him a towel. She caught the red in his face as she turned back around and refrained from laughing. “Fucking exhibitionist,” he muttered as he took the towel. Her face went red now, but with irritation. “I’m not! I was just making you a towel so you could keep-” she watched the grin and narrowed her eyes at him. Damn him, he got her again.

He laughed and without thinking about it she shoulder checked him. Her face went blank and her hand came up to cover her mouth. “Bakugou-san, I apologize. I didn’t mean-.” She could feel her cheeks were pink and her head was hanging in shame. That was not an appropriate way to react.

“You don’t need to fucking apologize, Ponytail. I told you, you’re too agreeable.”

They didn’t see each other much the rest of the day. Just glances of one another and every time he would nod his head up towards her. She didn’t exactly know what that meant. Was he saying hello? She understood the gesture-- but what did it mean when it came from someone like him? She supposed it didn’t matter now.

They began their trek back to the bus early that morning as promised. Most of the class seemed to hardly be awake and it was certainly colder in the morning. Cold enough that they could see their breath. It was strange how quickly the weather had changed. Yesterday it was sunny and today was more of a traditional fall day with the gloomy weather.

Eventually, Momo found herself drifting to the back like she normally did. Her mind was consumed with different thoughts as she played over the past week. She never in a million year would have thought that she and Bakugou would make a good team. Nor would she ever think that they could get along personally.  

She felt someone nudge into her shoulder and looked to see it was him. “Good morning, Bakugou-san.” she smiled. He rolled his eyes at her, but they kept at the same pace as they walked together. They didn’t say very much, just a jab here or there-- but it seemed they both liked the company as they trailed behind their class.

When they loaded the bus for whatever reason Bakugou sat in the seat next to her. 

“Ah, good idea!” Iida chimed in noticing this.  “We should all sit with our pairings if they are on this bus with us!” his hand gestured swiftly. “That way we can review how our weeks went!”

“I don’t care what you do. Just let me nap,” Aizawa-sensei spoke.

The ride back to the school was long and Momo pulled her book out of her bag once more as she read. Bakugou had his eyes closed and every once in awhile he would glance over to see what she was reading. There was idle chit-chat on the bus and no one put much thought into them sitting together because of Iida. Not that Momo would have minded if they had, he sat next to her and she wasn’t going to be rude and say he couldn’t sit there. Besides, whether he liked it or not she considered him a friend.

“What are you reading?” a half sleepy Bakugou asked her.

She was caught off guard by this question, her cheeks a little red. Her mother only wanted her reading books that were educational, but sometimes she would sneak fiction. She found it fascinating and educational in its own way. Maybe it didn’t help her with her quirk, but it gave her a better insight into the world of imagination and art.

“The Boyfriend List, it’s kind of a romance, but real life novel. The girl is our age.”

“I bet it’s fucking stupid,” he chuckled and Momo kept a hard glare locked on him. He sat up straighter as he looked at her. “Tell me about it,” he shrugged. She wondered why he cared, but no one could ever stop her from talking about her beloved books--especially if they asked.

She explained to him in full detail how this book was about an American girl named Ruby who suffers from panic attacks. Her whole life gets turned upside down after losing her boyfriend and all of her friends. Bakugou does his best not to laugh, but he can’t help it. This book sounds stupid as hell to him, but even he has to admit that he likes to see her passion and her glaring looks when he makes a face. He even asked her to read to him and he has no idea why he does this, but she doesn’t even hesitate. It made the time go by quicker on this dreaded bus ride and he even forgot about the cold for a while. Especially when she was glaring at him for his snide remarks.

He didn’t even notice that he had gotten so relaxed that his coat fell open-- just enough to reveal what was tucked away underneath. He was wearing the scarf she had made. He caught the smile on her lips as she noticed it and glared at her. “It’s fucking cold, alright? Don’t make a big deal about it.” he huffed pulling his coat tighter around him. Now it was Bakugou with the blush painted across his cheeks.

Momo looked at him sincerely and this made his blood run cold. He hadn’t met anyone in his life nearly as sincere or as good natured as her. He even valued when she was brutally honest because it came from a genuine place. “I wasn’t going to.” A smirk appeared on her lips and he knew he thought too fucking soon. “But, I’m glad you like it,” she grinned reaching over to pinch his cheek.

“Yao-Momo, I’m going to fucking kill you!” he screeched his hands balling into fists. Not only was everyone shocked, but Momo herself looked at him like she had seen a ghost.

“D-Di-Did you just call me Yao-Momo?” she asked not able to wipe the shock off of her face.

“You fucking said I could. Do you have a problem with it?” he grumbled not liking that the bus was suddenly very quiet and that everyone was watching them.

“No, I just think it’s shocking that you did. It looks good on you to be respectful,” she teased.

Little explosions were going off in his hands now as he grit his teeth. His face was as red as Kirishima’s hair and Momo couldn’t help but burst into laughter. It was the first time his swearing hadn’t caught her completely off guard-- maybe she even welcomed it. For comedic purposes only.

“What’s up with those two?” Ashido asked Deku and Kirishima who were sitting behind them. Tsuyu watched them as well, “Ribbit just seems like Bakugou being Bakugou to me.”

“No, Ashido-san is right,” Midoriya spoke shaking his head. “There is something different that wasn’t there before.Kacchan’s being kind of nice to her--in his own way.”

Kirishima draped an arm over the back of the seat as he turned to look at the two. Bakugou was bright red, but they were both laughing now. It was the weirdest thing he had ever seen. He had only seen Bakugou get like that a few times and never publicly. It was almost like they weren’t even on the bus with the rest of them. “Midoriya-san is right. There may be something that wasn’t there before.”  He paused as the four of them just quietly observed the pair. “It’s like they’re actually friends.”

[the-desolated-quill]

Before The Flood - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

While Under The Lake pretty much played it safe, Before The Flood takes a very unexpected turn. The opening piece to camera with the Doctor carefully explaining to the audience what the bootstrap paradox is seemed to suggest the story was going to go in a completely different direction from last time around. And it does... Pity it isn’t very good.

