#but the point is he dropped a lot of money on new threads

[clove-pinks]

Lieutenant Henry T.D. Le Vesconte, from the so-called lost set of Franklin Expedition daguerreotype photographs, now at auction at Sotheby's.

I really, really thought that I had made a complete transcription of a letter that Henry wrote to his father dated October 17th 1844—but I did not. He penned this letter once he was back in Portsmouth from HMS Clio, and it is seared into my brain where he mentions sending £30 to the tailor—approximately $4462.74 in current USD according to a historical currency converter.

Almost certainly, that smart-looking uniform in his 1845 photograph aboard HMS Erebus was purchased at this time. It has the slim cut of early 1840s men's fashion, and like all Royal Navy uniforms of the time it was bespoke and the fit reflects Le Vesconte's taste.

[pinkie-quinns]

(posting some old twitter threads here for posterity's sake)

rocker eddie actor steve fame au p1 | p2 p3 p4 p5 interlude p6

Steve follows Eddie out to LA. Indiana’s home, sure, but Eddie’s got dreams bigger than the both of them. And Steve loves him, wants to be there with him the whole way through.

He does odd jobs to pass the time, nannies a lot, works on sets. Extra work pays the best, quick easy cash, so he dances to click tracks in cut scenes of teen shows and pays for their groceries. 

A producer on one of the bigger jobs picks him out on set, tells him he has a good screen presence. He gives him a contact for a proper agent. Steve books the third thing he tries out for.

It's a small role on a pilot that hasn't been picked up yet. He's excited but doesn't think much of it. Mostly he’s just happy for the paycheck. Corroded Coffin's really struggling to break through. They just got dropped from their tiny indie label and Eddie's really bummed.

And Steve uses some of the money from his big, SAG-approved paycheck to try to cheer Eddie up. Make him feel better about the whole thing. But it does the opposite. Eddie keeps acting resentful. 

It only gets worse when Steve's show does get picked up.

Turns out he tested really well with audiences. So the writers rewrote him into the main cast, extended his two episode arc into the whole season. And Steve's really grateful for it, figures they both should be. Eddie's not really working and they need the money.

Corroded coffin is still labelless and basically broken up by the time the show comes out. 

It's a smash hit. Steve's character is a fan favourite. Overnight, he finds himself within the throes of fame. He gets a manager and a PR team and a personal assistant.

He's away from home a lot, doing the media circuit to promote the show. People start prodding into his personal life. His manager, his team, and the network all advise him to appear single and available. 

Eddie makes it easy for him. He leaves without saying a word.

Years down the road, Steve is settled into his fame. He's done a couple movies (some hits, most misses). His show is heading into its final season. He's dated a lot, mostly other celebrities.

Then he walks into a CVS on Venice & sees a name he's been trying to forget for 7 years.

Right on the cover of NME. Eddie had gone to London, apparently. Finally broke through there. Was releasing his debut album later this month. 

At least that's what Steve could tell from looking at it. He doesn’t buy the magazine. He hops into his car and drives til he’s out of gas.

He used to do that back in Indiana. When everything got too loud. Used to do that with Eddie, once they finally got their shit together. Just drive until the tank is near empty & then pull up to some blinking gas station. Head home.

Steve strands himself in Santa Barbara instead.

He sleepwalks through the next few months. The town is buzzing around the impending arrival of Eddie Munson. His album, Penitence, debuted to solid numbers & has only been gaining traction since. He's promoted it in London, New York, done Glastonbury & the late festival circuit.

It's gotten to the point where it's big enough that its hit single is even terrorizing Steve's local grocery store. He knows the first three notes really well. Knows cause that's his cue to leave. 

He hasn't listened to the album. He hasn't read any of the interviews.

In his head it's a good kind of revenge. Eddie left without a trace. Steve should respect his wishes, right? That's what Eddie wanted so badly that he couldn't even call. 

He should respect that too, be staying dead instead of haunting every busboard like a poltergeist.

But he's Eddie so of course he doesn't. So instead Steve spends all his free time thinking about when he'll inevitably run into him. Will it be the VMA afterparty? Will it be the CBS lot? Will it be the whole foods he keeps running into Michelle Pfeiffer at? (Probably not that)

In the end, it's a knock at his door.

Eddie came straight from the airport. Big duffel at his feet. He looks a decade older but his eyes are the same. He doesn't say I'm sorry, or I fucked up. Doesn't get down on his knees & beg. He just asks:

"Did you listen to the album?"

There's a part of Steve that wants to throw a fit. Be big and loud and start lobbing things at Eddie. He'd seen a movie star do that on set once. Over a PA bringing him the wrong brand of flavored water. But he's not Wahlberg, so he invites Eddie inside. 

And they sit and listen to Penitence.

It's an apology. A long one. Fifteen tracks though Eddie always used to be a real asshole about albums that were longer than twelve. 

And it covers everything. All the regret and resentment and the ego that clouded him when fame happened for Steve and not for him. When Steve didn't even want it. It's sorry over and over and over again. It's I fucked up and please take me back. It's ego death. It's disgust and guilt and self-flagellation. 

And when it's over, it dawns on Steve, who feels just as heartbroken as ever, that it's not enough.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @cassieuncaged, @salemwitch96

warnings: swearing

"Where did you get all these boxes?" Norman asked as he stared at the boxes I had piled up in the corner of the main entrance. "I don't remember having this many decorations."

"You inherited them when you married me you dork." I groaned as I lugged another box over to the corner. Norman rushed over to take it from me, grunting as the weight of the box hit him. "Most of these are mine."

"No offense but how could you afford all this?" He asked, sighing as the box was put on the stack.

"Shut the fuck up asshole." I laughed. Norman smiled at me. "Its called money management and collecting over the course of years."

"Well that explains none of the designs matching." Norman said, opening a box and digging through it. "Some of this is neon. Some is gothic. And some is just covered in glitter."

"Yeah. We honestly can probably get rid of a lot of the glitter bombed decorations. There's a few I want to keep though. So don't make any decisions without me." I pointed at Norman and he held up his hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He chuckled. Walking over to me, Norman looked into the storage space. "Is that all of it?" I nodded as I grabbed a bag.

"Lucky for you it is." I said. "This is just various window clings. We don't have to use them but it might be fun to split them up and not tell the other where we put any of them."

"Knowing you, I'll wake up to go to the bathroom one night and find one stuck to the mirror in my office." Norman laughed, wrapping his arms around me as I walked past. I laughed as he pulled me to him.

"I make no promises!" I looked at Norman over my shoulder and smiled as his eyes softened. "There's a lot there to get through." I said. He nodded. "And we're going to be spring cleaning as we go." Norman nodded again. "Are you sure you want to do this with me? Last chance to back out." Norman kissed me softly and squeezed my waist.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He breathed out. "I signed up for this. I'm going to see it through dammit." I laughed as I cupped the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. Norman closed his eyes and hummed as he leaned further into me.

"My adorable little cat." Norman's eyes flew open and he growled at me before kissing me forcefully. "Down kitty." I laughed as he started to dip me. Norman chuckled darkly.

"You know, I have half a mind to drop you right now." He teased. I rolled my eyes as he pulled me back up.

"No you wouldn't." I said, stepping away from him to grab the decorations. "You love me too much to do that. Besides, I'd get hurt and you would treat yourself like shit if that happened so I know you're only making false threats." Norman grumbled as he came over to pull a box down. We both sat on the ground as the box was opened and emptied.

"I hate it when you're right." He mumbled. I smiled sweetly at him as we started sorting through the decorations. "What about this one?" Norman held up a pumpkin that was more glitter than anything.

"You can toss that one." I said. "I feel like if you move it you and where ever you put it will just be a pile of glitter." Norman nodded and tossed it in the empty box.

"I'll just dump this after each box. Bernard will probably be confused as hell but probably the easiest way to do this." He shrugged. I nodded as I tossed a beat up plastic door cover into the box. "I liked that one though. Your door was always so cute with it."

"First off Norman. It's torn to hell. It's time to let it go." I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. "Second off. Cute?! Blood and guts and keep out in big bloody letters is not cute!" I shoved him and Norman fell to the floor with a laugh.

"I thought it was." Norman said, lifting his head to look at me. "I'll buy you a new one. I know you liked it a lot." I smiled softly at him as I tossed another glitter pumpkin bomb in the discard box.

"You don't have to do that. We can pick one out together." I said. Norman smiled at me and I shook my head. "And no matter what I say will make you change your mind. Fine."

"Glad to see you're finally learning." Norman joked. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Shut up Osborn." I grumbled. "We've got at least ten more boxes to go through before we can start decorating so get to work." Norman rolled his eyes and continued going through the box.

[sashaisready]

Chapter Three - Call me Bucky

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

18+ - please see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

A few days had passed and everything seemed to be bumbling along as normal. No more surprise visits from mobsters, no more outlandish tips. The bakery had its steady buzz of happy customers and business was good.

You'd been trying out a new carrot cake recipe during a late afternoon lull the following Monday. Wanda was out sick so it was just you, but that was okay because Mondays were always quiet and you could handle things alone. You hadn't had a customer in over an hour so were in the back mixing when you heard the bell going.

"Be right there!" You called to the front of the shop.

You wiped your hands on your apron, cursing at what a mess you'd made. Your forehead was sweaty and you had butter and flour over your clothes in spite of the apron. Oh well. Hopefully you wouldn't scare the customer off...

You wandered back to the front of the store to find a tall gentleman in a fancy suit with his back to you, engrossed in his phone. Probably a business type popping in for a late afternoon sugar hit. You got a lot of those.

"Hi sir, how can I help today?" You ask as you take your place at the counter.

