#and the impending far right takeover of the US

[oreoambitions]

sometimes it's all just a lil too much ykwim

[darkmatters-ghost]

While I know that the Sonic Boom cartoon show hype is probably super dead, the way Sonic and Eggman interact has me convinced Eggman did SOME parenting when Sonic was tiny, so here's my headcanon for that. Enjoy!

While Eggman could conquer the island he lived at, Bygone Island, the one he found nearby would be much easier, hypothetically anyway.

While Seaside Island was redundantly named, it was much more his style. The villages on it were smaller and meeker. They had no real way to fight back against his takeover! Which made it the perfect starting point for his upcoming break in his villainy career! If he took that island, surely that would've made his father proud!

Unfortunately, 'if' is the key word in that sentence.

The little blue hedgehog was no older than five years old, but despite his youth, he sucessfully stood between Eggman and complete control of the island.

And the little ragamuffin didn't even talk.

He never said a word, just showed up with his super speed and sharp quills and would put a stop to whatever genius plan he was making by breaking all his robots.

Eggman wished he knew the little nuisance's name, but seeing as he wasn't interested in talking, it left Eggman to hypothesize on appearance alone.

His back quills had ripped right through a shabby brown jacket that he wore, to the point where it wouldn't work as a jacket much longer. His gloves were constantly dirty, and no one on the forsaken island admitted who his parents were. It was like he suddenly existed one day! With no explanation!

The blue hedgehog was often running at ludicrous speeds. Speeds that, depending on the day, neared the sound barrier!

Eggman feared the day that the little blueberry would create a sonic boom.

The 'impending-sonic-boom' as he began to call the hedgehog was rather unpredictible. It all fell on a scale. Going extremely fast one day, sticking his tounge out at him and humming mocking songs, to going at what must've been like a meer jog to him, with no aknowledgement of Eggman at all the next day.

But one day, things were far more unpredictable than Eggman had bargined for.

He was racing the impending-sonic-boom in the Eggmobile. There was no hope of winning, just like there was no hope for his receeding hairline, but he needed a test. He couldn't create a robotic duplicate without anything to base it on! So it didn't matter that there was no hope of winning!

Eggman didn't need to be fancy with it, he just told the five year old koolaid stain that if he reached the end of the course before the rodent did, that he would offically own the island. And being five years old, he took it seriously.

There was no hope of winning. Not with the determination on the little guy's face.

So one can imagine the confusion that Eggman was met with when he won.

It didn't make any sense! He wasn't even- It was just the Eggmobile! It was nothing fancy! That sound-barrier-threatening-lifeform was much faster than that!

Eggman got off of his Eggmobile and stared at the folliage in front of him. Waiting to see blue quills poking out from the tall grass.

"Oh, Blueberry! I'm waaaaiting!"

It took another three seconds for the kid to show up. And when he did, he looked tired.

"Kid, you gotta be faster than that! You're not doing this on purpose are you? If this is just to spite me..."

The rodent shook his head. Eggman wouldn't have believed him if he didn't look so tired.

"Then what gives!? You can't just suddenly be slow! It's narratively inconsistent!"

The blue menace looked up at Eggman with an angry look.

"No... foo." Eggman flinched. He just spoke. He just... SPOKE.

"What? What did you say?"

"No foo...d! No food... No... fast!"

"Your speed depends on your diet?" Eggman tapped his chin, before grinning smugly. "What, did you miss your peanut butter sandwich for lunch?"

He was promptly glared at. "Okay! Geez!" Eggman tapped his gauntlet, and used it to scan the incoming-sonic-boom.

"Let's see, you're about five years old, according to your inteligence and fine motor skills... and you're one foot tall so you should weigh roughly..."

Eggman's stomach sank. He knew for a fact that the arriving-sonic-boom wasn't hitting that number. Not by a lot... Eggman could pick him up like he was a beach ball.

"When did you last eat..?"

Nothing. Nothing but staring.

"Yesterday? ...No? How about the day before? Th-the day before that? Five days ago? How about a week ago?!"

It wasn't until they hit a week and a half that the sonic-boom-in-progress pointed at Eggman. Signifying the correct timeframe

Eggman stared at the incoming-sonic-boom. For anyone, that would be damaging. For a five year old, that was almost a death sentence.

Eggman crouched down to the sonic-boom-creator and put a thumb under his chin. He squirmed violently and pushed Eggman's hand away as he stepped back.

But Eggman saw what he needed to see. There was almost no fat on his face. He was horribly underweight.

Eggman was a villain. Not a monster.

The hedgehog wiped his face, as if Eggman had gotten something on it by touching him.

"Hmm. Well, you're clearly malnourished. I can't declare victory under those circumstances! That would be cheating! Looks like you win this time, hedgehog! Now, come along! We have work to do."

The hedgehog looked up at him in–adorable–confusion. Eggman stood back up on his Eggmobile.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Hop on!"

The inevitable-sonic-boom inched towards it slowly. He gently tapped the base of the Eggmobile. When nothing happened, he looked back up to Eggman. Who groaned.

"Fine, I promise I won't hurt you, got it?"

The sonic-boom stared even more, before inevitably going for it and climbing onto the Eggmobile like a toddler.

It wasn't tipped in the slightest by the extra weight, which reminded Eggman why he was doing this at all.

His Eggmobile floated upwards and flew off. It quickly left Seaside island and then there was nothing but water below them.

He didn't expect the oncoming-sonic-boom to whimper at the sight of the ocean.

Eggman glanced down in time to see him curl up, hiding between his legs and the lower wall of the Eggmobile.

When the sonic-boom leaned against him for support, he winced and stepped back.

"Watch the quills, you blue nuisance!" He yelled.

It didn't stop the incoming-sonic-boom from grabbing him, but at least he was more careful.

Eggman had to remind himself, that the sonic-boom was a little malnourished kid, because he almost made too much food. Twice. The rodent's stomach would be small, too small for him to give the blue guy a full child-sized meal. Unless he wanted the sonic-boom throwing up on Eggman's floor.

Once Eggman had handed him a plate of food, his skittish attitude towards being on an island nowhere near his old one vanished completely. Eggman's place was a chunk of earth and lava broken off of the bygone island, yet it felt safer than the previous island, when it came to that Sonic-Boom of a hedgehog's wellbeing, at least.

The blue stain in his life stood on a chair, his tail wagging excitedly as he immediately started eating what was on his plate. Apple slices, a hot dog cut into little pieces, crackers, and even a juicebox. It might've still been too much.

Eggman watched as sonic-boom ate. Making sure that he was properly eating. It would be a waste if all his cooking didn't help out the blue rat at all.

When he was mostly done with his food, Eggman decided that enough was enough.

"Alright you menacing blue fiend," he said. "I'm going to watch television on my floating screen. Don't break anything."

He walked over to the TV, grabbed the remote, and sat down.

"Maybe I'll watch that new comedy show with the monkey-ape-thing, that should be interesting."

No more than a few minutes had passed before The Sonic-boom came into the room and jumped onto the couch.

"What do you want now? I already fed you!"

The Sonic-boom yawned and crawled onto his lap, before half-tucking into a ball and closing his eyes.

"Ohh, no you don't!" Eggman said, he picked Sonic-boom up by the back quills and pulled him off of his lap. He set him down on the couch next to him. He whined annoyingly. Before racing back on. Great. Looks like that speed is kicking in...

"No, off!"

He raced back on.

"No, off!"

He raced back on.

"No, OFF!"

He raced back on, again. Eggman grit his teeth. "NO, OFF, SONIC!"

Eggman was so caught up in the stupid game that he forgot the rest of the blue hedgehog's title. He didn't care much however, because he had raced back on and clung to him for all he was worth. Eggman sighed and decided that he didn't care enough. He wasn't willing to do this all day, after all.

The Sonic sighed happily, and purred for a moment before he fell asleep.

And if Eggman freaked out? Well, at least it stayed on the inside.

[7grandmel]

Todays rips: 31/03/2024

Your Best Nightmario and Bowser's Finale

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume C

Ripped by Blookerstein

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume C

Ripped by Blookerstein, Sarvéproductions

Requested by themessengervevo! (@themessengervevo)

You KNEW this day was coming. Surely, right? Its March 31st, a landmark day in gaming history. The day that Super Mario died. The day we lost him to time forever. And the day that spawned perhaps the greatest April Fools event on all of SiIvaGunner. For me, its no contest - Your Best Nightmario and Bowser's Finale, and the entire event they were part of, were the absolute highlight of Season 5.

The April Fools events held prior on the channel since their very beginnings with Grand Dad Metropolis had all been presented as complete surprises. That is perhaps a given - it is in the nature of a prank to be surprising - but it's also where the Season 5 event differs most even today, in that its theme was all but known to us well beforehand. Announced on September 3rd of 2020 as part of a bizarre marketing tactic to drive up demand, Nintendo had let us known that their newfangled Mario celebration releases in Super Mario 3D All-Stars and Super Mario Bros. 35, would both be delisted from sale after March 31st. Super Mario Bros. 35 stung in its own right - it is effectively lost media now as a digital-only, online-only game, but Super Mario 3D All-Stars contained three of Nintendo's most celebrated games, games that had no reason to stop being sold just for a cheap trick. Everyone rightfully denoted how scummy of a tactic this was to drive up sales, but more than that: the imagery of Nintendo celebrating Mario's birthday by killing his games - and by proxy, killing Mario himself - was a joke that online spaces just ran absolutely rampant with. And can you blame them? That IS funny as shit, and reframes Nintendo's slimy marketing into something that makes them look far worse. Because of the joke's sheer prevalence, I had the same thought as many others in the early days of 2021 - there was *no way* that the SiIvaGunner team were blind to the potential this gag had, and how well it lined up with their previous explosive festivities just a day after. By March 29th, they even teased the event's start with three daily rips of The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, a game all about impending doom affecting the world in just three days, with each rip featuring the melody of one of the three 3D Mario games in the collection.

And sure enough, the day came. With March 31st, we saw a whole day of nothing but Mario rips and Mario-related jokes in other rips - a last hurrah for his life - all ending with Super 3D All-Stars Music S64 Game Over. Just like that, he was gone - faded from the video, faded from view. Yet few of us could've predicted just how dire things would get.

In SiIvaGunner lore, the term "Figment" refers to the personification a meme or joke on the channel takes, its characterized state - think Mr. Rental in Mr. Rental [B Side] ~ Out of Options or Inspector Gadget in Become as Gadget and throughout his two takeovers. When a figment based on a real human dies, it can easily be reborn - the human itself lives on in the real world, after all, and can recreate the essence of its Figment in a variety of ways. But when a purely fictional Figment dies...its erased from all history. As if it had never existed to begin with, all traces of it are wiped from memory, wiped from the very state of having ever existed. And under Nintendo's very own Gulliotine, this was the fate Super Mario himself succumbed to. As a result every single Super Mario-series rip uploaded in the channel's five-year run, be they Kart, Sports, Paper or just outright Super, was set to private on the SiIvaGunner channel. And as April 1st of 2021 went on, it seemed to be harder and harder to remember the name of that mustachioed man. Had someone like that...ever existed?

I'm certain a lot of what I'm writing here is familiar ground to many of you reading, but I really want to convey just how incredibly well-done this atmosphere was. Throughout April 1st, fifty-five rips were uploaded, many of which featuring games that seemed just...the slighest bit off. The opening to the classic Philips CD-i game "Hotel", where a lone Luigi talks to himself; The underwater music featured in the SNES Launch title "Super World" with a bizarrely-lopsided logo, and most prominently - games like Super M̸̌̊a̴͛̿█̸͌̑i̵̛͊█̷̾̓ 64, Super M̸̌̊a̴͛̿█̸͌̑i̵̛͊█̷̾̓ Sunshine and Super █̴̧̀a̵̤̐r̷̙̋█̶̰̆o̶͚̚ Galaxy, three games that were bound by a strange malfunction in their presentation, as if they're collectively...held back by something. Or someone.

Your Best Nightmario stood out as the centerpiece of it all, with a title yet more bizarrely mangled than the rest - Super 👉█̸͌̑█̷̾̓😁̶̆͠☼̷̇̃👈̸̂͑█̷̾̓█̾̓ 64. Two fingers, pointing toward a desperate smile. It's-a-me. The rip serves as an incredible multi-stage arrangement of Your Worst Nightmare from Undertale, the boss music for Flowey the Flower. Its already incredibly befitting on the surface level - Undertale is at once one of SiIva's most prominently-ripped games, and a game very much about the state of living game characters have, the idea of how characters in games can affect you in a way that makes them worth remembering for all time. And though the rip is initially in line with the instrumentation of the original Ultimate Koopa theme, it uses the segmented style-shifting sections of Your Worst Nightmare to arrange music from other Nintendo platforming games - the ones primarily bound by featuring characters like Luigi, Peach and Bowser within them, but ones where I can't really place my finger on who their protagonist is. As a result of all these styles and the fervent, desperate, downright nightmarish pace of the music, paired with the full-on galactic-scale orchestral sections near the rips end, it truly feels like a hopeless struggle, a plea from an unknown hero to stay alive, to not be forgotten, to not be lost to the sands of time.

The sheer atmosphere conveyed throughout the entire event was primarily carried through these rips, of course, but it cannot be understated just how much of a part the comments section played in it all. There was no confusion - the buildup had been done so well, the gag established so clearly, that EVERYONE was on board with the day's theming in the comments, and "playing along" with the story's theme. Everyone reminisced and had fond memories of all these games - New Super Bros., Luigi: Superstar Saga, Super 64 DS, and more - yet we were all collectively wondering why things felt so different from before. It was the most fun collective gaslighting I've ever been part of.

As the day came to an end, Mario's fate seemed to be set - the entirety of April 2nd was silent, except for one rip that confirmed that even our beloved Gangsta Mario (see Caramariodansen) was lost. Yet on April 3rd, we were all finally met with Bowser's Finale, a direct followup to Your Best Nightmario by its very same ripper. Blookerstein, the legend behind The expanse of meme in past was split, A fiendish trap has now been set; Behind a tree the villains sit, Terror of sport, the Robbie's Net., this time aided by Sarvéproductions of Goodbye To Love fame, created the absolute perfect way to round out the event - a return to the desperate battle that had once seemed lost, now with the music of Finale instead of Your Worst Nightmare to indicate the turning of the tides - that this legend, nay, SUPER MARIO, was not going to give up. This figment did not deserve to leave us - and Bowser's Finale was his last stand. The excitement in the air, in the comments section, was palpable.

Finale is already an incredible theme, and one that some of us even have some emotional attachment to in the context of SiIva - remember Aphex all the way back in Season 1? Bowser's Finale leverages those feelings, and the theming set up throughout the event as a whole, to incredible effect, with the same structure of going through the styles of various Mario music to rising dramatic effect. Super Mario 64, Super Mario Sunshine, Super Mario Galaxy - the first two using songs like Slider and A Secret Course that are beloved by so many SiIvaGunner viewers, the third hitting a emotional gutpunch in its orchestral instrumentation, and all three bound together as the games that started this whole thing, the games part of the 3D All-Stars collection. It is with no exaggeration a pitch-perfect rendition of this idea, better than anything I could've ever anticipated before the event began - once again only elevated through the sheer sense of community the entire comments section held through it all, cheering Mario on, collectively remembering his existence - fighting to bring this lost figment back to reality.

Y'know, I've been critical of Season 5 in the past - it is likely still the Season of the channel I was "least" invested in taken on the whole. That is in large part due to its lack of ties to the channel's ongoing lore, as it was focused primarily on self-contained events just like this one. But GOD, those events. I still see people online today who are less in touch with what SiIvaGunner does, who cite this event - "The Disappearance of Super Mario", as some call it - as the absolute peak of SiIvaGunner's output past the Season 1 finale. I wouldn't necessarily agree - but the event was undoubtedly unforgettable, at once an incredible execution of a long-anticipated bit, surprisingly emotionally gripping, whilst also being subtly tied to the very canon and theming of the SiIvaGunner channel itself. I chose to highlight Your Best Nightmario and Bowser's Finale in particular today, but I emplore you to go watch the entire event yourself through the fanmade YouTube playlists - if nothing else to see just how committed to the bit everyone involved truly was.

But don't forget: There's more to this tale yet to be retold.

[irishseeeker]

                                  rules don’t apply 

Having a crush on your boss is embarrassing. Inappropriate. Wrong. Especially when your boss is Anthony Bridgerton, the most insufferable man on the planet whom you actively despise.

What does Kate have to say on the matter?

…No comment.

–

read chapter 1 here or here

read chapter 2 here or  here

read chapter 3: here or here

read chapter 4 here or here 

---

chapter 5: an (unadvised, unprofessional, unconventional) agreement

---

“I’m worried about you.”

Kate paused, the large scoop of green tea ice cream inches anyway from her mouth. Edwina and Kate had gone straight to Marys after an eventful brunch at the Bridgertons, spending the rest of the evening at hers and eating dinner. Since Edwina had told Mary the events of the morning and afternoon, Mary hadn’t stopped giving Kate the look.

Kate knew the impending inquisition was lurking all evening.

Mary had never been a parent to give out to her children. Kate couldn’t even remember a time Mary had raised her voice at Edwina or Kate. Mary took the disappointed route.

That was much worse. Her father used to shout at her and be done with it, Mary would sigh loudly, shake her head and eventually come out with, “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.”

So when there was something amiss or something she wanted to talk about, Mary would sigh, cast those pointed looks at Kate or Edwina until she eventually came out with what was on her mind when she had one of them cornered.

She had given Kate the talk when she was in the bath.

Like right now, when Kate was sitting in the living room distracted by ice cream and Edwina had gone to take a second shower because she was convinced she still stunk of pond water.

“Mary,” Kate started slowly, putting her spoon back into the ice cream tub. “I’m fine.”

“Kate, I worry you work too hard. You’ve always worked so hard and you know how incredibly proud I am of you,” Mary said, pausing to reach over to pat Kate’s hand. “I’m worried you’re not putting yourself out there more. I want you to enjoy your life.”

Kate felt something inside of her chest sting a little. She took a deep breath, trying not to let the anger bubbling inside of her takeover. Kate knew Mary was coming from a good place. She did. She wanted what was best for her. This wasn’t the first time she had been worried about Kate’s social life.

It was difficult sometimes, having a sister like Edwina. Kate hated herself for thinking it, she loved Ed more than anything in this world. Ed was her best friend.

It was just exhausting constantly being compared to her. Edwina had always flocks of friends throughout her entire life, whereas Kate had them, there just wasn’t many of them. It had been hard to keep up with her friends from school when she went to university. She had made lovely ones in university, but then they had all moved to different places when university ended. They chatted often and met up every few months, but it wasn’t the same as it had been when they’d seen each other everyday.

Then there was the boyfriends.

Well, boyfriend.

