#but i think a lot of the time he is so overly pro american that he’s like “YEAH FUCK THOSE OTHER GUYS ONLY AMERICAN CITIZENS ���🇸🦅‼️🔥”

[justmossyaps]

it would be nice to have someone in office who is both right and, yknow, a decent person. like these two things do not have to be mutually exclusive

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Merle Haggard - Down Every Road 1962-1994

I've spent four consecutive hours on Merle Haggard now. This is basically the mans entire career it's a lot to take in and I just don't understand why there are so many compilations on this list. Early Merle Haggard is great, some of the singing cowboy croon but with a bit of edge, and stark lyrics about his real life growing up at the end of the depression, living as a vagrant and being in and out of jail. It's the original outlaw country and it's fantastic. Unfortunately Haggard had a major hit with the song Okee From Muskogee, a conservative anti hippie pro Vietnam war anthem. The question of whether he meant the song as satire or not is a debate that ultimately does not matter because, while a lot of left wingers including Phil Ochs found the song funny, it still became a republican anthem that got Haggard the attention of Nixon. The rest of his career is marked by a combination of reactionary politics and occasionally very interesting instrumentation. The inclusion of more and more elements of jazz, blues, and bluegrass throughout the 70s was neat, but he just fades back into blandness as his career rolls to a stop. I'll recommend this comp up until you hit Okee From Muskogee then just stop.

Donna Summer - Bad Girls

This isn't just Donna Summer's magnum opus, it's disco's as well. The combination of Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder were unstoppable when it came to producing the best music in the world. This double album absolutely makes the most of its length bringing us extended disco grooves, a bit of rock influence and some soul numbers, plus Moroder's deliciously goopy synths. It's the most variety of any disco record I've listened to. Just listen to this one. Bad Girls my favorite disco album and prolly just one of my favorite albums period. This might be the first album that I think is exactly where it belongs on this list.

Frank Sinatra - In The Wee Small Hours

If you gotta get really dramatic about your divorce then this is the way to do it. I'm typically more a fan of swingin' Franky than crooning Franky but this album is so dramatic I gotta respect. The perfect collection of songs about love and loss are matched by Sinatra's overly syrupy voice and the amazing orchestral jazz arrangements of Nelson Riddle. Sometimes personal and sultry and other time large and dramatic. It's a fantastic collection of ballads from the great American songbook.

Harry Nilsson - Nilsson Schmilsson

Harry Nilsson was an artist who didn't really ever find his audience, if there was ever one to find. His only hits being covers and the terribly racist Coconut which is unfortunately featured here. In the world of 70s adult contemporary there were two types of sound, folk rock and art pop. Nilsson is the latter with dynamic arrangement and a sense for rock flair. The music itself works really well most of the time, but lyrically he can't decide whether he wants to be somber and morose or deeply unserious and goofy. If you don't mind the whiplash then it's mostly enjoyable, but I can't reconcile a piece of shit like Coconut with a masterpiece like Jump Into The Fire.

50 Cent - Get Rich Or Die Tryin'

It is impossible for me to take 50 Cent's ridiculous persona seriously. Just cause he got shot doesn't make this any less an act of kayfabe. I cannot get into his stupid fucking bravado at all. I don't know why, I tolerate a lot of campy bullshit from all kinds of artists, but 50 Cent is apparently my limit. Every word out of his mouth is the most ridiculous claim you have ever heard, from the people he's killed, to his sexual prowess, to the level of respect he commands. Plus his integration of melodic elements into the beats and hooks are really lazy. His hard ass persona and sing song hooks are so at odds with each other. The production kinda blows too, but the inconsistency is less 50 Cents fault than the trend in hip hop at the time of having a different producer for every song.

Nirvana - MTV Unplugged In New York

This concert is a great snapshot of Nirvana at their peak. It is nearly devoid of hits. The most popular song they play is Come As You Are and the rest is deep cuts and covers. The covers are honestly the focal point of the album. The Vaselines Jesus Doesn't Want Me For A Sunbeam, David Bowie's Man Who Sold The World, three Meat Puppets songs in a row, and it closes on a version of the folk song Where Did You Sleep Last Night. The Bowie cover is probably the most famous, but my god does Cobain nail the vocal delivery on Lake Of Fire and Where Did You Sleep Last Night especially. There may not be any cryptic suicide note to uncover here, but you can tell he was a tortured soul.

Led Zeppelin - Houses Of The Holy

I like Zeppelin best when they are experimenting. Houses Of The Holy definitely sees them experimenting, although just fucking around might sometimes be more accurate. The album mostly consists of some of their best work. The Song Remains The Same, The Rain Song, and Over The Hills And Far Away are truly amazing. However we also have to contend with the mess that is D'yer Make'r, a pathetic attempt at a reggae song, and whatever the fuck The Crunge is supposed to be. It's only two shit songs, but on an eight song album that's a quarter of the runtime.

Alicia Keys - The Diary Of Alicia Keys

I can't in good conscience say that Alicia Keys is a bad musician, but if there was a factory default setting for neo soul singers it would be her. She never really reaches beyond the confines of 'I need a good man' balladry and she doesn't do it as well as most of her contemporaries.

Radiohead - The Bends

The entire Radiohead catalogue is a parade of angst ridden melancholy, but The Bends is more alt rock and more grounded than the rest. While the 90s were a hotbed of aimlessly dramatic alternative rock sad sacks, Radiohead brought this air of hopelessness that really just makes you feel bad. I don't think I'm selling this album very well. It's good, really good. Thom Yorke is very good at going from a whisper to a wail to a falsetto all in one verse, and Greenwoods guitars have an atmospheric quality that just drowns you. While their next couple albums would ramp up the quality and experimentation to unprecedented levels, The Bends still set the benchmark for quality in a Radiohead album.

[bettyfair]

Conscientious Objection & Slacktivism

Part 2 in my musings on "There’s no ethical consumption under capitalism"

Bills quote took me by surprise because, to my shame, it was maybe the first time I realised that I too dislike liberals.

I’d always heard talk about pathetic liberals, either by my father who accused me (someone who has never voted Labour) of being a liberal Labour lover, or by American children who love communism & soviet hats and figure they could live easily without Starbucks.

It really wasn’t until it was laid out as above that I figured what it really meant.

My fist memory of politics is the fallout from 9/11. I remember seeing a newspaper cutting in a flat window from my school bus on the way home. It said “No to War”. I remember seeing that and thinking – well who would be pro war! I guess at 12 years old and growing up in rural Wales, you’re not really overly aware of America’s deep desire for oil and the military complex profits.

I remember 9/11 too – I remember coming home from primary school and watching the first plane hit the tower on the news repeats over and over.

It all seemed very strange, because my concept of war was something that was in the past – Trench foot, tanks and accents that are seemingly extinct. I guess that’s growing up in the British school system. The war is WWII where we fought Nazi’s. Not any of the Wars we’ve fought since. I don’t remember ever learning about Ireland.

I can’t really say that the strangers window display influenced me into left wing politics amid a right wing household. I wonder if that really is an old school display of liberalism? How much impact did that have from a window in Mid Wales? Did they leave the country in protest after the outbreak of war?

Disobedience and Why Socrates didn’t run.

Fun fact! Conscientious objection day is celebrated on May 15th – which is my birthday in every year I have been alive so far.

Socrates is an ancient Greek Philosopher. Arguably the most famous philosopher of all time. One of the best facts about Socrates is that no one can claim to have ‘read’ him, because there exists no texts directly from Socrates himself. Instead he exists in the works of other philosophers, mainly Plato, his student. The ancient Greeks wrote philosophy more like plays than like essays or novels, and so Socrates appears as a literal named character in a lot of Plato’s works. In my opinion this also makes it as accessible as any form of philosophy can be, but then by reading the ancient Greeks you are starting as near to the start as it is probably reasonable to get.

A lot happened to Socrates but here we will start from the end: Socrates forced poisoning by the Athenian government, unjustly, at the ripe old age of 71.

These events are mostly covered in Plato’s work ‘Crito’. Written as a dialogue between Socrates and his friend Crito of Alopece. Too much goes on in this short work for me to truly cover here. But the meat of what I want to get to is this – Socrates had a chance to escape his punishment, and he does not.

“Socrates: “…” a man to do what he admits to be right, or ought he to betray the right? Crito: He ought to do what he thinks right. Socrates: But if this is true, what is the application? In leaving the prison against the will of the Athenians, do I wrong any? or rather do I not wrong those whom I ought least to wrong? Do I not desert the principles which were acknowledged by us to be just? What do you say? Crito: I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know. Socrates: Then consider the matter in this way: Imagine that I am about to play truant (you may call the proceeding by any name which you like), and the laws and the government come and interrogate me: "Tell us, Socrates," they say; "what are you about? are you going by an act of yours to overturn us- the laws and the whole State, as far as in you lies? Do you imagine that a State can subsist and not be overthrown, in which the decisions of law have no power, but are set aside and overthrown by individuals?" What will be our answer, Crito, to these and the like words? Anyone, and especially a clever rhetorician, will have a good deal to urge about the evil of setting aside the law which requires a sentence to be carried out; and we might reply, "Yes; but the State has injured us and given an unjust sentence." Suppose I say that?

Can’t you see how accessable this is? If you are surprised at the sheer about of questions that Socrates offers up in his argument then you are unfamiliar with the Scoratic method.

During his trial is when Socrates was said to have uttered the unquestionably instagramable phrase "The unexamined life is not worth living". I’ll leave that there as it is.

So why did Socrates not run – essentially, in very short and uncomplicated manor, Socrates believes that in escaping punishment he was breaking the law, and that to break one law because you find it unjust or unfair, then you are denying the laws themselves. Socrates argues that he has agreed to the laws and to be judged by them – creating one of the earliest arguments for the ‘social contract theory’.

And so Socrates died – drinking hemlock as depicted in The Death of Socrates. Delivered from Justice at the hands of men.

It’s up to you if you want to imagine Socrates as a dutiful citizen, bending over for the long arm of the law into death. Or, if you choose to see him as a martyrdom of Civil Disobedience.

Much has been said about the social contract theory – if it exists and what one should do. I don’t have the ability to do that here, but it’s worth noting that the majority of us DO believe in it to some extent. Maybe we should reflect on what that means individually before continuing with my ramblings?

All of that is to eventually lead onto Martin Luther King Jr. and his fight against unjust laws, specifically racial segregation laws in America.

“One who breaks an unjust law must do it openly, lovingly . . . and with a willingness to accept the penalty. I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and willingly accepts the penalty by staying in jail to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the very highest respect for the law.”

To my great shame I do not know much about Martin Luther King Jr.

...

I looked him straight in the eye and told him, I said, ‘I respectfully refuse to obey your orders

https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/voices-of-the-first-world-war-conscientious-objection

It is said that some 16,000 men refused to take up arms and fight in WWI. Most of those who refused to enlist or be conscripted did so on religious grounds. Many of the men were given forced jobs or medical roles to support the nation during war time.

As this BBC article states : Cindy Sharkey, is remembering her grandfather, Eleazor Thomas. A socialist member of the Independent Labour Party, Mr Thomas was a conscientious objector railing against what he saw as a capitalist war, waged to preserve the empire.

He was imprisoned at Dartmoor, where he laboured in gas works, Mrs Sharkey, recalls. "The hardest thing must have been making a choice that meant leaving his wife and children behind with no support as he went to prison," she says.

One of the more famous examples of propaganda in the UK was the White Feather, a method to not only shame the conscientious objector, but act as a warning to other men should they think about also disobeying.

Supposedly representing cowardice, it’s easy to see from the above that it much more likely represented bravery in reality. I really do recommend reading from the Imperial War Museum article for a full picture on the reality of Conscientious Objectors (linked above) and what they went through.

CO’s as they seem to be referred to, were sometimes imprisoned in the UK where they were treated miserably and with undeniable cruelty as the ‘war to end all wars’ continued on, demanding more sacrifice. Still, it did seem to be a fate better than those who were sent to die on the front lines.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin, If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, Bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,– My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

(Extract from Dulce et Decorum Est – Wilfred Owen)

The existence of CO’s in WWII is more complicated. Clearly this war was more just. If a just war there could be. This article depicts a sad state for CO’s : “Corsellis was one of some 60,000 British men and 900 women who attested a conscientious objection during the second world war. (Many more women would like to have declared themselves conscientious objectors, but had no official way of doing so.) The 1% of conscripted men was proportionally more than the 16,000 who objected in the two years of conscription during the first world war. Most, but not all, objected on religious grounds and were from middle- or upper-class backgrounds. Most, but not all, were still willing to work in some capacity for Britain’s second world war effort.

Clearly the existence of an undeniable evil in Nazi-ism compelled some of those who disagreed with war into some effort to support the destruction of Hitler’s ideology within the realms of their own ethics. Some, obviously still objected completely. The British establishment never the less persisted in their punishment of CO’s. Social punishment as cowards and stripping them of their freedom.

In more recent times, there have been examples of Conscientious Objection during active war. One of the more surreal ones I could find was a squadron of on duty Israeli pilots who signed a letter essentially refusing to bomb civilian population centres in2003, calling the orders illegal and immoral. 4 of the pilots later recanted their signatures after harsh blowback from their decision. One now works for an organisation advocating for a 2 state solution to the American government

Kony2012

Kony2012 is one of my favourite bits of internet history. Sometimes I look around at the behaviour people display online and I wonder if I am the only one who remembers it. Was I the only one there?

Right now as I write this I have the Invisible Children, original Kony2012 video playing on my second screen. I don’t remember much of the details about it – but I do remember seeing how classmates of mine acted about it on release. The stickers that were put up – people changing their facebook photos to Kony2012. A hashtag before a hashtag. This belief that if we all worked together we could end this great evil. That all we had to do was look at it happening.

Finally, we could end something awful and all we had to do was consume media about it.

For reference, as you might not know, Kony is Joseph Kony – A Ugandan Warlord. What Kony is most infamous for is his use of child soldiers, according to his wiki approximately 66,000 children became salves in his Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). An undoubtingly evil man who is still currently ‘at large’ despite being wanted for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Kony2012 was a well produced video, showcasing the experience of a young Ugandan man – Jacob, who tells the documentary maker that essentially it is better that he (Jacob) dies than stay on Earth. The video is moving, Jacob cries, his story devastating. The documentary maker Jason Russel, promises he will fix it all. He literally promises that. He explains his whole plan to his son “You stop the bad guys from being mean” his son says.

Jason gives details on the LRA. He’s not shy in saying what they do – or showing what they do. It’s bleak, and it’s undeniable. Comments on the video are turned off – I’m relieved at this.

In a really poor choice of words, Jason explains all the good work he is doing with his organisation ‘invisible children’ and says it was funded by “an army of young people”. Those people sharing posts and putting up stickers on lampposts. The ONLY point of Kony2012 was exposure.

I can't undersell this, Jason honestly had no plans past exposure. He just wanted enough people to know about it and the presumably it would stop?

Shortly after Mumford and Son’s plays in the background, Jason celebrates the announcement of US Congress authorising a “small number of US forces [deploying] to central Africa to […] [work] towards the removal of Joseph Kony”. That’s right, the US are going to fight a child army overseas! (fear not reader, as there’s actually more evidence that by this time Konys actual power had dissipated and he was no longer in the region)

Nevertheless Jason is ecstatic at this. What’s right has happened – because of you and your consuming of media.

There was some backlash at the time, the Wikipedia quotes this:

Dinaw Mengestu, an Ethiopian American writer and Africa researcher, wrote that the real world Kony is "not a click away" and a simple solution of raising popular awareness is "a beautiful equation that can only work so long as we believe that nothing in the world happens unless we know about it ... only works in the myopic reality of the film, a reality that deliberately eschews depth and complexity."

