#everybody feel free to add your own things to 'sell'

[dragonwaffles]

you know what? fuck it. if tumblr won't gamify the bot plague, we can do it ourselves. we can take what tiktok did with the whole dubloon thing and adapt that to our needs.

you get a 1 coin bounty for blocking bots that follow you, 2 extra if you also report them as spam. keep track of your own coins and "purchases".

10 coins: cool sword

50 coins: a little creechur of your choice that rides around on your shoulder

100 coins: full suit of armor

[stinalotte]

So. Basingstoke Comic Con.

This is going to be a rant. I'm German, so I have a PhD in a) complaining and b) being blunt. Perfect combination for this post. It's going to be long, so buckle up.

I give explicit permission to repost, reblog, screenshot and post to other websites, comment, tag, and add to this in any way you see fit. Feel free to write your own experiences and criticism.

It's a modified version of the feedback email I sent them. Since then, they have put out a statement which directly contradicts some of the stuff other people have told us (and have evidence for) and which blames everyone from attendees to guests to staff to the weather.

First of all, despite all the mess with the actual con, I had a ton of fun. I hadn't seen some of these people in 20 years. I hadn't met some of y'all before, and I talked to so many people this weekend. I don't regret a single meeting, hug, smile, or laugh. I do wish however for the organizers to step on legos for the rest of their lives.

Frankly, they had a huge business opportunity and they blew it. They could have established themselves as THE Stargate convention in Europe. People were taking 15-hour flights to be there. We were willing to spend hundreds, in some cases thousands of pounds. With that lineup, they blew every other current convention out of the water. If they had done this right, this would have been a huge success and an absolute no-brainer for years to come. They could have been one of those cons that sell out in minutes. 

Instead, they let greed and poor organization guide them. They severely underestimated the size of the Stargate fandom. They didn't bother to learn about what the fans wanted and who the guests actually were.

A few things stood out for me:

Health and safety at the venue. No a/c, running heaters (!!) in some rooms, not enough opportunities to get water, way too many people for this size hotel. We are lucky there wasn't a panic or more severe injuries. Crowd control was non existent.

An impossible, ever-changing schedule. You can't put talks back to back, or meet&greets, or photo ops. Everybody knows you will run overtime and then the whole thing collapses. Changes were not communicated. Nobody knew what was going on.

Poorly trained staff. No staff meetings beforehand. Staff had no way to communicate with each other. Seriously, give them radios! Some of them didn't now the names of the guests or in which autograph group they were.

People could not get the things they paid for. Out of all the autographs included in my pass, I only got one, and only because a friend got it for me. [Marion, you're a fucking rockstar] I don't even want to know how many people will be attempting chargebacks on their credit cards in the coming days.

And the most important thing, the one that makes everyone I talked to the angriest: The way they treated the guests was appalling. They are such generous, hard-working people, and BCC shamelessly took advantage of that. Richard Dean Anderson was signing until after 1 am. A 74-year-old man who just wants to make his fans happy.

[BCC are now saying they were told he was a „slow signer“, aka someone who actually takes their time by talking to fans when signing autographs. Oh really? Then why did you continue to sell autographs well into Sunday when it was clear that there was no way he could get through them all in a reasonable time??]

David Blue was setting up his own autograph table. Several Atlantis actors went and got more of their headshots (by taking pictures in the photo room and printing them) because they ran out. Joe Flanigan tried to bring some order to the chaos more than once. He went full John Sheppard in the photo op room and took charge. We are lucky they're such sweet souls and didn't raise hell then and there. Nobody would have blamed them.

Staff were amazing and tried to make the best with what little support they were given. Kathleen, Finn and Nick (with the Stick!) especially, and so many others whose names I sadly didn't get. They worked so hard, never lost their humor, and tried to help as much as they could.

This disaster is entirely on management. It's a failure of leadership and an example of what not to do when you're running an event.

If you want to put on a convention, you need to go to people who have experience and listen to them. You need to attend several cons before even thinking about doing one yourself. And before, during and after, you need to take care of your people. You need to take care of your staff, of your guests, of the fans. You need to adjust the size of the event to the size of the venue, or vice versa. You need to actually be interested in this event beyond the money it will earn you. You need to know when you bit off more than you can chew.

I'm not hoping for a better one next year, because all of us said we won't be back. What I do hope is that hey sincerely apologize to the guests and at least double what money was raised for charity.

[caustic-cola]

Forgive me for saying something we all know already, but episode 15 of OUAW is an all-timer. Minor spoilers and observations below the cut as I ramble on about this for way too long.

It feels like a straight up soap opera or something. Plus the jokes are top notch, everybody's firing on all cylinders and throughout the episode everyone gets a chance to take the spotlight and be the funniest. Gideon throughout the entire ceremony was just funny as hell; when he's given the right setup Mace knocks it out of the park. Derek riffing with him ("the old ball and chain, and chain, and chain") before they walk down the aisle really adds character to their dynamic. Mikey being hilarious goes without saying, he comes up with bits as naturally as I breathe air and is also responsible for some of the most out of pocket jokes in the series. "Anyone else hear the sound of wind going through a canyon" and "You know, I have King's Right" are just foul and I love it.

And Richie and Nikkie. Couldn't have done it without you two. Richie playing the part perfectly, as always, and dutifully sneaking in with that one line during a bit that just kills. Not to mention coming up with the whole scheme in the first place. And I would never be able to do the things Nikkie does. She is a very well-balanced DM and it's extremely impressive how she knows when to move the plot along and when to just let things go off the rails, as well as pulling out random side characters that give the boys new material to work with and are funny af in their own right.

Episodes like these really put into perspective how well everyone works with each other. Groups like theirs don't happen all the time, and it takes a lot of time and effort to be so in tune with each other that you can improv funnier stuff for your free Youtube series than some teams of professional paid writers can come up with for a syndicated television show. They all bring different things to the table and keep each other balanced.

I know some people find Mikey's brand of humor a bit grating but I honestly adore it and he has a special place in my heart; out of all of them I think he's made me laugh the most. Richie is quieter and isn't a joke machine but the ones he does make are top tier, plus out of all of them I think he understands the most about the character he plays and considers that before every action. People talk a lot about Mace's laugh and yes, whenever he laughs the bit in question gets twice as funny. But he's sneaky with the jokes too, and delivers them with a lot of charisma that sells the punchline very often. Derek is kind of a combination of them all; he can do the physical comedy and the one liners and the banter, with a deadpan delivery that makes everything that comes out of his mouth more humorous. Plus when he drops the monotone and goes full out nuts it's an absolute treat. Andy wasn't in this episode (sigh) but he is absolutely excellent, not only does he manage to have good banter with every member of the group and of course plays the resident stuffed toy dipped in a bedpan that we all know and love, but he also is the one bigging up his tablemates the most often and it's super endearing. And of course, Nikkie is creative as all hell with the characters she brings to the table and the situations she cooks up for them to navigate through. I know she's working out of a book but there are so many things she made up on the spot so that we, the audience, could have a good time. She's also my favorite in Uprooted, I think her comedy style is similar to Mikey's but a bit less loud and a bit more sex-pesty, which I very much like.

Anyway, episode 15 rocks. That's it, see ya.

[aversiteespabilas]

A public service announcement regarding merch.

Hey everybody! It's not often that I actually type words in here but I felt like making something clear regarding my art and the selling of merch.

I do not sell merch with my art. Unless you live in Madrid, Spain, and I can meet up with you and hand it over, it's just not a viable option for me. The costs of production, packaging and shipping all add up, and I absolutely refuse to charge anyone 20€ for a print or 50€ for a keychain, especially knowing I won't be getting even half of that money, plus the time and work it would take me that I simply don't have. It's just not worth it. I promise you, it's not worth your hard-earned money. Merch is just not viable for me as a source of income in any capacity, and not very friendly to your pocket either.

HOWEVER!

My art is 100% free for personal use. Consider this my official statement. I allow full use of my art for ANY non-profitable endeavor. If you like what I do, I encourage you to please download it, use it as your phone or computer background, print it, order your own keychains or stickers or any other cool things with it, paste it all over your stuff. I would actually love if you did that. Send me pictures! I would be honored to see my art circulating in the real world. I don't particularly intend to make a personal brand of myself, so please print and use my work if it brings you joy. (I would appreciate a credit mention if you use it online, if only to prevent impersonation or anything like that, but other than that I won't mind.)

BUT!

I do need and would greatly appreciate your monetary support. I am living paycheck to paycheck at the moment, and any donation you feel like sending my way for the stuff I'm putting out would be a godsend for me, seriously. If you really, REALLY want to support me, go ahead and ask me for a commission. I will draw anything for you, anything you want! I can even do specific designs that you could print into merch. And they're always open! If there's a very limited amount of money you can offer, we can make that work too, I promise. ALL of the money you send when you commission me goes to paying for my groceries and my rent.

TL/DR: I don't plan to sell any merch online. I give you full permission to do your own thing with my art, as long as it's not commercial or for profit. The best way to support me is to commission me.

I hope this doesn't come across as rude or needy or anything, I just felt like making a clear statement on the matter since the question of merch came up with a friend.

This has been a PSA.

Thank you for reading! Have a great day!

[rubykgrant]

The Reds and Blues (your full group and anyone else you might wanna add) are in a Pride Parade. What is everyone doing? All I know is that Sarge is driving a float and Simmons here is IN CHARGE OF CONFETTI. (This ask is brought to you by me going to my first Pride Parade yesterday)

Hey, first of all, congrats! I hope you had fun~

Sarge is definitely driving his own float, and Lopez helped him build it; the thing looks like a big rainbow version of Red Base, with multiple flags of various gender/sexuality combos (but also, they all have the Red Team insignia in a corner somewhere). Rather than drive it out of sight, Sarge is towing the whole thing in the warthog, and he's wearing a special version of his armor (just this ONCE he will be more than pure RED; he's the sunset lesbian flag, because- "It's got all of us on there!". he fully embraces this, let's go lesbians!)

Simmons is once again the Social Chairman, so he got put in charge of trying to organize everybody's duties and make activity schedules. He had to revise it several times (because he tried to micro-manage EVERY LITTLE THING), but it finally worked out pretty good. Once everything is going good, he can finally just... relax. People can still check in with him for specific things, but he mostly just gets to chill and walk around with Grif (my personal ideas for Grif and Simmons- Simmons is trans and gay, Grif is bi. they've both been in different levels of denial/awkward about this over the years, but now they can finally be themselves and embrace it. Simmons felt the need to wear a binder for years, but for the full effect of feeling accepted and proud, he has a light button-up shirt with the gay rainbow as stripes opened with a loose-fitting binder that has the trans colors underneath. then just some jeans. such minimal clothing! in public no less! Grif's in shorts and his own opened button-up shirt with the bi stripes. they participate in the parade at one point, holding up a banner that reads- "Why Are We Here? Because We're Queer!")

Caboose is the confetti king, with Freckles naturally helping! He's wearing his helmet (just regular clothes instead of full armor), and Church helped him figure out how to make the visor outwardly change to different pride rainbows without messing with his vision

Doc has a booth for anybody who needs any medical attention, and also walks around to help re-fill hydration stations, plus a variety of free snacks for people (with plenty available for people with specific diets/allergies). He has a lot of helpful references for anybody who wants to read and learn about gender/sexuality (so family and friends who want to be more accepting and mindful can get more info, and other people can figure out how to find their own community)

Donut is handing out coupons for places that sell special soaps/candles with various pride color themes. He has his own float in the parade as well, and it is a WHOLE musical number, with some flamboyant special effects and excessive glitter

Tex is just walking around ready to intimidate the absolute heck out of anybody who tries to disrupt the events. No cops or bigots at Pride, just Tex (she WILL throw a car if she needs to). She and Church participate in the parade for a bit, just kinda having fun with casual drag (she's in a masc outfit, he's in a dress. Donut helped make sure he'd be very pretty~ nothing fancy, but they have fun going with a rock-a-billy theme)

Church is handing out different kinds of glow-sticks as the sun goes down (some of them the bracelet/necklace kind that clip together). Once it is really dark, he and the rest of the Fragments put on a light show, with Theta creating the most AMAZING pride color fireworks!

