#but he doesn’t want to play illegal & is going to try to get a visa legally for here or maybe france which i’m trying to convince him off bc

[bibleofficial]

my ethiopian fuckin told me he’s leaving TOMORROW to head home for ???? 😭😭😭

[marcandreyuri]

sashew + “it’s not as bad as it looks” pls

dialogue prompt meme

set in the same universe as my other sashew werewolf au; takes place during their global series games in tampere, finland; ~1280 words

Matthew’s wolf comes stumbling into their hotel with blood dripping from his jaw and his curly belly fur stained red.

A few people scream, and run towards the exit as Matthew lumbers towards Sasha, eyes unfocused, paws dragging, body swaying. He’s never seen the wolf look like this, lips pulled back in a snarl, blood on his claws.

The guys have been shooting the shit in the hotel lobby, playing pool and grabbing drinks from the bar and trying to use Sasha and the other Finns as translators to bring girls up to their rooms. No one’s mentioned the moonlight coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the missing member of their team.

Mostly Sasha has been stewing all night, sitting in the corner and throwing darts at the board when it’s his turn, his mind somewhere in the forest outside of town, where Matthew and Tampere’s other wolves have all shifted. He’s never been this far from him during his turning, or at least it feels that way—Chucky alone, hunting in unfamiliar territory, other wolves knowing the area far better than him, Matthew acting on pure instinct.

“Chucky?” He says cautiously as the wolf trudges forward, leaving a trail of dripping blood behind him. 

None of the other guys on the team have seen Matthew’s wolf, at least as far as Sasha knows, and some of them have already backed away, holding their pool sticks tight in their hands, their knuckles white. Somewhere in the distance he can hear hotel security shuffling people out of the lobby, someone calling emergency services from the front desk.

Sam and Evan stay close to Sasha, Evan saying lowly, as if the wolf couldn’t hear, doesn’t have sharper senses than all of them, “Careful, Barky.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sasha says and holds out his hand to Matthew as he gets closer, letting him smell his fingertips before Matthew pushes his wet nose into Sasha’s palm, making it slippery with red blood.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks from beside Sasha.

“No, I don’t think so,” Sasha answers and sinks down to his knees, so Matthew is towering overhead.

“Chucky, I’m gonna—” he says before he reaches out his blood-soaked hand and touches the red spot on Matthew’s belly.

Matthew yelps and jumps back, teeth grazing over Sasha’s hand, not biting, just reminding Sasha who’s in control here, who’s powerful and strong, reminding him who the predator is.

“Okay,” Sasha says. “Okay, Chucky. I understand.” 

He can see the hotel security slowly circling behind the wolf, closing ranks, about to make a move, so Sasha stands up and says to the, “I’ll get him out of here.”

Matthew thankfully seems to understand what Sasha wants and stays by his side as Sasha leaves the hotel and goes to his rental car in the parking garage. Chucky’s unsteady on his feet, clumsy, leaning his heavy body against Sasha as they walk. 

He opens the back door for the wolf and stands aside as Chucky hauls himself inside the car, barely fitting in the backseat, curling around himself.

“We’ll go to my house,” Sasha says before he closes the door. “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it looks.” He really hopes that’s true.

Sasha drives slowly, seeing the emergency vehicles going in the other direction towards the hotel and feeling like a fugitive, like he’s done something wrong. It’s technically illegal for werewolves to be outside the bounds of the parks and forests during a full moon, but Sasha thinks no one will really care so long as Matthew isn’t in the middle of town anymore. 

Most Finnish werewolves are tracked, chipped under their skin if they consent to it or fitted with a tag if they don’t, but with Chucky’s visa and foreign citizenship status he got to forego the government tracking. Sasha idly wonders if Matthew just caused some kind of international incident and decides not to worry about it right now.

They go on the side streets to avoid the brightly lit highways in case someone happens to look in the rental car—utterly ruined, Sasha’s going to be out a fortune in cleaning costs—and head to Sasha’s summer home, which mostly lays abandoned during the year except for a monthly cleaning crew.

He pulls into his garage and Matthew practically falls out of the car when he tries to get out, landing hard on the concrete below, yowling as he smacks the ground.

“Chucky,” Sasha says, but when he reaches his hands up to help Matthew to his feet, the wolf turns and snaps at him, a clear sign to back off.

He unlocks his door and Matthew follows behind him.His bleeding has slowed since the hotel, but still he leaves little traces of himself throughout the house—a bloody trail of paw prints from the backdoor, a small, red puddle on the bathroom tile when Sasha tries to coax him into the bath so he can wash off the blood.

He has no idea what to do, how to help, not when Matthew is snarling and biting at his hand whenever he tries to take care of him. Finally, after hours of negotiating to no end, he gives up and waits for sunrise, when Matthew will have the mind of a man again.

He’s never actually seen the change himself—Matthew comes to him after moonrise when they’re home and they’re usually sleeping when he changes back, but he sees it now. Matthew’s bones shift and his fur pulls back and his snout flattens, the air fills with loud cracking sounds. 

It’s grotesque, something from a movie, but strangely beautiful too, seeing it with his own eyes, this little bit of magic, something that has fascinated mankind since their days of living in caves.

“Ugh,” Chucky says, sounding breathless from his spot on the floor. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Sasha says.

Matthew laughs and flips him the bird before he finally opens his eyes and looks down. The slashes on his stomach don’t seem so deep and terrible when he’s a man again, when Sasha can actually see his skin. Maybe he won’t even need stitches. There’s old wives tales about the shift being healing, but Sasha’s always disregarded them. He should have learned by now that he knew nothing about wolves, nothing about the people who change into them.

“Fuck,” Chucky says as he examines his own naked body, the dried blood all over. “I think I got in a fight.”

Sasha snorts and stands up to grab a washcloth, running the water until it’s warm and he can wet it. They’re still in his bathroom, the white tile red, the smell of blood hanging heavy in the air. “That sounds like you,” he says.

Matthew laughs again as Sasha crouches down next to him. He watches with wide eyes as Sasha runs the washcloth over his bare skin, getting up a few times to wring it out and re-wet it.

“Thanks,” Chucky whispers when Sasha’s cleaned him entirely, the claw marks on his stomach open still, but shallow.

“You found me,” Sasha whispers back. He’s been thinking of it all night, Chucky wandering Tampere, putting himself in danger of the humans all around, just so he could find Sasha. Maybe it would be easy to brush it off, say Matthew was looking for his team, his pack, but Sasha knows. He knows. Matthew was looking for him.

“Yeah,” Matthew says. “I think my wolf is always kind of looking for you.”

Sasha looks up at Matthew, sitting with his back against the bathtub, and can’t stop himself from pressing his lips to Chucky’s, feeling his human tongue slide along Sasha’a lips, feeling the power of the wolf underneath. 

[qqueenofhades]

It's so good to have you back! I actually went and got myself a tumblr account in the meantime, so now I can properly follow you instead of just lurking anonymously 😄 Don't have an actual prompt for you, although I saw that you've been watching shadow and bone, and I'd certainly love to read anything you write about those guys if you happen to feel like it 😇 In any case, welcome back, and it's great to hear that things are looking up for you ❤

Haha, thanks! Since you didn’t specify a prompt, and because people seem very excited about this Helnik modern AU that is, to nobody’s surprise, becoming a full-length fic, I will give you an excerpt from chapter one for Important Reasons.

Nina boots up the secured OS, opens Tor, and navigates to a secured messaging site, accessed via a one-time key that will deactivate when used (another one of Jesper’s inventions) and randomly generate a new encryption code that she has to access elsewhere. The Crows have gotten very good at not putting all their eggs in one basket, but when you run a successful grey-hat hacktivist collective that has made a specialty out of pissing off powerful people (including in this very country), it’s a necessary fact of life. There are five of them: Nina herself, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, and the boss, Kaz Brekker. It took a long time for them to reveal real names; for the first few years, they communicated only under pseudonyms. Nina is “Heartrender.” Inej is “Wraith.” Jesper is “Sharpshooter,” and Wylan is “Runaway.” As for Kaz, their mysterious, mercurial man-in-charge who was teaching himself C#, Java, and VBScript at twelve, running Nazi-doxxing ops with Anonymous and Bellingcat at sixteen, and establishing himself as the head of his own feared gang of cyber-criminals at eighteen, he’s “Dirtyhands” or sometimes simply “The Bastard.” The epithet is apt. You don’t survive in this life by making friends or trusting your enemies, and Kaz has a knack for not doing either. Not that Nina’s about to complain. God knows, especially now, she could use a little ruthlessness.

She signs onto the Crows’ dedicated chat channel and sends an innocuous-looking phrase about bad weather which actually means, “I am in deep shit and need to talk to someone right now.” Then she waits, staring at the screen, wondering how long it’ll take to be answered. Kaz and Inej are currently based in Amsterdam, an hour behind, which isn’t too bad. They’re probably awake, not least since neither of them keep a remotely standard schedule, but there are any number of other things they could be doing, most of which are flagrantly illegal. But it’s only ten minutes or so until Nina’s notifications ping, and a message pops up:

Wraith: I’ll call you. Give me a couple min.

Heartrender: Primary phone got snatched. Use burner.

Wraith: Oh shit. Nvm. Calling now.

With that, it’s no more than a few seconds until Nina’s burner phone starts buzzing, she fumbles a little as she grabs it, and tucks it under her ear. “Inej?”

“Nina?” Her best friend sounds understandably worried. “Are you all right? What’s going on?”

“I – ” Nina’s relatively sure that the FSB doesn’t have a fix on this crappy throwaway phone, since she changes the SIM card every month, gets a new number, and otherwise does her best to make sure they don’t, but deeply ingrained habits are not easily shaken. She shoots a glance at the door, making sure her parents aren’t listening. Finally, having been assured that this call is as free of outside interference as can ever be assured in the modern world, she says, “I got busted last night. Big time. They meant business.” There’s a quaver in her voice. She chokes it down.

“Oh Nina, no. Did they hurt you?”

“No, but they – like I said, they were not screwing around. They openly threatened to send me to IK-2 if I kept doing my stuff, and – I’m not giving up. You know I’m not. But it might… it might be time to get out of Russia for a while.”

“Where are you now? Are you safe?”

“At my parents’ house. My backup gear is here. But there’s no way I can work here. They don’t know the half of it, and if they did, they would hit the roof. I don’t have anywhere else I can think of, and…” Nina trails off. “Is there any way I can come to Amsterdam with you?”

“I don’t know.” Inej is clearly thinking hard. “The Crows aren’t exactly a registered company that can offer you a work visa. Kaz is Dutch, obviously, but he could probably only sponsor you for permanent settlement if he married you, and I doubt you want that – ”

“I doubt you want it either – ”

“I have right to remain, at least until Brexit goes through,” Inej says, evidently deciding to power right on past that comment and pretend she didn’t hear it. She and Kaz might be living together, and obviously devoted to each other, but they’re still not yet at the “actual relationship” stage of things, and for all Nina knows, they might never be. “Unless – wait.”

“What?”

“I was joking about Kaz marrying you,” Inej says slowly. “But what if it’s not such a bad idea?”

“What? No. I am not marrying Kaz!”

“Not him,” Inej says. “Someone else. Someone with a non-Russian passport who could theoretically get you out of there. It would be hard, and we’d have to do some work to make the relationship look real, but Jesper could help with whatever we needed forged. Have we ever mentioned Matthias Helvar to you?”

“Matthias who?”

“I’ll take that as a no. He’s another one of Kaz’s… contacts. Norwegian. We helped him get out of jail a year ago, and he owes us a big favor. He’s also stupidly honorable, unattached, and probably pathologically unable to resist helping a lady in distress.” To Nina’s horror or her hope, Inej sounds like she is actually considering this. “If he married you, he might – ”

“If he what? He was in jail?” Nina is aghast. “So he’s a criminal?”

“You know,” Inej says, bone-dry. “We’re all criminals.”

“Yes, but if he was in jail, that means he got caught, and that means he’s a stupid criminal. I could marry a criminal, but I draw the line at a stupid criminal.”

“He wasn’t – it was complicated.” Inej’s tone portends a very long story they definitely do not have time to get into. “Anyway, Kaz helped get him out, and he lives in Oslo now. You could do a lot worse than Norwegian spousal citizenship.”

“This is insane,” Nina says weakly. “Is he ugly? He must be ugly.”

“Really.” Despite the gravity of the situation, Inej is definitely trying not to laugh. “That’s your objection? For the record, no. He’s not ugly. He’s just your type.”

“Oh. Oh, like that’s any better. He can’t possibly be my type. Inej – ”

“Look,” Inej interrupts. “Do you want to get arrested or not?”

“No,” Nina says meekly. “No, I really don’t.”

“So should I ask him?”

This is nuts. This is nuts this is nuts this is nuts this is nuts. Especially since Nina genuinely is starting to play the idea around in her head. Just for a moment. That’s all.

“Maybe,” she says, after a very long pause. “But I am not necessarily agreeing to this.”

“Of course not.” Inej sounds annoyingly smug. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[causeiwanttoandican]

The Telegraph

How Harry’s very LA relaunch has only just begun

From Prince to campaigner and Silicon valley ‘tech bro’ what wider impact could the Duke of Sussex's new jobs have?

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor28 March 2021 • 6:00am

Jobs appear to be like buses for Prince Harry. Wait a lifetime for an opening and two come along at the same time.

The former Royal’s first foray into the corporate world has seen him take up the role of chief impact officer at Silicon Valley coaching firm BetterUp, while also sitting alongside Rupert Murdoch’s daughter-in-law on a commission aiming to fight “misinformation”.

Neither role appears to have required the 36-year-old former Army captain to submit a CV or go through the usual vetting processes as he adds mental health coach and anti-fake news campaigner to his résumé.

Yet in keeping with a new breed of “celebrity responsibility”, which has increasingly seen the rich and famous flex their corporate muscles for the greater good, the highly prominent positions look set to propel the cash-strapped Prince to ever more lucrative heights, as LA’s most sought-after recruit.

Just as when Jennifer Aniston became the ‘chief creative officer’ of a natural supplement range or when David Beckham backed a cannabinoid skincare company, these mutually beneficial ‘ethical’ tie-ups can be worth their weight in publicity gold. And not just for the company that gets their endorsement.

As showbiz agent Jonathan Shalit puts it: “Like corporate responsibility – this is celebrity responsibility. There’s been a shift in people’s mindsets. Two, three years ago the mindset was: ‘What’s in it for me, how can I get paid a shedload of dosh, how can I maximise my income?’ Now people desire to give back and give back support to the community.”

While pointing out that Harry is “above celebrity,” he adds: “Many celebrities are very responsible in trying to use the strength of their platform to help others.”

The announcement of both roles last week certainly played into the idea that this was more than just a money spinner for the Montecito-based ex pat – although there is no doubt all sides are set to benefit financially.

While BetterUp may be carrying out noble work in its offer of “personalised coaching, content and care designed to transform lives and careers” – it all comes at a price.

Having spoken about his struggles with grief following the death of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, Harry said of his appointment to the “unicorn” tech firm: “(I) want us to move away from the idea that you have to feel broken before reaching out for help,” insisting he intends to use the job to “create impact in people’s lives”.

The Duke added: “Being attuned with your mind, and having a support structure around you, are critical to finding your own version of peak performance. What I’ve learned in my own life is the power of transforming pain into purpose.”

He said his goal was to “lift up critical dialogues around mental health, build supportive and compassionate communities, and foster an environment for honest and vulnerable conversations” and he hoped to “help people develop their inner strength, resilience and confidence”.

It might strike the cynical as Californian word salad akin to Aniston’s declaration, upon joining Vital Proteins, that: “Collagen is the glue that holds everything together. I’ve always been an advocate for nourishing your wellness from within.”

Yet as Alexi Robichaux, who co-founded BetterUp in 2013, points out, Harry does bring a unique perspective. “He comes from a very different background,” to other executives, he says, adding: “He’s synonymous with this approach of mental fitness and really investing in yourself. It was not a hard internal sale. He will obviously have the whole organisation sprinting to help him.”

Robichaux confirmed Harry was joining the company’s leadership team as an “officer of the corporation”, which suggests it is a paid role, although public relations expert Mark Borkowski thinks it “highly likely” he has been offered equity in the firm, which values itself at $1.73 billion.

“This previously unknown start-up has now got instant recognition,” he says. “I always said that if Harry and Meghan wanted to generate income, they should look to Silicon Valley. Getting eyeballs onto the company like this, with all the competition, is the hardest job in PR – but now the whole world is talking about it. That’s the effect signing up someone like Harry can have.

“If he’s got points in this firm and it goes gangbusters, he could make some serious money.” Borkowski cites the example of shares in Cellular Goods, the synthetic cannabis firm backed by Beckham, shooting up by 310 per cent after it launched on the London Stock Exchange in February following news of the star footballer’s investment.