And more on the nose, this:

Charlie Beckett, a media communications expert at the London School of Economics (LSE), said what Invisible Children hasn't "got the capacity for is to take that beyond another action. What are they going to do with all this energy and interest? It's going to dissipate. ... I think this will crash and die, I don't think they will catch Kony. People will say they bought the bracelet and stuck posters on lamppost but that could have negative effects when it doesn't actually lead anywhere"

So what did happen to Kony? I already told you he’s still at large, so the US didn’t get him. Well in truth nothing happened. There were so many complaints levelled against Invisible Children and their inability to manage the complexity of the issue, Jason had a very public breakdown that resulted in him running naked through the streets. And yeah, it fizzled out. It turns out all they could do was produce sleek media, and that real change needs more than that – more than eyes and awareness. It needs more than a fucking hashtag.

The people who I went to school with, who had moralised about their facebook Kony profiles, presumably just removed them quietly and went on with their life.

That was that for child armies in Africa. Sorry kids – the media machine moves fast! Hope you know how to Tik Tok dance!

So what did we learn from all that?

Well, nothing it turns out. People still posted black squares and took up some good old fashioned public shaming for those who didn’t. Some even keep the entirety of their political activism online, presumably never taking up conversation with other people in real life – least they disagree. Least they be family!

In recent times, those so inclined could add a Ukraine flag emoji to their twitter bio. I just checked the X account of my old manager / CEO. He’s removed his, one has to assume that was embarrassing?  

I had wanted to also talk about the rise of right wing via social media, but it seems I spent too long taking about Socrates and Conscientious Objection. So that will have to be part 2.

And what I thought was going to be 3 parts, now will likely be much more.

Apologies.

[bengiyo]

My Only 12% Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Alright. We had three great kisses this week from Minato's Laundromat, Love in the Air, and The Eclipse. You can do it, too, My Only 12%...but I'm sure you're just gonna break hearts this week.

These two are so codependent that I don't even know how their friends cope with them.

I tell ya. I am 100% with Eiw on being annoyed about Cake flirting with a girl in Eiw's bed.

NOW KISS??? Of course not. Just these two growing apart and not knowing what to do.

Boy Sompob has been with us since the beginning (The Shake song on the Lovesick OST still slaps), so it's a huge relief to hear him on the soundtrack for this show. He's been very sick, but has been optimistic on socials and recently celebrated the anniversary of his fan club.

Eiw's friends being named Fee and Kung makes me think of fecund. I'm so sorry

Sometimes it's just nostalgic to watch these boys and see them dealing with growing pains. Cake has done nothing wrong with Rin, but his friends and Eiw aren't necessarily keen on sharing him

Damn, everyone is going at Cake about Rin. I feel bad for Rin now.

Ah, and here Sand goes. I was worried about the mention of the piggybank earlier. Not keen on this!

Oh no, here we go with this Peak pursuing Eiw's sister plotline. 😒

I do like how the Thai boys portrayed in BL don't seem as afraid of touching each other. Maybe I was too closeted growing up, but it felt like American boys just cannot have casual affection.

Auntie Proud is correct. Cake will weep when Eiw stops waking him up.

Now I'm gonna be wondering what Auntie Proud said to Cake forever.

And now Sand is nowhere to be found. He took the money and ran.

Slaps Peak on the head. You can fit so much BL in this boy.

Note to self: do not order sausages in Thailand.

Sand really is a shit. How cruel.

I'm glad I didn't have to watch Santa and Oreo fight, but I hope Cake whooped Sand's ass. I'd be there like:

Spill the tea? Were we saying that in 2007, or is that just an enthusiastic translation?

I really like the way both of their moms engage with them. It's loving, but not overly indulgent. Cake did get into a fight, and should face consequences for that.

I like Prem as a big brother a lot.

I'm really liking this door metaphor for building trust. American tv and filmmakers come from smaller families, but Thailand still has a culture where lots of people have siblings. The energy feels right.

I'm not pro-spanking, but I do know what others went through. Cake's family feels normal. The mom administering discipline. The dad offering tacit support, but approving of the victory. The sister teasing.

We still didn't learn what was bothering Cake.

The hets are in the preview... Ah, Cake is leaving next episode. Time for the drama.

[thethiefandtheairbender]

My homie please don't tell me you tried to equivalate the real life debate and seriousness bof the don't say gay bill to your anti vs. proship bs

Hi, out queer, ace, and trans person here! I also have an honours degree in the study & history of how fiction can influence reality. Let me take you for a walk (and I'll make sure it's short or else you'll pull the "you think I'm reading all that?") I also already know, thanks to looking at your blog, that you’ve decided I - a sex repulsed, ace adult in a relationship with another adult - am a pedophile, so thanks for bringing back the years of harassment I experienced when I was a literal minor but was unwilling to post my age online bc u know, I was a minor who wanted to keep my privacy a mind-whopping... 2.5 years ago. But clearly I’m decrepit and out of touch now. Never change, tumblr.

A lot of current American politics, including the Don't Say Gay bill (and previously the Hayes Code) was derived from puritanical Victorian era leanings and Calvinistic conservative Christianity. This includes: gayness as an identity > an act (trial of Oscar Wilde), idealization of motherhood, and the moral panic surrounding the 'degradation' of the English language that 18-19th century Grammarians were always concerned with (hi Samuel Johnson).

Another thing grammarians and writers have been concerned with since before is what is Okay to be portrayed in art. Plato's The Republic thinks that art is immoral because it may give people unrealistic or unsafe ideas because people are 'unable' to distinguish fiction from reality. He later retracted this, although Aristotle's Poetics was a text where Aristotle disagreed with Plato's prior established opinion.

Re: the past 3000+ years of literary discourse - those who try to restrict the radical aspects of art lose the argument every time, and start it back up 30 years later.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that art has always been very political, as is most things. Fandom, as a pop-junkie transformative spiel, has also been deeply political, particularly for marginalized people.

Fandom nowadays is full of people who believe that, in order to be really sorry about something, someone has to publicly repent per whatever moral standard has been decided to else the congregation - I mean twitter - will publicly shame them for their sin.

Fandom is entrenched in cultural Christianity and the conservative mindsets that come with it. Aphobia in fandom was rampant from 2014-2017; truscum and tucute discourse as well; how prevalent TERF rhetoric can be (women are inherently good, attraction to men is shameful, etc). I've seen all of these things in fandom. All hinge an idea on being able to decode a person's intent (somehow), the rising attachment of morality to genres of entertainment (antis), and how many antis I've seen that are TERFs or Aphobes or guzzling down that rhetoric without even realizing.

Terfs and the Conservative far-right have a long history of working together. Both frame concerns of gay people as pedophiles, being anti sex work (because sex is nasty and a sin), that we must Protect the Children who cannot monitor or make any decisions for themselves at any age. The anti vs pro ship dynamic online is a microism of larger public discussions regarding purity culture - and that includes how queerness is overly sexualized, how queer sex is seen as especially dirty, the "should kink be at pride?" discourse, and issues with respectability politics.

Antis who say we have to harass people to control what exists in fandom to "protect minors" on a moral basis are ideologically adjacent to parents who decry earlier Sex Education for children (which, every time it's implemented, is shown to decrease the amount of abuse children face, not further it). A quick scroll through your blog tells me you're willing to generalize hundreds of people's personal history with CSA because you don't think survivors can 1) vehemently disagree with you or 2) demand disclosure of their personal history to exist online void of that harassment.

Aka to take some tags to the forefront: #like the schools don't want to talk about queerness and are banning books so kids don't get Ideas#and people also don't want 'problematic' fiction in fandom in case kids get Ideas or can't use critical thinking skills#it's not a hard leap to make

It sounds like you're the one who has a problem with reading comprehension and building connections between different kinds of discourse, not me. It's almost like teenagers (queer or otherwise) raised in conservative or culturally Christian homes are more susceptible to puritanical rhetoric, or something... 🤔 (I could also get into just how American the current fandom anti vs pro conflict is, but I think this is long enough, don't you?)

A final note from this article:

Beyond betraying simple art illiteracy, though, these intensely personal, emotional complaints and appeals to public safety have a clear antecedent: religious and conservative opposition to “obscenity.” The centering of individual values and pain, the assumption that a universal moral standard exists which should guide all public or quasi-public art and behavior, and the belief that art can do material harm to both people and culture as a whole unite the two at first apparently disparate groups of angry indie gamers and religious fundamentalists.

The deployment of victimhood as an unimpeachable defense is an old tactic frequently used by hate groups like One Million Moms and its parent organization, the American Family Association, whose rallying cry “think of the children” now echoes through everything from intra-community Gay Pride discourse to the drearily predictable “there’s too much sex on TV” tweets that seem to sweep across the platform on a weekly basis.

[miizpah]

daddy | suna rintarou

anon asks : Idk if you are taking requests 🥺! But was thinking of a suna x reader fic where they try for kids. I think daddy suna would be so cute with kids 😭🤚🏼

post timeskip ‼️

tw. breeding kink.

authors note : 🥺 requests are always open 🥺 and not me in the middle of changing up my writing theme and style 😖 this is probably the tamest request i’ve gotten, and i’m actually excited for this. daddy suna? stop b4 i froth into orbital. idk if you’ve wanted this smutty, but i literally can’t just write fluff 😔 pls enjoy!

not me changing up my writing style, i’ve been practicing with actually adding in some details and imagery — can’t believe english was my best subject 🙄

If being honest, you had always loved kids. Their tiny little fists and small pudgy feet, and the way they would run to their loved ones in pure excitement. It always clenched at your heart, making you loose your breath and your head becoming lightheaded. You wanted that, to have your own kids running up to you in excitement, screaming your name and hugging your legs. It was wholesome, beautiful, and you were a sucker for wholesome things.

You’ve thought of bringing it up with Rintarou, your want for children. You had the space, living in a big house with multiple spare rooms and baths, big open space for the living room and an even bigger backyard for the children to play. You had it all mapped out, really, the rooms you would need to baby proof, the room that you would set up as their nursery. Hell, you've already picked out a unisex theme for your baby's room. But, despite all of that, you had no clue what Rintarou would say.

He was in his prime, a pro volleyball player for the Reijins, he spent more time practicing and traveling for games than he did stay at home. And, you were only mildly okay with that fact. You too had a demanding job, and while you didn't travel as much as Rintarou, you still traveled.

Which brought you to your next thought. Both of you were too busy to have children, his job was demanding, your job was demanding, the baby would be more demanding. This was the only clear reason you were holding back on asking Rintarou on how he felt about children. Well, that and you’re kind of scared of what he would say. You knew some men would run at the first sign of responsibility, your dad being one, and you really did not want to put your marriage on the -- 

You shook your head at that dumb thought. He married you, he wouldn’t have married you if he didn’t want the responsibility of possible children in the future. 

Sighing to yourself, you look at the clock in your home office, deciding that starting on dinner now would be much better than later. You submitted your response to your boss via email, powering down your desktop and exiting your office. 

Hmm, what should I cook? You thought absentmindedly. Wait, I should... You smirk.

Only thirty minutes later, dinner was finished and set on the table, and you began to execute your plan.

...

“I’m home,” the tired voice of Rintarou came from the foyer. He stepped out of his training shoes clumsily, slipping into his house slippers before dragging himself inside the house fully. His hand clutched the straps of his gym bag loosely, eyes more hooded than usual.

He searched around for his pretty wife, looking into the living room, only finding your phone and the tv on playing some western movie with a... clown? He searched the kitchen and dining room, finding the dining table set and hot food steaming from dishes. It smelt delicious, and almost restored his energy, almost.

On the way to your room, he dropped his gym bag in the wash room, before dragging himself up the stairs. “Y/N?” He called.

“Rin?” Your voice was muffled, but could easily be detected. “I’m in our room!”

The room door was pushed open, revealing his pretty wife, in the middle of sliding on a black satin night gown. Rintarou paused in the doorway, seemingly seeing his energy levels rise up quickly. You noticed, grinning slyly to yourself before turning around.

“Welcome home, Rin,” you smile coyly. “How was was practice?” The night gown you wore was on the shorter side, allowing your supple thighs to be seen. Underneath the gown, you wore a red lingerie, with thigh straps connecting to the thong. You knew how much he loved seeing you in red.

“It was... It was fine,” Rintarou struggled a bit, eyes never leaving the way your breasts seemed to just sit there. His mouth watered. “What’s all this?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, looking down at your attire. “Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. Get showered, Rin, dinner won’t be hot for long.” With a kiss on his cold cheek, you sashayed away. 

I could bring it up during dinner. You thought with a firm nod.

Rintarou’s eyes were hot on your skin, never once looking down as he ate his food. His hair was damp from his shower, and he had forgo putting on a shirt, which he knew would make you go slightly feral. It wasn’t your fault that you liked to admire your husband’s hard work, via his abs.

“So,” you started, sipping from your glass. “What all did you do at practice today?” You ask, sitting the glass down and finally meeting his narrowed eyes. You could practically see the desire rolling off of him.

“Serving,” he humored you, bringing his chopsticks to his mouth and eating the meat and rice. He chewed exaggeratingly slow, eyes locked onto yours, finally he swallowed. “A bit of blocking, I’m working on a new technique.” 

“Oh? And, will I see this new technique?” You sit your chin on your palm, sitting your chopsticks down and giving him your full attention.

“You will,” he nodded, smirking slightly. “At the game on Sunday.”

“Hey, no fair,” you whined, lips pouting slightly. “I want to be the first of your fans to see the new technique.” You were joking, trying to lighten the suffocating mood.

Rintarou rolled his eyes, waving you off. “Number one fan behavior.” You giggle at that, leaning back in your seat. “And, you? How was your day?”

“I had to finish my project today,” you answer. “Not to be overly cocky, but it was perfect if I do say so myself. Boss will just have to give me that promotion.”

“It was that good?” He finished off the last of his food, nursing his glass of wine.

“It wasn’t just good, baby.” You said, a smirk on your lips and pride in your eyes. You were passionate about your job, and with that promotion, you would become director of your own branch. “It was perfect.”

If you became director, you wouldn’t have to travel anymore, you could even work from home. It was perfect. You had to get that promotion.

Before long, both of you had finished off your drinks, washed and put away the dishes, and found yourself lounging in the living room. It was quiet, the only sound being the tv playing a western reality show, Americans were crazily entertaining.

Rintarou was rubbing slow circles with his thumb on your smooth, hairless leg, which hadn’t been hairless early. His eyes were trained on his phone. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Hey,” you said, quietly but enough to get his attention. He only hummed, eyes not leaving his phone. “What do you think about kids?”

Rintarou looked over to you almost instantly, a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He almost looked feral. “Right now? Is this a new way for asking for sex?”

“What?” A laugh startled out of you. “No! I’m saying I want to have your babies.”

“But that entitles sex? Just say you want sex.”

“Oh my God... I want to have kids, little fucking people running around our house calling us mommy and daddy.”

“...I heard you the first time,” Rintarou looked away. “But we have to have sex for that.”

You take in a deep breath, eyes rolling. “Listen, Rin. I know we have to have sex, but I am asking you do you want kids?” You explain simply.

“With you, I want lots of kids.” He looked back to you, eyes wide and honest.

Your heart clenched, painfully. A breathtaking smile appearing on your lips. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now come ‘ere, we need to do the sex.”

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What’s the best position to get pregnant in?”

“I-”

“You know what, who gives a fuck? I’ll just plug your hole or something.”

“I’m- What the hell goes through your mind?”

Laid against the cotton sheets, you look downward as Rintarou slides his hands against your thighs, tugging on the thigh straps harshly and causing them to snap back. A soft moan escape your lips, the small twinge of pain being the start of what was next to come.