Kate had only introduced one boyfriend to Mary and Edwina. He had been the only guy she could introduce them to. Edwina had always had boyfriends or boys who wanted to be hers. Why wouldn’t they? She was beautiful and she was Edwina.

Kate was...Kate.

It was her only relationship in her twenty-nine years of (pitiful) existence. His name was Mark and they had dated for a year in university when Kate was twenty-one. They had broken up when university ended, Mark moved to Edinburgh and Kate to London. Long distance wasn’t something they were interested in. Breaking up had been the practical thing to do.

It still hurt, not because of him but because the one relationship she had ended because it was the practical thing to do.

She hadn’t dated on and off since then, but work got busier and busier and nothing ever was serious. Kate was better on her own. It was easier that way.

“I am enjoying my life,” Kate said, abandoning the ice cream entirely. She wasn’t in the mood anymore. “I work hard because I love my job and I want to be successful. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy my life, Mary. Just because I’m not like Edwina doesn’t mean I’m not okay.”

Mary let out a deep sigh. This wasn’t the first time one of their conversations had led to this point. “That’s not what I meant, Kate. This has nothing to do with Edwina. This is you we’re talking about. When was the last time you went out with your friends? Or on a date?”

“Ah,” Kate said, everything clicking into place. It always came back to her non-existent dating life. “So this is an interrogation about my dating life.”

“Is it such a crime to be interested in my daughter’s life?” Mary’s tone sharpened slightly and Kate felt a tiny bit guilty. “Do you remember my friend Bernadette? She came into the cafe the other day. She has a lovely son your age who happens to be single.”

Kate’s head fell back, groaning loudly as the guilt she had been feeling quickly faded into stress. Not this again. “Mary. No.”

“Why not? He’s a solicitor! He’s very handsome,” Mary said, picking up her phone and glasses before tapping on the screen with her index finger slowly. “Bernadette showed me a picture. Here, look.”

“I don’t need my mother setting me up, that’s why!” Kate’s eyes flicked towards the door, praying Edwina would appear any moment to put this excruciating conversation to a stop. Well, actually Edwina would probably join in. Her family had a lot to say about her non-existence dating life. “My dating life is private and it’s going perfectly fine.”

“I would understand you not wanting to meet someone else,” Mary had a very suspicious look on her face and she looked slightly amused, tilting her chin up in the air with a small smirk. It made Kate uneasy. “I suppose, it would make sense. If there was something going on between you and Anthony Bridgerton.”

Kate gasped. Her head was still swirling from the events of the day and the fact that he had said I didn’t do it for them, Kate. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind since. “Mary! He’s my boss.”

“He’s also a man,” Mary replied quickly. “An attractive man that you have not stopped talking about since you started working there. A nice man. He’s also a man who ended up in a pond with you today and had you over for brunch.”

Kate spluttered, trying to find something comprehensive to say. What could she say? She wasn’t about to admit to her mother about the strange feelings she was having for her boss, a man she had actively loathed for so long it had become a hobby. “His mother invited us to stay for brunch. Believe me, he did not want me there.”

“Are you sure?”

Mary’s question lingered in the air.

The anxiety and uneasiness simmered in Kate’s stomach. It hadn’t left her since she had left the Bridgeton's. Well, since she arrived at the Bridgertons door covered in pond water and had brunch with his family. Since he walked her out and said those words. “I didn’t jump into that pond for Edwina or Newton, Kate.”

Was Kate sure?

She had absolutely no idea.

Kate didn’t know what to expect the following Monday morning at work.

She should have expected that she would spend her day arguing with Anthony Bridgerton.

Kate had woken up feeling uneasy. She felt nervous. She woke up at seven am, an uncomfortable feeling sitting in her stomach. It remained there as she showered, washing her hair with her fancy overpriced shampoo and conditioner that was only meant for special occasions.

Today wasn’t a special occasion. It was a Monday.

She blow dried her hair, putting a few extra minutes into styling her hair and straightening her usual curls. She even spent ten minutes torturing herself by putting on eyeliner. What was she doing? Why was she putting a significant amount of effort into how she looked? Why did it feel like she was compensating for something?

This wasn’t her.

It was just another normal day at work.

But it wasn’t.

Most of the people at work would have seen the article that came out over the weekend. Most of them, London really, read Whistledown. They would have seen the pictures of Kate and Anthony. They’d be presuming things. They would also be wondering what the hell was someone like Anthony Bridgerton doing with someone like Kate?

Men like Anthony Bridgerton didn’t go for women like Kate.

She didn’t need to be reminded of it.

Kate wanted to disappear. She didn’t want to go into work. She debated taking a sick day, which she hadn’t taken once willingly during her entire time working at Bridgerton & Family. Kate had been forced to leave work once after she fainted presenting during a meeting. It had been last summer during London’s heatwave and it was a day full of budget deadlines and presenting them to the board.

Kate had been working so hard in the last year to be eligible for a promotion. That finance manager role was hers.

Kate just needed to prove it.

She would have stayed presenting if it wasn’t for Anthony Bridgerton and his saviour complex.

Anthony had forced her to go home after she insisted she was fine, even going as far as calling Mary, who she had down as her emergency contact at work, to take her home. Kate couldn’t escape Mary’s clutches after that. Mary would have dragged her out of that office herself if she had to.

Mary had loved Anthony since then, of course.

Kate just found him more irritating.

Kate stood in front of her closet, glancing between her usual pant suits, tops and skirts and a few dresses she never really had the nerve to wear. A few of them had been gifts that Edwina had gotten for free from shows that didn’t fit her and some had been impulse buys Kate had loved but hadn’t worn yet.

She always managed to convince herself out of wearing them. It was too tight or she was too bloated or her arms looked strange. Her self-consciousness won every time. Edwina wouldn’t think twice about wearing what she wanted. Kate wanted to be the girl who wore what she wanted. She always went with the safer option, a simple shirt, top or skirt.

That wasn’t going to be today.

She needed a lot of nerve today. She picked out a long sleeved black ribbed dress she had bought on a whim a few weeks ago, that was tight around her waist and had a sweetheart neckline with a pair of black heels.

Kate kissed Newton goodbye and left her flat before she could change her mind. She kept her eyes glued to her phone as she arrived at work, checking her endless emails and calendar for the day as she got the elevator up to her floor and walked to her office. When she glanced around, she could hear their whispers and see people snapping their heads away from her, previously staring at her.

Deep breaths, Kate.

Thank god she had already texted Sophie to cancel her meetings for the morning.

She smiled at Sophie as she walked past her desk, relief filling her chest to see a friend. “Morning, Soph.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Kate stopped dead in her tracks, turning to glare at her assistant, who was cackling behind her computer screen. “That’s not funny.”

Sophie leaned back in her chair, the smirk still plastered on her face as she looked Kate up and down. “You look hot.”

“Thank you.” Kate fiddled with the material of her dress, smoothening it out and breathing deeply out of her nose. She didn’t need to hide behind her coat and feel self-conscious. She was bloody Kate Sheffield.

Fuck what anybody else or some gossip column had to say.

She was hot. She was qualified. She was important. She could do this.

“Dressing up for anyone special?”

Kate’s confidence dissolved into annoyance as she narrowed her eyes at Sophie, shaking her head. “Is there something you’d like to say, Sophie?”

“I don’t think there’s anything I could say that Lady Whistledown already hasn’t implied.” Sophie said, the smirk spreading further across her face.

Kate scowled. “You’re a pain in the arse.”

“You love it. Oh, Good morning Mr. Bridgerton!”

Kate gasped, turning around so quickly her arm whacked Sophie’s stapler right off her desk and onto the floor. When the doorway was empty, she turned to glare at Sophie. Shit. She needed to relax. She would inevitably see him today-he owned the bloody company. Kate would just avoid him, and the meeting he would definitely be at, until she didn’t have a choice.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sophie said, biting her lip to minimize her grin as she looked at her computer screen. “I’ll shut up now.”

Kate, desperate for Sophie’s cackling to end and a swift change of topic, remembered what happened at the gala. “Benedict Bridgerton asked me about you at the gala.”

That wiped the smirk off her face. “What?”

“He asked about you at the charity gala I went to with Edwina,” Kate said, sitting on the edge of her desk. “He seems interested. He couldn’t stop gawking at you in Anthony’s office and you couldn’t stop blushing.”

“I was not blushing,” Sophie murmured, avoiding Kate’s eyes as she tidied away some paperwork on her desk. “It wouldn’t work, anyway.”

Kate frowned, not expecting that answer from her friend, who was certainly making googly eyes back at Benedict. “Why not?”

Sophie smiled at her sweetly, also wanting to change the topic. “I think there’s only room for one romance with a Bridgerton out of the two of us.”

“That’s not funny,” Kate said dryly, knowing there wasn’t a chance she was telling Sophie about what happened at the park if this was the level of teasing she was getting from the article alone. “Or accurate-”

“Hello, Ladies.”

There was only one presence so unsettling, it made the hairs on Kate’s arm stand up and identical grimaces and frowns form on Sophie and Kate’s faces.

It belonged to a man that had enough grease in his hair than an English breakfast, a pungent stink that clung to your clothes when you were in his presence for more than five minutes and a yellowish tint to a chilling smile.

Nigel Berbrooke was the type of man women avoided at all costs.

That was difficult when you were stuck in the office next to his.

He stared down their tops and at their legs, had to touch their waists and arms every time he greeted them or moved past them, made comments about how surprising it was that there were so many women in the workplace considering their biological clocks were running out and regularly ranked them by attractiveness. The only reason he was here was because of good old nepotism and his father’s place on the company’s board.

He was a sexist, dimwitted, misogynistic pig.

Out of all the people her office had to get stuck beside, it had to be Nigel Berbrooke.

It was the very reason Kate knew someone out there was out to get her.

Their floor was covered in desks but for those who had their own offices, as small as hers may be, it was still an office and it was attached to another one. You shared an assistant with your neighbour. There were a good few offices on their floor, the larger ones detached and separate from the rest.

Kate knew it wasn’t under Anthony’s authority to relegate offices but she liked to blame him for it anyway.

It had been two years since Kate had gotten her promotion to finance manager and she had been given her own office. That’s when she met Sophie, the first assistant she’d ever had-who unfortunately, Kate had to share with Nigel Berbrooke. He had been promoted at the same time.

Kate had her eyes on that senior manager promotion that had been announced a few weeks ago and when she got it, she would be taking Sophie with her, far away from the unsettling presence of Nigel Berbrooke. They were both in the running for the promotion, both having the same management experience except Kate’s clientele and numbers were higher and better than Nigel's. She deserved it. There wasn’t a chance he was beating Kate.

That didn’t mean much. His father was involved in those types of decisions and he had a lot of influence on the board. Kate didn’t have anyone on the board vouching for her and the one person who could, Anthony, her boss-despised her.

“Kate,” He greeted, his beady eyes alarmingly wide as he leered at her. She had never hated the sound of her name more. “Are you not joining us for the meeting?”

Kate shook her head, silently exchanging an apology with Sophie who was doomed to walk across the floor with Nigel to the meeting room to take notes. “I have a client call.”

“Such a shame,” His patronizing tone as he clicked his tongue. “I do try to have my calls around meetings but we all can’t be as efficient as I am.” The bark of laughter that followed afterwards made Kate and Sophie simultaneously jump. “I suppose being organized it’s a man’s natural intuition, eh?”

Kate wasn’t in the mood. Clients didn’t want to talk to Nigel because he was, well, Nigel. “I’d hardly call you a man, Nigel.”

Sophie’s muffled snort was hard to disguise behind her hand. She wasn’t exactly trying, either. Nigel spent more time at her desk than his. Kate insisted Sophie spend as much time in her office as possible working and Kate spent any spare time with Sophie, keeping him away.

His false smile fell momentarily, staring at her in disbelief. He chose to laugh it off, “Oh, no need to be so sensitive, Kate. Did I catch you at that time of the month?”

“We better go, Mr. Berbrooke. It’s time for the team meeting.” Sophie interrupted swiftly, standing up and directing him in the direction of the meeting room before Kate committed murder on the fifth floor. Kate made a mental note to go to the bakery around the corner and grab them doughnuts for lunch.

Kate spent her morning sorting through her mountain of emails, calling a few clients, checking in on a few budgets and reviewing Anthony’s hotel proposal again. She was making edits to it, extreme edits-trying to find some type of compromise and solution.

Anthony.

When did she start calling him Anthony?

Well, she had always called him Anthony. It was his name. It had never felt right, it had always left a sour taste in her mouth. Now, it felt..normal. Right.

It shouldn’t.

The buzzer from Sophie knocked her out of her scrambled thoughts. “Kate. Violet Bridgerton is on the phone. She wants to know your dietary requirements for Kent?”

Kate’s stomach dropped, internally panicking. Kent? It took her a few seconds to remember. That party Violet had mentioned. At their family house. In Kent. Bloody hell, there were too many Bridgertons to avoid before 11am. She pressed “Please tell her I’m sorry and I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back as soon as I can but it’s unlikely I’ll be able to make Kent. Thanks Soph.”

Kate banged her head against the desk, groaning loudly. This time, a beep from her computer made her lift her head off her desk.

Her chat popped up.

Anthony Bridgerton: Why weren’t you at the meeting?

Her heart stopped then began beating rapidly, echoing in her ears. Kate sat up straighter, her fingers lingering over her keyboard as she thought of a reply. He had never messaged her, he had emailed-usually to complain or with a snotty message-but he had never chatted with her before.

Kate Sheffield:Good morning to you too, Mr. Bridgerton.

Anthony Bridgerton:Anthony.

Anthony Bridgerton: Good morning.

Kate Sheffield: Something came up, I had to make a few calls. Did you not get my message?

Anthony Bridgerton: I did.

Kate: Sophie ran through the minutes with me and everything seemed to be in order. Was there something you needed?

“Kate?” Sophie's voice rang through the intercom, snapping Kate out of her intense staring competition with her computer screen as she watched the three dots beside his name bounce up and down, waiting for his reply.

“Yeah Soph?”

“You’re wanted in HR.”

Kate felt her stomach drop. Not today. Please, not today. "Oh god. Is it-"

"Yup. Agatha Danbury."

Someone was truly out to get her. "Bloody hell."

Nothing good came from a meeting with Agatha Danbury. The famous head of Human Resources who knew everything about everyone and it usually wasn’t good.

Kate admired her but she was equally terrified of her. “Did she say why?”

“No but she asked if you could come down now. Well, asked is putting it lightly. More like demanded.”

Sophie saluted her as Kate stepped out of her office and made her way to the lift, stepping into it, clicking the button for the second floor.

“Hold it.” A voice shouted, Kate quickly holding her hand out to stop the doors from closing and gulped when she realized seconds later who it was, coming face to face with Anthony Bridgerton.

“Kate.”

Kate visibly gulped, quickly breaking their uncomfortable eye contact and pressing the close the doors button. “Mr. Bridgerton.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds, Kate focused on the floor numbers slowly falling to the correct floor. He looked good today. His black suit didn’t have a wrinkle in sight, neatly fitting him but it wasn’t too tight, it was just the perfect fit to show the outline of his muscular arms without straining the fabric.

Stop thinking about his arms, Kate.

“How are you?” His deep voice, still waking up from the slight croak in his voice, snapped her out of her thoughts.

This was so awkward. She could feel her palms beginning to sweat, the clamminess making her silver ring slip up and down her index finger. “I’m...good, thank you. How are you?”

“Good, thank you.” It was so polite, so robotic, so unlike them.

Kate chose not to respond, choosing awkward silence over whatever this conversation was. It was barely a conversation, more an exchange of plastic, uncomfortable words as the events of the weekend and his

Anthony, regrettably, chose to open his mouth.

“You look different.”

Kate snapped her head to look at him. “What?”

“It’s your hair,” He said, moving his head up and down, his expression unreadable as he inspected her straightened hair, different from her usual bushy curls. “I liked your hair before.”

Now they were back to normal. Kate felt the familiar rage fill her body, the tension making her neck sore and shoulders heavy. “I don’t remember asking.”

He let out a harsh breath, shaking his head slightly as a flash of regret washed across his face. “I didn’t mean-“

The doors opened and Kate practically jumped out of them, not hearing the end of his sentence as she made her way towards the head of Human Resources office, Miss Agatha Danbury.

Kate checked in with her secretary, who informed Agatha Kate was waiting for her. The anxiety brewed in her stomach, making her feel nauseous and she felt so uncomfortable. It felt like her dress was clinging to her and she couldn’t stop fiddling with her hair.

The last person she wanted to see appeared beside her, checking in with Miss Danbury’s secretary, who blushed as Anthony spoke. He looked apprehensive as he approached Kate, a guilty look on his face. “I have a meeting with Danbury.”

Kate frowned, the anxiety in her stomach warping into pure nausea as reality set in. “So do I.”

“Ah” Agatha Danbury said, holding her arms out as she smirked at the pair of them. “If it isn’t the couple of the hour. Please, come in.”

Kate shot a look of alarm at Anthony, who didn’t look phased in the slightest. His calmness only provoked Kate more. They stepped into her office, closing the door behind them as they took a seat in front of her desk.

“Miss Danbury.”

“Anthony, Kate,” Her smirk only widened as she spoke, twirling a pen in her hand on her desk. “I’m sure we’re on a first name basis at this point in our careers.”

“I hoped I’d see more of you two after the charity run incident last year,” Miss Danbury said, her eyes lighting up with amusement as she recalled the events of last year. “That was quite entertaining.”

They had spent the entire run trying to beat each other.

Kate crossed her arms. “Not because of me.”

Anthony scoffed, shaking his head. “You pushed me!”

“You deliberately cut me off-“

This time, he actually snorted. “I’m faster and you’re a sore loser.”

Kate gasped. “I only lost because you cheated-“

Miss Danbury swiftly interrupted their conversation, knowing if she didn’t they could go on arguing forever. “I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

Kate shook her head.

“I have to say, I’m not surprised. I always thought there was something more going on here. But rules are rules.”

They stared blankly at her. Miss Danbury frowned slightly, staring at the two of them with a slightly frustrated look. Her message wasn’t clicking. “One of the requirements of being in a relationship is disclosing it.”

Kate looked at her horrified, the ball finally dropping.

Anthony snickered under his breath.

“There is absolutely not-”

“Agatha,” Anthony said sweetly, in a tone so polite it made Kate’s skin crawl. He certainly didn’t reserve it for her. “Could I speak to Kate alone for a second? If you would be so kind.”

He didn’t fool Miss Danbury, who smirked before nodding her head slowly, making her way towards the door. “Of course. I’ll check in with my assistant.”

Kate had no doubt she would be listening in through the intercom.

“What?” Kate hissed, glancing back at the door and back to glare at him.

Anthony, who was thinking exactly like Kate, covered the intercom with his hand as soon as Miss Danbury clicked the door shut. “This could be good for us.”