The man spins to face you and you can't help but gasp in surprise when you see who it is. James Barnes. He's back. He looks as slick as he did last time, immaculate in his tailored suit. His hair is carefully coiffed with a hint of gel, not a single strand out of place. Still gorgeous, too.

He smirks at your reaction.

"Surprised to see me, Doll?" He asks playfully.

"Sorry Mr Barnes, I didn't realise it was you" you explain. You try to ignore how his nickname for you sends shivers down your back.

"Well, I just enjoyed your merchandise so much last week I had to drop by again".

You smile at him warmly, dropping his gaze because it's so intense that it almost feels wrong to look at him directly.

"Great to hear that. So what would you like today?" Your professional veneer is hanging on by a thread.

He ignores your question and his eyes drop to your messy apron.

"What are you making?" He asks.

You fumble with the apron, embarrassed by your dishevelled appearance in contrast to his well-groomed figure. You must look like such a messy slob to him.

"Oh...just some carrot cake. I'm tweaking the recipe. Had a bit of a quiet period so thought I'd get a jump start" you chuckle nervously.

Why are you nervous?

You know why you're nervous.

He nods and smiles, scrutinising your appearance briefly before he looks back to the counter.

He begins to pick out cakes and pastries again, meticulously studying each section of the display case as he points out what he wants with a gloved finger. He asks for specific choices too. 'That doughnut third from the back' or 'that cookie second from the front'. You begin to understand that James Barnes is a man who likes things just so. And you would bet good money that he's like that in his day job, too.

You pack up his selections and ring him up, it's harder to keep up this time without Wanda. You take his credit card once again and he tries to pass you another obscenely high bill from his wallet.

"Oh I can't accept that" you explain, waving your hand at it.

He laughs. "Why not?"

"You already over tipped me last week. Honestly, Mr Barnes, you don't need to do that. Thank you, but really. You already spend so much here". You smile awkwardly at him, knowing full well he's going to fight you on this.

James chuckles. "I hope you're not telling me what I can or can't do with my own money, Doll..."

"Oh, no, of course not. It's just..." but you have no words for him. No excuses. Not without telling him that you feel uncomfortable taking cash from a mob boss, anyway.

He nods. "That's what I thought" he tells your firmly. In a single fluid motion he rolls the note up and leans over the counter, placing it inside your apron pocket.

You laugh. "Ass" you mutter quietly as you smile to yourself.

The word slips out before you can stop it. You clasp your hand over your mouth in surprise as if you can put it back in, but that horse has already bolted.

James' brows furrow. "What did you say?" He asks you accusingly. His eyes narrow and you see a brief glimpse of the scary man you'd seen on the news.

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm sorry...nothing" you reply casually, busying yourself with stacking up his boxes. You feel sick suddenly.

How could you forget yourself so carelessly?

He leans forward, the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. "Did you just call me an ass?" he asks as his eyes burn into you.

You try to think of a lie but his smirk is contagious and suddenly you're giggling.

"Oh, this is funny is it?" He asks. But his voice is soft, his face amused. It's clear this has tickled him.

"God, I genuinely am sorry" you tell him as you compose yourself. "That was so unprofessional. Really - I'm sorry".

"Why did you call me that?" He asks, watching you.

"Just...." You motion with your hand and copy the gesture he did of putting the money in your pocket. "I don't know. It just came out. The money thing was so smooth" you try to explain.

James stares at you like you're insane for a moment before chuckling earnestly. It stops you in your tracks briefly because it sounds like an authentic laugh, not the hollow snigger he seems to try to and undermine you with.

"Okay. You get that one for free, but only because nobody else is here" he advises as he shoots you a wink.

You laugh but part of you is shaken by his warning. You know full well it might have been a different story if you'd done that in front of his men.

As he begins to pick up the boxes you realise he's outnumbered - metal arm or not.

"Do you want help carrying those?" You ask.

James shakes his head and curls his lip like you've offended him. But then he tries to balance them all in his arms with one under his chin and it's clear it's not a one man job. Even a notorious man.

"Let me just take some. Are you parked up out front? C'mon, let me earn my tip. It'll make me feel better about taking all your money" you smile at him.

James smirks back at you. "Fine. But only for your sake, not mine".

You nod, grabbing a few boxes and opening the door. You follow him to his car parked on the street, a slick black SUV with windows so heavily tinted you don't think they can be legal. The trunk flies open despite James' full hands and for a second you think it's got motion detectors or something equally clever before you notice the man in the front seat.

"Hi again" the bearded blond turns and waves to you.

You smile back at him. Thor? No. Steve. Steve was his name.

"Hi" you reply shyly.

James begins packing the boxes up in the trunk and you follow with yours, ensuring they're secure and that the contents aren't likely to fly out if Steve makes a particularly sharp turn.

"There you go" you tell James sweetly as he slams the trunk down.

"Five star service" James says with a wink. "Thank-you, Doll".

"You're welcome Mr. Barnes" you nod as you wave and walk back to the bakery.

"Doll..." he calls to you.

You turn to face him once more.

"Call me Bucky" he grins.

"Bucky" you repeat back to him, feeling the name on your tongue, rolling it around in your mouth, trying it on for size.

[richeeduvie]

So, there's this scene in Pretty Woman where Vivian goes to a clothing store alone and the saleswomen are rude to her, implying she doesn't have money to buy anything there. Then later she comes back with her boyfriend (?) and he buys everything in the store for her. I would love to see something like that with Princesa and Lalo!

Big Mistake.

Lalo Salamanca x Reader - Madman!AU

I just watched Pretty Woman a month ago! I wanna watch it again to see how I feel about it but I thought it was pretty good!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Ignacio's at another store, something for expensive knives and cigars across the street. He doesn't care for when you insist that he doesn't have to be bored following you around dress shops. But you can't handle feeling like a burden, especially when you want to enjoy yourself. You wave at him through the glass. Lalo's coming soon to meet you here, he said.

"Just let us know if you need help with anything."

It's a voice at your ear that startles you, but you smile at the sight of a woman. She's dressed well, she's smiley.

"Okay, thank you."

Throughout your time in customer service, the anxiety of talking to strangers still get at you.

It's a fancily-dressed store, as most of the places you go are. Now, with Lalo, you don't think you're allowed to frequent places that are...less-then. In his words - but the less-then places you would have loved to go to in your earlier life, if you were able to afford it.

You're not allowed to be alone in public, not like this. So, you don't think you'll break another rule by going to a thrift store.

You quietly shift through the racks of clothing, thick and well-threaded coats. You have no need to wears coats in Mexico, and you didn't really in New Mexico. But your eyes can't come off one.

A cashmere hooded coat, lined in a dark red. It's so beautiful - soft.

You wish your tastes didn't grow with the sudden amount you can afford with Lalo because as much as he tells you his money is yours...you look at the price tag - and it's a lot.

But you can afford it, and you can, with guilt, afford that parfum that smells like vanilla and lavender. Expensive vanilla and lavender.

You don't think places like these have shopping carts.

"Do you need help with something?"

"No, I'm alright."

You run your fingers over the coat. You know you're imagining the way the saleswoman stares at you because you think too much and it gets to the point where you can believe everything is wrong and everything is out to get you. She's just trying to be helpful.

"That one is a bit costly. You have an eye."

You smile shyly. "I know, this one is beautiful."

The saleswoman returns your smile with her own.

"Using this store to dream?"

You blink, still trying to keep your smile warm. You couldn't know what she means.

"I'm sorry? I-I don't...yeah, maybe."

But then, you do. You've worked a job like this before and somehow, you must be an annoying customer - she's slipping up in her customer service, you must look as if you're going to put on the coat and make a run for it. For that, you're sorry. Your face burns and nerves come easy.

...But why would she think you might be stealing it? Or that it's too much for you?

Your smile drops.

"Just...be careful with the fur. Premium quality and threading."

"I can pay for it right now, if you'd like."

The woman's smile grows thin.

"Sure you can."

It's instant, the way your fingers press together. You let your nail dig into your thumb. You sniffle and lick the corner of your lips.

"...I can. If you want too, I love it-"

You look down in your inability to make eye contact with her, it's where you realize what you're wearing. Your old clothes.

From before. You pack a few items for your new life with Lalo in Mexico. You never noticed the difference in quality ever - not until you met him, but now...it's too obvious in a place like this. It's where you came from up against a beautiful coat you never thought you'd be able to afford in your life.

And you don't know why, or maybe you're just feeling all the reasons instead, but it gets at your heart the way tears get at your waterline.

"I'm sorry - I have to go."

You put the coat back on the rack in a nerved hurry. You rush out, trying not to gasp in air and wipe away the salt of your face, because you remember Ignacio.

But then, it's only more embarrassment as you cry in front of him. He quickens his walk in a hard-eyed stare of confusion as he comes up to you. You feel your eyes go small.

"What happened?"

"I don't - I thought...I think I'm being crazy?"

"Well...what happened? Why are you crying - hey."

Ignacio's spine bends slightly as he grasps on your biceps. Somehow, you think his eyes are softer.

"I don't-"

"How about you...breathe? Breathe. And then you can tell me."

His voice, warm and knowing, something so like him and entirely different, it's something that helps you a little. You don't think he should be helping you - that friends shouldn't have to do this, you don't really know if that's true.

But you breathe easier at his order. Only until you get a glimpse at the most handsome man you've ever seen coming behind him.

Lalo's hair is gelled, grey streak shining in the sun. He's smiling until he's not. It's a slow, black-eyed realization at what he's seeing.

You only grow more burned as you blink fast. His quickening in pace isn't noticeable like Ignacio's. Lalo's simply there right before you and you don't know how.

He grabs Ignacio's shoulder.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know-"

"Princesa."

You guess he's able to see Ignacio's telling the truth, because he takes his hands and eyes to you, focus and care on his friend gone with the question.

