#cash-based reporting

[moolamore]

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[lnlightning81]

Ferrari World Champion

Summary: Max was your best friend since you were little kids but then you swapped teams and Max cut you off

Pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader, Logan Sargeant x sister!reader, Charles Leclerc x Sargeant!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning/s: Swearing

Based on this request Masterlist Max Verstappen Masterlist Taglist

After moving to Europe with her brother, she decided that racing was still something that she wanted to continue doing. Being able to find sponsors helped your family as they couldn’t afford both you and Logan to continue karting. Logan also managed to get a few sponsors, which helped even more. 

Being a couple years older than Logan meant that you spent most of your childhood racing alongside the likes of Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and Lando Norris. It meant that you grew up beside some of the current best drivers in the world. 

You’d been taken into Alpha Tauri in 2021 alongside Yuki Tsunoda. They’d taken a huge risk in two rookies much like Haas had done the same year. Finishing in the top ten in most races except where there were mechanical issues, there was a huge chance you’d be offered the second seat in Red Bull beside Max. 

You and Max had been stuck at the hip for many years. You started on the Red Bull junior team before moving up to being a reserve driver and finally taking the Alpha Tauri team. You and Max were still joined at the hip going to team events together, doing team challenges together. 

But now, in 2024, your contract with Alpha Tauri , newly Visa Cash App RB, was over for the twenty-twenty five seasons and beyond. There was a huge chance that you’d be in the Red Bull seat except for when you were called into Franz’s office to see Christian standing there. 

“You’ve worked really well in the seat for the last three years, but unfortunately we’re not giving you the Red Bull seat” That was all you heard along with Daniel's name. Your heart shattered knowing that you were just being offered a contract extension for VCARB and not a new contract with Red Bull. Just as well, your manager had told you that there were other offers waiting for you after you found out what was happening with your current seat. 

After your meeting with Christian and Franz, you got on the phone to your manager talking through all the offers that were awaiting your decision when he stopped at Ferrari. That was your choice. All these mid table teams wanted you, but Ferrari was leaning for the new top position, and you wanted to win. 

Except that may have been the worst choice ever. Max cut off your relationship, and you avoided each other around Monaco and the paddocks. That was from the end of last season. Now it was the middle of this season, and normally, on your way to the Monaco Grand Prix, you and Max would go together. 

This year, Charles had offered to drive you to the Paddock, which you had accepted because you drove alone once, and it was terrifying. This year alone felt different. It felt like your rookie year except worse. Feeling out of place as a rookie felt completely different to feeling out of place as the person currently leading the drivers championship. 

Walking through the paddock, Charles tried to cheer you up as he had been for many of the races. Logan had also tried his best to cheer up his older sister, but nothing was working. You were missing a part of yourself - Max - your other half, your funnier half. Now, he wouldn’t even defend you during drivers conferences when a reporter said something highly untrue. Charles or Logan being the only ones to defend you. 

Max avoided your eyes as he walked through the Paddock, and you just dipped in between the motorhomes to avoid him, knowing that if you were to look at him you’d cry. Even fans had noticed that you were no longer as close as you used to be as your celebrations on the podiums never involved each other. 

A few months later, you were still winning the Drivers Championship, and it was a championship that was going to go down to the final race. Max is only two or three points behind you. Bets were through the roof and not only between fans, but the drivers had started their own pool in the grid. 

Many drivers did not want a part within the bet with the risk of losing a friend. However, Logan had found you sitting on the ground behind the Ferrari hospitality to avoid cameras. A body sitting next to you, causing you to turn and see who it was turning back to look at the ground when you saw the Williams shirt. 

“Oh so you’re not even looking at your little brother now?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes 

“Logan please. I’m not in the mood” you huffed, and he chuckled a little 

“Tough. I don’t care. Let’s go” He hummed, dragging you to your feet and through to the ice cream stand he had found. 

“This isn’t on my diet. I don’t want it” You turned around, walking back to the Ferrari motorhome without him. 

Life hurts, your heart hurts, and more importantly, you feel really alone in this world. It was hard being the only female driver on the grid, but that wasn’t even the hardest part. The hardest part is that most people stuck with Max and stopped talking to you. 

It was now the last race of the F1 season. You needed to win this to win the championship, but Max was in the same position. Starting on pole meant you had that little extra boost, and with a bad qualifying for Max, he meant he was starting P3 behind Charles, who was under the orders to keep Max behind him for as long as possible. Normally he’d go against team orders like that, but he wanted you to win the championship. To see your smile again. The one he saw for so many years as you karted together. 

The race started brilliantly, gaining a 14-second lead by the last turn as Charles kept everyone in a DRS chain or two

“Verstappen behind” your engineer told you

“Fuck” You muttered back and suddenly your enginner was back in your ear just as you took a sip of water 

“VSC. Virtual Safety Car. Bottas off the track” He explained

“Fuck sake” You exclaimed probably a little too loudly 

“Sorry Y/N” Before you knew it, a full safety car was behind you with only a couple laps left after it went into the pits. You knew you had to get away quicker than Max. Everyone in motorsports wants to win the Drivers Championship, but when you’re this close without a championship, it would make you even more upset to lose it to Max when you’re winning by such few points. 

And then it was in front of you. The chequered flag except Max was right next to you, passing the line at the same point as you to the human eye. 

“Did we do it? Please tell me we did it” you begged 

“They’re checking Y/N. But for now we’re being told for you to complete your cooldown lap” you groaned, waving as you drove around the track on your cooldown lap. You took a drink as you waited for the FIA to come back with the results. Did Max really finish that close to you? 

“That’s P1 Y/N. Pull into Parc Ferme” He calmly said as you cheered very loudly 

“We did it! Oh my god. I’m going to cry. We won!” You shouted across the radio as your engineer laughed 

“I think Fred might be crying on his way there” You laughed as you pulled up in the P1 spot. Getting out of the car after removing the wheel, you didn’t even put the wheel back in the correct spot before you crouched on the front of your car crying. 

Not only had you won the race, but you’d won the drivers championship. Never in a million years did you think you’d win the championship. Walking over to get weighed, it felt like a dream until you jumped into the arms of your team who were all cheering loudly, some even crying with you. You looked over at Max, who had finished P2 before Charles wrapped his arms around you 

“Congrats Champ. You deserve the win. You’ve been through so much, and I couldn’t think of a better world champion for this year” Charles helped to take your helmet off as he stopped your hands due to how much they were shaking 

“Y/N/N. Don’t cry” Logan whispered, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Your family couldn’t make the race, but having Logan here was all you needed. He’d been there through the highs and lows of not only your racing career but life. 

After your interviews, you ended up stepping onto the first place podium. Charles and Fred sprayed you with whatever liquid was in the bottles due to it being Abu Dhabi as the tears fell down your face again. Charles is taking your bottle and wrapping you in a hug. 

Being sat in your hotel room with a hangover, you didn’t expect anyone to be knocking on your door today. Having spent most of the night partying with your team and most of the grid, you didn’t want much social interaction. Expecting it to be Charles or Logan, you didn’t look before opening the door. 

You almost threw the door shut as you saw Max standing on the other side of it. His foot stopped the door as you pushed it shut

“Y/N please listen to me. I need you to hear me out” He sighed, and you shook your head 

“It’s been over a year, and I’m hungover. I’m not listening to anyone, especially you” You spat 

“Seeing you so upset over something I did killed me. I couldn’t look you in the eyes, knowing that you were hurting because of what I did. You’re the champion of the world now Y/N and I’m so sorry about everything I’ve done. I was just too stubborn to apologise because I never thought I’d have to imagine a day that I wasn’t racing on the same team as you. I know VCARB and Alpha Tauri aren’t exactly the same team, but it was close enough. Then Daniel took back the Red Bull seat, and then the next day, you were with Ferrari, and I was hurt. I have no reason to be hurt because it’s your life and not mine, but Liefde, you have been the most important person in my life since we were little kids. Having Logan shout at me most days because you were hurting that’s something I never want to have to go through again. He’s kinda scary for an American” He explained, and you wiped your eyes as you cried, laughing a little at Max’s American comment. 

Max’s arms wrapped around you as soon as he realised you were crying again because of him. He realised that he never wanted to ever make you cry again, and he’d make sure you never did because of him. 

“Congrats World Champ. Don’t cry, I got you” He whispered as his head ducked next to you. His words made you cry more as you realised that they were the words you said to him all those years ago when he won his first World Champion. 

“If anyone else was to take that number one I’d forever want it to be you. You’re such an inspiration to so many women and little girls around the world and to me. Staying strong even though I was being a prick I’d never forgive myself if I was in your position but I do know that this past year has been hell without you and I’d love to have you back as my best friend” You pulled away from Max looking up at him. 

“You’ve got to work for it, Max. You really hurt me and I’ve missed you just as much but I can’t just let you go back into that number one spot in my life again just as easily as you’ve let me into that spot for you” You sighed and he nodded 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back to being my best friend” He smiled 

Y/NSargeant

Y/NSargeant I don't have any words, honestly. Thank you to everyone who has supported me over the last few years. @ Scuderiaferrari , thank you so much for giving me the chance to even compete this season.

tagged : charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 6,234,135 others

view all 1,234,212 comments

LoganSargeant: I love you so much. Thank you for being the best older sister someone could ask for and such an inspiration to so many people, including me ↳ Y/NSargeant: Oh, Logs, you're making me cry

maxverstappen1: Congrats, world champ. Don't cry, I got you. Liked by Y/NSargeant

charlesleclerc: We make a great team. Congrats champion ↳ Y/NSargeant: Thank you so much, Charles. I appreciate you making me so welcome this year even if I wasn't the best teammate most of the year.

user1: Y/N you are so inspirational to so many people. I'm freaking out not only about your win but Max commenting

user2: Y/N, you're so inspirational to so many people, including myself. I started karting when you were a rookie, and I'm so glad I got to see you make history in so many ways.

user3: OH MY GOD. MAX COMMENTED I'M CRYING ARE THE BEST FRIENDS BACK TOGETHER AGAIN?!?!!

user4: CONGRATS WORLD CHAMP. I'M CRYING. I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE THE DAY

Taglist

@bearryyy @thewannabewriter @lozzamen3 @barcelonaloverf1life @hiireadstuff @mxdi0 @f1kenzzz @evie-119 @ahgase99

[venus-haze]

Pretty Tied Up (Otis Driftwood x Reader)

Summary: Or, the perils of working at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place between House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects. Based on the Guns N' Roses song. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Armed robbery and implied kidnapping. Sexually explicit content that involves extremely dubious consent and sadism, gags, bondage, groping, and gunplay. Otis is pretty much his own warning. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Having regulars at a liquor store was a double-edged sword. You got to know some customers well enough to like them, but over time you’d notice they looked increasingly worse for wear as they came up to the checkout with their usual purchases. The exception, of course, were the Fireflys, who you always found unsettling, despite Baby’s attempts to seem affable. 

