#also no i am not paid for this my ass is not sponsored

[thedisablednaturalist]

Guys Jansport adaptive backpack is on sale for 32% off on Amazon right now (blue color, pink color is on sale for 24%). The usual price is $70, right now it's $47.

[devilsskettle]

i feel like i’ve been WAITING for the other shoe to drop wrt people’s opinions about watcher for this very reason. not that i think the reaction is completely not understandable but the greater the parasocial relationship, the greater the fallout as soon as public opinion shifts. you don’t have a relationship with these people they’re just content creators, chill

[literaticat]

I was recently asked to do a panel event at a library in a neighboring county. The organizer said I could sell my books there, but when I inquired further she meant that literally, as they can't partner with any bookstores. I explained that as a trad pubbed author, selling my own books isn't something I can really do (at least not without a lot of weird financial/tax repercussions) and she said I could have people scan a QR code leading to my publisher's site to purchase and just provide them with book plates. I'm torn whether to do this event or not. On one hand, I'm sure it will be very fun, I do love supporting libraries, and I don't want to seem like a diva. On the other, I know that my time and energy are worth money, and I'd basically be doing this for free since I doubt I'll sell much via QR code. I am far enough into my career and successful enough that I'm not really interested in doing things just for the exposure. What would you recommend in this situation?

(ETA: sorry in advance, this came out lengthy, scroll to the bottom for my succinct answer if that's all you care about, OP!)

I think you have a good head on your shoulders, and it's smart to value your own time and energy. Yes, you should be paid for school visits and talks and that kind of thing, especially any that require travel, etc, UNLESS they are being sponsored by the publisher, like as part of an organized tour, and there will definitely be book sales, in which case, hey, you aren't going out of pocket and those can be QUITE good for sales.

But it is also a fact that sometimes, you will end up doing things for free, without remuneration and without a guarantee of huge sales, for any number of reasons: for charity, because you believe in the mission of whatever-it-is, for marketing/publicity purposes, or even just because it will be fun!

So you need to just do your own cost-benefit analysis. They'll do the QR code, which is nice, but you aren't guaranteed any sales, so let's say this event will definitely make you zero dollars. OK -- What are the Good Points vs Pain (in the Ass) Points?

For good points: Will it generate goodwill amongst your community or with people whose opinions you value? Is it for a charity or cause you believe in? Will there be potentially decision-makers there -- like librarians or teachers who might love your presentation and want to PAY you to participate in something later? Will it be FUN? Will there be other authors there that you want to meet / network with / hang out with / become besties with? How big a reach will this potentially have? (In other words - are we talking 5 people, or 500 people? Is it an event that might be covered by media? Because while you don't want to do things "just for exposure" when that exposure is dubious -- some great exposure wouldn't hurt!)

For PITA points: How much time will it take out of your life? (Include preparing for it, traveling to it, attending it, getting home, and decompressing from it)? Would it be costing you anything money-wise (gas money counts!)? Would it potentially take a toll on your health (mental health counts!)? Would you have to give up anything that would be MORE important to you in order to do it? (writing time, family obligations, time with your pets?) ETC.

The answers to these will be different from one situation to another, or even from person to person (after all, one person's "fun schmooze" thing is another person's "terrible chore"!) -- so weigh these options FOR YOU and see what you come up with.

Long story short:

It's good practice to say YES to anything that you can comfortably do to promote your book if you are getting paid for it or if the upsides outweigh the downsides.

But it's also healthy to have boundaries, and to say NO when that is not the case.

If you are going to say NO (again, a perfectly valid answer!), do so as early as possible, be extremely nice, and just say you are so sorry, you can't make it work, and best of luck with the event. DON'T frame it as "I only do PAID events" or anything like that -- that WILL make you sound like a diva from hell, even if that isn't the case! DON'T agree to it and then back out, because then you are putting them in the position of not having an event at all or having to scramble, ruining the thing they have spent time promoting, yadda yadda.

So in this case: If you haven't agreed to the event, and you decide the PITA points outweigh the good points, it's fine to decline. If you've already agreed to the event and it's happening soon, just suck it up and do it, lesson learned for next time.

[lilnasxvevo]

Oh btw I saw a banner ad on the side of a bus the other day and I didn’t see what organization paid for this ad bc the bus was going too fast but it said something very close to “THE PLACENTA ISN’T SOME MAGICAL BOOZE BLOCKER” and presumably it was a PSA about not drinking when one is pregnant.

And like

Listen my sister has an advanced degree in public health

And I have listened to her talk about outreach a lot even though that is not currently what she is doing with her degree, like that’s definitely something she studied and stuff

And I don’t. Feel like! Being as smug and condescending as possible! Is the best way to get the biggest number of people to listen to you and heed your advice.

And I DO kinda feel like my sister has talked about liiiiike being compassionate, and meeting people where they’re at, and like, not making them feel bad!

And I just really REALLY feel like, if your aim is to reach people who have somehow not been taught that alcohol use during pregnancy affects the fetus, then like, just say that. Clearly they have been severely lacking in access to good information about sexual and reproductive health if they don’t know that and there’s no point in shaming them for not knowing something because no one taught them that, or because they were fed misinformation!

Overall I am just disgruntled with the disgruntlement of knowing that my sister could have thought of better copy for a banner ad than THAT SHIT in like 30 seconds. Possibly less.

And it does also make me think of like, sometimes you see billboards or commercials about quitting smoking that just don’t seem to be very persuasive, and you’re like “What government agency OK’ed this?”, and then you find out that the “organization” that’s sponsoring all these ads is actually a tobacco company who got in trouble for selling cancer sticks and had to do a bunch of half-assed “stop smoking” ads in penance. And that’s why they’re not good, because the people making them don’t actually care and actually sort of hope you DON’T stop smoking.

So, I’m gonna try to glimpse one of these buses again (unlikely) and try to see who sponsored it, because I sort of highly suspect that copy wasn’t actually written by public health professionals who are actually motivated to protect people. I think it was probably written by a marketing team working for an alcohol company that recently got in trouble, and I’d love to know who.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

8.24.23 Thursday

12:11 am

Strange who put it here... What is the plan of Uncle Jun to kill us here?? Why??? Bolo like in Lipa Batangas Massacre??

Who got the rituals and a change of spirit angels???

Can Uncle Jun will be able to hold his sanity here?

I need help here probably Uncle Jun will kill us...

12:38 am

Hmm...What is inside of Uncle Jun?

But the food is sponsored by Uncle Jun lunch and dinner... Coz I can't shoulder everything now,angels...

I have analyzation... Why, this Cavite wanted to hurt my ego this is different story on my family here and separated from my job life...

I don't know what to do angels... I need to keep a job and I need money and it is not enough these days.. My needs, my baby-John's, my collagen on my feet and down there... I know I have to share coz this is my life now... I'm so tight now my personal budgeting and I have to keep the job in Iqor angels...

I have to pay on my friend Ely even a lil... I will also support him as my friend... Probably, what happened on Ely on his helping method on me was a blessing in disguise to be a friend of brother Rodel of wave 468! Probably, God wants me to be closer on brother Rodel... Probably, coincidence... Hmm... I'm also here at his back as his friend... But I'm still tight on my budgeting these days,angels...

1:21 am

I hope I can save money for my collagen and travel someday... I told Mia I really wanna go to Ilocos to visit their sand dunes but I also wish to travel in Dubai for the sand dunes as well and camel and donkey... Coz after we ate in Jollibee all my wavemates with our coaches Melai and John, while walking going back to our room Mia and I just had a chit-chat about our personal lives like her own family and my dream vacation or things that they usually do on their leisure time.

Still, thinking of my "Red Pouch"... Who took it? I have so many problems in my head... Bills, family character like who took my "Red Pouch"? What is the motive? Stuff like that...

On the other side... It was funny awhile ago in our classroom when Champi and Coach John had their role playing, thank God I was able to control myself not to laugh coz seeing their face and hearing them talking in English, it was funny coz they look like a zombie and their beauty is fading but still fighting in life... In my comic strip over my head these people are funny coz they look super wasted and still keep on talking in English. It was really funny angels, that all of us there will be a "living dead"...

I'm thinking if we're gonna have our movie the wave 468 and the rest of Iqor... Probably,the title is "The fight of the Living Dead or The last blow of the Living Dead or The last days of the Living Dead" it can be on 3 series, angels...

10:02 am

Still,waiting for Uncle DD for the bridging money for water bill... I don't have extra for myself and for John... I need soap here and shampoo.... The water bill is due today so I have to pay it... They will cut it angels today or this late afternoon...

I'm not relax everyday and I still have my sciatica or S-bones pain or priformis or pelvic pain...

Still, having windblow trap and I still feel self-pity.

10:17 am

I will explain something that I can't explain today...

1:18 pm

Spit on them those customer service and fat boy in Dasmarinas Water...

I asked nicely yesterday and I paid full today then they will tell me that probably it will be cut. Spit on them! SPIT ON THEM TODAY!

I went there yesterday and super bow on customer service that please can I pay the 1 month first for us not to have an interruption on water service they didn't allow me that fat bad ass boy... So, yesterday I was calmed and said ohkay will pay tomorrow coz it will be our due date.

Then I went today and talked to the non-sense Cavite Customer Service ( spit on them) I asked nicely if they have control on their employees not to cut us coz we paid it already in full... Coz they must have a reminder or control on their employees even on the field...

This will be a reimbursement some percentage,waiting for Uncle DD...

[bitchesgetriches]

I am 25 and I’d like to start a Roth IRA so it has plenty of time to mature, but I don’t actually know how to do that.

All the financial information resources I follow (at least the ones that aren’t just advertisements) keep explaining what an IRA is, which I think I basically understand by now, and why investing is so important, which I am already convinced of considering I’m 25 and stressed out that I still haven’t started a retirement fund. However, they don’t explain HOW to actually do that.

Do I show up at my normal bank where I have my checking account and ask to start one? Is this the type of thing you’re supposed to do online or find like an investment firm or something? Should I look for a local credit union? What documents do I need? Can I just transfer the money from my normal savings account, or does it need to come out of a paycheck somehow? Is there some sort of step by step set of instructions that isn’t sponsored content trying to sell me something?

I am convinced of the importance of investing, and I would like to have a Roth IRA based on an index fund that is mostly hands off. Now that I’ve decided that, how on earth do I go about actually creating it?

I think we need to write a whole ass article about this, because you're not the first to ask. It surprises me that brokerages and banks don't make this shit more obvious, since they profit on us starting accounts with them. Anyway, here is your step by step, my precious child:

HOW TO OPEN AN INVESTMENT ACCOUNT

1. Pick a bank or brokerage firm. There are lots. You don't have to be an existing customer. Do some googling for reviews. Personally, most of my money is invested through Vanguard, but I've heard good things about Fidelity, Ellevest, and others.

2. Go to their website and click "open an account." You can also just google "[bank name] + Roth IRA" or "open a Roth IRA with [bank name]" which should get you where you're going.