Lalo's hands take your face and jaw. His eyes become darker in the lean forward of his head.

"How did the world make you cry already, huh?" His hold tightens.

You don't know why you do this.

"And you like going out? Look what happens. What's going on?"

"I-I...I never realized how I looked before."

You think it's the last actual cry in you. Lalo wipes your tears with his thumb. He licks. You and Ignacio choose to ignore it, only for you because right now, his hands are the only thing keeping you from giving out another cry.

"What are you talking about, huh? How you looked before?" Lalo scoffs and wipes his thumb on his lip. "You got this guy cause of how you looked before? What's making you think like this?"

"I mean my clothes. My...I didn't think they were so bad from before, when they were just..."

Yours.

"Mine."

Lalo blinks. He lets go of your biceps fully as he takes a look at what you're. "Princesa...your clothes from before, they're - yeah...nice. You made do!"

Your heart twists. More tears leak.

"I tried-"

Lalo coos and shushes before pulling you into his chest. His black eyes are confusion. Regret, maybe? Not possible, maybe.

"What's wrong with your clothes from before? You came from hard work and now, I take care of you! That's what I do. I didn't mean nothing from what I said." Lalo peppers your head with kisses. "I didn't mean nothing, sweet girl. Just a tease."

You sniffle, rubbing your cheek on his chest before your eyes shift away from Ignacio's eyes shifting away.

The rubs on your back stomach.

"Why? Did someone else say something?"

The simple question strikes a chill in you. It's the way Lalo asks it. Sternly, but not unkindly. There's not throat in it, just smooth. Low.

It's fear that comes immediately. You don't want conflict.

"A shop person - a lady, I wanted a coat and I guess she saw the way I looked to and she didn-she didn't think I could afford it. I don't know. It's stupid. I don't mean to cry over it-"

Lalo's not blinking. Not reacting. It's him thinking, or absorbing.

"What did she say?"

"She just didn't believe me, that's all."

"What store?"

"Lalo-"

Lalo takes your face in his hands again.

"You're not gonna cry in front of me and get away with it." He kisses your temple. "You should know that by now."

There is not getting away.

"Just the second store after the one we're in front of now."

He sighs.

He pulls out his wallet.

"Let's go buy you that coat, Princesa."

Lalo's never been one for too much public displays of affection, but you're hoping his need to make you feel better is the reason why that's not true today. He holds your hand, Ignacio shakes his head behind. You're sorry.

Ding!

"Hola...oh. Hell-"

"Princesa," Lalo doesn't make a bit of eye contact with the shopkeeper. You burn.

You wish it wasn't more than embarrassment in your heart - that you're not satisfied by this moment. So, you try to make it so.

"Lalo-"

"Where's the coat you wanted?"

"You don't have to-"

"You don't like it anymore?" He skims the room and somehow, his eyes find the red of the coat. You realize it's the only one not placed nicely on the rack. "It's gotta be this one. This is exactly what you go for."

Lalo licks his fingers and presses it to the coat as if he's turning the page of a book.

"Sir-"

Lalo puts his hand up.

"Go find something else you like. Or, ay - this dress, Princesa. I know this dress caught your eye. Hell, Nachito! Pick something else for yourself - a hat to cover the shine of your head."

Lalo passes you to the next rack after he pulls the coat and dress off, hangers clash to the floor.

You to the shopkeeper. The money part...the showing off of it all, that's as far as your indulging can go. The littering, not so much.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Ah! Don't apologize. Not here. Now," Lalo pulls you by the small of your back. "Help me pick out some things for you."

The lady's just...wide-eyed. Red. You sigh. You believe it in your heart that you don't want to smile.

You scratch the corner of your lips. There's no possible way to get out of this, so...you pick dress after dress. Ignacio's off in the corner, arms crossed.

At least it's easy to believe you'll always be taken care of.

"Sir...do you need help with anything. Ma'am, I can take-"

"Mm. Did the senorita say she wanted your help?"

"I-"

"I didn't hear anything from her. So...go. We'll meet you at the counter."

You close your eyes when Lalo shoos her like a fly. It's only ten minutes of him shifting you through the store with piles of clothes and nose kisses until you get to the counter.

"Come here."

It's an order for every kiss. Lalo throws everything on the counter, leans to scratch his lip before he smiles at you. It takes too long to scan every one and although you cannot face her eyes, you cannot help to stare at her complete nervousness - the red on her face.

You didn't think you could be even more horrible than you are.

"2,500 even."

"Alright, thank you, Ms."

And there. That's the worst part. The delicious part. No, the worst. It has to be the worst. It's what makes you look to Ignacio.

It's Lalo taking long, obvious moments of counting every bill. Too slowly. The shopkeeper stares.

"Obviously a Ms. and not Mrs...she don't got a guy to be familiar with this type of money, even though-" Lalo sniffs as he gives her the last bill. "You go ahead and make customers feel unwelcome as if you got the money to afford what they can't. But today,"

Lalo rubs your shoulders.

"Today's a lesson for everybody. Also, pack good. Are the bags free?"

The lady's jaw is nearly locked. You hear her fingers crack. Lalo comes close to your ear.

"The coat is gonna look so pretty on you, sweet girl." He tickles the side of your neck. "You gonna try it on for me at home, hm?"

It's the least you can do.

[kyliafanfiction]

There's at least one fic out there where Amy's biomom is Annette Hebert's sister (Nothing Succeeds like Success. Unfinished, and the author is passed, so it never will be). It's not explicitly stated, but it is very strongly implied and IIRC the author even says that's the case in a comment in the thread, though I could be remembering wrong.

Either way, I have now like five different fic ideas using that premise, but one that just came to mind is this one:

On the night the Brockton Bay Brigade attacks Marquis's home, little Amelia is spending the night at her Aunt Annette's house (also Uncle Danny's house, of course), having a sleepover with her younger cousin Taylor or something. So Marquis isn't left defending that closet, doesn't take a hit from Brandish, and manages to drive the Brigade into retreating, like he obviously had before.

But the Brigade knows his address, his face, his name - and from there, it wouldn't be too hard to connect that to the daughter he has, etc. They could give that info to the PRT and Protectorate (who don't hold to the so-called 'unwritten rules' anywhere near as much as other capes, and in 2000ish they might have been in a more infant form anyway) So Marquis has to leave. But instead of doing what a lot of fics do, where he leaves with Amelia and dons a new identity, etc (Not that this is unbelievable), Marquis instead leaves Amelia with the Heberts, because he can't take her with him while he goes on the run for... some reason (if I wrote this fic I'd have to come up with a reason, but a reason could easily exist).

He trusts Annette with Amelia, obviously, and he's not going to drop out of contact entirely. (Letters, phone calls, the occasional visit perhaps?) Probably gives Annette access to one of his accounts to cover the cost of raising Amelia or something? I feel like Danny might be too proud to accept the money without a fight, but Annette might not (what she's actually like is of course an open question because we really don't know much about her), and so they don't go crazy with the money or anything, but still.

But anyway, the Brigade at least can take credit for driving Marquis out of the city, but they didn't actually catch him, and they did attack him in his home. In canon they got away with that because it worked. In this fic... it didn't work. So maybe they don't become open capes (Maybe they get a nice big win later on and do it then, but let's assume the Brigade stays masked, for the sake of argument).

Amelia probably has to change her surname, if Lavere was Marquis's last name (I don't know if that's actually confirmed, but every fic I've read has it be his last name if it comes up) and not Amy's biomom's last name or something. (I can't imagine Marquis wouldn't give Amelia his last name once he found out about her, etc) so let's say she becomes Amelia Hebert, or something. Or goes back to using Annette's maiden name (that Annette's sister would have had). Either way, she's raised by her Aunt Annette and Uncle Danny primarily now, with contact with her dad, etc.

I don't know exactly where this story would go from here - having an older cousin/adoptive sister would change things for Taylor if the Trio still happens - and who knows if Annette even still dies or dies in the same way or at the same time in this AU. Annette might still have a car accident and Amelia triggers to save her, as happened in the snippet series Adoption where Amelia gets adopted by the Heberts from an orphanage. (Giving Amy some sort of Altpower would also be interesting - some kind of self-biokinetic changer power is something I've seen in a few fics that might be interesting to explore)

BUT, I do have this amusing mental image of a scene where Victoria Dallon - secretly the cape Glory Girl - brings her friend (or even girlfriend) Amelia Hebert to her house at some point, and Carol sees Amelia and she sees how similar to Marquis she looks or something to that effect.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Tidbit Tuesdays: And We're Back

*slides in with a coffee and sunglasses to hide the dark circles under my eyes*

It hasn't been two weeks since I posted, I don't know what you're talking about.

Anyway, an emergency root canal, a crown, and quite a lot of money later, I'm back on my LaDs grind. Truth be told on top of everything else, I'm going through writer's block, so WIPs is just about all I've got.

Can't commit to anything, like my teeth can't commit to my mouth.

If you've survived this rambling, bless. This week's WIPs are just a random assortment of things. And if you're new here, this is where I post things I'm proud of, just generally like, or am currently working on.

If you enjoy this (or just generally appreciate people) please leave a like or a reblog! It lets me know people like what I'm doing, and encourages me to keep writing!

---

Notes: first up is Zayne and Kiri, my MC. I recently finished catching up on the new (!!!) main storyline additions, so this is your spoiler warning before I continue.

I loved where the story went, and so decided to do a "what if" in which Kiri temporarily has her memory restructured by the Protofield and the Myst, dropped into a dreamscape that reflects Dreamwalker's world.

It's fun. It's SUPER fun. I should get back to it soon.

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Kiri’s day ended like this:

Akso hospital had strict regimented shifts to combat the constant wave of abominations. At the end of hers, she got scanned, tested, and questioned before she was allowed to leave. A pair of military men in uniforms escorted her down out of the hospital campus, waiting with her until someone could come pick her up.