We might as well start with the bootstrap paradox. Turns out the Doctor’s ghost was a hologram, and the only reason the Doctor knew to create the hologram was because Clara told him about the hologram in the first place. Okay. Fairly straight-forward. Why did we need the opening piece to camera to explain that? It’s not so complicated that the Doctor needs to break the fourth wall to bring the audience up to speed. And, more importantly, what’s even the bloody point of this? Yes the Doctor’s ghost lists the order in which people are going to die, and that could have been immensely creepy if Toby Whithouse actually committed to that, but then that’s rendered pointless when you realise that the Doctor was just listing names randomly. The only real purpose the Doctor’s hologram serves is for the previous episode’s cliffhanger, which was always going to be a massive cheat because we know for a fact the Doctor isn’t going to die and is going to find some way out of the situation. You could have written this out entirely and it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference. (also, if the Doctor’s ghost is a hologram, how did it manage to open the door to the Faraday Cage and let all the ghosts out? And why did it do that in the first place?).

Before The Flood is pretty much a two pronged narrative. You’ve got Clara, Cass and her translator Lunn in the 22nd century, and the Doctor, O’Donnell and Bennett in 1980. Let’s focus on Clara and co for now. With the Doctor potentially ‘dead’, Clara must now take up the reins. Her phone call to the Doctor has pretty much confirmed what I suspected before. With Danny gone, she’s now clinging on to the other important man in her life for comfort and distraction. I’ve already talked about my problems with this in my previous review, so I won’t go into all of that again. What I’m mostly annoyed by is that the episode never actually does anything with this. Even with the prospect of questioning whether Clara’s relationship with the Doctor is actually healthy for her, the story is still more about flinging moral judgements at the Doctor rather than analysing Clara’s character. Yep, I’m afraid this yet another episode that’s all about the Doctor.

Clara makes the perfectly reasonable suggestion to Lunn that he needs to get the phone, at which point Cass starts silently chastising her and questioning whether it’s because of the Doctor’s influence why she’s willing to risk other people’s lives. Except, like all the bullshit with Davros in the previous two parter, these accusations have no foundation to them whatsoever. Clara’s suggestion is hardly cold or calculated. They need the phone to keep in contact with the Doctor and they already know that the ghosts won’t attack Lunn because he hasn’t seen the writing on the wall due to plot convenience. What’s the alternative? Just standing around, twiddling their thumbs?

Brief tangent, I’m really not happy with how Cass and Lunn are handled here. Lunn had no character in the previous episode and he somehow has even less character here. He’s just utterly bland (and is revealed to be sporadically in love with Cass at the end, which came completely out of the blue). Cass, meanwhile, is horribly mistreated in this episode. One thing that really pissed me off was when Cass was rebuking Clara, and Lunn initially refuses to translate. No! Not cool! When you’re serving as a translator for a deaf person, you essentially become their voice. Therefore it’s not up to you to decide on, edit or censor what they say. That’s just utterly disgusting. Another bit that annoyed me was when the ghost with the axe was stalking her. Given that Cass can’t hear the sound of the axe being scraped across the metal floor, this could have been legitimately tense if it wasn’t handled in such a stupid way. Think about it. You suspect that an army of homicidal ghosts are after your blood. What do you do? Do you crouch down, hoping to detect the vibrations through the floor and thus make it easier for the ghosts to decapitate you? Or you could just, oh I don’t know, look over your pissing shoulder!

My main gripe with Clara and co is that they don’t actually do anything to contribute to the plot. They could have stayed in the Faraday cage playing tiddly-winks the entire time, and the story would still be the same.

Meanwhile the Doctor, O’Donnell and Bennett are in Cold War era Scotland. I must say I really liked O’Donnell in this, probably because, out of all the characters, she’s the only one that behaves like an actual person. Her brief moment of excitement about the TARDIS being bigger on the inside before composing herself was just a precious little moment of real humanity that the story desperately needed more of. I also liked Paul Kaye as the Tivolian undertaker Prentis, but he’s sadly bundled out of the episode far too quickly just like Colin McFarlane was (what’s the point of hiring these great actors if you’re not actually going to use them?). O’Donnell too bites the dust after stupidly splitting off from the main group, which leads to more moral accusations being flung at the Doctor by Bennett, criticising him for being cold and calculated, testing his theory about the order of deaths in order to try and save himself. Let’s just say the Doctor doesn’t exactly come out of this looking good. 

For starters, there’s a scene where the Doctor tries to get O’Donnell to stay in the TARDIS. In hindsight, you realise it’s because he suspects that O’Donnell is the next to die, but with or without that information, the scene is just really odd. If you hadn’t picked up on this, then you’re left wondering why the Doctor thinks it’s too dangerous for her (a trained soldier) and not for Bennett (a scientist), but if you did pick up on that, then you’re asking yourself why did the Doctor not try harder to get her to stay. Then when Bennett confronts him about O’Donnell, the Doctor reasons that he’s not trying to save himself, but trying to save Clara, and apparently that makes everything okay... except it doesn’t, does it? Surely Bennett should be just as pissed off that the Doctor is prepared to put Clara’s life over O’Donnell’s as opposed to his own. The result is the same. O’Donnell dies as a result of the Doctor not trying very hard to help her. But for some reason Bennett views this as a satisfactory answer and goes back to trusting him. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make a lick of sense.

Bennett, like Lunn, is a useless waste of space by the way. Unlike with Lunn and Cass, Whithouse hasn’t been hiding the fact that Bennett has got a hard-on for O’Donnell, which is apparently supposed to make us care about him. except it doesn’t because it never actually goes anywhere and I really don’t care about Bennett. The bit where he and the Doctor inadvertently cross their own time stream and Bennett is given a chance to save O’Donnell could have been interesting, but that never goes anywhere (in fact I don’t even understand what the point of that whole bit was). Bennett is basically just the spare wheel, and considering how he did basically nothing in the previous episode too, I’m left wondering what he’s even doing here.

Finally we get our confrontation with the Big Bad. The Fisher King. My God, what an anti-climax this was. What actually happens? The Doctor and the Fisher King fling a few insults at each other before the Fisher King drowns. The end. And why was it even called the Fisher King? It has nothing to do with the archetype as far as I can see. At least the design was pretty cool. It would have been nice if we could have had an actual character to go with it though. Instead we get a bog standard, muhahaha evil villain who wants to enslave humanity. Boring! Wouldn’t it have been more interesting if the Fisher King was creating ghosts in order to signal for help as opposed to an invasion fleet?

I’m not angry. I’m just bitterly disappointed. Under The Lake may have been basic, but it was somewhat engaging. Before The Flood, on the other hand, quickly drowns the story in a loch of utter stupidity. I think it’s fair to say this is Toby Whithouse’s first official dud. Ah well. I suppose it had to happen some time or another.