“My brother likes you,” she said one day, leaning against the counter as you rang up three bottles of vodka and two six-packs of beer.

“RJ?” you asked, glancing at her brother standing a few feet behind her.

RJ was always nice enough. Didn’t say much. Tall. Burly. Strong. Ruggedly handsome. You’d be open to going out with him.

She laughed in her usual high-pitch that always toed the line of being spine-chilling. “No silly! I’m talkin’ ‘bout Otis.”

You stared at her blankly. “Who’s Otis?”

“You know, long hair, blue eyes, scruffy ol’ beard. He came in here the other night. You must’ve made one hell of an impression. He won’t shut up about ya.”

Oh yeah. Him. Bought a bottle of whiskey and a stack of hardcore BDSM porno magazines. ‘You ever look at this stuff?’ he’d asked, eyeing you as you put a magazine with a nude, distressed-looking woman suspended by intricate ropes on the cover into a brown paper bag. When you first started working there, you could hardly stomach the sight of the rougher fare. As time went on, you found yourself hesitantly intrigued. ‘Gotta have something to do besides go to church on Sundays,’ you replied, earning a wicked grin from him. 

“That’s nice,” you said.

She snickered. “My brother’s not nice.”

“Is this everything?” you asked, hoping to move the interaction along.

“Hey RJ, you gettin’ anything else?” Baby asked over her shoulder.

He shook his head, approaching to pick up the crate you put the bottles in.

Baby handed you a wad of cash. She almost always overpaid, letting you keep the change, which was most of the reason you humored her antics in the first place. “Thanks darlin’! See ya real soon!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, keen to something you were yet to be aware of.

Two nights later you were working the store alone. Your coworker Billy didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know he wasn’t coming in–or quit. He just didn’t show up at 9:30 when he was supposed to, and your phone call to his house was met with a busy dial tone. Asshole.

It’d been a slow night anyway, but you would have appreciated the heads up, or at least another body in the place when the front door was kicked open.

“This is a robbery! Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot!”

Despite the bandana covering the bottom half of his face, you knew who it was right away. Long, graying hair and piercing blue eyes that were burned into your memory from his last visit to the liquor store.

You lifted your hands in the air. Your manager had told you on your first day that there was always a possibility of this happening. Better to just let them take whatever cash and booze they wanted and report it to the police once they left. ‘Don’t go playin’ hero. We got insurance.’

“Keep those hands up,” Otis said, slowly approaching the counter. “I’m gonna walk back there, and you’re gonna open the register for me.”

You nodded, eyes glued to him as he slithered around the counter like a snake, gun steadily pointed at you. 

“Go on,” he said.

With a trembling hand, you opened the register, the cash-filled drawer popping open for him. He pressed the gun to your temple, instructing you to put the cash in one of the brown paper bags by your side. You tried not to glance at him too much while you stuffed the paper bag with the money, finally pushing it toward him and sticking your hands up again.

“Alright, now turn around.”

“Wh-What?”

“I ain’t got all night.”

You glanced at the door. No way you could make a run for it, but maybe someone would walk in and be able to do something.

He followed your gaze and let out a cruel scoff. “Ain’t nobody coming through that door who can save you. I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever get. Now turn the fuck around.”

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, freezing when you felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of your head. His free hand grabbed your ass through your jeans, his strong grip almost painful as he squeezed each cheek. “Wonder how much it’d take to make you bruise?” he mumbled, almost to himself. He squeezed again, harder this time, as if he were trying to dig his fingers into your flesh. “Too much work when I can just cut into ya.”

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, though hearing your own voice, you weren’t quite sure how convinced you were that you didn’t want him to do his worst. Knowing what you did about the Firefly clan, the rumblings around Ruggsville about the strange family–it would be pretty damn bad.

“C’mon now, mama. You led me to believe you liked it rough,” he said, voice gravelly and low as he slipped his hand between your legs from behind, rubbing the rough denim material and your cotton panties against your pussy, the friction hitting your clit in just the right spot for you to let out a shameful moan. Your hand flew to your mouth, the other clenched in a fist as you tried not to give him the reaction he wanted. Didn’t want to prove him right. Show him how curious you were. You didn’t even have it in you to fight back, not when you were on the edge, so achingly close until suddenly you weren’t anymore.

You nearly whined when he pulled his hand away, horrified at yourself, your reaction to his groping you. He grabbed each of your arms, roughly pulling them behind your back and tying your wrists together with something itchy and uncomfortable that dug painfully into your skin as you fruitlessly tried to free yourself from the secure knot he made. What the fuck did he use? Your eyes widened at the carpet burn-like sensation that’d begun to sting your skin. The roll of twine beneath the register. You used to secure some customers’ more sensitive purchases sometimes. 

Fingers and cloth forced their way into your mouth until you were gagged with the bandana Otis had pulled off of his face. He turned you around, looking you over with a slow, satisfactory nod. “I was having trouble getting over this mental block in my art. Started drivin’ me crazy. Y’know, they showed this nature documentary about a group ‘a lions a while back. How they protect and provide for their families, stalk their prey and go in for the kill–do you ever think about how we’re the only species where killing is taboo? For the rest of the animal kingdom, it’s just nature, part of the circle of life. There was a scene where the lion saw a gazelle from way across the savannah, and it was like nothing else existed except for its prey. It couldn’t rest until it tore that damn thing apart. That’s how I felt when I saw you.”

You shook your head frantically, your pleas of mercy muffled by your gag. Fat tears blurred your vision until he morphed into something monstrous, straight out of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he said, roughly petting your head, “not yet anyway, that’d be a waste when I’ve barely even started.” He gave you a mean grin as he grabbed a hold of your hair by the roots. “I got a lot planned for you. Those magazines gave me a lot of ideas too.”

He lowered the gun, dragging it between your breasts and further down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your jeans. Using his other hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped them with alarming ease, pulling them down until they fell to your ankles. Your breath hitched as he pressed the barrel of the gun against your cunt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from being able to slide it inside of you. 

Still, the cool metal sent a shiver through you as he rubbed it against your clit, black spots creeping into your peripheral as you hyperventilated through his sadistic experiment. He was hard. That much you knew, but what frightened you, perhaps most of all, was how wet you had become since he tied you up. Your skin still screamed against the rough twine that’d been cutting into your flesh, soon to draw blood as you kept struggling.

Your hips jerked, pressing the gun barrel closer to your pussy that was eager to betray you and clench around it if he just pushed past your panties and shoved it up there. You didn’t want him to do that, not in your right mind. But no one in your situation could be considered in their right mind, could they?

“Don’t fight it,” he encouraged gruffly, blue eyes piercing through you as he watched your knees threaten to give out as you neared orgasm. “Give the devil his due, mama.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails threatening to break through the skin of your palm. Then he did it. Slipped the barrel of the gun past your soaked cotton panties. Your brain short-circuited in a rush of terror and thrill at the sensation. You came, eyelids fluttering shut, a guttural moan tearing from your throat and pushing through your gag. Your limbs felt like ghosts, incorporeal parts of you that could only offer a vague sense of feeling compared to the sensation that overwhelmed your body, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your veins all the same.

Gun be damned, you collapsed against the checkout counter, unable to support yourself any longer. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath with the now saliva-soaked bandana still shoved halfway down your throat. An astounded whine escaped your lips when he brought the gun up to his nose and sniffed. “This is it, mama. This is the devil’s salvation.”

He wasn’t making any damn sense, or your brain was too fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. All you knew about the devil was from the Bible and that stupid Dr. Satan story people regurgitated like spoiled food. If Otis was the devil, you’d believe it, though.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made your eyes widen, and you glanced over your shoulder, your muffled screams of either help or warning to however was approaching.

“Sorry about this, darlin’. We’ll have a lot more fun later,” he said, hitting you across the face with the gun, sending you to the brink of consciousness. 

The bell on the door faintly jingled, and the last thing you remember seeing was a large, familiar figure walking towards you.

“C’mon and help me get ‘er in the car,” Otis said just as you passed out. "Don't forget the cash."

[postplus-protest]

A Petite Reprise -

It can't really be left to a simple shitpost. That would be too easy. The subject demands a better explanation. Now others have explained, pontificated, and discoursed the subject much better than I ever will but I still feel the need to add to the chorus. There's been a deep slow rot set up in tumblr and the past couple of days proved it.

Dear Fearless Leader decided the best course of action in dealing with a trans user's concerns and frustrations with her SFW selfies being arbitrarily content labeled was to completely nuke her account and permaban said user. To add fuel to the fire, there was a few other users nuked in the crossfire. Also trans for the record.

Which is odd considering the fact that loads of death threats, neonazi propaganda, and so on was reported then ignored but a cartoonish threat directed at no one but the powers that be requires immediate action.

Damning still is deleting evidence of his actions.

At this point I'm not surprised. Us trans folk have been saying there's something definitely wrong behind the scenes for a while and poc users have been saying it even longer than that. People have come out to share their frustrations and their Fearless Leader nightmare stories. No, I'm not surprised.

I'm disappointed.

Fearless Leader has enough cash to throw around on vanity projects that hemorrhage money with his name plastered where he can get it and still manages to fuck it up. This little venture should've been an easy sandbox with users truly easy to please yet you treat it like kitty litter. Even Donald Trump has dedicated fans but our guy here can't seem to buy support anymore. And that is truly sad, isn't it?

I pity the fact you couldn't even own up to your bullshit and decided alienating a user base dedicated but vulnerable in favor of your ego. You could've been a hero but now we're all beginning to see who you truly are.

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

Jeff Yass just bought Trump. Here’s what he stands to gain.

The right-wing billionaire and TikTok investor is about to help the former president add billions of dollars to his net worth. This is what oligarchy looks like.

March 25, 2024, 4:42 PM EDT

By Ja'han Jones

Billionaire investor Jeff Yass is playing his Trump card.

The Philadelphia Inquirer reported Friday that the right-wing megadonor and major TikTok investor is a part owner of the company that merged with Donald Trump’s media company, which owns Truth Social, the former president’s struggling social media platform. The head-scratching deal stands to add billions of dollars to Trump’s net worth.

Yass’ name recently started popping up in news reports after Trump denounced legislation in Congress that could ban TikTok unless the social media outlet is sold from its China-based parent company. This was a major reversal of Trump’s previous opposition to TikTok and came after Yass met with Trump in Florida, with the backdrop of the former president’s mounting legal fees only adding to suspicion that Yass essentially could be purchasing a presidential candidate.