They never needed to wait long.

Zayne was almost always perfectly on time.

The black silhouette appeared silently through the thick mist, her escorts tensing before realizing who it was. She patted one on the shoulder, saying her goodbyes before stepping forward.

Her hand found Zayne's before she'd even said a word.

“How was work?” He murmured. In his other hand were groceries, the plastic sack sagging with the weight.

Kiri sighed, pulling her hair loose from its bun. “Long,” she replied. “Three more cases today. The ACU ward is overflowing already, and Chansia hospital can't take anymore. They're bursting at the seams.” She leaned into him, her pink scrubs brushing against the wool of his coat.

He frowned at her. “You took your jacket this morning. Where is it?”

“Hm?” Kiri blinked in surprise. “Oh. Someone needed it more than I did.” She smiled at his exasperated sigh, tugging on his sleeve. “Come on. I have you to keep me warm, don't I?”

Zayne shook his head, a slight smile forcing its way through his irritation. “Still. The nurse can't help people if she gets sick, can she? Your health has to come first.”

She hummed, neither agreeing nor denying it. He huffed in response. “Let's go home, my moon.”

Kiri had worked at Akso hospital as long as she could remember. She'd graduated top of her class, with perfect marks, and settled easily into her new life. Work in the Abominations Containment Unit was intense, and it seemed her coworkers were on a revolving door roster. Few people stayed as long as she did, with cases increasing every day.

It was at some point during that that she met Zayne.

A former patient of hers had cornered her in an alley, begging for help before turning into an awful, monstrous thing.

A sudden explosion of black ice had been her saving grace.

The man in black had vanished as quickly as he'd appeared, and, well…

As if following a thread of fate itself, she chased after him.

It was unconscionable for a nurse and someone like him to fall in together. Kiri was well aware she was breaking the code of ethics, not to mention the oaths she'd taken.

Yet here they were.

It felt like it had been forever since they'd gotten together.

It felt like it had been no time at all.

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Notes: This one's been in the mental WIP for a while. I usually let ideas ferment in my head for a while before I bake them into fics, like a good sourdough.

This one focuses on Kit and Sylus, Kit being his second in command and NOT the MC. If you've been here a while, you know her. Anyway, I wanted to do a "what if Kit got hurt" thing, and as usual, they can't help bantering even when she's been stabbed. Go figure.

Fair warning, this one does feature some gruesome imagery. Not a lot though.

🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛

The remains of the building shuddered, dust and sheetrock crumbling down. Sylus ran his flashlight over the rubble, keeping an ear out for any voices.

“Keep a low profile,” he murmured to the twins. “It's not just Kit that might be down here.”

The twins nodded firmly.

The building was a winding, gray mess, shadowed corners scurrying away at each sweep of the flashlights. Every once in a while, they would have to make a wide berth around slowly seeping pools of red, checking the remains for identification.

So far, there were only strangers.

“Fan out,” Sylus murmured. “We'll get more coverage that way.”

The twins and the other men he brought along nodded, splitting up into groups of two. All of them had radios, but it was a shot in the dark whether they would keep working in the lingering metaflux.

It was eerily quiet down here.

The rubble blocked all outside noises, leaving nothing but the occasional whisper of dust or the clatter of stone.

At last, he came to a room that was nearly intact.

It appeared to be a lab, the viewing windows completely shattered. A single threadbare bulb struggled to stay lit, swinging to and fro as it flickered dangerously.

Sylus carefully stepped inside, his feet crunching softly on the broken glass.

A body lay inside, the head twisted unnaturally. A badge on the lab coat proclaimed this to be someone who worked in the building.

The position of their hand was odd, and he leaned closer to examine it. There were faint marks to indicate they'd tightly gripped something before they died.

A second later, his instincts screamed for him to move, and he rolled out of the way, just as someone dropped down from a ceiling panel.

He swiftly got to his feet, ducking left as a shot fired, cutting through his jacket. With a lunge forward, he slammed his hand down, disarming his opponent.

A blade kissed his throat from their other hand, and he looked down into the cold, wild eyes of Kit.

“It's me, sweetie,” he said breathlessly.

Kit blinked. Her hair was messy and dusty, falling out of its usual braid. She held herself strangely, almost curling forward as she gripped the blade.

“Prove it,” she snapped.

Red mist yanked the blade from her grasp, pulling her into his arms. Sylus let just enough power through to make his eye glow without invading her thoughts. “How's that?”

She hissed in pain, grabbing his jacket to steady herself. “That works,” she grit out. “Someone had a doppelganger evol here. They looked like Evan, our diagnostics head.”

Sylus swore, thinking of the nervous man he'd spoken to before. “He might have made it out. I just spoke to Evan before we entered. Are you alright?”

Kit shook her head. “Took a piece of rebar to the side. I didn't have the luxury of keeping it stuck in there, there were people trying to kill me. How did you of all people not notice Evan?”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Occasionally things do escape me, kitten. It's harder to tell when the man in question is always sweating like he's in a sauna.” He glanced at her sidelong. “Speaking of, you bring up a good point. What's to say you aren't a doppelganger? A good one, but one nonetheless.”

She reared back, offended. “Excuse you! Are you implying my fighting is on the level of any average person?”

Sylus smirked. “Your ability with firearms does leave something to be desired.”

“You motherfu- eep!” Kit squeaked as Sylus picked her up, his arm settling neatly under her bottom. She clung to his shoulders as a scarlet flush swept across her skin.

He chuckled. “There's that beautiful full-body blush. No imposter after all.”

“If I survive this,” Kit snapped, “I'm going to do my best to choke you out.”

“I look forward to it.” He stepped out of the room, grabbing his radio. “Twins, can you read me?”

The radio crackled for a moment before a reply came through. “Loud and clear, boss. Has mama bird been located?”

“I take it back,” Kit muttered. “I'm killing them first, and then you.”

Sylus smiled at that. “Mama bird is with me, yes,” he replied, his eyes crinkling at the murderous glare she shot his direction. “We're exiting the building now. Withdraw and rendezvous at South Tower.”

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Note: Ahahaha. Our last one is Omegaverse. That's flustering and fun. This one's less suggestive, mostly due to the fact that I was jotting down headcanons for Omegaverse AU and it turned into mini fics. So this one is Zayne and Kiri.

❄️❄️❄️

For some reason, the universe decides to bless Kiri with the worst possible heat to go along with her myriad of health problems.

In the week leading up to it, she feels exhausted and sick, throwing up food easily and sleeping poorly.

Previous doctors have told her that it's because she has an extremely high hormone production rate, and it means she's extra fertile.

That she should be grateful.

She had to hold herself back from strangling them.

It also means she can't take suppressants.

Zayne, at least, is sympathetic. Even long before they begin a relationship, he reaches out through his connections to find her hormone specialists, people who can help her manage her symptoms.

And after they start dating, well.

He spoils her rotten.

Zayne can only really take the week of her heat off, with how vital he is to operations in Akso Hospital. However, the clean house, fresh linens, and hot food he gets for her goes a long way towards helping.

She always tries to protest his help after his shift is over, stating that he already works enough.

He just does it anyway. All her plushies get scented, her favorite pastries are bought, and her extra expensive jar of tea is left out by a new mug on the kitchen island.

She could just cry from how sweet he is.

When her heat strikes, it's similar.

Kiri becomes very particular about her nest, only choosing the most recent articles of clothing he's worn. She gets exhausted very quickly, and Zayne purchases scent blocking candles to light throughout the entire apartment.

(He's seriously considering how much it would be to get a house outside of the city. If he catches another Alpha lingering at his doorstep or below his balcony window, he's going to break his doctor's oaths on purpose)

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Thanks for reading, and have a good Tuesday!

[youzicha]

If you correctly believe that a $10 stock will be valued at $100 five years from now, you can make a killing. If you correctly believe that a $100 stock will be valued at $10 five years from now - but you don't know when it'll drop, or whether it'll rise before then - you probably can't make money off of that.

Both buying and short-selling are in some sense predictions about what other market participants will believe, yes, but successful short-selling requires a lot more knowledge about the market and when its opinions will change, in addition to predicting the fate of the company itself.

This brings us back to the original issue of the original thread: the asymmetry between buying and short-selling means that people with optimistic views of a company can drive its stock up without people with pessimistic views of the company being able to bring its stock back down, even if the pessimists have as much money as the optimists, and even if they're much more grounded in reality. Smart money can't drive out dumb.

lol, I guess this discussion devolved because the original thread contains all kind of issues and it's unclear what kind of point I was trying to make.

I think the very original thing was @raginrayguns obliquely saying that he doesn't think Tesla is overpriced, or at least, that there is no obvious reason why it would be. I have no opinion about that.

In the middle of the thread @raginrayguns comments that "dumb money" is a good explanation for why Tesla was heavily shorted in 2022. I guess that makes some sense? and in fact the price then did go down in 2023, so shorting it back then probably was a smart move.

Then @centrally-unplanned said that "shorts can't mechanically drive down the price of stocks". I disagree with this! I claim that if the SEC made a new rule that "you can't short Tesla" the share price would go up, and if they abolished the rule the price would go down again. Since Elon's wealth is in Tesla stocks, and directly proportional to the share price, it seems fair enough for him to be obsessively angry about short selling. And like @unreliabledragon said, you can get this effect just from the "effective supply": even if nobody changes their mind about the long-term prospects of Tesla in (say) the weeks after the rule change, the price should still move just because of supply and demand. That's what the example I posted is meant to illustrate.

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

With Thunder released, I think it is almost time to finalize some plans for WCR!A Starless Clan.

Needless to say, MASSIVE spoilers for A Starless Clan, especially book 4, Thunder.