3. Choose the type of account you want. In this case, you want to open a Roth IRA. That's a solid choice to invest for your retirement. But you can also start a straight "brokerage account" for general investing that isn't tax-advantaged like an IRA or other retirement account.

4. Follow the instructions on the website. Every bank's web interface will be slightly different, but I'll walk through some of the basic steps below. Important: YOU CAN ALSO CALL. I know not everyone is comfortable on the phone, but if you get stuck online, you can call the bank (the number will be on the site) and say "I'm a newbie investor and I'm trying to open a Roth IRA but I'm confused. Can you help walk me through it?" They're literally paid to help you.

5. Choose how to fund the account. You can do this very easily by transferring money directly from another bank or account. So if you have $1k saved up in a savings account at your local bank, you just need to get the bank name, routing number, and account number and input that when prompted.

6. Allocate the funds. THIS STEP IS INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT. They're going to ask where exactly you want your money invested. If you don't make a decision here, your money will by default go to Money Market... which means it's just sitting there as cash, not investments. So you have to allocate it to an actual investment vehicle. For the normal human being, I strongly recommend an index fund. My favorite is VTSAX, which stands for Vanguard Total Stock Market Index Fund Admiral Shares. But anything with the word "index" in it should be fine. You'll be given a list of options, and you can do some googling to research each one.

7. Set up an automatic deposit. This is optional, but I recommend putting a little bit in every month. If you're going with a Roth IRA, you can deposit up to $6k annually.

8. Go have a snack. You've just started investing, you deserve a treat!

9. Check back in 3-4 months. The stock market is cyclical. It goes up and down depending on a whole bunch of factors. If you look at your balance on the daily, you'll go insane with worry. So check on your investments quarterly, or every 3-4 months. Or don't! You could just sit back and ignore them until you're retirement age! You definitely don't need to do more than deposit money regularly, and (see above) you can automate that shit.

I hope that helps, little turtledove! Here are a bunch of articles we've written to help explain some of the terms I explained above:

Investing Deathmatch: Traditional IRA vs. Roth IRA

Investing Deathmatch: Investing in the Stock Market vs. Just… Not

Do NOT Make This Disastrous Beginner Mistake With Your Retirement Funds

Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One?

Another, super easy option for non-retirement investing is to open a micro-investing account. We recommend Acorns, and they're kind enough to sponsor us.

Start investing with Acorns

[thetetra]

I want to listen to a podcast that isn't about making money. You can tell yourself that the quality hasn't dipped but it dips we can tell. The feel is immediately different than episodes you do because you love it.

This isn't really your fault... Sure you have bills to pay, sure you have kids now, but that's not reasons why your quality hasn't dipped its excuses for your quality dipping and why we should not be mad at you about it.

We as a society need to value creators more, just like small-witch-big-hat who paid their dues to make their experience commercial free... but the advertisement agency wasn't okay with not getting to ALL the listeners.

When I was taking German in highschool I learned that at a certain point they had TV commercials only at night. They had after 10 or 11, literally nothing to watch because till 5 or 6 am it was just commercial after commercial with basically no one watching.

We can demand that sort of advertising. You want to advertise on my show? Fine you are in a bloc that runs for 5 minutes before or after the show. You want to pay less you are after want to pay more you van go before. Yes you have to grin and bare it is going to get skipped by most viewers. You advertisers ALSO need to understand that just because I heard a commercial does not mean its as effective as you think it is.

When I need a plumber or a VPN or some service or another I don't sit down with my podcasts and favorite shows and old DvDs and start rummaging through them for the ads jammed into everything I just Google the service and my area code.

I then scroll past all the sponsored links that will do things like ignore that area code and start looking at reviews... but not yelp because they can pay to make bad reviews go away.

The whole thing is a giant pain in the ass but I think it is better than going through my podcasts seeing if somehow they have exactly what I need and to luck out that they are the best in my area.

A smarter way to advertise is have a dynamic short run of interesting things to do in my area and services I may not have heard of. Like what's new in super soaker technology.

Opened up an episode of @re-dracula and got an ad. Not an ad read, a full on fucking commercial for some convenience store or other. Instant unsubscribe. Advertising does not belong in podcasts, it corrupts everything it touches.

[qqueenofhades]

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

[hellyeahheroes]

Robin(2021) #1 Review

Opening this comic with an assessment of a character that I have no choice but to agree with is a cheap way to score points with me.

Anyways, we caught heat for being unfair to this story since it was announced because all of us wanted it to be a Cass story since forever. And it became yet another thing Damian absorbs. I mostly ignored it because I’ve always been open about my disdain for the character and his fandom for nearly a decade. I never liked Damian because put these characteristics on a non-white passing character, they’d be dead inside of year. Then again I hate almost all of Grant Morrison monstrosities.

Regardless, new story who dis is in full effect here. We open this bad boy up with Damian gone missing and the Batfamily searching for him. Nightwing tried asking Damian’s old Teen Titans team and they obviously don’t know and probably hope Damian is dead. Tim checked Arkham Ruins(???) and Damian wasn’t there. I honestly don’t think Tim was trying to find Damian. Steph and Cass checked Damian’s farm and Steph concluded Damian has been there at least because while Damian may be a little shit, he loves his dog and pet bat dragon. Barbara checked facial recognition pings and his transactions and dude is an IRS nightmare.

Damian is missing. Bruce is worried that maybe making a violent murderous preteen Robin raised in a cabal of killers to be chief murderer was a bad idea and is worried. Barbara ensures him that they will find his son and we cut to Damian fighting Snake guy in some musty ass fight put somewhere. Because of course it’s a musty ass fight pit because while the story is well drawn, it never claimed to be not cliche.

Damian hands the scrub his ass and it turns out Damian is trying to earn a marker to participate in some tournament. I liked this panel.

Not because of the artist flex of changing the art style, but it establishes Damian with a relatable hobby, reading manga. And not just a Shounen as you expect him to read but a slice of life manga which kind of puts his life in perspective. Also the lesson in the manga is reflective of what happens in the comic. Damian’s mastery is reflective of how he sees Hana. Hana decides to go beyond what her masters taught her. She decides to innovate and make her art her own. And that’s indicative of another flaw of Damian: Damian leans of the prestige of his teachers. He is the student that replicates the style 1:1. He wants to inherit Batman’s mantle, but doesn’t want to shed his teachings that he is proud of. And it comes down to this idea that Damian refuses to innovate and adapt because he is hiding behind his masters.

This panel saved the story so good job.

And after a talk with dead Alfred, it’s revealed that Damian is on this journey as a way to mirror Bruce’s journey into becoming Batman. It’s his way to iron his resolve without a catalyst to find a need to. It highlights his naïveté. He thinks that he can just simply copy the steps and get the same results.

Regardless what happens next simultaneously undermines the story or the impact of it.

Okay, when you think of Martial artists in DC, you immediately think Batman, Shiva, Deathstroke, Black Canary, Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon, and Shiva. Why I said Shiva twice? Because Shiva is the pinnacle.

So to reveal that three premier martial artists in the universe are not only not participating but they were paid off to not participate, cheated out, or were subbed in as an entry replacement, it undermines the promotion. It’s like going to a Beyonce Concert only to find out that between the words in small print Beyonce and Concert was ‘s Sister’s and now you are watching Grammy award winning Solange. Sure, it’s an unique experience but it ain’t Beyonce.

And also, there is no amount in the world that would keep Shiva away from this tournament if it’s as prestigious as it’s led to be. Let’s be real. If anything, it’s far more likely that she saw the roster of scrubs and decided to make some scratch.

There are two characters that I recognize: Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson. I am not familiar with Connor so I am not sure if he is out of place. Rose is fine but y’know, scrub. I’m sorry Rose Wilson got her ass handed to her by Cass in the previous universe. There is no universe where I take her seriously in a fighting tournament to crown greatest fighter because the ass stomp was so thorough that Cass was beating Slade’s ego by proxy.

Back to the comic, Damian interrupts the host and basically is the fighting tournament trope of overly confident disrespectful guy with too many accolades which he will proudly tell you about them. What I like about this is the nice nod to the previous manga panel. Damian is not a great fighter. There I said it. Damian’s ability hinges on the idea that he was trained by the greatest killers and Batman but the issue is that name prestige doesn’t make great fighters. Too many times, comic books overly rely on this idea of fighting being a what you know and not being a game of not getting hit and getting hits in. It does not matter if Damian is trained by the League and Batman and it’s questionable as to how much Batman taught him in the first place. Hence why we see Damian with a sword or staff to compliment his lack of range. Damian can’t read muscle twitches like a Cass or Shiva so he has a normal reactive response and comics never highlighted his ability. The most impressive thing I’ve seen Damian do is catch a Batarang which is something I’ve seen Tim do. Damian overly relies on the idea that his teachers taught him to be the best when they simply taught him to survive in a fight.

“But why does Cass get away with it?,” you ask. Cass has this broken hax that is reading muscle twitch and immediately knowing the instant of what you are going to do before you do it or decide to do. Cass doesn’t need range because to her, you are screaming your intentions. She doesn’t need to block an attack when she can just parry. She doesn’t need to step back when she can just step forward while slipping all attacks. She is an autistic savant at fighting with an absolute defense. Damian is just another badass teen in a world of badass adults.

And the humbling of Damian begins...again.

Pros:

-Damian’s new costume. I like that he is branching out and starting to own his own colors. It’s nice.

-Using a character flaw to make it a theme. I like Chekhov’s gun via teachable moment. In tournament arcs, what separates the good ones and the bad ones is the idea that the hero simply must overcome their opponents and not their own self. This is why Yuyu Hakusho is awesome.

- Great art and nice continuity. It’s nice that Damian’s past wasn’t ignored for once and they didn’t just throw his Teen Titans characterization down the tubes. Say what you want, but it was arguably Damian’s longest run in spite of his fans hating it. And contrary to what they believe, it was very much in character for him. My fear going into this that Damian would not face any fallout and lo and behold he ran away.

- it’s a good start for a Damian story. Say what you want, but it’s unique in that the little shit gets his comeuppance immediately. And not that just by losing, but by dying. Damian has killed before and readily justifies it because he never realizes the weight of taking someone’s life. He’s been killed before but those were painted in a way that he is valiant. Here, this is death caused by his own arrogance. He mocks a fighter for talking shit and gets murked while talking shit. He spouts names of his own teachers and expects people to care or be weary as if Rose Wilson and Connor aren’t there. It’s a tournament sponsored by the League of Assassins, Damian. They have been taught by the league too.

Cons:

-Look I get promotion. No promoter is going to undermine their product but the fact that this tournament reeks like ABA is killing my interest to give a shit. It’s a convenient caveat to say that, “Well, a character won this so they can have the title but the title doesn’t mean anything.” I know of regardless of whom wins this, they aren’t the best. Go ham or don’t at all.

