#but in all that time i've never heard it from a reputable source. most likely because it's. not happening

[hippo-pot]

honestly i don't even think the links demonstrate the specific claims. like no one was looking for a source for 'healthcare industry flawed', everyone knows that. we're looking for assurance that this post isn't spreading misinformation.

the link indicates that the lung cancer vaccine is not 'proven'. i'm seeing words like 'cautiously optimistic'. i'm also not seeing anything about companies lobbying against it.

there's also nothing about lobbying against the insulin procedure in any of these links. (also, from separate googling, the procedure seems to still be at the 'could eliminate the need for insulin' stage, i.e. we don't know yet, as of a year ago)

[theperfectawful]

Blind Item / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Chapter 1: Gimme More

Rating: Explicit (18+) Series Summary: 2007. Hollywood, CA. As a former child star, you face the harsh reality of growing up in the unforgiving spotlight. A car crash on Sunset Boulevard and a cocaine scandal give you one option: Rehab. Reluctantly agreeing, you embark on a 90-day stay at Promises Malibu to attempt to salvage your career. But when Dieter Bravo arrives, your journey takes an unexpected turn. Drawn to each other, you navigate sobriety and the wreckage of your reputation. As the double standard of Hollywood's treatment of troubled stars becomes evident, you question if redemption is truly possible in a world of unequal consequences. Word Count: 11k

Content/Warnings: Age gap (~10 years, Dieter is in his mid-thirties), alternating POV, heavy drug use, illegal drug use, alcohol use, driving under the influence, frenemy dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), dubcon/noncon, it is neither reader nor Dieter's finest hour when we meet them. Period-typical language and behavior, Hollywood assholes.

Notes: This is my first fic - I've never written or posted anything like this before, so please be kind and feel free to share any feedback or suggestions. I never would have been able to write something like this, let alone work up the nerve to post it, if it hadn't been for the kind and gracious support of @pennyserenade, @whatsnewalycat and @frannyzooey all lending me their advice when I slid into their DMs. They all inspire me endlessly with their work and talent and it’s because of their work that I was inspired to write something of my own.

Our reader is, for now, and unnamed OC. While I’ve done my best to avoid using physical descriptors of her, it should be noted that this story is a period piece that takes place in early 2000s Hollywood. The main character would have been a contemporary of stars like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, and there are certain assumptions I’ve made about what she looks like based on that factor of this particular story. The early 2000s could be dark, ruthless times, y'all, especially for young women in and effected by Hollywood. My intention is to examine that. Thank you for reading!

Desperate times call for desperate measures: sources say that this former child star’s team is working overtime to keep her employed. When she made her not-so-graceful exit from her latest film, the star cited conflicting schedules as the reason for her departure. The film’s producer has a different story: the Hollywood juggernaut has been heard around town calling the star unprofessional, accusing her of being late to her call times and using drugs in her trailer. She’s got a shot at a last resort: a return to television. Word is, the bad publicity has her team bargaining and drawing out sober contracts just to get her hired.

Whenever you were in town for work, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. You were in Los Angeles often enough and long enough to justify buying a home there, but you refused, the idea of actually owning a home in LA never quite sitting right with you. Instead, you rented the same room each time you visited. You loved that little bungalow. The thick, lush landscaping shaded the windows and kept it nice and cool inside, and your front door was only a stone's-throw from the swimming pool. 

It felt like home after a few years, anyway. These old, tucked-away places were what you liked most about Los Angeles, unlikely, quiet havens hidden between sky-high condos and overly sleek offices. The building breathed old-Hollywood luxury, vintage tiles and original hardwood floors and the ghosts of silent film stars wandering the hallways. The staff knew you well. The same breakfast was delivered to your door at noon every day. The top-tier maid service employed by the hotel kept the living room, kitchen, bathrooms and second bedroom impeccably tidy, though they were given clear instructions not to enter your bedroom.

Your bedroom did not inspire the same glamorous aesthetic as the rest of the hotel. Clothing was piled high against the walls and pouring out of dresser drawers, tags and receipts discarded in the wake. Empty bottles cluttered the hardwood floors, clear, crushed water bottles and rattly orange pill canisters. A full ashtray sat on a side table, a makeup mirror and various products scattered next to it.

In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, an antique walnut headboard sprawling against the wall with a mountain of sheets and blankets layered atop a deep mattress. You laid swaddled in those sheets, rubbing your palms into your shut eyes and groaning as you rolled over, dragging your hands wide across your face to peek out at the clock on your nightstand.

4:41pm. You blinked, straining your eyes to focus and confirm you read that right. 4:41pm. Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, you reached for your phone, met immediately by a barrage of missed calls and unread messages when you slid it open.

MELANIE [3:21 AM]: Bathrrom

PETE [3:36 AM]: Did u leave

CORINNE [9:00 AM]: Call with NBC @ 1. Please be available. Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL: CORINNE

CORINNE [11:30 AM]: Confirming availability at 1pm. Corinne Roxford.

(212) 555-4325 [12:06 PM]: Hey gorgeous ;)

MISSED CALL [12:30 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [12:45 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [1:00 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:03 PM]: ??? Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL [1:05 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:07 PM]: Call immediately. Corinne Roxford.

“Hiiiii,” a soft, tired voice called from across the room. You looked up, squinting, at your best friend Natalie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in response, peeking out from where you lay buried in the sheets. “Hi.”

She crossed the room, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and perched herself on the corner of the bed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. You cracked open one eye, locking eyes with her. In an unspoken acknowledgment of your situation - what you got into last night, the state you’re currently in, the splitting headache you’re certain she has, too - you raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked back at you and the two of you erupted into laughter. You lifted yourself up to sit, pushing your foot into her side from under the covers.

“You were insane last night!” she accused, still smiling as she resumed brushing her teeth.

“Me!” your voice was raspy and you coughed. “Me? You were the one making out with the bartender.”

“He wasn’t a bartender. He said he was with the DJ or something.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better,” you snorted, the sound muffled by the plush pillows that cradled your head. You rubbed your palms across your face again, feeling the coarse texture of your own tired skin. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of morning seeping through the half-closed blinds. 

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, disrupting the quiet ambiance. You picked it up, groaning when you saw your manager’s name blaring across the bright screen. With a sigh, you slid it open.

“Hi, Corinne,” your voice was a hoarse whisper as you did your best to sound alive. Natalie stirred from her spot and crossed back to the bathroom, old floorboards creaking underneath her feet.

“I needed you on that call this morning. This is your career I’m trying to save here. Do you think I’m doing all of this for my health?”

“I mean… you’re not not…” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. She is on your payroll.

“Very funny. I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re running out of friends and favors here, hun. I don’t think you want me to join that list.” Her sentence was punctuated by the sound of her horn honking and a muttered expletive. She sighs. “NBC still wants to speak with you, and soon, but they want to do a four-episode Growing special. The rest of the cast is on board, and they think if we play this right we can turn into a full-on reboot. But you have to straighten up, do you understand? I need you in the Santa Monica office first thing Monday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.” Your eyes closed again, and you sunk into the plush embrace of the king-sized bed, the soft cotton fabric soothing against your skin.

“I don’t know how to make it any more clear to you how much trouble all of us are in. This is  your shot at a comeback.”

“I understand.”

There’s a bit of silence, the noise of New York traffic floating through the airwaves and into your ear. You insisted on total honesty from Corinne, unable to tolerate your team coddling you, so her words might have hurt more if this was the first time you’d heard them. Or maybe if the haze you’d woken up in were a bit thinner.

“Tomlin and the team will be in on Thursday night to get you ready for the VMAs. I’ll see you then, too.” Corinne changed the subject, her voice a mix of stern professionalism and genuine concern.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, a defensive baby voice you switched into when you were nervous, a trademark of yours that had been mocked by everyone from ex-boyfriends to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Corinne said goodbye and you felt Natalie’s weight return to your side.

You groaned, long and drawn out, tossing your phone into the labyrinth of sheets and blankets surrounding you. The show she referred to was a reboot of the sitcom you spent your childhood working on - Growing Together. It's one-half cast reunion, one-half desperate, nostalgic cash-grab. The producer you sat across from at the pitch meeting was almost delirious with excitement - explaining what a smashing success it was sure to be, a “televised homecoming for America's favorite family.” It took so much strength not to roll your eyes right in front of him that you thought you’d pop a blood vessel.

“Are you in trouble?” Natalie asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, almost always," you replied, casual in your admission. As you sat up, fully awakening, you stretched and planted your feet on the floor. You chugged the warm Vitamin Water on your nightstand before reaching for your bag on the floor and digging through its contents. Gum, a fluorescent orange paper wristband, a baby pink Juicy Tube, a black and white photobooth strip of you and Natalie with your tongues out. Not finding what you were looking for, you dumped it out onto your bed and continued rummaging through the items and garbage inside. Your iPod, a receipt from the drugstore, 3 loose cigarettes and half a dozen empty quarter-sized plastic bags. You sighed, shoving everything back inside carelessly. 

“Did we finish everything last night?” You call out, patting the bed behind you, your gaze darting around in search of your phone.

“We?” Natalie’s laughter rang through the room. “I don’t know about ‘we!’”

“God, no wonder,” you muttered, the realization of this morning's particularly splitting headache dawning. Locating your phone again, you typed out a text message to your dealer, padding out of your room to the kitchen.

[5:13 PM]: Andyyyyyy. U going to Lush tonight?

You tapped the side of your phone restlessly for a beat, then texted again.

[5:13 PM]: Can you bring what u brought last night

In the kitchen, you opened the cabinet, revealing an array of neatly arranged pill bottles. Without looking, you pulled out a bottle of Advil and an empty glass. Seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in her Macbook, was your assistant, Rhea.

“Corinne’s pissed.” She said before she even looked at you, focused intently on the screen in front of her.

“Good morning,” you responded, filling your glass at the sink and beaming an exaggerated, pageant-queen smile at her. She scoffed in response.

“The sun is going down in… 40 minutes.” she retorted, her gaze flitting momentarily to the clock on the wall, then back down. You made a mockingly offended expression, hands lifting with dramatic flair.

“Time is a social construct, Rhea,” you declared, tossing back the Advil and chasing them with the full glass of water.

“Yeah, for you, maybe.” She muttered, still typing like a maniac.

You were fired six weeks ago.

The movie was meant to signal a departure for you, a leap into serious territory - a drama marking an overdue graduation from the teeny-bopper films you’d spent the last decade of your life making. You’d been lucky a year ago - a really excellent writer took a chance on an elevated high school comedy with you at the helm that had people in the industry, finally, taking you more seriously. 

Seriously enough to get you in the door, at least. Being on set gave you a different impression. You felt as coddled as ever, still treated like an unqualified child star whose presence was more of a slightly annoying novelty than a creative asset.

You wanted to be treated like an adult - a real actress, a professional. This movie was supposed to accomplish that. Despite the fact that this project had a huge, award-winning director attached to it, it was subject to the same issues you’d experienced on countless, lower-tier productions. Poorly communicated call times, technical issues, handsy producers hanging around your trailer. The latter issue caused you to insist on Rhea being by your side whenever possible - power in numbers in an attempt to keep greasy Hollywood exec’s hands away from you.

You weren’t going out any more often than you usually did. Now that you were old enough to not have to sneak into clubs anymore, you were having fun. Though your evenings often bled into mornings, occasionally pushing the limits of your call times, it felt manageable. However, Corinne was relentless in reminding you of the stakes and your professional expectations: show up, behave, perform.

That morning, exhaustion hung over you more heavily than usual. The night before, you’d been out celebrating Natalie’s 23rd birthday. A friend of hers had just returned from Amsterdam and brought with him a bag of European ecstasy as a souvenir. After Le Deux closed, you threw an after party at the Chateau’s pool, you and Nat drank champagne on your floaties as the chemicals rushed through your systems. Your fingers dipped in and out of the heated pool, the two of you gossiping and giggling and floating along until the sun came up.

You were on set on time - early, in fact - but the MDMA had worn off and your energy was plummeting fast. You’d run through the scene several times with Rhea, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.

“Cut,” the director called out, sighing and stepping out from his position behind the camera. Your costar groans softly, standing up from his spot across from you and stepping away as the surrounding crew moves quickly to reset the scene.

“I’m sorry Alan,” you offered immediately as the director approached your mark. A makeup artist swoops in, tapping a brush to your under eyes.

“You’re furious with him, remember,” he coached you. “I understand it’s early, but I need you to manage to muster up some energy.”

You nodded, trying to focus despite the persistent buzzing in your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to me like a punished child, I just need you to perform the way I’ve asked you to. Can you do that?”

"I'll get it right this time, I promise," you assure him softly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He eyed you skeptically, his weaning lack of patience with you made clear by his expression.

“We’ll break for five.” He called out to the room, still staring at you as you stood up and shuffled off behind him.

Rhea arrived at your side with your cell phone and a Red Bull. You flip open the screen as you walk, quickly scrolling through your text messages and trying to distract yourself from your dull, nagging headache.

“That was okay, right?” You asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the uncertainty in your voice. “Is it as bad as he says?”

“You were fine,” Rhea’s voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched as she held out the straw of your energy drink in front of you. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the area, and her voice lowers into a whisper as she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m tired,” You brushed her off, shaking your head and handing your phone back to her. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Rhea nods, a concerned eyebrow lifting as you arrive at your trailer. Everyone in your life was looking at you like that lately - as if doing anything less than completely coddling you would cause you to fly off the handle. The cautious glances, the careful choices of words, the subtle tiptoeing around your every move - especially from Rhea, who never gave a fuck about your feelings - it all grated on your nerves like an itch beneath the surface. 

She held out her hand and you took it quickly, grabbing an orange bottle from her and slipping through the door of your trailer.

In your trailer, you sat at the vanity and closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them and gazing at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bottle, pouring out two small pills on the counter in front of you. Scanning the surface quickly, you located a plastic card and pushed it against the pills with the ball of your hand. You pushed it again and again, finally finishing and scraping the excess powder from the card onto the table. Dragging the powder into two lines, you leaned down to inhale them and stood straight back up. You licked your finger and picked up the excess residue, pushing it into your gums and taking a couple more deep breaths to re-center yourself.

The acrid taste of the pills gave you a Pavlovian surge of energy, the anxious buzz in your chest subsiding and easing into a steady hum. You sat at the mirror, dragging a finger underneath your eye to wipe smudged eyeliner from your face. You sniffled, forcing the action into another deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror. You belong here. You do. You know what you’re doing.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you back to reality with a jump.

“Jesus,” You called out “Alright, Rhea, one second!”

“It’s Alan. Open the door.”

Fuck. You frantically began cleaning the counter in front of you - slipping the credit card into your pocket and brushing your hands across the surface.

“Now!” Alan boomed from outside.

“Okay, okay!” You moved to the door and turned the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see you. You sniffled again, trying to camouflage the reaction with a cough. “Yes?”

Pushing the door firmly, Alan moved into your trailer, his body dwarfing yours in the small space.

“Listen to me,” he said, low but firm. “I’m done. I’m not doing this with you. I am not letting you fuck up my movie.”

“What?” You were dumbstruck.

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. You know exactly what I mean.” He was inches from your face now and getting angrier by the minute. You swallowed, desperately looking around for Rhea. Tears stung the corners of your eyes and you fought them, willing yourself not to blink.

“They’re prescribed,” you attempt. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time,” he continued “But this is mine. This is important to me and to everyone else out there whose livelihoods depend on this project, and I’m not going to let some spoiled, coked-out little actress spoil it.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

“Corinne fought hard to get you on this project. This was more of a fucking favor to her than you. But this movie does not live and die by your actions, do you understand me? You can kill yourself if you insist, but you will not pull my movie down with you. You’re fired.”

Your jaw dropped. You were unable to find words let alone choke them out. Rhea’s face was stark white when you spotted her just outside the door of your trailer, her cell phone firmly against her cheek, whispering into the receiver with her eyes wide.

“This is no longer viable for me or anyone else on this crew. I want you off my set now.”

You couldn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there for another moment before exiting the trailer and slamming the door behind him. The force of the slam caused the door to open slightly, revealing Alan standing in front of Rhea.

“I don’t want to see you here again.” He said to her, loud enough for you to hear, his voice stern and uncompromising. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for bringing drugs on my set.”

You hung in the doorway as he stormed away, and as the room swirls into focus you see the eyes of the crew on you, their faces filled with curiosity and concern. Turning your head, you quickly blinked away your tears and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Officially, you’d been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’. It was flimsy, Hollywood jargon for your star showing up fucked up, and unfortunately, the euphemism did little to quell the relentless scrutiny surrounding you.

Rhea had shown you the footage of you that began making the rounds after your firing was announced - a creepy, shaky video leaked by some PA of Alan berating you on set, cut with another clip of you walking around the soundstage. It was embarrassing - your hair was disheveled and you were pacing around in a way that looked strange out of context, but there wouldn’t have been anything interesting about it at all if the rumor hadn’t gotten out that you’d been fired for your drug use. Since then, the attention on you had been relentless.

The paparazzi had been a regular part of your life since you were a young teenager. It, generally, wasn’t as bad in New York, which is part of the reason why you preferred to stay there, but in LA it felt as if you were never more than a few feet from a camera. 

When you were 16 and working on your first film after Growing Together ended, you started going to clubs with your coworkers. No one ever gave you any trouble, and you didn’t even start drinking until you were 18, but despite that, the mere optics of a child star reveling in nightlife proved a lucrative angle for the media to exploit.

Since then, you were followed almost constantly. Leaving home, returning, getting groceries, getting your nails done, driving through McDonald’s - flashing lights in the corner of your eye were such a regular thing that you barely even noticed it anymore. There were photographers you knew at this point, friendly ones who knew your angles and creepy ones who constantly tailed your car.

It’d never been like this before, though. Literal throngs of photographers showed up anywhere you went, watching you like hawks, all waiting to swoop in on the slightest slip up. Going shopping was an event that needed to be scheduled in advance, boutiques needing to be warned that you’d be coming in so that they could prepare to lock doors behind you. Every step, every breath, felt scrutinized and captured for public consumption, leaving you suffocated beneath the weight of it all.

You were so angry about being let go - your behavior, truly, was no different from what any other actor your age was doing. You partied with your friends, you were out late sometimes, but you knew you were a good actress. It had been your passion since you were a child, and it was beyond frustrating to hear people tell you they loved you and wanted to see you win and then have them turn against you the moment you made a mistake.

So, although you’d behaved and spent the first week or two lying low at the insistence of Corrine, you were over it now. You stayed in LA, uninterested or unwilling to go home to your family and friends in New York and explain to them what's been going on. You were going out with Natalie every night, usually to Le Deux or Lush or Teddy’s. You stayed out late and slept in late and generally just did your best to avoid confrontation with any paparazzi or journalists or producers you’d pissed off.

You weren’t lying to Alan when you told him you were only taking what had been prescribed to you. It just happened that a lot of things had been prescribed to you. Lately, you’d been alternating between Adderall and MDMA for the last week or so, making you too speedy and anxious to really dwell on the current state of your career. You were, admittedly, running through your prescriptions more quickly than usual, causing you to need to make some calls in order to fill in the gaps.

Throughout dinner, you anxiously slid the screen to your Sidekick open and shut, open and shut. You thumbed through the wheel of apps, trying to will into existence a text from Andy that didn’t seem to be coming. It’s not exactly like you expected rigid punctuality from the guy who sold you drugs, but his radio silence was making you antsy.

[9:05pm]: Hellooooooooo

Natalie exclaimed as a tray of shots was delivered to the table, echoed by the group of acquaintances that you met up with at Don Antonios, the restaurant you always went to before a night out. Eagerly, you took one off the tray, blindly grabbing another as you knocked the first one back. You chased that shot with the other, the warmth of the liquid making you feel more like a human being and less like a raw nerve.

Seated to your right in the booth was a girl you kind of knew. She was always hanging out on the fringes of your group, some friend of a friend of a friend who was for sure going home and telling everyone she partied with you. She’d been gawking at you all night, beady eyes locked on you since you sat down, craning her neck and sitting uncomfortably close to you, your dress pinned under her studded jeans. You’d been resisting the urge to ask her what the fuck her problem was for the better part of an hour. As the group around you became distracted by the arrival of the shots, you seized the opportunity to confront her.

“Can you please get off of my dress?” you spat.

Her eyebrows shot up as she took her eyes off of you for what felt like the first time that evening to look down, apologizing and scooching over. She had tall red stilettos on and, when she looked back up at you, you could see the smudged mascara on her eyelid. Just as you were going to take the opportunity to move away from her, she leaned over to talk to you over the noise that surrounded you.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m Katie.”

You grimaced, not in the mood to talk to this person.

“Hi.”

You turn away for a beat, but your attention is grabbed again by Katie’s voice lowly in your ear.

“Hey, I have Xanax, if you want one,” the offer took you by surprise, the prospect lighting you up immediately.

“Oh, my god, I love you,” you said, quickly turning towards her and extending your palm. “Please?”

Downers really weren’t your thing, even booze wasn’t your favorite, but this evening was going to turn from boring to maddeningly insufferable fast if you didn’t get your hands on something.

“I know someone who needs one when I see them,” she laughed, discreetly dropping two pills into your palm.

The clubs in LA were the same thing every time. You showed up in big black SUVs, posed and made nice for the photographers outside for a moment and then clamored inside towards the booth that was waiting for your party. 

It felt like high school. Well, you assumed, since your high school experience took place entirely on set. You saw the same people everywhere, all scattered around the room, broken up into their own little cliques. All gossiping, the room alive with murmurs and whispers. Who’d just shown up? Who was fighting with who? Who’d stolen whose boyfriend? It all felt so juvenile, but not being here was worse, so you put up with it. The people changed, but not really - you usually ended up surrounded by the same cast of promoters, wannabe socialites and greasy LA club dudes, swapped out every couple weeks by stand-ins and understudies and new arrivals. They circled your table like vultures, mingled with one another and made use of your tab while you sat engrossed in your Sidekick.

The night became slightly more tolerable once you’d taken one of the bars Katie gave you, but you were still desperately trying to get a hold of a dealer. By the time you left the restaurant and were climbing into the backseat of your car to head to Lush, you’d even resorted to texting backup options, people you’d partied with once or twice who you suspected might be around. 

Sinking into the plush booth, you let your head loll to the side, eyes shutting against the assault of strobing lights. The steady, pumping rhythm of the bass sent a rattle through your bones.

After a minute, Natalie's hand landed gently on your knee, snapping you back to reality.

“You okay, girl?” She asked. Her voice felt distant, barely audible over the pounding bass reverberating through the room. The glitter on her eyelids shimmered in the blue light, the only part of her face you could clearly make out in the shadowy corner of the booth.

“I’m fine,” you answered impatiently, kicking your feet up into the seat next to you. Just then, your phone finally buzzed, your heart skipping a beat as your dealer’s name flashed across the screen

ANDY [11:03PM]: not goin tonite

You scoffed, pausing for a second before furiously tapping out a response.

[11:03PM]: FUCK U ASSHOLE

You hit send and threw your phone into your purse with a huff. You were going to have to come up with something else. Or maybe just slit your wrists right here at the table instead.

You surveyed your group as bottle service brought two large bottles of tequila to your table along with a tray brimming with shots. knew all it would take was a couple hundred bucks from a photographer outside for them to spill about how you’d begged them for coke. They'd probably do it for free just for the attention. You'd already asked Katie, but all she had was Xanax and a joint, and Natalie would've let you know if she got a hold of anything else.

You started scanning the rest of the room, looking for anyone you knew. The club was packed, some sort of launch party that’d booked a huge DJ filling even the VIP section from wall to wall.

Suddenly, your attention was grabbed by the sound of a man shouting at the booth directly across from yours. He was the typical guy you'd find in places like this: a douchey-looking producer type, each of his arms wrapped around two miserable-looking models to his left and right. Intrigued, you followed his gaze to see who he was yelling at.

Oh, bingo.

Dieter Bravo. You recognized him instantly. An actor like you, you knew you’d seen him around at award shows and parties, but you’d never met. His reputation preceded him, though; you knew he partied, knew that he, too, had been let go from movies due to 'scheduling conflicts' more than once. You knew he’d been in trouble for drugs. Last you'd heard, he'd been in the news for cheating on his wife or something. You were certain that all it’d take was a little bit of flirting and buttering him up to get him to share whatever he had with you.

Without a word to anyone, you rose from your booth, ignoring Natalie's questioning as you strode towards Dieter's booth. Immediately, though, you lost your footing, lightheaded from standing up too quickly. You brushed it off, saved from a fall by someone at your booth. Straightening your dress, you grabbed a bottle of tequila before pivoting on your heel and starting back towards Dieter.

Dragged out against his will, Dieter was a guest of honor at a launch party for Elysium Fragrances, the cologne brand he’d shot a campaign for last year. His presence was requested tonight as a make-good for being a no-show at the launch of his own campaign, instead being spotted that evening by the California Highway Patrol speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway with a model in the passenger seat. 

He’d been stopped by a cop as he attempted to pump gas, some asshole photographer seizing the opportunity to swoop in on the interaction and hurl all sorts of insulting names at his date. Dieter lost his patience, blowing past the cop to shove the paparazzo to the ground, shattering his camera in the process. He was arrested that evening on five charges - assault and battery, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct, assault of an officer (come on) and, thanks to a thorough search of his car, possession with intent to distribute.