“This is all about the ongoing narrative, now,” adds Borkowski, referencing the Oprah Winfrey interview in which the Sussexes raised serious concerns about the Royal family’s handling of racism and mental health issues.

“The impact of generating more connections to his brand is an ongoing struggle for him. But by taking that narrative, which is embedded with that interview along with mental health issues, then he can certainly have a credible corporate platform.”

Yet considering some of the discrepancies that have surfaced since the interview aired in the US on March 7, can Harry really be considered a reliable voice when it comes to combating what he has described as the “avalanche of misinformation”?

Critics have been at pains to point out that his appointment to the Aspen Institute’s new Commission on Information Disorder, a six-month project that will examine the “modern-day crisis of faith in key institutions” appears somewhat at odds with the Sussexes’ repeated insistence that they do not look at newspapers, magazines or social media.

Equally awkward is the fact that the Prince will be sitting alongside Kathryn Murdoch, who is married to James Murdoch, the former chairman of News of the World publisher News International, who resigned from his father Rupert Murdoch’s media empire last year.

As with Harry’s decision to appear on CBS, despite the US network once sparking outrage in 2004 for showing a “distasteful” photo of his mother after her fatal Parisian car crash, the move suggests the exiled Murdochs are now considered reformed characters thanks to their new found work on democracy reform and climate change.

As Harry himself put it, information disorder is an issue that demands “a multi-stakeholder response from advocacy voices” including, apparently, the wife of a man who was found by a Parliamentary report in 2012 to have shown “wilful ignorance of the extent of phone hacking” and being “guilty of an astonishing lack of curiosity” over the illegal practice that Harry, William and Kate were all subjected to along with Prince Charles, the Duchess of Cornwall and a string of palace aides.

It is not thought Harry is being paid for his work with the think tank, founded in 1949, which will look at everything from last year’s US election to vaccine safety and marginalised communities.

It is his listing on the Aspen Institute’s website, however, which perhaps provides the biggest clue to the sixth-in-line to the throne’s direction of travel as he settles into life in the US.

Referenced by his full title, Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, the soon to be father-of-two is described as a “humanitarian, military veteran, mental wellness advocate and environmentalist.”

Despite his blood-born Royal status, Shalit believes this repositioning is actually intended to put him on a par with his high-achieving wife. For unlike her husband, who left school with two A-levels before training at Sandhurst Military Academy, it is Meghan – a Northwestern University graduate with a successful acting career under her belt – who is arguably the more employable of the two, on paper at least. As an American, the pregnant mother-of-one also doesn’t carry the burden of Harry’s complicated visa and tax arrangements, amid confusion over whether he is living and working in the US as a “diplomat” or as a person with so-called “special talents”.

“I’ve met Meghan on a number of occasions and she is a hugely astute woman, very bright, incredibly impressive,” says Shalit

“So for Harry to keep up with his wife, he’s got to find his own name and identity and this is the start. He doesn’t need celebrity. When you’re Royal, you’re the biggest celebrity in the world. But what this does is allow Harry to have relevance.”

When it comes to making an impact, Royal relevance is clearly going to be the jewel in the crown of Harry’s very LA relaunch.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Casablanca: The Story

Whether you enjoy a timeless love story, heart-wrenching interpersonal drama, gritty film-noir, thrilling spy action, edge-of-your-seat suspense, or war stories, Casablanca has it all, and in spades.  Everything from classic lines to familiar story beats comes together to tell this story of a tragic romance embroiled in the midst of an oncoming war, and what a ride it is.  Let’s take a look.

So what’s the setup?

It’s December of 1941, and War is coming.  The Nazis have already taken most of Europe, and are looking to march on what’s left, with no signs of stopping.  The refugees, fleeing the Nazi forces, search for transportation to America, and most end up in the city of Casablanca.

The problem is, then they can’t get out of Casablanca.  As a result, the city becomes somewhat of a way station, full of people waiting for visas to enable them to cross the Atlantic, and the officials profiting from the people’s desperation.  As it turns out, a few German officials, carrying important documents, have just been murdered, and their documents stolen.  Casablanca is on the alert, and the German forces in the city are taking it quite seriously, rounding up suspects and marching them into custody.  

In short, Casablanca is not an easy place to live.

A plane full of Nazi officials arrives in the city, bringing with it Major Strasser, who is introduced to Casablanca’s Police Prefect, Captain Louis Renault. (Claude Rains)

Renault assures Strasser that they are doing everything in their power to solve the murder case, and explains that he knows who the murderer is, and expects to arrest him tonight.  You see, Renault believes that the killer will be at Rick’s.

How does he know this, you may ask?  Simple.  Everyone comes to Rick’s.

Thus we are introduced to the hub of activity both in the city, and in the film, Rick’s Café Americain, a popular nightclub and gambling den.  It’s a busy place, full of people who want to leave the country and their hushed conversations, all set against the soothing background noise of piano player Sam.

It is here that we are introduced to the owner of Rick’s Café Americain, Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart).

Right off, we learn a few things about him: He never drinks with customers, and he’s got a dry wit that’s sharper than a brand-new razor.

Rick sits, playing chess by himself (an element inspired by Bogart) at his own private table when he is interrupted by a man named Ugarte (Peter Lorre).

Ugarte tells Rick that his specialty is helping refugees (for a price), and that he himself intends to clear out of Casablanca that very night.  He gives Rick something for safekeeping: an envelope that contains valuable letters of transit.  An interesting choice, since it’s rather obvious that Rick doesn’t exactly like him very much, but Ugarte seems to trust him quite a bit, even if there isn’t any friendship between them.

“You know, Rick, I have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust.”

Interestingly enough, as Rick points out, letters of transit are what was stolen from the murdered German couriers.  He tells Ugarte that he’s ‘a little more impressed’ with him, and leaves it at that, hiding the papers inside the piano.  A few moments later, he is approached by Signor Ferarri, the ‘head of all illegal activities in Casablanca’ and the owner of another nearby club, The Blue Parrot, who wants to buy Rick’s, or at the very least the piano player, Sam.

Rick’s having none of it, and tells Ferarri that he’s not selling the club, nor does he sell human beings, period.  After this discussion and a brief incident ending with Rick calling a cab for a lady patron, the stoic club owner ends up in a conversation with none other than Captain Renault, who, ironically, seems to be on almost friendly terms with him.

The pair exchange witty banter, with Renault guessing reasons Rick has not returned to his home country, America.  Rather than provide the true reason, Rick is content to let his Friendly Enemy guess, remaining very closed-mouthed on the reasons he remains in Casablanca.  

Eventually, Renault gets to the point of his visit: He intends to make an arrest in Rick’s club tonight, and that Major Strasser of the Third Reich will be there to watch.  Renault also mentions that there is a certain individual who has just come to Casablanca who will likely be in search for an exit visa much like the ones that were recently stolen.  This individual’s name is Victor Lazlo, and the German army is quite keen on catching him before he gets overseas, and of course, Rick can’t, and won’t do anything about it, right?

After all, Rick sticks his neck out for no one.

Rick and Renault decide to make a bet on the outcome of Victor Lazlo’s stay in Casablanca.  Renault wagers that he shall be captured, Rick that he shall escape.  There’s a catch though, as Renault explains to Rick; Lazlo will probably be looking for two exit visas, as he’s traveling with a woman that he’s quite fond of.

Moments later, Major Strausser arrives, and Renault commences the arrest operation.  His men move in on the suspect: Ugarte, the man who entrusted the important papers to Rick earlier.  Ugarte, makes a pretense of going quietly before making a run for the door, firing a few shots behind him.  He spots Rick on his way, pleading with him to help him hide, but it’s no good: he’s caught and dragged away, to the satisfaction of both Renault and Strasser.

Strasser isn’t completely satisfied, however.  He wants to ask Rick a few questions.

He asks, all right, but doesn’t get much by way of answers.  Rick’s just as tight-lipped with Strasser as he was with Renault, and the only information anyone comes away with is that Rick is from New York, and has brown eyes (apparently).

“Richard Blaine, American. Age, 37. Cannot return to his country. The reason is a little vague.”

Strasser is concerned that Rick might help Victor Lazlo, the man previously mentioned by Renault.  Apparently Lazlo has been getting the word out on some of the nasty things that the Third Reich is responsible for, and as a result, the German military really want him arrested.

Why bring this to Rick?  After all, he sticks his neck out for no one.

As it turns out, Rick has a history with lost causes.  And speaking of history, it’s about to come back and bite him.  Hard.

You see, Victor Lazlo (Paul Henreid) has just walked into Rick’s Cafe, with a woman on his arm.  This woman is named Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman), and Sam (Dooley Wilson), the pianist, recognizes her immediately.

Victor and Ilsa get a table, and are apparently going to meet with someone to help them, when they are interrupted by none other than Captain Renault, who cordially sits down to share a drink with them rather than arrest them.  How nice.

Ilsa, for her part, is returning Sam’s recognition, and asks Renault about him.  The captain informs her that Sam came from Paris, traveling with the owner of the establishment, Rick.  Ilsa seems interested in this ‘Rick’ character, but before she can really start asking questions, Strasser sits down at the table as well, clearly hostile towards Victor, but unwilling to do anything just yet, with Victor on French soil.  Strasser arranges to meet with Victor the following day in Renault’s office to discuss why Victor’s here, and with that, leaves him to his drink.

No sooner are Victor and Ilsa alone than Victor immediately heads to the bar to inquire about his contact.  You see, he and Ilsa were supposed to meet with someone who would provide him with the letters of transit to get out of Casablanca.  They were, in fact, to meet with the recently-arrested Ugarte.

Left alone at their table, Ilsa begins a conversation with Sam, the piano player, and it’s obvious they know each other.  Ilsa has a song request: she wants Sam to play ‘As Time Goes By’.  Sam, while reluctant to at first, eventually gives in and begins playing the tune just in time for Rick to barge in, shouting at Sam for playing that song.  Before he can really lay into him, Rick and Ilsa spot one another, and Rick recognizes her, instantly.

Sam grabs the piano bench and gets the heck out of Dodge.

Renault and Victor arrive at Ilsa’s table again, meaning that whatever history is between the pair will have to be ignored for now.  Rick, breaking his own rule, joins them for a drink, to Renault’s surprise.

After an evening of small talk, Victor and Ilsa leave in a cab and Rick heads to a private room in his club to recover.

Later that night, Rick is sitting by himself in his club, drinking and remembering old times, and not in a fond way.  

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

As he sits, hoping Ilsa comes back, Sam comes in, trying to get him to leave.  Rick isn’t budging, instead making a song request, the same song that Ilsa requested earlier.

“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.'”

And so Sam does, albeit reluctantly.  As he plays, Rick continues remembering, an entire relationships worth of remembering of he and Ilsa in Paris.  Apparently the two were an item, and Rick was a considerably happier looking guy.  During this time, the pair knew very little about each other, except that there had been another man in Ilsa’s life who was now dead.

Despite this, the two seem quite happy together, until something interrupts it.  The War.

The German army is moving in on Paris.

The night before the Gestapo are to invade, Sam plays ‘As Time Goes By’ on the piano as Rick and Ilsa plan to escape Paris the following morning together by train.

The next morning, Rick stands at the train station, alone, waiting for Ilsa, who never shows.  Sam approaches with a note from Ilsa, a note which explains that, while she loves Rick, she can’t go with him, and she can never see him again.  Rick is left on the train station with a broken heart and a new cynical edge as Sam pulls him onto the train that will eventually take him to Casablanca.  

In the present, Rick looks up to see Ilsa in the doorway.  By this time, he is good and drunk, and isn’t really interested in hearing her explanation of what happened in Paris.  Eventually, his snark and hard edge, reinforced by the alcohol, drive her off before she has a chance to tell him her side of the story.  

So, before we get any further, let’s take a look at where we’re at.

Right now, we’ve got a handful of major players that we’re getting to know pretty well, all wrapped up in the affairs of Casablanca.  First, there’s Rick.

Rick is a cynic, a bitter man who’s been kicked around by life a bit too much.  While having a history of fighting for the underdog and being a romantic, something happened to him along the way that changed his way of thinking to: “I stick my neck out for no one.”

That event was, of course, Ilsa’s leaving, and the heartbreak that ensued.

As a result, Rick is a changed man, a hard man who now claims that he never gets involved, and who certainly wants no part of his sentimental roots.  He’s really an interesting choice as a protagonist, as the audience does like him and root for him, but he’s not the heroic type.  No, that’d seem to be Victor Lazlo, wouldn’t it?

Victor is the opposite of Rick in just about every way.  He’s a good, honest and upright man, idealistic, brave, and patriotic to a fault, and wanted by the Nazis (which is a recommendation in and of itself).  In any other movie, he’d seem to be the obvious choice for the hero of the story.  Not in Casablanca.

Between the two is Ilsa.  She’s with Victor, and was in love with Rick, and is the one person Rick ever truly loved.  She is currently stuck in the middle, the balancing act between the idealism and the cynicism, and the bridge between the characters.  She’s a strong woman who’s been through a lot of pain that she keeps under wraps, and it shows in her interactions with both Rick and Victor.

Three different characters, all stuck in Casablanca for their own very good reasons, and of course, all end up in each other’s lives, under the pressure of the Gestapo.  This leaves very little room for coincidence, and serves as an excellent setup for the situation and the characters involved.  Even more showcased are the contrasting characters, all falling on different sides of a moral chart ranging from the upright Victor to the neutral Rick, to the corrupt Renault, to the evil Strasser.

Speaking of which, let’s get back to the story.

Victor and Ilsa arrive in Captain Renault’s office the next morning for their appointment, just moments after Strasser informs Renault that he believes that Ugarte left those important letters of transit with Rick.  Strasser, upon seeing the couple, informs Victor that there is exactly one way he can get out of Casablanca: if Victor gives up the names and locations of the leaders of the underground movement rising against the Third Reich.

Victor, being the stone-cold patriot that he is, doesn’t talk, and he and Ilsa leave Renault’s office, but not before being told that Ugarte is dead.

Meanwhile, Rick decides to pay Signor Ferarri a visit at Ferarri’s club, The Blue Parrot, to pick up a shipment that’s due.  Ferarri tells Rick that he’ll send the shipment to him when it comes in, and knowingly remarks that he’d pay a lot of money for the missing letters of transit.  Rick lets on that he definitely knows something, but leaves it at that, and goes on his way, meeting Ilsa in the market on his way out.

Now in a sober state of mind, Rick tries to persuade Ilsa to explain to him what happened in Paris, but Ilsa refuses, preferring to think of older, happier times than the recent barbed encounter.  She does however, impart a very large bombshell:

Victor Lazlo is her husband.  Not only that, he has been her husband, and she was married to him during her romance with Rick in Paris.

She leaves him with that information and leaves, with her husband, for the place Rick just left: The Blue Parrot.

Once inside, the two attempt to bargain with Ferarri to get them out of Casablanca.  Ferarri explains that he can’t get Victor out, but he might be able to arrange for a way to get Ilsa out.  Ilsa, unwilling to leave her husband, turns him down.  Rejected but not bitter, Ferarri tells the couple that the missing letters of transit were not with Ugarte during his arrest, and that they are probably with Rick.

It doesn’t exactly seem to be a secret.

Back at Rick’s Café Americain, Renault still hasn’t found the transit papers, even after searching Rick’s place.  The Captain has a conversation with Strasser, who is worried about the level of influence Victor Lazlo might have on the people.

“It is too dangerous if we let him go. It may be too dangerous if we let him stay.”

Just then, Victor approaches Rick and says that he wants to talk to him, in private.  Rick agrees, and they move to his office, where Victor tries to convince Rick to give him the letters of transit.  Rick refuses, flat-out stating he won’t let them have them at any price.  When Victor asks why, Rick tells him to ask his wife.

Confused, Victor heads back to the main room, where a bunch of German officers are exuberant playing and singing a patriotic German song.  Victor springs into action, getting the club’s band to play the “Marseillaise” over them.  Around the room, the refugees in Rick’s Café Americain stand, singing the French National Anthem as loudly as they can.  It’s a powerful moment, but unfortunately, it catches Strasser’s attention.

Now certain that Victor’s presence is a disturbance, inspiring the populace against the Third Reich, Strasser orders Renault to close down Rick’s, and get everyone out.  As the place is clearing, Strasser tells Ilsa that she and her husband are in danger, and will be until they allow Strasser to take them back to German-occupied France.

Back in Victor and Ilsa’s hotel room, Victor confronts Ilsa, telling her about Rick’s response to his attempt to get the letters.  Ilsa doesn’t really tell him anything, but he pieces it together anyway, and forgives her for drifting away while he was in a concentration camp, before leaving to attend an underground resistance meeting.