[we-work-hard]

Green: Part Three

Pairing: Early 20s AJ Styles x 45 year old Shane McMahon (he hasn’t come back to WWE in this fic)

Summary: In Part One, Shane kept being drawn back to the NXT Performance Center by one of the wrestlers trying out for a contract – AJ Styles. In Part Two, AJ’s plane home had been cancelled and he wouldn’t accept the offer of a hotel room from NXT. Shane convinced him to let him help instead. So, yeah…

Notes: Prequel to Room 117 – trying to actually write plot (srs business, this plot stuff). AJ is supposed to look like this during these chapters (TWINK MEAT)

Warnings: Age difference, mention of religion, adultery, typos probably, steadily heading towards smut

Tagging: The peeps who were nice about Room 117 or the first chapter of this one (thanks for reading this mess – and big big extra thanks to sweet bby @llowkeys for the advice about where to end this chapter, because it was KILLING ME, TBH) @llowkeys @scriptor @cruxcantare @omegaweaponx @castielscamander @unabashedwwesmut @athoughtfulmindwrites @the-geekgoddes @your-darkdiva @toosweetme @osanabria2377 @stylessection @cookiemonster2017 @princessgailr-blog @secretagentfangirl @artemisapalla316 @loveambrylayn @tvrnbvckle @kingslayers-angel @immalittledinosaur01 @wrestlingbabe @wweconfidential @aintnopartymd @blondekel77 @missmcmahon @wycliffegordon @idle-vanity @alexahood21 @mylittlepartofthegalaxy @alliedbiscuit @violas87 @wweshesaro @onedirectionlovers2014 @shoo-chan @deanammbrose

Green: Part Three

“AJ, we’re here.”

They’ve arrived at the hotel, but AJ’s fallen asleep in the car, head flopped towards Shane, mouth slack, short hair soft and tufted without the cap covering it up. If there wasn’t a valet standing by Shane’s open window silently willing them to hurry up and get out, Shane might take the time to watch the other man quietly snoring in his car for a few minutes, try to memorise his face and figure out why he likes looking at it so much before they part ways for good. But there’s no time.

“AJ,” Shane shakes him by the shoulder gently. “We’re here.“ AJ squirms a little in his sleep, body resisting waking up. 

Shane squeezes AJ’s shoulder, seeing his eyelids move in response. "Hey. Here we are, AJ. Wake up now.”

AJ gives a little snort and opens his eyes, looking so confused Shane feels a wave of tenderness rush over him. But there’s no time for that either.

“Sorry, baby – gotta get out of the car now, can’t sleep in here,” he whispers.

AJ blinks, blue eyes bright, and sighs, still looking fuzzy and confused.

“Already?” he grumbles back, voice scratchy with sleep. 

“Yep. This is it.”

AJ frowns, still not quite with it. “So soon.”

He sounds sad. He must really enjoy sleeping in cars.

“Not that soon. You slept for a while.”

AJ closes his eyes again. “Dang.“

“Hey, up you get now – can sleep in your room,” Shane says, gently nudging his shoulder again, noticing how warm and good he feels, then making himself take his hand away. 

“We’re not sharing?” AJ asks, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“No,” Shane laughs, enjoying the lack of filter AJ has when he’s still halfway in dreamland.

“I booked you your own room when you were ordering the food earlier. You don’t have to share.”

AJ frowns some more, thinking.

“I’m hungry.”

“Again?”

The valet at his door is getting antsy, so Shane figures he better speed up getting AJ out of the car already instead of trying to selfishly soak up more seconds with him when he’s like this, close-up and quiet.

“How about this; I’ll do you a deal. There’s a restaurant in there. I’ll point you towards the food if you wake up now?”  

The other man grumbles while stretching, blinking to awareness and reaching for the door. “Okay. But it ain’t my fault your conversation put me to sleep." 

“Still sassing me when you’re tired, huh?” Shane shakes his head, smiling even though he’s starting to feel sadness creep in. “What did I tell you about that mouth?”

“Find me somethin’ bad that tastes good and I’ll stop giving you a hard time,” AJ shoots back with a big toothy grin, putting his cap back on and pulling himself out of the car.

Shane’s got himself more time, just a little more before it’s over.  

***

AJ’s dipping his fries into ketchup, elbow up on the table so he can lean over his plate, table manners forgotten. Shane’s amazed he can fill his stomach with such greasy trash again so soon. He’s all checked into his room– was still a little fuzzy and quiet when they were at the front desk, so no last minute griping over allowing someone else do something for him. Just silent acceptance of his room key while rubbing the back of his neck and yawning. Then a smile when Shane pointed out the hotel restaurant.

Shane wasn’t hungry, but AJ’d insisted on buying him a drink at least before he went up to his own room for the evening. “Come watch me eat,” he’d said. Shane wasn’t going to turn that offer down, no matter how much AJ talks with his mouth full. Shane’s sitting back in the booth with a beer, and watching AJ demolish his meal. The boy jams three fries into the side of his mouth, chewing with his mouth open and talking through it.  

“You sure you don’t wanna eat? You can eat offa my plate, you don’t want a whole meal – I don’t mind sharin’.”

“And risk you biting at my fingers, with how fast you’re working through that? No way, I’m staying over here where it’s safe.”

AJ pretends to be insulted. “You sayin’ I’m a pig?”

“I’m saying I respect your speed.”

“Well, thank you,“ AJ says, tipping his cap. Hasn’t taken that back off to eat. "So… I’m guessin’ you’re up in the luxury penthouse suite or somethin’ right?” He teases, licking ketchup from his full bottom lip.

Shane gets snagged on that sight for a second. “Hmm? Oh, uh, no – not quite the penthouse. But one of the upper floors, yes.”

“How long you stayin’?”

“My business here is pretty much done, probably flying back out tomorrow, too.”

“And you live in New York?”

“Yes. And you’re in Gainesville for now?”

“Uh huh.” He looks down at his plate, using his tongue to clean his teeth. “You ever find yourself down that way?”

“Not really. Haven’t had much of a reason to.“ Shane desperately wishes he could come up with one, but that’s a bad route to go down.

“You could come and see one of my shows, if you’re ever in the same town,” AJ says, grabbing a napkin to wipe at his face.

Shane smiles at the impossible offer, and AJ not giving up on his dream. “Which shows do you work, then?”