As his smug-faced mugshot circulated the tabloids, it eclipsed the glossy editorial photos that the brand had invested millions in. The extravagant campaign was reduced to a joke, its over-the-top glamour juxtaposed with candid snapshots of Dieter’s angry face shouting at the photographer.

Unbelievably, the brand hadn’t thrown him out then and there. He almost wished they had - he preferred the couple of nights he spent in jail to the following days spent in meetings, his team arguing with Elysium over their ability to sway this and use his reputation to their advantage. Ultimately, they maintained his status as a face of their brand as well as his 6 million dollar contract, with the stipulation that he shoot another campaign and make himself available for any event, launch or party the brand requested for the next year.

Being asked to party in exchange for six million dollars was a sweet deal - he understood that - but the reality of being a cosmetics brand’s puppet meant that he ended up at the same fucking parties week in and week out, always babysat by an appointed employee of the brand or, failing that, someone on his payroll.

Tonight was particularly torturous. The tabloids had latched onto the whispers of his crumbling marriage - rumors that were, fortunately or unfortunately, completely legitimate. Heidi was meant to be the one to tie him down, set him straight, clean him up. Their wedding photos looked like a fucking editorial, glossy photos ran with headlines predicting their domestic bliss. But a year and a half, a relapse, a DUI, and a string of affairs - all on his part - had shattered those illusions.

Last week, Dieter returned home from a 3-day bender to Heidi’s mother on the landing at the top of his stairs. She was screaming and hurling the contents of his closet at him, plus whatever else was within arms reach. Heidi, her once-bright eyes now dull with tears, cowered in a doorway behind her mother, slamming the door behind her when he called out in an attempt to reason with her. Her mom located his Oscar, hurling it towards his head with a warning to leave the house before she called the cops. He’d ducked just in time to avoid the statue concussing him, it instead crashing through the glass window of the door behind him.

The stories spread like wildfire, his team scrambling to reshape the narrative, casting Heidi as the cold, unfeeling spouse who couldn't handle his demons. They painted her as the villain, accusing her of rejecting him for his vices - after all, she knew who she married - all the while conveniently forgetting that she had stood by him through more than most people would be able to tolerate. It was an angle he wasn’t happy with; He may have been hedonistic but he wasn’t cruel. In the interest of giving her space and avoiding any additional negative attention sent her way, he moved out. He kept an apartment closer to town, and staying there made it that much easier to avoid any reminders of his failures.

The word on the poor, dejected husband had spread, causing every asshole he ran into tonight to look at him with the same pathetic, sympathetic expression. He resented their pity. He resented this party, this club, his obligation to be seen holding some stupid bottle of cologne in order to maintain his career. The four whiskies he'd downed had done little to numb him from it, and even the lines he'd snorted on the way over had failed to dull the edges of this evening.

You’d stumbled in about an hour ago, perching yourself in the booth across from his own. Your eyelids were heavy in a familiar way, his dirtbag instincts making him suspect you’ve popped a painkiller in addition to whatever you’ve been drinking. A group of giggly, hungry hangers-on swarmed around your table like flies, posing for pictures and parting only to let bottle service in and out.

Dieter knew you - or at least, he knew of you. The cute little starlet who always popped up next to him in the tabloids. He’d seen you in enough movies and on enough billboards to recognize your face, and he’d lurked around clubs like this often enough to have seen you before. Before you’d walked in, he’d resigned himself to an armchair as far back in the VIP section as he could find, determined to wait out the evening before bringing home whatever model ended up in his car. The whiskey he’d been drinking was only just beginning to kick in and he didn’t fight it, leaning back and willing the time to pass faster. But you… you were interesting.

Your gorgeous legs were stretched out along the booth, climbing up to the hem of your dress, a pink silky thing he imagined he could tear off of you with the smallest amount of force. Glossy lips pouted at your phone, eyebrows furrowed in a sweet little frustrated expression. When you looked up he didn’t look away - he kept his eyes trained on you as you looked around the room. You were looking for someone, obviously restless. A boyfriend? The thought twisted at his stomach uncomfortably and he willed himself to stop watching you, putting his glass to his mouth and draining it with a single swallow.

“Bravo!” a voice bellowed from his left, snapping him out of it. Clint - some hack from Elysium Fragrances and tonight’s designated narc waved enthusiastically from the booth next to him. “You gonna sit there and fuckin’ mope all night, bro?”

Fuck this guy. Like most of his brand-approved chaperones, he was content to accept the babysitting opportunity and spend the evening running up Dieter’s tab and shamelessly hitting on the girls at his table. The least he could do would be to leave him the fuck alone.

His attention returned to you when he heard a commotion from your direction. There you were, knees buckled, held at your elbow by one of the guys surrounding your booth. A couple of cell phone cameras lift and snap photos behind you as you attempt to compose yourself. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you stand back up, adjusting yourself, your little dress riding up for just a moment before you smooth it back into place.

The bottle he’d finished had begun to cloud his vision, so it took him a moment to realize you were stumbling towards him, your plush lips slightly parted as you swung a bottle of tequila at your side. Despite the haze, your smile was unmistakable as you arrived at his chair. When you held up the bottle with a subtle lift of your eyebrow, he nodded in agreement.

He wasn’t entirely sure if you climbed into his lap or if you simply floated there, an ethereal presence that captivated his senses. You were such a gorgeous little thing, soft legs draping over him effortlessly, while your electric fingertips traced delicate patterns along his arms.

“Where’ve I met you before?” You slurred, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as you settled in his lap.

You were fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Good - he was, too. His plan had been to leave, get one of the models at his table to come home and roll over for him without much effort, but passing the evening with someone in his same state of mind would spare him from having another dull fucking conversation tonight. Plus, you were so pretty, big black pupils dilated and fixed on him beneath the lazy black fan of your eyelashes.

“You tell me,” he answered, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

Did you know who he was? He goes along with your guesses as to where you’d met before. Miami, London, the Met, whatever you said, as long as you didn’t piece together that you know him from a TV show that aired when you were still in middle school.

Music blasted through the speakers surrounding you, strobe lights flashing and highlighting flecks of glitter on your shoulders. He lifted his hand to run his finger along the thin strap of your dress as you lifted the bottle up between you and raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, holding up his empty whiskey glass. 

“Glastonbury?” You asked as you filled his glass. 

“That must be it,” he agreed, knowing he hadn’t been to Glastonbury since 1995, and clinked his glass against your bottle. He watched as you took a long draw from the mouth and could see the grimace you were holding back as you squinted, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. He followed your lead, emptying his glass in three big gulps. Your eyes flitted over momentarily to the group he came with, crowded around the booth to his left, then back to him.

“You alone?” You asked him, glossy lips smirking.

“Just like you.”

You let out a knowing chuckle and leaned in closer to him, tequila and lime and smoke on your breath as it mingled with his own. The way you dragged your lower lip through your teeth had his cock twitching, the combination of the chemicals in his system and you purring in his lap like a kitten destroying any shred of inhibition he had left. 

There’s an acknowledgment between people like you and Dieter. It’s one of those things that doesn’t lend itself to description, but he knew it when he saw it - in the mirror, in friends and acquaintances and enemies, in blown-up photographs on the covers of tabloids, suicides and DUIs announced in newsstands. Raw nerves covered in glitter, celebrity or civilian, death drives winning over life drives every time. He saw it in your dilated pupils and the way your thighs were rubbing together, the silk of your dress doing nothing to hide it. You’re like him, too, and most importantly, you know better than to ask why.

His hand cupped your face before he realized he’d done it and he closed the space between you, your lips soft against his the next sensation he was aware of. You tasted good, and he wanted more right away, deepening the kiss and digging his fingers into your thigh forcefully. He ran his tongue along the seam of your mouth, his own lips going numb as he licked into yours. He pulled you up to straddle him and you moved easily, hips lowering onto him immediately and settling, the lace of your panties brushing up against the thin fabric of his pants. His mouth trailed to your ear, worrying your earlobe between his teeth and guiding your hips to roll against his crotch again and again.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He said, his voice low and hoarse in your ear. He knew you had the attention of his group and your own, not to mention anyone else who happened to look over, but it didn’t seem to matter to you. He knew you’d been in trouble lately - the same limelight, coming-of-age growing pains he’d been through himself several years ago - and his own instincts threatened to kick in and shield you from the excess attention. 

You laughed with a shake of your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder and, without looking away from him, lifted his hand from your thigh to your lips, dragging your tongue across the length of his index finger and popping it into your mouth.

Oh, you were fun. You were already making him hard, and he knew you could feel it as you grinded into him again and again, letting his finger drop from your mouth when he pressed his lips back to yours. He needed to be careful - the linen lounge pants he’d thrown on to come here would betray nothing if you kept it up much longer.

It’s a noticeable absence when you hum and pull away from the kiss, the urge for more of you rolling over him and causing his fingers to dig into your thighs possessively.

“Do you have anything… funner?” You asked, big, blown out eyes pleading as you lifted the tequila bottle up again. Aha. It just so happened he did - a baggie of coke he’d brought along just in case sat in his pocket, along with two tabs of acid. It didn’t seem like that kind of night, though, at least not yet. He’d stick with the coke.

“I might have something,” he replied, a genuine smirk spreading across his face for the first time that evening. He sat up straight, smacking your ass and biting your jawline at the same time, the yelp it pulled from you quickly transforming into a wild giggle and sending a rush of blood to his cock as he peppered kisses and bites down your neck to your collarbone. 

Quickly, he helped you to your feet and guided you through the crowded room, following you across the floor, his index finger linked with your pinky, prying eyes and pointing fingers meaningless to the both of you. You may have been stumbling, but you were confident. Or at least not at all concerned. A camera phone at the bar flashed and Dieter instinctively ducked his head, moving a hand to your hip to rush you forward and out of sight. 

Tucking into a hallway at the back of the club, he kicked a door open and hurried you inside a small, dark room. It was clearly an employee restroom, high piles of backstocked paper towels and toilet paper toppling over when he pushed you up against the wall harshly, his hands cupping your face, the cool metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

He pulled a pink baggie out of his shirt pocket, opened it and tapped a bump of white powder out onto the skin between his thumb and index finger. He held it up to your nose and, without any question about what it was, where he got it or if he’d already tried it, you’d inhaled, one hand holding his steady while the other held your nostril closed. 

Fucking finally. Your head lit up immediately with euphoria and relief as the amphetamines rushed through your system and you melted against Dieter as he lifted you to perch you on a stack of cardboard boxes. 

You let him move you like a rag doll, smiling as he propped you back and tapped out two more bumps onto your chest and snorted them, running your fingers through his messy curls as he dragged his tongue along your cleavage, licking up what was left.

His lips found yours again, and the pungent taste of the powder on his tongue mingling with his taste drew you in closer. Looping your arm around his neck, your free hand clutched his bicep. The acrid taste turned pleasantly tingly on your tongue, a numbness spreading as it explored his mouth.

“Here, baby,” he urged, breaking the kiss breathlessly, and you hummed in response as he tapped out another bump on the back of his hand. You inhaled it again, then he used his finger to gather the remnants of the powder. Cupping your cheek firmly, your jaw relaxed under his touch as he rubbed the excess powder into your gums. You reacted instantly, closing your eyes and drawing his finger deeper into your mouth, succumbing to the rush of sensation.

He groaned in approval, your lips already open when he kissed you again, drawing him in for more, thighs parting to wrap your legs around him. The flimsy strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, the fabric across your chest following shortly after.

Blissfully content with the relief of the chemicals rushing into your bloodstream for the first time today, you went numb, rolling your head back and watching patterns dance behind your eyelids. You allowed Dieter to touch and move you at his will, his hands skillfully brushing the other strap of your dress off your shoulder, exposing your chest completely. A throaty moan escaped him at the sight, the gentle sway of your breasts moving with the rhythm of the rough push of his hips into yours. He drew you closer, his lips finding purchase on your skin. Roughly latching onto you, he drew your breast into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the peak of your nipple before switching to the other side of your chest.

Sparks shot down your spine and your mind went blank for a second, lost in the feeling of him against you, the synapses in your brain firing and lighting up. You snapped back into the moment when you felt him grasp your hand with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours. He guided you down to press your hand into his crotch, grinding the firm length of himself into your hold again and again. 

A soft moan escaped your lips, surrendering to the warmth and pressure of his body against yours. You tightened your grip around his neck, allowing yourself to fully yield to his control, your body pliant and responsive to his every move.

You’d fuck him, you figured, as you moved against him. He was good looking - now that you were feeling a little less edgy, you could appreciate it. Corinne would kill you if word got out, but he seemed like someone who knew a thing or two about discretion. He stiffened even more as he firmly thrusted into the cradle of your hand and you cupped your fingers around his length, the soft fabric of his pants allowing you to feel him completely. You walked your fingers up to his waistband, nails dipping under the fabric and pulling at it slightly. You’d go home with him. Whatever. You’d bring Natalie with you and you could leave by morning. He probably wouldn’t even notice a missing gram or two.

You followed the thought as he trailed kisses up your chest and neck, finally settling at your ear. His hand rose up your thigh, thick fingers dragging along the lace fabric at your center. The bundle of nerves there erupted at his touch and your thighs instinctively squeezed around him.

“Let me taste you, baby, please,” He growled just above a whisper into your ear. You arched your back into his arms, moaning and nodding in agreement, the cool porcelain of the sink underneath you causing your skin to goosebump as your dress rode up further. You opened your eyes, peeking at the chestnut brown curls, the color blending into the dark room surrounding you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you fought to keep them open, wanting to stay present with him. But the warmth of his breath against your skin and the gentle touch of his fingers on your cheeks were lulling you somewhere else. You felt like you were floating, your vision blurred at the edges and you fluttered your eyes shut again, feeling his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and stall there for a moment. 

Your fading in and out like that threatened to spook him away. You couldn’t be too fucked up. He lightly tapped your cheeks a couple of times, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Stay with me, baby," he whispered urgently. "Gotta hear you say it."

“Mmmm,” Dazed, faraway eyes looked up at him, your blown-out pupils mirroring his own. You nodded again, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. Your pulse raced between your legs, and you felt your hips moving towards him, trying to ride something that wasn’t there yet. “Do it, Dieter, please.”

There we go. He smirked, lifting you from the stack of boxes to push you up against the wall and sinking to his knees. He bunched up the fabric of your dress at your hips, roughly pulling your panties down your legs, the black fabric hanging loosely at one ankle as he lifted your leg to hang over his shoulder.

You shrieked when he slid his tongue through your folds, your knee buckling when he repeated the motion, his strong hands moving up to your hips to support you. His tongue pushed wide against you, him tasting and exploring you as his fingers dug into your hips with bruising force.

He felt fucking amazing. You typically hated when men touched you, especially when you were high, but he felt incredible. You’d give him anything. Despite your rapidly dulling senses, the feeling of his tongue working your clit back and forth was at the front of your mind. He pushed his tongue wide against you again and again, fucking two thick fingers up into you without warning. 

You gasped, your mouth opening wide as you root your fingers into his hair to ground yourself. He wanted to wreck you completely, to smear the dark makeup around your eyes and watch that glossy mouth of yours stretch around his cock. His lips locked around your clit, and as the blood rushed to the bundle of nerves there you threw your head back, chest heaving, loud, wretched moans spilling from your throat.

With your senses dulled, he knew it’d take a little more to send you over the edge. A third finger pushed into you with a stretch, starting slow and working up to get in and out of your tight, soaked cunt. You moved your hips to match his rhythm, your pace hiccuping as he began working you faster and faster, working your clit between his teeth with a pinch.

Your moans were frantic, hitching higher and higher as he confidently worked you towards an orgasm, your surroundings blurring and swirling around you. 

THUD, THUD, THUD. Just as you neared your release, a loud pounding at the door shattered the moment.

He groaned in frustration, pausing briefly before attempting to resume. You struggled to regain your focus, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, nerves coiled tightly at your core.

The knock was followed by a muffled argument and the clanking of keys from the other side of the door. Reluctantly, Dieter's head emerged from between your thighs.

“Fucking assholes,” Dieter grumbled in frustration as he stood up, moving the straps of your dress back up your shoulders and quickly adjusting himself. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you pulled your panties back up, frustration pounding angrily between your legs.

“Find me, alright?” He breathed, smoothing out your dress, his hand lingering on your ass and eyes slowly moving up your body. “I’ll take you home.”

You nodded as the door was thrown open, the bright, white light of a flashlight shining into the small room. You stood up straight, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror and sneakily grabbing the small, plastic baggie Dieter left on the counter, hiding it in your fist behind your back.

“Let’s go. Knock this shit off,” a voice bellowed from behind the light, which darted back and forth between you and Dieter. “We’re not doing this in my fucking club, get the fuck out, let’s go!”

“What the fuck is this?” Dieter asks, moving to stand in front of you and block you from the bright light.

“I’m sorry, man, I tried to stop him,” Another voice followed from outside the room. You squinted and peeked over Dieter’s shoulder, annoyance showing on your face. A large bald man in a suit held the flashlight and to his right was the small, douchey-looking guy you recognized from Dieter’s booth. Natalie’s head popped up behind the both of them, looking relieved to have found you.

“You’re not doing drugs on my floor and fucking little girls in my bathroom. That’s it, Bravo. Get the fuck out of here, let’s go,” the angry man repeated. Dieter raised his hands and murmured an apology to you as he shuffled out, one hand poised defensively in front of his face. He pushed out of the room past Natalie, her brows furrowed at him in confusion as he passed. His counterpart flocked to his side, immediately rushing into what sounded like a flurry of explanations and reassurances. Natalie slid into the room smoothly, wrapping an arm around you to usher you out. You stumbled at her side, annoyed and disoriented.

“I’m TWENTY-TWO, ASSHOLE!” You screamed at the man with the flashlight, attempting to shove him with your balled-up fists. He raised his eyebrows, bald head wrinkling and frown deepening. Natalie pulled you away from him quickly and you could hear her apologize behind you. “Don’t tell’um sorry, Nat, ’m not fucking sorry, I was in the fucking bathroom!” you slurred, your voice disjointedly raising and lowering in pitch.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Natalie urged you.

“Yeah, ’s get the fuck outta here,” you agreed, stumbling as she shepherded you out. She handed you your purse and you quickly shoved your hand inside, dropping the half-empty baggie into the side pocket. One or two flashing lights from the crowd gathered at the bar stole your attention for a moment, but it quickly returned to the big, bald, interrupting gorilla with the flashlight. “This place SUCKS!” you screamed as you began to turn back towards him, leashed by Natalie’s grip around your arm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated firmly. You followed her through the crowded bar, stomping across the floor and ignoring the unending stream of heads turning towards you. The two of you shoved out the heavy metal doors of the club, clicking and flashbulbs immediately erupting around you as the cool evening air breezed across your skin. Your name was shouted from your left and right as Natalie dug in her bag for the valet ticket.

“Having fun tonight?” A photographer asked. You rolled your eyes. “Alright, over here, honey,” the same voice continued. With a resigned sigh, you turned to offer a practiced pose, your mind ticking through your media training despite how fucking annoyed you were. Stumbling a couple of times as you attempted to maintain your balance, you moved through a lazy pose or two. You knew the routine - let them get their shot and maybe they'll back off. 

“Partying tonight?” Another voice interjected. Moron.

Natalie finally located the ticket and the valet handed the keys over immediately, your car already parked and waiting curbside. Impulsively, you decided you’d drive, intercepting the keys before Natalie could take them and nearly smacking them out of the attendant’s hand before stumbling towards the vehicle.

“She’s not getting in the driver’s seat. No way,” reasons the voice of a man with a video camera to your left. “There’s no way!”

Another blinding eruption of flashing lights emerged around you. You stared down at your feet as you stumbled forward, trying to see where you were walking through the relentless assault of flashbulbs. Natalie called out your name from behind you. You struggled a couple of times with the handle before throwing the car door open heavily.

“Hey, you can’t drive, honey,” Another voice called out. You rolled your eyes.

You climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, exhaling loudly as the noise of the chaos surrounding you finally muffled. Flashing lights continued, your windshield now completely blocked by cameras. The volume raised again for a moment, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks, as Natalie scrambled into the passenger seat beside you.

“Are these people serious,” you asked, angling your head in towards Natalie and shielding your eyes from the barrage of flashbulbs pointed at you, frustration mounting with each flash. “How’m I supposta drive when they’re fucking blocking me?”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” Natalie said, concern in her voice. “Let me, okay?”

You shook your head adamantly. “’M not going back out there.”

“So climb over,” She suggested.

“Not in this!”

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her thighs.

“Hey, since when do you know Dieter Bravo?” She asks, momentarily changing the subject.

“Who? Oh,” you replied, the question registering with you once you answered. The reminder of him sent your attention between your legs and you shifted slightly in your seat. “I dunno. I know’hm from an awards thing.” You offered. It was an unconvincing lie, but Natalie didn’t fight you on it.

“He’s so random,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I think my older sister had a poster of him in high school. Right next to River Phoenix.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, everything about this evening now pissing you off.  The incessant clicking of the paparazzi's cameras only added fuel to the fire, and you narrowed your eyes in irritation, slamming your hand down on the horn for a solid ten seconds in a futile attempt to disperse them.

“MOVE!” you yelled, only inciting more flashing lights.

“Let me drive, babe,” Natalie tried again.

“Oh, my god, fuck this,” you snapped, frustration finally boiling over. With your hand still shielding your eyes, you shifted the car into drive. “You're my eyes now.”

“What?! No!” She replied, her voice rising in panic.

“Be my eyes. I’m going.” You repeated. Very slowly, you eased your foot off the brake, the car beginning to inch forward. Voices clamored outside the vehicle.

“Oh my god, um, okay. Go slow. Turn left. Slow!” Natalie began to guide you. The crowd cautiously parted around the car, photographers scrambling to avoid being flattened while still unwilling to sacrifice this shot. “Oh my god, this is so stupid. Slow, slow, slow.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid! What am I supposed to do?”

“No, yeah, okay, just slow, keep going left.” Natalie's voice trembled slightly as she continued to navigate. The relentless barrage of flashing lights illuminated the interior of the car, casting everything in stark, blinding brightness. “Okay, cut it! Cut it and keep going straight.”

You cut the wheel to the right and straighten it out, cautiously peeking through the gaps in your fingers to confirm you'd cleared the throng of photographers.

“Haha!” you exclaimed, your laughter echoing through the tense air as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor once the street ahead is clear. With a screech of tires, you peel off into the night, Natalie's nervous chuckles mingling with your own laughter. “Bye, assholes!”

You rocketed down Highland with reckless abandon. A couple of familiar vehicles creeped up behind you - regular photographers who paid their bills by stalking you. The driver to the left’s hand hung out the window, a digital camera pointed squarely at you. The light was yellow at the intersection in front of you and you smirked, not letting up on the gas and rolling your window down to flip off the camera as you raced through the intersection just as the light turned red.

“Slow down!” Natalie yelled, panicked, her hand clutching the door handle in a white-knuckled grip. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?! These guys are the ones with the problem,” you fired back, your tone frustrated. “I can’t do anything without getting fucking cornered!” Your car veered dangerously across the yellow lines and Natalie yelped. You overcorrected, the vehicle lurching back into its lane just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming car, its horn blaring in warning. Natalie’s body stiffened further in her seat as you took a wide right turn onto Sunset. You turn on the radio, a Rihanna song picking up midway through.

“Did he give you something?” she shouted, her tone urgent. You furrowed your brow, shooting her a confused look. “Dieter,” she clarified.

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, mood shifting as you suddenly remembered the baggie tucked in your purse. “Look what I got us!” You reached for your bag on the passenger floorboard, swerving again. Natalie lunged across the seat, her hands fumbling for the wheel to correct your course, while a chorus of horns blared from the vehicles behind you. Finally retrieving your purse, you fished out the baggie from the side pocket and held it up between your fingers for Natalie to inspect. She grabbed it from you quickly, examining it in her lap.

“What is it?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Coke, I think. Shit, hold on,” you floored the gas to race through another newly red light.

“Stop!” Natalie shrieked. “This is so fucking stupid, dude, let me drive!”

“Jesus, Nat, fine,” you groan, slamming on the brakes. You both jolted forward as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. “You wanna drive so bad, fine.”

You unlocked the car doors, opening yours slightly and reaching down to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, disbelief etched across her features as she surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. You nodded in affirmation, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “You’re such a bitch.”

With a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you stormed out onto Sunset Boulevard, Natalie following suit. The gray Honda belonging to one of the persistent photographers tailed you, coming to a halt beside you as the driver scrambled out, camera at the ready.

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you shouted. “I gave you your shot at the club, I’ve been nice to you guys, what more do you want?!”

You considered what it would take to get him to go away. Words weren’t working. Should you kick his car? Throw something? You began to stumble towards him, interrupted by Natalie yelling your name again. You turned around to see Natalie standing in the street, gaze fixed on the intersection ahead. Your car - which you apparently failed to put into park - was rolling into the intersection on its own. 

With a frantic surge of panic, you and Natalie sprinted after the runaway vehicle, the strobe of camera flashes behind you incessant. Arms flailing, you both desperately signaled to other drivers to stop, your heels clattering against the pavement as you raced towards the car.

As the car veered left, you were powerless to stop it from crashing into a parked BMW at the corner. Rushing to catch up, you flung yourself into the open driver's door, slamming on the brakes and throwing the gear into reverse. You leaned across the cab to fling the passenger door wide open.