Trump claimed afterward that he hadn’t spoken with Yass about TikTok, and Yass is a major backer of efforts to promote school privatization, so I guess it’s possible that the right-wing billionaire didn’t say a thing about one of his most prominent investments. (Yass recently declined a request for comment from NBC News.)

But it certainly looks like Trump is under Yass’ thumb now.

It also looks like TikTok — or at minimum, one of its key investors — has just tried to one-up other social media companies in Big Tech’s ongoing battles over influence in Washington. Two years ago, The Washington Post revealed that Meta, the parent company of Instagram and Facebook, had waged a behind-the-scenes pressure campaign that involved trying to get media outlets and lawmakers to scrutinize TikTok more heavily. And although Meta can’t take total credit, that effort does seem to have helped get us to the present-day scenario, with a possible TikTok ban under consideration at the federal level and several other bans enacted at the state level.

With Trump, Yass appears to be employing the oligarchic approach to protecting an investment: transfer heaps of cash to a desperate presidential candidate and hope they do your bidding.

☝️😡🤬

[britcision]

I’m pretty sure the people bitching about not giving money to tumblr are the same ones who complain when AO3 or wikipedia ask for donations, so I’m just gonna clarify something

Running a website is not free

Even if they made no changes and did only maintenance, they still need to pay for server costs, expert programmers for when something goes wrong, storage (although frankly storage is cheap as chips these days which is nice)

They need to keep up with the capabilities of new tech like improvements to web browsers, never mind their own apps keeping pace with old and new tech developments

Backwards compatibility (being able to run the updated app on old tech) is a massive problem for apps on a regular basis, because there are people out here using an iPod and refusing to update software

There’s a reason every few years apps like Animal Crossing will issue an update that breaks backwards compatibility and you can only play if your phone is running more recent software

This shit costs money even before you look into the costs of human moderation, which I’m not exactly convinced is a big part of their current budget but fucking should be if we want an actual fix for their issues with unscreened ads and reporting bigots

Ignoring that it’s apparently illegal for companies not to actively chase profits, running Tumblr is expensive

And advertisers know we fucking hate them here

They’re still running ads, which we know because they’re all over the damn place, but half the ads are for Tumblr and its store

Other ad companies know we are not a good market, so they’re not willing to put the money in

Tumblr runs at a $30 million deficit, every year, because hosting a site is expensive

They are trying to take money making ideas from other social medias because they’re not a charity; they need to make enough money to keep the site going

If you want tumblr to keep existing, never mind fixing its many issues that require human people to be paid to do jobs like moderation, they will need money

Crabs cost $3

One crab day a year can fix the deficit and hammer home for Tumblr that:

A) we do want to be here and want the site to keep going

And B) they do not need to do the normal social media money making strategies we all hate

They need a way to make money if you want the hellsite to exist, because we live in a capitalist hellscape and cannot all be AO3

If they think they can make enough to keep running without pulling all the tricks we hate, they have no reason to pull said tricks

But they need money

And a way to make money

And if we can show them we can do that, there is a significantly higher chance they will listen to us, the user base they need money from, than if we don’t

Tumblr isn’t perfect, or anywhere close. They need someone to actually screen the paid ads they put through, they need to take the transphobia, antisemitism, and bigotry seriously

These Are Jobs That Will Cost Money

People Need To Be Fucking Paid For Their Work

Tumblr Is Not Run By Volunteers For Free And Nor Should It Be

Paying People Is Good Actually

So if you wanna get all high and mighty over $3/year, by all means, go spend that hard earned cash elsewhere

Good luck finding a perfect and morally pure business to give it to though

Being a whiny negative asshole isn’t more appealing just because you’ve put yourself on a moral soapbox, it just means the asshole is a little higher up

For all the whining about “all the new updates are terrible this site is unusable”…. It’s one fuck of a lot more usable than it was in 2017, 2018, 2020

And yeah, it’s going back down and most of the newer ones have been fucking annoying and I would also like them to stop

But it got up somehow and that means it could do that again

Hope is more fun than edgy nihilism

August 1st is a good and exciting day to summon a crab army

[mi6-cafe]

07.1.2024 Hijacking

On July 1st, the remains of the world’s criminal and governmental intelligence networks have their electronics hijacked by a starfish avatar. The deep, modulated voice claims that a method to stop what people are calling the Big Snooze will be provided in exchange for a quadrillion dollars. 

“That’s fifteen zeroes,” the starfish avatar clarifies. 

(“Fifteen?” the legal analyst in Station Atlantic cries out.) 

“You can raise it collectively rather than individually,” the starfish adds. “It’ll be novel to see the likes of SPECTRE and MI6 paying into the same slush fund.” 

(“Fifteen zeroes is a GDP, not a slush fund,” the lone remaining SPECTRE hench comments to the sharks next to him.)  

This week’s mission becomes clear. Obviously, they can’t count on their governments to shell out essential cash in order to save people’s lives. Therefore, they need to find a lead on the starfish's location, investigate their base, and find out how they caused the Big Snooze so it can be reversed. 

In Station Atlantic, Gale makes contact with Jamie. He had no idea who worked here and who didn’t, but he was going to make friends with the person who brought food for sure.

In Station Pacific, Sefa the publican hosts the Archivist and Kitten in The Hole and Corner; Kitten pulls a tablet out of her “mom bag” for the meeting while the Archivist offers notes from a bulging briefcase. 

How successful will the two stations’ investigations into the Big Snooze Starfish be? Will they achieve their goals, or will these brave support staff end up needing support themselves? Station Atlantic and Station Pacific dive into their search for the sinister sea creature and resolve to report back by the end of July 7th! 

[blazingstar29]

Anxious mav coming back to work post uranium mission:

Surviving the Uranium mission felt easier than this. Felt easier than walking into a work not knowing where he stands and whether Cyclone is going to be another Cain. This is his last post, he’s not sure how long he can bear working under someone that hates him. 

He wakes up the first day back from leave with his stomach in knots and a far from easy night. 

Ice knows something is a miss, the way he always does. As the alarm goes off he draws circles in Maverick’s back as he slowly sits up. 

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know that. I just don’t feel like I will.”

He feels sick to the stomach at the unknown day ahead. It feels like nothing will ever cure it. The more he thinks about it the more anxious he feels until it’s nauseating and he’s questioning if he should cash in a sick day. Not that Ice would let him. 

But first, he needs a cry. 

He shoves his fingertips into his eyes and feels them become slick with tears as he sheds them silently.  Ice sits up and hugs him from behind. 

“What are you afraid of?” He asks gently. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.  There’s nothing, fucking nothing.” 

Ice runs his fingers through Maverick’s bed head and thinks quietly for a moment. “Mav, you’ve had this for years, this anxiety. Maybe if it’s causing you this much distress you should get it checked out.” 

“No, it’s fine,” he sighs and wills himself to stand up. But Ice is warm and holds him so softly. 

“Mav,” he says sadly. 

And he feels like a kid, wondering if there’s a reason Ice needs to be on base today. Of course there isn’t and of course he’ll survive. He just doesn’t feel like it. 

Eventually he gets up and goes through his routine of getting ready. And if he opts for changing on base and riding his bike in, well that's his decision. 

And if he finds Warlock before reporting to Cyclone, that’s between them. 

[alithographica]

Re: Redbubble & Alternatives

Redbubble is doing some nonsense and I've deleted my account. I barely bothered with it anyway, was mostly there for people who've asked for specific images as posters.

Anyway in doing that I sacrificed the $4.35 that was still sitting in my earnings. They only let you cash out at $20, so rather than drum up sales and therefore make Redbubble more money, I'm gonna do what I feel is $4.35 in anti-publicity for them. 🥳

tl;dr there are new fees that hurt artist income at all sales levels. Redbubble is either looking to cut costs and raise profits for funsies, or is in serious financial trouble.

About the new fees:

Redbubble offers their services to artists by allowing artists to control their profit margin above a certain baseline manufacturing fee. This was pretty cool! There's now an additional fee that will be charged starting May 1, 2023. It is not an upfront fee that requires you to pay out of pocket, but it does directly cut your profit margin. How badly? Well...

By Redbubble's own example, if in one month you sell $300 in products that you had set at a 25% margin, you'd previously earn $75. Under the new structure, that earnings level means you pay a $28 fee, so you will now be paid $47. That $28 represents a 37% cut off what you were supposed to earn.

There's a full fee table in that link, but other highlights include a $1 fee if you earned $2 (aka 50%!) and big sellers who'd expect to take home $400 will now receive $320 (an $80 fee, 20%).

It also puts you in a weird spot that earning $1 more in a month may bump you to the next tier, causing you to actually take home less money. Make $1 more, end up losing $11. Make it make sense. 🤨

About the new tiers:

Each shop is evaluated and labeled Standard, Premium, or Pro. Premium and Pro shops are not subject to the new fees, but there's no clarity on how to move from one tier to another. Redbubble says it's under your control but it's clearly not. Many artists are reporting that they have accounts with next to no sales that have been labeled Pro, and accounts with thousands of annual sales that are labeled Standard.

Action items:

Look, I'm not gonna tell other artists that they have to close their shops, or tell buyers not to buy from Redbubble if your favorite artists have chosen to stay. What you do with the above info is up to you.

What I will say is that many artists are leaving because the new pay structure sucks. I encourage people who buy from Redbubble to expand their support to other sites.

Attrition is arguably their goal here—they know people will leave over this, and that'll probably lower their costs and lower competition for the remaining accounts. But goodwill is lost easily and they're playing a dangerous game on betting how many stay vs. leave. I'm out.

Feel free to leave your feedback on Redbubble's feedback form here, but it feels slightly like yelling into the void.

Alternatives:

tbh I don't have a good read on things. If you do know of any recommended (or unrecommended) print-on-demand sites, speak up!

I will say that as of now (April 2023), based on my research:

🟢 INPRNT sounds like a winner if your game is art prints and stickers. Does not have any wearable products like t-shirts.

🟡 Etsy + Printify/Printful might be viable? Etsy always had higher profit margins than POD marketplaces, but it's a bit more work and they also do weird things occasionally. Also has a listing fee so if you're the type to upload a ton of designs, pricey.

🔴 Teepublic is owned by Redbubble. Doesn't have the tier/new fee structure as of now but might be imminent. Have also heard their customer service sucks.

🔴 Society6 is going to charge artists shipping costs, and there's going to be a (mandatory?) subscription service launched in the fall, so that's not a winner anymore either.