AJ grins back at him and clears his throat, crumpling up the napkin. “Do a lot with CWF in Texas; Christian promotion, that one.“

“Oh, right – Matt mentioned that. How does that work; the wrestlers have to be Christian?”

“You been asking the trainers about me?” AJ smirks, eyes lighting up.

Shane splutters a bit, caught out. “Ah, well…”

AJ lets him off the hook on that one and answers the question.

“Yeah, kind of have to be believers to wrestle there. We testify a bunch between the matches, that kind of thing.”

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

AJ sits up in his seat, resting his hands on the table in front on him. “Well, sure. I’m proud of my faith, it keeps me on the right path. And if I can share that with people who might be struggling with where their path is leadin’ them, I’m doin’ a good thing.”

With how much he likes to talk, Shane bets AJ’s good at testifying. He wishes he could go and see him give his speeches about faith in that slightly raspy voice. 

“Maybe you should be a preacher instead of a wrestler…” he says, taking a drink of his beer, keeping eye contact with the other man.

“You think I should give up on the wrestling?” AJ asks, joking along, but his eyes are a little wary again, remembering why they’re in the hotel together tonight; not getting his NXT contract. Shane wants to kick himself for making the joke.

“Never give up on wrestling. I’m serious. Don’t let this set you back; keep pushing. You’ll get there. I saw you, remember? You’re special.“ Shane quickly grabs his glass again and takes another drink, wishing he hadn’t let that last part out, hoping it wasn’t too much to say out loud. He really means it. For the wrestling, but he sure doesn’t want AJ picking up on the rest as well. He just needs to get himself through this; get AJ in his own room and settled for the night, then move on. Without having freaked the poor guy out, without having made himself look like a fool. He’s here to do right.

AJ’s stopped eating and he’s just looking back at Shane, taking in what he’s being told, looking like he really cares about Shane’s opinion. Gives a small nod, accepting the words in, starts rubbing at the table with a finger, looking down at it.

“That means a lot to me, you sayin’ that,” And then quieter, still aimed towards the table, “You’re a good man you know, Shane.”

It’s like he’s been punched. "Thank you.” He needs to get it back to playful, chest feeling tight. “You just need to, I don’t know… cut out all the junk food.”

AJ drops the serious mood, starts laughing, looking at Shane in happiness. "Ha! I don’t need another daddy you know, you can’t tell me what to do. Makin’ a man feel beholden to you for being so kind to ‘im is one thing…” he says.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” AJ nods, sitting back in the booth in a sprawl and looking down at his lap. “But, thank you." 

"And you bought me this drink here,” Shane reminds him, tapping his glass and bringing AJ’s eyes back up to his. “Which I needed after listening to your snoring in the car.”

“I don’t snore!”

“You do.”

“Nuh-uh; no way.”

“No one ever told you that before? You really get going after a while – I couldn’t hear my terrible music anymore at one point.”

“Ha, then I did you a favour, didn’t I?  Anyway, I’m a good Christian boy, remember? No one’s been that close to hear me snore.”

“Lucky for them. Not so lucky for me.”

AJ throws his napkin at Shane.

“Now who should watch their mouth, huh?”

Shane’s getting caught up in the grinning and mischief and needs to pull himself back before he starts throwing things at AJ to make him sit up further and smile wider. He gestures to the half-full plate.

“You done already? Don’t want the rest of that?”

“Nah, I wasn’t really that hungry,” AJ says, calming back down.

“What? You said you were. Lying to me already…” Shane tuts.

“Aww, now I only did that because I wanted you to sit with me a while more,” he says, leaning further forward and twisting his mouth up in a repressed grin.

“That so?”

“That is indeed so – didn’t want to go up to the room yet." 

"Just avoiding boredom, huh – not wanting my fantastic company? Well, that hurts."  

“Your company’s okay, Shane.”

“Being with you is a rollacoaster, AJ,” Shane answers, raising his glass and finishing the last of his drink. Now’s the time, nothing left to keep them here anymore. “I guess we’re done, then – you ready to go?”

AJ looks hesitant for a second. “Yeah, sure. I’ll settle up here – would you take my bag and wait by the elevators for me, though?” 

“Yes, Sir.”

***

The goodbye had been both worse than Shane had anticipated, but better than he’d feared. He hadn’t slipped AJ his number and begged him to call him, for one thing. But it felt like being torn away from something he really needed. So now he’s up in his room, drinking something strong from the minibar and replaying the so long, nice to meet you, best of luck, no worries about the room, have a good flight, have a nice life, over and over.

He’d waited by the elevators with AJ’s bag, trying to fight the sick feeling that was growing. Watched AJ loping towards him from the restaurant a few minutes later, smiling but looking a bit nervous and awkward as well. Out of place in the lobby in the sleeveless shirt, his eyes half hidden by his hat. Didn’t seem to be noticing his surroundings though, just looking back with his hands in his back pockets.

“So,” he’d said on a sigh, stopping in front of Shane. “I guess this is it then, huh?”

“I guess it is.” Their eyes were getting snagged up again somehow, Shane having to break it. AJ seemed sort of lost, but trying to look cheery. Not doing the best job, but if cheery is what he wanted, Shane would follow his lead.

“Here’s your bag – you’re on the seventeenth floor, right?”

“And you’re on…” AJ’d made to look at Shane’s keycard while taking his bag back, making him hold it up and show him the number, “…not on the seventeenth floor, uh huh.”

“Told you it wasn’t the penthouse. Here’s the elevator, room for us.”

“Shane,” AJ’d quickly grabbed his arm while they got on, pulling him next to him so they’d be standing together in the group of people getting on.

He’d started talking fast, head tipped back slightly to catch Shane’s eyes because of the height difference. “Thank you for today, seein’ me right-”

Shane had stopped him. “Don’t. You don’t have to thank me.” AJ’d sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and flushing with something, looking frustrated. “AJ – Just keep on going, promise me? Promise me I’ll see you wrestling again one day? On TV next time, right?”

AJ’d shifted back a little, taking a breath; calming himself down again. “You will,” he’d nodded; resolved. “I promise.”

“Good. Good. Now here’s your stop – go get some sleep, get ready for that flight tomorrow.” Shane couldn’t stop the eye-contact, seeing how panicked AJ suddenly looked, feeling it in his chest as well. He had to say something of what AJ’d given him that day.

“It was really, really nice to meet you.”