Kate stared blankly at him. “There is no us.”

“Obviously,” Anthony said dryly, letting out a deep sigh before turning back to her. “But no one else needs to know that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“When am I not?”

How was she the only one with sense in this situation? “You’re my boss. This is highly inappropriate.”

“Nothing about our relationship is appropriate, Kate.”

He had a point but she wasn’t bloody well going to give him it. “There is no relationship!”

“To us, yes.” Anthony pressed, his frustration showing in his wrinkled forehead and pressed lips. “It looks like one to everyone else. We could make this work. To our advantage.”

“We are in human resources,” Kate said, refusing to listen to anything he was saying. He had officially lost it. There was no possible advantage to a pretend relationship, or whatever he was suggesting, with him. “I could report you.”

“You could,” Anthony said, his voice dangerously low as he spoke. It sent chills down Kate’s spine and they weren’t the bad kind. “But you won’t, will you?”

She hated how right he was. Of course she wouldn't. Kate finally took the bait. “What is in this for you?”

“My publicist, mother and I don’t see eye to eye on how my reputation has been perceived, lately. I need to do some reparations for my reputation. I also need someone to distract my mother from trying to set me up with every bloody woman she meets.” He looked Kate up and down, nodding his head as if he had made some decision. “You’re a good fit.”

“Well,” Kate said, scoffing slightly in disbelief. “That’s a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one. Why would I ever want people to think I’m dating you?”

That caught his full attention, sitting up straighter and frowning. “Why wouldn’t you want to date me?” He actually looked offended.

Good.

Kate glanced at the white clock on the wall and back at him. “How long do we have? This might take a while.”

He wasn’t the slightest bit amused as he glared at her, shaking his head. “It would just be for a while. An easy façade. A few appearances. Mainly during my family’s party in Kent. There must be something that you want.”

There was.

No. She couldn’t possibly be entertaining something so insane. That was a dangerous game to play, not to mention an absolutely insane one-this wasn’t some romantic comedy that had a happy ending. This was Anthony Bridgerton. Her boss. People were already talking. Mary would be pleased, so would Edwina. For some reason, they both actually seemed to like him. Kate wouldn’t be seen to be alone, no matter how alone she felt. No. No. It was crazy. It was absolutely crazy to even debate it.

But.

But-

The opportunity was right there in front of her. She just had to grab it. What did she have to lose? “I want that senior manager promotion.”

She put her hand up before he could speak, and surprisingly, he let her finish. “Nigel Berbrooke is an incompetent idiot whose father is on the board and will get him that promotion. I’m smarter and more qualified. You know that. Everyone knows that. My numbers and clientele are higher. It’s the only opportunity open for the next five years and I deserve it.” Nigel Berbrooke could not be her boss. She’d rather quit.

Anthony stared at her, slightly suspiciously as her words sunk in. “I can’t guarantee that.”

She was already standing up. “Then we have nothing more to discuss.”

He relented quite quickly. “Fine! Fine. I’ll handle it.”

She was taking any “I also want Sophie exclusively as my assistant and a higher salary for her.”

“Any more requests?” It was definitely rhetorical but Kate didn’t really care at this point. It was so ludicrous, this fake facade she was signing up to-she might as well get the most out of it. People already thought they were dating, they already had their own opinions on who Kate was. She would let them. At least this way, she was getting something out of it, knowing she actually deserved it. As painful as the process of getting it may be.

“An office as far away from Nigel Berbrooke as possible.”

He extended his hand towards her, nodding hastily. No one could blame her on that request. “Do we have a deal?”

“We do.”

They shook hands and just like that, Kate had sealed her fate.

“You know,” Anthony said, clapping his hands slightly as if he had finished signing a business deal. That’s what it was to him, some twisted agreement that she had no idea how would play out. Could she really lie to her family? Her friends? “A lot of people would be happy to be seen dating London’s eligible bachelor.”

Kate rolled her eyes, before turning to smirk sweetly at him. It was easier to pretend she was amused and ignore the sickening feeling in her stomach. “I wouldn’t, though. I’d be dating you.”

“Do you save this wit exclusively for me?” He asked, giving her

This time, her smile was slightly genuine. Only slightly. “Always.”

He turned completely around in his chair, properly looking at her. Under his gaze, she felt uneasy. Exposed. “Come on, Kate. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Famous last words.

[robinofinashiro]

don’t let me go - part three 

note: since it’s a series now, I finally gave it a name! let me know what you think of this chapter! 

request status: OPEN 

pairing: reiner braun, porco galliard, colt grice x fem! reader

you took the blond’s hand, not really thinking much of it as Pieck ran after you, “hey, are you okay?” she asked. you nodded, “yeah, I wasn’t watching where I was walking and accidentally ran into Colt,” you murmured. 

she gave the blond a small smile, “now that I think of it, Colt, you’re in my English 457 class, right?” you asked him. he lit up, “yeah, I sit a few seats behind you!” you laughed, “well, I’ll see you tomorrow? we have peer review on that essay we have due,” he nodded as you gave him one last goodbye and made your way back to your table. 

“wait, so you’re serious? you’re done with them?” she asked almost exasperated. you nodded, “think about it Pieck, those two have been so up against each other for months now and I’m tired. the constant fights, the amount of times I’ve told both of them just to quit it, I’m sick of it,” you exclaimed. 

Pieck remained silent as you shoved all your things into your bag. you didn’t bother to look at your phone knowing the two idiots were going to be blowing it up for the rest of the night. 

“well, I can drive you home if you’d like?” Pieck asked. you nodded as you followed her out to her car, “can we stop for food too? I think with everything that happened with you, we need to eat shittiest amounts of food possible,” she laughed.

both of you stopped by a fast food restaurant not to far from your house and talked about everything that had nothing to do with Reiner or Porco. you had done yourself the favor of blocking both their numbers so they couldn’t start blowing up your phone late at night with their apologies. 

“well, I think tomorrow you should be in the clear,” Pieck mentioned, “Reiner doesn’t have class in the morning and Porco doesn’t even go into campus at all.” you silently thanked her before heading into your house and greeting your siblings and parent(s). 

+

you woke up the next morning to see your phone pinging up with multiple messages. you knew some of them were from Pieck, making sure you were okay and some were from Marcel, who you knew must’ve been Porco texting off his phone. 

you didn’t bother to put too much thought into your outfit and slipped on the first outfit you saw and made your way downstairs to fix yourself a cup of coffee before your class. the only silver lining to any of this was that you only had one class on Friday before your schedule was entirely cleared. 

the drive to class wasn’t too long but the one thing you hated was parking. the parking always made anyone late to class and today was no exception. once you finally managed to find a parking spot, you practically bolted to your class. 

“running late?” you heard a familiar voice say. you saw Colt walking a bit slower than you as you finally slowed down, “hey Colt, we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry up!” you said huffing. 

Colt shrugged, “our 87 year old professor won’t even see us walking in late,” you nodded, “so how was your night? great I hope,” he asked. you bit your tongue back ,”it was alright. had a bit of a headache so I didn’t get to do much work once I got home,” you lied. 

he gave you a saddened smile. 

“well, I don’t think class should be too long today. I don’t think we’re going to be doing anything outside of reviews,” Colt mentioned, “so you should head home after class if you still don’t feel well.” 

you shook your head, “I can’t, I have a few things to study for and if I don’t study here, I know I won’t do it when I get home,” you confessed. Colt took out his phone, “well, I don’t think our professor is going to see us missing so...do you want to skip and study in the library?” he asked. 

you thought for a moment. skipping class did sound a hell of a lot better than sitting there and listening to professor explain what a peer review was. 

“lets go!” you exclaimed, “but I’m getting snacks!” 

he laughed as the two of you ran down the stairs to the small school store. unbeknownst to you, Pieck had been sitting at one of the tables with Porco as you passed them with Colt. Pieck knew that if Porco had seen you, he would not take very well to seeing Colt next to you nor would he leave you alone. 

the entire time while the two of you bought every thing and made your way up the stairs, the conversation never lulled. Colt knew how to keep the conversation going and it almost felt like a breath of fresh air. not having the impending fear of Reiner or Porco just clinging onto you felt refreshing. 

“so, do you know anyone around here? it seems like you're alone most of the time,” you asked Colt. he stayed silent for a moment, “I have a few friends, I’m not too close to any of them but generally speaking, no. I watch over my brother a lot so I don’t have much time to be hanging out with friends here. do you?” he explained. 

you nodded understandingly, “I have a few friends. the girl that was with me and a few others are the ones I’m around for the most part,” Colt grabbed his chip bag and offered you some, “but I guess I’ll just have to be your first true friend, huh?” you joked. 

Colt’s face fell a little red making your face become a bit warm. you knew your last thought should have been feeling a bit flustered around someone you just met, especially considering your situation with Porco and Reiner but for some reason, you couldn’t help the tiniest bit of butterfly feeling hit your stomach. 

before Colt could say anything, he saw his phone ringing, “it’s my brother. he had a half day and I need to pick him up,” you nodded as you got up from your chair, “I completely understand if you need to head home. I’ll be here if you decide to come back,” you told him. 

Colt fought himself for a moment before letting his impending thought takeover, “you could come over if you’d like? my brother and I were planning on making those Christmas houses since our parent’s are out of town and I have to keep him entertained. would you like to do it?” he asked nervously. 

you fiddled with your fingers for a moment. 

“sure! we can stop by the store and pick up a few things I think your brother could like to put on his house!” you said a bit excitedly. Colt smiled as the two of you quickly packed up your things before walking back to the parking lot, “I could meet you at the store after you pick up your brother?” you asked. 

Colt nodded, “or we can drive in my car and we can drive back to get your car when we’re done? saves us time,” he offered. you said yes and jumped into his passenger seat. 

not too far away, both Reiner and Porco had saw you getting into his car. they gave each other looks as Pieck growled to herself, “she’s allowed to have friends you fucking idiots. secondly, she isn’t your friend anymore so you can’t dictate who she’s with or even bother to confront her about it,” she lectured. 

it was almost as if it had went through one ear and out the other. the one thing that helped Reiner in this situation was that he knew who Colt was. being Gabi’s cousin, he knew that her best friend was Colt’s little brother, Falco. 

Porco on the other hand had Colt in a few of his classes and had spoken to him a few times. 

they knew Colt was a bit on the shyer side, not really talkative or bothering to get into peoples business. what they both knew was that if Colt had suddenly taken an interest in becoming your friend, sooner or later, this small two person competition could become three and in their gut feeling they both knew that Colt very well could win you over. 

[onwesterlywinds]

Bazaar of the Bizarre

Part of my Godhands series, set roughly in the year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - thirty-three years before Hydaelyn’s present-day, and thirteen years before Ala Mhigo’s fall.

The underground market held scores of folk, more people in one place than Ashley had seen since arriving in the Undercity. Collected in the dim blue subterranean light were those of all races and ages to take advantage of the roving market's inherent neutrality. He saw a mercenary covered in swords with a head like a lion, though it could well have been a convincing mask; he saw merchants much like those in the city above, albeit hawking far more questionable wares; he saw performers in little enclaves engaged in all manner of singing and dancing and acrobatics; he saw courtesans, none of whom paid him any heed; he saw a runner who might well have been his mother's double carrying a basket of overripe fruit-

Élodie elbowed him - hard - in the side. "You're gawping again."

"Fuck off," he muttered. They passed beneath another lantern and its blue light faded brilliantly into the flush of her face, and any other retort he had to give was lost.

"Quit it, you two," Marco snapped. "There's our target."

Their target was covered from head to toe in rags, much like any other Undercity-dweller, and had gathered around him his own assortment of sleeping bags and other personal effects. Ashley could make out no other details; the man's hair lay sprawled across his face in a mass of mats, the better to obscure a pair of bright eyes.

"Got that thing I asked for?" the man slurred. He did not look up to any of them when he spoke.

Marco nodded once to the man and once again to Ashley; Ashley, following that cue, procured the ring of keys he'd pickpocketed from the chief of the Balam Ring. He did not relinquish them.

"Well, don't just wave 'em around. Give 'em here."

"You can tell us how to find-"

"I can, and I'm not saying his fuckin' name. If you little shites had any sense, you wouldn't either. Now hand over the godsdamned-"

"He's not handing them over until we're happy with what you tell us," Marco retorted.

"And you'd better hurry," Élodie added. "The Ring are due in at any minute."

The man muttered a few muffled curses for each of them, then cast a longing glance up at the keys. He ground his teeth once more and huffed. "Fine. You want the bad news first, or the good news?"

"Which-fucking-ever," Ashley snapped. "Just get on with it."

"Aren't we pleasant." The man scratched at his hairline, sending a shower of dandruff or caked grime across his tattered robe. "Bad news, then: this black sheep o' yours don't have a headquarters. Not anymore. He's deposed enough lords to use their troves of weapons, information... I'm sure you've seen his knights staked all throughout the Undercity - an' how, with his caches, he don't need a headquarters."

"Any recent takeovers?" asked Marco.

The man hesitated for the first time, then nodded slowly. "...Elza."

Ashley had been expecting just another name in a sea of intelligence that went above his head. The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Elza had given him and Marco a full bowl of food each in the dead of winter and had asked for nothing in return. She and Marco had swapped jokes and anecdotes like family until their histories had become his too. Ashley glanced over to his friend, but aside from a furrowed brow, Marco offered no reaction at all.

"And what became of her?" Élodie demanded.

"Come now," the man insisted. "Don't have time to get into all that."

One woman pressed another up against the wall for a kiss directly beside them, both giggling with every rise of their hips. The group waited for them to disperse before continuing.

"But!" The interruption prompted an almost cheerful change to the man's tone. "If'n you're inclined to lose hope, I've some idea o' the bastard's whereabouts. Down along the old catacombs, there's a door to passages older still, back behind the embalmers' chambers. I've personally seen your black sheep going in and out through that door - and that more than once."

Ashley glanced over again to Marco, who nodded. Only then did Ashley pass the keys into the man's robe, careful not to allow them to jingle. The man beamed a gap-toothed smile.

"Let's go." Élodie was eyeing a rack of jewelry, most of it too fine to have been anything but stolen. Behind that wooden scaffolding, a door opened, and from it emerged Ronobal - the head of the Balam Ring himself.

Their target fiddled with the front of his trousers, therein to stow the ring of keys; Marco turned away pointedly. "Godsspeed!" the man called, raising a hand in a mock salute. "And may you never again need to count your sheep!"

"Absolutely useless," Élodie snarled under her breath as the three of them stalked away. "We've checked the catacombs in every one of our sweeps - and the path behind the embalmers' chambers caved in nearly three years ago. You'd have been right to renege on your deal for that drivel."

"If nothing else," Marco retorted, "we know what we're up against."

Ashley and Marco stalked off through the market, though Élodie peeled away a short ways away as she saw another Duskwight with whom to connect. With her gone, Marco grew more and more somber with each stall they passed; by the time they reached a seller of old books and magicked tomes in a place where Ashley could hear a stream flowing, his friend's face had settled into a deep frown.

"What is it?"

Marco shook his head. "We're worse off than I thought. Elza's half a legend. Things'll go downhill quick with her gone."

"It just means we'll have to stay on our toes."

It was the understatement of the era, coming from him - and it failed utterly to scratch at the emotional toll of the loss of one of their few allies. Marco clapped him on the back nonetheless. "Damn right. And you're doing great at that so far. Speaking of which, get your knife ready."

No longer did Ashley need to turn to hear, even through the bustling market and nearby stream, two pairs of heavy footfalls racing in their direction among the crowd.

"I thought you said fighting's forbidden here."

"It is. But that's not going to stop them."

In unison, he and Marco turned to parry the impending strikes of two Balam Ring blades.

[carldavidson]

Book Review: Mike Stout’s ‘Homestead Steel Mill’ Is a Manual for Organizers

Homestead Steel Mill: The Final Ten Years

USWA Local 1397 and the Fight for Union Democracy

By Mike Stout

PM Press 2020

 By Carl Davidson

Keep on Keepin’ On

Mike Stout’s remarkable new book of a recent large-scale class battle in Western PA can be read in many ways. First, it’s a history of Homestead steelworkers in the last years of their battles to improve their conditions and save their jobs. It’s also Stout’s personal autobiography of a working-class youth radicalized by the 1960s and 1970s and the culture of rebellion of which he was a part. Then one can read it as a fine example of sociological investigation and economic analysis of the Pittsburgh region.

All those brief summations are fine. But most of all, within all these, Stout has written an organizing manual for radicalizing workers of any age embedded in large manufacturing industries. Despite relative declines, these still exist in the Rust Belt and elsewhere. Unfortunately, the current  younger workers in them have never been in a union and only know about them from the lore passed down by fathers and grandfathers. Thus nearly all of them are in dire need of new crews of organizers like Mike Stout--or who at least have studied this book.

What makes Stout’s narrative unique is the quality of his personal commitment. In the 1970s, thousands of radicalized young college students, with or without degrees, went into the factories to organize ‘for the revolution.’ A few did well; most did not. But Stout was not one of these. Getting into the mill and the struggle there was a step up for him, as an unemployed kid from Kentucky trying to make a living as a political rock and roller and folk singer. He desperately needed a day job, and getting into Homestead mill enabled him to do both, however hard the work. He had more in common with the returning Vietnam vets in the mill than transplanted student radicals, not that he lacked respect for the latter.

This is not to say that the thousands of workers in a four-mile-long mill were monolithic. Far from it. Stout goes on at length throughout the book describing rivalries between a dozen nationalities, between races and sexes, generations, skilled and lesser skilled, and old timers and newcomers.

‘As the book’s title suggests, however, Stout sticks to his outline of ‘the last ten years,’ although it stretches a bit longer to include the aftermath. At the start, hardly anyone had a premonition of what was in store for them—the mills had been there as long as anyone could remember, and thus they would continue into the future. What was different was the owners were squeezing the workers harder, and after the Red purges of the 1950s, the unions had grown cozier with the bosses, The stage was set for rank and file insurgency, and this is the setting Stout entered as a new hire.

Nearly everyone in Western PA gets a nickname in high school or at work. Stout was no different, and his fellow workers tagged him ‘Kentucky’ and it stuck.  He laid low in his early months, trying to find the best ways to survive and thrive working rotating shifts. The older ‘beer and a shot’ workers in the bars raised an eyebrow because he only drank red wine, but he slid in easy with the younger crowd that liked their alcohol combined with reefer. Mainly Stout had his eye on a crane operating job, but he was amazed at the skills—and luck—involved to do it safely.  It would take some time. But early on, he got the reputation as a guy who resisted any crap thrown at him by foremen. This led him to find a small group of militant workers seeking to find a way to change the union into an instrument that would fight for them.