-not enough emphasis of the importance of this arc. Why even have this tournament? What’s the prize? What’s even the point?

-While the art is nice, the action is framed poorly. I like physical action like this to be nearly choreographed in a way I can see and piece movement in my head. The two fight scenes we get are somewhat disjointed in that it’s just poses. For example, Flatline’s first kick makes no sense at all and I don’t get her follow up. Trying to picture the movement hurts my head and in an action concept like this, it’s best to frame action scenes as more than doing poses. Here is a good example:

This only emphasizes the action and gets the reader to acknowledge that this a tournament of great fighters or at least a great fighting story.

All in all, do I think this story is off to a good start? Yes. Is it going to change my opinion on Damian? Hell no. My reaction to Damian getting his ass handed to him was this.

The issue is that it never sticks. Damian can learn and be a better person but the development never sticks. It becomes a cyclical series of events because whoever writes him next will just keep writing him as this shitty entitled murder rich kid who never learns anything and gets validated somehow. It’s been over a decade and I’m tired of the same excuses of his shitty behavior. I am tired of writers validating it or excusing it.

Damian losing isn’t an outcome I care for because it’s wasted on him. Honestly I am more interested in Connor and Rose being there. I have no faith that it will stick nor does it undo the shitty idea of the character. I have never wanted to see Damian fight. It’s never been fun to read about nor has the impetus of his character emphasized the ability or style. Placing Damian in an Enter the Dragon style tournament lacks the pizzazz of Cass doing the same thing. For example, let’s try Marvel.

Let’s say someone pitches an idea of a tournament arc styled after Game of Death. Immediately you think Martial Artists non-powered. Danny Rand, Daredevil, Elektra, Shang-Chi, Pei and Colleen Wing. Okay, instead of giving those characters the honor, you give the story to Black Cat. Honestly, I’d read it because Felicia could sell me a documentary on grass and I’d buy it but the point stands, why does Damian have this Bruce Lee inspired Martial Arts story versus the actual Chinese or East Asian Martial Arts focused member of the Batfamily, Cassandra Cain?

But this has nothing to do with what could have been. It’s a fun beginning of a possibly fun arc. In that regard, it delivers but what’s the point?

Like I said, fun story.

@ubernegro

[kookie-doughs]

Beta Tester

Kozume Kenma X Reader

-YN LN is a popular mangaka

Chapter 16: Stage

Seeing you running towards him made Kenma frown.

"Kenma!" You waved. "Thank you for not leaving yet!"

Ignoring you he continued to walk towards the direction of the stage.

You pouted and crossed your arms. "You know... As sorry as I am for that kiss I really don't regret it."

Jogging up in front of him with a shit eating grin, you positioned yourself in front of him where he'd have no choice but to look at you while you looked at him. His ears were slightly red without a doubt but who were you kidding yours were too.

Kenma cleared his throat, "Good for you then. Now get out of the way so I could get out of here. "

"And honestly I liked that kiss." You continued determined to see him flustered again. "Your lips were soft and I bet my ass you're a great kisser. I rate you 10/10 would do it again."

With a glare he looked at you straight in the eyes, "So do it pussy." Then went ahead before you could see the red settling on his face.

"I- Wh- Excuse me- Wh- Huh? K-Ken- Kenma!!" You squeaked as you chased after him.

"I said what I said."

You finally caught up to him when he was about to climb the stairs towards the stage. Luckily(?) you also have to go up with him.

"Ehh... Where's the flustered Kenma? I wanted to see you all blushy and panicked. You looked so adorable. I don't want hot daddy Dom Kenma. I want cute baby sub Kenma..."

As he was halfway up the stairs your height gap grew and he was way over you. He just looked down on you, leaning closer the gap barely existent he smirked.

"Too bad." Then turned away.

There were a handful of people who saw the scene. Which made you more embarrassed. Holy shit you acted all alpha online only to be dominated by a hermit named Kozume Kenma.

Boy were you happy. You'd happily submit to him.

"Let us all welcome the two people who made the game possible! YN LN and Kozume Kenma!!"

You might be confused why you two were the ones going and why you were introduced like that.

As you are the creator of Puri-Puri you of course are the reason why this game existed.

But Kenma came here as he's the biggest investor, the face of the game and no one else wanted to go. So yeah...

As you two came up the stage you were just wishing the blush from the scene a few moments ago. The cameras flashed and claps were heard.

"Shit the media is here..." You mumbled.

"Your surprised, why?" Kenma gave you an amused and disappointed look. No idea how he managed to do that but he did.

"Shut the fuck up. I just got a feeling the questions won't be about the game thanks to the media."

"So you do think sometimes..."

"You want me to hit you?"

A clearing of throat behind you stopped your argument. It was Akaashi handing you both microphones to be clipped on you [I'm sorry I dont know what they're called] .

"Good luck, don't do and say anything stupid. And remember this is the release of PPM's demo." He reminded and got off the stage.

"Good evening to you all! I hope you've been having a great time!" I started.

"We'd like to thank you again for attending the release of PPM's demo."

"Now of course the game is yet to be played but from the trailer that was shown, I hope you had enjoyed it since the game is going to be much better than the trailer!"

"I'm sure you all must've questions as well. That's why Me and your idi-- dear author will answer."

"You definitely were about to call me idiot." You frowned at him.

He smirked and shrugged. "I have not a slightest idea what you mean."

"You're the worst."

Ignoring you... Again. He motioned at one of the reporters to probably ask their question.

"Ms. LN, as the initial plot of the Puri-Puri Magika is about [REDACTED], and the trailer we saw have quite a large difference from one another only having the universe in similarty. Is it just the universe of the similar one to the manga? "

"Of course the plot would be different. It disappoints me quite a bit that none of you realized how they're connected aside from the universe. Well, I don't really want to spoil you but if you actually read the Manga and saw the trailer," You gave a proud smirk. "Everyone that was a fan of PPM in the team were ecstatic. They were all just-" You mimicked a mind blown. "They were so excited about the game and a those."

"Thank you Ms. LN."

"Next please."

"Mr. Kozume," the next one called. "You were neither a fan of YN, nor PPM, why did you decide to not only beta test the game but sponsor and invest big sum of money on the game."

"We--"

"No wait ! I want to answer some of those questions!" You cut off cackling. "The one about him investing and him beta testing! It's actually an annoying and Hella funny story."

"No I was a--"

"Shut up you'll probably lie."

"Shut up." Kenma now had his ears red. "Don't you--"

"He was the biggest asshole back then!"

"Stop talking."

"He fucking beta tested despite not knowing shit about PPM because it was the biggest game. And he just banwagoned  on it like a bitch he was."

"I did not. I had some clues about you Manga."

"You did not know shit about PPM cut yo bullshit. You didn't even know who the MC was!"

"Shut up."

"That's why he beta tested! Now the reason why he invested is really hilarious!"

"I really hate this story..."

"This was the reason why Kenma became Bae too! We didn't know shit about how to contact Kenma, we only had his email address and his social media. Keep that in mind. "

"So since he didn't know shit about PPM he really couldn't care about the plot and just looked for bugs and shit. He wasn't even aware of the bugs in the plot since he didn't know which what was supposed to be part of the plot and not. This bitch ass decided there wasn't any bugs anymore so we went with that. But then we had to play it and saw a shit ton of bugs."

"I said there were some bugs don't make me seems so stupid."

"You didn't even inform us about the glitch at the time skip part! That could've ruined the entire thing! Anywayz, so we had to code the game again. So we emailed him that there were way too many bugs other than what he told us so the next testing would be later. But the asshole never replied. And since I was the one entasked to guide this bitch ass, I  had to flood his email! And he didn't respond! Not once! It had been DAYS! I send him at least 20 emails everyday! I have up on the 3-4th day and DMed him on Twitter."

"I really hate this part."

"No. No. This is the best part. Do y'all remember that one trending #KodzuGone started by Tenma? It's because, this asshole never responded to our emails so I DMed him all the shit important shit in the emails. Then this bitch fucking blocked me! I fucking rante to Tenma and he canceled Kenma like he deserved to! I was panicking about it since Mr. Suzumiya told me that Kenma could be a potential investor if he wanted. And I needed cash... "

"Do not call me that publicly. You are disgusting."

"He went full sugar daddy on me!" You cackled. "His entire squad had betrayed him! They were canceling him so he just fucking slid into my DMs apologizing about the shit he did and I told him, bitch I'm coming over there and see you play this fucking game or I will not stop this canceling and make it worse. So he was forced to telll me his address and I'm not sure if yall saw the live but it was hot shit. The next day he bought all the copies of PPM at this one store and gave them to me and then he invested shit ton of money on my on going works, bought me a new tablet, paid my Keiji bills, and many other shit. Yall would die to have him as sugar daddy I'm telling you. Ya don't even have to give him sugar for the treats. "

"That was the biggest mistake I made."

"Awwe, but thanks to that we're closer than ever. "

"Exactly my point."

"Thank you for answering Ms. LN."

"I hate you so much." Kenma sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No you don't. Admit it you love me."

"I really don't. Next question please."

"A-Ah, my initial question was actually answered in the previous question. It about your live. Now my question is, Ms LN and Mr. Kozume, is your relationship really a platonic one or a romantic one? "

"Okay, babe," You chuckled. "my man won't even let me breathe the same air he does. Ya think we're dating?"

"Well your right."

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"Huh?! " You exclaimed a little louder than you thought since the mic made a loud noise.

"The relationship we have is both platonic and romantic. As labels aren't placed we share a romantic relationship." Kenma smirked.

You looked at him and the crowd with a clear eminent blush. "I-I I- Wh-"

Pulling you closer to him and turning around so the crowd won't see you both. He lowered the mic to prevent them from hearing.

"I wanted to see you all blushy and panicked . You look adorable." He whispered to your ear before facing the crowd again who were now going crazy over what Kenma had just confirmed.

"Y-You're an asshole..."

"Yeah, an asshole who..." lowering his mic again he leaned to your ear. "Still has your favorite onsie at his place. You really shouldn't have left it at my place. I'm so tempted to burn it."

"You leave my onsie alone! I will drown your consoles."

"With that threat, you're suddenly stripped of your house visit privileges."

"W-Why would you say we're dating?!"

"I didn't. I just said we both share a romantic and platonic relationship with no labels. I technically didn't lie too."

"Why did you do this?"