Kai helped get a few different live music things going, and set up booths that have various merch/clothing for people... and once that is done, she took her rightful place in a throne on a float (there are several intersex, bi, and pan designs... but she also has a crown that says "Slut Queen", and the kink flag as her cape~)

Carolina sings some songs, and helps with some of the booths here and there... but she's mostly just enjoying the chance to take this all in, and appreciate everybody all around her

Locus is still awkward with crowds... like Sarge, he's in full armor, but similar to Caboose's visor, his can change to different rainbow combinations. He's actually more comfortable being in the parade, where he doesn't have to TALK, so he does that most of the day

Tucker is helping with the kid-friendly areas (and gives anybody who wants to call this "forcing kids to be gay" MORE than a piece of his mind). There are a lot of games, snacks, free clothes/merch. When Tucker participates in the main parade, he sets off some confetti canons with his sword (on the float, he skips a shirt, and wears leggings with the big community pattern)

Wash has clothes with his ace, trans, and gay colors, and he helps set up different booths/floats. He also passes out free key-chains and bubble bottles for people

My OCs Poppy and Junonia would help as well; Poppy would be on a float that has different flowers arranged in pride color rainbows, tossing out fake flower bouquets to the crowd. Junonia has a booth for disability inclusion (with info for people who want to learn more), and also hosts artists/craft creators who are selling merch

[lostlegendaerie]

Backyard Chickens: A Master Post

So you want your own little dinosaurs to eat your table scraps and make breakfast for you in the sunny months. Well! I am here to provide a quick starter to getting your own flock set up - and yes, for urban chickens as well.

Things to consider:

What can you have? Local laws usually dictate how many chickens can be kept per household/acre. Laws can vary by state and city. Look this up first. You can usually keep more bantams (miniature chickens) than their full-size cousins, and with chickens being so social I do recommend bantams for urban/suburban yards.

What weather will they be exposed to? Indoor chickens can generate a lot of dust, but small outdoor coops can be difficult to heat safely. Dual purpose breeds are usually more cold-hardy than layer varieties, and everybody likes fresh water and shade in the heat. Frozen water bottles left outside to thaw can keep birds cool, too.

What will eat them? I have had little losses to foxes, personally, and more to neighborhood dogs. Raccoons are nearly everywhere in North America and will tear open fences to eat your babies. (I would know. I've had to deal with the aftermath.) Rabbit hutches are a good starter for bantams, but a good coop made of wood and a yard made of hardware cloth or dog fence panels (and with netting on top for hawks/owls) will keep out most things. Weasels/mink will fit through gaps bigger than an inch, so be careful of that, too.

What do they need? Chickens love to scratch and forage (and some can fly short distances and modest heights) so if you're letting them on the lawn be prepared for them to eat it - no pesticides on that turf! At night, they prefer to sleep on perches/something with a bit of height to it and do best locked in their coop where other critters can't eat them. A place to nest and lay their eggs in their coop (otherwise they will find their own little secret place, God help you find it) and a place to dust-bathe (like chinchillas) to help keep mites and lice out of their feathers. They'll also need some grit and calcium - crushed oyster shell (or their own eggshells) will help.

Where can I get them? Many farm and feed stores like Tractor Supply Company will sell baby chicks during the spring, but if you're looking for specific bantams or unusual breeds I recommend checking out your State Fair or a Poultry Association show [American version located here] and check it out. They're free admission, generally, and almost every show has people who bring birds to sell. While the demographics tend to slant pretty "red" I have seen plenty of blue hair and pronouns at poultry shows. Facebook can also be a great resource.

How do I get everyone to get along? Chickens are notoriously territorial, with a vicious pecking order that make Mean Girls a documentary. Chickens who are raised from chicks together will get along best, but if you need to add more I would introduce two or more at a time (so the newbies have a friend) and put them in a nearby yard/cage for a few days until everyone has worked out their opinions through the bars of a cage. Some breeds are sweeter than others (buff orpington) and some are.... spicy (Plymouth rocks).

Saro's Personal Breed Recommendations

Dual Purpose (cold weather) - Black Australorps , Buff Orpington, New Hampshire Reds are all generally pretty good natured and calm. The platonic ideal of a chicken.

Layer breeds (warm weather) - Leghorns are the go-to, but I have a soft spot for Hamburg as well. And of course, who wouldn't love a chicken who lays dark brown (Marans) or green/blue (Ameraucauna) eggs?

Bantams - D'Anvers with their little beards are my all time favorite and have the biggest personalities in my experience, but Old English Game (even more zippity) and Black Sumatras (all black, even down to the skin, and shockingly calm in hand) are high on the list as well. And everyone loves the fluffy-faced Silkie or feather footed Cochin.

Hopefully this is enough to get you started! Feel free to send me questions or add on with a couple of your own tips (especially non-US people and those with indoor chickens). I've been raising them for eggs, pets, and for show since 2005, but I am always eager to learn.

[f1]

Andretti has been to every F1 team about a buyout and nobody wants to sell | 2026 F1 season

Andretti Autosport boss Michael Andretti has responded to suggestions that his team should buy out an existing outfit in Formula 1 if they want to join the world championship. The paperwork to lodge interest in entering F1 in 2026 has already been submitted to the FIA by Andretti and other applicants. The governing body and F1 are considering whether to accept any of the submissions. Many of the current 10 teams have opposed calls to expand the grid by adding an 11th or further entries. Last week Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff said anyone wishing to join F1 should “buy a team”. However Andretti made it clear that is not an option at the moment. “We’ve tried. Nobody’s interested,” he told media at the Sardinia X-Prix, an event of the off-road Extreme E series his team competes in. “We’ve been to every single team. They keep saying ‘well, buy a team’, and nobody wants to sell! You go there, and they’re not even interested in talking. I’ve been there, done that, and not happy.” Andretti said he is “not really paying attention” to F1 teams being publicly dismissive of his efforts to join, and hopes to “continue to march forward and tick all the boxes that we need to do” to be F1-ready. “Everybody has their own reasons why they’re doing things, they’re trying to protect their own interests, which, [I] can’t blame them.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free “But everybody’s been looking out for themselves,” he added. “And that was the biggest thing, when I said that I got criticised because I didn’t agree with it. If I was in their situation, I’d probably do the same thing. So I don’t blame the teams. They all are going to look at [this situation] for themselves, because that’s what they need to do to be competitive. “It’s a very, very expensive sport. There’s a lot involved, and there’s a lot of commitment from every team. So they got to make sure they protect that, and I understand that’s what they’re trying to do. But in the end, they’re not going to be the ones that make the decision. It’s going to be up to the series and the FIA to decide if they think it’s the right thing to do.” Andretti expects a decision on whether any new teams are to be admitted will come “probably closer to the end of the month.” He said he “feels good” about his chances of joining the grid. “I think we checked every box. I feel good, but feeling good and the reality are always two different things. I think we have everything we need to go in and be competitive and be respectful and add to the series.” He refuted claims Cadillac’s involvement in his entry bid is merely a branding exercise, emphasising that Andretti would be “bringing one of the biggest car manufacturers in the world” to F1. “General Motors is very, very involved with this. People are trying to say ‘well, they’re just putting their name on it’. No, it’s a very, very [integral] part of the whole team, and part of the team. I think once everything goes public on what we submitted, you’ll see that it’s a big [involvement].” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free He said the team’s IndyCar star Colton Herta, the youngest ever race-winner in the category, is under consideration for a drive. “Colton is very much in your plans,” said Andretti. “If we do get into F1, he’s been our guy that we wanted to focus on to get him there. And he still has a lot of fire to want to do that. So I would just love that, him involved with it. “He did test the McLaren and did very, very well in the test. Which was very important because you wonder how he’ll adapt and you’ve got to do very well too. I would love to have him be the first competitive American [in F1] in a long time.” 2023 F1 season Browse all 2023 F1 season articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

[wixcook]

Xiao, Zhongli, and Childe with a baker S/O

Cw - spoilers for 1.1 and Childes character story

I baked a whole ass cake today and I’m super proud of it even tho it looks sketchy af and this is what brought this on mwah

•~•

Xiao

Indifferent

Wow. You can bake. That sure is something

Only shows his interested if you’re making something with almond tofu, or almond tofu itself

If you’re making something new and you’re not sure of it, will try it and give feedback

His feedback kinda sucks tho

“Needs more almonds” “Xiao it’s apple-“ “did I stutter?”

While on the outside he’s kind of a bitch about it, actually thinks it’s super cool that you can make stuff so easily

May have pulled some strings with boss lady to get some of your goods sold at the hotel

Wont admit it tho

Zhongli

Oh? You’re a baker?

Not as much interested in the baking part but the ✨Lore✨

Baking is a science and he’s got a bunch of useless facts and he is primed and ready to infodump

If you own and operate an actual bakery, he’s a frequent customer

Asks you to make him biscuits and little snacks for when he has tea

Will absolutely try whatever you put in front of him

Will absolutely critique it (even if you weren’t looking for critiques-)

Suggests new ideas or recipes for you to try! The usually turn out good, but uh,,,,, some not so much

Gives you some super old recipes, from during the days during the archon war and such

If you manage to make them turn out decent, he insists you add them to your bakery. After all, you’ll be the only one selling the product so you’re sure to make a killing

Absolutely loiters in your bakery in the back corner, book in hand, assortment of goodies on the table. He’s quiet and doesn’t disturb people, but intervenes when rude customers unfortunately do arrive

Childe

Oh ho?

What’s that?

You’re a b a k e r ?

You can practically s e e the cogwheels turning in his head

Never a good thing

The type of person to tap you on one shoulder, and steal cookies from the other side when you look away

Him? A taste tester? You don’t even have to ask he’s doing it anyways

I see him with a sweet tooth so he just,,, inhales whatever is put in front of him

It’s just gone I hope you didn’t want any

Saving up to open your own bakery? He’s got you covered

All he asks for in return is baked goods because hey that cake last week was really good do you think you could make it again

Super enthusiastic about helping where he can, after all, you’re precious to him and he wants to see you succeed :)

Not-so-quietly spends his time in the bakery when he’s free, usually behind the counter, eating the product

Personal advertiser. You don’t ask him to and he doesn’t ask if he should, he just does. People gotta know about the cakes and the cookies

After the incident with Teucer, formally introduces you to his younger brother as his S/O

Teucer loses his m i n d

His big brother, who works for the biggest toy company in Teyvat, is dating a baker, one of the most important jobs in modern society (to a child-)?

Fantastic news you’re an instant hit with his younger siblings

If you bring goodies with you when you visit his family, chances are they start calling you their older sibling.

Like?? You’re dating their older brother, you bring yummy food, and you’re super nice it’s a win-win for everybody

Except Childe who has to deal with the aftermath of three kids on a sugar rush

•~•

This for super long omg

Askbox is open!! Please feel free to send anything in, be it a request, or just a simple hello! :)

[mc-tummy-blur]

@ruestew here’s part two of the ask! Again I’ll try to be as concise with my reasoning as possible.

*Honestly I feel like I didn’t do enough justice in explaining how I feel about The Narrator. I probably need to dedicate a week of my time to create like, and essay about him because I feel like I got a lot more to say about him

My thoughts expanded under “read more”

“They are soooooo cool looking sounding”— Yeah he’s a disembodied voice and doesn't actually have a physical form, but Kevan does fantastic job in his voice work. He sells it so well in his deliveries, you can just feel when he’s having a good time, or when he’s distraught or scared, or furious at the situation. There’s so much range in his voice performance, and it does make The Narrator seem…real. And that alone, makes him cool looking sounding to me.

“They are deeper than they seem”— The game clearly shows us that The Narrator is extremely complex, both in the OG and UD (though it’s WAY more expanded upon in Ultra Deluxe). In the OG, he desperately wants the player to play the story in the way that HE wanted you to play it (Freedom Ending). But, he makes other options that lead to a variety of endings, yet still hopes that you choose “correctly”. Probably in order to give the illusion to the player that “Yes, your choices do matter and you do have free will.” (Which, while is probably not a new hot take, it is completely ironic to think about. As TSP literally consists of you trying to free yourself from The Narrators preferred path, but he wont allow it, even though his correct ending he made is about us trying to make our own choices for once and free ourselves from the machine). In the UD, he’s stuck in the past, thinking that his work IS perfect and loved by everybody (which to be fair, TSP pretty much is). But when he learns that there are people who don’t like it, it takes him on a downward spiral mentally, and arguably creatively. He thinks he has to cave into trying to create work for and audience that love the OG, and for an audience that wanted things such as gags or ways that make them feel comfortable about the games meta narrative. The result is that he made something that, in actuality, didn’t need to be made. But he felt like he needed too, in order to show others (and himself) that his work hasn’t dropped in quality and is on par, if not even better than the first. That his story means something and that by just adding the stuff that he thinks he needs to add, will make more people see what the meaning is.