They certainly had a history behind them. Homestead was a center for more than 150,000 steelworkers in Western PA and neighboring states. The ‘Battle of Homestead’ of the previous century had been compared to the Paris Commune, and fierce battles of the Steel Workers Organizing Committee in the 1930s had helped found the CIO. FDR’s Labor Secretary, Frances Perkins, visited the Homestead Works, but forbidden to speak on the grounds. Legend has it that she spotted a US flag flying over a post office, made her way there, where she delivered a fiery speech for the rights of labor.

Stout quickly joined up with the rank-and-file group and started planning a campaign. Perhaps their most important early project was to start a plant-wide newspaper, the 1397 Rank and Filer.  Stout’s description of its impact and evolution over the years is an instructive tale of how a newspaper can become a ‘collective organizer.’ When an organization had to spread the word over a mill measured in square miles, and where thousands of workers on one end often knew little of events on another, it was indispensable. Moreover, the mill was subdivided into what Spout called ‘feudal fiefdoms’ ruled by petty tyrants with divide and rule tactics

The workers also had to have access to the newspaper and to trust it. So it was open to letters, hand-drawn cartoons, and a popular feature called ‘Plant Plague’ that expose the injustices and pure nastiness of plant foremen. It also published studies of the union contract and the misdeeds of the union officials, all with an eye toward replacing them.

After many skirmishes, it paid off. The Local 1397 Rank and File Caucus eventually evolved from a militant minority to a progressive majority of union members and took over the local. There’s a long story in between, of course, but it’s worth reading Stout’s account in full.

For his own role, Stout appears to have made several wise decisions early on and stuck to them. One was to keep his connection with the editorial group that put out the newspaper, both before and after the takeover of the local. The other was to avoid seeking a top post for himself. Early on, because of his unflinching willingness to not only defend workers with a beef, but also to get them involved in their own defense, he rose to a more organic leader. This meant he became a ‘griever’ or grievanceman, eventually becoming a chief griever, and one of the best of them. It might take years, but Stout often won his cases. Even if a worker died, he persisted, winning benefits for surviving families.

Another reason for Stout’s influence was practicing a consistent left politics, expressed in his own terms, and never trying to hide his values, despite red-baiting and other attempts at personal slanders. He offers several accounts of standing up against racism and sexism when it erupted among the workers themselves, as well as used as a weapon by supervisors and other higher-ups.

Stout was known as a socialist inside and outside the mill. At one point, he was connected with the Revolutionary Union, an early 1970s Marxist-Leninist nationwide group. It had rank-and-file union newspapers in other cities and industries, but Stout detached from it as it became too sectarian for his taste.

But what is powerfully portrayed in the book is Stout’s astute combinations of politics with culture. Its pages are replete with the lyrics of dozens of songs written for working-class battles in Homestead and beyond. Together with them are stories of how music was used for firing up picket lines or finding creative ways to raise money. It helped that Stout was good at it, not just knowing a few old labor songs, but pulling together full-fledged rock band performances.

By the middle of the book, you get pulled into the sense of impending doom shared among the workers. What we now know as ‘the Rust Belt’ was being born. Faced with competition abroad and poor management at home, neoliberal capitalism tore up its postwar ‘social contracts.’ Corporate boardrooms closed plants here and shipped production offshore in search of cheaper labor. In some cases, it used modernization to cut workforces by half or more, while keeping production at old levels.

At this point, both Local 1397 and the USW generally learned that unions could not survive without wider allies. Stout unfolds the saga of the nationwide movements in the 1980s and 1990s against plant closings. Workers sought community and government  partners in an effort to save profitable businesses by innovation and reorganization, or even in some cases, attempting to buy out and take over the plants themselves.

None of these paid off much, at least in the Homestead area. Stout describes somes of the proposed deals as ‘Last Suppers before our execution.’ But he nonetheless tells a tale of the value of persistence, where he continued to carry on battles and win major grievances for workers even after the plant was closed, the union reduced to a shell and Stout himself among the unemployed. He soldiered on by forming a union print shop as a workers coop, as well as making a few bucks playing concerts here and abroad.

Despite this grim conclusion, ‘Homestead Steel Mill: The Last Ten Years’ is a hopeful book. It draws positive lessons from defeats, showing the need for wider and more protracted political strategies. It’s not enough to press liberals to do good things; workers need a vision of taking power themselves. And the lessons of its victories stand out as well. Workers can win when they are well-organized, well-informed, and well-inspired. They need a culture of solidarity and mutual aid to fight for what belongs to them, not only the part, but the whole deal. You can buy the book HERE

[statusquoergo]

In your opinion, how hard Mike leaving to work for sidwell affected Harvey and changed their relationship?

I think that whole event is the first time Harvey really realizes what he’s done in hiring Mike in the first place, and what the implications might be. This is the first time the truth looks like it’s going to come out to someone who isn’t going to be suckered in or sweet-talked about it; there are going to be consequences, and he’s going to have to face them. Except that he doesn’t really have to face them; Mike does, so what’s the big deal? Harvey told Mike to sell him out but Mike refused, and now he’s leaving the firm, Harvey is basically off the hook.

Except this is also the first time Harvey really understands how important Mike is to him. Not just as a useful associate, but as a person. So. Bad timing. (I mean not really, the event is the catalyst for the realization as opposed to a coincidence, but it still sucks.) Harvey likes Mike, and he relies on him as his associate, but prior to Mike’s possible exposure, he still thinks he’ll be able to get rid of him, if he has to, and move on from there. Except, oh shit, suddenly Mike is in trouble and might go to jail, and Harvey’s first instinct is to protect him at the cost of his own welfare (see: “If it comes to it, you point the finger at me, you got that?” [s03e16]).

Then Mike doesn’t go to jail, so naturally Harvey expects him to come back to the firm, but…he doesn’t do that, either. For all the right reasons, of course (“I’m tired of putting the people I care about in jeopardy”), but still, Harvey has to be pretty hurt.

And then, because this show really only has two moves when it comes to these guys, they immediately go up against each other on opposite sides with the Gillis takeover. They’re cranky and irritable (Harvey because he misses Mike, Mike because… Well, ostensibly because he’s in a rough patch with Rachel, but it can be two things) but of course they can’t just admit that; Mike tries to show off to Harvey (filing the TRO [s04e02], procuring Gordon’s master tapes [e03], soliciting Forstman to take down Harvey [e04]) while Harvey does everything in his power to protect Mike without looking like he’s rolling over for him (stopping Logan from finding out Mike is a fraud [s04e03], warning him away from Forstman [e04]). Then Rachel has her heath scare and they very quickly make amends (almost like they were looking for an excuse, how weird) and from that point on, the major obstacles in their way are external (e.g., Jessica, Forstman, Louis, Woodall) and aimed at both of them, so they can fight on the same side without looking too sentimental or something.

Ultimately I think the Sidwell situation is a big spotlight for Harvey to show him just how important Mike is to him and how far he’s willing to go for him (more bad timing, considering the impending events of Season 5), while Mike has at least a little opportunity to demonstrate that he can act as a legal professional without Harvey’s close supervision (although he does better when they’re together). In that sense, they come out the other side stronger for it and in a more stable relationship with each other, on slightly more even footing than they were before. (I don’t mean that in a shipping sense, although this season is an absolute goldmine of opportunities to develop their relationship in that direction as well.)

Thank you for asking!

[punkrockpolitix]

Trumpism and the Tyranny of the Minority

by Mitch Maley — I'm often asked why self-described patriots seem to be okay with fascism or how those who scream in defense of concepts such as liberty and freedom can fail to be troubled by our slide toward totalitarianism, but such questions seem to miss the larger point.

Trumpism isn't a new phenomenon or even unique to the man at its helm. It is simply the logical end point for the so-called Tea Party movement that has completely taken over traditional conservatism in the past decade, a movement that aims to fully impose the will of a minority, even if their views are grossly out of step with most Americans.

In that sense, 2010 was the official end of bipartisan government, the moment the opposition became the enemy. It became more dangerous to reach across the aisle than to sit on your hands and do nothing, unless you could do everything your constituents wanted. It became a zero sum game in which half a loaf of bread was worse than none at all.

Make no mistake, extremism—whether it comes from the right or the left—is always about minority rule. Otherwise, the beliefs would be mainstream. Donald Trump was only the fourth president in U.S. history to lose the popular vote and win the electoral college, and he did it with less of a share of the total vote (46.9) than any of the others. Not once during his presidency has his approval rate hit 50 percent, and it's recently been as low as 35.

I point this out because to hear his supporters tell it, they are part of a silent majority, despite what the math tells us. However, minority rule has been at the core of this movement from the beginning—at least for its architects. From restrictive voting laws clearly meant to suppress opposition turnout (including the current misinformation campaign on vote by mail) to packing the courts with judges that hold views grossly out of step with the majority of Americans and seeking to subvert the Supreme Court decision on a woman's right to choose with laws meant to curtail the ability of women to access abortion under bogus pretenses, the right-wing platform has increasingly become about a minority of people imposing their beliefs on a majority who find them objectionable.

Sure, there are memes, slogans and talking points that attempt to rationalize things like voter ID laws, limitations on early voting, requiring OBGYNs to have admitting privileges near their clinics or that the clinics to be expensively retrofitted to meet arbitrary codes, and on and on across a broad spectrum of issues, but when you read the literature of the think tanks and policy groups that craft such legislation, their objective is clear: How do we get what we want, without the power of the majority behind us?

One way is to argue that the rules favor the minority view, which is why there are always so many lay constitutional scholars ready to tell us how things like universal health care, mask mandates during a pandemic, sensible environmental regulation and other policies favored by a majority of Americans run afoul of the founder's intent, even if those same experts fail to find their voice each time this president tramples on the Constitution on behalf of something they agree with.

But gerrymandering districts so that you can keep at least part of Congress under your control despite getting less total Congressional votes cycle after cycle, or packing courts with sympathetic judges who might uphold the unconstitutional laws you are able to get passed is part of the kind of long game most people don't have patience for. In the end, if you want to see your country look exactly the way you want—and most of your fellow Americans do not share your vision—there is only one route: ceding power to a totalitarian dictator who has been able to turn minority support into presidential power and is willing to dance to any song his supporters play, so long as they provide the means for him to remain in power—legitimately or otherwise.

It is in this effort that fascism becomes quite useful, for it allows the minority to actually claim defense of our freedoms against an enemy that can now be identified as the other, an outsider group who they don't need to count among their numbers, as those people are now the enemy, making for a false reality in which they are no longer a minority but rather a majority of real Americans who love their country and are therefore intent on stopping the evil others at all costs.

Fascism is, at its core, not an ideology. Most simply put, it is an attack from the right on the left, on the basis that the central tenets of liberalism represent a constant threat of socialist takeover that is always close to being upon us. Draped in nationalism and an appeal to a brand of inherent righteousness most commonly found in religious movements, it should be no surprise that its adherents often espouse rhetoric that is just as dogmatic and evangelical.

Conversely, socialism is, in many ways, a similar attack on the perceived inherent evils of capitalism. Like fascist revolutions, socialist ones routinely justify violent insurrection, theft and even the execution of those who do not bend their knee, as necessary nearly to the point of being benevolent—regardless of the majority's will. One need not look further than the recent upheaval in Seattle, where a group of left-wing radicals vandalized private property while occupying six city blocks and making ridiculous demands until eventually devolving into the deadly chaos of a miniature failed state. The means to take power already exist through democratic channels, but because a majority is needed to seize it, the malcontent convince themselves that such a system is inherently corrupt to the degree that such criminal reappropriations are not only justified but completely necessary in order to force their minority view on the rest of the community who so desperately needs to live by it, even if they don’t realize it yet.

What the extreme left and extreme right have in common is an unwavering belief that there is but one way to do things—theirs. The big difference, however, is that while the extreme left doesn't even like the Democratic Party, even the progressive left is but a fringe force in a party almost wholly controlled by right of center NeoLiberals who drape themselves in progressive slogans, while remaining contemptuous of progressive politics.

Meanwhile, the Tea Party movement has, in just 10 years, completely vanquished the NeoConservative forces that preceded it as the power center of the Republican Party. Trump's election in 2016 signaled the passing of the torch, or rather it being pried from the cold, dead hands of the House of Bush. The extreme right, very much unlike the extreme left, is in control, with both the White House and the Senate under its wing. Those who haven't bent their knee in fealty to Trump and his tribe like former NeoCon stalwarts Lindsey Graham, Nikki Haley and Mitch McConnell have, have either been marooned in a political no man’s land (Mitt Romney) or have gotten out.

What's left of the NeoConservative Republicans is now part of team Biden, seeing far more commonality with the NeoLiberals than Trump's crowd. That should be no surprise. The majority of Democrats and Republicans of 2000-2010 disagreed on little when it came down to brass tacks. Sure, they dangled identity politics, social issues and class warfare as red meat for the crowd, but when it came to Wall Street, globalization, bad trade deals and forever wars, they had much in common and were happy to divy the loot.

Of course, if you're a Trump supporter, you might be inclined to think something totally different. To hear his campaign frame the 2020 election, he's not running against the guy who wrote the crime bill, voted for every war and military spending bill ever put before him and routinely worked across the aisle to make deals. No, they're running against Antifa, AOC, looters in Portland and the impending socialist revolution that will always be on the verge of taking over, lest Donald J. Trump protects us.

Why? Because there's not a very sound argument for minority rule or trading democracy for autocracy to get it, unless the wolves are at the door and your only choices are giving up your freedoms or being eaten alive. For many Trump supporters, the constant rhetoric and propaganda has led them to a place where they truly believe there's that much at stake in November. It doesn't matter that the streets were peaceful when he took office or that Americans have never been as divided as they have become under his rule, at least since the Civil War. That's not because of his actions. In their minds, it's in spite of them. If Biden were to win, every American city would be overtaken by violent leftists, AOC and the Squad would be pulling his strings, and their country would become unrecognizable. Of course they would hand over any power needed to the one man who could save them from such horrors.

For the rest of us, the country has already become unrecognizable since 2016, and in the worst way possible. We're living their nightmare and the notion that four more years of Trump (or perhaps more, given his regular references to deserving a third term) might indeed see the United States slide into a totalitarian autocracy in which dissenters or even those deemed insufficiently enthusiastic about Dear Leader could be sent off to the gulags seems all too possible. The only thing that remains certain is that it won't be over on November 3, no matter who wins. America is at the crossroads of a cultural reckoning, and it will take more than just a presidential election for it to fully play out.

Dennis “Mitch” Maley has been a journalist for more than two decades. A former Army Captain, he has a degree in government from Shippensburg University and is the author of several books, which can be found here.

[placetobenation]

It’s a “lose your championship” kind of week for the WWE.

First, we get Becky Lynch giving up her RAW Women’s Championship now that she’s going to be a Mom. Then, we get Sami Zayn being “forced” to let go of his Intercontinental Title.

Zayn, after getting some dental work to go along with his pandemic hiatus, says he’s still the champion but will now have to watch a tournament go forward to see who the next I-C Champ will be.

I thought the WWE handled Becky’s situation well with some human moments to start RAW Monday night with “The Man” and Asuka, who was just learning that she actually won the title and not the MITB contract during Sunday night’s PPV. Pulling the curtain back a bit and letting the ladies enjoy the moment for what it was as mothers was really good to see.

Welcome back to the brand extension! It’s now called the Brand Invitation and it starts with the announcement of King Corbin coming to RAW Monday night to face WWE Champion Drew McIntyre. Now, that’s quite the invitation to not only come, but face the #1 superstar on the show. NXT Charlotte Flair, who you could argue started this by being on RAW each week (along with Akira Tozawa and others), got things going by showing up on SmackDown.

They’ve done so much to make sure the bands are separate and now it seems, out of necessity due to the COVID-19 pandemic, they need to mix it up because of talent shortages. I get that, I just hope they don’t overuse it. Make it special and it will be ok.

STAR OF THE WEEK:

Becky Lynch – Congrats to “The Man” on her awesome news and impending birth of her first child. That opening segment on RAW Monday night did more to humanizing her (and Asuka) than anything they could’ve ever done. I’m glad they were upfront and honest with the WWE Universe, something that can NOT be said about their handling of Roman Reigns (and others) during the COVID-19 crisis. Now, as for Seth Rollins. That’s a different and bizarre story for later on.

MONEY IN THE BANK PPV

THIS is the @WWEUniverse we're living in. Welcome to the #WWERaw after #MITB! pic.twitter.com/GfLh2o4NqU

— WWE (@WWE) May 12, 2020

LADIES and GENTLEMEN … we have ourselves a FOOD FIGHT!!!#MITB @otiswwe @HeymanHustle pic.twitter.com/5swu9nAMUz

— WWE (@WWE) May 11, 2020

RESULTS

Men’s Money In The Bank Match: Otis defeated King Corbin, AJ Styles, Rey Mysterio, Daniel Bryan and Aleister Black

Women’s Money In The Bank Match: Asuka defeated Shayna Baszler, Nia Jax, Carmella, Dana Brooke and Lacey Evans

WWE Championship Match: Drew McIntyre defeated Seth Rollins

Universal Championship Match: Braun Strowman defeated Bray Wyatt

SmackDown Women’s Championship Match: Bayley defeated Tamina

SmackDown Tag Team Fatal Four-Way Championship Match: The New Day defeated Lucha House Party, The Miz & John Morrison and The Forgotten Sons

Bobby Lashley defeated R-Truth

Kickoff Show: Jeff Hardy defeated Cesaro

… Respect?#MITB @DMcIntyreWWE @WWERollins pic.twitter.com/TK4SUg1A4c

— WWE Universe (@WWEUniverse) May 11, 2020

RAW

RESULTS

No DQ Match: Bobby Lashley defeated Humberto Carrillo

Angel Garza defeated Akira Tozawa

Non-Title Women’s Tag Team Title Match: The Iiconics defeated Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross

Non-Title WWE Championship Match: Drew McIntyre defeated Andrade

R-Truth, Ricochet & Cedric Alexander defeated MVP, Shane Thorne & Brendan Vink

Aleister Black & Rey Mysterio defeated Seth Rollins & Buddy Murphy via DQ

Shayna Baszler defeated Natalya

What we loved:

"You go and be a warrior, 'cause I'm gonna go be a mother." Congratulations, @BeckyLynchWWE!!!! What a moment on #WWERaw! pic.twitter.com/yWnHB3Dc4o

— WWE (@WWE) May 12, 2020

Becky Mama – As we said above, nothing but positivity from this one! Congrats to Becky Lynch and the family!

Asuka as Champ – Such an awesome and genuine reaction. Asuka has proven she’s worthy in the ring and over the past few months during a down-time in the biz, she’s more than shown she can be out of the box out of the ring too which should bode well moving further.

R-Truth – The dude is just funny and entertaining. Good stuff from him and Cousin Ricky!