"Aside from wanting to see you all flustered? I'm probably drunk." Kenma smiled and turned to the crowd again. "Next question please."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

I'm sorry lately there's been to many words and less pictures it's just that... Idk

Lol I'm sorry this was supposed to be smau but there's been too many words

Ooc Kenma is shit so I made him drunk

-kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @synx-ed @normalisthenewnorm @0majuh0 @leachann @nikanikabitch @almondeupeach @immxnty @mer-majesty @yamayoomi @simpingoveranime-men @lostmarimoismyhubby @mariishat @just-snog-already

[sassyhobbits]

Tinder Au pt 2

yall ask, i deliver. Enjoy!

part 1

~~~

When Rowan’s Tinder match had ended up being his new coworker, he had expected a few tense days of awkwardness that they would eventually work through. He then hoped for them to become friends, or at least build a kind of casual, professional relationship. Eventually, the entire thing would have been a funny memory they would be able to laugh at in the future.

He hadn’t expected that she would end up driving him up the fucking wall.

Aelin was loud and opinionated. In the short month and a half she had been at the gym, she had practically taken over, moving through the facility like wildfire. All of the members adored her, as did the staff. Even Lorcan, who only really liked the nutritionist, Elide, managed to tolerate Aelin.

Maybe what pissed him off the most was the fact that she barely paid him a second glance. Aelin talked to everyone, knew all their names and facts about them, but almost never spoke to him. When he had called off the date and put some professional distance between them, Rowan didn’t expect her to take it as she had. He had liked her enough when they chatted, he didn’t want to cut off ties completely.

Maybe he was extra pissed off because of how people flocked to her, of how she soaked up the attention. She was a beautiful girl, afterall. She smiled and flirted here and there, but none of that attention went towards Rowan.

Maybe… maybe he was just pissed because he had missed out on the opportunity to be the one she smiled at like that.

Regardless of why, it didn’t change the fact that he was pissed. Extra pissed this morning, actually. He had reached out towards a usual client of his, wondering when he wanted to train again, only to find out that he had started training with Aelin.

Rowan had been clenching his jaw all morning, nearly on the verge of breaking a tooth, when he spotted her at the front desk, handing a coffee to Lysandra. He strode towards her, slamming his clipboard down on the marble, and bit out, “Quit stealing my fucking clients, Galathynius!”

Aelin barely reacted to his fury, only raising a brow and taking a sip from her coffee. “Good morning to you too, Rowan.”

He narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious. This is the second client this week. Why?”

“To begin with, I’m not stealing them. They’re coming willingly to me.” Aelin leaned her weight against the desk. “If you’re wondering why they’re coming to me… one, my ass looks great in leggings. Two, I do this thing called smiling. People tend to like it when you smile instead of scowling like you love to do.”

Rowan scowled. “Why do you even work here? Don’t you make money from your stupid Instagram?”

Apparently, Aelin had a solid following on Instagram. His coworker, Fenrys, had shown him a few days after she had started. Fenrys had become instantly enamoured with Aelin and her Instagram. It was full of pictures of Aelin showing off her body that she had worked so hard for, fitness tips, pictures of her and her friends, tasteful selfies. Rowan had spent more time than he cared to admit scrolling through it once he got home that evening. Gods, she was a beautiful girl.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Do you know how to make money through Instagram? Running ads. And the only people who want me to run their ads are the fake-detox teas that are just diuretics. So, besides the money I get here and there from sponsoring some leggings, I do need an actual job to pay my rent. But don’t worry. Remelle hates me, so she’ll pay yours.”

Rowan’s scowl only deepened at the mention of the client he had been training for the past few months. Remelle only trained with him because she was attracted to him. The only reason he hadn’t told her to fuck off was beacuse her frequent sessions did help pay for his groceries. And she did absolutely despise Aelin because of the attention she received from the other males in the gym and her popularity online, so she wouldn’t be going to her for training.

Rowan heard footsteps approach from behind, felt someone slap his shoulder in greeting.

“You look like you woke up with a stick up your ass this morning, Whitethorn,” Fenrys said as a form of hello.

“He doesn’t look like that everyday?” Aelin asked, raising a brow. Lysandra at least tried to hide her laugh behind her hand. She handed Fenrys a coffee from the drink carrier she had brought.

“You working tomorrow?” Fenrys asked her, completely oblivious to the argument he just interrupted.

“Nope.”

“You wanna hit legs with me?”

“Only if you buy lunch after.”

“Deal.”

Rowan ground his teeth again at the exchange. He, unfortunately, worked tomorrow and would get the pleasure of watching them dick around together while he had to work. Not to mention, Remelle was his client tomorrow, so he would also get to listen to her make passive aggressive comments about Aelin the entire session.

“Well, if all you fine people would excuse me, I have a client,” Aelin announced, pushing away from the desk. As she brushed past him, she placed a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Do try and stay busy. I know you don’t have a full schedule today.”

Rowan glared at her. Brat.

Her brows flickered up. And proud.

With that, she dropped her hand and strode away.

The place her hand had been burned like a brand.

…

The next day, Rowan was struggling to focus on his session. Remelle was being her normal… charming self as he walked her through a few new exercises. Unfortunately for him, Aelin was working out only a few feet away and she was… distracting, to say the least.

When she was working, Aelin wore the standard quarter-zip and plain leggings. But, when she came to workout on her days off, she sported a much more varied wardrobe. Today, she wore a matching legging and sports bra set in a deep green. It was flattering, and fit her in all the right places. Her golden hair was swept out of her face in a high ponytail that swung around animatedly as she moved. She tossed her head back in a laugh at something Fenrys had said.

Rowan watched as she adjusted the weight on the bar, positioning herself below it, and doing a set of lunges. Her form was perfect, of course, face pinched in concentration. It was an impressive amount of weight to be fair.  

She finished her set, reracking the weights and wiping her brows with a towel. Rowan’s eyes ran up and down her body, her golden-tan skin, toned stomach, strong legs and shaped ass. It was no wonder why she had so many followers, why so many people looked to her for advice.

“Rowan!”

Rowan blinked, realizing he had been lost in his own thoughts. Or, lost in Aelin, rather. He hadn’t noticed that Remelle had been trying to get his attention.

“Sorry, what?”

Remelle huffed out a breath, blowing a strand of her pale blonde-hair out of her eyes. “Am I doing this right?”

Rowan refrained from rolling his eyes as Remelle did the move wrong, no doubt intentionally. It was a game she liked to play, doing an exercise wrong to get Rowan to touch her to get it right. He was quickly growing tired of it.

“Move your feet a bit closer together.”

Remelle huffed again, clearly upset that her plan didn’t work. She finished the exercise before straightening and planting her hands on her hips. “So, you busy later tonight?”

Rowan lowered his brows. “Why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner together.”

Rowan hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. It was always awkward trying to turn down a client, something that Lysandra had often griped about. When you worked customer service, it made rejection that much harder. What the fuck was he supposed to say that wouldn’t piss her off enough to complain to Lorcan?

Remelle raised a brow at his prolonged silence.

Rowan’s savior came dressed in Lululemon.

“Hey,” Aelin greeted breathily, placing her hand on his back. “Are we still getting dinner tonight?”

He had to struggle to keep his confusion to himself. They had made no such plans, and Aelin was touching him so casually after barely looking his way for a month. Rowan glanced down at her questioning, but the look on her face only seemed to say, Go along with it, buzzard.

“Yeah, of course.”

Remelle pressed her lips into a tight line. “Oh. I didn’t know that you two were together.”

“Yeah,” Aelin nodded, cocking her head to the side and holding out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve met before. Rebecca, isn’t it?”

Aelin knew damn well who Remelle was, even if they hadn’t been formally introduced. It made her purposeful butchering of her name even more entertaining. Rowan struggled to hold back the bark of laughter he wanted to release.

“Remelle,” she ground out, shaking Aelin’s hand once and dropping it so fast one would think it burned her. Remelle picked up her phone and glanced at the time. “Well, it looks like our session is up. I’ll see you next week.”

With that, Remelle swept away down the hall, leaving them alone. Once she was far enough away, Aelin took a step back.

“You owe me, Rowan Whitethorn.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“No, but you looked so lost and uncomfortable that I took pity.” Aelin gave a tiny shrug. “Besides, at least she didn’t cancel on you next week. She probably thinks she can get you to leave me. Hell, maybe she’ll book more sessions now. So… you’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Maybe I am,” Aelin said, walking back towards where Fenrys stood to finish her workout. “And yet… you still owe me. Be ready.”

She didn’t even give him a chance to say something snappy back before she turned her back and strode away.

God gods was she infuriating. And yet Rowan knew he would keep coming back for more.  

[sevenkittensinatrenchcoat]

Saw My Mutuals Doing a Hunger Games

So, I also messed around with the Hunger Games Simulator. I called it Macavity’s Jellicle Choice. Macavity managed to defeat Old Deuteronomy and decided that the next cat to ascend to the Heaviside Layer as to survive a Hunger Games. 23 cats just die. The 24th gets reborn.

I am so terrible with the simulator that I didn’t even have images for the characters, so I didn’t take many screenshots. Instead, I took notes of what happened.

We’ll begin at the end:

This is the only screenshot you’re getting. All of the nicknames I used are very stupid.

Here are the notes I took as I played this thing:

Content Warning: It’s a Hunger Games. Violence and Death. Also featuring my dark sense of humor.

Bloodbath

Pouncival and Plato fought over a bag, but Pouncival was too small to win that fight and ran away.

Tantomile Inventory: Shield x1

Jellylorum managed to scare Tugger away from the Cornucopia. Nobody was surprised by this.

Victoria Inventory: Bombs x5

Bombalurina Inventory: Shield x1

Munkustrap has made the Cornucopia into his base.

Rumpleteazer, Asparagus, and Grizabella got into a fight. I assume it must’ve been some sort of Emotional Ballad Competition, because Grizabella was victorious.

Etcetera Inventory: Canteen x1

Mungojerrie is hiding in the Cornucopia. Munkustrap knows this and is allowing it.

Day 1:

After all that “excitement” (The Bloodbath wasn’t that bloody tbh), there’s still much to be done.

George and Coricopat got into a fight, but it was just practice and they’re fine. George won, btw.

Pouncival has already managed to hurt himself will foraging for food.

Jemima Inventory: Hatchet x1 (The baby has plenty of sponsors, I assume.)

Bombalurina caught some fish, but that’s not that exciting.

Grizabella murdered Alonzo with a trident. I’m starting to become concerned by how good she is at killing people.

Tantomile just fell in a lake and drowned. Quite the anticlimax.

Allience! Electra, Cassandra, and Mistoffelees are on the prowl!

Tumblebrutus managed to scare Tugger into running away. I think “run away” is Tugger’s strategy at this point.

Munkustrap Inventory: Nameless Fruit x3

Jellylorum Inventory: Spear x1 (She made it herself. All those years of teaching kids crafts have paid off.)