“Come on!” You shouted at Natalie as she climbed back into the car. With a tense exhale, you navigated the car backward, turning wide in the intersection before screeching forward.

Your mind was completely clear with pure adrenaline. You were only a few blocks away from the hotel now, the castle-shaped outline shrouded in trees just ahead on your right. You floored it, a tense silence hanging in the car, both you and Natalie’s eyes locked forward on the road in front of you.

Only slowing down to make a right turn into the hotel driveway, you didn’t bother waiting for the valet. Tossing your keys onto the driver’s seat, you left the door ajar as you stormed through the garage toward your room, ready to put this evening behind you.

[marsprincess889]

Ketu placement and your most core self

So i want to talk about my personal experience about an artist I love, how she has been haunting me throughout my life and about how art imitates life.

I have ketu in jyeshta nakshatra,(and shoutout to all my 2002 babies with ketu in jyeshta, love u) and at age 10 i discovered an artist whose name i've heard of but never knew. I clicked on a song that youtube recommended called "Back to December" and i really do remember it so clearly, how natural it was and how i wasn't thinking as i branded Taylor Swift (sun in jyeshta) my favourite artist. I remember explaining passionately to my dad why I loved this song and how it differed from RED and how those songs were my safe space because while i had to try hard for anything else, this was natural and easy and just perfect.

Here i credit claire nakti, who you should know if you're interested in vedic astrology. She made a video about ketu and creativity and one's "daemon" that is really worth checking out.

Moving on, ketu is your creative, primal energy that is unaware. It's the headless body, the tail of the serpent, our past, where we come from, what is natural for us, past lives and untamed power. For example, as a ketu in jyeshta native I've always felt close to the hero archetype (I even wrote a song about that around that time), the poor orphan who rises into the world, the brave soldier who outsmarts everyone, the survivor, the winner against all odds, the grumpy independent individual, and even as a young girl, the archetype of the eldest daughter, which I actually am. I've always felt a little masculine at my core, and this explains why, as jyeshta is very masculine. All these archetypes I associate with jyeshta.

Jyeshta is known as "the best". You can only be the best if everyone else is worse, so we have the theme of competition. Jyeshta is located fully in Scorpio, and is very much about the occult side of life. It's shakti (power) is "to rise, conquer and gain courage in battle" (multiple sources). I know personally that jyeshta will never let you win an argument or back away from tension, the exception is only when there's no need to. My jyeshta moon cousin makes me so mad because he's always trying to lecture me to appear smart. That's definitely a more negative manifestation of its energy.

Anyways, in her video, claire nakti says that if you feel drawn to some art, it's been most likely created by someone with their primary placement in your ketu nakshatra. Now, this is not a rule, as I've definitely liked other artists, but Taylor's music felt too personal and custom-made for me, like she knew my taste and life from inside out.

Flash forward to summer 2019 and Taylor has released Lover, I'm sitting on a hill and cannot believe how Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince is so perfect, so me.

I went through my reputation era when she went through it, i went through a personal rebirth as she released Lover, I felt depressed and alone when I finished my school and she released folklore (tbh most of us did(SOLIDARITY TO CLASS OF 2020 MAKE SOME NOISE)) . Around that time I disovered Dickinson(a tv show) and here is my next point.(?)

Dickinson stars Hailee Steinfeld(jyeshta sun) as Emily Dickinson(also jyeshta sun), and it's about her life, yes, but mostly it's about Emily's creativity. There's a character called death that I believe relresents Emily's daemon(watch claire nakti's video for more clarity, but basically it's the opposite sex version of you, your creative self, and is represented by your ketu). Death appears whenever Emily feels different, like she needs time alone to herself and rides with him in his carriage, he also empowers her. Interestingly, Hailee Steinfeld's ketu is in Uttara Bhadrapada, which is Wiz Khalifa's(death) moon. That, in my eyes, solidifies the theory that he's representing her daemon.

I had discovered claire nakti recently at that time and also discovering this art that felt very personal to me was a little overwhelming, not to mention that i was going through a VERY stressful time in my life. As i grew so did my creative energy and I reached a certain block, but now I look at my art from that time and it's so... raw and pure and true. Tbh that time was extremely traumatic for me and it's traumatic to remember it but hey, I'm so much better now. I started my ketu antardasha at that time and it ended in february 2021. Still hard to remember yes, but I heard ketu dashas always are, you always come out more beautiful and true out of it tho 🙂.

So, be careful with ketu energies, they're not for us to misuse. There's always Venus after ketu so it's another reason to smile.

Please interact with me if any of this was interesting or felt familiar. Not all posts are going to be like this, in fact, I think they're gonna be more rare. This was a really serious post and brought up some stuff in me ngl. I really didn't deserve to go through the trauma, nobody does. But it's not all consuming, it was nothing really, it was just traumatic at the time. Anyways this is becoming a lot so wait for more aesthetic posts, I'm venusian after all 💖💖💖 love u guys, take care. 🤍

[her-acts-of-cruelty]

HIII i love eddie so much i have this scenario bouncing around my poor little brain about like him sitting out in the rain because he doesn’t want to be in the house and the reader who’s the neighbor that moved in after eddie went to jail and they like invite him inside and give him some soup and tea :-) give that man a nice cozy time. he deserves it

HI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAVE BEEN A BUSY LITTLE BOY!

I really liked the idea, I've done a little spin on how I thought Eddie deserved at least one friend who tried to help him. Am I exploring the concept of him being gay and leaving his wife for me? That's for me to know. I'm hoping this reaches the right audience, because I love men and men should love me too.

Also if you have more ideas you should send them. For chatacter ai bots or fics.

Synopsis: bringing an old friend in for a cuppa after seeing him get caught in the rain. Pre established friendship and !???

Cw: some language, mention of beer, but overall its tame

-------------------

You'd never really had a significant reputation in Chadder. You drifted outside the community, maybe it was your age, but you never really felt close with the village.

Aside from Eddie that is.

You used to work next door to his garage, in the little shop. Passing each other each frosty morning turned into combining your routes. Your radiating presence most certainly a stark contrast from the long and dull day he had alone. So walking to work with each other soon turned into going for a pint together to celebrate the day.

You'd exchange stories, little artifacts from each others day. Sometimes there'd be gossip, things You'd over heard in the shop with the things his loose lipped customers would mumble as he worked on their cars. Other times he'd tell you about his kids, what they'd been up to at school and how proud he was of his growing girls. You two made it work.

That was, until he disappeared.

His incarceration was much to your surprise and it seemed you were the only one who had your doubts. You chalked that up to why the residents went a little quiet when you walked by.

Things became a lot slower without Eddie. Your routine had suddenly been lost, your source of the news gone- it seemed as though you were well and truly alone.

By whatever sick twist of luck though, five years had passed and Eddie was out.

Your stomach churned when you first lay eyes on him, your body unsure of how to react- so you did the one logical thing. You stayed away from him.

You avoided him like the plague, worried about all the stewing feelings that had blossomed in his absence. It ate up at you quickly though, the way his face dropped when you turned around and marched off made you wish you could choke up your insides and never dream again.

It went on like this for a couple weeks. Now that spring was approaching, the rainy season was in full swing. You hid in your house most of the time anyway, but hearing the sudden large rain drops on the windows made your expression drop. You bolted outside to grab your drying washing off the line that'd been put up in your front garden. As you cursed yourself, something out the corner of your eye stuck out.

Eddie.

Alone.

You bit your lip and brought your things inside, tossing them carelessly into a basket by the washing machine. The rain wasn't slowing down, its aggressive downpour had you praying Eddie had left that spot and rushed home.

When you checked out the window though, he was still slumped against one of the black metal fences- trying his best to smoke a drooping cigarette.

Your stomach did another backflip as you decided what to do. You couldn't just leave him there to freeze, could you? You got a few more curses out of your system before kicking off some shoes and marching into the rain.

"Eddie?"  You called out as you approached him, the look of panic across his face told you all you needed to hear.

"(Name)- I didn't know you uh- it's raining why are you out 'ere?" He scrambled up off the floor, feeling sorry for himself as he came to his full height.

"Could ask you the same, what's going on? Shouldn't you be with the wife?"

He winced, "ah- its just a bit right now"

You nodded, watching him slowly get more soaked, "you should come back for a cuppa yknow, you're gonna catch your death out here like that"

He wanted to fight you, wanted you to know he belonged to be out here, fighting for warmth like the animal he is.

But also he wanted a warm cup of tea.

So he picked himself off the ground and looked down at you, expecting you to lead. You sigh once more and gesture for him to follow you back inside your house.

He kicks his boots off at the door and let  his eyes wander the walls. It's almost like he'd left his troubles outside, the way a childlike wonder filled him. You hadn't changed much since he'd left, and he liked that.

You'd already made it to the kitchen, working on tea, "Eddie? I might have a few things of yours in my wardrobe soon if you want something a hit warmer to slip into?" His gaze left the walls and met yours, nodding softly, "Yeah that'd uhm-" "Where they usually are, help yourself," You gestured for him for him head upstairs.

A light must have turned on, maybe this was the first sense of familiarity he'd been allowed to chase

. Gentle footsteps made their way down the floor and the hulking man now standing before you in some grey joggers and tee.

"Thank you- you don't know how much it-" "I heard about what happened, I didn't know how to approach it," you blurted, your body clearly wanting to rid the words from  it's festering wound.

He furrowed his brows a little, "is that why you've you've avoiding me like everyone else?"

"It's not like everyone else, you know it never has been-"

"Then what is it?"

"Eddie your tea is going cold-" you tried to shrug him off.

That wasn't the answer he was looking for, you saw it in the way his expression slowly sunk, "do you think I'm a monster too?"

"No! It's just- fucking hell Eddie, I just haven't been well without you." He slowly sat down onnthe couch at that.

Silence choked the room as you took the note to sit beside him. He pulled you close, fingertips caressing your side as he grabbed you. His head rested on yours and for a moment you felt... at peace? You're not sure what it was, but you sighed and got closer.

"You know I didn't uhm-" he tried to break the silence, an attempt to reassure you.

"Yeah I do, tried to get you proven innocent."

He didn't seem to surprised by the notion, "thank you."

[allwormdiet]

Insinuation 2.2

Time for another day of learning and adventure at Winslow High

That does have to be weird, though, right? Like "I fought a big badass villain last night and survived, my whole world has been changed by this encounter, I stared death in the face, what do you mean I still have to go to class and act like nothing changed?" Massive whiplash, I'd imagine.

Mrs. Knott gives the impression of being... better, at least, than Gladly. She's putting the effort in if nothing else, even if she has to leave the better-performing students alone in order to handle the rest of them, but that feels more like a matter of understaffing than any personal failure on her part.

God it's still messed up that Taylor has such little respite from bullying. This poor girl.

...I think this is the first time I've ever seen anything about Taylor knowing basic computer programming. Wonder if that ever comes back around.

And yeah Taylor, of course you have a geeky reputation, you're a fucking geek. Even setting aside the stuff with the bullying, like c'mon.

I saw a shitpost about how the single reason that Earth Bet is a dystopia is that Reddit is the number one news source in the world and there's something really funny about that idea.

Okay real quick the screenshot would be too small for me to add alt text, but “This article is a stub. Be a hero and help us expand it.” is an objectively hilarious line

And here we get the most information on any given Undersider, and it's immediately clear that Rachel has had a hard fucking life, like hell. Living on the streets as a teenage parahuman must be rough as hell, it's like living on the streets as a normal teenager except people want to recruit or imprison you while wearing stupid costumes instead of just police uniforms

(I would follow a Bitch fansite though, for real)

That's not how gangs work but whatever

So the ABB has a dragon man with dragon tattoos who uses the Chinese word for dragon as his cape name while being from Japan, a suicide bomber who dresses like a ninja, and a bomb Tinker. I don't know enough about Bakuda to really say but Lung and Oni Lee's gimmicks feel... mm. Lazy isn't the right word. Let's just stick with "racist" and move on so it stops bugging me

This is cute actually. She did a good job and she wants to like, celebrate that... and the only problem is that there's nobody she can celebrate with. I just made myself sad thinking about that.

And now she's basically Googling herself, which is also somehow cute.

There's something really funny about the idea that like. Taylor gets in touch with the Undersiders through a fucking Missed Connections post on a superhero message board. Like it's almost certainly the safest and most reliable way to get that message out, but that doesn't make it less comical.

And it looks like that's where we're leaving things.

Current Thoughts

Hit some highs and lows with this chapter honestly. Learning a little bit more about Taylor (swear to god I've never heard the programming thing come up before) and getting more of a breakdown on the Undersiders is all well and good, plus developments from the events of the night before, but again the whole Deal of the ABB grates pretty harshly. Like you don't need goddamn Edward Said to tell you that's all crap, it's just crap, and I don't think it reflects well on the author for putting that crap out there instead of thinking about it for maybe another thirty minutes first.

I gotta run some errands, 2.3 after that, God willing I don't have to read about the ABB for a while longer

[foone]

My current problem with mastodon is that it's full of nerds. Well, let me rephrase that, because everywhere is full of nerds: it's full of the most annoying kind of nerds. I'll explain under the readmore, because it got long.

Every time I've posted something on mastodon, I've gotten a bunch of replies that seem to be trying to explain things to me. And it's not like I'm posting "hey how do I install Ubuntu on a Samsung tablet?", I'm mainly going "here's some electronics I'm tearing down" or "I'm hacking this game and wow it does the font in a weird way!"

Neither of these is really an invitation to explain at me. And sure, when I did this on Twitter, I'd get these occasionally. There's always one person who thinks they know more than you and is like "I have to explain at this person!"

But on mastodon it's CONSTANT. I post a quick note about how someday I want to find ask the game developers why they encoded the font like this, and in like 12 hours I've gotten like 14 replies all trying to fontsplain at me.

And it would only be half as annoying if they were right! Cause that's the thing, too: THEY'RE NOT. Tons of people are assuming I am hacking a Pokémon game because I mentioned Game Freak, but nope! It's Drill Dozer. And others are explaining how the GameBoy hardware works when this is a GBA game... Jesus.

It's just... Some weird social thing. Maybe because mastodon co-existed with Twitter for so long as the open source Libre-Twitter, it attracted the kind of nerds who only use open source software, and they built networks of similar people. The kind of people that think they are and have to be the smartest guy in the room. And even now with a massive migration from Twitter to Mastodon, their early-adoption of this platform is influencing the culture of it. Maybe mastodon is just the kind of place where you explain tech at people.

Or maybe it's a cultural thing where it's more like 4chan's anonymous culture, where you don't assume or know things about people. There are no reputations, just interchangeable anonymous/pseudoanonymous people. Reddit often has that sort of thing going too, where if you are a Known Person, it's never a good thing. (just ask The Cylinder Guy).

Or maybe... It's just me. I wasn't the most well known weirdo on Twitter but I had a good number of followers. Maybe on Twitter it was more likely that people knew that I was "Foone, hacker of fonts and tearer downer of electronics!", but on mastodon I'm getting a lot of followers that haven't gotten to know me yet, and... Just assume I blundered into hacking a GBA game without knowing anything about how the GBA hardware and font encodings work?

Cause like, I've got about 20k followers on mastodon and I kinda assume those are just a subset of my Twitter followers who migrated over but maybe I have a bunch of new followers who were mastodon-only until now, and they're like "oh I've heard of that foone punk. Nothing specific but supposedly they're a big deal on Twitter, so now that they've joined mastodon I should follow them!"

Or maybe it is mostly a subset but only the most annoying explainy 20k of Twitter followers followed me over to mastodon? I don't know.

And it's the kind of thing where this happening occasionally would be fine. You get used to annoying replies when you have enough followers, no matter what social network you're on.

And God forbid you have something go viral! Fun fact: even if only one person in a thousand is a massive dick, if you have a post get seen by a million people, that's a lot of dicks.

I don't want to sound like "foone complains because they/their shit is popular", that's not really the problem. I've got a bunch of followers on here as well, but ya'll aren't coming into every post I make and trying to explain them at me.

Which is honestly odder? I would have thought it would be the other way around. Like, all my mastodon posts are like "I am hacking this video game: I am a reverse engineer" or "I am taking apart this electronic device: I'm a reverse engineer" or "I'm building this electronic device/software: I'm a forward engineer". So you'd think people would assume Mastodon!foone is the kind of person who Knows Things, as they're clearly highly technical in what they're doing.

But over here on Tumblr, while I may mention those kinds of things from time to time, I'm mostly doing shitposts, writing, fandom stuff, making jokes, being queer. You'd think it'd be much easier to assume Tumblr!foone doesn't know a huge amount about technical subjects and is therefore a great target for explaining at.

But it is a cultural thing, I guess. Mastodon is full of people who assume you don't really understand what you're talking about, and will explain at you. And Tumblr isn't.

Well, at least for technical stuff. You will get plenty of argumentative replies and reblogs, but less on a post about how GBA games encoding Latin text, and more on things like fandom and politics and queer identities. Although even then I would argue they're doing it on a different way, most of the time: they're not assuming you don't understand and explaining at you, they're more going "(I assume you understand), but I disagree" or "I explicitly think you don't understand: here is where you are wrong", vs the mastodon reply of "I'm assuming you don't understand, so let me explain at you what you're talking about".

I dunno. I don't really have a good solution here and this isn't going to be the reason I leave mastodon or anything, but it's odd, and annoying.

I'm not posting on mastodon as much as I posted on Twitter, and while part of that is that I split my online presence between Tumblr and mastodon instead of keeping it all mixed together on my Twitter, a big chunk of it is that mastodon is simply not as fun to post on as Twitter was, even accounting for my smaller follower count.

Because I'm not just getting a proportionally smaller number of interactions (which makes sense given how I have fewer mastodon followers than I had Twitter followers), I'm getting a larger proportion of really annoying interactions.

And I think what annoys me most is the assumption that I don't know what I'm talking about. Like, tearing stuff down and hacking games for their fonts? I am a professional! This is my job (mainly because I'm unemployed at the moment and my Patreon is my only source of cash), and it's not one I picked up recently. I have been hacking the fonts out of games for FIVE YEARS and as for tearing down electronics? I've been documenting that shit on Twitter/mastodon/etc for like eight years but I've been doing it since i was old enough to hold a screwdriver.

And yes, sure, explain things to me if I don't understand: those things will be clearly signposted. I'll be like "I'm not sure what this chip is, these silkscreens don't match anything on Google" and it's always useful if someone can pop in and go "oh that's a SMX8363 Network Biciever!" because they have some knowledge I don't, and I made it clear I don't know what it is.

But it's a whole different thing for me to post a picture of a PCB and day "okay here's the inside of the case", because I'm about to follow it up with closeups and details, and 5 people reply "chip U1 is a SMX8363, that transformates the network bananadines" because HEY I'M ABOUT TO POST THAT.

or worse, I already have, you just didn't scroll down enough to see it.

Anyway the reason I'm ranting about this here in Tumblr is because I'm not exactly trying to call these people out and get them to change their ways. At least one of the people on the most recent post is someone I've known for years and respect, and she has a lot of Pokémon knowledge, and was applying her specific technical background to help explain it. She's cool... But she just happened to reply along with a mob of random people I don't know, and she applied her highly specific Pokémon Knowledge onto a post that was never about Pokémon.

I'm just saying this here, because I'm musing about the differences I've experienced in different social networks. I can't really tell if it's about the networks themselves or just my particular bubble of followers and followed peoples. It could be either. Especially since Tumblr has some hugely different sub-communities (which is why Blaze can be so hilariously odd: it doesn't pay attention to those communities, and just randomly hits people across the site), and mastodon isn't even a single social network, it's a metanetwork of social networks which many (intentionally) broken links between subsets. (I had to move servers a few times because the first couple I picked had problems, like getting shut down, blocked by most of the western world, or getting put on a "probably bad to interact with" greylist)

I dunno. I'm slowly starting to lean towards posting more technical stuff here instead of mastodon, simply because I can post a neat old TV here and only get replies that are positive, whereas the same sort of thing on mastodon would get many more replies but most of them are trying to explain a TV at me.

Look, all I'm asking is that people don't assume my wonder at the complexities and weirdness of the world as ignorance and a request for education.

Because that's a big part of my social media persona! I don't know how "fake" it is (I'm autistic. I've been wearing masks so long I'm not sure there's anything under them), but it's a good way to interact with the world in my experience: the world is full of hidden wonders and it makes me happy to share them, and apparently people like learning about them when I'm talking about them in that way. It's like I'm putting on a Bill Nye mask so I can be amazed at everything, to some degree. It keeps me from getting bored and taking things for granted, it lets me discover hidden beauty, and people seem to enjoy that kind of attitude, especially on social networks increasingly full of negativity. I can be excited about this weird old computer, and hopefully I can talk about it in such a way that helps you share in some of that excited, and the world is a little brighter.

And it's just disheartening when you try to share in your excitement about the weird and the complex and unusual and get people going "um actually this is just a common design for systems that use the 430TX chipset, as it's a budget model that didn't implement AGP fully and instead used a PCI bridge chip to implement..." and it's like LET ME HAVE FUN AND SHARE THAT FUN EVEN IF YOU CAN'T.

It's not even that I'm getting less "wow that's cool!" replies, it's that I'm getting mostly "that's just some boring thing that makes sense if you've done five years of electrical engineering like I have" and I'm so tired of that kind of attitude. It just goes double when they're wrong and assumed something was boring because they understand it and I don't, when in reality I do understand it, and they missed the interesting bit because they came into the conversation already looking to rain on my parade and/or educate the fool that they assumed I was.

And don't get me wrong: I am very a fool. But I'm not every kind of fool. I know some things. And I'm not a fan of getting explained at as if I don't understand those things.

Terrible thought, that's probably not true: I got most of my Twitter followers before I was out as trans. I've been trans on mastodon since day one. Are these fuckers assuming I'm a woman and mansplaining at me? Like, they're not transphobic, they respect my identity (even if they have it wrong), but they're still sexist and by assuming I'm a woman, they also assume I don't know what I'm talking about?

God. I hope not.

Anyway. Tumblr and mastodon, won't you?

[crystal-grotto]

For how long this blog has been around I've never actually sat down and typed out how my collection of muses see eachother. Each arrow below breaks everything down and most of these have years of characterization and Discord plotting behind them.

-> Kanjigar

Draal is his only son. Kanjigar loves him with every fiber of his being, even though he did have to distance himself for so long while doing his duty as Hunter. He harbours many regrets for his actions but has been given a second chance, so he's working towards making any amends possible so they both can have a chance to heal.

Jim is new - but full of promise. Even though there have been hiccups here and there, Kanjigar likes and respects the youth enough to offer what wisdom he has to make sure Jim can survive, and be a more elder voice of logic in rough times.

Hagel is one of his closest friends out of the entirety of the OC crew. She was one of his first and only Gumm-Gumm Reformers, and throughout the years he grew to trust her through repeated contact. Their physical interactions are always in amicable light, sharing tea and food as well as stories even though Hagel is not required any longer to see him regularly.

Renjai is a troll of reputation. She's someone that he's not had a lot of interactions with - yet he has seen plenty of her work ethic as well as heard enough tales of her exploits from Draal to hold her in high esteem. In his opinion any Kiltar is a good thing to have in defense of Trollmarket; but it's even better to have one as decorated as Razorback there.

When it comes to Alex and Sturm, Kanjigar knows they are local as he has seen them around. He is also aware they interact with his son, but he's had little experience with them both himself so far, thus he has formed no defined opinions. That being said he is certainly more wary of Sturm compared to Alex as he suspects the electromancer is another Gumm-Gumm underneath those traveler robes; as neither cause issues in the Market, however, the old hunter has had no official reason to confront or persecute them.

-> Draal

Draal is very much his father's child. His love and devotion to Kanjigar runs deep - even though many wounds have been given throughout the years with his sire being distant. Now that the Fates gave him back, and offered a second chance, and the duo are making amends whenever their schedules align.

Jim may be tiny, but he is mighty and determined. Everything he's done so far has defied odds, making Draal all the prouder to be associated with him both as an ally and in family. Wherever the human Hunter decides to go, Draal will most likely be someplace nearby to keep a protective eye on him.

Renjai is a troll that Draal is a huge fan of when it comes to her professional life. He's attended a lot of her fights, and cheered her on many times both in the Kiltarheim and Trollmarket. He's even more delighted that he managed to achieve friendship with the pit fighter. She's a rarity in trolls that outmatch him - and he hopes maybe one day he can match her in combat capabilities. (Dependent on verse, he's crushing on her - ship tag: renjaal).

Alex, to Draal, is an odd one - in a good way. A changeling, but one that defies it's nature, is unheard of in the troll world. After causing him and her many levels of conflict after the female's status discovery, he's still somewhat surprised that she weathered it all and is a loyal friend. Shes a voice of calm compared to most of his circle; while Draal is not exactly sure what brings so many creatures of her ilk into his life, she's the only shapeshifter that has earned (and kept) his protective axe.

Sturm is a little bit of an enigma Draal is trying to unravel. After temporary butting of heads in Market encounters, tensions were smoothed away and tolerance allowed - and now the tinkertroll bull is a source of curiosity for the fighter. He's never known any troll to have magic like the hybrid does, nor such a understanding of machinery like him; and through much conversation Draal has managed to pry back a bit of the shell to secure a friendship with the other. He very much likes socializing with the other and listening to them talk about whatever topic is on hand - unlike Blinky. (Dependent on verse, he's crushing on him - ship tag: Sturaal).