That was a lot.#WWERaw pic.twitter.com/nZt2RLSceg

— WWE Universe (@WWEUniverse) May 12, 2020

Rey Mysterio Line of the Year – “What a d**k!”  – Mysterio to Charly Caruso after congratulating Seth Rollins on being a father and Rollins just walking away. Rollins of course got the last laugh though with an injury to end Rey’s evening.

What we didn’t love:

Zelina’s gang of 3 – While I do love the tension between Andrade, Angel Garza and Austin Theory, why just hand over a match with Drew McIntyre to Andrade (again) when he just had one a few weeks back? Just let the tension ride and let them fight it out for a spot against the champ? It would be a very good match and advance the story line as well. Missed opportunity there.

#WWEChampion @DMcIntyreWWE shows @AndradeCienWWE that he's also the champion of CHOPS!

#WWERaw pic.twitter.com/3WU331kRUs

— WWE (@WWE) May 12, 2020

Tag team champs losing on TV again – Just like the men’s tag champs on both RAW and SmackDown the past two months, it seems like having them lose on TV is a pattern. The Iiconics haven’t been around for over 6 months and they come back and beat Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross in their first match. Seems wonky to me and doesn’t make your champs look strong. 50-50 booking. Ugh! Predictably, it sets up a title match at Backlash.

Just plain bizarre:

Seth Rollins – After being catatonic most of the night, a night in which he should be happy about becoming a father, he goes wild on Rey Mysterio, giving him a bloody eye injury at the end of their tag team match, causing a DQ win for Mysterio and Aleister Black. Then, after the match, Rollins is all apologetic again. All this comes after he shakes hands Sunday night after his title loss to McIntyre. I wish they could’ve, at least for a night, let him be happy like his fiancée Becky Lynch.

Brewing:

MVP’s Stable – Well, it looks like we’ve got the beginning of MVP’s stable now with Bobby Lashley coming aboard. Will it be long before Apollo Crews joins too? I like the factions, there’s no doubt. They were great in the Attitude Era and can be again! The MVP faction. Zelina Vega faction. Who’s next? Plus, a strong Lashley is better than anything he was with Lana.

"If you've got the guts, it'll be @EdgeRatedR vs. @RandyOrton in a straight-up wrestling match."#WWERaw pic.twitter.com/7dEE5fumEN

— WWE (@WWE) May 12, 2020

Edge vs. Orton II – Just a wrestling match? Something smells fishy here, don’t you think?

NXT

RESULTS

NXT Tag Team Championship Match: Imperium (Fabian Aichner & Marcel Barthel) defeated Matt Riddle & Timothy Thatcher to win titles

Tegan Nox defeated Indi Hartwell

Interim NXT Cruiserweight Tournament Championship Match: Jake Atlas defeated Tony Nese

Cameron Grimes defeated Finn Balor

Interim NXT Cruiserweight Tournament Championship Match: Jack Gallagher defeated Isaiah “Swerve” Scott

Kayden Carter defeated Aliyah

Matt Riddle defeated Timothy Hatcher

What we loved:

Your entertainment is here.

Tick tock. #WWENXT @WWEKarrionKross @Lady_Scarlett13 pic.twitter.com/GiBaAab6FT

— WWE (@WWE) May 14, 2020

The End is Here – The best thing on NXT this week was the continuing saga of Karrion Kross and Scarlett. After an amazing debut last week, a well-done produced piece putting EVERYONE in NXT on notice – not just Tommaso Ciampa – was well done.

.@TripleH, @ShawnMichaels & @WWERoadDogg have a message for you!#NXTTakeOver: In Your House streams on the award-winning @WWENetwork on Sunday, June 7th! House

#WWENXT pic.twitter.com/RzKgNXIs5v

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) May 15, 2020

In Your House is back! – Yes, the infamous 90’s PPV’s are back for at least one night as the next NXT Takeover is an In Your House Special on June 7th! And having Triple H, Shawn Michaels and The Road Dogg Jesse James make the announcement with memories of their first matches at IYH 25 years ago was funny as hell too! I hope they use the old school graphics as well!

Congrats:

.@SuperKingofBros lost a bro and the titles. @Marcel_B_WWE & @FabianAichner are your NEW #WWENXT #TagTeamChampions! pic.twitter.com/5b1BquUw15

— WWE (@WWE) May 14, 2020

New Tag Champs – Imperium is now a two-title stable. Fabian Aichner & Marcel Barthel took full advantage of Timothy Thatcher walking out on his championship partner Matt Riddle to win the belts for the first time. Now with Walter’s NXT UK Championship, Imperium is getting well stocked to take over NXT.

Meh:

Thatcher & Riddle – Pretty quick end to this partnership. Now, I get that Thatcher didn’t like the comedy and off-beat antics of the “Bros,” but to end it so quickly and have a match the same night seems a little rushed to me.

Dinner with the Gargano’s & Rhea Ripley – Both were just kind of there this week.

Huh?:

NXT Cruiserweight Championship Tournament – I’ve enjoyed it so far, but I wish they gave them a bit more time. It’s been really good in-ring action. This week, we barely got 10 minutes combined in wins by Jack Gallagher and Jake Atlas. Now, we get Kushida vs. Drake Maverick and Akira Tozawa vs. El Hiro Fantasma in the upcoming week. I hope they give them some room to show their wares!

Aliyah – Why build her up as a new Rob Stone client only to have her lose right away?

Didn’t like at all:

HUH??! What is @ArcherOfInfamy doing out here? #WWENXT @FinnBalor pic.twitter.com/EkzHTx2TLP

— WWE (@WWE) May 14, 2020

Balor’s bully – Having Damien Priest come out as the man who attached Finn Balor while Balor was fighting Cameron Grimes seemed like a yawner instead of an OMG moment. Priest is just coming off a losing feud with Keith Lee and now having him get an upper hand on Balor to cost him the match with Grimes is a bit forced and yes, rushed again. It should’ve had more play time in it and a stronger payoff.

SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

Intercontinental Championship Tournament 1st Round Match: Elias defeated King Corbin

Dana Brooke defeated Naomi

Intercontinental Championship Tournament 1st Round Match: Daniel Bryan defeated Drew Gulak

Braun Strowman & Otis defeated The Miz & John Morrison

What we loved:

"This is such a joy to watch." – @WWEGraves @WWEDanielBryan advances to the 2nd Round of the #ICTitle tournament after an amazing match with @DrewGulak! #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/cGxaOYfEhr

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) May 16, 2020

Drew vs. Daniel – Give me more of this, please! Unfortunately, it’s a first round match and not further in the tournament. Would love to see these two do an ironman match.

"Are you your own woman, or are you just going to be @itsBayleyWWE's lackey and happy being an afterthought?" – @MsCharlotteWWE to @SashaBanksWWE

#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/3Odr5DYjYa

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) May 16, 2020

The Queen stirs the pot – instead of heading into the normal physical theatrics, Charlotte Flair got things going again between Sasha Banks and Bayley. Not only do we get a match with champion vs. champion as SmackDown’s Bayley will face NXT’s Charlotte next week, but maybe we get a Charlotte vs. Bayley vs. Sasha three-way dance too!

Sonya brings it – Daville continues to be dynamite on the mic in previewing next week’s mixed tag match with Sonya & Dolph Ziggler taking on Otis & Mandy Rose. She’s just being herself and it rings true! Well done Sonya! Keep it up!

Entertaining:

Main event – The combination of Otis and Universal Champion Braun Strowman was predictable as Tucker wasn’t available to join the new Mr. MITB against The Miz & John Morrison, but it worked. The double worm was fun and the right team won. Plus, we get to stoke the fire for Otis and his eventual cashing in of his contract down the road. Plus, I did appreciate the clean win and no shenanigans at the end of the match.

Huh?

AJ in the I-C Title mix – Isn’t AJ Styles on RAW? I see we are already taking liberties with the brand invitational.

Parting shots:

"Our job is to go out and be first-class professional entertainers and to give our fans what they paid their hard-earned money to see." – @undertaker #TheLastRide pic.twitter.com/z7hUQtaOWz

— WWE Network (@WWENetwork) May 11, 2020

The Undertaker: Last Ride – If you haven’t seen part 1, do it. NOW! Loved it and need me some more this week as part 2 of the five-part docu-series continues on the WWE Network Sunday night. Loved the candor from Mark Calaway and loved the fact that WWE didn’t shy away from using stars not currently with the company to tell the story, i.e. Jim Ross, Chris Jericho and more! You simply can’t tell the Dead Man’s tale without good ol’ JR!

Plus, the emotion, openness and access we’re getting from The Undertaker and wife Michelle McCool is fabulous. This is MUST SEE TV folks!

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at jcrowe567@gmail.com. We’d love to hear your comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots and Red Sox fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND!

[englishchinesetranslations]

Thoughts on the success & decline of civilisations, colonialism & civil conflict: USA/Europe, China & Africa

This is not so much a coherent article, but more of a collection of ideas and criticisms of past policies across world history.

I've always stood by the idea that the strengths of Western civilisation that brought its success between 1500-1900 has proven to be its weaknesses since that period in today's political climates.

Altruism, entrepreneurship, individualism incorporated within communitarianism, innovation, courage and creativity are just a few virtues that made Western civilization great, but has also become something that is now hurting USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Europe. The West has hit its peak and is now in its age of decadence and decline.

On the topic of colonialism, UK, Portugal, Spain & France spread their influence on a massive global scale. Whilst Italy & Germany did colonize with lesser success, it's safe to say the third world still looks towards the West for ideas and innovation in 2019.

I will admit I'm not an expert on European civilisations' relationship with Jews (apart from expelling said tribe hundreds of times), but somewhere down the line it seems Europeans (and possibly Jews) failed to foresee the future birth rates of non-white populations such as Hispanics, Arabs, Black Africans & Indians, which have been skyrocketing since 1900. Meanwhile white European & east Asian birth rates have slowed down massively since the 1990s, due to the success of peace treaties, industrial success, improving standards of living and the comfort of first world standards. With infant mortality at an extremely low level in the first world, that urge for women to produce endless numbers of children in the western/east Asian world has plummeted to below replacement levels of 2.4 babies per woman- in some nations such as Germany, just 1.2 babies.

A mistake made by western colonialists pre-1900 was to try to integrate the New World (Americas), tribal Africa & aboriginal Australia into the western way of living. The white male troops should have been banned from breeding children with the local women; instead, the native populations should have been isolated and cordoned off into their own living lands. In addition, the use of slave labour by the colonialists should've been restricted. The colonialists should have then captured the lands which possessed minerals, natural resources and living land area in Africa. This land area should have then been populated with white Europeans- in particular, western colonialists should have focused on capturing land areas in southern Africa, where countries such as modern South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Angola & Mozambique exist today. These lands should have been established and divided as white-only nation-states, with any blacks attempting to enter these provinces expelled as illegal aliens breaching borders (or killed on sight if necessary). Likewise the indigenous populations of the Americas and Australia should have isolated and left to their own living areas; again, any of them trying to enter white-only areas should have been dealt with immediate expulsion.

As for the importation of Black African slave labour, the numbers of slaves brought to the USA should been much fewer in number (i.e. 25% of the original total). Therefore it would've been much easier to return the black slaves to Africa during the early 19th century, when the decreasing profit margins gained from slave labour was making this practice moribund. This would have avoided the unnecessary American Civil War of 1861-1865, which facilitated the early foundations of today's Federal Reserve. (In addition, European colonialists could've expelled black slaves located in the Caribbean during this time to place more white people here.)

Instead, the European colonialists should have instigated a mass breeding program for white people during 1500-1900 in order to facilitate a mass white population re-distribution of southern Africa, the modern Arab states of Asia & Africa, Canada, USA, Mexico Australia & South America. In the topic of the Arab world, had the whites succeeded in invading modern Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Libya & Algeria, there would be a huge white populous in northern Africa. This would mean the Muslim Arabs would be probably now be living on the border areas of Mali, Niger, Chad & Sudan, with blacks pushed further south to the central Africa.

As for the mainly British colonialism of south Asia (such as India & Hong Kong), there's not much for me to say. As there was little land space for the Brits to move the Indians around, it was always going to the case that the British colonised India for economic purposes mostly. It's tempting to think the British could've sterilised the Indians, but frankly that would've seen a civil war between the British colonizers and the native population, with the Brits expelled en masse. As for Hong Kong, the region's economic and political freedoms post-1949 (when the Communists took over and created "Peoples' Republic of China") allowed ethnic Han Chinese to immigrate to that region in large numbers to escape the Cultural Revolution. For those who think Hong Kong is nothing but a British paper tiger, Hong Kong survived the invasion of the Japanese during WW2 and escaped with its traditional infrastructure unscathed.

On the topic of China, I believe the presence of warlords constantly fighting each other throughout this nation-empire's history to be a major mistake. The 1700s saw the Qing dynasty rise to become the richest "nation/empire" in the world, so the end result was a population that never felt like they needed to improve their lot in life. The ideas of Transatlantic exploration was non-existent, leaving imperial China vulnerable to colonialist invasions by the British & the Portuguese, plus the French & the Germans temporarily colonized parts of southern and northern China's seaport towns (France had some power over parts of Yunnan, Guangxi, Hainan & Guangdong, whilst Germany captured Qingdao- hence why Tsingtao beer exists!) during the 19th century.

A huge mistake of Chinese emperors & warlords was to continually fight each other for land, possessions and ultimate ruling control within modern China's land area. Had any of the many Chinese tribes within the area had at least attempted to depart China in order to explore the New World, Africa & Australia pre-1900, the decline of imperial China's hegemony within the world would have not proved as problematic for its citizenry as it eventually became in the 20th century. Instead, China could have split up into 5 to 15 separate nations, with each region's languages and customs (Cantonese, Hokkien, Hakka etc.) being preserved, with Mandarin (only 400 years old, having originated from the Manchus) taking a far less of a dominant presence in today's Sinosphere.

What's more, the Han Chinese should have left the Tibetans and the Uyghurs alone to their own land areas and focused instead on conquering lands outside of Asia. Had the Han Chinese succeeded in doing this, there might've been nation-states in the Americas, Africa & perhaps parts of Australia which would have a majority Chinese population today. Instead, just like the Europeans, the Chinese are on the precipice of witnessing their ethnic populations decline massively in the 21st century and becoming dominated by other ethnic groups.

In conclusion, it was a mistake by European colonialists in failing to attempt some sort of birth-rate restriction on the indigenous populations in the new world, Africa & Australia. Had the colonialists succeeded in pushing down the numbers of Hispanics, Arabs & Africans (and possibly the Indians) right into the late 20th century at least, the impending demographic apocalypse of whites (& possibly East Asians) would not be so severe in this coming 21st century. Not only was it clearly a mistake for Europeans & Americans to accept centralised banking during the late 19th/early 20th century and to become involved in two world wars, but they should've practiced isolationism with the third world. Essentially, the Europeans & Americans should've focused on fighting the instigators of Communist takeover in Russia, which would have restricted the amount of influence that the banking cartels & Jews have on today's socio-economic-political landscape.

On the subject of PRC China's "economic colonialism" in modern Africa, the issues lie within how much longer can the Chinese communist party continue to plough money and resources into Africa, only to receive little return. As the local Africans cannot afford to pay debts for new railways, utilities and other buildings, the Chinese will start to run low on manpower. Although the Chinese have built new facilities in Africa & Pacific island nations, they've done so with their own ethnic Chinese workers, but refused to give many employment opportunities to the local populous within these regions. As China's birthrate continues to plummet, China is now becoming a victim of its own success (just like the West)- as the current Chinese citizens will now increasingly demand better jobs, living conditions and political rights.

Now when I've talked about the world we live in now being one that demands social and economic equality, I never stated it was a good thing as some believed. I merely stated it was part of the new world order despite myself being aware that equality is a lie. I believe there will be a socio-political backlash from Africa & the Pacific in coming years against China's "economic colonialism", whilst China's own slowing growth will see internal issues within its nation and the Communist party struggling to hold onto power.

The only real solutions I can see for nationalists within Europe and western nations is for a huge percentage of the population to start protesting the political and economic institutions en masse immediately. Make them abandon their jobs, live off the grid, collect rainwater & develop their own independent technology. Civil unrest can also be an option, but I'm not entirely sure whether the West could be resurrected from the ruins of a massively expensive civil and intercontinental war.

However, options such as secession of states from the USA should be kept on the table. Encourage a re-distribution of various ethnic groups to divide themselves into certain areas of the States, so that dividing the USA into separate ethnic enclaves can be done as peacefully as possible.

As for China, only a major economic collapse can make its citizens rise up against the criminal Communist party, but also for the populous to agree upon splitting up the nation for every region's benefits and needs. In addition, this will restore trust, peace and security to neighbouring nations such as Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Vietnam & the Philippines.

As for Europe: end the European Union.

As for Australia, Canada & New Zealand: wake up to the threat of Chinese buying up property and start learning Cantonese (not Mandarin) to irritate the Han Mandarin supremacists from mainland China.

So I would everyone on Pocketnet to think deeply about the past, the present & the future of the West, but to respect differing opinions here. Thank you.

[bluekyun]

A Million Roses 1. (M)

Pairing: J U N G K O O K x R E A D E R x Y O O N G I

Genre: A N G S T & S M U T — assassin!au

Word Count: 7.633

Summary: One would think that no one can rival the power of the silent assassin, but as someone begins to claim your targets before you can pull the trigger, the entirety of the crew struggles with mistrust and suspicion, forgetting the oath in which they are bound by blood. For every body stolen, a rose lies in its place, and for every rose placed, you are one step closer to finding the traitor, the one who had so easily convinced you to love him in the first place.

Inspiration: Sword Art Online

Warnings: major character death, descriptive gore including blood and violence

Rating: NC-17

“He’s dead. Your father is dead.”

 Dropping the phone, the screen hits the stone floor and cracks, and amidst that noise, you hear your heart shatter into a million pieces as well. Ever since you were born, you have been preparing for this, preparing for this phone call, but that doesn’t stop the pain from squeezing the broken shards of your heart, the tears beginning to form behind your eyes. You can’t cry, and so you don’t. You merely accept the fact that your father is no longer the headmaster, and that now, it is you. He had prepared you over several years to take over his place running the guild, the one he spent his entire life to build from the bottom up, the one his own father had so carelessly turned his back on.

 Every emotion wells up inside of your small body- fear, anger, sadness. It all comes at once, giving your mind little time to grieve let alone think of what will happen next. The world around you is spinning, your lungs desperately grasp for air. If there is any point in time during which the sky is falling, this would be that moment. Despite the hideout covering several acres, it’s as if the whole building is shrinking in on itself, and like a rat stuck in a pipe, you are going to die. Closing your eyes, your father’s words echo in your head, so clear that it’s as if he is standing right beside you.

 “You can’t be an assassin if you feel things, you might as well step in front of the line of fire and get shot. Either way, it will get you killed.”