Meanwhile, Rick heads home to his apartment above his club, and realizes he’s not alone.  Ilsa snuck in the back, and has been waiting for him.  She pleads with him to get over his bitterness towards her, and think about the bigger picture.  Rick, however, doesn’t really want to.

Ilsa isn’t willing to let it go at that, and pulls a gun on him.  Rick calls her bluff, knowing she won’t actually shoot him, and Ilsa tells him that he has no idea what she’s been through, and that she did love him, and still does.  After a brief reconciliation, Ilsa begins to explain what happened in Paris.

Before she met Rick, Ilsa had been married to Victor, who, she was told, had been shot and killed.  She wasn’t lying when she said the other man in her life was dead, she’d legitimately thought that, and that’s why she let herself fall in love with Rick.  As it turns out, Victor wasn’t dead (obviously) but in a concentration camp.  The day he escaped was the day Ilsa was to meet Rick on the train station platform to escape Paris.  Ilsa, finding this out, stayed with her husband, and sent the note to Rick, explaining that they couldn’t be together.

Ilsa in the present says that she can’t bring herself to leave Rick again, but pleads with him to at least get Victor out of Casablanca, telling him to do the thinking for all of them.

As it happens, Victor enters the club downstairs, led by one of Rick’s employees who was at the same underground resistance meeting with him.  Rick calls his employee upstairs, has him sneak Ilsa back home out the back, while he goes downstairs to talk to Victor.

No sooner does Rick join Victor at the bar that Victor begins to try to get the letters of transit from Rick again, this time saying that, if he won’t give Victor one, at least give Ilsa one so she can get out.  Rick seems impressed by this show of love, but before he can give a definitive answer, a group of French officers barge in and arrest Victor.

The next morning, Rick enters Captain Renault’s office, and tells him that he and Ilsa are running away to America, and that the last person they would want to run into would be Victor.  Rick explains that, instead of holding Victor on a flimsy, fictional charge, it would be a better idea of Renault released Victor, and catch him in the act of trying to get the letters of transit off of Rick.  This way, Renault can put Victor away as accessory to the murder of the German couriers, for good.  Renault, liking the sound of this, agrees.  After this, Rick drops by The Blue Parrot to sell Rick’s Café Americain to Signor Ferarri, on the condition that all of his employees keep their jobs.

That night, at Rick’s club, Renault shows up to help with the plan to get Victor arrested, and hides as Ilsa rushes in, worriedly telling Rick that Victor thinks that Ilsa’s going with him, not Rick.  Rick assures her that everything’s going to be fine, and Victor enters.  Rick hands over the letters of transit, and Renault springs from hiding, arresting Victor.

A lot happens at once.

Ilsa rushes to Victor, and all of a sudden, Rick has a gun out and trained on Renault.  He orders Renault to sit down (hands where he can see them) and call the airport to tell them that two people are leaving for Casablanca for Lisbon, and to not give them any trouble.

Renault pulls a fast one on Rick’s fast one, though, and calls Strasser instead, unbeknownst to Rick.

Strasser, being unfortunately intelligent, figures out what’s going on and orders a police squad to meet him at the airport, and heads out to stop them before they can get out.

Rick, Renault, Ilsa and Victor arrive at the airport, and Rick tells one of the orderlies to put Victor and Ilsa’s baggage on the plane.  Ilsa, realizing that Rick is planning to stay behind, is heartbroken, reluctant to leave him again.  

“You’re saying this only to make me go.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not with him, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”

“But what about us?”

“We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.”

“When I said I would never leave you.

“And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of. Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that.”

Rick finally puts the big picture ahead of his own little one, and does the right thing.  Knowing Ilsa belongs with Victor, he lets her go, and rushes them both onto the plane, which starts down the runway at the exact second Strasser pulls in.

Strasser tries to put in a call to the radio tower to stop that plane, but is abruptly interrupted by Rick shooting him in the chest.  Strasser falls, dead, as all of the cops show up.

It looks like it’s curtains for our hero.  Renault tells the officers that Strasser has been shot, and after a tense moment, the corrupt Captain decides not to turn Rick in.

“Major Strasser has been shot…..Round up the usual suspects.”

The plane takes off, and Renault advises Rick to leave Casablanca for a while.  He also suggests that perhaps they could leave together and do some good.  The pair walk off into the fog, as Rick drops the final, iconic line:

“Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Thus ends one of the most beloved films of all time.

At first, the end of this movie can seem a little abrupt.  After spending so much time building up the story, it almost seems like the ending comes rushing in, changing everything in the last twenty minutes.  Rick’s last-minute gambit can seem almost as though all of his development was done in the last third of the film.  It’s clear that he’s a changed man, alright, but it can seem kind of rushed, if you don’t look carefully at the entire film.

You see, throughout the movie, Rick regularly declares: ‘I stick my neck out for no one,’ but the fact is, that isn’t really true.

While Rick presents a bitter and cold demeanor, the fact is, throughout the entire film, he does little else than stick his neck out for other people.  If all he cared about was his own security and success, he’s doing a terrible job at it.

From refusing to sell his club to rigging the roulette tables for a refugee couple, Rick’s tendency to fight for the underdog never really dies down.  His most selfish actions are as a direct result of a broken heart, a bitter edge grown after the only woman he’s ever loved left him without explanation.

Rick is obviously a changed man by the end, but it has less to do with his morals, and more to do with his duty.

You see, Rick serves as both a character and a picture of America.  With a story set during December of 1941, a ‘neutral’ American character who must decide whether or not to take a stand in the war.  It’s no coincidence that his ending comes about when he lets go of his own selfish desires and looks at the big picture, and puts the world first, over what would make him happiest.  For Rick to grow into a better person, he has to let Ilsa go.

He’s not the only one sacrificing, though.

Throughout the film, the number of sacrifices characters are willing to make are staggering, and it’s quickly obvious that the ones who are willing are heroic, the ones who aren’t are villains.  Strasser is very concerned about the risks of having Victor around, but plays it safe.  Renault, originally content to do anything to save his own skin, eventually sacrifices his safety in Casablanca for the greater good.

The character who is willing to sacrifice the most is, of course, the most heroic character.  Victor Lazlo, having escaped a concentration camp and been pursued by the Third Reich, is willing to give up his wife and his freedom, safety, and life to make sure that Ilsa is safe.  He is unaware of Ilsa’s past, and doesn’t feel the need to be.  His love and his duty mix together, his goals blend, and therefore, as the most heroic character, the character that might traditionally be the protagonist, he is also the least conflicted character.  As a matter of fact, the honor of most conflicted character goes to his wife.

Ilsa’s sacrifice is on both sides.  Torn between her husband and the man she fell in love with years prior, Ilsa has little choice in who she boards that plane with, and is uncertain of which man is going with her until the very end.  She is willing to sacrifice her life of freedom with her husband to stay with Rick, initially choosing gratification over duty, but in the end, comes to the same conclusion that Rick does: The right thing for her to do is to go with her husband, to freedom.

It’s a bittersweet ending, but it’s also one that ties up all the loose ends, and the only possible satisfactory ending for the characters.  The audience feels the same pull as the characters, the same division between duty and desire, but we know, as does Rick, that in the end, he has to look at the big picture.  That’s the genius of Casablanca.  It asks the audience to consider the same moral questions it asks of its characters:

Are you willing to sacrifice for the greater good?

Rick, like America, is waking up and realizing that he has to do something to fight injustice, and that to do that, he has to be willing to give up his personal happiness, to allow himself to be an idealist, and to keep fighting for lost causes.

The ending is heartbreaking, yes.  But unlike heartbreaking endings where we rage against the disservice done the characters, this bittersweet ending is the only possible ending for all of the characters to maintain their integrity, the only way they can all do the right thing.  

And we applaud them for it.  It’s a perfect ending to what’s pretty darn close to a perfect story.  But of course, there’s more to a movie than a story.

In the articles ahead, we’re going to be taking a look at some of the other important elements to the story of Casablanca, so if you enjoyed this one, stick around and join us!  Don’t forget that my ask box is always open for questions, requests, comments, or just a conversation.  Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.

[megmckinney]

Traveling to Sayulita, Nayarit, Mexico

On Sunday, Dec 6, 2020 Governor Gavin Newsom decided he was going to shut down our state again - restaurants to be closed, more restrictions, etc. We decided we didn’t want to stay in a city/state/country that was willing to treat it’s people so poorly so in one week we packed our bags, packed up all of our personal items in storage boxes, deep cleaned our home, put the house on airbnb and bought a one way ticket to Puerto Vallarta Mexico. We didn’t secure lodging, we didn’t know when we would return, we just left. 

To make matters more interesting, our daughter who is 17 months or one year and 5 months as they say down here in Mexico doesn’t have a passport and I had never ordered her a birth certificate. All we had was her Social Security Card. My passport expired exactly 1.5 months before our trip and my husband insisted we bring our 15 year old dog who can barely walk and definitely has dementia. 

I looked into opportunities to expedite my passport renewal-- with coronavirus it was not an option. I didn’t even really consider that our little baby would need identification. I browsed the airlines information on flying with pets. Rowley, our dog, would need to have a rabbis shot 30 days minimum before flying (we were leaving in a week), he would need a deworming, and he would need a health certificate from the vet 5 days before the flight to say he is healthy. We assumed since we were flying mexican airline Volaris that they would be lenient and that everything would go smoothly. Who needs a passport, ID, or their shots. Either way, we did what we could to secure all the necessary information before our travels.

One of the main reasons we only booked a one way ticket and didn’t secure our lodging was because we really didn’t know if we would make it. Could we actually pack up our entire home and get it ready for airbnb? This entailed removing all of our clothes from the closets and putting it in storage bins in the garage, cleaning out and organizing all of the drawers, removing the food from the fridge, locking up shelves with personal items, cleaning out bathrooms, etc. All the while my husband is working full time and I am 5 months pregnant with a toddler. That and then would we make it into another country without proper ID? Would the dog be allowed on the flight? How would we carry everything? Stroller, pac n play, carseat, a dog who can’t walk, (the wagon to wheel him), matt’s surfboard, the large dog crate, our personal suitcases and bags. It just seemed like an impossible feat.

To avoid proper identification, we had a friend drive us across the border straight to the TJ airport for our flight. Since we live in San Diego, CA, this was an easy option available to us. It worked. Once at the airport there were many men with carts who came over right away to help-- PTL! We were in mexico, at the airport, with help for our luggage, heading to check in to our flight. We get stopped heading to the airline check in-- do we have our tourism visa? No. So he points us to the line to get it. We go. She notices my passport is expired and will not issue me a tourist visa but does issue one to Matt. Summer, our daughter, doesn’t get one either. She basically says you can still fly but be careful and don’t get in trouble. So I guess Summer and I are technically in this country living illegally. Would this consider us illegal aliens? I’m not quite sure what Mexican terminology or legalities are. We make it to our airline check in line. Since we have the dog and the surfboard and I suppose all the baby stuff, as well, we have to stand in a special line. We finally get to the front, they as for our passports, we give our driver’s license. They ask for Summer’s ID, we give her social security card, everything is going smoothly so far. They ask for Rowley’s vet info and that’s when everything came crashing down. We had already been waiting in lines for an hour, our ride had left, and Rowley’s rabbi’s vaccine had only been administered 3 days before the flight. This was against their terms. They needed it to have been administered 30 days incase there was a reaction on the flight. But-- we are in Mexico, there are supposed to be lenient. Could we pay them? What could we do? They just said no. They said sorry. They said we could rebook our flight 30 days from when the vaccine was administered. There was nothing we could do. 

I knew there was a chance of something going wrong like this. The backup plan was to fly to Florida. We just wanted somewhere warm with ocean, and surf, and no lockdowns. Matt, my husband, was not prepared for this. He was shocked. He walked off to the bathroom, took some time to process, and then went searching for another airline who could take our dog. We didn’t panic, we didn’t fight, we just hustled. Between his determination and my broken english we were able to find an airline who would take Rowley. The cost was 8x as much, we obviously weren’t going to try and get our initial airline costs refunded and this flight included a layover in Mexico City with the second flight not being until the following day. So we would have to go through the airport, security, bag check, showing our ID’s, hoping they would take Rowley, all over again. To end the suspense and keep the story short, I’ll just say it all worked out fine. Traveling domestically through Mexico in 2020 even amidst a global pandemic, only requires one form of ID and our USA Driver’s License was valid.

We booked a cheap hotel in Mexico City close to the airport, Rowley had to sleep down in the basement of the hotel LOL he was not allowed in our room. We placed Summer’s Pac n Play in the shower, she went to sleep just fine. Matt went out to get us some street tacos! We didn’t have any pesos so a nice man bought our food for us. Matt went back for seconds this time stopping at 7/11 hoping for some cash bank in pesos but they weren’t doing it so another nice man bought our food again. We gorged on fresh mexican street food, fell fast to sleep, and spend the next day at the airport doing it all over again.

We booked our accommodations at the airport on Saturday, Dec 12 in the TJ airport and arrived in Sayulita on Sunday, Dec 13 from Mexico City in the afternoon. We stayed at the Pajaro De Fuego Condominiums for our first 13 days in Sayulita and over Christmas.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 16

Work continues to drive me crazy, so of course I make my life more complicated by getting online classes set up for the fall. That, and I kinda don’t want to see our babies learn about Hughes. Blissful ignorance, am I right? *sigh* Onwards with Brotherhood.

Do we have captions this time? We do! Awesome, it was so irritating last time not knowing if I was mangling names or not. We’ve got the second intro featuring the Xing contingent, curious how influential it’ll be having a foreign prince bopping along with the Elrics. (Also, I continue to be juvenile and giggle at one of the lyrics in the new song being “shite”. Hee.) We open up with a bird's-eye view of Central, then with Ed yawning at the train station. Al mentions that being spied on for hours is pretty tiring. Right, Ling’s ninja squad don’t trust the Elrics. But where’s the Prince? The Ninjas proceed to freak the heck out, Fu runs around the traintops calling out for the young lord as Lan Fan worries about him collapsing. Is Ling fainting a common thing, then? Ed just shrugs his shoulders at the absence of the freeloader and heads off with Al and Winry. Huh, music’s getting ominous. Oh, there he is, doing a Brooding Anime Rooftop Stare on the station’s clock tower, looking towards the center of the city. [Ling]: “Something about this country doesn’t feel right.” Well, the current speculation (backed by the freaking Fuhrer being a Goth!) is that they’re sacrificing people to make Philosopher’s Stones, so… don’t know much about Xing so can’t say if they’re any better, but it’d be pretty hard for them to be worse. Episode 16 - “Footsteps of a Comrade-in-Arms” In a run-down area of the city, a car stops and the blond-haired smoking guy (Havoc?) of Roy’s crew is checking in with the grey-haired member (I’ll get their names some day, I swear), dropping off food from the colonel. Oh, guess Grey’s been guarding Barry, who cheerfully recognizes “the smokin’ guy”. Not tied up and playing chess? Are they keeping him prisoner to try and get more info or more protecting their only source? Well, I suppose for a serial killer like Barry being kept inside at night and denied any chances to chop someone up would be uncomfortable. Still, Grey’s bored with the assignment, asks how much longer it’ll be. Havoc just says that Roy apologizes for the dangerous assignment, that Grey’s absence it being treated as sick leave… and if he’s seen in public by anyone he’ll get court-martialed. Yikes, ok then. No breaks for poor Grey. Any good news? [Havoc]: “Falman, I found myself a girlfriend!” ...well that’s nice and all for you, buddy, but I think Falman (thank you!) was looking for good news for him. Poor, poor Falman. Hey, it’s Ling! Taking another impromptu nap? A couple of cops are asking if he’s ok, he whispers about food… ah, trying for another free meal? Unfortunately for Ling, the cops less interested in feeding him and more interested in seeing his entry visa. Cue irritated cops dragging a crying Prince away. [Cop 1]: “Outta the way, everyone!” [Cop 2]: “Illegal alien coming through!” The Ninjas continue to freak over the absent master, while Ed says that they should stop by the military offices. Winry… decides to go straight to the Hughes’ house. Oh boy. [Winry]: “I can’t wait to see Miss Gracia and cute little Elicia!” Uuuuuugh. Make it stooooop. The Brothers are off to meet up with Hughes himself, while they think Hughes might have been stymied by Bradley’s orders to stand down they have info on the Homunculi now (and still don’t know the Fuhrer himself is one, gah!). Off to the court-martial office! Quiet somber music as the brothers run through the park. And right by the phone booth that Hughes was murdered in. Bleh this episode is not going easy. In the office, Sheska’s carrying around some books when another lady officer asks for a key to Room #3. Which freaks Sheska out, and she babbles about cleaning up the mess first? What, have you made that your private reading lair or something? Nope, not your lair it seems, but Colonel Mustang’s private napping chamber. Yikes, hope you had an alarm set, and it only wasn’t Sheska waking you that kept you from being late to a freaking Council Meeting. Wait, Council? I don’t think I’ve heard of that group before, I’m just assuming by the tendency for Anime Councils to be Big Deals that it’s the same in the FMA universe. The highest-ranking officers of the military? Sheska worries that Roy’s not getting enough sleep, he just waves her off and goes to the meeting. Staying up late doing research on the conspiracy, I gue- GAH new voice! Sheska freaks and identifies them as Captain Focker, who asks about the open storeroom and what Roy was doing. Uh oh, a watcher sent by Bradley? Double uh oh, in her concern for Roy’s state Sheska is telling Focker about how he seems to be researching the Fifth Laboratory. And the Hughes case. Bleeeeeh, more Hughes feels as Sheska gets sad about her getting her job through Hughes. Captain Focker walks away deep in thought, glasses obscuring his eyes. Uh oh. But then the looks up in surpr- That’s Captain Focker! Oh my Leto, that’s the real Captain Focker! Real Focker’s too busy looking at some piece of paper to notice a shapechange and red electricity as Envy takes on a new disguise. Shapeshifters: A security nightmare.