Under the cut are some IDEAS. NOTHING HERR IS FINAL YET AND ALL IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE. Behold, my chaotic note-taking in its raw, unfiltered form.

So. First concept: All leaders are at one point either deposed or killed.

Mistystar dies the same awkward way, but with more emotion this time. She is the leader most of Riverclan has known either all their lives, or most of their lives. However, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Mistystar had dementia. She was holding on by threads before she dropped dead.

Leafstar dies suddenly as well due to a massive heart attack, falling off of Highbranch and breaking her neck. The problem here is, ex-deputy Waspwhisker JUST SHOWED UP. This leads to the release of Waspwhisker's Adventure, where he and the other kidnapped Skyclan cats come home.

'so what'd I miss?'.mp3 moment

Tigerheartstar is dethroned. Berryheart's group is too powerful, and Puddleshine does agree. At least, with staying out of Riverclan. Shadowclan just had a major Greencough epidemic and Birchkit is dead due to it, they needed his support. Shadowsight is also missing.

Cloverfoot, however, picks Berryheart as deputy (Berryheart will have also had an apprentice by this point) and goes off to the Moonpool, only for a larger than normal gray fox to kill her. It leaves Berryheart alone, and, much to Sunbeam's horror, allows her to go to the Moonpool.

Splashtail also races up behind her, and the 2 earn their names.

Enter Splashstar and Berrystar. Frostpaw was too late.

Frostpaw also now time travels with Nightheart, Shadowsight, and Whistlepaw. Nightheart is an idiot who never studied history (though he did study Camp Keeping and Glyphs), but the other 3 (especially Whistlepaw) know to take on differently styled names, referencing heroes they heard of in stories.

Shadow Eyes, Whistle, Frosty Paws, and... The other guy who inspired Night Heart, first deputy of Riverclan.

"Stop laughing at me I PREFERRED LEARNING GLYPHS"

Harestar passes after a long, brutal battle with Blackcough. His Deputy, Breezepelt, is about to go to the Moonpool with his new Deputy Heathertail and Kestralflight, when the dog pack attacks AGAIN. I'm not sure if it kills Breezepelt, but it sure as hell leaves him out of commission. He will, tragically, not become leader. In wake of the events, Heathertail turns to the one cat she has always been able to vent to. Lionblaze. Not as a lover, just friends.

Since Squilf steps down in Squirrelflight's Freedom, she... also won't become leader. I love her so much, but her not becoming leader means Leafpool lives longer, and she actually gets the rest she deserves with her sister and new husband Shrewfeather. Hey, at least she gets to keep being Squilf. I love Squirrelstar but I don't like that name very much, doesn't feel right. I want some canon cats to get caught up on it too because Squirrelflight is such a good name, and she's good humored enough I don't think it would bother her. ANYWAY

Hollyleaf is deputy, and Bramblestar does not want to give up his position, he isn't happy that his Clan now fears him, and that makes him lash out because he 'always knew they were suspicious of me'. Self fulfilling prophecy, my boy. Maybe stop using your huge size and BOOMING voice to get what you want.

When the Clan uses their votes to vote him out, the vote starts with... Dandeliontuft. She completes her arc. She was the first to know that Bramblestar was replaced when he started paying more attention to her, and now she is going to take down the real one.

Is Bramblestar had a nickel for every time he has been snapped at by golden tabby mollies he was related to, he would have 3 nickels. Not a lot, but he doesn't have a concept of money, so that's okay.

They vote against him because his leadership has been nothing but disaster. Which....

Fair enough. Ashfur wasn't his fault but there's a reason no one thought he'd been replaced for a WHILE, longer than in canon. Bramblestar was not liked, most cats were gunning for Hollyleaf to be made leader.

He tries to fight back against this, that he was blessed by Starclan, this is unfair, they were only doing this because of his father, what would Firestar think?

For the second time in Clan history, in broad daylight, a lightning bolt strikes. It is taken as a very clear sign. Starclan has made its approval of Hollyleaf QUITE clear!

But! Boom! A wild Lionblaze and Heathertail appeared!

Lionblaze used Announcement!

"THE MOONPOOL IS CURSED"

it's super effective...

Well, that sucks. But Hollyleaf is smart. She knows that something will be done about it, but in the meantime, take leader names, pick new deputies, and build yourselves up. Skyclan is about to break into civil war, Splashstar and Berrystar are coming down on the other Clans to purge 'outsider blood' and make them "pure" again.

Hollystar names Lilyheart or Rosepetal her deputy. Haven't decided yet.

I know Frostpaw is gonna stay in Windclan for a while, trying to unravel the mystery behind Curlfeather and her group, because there needs to be more to it than what she has been told.

Sunbeam is done with Nightheart's whiny crap, and will probably end up with Myrtlebloom or Finchlight, or back with Lightleap. He is told to get over himself.

Lightleap is now a POV and is struggling with being enough, throwing herself into more and more reckless situations and overworking herself. She needs to prove herself, in her own eyes.

Frostpaw has an epic escape from an animal hospital, also Smoky died of pneumonia between arcs. The three new barn cats are Rosey (tortoiseshell molly with green eyes), Whiskers (black tom with long white whiskers), and Muffin (white tom with blue eyes, deaf in one ear). They had no idea what would happen, but they are young and panicked at the sight of Frostpaw's wounds, calling for the Twolegs, who rush Frostpaw to the vet. She trusts them through her fear, as is her nature.

Jury's out on if she still gets spayed.

Fringewhisker loses her back leg to Berryheart's trials, before she and Spireclaw flee Shadowclan, heading for Skyclan. It may be a shitstorm over there, but at least they will be safe.

Frostpaw is determined to know what is causing the curse, and to get to the bottom of it.

The arc ends with the villains winning, leading to the next arc, Dark Times, because we need to take it easy on how disconnected the arcs are.

Arcs 9 and 10 are Homebrew.

Dark Times and Beyond The Stars.

Also, the book names for A Starless Clan have begun to shuffle, I know the first one is River and the last WILL be Star.

[babybatscreationsv2]

can you imagine tony telling peter to dress up for an event or something or like peter shows up to the lab with a half torn bag or sOMETHING and tony’s like wtf

so he buys stuff for peter and peter’s kinda uncomf at first but leans into it more n more and then at some point peter just asks for stuff that he wants and it gets bETTER and better like from a sensible jacket to designer bags or something

and thEN, if you wanna write smut, tony’s like hey dont you think i deserve a thank you? WINK WINK

-still not h

Oh did you mean your personal fantasy?

Peter's stomach dropped at the way Tony stood, blinking like he was trying to clear dust from his eyes. It was a long minute, or maybe it was only a second, either way it felt like forever before Tony's mouth curled into a fond smile.

"Is it that bad?" He'd tried to replicate a look he'd seen on the cover of one of Tony's fashion magazines, but he didn't have a lot of money and he'd gotten a lot of it at the thrift store. He'd thought he looked good but now he wasn't so sure.

"You look great, Pete. I swear." Tony crossed the floor and gave him a reassuring kiss. Peter felt himself calm a bit. Tony grabbed the faux leather bag on his shoulder. "Would you mind if I replaced this?"

"What? I just got it!"

"It's just that it's not very in season." He twisted it in his hand and Peter could see a tear along the bottom that he hadn't noticed before.

"Maybe I'll just forget the bag. I didn't realize how bad it was." He grimaced.

"No, no. We've got time, sweetheart."

"We needed to leave like ten minutes ago."

Tony waved his hand. "The party starts when we arrive, baby. They'll wait for us."

Peter rolled his eyes as Tony grabbed his wallet and jacket. He didn't resist as Tony linked their arms together and lead him to the elevator.

Back in car with a new Prada bag in his lap, Peter felt guilty. He never wanted Tony to think he was in it for the money. He loved him dearly. But he also really liked the bag.

He tried a little harder the next time. He found a nice cream colored sweater and the slacks were only a little loose... Yet, when they got in the car Tony turned in the opposite direction of the venue. Peter sighed.

"Tony..."

Tony picked up his hand and kissed the back of it. "Only the best for my baby."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Just replace my whole wardrobe while you're at it."

"We can do that."

"What? I was joking!"

Tony smiled. "You look gorgeous, but the jacket and the pants..."

Peter crossed his arms. "Fine."

He didn't know how Tony did it. He barked orders at the shop workers and had them running around grabbing specific items that he knew all by name. They all looked like things that shouldn't go together but when Tony put him in front of the mirror he looked really good. Felt good too. In fact he couldn't keep the smile off of his face.

He left in a new outfit with a second in the bag that Tony carried. Peter was still a little overwhelmed by the total. Over 3 grand? For two outfits? Were they threaded in gold? Okay... maybe he liked the sound of that more that he should have...

Then Peter noticed one day that his shoes were looking rough. Tony was going to end up replacing them anyway, right? So it was okay if he just asked him, wasn't it?

He stood in front of the man, blushing and nervous. Tony knew what he wanted, he could tell he did.

"Something you want, sweetheart?"

Peter chewed his lip and twisted his fingers together. "I don't want to be a bother..."

"You're never a bother, Peter."

"Well... Since you don't mind buying me things... I thought maybe you might want to get me some new shoes?" He stared straight at his chest, only daring to look at his eyes after a moment.

"I would love to."

Peter couldn't say he wasn't excited as they passed through the glass doors at the entrance. A woman hurried over to greet them, but Peter ignored her, drawn to a display off to the side. They had new watches with real silver bands and little diamonds around the face. He didn't even wear a watch.

Tony's arm wrapped around his waist.

"Which one?"

"What? No, I can't. They're way too much."

Tony scoffed. He pointed at the one Peter was looking at and the woman ran around the cabinet to take it from the case. Tony took it from her and Peter obediently held out his wrist.