[simp-ly-writes]

Friend of the Captain (pt.3)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Reader

Summary: Fate keeps pulling its strings, but your's and Eddies appear to be drifting further and further apart- only to see one another at weddings or funerals. But maybe one day, luck will be in your side and then something beautiful can flourish (with a side of cash, of course).

Warnings: 5000~ words, language and light teasing, angst (emotional, alcohol and drug usage, dark thoughts) to fluff, jealousy, and pining (of course).

A/N: Apologies for the wait everyone! A few timings changed but I need plot- okay.

Masterlist | Taglist Request | somewhat un-edited.

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ "...you're the best friend I could have ever asked for," your words stung, shattering Eddie's heart beyond repair as his face twitched before hiding it in your palm. He made a promise as a child, to always have you in his life yet even as you got closer together, the more he realized how far apart your both were as that moment became a mere distant memory. Eddie was needy for more yet you had already packed up your bags, closed the estate for the summer and went off to find new inspiration worldwide.

↳ He ended up reading a few of the gossip articles his mother left on the coffee table one morning, hot pink, zoomed in features and question marks galore as you walked around in beach wear with another man on your arm. He gripped the magazine, throwing it back on the table before packing his bags and returning back to base.

↳ When Christmas came around once again, you were not at the estate- a newfound tradition it seemed yet your gifts were still left under the tree, perfectly wrapped with each Horniman getting a gift. Eddie looked at the professionally wrapped gift, chuckling to himself at the childish wrapping paper you always insisted on using. This Christmas it was a bunch of little green cars with elf's behind the wheel.

Tearing into the gift, Eddie pauses as he slowly turns the box open to find a custom engraved watch. Flipping it backwards, his finger traces over the engraving- "Always." His mother peers over his shoulder, smiling from ear to ear as she inspects the jewelry. "I'm jealous, Edward," she teases, as Charlotte mockingly coo's- loving as her brother's cheeks paint themselves a pinkish hue. Freddy is already drowning himself in the new bottle of liquor your most recent boyfriend was the owner of its production before Tammy demands her own fair share of the drink.

--

↳ More years had passed and it was September already. You had yet to go back to dating, stepping away from romance scene at the current news that rocked your world, sending you crashing towards the floor as you fell into your office chair. Gripping your hair, tears streamed endlessly from your eyes as one of your assistants rapidly books the private jet back home to England- both of your parents were just announced dead to the public before you had known privately.

They were on a charity meeting with local schools and had crashed in their helicopter- dying instantly. You felt sick, seeing their bodies broadcasted over live television, smoke exiting from the aircraft as you lunged towards the toilets and threw up your lunch. "The plane has been booked, ma'am," your assistant calls from behind the door as you dress in full black and head towards the airstrip.

↳ You were surprised to find a series of reporters already waiting for you on the runway. Putting on your newest mock-design of sunglasses- it was going to be your first break into another market. Lights flashed in your face, hands racing to pull you into their microphones and endless questions yet the airport staff were not trained for a mob of this size.

They bursted through, making you fall towards the ground as you curled up into a ball- doing your best to avoid being trampled further. You quickly worked your hands through your pockets, clicking the power button thrice in quick succession as your first emergency contact was called and before you knew it- Freddy and Tammy were bursting through the crowd, fists raised as reporters fled the scene.

They were dressed in head to toe in black, ready to take you back towards your family's estate and to the funeral. You stood at the front, head tipped low as your flowing black dress drifted in the crisp cold air. It clung to your bones, finding any skin you had yet to hide as you silently cried, head leaning towards Charlottes already waiting presence as she whispered her condolences to you before pulling away.

You blinked rapidly, doing your best to dry your cheeks as a warm body at your back had you raising an eyebrow, especially when their arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a strong hug as your skin became tickled by their stubble. "I came as soon as I could," Eddie spoke over the wind, watching as everyone started making their way towards their cars as light rainfall began to come down.

You turned yourself around in his arms, cries turning into laughter as you shook your head into his shoulder, hands gripping the fabric of his suit, threatening to tear it apart just as you forced yourselves apart. You shook your head, taking another step back as you continued to laugh, Eddie took a large stride forward, head lowering in worry- trying to catch your eyes as your hair began to fall over your face. Taking a sharp sniffle you spoke in even tones, "We only see each other at weddings or funerals, Edward."

"Darling I-" you hold up a hand, shaking your head once more as you take another step back, Eddie moves forward as you dance around one another, rain falling heavier as you walk yourself under a tree canopy. "I made a promise to my father years ago, he wanted me to stop talking with you- begged me on his deathbed that I was unknowing of recently. I made a compromise of being friends yet... If these are the times we find each... Edward I-"

"Please, don't call me Edward," Eddie cuts you off, heart racing as he processes the information you speak. I always knew that old man hated me from the start, business over pleasure any day of the week, Eddie thought to himself. Hands now grasping your shaking shoulders as you can't support yourself with the overwhelming grief- falling forward into his arms. "Eddie," you whisper out in a pleading tone yet unknowing of what you wanted.

Before you both could think further on the subject, your lawyers were demanding of your presence to sign the papers, as the only child of your parents. You were the Duchess of the estate now as the endless sea of documents and hearings suggested. And those small hugs and words sat still underneath that tree, rooted in place as Eddie got called back to work and in the trauma of it all, you were glad everyone left- wanted everyone to leave you alone.

The cameras everywhere started to become too much, the people constantly checking in- tip-toeing around you, as if you would break with their soft tones and bittersweet, pity-filled smiles that mocked the constant aching of your heart and mind. Articles floated around, showing old pictures, telling the world of how you were living the high life with dead money but you had money, you had fame, before this all and now, you wanted to escape it all.

--

↳ That man you were with was an old picture, that boat party was in early spring and that engagement ring was false news as you threw your phone across the room as it shattered against the tiles. In reality you were sat in your bathtub, barley breathing above the water. You have been feeling an overwhelming numbness in your present and soon enough, you were pulling at everything to just FEEL something these days.

Looking down at your hand, the family crest engraved ring upon your finger sat heavy as you came to realize what such titles costed. Someone was yelling your name from the other side of the door, pounding against the heavy wood as you sunk under, watching the bubbles of your breath break the surface of the water above.

You close your eyes, emptying your lungs before coming back up to the surface and clearing the hair from your eyes. You drain the tub, wet feet pattering against the marble floors and towards the vanity- your gear already waiting for you as you got strapped in and flung the door open.

↳ Determine to FEEL you tested drugs, tested alcohol but they both lost their kick. You tried sleeping around again yet could never get off, so you drove down country streets as fast as you could, jumped out of planes, flung yourself off cliffs and climbed up mountains.

↳ Your business was running in the background as you let it run itself. You sent all the staff home for the remainder of the year with their wages at the estate as you walked the line between fear and adrenaline.

↳ Sabrina had called you after receiving news of you being in the hospital. You had fractured your shoulder from a skiing incident, you smiled through the drugs, holding a thumbs up for the picture as she cried at the image. You looked so lifeless with those eyes, your skin appearing grey as a walking corpse yet you could care less. People still wanted to sleep with you, to "live that high life" and you allowed them to just as every paper told you to.

↳ What surprised you was seeing Freddy out of all people telling you off by your bedside. Tammy nowhere to be seen as he gripped your hand- pleading. You look at him blankly in the eyes, almost falling asleep to what you have heard a thousand times before. Yet there is one question that catches you off guard, your neck straining as you quickly look away to hide the tears beginning to stream down your face.

"W-What would Eddie think of you right now? He's off somewhere, probably getting shot at- thinkin' that his job was ensuringhis girl is safe at home. What a fuckin' joke (name), if you are gonna listen to anything I say, know that you are a joke- and thats coming from the definition of it."

You shake your head, now playing with the various cords in your hands, threatening to rip them out as you choke back a sob. "I'm sorry, Freddy, I'm so sorry for being such a fuckin' mess," you sputter between your lips, taking shallow breaths as your heart monitor rapidly beeps, nurses running into the room as Freddy stands up from his seat as positions himself at the foot of your bed.

"Yeah, well saying you are is a great step, now make something of it because I can't deal with all these crying people. Fathers health is gone- I think this is it..."

--

↳ Under a year later, Eddies father had passed. You remember never driving more of a wildly than then down the country roads, almost clipping a gate in the process as you opened the door with your own key. Staggering into the new dukes office and sitting by the fire once more as you held his head in your lap, he clenched onto your waist- crying before a knock at the door had him switching back off, hardened exterior as if nothing happened.

↳ You stood up quickly, brushing off your clothes and nodded to him with pained eyes and shaking hands. Your heart burned, wanting to help yet the hollowed look he sent you with the tip of his head was enough to have you swiftly out the door and here you were, dressed in black again as Eddie stood beside you, face hardened while carrying his father to the hole in the ground and while making no move to touch you. You stepped a bit closer to his side once seeing the woman from across the fence looking intently at you both, please make it not be another reporter.

↳ Eddie folded, wrapping an arm around your torso as he pulled you under his long coat- thinking you to be cold as you gripped his hip, turning your head away from their stares and whispered a prayer, setting your bundle of flowers against the grave as Eddie make his own remarks. You both going inside the home.

↳ Sabrina openly sobbed into your shoulder, this is the first time she had seen you since your most recent accident as she whispered in your ear, albeit a bit loudly- perhaps on purpose as Eddie's head snapped over to the both of you- pausing his conversation with Tammy. "I am so thankful that you are alive."

"Why wouldn't they be, mother?" Edward questions, looking between you both with the most remorse he has shown today. Your eyes snap down to his wrist as he plays with the watch you gifted him a few holidays ago. "I don't think this is my thing to speak about, Edward." And with that, she picks up her drink and strides over to the table as the lawyer stands, emptying various files from their brief case to the table.

Memories flash through your minds before Eddie holds your hand, you intertwine your fingers together, giving it a light swing while being unable to look at him in the eyes as you play with the ring on his finger. "I lost myself, Eddie. I-I'm still a bit lost really... I'm getting better- promise just, I fucked up."

"Hey, look at me, darling, look at me, (name)," Edward calls out to you, using his other hand to pick up your chin as you blink away tears. He presses a kiss to your forehead, using a soft tone, "and we will find you again, promise."

↳ Eddie was later pulled away from you as you made your silent escape and exited the room, Eddie becoming drowned in those all-too-familiar papers. You were un-noticing to Sabrinas thoughtful look as you exited the house just as fate would have it for the two of you, so close yet ever-so far.

Geoff was already standing by the front door, tipping his hat towards you as you playfully bowed back- engine roaring back to life as he knocked on your window. Rolling it down with a charming smile, "Everythin' alright Geoff?"