“Wow! They are a horrible person”/“They’ve never done anything wrong in their life <33”/“Wow… They are literally me!— He is literally fine with killing off Stanley/The Player at any given point (and even mock them as they die). He will belittle Stanley/The Player when they don’t follow the story or break the game in some way. Yet also wants to try to make Stanley/The Player/Fans happy. He wants to give them some sort of control over the game. Specifically, in UD, even though he encountered a few negative feedbacks, he instantly wants to give those fans what they want. Also, him struggling with trying to make something perfect in his eyes while also trying to please the masses in some way, and him having the intense fear of being alone and that he needs his work to be heard is justtt,,,, man. It’s something that makes me feel bad, and it some areas, I do relate to it a whole lot (at least with wanting to be heard in some way).

“They work better as part of a dynamic”— Do I even need to explain why he should NOT be separated from Stanley/The Player at any point though seeing how he reacts to being alone definitely is an eye opener to his character that was only barely touched on in the OG, with that ending where you see Stanley not moving (dunno the ending name to that).

“They’re like a blorbo to me”/I’m mentally ill about them”— See points above

[andfollowthesun]

come kiss me silver and gold

written for @dinlukenation's dinluke week day 5! prompt was: knight/prince au.

read it on ao3 if u prefer (5.6k words)

Din is covered in sand and krayt dragon blood and other various fluids when he enters the inn, the smell of it lingering in his nostrils and causing everybody to go silent once he steps past the doorway. Peli swoops the kid from his arms as soon as she sees him, and it’s testament to how exhausted he is that he doesn’t protest. She points up the stairs, “Bath’s waiting for you,” and he only spares her a grateful nod before trudging to his room. He’d usually be a little more considerate— beskar is heavy, and Peli’s stairs don’t deserve his clomping footsteps— but given the day he’d just had, he figures he’s allowed to take a few liberties.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice Luke the first time, because when he comes back downstairs, body and armour clean, vision still tinged the same red fog as the colour of the dragon’s stomach lining, he finds it hard to notice anything but Luke.

He’s sitting in the corner, alone, and that’s the first thing— nobody ever came to Peli’s alone, or if you did there’d be someone trying to swindle you or sell you something within the first five minutes. But he’s just sitting there on his own, a berth of at least four or five seats between him and any other patrons.

The other thing is that he’s so still. Head bent over some papers on the table in front of him, empty plate pushed to the side. Hands steepled in front of his nose, only one hand gloved, brow furrowed. For all appearances, he held himself with the calmness of a man who knew he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he was going to do with it all.

Din tears his eyes away when Peli sets Grogu down on the seat next to him, along with two covered bowls of stew. He reaches to gather Grogu in his right arm while balancing the bowls in his left, to take up to this rooms to eat, but Grogu rips the covering off one of the bowls and in the blink of an eye is wrist deep in food, half of it already smeared over his mouth. Din stares at him, the grainy feeling in his brain meaning it’s a good few seconds before he computes the fact that apparently, he’s so tired even the kid has faster reflexes than him right now. He’s acutely aware of the way his stomach is cramping with hunger, but he knows getting Grogu to stop eating for the five minutes it will take to move them to their rooms will be more effort than it’s worth.

Peli’s smiling at him, a half-crooked, reluctant twist of her mouth, and Din tilts his head in thanks for watching Grogu as he cleaned up. She nods in return before heading back to the kitchen, and Din settles in to wait for Grogu to finish his dinner. He runs a gentle hand over his head, before letting him grab hold of his thumb and chew on his glove. It’s clean. Mostly.

His thoughts are interrupted when the chair across from him scrapes out with a loud screech, and he looks up to see the dark figure from the corner now sitting at his table.

“Hello.”

Din is suddenly glad that his signature response to people introducing themselves unexpectedly to him is to stare them down in silence, because currently, behind his visor, he’s gawping. The man in front of him, for lack of a better word, is bright, even more so now that he’s right there instead of in the corner. Din feels like he can’t look at him directly, needs to steal glances through his lashes instead, like a bloody schoolgirl. But at the same time, he can’t look away.

“My name is Luke.”

And the last sign that Din has completely lost his mind and is going delirious with exhaustion— and perhaps also that he’s getting old if he’s so easily soft for shiny, pretty boys— is that he answers, before his brain has really caught up to his mouth, “Din.” Not with continued stony silence, not even Mando. His actual name.

“Din.” A smile spreads across Luke’s face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Din is thankfully saved from answering when Grogu pulls on his glove a little too hard, overbalancing to tip forward and flip the remainder of his dinner over on the table. Din clucks his tongue, and leans forward to clean up the spill.

“Be careful, kid.” he chides, and he’s in the middle of claiming Grogu’s bedtime as his graceful exit from the conversation when Luke holds up his ungloved hand.

“Let me,” he says, and with a wave of his hand, flicks the tissues across the table to clean up the mess, and then sends them flying neatly into the bin across the room.

“What,” Din says, “the fuck.”

That seems to cow Luke a little, or, at least his smile turns sheepish. “Sorry,” he says, even though he doesn’t seem very sorry at all. In fact, now that Din has been staring at him for a couple of minutes and can decipher some of the twitches of his brow, the jut of his jaw, he seems, of all things, a little smug.

Din refuses to think about how the neat motion of Luke’s hand— something he was clearly practiced in, confident, precise— showed the delicate bones in his wrist, which only made him look more fragile, and Din especially refuses to think about how his mouth had watered with the sudden desire to lick over the joint. He has no interest in competing with some wizard in a weird ego game, no matter how attractive he is, so he gathers Grogu more firmly in his arms and makes to stand, but before he can pick up the other bowl that contains his own dinner, Luke speaks again.

“Wait!”

And there’s something in his voice that makes Din pause; a note that wasn’t there before. It’s not quite a cry for help— Din can already tell Luke is too proud for that— but it’s close. That brightness that had first caught his eye before is more apparent than ever, and Luke looks at Din with pleading eyes that rivals Grogu’s.

God, how is he even prettier like this? He curses himself for being weak, and sits back down.

“Sorry.” Luke repeats. His posture as slumped a little, and the bravado from before is all but gone. It’s like he was trying to be someone else before and now he’s exhausted from the effort. “I’m not very good at this.”

Din tilts his head questioningly.

“Making friends, I mean.” Luke elaborates.

Din has to stop himself from snorting. The last friend he made was Cara, about ten years ago. He didn’t need to make friends. He had the kid. He knew enough people.

Luke takes Din’s silence as an answer, and changes the subject. “What brings you to Naboo?”

This, at least, Din knew how to respond to. “Business.”

Luke’s face goes cheeky. Din knows his answer sounds suspicious on a good day, and he knows that Luke knows that. What he doesn’t know is why Luke’s face now looks like a foundling’s on Life Day, momentarily flooring Din with this new, relaxed, open expression. He’s still holding himself incredibly still, but not like before where he was tensed like he was trying to prove something, or even before that in the corner, when he seemed to be propping himself upright with the sheer force of that stillness. Din finds that he likes this version of Luke best so far, bottom lip full with smiling, one dimple sitting on the corner of his mouth, and despite himself, Din finds himself leaning forward.

“What brings you to Peli’s?” he asks, trying to level the playing field. It didn’t seem fair that Luke already had such an effect on Din, when he was still just sitting there, regarding Din slowly, deliberately.

“What,” Luke spreads his hands. His tone is affronted, but the cheeky smile is still on his face. “A man can’t come get a drink?”

“To Peli’s?” Din doesn’t keep the incredulousness out of his voice, and he only lowers his voice as an afterthought. No need to get on Peli’s bad side, but if Luke wants to be secretive, that’s his own business. Din knows what it’s like to hold everything you know tightly to your chest. It would hardly be right for him, of all people, to judge.

“If I’m being honest,” Luke says, after the silence between them has stretched out to the wrong side of awkward, “I came over because I noticed you watching me.”

“I was watching you too.” he adds, when Din doesn’t reply immediately. Din feels his face go bright red under his helmet, and he watches, transfixed as Luke’s tongue darts out briefly to wet his lower lip.

“Why?” he asks, when he remembers how to talk.

Luke gives Din an appreciative once over. “You’re not bad to look at.”

It’s such a line that Din is embarrassed it only makes him hotter. He thinks it’s something to do with how Luke has shifted, bodily, the long line of his legs now sprawled out in his seat like he’s on a chaise lounge, not a creaky chair in a dingy bar. But it’s not just that; Luke has shifted in other ways too, and Din can’t quite put his finger in it, but there’s a hungry look in his eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago, even though that must have been the very reason Luke made his way over to his table. The brightness has dimmed, not like the spluttering out of a torch, but like coals at the bottom of a fire.

The thing is, Din doesn’t do this— doesn’t indulge. The right thing to do, the safe thing, would be to turn Luke down, gently, but firmly, take Grogu back to his room, go to sleep, and head back to Nevarro tomorrow morning.

“It’s my last night as a free man,” Luke says, watching him with those bright, bright eyes of his. His smile is so sad that Din forgets to ask him to elaborate. He wants to wipe away the downturned tick of Luke’s mouth, forget about the dragon, about how the kid nearly died, again.

Luke must sense Din’s resolve caving, because he says, brightening, “So, what do you say you humour someone on his last night of freedom?”

“Who?” he says, pretending to look around, and Luke laughs, the last thing Din can coherently remember is the feeling of his ungloved fingers wrapping around the sliver of exposed skin between Din’s glove and vambrace.

+++++

Din wakes up alone.

Not that he was expecting anything else, but there’s a brief moment while he’s still swimming out of sleep, curled in the warm patch of sunlight that’s filtering through the window, where he can pretend the phantom heat next to him is Luke’s body, bare and soft.

When they’d stumbled up to Din’s rented room last night, Luke’s breathy laugh fogging up Din’s visor as he clumsily bounced his cheek against the beskar in his effort to get closer, closer, Luke’s clever fingers had snuck to the back of Din’s neck, looping to pull him in. And even though there was no indication he meant to pull off Din’s helmet, Din had still flinched, and then marvelled in shock at the way Luke had immediately softened, pulled back, the way he’d been able to read the minute twitches of his body him so accurately already.

“Not the helmet,” he’d said, his voice already a rasp even though they both were still fully clothed.

“Okay.” Luke had said.

And afterwards, when they were both sweaty and Din still trying to catch his breath from quite frankly the most incredible sex he’d ever had in his life, Luke had gotten up without a word, BUT before Din even had the chance to miss him, was back in bed, curled up against Din’s side, finishing off the knot for the blindfold he’d looped around his eyes.

“If you want to take your helmet off to sleep,” he’d murmured softly, and then he was out like a light, leaving Din to stare at him open mouthed for the second time in three hours, stunned at the trust, the thoughtfulness, the vulnerable nape of Luke’s neck.

He’s taken his helmet off with shaking hands many, many times before, but it’s the first time it feels like a benediction.

He shakes himself out of the memory, and rises out of bed. By the time he comes down the stairs, collected Grogu from Peli who is looking at him with a shit-eating grin on her face, he’s mostly convinced himself that he can live the rest of his life with Luke as a sudden flash of brightness, the scent-memory of his skin on the sheets.

Grogu chatters to Din as they walk from Peli’s towards the Naboo Spaceport, and Din makes all the appropriate noises like he can understand him, and he’s concentrating on making sure his kid is getting the enrichment he needs (he read somewhere once it was very important for early development)so he doesn’t notice the unease in the Spaceport at first. But he rounds the corner to where the Razor Crest is parked, and suddenly it’s all there; the prickling silence and sideways glances from the deck crew. Din’s gaze zeroes in on his ship, and he sees the men waiting outside the Razor Crest.

Not just men. Royal guards, from the look of their deep blue uniforms.

They must be on the lookout, because as soon as he steps foot into the hangar, one shouts, “You there!” He keeps walking forward calmly, but he shifts his grip on Grogu to one hand and rests his other hand on his blaster.

“You own this ship?” one of the guards asks once he’s within earshot. The leader, Din notes, spying the gold crescent badge on his breast.