"There. It's gorgeous on you." He smiled. Peter couldn't help but smile back. He really liked it, but those were real diamonds. "We'll take it. Anything else you want to look at?"

"We just came for shoes..." Peter blushed again. He twisted the watch on his wrist. It felt so heavy, but it didn't exactly feel bad either.

He ended up in front of the mirror again, decked out from head to toe. He looked really good. He felt really good too. And he swore Tony only looked more excited the longer they browsed. The shop lady had started a pile at the counter for them and Peter couldn't help how exciting it was. Tony never said no even though he asked again and again if he really really sure. But he let Tony coax him into leaving with another three outfits, two pairs of shoes, and the watch.

He kept fiddling with it on the drive home. It was so pretty.

Tony carried his things into the house for him. He hadn't been planning on staying the night, but he certainly had clothes for tomorrow now. Sheesh.

"We spent quite a lot, huh?" Tony said as he placed the bags on the coffee table.

"I hope that's okay."

"Of course it is. I take care of you, you take care of me, right?"

"I-" Peter froze, unsure what to say or if Tony was implying what it sounded like he was. He looked... excited. He came into Peter's space, hands on his hips, and backed him into the wall while Peter scrambled to figure out what the hell was happening.

"Tony?"

"Are you happy with your gifts, baby?"

"Of course I am. They're really nice."

"Why don't you show me how happy you are? I was so good to you after all."

It took another second before it clicked. Oh, you like buying me stuff. "You're right. I should make it up to you." He gave him a coy smile. He sunk down to the floor. His hands slid up his thighs to reach his belt.

"That's a good boy," Tony encouraged.

Peter was surprised at just how hard he was. And how impatient. He must have been thinking about this all day. As soon as Peter's mouth was open, Tony pushed his way inside. Peter gagged, unprepared, but he settled with his hands on Tony's thighs. His new diamond watch glittered on his wrist. He looked up at him and found dark, almost cruel, eyes looking back. He didn't want Peter sucking him off, he wanted to use him. He was more than happy to give the man whatever he wanted.

"Let me see how grateful you are," Tony purred. "You love being spoiled don't you?"

Tony pulled out so he could answer. "Yes, sir," he said. He let his mouth hang open, tongue out, inviting him back in. Tony pushed in until he choked, grinning as he gagged and fought with himself not to push him away. When Peter pulled back, Tony followed until his head was against the wall with nowhere to to. He was drowning in spit and suffocating around the cock that forced open his throat and he felt his mind slipping into something soft and warm and hazy.

Tony took his cock from Peter's mouth, spit hanging from the tip of his cock to his lips. Peter only moaned as he smeared spit on his cheek before stuffing his mouth again. Tony fucked his mouth, right there on the edge of his throat and felt like a fucking g-spot, making him tingly and his cock throb and every time he lost it and gagged it just made him want to cum.

Tony pulled out, leaving just the tip of his cock resting heavy on his tongue. "You with me, Pete?" Peter made noise in answer. Tony lightly slapped his cheek. "Wake up, sweetheart."

Peter blinked away the haze and smiled up at him. "I'm okay." He licked his lips.

Tony smiled. "You're fucking incredible." He stuffed his cock in Peter's mouth again, fucking the perfect O of his lips and over the soft heat of his tongue.

He pushed in as deep as his throat would allow and this time, Peter couldn't help the reflex to push him off, but Tony just grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. He kept fucking his throat and all Peter could do was squirm when it was too much and he couldn't breathe, but Tony didn't let him pass out and Peter never stopped opening his mouth for more.

"Fuck, such a good boy. You're gonna make me cum, sweetheart."

Peter was buzzing waiting for it, ready for Tony to cum right down his throat. And he did, pinning Peter hard against the wall and moaning deep in his chest. He let him go and Peter sucked the last of it from the end of his cock. He didn't know what to do now, too hazy and still kneeling on the floor, but Tony bent down and hauled him up for a kiss.

"You okay? I didn't hurt you?"

"Only in a good way," Peter laughed. He held onto Tony's arms.

"Good." Tony kissed him again.

"You know you bought me like a lot of stuff." Peter could stop himself from grinning even as he talked in his broken raspy voice. "I think I'd better keep showing you how much I like it."

Tony nodded solemnly. "I wouldn't want to think you're ungrateful."

He picked Peter up off of the floor and tossed him over his shoulder as Peter giggled, "We've got a long night ahead of us."

[sillyname30]

I just listened to the latest episode of and that's what you really missed on Glee. Guests were two of the session/background singers. It was interesting to hear about that side of the work.

Nikki Leonti on how she ended up on Glee: „I signed a record deal when I was thirteen years old, and I was in the gospel world, touring all over the world. I was a Christian singer who got pregnant as a teenager. And you can't really do that. They took my songs off the radio and my records off the shelfs. That's how I got into session singing, because I lost all my work and I didn't know what I was going to do.“ Later she got a new record deal with Warner Brothers and booked gigs on late night shows, but then Warner Brothers got a new management and they dropped half the rooster. After that Tim Davis called and offered her a job as a session singer on Glee.

Nikki: Glee music was ever changing. You had a basic sound, a thread that went through all of the songs. That was the Glee sound, but stylistically it changed a lot. That's what made it so fun, and that's why they hired singers who could have diversity of sound, because you needed to.

What is the feeling that Glee leaves you with? It was such a special time for me. We had our own group of people and friendships that were happening behind the scenes. That was just such a big deal. Seeing the show take off. It changed TV at the time. It changed everything. We were a part of this growing, expanding, exploding situation that made us all excited of these opportunities and the possibilities and what that was like. We got to experience some of that excitement and it's something I'll never forget. It changed us. It was special. And you know, even though we were a little distanced from you guys, all of what you guys went through affected us, and all of the things during the show affected us behind the scenes and our hearts. Our hearts were always interconnected with the process, even though we were all doing it in separate spaces. It was a real like family experience.

Luke Edgemon started as a Warbler, but he wasn't happy in the spotlight. When they needed a guide vocal he was happy to do that and stayed with this line of work. He became the demo singer for Kevin at some point.

What is the feeling Glee leaves you with? Glee leaves me feeling happy because of things like this. I got so attached to being a moving part of a machine that often I took for granted what was happening in the moment, whether it be you know, twenty four hour sessions or just seeing people walk in like Sarah Jessica Parker to sing a lead vocal. And so I just have the happiest, warmest feelings about those times, even the times that we're filled with struggle or no sleep, because a family is often dysfunctional, and so I just always think of it as family. And I still talk to those singers even though we don't sing together much anymore on a daily basis. You know a lot of people just assume that you remember the money, and that's honestly, like the last thing that I think about, whether these relationships are lifelong or not. I know that those memories will always be there.

[unpopularly-opinionated]

So I finished watching WeCrashed today, which is the dramatized reenactment of the whole WeWork fiasco, and to get this out of the way early: It was a pretty good show. 9/10

I am biased because I love Anne Hathaway, I think she's wildly underrated by a lot of people. Jared Leto is an enigma of a human being. I am under the impression he is kind of a piece of shit IRL, and I don't entirely disagree. My one and only personal experience impression is the one time my parents took me to Vegas to go see a 30 Seconds to Mars concert, and I kid you not, but this mother fucker showed up sick and basically had the audience sing 90% of the maybe like 5-6 songs he actually performed. Would've ruined the night if it weren't for that also coincidentally being my first Panic! At The Disco concert who opened for him. Went there to see 30 Seconds to Mars, left seeing Panic! At The Disco and wasn't too disappointed, granted I was maybe 14-15 at the time I think, I don't know. Time is an illusion.

Anyways, despite all of that, I shit you not but I think this role was kind of made for him. I've heard Jared Leto has started an actual cult IRL, and from what the show told me about Adam Neumann, he's the type of guy who would probably create a cult himself. And to be honest, he kind of did if the show is to be believed. The entire time I'm watching the show, this man is spinning bullshit like it's golden thread and I kept waiting for the acknowledgement of that; I kept waiting for the behind closed doors scene where he tells his wife, Rebekah (Anne Hathaway), that he's fooled some more cash cows into giving him a shit ton of milk but it never happens and that's because I think this man legitimately believed in every fucking word he said.

The analogy they use in the show is that he's selling people unicorns when unicorns don't even exist, but this man legitimately believes unicorns fucking exist and he's going to make you believe it too. He's simultaneously full of shit, but not at the same time. It was so wild to watch because I just couldn't wrap my head around it. You hear about cult leaders, or shitty CEOs raking in billions of dollars, and you just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop; you keep waiting for the realization that he's actually just this huge piece of shit scamming people out of their money. But I don't know that I feel comfortable calling it a scam when he truly, honestly, and genuinely believes in the bullshit he is selling. It wasn't a bid for money, or power, or control. This man just bought into his own bullshit the same way he sold it to everyone else. He was a drug dealer who partook in his own supply.

The whole time I watched the show, I asked myself if the show was funded in any way by the Neumann's because of just how good it showed them to be. Yes, they were insane. Yes, they wound up financially ruining a lot of people. But at no point did I ever think that was genuinely intentional. If it wasn't obvious already, I went into this show with zero knowledge of WeWork. Literally none. I had only just heard of its existence recently, and I'm actually kind of dumbfounded that a scandal of this magnitude has somehow completely escaped my notice. It took me until I believe episode four before I even understood what it was WeWork even sold. To be honest with you, I'm still not even sure I'm sure what they sold. From my perspective, they sound like glorified landlords but for office jobs, mainly tech companies.