“So pretty, baby, got all dressed up for me, hm?” His words are hot against your lower stomach, placing a teasing kiss above your pelvis. “Silly little wife, tempting her husband all night.”

You whimper, legs spreading a bit wider as he settled himself between your thighs. His fingers hooking underneath your garter belt, easily unbelting it and throwing it away. His kisses trail down further, pressing a soft kiss against your clothed heat. “You smell so good, angel.”

“I need you, Rin...” You whine, faintly wiggling your hips.

“Patience, silly wife.” His hands grip your thighs, spreading them as he sat on his knees. “You’re soaking through your panties, baby.” A hand comes down, lightly slapping your clothed cunt. You whimper, bringing a hand down and gripping his wrist. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“Please, Rin. Just fuck me already!” You whine loudly, moving your hips against his palm.

“Shit, okay,” he pulled his hand away, using both to pull your panties and thigh straps off. His eyes fluttered once your sopping cunt was revealed, messy and dripping, and just for him.

You can only hum in appreciate at the stretch in your thighs as Rintarou pushed them to your chest, folding you into a mating press. Within seconds, he’s pushing into your cunt, stretching you wide. You could only lay there and take it, your gummy walls tight around his cock.

Head falling back against the pillows, you moan as you feel him still sinking into you. The position was new to both of you, and was hitting spots that you’ve never felt before. Your hands were gripping his biceps tightly, eyes fluttering close and mouth falling open as more moans spilled.

“D-deep,” you muttered breathlessly, opening your eyes and locking eyes with his. “So good, Rin~”

He smirked before leaning down and slotting your mouths together, swallowing each other noises as he finally sheathed deeply inside of you, kissing your cervix softly. Your tongues tangled together, causing your salvias to mix and dribbling between you both.

Steadily, he pulled back, cock dragging against your tight walls. Lips still locked, he pushed back in, swallowing your cries of pleasure. You pulled away then, licking your lips and taking a deep breath.

Head bowed, and eyes locked on your drooling cunt, he started to thrust at a slow pace, seemingly fascinated at seeing his cock sink into you at a new angle. One of your hands came up and tangled into his dark locks, head falling back against the pillows as you slowly fell deeper and deeper into a delirious state.

“Fucking sexy the way your messy cunt take my cock,” he looked up then, your hand falling from his hair. “My messy wife, hm?”

“Rin, faster-” Was all you could say, the slow drag of his cock fucking you into a state of dumbness.

He smirked then, liking the state you were in. His hips pulled back, and with a sharp thrust, he was fully sheathed again.

Breath warm against your cheek, he began to fuck into you like a man possessed, his hands enclosing around your wrists and pressing them against the bed. Your moans mixing with the lewd sounds emitting from your cunt, creating a symphony that only proved to make you both feral.

“Going pump you full, angel, shit.” Rintarou whispered breathlessly against your ear, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine, moans growing louder. “Fill you to the brim with my cum, going to feel it for days.”

“Yes,” you keen, gummy walls fluttering around his cock. “Pump me full, Rin. Want your cum so bad.”

“Shitshitshitshit,” he groaned, leaning back and pulling out. Easily, he turned your body around, dragging you to your hands and knees, and entering your cunt in all the same second.

You didn’t have enough time to register before he’s hammering into you, causing you cry out loudly, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck, fuck!” His hands bruised against your hips, holding them tightly as he used them as leverage to pistol into you.

“Gonna fuck so many babies into you,” he spat, slapping your ass cheek harshly. “Gonna look so beautiful swole with my child, fuck!”

You whine loudly, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Rin, I wanna cum!”

He seemed to easily find your spot, the one spot that never fails to have your body shaking, muscles tensing up, and you screaming his name.

“Ah, ah, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Rin!” Your fluttering walls tighten around his cock, body tensing as you cum. Your hands gripping the sheets so tightly, head bowed against the bed and back arched down.

“Damn, you’re so sexy, angel.” He groaned, spilling deep within your cunt. Both of you left breathless. “Don’t move, and you better not spill an inch of my cum.” He said, slowly pulling his cock free.

You sat there, catching your breath, and clenching your walls as tight as you could without relaxing. You flinch when you feel a cold metal rub against your sensitive clit. “Relax,” Rin muttered as he pushed the plug against your hole, you did as told, and slowly he pushed the plug inside to the hilt.

“Shower,” you groan, standing with the help of Rintarou.

“Shower sex?”

“Rin, you just plugged me.”

“You have another two holes.”

“I will kill you.”

“So... no head?”

note — not me tryna to reference a vine at the end, lmaooooo. i hope anon liked this, :)!! i’m not the best at breeding kinks. 😔 not edited 😔

[stealth-liberal]

I read all but the last 3 books of the Little House on the Prairie series to my son. I already wrote an essay on how I dealt with the anti-Native racism in the books and other problematic things in the series that were wrong then and are wrong now. How I didn't see that as a little kid, because who does, and how I used it as a way to talk about these things with my son.

However he lost interest after The Long Winter and I've decided to reread Little Town on the Prairie, These Happy Golden Years and The First Four Years on my own. Now it's just me and these books that I haven't read in forever because I read them as a little girl and am a grown woman now.

I just finished Little Town on the Prairie and am a quarter of the way into These Happy Golden Years. As I am reading them silently to myself, it goes by quickly. You know what I had totally forgotten about Little Town on the Prairie? There is an honest to G-d, holy shit, minstrel show complete with 5 men in classic black face. It's jarring and beyond distasteful, but it was also something that happened frequently back then and pretending that it didn't is foolish.

Unlike with the pushback against the anti-Native racism that both Laura and Pa show, this is normal for them. Pa participates in the show as one of the blackface performers. Since this is (as we know now*) a fictionalized account of Laura Ingalls Wilder's actual childhood and early marriage, we can safely bet that the real Charles Ingalls actually did this.

These are people who talk about having been pro North during the Civil War and both Charles and Caroline Ingalls had abolitionist sentiments prior to the war. Laura and her daughter Rose both wrote about how Black population centers were overly policed and that that policing was violent.

It made me think, how could they not connect that blackface minstrel shows were as bigoted as the other things they fought against? The conclusion I came to was normalization. This wasn't seen as insulting or bigoted or even bad by the VAST majority of Americans, even by people who either were involved with or supported the fight against anti-Black racism and violence. Back then (this takes place in 1881) this was the norm.

Now, to be sure, it was wrong then and it's wrong now. However I think this opens up the conversation about the ways that The Norm can sometimes be dangerous. The Norm can be the deflective armor something wears to shield itself from societal critique. Now obviously a lot of social norms AREN'T bad or dangerous, but the ones that are slip under the radar with that armor and it can be hard to clock them as what they are. It is even harder if you grew up with them as an inoffensive norm.

In other words societal progress is a journey and not a destination. We will NEVER magically arrive at the utopian ideal, but the struggle to achieve it is worthy and good. The more we struggle the closer we come and the more improvements we achieve. It is also important to realize that in 141 years (the amount of time between us today and 1881) people will look at us and say how bigoted and backward our society was. And it won't always be in the ways we think that it will be.

* It is now accepted that Laura left a lot of things out of her books and cleaned up even more. So it's the truth, but a heavily edited truth to be more appealing than it actually was.

[deliahscrush2003]

If you’re still willing to do it, 🔀 + Apollo Ryu? (If not, that’s fine! I hope you have an amazing day and an even better year!) <3

Thank you for visiting the inbox @apollothe-sungod!

As soon as I saw your crossover ask in my inbox, I knew exactly who I would pair your Apollo up with! Forgive me for not answering this much quicker, my BNHA OCs are not quite as developed as I would like them to be (which I'm looking forward to mending this year) but I had a basic concept in mind for them all and I had just the person in mind for this asks.

🔀 Apollo Ryu (My Hero Academia) // Ren Mitsugi (My Hero Academia)

Both are 1st year students in the Hero Course at U.A. High School which already puts them on even ground.

They are known to have sweet demeanours and are rather casual and easy going.

They are both 'giving' people, they like close contact and like to do stuff for others, offering comfort, support, encouragement etc.

They both love energy drinks - Ren's quirk requires him to have a large intake on energy and he finds that most often through the consumption of sugar, caffeine or large meals. It's through Ren's love of sugar that he actually came up with his Hero Name: Warhead when he and his group were hiding out in an abandoned convenience store and he came across an American candy of the same name.

They both hate mornings - Ren is NOT an early riser and that was an almost life-threatening aspect about him during his time on the run from the Villain Society. Rousing him up in the mornings was the biggest pain in the ass for the Heroes and he would whine about it until at least after midday.

They both have very strong power quirks that make them ideal fighters on the frontlines.

They also both excel in combat.

I also feel like they both have quirks that they don't have complete control over and because of the potentially dangerous nature of their quirks, they can be concerned and possibly afraid of backlash to those in close quarters, whether that be colleagues, friends or civilians.

They don't have the best relationship with their family and have stronger bonds with their friends than their actual blood.

Ren has a much louder and more outgoing personality than Apollo, I think. Mostly because Ren and his friends have been forced to be aggressive for over a year or so in the name of survival. Ren's role model is his mentor and Pro Hero: Red Riot and thus, he has modelled a lot of aspects after him.

Another diverging factor is that Ren was raised during a time where Hero Society was overly criticised and was largely fractured by corruption, crime and villainy.

Therefore, Ren and Apollo would have vastly different opinions about what it means to be a hero and how the current hero society (as we see in the show) lives up to that expectation.

Ren's outlook on Hero Society - like the rest of his friends - his more critical and cynical.

Besides that, I think they would get along.

I can imagine them swapping Monsters at recess if the other had the flavour they wanted.

Shouting out encouragements or exchanging high fives whenever the other was stepping up for a training exercise.

Both drudging behind everyone like zombies and just collapsing on top of one another when Aizawa-Sensei isn't watching.

Ren would pull Apollo into conversations more often, introduce him to people outside of his circle like Ren's friends Kaneki, Yoshinaga and Nakano.

Get him to open up a bit, maybe invite him to a movie night or out for a shop. Bribe him with the promise of burgers.

Ren would stand up for Apollo if anyone was giving him a hard time with his looks or pulling mean-spirited pranks on him.

He'd rave on and on about how cool it was that he had a dragon as a friend and would part his spiky red hair into a pair of horns in solidarity.

SEND ME A 🔀 + ONE OF YOUR OCS AND I’LL PICK ONE OF MY OCS THAT I THINK WOULD WORK WELL WITH YOUR OC.

TAGLIST: @lokitrasho || @foxesandmagic || @wordspin-shares || @lilac-lemonade || @apollothe-sungod || @chickensarentcheap || @ocfairygodmother

[darkromanceblackburn]

Damien Gavril Chirilă

Authors Note: This is Decebal's and @slashersins Son!

Name: Damien Gavril Chirilă

Nicknames: Dami, Gavi

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Demisexual and Bisexual

Nationality: American, Romanian

Languages: English, Romanian, Italian, French, Russian

Voice: Damien's voice just like his father's, Decebal, is deep and has a baritone tint, giving off powerful and warrior vibes to say so, although he prefers not to speak too loudly. Think of his voice like the roar before a war.... His voice is calm and almost like feather-like touches, but once you cross him, his voice will get booming and taking you back. His voice is like a sword; beautiful, strong yet so sharp.

Occupation: Hitman and Martial Art Trainer

Hair: His hair is wavy and longer on top than on his sides, mostly like his fathers' hairstyle, and has a habit to always run his hand back through it when it gets into his eyes. The color of his hair is a very dark brown, almost black.

Eyes: Just like his fathers, pale grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind

Height: 6'5

Body: Athletic type with some muscles underneath. He is not overly buff, but not slim either. Think of it like a 'swimmers body'; defined torso, long arms, and broad shoulders

Weapons/Fighting style: Just like his father, he is a master swordsman and a pro into hand-to-hand combat; his primary weapon is a big war sword that can cause heavy damage and he also beholds quite the brutal strength under these baggy clothes, after all... Mastering such a heavy sword requires some high strength.

Clothing: Damien is the type that thinks that clothes are clothes. He prefers comfortable clothing that isn't flashy like oversized hoodies, jackets with many pockets, jeans that can be also ripped on the knees, sneakers, and combat boots. Everything into dark colors or neutral ones like grey. Although, he does love to wear fancy watches and despite not being that into the fashion department, he managed to wear all these simple clothes with style.

Other characteristics: Damien has tattoos. His body isn't all inked up like his fathers but he does have his hands inked up with intricate tattoos and a tattoo of a bat on his chest.

Motive of killing: Being a hitman, he can be given all kinds of targets, but he is very selective into it. Most of his targets are corrupted people, abusers of the system.

Scent: It's intense and spicy pink pepper and citrusy lemon top notes followed by heart notes of orange blossom; impossibly seductive and romantic; alongside neroli and French lavender. Finally, patchouli, wrapping you up in its woody incense-like aroma, followed by ultra-masculine cedarwood.

Preferred Method of Kill:

Damien is very brutal and deadly into his kills, he will slash through muscels and bone like they are made of paper. One of his favorite is cutting off his victims legs, then heating up his swords so he can close the wounds, not letting the victim bleed to death, so prolonging the kill more. He will cut off each finger until the persons hands are fingerless then finally he will thrust his sword through the victims skull, killing them.

Personality:

Unlike his loud and boisterous father, Damien is much more reserved and quiet, not necessarily self-conscious, but more so an observer; silent but taking in all aspects into a room. Think of his personality like a calm and full of tranquility field where you can basically hear the wind blowing.

He will be the listener, perking his ears at others' problems and trying to find a solution if the said person seeks so, but he will never try to force his opinions and beliefs on anyone. He is the type to respect personal boundaries and be aware of other people's feelings.

Although he can be soft-spoken and tranquil, that doesn't mean he is easy to push around, because he is not. If you cross the line, you will see his much more darker and deadly side which he inherited from his father. Once he turns 180 degrees around, he can turn into quite the big sadist that will make people tremble; deadly, and ferocious just like the lion he is. This side of him is mostly put deep down inside him, always being in control of his emotions.

He is not the most out-going guy you will meet; choosing an inside-night just watching movies, playing his guitar (which he learned from Decebal's brother Alexander) over a night out drinking and partying. He is a heavy sleeper and will take a nice nap over going out anytime, especially when raining, he loves the sound of it, its like music for this guy, a very soft lullaby.

Damien is the type of guy that will stay on the sidelines and just observing, taking into his surroundings, and be aware of the environment he is in.

This guy is also a helpless-romantic; once in a relationship he pours his whole heart into it, loyal and always supporting, he will let his feelings be known, not only through words but also through actions; giving flowers, giving his hoodie if they are cold, playing his guitar, giving gifts with deep meanings. He is traditional when it comes to courting.

Some of his habits may come off as awkward and shy, like nibbling on the strings of his hoodie, playing with his guitar pick nervously, but all in all, they are just some ticks. He also does taxidermy when he finds dead animals like bats or birds, putting their skulls on the wall on frames. You can say that he is on a much darker side when it comes to his vibes, but deep down he is truly soft.

He also has a soft spot for animals; owning a rottweiler and a black cat, like I said, his aesthetics are much darker tones.

Favorite Drink: Black vodka combined with coffee liqueur

Favorite Food: Mexican Food especially Chilaquiles (He adores his Momma Food)

Favorite Movies: Hitman, The Taken Series

Favorite Music Genre: Alternative Rock, Grunge Rock, Soft-Rock

Her relationship with her parents:

Damien's relationship with his parents is based on honesty, softness, and being as close as possible.