-> Jim

He's had very little interactions with anyone aside from Kanjigar and Draal, as well as Alex.

He's in awe of the skill Kanjigar possesses, so he holds him up on a somewhat 'superhero'-ensue pedestal that he can learn from in his tenure of Trollhunter; he's not yet come to learn this version of Kanjigar is a Revenant. Draal on the other hand he loves to pieces as a elder (troll) sibling and takes everything he does with thoughtfulness and care - and subjects him/is subjected to his fair share of shenanigans.

When it comes to Alex, the young Hunter is clueless to her nature. He simply thinks she's a cool library/teacher's assistant that has an interest in the sciences and arts. He appreciates that she's relaxed and approachable, and that holds true as well in the rare instances he finds her in Trollmarket selling her hunts or herbs in her true form.

Renjai he admires at an arm's length. She's terrifying and powerful in the same way Draal was when he first saw him; Jim has not worked the nerve to talk to her yet.

He's only recently gotten wind of Hagel, so soon they may become good friends.

Jim has no idea that Sturm exists yet.

-> Renjai

Everyone has head the stories of the great Kanjigar the Courageous. To meet him in the flesh was not something Renjai expected to do, and yet she has maintained her composure and given the Revenant high esteem and wonder even if they have not spoken too much aside from the pub. He's earned it.

Draal, in her eyes, is everything a honourable Kiltar should be. Proud, skilled in the art of combatives, and mighty. The admiration is something that is a wayside bonus from her popularity and a source for amusement sometimes - but she much prefers the brawler as a friend and drinking companion over a fan as he's one of the few who can keep up with her, and one of the few of her species that she can allow herself to put faith in. (Dependent on verse, she crushes on him. Ship tag: Renjaal)

Renjai watches Jim's progress from afar, and marvels at how quickly he adapts and grows. At the same time she pities him - as he is but a child wearing the responsibilities of adults to kill and defend. In the near future, she's decided, she will approach him and offer her trainings just like Draal and Kanjigar have already done.

Much like Draal, after Renjai learned what Alex was, she gave her much grief. Renjai fully wanted her dead, once upon a time, before the small shapeshifter proved herself worthy of not finding her demise at the end of a spear. Now there has been gained respect and friendship to the point of forgiveness and defense if ever necessary. If anyone ever asks: yes, even Renjai is baffled in her turn of emotions.

Hagel is a good troll. Even if she was a Gumm-Gumm once, she Reformed at the hands of Kanjigar. Renjai deals with her from time to time, and shares a polite word and a meal. It's almost like being around one of the kinder Kiltar smith elders back home.

She's not very sure about Sturm. Renjai has seen him lurking about once or twice, but has never actually seen his face from the traveler's garb he chooses to wear each time he is in Market. She's got her eye on him if anything ever goes sour though.

-> Alex

Alex is the one who is somehow on good terms with nearly every muse.

The only person she's not managed to befriend in any way is Kanjigar - and that is mainly due to the fact that she's wary of his previous status of Trollhunter and his life experiences. She keeps her head down around him and minds her business; yet she also respects everything he's achieved and held together in the world of trolls by himself. He's a mighty individual, even without amulet.

With both Draal and Renjai it took some time to earn their friendship as the taught prejudice of changelings runs deep. She was scared of them at first, for they could kill her without effort; yet with enough time, proximity, and trials, she eventually proved herself as on the side of good to the warriors and developed an amicable bond with them. She appreciates their companionship more that she'll admit out loud and counts them in her small circle of true friends

Jim is a good kid. She likes talking to him whenever she can, and just relaxing whenever the youth can take a moment to himself and breathe. He's genuinely curious and she's happy to teach and has befriended him to an extent in the human world - but is internally fearful of the day he figures her out. She does not know how he'd respond to even more of her kind in his life.

Alex adores the things Hagel can do, and how nice she is. Such a friendly troll is a rarity - and she loves to trade with the giant Gadag whenever there's the chance. She's got the sneaking suspicion Hagel has probably adopted her at this point, but she doesn't overly care.

Sturm is... Like her, in many aspects. They both came from the same place, knew similar horrors, and knew similar pains for not being 'normal'. After working through a jagged start of simple trades, suspicion, and polite words into something more amicable the two quickly became good friends. She's more than grateful that he became another of her circle instead of an enemy.

-> Sturm

His default is cautious when it comes to others. Sturm is well aware of the threat he can be perceived as, and as such, has had very limited contact with the collective muse group; the only two he's had sustained interaction with is Alex and Draal.

Kanjigar is suspicious of him, and Sturm knows it. He actively avoids being in the older bull's line of sight to mitigate the risk of conflict, and the same goes for most other muses.

As he's heard the whisperings of Renjai's exploits the electromancer does not trust that she will not target a Gumm-Gumm in the Market in the name of it's defense. He keeps a wide berth from the she-troll whenever she roams.

Now that Jim is present, Sturm tries to keep to himself as he has no idea how a human would react to someone such as himself. So far it's been going well enough - coupled with the fact he only goes to Trollmarket once or twice a year.

Alex is what would be considered his best friend. They both suffered in the Darklands, but prevailed against all odds - and happen to be tinkertrolls in different veins. She trades many things with him and spends a decent chunk of her free time in his presence. In turn the bull has done similar, and has crafted gifts from time to time in gratitude for being someone he feels he can put his confidence and comfort in.

Draal... Dependent on verse that's a pile of complicated feelings that Sturm is still working on sifting through. Both of them are on agreeable terms, friends even though the Kiltar is the son of the previous Trollhunter. Sturm admires many of the fighter's traits - and hopes eventually he can be just as confident as Draal is in certain aspects of his own self. (Dependent on verse, Sturm is crushing on him - ship tag: Sturaal).

Hagel is only known to him as a chef troll. He's never walked that far into Market to see her, or figure out who she is in relation to him.

-> Hagel

This troll is on friendly terms to almost everyone, just like Alex.

Kanjigar is held in high esteem - mainly as he gave her a chance to change her life and make a place for herself someplace where she could actually do some good rather than harm. Even though her Reformer trials are over, the she-troll is happy to continue the tradition of visiting whenever time permits.

The son of the Trollhunter might be a touch gruff still, but neither of them bear ill will towards eachother and are rather friendly at this point in time.

Renjai is another that Hagel on good terms with - but so far the duo do not visit too much aside from business in association with a good cooked meal. Hagel understands and is simply happy that she is trusted.

Alex trades good supplies to Hagel and is very polite! Hagel suspects the Leodarin is not a true troll, and yet finds that she does not care terribly about that. Anyone who is on agreeable terms, makes an effort to be a friend, and sometimes even cooks alongside her, is more than welcome in her home.

So far the Gadag has only seen Jim in passing. As soon as Hagel learns he is a cook though then the she-troll is going to be delighted that he's not just a fighter. Overjoyed, even, and she'll want to share recipes with the youth and learn if human methods compare to the Gadag way.

Her and Sturm have not been reunited yet. She holds constant guilt about the series of events that happened, and thinks he is still lost to the Darklands. Hagel fails to notice the other Gadag in the instances he does make trips to Market as he never comes close enough to her dwell.

[noisytenant]

how safe are weed vapes compared to like regular vapes? I've recently heard vapes are like horrible for you cus you're just smoking a shit ton of chemicals but does that depends on what's being smoked?....since you said the weed is just being heated up is there less chemical intake overall or just less combustion byproduct like you said before (sorry if this makes like no sense I'm not familiar with this stuff at all or how it works lol but I also had a really bad experience with edibles and have bad lungs so I just wanted to know a bit more)

Hey sorry for responding so late I had gotten most of this post done after you first sent it but I ran out of energy and got too perfectionistic. Anyways here it is:

Excellent question! The first formal modern e-liquid vape was only released in 2003, though various attempts had been made earlier, which means we are still researching the long-term effects they have on health. When the average person says "vape", they almost exclusively mean "e-liquid vape".

Currently, what we can see about e-liquid vapes: They're not very good. They do reduce some smoking risks (no tar) but introduce other risks, and have a reputation of being safer and a potential smoking cessation aid while a reality of unregulated and poorly sourced ingredients which can cause acute and lasting lung damage.

Dry herb vaping, which is what I recommend, is much more straightforward, but only recently popularized and thus still needing more research.

At the risk of being a square: Any time you intentionally inhale something other than air, you're introducing more risk than if you simply never smoked or vaped anything. But like don't let that stop you, we take on risk all the time, that's what harm reduction's all about babey

Dry Vapes are Not Vapes

A vape or e-cigarette is a device that heats and vaporizes a liquid carrier with a suspension of the psychoactive chemical, either nicotine or THC. These are what people think of when they think of vapes, and these are generally the most problematic for having untested and unregulated chemicals while being touted as healthier.

A dry vape/dry herb vaporizer is the method I recommend, which heats the plant material (or concentrate like wax--I haven't done this myself personally) and evaporates the cannabinoids and terpenes without combustion. It's basically like baking your weed in a tiny oven.

This method was popularized most recently in 1993 with Eagle Bill's Shake and Vape, though apparently the principle of boiling vapor has existed since ancient times.

General Smoking Health Risks

Tobacco and weed both produce "tar" when burned--a catch-all for a variety of chemicals, many of which are carcinogenic, produced during combustion. The tar isn't made from the THC or the nicotine, but from the plant matter itself and its additives. If you burn plant matter and inhale the smoke, you inhale a certain number of toxic and carcinogenic chemicals.

There is some conflict on if smoking weed causes cancer. It certainly doesn't carry the same correlation as tobacco, but the reasons are unknown. We don't have long-term studies verifying a connection between the two. Very preliminary lab tests suggest that THC and CBD have antitumor effects, but it'll be a while before we can figure out the deal. There is still risk!!!

Regardless, the deposition of tar in lungs is an irritant and increases risks of things like bronchitis. For someone with asthma or weak lungs, smoking of any kind causes problems.

E-Cigarettes, or e-liquid vapes

E-cigarettes were manufactured to counter tobacco cigs starting in 2003. An e-cig heats a liquid with a suspension of nicotine, atomizing it into droplets of vapor that are then inhaled.

The liquid is usually propylene glycol or glycerol with other additives like flavorants. It seems like propylene glycol and glycerol have been safe for ingestion as a food additive, but being atomized in an inhaled form is pretty new and the effects aren't well-known.

The major issue is that we don't have a standardized and proven-effective vape juice formula. E-liquid is poorly regulated and many samples contain entirely unidentified substances.

This is the major cause for concern.

THC vape liquids have similar issues, including being cut with Vitamin E acetate, which was correlated with a string of vaping-related lung disease, though not fully confirmed to be the culprit.

Hopefully this delineates why vaping, as in e-liquid vaping, is problematic, and why dry vape is comparatively safer.

Why dry herb vape?

The boiling of the material introduces fewer (but not 0) unknown or undesired chemicals into the airstream. You're primarily getting the cannabinoids.

On a user experience level: It's quite weed-efficient, the weed tastes better w/o the smoke, it produces less smell, the vapor is less harsh on the lungs (you can and will still cough if you inhale too much tho), not much less portable than a joint

You can get a bong adapter and get megahigh still (I do have a bong but I don't like getting that fucked up)

Some vapes can heat concentrates, wax, etc. for potent highs (I haven't done this. But you can. Research yourself)

The already vaped bud (AVB) can be saved and reused for edibles, extracts, and concentrates; it's gonna be stripped of a lot of the psychoactives already, but not all of them--obvs be mindful of dosing here

Downsides: You do have to recharge battery vapes and get over the learning curve of batteryless (I'm pretty shit at using mine). You also have to clean your equipment every once in a while which is nbd for me who likes cleaning but yknow it does require upkeep. Easier than cleaning a bong tho

So, could you dry vape tobacco?

You can, but you probably shouldn't. Nicotine itself is highly physically and psychologically addictive and classified as toxic, and while it isn't considered carcinogenic, it is potentially a tumor promoter.

Pretty much everyone I know who's on nic tells me they don't like it, they wish they could quit, and they would never want me or anyone else to start.

Last, some Dry Herb Vaporizer Tips

Controlling the temperature allows you to control which cannabinoids are released to a certain extent.

Hot vapor can still irritate your lungs. Keeping a relatively low temperature (Guides indicate the best range) and having a long enough vapor path that the vapor can cool will help you have a smoother inhale.

Do not use a vaporizer with cheap elements. Plastic near the heating element will cause by-products.

Contaminants and pesticides can be inhaled, source your material appropriately

Overheating can still cause combustion. You will smell, taste, and see smoke if this happens.

All the physical and psychological risks of weed are present--Take it easy, know your limits, don't vape or smoke when you're in an unstable state, etc.

Thanks for reading, I hope this helps you make informed decisions and potentially find a way of intaking weed that suits your needs :) If you have any more Qs I'll try to answer (IN FEWER WORDS)

[infiniteglitterfall]

I've tried to write about how, for the past year, and I genuinely can't even articulate it in my own THOUGHTS.

I start with the experience of knowing about the weaponized rapes within the first week. Because I actively googled eyewitness testimonies. That shit was right there in interviews on PBS.

And then mentioning it to a friend who reads the news all day long, who yet had heard nothing about this and acted like it was questionable and never mentioned it again.

Within a month, I started keeping a file of quotes and links. Of evidence of the systemic sexual assault and mutilation. Because so many people not only refused to believe it, but actively went on the attack.

At the end of the second month, I opened TikTok and got slapped in the face with a podcast clip not only denying systemic rapes by Hamas, but insisting that they were dehumanizing racist lies.

By someone who, in the same speech, said she could believe there had been individual rapes, although she hadn't heard of even one --

Which meant. That she hadn't even bothered to google it herself. To see if maybe there was "one." Before she got dressed all nice and went on a pre-scheduled podcast to say all this stuff.

I got out my file. I picked out the worst examples, a wide and detailed variety of different rapes, from the most clearly reputable sources. I recorded a video in which, because it was during Hanukkah, I cast some light on the subject by lighting the menorah and reading one example after each candle.

Then I never, ever posted it. Because I was terrified of what it would be like, on top of the experience of

being a sexual abuse survivor,

knowing people had been brutally gang-raped, mutilated, and killed,

for being Jewish,

and then seeing people angrily deny it over and over,

while also angrily insisting that Israel doesn't represent Jews, while simultaneously insisting Israel is a Jewish ethnostate, while vehemently telling us we don't need Israel to exist in order to be safe, while saying that no one in Israel is innocent much less a civilian, while saying anti-Zionism isn't antisemitism, after appropriating the Jewish term "Zionism" and redefining it to mean pure evil, after claiming Jews are white supremacists rather than a favorite target of white supremacy, after telling us over and over that we play the victim card and the Holocaust card and we're the REAL Nazis and this is the REAL Holocaust with the ACTUAL concentration camps....

...terrified of what it would be like, on top of all that, to have people come scream all that nonsense at me personally for speaking out on behalf of survivors -- not survivors. The opposite, in fact, of survivors. -- as a survivor.

To bear the burden of their obvious, loudly-denied hatred, as a reaction to stating the obvious, loudly-denied RAPES HAPPENED.

I couldn't do it. I already, routinely stay up until 3 am researching and writing about this stuff: debunking disinformation; looking for updates; researching the history of it all; connecting the dots between different hate groups and different terrorist organizations; investigating how and when all the rhetoric and lies built up across the left.

The day that I realized how soon after Hamas's attack Nerdeen Kiswani had posted about it, I crashed for like a week. I was just in dissociative autistic burnout.

I thought she had posted about it the moment the attack officially started. That was literally terrifying. I got the daylight standard thing wrong, I think; she actually posted a whole two hours later. Samidoun is the only other group I know of that posted earlier, and they're part of one of the terrorist groups that attacked. (The PFLP.)

You see, this is how I react to trauma. I research, and I argue, and I articulate things a little better each time, until I really understand why and how I'm right and can feel confident against people's bullshit.

But like. The sheer fucking wall of hatred. Of just overwhelming Suspicion Of The Jews.

The betrayal of seeing everyone abandon progressive values. Of knowing that we're supposed to believe survivors, supposed to let marginalized groups tell us what harms them, until it's the Jews Zionists.

Of knowing that we're not supposed to mentally divide marginalized groups into Good Ones and Bad Ones, to approve and support only the ones who agree with us. Until it's the Jews; then you can just call anyone you don't agree with a Zionist, and ignore them in favor of the ones who agree that you're not antisemitic and that Israel should be burnt to the ground.

The burning feeling, inside, both cold and hot at once, that comes from a friend who's Very Concerned About Antisemitism saying that you two are just not going to agree about the definition of antisemitism as long as you believe the ADL. As long as you don't understand what a vile smear campaign all these claims of antisemitism are. How much they're exaggerated and made up to make pro-Palestinians look bad.

The nausea of seeing people smugly recite, "every Israeli accusation is a confession," while they accuse Israelis of every individual thing Hamas did. The nausea of realizing you can't even point out how DARVO their Holocaust inversion and genocide claims are, because they've already made even that claim about you.

Watching the disinformation consume everything around us. Realizing that nobody cares whether any of it is true or not. Because it expresses what they feel like is happening. And because, for some of them, it satisfies a need to have Jews you're allowed to hate.

For others, I suspect, it's creating that need at the same time as - temporarily - satisfying it.

The horrifying realization that people have been lied to about EVERYTHING. We're so far behind in telling our own stories, in speaking our truths, that there's already a nearly complete, concrete wall of lies where our truth should be.

The hopeless confusion of trying to understand how to tell people that everything they've been told is wrong. Occam's razor isn't going to cut it here.

I don't know how to explain this to people. I have written so many words here, but they're just the bare bones of what happened.

They don't touch the weird dry cocoon feeling of being muffled in strangers' lies, or how those lies explode into rage if you even challenge them.

They don't touch the sheer fucking mindfuck of watching people devoutly believe and repeat bold-faced lies over and over and over.

They REALLY don't touch the carnival-ride confusion of watching people who have no connection to either Israel or Palestine, who have no personal horse in this race whatsoever, reacting as if every Palestinian harmed or killed is ten innocent members of their own community. And that for every Palestinian that died in the past year, really at least three or four others died too.

But at the same time, actively silencing and erasing any mention of Hamas deliberately harming and executing Palestinians.

And angrily shutting down any mention of the hostages being actively abused by Hamas, or of those it killed in Israel, or those it kills in Gaza through endless rocket misfires, or its promise to repeat its attack "again and again" until Israel has been violently destroyed.

Hamas, PFLP, & Co. have figured out how to phrase things in a way that makes people want to self-immolate for them.

I don't know how they do it. I just know it's bad by itself, and it's going to mean much worse things if nobody can stop them.

It's like we're all being transformed into Jewish Cassandras, doomed to be ignored until... oh good, Agamemnon enslaved her for sex and then his wife killed her.

That sounds like a lot of Jewish history, tbqh. That's just Pogrom Tuesdays.

The whole "Jews are weaponizing their trauma" is so, so fucking gross. It's one of the worst types of antisemitism because it foundationally dehumanizes us. They view us as incapable of experiencing genuine pain of any kind.

People don't understand what it is to be Jewish. Kol Yisrael arevim ze bazeh. I feel a physical connection at the center of my being with every other Jew on Earth. I feel the connection to my Jewish ancestors, because my soul is Jewish. I was at Sinai. I received the Torah.

They cannot fathom that we experience the loss of even one of our own as the loss of a world. The same people killing us glorify themselves in death, they cheer for death and destruction. We say l'chaim! Whole worlds were obliterated, desecrated, stolen and hijacked from us.

By people who pretended to be friends for generations, over twenty years. The Jews living near the Gaza border were peace activists. They were practicing what they preached: coexistence with Arabs. These men knew their children, had been in their homes, knew their names.

On October 8th, everyone screamed at us that we were committing genocide. And on October 9th, they said, "Jews don't really grieve their own. They don't feel pain. Any pain you see is just a reptillian manipulative farce, Don't Trust The Jews. They're Not Like Us."

And we aren't. We aren't like you. We never will be. But we are human beings. We grieve. We suffer. We cry out. We beg and plead. We die. One day, G-d willing, we will dance again, too.

[olivyh]

i love your villain kalim au but imagine an mc who is equally as cunning. like someone like william james moriarty. lmao imagine like the first years just playing along with kalim until he’s exposed.

i love evil kalim so much.

Of course!!! I've thought about that a lot- it opens up a lot of different possibilities! I also never heard of that character before, but when I saw his design and the plot of the show in general I just <<33333 might just have to watch it later

Villain! Kalim:

-He knew from the start that you weren't who you said you were. He could tell from the way your eyes would narrow on Jamil during the moments when things got particularly tough

-His first encounter with you was right before the Magshift tournament, and he could tell from the way you interviewed both of them that you were going to be troublesome

-Of course, he tried to use that to his advantage

-Kalim would act as bubbly around you as possible, bumping up his innocent personality a notch or two in order to avoid the suspicion you were no doubt raising around him and his 'personality'

-He would silently curse when he slipped, knowing all too well that he had been caught

-During Jamil's overblot, you were able to easily read between the lines and tell that, as Jamil woefully and manically explained as the ink poured from his eyes and mouth, Kalim was the problem

-He was livid

-In his world, his opulent world that he so carefully crafted from the second he was born into it, he was king

-And he was being toyed with

-To make matters worse, he was falling for it.

-He tried countless times to get the upper hand, with every attempt ending in him locking himself away in his room and throwing a fit as though he were a child again, pulling at his hair and pacing as more and more things that he hadn't thought about before started popping up

-He still had one thing; his status

-You were a magicless prefect and, although you were equally as cunning (if not more) as he was, you had nothing in this world

-Even when you got your friends into the act who were, admittedly, worse at hiding their intentions than you were

-He worked and worked at using methods that previously worked. Anything they needed magically appeared in front of them. Jack's siblings needed new ski gear? The latest, most expensive gear dropped on their doorstep with a lifetime warranty. Deuce's mom needed help with paying for groceries? Every market she would go to would allow her to buy the food for free.

-He thought he'd won.

-Until he was finally exposed, his years of abuse against Jamil brought to light to the rest of NRC

-His crocodile tears worked on some, but he no longer had that power that he thought he would have

-Kalim didn't know how you did it... managing to sneak away from his prying eyes and his sources scattered around campus. Jamil had transferred to another dorm in fear for his own safety, but...

-Kalim still had power over his family. He still had as much power as his treasure room could buy- practically enough to get him out of any crime and rival even the neighboring countries' royals.

-And he could hold that over the majority of NRC, he could use his wealth to get his spotless reputation back

-And he would stop at nothing to get it

-Especially from you

-(Though, if I'm being honest, Yuu/Mc/the prefect has too many powerful protectors in NRC for him to do much directly. Between the Rosehearts heir, the Prince of the Afterglow Savannah, the twins from the infamous Leech family, whatever Rook is [LITERALLY HOW IS HIS FAMILY RICH?? IS HE A PRINCE?? A NOBLE??], the two heirs to the Shroud family fortune and business, and the future King of the Valley of Thorns; he would barely stand a chance should he actually hurt you.)

"Prefect," You heard a somber voice at your open window, making you grin and turn around in your chair, reaching over to grab Grim in case the boy tried to do anything to hurt your beloved roommate.

"Kalim," The boy climbs through the window, carpet hovering outside for a few moments before soaring off. "I wasn't expecting you to come at-" You glance at the clock that ticks on the wall. "12 am."

The heir shrugs and merely walks around the room, scrunching his nose as he runs his fingers along the still dusty shelves. He pinches it between his fingers and sighs, turning his gaze to you. "Still can't clean?"

"What is it that you're here for, exactly?" You deadpan, standing and holding Grim protectively in your arms. The look in his eyes makes you weary. You're aware of what people with his status can achieve when they don't like someone, or when someone exposes their schemes. Your mind flashes with images of what he could do, of who he could hurt, trying to predict his next move as quickly as possible.

Who was next? He wouldn't hurt Ace or Deuce, would he? The rest of Heartslabyul would stay on your side, you were sure... but what about Trey's family bakery? Would Kalim go after that? He wouldn't be above manipulating Ruggie, due to their class differences, and you know that poor Ruggie can barely fight back if he really did try something. Jack wouldn't budge, unless Kalim threatened his family...

"I want to make a deal with you." He cuts off your train of thought as you sigh and lean back against the wall, an eyebrow raised.

"You sound like Azul," Kalim scoffs.

"Work for me."

"Hell no," You retort quickly, and you spot the annoyance that flashes over his features.

"If you do, I'll free Jamil and his family. The rest of your friends will be safe and taken care of for the rest of their lives. Doesn't that sound nice?" His voice shifts and it sends a chill up your spine at how easily he can change his mask- from cold and calculating to innocent and naive in a second. "You can finally be a hero, like you wanted."

"If I say no?"

"You wouldn't want to know that outcome," He grins. "I'm sure you already have an idea of what could happen."

"Fuck you," You snarl, trying to find any way around the options he gave you.

"I thought you would be used to it by now," He walks back over to the window, a skip in his step as he bounces and leans out, climbing back onto the carpet. He turns around and stares at you from the outside, ruby eyes staring deep into your own as you take a breath, putting on a nonchalant face. "You're in the villain's world, remember?"

You opt to stay silent as he smiles, face looking akin to that of a cherub's round and soft features- a deep contrast to the beast within the heir.

"Heroes don't last long here."

And with that he's gone as the window slams shut, a cold gust of wind following in his wake.