Victoria beat Mungojerrie in a fight, but let him go because this was either a practice round or the announcer for the family-friendly TV station that airs The Hunger Games just claimed they were “fighting” in the bushes.

Etcetera Inventory: Canteen x1, Food Item x1 (Thank you, sponsor! …Okay, it was me.)

Mass Funeral 1:

RIP Rumpleteazer. (Lean Lynx) Her ballad wasn’t angst enough.

RIP Asparagus. (No Fuss 2 Pronounce) He just wanted to play Growltiger.

RIP Alonzo. (True Himbo) That was kind of pathetic.

RIP Tantomile. (She Psych) Your death was so boring.

Night 1:

Serial Killer Grizabella got Electra.

Plato became Enemy Number 1 for some unknown reason and he was hunted down by Coricopat, Tumblebrutus, Tugger, Jenny, and Munkustrap.

Remember how Pouncival injured himself? He got pricked with tiny thorns and bled out a few hours later.

Etcetera just screamed for help AND IF SOMEONE DOESN’T HELP HER I SWEAR TO GOD-

Some strange archery accident involved Victoria, Skimble, and Cassandra occurred. Cassandra’s dead now.

Jellylorum isn’t dead, but she’s unconscious, so someone should really look into that.

Misto and Jemima are snuggling!

Bombalurina stabbed George and left him to die. A bit harsh.

Demeter and Mungojerrie have been spotted holding hands. These two Macavity survivors have turned to each other for emotional support.

Day 2:

Allience! Jerrie, Victoria, Coricopat, Misto, and Munkustrap are on the prowl!

Serial Killer Grizabella is stalking Jemima! Luckily, she hasn’t got a chance to kill her.

Skimble stabbed Tugger.

Etcetera has found her mom. Jellylorum has kept her safe for the day.

Demeter Inventory: First Aid Kit x1 (From a sponsor)

Jennyanydots Inventory: First Aid Kit x1 (From a sponsor, cleverly giving medical supplies to someone who might be able to help everyone. Hopefully, no more kittens will end up like Pouncival.)

Mass Funeral 2:

RIP Electra (Book and Bell): She didn’t expect Grizabella to go so insane so quickly.

RIP Plato (Not Too Big): He was played by the same actor as Macavity, so maybe the mob got mixed up.

RIP Pouncival (Can Do Handstand): He died from a boo-boo.

RIP Cassandra (Pharaohs’s Girl): I’m still not sure wtf just happened.

RIP George (Could Be Admetus): I almost completely forgot about him, but the audience will remember.

RIP Tugger (Tugs): Skimble took their rivalry too far.

So, that was a massacre…

Night 2:

Coricopat just randomly died from thirst. Remember that Tantomile drowned. One twin died from too little water, and the other from too much.

Victoria is having nightmares. Just thought you should know.

Jerrie, Skimble, Grizabella, and Demeter have set up camp together. After everything that’s happened, sharing a camp with Grizabella sounds like a terrible idea, but everyone’s under a lost of stress and not thinking clearly.

Misto has built a shelter and Jenny is allowed inside. Good choice of ally.

Jemima tried to sing herself to sleep. Poor baby…

Munk killed Jelly with a poison dart. It was quite brutal. I don’t think he meant it that way, but the game only ends after most of them are dead.

Bombalurina has begun to question her sanity. I think this question applies to nearly everyone.

Etcetera, after possibly witnessing Munk kill Jelly, appears to have snapped. She hacked Tumblebrutus to pieces with a weapon that I didn’t even know she had.

Day 3:

Stalking Jemima was a bad choice. Serial Killer Grizabella now as a sprained ankle.

Allience! Victoria, Jenny, Misto, and Jerrie are on the prowl!

Munk died from thirst, and possibly from guilt.

Bomba and Skimble are friends for today.

Etcetera Inventory: Food Item x1 (Sponsor. I had to do something)

Mass Funeral 3:

RIP Coricopat (He Psych): His death matched up with his twin’s.

RIP Jellylorum (Bitches Be Jelly): That was really fucked up.

RIP Tumblebrutus (Fliptastic): He was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time.

RIP Munkustrap (Fearless Leader): At the end of the day, he couldn’t kill his family.

Night 3:

Etcetera is gazing at the stars, looking for a Dead Parent-Shaped Constellation.

Victoria managed to defeat Serial Killer Grizabella, but she let her go.

Jerrie and Jemima are snuggling! I think he might’ve adopted her. Normally, that would be Skimble’s job, but…

Demeter found those poison darts Munk was using and killed Skimble with one of them.

Meanwhile, because everyone’s parents are dying tonight, Misto shot Jenny. I think he might’ve planned it. The Hunger Games brings out the worst in everybody, sooner or later.

Feast!

Smart Cats Who Stayed the Fuck Out of It: Mistoffelees and Demeter

Bomba just grabbed some food and ran for it, so she’s also pretty smart.

Etcetera’s nervous breakdown continues. She killed Victoria in an ambush, not caring who she was killing at this point.

Serial Killer Grizabella managed to behave when she ran into Jerrie and Jemima. They grabbed their stuff and left.

Day 4:

Misto is ready to die, but Jemima won’t kill him and Jerrie went out to hunt, so he’s not there to do it for her.

Grizabella died of dysentery. This isn’t even a joke.

EVENT: Tsunami (Later to be Dubbed “The Tsunami of Tears”)

Survivors: Mistoffelees, Mungojerrie, and Demeter

Little Etcetera got swept away. Bomba and Jemima both sort of crashed into each other, leaving them stunned for long enough to drown.

We just lost all of our kittens :,(

Mass Funeral 4:

RIP Jennyanydots (Mouse Mother): Misto betrayed her, but she probably didn’t mind.

RIP Skimbleshanks (Railway Cat): I’d like to propose a ban on poison darts.

RIP Victoria (Little White Cat): Another kitten in the wrong place at the wrong time.

RIP Grizabella (Cat Who Sings Memory): She died of dysentery.

RIP Etcetera (Little Tiger Cub): *wails*

RIP Bombalurina (Whittington’s Friend): She played very pragmatically, but lost from last-minute bad luck.

RIP Jemima (Sillababy): *wails louder*

Night 4:

After all the bullshit they’ve been through, the three survivors just decide to duel each other to the death now. Misto defeats Jerrie and Demeter. None of them were trying very hard.

Anyway, Mistoffelees won. I didn’t rig this so my favorite would win. I don’t know how one rigs a Hunger Games Simulator. I would’ve preferred to save a kitten.

If it isn’t obvious by now:

Mean Minx: Mungojerrie

Leading Lady: Demeter

Pied Piper’s Assistant: Mistoffelees

So, that’s what I did on this fine Tuesday morning.

Hunger Games Idea Inspired by: @fluffytuffles and @0zzysaurus​

I didn’t use the same template, but I wouldn’t have thought to do the thing if my mutuals didn’t start it.

As for the backstory I set up before hand, Mistoffelees magically kicked Macavity’s ass and rescued Old Deuteronomy. They figured out that it was all a magical nightmare Macavity had sent to torment the tribe. Misto’s magic allowed him to fight the nightmare for the longest. Demeter and Jerrie and also built up some Macavity resistance over time. Everyone who came close to winning had slightly higher Macavity resistance for one reason or another.

Anyway, they all woke up from the nightmare and everyone was actually fine.

The End

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (24)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Pride. They say pride can be a nasty flaw. But deep down, is that really the case? Pride is pretty positive in itself. You feel pride when you succeed in something, when you spend a stage of your life that everyone and even you thought impossible. The pride of your parents when you do something good is proof of that. When you help people, you feel a certain pride in being able to be useful to society. When you graduate, you're proud of it! When you create a garment, an object, a cake or a dish, you're proud of it! So why is pride a flaw?

Well actually... It happens when you do something bad. Do you know why? Because pride brings bragging. When you're a good person, you don't have to tell everyone about all the feats you accomplish, some of these feats, you keep them to yourself, like a shadow hero. But when you are a "bad" person, someone who spends more time hurting around him than helping others, pride invades you and you feel compelled to brag about it. Of course, you're lying, you're changing reality to make you look like a hero. But everyone quickly understands that you're a crook.

But when you're an assassin like Danny, even if pride invades you, you have to contain yourself. Because if you brag about your murders.... you end up in jail. It makes sense, you still don't think you're being congratulated for a crime anyway... But our national Danny knows how to master himself. He feels proud of his "masterpieces" but is not going to brag to everyone that he is Ghostface, the murderer, the star of Roseville.

But if he could be proud... it's scaring you. More, to have exceeded a new limit with you. How proud would he have been to be the first and last to steal your virginity. To hear your moans, to hear your voice shouting his name, asking him to continue. For after falling asleep in his arms and him, looking at you, breathless, but conquered. But for now, he had to focus on his work. But he was proud, proud to see Wilhelm's head when he came across McKellan's corpse, Danny's ultimate masterpiece. For now.

“Did he go that far? Seriously?” asks Melina with some kind of disgust.  

“Just thinking about it, I want to vomit. But unfortunately, yes. You would have seen how much he slaughtered him. Even Wilhelm went out for a few minutes to avoid spitting his guts.” responds Mattew with a grimace on the corner of the face.  

“I admit that there... he has outdone himself. I've seen massacres made by Ghostface but this one... it’s a bloody masterpiece.” Said Danny holding a smile. “For once, Wilhelm was... not displeased to see me. On the other hand, he did not appreciate that I snoop everywhere. I have to understand what happened to write my article. And to think that people wanted Hoggins to die... Well, they'll have McKellan's death in the papers.”

“Well, it's Wilhelm... He always wants to be alone at the crime scene. He and the boss have argued several times about this. But the boss has always found a valid reason to shut his mouth.” replied Melina.

Mr. Hembrook arrived at the same time and stopped at the level of our three reporters, coffee in hand. This man always exuded a certain class no matter what outfit he was wearing.

“it's about me here... my ears are whistling.” He said, taking a sip.  

“They were telling how you're shitting Wilhelm back. You don't have to miss him every time.” said Mattew.

“Wilhelm is not a bad guy... he wants to do his job seriously and not let a clue escape. But his problem is that he always wants to do everything, all by himself and he doesn't appreciate the company of others, especially journalists. If he agreed to share his information and cooperated with us, it would go faster. Besides, you two, did you find anything on the spot?”

“Well, it looks like Ghostface went through the window... there is no broken glass or door hooking. He could not reach the window through the front of the villa. There are far too many guards... but from the back....” started Mattew.  

“From the back, there are only two guards to watch the garden. He could easily have gone through this. According to the guards, McKellan always listens to music in his office for about an hour. Ghostface had to attack him at that time. The music covered McKellan's screams. He left quickly to avoid being caught by the guards.” continues Danny.  

“It seems consistent... It seems very consistent even! Traces of a struggle?” replied Hembrook.

“No. McKellan had to be knocked out and tied to the chair where he was found. When you see what he did... he must have enjoyed it.” respond Danny holding another smile. Of course, he takes pleasure of it.  

“You've got enough to write a good article, my little Jed. With a murder like that... We're going to have enough to do for months! With the scandal over Hoggins... it's the bouquet.”  

“Of course, Sir. I...”

“I wonder... if it's not a setup. Hoggins and McKellan had been in conflict since that scandal. Hoggins accused McKellan of selling the wick on their business. I think that... that it is an assassination. And that he's paying Ghostface to kill McKellan.” said Melina.

Danny froze on the spot. Ghostface play mercenaries? Certainly not! He will never go down to that level. That would be unworthy of him! If he didn't like Melina, she would have been his next victim. But she cannot know what happened and all this is the result of her reflection. With all the elements she has, it’s easy to come to this conclusion.

“Impossible. It's not Ghostface-style to play mercenaries or hitmen for someone. Why would he do it now?” Asks Mattew.