Din nods warily. He’s half-distracted thinking how he can get Grogu to safety, if it all goes to shit, and the other half is mentally running through all of the ship’s modifications. He’s pretty sure most of the illegal ones are well hidden enough that a preliminary search wouldn’t have found them.

“You fought the dragon yesterday?”

Din blinks, jolted out of his train of thought, and he’s too startled to lie. “Yes?” he says, and then tenses, widening his stance a little. Everybody had seemed ecstatic when he’d come back into town yesterday, but the last thing he needed was lord furious about their precious pet dragon being injured.

“Come with us.” The head guard’s tone brooks no argument, and he doesn’t offer any further explanation either. And although his last fifteen years of bounty hunting are all screaming at Din to run, take the kid and get the fuck out of Naboo, there’s a fuzzy feeling behind his sternum tugging at him to follow that makes him feel lighter than a second ago. It’s the same way he’d felt when he’d seen Luke in the inn last night, what had allowed Luke to reach across the table and touch him. And inexplicably, it feels well worn, familiar to him.

Din goes with them.

+++++

Din forces them to circle the speeder back around to Peli’s first, where he drops off the kid. She takes Grogu with a fearful look in her eyes, and Din doesn’t look at her as he presses his forehead against Grogu’s. He doesn’t think about how it could be the last time he sees the kid.

The palace at Theed is built on the edge of a cliff, with domes of gleaming jade and its marble walls carved out straight out of the rockface itself. When they pull over the drawbridge, Din can hear the thundering of the waterfalls, and through the windows of the entrance hall, see the vast ocean to one side, glittering in the sun, and the green of the rolling plans on the other side. It was beautiful and grand and a little bit terrifying all at once, if Din was the kind of person who was impressed by that sort of thing.

The entire trip to the palace is silent, and it’s only when they’re deep into the castle, in front of a huge set of doors, that the head guard finally addresses Din, “Wait here,” before he disappears through the doors.

Din’s stuck outside the grand oak doors, and he briefly contemplates prying one of the rubies or emeralds that are encrusted into the door’s bolts with his vibroknife— could probably get good money for them— and how he could distract the remaining guards around him for long enough to do it, when the doors open.

It’s a throne room, that much is clear, with a lush red carpet and floor to ceiling windows along one wall. The sun is at midday height now, and its glare casts long beams of light across the floor, leaning towards the people at the other end of the room. Din steps through the door and takes stock of his new surroundings.

Seated on the throne is the Queen, who Din understands is well beloved and not at all prone to torturing bounty hunters, although her dark expression says otherwise. To her left, sitting on another throne—although perhaps lounging would be a better word— is a man who Din presumes is the king. In another world, Din knows, instinctively, that he would have been a dangerous opponent, long scar over one eye, shaggy brown hair, gaze sharp and keen. The same can be said for the young woman standing behind him, the same gaze, the same tight line of her lips.

To the Queen’s right stands an old man, white beard and white hair, drab brown robes. He looks mildly more welcoming, mouth drawn up into a soft smile, although Din can still read tension in the way he’s holding himself. And next to him…

Din stops as he looks at the last figure on the left of the room, the warm brightness, the shocked curve of a mouth dropping open. Din remembers how that mouth had opened against his throat last night, hot and wet, and how he’d wanted Luke so badly he thought he might combust.

Luke, who is in front of him right now, in golden robes, nothing at all like the black ensemble he wore last night. Luke, who had disappeared from Din’s bed this morning without a goodbye.

Din feels the mark he knows Luke bit into the inside of his thigh last night throb for a second, and he has to force himself to keep walking down the room. He stops in front of the thrones, and stares at them for a minute, the five of them assembled in front of him.

“What is your name, Sir Knight?” Queen Naberrie’s voice is kind, but there’s a steel underneath. She doesn’t look very happy to be sitting there. Belatedly, Din realises that he probably should have knelt.

Din shakes his head. It’s hard for him to keep his eyes off Luke. “I’m not a knight.”

Her face doesn’t lighten up, exactly, but a flash of humour does cross her face before it’s as gone as quickly as it came. “How would you like to be addressed then, good sir?”

Din tries to hide his grimace at good sir, although he doesn’t think he’s very successful. “Just Mando is fine.”

“Mando,” Queen Naberrie says, all trace of laughter gone from her expression. Beside her, the king’s face goes completely blank, like he’s trying to hide a sudden tide of emotions, and the young woman standing behind him scowls, glaring daggers at Din.

“Naboo is in your debt,” the Queen continues. “We thank you for your act of service.” It sounds like the words are being forced out of her mouth as she says it.

“What?”

The Queen’s expression becomes a little more impatient, a little more sour. Din feels like he’s running out of time, even though he didn’t realise there was any sort of rush to begin with. But before she can say anything, the old man standing the right of her chair speaks.

“You’re Mandalorian?”

“Yes.” Din’s hand goes to his blaster. The old man may not look like much, but Din knew better than to be fooled by appearances. However, the movement doesn’t make him any more tense. If anything, it seems to amuse the old man.

“Padmé,” he says, turning to the Queen. “I don’t believe he knows.”

She turns to her other side to look at her husband, and a silent conversation passes between the three of them, quirking of eyebrows and slight flicks of the wrist. Din takes the moment to drink in the sight of Luke, who is still staring straight back at him, eyes glittering. Din wants to rip those golden robes off him where they’re buttoned up to his neck, run his hands down his sides to the spot where he learnt last night Luke is ticklish, hear the breathy giggle before he firms his touch.

Except Luke is standing next to the throne, not beside him under the coarse sheets, and the distance between them may as well be one of Naboo’s oceans.

“Mando,” the Queen says, drawing his attention back to her. “You slew the krayt dragon yesterday, and in doing so, saved the lives of hundreds of my people. As is tradition, a dragon-slayer is given the princess’ hand in marriage.” She gestures to the girl standing behind the king.

Din’s thoughts come to a screeching halt, and his eyes flicker to follow the direction of the Queen’s finger. The princess’ arms are still crossed across her chest, and her expression looks more thunderous by the second.

“However,” the Queen continues, and Din has to stop himself from sagging in relief, there’s a however, thank god, “my daughter is already promised to another. As such, I hope you will be similarly pleased with my son’s hand in marriage.”

The relief vanishes, and Din turns sharply to look at Luke, who’s practically glowing looking back at him. But all Din feels is the swirling sickness in his stomach.

“No.” He can barely hear himself over the rush in his ears.

The Queen raises her eyebrows. “No?”

“I don’t want to marry him.”

“It is tradition.” The Queen is cool and calm, and it makes Din want to hit something.

“I don’t want him!”

His voice bounces off the ceiling. There’s a shocked beat of silence, and when Din dares to look at Luke, all the light has left his eyes. And no sooner than Din has caught a glimpse of his face, as if Luke senses his gaze— which he probably has— he turns sharply on his heel and leaves the room.

Queen Naberrie watches him, with an eye far too keen for Din’s own liking. “I think,” she says slowly. “We might give these two some time alone.” She stands in a rustle of silk, and gestures for her husband to do the same. She puts a firm hand on her daughter’s shoulders and the old man does the same for the king, guiding them out of the room through a separate door despite the king and the princess’ loud protests.

It leaves Din alone in the throne room, the silence suddenly suffocating around him. The heat from the sun streaming in through the windows no longer feels like an extension of the palace and the view, but instead sharp, urgent, stifling.

Din takes a deep breath, and follows the door Luke had exited through.

It opens out to a courtyard behind the throne room. The air is muggy outside, and he feels the dampness of sweat on his underclothes, the awkwardness of the quiet clank of every movement with the bulk of his armour. Luke is standing on the far side, by a balcony which overlooks the sea.

Din comes to a stop in the middle of the courtyard, unsure if he’s allowed any closer. Last night, he would have said that closing the distance between himself and Luke would have solved any problem between them, healed any miscommunication. He can still feel the phantom strength of Luke’s fingers laced between his, like a balm to his aching joints. Now, he’s not sure if his presence is welcome at all.

“You really didn’t know?” Luke asks without turning around.

Din’s tongue feels clumsy in his mouth. “No.” he says. He knows he’s not saying exactly what he means, because he does, very much, want Luke. Just not like this; passed around like a political jockey, one of the means the end is supposed to justify. Luke, being given to Din like a playing piece in chess, bound to him out of duty, instead of choice. The mere thought of it makes the sickness in Din’s stomach swell up again.

He doesn’t know how to say any of that, so instead, he says, “I wasn’t trying to slay a dragon. I was just protecting my foundling.”

Luke gives a startled laugh. “Of course. Thousands of knights actually trying to kill it and you go and do it by accident.”

They lapse into silence. Din wants to get that awful, stricken look off Luke’s face, but the only way he can think of doing so would be to touch him, just once, softly; cross this vast distance between them and dig until he sees the brightness he’d held to his bones last night. It kills Din to think he’s lost the privilege to comfort him.

“I thought,” Luke says, his voice quiet, wobbly. He takes a breath and starts again. “They told me yesterday that someone had slain the dragon, and I was to be married the next day. Figures the only dragon-slayer I’d actually want wouldn’t want me back.”

He sounds so self-deprecating, none of the soft sureness Din had seen last night, the cocky slant of his smile when he’d wrapped his mouth around Din’s dick. Din wants it back so acutely that he can feel it like a physical weight in his ribs. He doesn’t like this version of Luke, buttoned up tight, uncertain of Din, of the trembling thing they had cradled between them last night.

But he can’t seem to have Luke back without anchoring him to Din, so instead, he says, “I didn’t kill the dragon.”

Luke turns around. “What?”

“I wounded it, sure. But it was definitely still alive when I last saw it.”

“So you don’t have to marry me.” he adds, when Luke just stares at him, but even as he says it, it feels like there’s a crack in his heart. This morning, he’d shored up the hole Luke had left with the curled imprint of his body on the sheets, and now it’s all coming back, all the golden light pouring out with how much Din wants, simply, to hold Luke. Not to marry, not even to fuck. Just to hold.

Luke does not seem to be on the same page as him. “So the dragon is still out there?”

Din nods confusedly, and Luke closes his eyes. “Fuck.” he says.

“It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Din says. “You don’t have to marry me.”

“It’s still out there.” Luke repeats, but it’s not a question this time, and Din looks away from how he’s wringing his hands, tries not to think about how much he wants to press his palm against Luke’s heated skin, in hopes it would loosen some of this sudden nervous energy. Looking away allows his brain to clear up a little, not completely occupied with the sight and thought and smell of Luke Luke Luke, and it hits him all at once.

“It’s still out there. Oh, god. It’s still out there in the village.” Din feels the dread pool in his heart. “I’m gonna have to go kill it, aren’t I.”

“Well, you don’t have to…” Luke trails off.

Din’s already striding back into the throne room, before a thought occurs to him, and he turns around and goes back to Luke, taking one of his hands in both of his. “If I manage to kill this thing for good this time,” he says, “you still don’t have to marry me. I don’t care about tradition.”

Luke has gone completely still under his touch, just like he was when Din first saw him in the corner of Peli’s, his grip strong under Din’s palm. His eyes are very wide, very blue, and even though Din knows he can’t see through the visor of his helmet, he feels like Luke is reading his face with inexplicable familiarity. With the calmness of a man who knew he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he was going to do with it all.

Din drops Luke’s hand like he’s been burnt and steps away, his face going red with the realisation of his rash decision in the heat of emotion.

Luke says, “I’m coming with you.”

And Din forgets all about how completely inappropriate it was for him to touch Luke like that. “What? No.” Not Luke, with his soft body and curves and bony wrists, who had a family in the palace who clearly cared about him. Who Din still wanted to hold afterwards, and they couldn’t do that if Luke was dead via krayt dragon.

“I can handle myself.” And there he is, Din can see the man last night who wiped the table clean with his freaky powers just because he could; because, Din realises now, he was trying to impress Din, not compete with him. The relief at seeing the glimmer of that Luke again, without the frills and false airs, almost swallows him.

“Also,” Luke adds, as Din is still marvelling at the appearance of Luke’s brash edges again, “if someone else went and killed it now, I would have to marry them. I’m just making sure you make good on your word.”