"Yes, my Lady. Just curious- you're not stayin'?"

"Oh... no... I think... never mind," you stutter, smile fluttering as he hums out in reply. "We hope to see you around more often your grace, mother misses you like her own," you nod politely, "I will do my best to then," you state before rolling back up your window and rolling out back down those country roads.

↳ That day Edward Horniman was established as the Duke of Halstead. The news once again meeting your phone screen rather than the word of those close to you.

--

↳ You wish you could say that you saw one another right after that, but after you made a spontaneous visit to the Halstead manor. The staff members look panicked as they speedily greeted you and tried to move you towards the seating room as you shook them off. Placing your bags by the door before walking further down the hall and towards the office. You looked through the french doors, heart dropping as that woman you had seen earlier flashed Eddie a charming grin.

Sabrina clapped her hands joyfully at whatever had been said as childish jealousy ran rampant in your chest. You glared at the woman, her face tilted away from yours, everyone unknowing of your presence before you walked calmly back down the hall. Picking up your bags with your head held high, the various staff members chased after you, "How about you stay for tea miss? Oh, I'm sure the Duke will be overjoyed to have you stay, Could I bring you bags upstairs for you?"

You sent everyone a small sad smile, their heads dropping down as they silently understood your decision. You dropped your bags back into the boot of your car, slamming the door close as you drove back down the gravel roads. Luna chasing after your car with a wagging tail.

Edwards meeting had finished as he dismissed everyone from the room, standing while taking a sip of his tea- his heart lunged forwards at the sight of your car driving away. He hastily placed his drink down, running down the stairs as his mother called out to him, warning him of the cold weather that morning yet as he opened the door, he could no longer see your car and that door shut just as quickly.

--

↳ You would try again to see Eddie, yet that woman was always seen right beside him. There was some dark part of you that hoped Eddie would never go back to dating, that you could be selfish yet it would be unfair as you had done your fair share of it. Unknowing to the pain Eddie kept to himself seeing you so happy with someone else. It seemed to him the only times he ever got to see you was when it rained and rained it did.

↳ You took a ride around the estate, really both of your estates since no formal fences were placed. You strode over the overside of the pond, eyes squinted at the sight of the woman once more falling in step with Eddie as Luna raced between their feet. You continued your ride, looking up to the grey gloomy skies with distaste and the next moment you looked back across, they all were gone - if just by your imagination.

--

↳ You were dressed to the nines, a flowing emerald gown drifting off each curve of your body, emphasizing your natural features as you swirled around the crowds of hungry business men and jealous wives as you picked up a champagne glass from a walking tray and returned to Mr. Johnston's side.

↳ A hand written and delivered invitation graced your doorstep, too tempting to refuse- it had been sometime since you last stepped into the spotlight and done yourself up, and so you went all out. You showcased your newest jewellery line- finally finding more inspiration the more times you reminisced around your inherited property.

↳ A rather bizarre relationship you held with Mr. Johnston as well, as he had tried to purchase your land yet smiled and waved away his deal like a fleeting thought. Mr. Johnston have given you many expensive gifts since them to keep your company with him- adoring your intelligence in everything accessory or business related as you reviewed materials for him as a side-gig and token of friendship

↳ You swayed lightly to the music as he introduced to you hundreds of faces, beyond impressed that me managed to remember the names and family connections of them all. You smiled politely, kissing cheeks and making small talk before being led to the next person, ignoring the stares as they watched you from behind- gown drifting away with you.

↳ Much to your surprise, you were being introduced to the Duke of Halstead himself yet for once you were not most interested in Eddie but the woman that stood ever-so elegantly by his side.

"Susie Glass, its an honour your grace," she said politely, red lipstick curving up into a small smile as you shook hands lightly, swiftly dropping your connection before Eddie picked up your hand, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of it. You both maintained eye-contact as he did so, never wavering before Johnston coughed, and you tipped your head down, a smile fighting against your lips as did Eddies.

With your gaze down, you ignored the rather pushing tones of both parties, focused on the small red liquid, is that blood?, starting to form at the edge of Eddie's shirt. You shifted your weight to stand closer to him, starting to open your mouth to question before Mr. Johnston was calling your name.

"You never told me, duchess that you and the duke had grown up together, what a wonderful sight to see two friends reconnecting. If you will Ms. Glass, I think we should allow them so time to reunite," Johnston comments, eyeing the closing distance between yours and Eddies forms as you blink a thanks to him as he leads Susie towards the bar.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, your grace?" you tease out, hands drifting up his chest to fix his jacket. You hold him there as his eyes quickly flash down to your lips and back up towards your eyes. Your head tilting, well that has changed....

"Can I not admire the dress? It has been some time since we have last seen each other like this. What was it, when we were 20-something?" You instantly remember that night, cheeks a hard red as you blindly follow Eddie down the hall and into an empty room, the door clicks locked as you become lost in the memory.

--

Eddie had pushed you up against a wall, the paintings swinging almost off their nails as your own scraped against his roots, ensuring that yours lips stayed on one another in a passionate kiss. The shoulder of your dress began to fall as did Eddie's lips, trailing down your chin, to your throat where he sucked a bruise as you softly moaned in his ear.

It was so wrong, you had a boyfriend waiting for you back at university, it was your childhood best friend- the one you promised your father never to be with and yet as he picked you up, hands feeling up your dress and pushed you onto a bed. It never felt so right.

Eddie climbed on top of you, smashing his lips onto your own once more as you whimpered and moaned as he chuckled, shushing you lighting before continuing his attack. You began to unbuttoned his shirt. Nails working down his abs as you smirked to the sound of his breath hitching as you created your own markings to his neck.

Nothing more ever came from your heated make-out sessions or hook-ups. Always resulting in being, "good friends" with one another who needed help...

"Everything alright there, darling?" Eddies baritone voice pulled you out of the memory as you his chest pressed flat against your bare back where your dress dripped. His hands on your hips, his head on your shoulder as you both swayed back and forth lightly.

You pick your hand up, placing it on top of his hands on your waist, circling around each bloody knuckle with concern. "What have you not been telling me, Eddie?" that you love me, your brain pleads to finish for him yet you hold your tongue, bitting your lip from saying anything more.

Eddie hums deeply into your ear as goosebumps coat over your skin, gods you feel like such a horny teenager. But to be fair, that would be the last time you were romantically involved. "I think I will need a few more drinks before I become an open book but, I have been busy in managing my fathers... businesses."

You step away from his touch, gathering distance, eyes firm, "I know what your family does, Edward. Longer than you apparently. I believe it to be the reason why my father never wanted me settling with someone like you-"

"Someone like me?" Eddie challenges. "Do you even have the faintest idea of what Mr. Johnston has done, what your previous boyfriends have done?-"

"Yes, I do. And that should make you understand why I still decide to come back to you, after everything," you finish with, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs by an unlit fireplace as Eddie stands in front of you, undoing his jacket with a hiss as you tut him off in a posh tone.

"Why, Edward-dear, it appears you are the one learning new ideas, would you like some help with that?" You tease out, watching as his shirt turns a deeper red. Edwards rolls his eyes playfully at you as you drink up the sight of this beautiful man, even when bleeding and threatening to stain the designer rug underneath you both.

You kneel lean forward, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as Eddie un-do's his bowtie, it hangs off his shoulders as you dress the wound with the supplies sat conveniently waiting on a nearby shelf. "Arms up now, captain," you playfully command as Eddie complies.

"Never knew you to be such a bossy one," Edward sarcastically comments, looking down at the top of your head fondly. You look up at him through your lashes, blinking twice before continuing your work. "And I never knew you to be bedding your associates-"

A knock at the door sounds as Eddies delicate look before a glare, enforcing that you both would speak about the topic later as you wipe your hands and lean back in the chair, smiling at the women as Eddie leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek in thanks as he straightens his clothes out.

"Hello, Susan," the Duke greets the once mysterious lady as you look between the two of them, jealousy brewing in your stomach once more, your hands itching to hold on to some part of Eddie once more. "What have you done to him, duchess?" Susie asks you, hands presses and leaning forwards against the back of a chair opposite of yours.

You smile gracefully at the woman, beginning to stand yet as you approach her, Eddie softly grasps your wrist, holding you in place. "Well, by the looks of it. He has been shot- what have you been doing with him, Susie?" you fire back.

"Nothing-"

"Really then?" you cut her off with a scoff as you wiggle your hand from Eddies grasp, moving towards the door, you can hear multiple people moving in the hallway as you curse out, your dress spotted with blood. "Alright then, I think it's time for a sharing circle then..."

--

"You killed a man?" you ask calmly as Eddie slowly nods his head. "That was something I did- yes-"

"and by the sounds of it, it will not be your last... or hers..." you reply, head leaned into your hand as you found yourself seated once more. The party-goers were dying by the hour as you all soon made your speedy walks back towards your cars.

--

You joined Eddie that night, helping to redress the wound, dress him for the night, pouring you both another few drinks before pulling him into bed. What surprised you most was his tight grip on your waist as he pulled you down beside him. "Eddie I am not dressed for bed," you spoke softly, not wishing to awake anyone near.

"Sleep naked, wouldn't be the first time-"

You covered his mouth with your hand, shaking it away as he gave it a playful kiss. You heart lunged at the memory of a moment similar to this when you had just been cheated on. Yet you ultimately decide to make yourself comfortable, just as the last, kicking off your shoes but deciding to stare at the side of his face illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace.

"You know, I think I have had enough drinks for tonight," Eddie comments as you hum out, eyes falling heavy as you press your head into your pillow for the night, taking a deep breath in- "I love you, (name). I've said it so many times to myself that it surprises me to sound so right saying it aloud," you are wide awake now, exhaling heavily as your legs twist together underneath the covers.

"I thought you were with Ms. Glass," you speak in a meek tone, not wanting your heart to explode twice, only one of you can be injured at a time. Edward chuckles, head shaking as he looks at you, brown eyes staring deeply into your own, "Well that same woman told me not to sleep with the help, I'm just taking her advice."

"Well she sounds like a very smart lady then, leaving all the more for me," you tease out, lips pressed together as you eye his own. Eddie leans forward, humming out as your lips connect, your hand finding the back of his head before a hiss escapes between his lips and you rapidly pull back.

"Oh shit, sorry," you apologize, looking under the covers to see your knee brushing into his bruised side. "You can always kiss it better," Eddie retorts as you roll your eyes and press a peck to his lips. "whats that supposed to solve?" And soon you both are up into the early morning hours.

--

When you awakened the next morning, having breakfast together in the study, you nearly spat our your tea with the words that escaped Eddies lips, "Would you help me steal a car if I asked politely?"