 You don’t bother to pick up the phone, deciding to leave it behind along with all sensibility and emotion. With him gone, you have about ten minutes to prepare for the takeover, the vicious time in which every member of the guild turns on both each other and the heir to get their hands on the throne. You have seen it too many times, and you are in no mood to deal with all the fuss. Grabbing the FN Five Seven from its holster, you stride through the hallways, and hearing the commotion in the mess hall, you don’t hesitate a millisecond before opening fire on every single person in that damned room.

Moonlight seeped through the spaces in the branches, illuminating the frost covered ground. It was nearing winter, and the temperature dropped each successive night. The crunch of the grass and the dirt below your feet was a sweet melody to your ears, as it felt like it had been ages since you had left the confines of the hideout. With less daylight, there was more time to roam in darkness, exploring the night’s hidden gems. As you parted through the bushes alongside the road, you peeked in both directions for any signs of people, but more importantly, scummy do-gooders in blue uniforms. Seeing as no one was around, you pulled your bag close to your chest, striding over to the alley created by several old, rundown buildings. Upon entering, you noticed the smell of feces and impending death, usually a tell-tale sign you would have a victim for the night. Quietly, you stepped over the trash littered on the ground, newspapers from as far back as several years ago, meaning that whoever had been occupying this filthy backstreet had long been gone. This gave you a golden opportunity to set up the perfect shot without anyone noticing. If you were lucky, the target would be busy at his desk in his office, deep in his work, and considering your current track record and detailed research, you weren’t going to return empty-handed.

 On one of the buildings, there hung a rusted ladder leading to the fire escape. It was no surprise to you that the ladder had been pulled down as there were many dealers who used this area as their selling ground, taking solace inside the abandoned buildings. Even though the night was entirely quiet, you weren’t going to take the chance; it was either kill or get killed in this world, and you weren’t one to fall victim to the latter. Grabbing the FN Five Seven from the holster, you carefully made your way up the ladder, the metal creaking with every step. Once on the fire escape, you shoved your back against the wall, chilling your back through the thin leather of your jacket. Through the window next to you, it seemed dark and empty, but when it came to this business, it had become second nature to question everything, to check everything. Peeking around the corner, you tried to make out any figures, but with the window being crusted over in soot, it was impossible to see inside. Taking a deep breath, you crawled underneath the windowsill, gun still clutched in hand. Staying crouched was the only certainty at remaining unnoticed, but as you climbed up the stairs, the strain on your back was becoming unbearable. You would have thought that your body was used to this kind of discomfort by now, but each time the pain only got worse.

 Finally to the the top of the building, looking above the overly populated and smog smothered city always gave you a sense of peace, reminding you why out of all the jobs in the world, the one that you had been born into happened to be one that allowed you to explore the darkest parts of humanity. The constant adrenaline rush and enjoyment you found from taking out each individual target, the extensive research, planning, and most importantly, the killing. Although partially sadistic and morbid of you, it was the part of the job you looked forward to the most. There was an indescribable satisfaction you received from taking someone’s last breath in the form of one silver plated bullet. Each victim had his or her own back story, life outside of pissing other people off, but those details were never the ones that interested you. Just like many others before this particular man, the one who so greedily wanted him dead had no other specification other than “Satan himself”. Those were the reasons that helped you thrive in this field of work- you’ve always wanted to meet him.

 Whoever ordered a hit on this man was either doing an act of justice or simply taking out competition, but that was never something you cared about so long as you got paid for your work at the end of the day.

 Removing the straps of your bag, you laid it out against the moisture ridden ground of the rooftop, carefully taking out each briefcase, still covered in black leather as pristine as it was on your first day on the job three years prior. Opening the largest, you pulled out your most prized possession, the Accuracy International Arctic Warfare Magnum, or in other words, the silent assassin. One of the top sniper rifles in the business, it was a present from your late father right before he was kidnapped and discarded, leaving you to run his business in his stead. One might argue that having a young adult run one of the largest assassin guilds in the country was quite literally the dumbest idea in existence, but the fact that you had been on the frontline since the tender age of ten only gave some indication to your level of expertise and dedication to these idiots who had become nothing but family. Among them, you had become known as ‘death gun’ for your precise work, but more specifically because of your gun of choice. With a suppressor and high performance, it was greatly feared, as no one had yet to challenge you, fully aware of their fate if you happened to point it in their direction. It had saved your life on several occasions while simultaneously taking that of others, and if you had the option to marry it then you would have long ago, as it was far more reliable than any man you had ever met.

 Pulling out the smaller briefcase, you carefully lifted your scope, another present from your father, and taking the cloth from its place, you gently cleaned the lens, guaranteeing a clear shot. Equipping it onto the sniper with a spine shuttering ‘click’, the rifle was ready for action. Looking across the way, you noticed a man standing outside the old rundown theater, pacing back and forth as if he were impatiently waiting for something. From what you could tell, he seemed too lost in his thoughts to speculate anyone coming for him, which only made your job easier. After a minute or so of watching him walk aimlessly, he pulled out his phone and turned his back to you, giving you the chance to aim directly for his head, guaranteeing a quick and painless death. After that, the only worry was clean up, which lucky for you, was not your job.

 Getting into place, you laid flat on your stomach, feeling water seep through the thin layer of your shirt, goosebumps forming on every inch of your skin. Upon placing the head of the barrel on the ledge, you shifted onto your elbows with your body pressed comfortably against the sheetrock. Leaning closer, the smell of gun powder filled your nose, and with one eye against the scope, finger securely hovering over the trigger, you smoothly glided the red dot until it rested perfectly at the rear of his cranium. A millisecond later, the poster along the wall was soaked in blood, droplets descending under the stress of gravity until gracefully spattering onto the littered cement below. The lifeless body collapsed on top of itself, landing on the ground in an inhuman position. Not a sound was heard, not even a mouse, and with the target taken out, it was time to go home. Tapping on your earpiece, you wait for the lulling of static before speaking into the microphone.

 “Jungkook, come get the body before anyone notices.”

 “Yes, Captain.” He says, sarcasm lacing his smooth voice.

 Rolling your eyes at his nickname, you don’t bother to respond. All you sincerely cared about was that the job was done and you could go back and relax before receiving your next mission. In this line of work, it was difficult to have a job every day, but considering the kind of fucked up city you resided in, it was no surprise to you that you received several requests a day. Unlike other groups, your team carefully selected who they chose to work with, realizing that not every life is worth a pretty penny. Besides, most of the people you killed were guilty of wrong doing rather than some petty shit like a wife trying to off her husband just so she can get his money. That was something you saw way more often than you would have liked to admit.

 Keeping an eye on the body, you sat up against the ledge, taking the time to disassemble the AIAWM, putting each individual piece back in its place. You prided yourself on organization and cleanliness, as not every assassin was lowlife scum, disorganized and dirty in every aspect. Within moments, you watched as the familiar black van slowed down against the curb, and in a matter of ten seconds, the van disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.

 Tapping on the ear piece again, you once again wait for the static.

 “Dammit Yoongi, why the fuck did it take you so long to grab the body?”

 On the other side of the line, you could hear a heavy, exceedingly annoyed sigh.

 “Jungkook had to sneeze, what the fuck do you want from me. I just drive the stupid thing so why are you yelling at me?” Despite him being monotone, you knew exactly how to hit every nerve, and deep down, he was bitter. He hated it when you turned your frustrations on him.

 “Whatever, just meet me in the alley in two.” Ending the call, you shove your earpiece into your pocket, finally taking the chance to breathe. You had a terrible habit of holding your breath every time your finger came close to the trigger, and it wouldn’t be until moments later, head swimming in dizziness, that you remembered to release the toxicity from your lungs.

 The AIAWM had done its job for the night, finally able to retire until the next mission which would likely be the following day. With everything back in its rightful place, you slung the straps of your carrier over your shoulder, silently making your way back to the ladder. From your spot above, you could see the van sitting idly at the end of the alleyway, reminding you that you had approximately thirty seconds before someone noticed the blood-stained walls, alerting the police of the suspicious activity. At least that’s how it usually went.

 Sliding down the ladder, you don’t bother to watch your step, the entirety ready to break into pieces at the mere contact of your foot. Just like before, the darkness of the night shielded your escape, and after checking that no traces of your existence were left behind, you quickly stepped over the soggy cardboard and crushed cans toward the van. With one swift motion, the sliding door opened, and inside you saw Jungkook hovering over the body with nothing but darkness behind his hooded eyes. He grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your flesh, leaving instant bruises that he would likely kiss over later in the morning sun. After being thrown inside, you latched onto the window, eyes scanning over the streets as Yoongi drove quietly into the abyss of night.

 Everyone was quiet despite the few grunts of an irritated assassin in the front seat, and although you would never mention anything, you knew he was still bothered by your remark earlier. He was your little puppy, he wanted to please you, attend to you, and have your attention, but whenever he got none of the three, he became an insufferable bastard until you caved.

 Several blocks down the road, the street lights became increasingly spaced out, leaving the sinners and wrong-doers to thrive under the cloak of darkness in between, but when it came time to return to the hideout, every organism capable of breath steered clear away. No one dared to cross paths with you, and you liked it best that way.

 It was nearing three in the morning, and with the epinephrine loosely running through your veins, you felt your body come down from its high. Every ache and pain reappeared, and had it not been for the smell of a dead man soiling himself, you would have likely passed out in Jungkook’s arms, savoring the warmth that you knew only his body could provide. In the distance, obscene orange lights signaled the entrance to the single dirt road underneath the highway, the only path from the inner city to the hideout. Parking the car in front of the gate, Yoongi left his place in the driver’s seat, pulling the small key from his pocket. This area outside of the city limits was generally closed off to the public as the trek through the mountains was dangerous, but this only gave your group the opportunity to hide away. Yoongi, like the genius that he was, replicated the key to the gate (not that it was particularly hard to do so) and with zero CCTVs in the vicinity, it was always easy to access.

 After opening the gate, Yoongi returned to his seat and drove down the dirt path, parking several meters away from the entrance before releasing an exasperated sigh realizing that he once again had to leave the comfort of the van. For someone who excelled at killing and was exceptionally smart, he had to be one of the laziest people you had ever met. On this mission in particular, his only job was to drive, but those were the days he seemed to complain the most. It was either he was the one killing or he whined about wanting to stay in the hideout and there was no in between with him. Ten seconds went by on your watch before he removed himself and finished locking the gate, but not before cursing a few times underneath his breath.

 The rest of the drive went by quickly, and underneath the moonlight, you felt the energy drain from your body, eyelids starting to droop. You desired the comfort of being back inside the hideout, to curl into to bed and sleep for several years, and although this line of work always meant you were ‘on call’, you three had made a pact to never leave without one another, and that every job you took on was a group effort regardless of the time of day and regardless of how little sleep each of you got. There have been missions back to back, missions that lasted several weeks where the most sleep you got at any point was fifteen minutes. But you all had each other, and that was all that was necessary to get the job done. The trifecta was your selling point.

 Pulling around the loop, Yoongi signaled for the garage to open, and after shifting the van into park, he leaped out of the door as if his own life depended on it. Without another word, he walked to his sleep quarters without so much as a goodbye.

 “Honestly, he can be such a prick, tell me why we work with him again.” Jungkook frowned, irritated by the elder’s childish demeanor.

“Because he’s good at what he does, and he’s smart as hell. But he takes the fact that we need him as a free pass to do whatever he wants. So long as he doesn’t jeopardize the job, then I don’t have a problem with his sour attitude… even though it is extremely aggravating.”

 Rubbing your temples, you tried to push the thoughts away, already feeling the oncoming of a headache.

 “Go lie down in my room. I have to take care of the body and the paperwork, but I promise I’ll be up there soon.” With a small peck on the lips, he grabbed the body from the van before heading toward the left wing- the morgue.

 Grabbing your duffle bag, you slumped up the stairs, the burden of the night weighing heavy on your shoulders. When you entered the hallway between the garage and the rest of the building, you immediately felt an uneasiness creep up your spine, and despite the bitter chill, a drop of sweat rolled down your backside. Even with the lights on, the fear ate away at your mind, and before you realized what you were doing, you were sprinting toward the bedchambers. Turning around the corner, you crashed into something soft before landing back on your ass. Your heart rate was already over 145 beats per minute, but with the impending doom in the pit of your stomach, you almost pulled out the dagger hidden in your boot, all until you heard his voice.

 “What are you running for?” Looking up, you locked eyes with Yoongi, who, despite being normally cold, stared at you with glistening eyes and furrowed brows.

 “Nothing.” You stated, brushing off the dirt from your pants. Without saying another word, you tried to slip past him, only for him to stop you as he laced his fingers around your wrist. Turning back, you blinked at him in confusion. Neither of you said anything for a moment, the air slowly turning awkward and uncomfortable. His eyes scanned your face and for a split second you saw longing behind his brown irises, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared.

 “Nevermind.” He whispered underneath his breath, letting go of your arm and slipping back into his work quarters as if the whole interaction never happened. At times like this he was extremely hard to read, never one to voice his emotions or thoughts unless necessary, but as the dread began to resurface, you couldn’t concern yourself with him. Something about being in this place was making you uncomfortable, and this was your home, or more-so where you lived as you had never had a real home in your life. But even so, it felt as though you were on enemy territory, like your every move was being watched, and you hated it. You tried to push it off as being exhausted and slightly delusional, but every fiber in your being felt that something in the air was different. And your gut never lied.

 Walking ahead, you tried to suppress the rush of anxiety, but with each passing second, your legs became limp with fear. It had been years since you last felt like this, as if you were on the verge of death, trapped and helpless. Making it to the bedroom door, your hand shook above the doorknob, and even in the dim lighting, you noticed your skin turning pale. You hesitated for a moment, unable to steady your hand enough to open the door. Taking a few deep breaths, you did your best to focus, sending subliminal messages to your limbs to cease having a mind of their own. When nothing happened, you flexed your muscles and closed your eyes. Even through introspection, you could still feel your body trembling.

 An object brushed against your arm, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Grabbing your chest, you tried to control your breathing, your heart on the verge of tachycardia. Looking beside you, you watched as Yoongi opened the door, a simple action that spoke more than a thousand words. The only problem was, you didn’t know exactly what he was trying to say. He didn’t even bother looking at you before picking up his pace and returning down the hallway from which he came. It took you several minutes to control your heart rate, but even when you could breathe normally, the sense of urgency was still at the forefront of your mind. Stepping inside, you slammed the bedroom door behind you, instantly stripping every piece of filthy clothing from your body. Grabbing one of Jungkook’s shirts from the floor, you slipped your head through the opening before forcing your arms into the sleeves. The oversized shirt gave you a sense of security that you desperately needed, the smell of fresh detergent filling your nose, a momentary distraction from the discomfort in the pit of your stomach. Aware that the night ahead was likely going to be a rough one, you curled underneath the covers, placing the pillow on top of your head until all you could hear was your own heartbeat. You started counting backwards from 100, one of the sure ways that would help you fall asleep as the task was so menial that just the thought of doing it made you yawn. Under the cloak of darkness, you shut your eyes, taking your time counting backwards, and as you inched closer and closer to zero, you could feel the tension leave your body, and your mind began to wander. In the distance, you could hear the sound of heavy footsteps, but before they could even reach the door, you were out like a lit candle left out in the wind.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee woke you from your slumber, the first sign that the morning had passed and it was well into midday. The first to wake was normally Jungkook, but with strong arms still wrapped around your figure, it meant Yoongi was the one making noise in the kitchen. It was a rare sight to see Yoongi out of his room before nightfall, especially so early in the day, but that thought only concerned you more. If he was awake, then he had a reason, and that reason was usually a negative one.

 Removing the arms from around your waist, you placed them back beside his body as quietly as possible as to not wake him up, but when he began to stir, you immediately froze. Assassins are trained with keen senses, especially while being dead asleep, and although you wouldn’t be able to leave from this bed without waking him up, you wanted to be respectful and wake him up as nicely as possible. He snuggled his head into your back, code asking for you not to leave him, as he was sleeping so comfortably with you in his arms. Turning around, you kissed him softly on the forehead, trailing kisses down his nose until you reached his plump lips. After receiving a satisfied moan, he signaled for your release.

 Pushing back the covers, your swung your feet over the bed. Even through your slippers, you could feel the freezing stone floor. You took a mental note to remind Jungkook to pick up a rug later, so that maybe the room wouldn’t be as cold as your dying heart. Slipping out of the bedroom, you minced through the hallway, following the scent of dark roast. Upon reaching the kitchen however, you were met with nothing except for a steaming cup on the counter. Looking around, you didn’t see Yoongi in sight, so you figured he must have made his coffee and then went back to work. And by work you meant sleep.

 Grabbing the mug, you leaned against the counter and stared out the window, a clear view of mere nothingness other than the mountain on the opposite side. Considering it was nearing fall, everything that surrounded the hideout was in the midst of changing colors, losing all their leaves until there was nothing left but bare branches. With the structure of the building designed into the hill itself, most of it was hidden underground albeit a few areas which needed at least some sunlight- including the kitchen. Bringing the steaming beverage to your lips, you felt the burn of the coffee as it went down and reached your stomach, the bitter taste welcoming on this fine afternoon. As you began to take another sip, the uneasy feeling you had from last night returned, and once again, you felt as though you were being watched. Before you could turn to check, slender arms wrapped around your hips, spinning you around until your lower back was pinned directly to the counter. Leaning in closely, his hot breath tickled your neck, making each hair stand on end. His grip on your waist, although light, felt forceful and dominant, a side of him you never saw. Tracing kisses from the bottom of your earlobe to your neck, your head filled with thoughts of lust, the smell of coffee now the furthest thing from your mind. The way he subtly nipped at your collarbone made your head spin, and as his tongue glided across the tender flesh, a weak moan fell from your lips. His fingers traced circles across your exposed skin, and the warmth of the blood coursing through your veins juxtaposed his icy touch. Heat began to pool in between your legs, and the moment his lips traveled their way to your own, it was as if a fire was ignited within you. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His motions were fluid and matched your own, and for once, your minds were perfectly in sync. However, this moment of bliss was ruined when a certain unhappy camper stumbled his way into the kitchen, separating the two of you without so much as a second glance.

 “What the hell is your problem this morning?” Yoongi cursed, venom lacing his voice.

 Jungkook didn’t bother to respond but simply continued to pour himself a cup of coffee, entirely ignoring the two other people standing in the kitchen beside him. He seemed indifferent, on the verge of killing someone, and he had only gotten out of bed a few minutes ago. Jungkook had a tendency to get jealous whenever he caught you in Yoongi’s arms, but it normally fueled his ego, turning him into a bigger show off than normal. So this change in attitude was alarming. He continued to act as if he is the only person in the room, and as soon as the brew was to his liking, he left the kitchen in the opposite direction likely heading back to his office to do research on the list of potential targets. Both you and Yoongi glanced at each other for a moment, all romantic feelings now buried in the sand. An awkwardness hung in the air, and just like the night prior, a familiar metallic taste encompassed your tongue. Looking at the man beside you, you noticed the way he shifted on his feet, a tell-tale sign that there was something on his mind. However, you didn’t bother asking as you knew he would never tell you the truth anyway.