Din feels a flare of anger in his chest, way too intense for having only known Luke two days, and resolutely puts it out of his mind, deciding to think about it later. But then Luke grabs his hand again, tugging him through the throne room and back to the speeder, and Din can’t find it within him to pull away. He’s only thinking about peeling his glove off so they can be skin to skin, and then peeling that disgustingly impractical gold ensemble off Luke’s body. He’s thinking about how Luke didn’t pull away when he’d grabbed his hand before, and now, how he’d reached first, and the lucent gleam in his eyes when he’d looked at him, like suddenly everything had become clear to him.

And as the speeder roars to life, the warm shape of Luke in the passenger seat next to him, Din dares to hope, could it really be that easy?

+++++

The dragon, surprisingly, is easy enough to kill, what with Din having mostly incapacitated it the previous day when he’d ripped himself out of its stomach. He’s honestly surprised that the dragon had survived long enough to drag itself back to its lair. Luke almost looks disappointed, and if Din’s learnt anything as a bounty hunter, it’s that as soon as you complain about it being quiet is when things start going to shit.

They’re climbing back into the speeder when the first blaster shots are heard, some very angry knights— real knights— who apparently were banking on slaying a dragon and marrying a princess to get fat and rich off the royal coffers, pissed off that someone else had gotten there first.

Din groans, rolling out the crick in his shoulder— after the dragon (twice!), knights seem as relevant as gnats— but he draws his spear all the same. After all, it didn’t matter what killed you, a blaster shot is just as deadly as krayt dragon teeth.

And then Luke, out of fucking nowhere pulls out a green sword and dispatches them all without breaking sweat. Din hasn’t even moved from his spot next to the speeder. A ball of heat shoots straight through his stomach, and he feels his mouth go dry.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you could handle yourself.”

Luke smiles serenely, sheathing his sword. Din feels his stillness again, this time, the kind that indicates imminent danger. Unfortunately, because Din has now accepted that he just functions on a lower brain capacity around Luke, he can feel certain parts of himself getting very interested in a dangerous version of Luke.

“Luke.” he manages. He knows he has to say this before anything else happens. “You don’t have to marry me.”

And Luke just looks at him, patient, light, none of the heavy sadness Din had seen in the courtyard, and Din knows, then and there, that Luke understands, that he’s been able to read in between the lines: everything Din hasn’t allowed himself to want from fear of losing it. Luke knows what he wants to say— what he’s going to say. He just has to say it.

“But would you like to come with me?” he gets out.

Luke’s face breaks open into a smile, like rain after drought, and this time, Din doesn’t stop himself from crossing the distance between them, pulling Luke flush against him by the waist. Luke knocks his forehead against Din’s helmet, and Din closes his eyes, basking in the sheer sense of rightness.

“I’ve always wanted to see the galaxy.” Luke says after a long minute, and Din laughs, feeling so light he could fly.

[stxleslyds]

I’ve heard a bunch of different opinions on this throughout the years, but I don’t know if you already got this question:

Do you think that Jason should be on a team/have relationships outside of the batfam? Because I’ve seen some say that his character only works when completely isolated (at least in the terms of positive relationships) while others say that it’s high time that he starts gaining actual friends and such like the rest of the Robins. Personally, I’m team friends bc I’m getting bored of all of Jason’s best stories having to pit him against basically everybody (or him being chained to rest of the bats all the time. Also I feel like Jason not having chemistry with anyone is because he’s rarely allowed to interact with other characters while remaining competent and well written)

Hi! Thank you for the ask!

I will be honest, for some reason, this question is making me go back and forth with what I want to say. So, as I am writing this, I am also telling myself the answer to this question.

First of all, I am a big fan of Jason having no interaction with the Bat-Clan in comics’ canon. This whole “Batfamily” thing isn’t really my thing or what I would like to see in Jason Todd/Red Hood books. To me, that concept doesn’t belong in comics and it’s not real, DC has made no effort in actually building a family with these characters so I would love it if Jason was “taken out” of the Batfamily narrative.

But as of now Jason has been pushed and locked away with these characters so DC can “sell” more books to people that can find that narrative for free in fanfiction.

Now, would I like Jason getting a team and/or friends if he weren’t involved with the Bat-Clan now? The answer would be no. Well, the short answer will be no and I will tell you why.

Jason Todd as the Red Hood is a character with no specific or distinguishable character traits. He has been in constant limbo, characterization-wise, ever since Lobdell stopped writing him. Me saying that is in no way me praising Lobdell for his ten years of absolute garbage writing because Lobdell was also messy when characterizing Jason. But on a certain level, his Jason followed a line or structure.

Now everything is a mess, every writer that comes by for a couple of issues either adds something that will eventually only confuse people or they recycle old stories that have long been solved. Jason has had his story re-written way too many times.

Where am I going with this, you ask? Well, adding a team or friends will only worsen things for Jason’s characterization, this has happened before, namely, with Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011). RHatO started fresh after Jason’s characterization was butchered by two or three different writers and instead of this new writer going to the original material (UtRH) he decided to start fresh, and alongside that fresh new start came the absolute character assassination of two very well-loved characters, Roy Harper and Koriand’r.

Jason’s, Roy’s, and Kory’s characterizations were all modified so much that we essentially had three new characters in our hands. And that was done so the writer could fit these characters in the story that he wanted to tell.

And that is my biggest fear right now for Jason, him being re-written/modified even more beyond recognition for him to fit with a team or something like that. And it is scary because if Jason has been in limbo for the past year, right now he is drowning in limbo, DC took his guns away, they dragged him back to Bat-Dramaland and he is “figuring himself out”.

So, giving him a team or friends wouldn’t be the best for him NOW. That’s why the answer to your question is no, I wouldn’t want to see him in a team right now.

But! If things were different and Jason had a solid characterization and his morals weren’t messed around with, I would actually like to see him have a group of people by his side. It would be something in between a team and friends.

And I have talked about this idea before, if Jason were to be a developed UtRH Jason I would love it if he actually created his own gang or group of people with people that used to work for Gotham’s baddies. Like him showing people that are working out of necessity with Black Mask that if they work with him, it will actually be better because he can offer protection against both Black Mask and Batman.

I believe that him can make Gotham’s people feel safe in a work environment because he is their boss. And as time goes by, he can become really close friends with the people that work with him.

I see Jason as an amazingly ruthless but also a kind boss that will always have your back if you are loyal to him. And the Jason that I like or that I believe should be in current comics isn’t a person that trusts easily, so working with other vigilantes would be hard for him.

Jason has very strong thoughts that can be very polarizing to people, so him connecting with other vigilantes might not be simple, but Gotham’s good people, that are trapped in bad situations, have been through a lot so I think that if they ever come across the Red Hood, they will like him because he can actually make a difference in Gotham.

So, friends or a team as he is written right now? No, first I would like to see how he is developed (or if he is developed at all) and then maybe.

Friends or a team for a Jason that will probably never exist? Yeah, if treated carefully.

Every character deserves to have their own set of friends or team but characters are also carefully written, and if a character doesn’t have a solid story to put them together then giving them friends or a team might complicate things because either you change the character that you are writing in order for them to fit in OR you might end up changing other character’s characterization to fit in with your character’s wobbly and ever-changing story.

Well, anon, there it is, a way too long answer for a simple question, I hope I didn’t confuse you with my rambling and that you have an amazing rest of the week!

[notebooknebula]

A Good Deal For Everybody | Casey Ames & Jay Conner, The Private Money Authority

https://www.jayconner.com/a-good-deal-for-everybody-casey-ames-jay-conner-the-private-money-authority/

“ I Want My Deal To Be Good For Everybody. I Don’t Ever Want To Cut Anybody Out. I Am A Firm Believer That Everybody Needs To Eat Well.” �� Casey Ames

Casey Ames is a Luxury Homebuilder, multi-family Developer, SFH developer. He runs a large wholesale outfit averaging over 100 per year. A mentor and has been in the Real Estate business for 5 years.

Taylor Jene Homes builds high-quality homes and renovated older homes with care and a spirit of revival. No matter if starting from bare land or existing structure, President and founder Casey Ames ponders possibilities, develops and embraces a vision, and delivers excellence with quality and creative design.

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For more valuable information click on this link and watch the complete episode: https://youtu.be/rDCWEZA0O6A – “Casey Ames on Real Estate Investing With Jay Conner, The Private Money Authority”

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What is Real Estate Investing? Live Private Money Academy Conference

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Real Estate Investing With Jay Conner

Jay Conner:

Just to make sure everybody understands you contact the photography companies, and these companies are hired by the realtors they’re going out and taking pictures, they give you the lead and then you and your team negotiate with the seller before it actually goes into the multiple listing service.

Casey Ames:

The seller’s agent. So will we want that agent to get commission off of it? Because we want that to be a good deal for everybody, right? If you just go directly to the seller from the photographer. Now, if it is a seller situation and there’s no agent involved, of course, we want the seller, but we don’t want to feel like we’re cutting everybody out. I’m a firm believer in everybody needs to eat good. So we just say, “Hey, what were you going to list it at?” They say, “Oh, we were going to list it at 800.” I said, “Okay, well, there’s about 30,000 in commissions that you stand to say, and what if I do seven 70 cash?” And I close in five days and I’ll let them stay in there until they’re moved out for 30 days or whatever we have to do to negotiate that motivation. And then they can call their seller and make a choice, how much influence they have will be, that’s the good agents will get it done. And the other ones will try to drag their feet. I will say, you got to be quick. You got to be quick, which goes back to your private money thing. You got to let them see that they can get a million bucks or 500,000 in five days, by the end of the week, they could have their money in their account.

[vintagedolan]

overturned (egd)

ethan’s tried everything to get you to hear him out, and you aren’t budging until a news article on twitter changes everything in an instant

word count: 4.7k

requested by: anon (thank you bby!)

warnings/tags: angst angst angst angst, did I say angst???, but in typical lynds weak bitch fashion it ends up okay at the end 🥴

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

You were running out of counter space, and that was saying something. The kitchen was beginning to smell like a florist shop, rich and beautiful with the number of bouquets. Luckily, they’d all come in vases, or you wouldn’t have had enough containers to keep them in.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang again. You grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, already feeling guilty. When you opened the door, it was the same sweet woman who had been there everyday, twice a day at least, for the last 6 days.

“Hi Mary,” you sighed. You’d begun a bit of a friendship with her, the exchange of her handing over the flowers commonplace now. 

“Hi Ms. Y/N. Those are particularly good ones, I think the shop found a new supplier. Blue hydrangeas are hard to come by, especially out here. He must be paying a fortune for those,” she said, raising her eyebrows. You knew that - your favorite flower wasn’t common in California. 

“Money isn’t really an issue for him,” you mumbled, holding out the water. “Here, take this, I know it’s hot out. I’m sorry you keep having to come out here for all these. You’d think he’d take the hint.” 

“Oh nonsense honey, I don’t mind at all! It’s actually quite heartwarming.” She took the water, offering you a warm smile. 

“Heartwarming?”

“To see young love so strong. Most people these days just give up and move on. He’s persistent.” Mary gave you a look that was laced with meaning, like she was trying to convince you of something. But she let it go quickly, sensing she may have gone too far.. “Well, I’ve got more deliveries to make. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.” 

You waved as she got back into the delivery van and pulled out of the driveway. Pulling the door behind you, you carried the bouquet in and sat it amongst the others, her words ringing in your ears.

Persistent. That was one word for it. Guilty might be more fitting.

It’d been a week since your argument, and you were still wrestling with the whole thing. The fact that you could play the entire thing back, word for word in your mind, wasn’t helping anything. 

-----

“You can’t keep doing this,” Ethan said, leaning back against the couch. The fact that he was being callous about it wasn’t helping matters in the slightest. 

“The hell I can’t. Don’t try and put this on me Ethan, don’t you fucking dare.” 

“What the hell did you want me to do?” He snapped back.

“Just fucking tell me. That’s literally all I ever ask for you to do, and you just keep hiding shit from me!”

“I’m not hiding anything, you’re just paranoid.” 

Wrong answer.

“Oh, okay, you’re right. Yeah, just paranoid. Well, hope you don’t mind, I’m gonna go spend the whole day with my ex. Oh wait, shit, shouldn’t have said that, too much information for you.” You spat the words, the anger you’d been holding in finally bubbling to the surface.

“We were filming, it’s for work.” His tone was short, anger escalating.

“I understand that. But you could have at least told me that’s what you were doing, instead of some vague ‘oh I’m just filming a collab’ bullshit. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”

“I don’t tell you shit because you always react like this! Everything I do makes you pissed at me!” Ethan said, exasperated. 