Decebal is very honest and warm with his son, always trying to be opened up about his history and letting Damien know who his father was and who he is now. Decebal doesn't want his son to find out the uglier things he did in life from anyone, but him, hench the honesty part.

The fact that Decebal and his brother, Alexander, pretty much didn't grow up with a father, both will be very welcoming and with open arms towards Damien, teaching him about sword-fighting, foreign languages, martial arts, and playing guitar (on Alexanders part).

Decebal will always make sure that Damien is happy and is welcomed everywhere he is, and he will always assure his son that he can ask him about anything at all.

Decebal is not exactly very proud of his history with women and he tries to teach Damien how to be a proper gentleman, that women aren't for sexual urges only, and that he should cherish them, because they do so much for men. Decebal tries to be a good influence on his son and doesn't want him to go through what he did.

He will also teach Damien never to give up, never to let anyone run over him, he will try to give as much of his confidence to Damien as possible, that when times call for desperate measures, the sword will be unsheathed and blood shall run in deep rivers.

Symbols:

Lion- a symbol of vitality, wisdom, ferocity, power, anger, and also self-control. Damien is like a sleeping lion, seeming harmless, but deep down under the wild mane lies a ferocious deadly beast that shall destroy anyone who messes with his pride (family and friends). He is wise in his words and what he thinks, being an observer and taking notes of everything.

Bat- this animal stands for communication, a long journey, swiftness, good luck, dreams, and also fear. Damien is the guy that will always be a listener to others' problems, despite not starting the communication first-hand, but he will listen intently. He is swift in his action when the time calls. It goes like this; observing in silence, takes notes of surroundings, senses danger, quick to jump into action. He is also a guy who spends a lot of time sleeping, dreaming, picturing his own fantasies, like living into his own world when he does that.

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Truth (1x05)

Well, okay then.

Cons:

I've complained about the uneven time given to Sam and Bucky, and while I appreciate where this episode went with everything, it did shine a further light on how little Sam has had to do all season. How his growth has been happening in the background to other things. I wish the balance could have been changed a little.

I also continue to be less interested in the Flag Smashers than I am in anything else in the show. Not the ideology or how they function politically in this world, but the actual individual characters. Spending time getting to know them makes sense, it humanizes their struggles and what they're willing to sacrifice for their cause. But I just don't find Karli to be a particularly compelling individual, so it makes those scenes a slough to get through.

The opening fight scene between Sam, Bucky, and John Walker was good, but it wasn't great. The whole time I was watching it I kept thinking about the Tony/Steve/Bucky fight at the end of Civil War, three men fighting, the shield pinging between them. So much angst and desperation and history and weight to the whole thing. This fight should have been like that, but instead it felt a little more measured. Sam and Bucky are fighting to take the shield away from a dangerous man who has clearly lost control. It almost felt like they were just doing a job. Their connection to the shield was muted during the fight itself, which made that final beat, when Bucky throws the shield down at Sam's side and walks off, hit a little less hard.

And that's one other thing - I loved the Sam and Bucky talk, of course I did. Bucky needed to apologize and it was great to see. But what changed Bucky's mind? We see Sam's journey, but Bucky starts the episode still in that mindset of blaming Sam, and then he comes and helps with the boat, and then he apologizes. What made him realize that he needed to adjust his perspective? I wish I could have understood that a bit more. The only scene we get of him on his own is with Zemo, and that bit of closure seems wholly disconnected to the stuff with the shield.

Pros:

This is a small thing, but I've gotta bring it up: when Bucky is apologizing to Sam, he says "when Steve told me what he was planning"... and when I tell you I screamed... this is literally so important to me. I hate the end of Endgame for Steve. I truly do. The one thing that makes it bearable is the head-canon that he cleared it with Bucky first, that Bucky knew, before Steve left to go return the stones, what he was going to do. And now we have actual canon confirmation that that was the case! I am so incredibly moved by that, I can't even tell you.

But let's talk about that whole scene, shall we? I feel like I could ramble on about it for quite some time, but I'll just say that seeing them throw the shield around like a damn football was so... funny? But also sweet? There's something here about men and how they communicate and how hard it can be to break down the walls and be vulnerable. They manage it because they frame it around a physical activity, with the shared symbol of complicated national loyalties bouncing around between them. Also, the shared symbol of their dead friend Steve. It opens up something between them, allowing Sam to give his "tough love" advice. Allowing Bucky to give a heartfelt apology. It's the stuff they never would have said to each other in that therapy session, but they can say it now, and that's beautiful. The best moment for me, and it was really subtle, was Bucky handing the shield to Sam, saying sorry. Then Sam continues to throw it against the trees and let it bounce back, and he does it specifically so Bucky can catch it again. So there's this almost ceremonial hand-off, and then Sam, magnanimous, lets Bucky know it's still a part of him too.

And Bucky talking about the shield as his family? Yes please. I love it so much. This scene really wrapped up Bucky's arc for me on this show, in a way I hadn't known to expect. Sam tells him that Steve is gone, and that it doesn't matter what Steve thought, or what he meant. Bucky needs to stop defining himself solely by other people. This doesn't mean the struggle is over. Bucky's got a long road ahead. But he understands that road now, and Sam helped him to find his way, which I think is just the loveliest thing.

Another thing about the way these men communicate, is that the apology was necessary, and it was good that it happened, but even before that apology, Bucky showed up and helped with the boat. He fished for an invite to stay, and Sam gave it without question. They joke about being "partners", no, "co-workers," "just two guys who had a mutual friend," but the fact is, they're a part of each other's lives, and they come through for each other. Even with lingering resentments.

I'll talk briefly about Zemo here before we get into the Sam stuff in this episode... I kind of love that he went gently with the Wakandans. It was so different from what I expected, and yet it also followed logically from everything we knew about him from Civil War. It felt like a natural button to his arc on this show. And him telling Bucky that there's no resentment on his end... I mean, on the one hand, I sure as fuck would hope not, given what Zemo tried to do to Bucky. But also that's the point, isn't it? Sam says as much during the tough love speech. Bucky needs to make amends by being of service, by giving closure to the people he hurt as the Winter Solider. Even if they were bad people. Even if they don't "deserve" it.

I still worry about the optics of Sam taking on the shield instead of retiring it permanently. But I was impressed by how far the show was willing to go in explaining the weight of that choice. Isaiah doesn't say some party line like "I love America but these were some bad people." He doesn't say "things were bad then but they're better now." No. He says the truth, which is that America did this to him. It wasn't one bad actor sneaking through an otherwise benevolent system. It was a corrosive, systemic issue that ruined his life, separated him from his loved ones, forced him to hide away and live as a dead man. And he's telling Sam that it's still like that. Oh, sure, things have changed. But not as much as they need to, and not in the ways that really count for a lot, a lot of people.

I respect that the show laid this out, didn't pull its punches in stating this reality. Sam is being positioned as perhaps naïve, overly optimistic, in still wanting to take that pain and make something good from it. Overly optimistic? Willing to jump into situations that are too big for any one man to manage, no matter what? Well, if there's a list of qualifiers for Captain America, I'd say Sam fits the bill just as much, if not more, than Steve did.

And we see that Sam has a community, a history, a deep connection to his sister and his nephews and all the people his parents knew back in the day. I'm a sucker for a good moment like the one we got with the boat, everyone turning up to help. And then Sarah saying that they can't sell it after all... it's just so moving. Sam's fighting the big fights and the small ones, and that makes him worthy of being an exemplar of human excellence. If he wants to fight that fight while holding the shield, I would trust him to try and turn the symbol into something worthy.

Briefly, I want to talk about Lemar. That scene where John went to his parents was really interesting, because it showed that opinions on these very serious issues are by no means shared universally. You've got Isaiah saying that no black man with any self respect would ever take up the shield. Then you've got Lemar's parents saying how proud their son was to be Captain America's partner. It's a lot more complicated than people want to make it. Things would be simpler if we all agreed that America sucks and its history and legacy is negative and racist and therefore let's burn the whole thing to the ground. But there are a lot of people, a lot of black Americans, who like being Americans, who are proud to serve their country. It's not an attitude I know how to understand, but pretending it doesn't exist isn't doing anyone any favors. I like that we saw this aspect of it, too.

A couple last tidbits, moments I really enjoyed.

- Bucky flirting with Sarah.

- Sam's nephews playing with the shield, Bucky waking up and smiling at the sight.

- The super relevant, super hard to hear scene at the end of all the government officials getting ready to round up refugees and march them back across borders... like, damn.

- Bucky forgetting he has a metal arm, but then later using it to save Sam some trouble on the boat.

This was a great episode. Do I have qualms about the arc of the series as a whole? Yes I do. I'll be very curious to see where everything lands in next week's finale. But in all, this one was a winner in my books.

9/10

[ezraeuropium]

SAINT BERNARD [𝙴𝙿𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙳𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 — ❝𝙷𝙰𝚆𝙺𝚂❞] (one-shot series)

ACCESS MASTERLIST [HERE] 

note before you read; this is basically a compilation series of one-shots that i’ll write. some requests will be from wattpad as well as here. there will be no one-shot that end up into two-shots, etc (those will be posted outside of this series). requests are open [0/10] slot are currently taken up (meaning there open), so feel free to request a character. i do have a list of prompts on my profile if you cannot think of any. i also write in second person / gender neutral reader to include everyone! enjoy!

word count: 2001 warnings: hawks commits cannibalism. 

[NAME] MARRIED AN IDIOT.

it became crystal clear as they stood on the street, watching their husband bounce up and down in undeniable excitement. the two were supposed to be patrolling through their assigned district, but hawks had become distracted by one thing — chicken nuggets. one of the men that lived in the area had a different meat every day of the week, and today had been chicken nugget day.

and hawks insisted to stop.

usually [NAME] avoided going on patrol with hawks. it proved to be distracting and a liability. however, this was the rare chance that they were ever assigned the same area as their husband — they could count how many times they patrolled with one hand.

"hawks," [NAME] stressed, their eyebrow twitching in slight annoyance. "we're supposed to be working!"

their husband turned to them with a playful pout, and a mischievous look dancing in his eyes. "oh, it's just a few minutes, sweetheart!"

"it's cannibalism," they retorted, crossing their arms over their chest. "you're eating a fellow bird, and people need help." one thing [NAME] was not going to do was fall into the man's charm. "or maybe the chickens need help since it seems that's all you seem to eat."

hawks grinned, "one, it's not cannibalism unless you make it cannibalism. two, you diet does not only consist of chicken— you're on it." the blond-haired man sent a went their way.

[NAME] tried not to gang. years ago, his ridiculous flirting might have worked on them, but now it was so common it was disgusting (even though sometimes hawks had his moments). now, however, was not a good moment for their husband to reference their sex life. any other time would have been fine, but they were on the clock, and [NAME] was ready to drag the man away from the shitty meat stand. hawks could get chicken nuggets from wacdonald's on the way back home.

"i'm making it cannibalism," they pushed once more. "come on. i'm tired and do not want to deal with your childish bullshit right now."

to anyone else, this might have seemed harsh. hawks had known [NAME] since middle school, however, and knew that they were a serious person, at least when it came to work. if work wasn't in the way, [NAME] easily reminded hawks of one particular yuuei student — kaminari denki. hawks knew that his lover was one of the biggest idiots he knew, maybe more so than himself. [NAME] had — somehow — managed to light a banana on fire during breakfast one morning, and claimed that it was magic (same person did not have a fire quirk). it was easy for hawks not to take most of what his lover said to heart. he was glad that they were at least serious about being a hero.

"go work then," hawks smiled, bumping his hip playfully against theirs. "you don't need to babysit me."

[EYE COLOR] eyes stared at hawks for a solid minute before a hum of acknowledgment left [NAME]. it was true, they didn't have to babysit hawks, but rather, they didn't want to leave him for their own well-being. having an offensive quirk was not something they were lucky to have. instead, [NAME] had a defensive quirk and they worked better when paired off with someone. the quirk was called hack. it allowed [NAME] to worm themselves into anything electronic. they could see every security camera in the city with the blink of their eyes, or rather, messing with the wavelengths that they could see in the air. bigger cities in japan always held a lot of wavelengths, and luckily for [NAME], they managed to successfully prevent having a headache with activating their quirk and seeing the instant flash of different color wavelengths. it did make them sick to the stomach after a while of activation.  

"don't get distracted," [NAME] reminded their husband. they leaned forward, giving the man a rare — for work — kiss on the cheek. hawks sent them a blistering white smile, and [NAME] could remember being weak for it when they were both scouted for personal hero educations. times had been hard then, especially when [NAME] started becoming interested in things that shouldn't have been important. romance was one thing they shouldn't have been focused on, and it wasn't. at least, not until they read some american woman's magazine and it sparked curiosity in their mind. it was a day of instant regret and resolution.

turning away from hawks, [NAME] made their way down the street, watching as the world around them moved in peace. peace was such a fragile word, especially when chaos could erupt at any second, or if one's mind wondered to what was happened else where in the world, then things were never at peace. the false ideology made them force a smile on their face, or at least while they were doing work. all might did things with a smile, so that was what [NAME] was going to do.

there was a small cry, and [NAME] turned their head to look for the sound. a frown was on staining their [SKIN COLOR] face, and they made their way towards the noise; the cries grew louder with every step. children were something that [NAME] did not specialize in, even if they dealt with children on a regular basis. children were so small and easy to damage, and the fear of seeing one hurt never sat well with them. so, seeing a small child sitting in the corner of a street, tucked in a ball with a pair of elegant white wings protecting them, made [NAME] worried.

walking up to the child, the pro-hero knelt down beside the kid. [NAME] put a soft, comforting smile on their face before they spoke up, careful not to scare the child. "hey, sweetie. i'm the pro-hero anon," they introduced. the child startled slightly, peaking her head out from the wings, staring at [NAME] with watery eyes. "do you know where your guardian is?" the hero pushed gently. [NAME] was careful not to say parents. there were several children who's parents have passed or abandoned them, and it was easier to use guardian as it didn't hold tight bonds, but enough so the child was in the care of another.

"nah. . . no," the smaller girl mumbled. "mama was with me, but. . . but now she's not!"

[NAME] gave a nodding of understanding. it was common for children to be separated from their guardians — sad to say. bigger cities meant bigger population, which caused a bit of discord on the streets that never seemed to stop moving. "well, how about we go find her? i'm sure she's looking for you too! you're her little angel after all, yeah?"

"mama calls me that! how'd you know!" the girl said, brightening up. [NAME] nearly laughed, amused. children were easily distracted, but the pro-hero was just glad to have the girl to stop crying. if there had been any more tears, well, [NAME] wouldn't have known what to do. as a child, [NAME] had been a bit of an overly sensitive child, but somehow, learning to care for others and their own tears was lost.

"it was a lucky guess!" really, it would have been a surprise if no one say the girl as a tiny angel. she had small wings that would grow as she did. her hair was in bouncy brown curls, and her eyes were glistening with a wet universe. the girl would breathtaking when she was older, and [NAME] wondered what greatness was in store for the small girl.

[NAME] opened up their arms for the girl to come to them. it would be easier to walk around holding the child, especially since the child would spot her mother easily if she was in [NAME]'s arms. the girl hesitated for a moment, and the pro-hero was about to put their arms down. they weren't going to make the child uncomfortable. [NAME] might have been a hero, but to the child, they were nothing but a stranger. however, the child had founder herself in the pro-hero's arms. carefully, [NAME] stood up, adjusting the tiny angel to their hip.

"can you see?"

"mhm! you're tall like mama!" so, the child's mom was tall, that helped a little bit. the woman would be around [NAME]'s height, if the child indicated a hint towards her mother's height, even if it was unintentional.