“Mattew is right, it's not in his habits. And I don't think it will ever be. But the idea of a commissioned assassination cannot be ruled out. Hoggins is rich. He could very well have paid someone to kill McKellan. And made it all up to put it on Ghostface's account.” Fit Danny.  

“A commissioned assassination? It's a trail to explore. You should go talk to Wilhelm. To see what he thinks about that.” said Hembrook before leaving for his office.

Danny looked at Melina and Mattew before getting up, taking his bag and heading with his two colleagues to his van. The three got into the vehicle and set off for the police station. Definitely he will have met Wilhelm often lately. Too often to his liking. Unfortunately, it has to be. Jed has no problem with him. But Danny couldn't stand him.

“You should take a subscription to the Roseville police station. I am sure that on the tenth visit, you will have the right to a one-on-one dinner with Wilhelm.” said Mattew with a sneaky smile.

“I'll give it to you then... I'm not really attracted to that fat ass.” said Danny before laughing.  

Mattew grimaced and Melina chuckled. Danny parked and the three of them got out of the vehicle and entered the police station. As they went to the reception to ask to see Wilhelm, the latter was just talking to a policeman. When he saw the trio, he sighed.

“Oh no, it's not true... I was cursed for you to stick me so much Olsen? We met yesterday and I have to see your snooping face again today?” Wilhelm said.  

“I want to say that I have the same curse Wilhelm. But it’s our boss who sends us.” respond Danny with a smile.  

“That old Hembrook monkey? And why will he send you to see me except to piss me off with Olsen?”

“Information and a hypothesis that might interest you. If you give us a few minutes of your precious time.”

Wilhelm seemed to think for a few minutes, before sighing and beckoning them to follow him into his office. Once all this beautiful people settled, Danny, of course, in front of Wilhelm, they tell everything they had concluded as well as the hypothesis of the sponsored murder. The latter listened attentively and drank a sip of coffee before speaking.

“You know this is a serious accusation you are making? It's not just anyone, it's one of the most influential men on the market. Also, explain to me why he would have murdered his partner, if indeed it’s proven that he and McKellan were doing what is written in the press articles.” said Wilhelm.  

“That's the explanation, Wilhelm. The article is a sufficient evidence and motive to have him murdered. Hoggins accused McKellan of throwing everything away. If McKellan disappears... more by camouflaged as an umpteenth murder of Ghostface ...Hoggins wins all. Moreover, there is no evidence that he would not have sunk McKellan once all the competitors were eliminated.” said Danny.  

“That's not wrong Olsen... That's not wrong. But it's a big fish. Even if I think the same as you for once, if I have no proof of his involvement ... I couldn't get him arrested. And if he hired someone and made this happen to a Ghostface murder, the REAL Ghostface might not appreciate being robbed of his work.”

“Maybe we could, I don’t know... consider cooperating for once? by exchanging our information between us we can do the whole thing on this story.” Said Melina.

Wilhelm and Danny looked at each other, grimacing. The prospect of having to work together doesn't please Danny in any of the world. But he has no choice, if he wants to direct suspicions on Hoggins, as he planned in his murder plan, he must cooperate with his worst enemy. But the day he can kill him... Believe me, Danny's going to have fun. The inspector got up, and beckoned them to follow them. They all arrived in a meeting room where there was already a team that was handling the case.

“Guys, this is the team of journalists from the Roseville Gazette. They will work with us, so that with all the information we find each other, we can gather them and solve the murder of Horace McKellan. They have information and a lead that we need to exploit.” said Wilhelm before heading to the dashboard.

The whole group worked together all day, getting up to date on all the information they did have so far. Danny quietly observed everyone. All those idiots looking for clues and evidence. And they are also responsible for his murders? What a bunch of idiots. If they knew that Ghostface was here, in the same room as them... That would be ironic. It's ironic, actually.

At the end of the day, everyone went home. Danny was tired but couldn't help but smile when he saw all these idiots. His plan worked perfectly, they are so manipulable, he will quickly manage to turn them to Hoggins and when he will be suspected of murder... That's where Danny's going to kill him. You will tell me it's silly in this case to have him accused. But don't worry, Danny has it all planned out. Absolutely everything.

He dropped Mattew and Melina in the newspaper parking lot so they could drive home. Then he went home. Previously, he stopped by the Florist next to your café, to buy you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. what? Danny knows how to be nice when he wants to. Sometimes he wants to give presents. Especially for his beautiful angel. He went up to your apartment and knocked on the door. When you open the latter, Danny didn't have time to say anything, that you would jump into his arms, before kissing him.

“I see, you missed me. Here. It's for you.” He said before laughing and giving you the bouquet.

“More than you could imagine. How was your day?” you ask by taking the bouquet.

“We can say that it was... full of twists and turns.” respond Danny before telling the whole day.

“Poor you. I wish you good luck. You must be exhausted.”

“A little. I think for once I'm going to eat and go to bed straight. Although I would have liked to spend time with you...” replied Danny before he saw that you were slightly stressed. He already knows why. “Are you Okay?”

“Oh yeah! Just...a little tired too...Don’t worry.” You respond.  

“I'll let you rest then... Sleep well, see you tomorrow.”

Danny kissed you before returning to his apartment, put down his belongings, took off his glasses and made himself food. He thought back to his day, everything was going according to plan. It must continue until it reaches apotheosis. And when it happens... He will still slip through the cracks.

He brushed his teeth, read a little and went to bed after half an hour. He looked at the thoughtful ceiling. Then a smile came to his lips, thinking of Wilhelm. If he knew he was working with Ghostface... he would shoot himself, that's for sure. Just like the entire police station for that matter. Knowing that he had infiltrated the police and that until the completion of his plan, he would work with them...

It made him smile greatly. He fell asleep with this smile and these thoughts.

Having infiltrated the enemy without being unmasked...

That's what made him proud.

***

(I'm officially starting my driving lessons May, 18Th. If I have to describe my mind right now...I’ll say I'm freaking out so hard that my heart will explode or to get out of my chest. Well, I’ve got time before hell begins! XD Oh by the way, from May 5th to May 7th I’ll go see my best friend, so chapter 26, which will be from Danny's point of view will probably come out late or even the week after! This will give the new ones the opportunity to read the chapters that have come out so far! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)

[phantomato]

Uber

Nottmort (Tom Riddle/Nott Sr.), Modern Muggle AU, ~2k words

Thanks to @yletylyf for kicking around this idea! Tom drives an Uber in the Bay Area. Thoros & co need a ride.

—

Abraxas and Orion are bickering over luggage in the background when your Uber pulls up. Black, of course, so it’s a Mercedes that will smell a little too much like leather cleaner when you get in, but none of you have ever ridden in an UberX or, god forbid, an Uber Pool, and you’re not about to start.

Your colleagues—never forget, you are not friends, no matter how much time you spend with them—slide into the back seat before you can even begin to help load bags into the trunk. You’re left alone with the driver, and though he offers to help, you haven’t let yourself sink that low as to make this man pile all of your shit in his car while you sit around and watch. And anyway, it feels like the polite thing to do. More than Abraxas or Orion, you’ve been raised to be polite.

So you fold yourself into the front passenger seat, too kind to push the seat all the way back and give yourself the leg room you need even if Orion, behind you, is just 5’8 to your 6’3, and smile at the driver as he confirms your destination.

He’s pretty. You’ve been in a lot of Ubers and you’ve never seen a driver this pretty. Is that classist?, you wonder to yourself, remembering something you read in Vox the other day. Probably. Nevertheless, you’re taken by the curve of his mouth, the sweep of his dark hair, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at Abraxas who you know must have also noticed.

“Traffic to SFO will be busy,” he says regretfully, and you roll your eyes. Orion refuses to take the early morning flights, unwilling to wake at 3 AM, and you’re always stuck with these long, miserable Uber rides down from the city to the airport. “And Terminal 2—right in the middle of it. There’s construction around those doors, if you haven’t been there—”

“We know,” Orion butts in rudely, shutting up your driver for the few minutes it takes to get out of your neighborhood.

You use those few minutes to swipe through your phone. Email—nothing important. Messages—you clear the notifications. Your Instagram is alight with people reposting the same infographic about voting rights and you make a mental note to kick some money to that non-profit that’s been all over Twitter lately. You close out apps and end up back at Uber, watching your car’s laggy progress through the San Francisco streets. Your driver’s name is Tom, the app informs you. It’s a nice name.

You clear the side streets and Tom offers amenities. “If you want any water, there are bottles in the cooler between the seats,” he calls back to Abraxas and Orion, “and mints in the cup holder. You can adjust the air conditioning if you like, and there’s a charging cable attached to the back of my seat if you need it. Would you like to choose any music?”

“No,” Abraxas says, and whether he means the music or the entire spiel doesn’t really matter, given his withering tone. You look back at him, trying to convey ‘Be nice’ with just your eyebrows, but Abraxas is fussing with his hair and ignoring you.

Tom’s one of the chipper ones, it turns out, because he takes the rejection in stride and shifts to the dreaded personal conversation. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Ah, we invest in companies, mostly start-ups,” you say, trying to avoid—

“Venture capitalists!” Tom guesses, and he’s right but you hate the term and its connotations. So what if you are all white men whose family money has bankrolled tech speculation? It’s what anyone with half a brain would do. You donate, you read the liberal news—at least, you think that’s true for all of you, though Orion was friends with that Republican mayoral candidate and Abraxas’ father sponsors that conservative think-tank and…

Ah, fuck. “Yeah, pretty much,” you agree, hating yourself.

Behind you, Orion digs his AirPods out of his pocket. You hear the snap of the magnetic lid as he closes himself off to the world. Abraxas is slouching, the hem of his third-favorite cashmere cardigan catching on the seat behind him, and you realize that you’re alone in this conversation.

Well, fuck it. If those two pricks are going to make you call the Uber, deal with the reimbursement paperwork, and sit in the front seat, you’re going to talk to the driver and make this car conversation as painful as possible for them.

As if reading your thoughts, Tom does the one thing that guarantees a terrible ride: he pitches his app idea.

“You know, I’m also a software developer,” he says, which is at least more promising than when someone isn’t, “and if I had the kind of funding that companies like yours provide, I would absolutely make this app.” He proceeds to describe something completely inane, the type of exclusive, niche social networking app that hasn’t had legs since before the Trump presidency and you would be content to let him drone on, to let Abraxas keep melting into his own seat and to let Orion channel his anger through a knee driven into the back of yours, but—

But for all that Tom’s idea is stupid, he has the energy of the best pitches you see. His energy is infectious. His eyes light up, he gestures with one hand, and when he stops to take a drink (one of those water bottles with a built-in straw, which you associate with joggers and your lamest employees but which does very different things to you when it’s Tom’s mouth wrapped around the top) you’re transfixed by the wet sheen over his chapped lips.