 Looking down, you noticed that you were still wrapped in Jungkook’s shirt, and despite it being comfortable, an unfamiliar insecurity plagued your bones. You felt the need to cover up, as if your entire existence was being exposed in that one moment. Raising your head, you stared into Yoongi’s eyes, but instead of the loving gaze he normally shared with you, there was only darkness. He was cold and distant. There was something off about him, and it only brought the anxiety back. Basic instinct told you to run, but your mind only saw him as someone you love rather than a threat. With conflicted emotions, your body froze, now trapped in his intense gaze. He was the first to break eye contact, but when he did, you were filled with a mixture of guilt and fear. Before he had the chance to leave first, you nodded slightly before rushing out of the kitchen, quickening your steps until you were safely back into your own room. With it still being mid-afternoon, you had time before Jungkook called the next mission, so the dress code didn’t matter for the time being. Opening your drawers, you dragged out a pair of black skinny jeans and a sweatshirt. As you pulled the hoodie over your head, you couldn’t help but think about Jungkook’s behavior, slightly concerned. You needed to have a talk with him, and it would likely be sooner rather than later. After lacing up your boots, you walked out toward his room, and although you knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself, your heart still ached knowing that something might be wrong.

 Feelings. The only enemy which had been able to force you onto your knees.

 Sauntering up to the door, you listened carefully for any sounds, but when you heard none, you figured he was consumed in his tasks. Knocking on the door, you waited patiently, but when there was no answer, you knock again. Still nothing. Just as you were ready to walk away, the door opened, and on the other side you saw an exhausted and paranoid looking Jungkook.

 “Can I come in?” You asked as delicately as possible.

 Nodding his head, he fully opened the door, allowing you to come inside before gesturing you to take a seat on the black leather couch against the wall. There had been many times where Jungkook had become too engrossed his work, for so long that he had developed a tendency to fall asleep in his chair. This couch had become more of a bed than his real one, as the other was reserved for his special nights with you.

 As he sat beside you, he avoided eye contact, choosing to stare at the floor rather than your eyes.

 “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or no?” The question caught his attention, and as he lifted his gaze, you saw something a lot darker behind his tired eyes.

 “I think Yoongi is up to something.” The accusation took you aback for a moment, and you immediately lost all ability to speak.

 Yoongi? The boy who was too lazy to get out of bed for food? The idea was ludicrous.

 “What makes you say something like that?” You chose your words carefully as to not show any type of favoritism, but in your heart, you strongly believed that Yoongi would never do anything to jeopardize the group. More than anyone, he viewed you and Jungkook as family considering he never had much of one to begin with, and he would never dare go behind your back, knowing full well of the consequences if he got caught.

 Jungkook rung his hands together before pushing his fingers through his hair.

 “Don’t you think he’s been acting shady lately? He never comes out of his room anymore. Not his bedroom, but his actual office. Since when did he work that hard? Normally, I wouldn’t be against it, but he has nothing to show for it. All those hours in there, he has added nothing to the investigations. The bastard has only been driving the van.” He thought wisely about his response, knowing full well of your love for the eldest. But even so, he couldn’t stop the distrust lacing his heavy allegations.

 Taking a moment to absorb his words, you thought back over the past few weeks during which your relationship with Yoongi had been rather odd. To you, his vibe changed drastically, no longer the quiet and careful assassin, but one that seemed filled with nothing but darkness and malicious intent. At first you thought you were going crazy, a result of overworking yourself, but with Jungkook having the same suspicions, you began to think maybe your gut was right.

 “Well…” You began, hesitating slightly. “I don’t think we should jump to conclusions just yet. The moment we suspect each other, this whole group will fall apart. But I will keep an eye out for anything suspi-” your sentence was interrupted by the sound of Jungkook’s alarm, the signal that it was time to head out.

 “A mission already? It’s midday Jungkook, we can’t go out right now.” Jungkook looked at you briefly before facing his computer once again.

“Sorry, love, but this is our only chance. He booked a plane ticket and is flying to Shanghai tonight, he’s probably trying to escape. We have no reign over there, so if he leaves, that’s money down the drain. Grab Yoongi, we’re heading out.”  Without another word, he grabbed his leather jacket from the chair before walking out the door. You followed his lead, and as he headed toward the left wing to the garage, you ran over to Yoongi’s office door. Not bothering to knock, you opened the door only for him to slam his laptop shut in surprise.

 “You scared me.” He said matter-of-factly, trying to hide the fact that he nearly shit his pants from you barging in.

 “Mission. Now.”, is all you say before closing the door behind you. Leaning against the cold wall, you tried to process his reaction, but no matter which way you think about it, there must have been something on the screen that he didn’t want anyone to see. And that only worried you more. Pulling yourself away, you ran back to your room for your black duffle bag before heading straight for the garage. Upon entering, you saw the van was already started with Jungkook waiting impatiently in the front seat.

 “Where the fuck is he? We have to go.” He asked, anger slowly rising.

 Shrugging your shoulders, you said nothing before opening the sliding door and scooting inside. It took all of three minutes for Yoongi to come outside, but when he noticed Jungkook in his designated spot, he shot a glare before giving up and climbing into the passenger’s seat.

 The car ride was dead quiet, the tension in the air even thicker than before. The only conversation that occurred was Jungkook briefing everyone on the mission at hand after passing out a sheet of paper.

 “The man we’re after today should be in his office right now. His flight should be leaving in approximately four hours. Take him out quickly and quietly. Since there is still daylight, we really have to be on our game this time. Y/N, you will be situated in the building across the way. Lucky for us, it’s currently under construction, and no one should be on the premises right now. Go to the 5th floor and enter the fourth door to your left. It’s the room directly across from his office. Yoongi… you just wait in the van, alright? I’ll be in position ready to grab the body.”

 No one said anything, silently acknowledging their roles. Although Yoongi would never voice it, he was beyond pissed that Jungkook had the audacity to keep him in the car, when killing during the day was his specialty. Jungkook needed him for this mission, but the prick was trying to keep him trapped so that he could collect all the glory.

 Parking the van in one of the alleyways, both you and Jungkook exit, trying to stay as casual as possible. Since it was still daytime, your outfit blended in perfectly with the crowd, and for that you were grateful. Crossing the street, you looked around for cops, but when all you saw was a bunch of self-assured, walking pieces of trash, you let out a breath of relief. With no one having you on their radar, you quickly hopped over the fence outside the building. Once inside, you found the stairwell, and despite much of the inside still in the process of being torn out, the general structure of the building was still left intact. Without a moment’s hesitation, you sprinted up the stairs, and by the third flight, you could feel your legs burning. Cardio was never your strongpoint, but thanks to your solid willpower, you would always find a way to keep going until you knew you could safely rest. The room itself wasn’t hard to find, and upon entering the room, you noticed that it was likely once used as an office. The room was dusty and the floor was littered with crumpled papers and broken pieces of wood, but when you saw a broken frame with a picture of a child in the corner, a smile spread across your face. You would be saving children’s lives, and that motivation was enough for you to accept that you would likely be dragged through hell alone after death, considering all of the killing you have done over your many years of existence. This man now added to the list. Based on the information given to you by Jungkook, the man in question should currently be sitting at his desk, eyes glued to his computer. According to the report given to you, this man was the founder of Titanium Industries, a well-known provider for medical implants, which he used as a cover-up for underground human trafficking that spanned several countries including Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. This man was a piece of shit, and you were about to do the world a favor by taking him out.

 Sitting beside the window, you set up the AIAWM on one of the worn-out side tables still left inside the room. Wiping the lens of the scope, you took a few deep breaths before chambering a fresh round. Sitting with your knee on the old wooden chair, you steady yourself, and looking through the scope, you aim the dot directly on his forehead.

 Within moments prior of pulling the trigger, you felt a sudden flutter in the pit of your stomach. Something wasn’t right.

 Closing the laptop, the man lifted his head to face the window. It wasn’t abnormal for the victim to move in the middle of taking a shot, but what you didn’t expect is for the man to be staring directly at you, faced singed with a devious grin.

 “How the hell does he know!” You cursed at yourself, both enraged and confused.

 Never in your career had you been caught or noticed, not once, twice, or even close for that matter, and despite having trained yourself for this situation, you suddenly became stiff, a nervousness you hadn’t felt for years. Thinking quickly on your feet was your forte, and with no other options left, you grabbed your phone and dial for backup.

 “Jungkook? He’s onto us, he saw me, we need to get to him now before it’s-”

 Your strained voice was interrupted by the crack of a gunshot. Taking another look through the scope, your eyes landed on the blood spattered window, the deep crimson marking the glass like a freshly painted piece of modern art. At the corner of the desk, you noticed the lifeless body of the man, strewn in an unworldly position from the blow to his head. Your heart was racing faster than normal, realizing that the man you had been after was taken away from you in a split second. There were two possibilities in a scenario like this: he had either shot himself or got shot. Both of those scenarios left you empty handed however, and although all you needed was the body to get your share of the pay, it hurt your pride to take back a body that you hadn’t rightfully marked.

 “Fuck. Jungkook, he’s dead. Go in there quickly and pick up the body, the police will likely be there in a few minutes.” Hanging up the phone, you placed it back inside your jean pocket. You hated this, you hated the fact that you weren’t the one to kill him, but it was code as an assassin that if you were not the one to shoot the target, then the body was not rightfully yours. When it came to competition between assassins, there were no rules, regulations, or time-outs as this world was a free-for-all, except for that one, unspoken, stupid fucking rule.

 Packing up all your things, you did your best to place things gently into their case, and despite the critical situation, you managed to pack your bag in record time, and without taking another glance back at the window, you rushed to the stairwell at the far end of the hall. Normally, you would have descended the stairs as quiet as a mouse, but due to the urgency of the situation and your lack of fucks given, you nearly jumped down each flight of stairs, just to get to the bottom as quickly as possible. Even as electricity shot through your bones with every rough landing, you continued to jump, determined to get out. Upon opening the back door, a gust of cold wind hit you like a ton of bricks, almost knocking you backwards. The vibration of your pocket caught your attention, and with nimble fingers, you pulled out your phone, ready to congratulate the boys on a job well done.

 “The body’s gone. It’s fucking gone. There’s no weapon either.” Taking a deep breath, you tried to stay calm, but with the situation only becoming more problematic, you found yourself losing control of your anger.

 “What the fuck do you mean it’s gone? Jungkook, I swear if this is a joke I’m going to kick your ass.” You threatened, your teeth nearly grinding into nothing but dust.

 “It’s not a joke. There’s nothing here.”

 Brushing your hand through your hair, you bit your tongue, not in the mood for an argument with him. As much as you would have liked to think it was his fault, you knew that it was entirely illogical. Although you needed someone to blame before you strangled every person that crossed your path.

 “Call Yoongi. We have to get out of here.” You tried to keep your composure, pacing back and forth trying to figure out what to do next. Without a body you sure as hell weren’t getting paid, but even worse, this mishap would likely ruin your reputation. The man was dead, that couldn’t be helped, but if word got out that you lost both the shot and the body, then who knew what hell might occur. You reigned top tier in this field and you were not about to lose everything you had worked so hard for.

 “I think… you should come here. Quickly.” That’s all you heard before the line went dead.

 Walking from the alleyway, you clutched your bag close to your chest. As you crossed the street, you tried to calm your beating heart, but by Jungkook’s voice, you could tell that something was seriously wrong. He had never asked you once to check out the scene, which only meant there was something waiting for you that you were in no way ready to see.

 Entering the building, you noticed several security guards unconscious on the floor. The building was extremely quiet, and despite the sound of a gunshot, the world seemed to continue as if the whole thing never happened. Instead of taking the elevator, you rushed up another five flight of stairs, but when you reached the fifth floor, you noticed Jungkook pacing back and forth outside the office door.

 “There you are! Take a look at this.” His voice was panicked and his eyes were nearly the size of dinner plates.

 Stepping aside, he made way for you to enter the room, and upon first glance, all you are faced with is the spattered blood on the window.

 “Jungkook, I don’t see-”

 You immediately stopped your sentence short, finally noticing the blood covered rose sitting delicately atop the mahogany desk.

[port-chance]

Casoxistxi - Lancaster

Well, I write today with some degree of apprehension. Not only has the mysterious thief evaded my traps and struck my chocolate stores once more, but it appears that our captors would like me to get on with delivering their notice of impending doom to the rest of the world. Another one of their number has just slimed its way into the kitchen. In its tentacles, a human looking being is wrapped - is that - Meredith! Meredith’s eyes, already big, are opened wide. But I know the expression on Meredith’s face far too well. It is the expression which I have always translated as “I am pretending to be intimidated while devising a way to kill various things using only a rusty can opener, marshmallow fluff, the matches I have in my pocket and Arden’s plans for world domination which I left laying about”. Oh dear. Meredith has just winked at me. I have a feeling this may not end well. Maybe I should just type the message of impending doom before that idiot gets themself killed. Again. ALL HAIL THE CASOXISTXI (glad I’m typing, I don’t fancy pronouncing thaaskjhag kwh RULERS OF GALAXIES. Sheesh. Impatient sort of aliens, aren’t they? THIS FIRST OUTPOST SHALL BECOME THE CAPITAL CITY FROM WHICH WE SHALL DOMINATE THIS PITIFUL PLANET. YOU HAVE TWO TURNS OF THIS PATHETIC ROCK BEFORE THE SUBJUGATION OF THIS RACE BEGINS.

Well. I seem to have some time now in which to update you as to the situation, my sweet readers, and I do apologize in advance for any typos. They have locked us in the spare bedroom, and I must write this on my phone instead of my laptop. We appear to be safe unless they need hostages again, so I suppose I should explain what exactly happened. Meredith and I were eating breakfast this morning. I went to get the orange juice from the refrigerator, and subsequently picked it up. Which happened to open a rift in the space-time continuum. It was a very pretty colour. Meredith merely said “Saturdays, right?” and then “Hey, the rest of my tea is gone!” after rummaging through the cupboards. Meredith then left for the lab (skillfully dodging one of my death traps on the way), muttering something about quantum reflex and the relativity of weekends while running their hand distractedly through their hair. That was all fairly ordinary. The tentacle monsters, however, were slightly more unexpected. Back to the present. I have used the telepathic abilities bestowed on me during the Blood Orange Incident to contact my army of lawn gnomes which dwell beneath the seemingly tranquil slopes of our front yard. They have felt indebted to me ever since I orchestrated their takeover of Lesley Montaigne’s property last month, so were happy to help. I am informed that the gnomes are currently planning a counterattack on the Casoxistxi. Meredith, meanwhile, is pacing back and forth in front of the bed upon which I sit. They are babbling on about the mechanics of the ordinary Saturday morning space-time rift and why it should be different today of all days, when Meredith was planning to have a crime show marathon and study eleven-dimensional supergravity. I was going to assist with both. Needless to say, alien invasions and being hostages and all has rather ruined our weekend plans. There are now terrible sounds coming from the rest of the house, the sounds of battle. Our guards have rushed (as fast as tentacle monsters can) to support the rest of the Casoxistxi forces. Meredith has picked the lock of the spare room door in the last 12.7 seconds. I will continue writing when our daring escape is no longer underway.

Thankfully, the rift has now been closed and the Casoxistxi peacefully returned to their homeworld. After Meredith and I escaped the spare bedroom, we found the lawn gnomes fighting with valor, but on the verge of defeat. While I directed their battle maneuvers, Meredith found a way to close the rift in the refrigerator and suck the aliens through it at the same time, using only a rusty can opener, marshmallow fluff, the matches in their pocket, my latest plans for world domination, and surprisingly, a Slinky which had disappeared under mysterious circumstances some months ago. As it is, we have rescheduled our scientific endeavors and TV marathons for tomorrow. Through my open window, the gentle sounds of cars passing and ominous garbled hissing drift through the air. Somewhere, something is exploding. Somewhere, something is being created. Possibly new forms of life. It happens that both of those somewheres are the same place; the science lab that Meredith is currently experimenting in. The hills wrap around us in their soft forested swells, cupping in their grassy palms the town of Port Chance. The deer pick their way through the woods, following trails only they know. The rivers and creeks continue on their meandering ways towards the Atlantic. Meredith has told me the explosion and subsequent creation was them making lunch. The lunch is… doubtful, but I know I’ll eat it anyway. All is well. All is most definitely well.

-Arden Lancaster

[janicecpitts]

Opening Day At The North Atlanta Home Show A Success

Contents

Successful showroom ‘style

Lake sidney lanier

Predawn liftoff today (march 2)

North atlanta home show

County performing arts

Excerpts from the indictment show how far wealthy parents were willing to go…

The 2008 Summer Olympics opening ceremony was held at the Beijing National Stadium, also known as the Bird’s Nest.It began at 20:00 China Standard Time on Friday, 8 August 2008, as the number 8 is considered to be auspicious. The number 8 is associated with prosperity and confidence in Chinese culture. The artistic part of the ceremony comprised two parts titled “Brilliant Civilization” and …

Twin Star Home announced that it is bringing their successful showroom ‘style Takeover … Each of the three designers—Charlotte, North Carolina-based Lisa Mende; Atlanta-based TV personality Michel …

Fly Tyers: Kevin Arculeo: Kevin’s professional guiding experience spans more than 16 years along with personal fishing skills developed since his childhood.Kevin guides north of Atlanta on lake sidney lanier for striped bass and spotted bass. He has also guided on the Chattahoochee River for trout and several trout streams in North Georgia.

Spacex’s Crew Dragon Capsule Successfully Docks To The Iss For The First Time Elon Musk Was Emotionally Wrecked By Spacex’s 1st Crew Dragon Launch Success — But In A Good Way Spacex’s New Crew Capsule Aces Space Station Docking America’s Newest Crew Capsule Rockets Toward Space Station Crew Capsule Rockets Toward Space Station With Test Dummy Mar 2, 2019 … SpaceX launched its first Crew Dragon on a Falcon 9 rocket in a brilliant predawn liftoff today (march 2), sending the

For the developers who put shovels to dirt in 2017, their visions of millions of square feet of office, or apartments or retail and mixed-use throughout Metro Atlanta are now coming to fruition.

Atlanta (/ æ t ˈ l æ n t ə /) is the capital of, and the most populous city in, the U.S. state of Georgia.With an estimated 2017 population of 486,290, it is also the 38th most-populous city in the United States.The city serves as the cultural and economic center of the Atlanta metropolitan area, home to 5.8 million people and the ninth-largest metropolitan area in the nation.