A smirk meets a smile as you tap your chin in mock-contemplation. "sure" you shrug, pulling the man into another kiss with a chuckle. And thus kicked off the rest of your lives together with a healthy side of cash.

--

Bonus:

↳ Lady Sabrina brought flowers and a bottle of wine to your mothers grave for a chit chat. She poured out to glasses, sitting one by the tombstone as she commented on the nutty taste of the substance.

"I was right in the end, you know. They are a rather marvellous couple and you really should have ended things with that husband of yours. My boy was only ever the most substantial choice, rather embarrassing to think otherwise."

Sabrina could imagine your mother glaring down at her, slipping her the bird while maintaining a pleasant smile. But in due time she would await that interaction as she sipped her wine, embracing victory as she squinted across the field watching as you and Eddie did shooting practice near the woods with a satisfied hum.

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung

↳ A/N: I think thats a wrap for Friend of the Captain... but definitely not for my writing on the Gentlemen (2024)!

[sleeplesssmoll]

The Timekeeper looks through the newsletter Mane's Bulletin for recent bizarre events to investigate for extra cash.

The fact that it's a newsletter could mean Vertin is either a subscriber or has access to the newsletter through the Foundation. We've seen from Green Lake that she's drawn to oddities and mysteries. Horrorpedia figured Vertin would also be interested in Green Lake, so perhaps Vertin has a reputation as someone who deals with the extraordinary situations outside of The Storm. Her curiosity gets the best of her even now. She literally crossed the desert to see the Uluru stadium despite having no interest in sports (and because she's a softie).

Newsletter definition:

a written report, issued periodically, typically by a business, institution, or other organization, that presents information and news to people with a specific interest in the organization or subject

Bulletin definition:

1. a brief account or statement, as of news or events, issued for the information of the public. 2. a brief, prominently featured newspaper account, based upon information received just before the edition went to press.

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Did y'all see the new Bosch lore that just dropped?

So there's this new side quest involving Experimental Subject Lee, who is now in Metro City. And he tells the player that his client wants to meet you. In turn, you'll get to find out more about Neo Shadaloo* and their bases.

You meet Foo through text at the entrance of Chinatown.

Foo said they heard about you from Lee. And they know that you've been snooping around so they wanted to help you in your search.

A man from Neo Shadaloo is measuring the output of fighters in Metro City. So it's your job to lure that man out and give him a good thrashing. You travel to The Masters Foundation Building, Urban Park, and Edomon until you finally find him at the Haggar Stadium.

After you beat him up, he says this and runs away:

Foo texts you again saying:

[Foo]: Yes, There we go.

[Foo]: That should have gotten the attention of Neo Shadaloo.

[Foo]: I'll arrange for them to escort you to their base.

Going back to Lee, he mentioned that you would be sneaking into their base, but the only thing is you have to be blind folded and you would be unable to heal-up.

This is largely due to you having have a Burlap sack over your head and the staff at Neo Shadaloo blindfold everyone they bring through. I'm assuming they wouldn't want anything on you, that could possibly heal you.

Once you've been picked up and brought to their base, it's revealed that Juri was the one who brought you there. Only because she gets a wad of cash for it. She doesn't care about their 'little treehouse club' because once they revive it, she'll smash it to pieces herself.

You get left alone with the Hanh, a worker, who heard from Foo that you were infiltrating their base. He goes on to say that the remnants of Shadaloo aren't all the same and they're not a monolith.

Foo doesn't care what Neo Shadaloo is up to, so that's why Hanh lets people like you to come in and sneak around. He says you can search for whatever and then make a break for it, but you would have to knock him out, so it won't look suspicious.

Note that when you do, an alarm goes off and you have to fight against the soldiers and cardboard combatants working with Neo Shadaloo.

After doing so, you get to roam freely around the stage that Ed was introduced from, in his trailer.

Off to the sides, you can see chambers filled with a purple glow, Psycho Power, and broken rubble everywhere.

At the center stage, there are reports next to a medical chair that reads:

Report on Test Subject No. 59236

Subject experienced intense pain before fainting after being infused with Psycho Power.

Subject awakened and had violent outbursts. Eventually fainted due to reaching their physical limits.

Subject confirmed to withstand a great deal of Psycho Power. Body was modified to increase its strength.

Subject acclimated to Psycho Power over a number of days and was able to act as a solider in a number of weeks.

Psycho Power dosage was increased each time the subject mentioned "Nayshall" or "Yua"...

The output of power was too strong. The subject was consumed by Psycho Power. Frequency of violent outbursts increased.

Subject was considered not fit for soldier duty, and was demoted to Cardboard Combatant status.

Also, there's a SiRN box that holds confidential documents about Shadaloo's base and the pursuit of a man named Bison.

Confidential Documents

Lord Bison Search Log Targets 1. Resurrected Bison 2. Unharmed Subjects with dormant Psycho Power or Psycho Power residuals

Methods Troops have been dispatched to search for Lord Bison. Searching for residuals through backup info from Psycho Power.

Search Reports America: Not found Mexico: POI info acquired. Observed reviving a dying horse. On the same day, Psycho Power in the base began to react.

France: Not found Egypt: Body located. Head injuries. Nayshall: POI located. Shares some characteristics as Mexico POI.

A man riding a horse, imbued with a purple aura. White hair, tattered clothes but dignified with bold eyes. Thought to be Lord Bison. Contact with search team lost shortly after.

On the same day, residual thoughts were found in the reactivated Psycho Power. Searching for and analysis of residuals has ended. Moving to Restoration phase. Awaiting report on body discovery.

More off to the right side, you can find a piece of scrap paper that we could assume was written by Bosch.

Home...back...strong...for...future...must...withstand...pain...

....Keep...hidden...back...proud...Step...there...do...not...JP...ever...

Pain...what...don't...understa...Let...go...my...soul...comple...mission...

Yua...it...hurt...sorry...brother...sorry...all..for...yshall...

You met back with Lee and gave him the confidential information, which was more than he was expecting. And Lee says he'll give Mr. Foo this information.

Neo Shadaloo* - Me and a couple of other people like @corokoro speculated that Neo-Shadaloo was being retconned by the remnants of Shadaloo. This is seen when Lee, Foo, and Asterisk are referring to Neo-Shadaloo like they're the ones doing all the experimentation and picking people off the streets.

All in all. Justice for my bby Bosch :(

Pictures are from Ansatsuken on Youtube

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

'Tis The Damn Season

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Description: You've made your closest friends over the past decade as a Naval Aviator. That close friend group only expanded when your best friend fell in love when you were in flight school. Nat and Jake are cute together, you can't deny that. It helps that you get along well with Jake. Sadly, where Jake Seresin goes, so does Javy Machado. You can fly with the man, be the perfect wingman, but when both your feet are on the ground, you can't stand him. You're so sure the feeling is mutual. 48 hours in a car with him teaches you differently. Javy Machado is sweet and funny and you might just be falling in love with him. Or have you been in love with him all along?

Themes: Stuck in the snow, showers, shower-thoughts, hate-to-love, stranded in the snow,

Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are some fairly spicy thoughts in this part and 100% spicy happenings in the next part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!

Word Count: 3938

Author Note: This is part one of two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!

Cross Posted on AO3 Here!

My Masterlist

It was supposed to be the start of a fabulous holiday - supposed to be, being the key words. It’s rare, honestly nigh on impossible for you to end up having vacation leave lined up at the same time as your friends. You’re in the Navy, you’re a pilot; it kind of comes with the territory. But what is the likelihood you’d find yourself stuck in a car in the middle of a Colorado snowstorm with none other than Javy Machado? You’re unsure who you should blame because the universe clearly has it out for you.

Well, it's either the universe or Natasha Fucking Trace. Honestly, between mystic powers controlling everything that has been or will be and Nat, you’d pick her any day. A part of you has some sympathy for her. It can’t be easy dating a guy and knowing your best friend and his can’t stand each other. It’s the truth, too. You can’t remember why or when you started to get angry at the sight of his smiling face. Still, it was probably sometime between when he asked you if you needed a booster seat to see out of the cockpit and when he blitzed you on the first of the many flights you’ve taken with him. 

Why the fuck isn’t he going home to Louisiana? That’s what he usually does. God, if there’s anyone who’d know, it would be you. After all, you’ve been flying with Coyote Machado for the better part of the past decade. Every year, he’d cash in all his leave and fly home. Like clockwork, he’d return after the new year more infuriating than ever. But your knowledge of his behavior doesn’t explain why he’s in Colorado. You were both on an aircraft carrier in the Philippines, for fuck’s sake. There had to have been a transport to Louisiana via the East Coast. But against all odds, the two of you had been on the same transport and flight, hell, even the same bus to the terminal once you landed in Denver.

Now he’s staring at the same board you are, with flickering red signs as flight after flight gets marked as canceled. Including the one you were supposed to be on. It’s just your luck that Tash and Jake are reporting to Norfolk Naval Base right now. It’s just your luck that the only transport you’d been able to get on had landed in San Diego. And it’s just your luck that the cheapest flight you could get had been via Denver in the midst of what has to be the worst snowstorm the region has ever seen. Reception is spotty, but you huddle in a corner, praying to all the gods you don’t believe in that your call connects.

“Tash?” Her voice is grainy and barely audible, but god, if it doesn’t make you want to cry. “I’m in Denver, yeah. There’s a colossal snowstorm blowing in. My flight’s been canceled.”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it in time.”

“I know.”

“I know. I’ve missed you so much. But I don’t see a way for me to get out of here and get there in time?” 

“Yeah, Javy’s here.” You can’t control your eye roll as you say his name. “Yeah, I’ll give him the phone.”

“Yo, Machado. Tash wants to talk to you.” He takes the phone from you like he doesn’t want to touch you, which shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

It’s loud and crowded at the airport, so you can’t hear a word of what he says to Nat. There’s nothing else to do but stand at the window and watch the snow fall and fall and fall. There’s already close to a foot accumulated on the ground, and while you’d been wishing for the snow in the heat and humidity of the ship, you hate it now.

“Here, Gypsy.” You accept the device with a half-smile. “Tash had a pretty good idea, y’know?”

You can’t help raising your eyebrow. Javy swallows, more than a little discomfited at your gimlet gaze. “She suggested we rent a car and drive out to Norfolk together.”

Eighteen hundred miles, and he wants to spend all of that time and distance stuck in a car with you? You scoff, “You couldn’t pay me to do that, Machado.”

“Yeah, I know.” There’s something sad and haunted in his eyes. “I know. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t about you and me. This is about Jake and Nat. They want us there, celebrating Christmas with them. So don’t think about doing this with me. Think about how you’re doing this for them.”