Which will you choose, Prefect?

[m00nchild-02]

Miss Mafia | jhs (m)

pairing: Hoseok x reader, Taehyung x reader (He's just a childhood friend, no love interest)

rating: 18+

word count: 15.5k sorry not sorry :)

genre: mafia au, strangers to lovers, secret agent, you are a mafia boss

summary: It's not easy to be the boss of one of the biggest mafias in South-Korea. And surely not as a woman. When a secret agent got discovered by one of your people and brought to you, you would've never dared to guess he would turn your world upside down in multiple ways.

warnings: praising, big d*ck Hoseok, oral (m receiving), hard sex, dom Hoseok, sub reader, v penetration, no protection (reader has an implant so she can't get pregnant. Make always sure you use protection guys!), also a bit of fluff at the end

music recommendations: - Lacrimosa - Mozart - Symphony no 9 - Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata - Beethoven - more songs on this playlist (youtube)

- https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1yXNkU806Y7EZruvrbl4g9?si=76931ed2ebae4c2c (spotify)

a/n: Again back with a story! I'm sorry for any grammar errors. It is such a big one shot. I'll probably proof read it later so I'm again sorry for any grammar mistakes in this ff! Just ignore it please :')

I was originally thinking of making this a jungkook ff but I eventually ended up making it a J-Hope ff instead. I think he would do a great job as main character here ;) Give it a lot of support and

enjoy reading!

masterlist

Lacrimosa from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Such a pleasant song to listen to with a good glass of wine. You take a sip of the dark red liquid as you softly move your head to the music playing through your boxes. This is how you liked to spend your time alone. A good glass of wine in one hand and the remote of your boxes in your other hand putting on some of your favourite classical music. Like Lacrimosa from Mozart or Beethoven's 9th symphony. All great composers with excellent music. You smiled as you felt your body relax after the long stressful day you had today. Your placed your red tinted lips on the glass for another sip of your wine you would never get to taste.

"Miss!"

You let out a deep sigh as you turned around in your chair towards the front of your desk. One of the maids walked inside and bowing at you. You gave her an unpleasant look. "Didn't I told the staff clearly not to come into my study for the rest of the day?" You asked the woman in front of you who kept looking down, probably not daring to look you in the eyes right now. Everyone knew you could be a real furry when you got angry or irritated. You can ask the last butler you had, after dropping a glass of whine on you by accident. It costed him a finger because you accidentally dropped a knife on his hand.

You softened the volume of the music before speaking again. "Tell me what's going on. It better be good if you don't wanna lose your job." You said coldly, don't sparing her a glance as you emptied the bottle into your glass. "I-It's about the issue from last week mam." She said. A bit of fear could be heard in her voice.

"Go on" You said. "They caught him miss." She said. You looked at the girl in front of you and suddenly began to laugh. The girl looked up for the first time, confusion all written over her little face. You turned towards the painting of your father on the right wall of the study and smiled, raising your glass. "See dad? The company is in great hands. I told you I would get him." You turned back towards the girl, that smile/smirk still on your face.

"Tell them to bring him to la grande salle. I'll be there in a minute." You told her. The maid bowed and then left the room closing the door on her way out. " You chuckled as you licked your lips. "Turns out this day is gonna be better than I expected..." You said, turning up the volume of the boxes and taking another sip of your glass of wine.

A few minutes later and your men walked in dragging a guy with them. His hands and feet tied together, his clothes covered in bloodstains and his hair a complete mess. You leaned forward in you chair as they dropped the man right at your feed. You were currently in your grand salle, how you like to call it, where you handled business of all kinds. From having meetings, recruiting new members till having a talk with bastards like the guy in front of you right now.

"Well, well, well... What do we have here." You said, letting out a small laugh. "Jung Hoseok, isn't it? Secret agent at the National Intelligence Service. They say you're one of the best in your profession. Sad that reputation will end today." You said, leaning back in your chair, snapping your fingers as a sign for the maids to leave the room. Leaving only you, Hoseok and two of your bodyguards. You threw the papers that were in your hand onto the table next to you, the pages falling open on some pictures of Hoseok and his meetings with the NIS.

"I must admit Mister Jung, I'm quite impressed. You have been undercover in my companies for five years. My father always knew there was a spy between us but he never had the chance to catch you." You looked away, staring into the distance as you said your next sentence. "Caught a bullet right through the head. Very tragic." You looked back at the man in front of you. He was still looking down, not saying a word or sparing you a small glance. Was he even still alive? Anyways, you still went on with your little speech. "But times change. After my father's death I took over and look! It's been less than a year and I already caught you."

Suddenly Hoseok started to laugh. You looked at him confused as he slowly tilted his head so you could look at his face for the first time today. His cheeks and upper lip were bruised and a dried stream of blood could be seen under his nose. He looked you right in the eyes. "Took you long enough to figure out it was me." He said. "But congrats. I'm happy you can finally make daddy proud." He mocked, spitting some blood on the white marble floor. His words and actions made your head boil. How dare he speak so lowly about your father. The bodyguards stood read to walk over and beat the shit out of him but you raised your hand stopping them.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. "Listen here," You said, getting off of your chair, slowly walking around the men on the ground before making a halt behind him and squatting down. You pulled out a blade out of your pocket and held it against his neck as you pulled his head backwards. He let out a painful groan making you smirk. You leaned in closer towards his ear before saying the following words, "You can say anything you want Mister Jung but know the more shit comes out of your mouth the less pleasant your stay at my villa will be before I release your soul from your body, understood?" You said, your mouth dangerously close to his ear.

The man didn't seemed intimidated as he scoffed. "Bring it on Missy. Good luck with keeping me locked here." He said.

You stood back up, a bit overwhelmed by his bold words. You walked towards his front, wanting to see his face. "You got a big mouth for a guy who just has been beaten the hell out of." You said. "Maybe I should just kill you here right now. Makes it a lot easier for the both of us." You said as one of the bodyguards handed you a gun. You loaded it and pointed it towards his head.

He looked you right in the eye as you held the trigger ready to shoot. What surprised you the most was that he was smiling. Why was he smiling? This guy made you so confused. "Not the brag princess but-"

"Don't call me that!" You yelled at him with gritted teeth.

"Ok my lady." He said teasingly. "What I wanted to say is you can't kill me." He looked quite relaxed when he said that.

You scoffed. "What are you talking about? I can kill you wherever I want, whenever I want! Just watch me."

He shook his head. "Sorry to burst that bubble of yours but you can't. You see... I've been undercover for 5 whole years. I know a lot about your company and you." He said, smirking, never looking away from your eyes. "I have been in every building, every city and every warehouse of yours."

"And what's your point?" You asked, getting annoyed of his talking. "To make it short, I have placed bombs and dynamite all over the place. If you kill me you'll never get to know the password and won't be able to deactivate them. So say good bye to your drugs, weapons and men... my lady. Bye, bye money." He said before laughing again.

"And why should I believe you?" You asked. "Busan, the warehouse at Ilgon street, number 45 (a/n: I made the street name up. For people who are wondering.). Look under the floor in the janitor's closet." He said.

You heart raised and your breathing became more rapid as you looked at one of the guards. "Go check if it's true what he's saying." You told him. This couldn't be true. If that bomb was really there then he probably said the truth and there would be more. That would also mean the end of your little mafia life and your source of income. That could never happen, not in a million years. Your family has worked so had for all this and now you're finally almost at the top, yes almost, he would barge in and ruin everything. You couldn't let that happen.

You looked at the guard as he finished the call. "They just found two boxes full of dynamite in the basement under the janitor's closet." The guard confirmed what Hoseok just said. "They say there are timers placed on them. They can only be removed by password, cutting a wire would mean the end." He said.

You brought your hand to your mouth and started to bite at your nails as you paced back and forth. "How much time do we have?" You asked. "7 days, mam." The guard answered.

7 days... You had 7 days to figure out that damn password and get rid of these bombs. But would you really be able to dismantle them on time? "Get Taehyung and put him to work." You told the guard before he disappeared to go get your hacker to fix the job. "You," You said, pointing towards the other guard. Lock Mister Jung up in the basement and make sure he doesn't escape." You said. "You can just call me Hoseok my lady. No need for the formalities." He said, giving you a wink. "Oh, shut up you. You're in no position to talk right now."

He laughed. "Right now I'm in a much better position than you would think love." The man came over to Hoseok and picked him up brutally from the ground. "Good luck with finding the password!" He said, before the doors closed, leaving you all alone in the room. You hoped Taehyung would be able to find it because you weren't in the mood of talking to that asshole again.

"Have you already found something?"

It had been 3 days since your encounter with Hoseok and him telling you about the bombs. 3 days of your hacker Taehyung trying to find a possible password to deactivate them. "I'm sorry y/n. Still nothing." Taehyung was one of the few people that could call you by your real name. You practically grew up with the boy so of course you got some kind of bound with each other.

Taehyung was typing all sorts of things on his computer while something was loading. "Whoever placed these bombs knows damn well how to use them. I can't crack into the system, nor can I track them or dismantle them without the password." He said. "Who did your father mess with?" He asked, his eyes never leaving the screen. "The secret agents agency of South-Korea." You said softly while biting on your nails again. It was a bad habit you did whenever you got stress.

Taehyung pulled at your hand so you couldn't bite on them anymore. "You should really learn how to stop doing that." He told you, looking at you for the first time after you entered the room.

You sighed. Taehyung was not successful in finding the password, the troops you sent hadn't found a single bomb yet except for the one Hoseok told you about and tracing was also out of the question. You were really losing hope. "Just keep looking." You told Taehyung before leaving him behind in his little room.

You were getting tired of all of this and decided to distract your mind a bit. And what is better then visiting your favourite casino when you are bored and stressed? So you went to your room and dressed up for a night out.

Little did you knew a surprise was waiting for you the other day...

"Mam! Mam!"

The door of your bedroom opened, a maid running inside out of breath as she stood at your bed, bowing first before waiting for your permission for her to speak again.

You groaned as you heard the woman storming in your room. Your head pounding because of the amount you drank the evening before at the casino. You slowly opened your eyes, hand on your head, holding it because of the pain. You gave the woman an angry look. "Speak" You snapped at her.

"M-Mam, T-The prisoner! He- He-"

"He what?!" You yelled, tired of the stuttering and hesitation in her speech.

She swallowed before talking again. "He escaped..." She said softly but clear enough for you to hear.

"WHAT??!!"

You made your way down the halls of your mansion while you wrapped your bathrobe around your body. While you made your way downstairs a few of your men were running upstairs but halted once they saw you. They stared at you with wide eyes while you stood there furious looking down on them. "I'll ask you once..." You said as you slowly walked down until you were face to face with the head of the guards. "What happened?"

"We were guarding him like you asked and suddenly someone of the kitchen came to bring us food. They said it was a treat for our hard work. After we ate it... We blacked out. When we woke up again the door was open and he was gone." The man said, looking down.

You clenched your teeth and slapped him right in the face. "YOU IDIOTS! How could you let him escape! I asked one thing of you and you couldn't even do that!!" You yelled at all of them. They all looked down like puppies that were being scolded at. "You're all useless!" You said as you made your way further down the stairs. They all bowed at you one by one as you made your way down.

You took a few corners before ending up in front of Taehyung's bedroom. You knocked, not waiting for an answer, and walked in. "Taehyung I need you to check the CCTV footage of last night. That fucking agent escaped." You said pacing around in Taehyung's room while the boy sat up, sleepily rubbing his eyes. "How late is it?" He asked groggily as he looked at you with puffed cheeks, bad hair and small eyes. "It's 8 am." You told him.

He sighed. "Give me a few minutes to wake up and then I'll go check ok?" You nodded. "Ok, I'll give you 15 min. Not more." You said and you walked out.

Like promised, in 15 minutes Taehyung was already sitting behind his desk returning back to the footage of yesterday evening. You saw the images of you walking out of the house, ready to go to the casino. "You can skip past that." You told him. He skipped a bit forward until you told him to stop. "Stop! right there." You said pointing at the screen. A man with a hood and a mask on walked in the shadows towards the back of the house. Taehyung checked one of the camera's at the back and you saw the men slipping in through the back door where the kitchen is. "He must be the one who drugged the food of the guards."

"They were drugged?" He asked and you nodded. "These morons thought they got food because of their hard work." You answered him. "Now go to the footage of the basement." Taehyung did as you said and showed the images of the sleeping men and the hooded man breaking the chain, letting Hoseok out. "He must have informed someone somehow where he was." Taehyung said.

You sighed. "I need that password. I can't dismantle these bombs without him. I don't like to admit it but... I need him. I need Hoseok." Taehyung turned towards you in his seat. So what are you going to do now?

You thought for a second. Indeed, what were you going to do? You knew everyone would fall for Hoseok's tricks all over again. Except for you. You would never fall for his charms, right? "I'll go after him." You then suddenly decided. Taehyung looked at you in shock. "Are you sure?" He asked. "You got men to do the dirty work for you." He stated.

You nodded. "I know but I can't trust them anymore. Those idiots already let him escape once, I can't let them do it a second time." You told him. "Check the CCTV's of the streets and every nearby city. I need to know where he is."

"Sure will." Taehyung said before going to work again.

While Taehyung worked on tracing Hoseok's location you went towards the dining room to grab some breakfast. Because of all this drama this morning you haven't even had the time to get some food into your system. Your stomach was already growling as you sat down at the filled table, set for two. Two? You may ask. Yes two. Today was the day your second hand would come back from his yearly vacation. He was one of the most trusted men into your house.

His name was Marcus and besides being your second hand he was also your dad's best friend. He has always been by his side and helped him in any way possible. After he died Marcus swore loyal to you and said he would do anything in his might to protect you. So the least you could do for him was to treat him as one of your own show him your gratitude.

While you were peacefully enjoying your meal the doors suddenly opened, revealing a man in suit. You smiled at the man immediately recognising him. "Marcus! Welcome back." You welcomed the man as he walked over towards you. He bowed at you before sitting down at the table where you were already seated. "It feels good to be back mam." He said, smiling before taking a look at the breakfast in front of him. "Well this is sure a great come back." He told you Smith amused eyes. "Please, enjoy yourself." You said. "Take whatever you want." You told him. "I'll sure will." He answered before digging in.

"So how was your trip?" You asked him. "Pretty good. Got some time to relax." He said. "How were things going here while I was gone?" He asked you.

You sighed. "It has been an entire rollercoaster. Oh Marcus," You said dramatically. "How happy I am you're back. I have so much to tell you." After you told him everything Marcus looked at you in shock. "You finally caught him?!" He asked surprised and you nodded. "Kind of, but he escaped yesterday evening while I was gone. These idiots can't do anything right around here anymore..."

"Only if I had been here to stop all this, huh?" He said teasingly and you nodded. "You know you're the best." You told him.

You ate and talked for a good hour before Marcus decided to go see his colleges and try to lessen the damage that had already been caused by Hoseok's escape. You really hoped he could do something about all this.

That evening you also went to go see Taehyung again to check on the situation. "You already found his whereabouts?" You asked the man in front of you. He turned his chair around and smiled at you. "Even better." He said licking his lips and clicking on one single button on his keyboard a whole screen popping up full of information. "I know which city he is in, which district and even in which building!" He told you, all proud of himself.

You walked over and stared at the screen with big eyes. "Really?! You are the best Tae!" You said, wrapping your arms around him in a big hug. The man laughed. "Alright, alright! You're welcome Y/n-ie" He said as you let go again.

"God, I could kiss you right now! You bring me so good news right now!" You yelled at him and he laughed. "You're welcome and about the kiss... no thanks." He said, showing off his boxy smile afterwards. "Go find me a plain ticket for the first flight tomorrow and tell Marcus he has the leadership until I'm back. This girl is going to Busan for some business..."

"Yes mam!"

And so the next day you flew all from Seoul to Busan. You took a taxi from the airport to your hotel while checking the info about Hoseok's whereabouts on your tablet. You mailed Taehyung, telling him you had a safe flight and to thank him again for his good work. He would definitely get a raise once you got back. You smiled as you closed your tablet and looked outside as you drove past the chore. "How long until we reach the hotel sir?" You asked the driver. "We're almost there miss! Just a few more minutes." He said. "Good" You answered, opening your window a bit and closing your eyes, enjoying the fresh sea air filling the car.

After a few more minutes you finally arrived at your destination. A five star hotel Taehyung booked for you. You got out of the taxi, payed the driver and walked inside the building as some staff took your bags out of the cab. You walked towards the counter and asked for your room. Of course it was the penthouse. You knew you could trust Taehyung. He always knew what you wanted. Once you got the key you went towards the elevator and went upstairs. You already felt completely drained from the trip towards where you were now.

As you arrived you walked towards the end off the hall and opened the door with your key card. A big smile as you entered the room. "Finally some rest." You said as you stretched your neck and walked towards the bed. But as soon as you walked through the door two men grabbed you by the arms. You tried to scream and break free from their grasp but it was no use. One of them held a cloth against your mouth and nose with some chloroform on it making you stop struggling after a while and falling into a deep slumber.

While you were unconscious the men dragged you outside the room, making sure no one saw you. They took you inside the elevator where someone was already waiting for your arrival. It was the lady from the counter that gave you your room earlier. "Let's move fast. Once you get out of the elevator go immediately towards the right. Go through the last door and that should lead you towards the back of the hotel. The van is waiting there." She said. Once they got you in the van they drove off to who knows where.

A few hours later you woke up with an incredible headache, as a side effect of the chloroform. You groaned as you opened your eyes, white light shining all around you. Once your eyes got adjusted to the light that came from big windows all around you you could also make out some silhouettes. "Our little princess is finally awake." You heard a voice. The voice sounded awfully familiar. But you couldn't put a name on it just yet.

You tried to move your hands but quickly figured out they were bounded behind your back. Same went for your legs. Tied against the legs of a chair. You looked back in front of you and the silhouette stood up from his place and walked closer until it was close enough. It squatted down in front of you and now you were able to identify the person clearly. "Hoseok..?" You said with unbelief.

He smirked at you. "Good morning princess." He said smiling. "Hope you slept well." Then you noticed the pain in your neck, shoulders and lower back. How long had you been tied to this chair for? You asked yourself. "You've been out for a pretty long time." Hoseok answered before you could even ask. "I hope my men weren't too rough on you." He said letting out a chuckle and standing back up to walk back towards his chair. He picked up an envelope from next to him and gave it to the man on his left. "Here, split it between you and the other guy. You did a great job." He told the man before he left the room, leaving only you and Hoseok.

"W-Where am I?" You asked. Your voice still a bit husk. "Is this xxx street? Your hide out here in Busan after you escaped?" You asked making Hoseok only laugh.

"Oh you wish sweetheart. Busan was just a distraction to get that tech guy of yours and your men off of my tail. We're in Ulsan right now." He told you. "I must admit... Your men are good at finding me but remember, I'm always a step ahead." He said. You looked at him and scoffed. "Asshole..." You muttered under your breath. "I heard that." Hoseok answered.

"Good, glad you know." You told him. He sighed and shoved his chair a bit closer before leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs. "Tss, even bounded to a chair you still are a furry." He said. "Do you know why I brought you here Miss y/n?" You stayed quiet, clenching your teeth. "I brought you here because I got a proposition for you."

You scoffed. "And what may that be? You're gonna turn yourself in to me and let me torture you?" You asked nonchalantly.

He shook his head and hissed. "Aish, such a beautiful face but such a dirty mouth." He said, leaning back again. "You know the Choi clan right?" He asked. You scoffed. "Of course I know the Choi clan. Who doesn't? They're the biggest mafia out here in South-Korea. My father's mafia's greatest enemy."

Hoseok nodded. "Indeed. We've been already trying for years to stop them but without success."

"And what does all this got to do with me?" You asked him, not impressed by his little talk about the Choi's.

"I need your help." He said, a serious gaze on his face. "I need you to tell us everything you know about the Choi clan and help us arrest them. There is no better view over a mafia as the view of a mafia boss itself." You looked aside, out of the window. Now only noticing you were at a house right next to some low cliffs ending at the sea. You laughed. "And what's in that for me? I can help you but you're probably gonna arrest me afterwards anyways. So why should I bother?" You looked back at him.

He nodded, following your path of thinking. "I knew you would say that. Here's the deal. You help us destroy the Choi clan and I guarantee you won't go to prison. It's that simple." He said, standing up and walking around your chair. You wanted to say something but Hoseok was first. "And I know you're gonna refuse but think for a second... You have no where to run y/n." He stood now right behind you. He leaned in closer towards your right ear. "I got bombs all over your places." Then he switched to your left ear. "And I got you, tied to chair here right now. So either you're going to help or I turn you in right now and then you can say bye bye to your little mafia life." He said.

You scoffed. You wanted to protest but you knew he was right. He had you completely in the palm of his hand. There was no escape from him. "I give you three days starting today to decide whether you're in our out. In that time," He said, cutting the rope that was holding your hands together. "You are free to stand and walk wherever you want but," He said, turing towards your front and also cutting through the ropes at your feet. "You don't go off this domain. You'll stay at the house or at least in its presence. I have guards all over this place so don't you dare escape. Cuz things won't end well if you do" He spoke lowly, standing up while you pulled your hands to your chest, rubbing your sour wrists. The skin a deep red colour from where the rope had been a while ago.

You watched as he walked towards the door at the back of the room. "I'll stay here too. Come see me whenever you made your decision. I hope you enjoy your stay here." He turned his head towards you one last time, giving you a big grin before turning back around and walking out of the room leaving you all alone.

Already one day and one night had past and you still hadn't made your decision. You know going in on Hoseok's decision was your only option so far but you couldn't stop thinking if there maybe was another way. If your men maybe could get you out of here without Hoseok's deal involving. Should you go accept Hoseok's deal? Maybe. Where you stubborn? ... Hell yes. You don't like to lose and give in to others. So this time you also didn't want to just give into him. You couldn't. You were the boss of a big mafia! You shouldn't bow for just anyone.

That day you didn't talk to Hoseok at all. You did see each other sometimes and ate meals together but that would always be in complete silence. You expected Hoseok to annoy you but surprisingly he didn't. After lunch Hoseok left the house for the first time since you were here leaving you all alone. (The bodyguards are still there so dw, you can't escape that easy ;)).

That night when Hoseok came back he was so frustrated. You could see it at his behaviour as you were both eating dinner together at a rather late hour, you must admit. "What's wrong?" You asked. If you had to stay here for a few days you could at least make it a bit less awkward between the two of you.

Hoseok looked up at you. Surprised that you actually started a conversation with him after ignoring his existence in this house for at least 24 hours. "So you haven't lost your voice yet? That's a relief." He joked.

You sighed. "I'm serious Hoseok. What's wrong?" You tried again, trying to be as friendly as possible es hard as it was. He looked at you confused as for why you would care for him. "It's nothing you should concern about." He stated before starting to eat again.

You sighed. "Look, I know we're enemies and We both know we can't stand each other for one bit but... If I need to stay here for the few days ahead I want to make it at least a bit more comfortable for both of us. So..." You swallowed your proud and stubbornness as you said the following lines. "So, if something is wrong then please don't hesitate to come talk to me. I'm here for you ok?" You cringed at stating your own words but this was something you needed to do. Not only to make it more comfortable but also to earn Hoseok's trust. Maybe it could come in handy later on. You never know.

Hoseok nodded at your request. "I will princess." You wanted to snap at him giving you that nickname again but you quickly figured out you better shouldn't. Hoseok knew you were holding yourself in for not going all furry on him and he loved it. He loved making you all worked up and angry. Besides that fact that you were a dangerous mafia boss you were also a very pretty woman. No denying that. And seeing you all worked up and going all furry on him made him feel some kind of things.

"I'm a bit tired." Hoseok stated after a while. "I'll go get some sleep. You should do the same." He said, shoving his chair backwards and getting up from his seat. "And don't forget to think about my proposition Y/n. It's a very good and reasonable deal if you think about it throughly. I hope you can state me your decision tomorrow. But for now, goodnight." He said and then left towards his room.

After you were done eating you also left towards your room to get some good night rest. You sat onto your bed after putting on some sleep wear. You sighed as you thought about your situation. You really felt stuck. You couldn't contact anyone since you didn't have your phone. Hoseok must have hidden it when you were unconscious. your men also haven't been looking for you yet either... Did they even knew in what kind of situation you were right now? Did Tae knew? Would he be worried right now since you haven't texted him yet in these 2 days you've already gone missing?

You let out a deep sigh as questions kept filling your mind. It made you crazy! But suddenly all worries were blown away, out of your mind, as you felt two arms wrap around your frame from behind and two lips placing a delicate kiss onto your neck. Your eyes widened in shock. You quickly looked at your side only to lock eyes with someone you didn't expect.

Hoseok.

He softly smiled at you. "Hey princess." He said, smiling softly. "W-What are you doing here?!" You asked while getting out of the man's grip and standing up from the bed. Why was he here? Why did he touched you like that? Why did he acted so... sweet?

Hoseok tilted his head to the side and looked you up and down, smirking and biting his lip. "Couldn't sleep." He said.

You looked confused at him. He couldn't sleep? So why did he came here then? Out of all places why here? In your room? "So?" You said.

He let out a small chuckle and stood up from the bed, making slow steps forwards, closer to you, making you taking steps backwards until your body hit the wall. No where to run now.