And so, yes, maybe it’s mostly lust, and maybe this is a sign that you need to download Grindr again, even if only to jerk off to the dick pics you’ll get, but you start to actually talk to him.

“There’s no future in niche social networks,” you say, halting Tom in his tracks. “There will always be new ones, don’t misunderstand me, but the broader landscape is saturated by the top names, and they’ll buy out their competitors if they need to. Perhaps you can topple Tumblr, but that’s not a path to profit. If you want to impact the social market, you need to pinpoint the novel interaction model that you want to offer and make yourself buyable.”

“Buyable,” Tom repeats, like he’s never been interrupted before. He probably hasn’t. The first rule of Ubering around the Bay Area or the Valley is to never engage the app pitches, and Orion has started kicking your seat for your transgression.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “You want to be bought out and brought in at a high level. The giant that eats you may or may not use your idea, but you’ll make a comfortable sum as a consolation prize.” You’ve helped companies through this before. You’re flying out to New York this week in part because one of your investments is considering purchase offers and you want to strategize in-person. The founder is dallying, sending emails about independence and integrity, and Orion will bully him into selling while you and Abraxas negotiate the best terms for the contract.

You can feel Tom’s eyes on you. Abraxas might be calling “Thoros…” from the back seat, and Orion might be attempting to annihilate you with his gaze alone, but you’re smiling at that handsome face behind the wheel and hoping for an accident on the 101.

Unfortunately, you make it through San Bruno without running into more than the usual level of traffic, and Tom’s pulling up to your terminal much sooner than you would like. Abraxas and Orion jump out of the car with uncharacteristic speed when it stops, Orion even moving to stand by the trunk in readiness to take his bags. You delay.

“Do you have a business card?” you ask, when it’s clear Tom’s waiting on you.

He fumbles to pull a wallet from his jeans. You can’t quite get a view of his ass as he does, but that doesn’t stop you from looking.

His card is bent at the corner, printed cheaply, and probably from his last job. You’re pretty sure that company doesn’t exist anymore. Tom taps the phone number. “I can be reached here,” he says smoothly, but his professionalism cracks when he adds, “by call or by… text.”

You know what sort of texts you’d like to receive from him.

Pulling out your own card case, you hand him your card. “Text me,” you say, your voice just this side of appropriate, “any time.”

Tom visibly swallows and jumps out of the car. You take your time getting up, and if your cashmere sweater—Margaret Howell, not that Elder Statesman piece of shit Abraxas is wearing—ends up in the footwell of Tom’s passenger seat, well, you’ll be back in SF next week, won’t you?

“Thanks for the ride, Tom,” you tell him as you take the handle of your luggage, letting your fingers brush his. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Yeah,” he nods, and you don’t care that Abraxas is snorting behind you, he’s been judging you this whole trip and he lost out on a hot guy’s number as a result. “It was…”

“Thoros,” you interrupt him before he can ramble and psych himself out. “My name is Thoros, and I really would like to hear from you.”

Tom looks at you then, and you see him pull together the same sureness that drew you into his initial pitch. “I’ll text you about the app.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it.

—

Bonus:

“You know,” Abraxas drawls as you sit in the United club lounge, gesturing lazily with his overpriced airport Fiji water, “if you tip him too much it’s like you’re paying him for sex.”

Orion looks up from his phone then, removing one earbud for the first time since he put them in. “I’ve paid more for sex with less attractive men.”

“Welcome back,” you say, “I didn’t realize you had paid any attention.”

“Someone would need to not have eyes in order to miss how hot that Uber driver was,” he bites back, returning to his phone.

“Well, I’m tipping him extra anyway,” you announce, confirming Tom’s five-star rating. Should you write a review? Is that too much?

Abraxas, with a grumble, declares, “I’m telling Alecto not to approve this expense.”

—

Bonus bonus:

Your phone buzzes at the end of dinner, the celebratory affair to close the sale which someone had insisted must be at Lilia, even though Abraxas doesn’t eat carbs and you would have preferred to grab a slice at Scarr’s rather than haul out to Williamsburg, anyway.

It’s Tom. Of course it’s Tom—you’ve been texting all week, and between a few late-night flirtations and one very bald statement of interest, you’ve got a date set for when you’re back home. You’re going to Mensho Tokyo, since he lives in the Tenderloin and you live… vaguely around the Tenderloin, at least, you tell people you live there when you want to seem cooler, and Tom is the type of guy that makes you excited to stand in line for hours to get seats. You’re already thinking about whether you might put your arm around him while you’re waiting, and you unlock your phone to see what he’s saying now.

It’s a picture message.

A picture of Tom, wearing your Howell sweater and no pants and oh god oh fuck—

“Was that Uber driver’s dick?” Abraxas whispers, next to you, and you curse your luck. “Remind me to call the next Uber, Jesus Christ.”

[hopelikethemoon]

Past Connections (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Past Connections Rating: PG-13 Length: 2100 Warnings: Mild Angst  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in March 1998. Summary: The second article hits the newstands. 

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps

PAST CONNECTIONS SPEAK OUT IN DEA SCANDAL 

Following the bombshell report The Post released in the March 2nd issue, the DEA came forward with allegedly incriminating documentation purporting a pattern of unsanctioned expenditures, where Javier Peña had filed expense forms on evenings spent with Colombian hookers. 

During our investigative reporting, The Post was able to connect with three of the women who had been paid by Peña, using DEA funds, during his time with the DEA in Colombia. 

Elena Ramierz, who was willing to go on record using her own name, was forthcoming with information concerning her time with Peña. 

“I would not be where I am today, had I not crossed paths with Javi. He was willing to sponsor my immigration request — without asking for anything in return. Javier Peña is one of the only men I worked with who was a genuinely good man. He cared about all of the girls at the brothels and would look out for us. I cannot, however, say the same about other men who abused the systems the DEA willingly put into place.”

When pressed further, Ramirez went into detail painting a picture of the systemic abuses that were encouraged by the DEA, including but not limited to brutalizing sex workers, non-consensual contact, and intentional situations that led to physical and mental harm. These claims were largely substantiated by the other two women who were willing to speak with The Post. 

“He hated what he had to do to get information for the DEA. You could see the weight on his shoulders. Despite the brutal situation he was in, he was always kind and gentle with me and the other girls. Whatever picture the DEA is trying to paint him out to be, it’s to hide their own misdeeds.”

At the request of the DEA, The Post also made contact with Lorraine Jackson (neé Davis) who was the former ex-fiancé of Peña. Jackson, who hails from Laredo, Texas, provided details about the nature of her relationship with Peña nearly thirty years ago. Despite the DEA’s insistence that Jackson’s testimony would be detrimental to Peña and Morley’s case against DEA, her statement was to the contrary. 

“Look,” Mrs. Jackson stated, “Javier left me at the altar when we were kids. I was angry for a long time. A long time. Even after I got married and started a family with a truly wonderful man. I was still wounded by what Javier did, but it all worked out for the best. I can’t even imagine what life would’ve been like if he’d shown up. Have you met his daughters? They adore him. He’s a good man, despite what happened between us.”

Mrs. Jackson continued, “When the DEA approached me about our relationship, I let my hurt feelings get the best of me. He made a lot of mistakes when he was younger — but didn’t we all? He left, went to college and came back to work for the Sheriff’s Office. He’d closed himself off and frankly, he was an ass. I don’t pretend to know what happened in Colombia, I wasn’t part of his life then, but I could see he had changed when he came home. The DEA wants to paint him out to be a villain in all of this and that’s just not the case.”

The DEA issued a revelatory statement, rebuffing the claims previously printed in The Post. 

There is no doubt that Ms. Morley contributed admirable efforts in the war against Pablo Escobar. As the American people have now seen, her records contain multiple instances where she assisted in the apprehension of multiple associates of Escobar’s. 

Despite her efforts, during her tenure with the DEA in Colombia and Ms. Morley failed to uphold the standards expected of a DEA field agent. One year after her transfer, she entered into a relationship with a CIA liaison who was an active member of a joint task force formed by the two agencies. It became clearly, early on, that she was not capable of maintaining a professional work environment. 

In 1992, when Ms. Morley revealed that she was pregnant, she was immediately placed on desk duty. During a meeting with her direct chain of command, Ms. Morley intentionally concealed the identity of her child’s father. When questioned about Mr. Peña, she blatantly denied that she had any sexual contact with her partner. The following year, when Ms. Morley and Mr. Peña provided the DEA with the truth, we were forced to terminate her employment for her misconduct. 

While The Post may attempt to twist this situation into a gender-based discrimination case, it is abundantly clear that both Ms. Morley and Mr. Peña engaged in unethical practices unbefitting of federal agents. 

The Post reached out to CIA Agent, Lance Collier, who Ms. Morley was in a relationship from June 1988 to June 1989, clarified that their relationship had been approved by his director prior to its beginning. 

Collier was willing to go on record with a statement of his own, “Annie was one of the hardest working agents I’ve ever worked with. During meetings, I repeatedly witnessed her being ignored and silenced by her superiors. They would ultimately use her knowledge under the guise of their own, intentionally undermining her abilities. On numerous occasions, I was also present for meetings where Javier Peña and Steve Murphy would go to bat for their partner. Annie was well aware of the risk and complications related to being a woman in a male dominated field, and despite that she persisted. I have seen men who acted as bad agents against our government still be venerated, so why are they still punishing her for becoming a mother?”

The Post is dedicated to the continued investigation of this scandal. 

 ————

 “You’re brooding.” You told Javier as you shut off the stove and grabbed a trivet to sit the pot of wild rice off the burner. 

Javier huffed, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the kitchen counter across from you. “I’m not brooding.” He rubbed at the back of his neck before he pushed away from the counter and moved to grab two plates out of the cabinet. “The timing was just less than ideal.” 

“I know.” You grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out the pan of chicken patties, sitting it on the stovetop. “I wish Vickers had told us how thorough Valerie was going to be in her statement to the paper.” 

“It was fucking mortifying, baby. I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through exams next week. Think it’s too late to make it a paper?” He questioned, grabbing the buns and mayonnaise out of the fridge. 

“Unfortunately,” You made a face as you shut off the oven and moved to grab a paper plate to cut the tomato on. “It’ll blow over.” 

“Not nearly soon enough,” He shook his head. “You know how much I hate looking back on that shit and now everyone knows my business.” 