Damn him. Damn him for being right. “How are we going to get a car in this?” People are yelling at the poor airline staff behind the counter, kids are screaming, and Christmas Carols are pouring out of the speakers. It’s chaos - loud, unmitigated chaos.

“You leave that to me. You have your bags?” Before you can think or even respond, he’s cutting a swathe through the crowd, and you’re left standing near two Navy standard-issue duffel bags and your one small rolling suitcase. It takes half an hour before he comes back. In that half an hour, you find you’re glad you’d opted for carry-on bags because the mob at the counter waiting to collect check-in bags descends into an outright fistfight.

Javy’s rumpled, his sweater mussed when he lopes back to you, thankfully with car keys in hand. “I got ’em. We have to head down to the main concourse.”

“Anything to get out of this shitshow.” He chuckles and grabs your bags and his own despite your protests.

The car is old but functioning. It’s tiny, though. It's so small that you’re not sure he’ll fit behind the wheel. It can’t be comfortable when he does end up in the car. It looks like his knees are pressed against his chest, even with the seat pushed back as far as it can go. You’re in the passenger seat because he refused to let you drive, and as expected, you’re surrounded by snow the minute the car leaves the parking garage. Visibility is shit, and it feels like the car is moving at a glacial pace. You’re surprised the roads are open at all, and to add insult to injury, you’re sitting in silence. The radio isn’t working, there is more snow - this time of the feedback variety, ironically - and the car is old, so there is no auxiliary cable or USB cable to connect your phone to. And, well, you’re not a fan of the man you’re stuck in the car with for the next 24 to 36 hours, so the less conversation you have, the better. It’s not even like you can read. You’ve only been on the road for an hour at most when the sun sets. But the roads are still open, and traffic is still moving.

As the minutes turn into an hour on the dark, snow-covered roads, you feel your exhaustion setting in. You’ve never slept well on planes - go figure that ninety percent of the time you’re in a cockpit, you’re flying - but flying commercial somehow makes it work. Strap yourself into a jump seat on a cargo plane, and you’re out like a light. Sleeping on a carrier with planes taking off round the clock and midshipmen screaming outside the door, you’re snoring like a baby. But flying economy? Forget about it. So, besides the few hours of fitful sleep you’d gotten on the cargo plane - because you can’t sleep where Javy Machado can make fun of you - you’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. Your eyes feel itchy and hot, each blink torturous as you fight exhaustion. The car is so warm, and Javy's silent. Even he can't object if you rest your eyes a little, right?

You wake up to a roar of the word, ‘SHIT’, echoing through the car. You startle, and if you were a cat, you’d be stuck to the upper upholstery, fur ruffled and back arched. A coat covers your lap, the soft, rich wool imbued with spicy cologne. It has to be Javy's coat. When did that get there? The visibility out of the windshield is even worse, if possible, and Coyote’s arms are corded as they clutch the wheel in an iron grip.

“Hey, how long was I out?” He doesn’t even look at you when usually he’d be more than ready to tease you on how you probably have drool on your face.

“Coyote? ‘Yote? Hey?!”

“Javy? What’s going on?” You place your hand on his arm, pretending not to notice how firm and warm it is under the bunched-up sleeves of the soft sweater he’s wearing. “Javy, you’re scaring me. C’mon. Tell me what’s happening. What’s a wingwoman for if she can’t help?”

“We’re somewhere in Kansas, and the snow makes this really hard.” There’s something unreadable in the expression on his face as he snarls at the other, far slower drivers on the road in front of you.

“We should stop for the night then.” 

“No.” He snarls the words at you, and that’s when you know something is wrong. “No, I can keep going.”

“Javy, maybe you can, but I can’t. I need to take a break, hit the head, and stretch my legs.” 

He doesn’t respond, content to make you worry the longer the silence spirals between you like an oppressive living thing. He pulls off the highway when the next exit presents itself. The motel he pulls up to on the side of the road is rough-looking. It’s small and old, but at least it smells clean, or well, at least clean-ish. As luck would have it - because your luck couldn't be any shittier - there’s only one room left for the night. You slap your credit card down on the counter before he can object. He’s Javy Machado. You know what he’s like better than almost anyone else. You may not like him very much, but you can read all of the signs. He’s not the type to let a woman pay for anything, not when he can pay for her. He can take it up with you when he’s not acting weird.

You push him into the shower once you’re in the room, content to just sprawl out on the bed until he’s done. Really, all you're hoping is that the hot water is enough to snap him out of this eerily quiet, angry mood and back to the pain in your ass you're used to. When he steps out, it’s wrapped in one of the motel’s paper-thin towels, and you have to avert your eyes. There’s just a shadow of a smirk on his face as you pass under his arm with all of your clothes bundled up against your chest, trying and failing to avoid making eye contact with all of his wet, glistening muscles. It takes you far too long for your brain to reboot after that sight, and mortification and anger are your companions as you hurriedly strip off your snow-laden clothes.

You’re grumbling the entire time it takes the shower to heat up because it is not fair that Javy Machado looks like that under his uniform. No wonder every girl within a ten-mile radius of base wants to get into his pants. You step into the shower nearly too early, stifling squeals as the too-cold water splatters across your skin. After a few minutes of determined shivering, you finally step under the warming water, coming out in a steady, roaring stream. At least it’s getting hot now, though it’s not as hot as you’d like. You let the spray beat your muscles into submission, relishing the first moment you’ve had by yourself since you left the carrier fleet hours ago. But you’re left in peace only for a few moments. Unbidden, your one-track mind finds its thoughts consumed by Javy Machado again. It starts off with an innocuous thought, “How did a man that large fit into this tiny shower? He could probably see over the curtain rod!” Then you’re wondering if he’s alright. But as your soapy hands trace over your skin, you start to imagine other things. 

You start to imagine water droplets sliding over the ridges of his muscles, skating over defined abs, and collecting in the dip of his collar bones. His hands are big and calloused as they lather soap across his skin and then over yours. Shit! When did you start dreaming of yourself in the shower with Javy Machado? There’s an ache in your pelvis as you clench your thighs together as you dream of how those calloused fingers feel on your skin. You get yanked violently out of the vision when the water goes cold on you. It feels like you’ve been immersed in one of the snowbanks outside. You almost fall as you step out of the shower, but it’s silent. Your face is flushed in the fogged-up mirror, your eyes fever bright as your blood pulses in your veins in the same rhythm as your aching cunt. You inhale and exhale raggedly, trying to get your libido under control. Please let there be a bar near Nat and Jake’s place - please - you need to get fucked so bad that you’re fantasizing about your wingman, of all people, now. 

It’s getting cold in the bathroom as the steam dissipates when you finally pull yourself together and get dressed fast in a bid to escape the cold. But it is still silent outside the bathroom - almost too silent. You expect laughter at the very least when you open the door because your warmest pajamas are covered in dancing penguins. Instead, Javy’s sitting on the bed, staring out the open window at the milling snow, looking for all the world like he’s lost something he’s just found.

It’s cold in the room, the motel’s shitty heating is barely able to combat the frigid snow outside, and he’s not wearing a shirt. But he doesn’t even notice the gooseflesh on the smooth, broad expanse of his back and chest. The cold blue light reflecting off of the snow piling up outside makes the room even colder, casting deep purplish shadows over his face and making the room eerie. You check that the door is latched and bolted before walking back towards Javy. He doesn’t move a muscle when you take his hands in your own. They’re like ice. He doesn’t even seem to care when you put the pillows down and fish one of your warm fleece blankets out of your bag. Bless Nat and Jake for not having a fully set up guest room yet because there’s no way you’re sleeping in this bed using sheets you’re not sure are clean. The blankets you brought are going to be perfect for the night. He doesn’t move or do anything until you intertwine your fingers with his own and tug on his arm's broad, burly expanse. He lists to the side without protest, and now you know something is wrong. Javy's not the type to do anything quietly. He's the type to shit-talk all the way while flirting endlessly. He turns towards you as you tuck the blanket around his big form, and when you move to pull another blanket out, his hand tugs you in until you’re in his arms.

The pinched furrow creasing his brow finally dissipates slightly. Something’s wrong, and you’re not sure what it is. If this helps, you’ll stay where you are. After all, you’ve slept in far more uncomfortable beds with much worse companions. Javy smells incredible, like soap, cologne, and something you can't place. You curl in closer despite yourself, letting him drag the blanket even further up around your shoulders. Everything is muffled around you. All you can hear is your breath and the soothing thud of his heart. It would be easy to curl in and fall asleep, but you can’t until you know your wingman is alright. But he seems content to lie there, brown eyes glittering with emotions you couldn’t read even if you tried. There’s barely any space between the two of you. Every breath you take has your chest brushing against his.

With the howling wind and the tink of snow against the window, you feel like you’re in a dream. Finally, Javy’s eyes close, even if he is still indescribably tense. You can feel it in the arms wrapped around you and in the muscles jumping in his jaw. His eyes fly open when your fingers trace the stressed tendons lightly.

“What’re you doing, Gypsy?” You’re unsure how to respond; instead, you trace your fingers over the furrow in his brow. Maybe your touch will wipe the stress frown away from his usually jovial face?

“You’re being awfully sweet, Gyppie.” You snort at the diminutive form of your already short callsign. “And here, I thought you hated me.”

Your gasp is barely audible, but you’re sure he can hear it anyway. “You never let it affect things between us when we fly, but I know you can’t stand me.”

“I’ve spent over a decade wondering why.” His next exhale is a harsh whoosh of breath. “But you’ve never told me, and right now, I think I know exactly why. It’s just me, isn’t it, Gyp? Just me and everything that I am.”

Your voice feels stuck. Trapped, lost, chained up behind a decade of hatred, hatred which wavers like it’s standing on a stool that may just have had all of its legs cut out from under it. You curl into Javy’s embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist like it’ll show him you feel differently. Because you do. At first, you had hated Javy Machado. You hated his effortless grace, charm, and ability to pick up concepts you’d had to work to understand yourself. But then he’d been persistent, and you’d been thrust into his company by the presence of Nat and Jake. 

That’s when you’d been able to see past the bravado, the mask he put on every day. That’s when you’d fallen headlong into a more profound and long-lasting crush than any relationship you’d found yourself in. But by the time you realized your feelings, he’d picked up on your stand-offish behavior and realized he couldn’t befriend you. Your crush never faded, but it’s evident that Javy had noticed your initial feelings and acted accordingly. But why would he blame everything that happened on himself?

“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m not home for the holidays right now.” What does that have to do with what he was just talking about? “Just chalk it up to another textbook case of me being myself.”