I pride myself on not being as influenced by individuals as others are. I don't do the whole "so-and-so is my hero" nonsense. But I have to admit that if I had met Adam Neumann in person, and he was even half as magnetic as he is portrayed in the show, I'm not entirely sure I wouldn't also be drawn to him. I don't know, man. It's to the point where at the end of the show, when he eventually steps down as CEO and the new CEO is giving his speech, I had this gut feeling of "the bad guys won in the end", even if the "bad guy" in this scenario was the completely rational business expert who actually wanted the company to make a profit. The show sold me the idea that the Neumann's, while fucking insane, were the good guys in this scenario. Which is why I can't help but wonder if this show was somehow funded by them.

Overall, the show was really good. I will say, there was this slight disconnect at the very end though. During the credits, they show a clip from an interview with the real Adam Neumann and Rebekah, and for the most part he seems like a totally normal dude. He's portrayed as kind of manic and psychotic during the show, so it was a major contrast to see him be kind of normal, albeit very passionate in the end.

If there's one type of media drama that I fucking love more, it's all this corporate drama nonsense. It's why Social Network is one of my favorite movies. I just love hearing about the behind the scenes drama of all of these big companies.

TL;DR: I felt so bad for Miguel, the true MVP of WeWork. Fuck me did that man need to grow a spine, but nevertheless I felt bad for him but respected his loyalty to the end all the same.

[distopea]

WISHLIST DROP✨

to be updated whenever I have new popping ideas!

A few dynamics, stories and other stuff I'd love to explore one day. Plotted threads needed for all of this! Open to any of my mutuals!

Astra:

Boss x Boss dynamic, but makes it spicy 🌶, there's nothing better than business getting a bit dirty 👀 (and a lot of mindfuck, yum)

You're my favorite enemy: who's the cat and who's the mouse, when police work become a bit too much obsessive for one mafia leader

Boss x Fake boss, you're both under fake identity and you try to manipulate the other one

Alessandro:

Rivals building a world of hate, you both seek revenge but you're not sure the other one is trustworthy

Hunt me if you can, someone put a contract on his head but you're either the assassin or the protector

Under our name, or two people trying to build their new legacy, whether it's through trust or betrayal

Diego:

Enemies in the streets, complicated in the sheets... I know there's a rival for him in this world, a challenge to take in MANY ways

Dropped like a tissue, you come to his rescue? Let him claws his way out of the Cleaners to find someone (or an organization) to serve and avoid prison

Gabriele:

Legacy journey, or when it's time to face his demons and come back to Sicily

I know your face... Haunts him from his past, whether you were affiliated to the organization he destroyed or an innocent that was caught in the damages

So I have this weird coworker... Grumpy man x young recrue, it's time to bond in the police line and let him teach your character a bit of his experience

Gambit:

Bad calculation... Ah shit, he's kidnapped and there will be trouble... Do you want to jump in?

Murder party. Truly he's not only into excel sheets, and it's time to show it!

So, how's the money work here? Travelling for the Cleaners, he needs your guidance in this unknown country

Bastet/Minju:

Who thought I could ever betray them? Oh yes, she can. She doesn't know yet... Perhaps show her the way?

That's not how you hold a knife... And she can teach you. But she doesn't like having you in her feet during missions.

Let's hunt this motherfucker. She has a revenge to follow and you're going to help, and you're going to love it.

You're okay, I've got you... She has mothering instincts yes, she's independent yes... But can she be vulnerable with someone for once?

Mads:

Pointing spiderman meme but it's two thieves... always getting in each other's business and for different reasons...

Broken mind calling for help... A therapist is always needed, bonding with them, well, it can be a good bonus

I know things about you... Aka someone blackmails him or knows he's bribed

Mika:

I lost a very important bag full of money and I don't know what to do... but maybe YOU do?

Spare mates! Spare mates! Survivors of the underground! True friends (and more? eh! we never know), a bond of life

Oliver:

You're a hell of a shitty clients but you love to pester him. And weirdly, he likes when you come over as well. Weird. Very toxic. Intense. Addictive.

DANCING RIVALS. He wants the first role, you want it too. Nothing good can happen from that.

I thought you were a friend to me... But it was only another bad trap. Yes I don't deserve to RP with Oliver, I'm a monster.

Requiem:

Two killers machines... one specific contract. It's not Mr. and Mrs Smith but it can as hot as the movie 👀

Golden years... Tales of two mercenary people. Whether it's good or bad, you're back in each other's life.

Santino:

Bless me father 'cause I have sinned, let him lead you to a world of redemption

God's way, or when Santino is not sure to have faith in his own religion when he meets someone like you

Sybille:

Yes, I'm not that shallow girl. And perhaps I can show you. But I won't be happy about it...

Petty fights, rivals, escort life... Why would she be the queen of mean girls if there's no one take that crown off her head?

Oh shit, is he dead?! Partners in crime out of circumstances, sharing a dark secret, blackmail, manipulation but there's a link you can't get rid of...

Vex:

I'm a little bit obsessed with you... For no reasons, but you're a fun toy. Someone he gets overly obsessed with and it's quite ugly.

I'll show there's no good in me. Failing quest of redemption, tortured emotions, bittersweet with almost no sweet, intense bond...

Let's cook, or when two drug deals are trying to create their new brand of pills for the streets

Zodiac:

Friends don't need to get along... Fucked up bond of need, emotions, intensity, anger. You are toxic for one another but you can't live without each other.

He's a dead man. He means his brother. And you're hired to help him for that.

Zeffy:

I don't trust you. But we're teammates. She's secretive about her past, but the shield is cracking...

I know what you are, let a cop trying to figure out that you're not such a good person, but she can't do much against you

[hisadoringkitten]

Being home this week has been incredibly hard...

I can't help but feel like something has shifted... I struggled hard with the drop after last weekend. You seemed to as well, a bit. I don't know if it's that or something else, but something feels off.

We've still talked a lot, I know there's a lot on your plate, especially with having to stay on top of the apartments while we figured out which unit is best and formulate a game plan. We finally figured it out yesterday and I worked on the application today. I'm waiting to hear back before I can continue and they've not been particularly responsive.

Yesterday was my son's birthday. We talked in the morning and throughout the day until they came home from their last day of school. I tried so hard to be active and happy and present, but he was not particularly excited about any of it. We let him open his presents before school since he got new shirts, and I figured he'd want to wear one. His responses were lackluster at best, even when he saw his new skateboard that I poured days into painting. My ex did next to nothing. He provided the parts for the board, but they're all used parts from other boards. He sanded and clear-coated the deck and assembled the board, but that's it. He didn't get him anything to open, didn't hype up any of it. We took the kids to Mr Gattis pizza and arcade, where they seemed to have fun but ran through the money on their cards very quickly.

We got home and rested a bit before doing cake and watching a movie. He was very grumpy by the end of the night and would not stop saying it was the worst birthday ever, that he had no fun and that he hates birthdays now. It's gutting, I can't even give him one last great birthday before we're not all a family in his eyes.

Today, the AC in my apartment stopped working. I hate it here. I don't know if my sanity will last another month. I just want to be done with it all.

And on top of all of that and what feels like so much to do before we're out of this place... you seem so distant with me, almost cold. I think something is wrong and I don't know what. I'm sure we'll talk about it at some point, but I'm worried I've frustrated or disappointed you. That I've fucked up somehow and you're not telling me. I'm about to change my whole life, and I need that stability to not feel like I'm in free-fall. It feels like everything has changed after spending time together. I can't help but feel like you got a look at the real me, not the version in your head, and found me lacking. My confidence is shattered, and everything feels like it's hanging by a thread. I'm scared... terrified. I can't sleep, my appetite is non-existent, and I'm having the hardest time focusing on anything. I'm doing what you ask of me... I went out, photographed the garden, had lunch with an old friend, I've kept things amicable with my ex, I've worked on job applications and work for you, I bought the book you wanted me to read and got into it, I've watched my stocks and invested more. I don't think I've dropped the ball on anything but this journal, and I'm catching up on it, too. I even tested the waters by sending you some naughty pictures, but you barely responded.

Whatever it is. I'm sorry.

[youngestrunningleek]

Stuart Little

I just recently read Stuart Little, written in 1945 by E.B. White, so I'll review it here as my first review.

Beware! I will be talking about plot details, including the end. And a big part of the experience for me was that I didn't know where the story would go next.

Overview

    It's about a boy(?) named Stuart Little. It's hard to say much more than that, because there's no central thread. I can pitch Charlotte's Web to you: there is a pig and the barn animals, especially the spider Charlotte, are trying to keep him from getting eaten. This book, though? It's just... about Stuart Little.

    It has a really great opening line: "When Mrs. Frederick C. Little's second son arrived, everybody noticed that he was not much bigger than a mouse." In the first edition, the line is that he "was born". The book isn't very specific about whether he's a mouse, or a boy who just looks like a mouse.

 My Thoughts

I loved it, and I don't know what to make of it. I am glad such a strange book is considered a classic, even if I don't understand why. It's hilariously matter-of-fact, almost deadpan. Yeah, he could walk as soon as he was born. He's in love with a bird. There's an invisible car. Deal with it.

I really, really loved the bits about how Stuart lives. Early chapters explain how he gets clothes, how he gets around, and the challenges of raising a mouse-boy. It's actually a great message. People don't question his different needs, they just accommodate him. I could read an entire book about the challenges of being the size of a mouse in a world built for human-sized people. And I did! And I want more!

There's a great deal of attention paid to his clothes. From the first chapter: "Before he was many days old he was not only looking like a mouse but acting like one, too-- wearing a gray hat and carrying a small cane." Does E. B. White know what a mouse is? Is that the problem? A few sentences later, Mrs. Little makes Stuart "a fine little blue worsted suit with patch pockets in which he could keep his handkerchief, his money, and his keys." At another point he wears "a pepper-and-salt jacket, old striped trousers, a Windsor tie, and spectacles." And the whole book is like that. Stuart is a little gentleman. The world's smallest dandy.