But it looks like Envy might have made a mistake, as Real!Focker’s now saying good morning to Sheska, who is rightly confused. A simple “Laugh at this clueless character” moment, or a break for the good guys? Roy’s washing up in a bathroom for this Council Meeting, takes a moment to stare mournfully into the mirror- until with a flush of a toilet his angsting is interrupted by The Mighty Armstrong, glinting manfully in his bandages while towering over the stall door. Hah! Armstrong remarks that Roy looks a bit peakish, who asks why Armstrong is bandaged. Oh right, Armstrong was involved in killing all of Greed’s human-chimera crew down South. He mentions that he ran into the Elrics down there, on their visit to their old teacher. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell them about Hughes. Armstrong makes his way out- [Roy]: “The Fifth Laboratory and the Philosopher’s Stone; the Stone’s key ingredients are live humans.” Armstrong comes to a halt. Roy continues about how Hughes died following up on the Elric brothers’ investigation, and how if/when they find out they’ll blame themselves. He says Armstrong not telling them was kind, and Armstrong compliments him on figuring out so much. But warns him that he never knows who might be listening. Riza’s waiting out in the hallway when Ed walks up and says hi, although he’s not as happy when Roy joins them. Oh yeah, Elric didn’t know about Roy’s promotion. Now if he’s hanging out in Central it’ll be the same place as good old Colonel Mustang. The sarcasm in Ed’s “Great” is astounding. As for the Elrics, they’re just doing some information gathering. And might pay Hughes a visit later in the day. Where is he, anyway? Roy… says that Hughes retired. Went out to the country with his family to run the family business. Really, dude? I get that it’s a sore subject, but the “he went out to the farm” excuse only works for so long. They deserve to know what happened. Well, with the false story the boys think that they should tell Winry, they spin around only to run into Lieutenant Ross. She asks about the rush, Ed mentions that they heard about Hughes… and Ross isn’t in on the “tell them the farm story” excuse. Oh boy. Uuuugh, the two conversations sliding right past each other here is painful! And here’s the kicker: [Al]: “He retired to the country and they promoted him?” Ross realises she did a no-no, covers her mouth to keep from saying anything else. And Ed realizes the truth. Mid-episode cards: Captain Focker with an Envy silhouette behind him, and a downcast Gracia Hughes on the second. Notable for both Narrator “Full-Metal Alchemists” being the sad, somber one. Out in the city, Winry’s shopping for apples, presumably to give to the Hughes’ family. And Ed races out of the building after hearing the new. [Lt. Ross]: “Brigadier General Hughes is dead… He was murdered shortly after you were discharged from the hospital, Edward. I’m afraid we still haven’t found the person responsible.” As he runs and cries, Ed blames himself for pulling Hughes into the investigation. Flashes of Happy Hughes and his family, a memory of Hughes seeing them off at the train station and inviting them to drop by again, hosting dinner, first meeting them and inviting them to his home… Al catches up with the suitcase and then stands there silently as Ed slumps against the wall. And now we’re with Winry, who’s arriving at the apartment. The door swings open- [Elicia]: “Daddy?!” Oh no, that’s fine. I didn’t need that heart anyway, go ahead and use it as a footrest show. The Elrics have arrived at the apartment building, when Al asks what they should do Ed tells him to go back, that he’s “the only one who has to take the blame for what happened.” Oh my Leto kid you have enough self-imposed guilt from Mama Elric and Nina, stop taking the weight of the world on your shoulders! Al argues that it’s on both of them, and double all my protests that Ed does not deserve this for his little brother as well. Ed tries to dissuade Al again- [Al]: “We made up our minds; We said we were getting our bodies back, no matter what. But if people are going to die because of that… then I don’t want mine back.”

Freaking A, Al. I cannot overstate how much damn respect I feel for you right now. You are a poor boy, trapped in a cold metal body from a horrible accident. Getting your body back has been your driving purpose, along with healing your brother. But when you discovered that the cost of making a Philosopher’s Stone was human sacrifice, you discarded the method. And when you discover that a friend has died in the process of helping your investigation, you are fully prepared to renounce your goal in order to protect others. I salute your selflessness. Gracia opens the door, and gives the Elrics the same sad smile that she gave Winry, telling the brothers that Winry’s already arrived. The mechanic’s sitting quietly in a chair with Elicia curled in her lap, she looks up with Ed quietly enters. Ed then asks to talk to Gracia and Winry about Maes. The quiet sad theme starts playing as Gracia recaps the Elrics’ message; that Hughes looked into the Philosopher’s Stone, and was killed as a warning against the brothers. Gracia looks down at sleeping Elicia, as Ed bows his head in grief and gasps out “sorry” again and again. [Gracia]: “That would be just like him, dying while trying to help someone else.” The Trio look up in surprise. [Gracia]: “My husband. He always was a busybody and a meddler, and it got him into trouble. A lot. But you know… I don’t think he ever had regrets. Not any… not even in his dying moments, Edward.” So many people to respect in this episode, seriously. Al being prepared to give up on getting his body back, and Gracia insisting that they can’t give up, or else Hughes died in vain. With a little smile, even. Forget about the dead end of the Stone, there still might be another way. [Gracia]: “You boys have to keep moving forward… any way you can.” The door closes as the Trio exit the apartment, Ed turns to look at the others- [Elicia]: “Mommy?... Mommy, please don’t cry.” ...damn you, show. Later in the day now, the sun is setting as the Trio walk through the streets to a sweeping cello melody. The Elrics see Winry to a hotel room, and then go to their own. Right, because they… used to stay at the Hughes’ residence. Winry’s quietly resting on her bed, Al’s sitting in the living room, and Ed’s downstairs in the restaurant too upset to eat. Now he’s knocking on Winry’s door, asking if she’s eaten yet, and she should hurry because the dining room is closing soon. The parallels are strong here: when they were children the Rockbell’s fed the Elrics, and now Ed’s trying to make sure Winry keeps up her strength now. When Winry doesn’t make a move Ed excuses himself to his room, but Winry grabs his automail hand. Aw, aw no. She still has the basket of apples she was planning to take to the Hughes’ family. Seems she was planning to make apple pie. And had hoped that Mr. Hughes would get to try some too. Winry cries as the screen fades to black. WOW OK talk about rough transitions, we’ve got Chimeras in cages. And eff you it’s the Goths, Lust leaning on Gluttony as she talks with still-disguised Envy. Now they know that Roy’s been looking into the matter, and may have found some things out. Lust gripes that they orchestrated Roy’s move to Central to keep a closer eye on him, and it’d be a waste to lose an important sacrifice candidate. Wait… [Envy]: “Haven’t been able to learn anything from your new boyfriend?” Aw hell no, I’d thought that Havoc gushing about having a girlfriend was just a little joke at the beginning of the episode, like a running gag about his relationships or something. You’re telling me Lust is playing Havoc? Run dude, run! Lust goes off to gather more info, calls for Gluttony like a loyal little attack dog. Envy chides Gluttony for leaving some bones scattered around… but then gets an idea. Uh oh, we’ve got string music as Envy suggests making another “play”, giving Roy a bone to chew. What are you up to? We’re at what appears to be a cafeteria now, when someone comes up and taps Lieutenant Ross on the shoulder, introducing himself as Henry Douglas from the Provost Marshal’s office. Flanked by goons, he says that Ross has to come along with them, and demands her gun? Wait, is Ross being arrested? Brosh, where the heck are you, come defend your partner! Whoa whoa what?! They’re accusing Ross for Hughes’ murder?! What the heck, how can you make that claim? What evidence do you have for that absurd claim? Besides… well, besides the shapeshifter accosting Hughes in the phone booth while looking like you… uh oh. Riza is updating Roy on the situation, saying that Ross (man, there are a lot of R-characters involved in this case, huh?) is pleading not-guilty on all charges. The Flame Alchemist just tells Riza to gather all the info on the suspect that she can, secretly. Dramatic string music continues as we see Havoc buying some flowers and then running along to his “hot date”, stubbing out his cigarette as yup, “Solaris” is Lust. Who demurely asks Havoc to sit down and tell her about his day. AAAAAAARGH! Ok then! Was putting off this episode because I knew there would be Feels about Hughes, and damn if it didn’t deliver. But like Gracia said, they can’t let Hughes’ death be in vain, and they can hardly just give up and let the killer go free. Speaking of, framing Ross? As if I didn’t have enough reasons to hate you jerks, Goths! Ugh, this is gonna get complicated, isn’t it?

[dreameskye]

❀ *ﾟ kim taehyung. demiboy. he/they. ⇝ hey, isn’t that junsu “skyler” seo ? i think that the twenty-three year old from seoul, south korea works as a host boyfriend, but outside of that they spend a lot of time at caesar’s palace. i hear they are combative + melancholy, but they are also known to be dedicated + empathic. consider giving them a visit at their home in el patio inn and get to know why they’re called the barbie doll. ( gi, 21, she/her, est + 01/14/1996 )

TW: ABUSE,  ALCOHOLISM, CAR ACCIDENT 

heyo, i’m gi, this is my bby junsu/skye, and clearly i watch a little bit too much of 90 day fiance. this is a lot to read i am so sorry

• junsu came to america from south korea when he was twenty years old. he’d met somebody rich and well off just like him through a dating app and together he knew they’d be the unstoppable power couple

 • for a while everything was like one big fairy-tale. junsu was hopelessly in love with his fiancé, their families had already met and planned to become business partners once they tied the knot, one of the most expensive chapels in la was booked for their wedding. everything was going to be perfect, obviously.

 • except junsu was so caught up in his fantasy for a while that he missed several red flags. his english was not the greatest when he’d first arrived in the states and his fiancé took advantage of it.

• first, it was the prenups, which were poorly explained and he was told to sign it as it was just “part of the wedding process.” then it was the various calls and texts from men and women all day long that his fiancé dismissed as “coworkers or business partners or distant family”

 • at first, junsu was too in love with his perfect fantasy to admit to himself that his fiancé was cheating on him and playing him for a fool.

 • he kept quiet for a long time, constantly changing things about himself, about his looks, anything so he could try to be what his fiancé desired.

• the serious trouble didn’t come until after junsu turned 21. his k-1 visa did not allow him to work and the walls of their luxurious home began to feel more like a prison, so he turned to alcohol for comfort.

• with liquid courage, he was able to voice how unhappy he was and how he deserved more respect from his fiancé. however, things only got worse from there though and that’s when the physical abuse started.

• this was the lowest point of his life, and he had nobody to talk to about it. his family was much too ecstatic about the upcoming wedding and it was too exhausting to try and cover up all the bruises or to even fake happiness for a ten minute phone call.

• the final straw came when junsu, having waaaay too many drinks beforehand, got so upset after his fiancé had laid a hand on him once again that he took off in one of their most expensive cars and totaled it.

• needless to say, the engagement was called off after that night. however, things only seemed to get worse for him.

• while he was in the hospital recovering, his ex had told his parents a big fabricated story about junsu being a raging alcoholic, that that was the cause of all their fights, and the reason their relationship had fallen apart.

• his parents, angry with his behavior and that they’d lost their business venture with his ex decided to cut him off completely. 

 • to make matters worse, he was forced to pay for all the damages caused in the car accident, his hospital bills, and anything else his ex had decided was an inconvenience.

•  junsu was in serious debt by the time he arrived in las vegas. he was so desperate to get away from his old life that he took whatever under the table jobs he could find, sometimes even resorting to prostitution. still, there were several nights he was stuck sleeping out on the streets or in abandoned motels.

• through doing several illegal jobs and a couple lucky rounds of blackjack, junsu was able to scrounge up enough cash to afford a room at el patio inn.

• currently, he’s working as a host boyfriend or basically a boyfriend for hire. he dresses nice, goes on “dates” with his customers, tells them exactly what they want to hear, or sometimes just keeps people company or gets them out of sticky situations. basically like a lower budget escort. it’s fucked up but it’s also a bit of a coping mechanism for him, and it’s a business that he’s trying to get to take off in vegas.

 • while living here he’s also started to go by the name skyler, out of fear of his ex finding him and to give him and his clients a bit of a fantasy and detachment from his real self. only those closest to him would know that his name is junsu, most know him by skye.

 • junsu is often miserable that this is the way his life turned out. but in true capricorn fashion, he keeps it all bottled up inside.

 • instead, he focuses all his attention on his outwards appearance, to make it seem like he has it all together while on the inside he’s screaming.

• always one of the best dressed. this is why he’s known as the barbie doll. also king of buying expensive things that he can’t afford and returning them two days later. 

 • his past experiences have made him believe that everyone and everything is out to get him. he’s very paranoid, and will fight you if you look at him the wrong way. how do i say, he is terrified of people yet surrounds himself with them because he is also terrified of being alone at the same time. he’s very complex. 

 • has a soft spot for people he can tell have been done wrong or are victims of domestic violence, though. yes, he will comfort the person left crying after a nasty fight and even offer to let them stay at his place if it’s that bad.

• doesn’t really drink or party much despite living here. he either ends up crying for three hours straight or gets absolutely crazy when he’s drunk there’s no in between. (what a mood) usually, he ends up being the mom friend to total strangers who are so drunk they’re a danger to themselves.

• he’s got a very hardened exterior, but deep down he is actually afraid of everything. doesn’t always come off as the nicest person, but he’s working on it. honestly is a whole ass trainwreck but his bag is fendi so who cares? 

spare plots? 🥺👐

• distant relatives/cousins

• someone who knew him or his ex before he came here, just knows how much of a trashbag his ex is and what he went through

• neighbors (will fight you if you tell ppl that’s where he lives though)

• clients (for his bf for hire business lmao)

 • ex-clients (ppl he slept with when he was prostituting, ugh give me all the awkward scenarios!)

• the tea (somebody who knows his secret, could just know it or could be blackmailing him, etc.) 

• mom friend (either acquaintances or just complete strangers he’s helped take care of when they were completely shit faced)

 • someone who keeps stealing  or has stolen his clothes and other fancy things from him before lmao

• beef ( maybe someone whose ass he kicked during a game of poker or smth. round 2?) 

• friends. he has none. he needs these. desperately.

[soprana-snap]

Technically Legal

Summary: Classic marriage for convenience...but maybe more.

Rating: T for language

A/N: Stressed about wedding planning so of course I gotta write about good ol’ eloping. I’ve considered it more than once already. I haven’t written in months. uhghhh

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“Aw, why do you hafta wear a dress? Why do I have to wear a collared shirt and tie?”

Lucy flashed him a warning glance over her bare shoulder, raising a brow as if to dare him to ask that same question for the fifth time in a row.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t answered him the last four times he asked.

At her stare, he pursed his lips and crossed his arms with a huff, scowling at his shined shoes like they personally did him a great wrong.

The tie was uncomfortable, the shirt scratchy, the pants a bit too short, and the shoes too pinchy. He wouldn’t want to be caught dead in this outfit ever again. In fact, he wouldn’t even want to be dressed like this if he was dead and had no say.

But Lucy had to have her way, which gave him his way, which in a roundabout way gave her, well her way. Ugh, his head hurt.

This was the best course of action, according to Lucy. One that would solve their problems and possibly put them in federal prison if they got caught.

It was one of those casual, ‘Hey let's take a risk that is totally illegal if you do it wrong’ kind of deals. While he was very, very good at doing illegal things and not getting caught, goody two-shoes over there was less so.

Her hands filtered through her hair, little plastic star barrets holding her bangs in place. She stressed how important it was to not get caught. But, she didn't just say ‘important’. She used the word ‘imperative?’ or something like that, which he was pretty sure without a dictionary on hand was a synonym for ‘important’.

He didn’t know. Lucy was full of words he didn’t know.

At last, she turned on her heels and inspected her dress carefully, silver flats making the dress look pearlescent.