“No, I react like this because you don’t tell me in the first place! You never ask me if I’m okay with anything-”

“I shouldn’t have to!” He was yelling now, something he never did. He knew how you got when people raised their voices, knew how it made you feel. “You don’t get to control my life! I’m my own fucking person!” 

“Control your life...” you breathed it out, shaking your head in disbelief. “Right. I control you. I control you, but I’m the one who can’t ever post a picture with my boyfriend, can’t post a snapchat because people might realize that we’re together, can’t go out without telling you where I’m gonna be. Can’t have my clothes in your closet in case it’s in the back of a video, can’t leave our room when you’re filming in case my fucking reflection or the sound of my footsteps end up in shot. I can’t hold my own boyfriend’s hand in public, I can’t go on a date without security there. But you’re right, I’m the controlling one.” The tears were coming now, and Ethan’s eyes were wide. You made it a point to never complain about the things that life with him entailed - it was always worth it. But right now, you let them fly. You wanted him to know, to realize, to fucking appreciate exactly what you did every day, just for him. Maybe it would make him understand why you were so upset.

“I-” He started, but you cut him off.

“I give up so many little things, every fucking day, and I do it for you. And I ask you for one fucking thing - just to give me the respect of telling me when you’re gonna be around your ex for work, and you can’t even give me that. Just one fucking thing Ethan, that’s all.”

“You knew what you signed up for when you decided to date me.” 

You weren’t sure what response you were expecting, you weren’t even sure what response you wanted. All you knew were his conceited words were the final straw.

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

-----

When you came back out of the memory, you were gripping the flowers so hard you were surprised you hadn’t broken the vase they were in. With a deep breath you went to the counter, scooting another vase to the side to make room for the new ones. 

You pulled the card from the small holder nestled amongst the flowers. Your name was scrawled on the outside of the envelope in Ethan’s handwriting. 

You never thought that handwriting could make your heart hurt. With delicate fingers you pulled it open, fishing out the tiny card provided by the florist shop.

I never thanked you enough for everything you gave up for me. I’m sorry. I love you more. 

The tears were instantaneous, just like they were every time you opened one of the notes. They were all gathered in a little pile by one of your candles, each one a small declaration from Ethan.

I fucked up. 

I can’t imagine my life without you. Please call me back.

Please give me a chance to make it up to you. 

I miss you so fucking much. 

But it didn’t matter what he said - each one ended with the same four words, and that’s what brought the tears every time without fail.

I love you more. 

You could remember the first time he’d said it. Toes in the sand at the end of a picnic blanket on the beach, fire behind you keeping you warm as you watched the waves crash. His arm had been around your shoulder, you were leaning into his chest. And you said I love you to him for the first time. 

And he’d responded with ‘I love you more’, as if that was the only correct response. 

“What?” You’d asked.

“Well, you love me. Take that and add just a little more, and that’s what I feel for you. So, I love you more.” He explained it as though it was common sense.

And it had become the most unplanned little trademark in your relationship that you cherished more than you realized. Every time you said I love you, that was his response. When you were leaving for the day, when he made a stupid joke, cuddling in bed, after sex, when you were done singing terribly in the car. 

He never missed one, never forgot.

You were realizing now that you’d taken advantage of what it really felt like to be loved like that. 

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping at your eyes. You’d cried too much over the last few days, not having enough distractions to keep the memories and thoughts at bay. You couldn’t even use your phone - the missed calls and texts were too tempting to respond to. You needed to hold strong, and really think about everything when you were rational enough to figure out what you wanted to do. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Ethan anymore - you’d always love him. In fact, it was that maybe you loved him too much. Maybe you were giving up too much to fit your life into his. You wanted the simple things, the little things in your relationship. You wanted to go get ice cream with him on friday nights, hold his hand while you shopped, post stupid instagram stories and snapchats. You wanted to be able to talk to your friends about your own boyfriend and not be afraid that they might be using you to get information to sell to tabloids. They were little things, but they were still part of the ideal relationship you always dreamed about having.

And you knew that Ethan did it to protect you. He didn’t want fans harassing you any more than they already did, didn’t want you in danger. You’d been around for the stalker, and he’d almost broken it off right then for your own safety. But you’d stayed, and you’d followed his rules and you’d given it all up. 

You did what you had to, but you never really thought about how it made you feel. Were you being selfish? Maybe. But part of you needed to be - you were bad about putting other people’s problems in front of yours, pushing down what you wanted, what you needed, in order to appease everybody else. 

So as badly as you wanted to, you didn’t call him. You didn’t text him, you didn’t facetime him. You put your phone in a bag with a towel and some sunscreen, changing into a bathing suit and heading out to enjoy some California sunshine. 

The pool in your neighborhood wasn’t as nice as the one at the boys house, but it would do the trick. It was part of the reason you’d decided to rent the place, but you’d only used it a few times. In fact, you might as well have given up your lease for the last 6 months anyways - you were rarely anywhere but Ethan’s. 

Maybe that was it. Maybe you just needed some time to yourself, to figure out how you’d changed over the last year of your relationship, figure out who you were when you weren’t with him. Either way, you were going to have to talk to him about everything eventually - and you needed to get your mind settled on exactly what you wanted before you said anything. 

You laid out on one of the lounges, closing your eyes and trying to relax. But the images wouldn’t stop rolling behind your eyelids, like a slideshow of all the best things you never wanted to forget. 

And Ethan was in every single one of them. It didn’t matter how hard you tried - anything worth remembering and reliving had him written all over it. Your road trip across the US, he was right there in the passenger seat. The fourth of july when you’d gone camping and set off fireworks - he was the one with the lighter. The first time you’d caught a wave surfing, he was the first thing you saw when you turned back, arms raised high as he cheered you on, loud enough for the whole beach to hear. 

This was going to be harder than you thought. 

You fought within your mind for a few more hours, reaching farther back, back before you’d met Ethan, trying to find memories. It worked for a little bit - some trips you took when you were younger, late nights with old friends. You were finally getting the hang of it when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Uh, ma’am? Sorry, but you’ve gotta leave.” You opened your eyes, blinking up at the boy who’d tapped you. He was a young teenager, you could tell, and after spotting his whistle and red shorts you realized it was the lifeguard. “There’s a storm coming in, supposed to be pretty bad,” he added. 

“Oh. Okay, yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, trying to orient yourself again. As you packed up your things, you looked up to see a rolling dark cloud coming in above your building. It was rare that it even rained in LA, much less stormed. 

Guess your mood really could bring the weather. 

You went back to your house, assaulted by the smell of the flowers after being out of the room for so long, and changed into shorts and a tank top. You couldn’t tell if it was getting darker from the sun going down or from the storm. Either way, you decided it was time for dinner - cooking would keep you occupied enough. 

You pulled up an intricate recipe, one you knew would take a lot of focus and time, writing down the instructions so you could pull up Netflix on your phone and watch a few episodes of your favorite show. The more things on your mind, the less space for Ethan to creep in. 

The method worked, and you moved around the kitchen, cutting up herbs and mincing garlic, enjoying the process and the relief from your thoughts. You frowned when you looked over the tops of the flowers on the counter - the sky outside was so dark that it could have been midnight. You paused, heading over to the doors.

As soon as you opened them, you realized that the storm was going to be a bad one. The wind was whipping, and the temperature had dropped at least 20 degrees, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. You’d never seen a storm come through LA like that. 

“Damn,” you muttered, closing the door and locking it before heading back inside to finish up your dinner. Even over the sound of your show and the air conditioning, you could hear the wind outside. Eventually it even began to thunder - you didn’t mind. Storms were always your favorite weather. 

You know who didn’t love storms? Ethan. He hated them. You were hit with another memory, from when you’d flown home to New Jersey with him. A storm had rolled through, with harsh winds and hail, and he’d clung to you through the whole thing, making sure you stayed at his side and away from the windows. He couldn’t sleep that night, and you’d stayed up with him watching harry potter to keep his mind off of things.

He wasn’t going to be doing well during this storm, that was for sure. You were overwhelmed suddenly with the thought of him alone in the house, curled up on the couch under a blanket. Just the thought of it made you sick to your stomach - you hated seeing him upset. 

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you were suddenly surrounded in darkness. 

‘What the fuck?” You moved to the light switch, testing it. 

The storm had knocked the power out. Lovely. 

“Well... pb&j it is then,” you sighed to yourself, turning off the burners on the stove and abandoning your dinner plans that definitely required electricity. It was like the universe was playing some sick joke - oh you wanna ignore your problems and distract yourself? Nice try.

With a lost appetite and nothing else to do, you retired to the couch, deciding to just keep watching netflix as the storm rolled outside. You expected it to blow over, but even after two episodes it was still raging outside. It sounded a bit like your house was going to come apart at the seams. 

Trying to ignore it, you kept watching, dismissing your phone’s notifications of 20, then 10 percent battery. You were sure the power would be back on soon anyhow and you could charge it. 

And then everything happened very quickly after that.

It started with a text from your best friend. You swiped down so you could read it.

have you checked twitter? wtf is going on

You frowned at that, exiting out of your texts and opening the app. You didn’t get on often - usually it was just slander, but occasionally you would check to see what was going on in the world. And even though it had been a while, your notifications were much, much higher than usual. 

It only took a second for you to realize why. The article had been sent to you at least a dozen times, all with messages of concern attached. But you couldn’t read any of them - all you could see was the TMZ headline.

Dolan Twin involved in major LA crash, scene shut down

And right below it was an image of a mangled white tesla, upside down on the side of the road. 

You couldn’t breathe. That was Ethan’s car. Ethan was in that car. 

“Oh no, oh no no no no,” you groaned, immediately closing out and going to your contacts. He was the first one on the list of recents, and you immediately clicked to call him. 

The dial tone came through three times before the call disconnected.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you cried, going to your text messages. 

are you okay?  was all you had typed, and then your screen went black.

Your phone was dead.

“FUCK!” you yelled, panic overriding everything else. In the back of your mind you knew that you had a power bank somewhere that you could charge your phone off of, but the thought of looking for it wasn’t even feasible.

By the time you found it, you could be halfway to their house. 

Without another thought you ran to the table by the door, grabbed your keys and sprinted to your car.

The rain was coming down in sideways sheets, droplets stinging against your bare skin as they hit. Even though your car was right outside, you were soaked by the time you threw the driver’s door open and climbed inside. 

You fumbled with the keys, trying to start the car, hands shaking. You were a mess. It wasn’t going to do you any good to get to try to get to their house if you didn’t make it there yourself. 

“Okay breathe Y/N, breathe,” you mumbled, turning the key and starting to back out of the driveway. The rain was relentless, your wipers going as fast as they could on the highest setting as you started down the road. You drove painfully slow, lucky to find that there were very few people out on the roads. You could hardly see in front of you at all.

In the back of your mind, you weren’t even sure why you were going to the house. He wouldn’t be there. Maybe Grayson was there. Grayson would know what to do. 

The drive that usually took 10 minutes took 20 this time -  you couldn’t go over 25 without losing your visibility entirely. Your heartbeat was through the roof the whole drive, and you were blinking the panicked tears away as they came so you could see. Both hands were gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles were white until you got to the house. You pulled up to the small box that unlocked the gate, typing in the code without thinking.

The power was out. The gate wasn’t going to open. 

“Fuck!” You yelled again, still panicking. In a moment of insight, you remembered something. When they’d installed the gate, you’d been there to help supervise, and the installer had shown you all something.

“There’s a reset code that will activate the battery pack in here. In case you ever get locked out, or there’s no power. Just type it in and then type in your usual code and it should open right up.”

“Shit, shit shit,” you mumbled, reaching out the window and trying to remember the code, remembering the numbers but not the order. 6736. No. 3766. No dice. 7663. Nothing. Finally, you tried again. 7636. The buttons lit up blue, signaling you’d done something right. 

You quickly typed in the code, letting out the breath you’d been holding when the gates began to swing open. You rolled up your window and pulled up the driveway, throwing your car in park and climbing out immediately into the rain.

And to your confusion, the driveway was full. The Porsche was parked in it’s usual spot, the Bronco behind it. Ethan’s Jeep was to the side, and there right in front of you was the Tesla, in perfect condition, parked and waiting.