“It was really nice meeting you too,” AJ had said in a deeper voice, taking Shane’s hand and squeezing it in a strong shake, before letting go to step through the opening doors, turning to look back. Maybe he’d caught how sad Shane was, because he’d poked his tongue out at him at the last second, making him laugh when the doors closed and the car started moving up again. 

And that was it.

Shane looks at his glass of whisky and decides he’ll sleep in late tomorrow, sleep through AJ leaving the hotel so he won’t be tempted to run out to find him again. Because why? What good would it do? He did well – he did right today.

A good daddy-type figure, isn’t he, looking after the younger boys in the business, he thinks, shaking his head to himself and taking another stinging swallow. That’s who he is. A dad, a husband. A mentor, an old guy. Maybe that’s why AJ was looking at him so trusting, so interested in talking to him. Maybe AJ needed that today, someone older and wiser to talk to. It’s all a lie though; AJ doesn’t know what’s in his head. And thank Christ for that. 

The other stuff, Shane’ll battle through and beat himself up about in private. Maybe… maybe he’ll give watching gay porn a go sometime. Beat himself off to it. Maybe he should watch some young, muscled, wholesome-looking guys doing bad things to each other and hate himself for it afterwards. There must be websites for married men who’ve found themselves suddenly lusting for younger guys and need a private release that won’t tear their family apart.

What would AJ think of him if he knew? Saying Shane’s a ‘good man’ earlier – he’s not a good man. He’s tried. But that’s not going to last. He’s filled with disgusting thoughts about what he’d do to AJ if he had the chance, it’s all there in his head, waiting to be thought and obsessed about. It’ll all come flooding in if he lets it – but he can’t let it tonight, when AJ’s in the same hotel thinking he’s such a nice man. 

His skin is prickling with need, but he’ll ignore it. Maybe tomorrow. Probably tomorrow. Right now, he’ll get to bed, get some sleep, and hope he doesn’t dream.

***

He’s woken up by a rapping on his hotel door, noise travelling through the entrance to the bedroom and the suite beyond it. He feels like he’s had no sleep at all, but if housekeeping’s here, he must have had his fill. He gets up and straightens the pants and loose t-shirt he’s been sleeping in and pads across the soft carpet to open the door and ask for more time. But it doesn’t feel like morning, it’s too quiet. 

When he opens the door, it turns out he’s right. Time hasn’t ticked over until tomorrow yet. 

AJ’s standing in front of him, still in his clothes – looking harried and flicking his eyes down the corridors, rubbing a hand through his hair. 

“Uh, sorry to wake you...” Stress is radiating off of him and Shane goes into panic mode. 

“AJ, you okay? You alright, what’s wrong – something happened-”  

“No. No, nothing’s happened. I just, oh God-“ he cuts off and steps from foot to foot, looking down the corridor again, and breathing heavy, lifting his hands up behind his head, face creasing up in worry about something. Then his eyes take in what Shane’s wearing. 

“So that’s what you wear to bed, huh?” he struggles out, hands still clasping at the back of his head, chest rising up and down rapidly.  

“What? Uh, yeah… it’s comfortable…” AJ came up to talk about his sleep wear? What’s going on? “What did you think I’d wear to bed?” 

“I dunno,” AJ shakes his head quickly. “Matching PJs, or somethin’? Hadn’t thought about it. Oh God, what am I doin’,” he huffs out, bending over and putting his hands on his knees, sucking in breath. 

“AJ, stop – it’s okay, it’ll be okay, come here,” Shane assures him, reaching out to gently pull him upright again, try and get him to come in and sit down. But as soon as he touches a shoulder, AJ’s breath hitches and Shane finds himself with his arms full of him instead.  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa; okay, here, take it easy – it’s okay. It’s okay,” Shane soothes, rubbing his hand down AJ’s back and closing the door behind him. The boy isn’t letting go, seems to need the contact right now. His height means his face is pressed into the side of Shane’s neck, and his breathing is laboured, like he’s trying not to let something out. Shane can’t feel tears, but the rasping sobs being held in tells him they’re coming. It’s not like a boy needing a father figure, but more like a man who needs comfort from someone he’d connected with today, someone he trusts. So Shane holds him tight and rocks him, rubbing his back some more, murmuring into his ear. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I know it’s hard; I know. It’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry, okay?” AJ lets out a little noise against his neck, taking deep breaths to calm down, grasping Shane harder around his shoulders.

“It’ll come,” Shane says softly against his hair. “It didn’t today, but it’ll come.”

AJ shifts in his arms, and Shane lets their faces rub against each other, lets his skin be a comfort. It’s when AJ moves his head and grazes the corner of his mouth against Shane’s, short eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, that Shane figures out what kind of comfort AJ came to find him for.

[dasha-aibo]

Hey, I’ve actually finished a chapter of my short story! And I present it to you here for your enjoyment!

I’m going to make a separate blog for my writing later and that will be the time I ‘ll decidee on the actual title, but for now, enjoy!

Please, do leave some critique and feedback, as an amateur who WANTS to grow, I really need that.

It was getting late; 7 PM to be exact. Normally, Tanya was already at home, either working out, drinking beer, or doing anything to fill her time. Instead, she was riding down an old elevator into Chancery’s spacious basement to meet the only coroner working there.

Not like he had a lot of work.

Most deaths were easier to hide, really. If you could easily tell what killed the poor sod, you give a call to the Cleaner’s office and they take care of the situation. On a rare occasion when the officer at the spot had no idea what happened, the corpse would be transferred to Basil.

Tanya walked through the long hallway before stopping at an intersection to confirm where she had to go. There were only two signs: “Prison” and “Coroner”. She was not at all fond of Chancery’s laconic style of labels, but it was something she was getting used to as time went on.

The words of her orientation teacher popped up in her head, “it’s a necessary measure. Chancery is a global organization and we need all our employees and associates to be capable of understanding each other. One spell telepathically reads someone’s thoughts and translates them to your native language. It’s a bit harder with writing, as the thoughts aren’t inherently there and the spell translates them rather directly. To say that this causes problems would be... an understatement. So, we simplify it as much as we can to avoid any ambiguity.” Mr. Thatcher was a history teacher before he saw through and joined Chancery as an official employee. Tanya always found him a little soft and spineless, and she never liked men like that; or women, for that matter.

She finally stumbled upon a big metal door and slid it towards the side, the harsh smell of various chemicals immediately assaulting her senses. Tanya really didn’t want to know what she was smelling.