[NAME] looked through the crowd of people, before their gaze fell on the girl. "what does mama look like?"

the girl's nose scrunched up. "she's really, really pretty! she's got blond hair like a pom pom! and, and she had big black wings! mama said i got uncle's wings! they're big and white too!"

that. . . that made things a lot more easier than [NAME] thought. the large black wings helped clue her in. there weren't many people who had bird like quirks. [NAME] had only know hawks and tokoyami to have one, but that was personally. besides that, it was always people in passing, and there weren't a lot.

"wow, you're mama sounds amazing! just like you!" [NAME] cooed, their [EYE COLOR] orbs scanning the crowd. their teeth nibbled on their lower lip, before a small sequel escaped the child. "anon! anon! there's mama! she's with a man with wings, but their red! i want red wings!"

[NAME] turned around and snorted. there was a small panicked look on hawks face, but that was because the girl's mom look like since was in hysterics, which was not funny. they weaved their way through the people, [NAME] making sure to have a good grip on the girl.

"um, ma'am! is this your daughter?" the pro-hero exclaimed as they closed in on hawks and the woman. [NAME] didn't bother to take note of the to-go box in hawks hand, which was no doubt filled with chicken nuggets.

the woman let out a cry of relief. "yes! oh, adami, my little angel!"

the girl wiggled in [NAME]'s arms, and they didn't waste a moment by handing the child to her mother. the woman looked toward's name with a glossy eyed smile and thanked them. [NAME] simply waved it off, saying it was only natural that they'd help.

hawks watched the interaction for a moment before silently moving on with his lover. "i didn't know you were so good with kids."

[NAME] let out a laugh, rolling their eyes. they pulled their phone out checking the time. they had enough time to go clock out, even if hawks wasted part of this shift on chicken nuggets. "i'm not any good with them."

"so, you don't want any?"

there was a pregnant pause, and [NAME] looked at their husband. "do you?"

hawks gave a shrug, a small smile on his face. "i wouldn't mind one."

[NAME] frowned. there was one thing they couldn't do and that was produced a child. they were infertile and deleted all options of even having a child with their dna in it. "you know i can't, even if i wouldn't mind."

"[NAME]. . . we can always adopt, and it doesn't have to be now. it can be in a week, a year, or even a decade, or never. i'll stand by your choice."

their throat felt dry, and they reached to hold hawks hand. "keigo — I want to have a family, but — soon, i promise." hawks — no, keigo — leaned over and kissed his lover on the forehead, and [NAME] knew they had all the time in the world, and the ring on their finger was enough to prove that. if only keigo would stop eating his own species that is.

[thebachelordiaries]

Clare seeks HIMBO: ‘The Bachelorette’ cast first impressions

The Covid-19 pandemic has been rough for the entire world, but Bachelor Nation faced some dark days too. Going eight months without a single new episode from The Bachelor franchise is something I would really like to not relive.

Fortunately, those dark days are over. Clare’s season has me sucked back in. 

The quality of this image is atrocious.

Most of these men—presuming they followed CDC’s social distancing guidelines— haven’t seen a woman in months, are touch deprived, possibly unemployed and contemplating moving back to their hometown while stalking the housing market on Zillow. Everyone’s desperate. That makes for some pretty good TV.

This season features men ranging from ages 26 to 41. We’ve got a boy band manager, a grooming specialist, several men who look like they masturbate in front of full length mirrors and even more who probably want me to join their MLM pyramid scheme. 

I’ve never been more ready to roast a bunch of men who have nightmares about going bald. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since March.

Let’s go:

AJ, 28, Software sales

AJ is the kind of guy who writes “Looking for the Pam to my Jim <3″ on his Bumble profile. His bio is generic and probably not reflective of who he is as a person. If I were Clare I’d swipe left.

Ben, 29, Army ranger veteran

“Ben's favorite indulgence is an ice bath.“ Well then.

Alexa, play “Run” by AWOLNATION.

Bennett, 36, Wealth management consultant

Bennett’s profile is the biggest red flag I’ve ever seen. This man says he is the total package but hasn’t always been "this successful and good looking.” But wait, there’s more: “According to Bennett, his high school girlfriend is the only girl he's ever had to work for.“

Can someone tell me what NYC neighborhood he lives in so I can blacklist it?

Blake M1, 31, Male grooming specialist

Blake’s just another stereotypical “29th round draft pick who sat on the bench of the practice team before getting cut, but claims he left the sport due to an injury on his own accord.” 

Blake M2, 29, Wildlife manager

This Blake is an outdoorsy Canadian who seems pretty genuine and cool. Unfortunately, he has the face of someone who’d get sent home on night one. I hope I’m wrong.

Brandon, 28, Real Estate Agent

Just another boring hot person. Nothing to see here.

Brendan, 30, Commercial roofer

Brandan, not to be confused for Brandon, “loves some good true crime, working out and hanging out with his friends.” I can’t even make fun of this man. We have the exact same interests. 

Chasen, 31, IT account executive

The Winklevoss twins are actually triplets and Chasen is their long lost brother. But more seriously, have you ever seen someone who looks more like their name than this man?

Chris, 27, Landscape design salesman

“Chris hopes to find a woman who is sharp and witty but also easygoing.” Chris, sweetheart, have you met Clare? Easygoing...? There’s still time back out of this before it’s too late.

Dale, 31, Former pro football wide receiver

Dale aggressively screams “Bachelor material.” I’d say he’s auditioning for that role but Matt James already scooped it up. Better luck next year, Daley.

Demar, 26, Spin cycling instructor

Demar is a “very popular spin instructor in Scottsdale and says he can get on that bike and spin to any beat thrown his way.” Imagine how many trophy wives Demar has f*cked? 

Eazy, 29, Sports marketing agent

Eazy is very similar to Dale on paper. Except his name is Eazy so he automatically loses that battle.

Ed, 33, Health care salesman

“Ed is looking to find a woman who has natural beauty without looking overly fake.” Ed deserves to die alone.

Garin, 34, Professor of Journalism

Garin’s bio is giving me hubby material vibes. And maybe a little bit of a “gets eliminated on night one” vibe too.

Ivan, 28, Aeronautical Engineer

Ivan, what are you doing here? We’re in a recession. Please go back to your normal job before it’s too late. 

Jason, 31, Former pro football linemen

“He is a former NFL offensive lineman who, after suffering too many concussions on the field, decided to prioritize his health and change the direction of his life.” A big, brawny HIMBO with CTE? I feel like he’s Clare’s type.

Jay, 29, Fitness director

There are too many things about Jay that I dislike and I’m trying to keep this brief. Jay says “it's time to take a break from worrying about others and focus on himself instead.” I am willing to bet money that this man has never made a woman c*m.

Jeremy, 40, Banker

Jeremy is the oldest contestant ever to come on "The Bachelorette,” which may seem like a monuments accomplishment but he’s literally only one year older than Clare. 

He also “hates Instagram models, both male and female,” so he should have a lot of fun here.

Joe, 36, Anesthesiologist

Before I even saw his profession and location, I thought Joe looked like a doctor I’d find on a NYC dating app...and...uh...I probably did see him on there now that I think about it.

Anyway, this man has apparently been through seven stages of hell while on the front lines fighting Covid-19 in NYC so I definitely think he deserves to find love. Someone marry him please.

Jordan C, 26, Software account executive

I can already tell Jordan is going to get the “I’m young but mature” edit which means he’s probably not going to be good TV.

Too bad someone a tad younger (like Tayshia) wasn’t the Bachelorette. I feel like they’d make a cute couple.

Jordan M., 30, Cyber security engineer

I was going to say something mean but Jordan’s into cyber security and I don’t want my blog to be deactivated, so never mind. Cast photos are historically bad so I’m sure he looks much better in real life.

Kenny, 39, Boy band manager

I could go for the obvious drags regarding this man’s profession (or his sh*tty chest tattoo, or his suspiciously boyish face relative to his age), but I like to think I’m more clever than that. 

I’d like to take this time to talk about men, who are obviously difficult people, who rant and rave about how they want an “easygoing” woman. Look into the mirror, bud. No, not the one you use to jerk off to your reflection; the mirror that looks into your soul. Out of respect for the rest of humankind, have some self-awareness. Or maybe just see a therapist.

Mike, 38, Digital media advisor

Mike is seemingly a decent catch, but I can’t help but wonder why he’s still single or how he never (accidentally or on purpose) impregnated a woman in his 38 years of life. 

And now that I’m thinking about it, do any of these men have children? I have yet to see any mention of it in their bios. But there are eight men left to review, so there’s still time.

Page, 37, Chef

I spoke too soon. Page is a father! He also hates football! I’m a fan of this man. I was initially going to drag him for his name and say that Page is not a real name. PAIGE is a real name. PAGE is a piece of paper. I’m allowed to say this because we have the same name except mine is spelled the correct way. Based on my (mostly positive) review of his cast bio, I have decided not to hold his name against him.

Riley, 30, Long Island City

Riley, once married with children, would like to go on a family vacation that consists of touring every single MLB stadium in the country. If i were his wife, I would simply never give this man children.

Robby, 30, Insurance broker

No more Robbys on The Bachelorette. Society has evolved past its need for more Robbys.

This Robby described his dream woman as: “Incredibly athletic and able to throw back a few beers with him after a day of hiking. She has a sweet personality and won't mind that he spends his Sundays on the golf course.”

Someone please give this man a sex doll. He just wants a hole.

Tyler C., 27, Lawyer

“Tyler C. is a badass lawyer who says he is a businessman by day and a cowboy by night.” How does that make him a lawyer? Does this mean he’s into cosplay? I’m confused.

Tyler S., 36, Music manager

Tyler makes an honorable living off riding his brother’s dick success as a country singer. “He just LOVES his job!” Uh yeah, I would too if I had a low-show, high-paying job off the merits of nepotism. It’s the American dream.

Yosef, 30, Medical device salesman

Another dad! He’s totally going to pull the “girl dad” narrative. That saying is kind of sexist to me but the masses generally eat it up, so I’m fairly confident Yosef will get the "sweet guy” edit he’s looking for.

Zac C., 36, Addiction specialist

“He loves Philadelphia sports and dreams of sharing a Philly Cheesesteak with his future wife while watching the Eagles win a Super Bowl.” This man is so South Jersey it hurts. 

On a more serious note, I don’t think anyone in recent history has spoken openly about their personal struggle with addiction on this show, so I hope Zac gets a chance to tell his story. 

Zach J., 37, Cleaning service owner

Zach is seemingly obsessed with Clare already and hopes to introduce her to his mom as his fiancée. Since Zach watched Clare on Juan Pablo’s season, you’d think he’d know that Clare would first meet his mom during the final four hometown dates. Assuming he makes it that far. My prediction is that he won’t.

Final thoughts

After eight long months Bachelor Mondays are back!!!

Uhh....wait.

Actually, we now have the less-exciting Bachelor Tuesdays. Yeah, it definitely doesn’t have the same ring to it. But I’ll take anything at this point.

Here are my final predictions:

First impression rose: Dale. It just looks like he can turn on the bullsh*t charm

Final rose: Jason. Clare wants a HIMBO I just know it.

Bachelor: nobody (Matt James is The Bachelor)

Most likely to get engaged on Bachelor in Paradise: Blake M2

Most likely to get canceled online: Bennett

Most likely to get sent home night one but deserve better: Chris

Who are your favorite men cast on this season?

[apparitionism]

Run

This is a pointless AU, a little idea from elsewhere that’s in the process of turning into a story-esque thing, not a comedy or a drama as such, just a “here’s another way two people might find their way to each other” tale. Also I’ve never deployed a Giselle character, really, and I figured I might as well try. She’s not a bad guy, mind you, nor even an obstacle; the only obstacles, at base, are misunderstandings and circumstances. Conventional ones. They might accurately be called clichéd. Anyway, this is some kind of starting line. Bang. (That’s meant to be a starter’s pistol, by the way; don’t be getting any ideas.)

Run

At four in the morning, Myka Bering sat three steps from the bottom of the dark staircase in her apartment’s foyer and pushed her feet into new running shoes. They looked like nothing special: a standard navy blue faux leather, with their manufacturer’s stylized “Z” logo embossed in silver on the sides. The pristine white of both the slim soles and the no-tie laces pleased her, despite the fact that their just-out-of-the-box luster would of course start graying at the first exposure to the city.

Myka stood up in the shoes and bounced on her toes, her ritual commencement of every day’s run.

The instant her heels left the ground, she understood just how difficult her life was about to become.

For this decidedly unspecial-seeming shoe—the Deceit—represented the latest attempt by the Zelus athletic corporation to gain an insurmountable advantage in the sport of running.

Myka’s job was to stop them.

*

At her desk at work later that morning, Myka revised, for accuracy, her overly dramatic thought of the morning: a small part of her job was to help stop them. Her actual job was to co-direct certification and compliance for Athletics Authority International, the globe-spanning organization that governed running, jumping, and throwing events. The organization regularly dealt with issues of equipment inappropriately boosting performance; thus Deceits, understood one way—nondramatically—were just the latest technological challenge to the idea of a level playing field.

But based on her morning’s run, Myka did not think Deceits could be understood nondramatically.

“Did you try the Deceits yet?” she asked Pete Lattimer, her co-directing partner. They had taken to joking that in their area, he was the “athletics”—an Olympic-team-alternate decathlete—while she was the “international,” for she’d got her job based largely on her wide-ranging language fluency. Myka suspected that today, athletics aside, his answer would be “no”; they’d received the shipment of test shoes only a few days ago, and Pete was focusing more on language than sports lately anyway, Duolingo-ing his heart out in Spanish so as to one day be able to impress Kelly Hernandez, head of Latin American outreach, such that she would first agree to go to lunch with him and then, swayed partially by his language skills but mostly by his charm, acknowledge that they were destined to spend their lives together. Myka wasn’t at all sure Kelly was going to persuaded by Pete’s bilingual (or “bilingual”) flirting... though he was also concentrating heavily on vocabulary related to sandwiches, so he’d probably end up with at least a food-related happy ending.

“Nah,” he said, confirming her prediction about the shoes. “I’m guessing you must’ve, though. They as crazy as those trials records make ’em seem?”

“Crazier,” Myka said. “To me. But I want to know how they really feel. To a real athlete.”

“Somebody needs a real athlete? I see why Lattimer’s not up to it,” remarked a tall woman as she approached Myka’s desk. Myka looked up and smiled.

“Same goes for you, Giselle,” Pete said, but with cheer. “How’s communications?”

“Turn those children over my knee if I could,” Giselle replied, equally cheerful. “That’s where you can help: how’s your javelin these days?”

“Why don’t you just run away? I thought you were supposed to be fast or something.”

Giselle Wade was fast—Myka knew it, and she knew Pete knew it too. Giselle was a legend in East Texas, where she had shattered high school track records, particularly at the longer distances. She’d done the same to NCAA times, placing some out of reach for what would probably be generations. U.S. bests had fallen to her too, though worlds had been elusive... but she had some impressive Olympic hardware all the same.

“Outran you,” Giselle said, which was true; her 1500-meter times were faster than Pete’s had ever been.

They would have gone on for a while before they wound down, but their jabs gave Myka the opening she needed. “Speaking of running,” she said to Giselle, “did you try the Deceits?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And exactly what you think,” Giselle said. Before Myka could get her to clarify, she went on, “And this very morning I heard Zelus wants to push a version with spikes for sprinters.”