     It kind of reads like E. B. White wasn't editing, at all. Pure 'yes and', no revisions. Or, it's like a group storytelling game, where everybody contributes one sentence at a time.

    After a few chapters of little adventures, he decides to run away from home to find the bird Margalo. And we never see her, or Stuart's family, again.

    There's a non sequitur chapter where he becomes a schoolteacher for a day, and I don't think it relates to anything that comes before or after.

    There's an invisible car, like I mentioned. Unironically, halfway through the book, Stuart's doctor friend gives him a miniature car that can turn invisible. What? That wasn't part of the premise!

    There's also a human girl, the same size as Stuart, in the later part of the book. Where did that come from? She's small like him, but she doesn't look like a mouse.

    It's like the reverse of Chekov's gun. Something new could be introduced at any moment, and something could be dropped at any moment.     To be crystal clear, I enjoy this. I like the unpredictability. And, it must be well-written somehow, because even with how odd it gets, I never lost my suspension of disbelief.     This would be an excellent exercise in storytelling. I'd ask children what they think will happen in the next chapter.     Even the ending is a kind of curveball: a telephone repairman talks for a long time about how great North is, as a direction. And then Stuart keeps driving.      Overall, I liked it, even if I don't know if it's well-written. It seemingly breaks a lot of rules about writing. It's profoundly weird from a storytelling perspective, so I'm glad it's somehow a popular book. I give it a 3/5 overall, and a 4/5 for me, personally. For further reading: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2008/07/21/the-lion-and-the-mouse This article talks about children's books and how Stuart Little was part of a fight over what children's book should be. Anne Carroll Moore is a fascinating historical figure. Sorry, I have no scanner, so here's some pictures of Garth Williams' illustrations.

Stuart is on a branch with the human-shaped girl, Harriet. He's dressed like a human, but he has a tail and a face like a mouse.

In the second, she's watching him swim and his furry body is on display as he looks at her. P.S.: Since my specific focus is on rats, I feel like I should bring up the one major time they're mentioned in the book. During the schoolteacher chapter, Stuart gets very mad at being compared to a rat. He's very distinctly not a rat, and doesn't want to be mistaken for one.

[mywifeleftme]

147: Ghostface Killah // Fishscale

Fishscale Ghostface Killah 2006, Def Jam

A.I. & Hip-Hop (& Art &): A Lengthy Digression

Back in April of this year, a bunch of A.I.-abetted fake Drake tracks dropped, generating millions of streams and twice as many takes. I’ve had this little quote-tweet exchange open in a tab for months now, not because either take is the worst of its kind but because they’re a good representation of the two biggest camps.

One side, you’ve got tech-evangelists like this guy:

And on the other you’ve got humanists like this one:

The tech-evangelist take is self-evidently repellant in its vision of a fully memefied, de-personalized future for artistic expression,* but our humanist friend @images_ai chooses to focus on the least viable argument against it. They argue that, for a discerning listener, A.I.-generated music is now and always will be instantly identifiable as such. That’s a total cope, absolute sucker shit. When you take into consideration where A.I.-generated content was only a few years ago, the fact that it can now produce something that sounds convincingly enough like a leak of a Drake-on-cruise-control demo that we’re having this conversation at all, means that we will have soon reached an inflection point. When it comes to the most commercially popular forms of music, it will one day no longer be possible to be certain whether a given new release is of human or mechanical origin.

Let’s go with that as claim number one.

There may be some musicological reasons Drake and his fellow streaming royalty are more vulnerable to replication by today’s A.I. than like, Os Mutantes would be, (e.g. reliance on digital instrumentation; formulaic structures) but the main reason A.I. creators came for them first is because they are popular. In a parallel universe where Robert Pollard was the biggest pop star in the world, then Tik Tok would be awash in shitty Alien Lanes knockoffs right now because the machines would’ve been trained on the several thousand hours of Guided By Voices music that is readily available. Maybe that’s an axiom with renewed force in the current environment: If there is sufficient demand to rip off an artist, someone will figure out how.

That’s claim two.

I happen to like Drake and, when he’s in the mood to be, he’s an original and idiosyncratic artist. There isn’t yet an A.I. tool that can spit out something as good as “Nice for What” or “Tuscan Leather” on-demand. It’s entirely possible that A.I. may not be capable of doing so without significant handholding from a human collaborator. But the potential of these tools may make it so that it becomes more profitable for an aspiring producer (or A&R man) to slap a fake Drake over a promising new beat than to find a new voice to spit on it. (Grimes’s notion of licensing out her voice as a sample pack is cunning, but she ceased to be a significant enough pop music figure to truly capitalize on it as a revenue stream around the time Azealia Banks said she smelled “like a roll of nickels.”) And that sounds a lot like death to the organic development of significant new popular artists, at least as we’ve heretofore understood it.

Summing up claim three, we can say: The recording industry will take the path of least resistance to making more money, and artificially reusing the voices and likenesses of existing stars is more cost-effective than developing new ones.

@images_ai’s argument that the A.I. Drake tracks are clearly fake and therefore that they do not augur a paradigm shift in art production is absolute troll-bait, because it makes the larger debate contingent on one question: can I fool you? @images_ai goes on in their tweet thread to argue that art is about communicating something of substance: but if that argument is hinged on an ability to discern the “substance” in a “real” Drake song then all you have to do to topple it is make a simulated Drake song that passes a blind listening test. This kind of thing is aesthetic philosophy 101 shit, old old old questions that now have a sufficiently actualized hypothetical, and I don’t have a bold satisfying solution to any of it.

As a self-styled facts-and-logic type, I’ve been unbearable to argue with about like spirituality or astrology or whatever, but I also know that over the course of one’s life there are only so many cultural and technological sea changes the average person can experience before the world becomes a fundamentally unrecognizable place to them. I think the coming shift in our notions of what constitutes art and artistic production will ultimately be a bridge I will be unable to cross—or, more accurately, that I will be unwilling to cross. The only way to go on with a personal system of aesthetics which has been undermined at its foundation, is to accept that part of the system which is irrational. At present, art produced by talented human minds remains self-evidently superior to what a machine can generate, but I will still hold that it is more worthwhile even when and if that gap closes.

Whatever comes along, I will continue to seek out human art according to the faculties at my disposal. It’s the stories of music, and musicians that activate me; the peculiarities of artists too weird or hopeless for anyone to want to simulate. And if from time to time I’m fooled by some supposedly lost Big Star demo cooked up in Ableton or whatever, so I’m fooled; I’ll keep to my ways. There is so much richness in what has already been, and in what artists using familiar methods of creation will make in the future. If I deny myself the unimagined pleasures of sublimely optimized future pop, alright. Less, but deeper; some lines are helpful to draw.

To Build a Better Ghostface

Anyway, the reason I wrote all that is because if there’s one rapper an A.I. would be pressed to rip-off, it’s Ghostface Killah. To do so, it would need to snort a lot of Fishscale bars. Here’s a small selection of what you’d need to feed the machine:

"I muffle motherfuckers up like Meineke And write a thousand bar verse that all rhymes with 'E'"

"I took notice, SpongeBob in the Bentley Coupe Bangin' the Isleys, he slow backed up Then he passed me swoop, seen his chick eyein’ me hard He got vexed and smacked his boo" "And this one bitch called me Fat Albert The way my pockets had the mumps, you know that Ghost is 'bout it Then I asked these young ladies do they buff helmets They said "fuck you", took a sniff and then they didn't tell me"

"Made my usual gun check, safety off, come on Frank The moment is here, take your fuckin' hood off And tell the driver to stay put Fuck them niggas on the block they shook, most of them won't look They frontin', they no crooks they fuck up they own jux"

"AHH! Didn't I tell you don't touch the sides? I'm goin bald on top! You lucky you cool, I'mma let it ride Slide, you played me so you can't get paid How you gon' fuck up a Don and cold dog his fade? I look like UTFO one of them dudes from back in the days"

"Had a 2 o'clock appointment with this girl name Dawn She ain't the Avon lady but her beauty was strong"

"We hold the weight of four Synagogues Jelly'd uptown in them beat down rented cars"

"But then came Darryl Mack lightin' all the reefer up Baby caught a contact I'm trying to tie my sneaker up I'm missing all the loops strings going in the wrong holes It feels like I'm wobbling, look at all these afros Soon as I thought I was good the joke's on me"

"Jaws is hanging, frauds is left in they drawers on the floor complaining Bird ass nigga resemble Keenan Ivory Wayans"

"Whip smelling like fish from 125th Throwin' ketchup on my fries, hitting baseball spliffs Back seat with my leg all stiff Push the fuckin' seat up, tartar sauce on my S Dot kicks"

"Got a safe that hold more notes than Cortex singers"

"The Bag Lady will murk you and let off in the next town! She struck two times, get caught, good luck blood, it ain't no Heinz Blow a hockey puck hole in the back of your spine She put two cut up mirrors in the place of your eyes So when the cops look they see theyselves, they all gonna die"

A Fishscale Review

“Shakey Dog” is the greatest rap song of all time, and the standard I will follow into our war against Lil SkyNet and whatnot.

147/365

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

* A further digression: The glee on the tech-evangelist side of the aisle is fueled by the prospect that, 1. A lack of ability will seemingly no longer be a barrier to making “professional” quality art, and 2. Producing art will no longer require dealing with artists. I envision these people as an army of small business owners absolutely over the moon about the prospect of putting all the smug freelance graphic designers and copywriters they’ve had to deal with on the dole, the “creatives” who had to condescendingly explain why the marketing concept they had in mind was impracticable, offensive, illegal, or all three. Just as selling handwoven baskets is now a bespoke industry, now creative work can be automated with variable degrees of competence, and those who insist on the “real thing” will largely be those who have enough money to be particular or to stand on the principle.