“My report isn’t finished yet,” great, so she was hurried here for nothing, “give me a couple of minutes, I will be done by then,” shouted a white ginger man in his early 30s. He was practically buried inside a corpse, almost up to his shoulders. Only it wasn’t a corpse. Corpses usually don’t lift their heads and wave at you.

“H-hi,” Tanya awkwardly waved in response to the not-corpse.

“Name’s Andrew,” the surprisingly alive man hissed and forced a smile, exposing his elongated canines.

Oh.

A vampire. That explains how he survived… what exactly?

She came closer to get a better look at the man sprawled over a cold metallic table. That must be uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the giant hole in his belly. Most of the vampire’s internal organs were missing, along with a good chunk of his spine. Tanya stared at it for a few seconds before lifting her eyes up. She saw through a good half a year ago, but was still not used to all the weirdness that now surrounded her life. From vampires to homunculi and runaway mages. It was overwhelming at times.

“You want to hear the hole story, don’t you?” Andrew chuckled at his own joke while Tanya looked at him blankly.

“She’s Russian,” sighed Basil, “puns don’t really translate well.”

“That’s a shame. I got a hole lot of them,” the vampire burst out in laughter as Basil simply shook his head.

“I’ve been hearing the same stupid pun for over an hour now,” the coroner sighed as he extended his hand in the air. A thin, gray hand stretched seemingly out of nowhere and passed Basil a pair of forceps, which he instantly buried in the wound in front of him. Ah yes, that thing…

Tanya was warned about Patrick well in advance, but she was still taken aback. A thin, humanoid figure without a mouth or genitals was floating in the air next to Basil, helping him with his work. No one knew what it was, no one knew how Basil ever acquired it, no one could even tell if it was sentient or not. It just appeared on the day he saw through and followed his every order. The coroner was quite willing to let the Research Department experiment on it, but even their best men didn’t get much of a result.

And so, Patrick was left as just another unsolved mystery. Chancery was no stranger to those.

Tanya forced herself not to look at the floating… thing, and instead diverted her attention back at the vampire—who seemed to be done making jokes she couldn’t possibly hope to understand, at least for now.

“We were having a Halloween party,” he began, waving his hand in the air to collect his thoughts. “Mostly Chancery staff, naturally, a few unaffiliated friends who tagged along here and there. I’m the only vampire there, so, of course I dress all Dracula-like – a big-ass cape with red insides, white shirt, you know what I mean.”

“Aren’t you still wearing that?” Tanya only just now took her time to take note of what the vampire was wearing and, yes—it was exactly as he described. Cape, shirt, and… tight shiny pants? She frowned to herself, but decided not to focus on that last part.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point!” He snapped his fingers in frustration, “just let me finish, okay?” Andrew sharply exhaled and continued, “anyway, it’s the middle of the party and we run out of booze, because some people,” he spat out the last two words as if they were an insult in and of themselves, “really should plan ahead so that their friendly neighborhood vampires don’t get a fucking hole in their gut.”

“I really wish you would get to the point already,” Basil griped and was now sitting by the side of the table, tapping his recordings into a tablet, “your personal woes have very little impact on the story.”

“Right, anyway. Me and some guys take one of the unlucky sods who chose to be the driver that night and we ride to the store to pick up some more,” Andrew continued, “we arrive at the store, get out of the car and see a group of, like, teens? 20-somethings? I don’t know, I couldn’t tell. Point is, they were outside of the store in full Halloween garb, and I was drunk and decided to have some fun.”

“If you count ‘being an idiot’ as fun, that is.” Basil nodded to Tanya, “there I’ve just sent the report.”

“Wait, but… Why was I even here, then?” She took a step back, her brow furrowing.

“Beats me,” Basil shrugged, “they probably just wanted you to be busy.”

“Great. Just great,” Tanya muttered, clenching her fist in rightful, but somewhat pointless frustration.

“Can you. Let me. Finish?” Andrew forced himself to stand up a little, which was an impressive feat given the state of his midsection. When he was sure he got the others’ attention he continued. “Anyway, I see those guys, right? And I think to myself ‘wouldn’t it be fun to scare them a little? In the name of the Halloween?’ And that’s exactly what I do—I walk up to them without any warning, stretch my cape open and do the whole intimidation song and dance – I hiss, bare my teeth, turn my eyes red, contort my facial features so that they’re all wacky and scary-like, you know,” he chuckles, “the usual vampiric arsenal. They were obviously not ready to see that, but they’re drunk as hell themselves and it goes right to their heads; they start screaming.” Andrew’s smile grew wider and wider as his chuckles were threatening to turn into a full-out laughter. “Yeah, I do that and then this one dude puts his hands together and—whammo!” The vampire made a quick motion with his hand, indicating the power of said “whammo.” “I’m hit with some kind of bolt of energy that feels like ten fucking shotgun shells at once, hurled twenty feet back and land in a crumpled mess with half of my internal organs missing.”

Tanya hissed herself before pushing out a single “ouch”.

“’Ouch’ indeed,” he chuckled, resting his head back on the cold metallic slab. “Anyway, I pass out on the spot and the next thing I know this guy is digging through my guts,” Andrew motioned towards Basil who just shook his head.

“So… any reason you were brought to the coroner in the first place?” Tanya inquired.  Curiosity was probably the only reason why she hasn’t left yet.

“Well, no one could survive a wound like this,” Basil started to explain, “not a normal human anyway. And vampires have it easy when it comes to patching themselves up, so there was no need to give him any extra medical attention.”

“I’ll just chill for a few weeks and drink nasty canned blood,” Andrew grinned, “no big deal.”

“Right, right,” the coroner nodded, “so it fell to me to determine the nature of what hit him, since the team on the spot couldn’t, and me and Patrick could freely examine the wound and see if we could tell anything from the affected tissue”

“And you have found something, right?” Tanya looked directly in Basil’s eyes.

“You don’t let things get past you, do you?” The coroner grinned in satisfaction. “Not much, but at least we know that the case is unusual. This concerns you as well, so you better be listening,” he prodded the vampire in the shoulder.

“Does it look like I’m not?” Andrew snapped at Basil, frustrated at his condescending tone.

“Right, right...” The coroner took a sharp breath and continued, “anyway, the damage was done by a blast of pure Astral energy of great power. And since I don’t think anybody formally trained by the Chancery is stupid enough to be scared by a vampire...”