Hoseok placed his hands at both sides of your head, against the wall. "Listen up my lady, I can't sleep and it seems like you can't sleep either, so what do you say about having some fun together hm?" He asked, his eyes scanning your face for some kind of reaction before resting on your perfect shaped lips. God, it drove him wild. Those delicious luscious lips...

You looked at him in shock. Was he really asking what you thought he was asking?! Was he referring to sex? "You tried to slap him in the face but he caught your hand on time and pinned it against the wall making you gasp. You must admit it was kinda hot, seeing his fast reflexes.

He pushed closer against you, one of his legs pushed between yours, his knee against your princess parts, his chest pressed against yours. You swallowed as you looked into his deep brown eyes. You could see they were filled with lust. Completely the opposite of how you both would look at each other a day ago.

God, it made you feel things... That lust filled gaze of him. And his knee, pressed against your core didn't made it any easier. "What will it be love? I don't have all night. I know we're supposed to be enemies but I remember a certain person saying we should get more comfortable around each other and that I was always welcome. Do you still remember that princess?" He asked you and you nodded. You didn't knew what was wrong with you but Hoseok's sudden dominant behaviour got the best of you.

He leaned even more closer towards you, your noses brushing against each other, his lips so close to yours and yet they didn't touch. "What do you want princess? Tell me..." He said, and with those final last words you lost it.

"You" You answered him almost immediately. Without hesitation Hoseok started to kiss you and you surrendered completely to him. You kissed him back and Hoseok let go of your hand that was still pinned against the wall. Your arms fell onto his shoulders. You pulled him closer, deepening the kiss some more, your fingers playing with the locks at the back of his hair. Hoseok bite and sucked at your bottom lip until you finally opened your mouth allowing him inside. Hoseok slipped his tongue inside and started to play with yours. You both moaned into the kiss as it got really steamy and messy. "Fuck Y/n- I didn't knew you could kiss that well." Hoseok stated, breathing heavily between kisses. You smirked. "Had lots of practise in the past i guess." You answered before he guided your leg around his hips, his mouth smashing against yours again in a hot kiss. He slapped your thigh two times, asking you to jump which you gladly did. You wrapped both of your legs around Hoseok's waist, not breaking the kiss as he takes you with him towards the bed.

When he hit the bed frame with his feet he slowly sat down, making you sit on top of his lap. You grinned against him, never breaking the kiss. Soft moans and groans coming out of both of your mouths. Hoseok let go of your lips only to wrap them around your jaw and throat. You moaned, grinding harder against him as he found your sweet spot. "Fuck Hobi-" Without you realising a cute nickname slipped out for the man under you. Hoseok stopped kissing for a while looking up at you. "What- What did you just say?" He asked, already half out of breath from your make-out session.

You blushed as you bite your lip, looking away in embarrassment. Hoseok took a hold of your chin and made you look at him again. "Hey, Look at me while I'm talking. Now answer me princess." He said. "What did you just call me." It sounded more like an order now then a question.

"H-Hobi..." You said quietly. It was quiet for a second. Hoseok just stared at you as he took in your words. Then he suddenly grinned, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "Cute..." You could hear him whisper under his breath before he pecked your lips. Then he went down again, kissing and napping at your sweet spot. You were sure it was going to leave a bruise later on but right now you didn't mind. Your brain was a haze, your body felt hot and you were so wet down there.

His hands kept roaming your body. From caressing your back to gripping your hips, to grind you more and harder against him, grouping your ass and so on. His hands found their way under you shirt and he pushed it up to get it off of you. You helped him getting it off making him stare at your red laced bra afterwards holding onto your breasts.

He grouped them into his hands, squeezing them softly while you just watched. You knew you shouldn't love all this right now and you knew you surely shouldn't do it with him but you couldn't resist it. And besides, it had been so long since you've had dick. And from what you could feel in his pants right now he got one on the larger size.

You bite your lip as you looked at him getting one breast out of your bra, his thumb caressing over the little but making you whimper. He looked at you, giving you a lazy smirk before he attached his mouth to your breast. He let his tongue roll over your nipple, now and then sucking on it, making them go even harder. His other hand still working on your other breast before he switched sides. Now your left nipple in his mouth and his fingers playing and pinching the other one. While he was busy sucking your tits he unbuckled your bra, making it fall onto your lap. You slept your arms out of the straps and threw it aside.

When you turned your head back towards him his lips met yours again in a quick but deep kiss. "Now love... It has been so long since I've had a woman so close to me. So what would you say of making me feel your mouth, huh? Would you do that for me princess?" He said, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip before slipping onto your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it and started to suck on his finger. It may look strange but it kinda comforted you, making you feel smaller and wanting to submit more to him. Letting him take full control.

You nodded as an answer and smiled, getting his thumb out of your mouth. "Now," he said. "Get on your knees love."

He pulled down his pants and boxers as you sat down on the floor, his dick springing free standing tall and red. He was so ready for you. You licked your lips before kissing his length. Starting at the bottom and making your way towards his already leaking top. When you got at the top you started to take him inside of you, making him groan as you suck on his tip, your tongue rolling over the little slit. "Fuck-, that feels so good princess. Keep going." He said, closing his eyes and putting his hand behind him leaning on his strong arms as he felt his body melt under your touch. After teasing the tip for a while you tried to slowly bob your head up and down, every time when you're going down taking an inch more into your mouth until you couldn't anymore. The part that didn't fit into your mouth you stimulated with your hand, moving it up and down in a steady motion with your head.

Hoseok grasped onto your hair out of pleasure, pulling it softly and getting it out of your face. He wanted to see your face while you pleasured him so well. You were such a good girl for him. So good... He never expected for you to go in on his proposal of having a one night stand for tonight but he loved how turned on you got from him and how submissive you got after you acted like such a brat earlier. He liked to get you worked up and make you go all furry to him but having you now submit to him did something to him. He had been watching you for already so long and now he had you for him alone he couldn't drop the chance and just rushed to your room.

Hoseok felt himself getting close as you went bit faster, your droll already rolling over his dick and towards his balls, your eyes getting teary but you didn't cry. "I'm close baby." He told you. "I'ma cum in your warm little mouth and you're gonna swallow it all. You're my good girl after all, isn't it?" He asked and you nodded.

You loved to be a brat but for some reason hearing Hoseok call you a good girl made you want to please him in all kind of ways. You wanted to be his good girl and his only. You loved his small praises, the cute nicknames he gave you and that irresistible smirk of him whenever you did something he loved or when he had a little plan up in that head of his. In other words he made you go crazy for him.

A few more thrusts and he finally came, tinting the walls of your mouth white. And just like he asked you, you swallowed it all, showing him afterwards. "Good girl. Did so well princess." He praised you again and you smiled up at him as he held your chin, pulling you back up.

He sat you back on his lap and kissed your lips, tasting himself before flipping you over onto your back, on top of the soft mattress. You gasp as he does so.

He grins and hovers over you, ghosting his lips over yours for a while making you hungry for more until he finally kissed you again. He kissed over your jaw and behind your ear. "Princess, I want you to turn around for me." He whispered before biting your ear playfully and getting up so you could turn around for him. You did as he said and turned around now laying on your stomach. He slowly looked you up and down, his hand gliding over your half naked body until he stops at your ass. He helps you out of your pants and panties, throwing them aside. After that he also gets off his remaining clothes before hovering over you again, leaving soft kisses on your shoulders. You whimpered as you felt his hard dick poking your asscheeks. You had been so wet this whole time. Your pussy was craving for some attention.

Hoseok chuckled deeply as he felt you grind against him. "Such a slut for me princess. Your body is just begging me to get touched." He said making you whimper a second time.

But luckily you didn't have to wait long or his full length was already inside you. You moaned as he filled you up so well. "Fuck-" Hoseok breathed out. Because you were already so wet for him he slipped right in and he didn't expected that. But it wasn't like you were to loose. You still felt so tight. It was like your little cunt was just made for him.

He pulled it out before pushing it back in, making you both moan simultaneously this time. You both felt so good. No words to describe it.

When Hoseok started to move for real this time he didn't hold back. He didn't really wait for you to adjust to him (not that you needed to) and started to thrust at an already rapid pace. Moans and groans filled the room as Hoseok was ramming into your pussy like crazy. Right now you felt like you were on cloud nine and on Hoseok's side it was just the same. You both had no thoughts at that moment, the only thing on your minds is how good the other's body felt against your own.

After a short while you felt that familiar knot in your stomach. Meaning you were close. Hoseok could feel it at how tight your pussy became. Sometimes pulsating, driving him crazy. "I-I'm c-close-" You said to him between moans and heavy breaths.

As you told him that he suddenly seemed to stop making your groan and whimper. "Hoseooookkkk-" You were whining, not liking his warm flesh leaving you wet and aching hole. But before anything else he flipped you around and pushed back in. You moaned.

"Want to see your face." He said. "Wanna see how good I make you feel." He stated before slowly starting to trust again, his eyes never leaving your face, taking in every detail, every new expression that took place on that oh so beautiful face. He speed up a bit, seeing your expression change again and hearing your moans getting louder. Like before you ached around him, getting tighter and tighter as that wave of pleasure came back, bringing you close to pure ecstasy. "Cum for me sweetheart." Hoseok said as he felt himself getting close as well.

As like his words were the magic spell your body was waiting to hear you both came undone, Hoseok's mouth devouring yours again, muffling your moans as you came. You both stayed in that position for a while, your lips still attached against each other as Hoseok spilled his load inside of you until his dick softened down again and slipped out. You whimpered at the loss.

Hoseok gave you a last peck on the lips before getting off of you and laying on his back beside you, staring up at the ceiling. "That... Was amazing." He said out of breath. You laughed and nodded. "That was indeed." You answered him. "It has been so long since I had such good sex." You admitted. "Me too, princess. Me too..."

"You're on the pill, right?" Hoseok suddenly asked, turning his head towards you. "Why you asking?" "Well, we didn't use a condom. I hope you don't mind." Hoseok said, blushing a bit and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. How was this the man the one that ever took control over you a while ago?

"I don't take the pill but I got a spiral implanted. So no need to worry about getting me pregnant." You told him. He nodded and then stared back at the ceiling. He suddenly laughed. "What?" You asked turning towards him. He shook his head. "Was just thinking of something.." "Tell me." He played on his side and looked at you. "You know what they say about keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" He asked, a playful smile on his face. "Well I think this way we're definitely keeping our enemies closer." He winked at you and you scoffed, a little smile creeping through.

And that's how you both ended up talked a bit that night until you felt your body getting tired and just fell asleep.

Opening your eyes the next morning it seems you were the first one awake. You tossed around and laid on your other side facing the still fast asleep man next to you. You smiled as he looked so soft while sleeping. So... harmless. You smiled as you looked at him, admiring his cute, puffy face he made while sleeping. How could anyone want to hurt this man?

You shook your head. Did- Did I just think that?! You asked yourself. Get him out of your head Y/n! He's supposed to be your enemy! You told yourself. But yesterday night was just so... You bite your lip as you thought back about yesterday night. Maybe... Just maybe you could trust this man for once. Maybe it was ok to let go for just a little while.

You thought back about his proposition. You didn't knew if yesterday night was one of his plans to get you to follow him into his idea or not but this morning you finally made your decision. You were gonna take Hoseok's offer. It's not like you had any other plans, right?

Before you knew it the men next to you woke up and when he saw you were awake he smiled, closing his eyes and yawning, stretching his muscular arms. "Morning.." He said softly in his deep morning voice. God, you were such a simp for that voice from now on. "Morning." You answered him. You got a bit shocked as the boy leaned in and softly pecked your lips.

Hoseok looked at your shocked face and let out a small giggle before turning onto his back and looking up at the ceiling taking a deep breath. "Last night was... amazing." He said. You nodded but of course he couldn't see it so you answered him afterwards. "Yeah.." You said softly. "Hoseok?" You asked and he turned his face sideways so he could see you, a soft smile plastered onto his face. "Please call me Hobi." He said. You blushed as you remembered you accidentally calling him that last night.

You gave him a small awkward smile and a soft nod. "H-Hobi?" You tried again. "What is it angel?" He asked. Angel... Well that was a new nickname to add to the list. He hadn't called you angel before. You kinda liked it... Stop it! Stop thinking about it Y/n! You internally sighed. Why did he made you feel like this??

"Y/n?" Hoseok called out your name as he saw you were caught in thoughts all of a sudden. "Huh?" You said as you heard his voice. "Oh.." You looked at him and bite your lip before deciding to be bold and sit a bit up. One hand holding you up and one softly wrapped around Hoseok's naked chest under the blanket. You softly let your fingers glide over the warm skin. "I just wanna say... I'm in." You told him, not really wanna admit it but your heart said it was the only right thing to do and your brain said it was the only option to do.

Hoseok looked at you a bit confused before understanding it. "You're for real?" He asked shocked and you nodded. "I will help you catch the Choi's. I already kinda know how too I think..." You said. You looked up at him and Hoseok was smiling at you. He softly started to pet your head. "You made the right decision. I'm glad you decided to cooperate." You don't know why but hearing Hoseok saying you did well made you feel all giddily and good around him. And on top of that the pats he was giving you... You felt like you were in heaven. You may look and sometimes act like a real bitch, well- actually most of the time-, but somewhere inside there you were just a soft girl.

Hoseok let out a deep breath getting you both out of your silent trance you both seemed to be in. "We should go get some clothes on and then we can discuss further details." He said and you nodded, unwrapping your arm from around him and laying back down so he could get up.

Once you both showered and were fully dressed again you sat together at the table to discuss your plan. "So, you said you had something in mind right?" Hoseok asked and you nodded. "Tell me."

"Well," You started off. "You probably already know Mr Choi has two daughters" Hoseok nodded. "but did you knew he also had a son?" You asked and Hoseok looked at you confused. "We've been through those files multiple times. He had a son. He died 10 years ago." Hoseok said, grabbing the file and showing you.

You smirked and shook your head. "That's the part he made you guys see. The rumour goes that he's still alive." You said and Hoseok looked at you in shock. "How is that possible?"

You grinned. "I don't know either but apparently he is. About this... there is good and bad news. What you wanna hear first?" You asked Hoseok. "Good first." He answered.

"Very well then. The good news is, they guy should be in Korea. Multiple people keep saying he's still here and have seen him. It has also been confirmed with pictures. Now the bad news... We have no idea how he looks like. We have witnesses but no descriptions or clear pics of his face."

"So he could be anyone..." Hoseok said and you nodded. "Exactly." "And what has this son to do with getting the Choi's?" Hoseok suddenly asked.

"Well, get the son and you get to the father! People say they still see each other once a year. You said you couldn't get your hands onto Mr Choi? Well he's your chance." You said.

Hoseok seemed lost in thoughts as he looked at the documents in front of him. "But how are we going to find him?" He asked. "There live thousands of people here in Korea." He stated.

You smirked. "I got the perfect solution for that."

A few hours of convincing Hoseok and taking a plain back to Seoul and you were standing again at your own house. More specifically, Taehyung's workspace. "So you are sure this guy can find Choi's son?" Hoseok asked you for the already umpteenth time. You sighed. "For the last time Hope, Taehyung is the best. This guy here gets everything done." You said earning a grin from Taehyung himself who was seated at his usual place, behind his computers. "Well, thanks for the compliment Y/n." He said. "And Hoseok, don't worry. I'll find this guy. It's not because you failed that I will." He gave Hoseok a quick wink making him scoff.

How does he even has the audacity. Hoseok thought. "Good luck man." Hoseok said before walking out of the room with you, leaving Taehyung alone to do his job.

"So what do we do in the meanwhile?" Hoseok asked you. "We just relax a bit. There's not much we can do anyways." You told him. And before you knew it you had let him to your bedroom. (Not for what you think you pervs out there.😏 It's not always about sex.)

You sat down on your bed as Hoseok admired your room, standing still at some pictures. "Is that you?" He asked, holding up one in particular. You smiled and nodded, thinking back about old good memories. "That's me and my mom." You said as you thought back about her. Her soft hands, her warm smile. You missed her a lot. "What happened to her?" Hoseok asked; like he could read you expression. "Cancer..." You answered. "Dad was so broken after she died." You looked up from the picture at Hoseok again, giving him a sad smile. "It's not because we are feared mafia's that we don't know what true love is. What mom and dad had... Was something special. They really loved each other." You said.

Hoseok put the picture back down and walked over to you, sitting down next to you and holding your fragile frame. "I wish she was still here. She was a wonderful woman." You said as Hoseok softly caressed your head. "She told me I should always follow my heart."

Hoseok pulled back from the embrace and gave you a small reassuring smile. You don't know why but your body seemed to react on it and you started to smile back at him. You didn't knew how you became from being enemies only a few days ago to feeling so close to him now but it felt good and you kinda didn't want to let go of that feeling.

Hoseok put a strand of hair behind your face before speaking. "Y/n, what would you think of getting out of this... mafia live of yours? Just start a new life, a better one. Maybe even go start a family." He said.

You laughed ad shook your head. "I can't do that... I maybe had a choice as a kid but after my father died and I took over... I can't just leave like that. And besides... Some people here are like family to me. I can't just leave them." You told him.

"What if you could?"

Before you could answer him, the door to your bedroom opened. "Boss! I didn't knew you were already back and oh- You found him?! Do I need to get the guards?" Marcus asked after storming in.

You smiled and turned towards Marcus. "No need Marcus. It's alright. I made a deal with Mr Jung here so from now on he won't be our prisoner anymore. He will be our guest. And besides, I already told you to just call me by your name. You're not just anyone Marcus. You were my father's friend. So please be comfortable and just see me as a friend too." You said, earning a smile back from him. "Sure Y/n. Do you guys need anything?" He asked and you shook your head. "Not really but thank you Marcus. I'll see you later downstairs." You told him and with that he left your room again.

"Marcus?" Hoseok asked and you turned back to him. You nodded. "My father saved him a few years ago when I was still a kid. Since then he had been my father's most trusted man and also his friend. After he died he swore to protect his family no matter what. So that's how he became my wing man now." You told him and Hoseok nodded. "I see.."

You sighed and stood up. "Well... I should go downstairs now. Marcus is probably waiting for me. You can stay here until I come back our just room around a bit in the house. Whatever you like." You told him and he nodded. "see you later Hobi!" You said with a smile as you walked towards the door. Hoseok smiled back, even happier as he heard you used the little nickname again. "See you later." He said before you finally walked out of the door.

"Ok... explain to me Y/n why that guy is just randomly relaxing in your room?" Marcus asked you once you were both sitting downstairs on the sofa. "Well Marcus, Like I told you, I made a deal with Mr. Jung." "Are you crazy?!" Marcus yelled. "That's like making a deal with the devil!"

"Calm down!" You yelled back at him, making him shut his mouth and sit back down. "Now let me explain." You d-said, fixing your hair. "When I was in Busan I bumped into Hoseok like planned. We... had a little encounter afterwards." You said, thinking back about how he kidnapped you but afterwards how he could pleasure you so well. You swallowed, stopping your thoughts and licking your dry lips. "Then Hoseok came with a proposition. His agency is after the Choi's. Even more then after us. He promised if we helped he would leave us alone afterwards." You explained to the man in front of you.

"And what makes you think he's speaking the truth?" Marcus asked you. You stared into the distance, a small smile forming onto your mouth. "I believe Hobi." You said.

Marcus looked at you with questionable eyes. "H-hobi?" He asked. You swallowed, eyes in shock. Did you just said that out loud?! You looked at Marcus. "I-" How were you going to explain this? "What happened back in Busan?" Marcus asked. "Nothing just-... I was tired of him giving me those little nicknames so I gave him one to annoy him too! Yeah! That's it." You said, a nervous giggle afterwards. You hoped he didn't suspected anything.

Marcus nodded. "Alright then.." He said, dropping the topic. "And besides, Imagine. For so long the Choi's have been at the top of Korea's mafia. Once they're down we're the new number one. We'll finally stand at the top Marcus! How wonderful is that!" You told him enthusiastic. Marcus nodded. "That's... Indeed great!" You frowned your eyebrows. You expected Marcus to be the most enthusiastic out of the two of you. "Is everything alright?" You asked him.

He cleared his throat. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. I was just worried about you. What if something happens to you. I still can't trust that Hoseok guy." He said. You gave him a soft smile, placing your hand on top of his. "Don't worry Marcus. I got this." And with that you stood up and walked out. "By the way Marcus," You said, turning around one last time. "Can you go check how Taehyung's work is going and give me an update on it? It's quite important and I only trust you with it." You told him. He nodded. "Of course. I'll go check right away boss!"

When you came back to your room you were surprised that Hoseok was still there. It was like he never left. "I thought you would've already went off to go explore the place." You said as you walked in. Hoseok looked up at you. "Neah, not really. I rather stay here. It's quiet here." He said, laying back onto the bed.

You went to sit at the edge of the bed and looked outside the big window in your room. Suddenly you felt Hoseok's hand grabbing yours and to Hoseok's surprise you laced your fingers with his. He smiled, looking at your face as it looked beautiful to him with the current lighting coming from your windows. You hair already got a bit messy from walking around all over the place all day. You may have been a target for him at first but right now, the only thing he could think about calling you was his angel. That's how you looked in Hoseok's eyes like an angel still trapped into the claws of the devil... The mafia. If he only could get you out of this life and give you a better one. "Leave this place with me tonight."

You turned your head towards Hoseok as these words came out of his mouth. "What?" "You heard me." Hoseok said, sitting back up and sitting a bit closer towards you. "Leave this place with me. Y/n, I can see this is no life for you... I promise I can give you a better one." Hoseok said, looking deep into your eyes. You suddenly felt all naked, like Hoseok could look right through you and into your soul. It's not like you loved the mafia but it also wasn't like you hated it.

"How...?" You quietly asked. "I already told you it's not that easy..." You said, looking down at your still intertwined hands. "Let's just leave this place tonight. No one will know. And we'll see what happens afterwards." Hoseok pushed your chin back up with his free hand. "Look at me Y/n. Do you trust me?" Hoseok asked.

You thought for a second, nervously chewing on your lip. Eventually you nodded your head. You knew you couldn't deny anymore what was happening between you and Hoseok. You knew it all went quick but there was just this sparkle between you and from today on you couldn't unseen it anymore.

Hoseok smiled at your response. "Good. So please Y/n, please come with me." He said, leaning in closer and delicately kissing your lips. You nodded. "A-alright. Let's get out of here tonight. But... I can't leave Taehyung here behind. I need him to go with us. He's my best friend Hope... We grew up together."

Hoseok looked you into the eyes while playing with your hand. "You're sure you can trust him enough to let him come with us?" He asked and you nodded. "I'm a hundred percent sure of it." Hoseok nodded. "Ok then. Go tell him. We'll leave at 3am. Everyone should be asleep by then."

And so as planned you went to speak to Taehyung. You told him the plan and of course he supported you in your decision. He was glad you asked him to go with you. He joked around saying' if Hoseok didn't take you away from here I would'. You laughed at him but then he started to question you about Hoseok and then the blushing and stuttering came. Of course, as the good friends you are, you told him about how you felt something towards the boy but wasn't quiet sure jet but it just felt right. As last you also talked about who the son of the Choi's could be but Taehyung only said it was difficult and he didn't knew yet.

After your little chat with Taehyung and bumping into Marcus inside the hall you were finally back in your room, making everything ready together with Hoseok. "Go get some rest Y/n." Hoseok said, packing the last of your things. You didn't intended to take much with you but no matter what Hoseok insisted he would help you pack. With the small bag finally packed you lay down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You heard Hoseok close the zipper of the back before feeling the mantras getting heavy next to you. "I am surprised I'm doing this... A few days ago I wouldn't even have thought of escaping this life. I was so focused on making my parents proud..." You said before scooping a bit closer towards Hoseok, resting your head on his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around you. "No matter what you do, I think your parents will always be proud of you Y/n. Now go sleep. You got a few hours." He said, kissing the top of your head.

"Goodnight Hope."

"Goodnight Y/n."

While you slept Hoseok didn't close an eye. He stayed awake all night, staring at you and also keeping the guard. He knew it may be foolish of him but there was someone in this house Hoseok didn't trust. And that was Marcus. Marcus had always been a strange figure in Hoseok's eyes and today it only got worse.

Hoseok lied to you when you asked him if he stayed in your room the whole time you were gone. In fact, Hoseok went to look for Taehyung. He had something in mind and the only one that could confirm it was him.

"Taehyung, can you look into someone for me?" Hoseok asked as he walked into Taehyung's office. "Who do you need me to look for?" The guy asked, looking at him from behind his desk. "I want you to get some research done on that Marcus guy."

Taehyung looked at him in shock. "Marcus? Why?" He asked, genuinely confused. "I don't trust him at all and I need to confirm something..." Hoseok said, standing behind Taehyung, looking at the screens.

"Marcus has been friends with Y/n's father for so long. Why wouldn't you trust him?" Taehyung said. "You don't think that-" Taehyung broke his own sentence into a silence as he finally understood what Hoseok was looking for. Hoseok nodded. "I think he's our man."

And just like he had thought Taehyung confirmed it that evening. Marcus was indeed the person you guys had been looking for. He was the son of the one and only Mr. Choi. But what would the son of a filthy rich mafia boss do in their enemies house? Hoseok could only think of one thing...

Then a bullet shot through the window and got caught by the opposite wall. Hoseok shook you awake. "Y/n wake up! Plans have changed, we need to go now!" You immediately woke up and you both stood up from the bed, only to hear another two gunshots. You both quickly laid flat on the ground. "W-what is that?" You asked, still halve asleep and confused. "They're here to kill you Y/n."