She was a vision and he was annoyed.

“You look great. They won’t care what you dress in!” he said, grimacing as he felt his gelled hair  drag on his scalp.

Lucy cast him another withering glare. “It’s my big day so I’m going to own it! You should be thanking me, Natsu Dragneel!”

“You should be thanking me too!” he argued back.

“I will once we pull this off!”

“Well if you take too much longer, we’ll miss the appointment!”

“Relax, we have time!”

“If you say so.” he conceded, knowing it was the wise choice. He wasn’t going to start an argument today, of all the days.

She nodded resolutely, turning and grabbing her purse, the Vera Bradley clashing horribly with her attire. “Good. Now, let’s go.”

He kept to himself in the car, fidgeting and counting backwards from one hundred to prevent him from barfing. He could use his motion sickness as a crutch, but once they got out of the car, he had to confess it was because of nerves.

Lucy looked no better, locking the car and shakily taking two steps towards the looming building.

For better or worse, he thought before sidling over and linking her right arm with his left. “Together.” he assured softly, meeting her eyes with a small grin.

She nodded, a smile gracing her face as well. “Together.” she echoed.

Step by step, they walked up to the brick and mortar building, up the stairs and into the rotating glass doors. There was no going back, not once they stepped up to the security guard.

“Hey Natsu, do you have the-?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. In my pocket.” he answered before letting the guard hover the scanner over the mentioned pocket. Uncomfortably close to some other equipment, if he had to admit, but the guard thankfully didn’t feel the need to frisk him.

“This is it.” Lucy whispered as they wandered down the hall, looking at glossed wood and overbearing displays of lawful power. “We are doing this.”

“Yeah” Natsu whispered back, rubbing his rough thumb over her soft wrist, playing with the bangles of her bracelet. She relaxed a little, giving him a halfhearted pout as she tried to pull the bracelet from his hands. His fidgeting with her accessories was a pet peeve after all.

“Okay, you remember all the answers?” she checked when they paused before the office, staring at the gold nameplate that loomed over them. “We can’t afford to butcher this.”

Natsu grinned with all the confidence he left back at the apartment. “Relax. We’ve got this in the bag if we made it this far.”

Lucy huffed, her nervousness still there. It was displayed in her manner, her face a screaming warning of it. They’ve both been tense and snippy this past week ever since they got the letter in the mail.

It was showtime.

“Ready to go get hitched?” she asked, watching his hand reaching for the knob.

“Yeah, time to get you wife-d.” It sounded better in his head, he cringed as he opened the door.

It was going well, Lucy in her white dress that every bride-to-be deserved and he being all groomed up, figuratively and literally. Lucy taught him the difference between them. It was going well until the judge got to the questioning part.

What’s her favorite flower? How does she spend a typical Saturday night? What is her full legal name? He knew all that stuff.

What was his full legal name? What was his favorite past time? Who adopted him and at what age? Lucy knew all that stuff too.

But when it got to answering questions together, about the future, they kinda mucked it up in his opinion. Lucy took it all with grace and he looked like a moron.

“Well, our apartment is cozy enough and we have lived together there for three years already. I don't see us planning to move into a larger place anytime soon.” Lucy said evenly, flashing a demure smile as she did.

“What if Natsu lost his job? My records indicate that he does make a significant amount more than you do.”

Lucy shifted like she had been struck and Natsu opened his stupid mouth. “I ain’t gonna lose my job! Plus Lucy is my partner. She’s not lesser than me or dependent!” he said it too loud, too quick, and dammit Lucy was looking at him with wide eyes and he fucked it up.

The judge cleared his throat, clicking his pen and scribbling something down on a notepad. “So, you won’t be worried about her when your VISA expires and if it is declined upon renewal?”

Lucy cast the judge a wide eyed look and Natsu felt his gut bottom out. “Wha-? Of course I’d be worried, but she’s equal. Just because she doesn’t make as much doesn’t mean she’s helpless if I happen to lose my job...which I won’t.”

“Of course, once married her student loans would be forgiven. So, her annual income would even out.” This judge was officially his least favorite person and that was something. Gray being usurped as the #1 dickbag?

Plus this dickbag was being just so on the day Natsu was to be married?

This bag-of-dicks hit the nail on the head. He nailed them. Natsu’s VISA was going to expire and due to some...unfortunate events in his past, he would have a slim chance of renewal. He would be deported back to nothing. His friends were here. Lucy’s student loans were steep with interest and the payments ensured she would live off of ramen alone for the next ten years.

With a name change and a few signatures, both problems disappeared like a bad dream.

They were gonna go to prison for fraud. Oh, he was going to go to the slammer and Lucy going to the lady slammer. He would have to bite a rock and chew on it in front of a bunch of criminals to prove he was insane and not worth bothering.

“We came here today to be married in the eyes of the law.” Lucy said suddenly, fingers clenching her dress as she fixed a level stare at the judge behind the desk. To his credit, he didn’t smirk. He looked intrigued at what she had to say, his pen hovering over his notepad.

“Natsu is my best friend. He’s been there for me through the best and worst. It doesn’t matter to me if my loans ruin my credit or what but I love him and I want him by my side through it.”

He was having a heart attack. That’s what this feeling had to be. His heart was racing and his face felt hot and his fingers and toes were buzzing and-

Her hand reached for his, her eyes meeting his as a light flush reached her cheeks. Yeah, he was dying of a heart attack. It felt so good, too. Better than going to prison.

The judge rose a brow, looking to him suddenly. “And you feel the same, Mr. Dragneel?”

It felt like he stuck his face in the fire. His face had to be on fire. “Guh?” was the only thing he could articulate at the current moment.

But, Lucy snorted and laughed, covering her mouth and shaking her head. “Why do you always get embarrassed when I say things like that?” she said, trying to hard to keep her voice from wheezing as she leaned over to gasp. “It’s like you’re a school boy.”

Okay, not a heart attack. It was just embarrassment. “Oi! It’s not my fault you just say things like that! A guy needs warnings sometimes!”

“What kind of warning should I give you before I drop the ILY bomb, then?”

“I dunno, but don’t just s-say it!”

Lucy flashed him a saucy grin, her eyes lidding. “Should I just show you then?” she breathed.

“I’ve seen enough.” The judge interrupted before Natsu could self combust into ashes. “I see that, although my accusations may have some grounding, it is clear that this is not some shotgun solution. Please contain yourselves while I get the papers.”

Lucy finally had the capacity to look mortified as the man produced the necessary papers for both of them to sign and called in the secretary to witness.

“Sign ‘Lucy Dragneel’ on the dotted lines-”

“What about ‘Natsu Heartfilia?” Natsu blurted suddenly, obviously not done fucking things up for today.

The judge leveled him with a stone cold glower, but Lucy laughed, the pen dancing away in her hands. “Natsu we talked about this. Heartfilia is just a name. It always was.”

It really was, because she signed it away with elegant flicks of her wrist that he watched with fascination. One, two, three, and like that, she was no longer Lucy Heartfilia.

She was Lucy Dragneel, his wife.

She was his wife and he her husband and holy damn it was really that simple.

The rest blurred by but the motion sickness never came to take over the warm bubble in his chest. They did it. They actually did it.

“Well, husband? We got married. Now what do you want to do?” Lucy asked brightly once they left the office and marched down the halls, arm in arm.

Well, what were a husband and wife supposed to do after getting hitched? Natsu didn’t know. He never got married before.

The word ‘pizza’ came to his mind like a beacon.

“Pizza?” he asked, blinking down at her curiously and marveling at how relaxed she was now. At her beam, he knew he got it right.

“Pizza sounds great. I’m so hungry.” she moaned, actually picking up the pace and dragging him for once. “Extra cheese. It’s our wedding day!”

“With olives and bacon!”

“Ew, no. Not that.”

“It’s my wedding day too! I get olives and bacon!”

“Never!”

“I’ll drop you over the threshold. Don’t try me!”

Still, he carried her over the threshold, her carrying the pizza box, and the pizza box carrying the freshest double cheese with half olives and bacon pizza the world would ever have. Plus, the olives spelled out ‘Just Married!’ They already had plans to eat it and binge watch on Netflix.

They had this wedding thing down.

[kassandra-lorelei]

can you do a fic where something goes wrong with niles' green card or american status somehow and max asks/convinces cc to marry niles so he can stay?

Here we are at very long last, my friend! I’m so very sorry it took so long to get this one done - my bestie @missbabcocks1 and I did the first half together (and kind of an interim chapter not shown here due to smut), and then it took me a while from being busy and from not feeling my absolute best to getting back on this. But it’s all done, and I hope you enjoy it

@holomoriarty

The chair she was sat in, hard and uncomfortable in front of the official’s desk, made her feel like she’d gotten in trouble with the principal at school or something.

She wasn’t in trouble - at least, she wasn’t yet. If this Immigration Officer (or whatever title the scrawny little man in front of her held) decided that her answers weren’t good enough, then she would be.

The things she did to get what she wanted sometimes!

She could still remember the look on the butler’s face, rendered speechless by her agreement to marry him to stop him from being deported. It was just like Niles to forget about his own visa deadline until it was too late!

And it was just like Maxwell and Nanny Fine to ask her to step in and help.

But she’d had an ace up her sleeve - the one thing she knew she could get out of agreeing to keep the bane of her existence in the country.

She remembered herself saying the words that had sealed the deal.

“That’s my price, Butler Boy. I want you to get me pregnant.”

Niles had looked kind of…well, more than startled when she’d said that. But he’d agreed, so now it was official.

It would be a deal, she kept telling herself. Like a business deal, only with a little more nudity involved. They’d stay together for a few years to make it look convincing to Immigration Services, then they’d quietly divorce. She’d get the baby she felt she was running out of time to have, and he’d get his permanent residency.

Everybody was gonna win out from this, right?

All she had to do was make sure this thing went off without a hitch. The Immigration Officer was ready to start, and she had to be ready as well.

She was certainly ready for everything else.

So, she let the questioning begin, allowing the official to ask her everything she could ever possibly know about the butler.

And know things, she did. The answers came out with barely any hesitation at all, and she knew it was all correct. It was…weird, the fact that the person she clearly knew best was the one who annoyed her the most.

She felt that little tidbit of information about them might garner more questions if she mentioned it though, so she kept it to herself.

It was a relief when it was finally all done, and she could leave at long last.

Her “fiancé” was waiting for her outside, and they put on a little show because they knew the Officer was watching from just inside the office doorway. They took each other’s hands as they greeted each other and exchanged a quick (prepared for) peck on the lips, before turning to leave, still hand-in-hand and talking about anything but the interrogation they’d both just faced.

Of course, that had all been a front. Once they were clear of the building, the hands were dropped and the conversation went straight to where they’d just been.

“Did the allergy one come up for you?” C.C. asked, remembering how she’d been more than certain in her answer.

Niles nodded, apparently just as sure, “Yes - I told them that you were allergic to sage, crucifixes and holy water.”

C.C. scowled. She should’ve seen that coming.

Luckily, she knew exactly what to say in retaliation.

“Hm, sounds like someone doesn’t wanna live up to his end of the bargain,” she said casually, an edge to her voice that let him know she could cancel the whole thing at any time. “One would’ve thought you couldn’t afford to miss a chance to get laid, Hazel. It happens so rarely, as it is…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the butler stiffen as he halted in his tracks. Up until that moment, they’d been on their way to a hotel she’d booked for them, for the express purpose of trying to conceive. They’d both figured it was best to start trying as soon as possible, so an attempt straight after their meeting with the Immigration Officer made sense.

Again, it was like a business deal. They’d arranged a date and a time, a location, and there might be profitable results once they were done.

And they were both getting a good deal out of it. If Niles behaved himself, that was.

He certainly looked white - like all the blood had drained from his face at the meaning behind her words. He knew damn well that if he didn’t live up to his end of the agreement and at least attempt to give C.C. a baby, then she would break the engagement and he’d be out of the country faster than one could say “illegal alien”.

For extra effect, she half-folded her arms, resting her left elbow in her right palm and giving him a perfect view of the ring that he’d given her.

“An old family heirloom”, he’d called it. Said it would look more convincing for Immigration. She’d been inclined to agree, and the ring was beautiful, but she hardly thought it necessary, considering this was just a business deal.

Well, it did also make a pretty good bargaining chip whenever she needed him to apologise for being his own idiot self, too.

Much to her surprise, Niles wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tightly. They were still in the proximity of the Immigration Office, so this could be part of the show they were putting on, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find herself…kind of allured by the possessiveness of the gesture.

“Now, whoever said that?” he said, arching an eyebrow, and trying to look debonair (but failing miserably).

C.C. rolled her eyes at him and they kept moving, his arm never leaving her waist for a moment. She had to get used to it (and it still felt kinda good), especially if he was about to do far more than that.

“I said it, Dust Buster. Or are your eyes getting so worn out and ancient now that you literally can’t see who said it?” she waved a hand teasingly in front of his face. “It’s me, Scrubbing Bubbles - the next notch-on-your-bedpost-to-be, probably bringing the grand total up to two.”

Niles took her wrist and lowered it out of his face, “I’ll have you know, in my time I’ve been something of a ladies’ man.”

C.C. raised a critical eyebrow, “Oh yeah, you’re a regular Casanova! Also, for the record, the phrase “in my time” is perhaps the oldest you’ve ever sounded and that truly is saying something!”

They continued in a similar vein all the way to the hotel.

To anybody else in the world, they would’ve looked like an ordinary couple. It was only in the mind of the producer about how false it all was.

About how in a few years, she knew it would be over and the deal would be complete.

……………………………………………………………………

“Does it say anything yet?”

C.C. rolled her eyes for what felt like the twelfth time in the last minute or less, before settling them back on the pregnancy test in her hand. She felt like she’d better check it anyway, even if Niles’ last round of insistent asking had only just happened and the answer had been “no” then, too.

Since getting started on him trying to live up to his end of the bargain, she and Niles had both spent most of their time either at work or at her penthouse. Making it all look good for the Immigration people (who were still sniffing around, even though they’d practically been a couple, they’d done so much together) was ten times easier when he was living there with her and sharing a car ride to work.

A lot of things had felt easier with him living there, really. She was woken up every morning to the smell of a cooked breakfast, there were always freshly washed and ironed clothes for her to wear (dry cleaning had taken forever before, on some weekends), and she always had somebody to talk to – either about her workday, or just in general, and that last point was made all the better, considering how well-matched they were in terms of wit.

They ate their meals together, they walked Chester, they patiently sat through anything the Immigration people had to say or ask about when they came around (and made fun of them once they’d left).

It had gotten…comfortable. And comforting. If she was going to admit it to herself, she’d say that the penthouse hadn’t felt so welcoming in a long time.

So much like a home…

But before her mind could get too secure in that thought, it reminded her that it had also led to them getting in a lot of attempts at conceiving. It had been practically…no, not practically. Every night since he’d been there!

Just the thought of…well, all the things that they’d tried and done in that time, really…was turning the warmth from thinking about breakfast for two instead of for one into her feeling a little hot under the collar, so she discreetly shifted in her seat just before she answered his question.

“Not yet,” she told him, trying not to sigh too loudly as she watched him pace up and down the back of the sofa. “Just slow it down, Dust Buster. It takes a while for these things to show up.”

Niles looked at her, let out his own sigh, and rounded the corner of the sofa to come and sit next to her.

“I know that! I’m just…eager to find out if our-”

“Little endeavour?” C.C. finished for him, letting a smirk play about her features.

The butler feigned offence for a brief second, but then it morphed directly into a smirk of his own.

“Well, I’d hardly say little,” he waggled his eyebrows, waiting for her to roll her eyes again (he was probably keeping count at this stage) before he went back to his more serious business. “But yes, I’d like to know if it worked.”

“You’ll find out soon enough…” she peered at the little plastic stick again, before having to squint at it even closer. It looked like…a line was appearing? Was there a line appearing?! “Hey, I think I see something coming…!”

That caught the butler by his eagerness, his eyes widening as he shifted even closer, “You do? You’re not toying with me, are you?”

C.C. lowered the stick into her lap and looked at him, unimpressed, “Oh, come on, Niles; why would I do that?”

It was kinda weird, but the longer they’d spent time together talking and thinking aloud about having a baby (everything from names, to activities they’d do with the kid as they grew up, to bantering the pros and cons of who they’d look like) the more excited they’d both become at the prospect.

And they both knew it, too, even if Niles apparently just had to make a little joke about it.

“Sorry. I know you wouldn’t, really,” he looked sheepish for a moment, but it quickly turned into his usual quipping. “And I know that I should count myself lucky, too. Most in your species tend to kill after successfully mating.”

Of course, being around each other practically every single day for the last couple of decades had heightened C.C.’s ability to fire back a zinger whenever he tossed one to her. But having him live in the penthouse with her had honed that ability to a fine, sharp point.