“It’s either a wild mage or a demiurge?” Tanya guessed excitedly.

“It’s either a wild mage or a demiurge,” confirmed Basil.

A whole demiurge! On her second month in the Chancery! Those guys were rare as hell, but were absolutely necessary to keep the Chancery up and running. Tanya would give up an arm and a leg to be a part of an official operation to bring one of those in! She could… why, she could…

“What are you so excited about, errand girl?” Snickered the vampire, turning his gaze towards Tanya once more, “even if it is a demiurge, they would never let someone from the First Heaven handle this.”

“At least I’m a part of it!” she growled, “what’s your problem? This is the most excitement I get since those paper-pushers failed to get me assigned anywhere and you want to ruin that for me?”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Andrew raised both his hands defensively, “calm down, newbie, nobody is out to ruin your fun. I’m just trying to get you to have realistic expectations,” he sneered, “don’t think that just because you saw through your life is going to radically change.”

“I’ve already signed up for a spot on TUSK, you know,” Tanya crossed her arms on her chest and looked at the vampire victoriously, “what do you say to that, bl-”

“You don’t want to finish that word,” growled Andrew, “I know people who would snap your stupid little neck in half for that.”

“Oh, la-dee-da, I got a vampire angry!” She flexed her arm and slapped her rather impressive biceps, “you really think you can take on these guns?”

“Enough,” roared Basil as he stood, his usually quiet voice piercing the cold air of the morgue, “both of you really need to be on your way. Now.”

Andrew snorted, “I can’t stand, smartass.”

“Then Tatiana here will go call somebody to pick you up,” Basil squinted at the girl, “please.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, “bye Basil, bye Patrick,” she waved to the coroner and his “partner” before starting to walk out. On a whim, she stopped, turned towards Andrew and made a motion with two fingers from her eyes to his. The vampire scoffed at that, but Tanya has already left the morgue.

It was later that night when she finally arrived back at her small one-room apartment in a half-forgotten town between Moscow and St. Petersburg. The Chancery provided her with a place to live, as per an ages-old law, but no one ever said the place to live had to be decent. At the very least it fulfilled one of her more crucial needs. She threw her bag onto the couch, connected a charger to her phone, checked her messages and left the apartment once again.

This November turned out colder than usual. The early snow had already fully covered the grass and the chilly wind was ignoring Tanya’s layer of clothes and went straight for her bones. Nothing like back home at Neryungri, naturally, but it was still enough to make late-night walks uncomfortable at best. This wasn’t going to last long. Tanya was already somewhat deep into the woods before she stopped, made sure she wasn’t followed, and started undressing.

While the Eurasian Lynx is found in the Central region of Russia, she is a rather rare guest. Her Eastern cousin the Yakutian Lynx is larger, stronger and, predictably, doesn’t actually live anywhere near Moscow. And yet one of them roamed through the forest deep at night, looking for prey. Heavy paws bouncing off the frozen ground, exploding the mounds of early snow, leaving behind a bright trace. But none of this mattered as the only thoughts running through the lynx’s head were of the chase, of the hunt, of the inevitable prize. And in the end, she got what she wanted as the rabbit was just a little too slow, just a little too clumsy, just a little too stupid. Its small warm body proved to be an ideal meal for the predator and a great end to the long exhausting day.

In the darkness of Tanya’s empty apartment her phone came to life for about ten seconds and then felt silent. And again. And again. After a few tries, the caller lost his patience and settled on sending her a message.

“We found you a place on a TUSK squad. However, you will have to relocate to the USA. Please call me back as soon as possible”

And without her even knowing, Tanya’s life took another sharp turn…

[pcurrytravels]

Las Vegas: A Love-Hate Thang (Chapter I)

Ah, Las Vegas. Sin City. The City of Lights. The so-called Entertainment Capital of The World. America’s Playground. Oh, and also my hometown.

Well, I wasn’t born there. I happen to be a first-generation migrant born to Midwestern parents by way of Chicago. Alas, I was little AF when we moved. All I know of Chicago is what I’ve experienced on past trips and the stories my family tell me (although my past self would insist otherwise). Aside from my infancy and terrible twos, all of my childhood was spent right here in Vegas. 

Now, as you all know, this city has grown and changed A LOT over the years. In terms of my personal perspective, I’ve seen it morph from the place I loved as a child, to the place I hated as a teen, to the place I had an ambivalent “tolerant” relationship with in my college years/early 20′s, to the place I really just don’t know how to feel about anymore now as a mid-late twentysomething. If there’s one thing that’s true about this city, it’s that nothing ever stays the same, including my relationship with it. 

There’s something so strange and unusual about having this place as a hometown. On one hand, it really doesn’t feel like it’s “yours,” if that makes sense. Nearly everything revolves around what outsiders want; be it new attractions for tourists, new boring, ugly and cheaply-built tract housing for potential Cali transplants or new business opportunities for foreign investors, at times it feels that this place is super warm and welcoming to everyone except the people that have already been living there for years. 

Oh, and speaking of that “new” thing......

Newness. Las Vegas is obsessed with newness. No, let me rephrase that: it’s ADDICTED to newness. This place legitimately cannot function if there’s not a bunch of “new” stuff at all times, especially if it got rid of some terrible “old” thing in the process. See that building in the picture above? The Riviera? Yeah, they got rid of this nasty, old building to pave way for *wait for it* a bright, shiny, cutting-edge and innovative, brand, spanking-new PARKING LOT. Seriously. 

Vegas is fixated on newness and stuck in the future to the point of being almost completely nonsensical. There’s this disturbing determination to get rid of anything built before the 1990s, regardless of whether or not it will even be replaced by anything useful. Not at all to suggest I’m against progress, change or new things in the slightest but.....is some practicality in regards to how it’s executed a little bit too much to ask for? 

Going beyond physical structures, it stands to reflect a culture where things aren’t expected, or even intended, to last. This ties back into the aforementioned phenomena of feeling like your hometown isn’t really yours. 

You all know how most places around the world have these sorts of “institutions” in a variety of areas (be it dining, retail, nightlife, entertainment and so on) that are considered integral to the locale’s culture and character? In Las Vegas, this is a bit of a rarity. Well, there used to be quite a few of them, but thanks to the apathy and/or cultural shift seen in the Millennial generation of Vegas natives and post-1980s transplants, they’re likely on their last legs, if they haven’t already gone out of business.