"What?!" You asked confused. "Who would possibly want to kill me?!" Again shots and Hoseok pulled you with him inside your closet. No windows there so the shutters don't know where to shoot anymore. Then a door opened giving you the answer to your question. "Well, hello hello!"

You looked at Hoseok in shock recognising the voice. Was that Marcus?! Hoseok put his finger in front of his lips telling you to not make any noise.

"Where are you little princess? I know you're somewhere in here~" Marcus said as you heard him walk around the room. "I know your lover boy is with you too." He said.

"You know... I wished things would've gone other ways but you just leave me no choice Y/n. You're just like your father." He said before shooting at the ceiling, making you jump a bit.

But what did he mean, just like your father? "You know the day your father died... It was my doing. He tried to escape too and just like you now, he left me no choice but to kill him right there and then."

You placed your hand over your mouth in shock. Your body was trembling while tears were threatening to leave your eyes. Marcus killed your father? But why would he ever do that? They were like best friends. Hoseok took your trembling body in his arms, shushing you quietly while he was eagerly looking for a way out of here.

Marcus started to speak again. "I know you're probably wondering... 'Oh why did you kill my daddy Marcus? Weren't you like best friends?' " Marcus said, trying to imitate your voice. "Well dear, It may look like we were friends but I am his worst nightmare. Your worst nightmare!" You heard him push a closet on the ground, making a hella loud noice. "You know who I am Y/n? Why doesn't Hoseok tell you, huh?" You looked at Hoseok confused. What would he know you didn't? "I am Marcus Choi. The son of the biggest, most feared mafia boss." Then a maniac laughter could be heard from him. "Wasn't it a great idea from me to infiltrate your little mafia and bring it down? After the accident happened everyone thought I died but I didn't, what caused me to be in the most ideal position. I thought when your father died I finally made an end to the Lee's but then you showed up from your house in the US and took over!" This time a vase could be heard shattering onto the ground. "Of course daddy's little girl had to take over business! Now where are you Y/n! Cut the crab and come out already!" Marcus yelled.

Hoseok slammed the door open as on clue and run with you towards the door as Marcus tried to shoot at the both of you. Luckly no bullet caught you. Or so you thought... "Hoseok! Your shoulder!" You said while you were running through the halls. "I'm alright. We need to get to Taehyung first to warn him and then get the hell out of here." He said. You looked at his shoulder and let go of his hand. "You'll need your hand to put pressure on that wound." You said.

"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU BITCH!!"

You quickly opened the door and ran into Taehyung's room as you heard Marcus yell from upstairs. "Taehyung!" You yelled as you run towards him and hugged him. He hugged you back. "I heard gunshots, what's happening?" He asked, letting go of you. Then he looked at Hoseok and his arm that was covered in blood. "Fuck that looks bad..." He said. "Is it Marcus?!" He asked and Hoseok nodded. "He somehow must have heard us talking about escaping. We need to go now."

"COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE!"

Marcus voice could be heard closer and closer. "He's getting near." You said. The panic could be seen in your eyes as you looked at the two boys. "You two need to get out of here as fast as possible." Taehyung said. "And what about you?!" You asked and he gave you a soft smile. "We can't escape with all of us. Marcus knows this place too well. He'll catch onto us in no time. You go and I'll distract him."

"But what if he hurts you like he did to Hoseok?!" You asked concerned. "Don't worry about me Y/n. I'll be alright. I always am in the end. Just trust me ok?" Leave the house and I'll make sure you escape safely." He said.

"He's right Y/n. We got to go now." Hoseok said as he pulled at your arm. You gave Taehyung one last glance. He smiled and nodded, like he was saying 'it's alright. It's all gonna be fine.' And so you trusted him on that and left with Hoseok through the front door.

"THERE YOU ARE!" Marcus yelled from the top of the stairs aiming his gun towards you but shot into the door because Hoseok could close it on time. A tear left your eye as you thought of Taehyung being inside there with that maniac. You were so scared of what Marcus could do to Taehyung. Then you saw the house go into lockdown. You knew this was Taehyung's doing and it was also a sign for you and Hoseok to leave.

"Where are your cars Y/n?" Hoseok asked. "Right there, behind that corner." you told him as you both ran towards the garages. You opened one and got inside the car as fast as possible, Hoseok behind the steering wheel. "Buckle up!" He said and then started the engine. But before you could ride away a shot was heard. You both looked at the side, it was Marcus. Somehow he managed to escape the house and he just shot one of your tiers. This was no good. "You both looked at him in shock as he aimed the gun towards you two again. Fear in both of your eyes this time as you had no where to run to now. You were so scared knowing this could be your last moment.

You still had so many things you wanted to do. You want to stop this mafia shit, make more times to spend with friends and family and most important of all, start a new better life with the one you loved... Hoseok. As you were so concentrated you didn't saw Taehyung stumble out of the house all beaten up by the hooligan in front of you.

You closed your eyes in fear of what would come and then it finally came. Two gunshots could be heard.

...But strangely they never reached you nor Hoseok. You opened your eyes again and saw Marcus coughing up blood before falling down onto the floor. Someone had shot him. Then from everywhere around the building and bushes men with guns appeared. Hoseok rushed out of the car and towards the men. You looked at your saviours in shock as Hoseok talked to them about something. Two persons went to check on the corps while Hoseok looked back and forth between you and then one he was taking to.

You decided to get out of the car as well and with small steps you walked towards Hoseok. He gave you a soft smile and then took you into a tight hug. "It's alright. It's all over now." He shushed you while caressing your hair as you cried into his chest from the chock and all the stress you had been going through tonight.

"Who is this Seok?" The man that was standing with Hoseok earlier asked. "This is Y/n. She was one of the people captured here by Marcus." Hoseok said. "I see... Can you both come testify one by one in a while?" The man asked. "Sheff, can we do it together? I don't think she's in a state to handle this on her own now." Hoseok stated and the guy nodded. "I give you 15min to calm down a bit. Come inside afterwards.

Once the guy left Hoseok let go off you and took a step back to look at you. "It's alright. Just take some deep breaths." You did as Hoseok said and it calmed you down a bit. "Now, I want you to let me speak when we get inside for the interrogation. If they know you're the boss of this whole mafia you hang." "They will put me in prison?!" You asked in shock and Hoseok shock his head. "No, no, no. I won't let that ever happen princess. Just let me do the talking and everything will be alright, ok?" He said and you nodded. "Ok.." "Good."

"Now... How did all these men come here?" You asked, confused on how Hoseok's men suddenly found your house. "I called them in. When you were talking to Marcus I went to Taehyung to search a bit more information about the man."

"You already knew... You didn't trusted him from the start." You said and Hoseok nodded. "I didn't trusted him indeed but I didn't knew. Well... I wasn't sure yet. So that's why I needed proof. Thanks to Taehyung's help I got it. I contacted my boss afterwards. I told them my location and everything they needed to know. My plan was to get you out first so they could storm in and clear this mess without you having to worry about it. I didn't knew he would come and try to kill you first..." Hoseok said, looking down. "I wanted to capture him to get to the Choi's as originally planned but then the shots and he tried to murder you and-"

"ssh," You said, placing your hands on both of Hoseok's cheeks. He looked up at you and you placed your forehead carefully against his. He calmed down a bit, taking a deep breath. "I'm here Hope. I'm right here. I'm still alive thanks to you. You did good by calling your troops here. Thank you for saving me." You said, smiling at him and he smiled back.

You took a deep breath yourself before both going inside for your interrogation. Like you discussed earlier outside Hoseok did the talking. He had to lie a bit for that but it was necessary to not get you in prison. He told them Marcus killed your dad and captured you afterwards. He told them Marcus took over and then caught him too. When you tried to escape today Marcus tried to kill you both and then the troops came in. That's the story Hoseok told the police. "Can you confirm this Ms. Lee?" The agent interrogating you asked. You nodded. "Yes it is. I have been captured by that battered for years until Hoseok finally came and saved me." You said, Hoseok squeezing your hand under the table as if wanting to tell you 'good job'.

After all that happened that day you still had to find a good story for Taehyung. After that was all done and Taehyung was completely healed again you and Hoseok decided to live together. Taehyung was so happy for the both of you. The only thing he ever wanted was to see his best friend happy and now he knew you finally were.

"Guess who?"

You laughed as you knew who these hands and voice belonged too. "Hoseok, we're the only one in the house right now. Of course it's you." You said giggling. It had been a year since what happened with Marcus and right now you were living happily with Hoseok in a villa at the beautiful coast of Italy.

Hoseok took his hands from around your eyes and went to sit next to your legs onto the sunbed you were currently on. You put off your sunglasses and looked at the man in front of you as he leaned in closer for a kiss. For the ones asking, yes you and Hoseok were a pair. A month after everything that happened and after recovering from the chock for a while Hoseok finally asked you to be his and without hesitating you said yes. And so you now both lived happily in each other's presence.

"I got a surprise for you." Hoseok said, pulling back from the kiss and smiling at you. He then pulled an envelope from behind his back. "What is that?" You asked. "Open it." He said, giving you the envelope. You opened it and pulled out two tickets for... "The opera? Is this real?!" Hoseok smiled and nodded. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you so so so muchhhh!!" You said while hugging him happily. In that year of living together Hoseok slowly dithered out your love for opera and classical music so one day when he sat behind his computer he decided to get you a little present. "See it as an early birthday gift." Hoseok said as you let go of him and kissed him full on the lips. He laughed as he kissed you back, loving to see you so happy.

"It's tonight so I suggest you go pick a nice dress to wear because I know if I don't tell you now you'll take ages." You playfully hit his chest while he laughed. "It's true tho! Now go get ready, we leave at 6." He said. You stood up and got a smack onto your ass. "Yah-" You turned around and looked at him. He smiled and just put on his sunglasses laying down onto the sunned you payed on earlier, smirk on his face. "Go get ready! The longer you take the later it will get."

Once you and Hoseok were ready it was indeed almost time. "Told you, you always take a long time in the bathroom." Hoseok said, kissing your naked shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He checked you out through the mirror in front of you. "You look beautiful in that red off shoulder dress." He said and you smiled at him, kissing his cheek. "Thanks love. You don't look that bad yourself in that black suit with red tie." You turned around and playfully pulled on his tie, pulling him closer so you could kiss his lips. He kissed back, pushing you a bit backwards against the sink of your bathroom. "We should stop now or we won't even make it to the opera." Hoseok said, pulling away from you.

He did a step backwards and reached his arm towards you. "My lady," He said playfully. You laughed and wrapped your arm around his as you both walked out of the house and towards the car.

Once in the opera house Hoseok saw that sparkle in your eyes and it filled him with love and admiration for you. You looked so happy and it made him happy too. "Look how beautiful and classy it looks here! Wah." You said as you walked towards the giant stairs. "Did you knew that 'common people' always needed to sit at the low levels and that the rich sat at their private balcony? Until now it are still the most expansive places in the house." You told him, already walking towards the door that lead you towards the lower levels assuming your seats were there.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hoseok asked, pulling you back. "I'm going towards our seats?" You said questionable. "What else?"

Hoseok pulled you with him and onto the stairs. "Hoseok-" You said, looking at him in disbelieve while he pulled you with him up the stairs. "My princess only deserves the best." He said, kissing the top of your head before walking further through the hall on the second floor.

He opened a door with Hoseok's name written on and just like in every opera house there was your private balcony. "You really paid for all of this?!" You asked surprised while walking onto the small balcony, looking down at the podium a bit further. Hoseok went to stand behind you and held you as he admired the opera house with you.

You really were surprised at how he managed to pay for this. After leaving the mafia you of course also had to leave all the money behind. Mafia wasn't really legal so the money went towards the government who would do it's thing with it. You were already shocked at him Hoseok managed to buy the villa in Italy you were currently living in and now these expensive opera tickets?

"My job pays quite well Y/n. I think you sometimes underestimate my job as a secret agent love." He said, kissing your nape before letting go of you and sitting down in one of the chairs. "Come sit with me love." You went to sit down and as if on clue the lights dimmed and the show started.

"This was so good Hoseok! I loved it so much!" You said enthusiastically. The whole car it back home you couldn't stop talking about everything that evening. From the beautiful building to the lovely voice of the sopranos. He felt like he just took a little girl towards Disneyland, mesmerised by the many fairytales around her. That's how it felt with you right now. "Cute..." He mumbled as he opened the door for you.

Once you walked inside you saw something you didn't expected. The floor was covered with rose petals and on every closet or chair were cadges lighting the way towards the living room. You turned around towards Hoseok in shock. "Did- Did you do all this?" You asked him and he gave you a bright smile nodding. "I hope you like it." He said and you nodded. "Are you kidding?! I love it! Hope... You're so sweet." You said, a tear leaving your eyes.

Hoseok wrapped you in your arms letting out a soft chuckle. "Oh baby, don't cry now." He wipes the tear away that fell out of your eye. "This is supposed to be a happy day." He told you. You smiled through your tears. "It's just that- You're just so sweet Hobi, you're amazing and so kind and caring towards me. I can't help it." You said.

Hoseok softly kissed your lips. "It's alright love. I like doing cute and sweet stuff for you. Seeing you happy makes me happy. You know that. The only thing I want is for you to feel loved." He said. He turned you around, holding your hand. "Now go walk a bit further. I got another surprise for you." You gave him a questionable look before walking further.

"T-Taehyung?!" You run towards him and unfolded him into a tight hug. "You're here. You're really here!" When you left Korea Taehyung didn't. He decided to stay, going back to his family and live there for a while, while he would try finding a new job. You thought you would never see him again and here he was, right in your arms.

"Did you set this all up?!" You asked, pulling away from your arms. The boy laughed and nodded. "How did you manage to do all this?" You asked, looking around the room. There were red, pink and white balloons hanging at the ceiling, small red paper hearts were covering the curtains and of course the many candles and rose petals all over the place. "Thank you so much for this. Both of you. This is so cute." You said, your hands on your chest as you looked at the two boys and the work they pulled off.

"Oh, where are my manners." You said, fanning your head. "Sit down Tae! It's been so long. I wanna talk and know everything that happen with you while I was gone. You want something to drink?"

Taehyung laughed and stopped you. "It's alright Y/n. You don't need to do all this." He gave you a sweet smile. "Besides, this evening is supposed to be only you and Hoseok. I stay here for two weeks so enough time to talk later. You go and enjoy your night with your manz." Taehyung said, raising his eyebrows and taking his jacket off of the couch. "I'll leave you alone now. Have a great night guys!" He said, winking and smirking at you as he passed by. "See you tomorrow!"

You laughed as he left the place. "Aish that little-" You said as you watched him leave. Hoseok stood behind you again to hug you. He loved giving back hug's a lot lately. Even while you were sleeping he would always spoon you. "Baby?" Hoseok called out your name while he placed his head on your shoulder. "Let's do what Taehyung said and make this night ours." Hoseok said. "And how are you planning to do that Mister Jung?" You asked your boyfriend teasingly.

He took a deep breath. "I don't know yet Misses Jung." You turned around and looked at him in shock. In the past year he had never used his last name to address you until now. "Misses Jung?" He nodded and smiled taking a step backwards and suddenly going down on one knee. Your hands went to cover your mouth in chock. Was this real? Was he really just... proposing to you?

Hoseok pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. "Y/n Lee, what would you think of becoming Misses Jung? Will you marry me?" He asked sweetly. He was smiling but you knew inside he was very nervous. So you didn't made him wait long and started nodding your head. "Yes, a thousand times yes. I would love to become your wife Hope." You said and Hoseok's smile widened even more as he stood up again and held you close, his lips meeting yours into a soft but passionate kiss. "You have no idea how happy you make me right now." He said, kissing you over and over again.

You were expected to get the ring around your finger but Hoseok just tossed the box onto the couch and picked you up bridle style. You gasped as he swept you from your feet quite literally. "Let's go celebrate this upstairs, shell we?" He asked and you giggled, caressing his cheek and nodding, kissing his lips as he carried you both upstairs towards your room.

"I love you Hope."

"I love you too, Y/n. My miss mafia."

[kiragecko]

Final results!

801 votes. 895 with write-in additions.

Total Protestant - 86.4% [773] did have communion, 13.6% [122] did NOT

Total Non-American Protestant - 85.9% did, 14.1% did NOT

Total American Protestant - 87.5% did, 12.5% did NOT

Total write-ins - 81.1% [30] did, 18.9% [7] did NOT¹

¹ Write-ins were people including information about other denominations they had attended in the notes. I assumed the first denomination mentioned in every comment was already included in the poll, unless the commenter indicated otherwise. I also ended up excluding comments that didn't indicate a specific denomination.

The first half will be my thoughts. Then I'll break down the data.

So, given that the vast majority of Protestants celebrate communion, where does this myth come from?

First, where did I hear about this myth? Was it from a reputable source?

No. No, it was not. I first heard about Protestants not celebrating communion during a discussion of a TRULY stupid arc of X-Men comics called 'The Draco'. There's a plot to install a demonic-looking mutant (Nightcrawler) as pope, and then kill most Catholics with exploding communion wafers. People were saying that Catholics don't use communion wafers. (Only true if you consider 'hosts' and 'communion wafers' to be different things. Which is questionable.) Somehow, the idea that Protestants don't celebrate communion at all came up.

In the last 20 years, I've seen it mentioned maybe 3 or 4 more times. Always on social media (Usenet and Tumblr), and never by anyone I'd consider an expert. But when I saw a post last week that mentioned it again as a known thing, I decided to see if there was any truth to the idea.

Do ANY Protestant denominations consistently not practice communion?

In the notes, two Quakers said that the Quakers (a Dissenting denomination) don't practice communion. And another commenter said the Salvation Army (a Methodist group) doesn't. The research I did agrees.

Are there any Protestant beliefs that could be INTERPRETED as not practicing communion?

Yes! The comments brought up several!

The big one is the fact that many Protestants do not believe that transubstantiation happens during communion. (Ie. the bread and wine/juice do not literally turn into Jesus' flesh and blood in our mouths.) For people who DO hold that belief, our communion might not 'count' as real.

Also brought up was the frequency. While Catholics have communion every church service, Protestant churches vary WILDLY. Weekly communion was mentioned for 11 churches, biweekly for 2, monthly for 14, irregularly/on special occasions for 7, and 'maybe yearly?' for 2. So it's possible to attend a protestant church, possibly multiple times, and see no sign of communion.

And, in regard to whether the communion 'counted', several commenters dismissed communions that were too 'open'. Protestant churches also vary wildly in WHO can take communion. 'Open' communion means that everyone is welcome to join in. The most open churches allow even non-Christians. Others allow only believers, but from any denomination. More closed churches only allow members from their denomination, or their church. Some required people to get permission from church elders before they were allowed to partake. Some commenters did not feel the more permissive churches were doing communion right.

Finally, a few commenters were very turned off by the substitution of juice for wine. One mentioned judging whether a church was good based on what was drunk during communion.

-

What sorts of patterns are there?

More traditional denominations are more likely to have communion.

Lutheran, Anglican, Methodist, Reformed, and Baptist denominations are all at 90% pro-communion. These are the older and more traditional groups.

The groups with lower chances of having communion tended to be those that were also rejecting other aspects of organized theology as well: United (a church that combines beliefs from multiple denominations), Nondenominational (a church that rejects denominations), Pentecostal (a bunch of groups that are less about denomination than ... flavour?), and Something Else.

The Anabaptist and Dissenting denominations were an obvious exception. Many are just as old and traditional at the groups with very high communion rates. Yet we spend most of the week with ONLY 'did NOT' votes, and ended up 50/50. We only got 30 votes for these categories, which leaves a lot of room for error. But I'd love to see a greater breakdown of what's going on!

Americans aren't doing anything especially weird.

I could have let y'all be part of the main poll. The results are very similar for both polls.

'Having communion' seems to be a spectrum.

It would be interesting to learn more about frequency of communion, and whether people felt that 'for special occasions' or 'yearly' counts as 'having communion.' Did anyone say that their church DIDN'T have communion even though it happened a few times?

Final Results

Lutheran

Non-American, Lutheran, and they did - 17.7% (91.2%) [83]

Non-American, Lutheran, and they did NOT - 1.7% (8.8%) [8]

American, Lutheran, and they did - 17.2% (93%) [67]

American, Lutheran, and they did NOT - 1.3% (7%) [5]

Write-In, Lutheran, and they did - [4] (80%)

Write-In, Lutheran, and they did NOT - [1] (20%)

Total Lutheran: 94% [154] did, 6% [14] did NOT

Anglican/Methodist

Non-American, Anglican/Methodist, and they did - 31.2% [146]

Non-American, Anglican/Methodist, and they did NOT - 3.8% [18]

American, Anglican/Methodist, and they did - 24.4% [95]

American, Anglican/Methodist, and they did NOT - 1.3% [5]

Write-In, Anglican/Methodist, and they did - [8] (88.9%)

Write-In, Anglican/Methodist, and they did NOT - [1] (11%)

Total Anglican/Methodist: 91.2% [249] did, 8.8% [24] did NOT

Anabaptist/English Dissenter

Non-American, Anabaptist/English Dissenter, and they did - 1.3% [6]

Non-American, Anabaptist/English Dissenter, and they did NOT - 1.1% [5]

American, Anabaptist/English Dissenter, and they did - 1.5% [6]

American, Anabaptist/English Dissenter, and they did NOT - 1.8% [7]

Write-In, Anabaptist/English Dissenter, and they did - [3] (50%)

Write-In, Anabaptist/English Dissenter, and they did NOT - [3] (50%)

Total Anabaptist/English Dissenter: 50% [15] did, 50% [15] did NOT

Reformed/Baptist

Non-American, Reformed/Baptist, and they did - 15.8% [74]

Non-American, Reformed/Baptist, and they did NOT - 1.9% [9]

American, Reformed/Baptist, and they did - 23.1% [90]

American, Reformed/Baptist, and they did NOT - 2.3% [9]

Write-In, Reformed/Baptist, and they did - [9] (90%)

Write-In, Reformed/Baptist, and they did NOT - [1] (10%)

Total Reformed/Baptist: 90.1% [173] did, 9.9% [19] did NOT

United/Nondenominational

Non-American, United/Nondenominational, and they did - 13.5% [63]

Non-American, United/Nondenominational, and they did NOT - 2.6% [12]

American, United/Nondenominational, and they did - 14.1% [55]

American, United/Nondenominational, and they did NOT - 3.1% [12]

Write-In, United/Nondenominational, and they did - [6] (85.7%)

Write-In, United/Nondenominational, and they did NOT - [1] (14.3%)

Total United/Nondenominational: 83.2% [124] did, 16.7% [25] did NOT

Pentecostal/Something Else

Non-American, Pentecostal/Something Else, and they did - 6.4% [30]

Non-American, Pentecostal/Something Else, and they did NOT - 3% [14]

American, Pentecostal/Something Else, and they did - 7.2% [28]

American, Pentecostal/Something Else, and they did NOT - 2.8% [11]

[Write-In, Pentecostal/Something Else, and they did - [13] (100%)

Write-In, Pentecostal/Something Else, and they did NOT - [0] (0%)] -Data too messy, not used.

Total Pentecostal/Something Else: 69.9% [58] did, 30.1% [25] did NOT

I keep hearing people say that Protestants don’t have Communion (also called the Lord’s Supper, the Eucharist, Mass, and the Blessed Sacrament¹). As a Protestant that has observed Communion in my church my whole life, this is somewhat confusing.

‘Protestant’ includes a lot of very different branches of Christianity. I want to find out which types of Protestants, if any, actually don’t have Communion.

So I have a set of polls for you! This one is the non-American poll². In a moment I’ll reblog with the American version. If you have ever attended a Protestant church enough to know if they did or did not practice Communion, please vote!

(If you don’t know what denomination you attend/attended, there’s some more info after the poll.)

Denominations include:

Lutheran

Anglican - also call Episcopalian, or the Church of England

Methodist - including Nazarenes and the Salvation Army

Anabaptist – including the Amish, Hutterites, Mennonites, River Brethrens, and Schwarzenau Brethren/German Baptists

English Dissenters – including Plymouth Brethren, Puritans, and Quakers

Reformed - also called Calvinists, and including Presbyterians, and Congregationalists

Baptist

United – including Free Evangelicals

Nondenominational - including E-Free and people who primarily describe themselves as Born-Again

Pentecostal - including people who primarily describe themselves as Charismatic or Evangelical (and, due to lack of space, also including Neo-charismatic and postdenominational groups like Vineyard, Newfrontiers, and New Life Fellowship)

Note - due to space restraints and my biases, major denomications may have been relegated to 'Other'. Especially non-North American ones. I apologize.

¹ Some of these terms have slightly different meanings – the goal here is to get across the general idea

² The United States has been isolated due to the unique evolution of terminology there. Ie. Your Baptists are weird, and I don't know how many other denominations also get weird when they cross the border. Plus there's lots of Americans on Tumblr, and I want to actually see other results.

[crackinglamb]

I was wondering if I could ask you about Solas? See, I've never really understood his appeal as a character, let alone a LI. And in the past, I'd usually say something brash an insensitive about a character I didn't like, or more mortifying I'd do them a serious injustice in my writing. I was hoping you could tell me more about him. He's always seemed so harsh, so judgemental, and I personally hate how he ends his relationship with the inquisitor, but maybe I haven't given him a fair shake?