The 22nd annual north atlanta home show is back again this weekend, this year featuring the founders of global lifestyle brand Madcap Cottage. Jason Oliver Nixon and John Loecke will speak at 2 and 4 …

Feds Come Down Hard On New Jersey Nursing Home Where 11 Children Died $600,000 Fine Imposed On Nursing Home After Outbreak Feds Impose $600000 Fine Against N.j. Nursing Home 11 Kids Dead At N.j. Nursing Facility. 36 Infected. Feds Fine Wanaque Center $600k. $600,000 Fine Imposed On Nursing Home After Outbreak – Report Feb 23, 2017 … and a student play at the Union county performing arts center …… 70 years by the New Jersey State Department of

N.C. State will play host to Georgia Tech on the first night of the season, while North Carolina … and unmatched basketball success,” said Rosalyn Durant, ESPN senior vice president, college …

Carpocalypse Now: Lyft’s Founders Are Right — We’re In The Endgame For Cars Mickey Vs Masa: The Battle Between Uber And Lyft Pits Two Japanese Billionaires Against Each Other Rakuten’s Hiroshi Mikitani Set To Be Big Winner In Lyft Inc.’s Impending Initial Public Offering How Do Lyft Shared Saver And Uber Express Pool Work? The Real Cost Of Free Shares For Uber, Lyft Drivers Mar 2, 2019 … Rakuten’s $300 million investment in Lyft could be worth close to $4 billion … Uber and Lyft pits two Japanese billionaires

VOLTA was also called off just a week before opening due to structural issues at Pier 92, a crisis that forced a contingent of Armory Show exhibitors to relocate to VOLTA’s usual home at Pier 90.

Small Touches Create A Great Master Bathroom The master bath is the largest bath in the home and is typically connected or adjacent to the master bedroom. … Make a Small Bath Renovating A Bathroom? Experts Share Their Secrets. Carpocalypse Now: Lyft’s Founders Are Right — We’re In The Endgame For Cars Mickey Vs Masa: The Battle Between Uber And Lyft Pits Two Japanese

Feb 7, 2019 … 22nd annual North Atlanta Home Show back again this weekend … 2 and 4 p.m. on Friday, the show’s opening day, and again on Saturday at 2 …

Employing People, Improving Lives Success Story: Tossapop Strickland Tossapop Strickland developed an early interest in soldering. “I began soldering when I …

The North Atlanta Home Show offers innovative products and hundreds of … 8 is Trade Day (courtesy of PMC Pros) and Hero Day at the North Atlanta Home Show. … Be first to hear about celebrity appearances and the latest news for shows …

Atlanta is the capital of, and the most populous city in, the U.S. state of Georgia. With an estimated 2017 population of 486,290, it is also the 38th most-populous city in the United States. The city serves as the cultural and economic center of the Atlanta metropolitan area, home to …. On the next day, Mayor James Calhoun surrendered Atlanta to the Union …

Feb 4, 2019 … The three-day Show – the largest-ever North Atlanta Home Show — at … For the first time, Jason Oliver Nixon and John Loecke, founders of the … some of the most successful and longest-running shows in North America, …

via Check This Out More Resources

[skilltradecontractor]

Opening Day At The North Atlanta Home Show A Success

Contents

Successful showroom ‘style

Lake sidney lanier

Predawn liftoff today (march 2)

North atlanta home show

County performing arts

Excerpts from the indictment show how far wealthy parents were willing to go…

The 2008 Summer Olympics opening ceremony was held at the Beijing National Stadium, also known as the Bird’s Nest.It began at 20:00 China Standard Time on Friday, 8 August 2008, as the number 8 is considered to be auspicious. The number 8 is associated with prosperity and confidence in Chinese culture. The artistic part of the ceremony comprised two parts titled "Brilliant Civilization" and …

Twin Star Home announced that it is bringing their successful showroom ‘style Takeover … Each of the three designers—Charlotte, North Carolina-based Lisa Mende; Atlanta-based TV personality Michel …

Fly Tyers: Kevin Arculeo: Kevin’s professional guiding experience spans more than 16 years along with personal fishing skills developed since his childhood.Kevin guides north of Atlanta on lake sidney lanier for striped bass and spotted bass. He has also guided on the Chattahoochee River for trout and several trout streams in North Georgia.

Spacex’s Crew Dragon Capsule Successfully Docks To The Iss For The First Time Elon Musk Was Emotionally Wrecked By Spacex’s 1st Crew Dragon Launch Success — But In A Good Way Spacex’s New Crew Capsule Aces Space Station Docking America’s Newest Crew Capsule Rockets Toward Space Station Crew Capsule Rockets Toward Space Station With Test Dummy Mar 2, 2019 … SpaceX launched its first Crew Dragon on a Falcon 9 rocket in a brilliant predawn liftoff today (march 2), sending the

For the developers who put shovels to dirt in 2017, their visions of millions of square feet of office, or apartments or retail and mixed-use throughout Metro Atlanta are now coming to fruition.

Atlanta (/ æ t ˈ l æ n t ə /) is the capital of, and the most populous city in, the U.S. state of Georgia.With an estimated 2017 population of 486,290, it is also the 38th most-populous city in the United States.The city serves as the cultural and economic center of the Atlanta metropolitan area, home to 5.8 million people and the ninth-largest metropolitan area in the nation.

The 22nd annual north atlanta home show is back again this weekend, this year featuring the founders of global lifestyle brand Madcap Cottage. Jason Oliver Nixon and John Loecke will speak at 2 and 4 …

Feds Come Down Hard On New Jersey Nursing Home Where 11 Children Died $600,000 Fine Imposed On Nursing Home After Outbreak Feds Impose $600000 Fine Against N.j. Nursing Home 11 Kids Dead At N.j. Nursing Facility. 36 Infected. Feds Fine Wanaque Center $600k. $600,000 Fine Imposed On Nursing Home After Outbreak – Report Feb 23, 2017 … and a student play at the Union county performing arts center …… 70 years by the New Jersey State Department of

N.C. State will play host to Georgia Tech on the first night of the season, while North Carolina … and unmatched basketball success,” said Rosalyn Durant, ESPN senior vice president, college …

Carpocalypse Now: Lyft’s Founders Are Right — We’re In The Endgame For Cars Mickey Vs Masa: The Battle Between Uber And Lyft Pits Two Japanese Billionaires Against Each Other Rakuten’s Hiroshi Mikitani Set To Be Big Winner In Lyft Inc.’s Impending Initial Public Offering How Do Lyft Shared Saver And Uber Express Pool Work? The Real Cost Of Free Shares For Uber, Lyft Drivers Mar 2, 2019 … Rakuten's $300 million investment in Lyft could be worth close to $4 billion … Uber and Lyft pits two Japanese billionaires

VOLTA was also called off just a week before opening due to structural issues at Pier 92, a crisis that forced a contingent of Armory Show exhibitors to relocate to VOLTA’s usual home at Pier 90.

Small Touches Create A Great Master Bathroom The master bath is the largest bath in the home and is typically connected or adjacent to the master bedroom. … Make a Small Bath Renovating A Bathroom? Experts Share Their Secrets. Carpocalypse Now: Lyft’s Founders Are Right — We’re In The Endgame For Cars Mickey Vs Masa: The Battle Between Uber And Lyft Pits Two Japanese

Feb 7, 2019 … 22nd annual North Atlanta Home Show back again this weekend … 2 and 4 p.m. on Friday, the show's opening day, and again on Saturday at 2 …

Employing People, Improving Lives Success Story: Tossapop Strickland Tossapop Strickland developed an early interest in soldering. “I began soldering when I …

The North Atlanta Home Show offers innovative products and hundreds of … 8 is Trade Day (courtesy of PMC Pros) and Hero Day at the North Atlanta Home Show. … Be first to hear about celebrity appearances and the latest news for shows …

Atlanta is the capital of, and the most populous city in, the U.S. state of Georgia. With an estimated 2017 population of 486,290, it is also the 38th most-populous city in the United States. The city serves as the cultural and economic center of the Atlanta metropolitan area, home to …. On the next day, Mayor James Calhoun surrendered Atlanta to the Union …

Feb 4, 2019 … The three-day Show – the largest-ever North Atlanta Home Show — at … For the first time, Jason Oliver Nixon and John Loecke, founders of the … some of the most successful and longest-running shows in North America, …

via Check This Out

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews… Orange is the New Black (S05E05) Sing It, White Effie Airdate: June 9, 2017 @oitnb Ratings: @netflix Score: 8.75

**********SPOILERS BELOW**********

OITNB has a habit of having white folks tell black folks’ stories… Normally you can kind of sense it right away, but after watching ‘Sing It, White Effie’ I had to look up the primary writer. I’ve talked about this a few times but never on this grand of a stage. I know that this has been addressed by many in previous years including Essence Magazine (which, yes I do read). It’s true that we as human beings, of blood and guts and organs and bones, are for the most part the exact same, sans a few genetic defects that only affect a certain race… And it’s true that some of us in different parts of the world have very different experiences due to environment. For instance, for over a decade in Miami, my only friends have been ones of color… Literally 98% Latin & Black… Despite how other parts of my family live, I live very differently. Growing up a 'sexually fluid’ ginger with a mother who was a very young teenager in high school gave me a vastly different experience than most. I’ve always celebrated my fucking weirdness. In high school I was literally a walking oxymoron, wearing 90 inch GAT pants I stole from the mall or borrowed from my friend, GlowGirl (yeah in the late 90s we all had Rave Names, didn’t you know?), paired with an oversized button up I found in my step-dads closet and a vest from Structure and Brooks Brothers eyeglasses that my Grandmother bought me on a visit… Not to mention spiked up Backstreet Boy haircut (that may or may not have been blue), tousled in the front, and fucking candy and jelly bracelets from the base of my thumbs up past my elbows. What the fuck, right? You’d think I’d look back and hate it, but all I see is a RAD fn’ Rave Star with 'anti-anti’ 90’s culture embodiment… Serving up Rave-Tastic Soccer Playing Prep Freak “on a Lemonade budget”…. Thank you, Shea Coulee!

Diversity has always been a part of my life in one way or another. I love to trade perspectives. I ask questions and offer up personal experiences instead of telling people their way of thinking is wrong, because I want people to understand me and I want to understand them. I truly believe that if we all at least tried to understand each other instead of this 'This opinion is right. This opinion is wrong,’ divisive mindset so many have seem to have adopted as of late the world would be a much better place. That being said, I just wrote a few articles on the 3rd Season of '60 Days In’ and stated there were certain topics I couldn’t completely speak on, even being a diverse ginger gringo faggot or whatever anyone wants to throw my way. On the internet today I was told I have a PHD in Cock Sucking (and other things that literally just look like letters on a page to me) and on the bus just last Monday, I let Snapchat take a quick, disappearing peak at a woman attacking my partner and I on the bus with an umbrella who called us 'stretched out asshole faggot cock sucking mother fuckers that will fry in hell’, I couldn’t make this shit up even if I tried. She had gotten a glimpse at my partner helping me on the bus because I have some issues moving around on Monday’s due to some disc issues in the upper parts of my back and went in for the kill when my partner asked if she could please turn the music down that she was blasting from her phone like she wasn’t aware that one can totally sonically invade someone’s space. None of these experiences give me the proper perspective needed to make a complete series featuring an episode that looks through the lens of a woman of color’s standpoint on Culture Appropriation on an all white 'DreamGirls’ production at the 'White School of Rich Bitch Privilege’.

Don’t get me wrong, this is probably the best take on racial issues I’ve ever seen on OITNB. I was moved, accomplished NYC playwright and television writer & editor Molly Smith Metzler, whose worked on two of my favorite Streaming Only series (OITNB & Hulu’s 'Casual’) is a raw talent that streaming networks would be lucky to have work on their exclusive series… But it all still felt like it was missing something. Some might tell you that the 'diversity’ plays itself out in front of the camera, but I assure you as a writer that it takes a village. When it comes to television particularly, everything is filtered through a lens after a lens after another lens…. As the showrunner draws out a storyboard with producers and then oversees the writing of a script which is handed to an editor and then off to a director which directs the actors who have their own interpretation of that character who are then filmed and framed by a cinematographer who hands over the multiple takes to an editor, who then slices and dices and puts together the final product that the network may possibly need to approve and by now I’m out of fucking breath. And I didn’t even mention the composers, casting directors, production designers, art directors, set decorators, costumes, makeup, the fn’ art department, sound department who collaborates with special effects people, not to be confused with the visual effects crew and the dozens and dozens of others who’s lens it funnels through to make a finished product. Did I make a point yet?

'Sing It, White Effie’ is by far the best of #OITNB5 but just like the tears that filled my eyes during the final moments when a young Janae has an epiphany when she realizes what her trip to a private school that has a trio of rich white girls playing the main characters of 'DreamGirls’ truly represents…. Just like Taystee’s beautiful, enthralling speech that I’m sure we all applauded and were worked up over emotionally… It just could have been better. No matter what you know, no matter what you’ve seen, no matter how intense your empathy radar is, no matter how many shoes you have traded with other people… We can write out someone else’s story, we can do our research, we can firmly believe the things we say, we can identify pieces of a puzzle of someone else’s story through idiosyncratic experiences, but we’ll never be able to put the entire puzzle together without the missing piece.

I don’t want it to seem like I’m complaining, I’m only imagining that a fantastic show could be even bolder, even more intense, even more 'on the nose’ with it’s ironic comedy style, that’s sometimes dark so that it fades into the drama with more ease. I love OITNB, I do. I would go as far as to say that this is the most bingeable show ever created. The hardest thing I’ve had to do in the past few months (thank god) is to decide to go to sleep instead of watching and writing about another episode of this very show. Slowly but surely, the inmates of Litchfield are shown to notice little things that are waking them to the impending consequences that are sure to devastate these women in a major way.

Right now it’s the little things, like Suzanne (Uzo Aduba), the usual most 'out of touch’ resident of Litchfield, observing the fact that she’s not being fed during regular hours. Gloria (Selenis Leyva) has come to a point where she is completely overwhelmed, she can’t carry on her normal duties anymore. Her genuine concern for Daya (Dascha Polanco) as well as her inner turmoil she’s experiencing for generally losing control paired with the backfiring of attempting to steal the gun from Daya to impede the takeover is a weight she can no longer carry. Her phone call to Diaz (Elizabeth Rodriguez) was another truly successful, relatable, and dramatic moment that puts the audience inside Litchfield for an oh-so important instant. I think we can all relate to a point in time where we are completely at a loss for what to do in a situation, maybe we want to ask for help, but we don’t know how, or even where to start, or even if we could be helped at all… So you just need a familiar voice on the other end of the line. The family dynamic is so strong with this one, and as a person who lives in a Latin Dominated city, there’s a certain way that pride is carried here that I see in these characters. These actresses are truly amazing to bring their distinct perspective into a script that is not their own, essentially that is what makes this show so special in these dramatic points of reference. It is bigger than the writers, who are great, but just not as diverse as we would like.

If it’s one thing that a talented white woman would write with a pristine birds eye view, it’s satire of a what it would be like to be a rich white woman turned into a slave by white supremacists… Oh yeah, and one white nationalist. Judy King (Blair Brown) looks completely insane with her messy hair, ketchup stained face, and belt leash around her neck. I literally can’t stop laughing as I write this. The image will be forever stored in the memory banks of my brain. Taystee is PISSED. The Helicopter Press snapping a photo of Judy King tied to a cross on top of a roof by skinheads wearing hijab’s has interfered with Taystee’s intentions, which means everyone’s intentions, but most importantly… Justice for Poussey. She means to buy Judy off of the skinheads and grab 'The PR Guy’ Josh (John Palladino) to issue a statement, but the skinheads make Taystee & Friends work for it, holding a ridiculous auction, which doesn’t really work… But for the sake of moving the core narrative onward in what is as close to real-time as possible, I suppose it’s fine…. I’m just not sure where everyone else came from considering in one scene they were alone and the next minute the area is full of potential bidders. Just goes to show you even some of the best shows are fat from perfect.

Pensatucky (Taryn Manning) has yet another memorable moment, again the drama is really what is setting this season ablaze. Big Boo (Lea DeLaria) catches Pensatucky & Coates (James McMenamin) making out. Of course, this not only enrages Boo for obvious reasons, but it also has her worried for Pensatucky’s safety. A lot of people seem incredibly uncomfortable with this subplot, but Manning delivers the true Pensatucky 'thought process’ in a 'methamphetamine metaphor’ that’s just divine. 'No matter how much I wanted different, I had to respect the chemicals… Because Lye doesn’t feel anything until it touches ephedrine’, Pensatucky means this… And even if you don’t understand the white trash chemistry behind the metaphor, she delivers it in the most earnest & steady manner. There’s a beauty to it. She continues… 'Have you ever wanted somebody that you shouldn’t?’ Boo doesn’t have it, 'Of course. It’s called masturbating. Now say goodbye and walk the fuck away, son.’ Pensatucky is a character that we’ve already explored so much throughout the past 4 ½ seasons, but there are so many notes to this character and to Manning’s delivery that they could literally go on forever. This is the very opposite of Piper (Taylor Schilling) who literally seems like a new person, someone completely alien to the Piper who kicked off the show in S1. Even her interactions with Alex (Laura Prepon) feel off key. Maybe prison is changing her? Or maybe they have no idea what to do with the character. They certainly know what they want to do with Alex, as she has started a bit of an 'outdoor prison’ revolution… Grass Roots, if you will!

We should mention that Coates escapes by way of Pensatucky stealing the gun from 'The Incompetent Queens of White Trash’, Angie (Julie Lake) and Leanne (Emma Myles), who don’t even realize that their 'secret hiding place’ they stored the gun while on a massive DXM trip is actually the back of the belt that Angie had no idea she was wearing. Coates actually takes the gun with him… All of these events have me worried for Pensatucky and there is really only so much that Boo can do. Right before his grand escape, Taystee and company lead Judy out for a press conference. Taystee begins and Danielle Brooks delivers her words like a Viola Davis or Meryl Streep in the making. She hands it over to Judy but pulls back when she realizes that Judy lying about her ill treatment will only hurt their cause… And to roll back to my original point, which I rolled off on a bit of a passionate tangent… Taystee literally says the words that I positioned that first point around… Judy King cannot speak for Taystee or any of the inmates, for that matter. This isn’t exactly a Pensatucky 'Methamphetamine Metaphor’ but dammit… In the face of previous controversy the show, particularly the writers room, has been accused of, you’d think that they’d hire equally as talented women of color to write this speech, portions of these episode, entire episodes. Once again, I take nothing away from the talented Molly Smith Metzler, she did an excellent job here… I just think that this scene, as well as others, could pack so much more power and benefit from the proper frame of reference.