“What-”

“Y/N? What the fuck? What’re you doing?” 

When you turned at the voice, you could have fallen to your knees right there in the rain. 

Standing outside the front door, still under the stoop and protected from the rain was Ethan, whole and unharmed. 

Every doubt you’d had, every question you’d asked yourself about what you wanted and what you needed over the last few days was suddenly irrelevant. None of it mattered. You’d do anything, you’d do everything for him. There wasn’t a single fiber of your being that questioned it anymore. He was the only man you were ever going to love, and you’d been dumb to think otherwise, even for a second. You were meant to be with him, and that was the end of the story.

You ran straight for him, dropping your keys on the way and barreling into his arms. He caught you, the force of it almost knocking him off his feet. 

“Hey, hey what’s wrong, what’s goin’ on?” He carried you inside, into the dark, and it wasn’t until you were out of the wind and the rain that you realized that you were sobbing. You could hear the gasps coming from you, like they were being ripped out with hooks. You knew you were scaring the shit out of him, but you couldn’t get enough of a breath to even say anything. All you could do was cling to him, relish in the reassurance of having him there with you, perfectly fine and alive and safe. You buried your face in his shoulder, breathing him in as best you could through your gasps.

He seemed to realize that you were incapable of speaking, so he sat down on the couch, you in his lap pressed to him as tightly as you could be. He wrapped his arms around your back, squeezing you to him in the most blissful way as the sobs continued, rough and ragged. 

“Sweetheart, you’re shakin’ like a leaf. You must be freezing,” he mumbled, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around your back. You were still soaking wet, and you knew that the water would probably ruin it, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Are you hurt? Baby please - talk to me.” He pulled back just enough to look at your face, and even just that tiny loss of contact was excruciating.

“Are you hurt?” He repeated, some of the worry leaving his eyes when you shook your head no. “Then what is it? What’s wrong?” 

“I saw an a-a-article, and I t-thought-” you couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out, you just broke down again.

“I saw it too. They already took it down, and their asses are getting sued,” Ethan said, a bitterness in his tone that you weren’t used to.

“I thought it was your car, I thought it was y-y-you,” you stuttered, burying your face in his neck.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call?” 

“I tried- it disconnected.”

“I was probably on the phone with the lawyer,” he mumbled his explanation, still unsure. “But hey, I’m okay, I didn’t even leave the house today. I’m safe, and I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” you whimpered, the tears still coming. 

“Tell me what to do, tell me how to help,” he pleaded, obviously at a loss. He’d always told you he hated seeing you upset, even a little bit. 

“Just hold me, please,” you asked, feeling vulnerable but knowing it was what you needed. 

“Okay. Okay.” 

He wrapped his arms around you even tighter, pressing you into his chest. His arms were strong and stable as they coiled around your waist. You focused on the feeling of them around you, holding you steady as he rocked side to side, so subtle that you weren’t even sure that he realized he was doing it. You breathed him in, the smell a mixture of his skin and his deodorant and the ghost of the cologne you knew he’d put on that morning. It was the most grounding thing you could find besides his voice in your ear, whispering sweet reassurances.

It took a few minutes, but you were able to breathe again, body finally processing out your adrenaline and allowing you to stop shaking. He didn’t let go, even when the tears had ceased - he kept his hold, leaning his head against yours, pressing kisses to your temple, your neck, your shoulder. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered when you got to the point where you could trust your voice, sitting up and taking a deep breath. 

“Me and smooth cat are just fine,” he said, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first time you’d laughed in a week, and it felt almost foreign. 

“There’s that smile I’ve been looking for.” Ethan breathed out a sigh of relief, reaching up to wipe your tears. When he did, you laid your cheek in his palm, so thankful for the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“I’m sorry you thought I died. But I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” he admitted, staring at you, eyes tracing the features of your face in the candlelight. You’d barely even noticed they were burning, giving off just enough light for you to see each other.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” you smiled. You couldn’t believe you’d ever thought you could live without him. 

“Did you get my flowers?”

“Which ones? The first bouquet or the 15th?” You teased. 

He blushed at that, cheeks turning your favorite shade of pink. “I went a little overboard huh.”

“I made friends with the flower delivery lady,” you shrugged.

“Of course you did,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

“I missed you too. I missed us,” you sighed. 

“Does that mean... does that mean we’re okay then?” He asked it nervously, obviously scared of what you would say.

You watched the relief cross his face when you smiled. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Oh thank god,” he said, hugging you to him again. The blanket fell off your shoulders and you shivered as the cold air hit your skin again. You weren’t dripping wet anymore, but you were still damp, the occasional droplet falling from your hair and onto Ethan’s shirt. 

“Well in that case, let’s get you warmed up huh? And get you away from these windows.”

You let him carry you to his room, past his bed and into the bathroom where he sat you down and started running a bath and lighting the candles he always kept on the sides of the tub for you. It was as easy as breathing to undress and climb into the water, feeling it warm you up from head to toe. Though the most relaxing part was when Ethan climbed in behind you, leaning you back gently so you were resting on his chest. 

And when you rolled over just slightly so you could look at him and tell him that you loved him, you knew exactly what he was going to say. The words were so much sweeter falling from his lips than they had been when they were on paper.

“I love you more.”  

[gayenerd]

Interview by Eric Flexyourhead, originally published in Discorder Magazine, December 1991. Curious that they’re asked about playing Vancouver and there’s no mention of Billie Joe’s stalker lmao

Green Day are more punk than most punk or hardcore bands around. I remember saying this to myself when I first saw Green Day two years ago. If you've been among the lucky to hear any Green Day, chances are that you know where I'm coming from.

Green Day play in a style that most would call pop-punk. With even more pop to it than punk, Green Day play catchy songs; memorable songs. Hell...maybe you could even call it "fluffy-girl-pop stuff". But it's more than music. It's an attitude I'm describing. Green Day live to play their music, an unequaled passion that fills their lives. It's not about money or fame or girls, they just do what they want to do and keep on doing it. This, my friend, is what i strongly admire them for.

Green Day are: Billie-guitar/vocals, Mike-bass, Tre-drums.

So, how many times have Green Day played Vancouver now? Are things getting better for you with every time you come here?

Billie: I think four times now. We played in Victoria as well, and it was the first time that we've played an actual club. We've played all-ages there but (last time) we played at this place called Harpo's and it was a really, really good show.

Tre: I got a bike out of it! A real whoop-de old Schwinn with a stick shift on it...chopper. I got it for free from some kid.

Billie: I'm glad we got to play the Nappy Dugout just because of the name. Green Day at the Nappy Dugout sounds pretty cool to me.

That was a cool show, there were just over 200 kids there. That's pretty amazing. I remember the first time you guys played here, there was almost no one there!

Billie: It seems people tend to go to more shows here.

Are the rumors true that Green Day is the only band people will go to see at Gilman Street? (Gilman Street is a great volunteer run all-ages club in Berkeley.)

Billie: no, but we are practically the only band in the punk scene in Berkeley now. Everybody seems to be breaking up this year. This year there's been five or six different bands that have broken up; the bigger bands like Blatz, Mr. T Experience, Jack Acid, Paxton Quigley. Jawbreaker is going to break up soon. Fifteen is on shakey ground.

What is your response to people who say that Green Day's songs have absolutely no socially redeeming values, that you have nothing valid to say, and that you're just a "fluffy-girl-pop band"?

Tre: We say "ha, ha..."

Mike: They haven't read all the lyrics.

Billie: Let them think what they want to think. We write what we write and if they don't like it, to hell with them! We're not going to cater to people. We're not going to sit around and ask "Why don't you like us?". Our lyrics are obviously about something, you've just got to take a look at yourself more than looking at things on the outside, like politics.

Tre: Also, a lot can be said with simpler words; a lot of people find simpler lyrics easier to relate to. We get letters from people all the time that say "that song...I'm going through the same stuff". If we have no socially redeeming qualities, or whatever, I say to each his own.

You're not writing these songs as "this is what we're going to do", it just happens?

Mike: More or less. We don't sit and say "We're going to write a song about a girl today". If it comes up, that's the way we're feeling at the time.

How long do you see Green Day continuing as a band for? Do you want it to continue as a long term thing?

Billie: We just take it day by day and not try to build up expectations.

Tre: More like month by month actually...

Mike: Everyone likes to predict that we are going to break up. That's why the band has never been a "business thing", it's a "music thing". For example, people ask us when our next album is coming out, we're just writing music to write music, if an album comes out that's great.

Billie: We're doing what we're doing. Most of the people that say we suck aren't really doing what they're doing. It's basically just a jealousy trip.

Mike: Ya', we're just taking it show by show.

Tre: Our van broke today and Blueberry fixed it in an hour and twenty minutes.

Mike: Blueberry is roadie number two. Milkbone and Blueberry, that's Ben and Scott.

I hate doing interviews...totally. Although the finished product usually makes it all worthwhile.

Billie: It's really hard to "read" an interview. Sometimes people will say things with different tones of voice, and it's not actually what they're saying. If someone says somebody sucks you can't tell if they're being sarcastic or serious. Sometimes I'll read something I've said and think "what an asshole, did I actually say that!?!".

I think the hardest thing to do in an interview is have it really mean anything. It might mean something, but maybe that's just how you felt at that time. You may change your mind an hour later.

Billie: You can also think of that in the terms of the different stages of your life: something I may have said when I was seventeen isn't going to apply when I'm twenty-one.

The finished product has a sense of permanence. Here's this tangible thing sitting there with pictures...someone can read it and think to themselves "Cool, I think I'll check out Green Day the next time they come to town. I think I'll check out a Green Day record".

Billie: If you think about it, say ten years from now, you could have a little collection of quotes that all add up to one thing. You can kick back and go "Oh...that's what they're all about".

When you return home after touring do you have jobs to go back to, or is the band doing enough that you can devote your time to just the band?

Mike: We don't work. We're not rich, but we don't work. We live off playing (in Green Day). I just hope we don't burn out on each other. That's one thing that I fear...burning out.

Is kerplunk! doing well? Are you surprised with how popular you are?

Billie: It's going good so far, I've got no complaints. We've got to keep on looking forward, keep doing what we're doing, but also look to different audiences.

Since you're doing this day by day, month by month, seeing how things go along, do you have any plans for the big major label push?

Billie: That similar to what I was saying before, where one thing you say three years ago isn't going to match up with what you say later on; the circumstances are different. Three years ago I was a snot-nosed little punk in high school just shooting off my mouth. Now I've got a lot more responsibilities. I'm not saying we're going to sell out or anything, but you come to realize that you don't want to go to work everyday. People don't want to have a lame job, they want to do what they want to do. Some people will go to school for twenty years and still be unhappy with what they're doing. I've been playing music almost all of my life and this is what I'm going to be doing for the rest of my life. So who knows what my opinion on the music industry will be like three years from now, it's something that's just not predictable.

Mike: I'm not saying we're leaning towards that or anything but I see a lot of people that aren't punk, who won't even go to punk shows, who like our music. We go to punk shows, punk shows are rad, but there's a lot of punks sneering and spitting on us screaming "fuck-you!"...sometimes it's all you can take.

Billie: There's no way we're going to limit ourselves to one small group of people, that's just stupid. Everyone has a right to listen to what they want.

Any final words?

Billie: We're not as serious as this interview may make us seem.

Mike: We're totally ridiculous.

Billie: The things that we're talking about now aren't even the things we think about. We're not into this...

Mike: We don't even think about the band, we just play music and hang out.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

A List of Things the Scoundrels Are No Longer Allowed to Do

So, I have recently read “A List of Things Skippy Isn’t Allowed to Do in the Army” and “A List of Things Dr. Bright isn’t allowed to do at the SCP Foundation”, and I decided to do a version of my own.  Some of these are taken from these other two lists.  If anyone who reads this you has any ideas for the list, feel free to add them.  

The group known as the Magnificent Scoundrels has gotten a bit out of hand.  This list was compiled by Admiral Hackett of the Systems Alliance, Admiral Kelly of the GA, Fleet Admiral Hood of the UNSC, Inquisitor Vail of the Holy Inquisition, Commander Briggs of the Frontier Militia, Princess Leia of the New Republic, and Director Fury of SHIELD in order to curb the Scoundrels’ more dangerous or inappropriate behaviors.  These rules apply to all Scoundrels and their teams/crews.  

1.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to call SPARTAN super soldiers “big boys”.