“I can't say I didn't wonder. But it's not my place to poke and pry. Why you're not heading home to Mama Machado is your business.”

“But you can't deny that you're curious, can you?” You shrug as much as you can with your arms wrapped around him.

“Of course you're curious. But how could I have gone home, Gyppie? How?” There's so much pain in his voice as he growls the words out.

He goes silent then, a frown creasing his face as his jaw moves under your fingertips. Your gentle touch doesn’t seem to bother him, just like the prickle of his stubble doesn’t bother you. In another world, in another life, could you have been sleeping every night in his arms like this? You’re not sure you deserve it. Javy was right earlier. You’ve been rude ever since the day you met him. Would anything have changed if you’d acted differently? If you’d been shy and withdrawn instead of angry and argumentative? That water’s long since flowed under the bridge. Too much time, too much history, too much animosity. All you can hope to do is listen. For your wingman, that’s the least you can do.

But your little nap in the car hadn’t been of much use. The longer you spend pressed against the human equivalent of a space heater, the sleepier you feel. You have to stay awake. This could be your one chance to go from rivals or enemies or colleagues to friends. Maybe you could even casually ask Javy to grab a beer after the holidays? But the first step to all of that is to stay awake.

His hands slide up until they're cradling the back of your head, pulling your face level to his own.

“You're not falling asleep on me, are you, Gyppie?” You shake your head wordlessly, captivated by how you can feel his breath against your lips, practically taste the mint from his toothpaste, and how you could kiss him if you leaned in just a bit further.

“It's okay if you do. You barely slept on the plane. My problems don't mean a thing in the face of your exhaustion.” Once again, you're speechless. How is he so selfless? How did you not notice before this very moment?

“I'm okay, Javy. Tell me one thing that's bothering you, the most important thing.” Your voice is the barest whisper, a sigh as he maneuvers you closer and traps your feet between his calves.

“Well, your feet are like itty-bitty ice cubes, Gyppie. The fuck did you do? Stick ‘em in a snowbank before you get into bed?” You gasp and growl playfully at him, pushing at his chest until he pulls you in even closer.

“But in all seriousness, you've been wondering why I didn't go home.” His words are expelled on exhales of breath, just as quiet as yours were earlier, spilling out in stops and starts. “I can't go home, Gyppie. My brother's wedding is on Christmas Day. But it's not that I'm against my brother's marriage. It's more like his fiancée is against having me there.”

You can’t believe anyone would go so far as to ban Javy from his brother's wedding just because she didn't want him there. You cup his jaw gently, letting your hand curl around to cradle the back of his in a position mirroring how he's still holding you.

“You want to know the kicker, Gyppie? She was my fiancée first. She dumped me because she couldn't stand the deployments and fell into bed with my brother days after.” 

“What a stupid thing to do.” You're no longer looking into his eyes, focused on his collarbones. “That was a dumb move, and you know it, Machado. She just alienated herself from most of your family. Your Mama first and foremost.”

His laughter has you giggling, too. When your laughter and his finally taper off, you're left to marvel at how much things have changed.

“You want to know the best part?” You hum in response. “The reason why we broke up was because I was already in love with someone else.”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask or even allow you a chance to get past your shock. His hands tip your head up again until you're face to face, and he kisses you, slow and sweet. Your moan takes you by surprise as you try to pull him even closer, letting him imprison you in his embrace.

“Fuck, this Christmas would've been so different if I'd just told you how much I loved you before we left flight school, Gyppie.” 

This time, you tug him in, kissing him slow and sweet until there's molten lava in your veins and there's snow in your mind. It's beginning to feel like a holly jolly Christmas indeed.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @footprintsinthesxnd @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[probablyasocialecologist]

“The rise of plantation capital spawned the drying of the west side of Maui,” said Kamana Beamer, a historian and a former member of the Hawaii commission on water resource management, which is charged with protecting and regulating water resources. “You can see the link between extractive, unfettered capitalism at the expense of our natural resources and the ecosystem.” Drawn to Hawaii’s temperate climate and prodigious rainfall, sugar and pineapple white magnates began arriving on the islands in the early 1800s. For much of the next two centuries, Maui-based plantation owners like Alexander & Baldwin and Maui Land & Pineapple Company reaped enormous fortunes, uprooting native trees and extracting billions of gallons of water from streams to grow their thirsty crops. (Annual sugar cane production averaged 1m tons until the mid-1980s; a pound of sugar requires 2,000lb of freshwater to produce.) Invasive plants that were introduced as livestock forage, like guinea grass, now cover a quarter of Hawaii’s surface area. The extensive use of pesticides on Maui’s pineapple fields poisoned nearby water wells. The dawn of large-scale agriculture dramatically changed land practices in Maui, where natural resources no longer served as a mode of food production or a habitat for birds but a means of generating fast cash, said Lucienne de Naie, an east Maui historian and chair of the Sierra Club Maui group. “The land was turned from this fertile plain – with these big healthy trees, wetland taros and dryland crops like banana and breadfruit – to a mass of monoculture: to rows and rows of sugar cane, and rows and rows of pineapple,” she said.

[...]

In Hawaii, water is held in a public trust controlled by the government for the people. But on Maui, 16 of the top 20 water users are resorts, time-shares and short-term condominium rentals equipped with emerald golf courses and glittering pools, according to a 2020 report from the county’s board of water supply. The 40-acre Grand Wailea resort, the island’s largest water consumer, devoured half a million gallons of water daily – the amount needed to supply more than 1,400 single-family homes.

[centrally-unplanned]

Those hip to the Ash Lore might remember me trying and failing to extract something from the FLCL Collectors Disc:

Namely, a collection of screensavers - we in the 2000's boys - that came with the disc. Everything else is pretty easy to pull, but screensavers are OS-based, these were built for a 2002-era Japanese version of Windows, which is not the easiest thing to emulate these days! My attempts to do so failed.

But the Power of the Internet cannot be so easily deterred; yesterday after posting about the abandoned fanwork FLCL fighting game, god-tier hero of the internet @m-accost messaged me that it reminded them of the CD, and being the coder I am not they were able to extract the data from the .exe directly. That revealed that its actually an SWF aka Flash file, which you can just emulate with any of the extant flash players, no Japanese OS bullshit required. So they did, and now you can play the screensavers from your browser right from the Internet Archive!

Discovering the images would have been nice but honestly a bit useless - as I had guessed, its all screenshots from the show. But extracted as screensavers, they have really cool transitions, music from The Pillows Soundtrack, and fun coloring effects. The coolest are absolutely VESPA.exe, which has a chaotic tiling effect:

And MANGA.exe recreated the 'moving manga' style sequence from the show. Ironically, GIRLS.exe is the *most* boring - cashing in on the name on that one GAINAX.

Making such things accessible is of course an exceedingly tiny win, but A: any Lost Media found is good, and this was pseudo-lost media due to its inaccessibility; and B: these kind of things were way more valuable in their original context. The internet in 2002 did not have readily accessible dumps of every frame of the show, gifs of key sequences, easy downloads of whole episodes, every promotional image digitized, etc. Some of it existed in some form for savvy users, but the median person would not ever transition an episode of TV to their computer at all. As such, recreations of things like the ending credits and the moving manga sequence, even in this very different form, was for some people the most accessible way they had to put a piece of media they loved on their computer. For someone somewhere this CD was a big deal in 2002, and its great to be able to see what they saw in it.

Also fucking screensavers man, just an amazing relic of computer tech. Gotta prevent burn-in of the pixels on your cathode ray tube monitor! And if you are doing that with HARUKO.exe you have won at life.

(tagged @flclarchives since I think you will be interested in this, and ofc @m-accost thank you for the amazing work, I am just the reporter on this one)

[mortuarywriting]

If I outline what the fuck i wanna see in my self indulgent au will it give me the kick in the ass to write it.

Obviously relative spoiler/high notes/plot points below

The premise is, so far, nobody has seen where Simon lives. As far as they- they being Gaz, Soap, and Price- know he has a flat in Manchester.

Well leaving base one night(ish, time negotiable), the road they were all taking in their separate vehicles is closed due to a nasty accident. Gonna be blocked for 24 hours kinda mess.

So Ghost offers to let them all stay at his place, if only for a bit or the night if they prefer

Everyone just kinda. Well this isn't what we were expecting but alright. So they follow his car, it's pissing down rain and you can't see shit before you but the tail lights you're following but they've committed and by the time they pull off the road they're fuckin nowhere. House is fairly isolated, separate garage building, coop in the backyard, and a thatch roof cottage. Whose Nan's attic is Simon living in???

Except, not a random old biddie. Just a random fat American?? It's obvious they're familiar enough with each other, giving each other shit and that there's a whole "you got back from a mission here is our you came home routine"

Whole mess. The group stays the night because now they're nosy and wanna find out what the relationship is. You both say roommates. They don't wholly believe that.

Simon and roomie sleep downstairs, he can't sleep in a bed yet after the mission and roomie makes sure there's enough background noise that he doesn't snap into combat mode everything is about to go to shit.

Next morning roomie and Simon team up to make a hodge podge of all kinds of breakfast food and between them all there are no leftovers. Concerns are had if everyone ate enough (and then biscuits and gravy settled).

Its back to routine and roomie goes out to grocery shop to stock back up on "i need to feed myself and a whole ass army dude" levels of food and snackies.

While Simon is trying to get Soap and Gaz to stop making excuses to stick around (all good-natured fun) there is a call. Roomie prefaces this with they're fine!!! But uh. They did get hit by a car. A bit. Enough that there has to be a report. Come get the groceries?

And this is the part where they find out Simon and roomie are married. Have been for y e a r s. Technically the town knows them under roomie's last name as a couple.

After the dust is settled and everyone is back at the cottage the explaining happens. Yes, they're married. Vegas happened. It's been a long time and they kinda glossed over the whole "he's a dead man" legal bit for it. Roomie still gets married rights. How do you think he has a lease as a dead man roomie legitimately wants to know. The cottage is in their name, his isn't on it to keep it all off the record if people come knocking for him.

(He does actually have a Manchester flat, though. Landlord takes cash payments however many months at a time and doesn't ask questions. Roomie gets mail from it every once in a blue moon.)

Relationship is largely "we're married but for tax benefits"esque because they're both some flavor of ace. If he's in town roomie checks on if he wants to go to the Saturday munches or not but that's sir not appearing in this fic.

But yeah. Just fun self indulgence.

Could go write the Vegas bit. Write work "being brought home". Bonding activities. List of things for when he retires. Potentially kidnapping. S o many fun options but I just. Gotta write it.