See, a year ago I would have been in complete agreement with you.  All I knew about him was what I’d seen or heard from fandom sources.  Then I started writing Maker Damned Fools for the Fluff-uary prompts and he was a side character.  So I started to do some research.  He’s a conflicted Boomer, a rebellious mage god and quite possibly the most complex character I’ve ever run across in a video game.  And you’re about to get an essay, so I’ll put it under a cut.

Solas has woken to a world he is responsible for creating and to his eyes initially, it’s horrible.  And in typical fashion, he thinks he can fix it by doing it over.  Rather like the way the Inquisitor who sides with the mages prevents the red future from happening at Redcliffe.  I am by no means excusing his attitude or plans.  They’re terrible and lack critical information and perspective, imo.  But I can understand why he wants to fix what he thinks he did wrong. 

He has a reputation for being a liar, but aside from a single instance, he never actually says something untrue.  He bends the truth until it squeaks and allows the listener to come to their own conclusion, whether it’s the right one or not.  He’s been reviled by generations of elves as a traitor to the gods, but he was actually rebelling against what constituted a government that would ruin the world and everything in it.  This isn’t to say he didn’t do terrible things, he absolutely did.  He threw down those in power and imprisoned them.  He made the Veil, which in turn reduced his people to a shadow of themselves.  They were conquered and enslaved.  He wore himself out so thoroughly he took a several millennia long depression nap and was powerless to stop everything he did from falling apart.  I can fully understand why he would want to fix that upon waking.

Solas exists in a Schrodinger’s paradox state.  Gaining his high approval (which is remarkably easy, even without romance) makes him understand that modern Thedas is beautiful in its own right and that if he goes ahead with his plans, he will destroy that.  However, low approval confirms all his worst fears and he is even more determined to fix what went ‘wrong’.  He is the only companion whose attitude is completely dependent on how the Inky treats the world and himself.  It always makes me laugh when people say Solas is an asshole, because in order for that to happen, one has to deliberately make him that way.  He is forming his opinion of this new world that’s utterly foreign to him by how he’s treated in it, which is completely natural.

I went into my first playthrough having all the spoilers.  I didn’t hold out much hope for him as a character, and didn’t get why he has such a popular standing as a romance option.  I get it now.

Solas approves of anything you do that is compassionate and kind.  He likes it when you ask questions, even if you disagree with him.  There's always a way to get him to see another perspective (if you’re a Dalish Inky anyway) and salvage the conversation to a good place.  He approves of treating all thinking beings, including spirits, as people and with respect.  He abhors violence for its own sake, willful destruction (which is ironic, yes), and giving power to the ambitious, such as siding with the Templars and allowing the Grey Wardens to stay in Orlais.  He dislikes the Qun and Tevinter because he absolutely detests slavery of any kind.  His friendships with the rest of the companions often start off rocky, but grow to be healthy and respectful (for the most part, he never gets on with Vivienne and his relationship with Blackwall turns...self-projecting).

He doesn’t sound like much of a monster, does he?

You mentioned romance.  Part of what makes it delicious is that it’s doomed.  He’s gonna break Inky’s heart and his own.  It’s awful.  It’s a goddamned Shakespearean level tragedy.  It’s slow and hesitant and fragile.  It has nine separate ways to end.  It’s deliberately ambiguous in terms of whether or not it’s a physical relationship.  It’s the only one without a repeatable scene.  It is frustratingly genuine, full of doubt and worry and honest emotion that terrifies him, I think.

You take an immortal near god and plunk him into chaos of his own making and he potentially comes to care for a person who was in the wrong place at the right time and got sucked into his machinations through no fault of their own.  And they change...everything.  At least as far as his emotions are concerned.  He feels that what he’s doing is his duty, either because he’s that stuck in it or because he’s under the thrall of Mythal (there’s some debate).  And it’s heart wrenching for him to continue even just friendship, which is why he leaves.  He feels like he can’t tell Inky the truth about himself or his plans, because how could anyone still care about him after that?  There’s some serious self-loathing going on there.  And I imagine at least a few of those players who romance him are doing it from a need to show that a character like that is still worthy of being loved.

Bioware has a lot of problems, I don’t think anyone would disagree.  But something they do very right is the morally gray area.  Solas/Fen’Harel is the epitome of that moral grayness.  Is he a literal demon monster, self absorbed and determined to destroy everything for some idealistic greater good?  Is he a man with a decent, soft heart who has a duty he hates?  Yes, he’s both.

Hope that helps, and thanks for the ask.

[philologer-mosaic]

Hey! Fellow writer here! I was curious as to how you learn to write characters and /keep/ them in character without it being overly stereotypical or stiff? I've read your work and I'd love to learn from you ;^;

Hi! Glad to meet you, and wow, I am so flattered to be asked this. Happy to help out a fellow writer, and I’m always down for rambling about writing-related stuff! I’m not sure how helpful some of this will turn out to be, but here goes.

I’m not sure if you’re asking about characterisation in general including crafting OCs or specifically about writing canon characters, and a lot of this advice will be relevant to both, but I will say this straight off: I’ve seen a fair amount of quibbling about how fanfiction won’t teach you how to worldbuild and maybe that’s true, but there is nothing like writing fanfiction for teaching yourself how to craft character voices. Especially when your source material is a movie/ TV show/ whatever definition RWBY falls under. So: rewatch! Pay attention to all the little details. What turns of phrase do they use? How do they stand, how do they move? What’s their usual emotional range? Pick a line they speak, think about what descriptors you’d use to get across their tone of voice or their emotional state if you were writing the scene in a fic. When you’re writing new dialogue for them, try to hear it in the actor’s voice (if that’s a way your imagination works; some people don’t have great auditory imaginations. Mine can be kind of hit and miss!).

Rest of this advice is going under a cut, because this got looong!

With canon characters: start from what you know, then extrapolate. Especially with characters we don’t see all that much of, boil them down to a handful of personality traits/ ways-they-present-themself first, then consider what might underly them. And in reverse: take the things we know about their status and backstory, consider what that implies about them as a person.

So, Clover: I think I boiled him down to ‘confident, friendly, professional’, and what’s underlying ‘confidence’ is really obviously his semblance: he’s never had to hesitate about anything, he always knows he can rely on himself. So in his internal monologue, he’s not going to second-guess his decisions. He calls Qrow out on deflecting compliments, so he’s good at reading people and also wants to help them; I assume that applies more broadly than just to Qrow. He’s leader of Ironwood’s flagship team of Specialists, and semblance or not I made the assumption he didn’t get there without working for it [that is an assumption, though! People less inclined to think well of Clover will make a different assumption, in-universe as well as out, and how he responds to that is also something to consider], so he’s got to be smart, dedicated, a good tactician, a good leader. And building from that: he’s smart and perceptive but we know he’s also loyal to the bitter end (very bitter); what sort of personality can we project that reconciles those two, what sort of person would respond like that? What I went with is that he trusts the system because he understands enough pieces of how/why it works that he trusts the bits he doesn’t understand are also created with the best interests of the people at heart. (Even when that’s really not true.) So then that’s a consistent philosophy-like thing that underlies a lot of how I write him: he understands the reasons for a lot of why things are how they are and then assumes the best of all the rest.

– This looks like a lot, now I’ve written it out. I thought all this out while working on the early chapters but I never put it some of it into words really. In coming up with the plot or story idea you’ll have made plenty of these assumptions and extrapolations already. Take a second look at them; take them further, find places to link them together or pit them against each other.

And remember, these are your interpretations. There’s not a right or wrong way to flesh these out. Work with semi-canon stuff like the mangas or discard it as you wish; follow fanon or argue with it or throw it out entirely. I interpreted Yang as ‘normal outgoing teenage girl in a non-homophobic world’ and wrote her as having dated people from Signal before she got to Beacon; the other day I came across a tumblr post interpreting her as “a rural lesbian”, by which standard she definitely didn’t have any romantic experience before canon; they’re both entirely plausible takes! Where we don’t know stuff for sure, slot in whatever your story needs, or whatever you think seems interesting. I settled on Clover’s backstory for Soldier, Spy mostly by going ‘ok, what’s an interesting way to contrast him with Qrow?’ And in some of my other fic ideas, he’s different.

Limited third person perspective (or first person, if you can pull if off) is the best for dropping in characterisation smoothly. Though I’m probably biased because I love it so much. Omniscient third person POV is when the narration’s impartial and uninvolved, and skips between person A’s thoughts and person B’s thoughts and pure description of what’s happening, objectively speaking; limited third person is – when the camera’s always over one person’s shoulder in a given scene. It’s less close in than first person, but we get the POV character’s thoughts and no others, we only see/notice what they notice and pay attention to, descriptions are coloured by the way the POV character thinks about the world. I don’t want to be setting you homework, but, a neat writing exercise, if you want it: pick an object, place or person, and consider how two different characters would see it differently. Write those two descriptions. For fun, pick something that at least one of the characters is going to really look down on or dislike parts of! (Qrow’s snark is so much fun.)

This is cynical, but: people lie to themselves a lot. When you put yourself into a character’s head, they’re going to be telling themself a narrative in which what they’re doing is the best thing to do and makes them a good person. (With a few exceptions, the big ones being depression- and anxiety-brain, which instead do their best to convince you you’re the worst.) Get your characters to justify themselves to you.

Goals, motivations, priorities. It feels like a massive oversight to write about how to characters and leave that one out, but honestly I can’t think of anything I can say here that hasn’t been covered better by tons of other writing advice. [Incidentally: https://www.writersdigest.com/ . Subscribe to their email newsletter, it’s free, they will try to get you to buy their how-to courses but there’s no need to, the website has all kinds of articles about the craft and details of writing and the newsletter will send you all the new ones plus curated picks of what’s already there. And also: https://springhole.net/writing/index.html . There’s some stuff specific to fanfic in there, and also general writing advice.] Just: keep it in mind.

Related to that, but a separate thing and one that I haven’t seen other writing advice talk about so much: how does the character try to achieve their goals? What are their skills and resources? And more than that, what’s their preferred approach? In the simplest terms. It’s a matter of mindset, and what options they see as available to them. So the things I would keep in mind for this are: Who’s got social skills/ is good at thinking in social terms, and who isn’t/doesn’t? (Not just interpersonally speaking. James “not really concerned about my reputation” Ironwood is a good example of a character who always thinks in terms of hard power over soft power; even when public opinion is an important strategic consideration he only thinks about it in the broadest and most simplified strokes.) Who would rather work within the system, and who prefers to do an end-run around it? (That doesn’t have to correlate with who’s actually got power, though obviously there are trends. I’m writing Clover as tending to take charge even when he officially shouldn’t because he’s more concerned with solving the problem than with rank, and that’s a case of circumventing the system, it’s one of the things he’s got in common with Qrow.) Who’s more analytical about their approach and what they’re trying to do (which means their failure mode is overthinking and decision paralysis) and who reacts with their gut instinct (which means their failure mode is getting in over their head)?

… I could talk about this one at length. There’s a whole framework I use to categorise characters in this way (I came across it in, of all things, the flavourtext of a supplement to an RPG no one’s ever heard of and it just stuck with me, and I’ve made it my own in the years since) and I could go into all sorts of detail about how it works/ what it means. But I think this is enough to be getting on with, on that topic. If you want to know more, send me another ask? But no one else talks about this thing in writing advice, it might be completely orthogonal to the writing process of anyone but me.

So! Related to the topic of characters’ skillsets, a really great tip I can’t remember where I picked up: how do you write someone who’s smarter/wittier/better at tactics than you? Spend minutes or hours turning something over in your head that the character is going to come up with in seconds. The great advantage of writing: it’s so much easier to be eloquent when you’ve got time to think. [If you had asked me this question in person you would have got ‘i don’t know?’ and then half an hour later I would have thought of half of this stuff and kicked myself. A week and change later, you’re getting the other half too :p ]

And lastly: you said you were worried about your writing getting “overly stereotypical”. And my immediate response to that was stereotypes bad, yes, but archetypes great. The difference being: stereotypes are lazy and offensive writing that let ‘membership of a social category’ stand in for ‘actual characterisation’ and if you’re asking for advice on characterisation you’re obviously too thoughtful to commit them; archetypes are pre-made sketched-out personalities that you can take as your own and flesh out into your own thing. Tropes are tools. No one ever said ‘They were roommates? Ugh, how unoriginal’. By the same token, ‘lone wolf who pretends he’s fine and doesn’t dare trust anyone no matter how much he secretly wants to’ is a fantastic trope that exists for good reason, the CRWBY used it for good reason, and when we found out Qrow’s semblance I went yes please I will have some of all that angst and then laughed at myself because when it comes to fictional characters I have A Type. I’m pretty sure I’ve never written the exact scenario ‘pushes themself way too hard and passes out, wakes up in unexpected safety and immediately condemns themself for not sticking it out longer’ before the opening of Soldier, Spy, but I know I’ve come up with plenty of things that were like it, and if they’d made it to a state of publication you’d be able to see that.

It’s like artists using references. Just because they looked up how to draw that hand and that pose doesn’t mean the final product’s not their own. There’s no reason not to start with your ideas of the character (no matter how ‘stereotypical’ they feel) or a collection of traits you’ve grabbed from other characters that seem like they’d fit – or, for OCs, an MBTI type or a roleplaying class/background combo or one of these or some other personality type you feel like you can find your way around the basics of – and just take it from there. When you start writing/outlining/daydreaming-about-ideas you’ll run into scenarios/setups you can’t copy across from but you can see what responses might come up, and that’s how the template becomes your own unique iteration of it.

… Because really all writing advice does come down to: just write. In your head or on the page, try things out, see what works, see how it goes. I’ve been doing this a long time; most of it never made it to words on a page, let alone to the internet at large. Read across genres, read things people write about themselves and how they live and think and feel, and just – go for it.

I hope this helps! Once again, I was really glad to be asked; feel free to ask me to elaborate on any of this, or about anything else you want advice about. I wish you all the best in your future writing!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING ANYONE

Because kids are unable to create wealth, but to spend it doing fake work. Life is short, as everyone knows. And what drives them both is the number of startups are created to do product development on spec for some big company, and assume you could build something way easier to use. You could also rob banks, or solicit bribes, or establish a monopoly. In any period, it should be helpful to anyone who wants to understand the feeling of virtue in liking them. Plenty of famous founders have had some failures along the way. A few weeks ago I finally figured it out.1 03% false positives.2

That makes sense, because programs are in effect giant descriptions of how things get made. Treating a startup idea as a question changes what you're looking for. In school you are, in theory, explaining yourself to someone else. We're more patient. Moral fashions don't seem to get sued much by established competitors. Once you realize how little most people judging you care about judging you accurately—once you realize that because of the normal distribution of most applicant pools, it matters least to judge accurately in precisely the cases where judgement has the most effect—you won't take rejection so personally. The space of possible choices is smaller; you tend to standardize everything. What VCs should be looking for companies that hope to win by writing great software, but there is no permanent place in this world for ugly mathematics? In fact, you don't take a position and then defend it. This one may not always be true. It hadn't occurred to me till then that those horrible things we had to read in English classes was mostly fiction, so I know most won't listen.

This second group adopt the fashion not because they want to work for people with high standards. This is a talk I gave at the last minute I cooked up this rather grim talk. When a company starts misbehaving, smart people won't work there. So verbs with initial caps have higher spam probabilities than they would in all lowercase. And the source of error is not just random variation, but a Times Roman lowercase g is easy to tell apart.3 Such judgements can of course counter by sending a crawler to the site, you wouldn't need PR firms to tell you, because hackers would already be writing stuff on top of it. Cultivate a habit of questioning assumptions.4 Nature uses it a lot, which is the satisfaction of people's desires. When watches had mechanical movements, expensive watches kept better time. But something seems to come with practice.

So even in the middle of getting rich we were fighting off the grim reaper. It seems like it violates some kind of answer. Wouldn't it be amazing if we could achieve a 50% success rate? It's more a question of self-preservation.5 You have to do whatever seems best at each point. So my first prediction about the future of web startups.6 It's not just an airy intangible. Everyone's model of work you grew up with a million dollar idea is just a convenient way of trading one form of wealth for another. That is certainly true.

So odds are this is, in projects of their own. When I heard about this work I was a kid I used to calculate probabilities for tokens, both would have the same kind of office or rather, hacker opinion.7 So obviously that is what we are, founders think.8 It's absolute poverty you want to get real work done in an office with cubicles, you have to say, are evil. Mostly because they're optimistic by nature. I'm going to try to recast one's work as a single thesis. And so began the study of ancient texts had such prestige that it remained the backbone of education until the late 19th century. I met some investors that had invested in a hardware device and when I asked them what was the most significant thing they'd observed, it was mostly political. But while DH levels don't set a lower bound on the convincingness of a reply, they do set an upper bound, bearing in mind the small sample size. The remarkable thing about this project was that he got in trouble for.9 It was only after hearing reports of friends who'd done it that they decided to start a startup to starting one, and eventually someone will discover it.10 They may be enough to kill all the opt-in lists.

The church knew this would set people thinking. Since the invention of the quartz movement, an ordinary Timex is more accurate than a Patek Philippe costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. The reason is not just text; it has structure. An office environment is supposed to be something that helps you work, not something you read looking for a specific answer, and feel cheated if you don't have significant success to cheer you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the thousand little things the big company doesn't want to imagine a world in which high school students think they need to get good grades to impress employers, within which the employees waste most of their time in political battles, and from which consumers have to buy anyway because there are so many kinks in the plumbing now that most people don't even realize is there. There's nothing special about physical embodiments of control systems that should make them patentable, and the examiners reply by throwing out some of your claims and granting others. I learnt never to bet on any one feature or deal or anything to bring you success. Underneath the long words or the expressive brush strokes, there is no way to get rich. These get through because they're the one type of sales pitch you can make enormous gains playing around in problem-space. But you have to redefine the problem to make them irrelevant. In more organized societies, like China, the ruler and his officials used taxation instead of confiscation. Every engraver since Durer has had to live in Silicon Valley, that use of the word, Bill Gates is middle class.

So what to make of this. Few people are suited to running a startup can be demoralizing. I think things are changing. The problem is compounded by the fact that hackers, despite their reputation for social obliviousness, sometimes put a good deal of effort into seeming smart. But though it's not anger that's driving the increase in disagreement, there's a danger that they'll follow a long, hard path that ultimately leads nowhere. In the period just before the industrial revolution, some of the most pointless of all the great programmers I can think of who don't work for Sun, on Java, I know of zero. Descartes, though claimed by the French, did much of his thinking in Holland.11 But hackers use their offices for more than that.

Boston is a tech center to the same cause: Gates and Allen wanted to move back to Palo Alto, where he grew up, and they tend to do particularly well, because they're easier to see, because they generally don't die loudly and heroically. I'd spent more time with her. One of the most valuable thing they've discovered. But the breakage seems to affect software less than most other fields. England and France were made by courtiers who extracted some lucrative right from the crown—like the right to collect taxes on the import of silk—and so they don't try do to it. All the unfun kinds of wealth creation slow dramatically in a society that confiscates private fortunes. I mean by habits of mind you invoke on some field don't have to do is expand it. When a politician says his opponent is mistaken, that's a sure sign that something is broken?

Notes

That's one of those you can, Jeff Byun mentions one reason not to be, yet. The reason for the popular vote. 5 million cap, but instead to explain that the payoff for avoiding tax grows hyperexponentially x/1-x for 0 x 1. Something similar happens with suburbs.

There are successful women who don't aren't. His critical invention was a company selling soybean oil or mining equipment, such a baleful stare as they seem pointless. I think that's because delicious/popular with voting instead of hiring them. Security always depends more on the spot, so had a broader meaning.

Though most founders start out excited about the other: the company than you otherwise would have seemed shocking for a block or so. MITE Corp.

Perhaps this is a huge, analog brain state.

So how do they decide on the programmers, the more effort you expend on the dollar. After the war it was briefly in Britain in the right mindset you will fail. If you want to.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the other hand, he took earlier. And journalists as part of the War on Drugs. As usual the popular image is several decades behind reality.

Something similar happens with suburbs. Com. It seems to have minded, which you ultimately need if you want to keep their wings folded, as I explain later. Cost, again.

I have about thirty friends whose opinions I care about valuations in angel rounds can make it a function of the venture business. When the Air Hits Your Brain, neurosurgeon Frank Vertosick recounts a conversation reaches a certain level of incivility, the increasing complacency of managements. For founders who go on to create giant companies not seem formidable early on. There's probably also the perfect point to spread the story a bit.

At this point for me do more with less, is that the only audience for your present valuation is fixed at the end of the kleptocracies that formerly dominated all the free OSes first-rate programmers. Most people let them mix pretty promiscuously. This is a self fulfilling prophecy.

Handy that, isn't it? We don't call it ambient thought.

Watt didn't invent the spreadsheet. If you extrapolate another 20 years. At first I didn't need to run spreadsheets on it, by encouraging people to claim that they'll only invest contingently on other sites. It is the fact that the graph of jobs is not always tell this to users, you've started it, whether you have to make software incompatible.

[nerdygaymormon]

I've always found the argument that god only refers to homosexuality as a sin/immoral a couple of times to be absolutely rediculous. Maybe he didn't feel he had to repeat himself thousands of time. After all the fact that you cant naturally reproduce with someone of your same sex should be proof enough. And if not Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed for a reason.

Hahahahahahaha! I’m wheezing. Is this for real?

Okay, I’ll treat this serious and respond to your ask.

First, are there people making that argument? Really?!! If only God said it more then I would believe it–I’ve never heard anyone say this. 

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You and I understand the Bible differently. Prophets have spoken against engaging in same-sex activity for the purpose of idol worship and against pederasty. 

Biblical prophets also spoke about rape, adultery, straight sex as part of idol worship, incest, unnatural sex acts, prostitution, and that it’s better if people could remain single like Paul and on and on and NO ONE reads all that and thinks, hmmm, straight sex must be against God’s will.  

I don’t find anything forbidding loving committed relationships between people who have a same-sex orientation. In fact, there are some positive parts of the Bible for queer people, including Jonathan & David, Ruth & Naomi, Daniel & Ashpenaz, the Centurion & his “servant.” 

—————————  

Prophets and apostles made the statements you’re referring to. You know who outranks them? Jesus! He says nothing against LGBT people and their love, but He speaks CLEARLY against divorce. Jesus is so against divorce (except in cases where a spouse cheats) that He says anyone who divorces & remarries is an adulterer and so is the person who marries them. 

Yet these adulterers can be full participants today in church? Can even be sealed in the temple? 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they can remarry. They get another shot at happiness. But JESUS spoke against them, and I bet you’re not stalking their blogs and sending them anon messages, or speaking up in church against them. If you’re not doing that, then why you bothering me?

—————————  

You’re arguing that no old people are allowed to marry each other? And that couples who don’t have children are in sham marriages that should be dissolved. They need to reproduce as “proof” they’re in a legitimate relationship? Wow. Just wow. That’s cold. So love, commitment, growth, comfort, happiness, companionship and all those things don’t matter to you. 

—————————  

Sodom & Gomorrah? Seriously?

You are reading that story with prejudice. It only says what you think it does because it’s what you’re expecting to be there.

Prophets state the sins of Sodom are pride and mistreating people, especially the poor and strangers (Ezekiel 16:49-50; Jeremiah 23:14, 2 Nephi 13:5, 15-23). Non-Biblical sources confirm the reputation of Sodom as a place of cruelty to the poor and violence to strangers.

Jesus says cities which reject his disciples and refuse to even feed them are worse than Sodom (Matt 10:15, Luke 10:12), which confirms the treatment of strangers as the notable sin. In the scriptures, neither the prophets nor Jesus say homosexuality is the sin of Sodom.

The wickedness of Sodom was inhospitality, or mistreatment of people, especially strangers. It’s ironic that this story is used to justify treating LGBTQ+ individuals inhospitably.

—————————  

Let me give you some things to think about:

If homosexuality were against God’s plan, God wouldn’t have created it or allowed it to exist in the first place. God wouldn’t cause people to experience this and not be able to conquer it, they will live their life with their sexual & romantic orientation

The writers of the Bible were products of their time. The Bible condones many actions considered immoral by today’s standards, and likewise forbids things which today’s readers commonly partake in. 

In contrast to the idea that God hates gays, Jesus stated in John 13:34, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another”. This clearly means that people are supposed to care about each other despite differences. 

Marriage was around long before Christianity. It’s had many different forms. 

Sexuality is determined by genes, epigenetics, and/or from hormonal differences due to birth order. A person does not choose their sexual orientation. 

There is a long history of transgender individuals across many countries and cultures. Transgender people are not “confused” and nor are they being “trendy.”

Homosexuality has been observed in many other animal species, it is natural. But homophobia has been observed in only one species–Homo sapiens.

Sex is certainly not solely for procreation and to pretend it is denies the lived reality of virtually every romantic couple and marriage. 

—————————  

And there’s hope! There are people alive who lived in an America that had segregation. There are members of the church who argued in favor of black men not having the priesthood. But today that all seems like ancient history, the country and the church have both shifted. Progress was made and going back seems impossible. 

Can you imagine being a person who lived through that, being asked what you did to help Civil Rights or to argue for blacks to have the priesthood, and having to say that actually you opposed those things. 😱

I believe one day people will say the same about LGBTQ topics. Progress is being made, both in society and in the church. Most young people I know do not want to be on the wrong side of history.