“Day ain’t over yet, Butler Boy,” she deadpanned immediately, keeping her eyes on the test. Something was definitely happening there. “Now keep quiet a second – the result’s coming through.”

And something really was coming through. Before her eyes, the little screen was changing…

To reveal the two little lines that would tell them both all they needed to know.

C.C.’s eyes widened, and she felt her heart start to speed up.

It was real. It was real, and it was really happening.

“It…” she was trying hard to take in air and not to let her jaw drop too far at the same time, all the while reaching up to cover her mouth with one hand. “It…says I’m pregnant…!”

Niles looked like he could immediately burst into happy tears, “You…you mean it?!”

“I absolutely do, Hazel!” C.C. cried in return, leaning towards him so that he could see the screen. “Check it out for yourself!”

The little strangled yelp of overwhelmed delight that the butler gave told her that he’d seen the result.

“See?” the producer smirked, nudging him in the ribs. “Proof that there is life in the butler’s little footmen yet!”

Not that Niles appeared to be paying attention to the attempt at banter. He was still staring at the test in awe, his eyes glistening.

“I…I don’t quite know what to say! I…”

He slowly looked up at her, meeting her gaze and holding it steadily.

“We’re having a baby.”

C.C. didn’t know what it was – the way he’d said it, or the reality of the situation really sinking in, but it suddenly felt to her as though the gravity in the room was suddenly getting weaker and stronger at the same time…

She could only nod at him weakly, “Yeah…we are…”

She didn’t know who leaned in first, but as soon as their lips brushed, and then started more than brushing, it became clear what the whole thing with the gravity was about.

She let the test slip out of her hands onto the sofa, before using them to bring Niles closer as she reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. His automatically went around her middle, and held her tightly to him, like he didn’t want to let go…

And the only clear thing that could make its way into C.C.’s mind was how much she didn’t want him to. Decades of apparently being enemies and dancing around whatever was really going on suddenly seemed like a waste of time, in comparison to what they were doing right then and had spent the last few weeks doing there in the penthouse. Years of being told what to do by her mother, and following expectations handed out to her by the people she’d surrounded herself with all became meaningless. It had hit her that she really didn’t have to care about any of it!

And she didn’t think she’d ever felt better.

Something, perhaps at long last, had snapped.

All that was left to do was see what happened when she tried to move things forward.

Not that that felt easy.

It nearly didn’t come out, even as she pulled away from him and just said it, “Uh…you know how we…agreed that after a couple of years of being married, we’d divorce, and then everything would go back to the way it was?”

Niles briefly pursed his lips tightly before he answered, “I couldn’t forget it.”

C.C. took in a silent breath before she continued.

“Well, what if we were to…not do that?”

The butler stared back at her, close to gaping, “I…I’m not completely sure that I’m following you…”

“What if we were to, after the baby was born and had grown up a little bit, just…stay married?” she let her eyes drop away to the floor, feeling her cheeks growing warmer. “Kind of like as a forever thing…”

Before he could respond, her mind suddenly worried that maybe she wasn’t making herself clear enough and she found herself talking even more.

“I’ve…really liked doing this. Being like this – like a proper couple, with you. And thinking about how in a few years it could all be down the toilet…that terrifies me, Niles! Somehow even worse than admitting to any of this! I don’t want to be woken up in the morning and not have your snoring be the reason! I don’t want to go to work and know that at the end of the day, it’ll just be me and then me and the baby going home in the car! I don’t want to eat a crappy microwaveable dinner by myself and go to bed feeling miserable! I’ve done all – well, most – of that already, and I’m sick of it pretending I can keep doing it! I want to marry you, and I want to stay married to you.”

The silence that followed also felt like it needed filling, and C.C. ran a hand through her hair in agitation as she imagined him saying no.

No to staying together for longer than their agreement. No to trying to be a real couple and then a family after that.

No to her. Not that she didn’t understand, if she herself was the reason.

“I mean, I completely get it if you don’t want to,” she said, keeping her eyes on the floor so they couldn’t meet his. “You only went in for this as a favour, and I’m not exactly anybody’s first choice to spend their whole entire life wi-”

She never finished what she wanted to say, because Niles had brought her face up to his and kissed her again before she could.

And when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, “Maybe you should rethink that last statement of yours.”

At hearing that and upon letting it sink in, C.C. felt like she was finding out she was pregnant all over again. Her heart was ready to burst in her chest, and her smile was growing increasingly wider.

“You…really mean that-”

“If you hadn’t just blurted out everything that has been going on in your head for God knows how long, I’d have been sat here quietly frightened of the exact same thing that you were,” Niles explained, sounding as relieved as she felt. “I don’t want any of this to end either, Babs! I want to wake up in the morning with you right there beside me, only to have you complain that my snoring shook the bed so hard that you fell out! I want to go about my workday knowing that any minute, I’ll get to bring your lunch and find out how many theatre assistants you managed to tear to shreds in the last few hours! I want to be a parent with you, and put our little one to bed at night, knowing we’ll all wake up the next morning and do the same thing over again! I want to be married to you. Nobody else. And, visa or none, agreeing to this whole thing in the first place was the best decision I ever made!”

C.C. could feel her own eyes welling up with tears by the time he was finished, “Me too!”

They fell into an embrace after that, both starting to sob more than either of them would probably admit to later. Neither probably knew how long it lasted, either – not that they cared. It was a comfort that they both needed, and it gave them time to cry out anything they had to.

When it finally did end, they leaned in for another quick kiss, and Niles used his thumb to wipe away a couple of stray tears still on C.C.’s cheek.

“There, now…wouldn’t want you to melt before the wedding,” he grinned.

“Oh, shut up, Scrubbing Bubbles,” C.C. sniffed, before managing another smile. “We…we really are going to be okay, aren’t we?”

Niles took her hands and gripped them, “We certainly are. Immigration Services won’t know what hit them.”

The producer didn’t even have to think about that one, “Probably me, if they try and insist on talking like every word we’re saying is a total lie again.”

“I’ll have to make sure I hold you back from doing that,” her fiancé replied, briefly squeezing her hands tighter before apparently realising something. “Oh! That can be our first activity as a couple!”

C.C. had to laugh a little at that, imagining him tackling her to the ground to stop her from fist fighting the next Immigration Officer that they saw, “Well, maybe not our first…!”

Of course, he took it to mean something else entirely. The interested smirk on his face told her that much.

“Hm, I think I know what you’re getting at,” he wiggled his eyebrows again, and nodded down towards her stomach. “Want to get some practice in, before our little one is old enough to ask for a little brother or sister?”

C.C. looked at him, mostly serious, and entwined their fingers, “I was actually thinking more along the lines of calling and inviting my family to lunch, so that we can tell them all the good news.”

That took Niles down a peg or two, very momentarily. But she knew he wouldn’t actually mind, he was just having some of their usual fun before he found out more details.

“Hmm,” he pretended to be put out, but quickly turned it to feigning potentially-interested thought. “…Does that invitation-and-news-telling-session include your mother?”

She grinned back at him immediately, “You bet your best pots and pans it does, baby.”

Getting the chance to potentially make her mother go into cardiac arrest cheered him up, for sure. Letting a beaming smile cross his face, he let go of her hands to reach up and kiss her on the forehead.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he declared, before getting up to go get the phone.

C.C. relaxed back into the sofa, watching him go and picking the pregnancy test back up. She couldn’t help smiling to herself at the way everything had gone – the last couple of weeks or so had been better than she could’ve ever imagined, and she huffed out a laugh to think that at the beginning of them, she’d tried to keep it like a deal she’d made for the company. It had been ridiculous for her to even try to do that, knowing (after having admitted it to herself) how much more comfortable and warm her life felt with Niles right by her side.

With their family just starting, and a whole new adventure of a future stretching out in front of them. Just like anybody else, visa-seekers or not.

Even if other people didn’t think so, they were an ordinary couple. It wasn’t false. This wasn’t a business contract.

It was something far more important and long-lasting than something like that ever would be.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

@geekgirl101

Also putting under a cut cause LONG ASS POST Link to the former post

Heh- me and my brother were going to do a video about this and explain that both Tony and Cap are in the wrong during Civil War- it was just who was more so we were going to argue.Then we both got drunk and he forgot the camera so yeah. Nope.

Wanda and Tony do get a long of shit yes they don’t deserve, but Wanda is not that young. I am 23 years old, and from what I understand she is older than me. Steve was 19-20 when he enlisted, much younger then Wanda yet he is treated as having been more responsible then she is. The thing is with her owning up to her mistakes though is that she has only owned up twice and only once was told: Yes, you made a mistake- here’s how you can fix it. When you do not hold people responsible for their mistakes then that is a problem. Here is the literal statement from Steve: 

Wanda Maximoff: It's my fault.

Steve Rogers: That's not true.

Wanda Maximoff: Turn the TV back on. They're being very specific.

Steve Rogers: I should've clocked that bomb vest long before you had to deal with it.

VERY TRUE. Steve and Wanda are both at fault- Wanda for her actions. yes, accident- but going back to the other argument I have: If a police officer shoots someone while aiming to disarm but kills them instead, still their fault. Here is the same thing. You are right that Steve as well is to blame as he does have combat experience and should have known not to follow the guy through a civilian space and tried to move it to an unoccupied space.

 But Wanda also had options- she could have moved him over the open space of the market. She could have moved him up first instead of trying to contain the blast which she looked like she had no experience with. But she didn’t. If she had no experience with a bomb she should have made a different choice- not contain it.

Steve Rogers: Rumlow said "Bucky" and… all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn. [He sits beside Wanda.]

Steve Rogers: And people died. It's on me.

Wanda Maximoff: It's on both of us.

Steve Rogers: This job… We try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time… maybe nobody gets saved.

 This is not saying she is responsible. This is legit all the accountability and responsibility Wanda owns up to in the movie other than at the Compound when she says she made enough trouble. She did- but she’s not accepting she needs to change. Steve is not being a good leader here.

Accountability is when you say that you messed up, you’re going to fix it. There is none here- there is no proof they are going to fix this, that they will do better.

 If a police of chief told you- after a shootout where seven innocent people died because of his men accidentally firing at them- that they’re sorry, they can’t save everyone without saying: Here is what we are going to change to make sure it does not happen again- would you be okay with it? 

This is all the accountability Wanda takes on- and most of it is brushed off even if it is her fault. Tony though? Again- 

“Ultron, my fault.”

“I killed the Avengers.” (A VISION)

 Tony Stark: He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

“Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

He even says Sorry to Wanda for locking her in the compound.

Wanda does it twice- maybe three times.

Tony does it the entire movie. He admits his wrongdoings.    

1-Okay- one thing I hate about Civil War from a law student perspective is the utterly fucked up way they handled the Accords. They do have a small blurb concerning them posted- with one part having me going: Are you idiots? This makes it illegal in two countries that signed at the least and the UN makes it illegal to (which is detaining without a trial. Very illegal, you can’t put it in a law but they do.) I think this is honestly because of the fact that most people don’t like law. I do. As well, it feels shoehorned in to me to make it seem bad. But... do they know how law works? Oh my god. Why?

 The rest of what I read isn’t bad, it makes sense. Here is the link: 

But also- yeah they don’t get a say because cops and the army don’t really get a say in their own agreements. It’s made up, people can submit new ideas and new thoughts to it but they don’t get a say because most of them don’t have political training. But- again- there can be changes made. NO LAW IS SET IN STONE. Tony says it himself- there can be changes. He agrees with Steve there can be. But it takes time- and after a situation like Lagos? You’re lucky if it’s anything less then a year.

2-You do say bringing in the greater powers- but the Accords are about that. They are about making the Avengers a power that can be used for global reasons. I’m also very sure most countries would go: Captain AMERICA? Ewww. About him being in charge. I mean, sure he’s a Hero but... for America. He saved the world? More like he saved New York. New York blowing up wouldn’t affect Canada. Or Russia. Yeah, Red Skull but... most of what he did could be done with a special task force. He was used because Red Skull was interested in him, but... he doesn’t really use his strength or his serum enhanced skills from what I remember. And he had a team of unehanced people behind him. Are you American? Because I’m saying as a Canadian I would not be comfortable with that.

3-Tony doesn’t think things through?! He’s a genius. he’s always thinking things through. He’s also a businessman who understands that when something like this is in play, you make sure you’re in on it. Because there is nothing stopping this as the public does not feel safe. Politicans are jumping in on it, so he is trying to make sure it’s not as bad as it can be.

  Steve is the one who is only focusing on what he thinks is best- he’s focusing on the now. Now Wanda is locked up- this is bad! She is a kid. Well, no she isn’t for one. Two, she has green card issues which she needs to be detained for because she caused an international incident while she was on her visa/greencard/whatever and used to be HYDRA. She’s lucky she wasn’t tossed on the Raft right off the bat- I bet Ross would love to do so but she isn’t.

Again- maybe Tony should have but if she really does distrust Tony, I doubt she would listen. So, someone she trusts should do it. Vision or Wanda. As well, again, at this time, Tony is across the World dealing with Steve, Sam and Bucky. He most likely does not have time to sit down and talk with her. He’s dealing with making what Steve and Sam did legit as well as rounding up psychiatrists for Bucky.

Steve is focusing on Bucky. He’s focusing on the Winter Soliders. He is not thinking about the Accords, he is only focusing on what he wants here. He’s not thinking: Maybe I should not call in the girl who has visa issues because this means she will be in volation of another law. He isn’t.

 You can’t say Tony doesn’t think things through when he is someone who has run an international multi-billion dollar industry. He was making it before Pepper became CEO- he’s not the guy who can’t think things through, his entire history proves he does.

4. Straight jacket- I think this was more because she uses her hands to use her magic so they wanted to double check it to make sure she couldn’t use her powers? Dunno. Going with the congress thing- this means there can be more changes done to the Accords which can be kicked back to the UN. It does seem like they just want backing for the Accords right then- but if they can still have changes done to them (which is stated in the movie) that means they are still being made. Hell- the conference that got blown up from what I understand was the start of the various talks. it’s still in it’s infant stages. They’re probably still figuring it out, meaning the Raft may be in the process of becoming an international prison. We don’t know.

5- You don’t get any say when you’re on house arrest. It’s arrest for a reason. But I think it would have boiled down to a cell or the compound- not only is she dangerous, she’s also under a lot of public scrutiny. And the public can be nasty af. So... I wouldn’t want to be her and leave the property.

Yes, it should have been told to her but... I think if Clint hadn’t gone in to try to get her out she would have stayed and things would have been okay. We don’t know otherwise.

Bruce and Tony are accountable for Ultron- as is Thor and Wanda. Steve as well is responsible for the fall of SHIELD. Yes- it was his resort but he is responsible. I have never said otherwise- we just don’t see it. This is the first time- other then Iron Man 1- that accountability is brought up.

 I do think Tony does pay off a lot of the damages though which is holding himself accountable.He’s paying for his mistakes. Maybe it should be more but there is no system in place in the MCU to do so. Which is what the Accords theoretically should do.

YES. THE MCU needs to figure out her powers, it’s ridiculous. But I feel that people brush is off as ‘she’s a kid’ to much. No she isn’t. She is older then 18- not a child. The accepted age of understanding what you’ve done and accepting the consequences in most countries is 12. She is much older then that. If a 12-year-old can understand why stealing is wrong, Wanda can be held accountable for her actions.

 I liked Ragnarok, it was fun, but I think for characterization it should have been Wanda and Vision instead.

[bookaddict24-7]

FIRST CHAPTER CHALLENGE!

I’ve found myself slowing down with my ARC plan and I blame it, in part, on my busyness at work this week and my badly timed need to re-read a series I read years ago. Also, I’m still fighting off the side-effects of a reading slump. 

It’s been a weird two months, apparently. 

This week’s three picks are an interesting mix. One has been up high on my TBR since I’d heard about it, the other looks timely and like an interesting read, and the other was an immediate no for me. 

A gentle reminder: Just because I’ve unhauled the books in this post and in future posts, it doesn’t mean that they’re books not worth reading. They’re just not right for me. This is more of an incentive for me to free up space and give these books better homes than my basement.

Read my original post and how I’m going about this challenge here.

Have any of you practiced this challenge this past week?

Something in Between by Melissa de la Cruz 

Decision: Torn 

Have you ever started reading a book and you’re not entirely sure of whether you want to continue it or not? Sometimes when I encounter books like this, I look for signs that I should put it down. I don’t know what this says about me as a reader, but I really try and find a reason for why I should keep reading a book. Cruz’s novel looks super interesting and the first chapter was an average introduction to this story, but I don’t know if I’m gripped enough to read it. I’m going to try one more chapter and make my choice then. 

Synopsis:

“Jasmine de los Santos has always done what’s expected of her. Pretty and popular, she’s studied hard, made her Filipino immigrant parents proud and is ready to reap the rewards in the form of a full college scholarship.