We do, however, have lots and lots of NEW stuff to choose from at all times. In a strange bit of reverse psychology, once a year or two passes, and it looks like said “new” thing is becoming a pillar of the local community, the people of Vegas stop being interested and move on to something even newer. Some places manage to survive this state of flux, but eight times out of ten, it goes out of business. There have been many businesses all around town which were very close to my heart that have become casualties thanks to this annoying mentality. 

Silly rabbit, the buildings and the businesses aren’t what make Las Vegas what it is, it’s the PEOPLE! :D

And here we have the argument that’s made (usually from a Millennial generation native or a post-1980s transplant I should add) whenever I bring up these points, and it never stops sounding like the ultimate cop out whenever I hear it. Yes, it is people.....and it takes people to make a culture. It takes people to build and use a building. It takes people to open, run and support a business. It takes people to make a community. 

Let’s see now: As it stands, our local culture is very flimsy, flaky, unstable, materialistic and revolves almost entirely around trends. 

An intense disdain for anything “old” (which in this context means the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and sometimes even the early 90s. Yeah, Vegas locals will whine about something built in 1992 while quite literally the rest of the world uses buildings far older than that with little fuss on a daily basis. It’s......interesting, to say the least) leads to the waste and/or destruction of perfectly useful resources all in the vain hope of something more modern coming along, which sometimes never even happens. 

That perfectly good grocery store/movie theater/pizza place/barber shop/hell, even national chain business you’ve been patronizing for the past two or three years? Expect it to be tossed to the side and start crumbling away before it eventually closes down as soon as a new one shows up. 

Also, a self-absorbed, apathetic populace with a severe lack of civic pride and an excessively libertarian “every man for himself” outlook makes it pretty hard to take any claims of “community” seriously, don’t you think? 

But it’s like they say, it’s the people, right? Well, seeing the end results, one can’t help but to wonder about the integrity of such people, yes? 

Ugh, Las Vegans. Okay, okay, there are a select handful of individuals whom I do love and care for, they know who they are. I do encounter some cool people from time to time, and I usually love the old-timers, but as for the overwhelming majority of this city’s population? Um, let’s just say that I have enough thoughts and feelings about the collective citizenry of Las Vegas to write volumes, and most of it wouldn’t be very nice. For the sake of keeping this blog as positive and professional as possible, it’s for the best that I don’t share any of that here. 

Okay, okay, we aren’t all bad: After the events of October 1st, 2017, I received the shock of my life over two things. The first was being up close and personal with a mass shooting. You always hear about that type of thing in the news, but still hold onto the hope that you’re never in THAT close of contact with it (My place of work is literally three or four blocks away from where it happened, and I’m still thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t at work that night......doesn’t change the fact that I live less than a mile away from Mandalay Bay tho). 

The second was this: The community came together. I was truly amazed. There were lines down the block to give blood. Candlelight vigils sprung up all over the place. The “Welcome To Fabulous Las Vegas” sign became a makeshift memorial, giving way to a memorial garden that was planted almost overnight in our local Arts District. In the aftermath of these unfortunate events, I honestly did feel proud to be a Las Vegan for once. #VegasStrong indeed. 

Another thing that’s really brought the community together is the debut of our very first major league sports franchise: The Vegas Golden Knights. Not gonna lie, I was a bit cynical at first. Some of my reasons were petty (To have a team with the name “Golden” anything in the Silver State is a bit confusing, don’t you think?), but others were legitimate. The only people who seem to give a damn about the UNLV Rebels basketball and football teams are UNLV students. We’ve had two minor league hockey teams in the past (the Wranglers and the Thunder) that flopped. We have a minor league baseball team (the 51s) that people don’t even remember exists. Don’t get me wrong, I was excited for the arrival of the Golden Knights, but I honestly had some pretty low expectations. 

Alas, this turned out not to be the case in the slightest. The team has been a runaway hit! Their season passes sold out a year before their first season even began. People can be found all over the city wearing Golden Knights merchandise. Numerous bars have nights dedicated to their games. The support for them has been overwhelming. All of that support has been a good luck charm too; what with an eight game winning streak that’s only been recently broken. Oh, and need I remind you all that this is only their first season? 

Usually, the major sports leagues avoid Vegas like the plague. They claim it’s because of legal sports betting, but I personally feel that it honestly just seemed like too hard a market to break into. Between the transplants and the natives who haven’t had anything local to support anyway, most people already had teams they were loyal to (Yours truly has always been a fan of Chicago teams such as the Bulls, Bears, Cubs, White Sox and Blackhawks), in addition to the low turnouts and/or failures of the college and minor league teams that already exist here. For these reasons, I certainly don’t blame the big leagues for being weary.

But that’s about to change. The Raiders will be relocating here for 2020 NFL season (still not too sure how I feel about that personally but that’s a different story entirely), and 2018 will mark the debut of the Las Vegas Lights, playing soccer for the USL and the WNBA’s Las Vegas Aces (formerly the San Antonio Stars). It should only be a matter of time before the NBA and MLB also make expansion moves, and given the success enjoyed by the Golden Knights and how well received the Raiders move has been, they really should have nothing to worry about. 

Although I still have my gripes, it’s stuff like this that gives me hope. The outpouring of love and support that occurred after the events of October 1st as well as all the community unity that’s come into play since The Golden Knights have hit the ice are things I couldn’t even dream of a mere five years ago. I’ve heard empty claims of this alleged “community” for years, to which I simply rolled my eyes and kept it movin’. I mean, honestly, aside from a select few pockets (which are very cliquish, incestuous and low-key xenophobic anyway but I’ll save that topic for another day), I legitimately did not understand what it was they were seeing that I didn’t. 

Until recently. Vegas always changes, but for once, I’m seeing a change that’s productive, fundamental and positive. As unfortunate it may be for a mass shooting to spur this change, the community actually IS acting like a community for once, and with the cries for #VegasStrong still continuing, it doesn’t seem like that’s going away. 

Granted, we still have a long way to go here. Personally, I think the local community would be far more evolved and mature by now if it weren’t for an overtly-trendy culture perpetually stuck in a state of flux. The lack of stability definitely makes for a challenging situation going forward. Thankfully, there have been some good signs recently. A lot of the past wasted potential is slowly returning, so yes, I am optimistic for this city’s future. 

You see? I’m not a total grouch! Til’ Chapter II then.