“It was a risk we were both willing to take,” You reminded him. “Say the word and we pull the plug.” 

“I’m not pulling the fucking plug, baby. I’m just saying — did my class really need to know about my exploits with hookers in Colombia? I get that it’s tantalizing, but she pushed it too far.” 

“Even Elena didn’t realize how far it would go,” You sat the knife down and wiped off your hands on a dishtowel, turning to approach him. “I’m sure the DEA thought they could put a wedge between us — like I didn't know what you got up to.” 

“You talked to Elena today?”

You nodded, “I called to thank her. Her word would’ve been enough I think, but having two ‘Jane Smiths’ reaffirm what she was saying? There’s so much bullshit going on, in the pursuit of stopping drugs that has to end. We both know how they abuse those women.” You reached up and brushed your fingers over his cheek, leaning up on your toes to kiss him. 

He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him. “Think they’ll try to track down Matias next?” 

You let out an incredulous laugh at that, “God, I don��t even know what happened to him.” You admitted, “I doubt they’d be able to track him down.” He had been a sweet young man you’d spent a handful of evenings with in the pursuit of intel nearly a decade ago. “It’s not like you don’t know.” 

Javier dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and nodded slowly, “It’s just fucking bullshit. Even if it exonerated us.” He sighed heavily, “I should’ve cancelled class. Standing up there trying to keep on topic — knowing they’ve just read an article with three women who I’ve fucked.”

“Technically five.” You pointed, clarifying when he arched a brow.  “Elena, Valerie, and Mia, Lorraine, and myself.” 

He made a face, feigning disgust before he released you. “I hadn’t realized the DEA would be so determined to punch below the belt.”

“Because bribing Monica to say you’d fucked her was above the belt?” You pointed out as you moved to grab two buns out of the bag, throwing them on the plates and using a spatula to pick up the chicken patties and place them on each bun. 

“Alright, alright. You’re making valid points.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “One day the girls are going to see these articles.” 

“Then we’ll explain to them that sex workers deserve more praise and credit than they’re currently afforded.” You stated simply, “And that there’s nothing wrong about being sexually active — like we were, before we got together.” You shrugged. 

“You wanna have that conversation with them?”

You shrugged, licking your thumb clean after you got mayonnaise on it, “Sure. It doesn’t bother me.” 

Javier pinched at the bridge of his nose for a moment before he started plating up his chicken sandwich, “You got cheese?”

“Hang on,” You headed for the fridge, pulling the door open and rummaging around in the deli drawer. “Swiss or cheddar?”

“Do we have any of the pepperjack left?”

You hummed as you pulled open a drawer below, grabbing the bag of pepperjack cheese. “You’re in luck. I hid it the last time Nadia was here.” You tossed it onto the counter beside him, “That girl loves cheese.” 

“Monica wasn’t in class today,” Javier stated, throwing two pieces of cheese onto his chicken patty before topping it off with the bun, “Did you hear from her today? I meant to call but got pulled into meetings.” 

“I called her this morning at work,” You told him as you stowed the mayo back in the fridge. “She’s still pretty skittish after everything that happened.” You explained, smiling when you returned to your plate and Javier had scooped up a spoonful of wild rice for you. “Thanks, babe.” 

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Anytime.” Javier gave your ass a playful swat before he headed for the kitchen table. “She’s got office hours with me tomorrow.” 

“I wouldn’t make a big deal about it,” You cautioned him as you sat down across from him at the table. “Honestly, she seemed fine. She just wanted to skip today.” You took a bite of your sandwich, before washing it down with a swig of beer. “I can’t wait for all of this to be over with.” 

“You and me both, baby.” Javier retorted, covering his mouth with his fist as he spoke with his mouth full. “I want them to fucking pay for their bullshit and let us get on with our lives.” 

You nodded your head slowly, “Everyone at the P.D. has been so supportive. They’re far from perfect, but they at least recognize what the DEA’s been doing is morally and ethically wrong.” 

Javier rocked his jaw slowly as he stared at you across the table, “You still thinking about quitting?”

“All the time,” You admitted with a shrug. “I just want to get through this first. The DEA’s been such a dark shadow for so many years.” 

“Once this is over, I feel like we’ll be able to really live.” 

“Right?” You agreed with a grin, “Connie thinks we should go on vacation.” 

“As soon as this semester’s over.” 

You leaned across the table and took his hand into yours, giving it three short squeezes. “There’s a part of me that is stupidly excited about my name finally being attached to yours in the record books. And Steve’s, of course. It’s bizarre to see our lives laid out in the newspaper, but at the same time — I love it.” 

“Me too, baby.” Javier grinned at you, “It means no more hiding.” 

[shittyfandomimagines]

Tired with Paper Bags

Idk what this is... I wrote it in 15 mins so it’s probably trash

Pure fluff with some tired cute fluff, GIF creds to owner

“Sorry to drag you along with me to the store, we can always go back home and I’ll come back later. I know you’re exhausted from work and it’s your first week back. I should’ve shopped beforehand.” I was a blubbering mess and he just gave me a tired grin.

“Anywhere you are is home.” He grins and I roll my eyes. “Literally shut the fuck up you cringe-full fool.” I go to shove his shoulder and he grabs my hand to pull me into his side. “I’m kidding, well not really, but I’m fine with just going to a store at 9 p.m.” Calum’s infectiously goofy smile made me grin too.

“Are you sure, I’m sorry I didn’t shop beforehand,” I mumble as I grab a cart and start making my way towards the dairy section. “You’ve been busy with finals all week, you’ve been just as busy so don’t worry about it.” He kisses the side of my head and I smile more. “I appreciate that.”

“So like, can I get some cookie dough?”

“You’re a multi-millionaire and you’re asking me if you can get cookie dough, really?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I shake my head as he puts a few packages of cookie dough into the basket as I pick up some eggs. I grab some cheese sticks and a gallon of milk. “There’s honestly two types of shoppers.” He jokes as he watches me pick up the essentials.

“Well, budgeting is a lifestyle, Cal.” I poke fun and he sticks his tongue out.

I move towards the cereal, he eats the shit out of that more than anything. I pull the Froot Loops and Cap’n Crunch family size boxes as he just follows behind like a lost puppy.

I continue shopping that way for a while before I ended up in the clothes section. I had gotten so sidetracked from finishing groceries. I look up to ask Cal about a shirt but I stopped in my tracks when I see his droopy eyes and a big yawn escaping.

I put the shirt down and grab his warm hand, he blinked so slowly and it made me feel guilty for keeping him up. “Let’s checkout. You’re exhausted.” I give a small smile and head towards the line, he stood behind me with his arms wrapped around the front of me.

He sluggishly helped me unload the cart onto the conveyor belt, I stand in front of the card reader waiting for the guy to finish up, Cal graciously loaded them into the cart again after they were bagged.

The total comes up and I pull my card out, Calum booty-bumping me out of the way and swiping his card before I even had the chance to. I pout a little but I see his competitive smile and I roll my eyes.

We give our goodbyes to the cashier and make our way to the car. “I could’ve paid tonight, you didn’t have to,” I mumble and he chuckles. “Yeah I know, but as you said, I am a multi-millionaire.” He acts like he was bragging and I snicker quietly.

We load up the trunk and put the cart back, I snatch the keys from Calum’s hand and run to the driver's seat, jumping in before he could physically remove me.

“Babyyyyy,” he strung out the last letter and continued to get into the passenger side. “Babe, your bags under your eyes are sponsored by Gucci and Jet-Lag, I can drive home.” I revved up the car and backed out.

Between the cool air, dark skies, and his already present drowsiness, he was out by the time I made it onto the interstate.

——

I carefully and quietly unloaded the car with it running, I have never sprinted back and forth so fast just to get it done. I wanted Cal to sleep as long as he could so he didn’t feel obligated to help when he was this exhausted.

“Calum, baby, we’re home.” I shake his right shoulder gently, he stretched slightly before releasing the seatbelt. I help him out and start towards the front door. “Baby, the groceries.” He mumbled and I laughed to myself. “They’re inside already, cmon.”

Once inside I lead him to the living room to sit for a while, I unloaded the groceries quickly, I could see his sleepy figure on the couch. I smiled to myself as he was trying so hard to stay awake.

I folded up the paper bags and stick them beside the fridge. “Hey babe, are you ready to go to bed?” I ask and he slowly nods, standing up even slower.

I grab his hand as we ascend the staircase, I couldn’t wait to be his arms but also our bed.

Once we made it to our room, we both strip down and he hands me the shirt he was wearing, I slipped it over me quickly. He flopped in bed and I was close in pursuit.

“Thank you for unloading the groceries, I’m sorry I didn’t help at all.”

“I’m sorry I made you go out, I knew you were tired and I should’ve either waited or went earlier. I’m sorry.”

The guilt built more when I saw his baggy eyes blink so slowly. He pushed some tiny hairs away from my face and then just brushed my face with his calloused fingers.

“Babe, stop feeling guilty about that, I’m not concerned about it. We both survived, slowly and tiredly, but we made it out with cookie dough.” He joked so quietly, the tiredness seems to take away the volume.

“You’re goofy babe,” I slightly laugh and he grins softly.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asks and I nod, weird to ask considering we were always honest.

“You keep apologizing and it reminds me of when you took me home to your parents like the 3rd time. You were very hangry and making cookies from scratch, you had just put them in the oven and then loaded up the dishwasher. I hopped onto the counter to sit and I just took time to admire you, per usual, but it felt so wholesome,” I go to open my mouth to talk about how I didn’t know what he was talking about, he lays his hand over it.

“Your mom came in, saw us and she jokingly said something along the lines of ‘you’re forcing a millionaire to watch you make cookies, doesn’t he have anything better to do.’ She walked out of the room and you apologized the whole time because you figured it was accurate but it wasn’t. It still isn’t. I knew when I got to watch you work you're way around the house and just made cookies so peacefully with me, I knew I wanted to see it again years down the road. I wanted to see you being my best friend as we got to do subtle yet loving things, and I get to do that. So, you inviting me to go shop because you still wanted to spend time with my tired ass and even letting me sleep through your whole unloading session, buying my favorite cereals without thought, or even thinking you’d pay for groceries... you just you make up my whole life. I wouldn’t change cookie making or tired grocery shopping for anything. Literally anything.” His speech was so slurred and slow from drowsiness but it still made me grin ear to ear.

“I’m gonna have to ship you around a plane for a couple of hours a day so you’re jet-lagged, you’re a lot more sentimental and cute.” I joke and kiss his forehead softly.

“I just really love you.” He mumbled and I could tell all of the energy went into the speech.

“Calum, I love you more than life. I would sell my left kidney just to make sure I got to spend time with you. I cherish any moment or memory I get to share with you.” I run my thumb over his silver hairline. He smiled so warmly and tiredly.

“Why your left one? Not the right?” He mumbled and I snickered. “I was hoping I could get more for it being my left.”

“Baby, I’m so tired and I want to stay up to talk about kidneys and my love for you, but I’m so tired.” He whined and I kissed his pouty lips quickly.

“Good night babe, I love you forever.”

“Night, I love you and your kidneys”.