And then everything shatters. A national scholar award invitation compels her parents to reveal the truth: their visas expired years ago. Her entire family is illegal. That means no scholarships, maybe no college at all and the very real threat of deportation.

For the first time, Jasmine rebels, trying all those teen things she never had time for in the past. Even as she’s trying to make sense of her new world, it’s turned upside down by Royce Blakely, the charming son of a high-ranking congressman. Jasmine no longer has any idea where—or if—she fits into the American Dream. All she knows is that she’s not giving up. Because when the rules you lived by no longer apply, the only thing to do is make up your own.”

Vengeance Road by Erin Bowman

Decision: Unhauled

I immediately knew I didn’t want to continue this story. I mean, some of the reviews look really good and I’ve heard fantastic things about the story itself. For me, however, it is the writing style and slang. I’ve never really read a Western novel, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the first page is full of Western slang that I couldn’t get into. Granted, I tried reading this when I was half asleep. But unless I can be convinced otherwise, this is a no for me. 

Synopsis: 

“Revenge is worth its weight in gold.

When her father is murdered for a journal revealing the location of a hidden gold mine, eighteen-year-old Kate Thompson disguises herself as a boy and takes to the gritty plains looking for answers—and justice. What she finds are untrustworthy strangers, endless dust and heat, and a surprising band of allies, among them a young Apache girl and a pair of stubborn brothers who refuse to quit riding in her shadow. But as Kate gets closer to the secrets about her family, a startling truth becomes clear: some men will stop at nothing to get their hands on gold, and Kate’s quest for revenge may prove fatal.”

Always Never Yours by Emily Wibberley & Austin Siegemund-Broka

Decision: Saved

This is one of those books that I’ve built up so much in my head that I don’t know if I’ll actually like it or not. Because I’m in a weird reading mental space, I’m going to save this book for another time. I’m a sucker for contemporaries like this one and I’m just very afraid to be disappointed. 

Synopsis: 

“Seventeen-year-old Megan Harper is about due for her next sweeping romance. It's inevitable—each of her relationships starts with the perfect guy and ends with him falling in love . . . with someone else. But instead of feeling sorry for herself, Megan focuses on pursuing her next fling, directing theater, and fulfilling her dream college's acting requirement in the smallest role possible.

So when she’s cast as Juliet (yes, that Juliet) in her high school’s production, it’s a complete nightmare. Megan’s not an actress, and she’s used to being upstaged—both in and out of the theater. In fact, with her mom off in Texas and her dad remarried and on to baby #2 with his new wife, Megan worries that, just like her exes, her family is moving on without her.

Then she meets Owen Okita, an aspiring playwright inspired by Rosaline from Shakespeare's R+J. A character who, like Megan, knows a thing or two about short-lived relationships. Megan agrees to help Owen with his play in exchange for help catching the eye of a sexy stagehand/potential new boyfriend. Yet Megan finds herself growing closer to Owen, and wonders if he could be the Romeo she never expected.”

Have you read any of these three books? What were your experiences with them?

I’ll be back next week with another three picks!

Happy reading!

[drumpfwatch]

On the Shutdown: Stop Being a Child

So, it’s been a whole month that the government has been shut down, and I think it’s high time I start talking about it. For those wondering, I decided against deconstructing his entire wall speech. The New York Times did a good enough job of it, and I feel like giving attention to that instead of the shutdown would be the wrong choice, since the whole point was to distract. So let’s talk about what Trump doesn’t want us talking about: Trump’s biggest failure, the Shut Down.

So, the shutdown began on December 22nd when the government presented a budget to Trump (Who was accused by a 14 year old of sexual assault) that did not include funding for a wall. Let’s forget for a moment that he promised time and again that Mexico would pay for it so we shouldn’t need to budget for it at all. And no, that weird roundabout excuse he has of the new UMCA doesn’t work. First, because that’s not how the economy works. Honestly I could probably write an entire post about how UMCA is bullshit but that’s not something I’m qualified or interested in speaking on at the moment. Second, even if this new deal somehow magically got Mexico to pay for our government expenses and not, y’know, the things they are actually buying, then we should be able to filter all that money directly to the wall with the trade deal and not our congressional budget, I think, so wouldn’t that be irrelevant anyway?

Sure, that’s not a guarantee. My knowledge of the actual workings of trade deals isn’t intricate enough to be certain enough to say that as a fact, so that’s not the point I’ll be making here. I just find it really fucking funny that Mexico is supposed to be funding the thing but because Congress won’t pass a budget it’s not happening. But whatever, let’s get back on track.

The shutdown was started because of the wall, and the fact that Democrats won’t give money for it. We’ll talk about the wall itself later, but for now I want to talk about how utterly ridiculous this is. Trump is behaving like a child. See, he knows that with the Democrats in power in the House, he’s never going to get it. They won’t approve a budget for a wall, and if they don’t, it won’t ever get to him. In their response to the President’s address, Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer basically said “We’ll talk about this and come to an actually reasonable answer once the government is opened and we can actually talk about it.” Trump either knows that the reasonable answer is not a wall, or is to stupid to know and just wants his wall. Either way, he can’t get what he wants, so he’s going to scream and cry and carry on until he does, and blame the Democrats for not “playing along” when the ENTIRE OPERATING STRATEGY OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY WAS “NOT PLAYING ALONG” FOR 8 YEARS. The Democrats are still willing to sit down with him and come to a solution, too! It just won’t be as racist and self aggrandizing as the wall, so he won’t have it. So everything has to stop until Baby Trumby can get what he wants.

Make no mistake, this is Trump’s fault. He could at any moment stop holding people’s wages hostage and try and work his wall out without this, because both the Senate and the House are passing legislation that he is denying. The ball is in his court, and all he can argue is that it’s not the way he wants it to be. Trump even admitted it was his fault, until people started to hate the shutdown.

What has stopped anyway? Well let’s go over, one by one, each of the things that has been ruined by this shutdown. First, all non-essential government staff has been sent home. They’re not doing anything and they’re not being paid, so their families get closer and closer to starving every single day. Good job there.

Of course, some of them are still working. The FDA is currently running entirely on volunteers, since the money to pay them has run out. Anyone who comes in to work is doing so free of charge and may not even be repaid once the government reopens. Not everyone is interested in working for free, either, so they’re already looking for new jobs or just using this opportunity to catch up with family. Either way, the inspections aren’t getting done. Either they’re not done fast enough to keep the food on the table, or they’re not done as thoroughly as they need to be. If there’s another salmonella outbreak during this time, it is solely on the hands of Trump.

Our national parks are no longer being run, but they are still open and people are still allowed in. We should have closed the parks, but that would’ve made America look bad. So instead we left them open without maintenance staff or security, leaving it to trash and vandals. But the janitorial staff isn’t working so the trash is piling up, and people don’t have anywhere to put it, so they put it on the ground where it gets into the ecosystem of the park. The toilets are also breaking down or getting clogged and no one’s around to fix it, leading to people just shitting in the middle of the parks because they have to go and have nowhere to go. Thankfully, some decent human beings have been making an effort to clean up the parks as best they can. These people are unaffiliated with the government, they’re just good samaritans from all political stripes who want our national parks to remain presentable. But sadly, the damage is already done. Not just because of the pollution causing issues for the wild life, but the extensive damage that is coming just from a lack of actual honest-to-god maintenance will take years to repair. When our national parks start degrading because of the terror they went through, it is solely on the hands of Trump.

Medicaid and Medicare are also affected, naturally. From what I can tell, 50% of workers were furloughed from the get go, and thus payments and transfers are going slower, but they were given one of the biggest budgets to work with, so they can last a long time. But as soon as that money goes out, people won’t be able to pay for their medical expenses. Everyone who dies because of that, their blood is solely on the hands of Trump.

NASA has also been affected, which means so have our satellites and astronauts. People living up in space would be in big trouble without the volunteers coming in to continue working without pay while they float about in space. The satellites that also monitor our weather and keep your GPS functioning need fairly consistent recalibration or they lose their orbit and even fall to Earth. NASA does good work keeping them all functioning, but there’s only so much they can do when nobody’s getting paid. If a problem happens with your cell phones, it is solely on the hands of Trump.

The TSA is in a similar boat. They have more money set aside, but by the weekend there will be no one getting paid to do the job. This doesn’t include the fact the TSA has had to cut some people to make this affordance, and that a lot of people just aren’t showing up to work because they aren’t getting paid, or, again, getting new jobs. Either way there are less officers staffing the check points, which means longer wait times for you, the weary traveler. It also means more stress on the workers, and more stress means an increased likelihood of mistakes. Say what you will about the TSA, they’ve stopped a lot of bad stuff from happening, and when they’re overextended, overworked, and unpaid, that’s a perfect time to make a move. If there’s a terrorist incident at an airport or with an airplane, it is solely on the hands of Trump.

The government shutdown is an aboherent, stupid tantrum being thrown by a lunatic that is costing people their livelihoods and damaging the literal environment. Every day that passes, more and more strain gets put on all these systems that rely on government work. All because some idiot wants to build a god damned wall. A wall that won’t help at all. And no, that’s not just my liberal touchy-feely heart saying that.

When most of the “illegal” immigrants in the US are here because they overstayed a Visa, a wall won’t help.

When we already have sections of border wall and fencing that aren’t doing shit because people are getting over it with ladders and under it with tunnels, a wall won’t help.

When most drugs are smuggled through legal ports of entry, a wall won’t help.

When the damage to the environment caused by the wall will be as dramatic as damming rivers, a wall won’t help.

When the only way to acquire the land for the wall is eminent domain, a wall won’t help.

You want I should go on? I could go on. In fact, maybe I will. But not here.

The point is the wall is useless and the shutdown is harmful. Trump is holding people wage’s hostage until the little baby gets what he wants, and if this succeeds, it will be used as a tactic in the future. The livelihoods of human beings are not bargaining chips, so this cannot stand.

Stop this, NOW. I don’t care if you’re a Trump Supporter or a mouth-frothing communist, nobody is benefiting from this. We can talk about your damn wall, fine, but depriving people and manufacturing a crisis to get what you want are not the right ways to do this.

[dabidevito]

[fic] i’m here waiting (if you want it back)

read on ao3

summary: He thought it would get easier. Thought they would get older and more settled and that the ache in his chest he feels when Dan’s not around would eventually subside.

or, three times phil finds himself in dan's closet while he's missing him

a/n: seeing phil in the vetements hoodie did something to me and i'm not even sorry. this is self-indulgent. please shame me for my clothes sharing kink.

July 2015

The thing about not actually being one person means that sometimes they do things alone. Sometimes they take separate projects and make separate commitments and that’s okay. Sometimes Dan gets on a redeye flight to Germany and Phil wakes up in cold sheets, and that feels less okay, in the moment.

It’s not cold though, not really. July is hot and unending and Phil decides that he’s allowed to spend the day in just his pants. And the next day, and the day after that. No one’s around to see him, anyway.

He thought it would get easier. Thought they would get older and more settled and that the ache in his chest he feels when Dan’s not around would eventually subside.

Dan texts him a picture of a dog in the Berlin streets and Phil says give him a pet from me.

Dan’s immediate response of :((( pretty much sums it up, he thinks.

The timer’s ticking away at the back of his mind as he crawls into bed on the fifth day, counting down the hours until Dan’s flight lands. Calculating how long the taxi ride will be from the airport, trying to remember how many steps their flat has. It’s early still, only half-ten, but Phil’s convinced himself that time speeds up while you’re sleeping.

There’s a hot breeze blowing through the open window but Phil’s still cold somehow, the usual radiator-like Dan-warmth a stark absence against the sheets.

An avalanche of clothes spills out of their closet, a remnant of the last-minute packing procedure Phil’s maniac boyfriend seems to prefer. Phil pulls himself out of bed, rummages around in the semi-darkness for the first t-shirt he can find. He holds it close to his face, trying to make out the pattern without his glasses.

(Dan had said I’m wearing it ironically, you spoon and Phil had just smirked and asked if he fancied Zayn or Niall more.)

It’s soft and worn through and smells faintly like Dan’s body wash, like he’d put it on only to change his mind and chuck it back into the closet. Phil pulls it over his head and climbs back into bed, laying directly in the middle so that there’s no chance he won’t wake when Dan gets back.

He’s hurtling towards unconsciousness when he hears Dan’s heavy footsteps on the landing, feels the dip in the mattress as Dan sits to take off his shoes. Warm arms wrap around him from behind, easily maneuvering Phil back over to his own side of the bed.  

Phil turns around, nudging a knee between Dan’s thighs. “Hi,” he tells the jut of Dan’s collarbones. “How was Germany?”

“I missed you.”

Phil’s about to say that doesn’t answer my question. But then again, maybe it does. He settles for I missed you too and lets Dan pull the stupid One Direction shirt off of him.

It’s too hot for clothes, anyway.

***

December 2017

Phil wonders if he’ll ever get to stop missing Dan on Christmas.

This year had been better than all the rest, with Dan travelling up north with him in the lead up to the holiday. It settles something in his heart to round the corner of the kitchen and see his mum and Dan sat at the breakfast nook together, sipping morning tea and laughing quietly. Kath pops up from her seat to make Phil a coffee, still mothering him after three decades. He lets her, sinks down in the chair across from Dan and props his feet up in Dan’s lap.

He looks over at Dan, sleepy curls yet untamed and Christmas lights casting rainbows across his skin.

Phil feels overwhelmed with the thought of it’s not fair.

He says don’t go and Dan looks like he wants nothing more than to relent, rubs soft circles into Phil’s ankle.

But Dan goes anyway, kisses the corner of Phil’s mouth and says see you soon and I’ll call you tonight and Phil wonders if it’s good or bad that it never seems to get any easier to say goodbye.

He wakes up to 18 texts from Dan, variations on a theme of merry christmas phil and i love you and i wish you were here and colin says hello and Phil thinks it should be illegal to feel this sort of heartache on Christmas.

Phil forces himself out of bed, making a beeline for his suitcase. He passes over a few of his jumpers for one that’s been folded carefully and hidden away at the bottom of his bag.

Dan would kill him if he knew Phil had stolen it out of their laundry last week, sequestered it away just for this trip. He’d torn into Dan when it had arrived in the mail, outraged that his boyfriend could bear to drop 500 quid on a jumper. But Phil had come to secretly love it, lured in by the truly superior cuddles provided by the soft black wool.

He slips the garment over his head, a barrier against the chill of the morning and the sadness in his heart.

Downstairs, Kath once again presses a warm mug into his hands. Coffee takes precedence in the Lester household, even more so than the gifts waiting under the tree. She eyes him carefully, running the fabric of his sleeve between her thumb and forefinger. “Is this new, Philip?”

He could tell the truth. There’s no penalty here, no risk, no hiding. It’s not a secret that he misses Dan, that he’s the only one here without his other half.

“Yeah,” he chokes out instead, “it’s new.” He does his best to avoid her measured gaze. It’s a bad lie, and they both know it.

She pries the coffee out of his death grip, pulls him down by the shoulder and into her arms. He goes willingly, folds his long body in half around hers and does his best to suppress his tears. It doesn’t work.

It’s about more than a few days apart, it always is with them.

It’s not missing Dan so much as it’s missing a piece of life that’s been stolen from them.

Later, he folds the jumper back into the bottom of his suitcase. He’ll hang it up in Dan’s closet when they get home.

***

April 2018

Phil should really get up.

They’ve still got loads to do and just under two weeks to do it. They don’t usually work on Sundays, but he’d still spent the day playing catch up with tour emails, finalizing some decisions, on the phone with the Brazil venue for ages trying to work out the all-consuming visa issues.

And so he’d laid down for just a second, just long enough to read through the live update texts Dan’s been sending him from the wedding.

The ceremony is for a friend of a friend of a friend, someone Dan had gone to school with and who Phil had never bothered to meet. Dan had said you can come if you want but that conversation had been over before it even started, and they both knew it.

Sometimes it’s still easier like this, with people who aren’t quite strangers but who definitely aren’t friends either. With month after month of very public appearances staring them in the face, Phil had opted to sit this one out.

Dan’s latest texts say the cake is red velvet :( and i’ll bring you a piece and then i’ll bring you two pieces i miss you.

There’s a familiar and heavy weight settling in his chest. He’s up and standing in front of Dan’s closet before he can worry too much about what it all means.

He rifles through the hangers, searching for something large and soft and good for cuddling. The Ventements hoodie catches his eye - Dan had insisted on him trying it on for their latest video, and it’s hanging up front and center in the closet. Phil hates the way it looks on him, if he’s being honest. He’s been warming up to black recently, but the hoodie dwarfs him and really doesn’t match his aesthetic, if he even has one.

He thinks about how there’ll be room for Dan to fit both his arms up underneath it and tugs it on anyway.