Myka objected, “But the thin soles!” Sole height was a major issue. The Deceit’s predecessor shoe, the Zelus Induct—which had also given runners a clear advantage—had been recognizable due to its oversized sole, packed with lightweight foam, that effectively lengthened a runner’s legs. The sole contained within the foam a carbon plate that acted as a spring, enabling a stride that used less leg energy and thus translated into distance runners having more kick over an entire race. AAI had rapidly banned that shoe, but the Deceit upped the ante because it somehow managed to do all the Induct’s dirty work, and apparently even more, in a standard-sized sole. Sprinters’ soles were basically flat, though, so how could the foam and plates fit? Not to mention: “Why would Zelus want to start a fight on another front?”

“Some other company rolls out skinny little cheat spikes first if Zelus doesn’t get on it? Old story about the toothpaste and the tube? You know.” Giselle shrugged. “All we can do is try to slow it down.”

“Ha!” Pete barked. “I see what you did there! Slow it down! Fast shoes!”

Giselle shook her head and murmured “that man” mostly to herself, but a little bit to Myka, who nodded in sympathy a commensurate little bit. Then Giselle said, “Thank sweet Jesus I don’t have to run in Deceits or against them. Glad I’m out of that part of it now.”

“I’m glad I was never in it,” Myka said.

“You know you got the discipline,” Giselle said. She’d told Myka this before.

It was a real compliment, but: “I don’t have the gift,” Myka responded, as she had in the past.

“Discipline counts. Makes up for a lot.”

“Those Deceits do too,” Myka said. “I barely even broke a sweat this morning.”

“That’s a shame.”

Myka offered a “huh?” expression, though she was pretty sure she knew what was coming.

“You, all hot and sweaty?” And Giselle sighed, a parody of infatuation. “Yes indeed...”

Myka rolled her eyes, and then they both laughed. It was a ritual: Giselle “flirted,” Myka “suffered,” they laughed.

*

Some months ago, not long after Giselle had been brought on board by AAI, she’d asked Myka out.

“I have a boyfriend,” Myka had said, because that was what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that.

“Well,” Giselle said. “Look at me, getting the wrong impression. Sorry, Myka. Guess we’ll keep it professional.”

Giselle tended to put a drag on the last word of every sentence, a vocal habit that kept a listener hanging: would she say more? It might or might not have been intentional, but it was effective, particularly when combined with her linger of a Texas drawl. Thus her “professional” came out “pro... fess... io... nal.” Myka half-expected her to follow up with “or not.”

“Well,” Myka said back, when it became apparent that no more was in fact forthcoming, “not totally professional. We can still get coffee, right?” Because she did like Giselle.

Ah, there it was: Giselle gave her a still-flirty head toss and said, “Not to make the same mistake twice, but I did ‘get coffee’ with a lady one time and it turned into three days in Monaco. So we’ll see...”

Myka rolled her eyes, but then she laughed, and Giselle did too: the start of the ritual.

That should have been that.

But an international athletic governing body was apparently like every other semi-hermetically sealed social environment: a school, a team, a lab. Things got around. Mere hours after that conversation—which, granted, had taken place in the 40th-floor elevator lobby, the transit funnel for every employee of AAI, which occupied the entirety of that skyscraper level—Pete had marched back into their area from lunch and confronted Myka with, “I heard Giselle asked you out.”

Myka had tried not to respond, because really, what was there to say?

He went on, “And I heard you told her you have a boyfriend, which is what you said way back in history when I asked you out.”

“History? That was less than two years ago.”

“Anyway, I heard she believed you. Just like I did.”

“That was the idea. With her and with you.”

“I still don’t see why you didn’t just say ‘Pete, I don’t want to go out with you.’ It would’ve been fine.”

“I’d barely met you. I had no idea if you’d be a decent guy about it.”

“But I am a decent guy. About everything! So it would’ve been fine.”

“But I didn’t know you were a decent guy.” She had barely started at AAI; all she’d known about Pete Lattimer was that he’d been a decent decathlete. And that was no help at all, for every new coworker she met was a former Olympian or member of some national team or at least a famous ex-coach. It all made her feel as if she had no business working for the organization in the first place. They should have said that “athletic” was a requirement... each successive introduction seemed to drum with more force into her that a law degree and several languages were nothing against a sub-four mile.

Given that insecurity, she hadn’t needed any additional inputs or variables, so when Pete had said, “We should get dinner after work sometime,” she’d said what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that. It had become a reflex because regardless of any other complicating circumstances—such as a new job where her body itself didn’t belong—it was easier. It was almost always easier than whatever might follow her saying anything else.

Pete said, “You didn’t know I was a decent guy, so you lied about having a boyfriend. And now you’ve lied about it again.”

She’d winced at the word “lied.” It was accurate, but she didn’t like it. Then you probably shouldn’t do it, her conscience told her. She told it to shut up. Then she told Pete, “I know that and you know that. Giselle doesn’t need to know that.”

“But you already like her better than you would’ve ever liked me.” At that, Myka started to protest, but he waved her off. “You know I mean because she’s a lady. Why didn’t you say you have a girlfriend?”

Speaking of what was easier: “boyfriend” was easier than “girlfriend.” It raised fewer questions, and it raised fewer... thoughts. And that was easier too.

It was supposed to raise fewer thoughts, anyway.

Fortunately, Pete hadn’t waited for an answer, or for Myka to start thinking any thoughts, instead moving on to what he clearly found most important: “And lady-wise, don’t you think she’s hot? I think she’s hot.”

Myka sighed. “Yes, I think she’s hot. In fact I know she’s hot. I have eyes.”

“So go out with her. She’s hot, you’re hot. Sizzle!”

“I just don’t want to.”

“Then why didn’t you go ahead and tell her that? Do you think she isn’t a decent guy?”

“Pretty sure she’s not a guy at all,” Myka had said, trying to joke him into just... stopping.

She didn’t want to get into the complicated conversation that would have ensued if she’d admitted to having genuinely, if fleetingly, regretted her reflex—because he certainly wasn’t wrong about Giselle being a woman, and he double-certainly wasn’t wrong about her looks. She was stunning; she’d had that wildly successful athletic career, then transitioned with seemingly no friction at all into modeling, at which she was even more wildly successful. Her legs were as long as the miles she used to run, and Myka was certainly, in that sense, human.

But Giselle had already developed a reputation at AAI, despite her brief tenure, for what could charitably be called a... short attention span. Maybe it was the inevitable result of her having been able to have just about anything—and anyone—she wanted, in not one but two elevated realms, or maybe it had always been Giselle’s personality as a romantic socializer, but while Myka had no trouble observing it from the outside, as a characteristic of her friend Giselle, she didn’t particularly want to be subjected to it. What if she slipped and overinvested? Exactly the kind of difficulty she didn’t need, regardless of any other complicating circumstances. Exactly the kind of difficulty she had never needed, and if she had slipped and fallen into it in the past? Well, that was the past, and she certainly didn’t need to revisit any part of that, much less repeat it.

These months later, however, some days Myka had a vague sense that a day should come when she should talk herself into telling Giselle she didn’t have a (nonexistent) boyfriend anymore. A day, that was to say, when she should ask for Giselle’s attention, if only for a short span. It seemed normal, human, to think that a short span of time, even if it led to a complicating slip and overinvestment, might—should?—be better than nothing, and so some days, Myka tried to want to talk herself into that.

But on different days, she’d think, definitively, I don’t want to. Because talking herself into it felt dishonest. Even if Giselle subscribed solely to Pete’s “she’s hot, you’re hot; sizzle” theory of the case, even if both of them might have enjoyed much of that short span of time: dishonest. Inauthentic. Deceitful.

“You’re not very good at having fun, are you?” Pete had asked her once, when she’d told him, in response to his sincere inquiry, that she had never actually dreamed of having Disneyland all to herself for a day. She’d agreed that no, she really wasn’t very good at having fun, and he’d said, “You need to get out more. Maybe not to Disney, but you need to get out more.”

You need to get out more. She’d laughed at him, because the most out she ever got, away from work, was for her 4am run. That, she could talk herself into without feeling dishonest at all. Far from it: she reveled in the discipline required for that strict self-persuasion every day, which was probably why she’d found that she could, ultimately, work well—reasonably well—with athletes. Athletics at its highest level was discipline, and Giselle and Pete and most of the others could see that Myka got that, even had that, as Giselle kept telling her.

But as Myka always told Giselle in return (not that Giselle needed telling), for real athletes, that discipline had to be kissed by the divine, and Myka had no access to such physical divinity. None at all. She was an exercise runner, lowest of the low in terms of athletic esteem. She knew because that was how the athletes said it, with a twist of pity: exercise runner. That was what she was, and she knew it.

Until she ran in the Deceits.

They were named, of course, for their unassuming look and for the illicit advantage they gave the world-class athletes. But for Myka-the-unesteemed, they were differently deceptive: they made her feel like A Runner. Giselle and her peers had been born with the kind of legs these shoes changed Myka’s into, springing from the ground with power, creating a feeling of “this is my body; this is what it can do, and if I push, still more,” and miraculously—deceptively—there was still more it could be pushed to do. Myka felt like her body before the Deceits had been Clark Kent, like it had been waiting for the chance to reveal that it wore the suit and had superpowers, like this had always been how she could run.

It wasn’t real. But it felt real.

So she understood why Deceits were breaking records—speed records now, but eventually, they would break sales records, too.

She also understood, very clearly, that they should be banned.

Even for exercise runners like her: deceiving oneself, Myka felt, was worse than deceiving others, regardless of whether they were fellow competitors or the outside world in general. Just as she didn’t want to talk herself into Giselle, she didn’t want to run every morning in those shoes. If she did, that self-deception would become a habit of mind, and Myka deep-knew that being clear-eyed about oneself was essential. A moral duty, her inner rector told her, and even though she would probably have been happier to not live her life quite that ramrod-straight (to, for example, be better at having fun), it had been her thought as she’d begun that first run in the Deceits. She’d kept on thinking it, throughout her entire route, as she devoured the miles with her newly athletic strides. Clear-eyed, mor-al, du-ty. Right-left, right-left, right-left.

*

Administratively, the world of athletics moved at a speed inverse to that of the track. The relatively “rapid” ban of the Deceit’s predecessor had taken six months to work out and implement, so it was no surprise that several weeks elapsed before AAI even scheduled negotiations with Zelus reps over the new shoes. They would be delicate, the negotiations, for Zelus money was essential to the sport. It was imperative not to make any penalties too prohibitive or too “insulting” to the company or its affiliates. Could already-ratified world records set in Deceits be voided? Would that lead to Zelus-sponsored athletes boycotting competitions? Could Deceits be banned? Would that be at all enforceable?

Myka knew that Dan Badger, the president and CEO of AAI, would be scrutinizing everything she and Pete and their team proposed. Newly appointed to show that AAI was turning a regulatory corner, he had made clear that his watchword was “integrity,” and that applied not only to the sport as a whole, but to every athlete who participated in it, every piece of equipment they touched, every employee under his purview, every official action they took. Unofficial actions, too: there was, as far as Myka could tell, no ethical give in Badger’s worldview. Where prior heads might have made a handshake deal of some sort with Zelus’s own CEO with regard to the Deceits—and Myka suspected something along those lines had occurred for the Inducts, most likely involving a wink-nod to the already-in-the-pipelines Deceits—Badger would have considered the mere suggestion of such a thing a personal affront.

“Why doesn’t Badge like you more?” Pete once asked Myka. “You’re exactly like him.” Myka wasn’t, in fact, exactly like him, for Badger was an athlete’s athlete, a hurdling champion from a decades-ago golden age of British track and field. That gilded aura was a carapace around him, deflecting whatever might have been directed his way from beings he considered lesser, including nonathletes like Myka. It wasn’t actively insulting or cruel, just... clear. The athletes called him “Badge,” among themselves and to his face, while Myka had the sense that if she uttered that collegial syllable, no one, and certainly not the man himself, would even perceive that any sound had escaped her lips.

Pete wasn’t entirely wrong, though; Myka had enough consonance with Badger that she couldn’t quite bring herself to resent him. His absolutely unimpeachable reputation was supplemented by the fact that he looked exactly as an athletic lion of his age and era should: face appropriately tanned for health and creased for character, hair silver and full, height calibrated as if to the millimeter to be imposing but not incongruous. He was the ideal figurehead for an organization that wanted to burnish its standing as a virtuous guardian of all that was competitively good in athletics.

In the end, Myka’s own inclinations aligned with her need to fulfill Badger’s expectations, yet neither she nor he could change the underlying economics of the sport. She might have been moved, under other circumstances, to restore her single-run-sullied Deceits to their silver Zelus box and push that box to the back of her closet, but instead she spent an inordinate amount of time looking at them. Was there any way at all to tell, just by looking, that they could do what they did?

Enforcement was a matter of measurement and testing, but these shoes were a drug for which no test existed. AAI had hired a group of materials engineers to take them apart, so Myka now knew how they did what they did: even newer foam, plus two carbon plates, set at angles to each other. They really might as well have been springs—invisible to the outside-shoe naked eye, but springs all the same.

AAI could nominally ban double-plate soles, but it couldn’t possibly dismantle every Zelus runner’s footwear at every event to ensure that the ban was being respected. Myka saw no way out other than to ban Zelus shoes across the board (for she’d been thinking, too, of what Giselle had said about spikes), but that brought her back to financial impossibility. And around she went again. And again. And again.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the rest of athletics administration proceeded without heed for Deceits, no matter how long Myka stared at them, no matter how many negotiating scenarios she tried, unfruitfully, to game out. Meets and championships and trials all continued, requiring level upon level of authorization and accompanying paperwork...

One morning, Myka was concentrating, squint-eyed, on a spreadsheet when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Pete,” she began, still squinting at her screen, “I told you if I don’t approve the new certification tables for posting this morning—”

“I’m so sorry,” said an English-accented female voice, “but I’m not Pete. And I seem to be lost.”

Myka looked up. No, you’re not, was her first thought, which resolved into: You’re not Pete, and you’re not lost. You belong right here.

TBC

*

A few notes, just because:

I made up the governing body; it’s intended to be vaguely like the real organization World Athletics (formerly IAAF), which determines what’s allowable in track and field competition, but I’m not trying to replicate its structure at all. Further, the actual organization maintains that it doesn’t consult with shoe companies before making regulatory decisions... whether you believe that claim is of course entirely up to you.

Two passages from Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents are in some sense guiding my thinking here (because I’m like that). The first is this: “Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs he is truly magnificent; but these organs have not grown on to him and they still give him much trouble at times.” He’s talking about cars and eyeglasses and such things, but obviously the idea is applicable to athletic tech. An idea from a little earlier in the book seems relevant as well: “What we call happiness in the strictest sense comes from the (preferably sudden) satisfaction of needs which have been dammed up to a high degree, and it is from its nature only possible as an episodic phenomenon.” Right? We’ll see about that latter part though, Dr. Freud.

Finally, as that rude anon suggested some months ago, I’m obviously speaking to a community that’s mostly inactive now. But I’m a keeper of faith: one of the things I do best is wait. So one point of this story is that it exists. I’m waiting. C’mon and wait with me, if you like.

[dickshardblog]

For Russia With Love: The Tara Reade Story?

There are three women I know of now whose name is pronounced Tar-uh Reed. Tara Reid is an actress who starred in the Sharknado franchise. Tara Reed is an artist and designer. She designed my favorite coffee mug.  And now I've learned that there is a Tara Reade, who used to work for Joe Biden.

When I heard about the allegation that Tara Reade made against Joe Biden, I was deeply disturbed. Were Biden's hands on shoulders, close-ear talking, hair petting, and hugs something more than just an overly-affectionate guy with boundary issues and a lack of understanding of personal space? It had always looked uncomfortable, but innocent, to me. And, if it's innocent, I find it strangely endearing, despite the fact that I don't personally like to be touched by strangers.

He's not just overly familiar with females. For every picture of Joe Biden petting a little girl's hair, there's another of him with his arms around a man, gazing into his eyes, or practically kissing his ear. I could do a Google image search and come up with some pretty compelling visual evidence that Joe Biden is in love with several men. He's not. At least, I don't believe so. Some people are huggers. And Joe Biden is a hugger extraordinaire.

I think the world no longer tolerates that, but I also think it is both innocent and changeable behavior. Unlike Trump, Biden does have some sense of self-awareness, can listen to criticism, and make changes.

I'll be honest:  I really don't want the allegations to be true. I do have that bias, and I will freely admit it. I always have that bias. No matter who it is. Like any regular person, I don't want sexual assault to happen. I would hope we all have that bias. I hope that none of us would wish a woman had been sexually assaulted so we could have some ammunition against a political opponent. But I know better. There are plenty of people who really hope Biden did exactly what Reade says he did. And we all know it does happen, of course.

Tara Reade's story, when I first heard it, sounded credible. In a public, yet deserted hallway, Biden pinned her to a wall, groped her, kissed on her, and asked if she wanted to go somewhere else. When she reacted negatively, he said, "Come on, Man, I heard you liked me." Shit. That sounds like Joe Biden, I can hear him saying that. So, it sounds bad. I agree that we should listen to women. We should take them seriously. We should look into their allegations and dig until we find the truth. I let other people do the investigative journalism. I found their articles, checked their sources and compiled a pretty decent collection of truths that form a pretty cohesive picture.

Here's the truth that I have found:

In 2009, Reade wrote an article commending Biden's work on the Violence Against Women act. The same year, she wrote another article claiming that she'd left DC because her husband had received a job offer to manage a Congressman's campaign in the Midwest, and she'd moved with him.

From late 2016 to early 2017, she had a Twitter account using her newly married name, Tara McCabe.  She used this platform to praise Biden on multiple occasions.  She retweeted him saying, "My old boss speaks truth. Listen." This Twitter account also featured a lot of anti-Russia, anti-Putin sentiment.

Then, in 2018, she writes in an Op Ed for Medium which praises Russia and Putin, that she left Washington because she "saw the reckless imperialism of America and the pain it caused through out the world," and because she loved Russia with all her heart. In this article she describes Putin as a "compassionate, caring, visionary leader."

She wrote several pro-Russia, pro-Putin articles during this time, gushing over him, saying, "President Putin has an alluring combination of strength with gentleness. His sensuous image projects his love for life, the embodiment of grace while facing adversity. It is evident that he loves his country, his people and his job … President Putin’s obvious reverence for women, children and animals, and his ability with sports is intoxicating to American women … And like most women across the world, I like President Putin… a lot, his shirt on or shirt off.”

Then in 2019, she's all in for Bernie Sanders. She wrote another article, with yet a different reason for leaving, this one with the harassment allegation attached. "Then, I went to Senate personnel for help. No one helped me. I resigned or I would say, I was forced to resign."  The report she says she filed doesn't seem to exist.

When she started attacking Biden publicly, she also resumed denouncing Putin. Putin was bad again. When the media dug up her old articles praising Putin, she deleted them. Too late, of course. They can no longer be found where they were originally published, but copies were made. She now claims they were part of a novel she was writing that was set in Russia. They were clearly op-eds, not notes for a novel. No novelist I know of publishes their novel notes as op-eds while they're working on the book.

There are a whole lot of other inconsistencies, people she says she told about the incident denying any knowledge, her brother pointedly changing his story, an old neighbor of hers coming forward to say she wouldn't trust a word Reade says, and countless other glowing red flags.  But this blog is already so very long, and I haven't even gotten to the meat of what I want to talk about yet. This has all just been background, the evidence I followed to form my theory of what is going on with this. And I want to get it down before I read it somewhere else.

I've got a theory! It could be Russia!

Okay, hear me out. Here's what I think might have happened:

Sometime in late 2017 or early 2018, Reade somehow becomes involved in communications with Russia, a political operative, maybe even someone in the government. Hell, perhaps even Putin himself, a highly unlikely prospect, of course. But not outside the realm of possibility. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that Putin maintains a stash of burner phones and carries on flirtatiously with American Women in his spare time. It's the stuff of spy novels, sure. Yeah, it's far-fetched, but allow me my fantastic imaginings. I am a fiction writer, after all.

But a Russian political operative of some kind becomes romantically involved long-distance with Reade. Of course it's not a real relationship, not on the Russian side. They are just using American citizens as sleeper agents they can prompt to stir up shit when it would cause the most damage.

Reade is manipulated to turn against Joe Biden and encouraged to back Bernie Sanders. Now, an aside at this point. I like Bernie. I would vote for Bernie, I'd love to see him as President. I don't believe that Bernie Sanders or his campaign are involved in any collusion with the Russian government in any way, and both he and his campaign openly discourage Russian meddling. None-the-less, there still exists evidence that Russia has interfered in ways favorable to Sanders and his campaign. Russia doesn't want Bernie Sanders as President, but some of Sanders more rabid supporters are very easily influenced by carefully placed fake news stories and are extremely useful at stirring up political infighting on the left. Alright, back to my theory.

At this time, she's also advised to stop praising Russia, so as not to raise any suspicion. And, finally, to drop that allegation bomb on Joe Biden right when it would do the most damage. Hopefully to allow Bernie Sanders to overtake Biden for the nomination, but, failing that, at least send Joe limping into the General.

Yes. In a nutshell, I think the Tara Reade allegation is simply more Russian meddling of the same sort that has been going on all along. I think, in some form or another, she is a Russian agent. Maybe there is no spy novel romance going on. Perhaps she's just being paid. But this whole thing stinks of Russia, and Russia's fingerprints are all over it.

But, hey, what do I know? I'm just a fiction author with a good imagination

[taehyungiestummy]

Stuck -- Chapter Eight

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Word Count: 3855

           “Jagi, you’ve had a long day,” Taehyung walks out of the bathroom. “You are tired, so snuggle with me.”

           I sigh, finishing the Hangul symbol for flower. “I’m not that tired. The train ride with our Korean lesson, and being home has energized me. Just let me practice my Hangul a little longer. “

           “But I want to cuddle now,” he pouts, climbing into bed. “Haipeo and Keyowo are both sleeping, so I can’t snuggle them.”

           I shake my head, placing my notebook and pencil on the bedside table. “Why are you like this?” I scoot over to the middle of the bed where Taehyung is waiting.

           “Because I love my cute girlfriend,” he presses our lips together. “Those Kakao Friends pajamas look so good on you.”

           “In a cute or sexy way?” I smile, wrapping my arms around my boyfriend.

           “Well, the shorts are super sexy,” he smirks, place his large hands on my butt. “The oversized t-shirt makes you look super cute.”

           “You are such a tease,” I stick my tongue out at him.

           He squeezes my butt, “I know. Doesn’t it make you want me even more?”

           “I always want you,” I feel the heat lightly spread across my cheeks. “That was way too forward.”

           “Be more forward. I like it. You know, I always want you.”

           “Tae!” I squeal, looking down so I don’t have to look him in the eye. “You are such a pervert sometimes.”

           “Is it such a bad thing to want my girlfriend that I love so much?”

           “No, its just embarrassing for me. Even though we are alone in our home.”

           “One day,” he tilts my head up with his index finger so our eyes lock. “What do you want to talk about then?”

           “I want to properly thank you for what happened earlier. I needed you, and you showed up right at the perfect time. You also said all the right things. Thank you.”

           “You’re welcome, princess,” he kisses my forehead. “That’s what I’m here for. To calm you down, and make you feel better.”

           “You did that and more,” I scoot a bit closer. “I worried so much after what the doctor told me. It’s not a secret that you want quite a few kids, and that family means a lot to you. That you love your family a whole bunch. The problem with my reproductive area is not my choice, but I felt so guilty.”

           “There’s no reason to be. We will have children of our own. I just know we will. How many is up to the man upstairs.”

           I slightly smile, resting my head on his chest. “Are you religious, Tae?”

           “Hm? Oh, a tad. I’m not a devoted person, and I wouldn’t say that I am perfect in that area by any stretch. But I do believe in a person up there.”

           “I’ve studied the bible a couple of summers during middle school. There’s a lot to take in, but I believe it all the same. I wouldn’t call myself perfect either, but we don’t have to be. We just have to try and be the best person that we can be.”

           “Look at us learning more about one another with the smallest of talk.”

           I let my eyelids fall shut, “That is why pillow talk is good.”

           “We have dance practice early tomorrow,” he moves his hand up off my butt to land on my back. “Shouldn’t we get to sleep so we can rest up?”

           “Just a few more minutes. I like to talk to you, and your voice is soothing.”

           “Anything else on your mind that you want to talk about?”

           “I guess I’ll thank you for teaching me Hangul today. It’s going to be hard learning all the symbols, but I am eager to learn. Emily and I studied the speaking part, and just kept learning from what we heard. I never thought I would need to know how to write.”

           “I wondered. It makes sense that you would just focus on learning how to speak. That is all that you thought you would need to know.”

           “Well, I never imagined I’d meet you, end up falling madly in love, and want to live the rest of my life over here. It didn’t seem necessary.”

           “Nothing wrong with that. I’m overjoyed that I get to teach you. We will have the best of times, and then one day you will be a pro.”

           “Yoongi-oppa said he would give me a few lessons,” I can’t keep the yawn that forces its way out of my lungs in.

           “I’m sure he will,” Taehyung gives me a squeezes. “He keeps his promise. He is true to his word.”

           “Oppa?” I feel myself quickly approaching sleep.

           “Yes princess?”

           “I love you. A lot. You came into my life at just the right time. There’s no other place I would rather be right now. I will always be by your side.”

           “I love you just as much. Not a single drop less. Maybe even more. I’m glad we met when we did. It was perfect. Now, we will never be apart.”

********

           “You are a very interesting individual, Amber,” Mr. Son says from his seat at the end of the practice room.

           “And why is that, Mr. Son?” I smile as I practice the body roll a few more times.

           “Well, you are a petite girl, making you overly cute. That’s just how it works. You still have a young face, and find joy in many things. Like a big kid. Yet, as you do this first part of the dance, you come off as quite mature. Some may even say sexy. Which is the point that we are going for, but it seems quite juxtaposed.”

           “I’m like an actress,” I grin, turning to face the man. “Dancing lets me take on a different persona if I so choose. It’s not too weird though, is it? I don’t look unnatural, do I?”

           “No, not at all. If something felt off, even by a little, I would change the move in an instant. You have surprised me a fair bit, though. Advanced moves mastered quicker than the average. Moves that seem too sexy, but you handle it so well. You are a natural, really.”

           “We will have to see if I can keep it together when I perform for the boys. I am anxious to see how they will respond to the beginning. It is very unlike me.”

           “That’s the only part like it. After that, you go back to your cute goofy self. I expect you to be all smiles at that point. Laugh when you want. Usually my routines are made so the person can sing while dancing. You, you will just have to laugh to make up for that part lacking.”

           I giggle, “I’ll do that.”

           “Now, before we continue your personal dance, I need to teach you the moves for ‘Fire.’ That is part of your job.”

           “Yes, of course,” I nod. “It’ll be fun dancing behind the boys. Good thing the outfits hide our faces, and out bodies all look the same.”

           “Why would it matter? You are public with Taehyung, so there’s nothing to worry about there.”

           “I just don’t want people to think I got a job here because of my relationship with Tae,” I sigh. “I’ve worked had to prove hiring me was a good idea. I have only been back less than a month, but I feel so welcomed and at home.”

           “Then let’s see how fast you can learn these moves,” Mr. Son smirks.

           “Sorry to interrupt,” Taehyung’s voice makes me spin on my heels to see him standing in the doorway. “But, I brought lunch,” he lifts up two lunch boxes. One with Hello Kitty, and another with Tube form Kakao Friends. “If it’s not too much trouble, can my lovely girlfriend and I eat?”

           “Is it really lunch time already?” I adjust my BTS hoodie.

           “It is,” Taehyung grins, nodding at me.

           “You need to eat, Amber,” Mr. Son walks over to the door where Taehyung is. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes.” He pats Taehyung on the shoulder, causing the boy to step in so the man can head out.

           “I completely forgot that you made us lunch this morning,” I smile as I lower myself to a sitting position.

           “That means you’ve been working hard and focusing on getting better,” Taehyung sits down across from me. “Good thing I came over or else you might have skipped this meal.”

           “Maybe,” I slide the Hello Kitty lunchbox over to myself. “Man, I feel super hungry now.”

           “I hope you like what I made,” he sheepishly smiles.

           I open my lunchbox, peering inside to see my choices. “Oh, Tae, this is wonderful.” I pull out a ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, and a fruit punch.

           “Really?” He shoves noodles into his mouth with his chopsticks.

           “Yes, really. It’s simple, sure, but I love it,” I crack open my fruit punch. Then I unwrap my sandwich, taking a quick bite. “I am an American, and this is what I grew up eating. I knew you listened.”

           “Of course,” he lowers his water. “Every little fact you tell me goes straight to the memory bank. No worries.”

           I giggle, “So you say.”

           “Jagiya,” he pouts. “Such a harsh girl.”

           “Sarcastic is the word.”

           “How has your day been?”

           I open my bag of chips, popping a few into my mouth before I answer. “Great. Tough, but very fun. I’ve learned some moves that will shock you. Also some really fun moves that took a bit to master.”

           “Can you give me a sneak peek?” He smirks.

           “Of course I fucking can’t,” I chuckle. “That defeats the whole purpose.”

           “Fair enough,” he shrugs, chugging form his water bottle. “I’m glad you are just down the hall from us. Means I don’t have to worry, but that doesn’t mean I stop thinking about you.”

           “You’re always on my mind too, Tae,” I feel a warmness spread across my cheeks as I shyly smile. “I mean, I’m dancing to BTS songs, so that’s a little bit why.”

           “What songs did you pick?”

           “Nope, I’m not giving that away either. You are too curious boy.”

           “Worth a shot,” he flashes me a grin.

           The two of us continue with the small talk as we eat. Not much coming up other than the fact that we need to pack tonight. It’ll be interesting to live out of a suitcase. The places we will go on our journey makes me so excited.

           “Thank you so much oppa for the lunch,” I take the last sip of my fruit punch, placing the empty can into the lunchbox.

           “You’re welcome princess,” Taehyung pushes the lunchboxes to the side, crawling right up to me. “You know, we still have, fifteen minutes before Mr. Son come back.”

           “What, what are you thinking?”

           ���You repeat words when you get nervous or excited. No reason to be nervous baby.” He gives me a quick kiss. “All I want to do is kiss you. Is that okay?”

           “Yes, it’s okay,” I whisper.

           Taehyung cups my face in his hands, gently lying me down on the hardwood floor as he connects our lips. Not holding back as he slips his tongue over to my mouth.

           Butterflies swarm in my stomach. No matter how many times we kiss like this, I still get jitters.

           He grabs my bottom lip between his teeth, gently tugging it before letting it go. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. You should do it to me next time,” he places his hands on the floor next to my face.

           I run a hand through his back-to-natural brown hair, feeling my bottom lip swelling from the harsh kiss and lip biting. “I’m excited for all the new things I will get to try with you.”

           He kisses my nose, “Should I try another new thing right now?” His left hand makes its way to my bare thigh. “Off track, but it makes me so happy to see you wearing shorts like this. I love your thighs,” he winks, biting his lip for a second.

           “Taehyung!” I squeal as he chuckles. “Get your mind of out he gutter.”

           “Gutter?” He moves his nose across mine, causing my head to wiggle back and forth. “I’m just stating facts.”