There’s exhaustion seeping into his bones as he drags their duvet out into the lounge to wait for Dan. He queues up some Bake-Off reruns and lets himself drift for awhile. His laptop taunts him from where he’d abandoned it on the coffee table, and he’s just about to give in and resume his emailing when he hears Dan’s key turning in the lock.

Phil lowers the volume on the TV, snuggles down further into his blanket nest and feigns sleep. He doesn’t want to hear about the wedding, not tonight. He wants Dan under the blanket and in his arms - everything else can wait.

He cracks his eyes open just a sliver to watch Dan shuffle into the kitchen with what looks like a truly enormous container of cake, but closes them again quickly. He’s sleeping.

Phil sees it in his mind’s eye, Dan folding long legs up under himself to sit on the floor next to the couch. There’s a few stray strands of hair tickling his forehead, and Dan reaches a hand up to brush them back into place. Phil can’t help but lean into the touch, effectively giving himself away.

Dan voice is soft and tired when he says you’re such a bad liar, Phil and make some room for me, you look warm. Phil presses himself into the back of the couch, lifts the edge of the duvet up. Dan curls himself into the empty space and exhales a sigh against Phil’s skin, sticks cold fingers up under the hem of his hoodie.  

The quiet envelopes them as they lie there, both of them far too big for it to be comfortable for very long. But for now it’s okay, for now Phil combs his fingers through Dan’s curls and listens to the gentle sounds of him decompressing from the day.

Eventually, Dan says, “I thought you hated this jumper,” stretches up to press a kiss against Phil’s jaw.

Phil shuffles down so that more of Dan’s arms slip under the hem. “It has it perks,” he says, cups a sweater-pawed hand under Dan’s chin to kiss him more soundly. Dan is giggling into his mouth and pressing fingers more deliberately against his skin, and it’s incredible how easily Dan can erase the dullness Phil feels when they’re apart.

(They’ll be conjoined at the hip for the next five months, but he’ll pack some of Dan’s clothes anyway.)

[cntcrtainmcnt-blog]

lmao never trust my words when i say no more muses. so anyway, under the cut are brief intros.

ABIGAIL MACQUEEN looks an awful lot like VICTORIA JUSTICE. SHE is TWENTY-THREE and while they’re DETERMINED, they have a tendency to get pretty PASSIVE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SOLITAIRE by MARINA&THE DIAMONDS.

so i can definitely see how she resembles victoria’s character on eye candy. i actually created that muse before and then when the show came out, i modified it to look similar.

Older of two, she’s always been very energetic and outgoing. And very very damn good with computers.

When she was 16, her younger sibling went missing, and she started developing her hacking skills to try and track her online activity to find her.

But she never did, at least no in time, since they found the body of her younger sister washed up on some shore on the East Coast two months later. 

She decided to not let it stop her, and decided to use her skills to actually help others who might need it. So she opened some sort of underground business, and gets paid to hack for people(as long as it’s not like... government, or the person isn’t meaning any harm by it).

Buuuuuut she got caught, although they gave her some kind of second chance. She’d be free, as long as she decided to use her hacking skills to help cyber crimes rather than doing illegal jobs. So now she’s a hacker for cyber crimes in Kola(which is where she grew up btw).

ARINA KOLOSOVA looks an awful lot like NATALIE DORMER. SHE is THIRTY-TWO and while they’re SUAVE, they have a tendency to get pretty VINDICTIVE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to YOU DON’T OWN ME by DUSTY SPRINGFIELD. 

Born and raised in Moscow, both her parents worked for an underground agency, think something similar to Kingsman, but with a Black Widow twist.

While her childhood was fine, when she became older, her parents started training her to become the perfect agent.

They became harsher on her, often depriving her of a real meal or even bed sheets at night when she wasn’t doing good in her training.

It was becoming a lot to deal with, but she knew better than to go against her parents. So she just tried harder and harder in trainings until they judged she was old and skilled enough to pass the entrance test for the agency.

Which she did, she aced it. While Arina never really thought about doing the same job her parents did, she did have a job now, at 21, so why give it up?

But it was underground, not very legal, and so they got busted when she was 24. She wasn’t there when they showed at the HQ, but her mother was, and she destroyed all files linking to Arina before the authorities saw them.

Due to her parents being arrested and her job not existing anymore, she managed to get a visa to move to the states for political protection.

She landed in Kola, and joined a biker’s gang, which is the best thing she did in her life.

Due to being deprived of meals often when she was younger, she now has a very large appetite, although she does burn off all excess by training.

Probably gets paid to help people get revenge on whoever did them wrong.

ARWEN DAE SHEEN looks an awful lot like ARDEN CHO. SHE is TWENTY-NINE and while they’re FUN-LOVING, they have a tendency to get pretty CLUMSY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to WEIRD PEOPLE by LITTLE MIX. 

Dae was born in Korea, but before she was even 5, her parents were targetted for a crime they did not comit, but the culprit created false proofs, so they had to flee the country.

They landed in England for a few years, building a new life. And by doing so, they all changed their names. They didn’t want to be traced back, although they did keep their last names. She was only 5 though and would only come up with random names, so her parents named her after a character from their favorite book series.

Her father later on got a job offer in Kola, California, so the family moved there. Arwen was probably about 8-9.

And she’s been in Kola since, and doesn’t plan on moving out, since she fell in love with the town.

She currently works as an elementary school teacher, as well as a fencing instructor by night.

CARSON MCALLISTER looks an awful lot like ALEXANDER KOCH. HE is TWENTY-SEVEN and while they’re IDEALISTIC, they have a tendency to get pretty DERANGED. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to WICKED by BOY EPIC. 

My fucked up son I haven’t played in ages.

Son of the police chief in Kola, and a high school teacher, who sadly passed away giving birth to him.

His father was not a good man. Carson grew up seeing him bring in women, at first acting like a true gentleman, until he became abusive with them and they left. And that did rub on him with time.

During high school, he fell in love with this girl, she was the light of his life. They were together for nearly 5 years, before they broke up. He was training to become a police officer like his dad, and she felt their paths were diverging.

He... did not take it, and locked her up in one of the rooms of his very large house. His father working crazy hours and that room being empty, never realized it until a few weeks later. A missing notice person was filled, and his father suspected him. The house was searched, they found the girl, and Carson was arrested.

He did time, and is only coming out of jail now, has no job, probably couch surfing since his father won’t talk to him.

Still wants his ex back tbfh.

GENESIS FERRER looks an awful lot like ZOE SALDANA. SHE is THIRTY-SEVEN and while they’re LOYAL, they have a tendency to get pretty OPINIONATED. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SORRY NOT SORRY by DEMI LOVATO.

Her parents moved to the states before she was born. But they later on got deported, although since she was born there, she was placed in foster care. (would’ve much rather prefered to be taken with her parents)

Was intentionally bad with all foster families because she was salty. She’s always been kind of a brat.

After graduating, she started studying management, while also working as a part time security guard at the mall. 

One thing lead to another, and when she graduated, Genesis decided to start her own security company. So now she owns a company, who people basically employ to guard their buildings, malls, shops, zoo, whatever.

Was never able to get a serious relationship because she’s very distant with people. BUT I SWEAR SHE HAS LOVE TO GIVE.

Also I’m making her a green alien in the future verse because I CAN.

MADELEINE STOKES looks an awful lot like KYLIE BUNBURY. SHE is TWENTY-SEVEN and while they’re CHARISMATIC, they have a tendency to get pretty JUDGEMENTAL. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to BO$$ by FIFTH HARMONY.

This character was originally an April Pearson fc? But she has like no good resources? So here we have the lovely Kylie instead.

Filthy rich family, she was spoiled to death. And it got to her head. But her parents also thought her that she’ll have to work for her own money when she’s older.

Queen Bee all through her school career. People looked up to her, but also feared what she could do.

Currently works as weather girl for the local channel.

That character was also originally inspired by Regina George, so she does keep a Burn Book, which she’s had since high school, and still adds stuff to it.

MARGARET BALDWIN looks an awful lot like DAISY RIDLEY. SHE is TWENTY-FIVE and while they’re METICULOUS, they have a tendency to get pretty INDIVIDUALISTIC. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to CAN’T BE TAMED by MILEY CYRUS.

Daughter of Gustav, he used her as one of his test subjects.

When it got debunked, her mother and her changed identities, and while it did mess with her head, it was nothing compared to her mom.

It wasn’t much later that her mom had to be sent to a psychiatric rehab center, and is still there. As for Nicoline Margaret, her neighbour was kind enough to take her in for as long as it might take.

They already had two kids, so she grew up with two people she now considers her siblings.

She always did good in school, but was horrible at following simple rules and orders. So after graduating, she went into journalism and is now an investigative journalist.

She hates her dad, and wished he would still be in jail. Actually erased him from her life and didn’t even know he was out until she went to see her mom and she mentioned he visited her.

She’s very bad at relationships but I swear if you bring me John Boyega, Adam Driver and/or Oscar Isaac, as exes, current crushes, FWB, or whatever you can think of, I will forever love you.

[khalilhumam]

Large-scale political unrest Is unlikely, but not impossible

New Post has been published on http://khalilhumam.com/large-scale-political-unrest-is-unlikely-but-not-impossible/

Large-scale political unrest Is unlikely, but not impossible

By Thomas Wright

When a reporter recently asked Donald Trump if he would accept a peaceful transition of power, the president wouldn’t commit. “We’ll see what happens,” he said. In an apparent reference to mail-in ballots, he went on, “We’ll want to have—get rid of the ballots and you’ll have a very—we’ll have a very peaceful—there won’t be a transfer, frankly. There’ll be a continuation.” His comments seemed to confirm the worst fears of Democrats and anti-Trump Republicans who have warned for months that he might act illegally to hold on to power.

For Trumpian commentators, Democrats and the president’s other critics are only raising these concerns because they want to orchestrate a coup of their own. In a recent essay, “The Coming Coup?,” the former Trump-administration official Michael Anton warns his readers that Democrats are laying the groundwork for the “unlawful and illegitimate removal of President Trump from office.” Their tactic, he says, is to condition the public into thinking that Trump will try to steal the election so that if he wins, they can cry foul. They will then, Anton predicts, organize “a ‘color revolution,’ the exact same playbook the American deep state runs in other countries whose leadership they don’t like and is currently running in Belarus. Oust a leader—even an elected one—through agitation and call it ‘democracy.’” Anton advises Trump to prepare now to determine who will be loyal in the days after the election so that he can prevail.

Anton’s warning of a color revolution has gone viral on the Trumpian right. But his analysis rests on a fundamental misunderstanding of the concept. I’ve been looking at the history of color revolutions to see if conditions are actually ripe for one in the U.S.

The term color revolution was coined in the early aughts to describe four political revolutions in post-Communist Europe and Central Asia, in which repressive regimes tried to hold on to power after losing an election: in Serbia (the Bulldozer Revolution, named after a protester who used a bulldozer to storm the Parliament building), Georgia (the Rose Revolution, for the flowers that protesters held during demonstrations), Ukraine (Orange, the color identified with the opposition party), and Kyrgyzstan (Tulip, the national flower). Each case involved an election in which the regime committed fraud and was found out by a combination of impartial external election observers, exit polls, and a sophisticated voting-tabulation system. After the announcement of the fraudulent results, students led enormous popular protests, demanding either new elections or a ratification of the results.

The color revolutions deeply unnerved autocrats, particularly in Russia and China, who believed the West had orchestrated them. The uprisings came from within the countries, although Western nongovernmental organizations played a supporting role over time, particularly by shedding light on nondemocratic practices and helping the students organize. Alexander Cooley, the director of the Harriman Institute at Columbia University, who has studied color revolutions, told me that, contrary to conventional wisdom, the U.S. government was relatively detached and ambiguous about the protests in some of these cases. In Georgia, for example, it initially did not rush to back Mikheil Saakashvili over the incumbent, Eduard Shevardnadze; while in Kyrgyzstan, it worried about the implications for an American military base there.

By 2005, Moscow and Beijing were actively redefining the term, shifting from indigenous protests against fraudulent elections to exclusively mean externally imposed regime change. Over the next 10 years, color revolution was used to describe many mass protests against autocratic regimes: the Cedar Revolution in Lebanon in 2005, the Green Movement in Iran in 2009, the Arab Spring in 2010–12, the Snow Revolution in Russia in 2011–12, and more Orange protests in Ukraine in 2013–14. The Snow Revolution, pushing against Vladimir Putin’s rotation back into the presidency, exacerbated his paranoia about color revolutions.

While the protesters—students, NGOs, political opposition—learned tactics from one another, so too did the autocrats. Over the years, the leaders developed countermeasures. They denied visas to student leaders from abroad, set up their own pro-regime election monitors, banned NGOs that were advocating for democracy, and rigged elections by using intermediate measures, such as disqualifying candidates before election day.

The United States is not an autocracy, but Trump has embraced this paranoia. As Cooley noted, fears of unrest are borrowed from the Russian hymnbook: “Fear of the street protests, never spontaneous, never motivated by a sense of injustice, activists always paid, always a nefarious agenda—it is straight from the Kremlin’s talking points.” Accusing an opponent of what he is accusing you of—in this case, stealing the election—is a tactic Putin routinely uses to muddy the waters.

Other than this paranoia, are the conditions in place for an actual color revolution in the United States? In every respect except one extreme scenario—which, astonishingly, Trump has cultivated—the answer is no.

The 2016 election showed that foreign interference, even rising to the level of collusion with a foreign power, will not prevent the winner from being inaugurated, nor will it topple a president during his term. It may undermine the president’s legitimacy and the country’s confidence in the democratic process, but it won’t spark a color revolution. The 2000 contest proved that disputed elections can be resolved through the courts. Even if tensions are much greater now, it is extremely unlikely that the majority of Joe Biden’s voters will try to overturn a Supreme Court decision through direct action, even if Trump’s nominee to the court is in place. If Biden refuses to concede, which he has shown no signs of doing even though some Democrats have talked about it, his decision will not prevent Trump from being re-inaugurated if he is declared the winner. If the president refuses to leave the White House despite having lost, the legal and political system will take its course and power will transfer to Biden, albeit after an atrocious transition.

The original color revolutions occurred when the perception of clear and massive electoral fraud was widespread and protesters were angry about having democratic rights taken away. The demonstrations were directed at illegitimate regimes with a history of rigged elections, endemic corruption, and repression of political opponents. Trump is the most antidemocratic president in America’s history, but his administration so far does not meet the standard of the regimes affected by color revolutions. The U.S. still has an electoral process and a legal system.

However, one extreme scenario could push the United States toward a color revolution. If Trump actually tries to prevent large numbers of mail-in ballots from being counted by confiscating them, he could irreparably damage the electoral process and prevent the courts from being able to fairly adjudicate it. After all, what are the courts to do if the confiscated ballots have been destroyed or compromised (for instance, if the boxes were opened)? In this scenario, Trump would declare victory on Election Night if he is ahead in votes cast that day, and he would order Attorney General Bill Barr or Chad Wolf, the man Trump claims runs the Department of Homeland Security, to physically stop the count the next day. The president would then pressure Republican state legislatures to ratify his preferred result. This scenario is similar to what my Atlantic colleague Barton Gellman chillingly outlines in his new cover story.

Daniel Nexon, a political scientist at Georgetown University, told me that in the post-Communist unrest, independent election monitors from the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe played a crucial role in demonstrating fraud. External monitors have a more limited role in U.S. elections—they are present but in small numbers and few people pay attention to them. Trump, however, doesn’t control the polling stations. Shenanigans in particular districts could go under the radar for a while, but mass fraud—such as the federal confiscation of mail-in ballots—would likely occur in public view. Many Americans, perhaps millions of them, would feel that they had to take to the streets.

Protesters would want the U.S. to count every vote, as demonstrators did in earlier color revolutions, but that simply may not be possible if the ballots are confiscated and compromised. Nexon said that in most of the post-Communist cases, some mechanism existed for a revote, but U.S. law has no allowance for that. Therefore, if the worst case happens and Trump actively interferes in the count, the protests would likely focus on state legislatures and governors asked to ratify results before the count was complete, and on the Supreme Court, which may be asked to adjudicate.

Dodging a color revolution or large-scale political unrest is simple—Trump should not illegally interfere with the election count. If he gives such an order, his officials should not follow it. If they do, Republican members of Congress should oppose it and the courts should quickly intervene to stop him.

To prevent Anton’s theory from gaining further traction among Republicans, Democrats must be careful not to play into the Trumpist narrative that they are looking to delegitimize the president. They must stop suggesting that he can win only by cheating. As for citizens, we can vote early, preferably in person.

The U.S. election should be beyond reproach, but the political reality is making that unlikely. However, a Rubicon is in place that separates instability after the election from a color revolution. Ultimately, Trump and Trump alone will make the decision whether or not to cross it.