           “You are being dirty minded,” I push his face away with my index finger to his forehead. “Facts or not, we are at work. We need to keep it together.”

           “It’s hard when you are so beautiful,” he leans back in so our lips brush against one another as he talks.

           I don’t get the chance to respond as Taehyung pushes his lips against mine.

           The door opening to the practice room makes a noticeable noise, but Taehyung’s too strong to push away to see who has entered.

           “Oh my god, get a room,” Yoongi’s voice fills my ears. “Or at least lock the fucking door.”

           Taehyung pulls away, licking his lips to remove the saliva while he runs a thumb over my lips. “Whoops, forgot the others might want to come in and visit you.”

           I lean to the side so I can see Yoongi leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Hi Yoongi-oppa,” I awkwardly wave.

           “Hello little one,” he looks down at me, smiling for a brief second. “How are you?”

           “Good, good,” I swat Taehyung’s hand off my thigh.

           “Do you need something, hyung?” Taehyung asks, slightly annoyed.

           “I just wanted to talk to little one for a moment,” Yoongi replies. “Make sure she is still up for dinner one night when we are traveling.”

           “You want to take her out on a date?” Taehyung runs a finger through my hair starting at my temple.

           “Tae, stop,” I roll my eyes. “Just tell me when, brother, and we will go out. Have some fun as siblings do.”

           “I look forward to it,” Yoongi smiles at me, sending a wink my way before his face relaxes. “And to answer you question, Taehyung, it is not a date. The two of us just want some time to talk, and she’s my fucking sister.”

           “Sorry,” Taehyung moves over so he’s no longer hovering over me. “It’s cute how close you two are.”

           “Gah,” I groan, feeling my cheeks heating up. To avoid teasing, I cover my face with my hands.

           “Before I leave, to let you two go back to whatever it is you were getting to. Amber, where are your glasses?” Yoongi sternly asks.

           “Um,” I spread my fingers to see Taehyung sitting beside me, his teasing expression on his face. His eyebrows raised and a tight-lipped smirk on his lips.

           “Yeah princess,” Taehyung teases. “Where are your glasses?”

           “Oh, my, my glasses. H, let’s see. Are they really not on my face?” I nervously chuckle.

           “You are so forgetful,” Yoongi chuckles.

           “Actually, I’m afraid they’ll fly off as I dance,” I sigh.

           Taehyung pulls a hand off my face, “That’s overly cute. You can be so goofy at times.”

           I turn my face away from my boyfriend. “Can you two just go, please? So I can stop being embarrassed and get back to dancing.”

********

           “This is a seating arrangement that has never happened before,” I smile, looking to the left at Jimin and then to the right at Jungkook.

           “Can one of you please switch me seats so I can sit next to my girlfriend?” Taehyung turns around in his seat to look back at us.

           “You spend every single day with her,” Jimin grabs my hand. “It’s only fair that we get time on the plane with cutie.”

           “You’ll be sharing hotel rooms, and will never leave each other’s side,” Jungkook grabs my other hand. “Hyung, she’s our friend too.”

           I chuckle as Taehyung pouts. “Babe, it’s not like you are far away. You are sitting right in front of me.”

           “You are not allowed to rest your head on either of these idiots’ shoulder when you take a nap,” Taehyung reaches his hand out to tap my nose.

           “Who says I am going to fall asleep, hm?” I raise my eyebrows and grin with mainly the right side of my mouth.

           “I do,” Yoongi speaks up from right in front of me.

           A pour replaces my lips. “I thought you were already, Yoongi.”

           “The plane just got into the air, and I have things to do.”

           “Like what?” I wiggle my fingers so Jungkook and Jimin will let go of my hands.

           “Song writing, coloring, keeping an ear on you, not killing Taehyung. Simple things for a while.”

           “Turn around Tae,” Hoseok taps the younger boy on the shoulder.

           “Fine, hyung,” Taehyung sighs. “I love you, jagi.”

           I tenderly smile, “I love you too, Tae babe.”

           “Tae babe?” Jimin shakes his head.

           Taehyung rolls his eyes before turning back around in his seat.

           “Don’t make fun of him, Chim-Chim,” I giggle. “It’s like kicking a puppy.”

           “Thanks again for letting me take care of your dogs the other day,” Jungkook unzips his black jacket to show a white shirt underneath. “They were well behave and fun to play with. You have to let me come over more.”

           “Me too,” Jimin pokes my cheek. “You have yet to have a house warming party.”

           I chuckle, “That’s true. We’ve all been so busy. I’ll plan something for when we go back home. You all deserve to come over to see Tae and mines lovely home. But, any of you are welcome to come over whenever you want. We might even give you keys, like in Friends. The TV show, if you didn’t know.”

           “I think not,” Taehyung speaks up.

           “Oh, Tae,” I push my glasses up my nose. “They’re our friends. Plus, they are all mature enough to know when and when not to come over.”

           “I don’t think so,” he grumbles.

           “Just makes us text every time before we come over,” Yoongi suggests.

           “Actually, that’s a perfect idea,” I widely smile. “Good thinking, oppa.”

           “Us Mins have brains.”

           “But one is cuter than the other,” Jungkook puts his arm around my shoulder.

           “I can’t believe the couples dressed alike,” Hoseok laughs. “Cute, but also cringe worthy.”

           I giggle, “Everyone looks great. Can we all agree to that?”

           “Amber is the adorable girl no matter what,” Jungkook squeezes my shoulder. In addition to his black Puma jacket and white t-shirt, he was on black silky pants, black and white tennis shoes, and a black face mask that has been removed.

           “I agree with that,” Jimin smiles, nodding a few times. He’s wearing a baggy white t-shirt, black shorts, black tennis shoes, a long silver necklace, and black thick-rimmed faux glasses.

           “Kid has some good fashion sense,” Hoseok says. “Amber, you could be a model.” The extra boy is wearing a black and red striped shirt, jean vest, black shorts, a log necklace with an arrowhead on it, black and red tennis shoe-like sandals, and a white face mask now removed.

           “I don’t think little one wants to be that public,” Yoongi comments before I can shut down the model idea. “Plus, she’s busy with dancing as it is. Not to forget, she’s learning Hangul.” My brother is wearing a white t-shirt, black skinny jeans, a black baseball cap with rings on the right side of the bill, and black low tops.

           “My princess is the most beautiful girl in the world in the world,” Taehyung turns around for a few seconds. “She’s a model for me, and sometimes for the rest of you.” My lovely boyfriend is dressed for the runway and not a forever long plane ride. He’s wearing a plaid shirt with the base color a dark blue and the lines a pinkish-purple. His black pants make his legs look amazing, and his black dress shoes with red socks complete the look. He has taken off his black face mask, as well as his glasses. He may not like the face that he needs glasses, but I love the open bottom, black rimmed top pair that he picked out.

           “Well, you are the most handsome man I have ever seen,” I smile, messing with my tiny bun. “And you ended up with me.” My outfit is a more feminine version of my boyfriend’s. I’m wearing a plaid shirt as well, but the base color light blue with yellow lines. Instead of pants, I have on a black skirt with black leggings. Then my shoes are my favorite pair of light blue high-top Converse. My black face mask has a dog face on it.

           “Please don’t get all lovey right now,” Jimin gently shoves me. “Save that for when you two are alone.”

           I embarrassingly smile, looking across the aisle at Namjoon, Seokjin, and Emily. The three talking away, but I can’t hear a word they are saying.

           Seokjin is wearing a red and white striped shirt with a baggy white t-shirt over it. His black skinny jeans have holes at the knees and mid-thigh, and his long necklace has a cross and crescent. He has black sneaker like shoes, a black baseball cap, and sunglasses on.

           Namjoon has a black t-shirt and jeans with a black belt on. He has black high-top Converse covering his feet. A black baseball cap is on his head, and sunglasses cover his eyes. He also has a blue brace to keep his injured thumb stable, since it’s been hurting recently.

           My best friend is dressed up similarly to her boyfriend. She’s wearing a black tank-top with a black jacket over top, and jean shorts with a black belt. She decided on black slip-ons with black socks up to her knees. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail.

           “Hey Tae,” Jimin pulls me back to the group that I’m with.

           “Yes?” Taehyung replies.

           “Why do both you and Amber have bandages on your hand? And why do you have a healing patch on your neck?”

           “Our dogs got a little rough,” Taehyung answers. “That lead to some scratches, but nothing serious. The patch, you can ask my jagi about that,” he chuckles.

           My cheeks are flaming in an instant, and I snatch up my backpack to try and get out of answering the question.

           “Oh, is this girl not so innocent?” Jungkook holds my backpack closed.

           “Did you give Taehyungie a hickey?” Jimin leans into me.

           “I forgot we were leaving,” I stutter out. “He wanted me to.” I pry Jungkook’s hand off my backpack pulling a book out.

           “Worth it, jagiya,” Taehyung has a smile in his voice. “You’ve done it before. Just showing our love for one another.”

           “Let me read my book, please,” I return my backpack to under my seat. “I’m not talking about this anymore. If you really want to know, ask Tae when I’m no around.”

           “Anger like Yoongi,” Hoseok chuckles.

           “She’s truly my little sister,” Yoongi speaks up. “Doesn’t take shit form anyone. Keep it that way, little one.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you enjoyed reading! This is a bit longer than normal because two scenes was too short. :D

[barbariccia]

Shepard: I can’t believe it’s you, Joker.

Joker: Look who’s talking. I saw you get spaced.

joker’s walking by himself, if a little slowly, a testament to however he’s grown and changed in the last couple years, where before he had to be real careful just to get up to take a piss. and he seems to know his way around - hell, he’s wearing the same colours as miranda and jacob, replete with the cerberus logo on either shoulder, and a brand new hat. so what gives?

the normandy sr-2 was, like shepard herself, rebuilt from the ground-up by cerberus and TIM, and was based heavily on the original design, though it’s been increased in mass and size, as well as the interior layout having been spruced up some. not only have we been outfitted with a new ship, but we’ve been given the crew to go along with it. men and women in cerberus fatigues stroll about, having taken the place of the original normandy crew, and miranda and jacob, who are also along for the ride, welcome us home.

Miranda: I’ve been looking over the dossiers. I’d strongly recommend starting by acquiring Mordin Solus, the salarian professor on Omega. We’ll need him to develop a countermeasure to the Collectors’ immobilzing their victims to protect us.

Shepard: Without a countermeasure, we’ll be helpless if we ever run into them.

EDI: Acquiring Professor Solus seems like the most logical place to start.

a voice we don’t recognise, robotic in origin, pipes up, along with an avatar of sorts.

I am the Normandy’s artificial intelligence. The crew like to refer to me as EDI.

we;ve heard mention of AI in the past; it utterly fails to surprise me that something considered illegal galaxy-wide is being developed and utilised by cerberus.

Shepard: Shut that thing down. I don’t want it on my ship.

EDI: Have I offended?

Miranda: Shepard spent a great deal of time fighting rogue AI. Geth, mostly. Plus that incident with the Alliance’s Hannibal system on Luna.

EDI: Your distrust is logical. Unlike the irrational mistrust of most humans. However, I am no threat to you or anyone else.

sounds like something a threat would say. [squints]

from here, we have the full run of the ship and can meet the crew or take off to our heart’s desire. there’s some additional things that the original normany didn’t have... or just didn’t display, like the addition of toilets.

you get told off by your new robot mom if you walk into the wrong ones. :( there’s also a personal room on the top floor, with a private desk and fish tank, as well as a hi-fi system that plays some tunes you might remember from running around on the citadel’s wards.

well, no time like the present to get to know the newbies.

Kelly: I’ll manage your messages, and help you monitor the crew. And I must say, it’s such an honor to work under you, Commander Shepard.

oh yeah, we have a terminal from hereon where we can get emails and other correspondance throughout the game.

Kelly: Being your yeoman is just my official role. Unofficially, I observe the crew. Everyone knows how risky our mission is. Many of us may not be coming back. That’s a lot of pressure.

Kelly: I have a degree in psychology. I’m good at sensing when people are overly taxed.

Shepard: You make sure the crew’s mental health is sound?

Kelly: I look for warning signs. I listen. It’s not a full-time job and it’s most effective when done informally.

shep here thinking she wished kelly was around for like, all of me1, where people wouldn’t stop fucking bringing up akuze with every other breath. can’t help myself hoping that kelly’s being paid for her time however informal her role, though.

we get, for the first time, to talk to people who aren’t of the opinion that cerberus is the be-all of great evil, too, which is the first time we’re hearing opinions like this. and personally i’ve always loved this addition. a lot of these people are just... people getting by, and not exactly privy to the Worst Parts of the org, despite what they might have heard in the press.

Kelly: I was handpicked by the Illusive Man to help fight the greatest threat known to humanity. How do I feel? Honored, exhilarated. Terrified. But mostly I feel encouraged. Under your leadership, we can’t fail.

Shepard: Cerberus has a dark reputation. Do you have any concerns working for them?

Kelly: Not at all. Our methods can be harsh, but Cerberus has noble objectives. We look out for human interests. Advance human technologies. Save human lives. They’re good goals.

Shepard: Sounds like they want to dominate all aliens and put humankind on top?

Kelly: Cerberus looks out for humanity, but that doesn’t mean we hate aliens. My sister started a dog shelter, but she loved cats too. I love humanity. I also love asari, quarian, turian, salarian, hanar -- that isn’t in conflict with Cerberus ideals.

Shepard: That’s a very positive attitude.

Kelly: What can I say? I’m a people person.

in the mess hall, there’s a couple of crewmen chowing down, not exactly impressed by the fare.

gardner’s a Real American Dude in that he’s incredibly sure of himself and his place in the world.

Gardner: Commander Shepard, the hero of the Citadel! You did humanity proud that day.

Shepard: How do you feel about working for Cerberus?

Gardner: Damn proud! Cerberus gets the job done. The Alliance and Council have got their heads buried so deep up their butt-puckers they can’t see squat. It’ll take good ol’ human ingenuity to crush these Collector vermin. Only Cerberus knows that.

Shepard: How’d you find your way here?

Gardner: Can you believe I was once a family man, working the eezo rigs along the frontier? I was happy enough. But losing everything to batarian raiders can change your outlook. I needed to make a difference. I’m no soldier, but I’ve got skills, and Cerberus keeps an eye out for talent.

can’t help but be reminded of all the recruiters the world over that keep an eye out for the worn-down, young or gullible to introduce to their ranks. sure, you can make an argument that gardner isn’t representative of cerberus’ personnel as a whole, but... with the very pro-humanity stance we’ve got going on...

well.

there’s a crewman’s private quarters by the elevator and toilets, with bunks for the crew to sleep in, and a table and a couple of chairs. there’s always a couple sat in these chairs discussing something-or-other, and you can follow their story after every mission you undertake, unable to interact with them otherwise.

these guys paint a much different picture to kelly and gardner; we get the sense that they might not be as pro-human so much as they know something is happening to humans and just want to help in some form or another. it’s complicated! everyone’s got different reasons for being here.

down in engineering-

ken and gabby are the epitomy of a married couple, and adorable for it. they’ve been friends a long time; after shep’s death, ken took offense to the alliance ripping apart everything that we’d said and done for them, and nearly got himself a court-martialin’. he was contacted by TIM, and gabby insisted that the offer included her, since they’ve known each other since tech academy. they’ve got some tech woes, and we offer to pick them something up for their work if we find it - the same way that we tell gardner we’ll get him some quality food to work with to increase morale - and as we walk off...

it’s starting to feel less like a crew and more a team of people who... actually believe in us, even though we don’t know them at all. when TIM said we were an icon, i... guess he wasn’t exactly wrong.