2.  The Better Business Bureau is not the correct agency for handling people who smuggle Sith holocrons.

3.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to say the phrase “I am in need of a new host body” within earshot of Imperial Inquisitors.

4.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to bargain personnel for their “souls”.  Even if they say they can get you a good deal.

5.  Government equipment is not to be used to bootleg pornography.  

6.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to cite Kevin McCallister from Home Alone as a credible source for anti-personnel tactics in official documents.

7.  The rumor that Adam Vir wears heelies while in official dress uniform is a blatant lie.

8.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send spam emails to Ceberus.  Even if it is funny.

9.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to apply mind control devices to major political figures.

10.  Thomas Drake is no longer allowed to use time travel devices.  Especially if his reasoning is to “screw with those history nerds.”

11.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use telepaths to alter or affect the outcomes of reality based television shows.

12.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to trade government property for liquor.

13.  “I was bored” is not a valid excuse.

14.  The Scoundrels are not allowed to begin a crusade without the written permission of the Imperial Inquisition.

15. Thanos is not to be referred to as “Biggy T”.

16.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use fan conventions as recruitment drives.

17.  Any proposal which includes the phrase “metric fuck load” is to be denied.

18.  The video game Doom is not a credible source.

19.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to allow Starfleet red shirts to be possessed by daemons or ancient Sith Lords.

20.  When researching time travel, please refer to the work of the IMC’s ARES Division or the Starfleet, not Doctor Who, Back to the Future, or Call of Duty Zombies.

21.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to to accept or use any of the following as currency:

           Your soul

           Anyone else’s soul

           Firstborn children

           Memories

           Memes

           Blood

           Organs

           Virginity

           Ponies

           Eldritch Artifacts

22.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to join any communist party for any reason.  (Note from Thomas Drake- Hell yeah.  Those guys suck.)

23.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to join any fascist party for any reason. (Note from Thomas Drake- Hell yeah.  Those guys suck too.)

24.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to join the Imperial Cult, unless they are an already practicing member.  (Note from Thomas Drake- LONG LIVE OUR GLORIOUS LEADER THE GOD-EMPEROR OF MAN AND IF YOU ARE AN INQUISITOR PLEASE NOTE I HAVE NEVER SAID ANYTHING BAD ABOUT THE EMPEROR EVER.)

25.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to taunt the Asari about how bad they are at fighting wars.

26.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to chew gum during staff meetings, unless they brought enough for everybody.

27.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to chew gum during staff meetings, even if they did bring enough for everyone.

28.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use Volus’s as bowling pins or bowling balls.

29.  While we do not have jurisdiction over him and thus cannot prevent their sale, none of the other Scoundrels are to purchase or proquire experimental drugs from Thomas Drake.  

30.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to imply that their superior officers served in World War II.  They aren’t that old.

31.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use military vehicles to “squish” things.

32.  Surprisingly enough, or, perhaps not, considering what’s on there, downloading the entirety of 4chan into a Geth Colossus did, in fact, shut it down.  

33.  Loudspeaker systems are not to be used to broadcast the soundtracks of porno movies.

34.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to drink copious amounts of food coloring before urine tests.

35.  When operating military vehicles, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt “something I saw in a cartoon”.

36.  Do not dare SERE graduates to eat bugs.  They will always do it.

37.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make s’mores while on guard duty.

38.  The Illuminati are not a part of the chain of command.

39.  Pants are not optional parts of a dress uniform.

40.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to trade military equipment for “magic beans”.  (Note from Peter Quill- They were pretty cool though.)

41.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to call medics “Dr. Feelgood” unless Feelgood is the medic’s actual last name.

42.  The God-Emperor of Mankind is not to be referred to as “Big Daddy E” or “The Lord of Bling”.

43.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to take the batteries from other peoples alarm clocks.

44.  Unless you are a certified Titan Pilot, you are not allowed to pilot a Titan.

45.  Camouflage body paint is not a uniform.

46.  “Challenge accepted” is not a valid excuse for anything.

47.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to claim that they are reincarnations of famous historical figures without proof.

48.  Thomas Drake is a human mercenary.  He does not possess any of the following:

          Laser eyes

          Laser nostrils

          Laser [CENSORED]

          An adamantium skeleton

          A map leading to “all of the Nazi gold”

          Mjolnir

          The Kronorium

          The Necronomicon

          The Book of Magnus

          “The touch”

          “The power”

          “The secret”

          “The 6th sense”

          The ability to distinguish between butter and I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter!

49.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start theological debates between members of the Imperial Cult and the Covenant.

50.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mock Stormtroopers of the Galactic Empire over how bad their aim is.  Even if their aim is bad.

51.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hold “Jamaican vacation giveaways”. 

52.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell counterfeit Infinity Stones.

53.  Pictures of other Scoundrels in compromising positions are not to be put on the internet.  Or the extra- or holo- net.

54.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to “water” Vrul.  While they do get their energy from photosynthesis, they are not plants.

55.  The Scoundrels are not “the final bosses” of anything.

56.  The Scoundrels must try not to antagonize SPECTREs, Inquisitors, or ODSTs.

57.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to purchase anyone’s soul on government time.

58.  There are no evil clowns living under your bed.

59.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to form press gangs.

60.  The Scoundrels are not the kings or queens of cheese.

61.  If the thought of something makes you giggle for more than 15 seconds, you are to assume you aren’t allowed to do it.

62.  Crucifixes do not ward off superior officers, and you should not test that.  

63.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mount bayonets on heavy machine guns.

64.  Try and keep all mockery of the press at an appropriate minimum.  

65.  You cannot imply your CO is possessed by anything.

66.  You cannot trade your CO to the Covenant.

67.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use government resources to waterproof dirty magazines.

68.  Radioactive material should not be stored in the barracks.

69.  Two drink limit does not mean first and last.

70.  “I was drunk” is not a valid or appropriate excuse.

71.  Mandalorian armor is not part of any of our governments’ full dress uniforms.

72.  You should not yell “Kobe!” when blowing up enemy starships.  

73.  The “revolution” is not now.

74.  Unless you are in extremely dire circumstances, you are not allowed to eat your uniform.

75.  Body checking General officers is not a good idea.

76.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell police officers that belt-fed machine guns are “medicinal”.

77.  If you check the box marked “Other” on official documents, you have to fill it out.

78.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to fill prescription drug bottles with M&M’s or Mike and Ike’s.

79.  None of the Scoundrels possesses a name that, when spoken aloud, can kill.

80.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to challenge anyone to a duel.

81.  The proper response to a briefing is not “that’s what you think”.

82.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to end official reports with Sabaton lyrics.  Or lyrics from any metal band, for that matter.

83.  The phrase “to conquer the Earth with an army of flying monkeys” is not to be said.

84.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to appeal to humanity’s baser instincts on recruitment posters.

85.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refer to N7’s Iron Eye Soldiers Space Marines janitors anyone as “the cool kids”.

86.  None of the Scoundrels have “won the internet” and are not authorized to declare that they or any other individual or individuals have done so.  

87.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use redacted data in official reports as “mad-libs”.

88.  The following are not appropriate sources for new crew members:

          Temp agencies

          Reality show talent pools

          “Orphans”

          “Urchins”

          “Ragmuffins”

          “Those sons of bitches who I know had a stacked deck”

          Ex-girlfriends

          Ex-boyfriends

          Ex-partners of any variation whatsoever

          Forum trolls

          “Angsty teens”

89.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sneak links to Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up into official reports.

90.  None of the Scoundrels possess “voodoo powers”.

91.  “Why not?” is not a valid excuse.

92.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make masturbation jokes when in the presence of official dignitaries.

93.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play the song Thriller when in the presence of anything that could be considered a zombie, which includes but is not limited to Curse of Unbelief victims, Vrul Zombies, and Reaper Husks.

94.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to say the phrase “elephant sauce”.

95.  “No shirt, no shoes, no service” does not imply that undergarments are unnecessary.

96.  The following words and phrases may not be used in marching cadence:

           Budding sexuality

           Necrophilia

           I hate everyone in this formation and wish they were dead

           Lubrication

           Your mama

           All Marines are latent homosexuals

          Tantric yoga

          Gotterdammerung

          We’ve all got jackboots now

          Any references to squid

97.  You can’t have flashbacks to wars you weren’t in.

98.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to ask for the day off due to religious purposes, on the basis the world is going to end, more than once.

99.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to take or place bets on what would happen if the Tyranids fought the Flood.

100.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the Enterprise’s transporters to steal things.

101.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the phrase “We fight for Mother Russia!”

102.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sing the National Anthem of the Soviet Union when entering or exiting buildings.

103.  Adam Vir is no longer allowed to claim that “PTSD is just spicy nostalgia.”

104.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try and get kidnapped by the Dark Eldar.

105.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try to figure out a way to bring back the Protheans and the Forerunners so they can fight each other.

106.  Drax the Destroyer is no longer allowed to claim that he can become invisible just by standing still.

107.  Please do not confuse the primarchs of the Turian Hierarchy with the Primarchs of the Imperium of Man.

108.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refer to Admiral Ackbar or any other member of the Mon Calamari race as “those calamari boys”.

109.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to address their superior officers as “bro”.

110.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try and sell major political figures to Trazyn the Infinite.

111.  Peter Quill is not a god.

112.  Please refrain from using nicknames when referring to the Avengers, which includes but is not limited to calling Captain America “the spangly dude”, Thor “sparky guy”, Iron Man “my homie”, and Captain Marvel “Her”.

113.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use Titans as personal valets.

114.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to contact the Shadow Realm.

115.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to to steal artifacts from any of the following:

          Luke Skywalker

          Shadow Revenant

          The Collector

          Trazyn the Infinite

          General Marder

          The Adeptus Mechanicus

116.  Thomas Drake is not allowed to be near any weapon capable of producing an explosive force greater than ten megatonnes.

117.  Do not ever challenge a Klingon to a duel.

118.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to flip off Force ghosts.

119.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the phrase “It’s boogaloo time!”

120.  The Scoundrels are to stop introducing A.I.’s to the teachings of the Cult Mechanicus.

121.  The Scoundrels are to stop referring to Thomas Drake as “Our Glorious Overlord.”

122.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send porn to the Shadow Broker.  This is the ninth hit on you guys we’ve had to stop.

123.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refer to the crewmates or superiors of any of the other Scoundrels as “extremely hot”.  Even if they are.

124.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to say that they are “super gay for Loki”.

125.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to pit a biotic, psyker, and Force-sensitive against each other just to “see what happens”.

126.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use this list as a resume.

127.  The Scoundrels shall not may not begin their sentences with “thou shalt not”.

128.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send videos of “the sax guy” to the Borg.

129.  Jack Cooper does not have “tons of gold” hidden somewhere on the destroyed planet of Typhon.

130.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell Jedi or Astra Telepathica recruits “You’re a wizard, Harry”.

131.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to stand in the corner and twiddle their thumbs.

132.  “YOLO” is not a valid excuse for anything.

133.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use this list as a to-do list.

134.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to replicate the experiments of Edward Richtofen from Call of Duty Zombies.  Or the experiments of any other insane fictional doctor.

135.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to throw themselves through windows “to prove that the glass is unbreakable” for any reason whatsoever.  

136.  “Because reasons” is not a viable excuse.

137.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refer to anyone else as “peasant” or “plebeian”.

138.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell new personnel fictional horror stories involving their families.

140.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell new personnel factual horror stories involving their families.

141.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to taunt eldritch beings imprisoned within artifacts.

142.  Speedos are not part of formal attire.

143.  If Ciaphas Cain is telling you a story about his exploits, he is exaggerating what he did, downplaying what he did, outrageously lying about what he did, and telling the complete truth about what he did all at the same time.

144.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to sell fictional stocks to the Tesraki or Ferengi.

145.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to defraud the stock exchange.

146.  No religious deity is allowed to contradict orders from a superior officer.

147.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to dress up as each other.

148.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make pin-up calendars.  Especially of each other.

149.  Vulcan nerve pinches do not work on Chaos Space Marines.

150.  Shepard and Agent Coulson are not allowed to form a “Technically Undead Club”.

151.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to unmask members of the Mandalorian extremist cult known as ‘The Watch’.

152.  Unless you want to lose nine months pay in twenty minutes, do not play cards with Han Solo, Ciaphas Cain, John Shepard, or Thomas Drake.

153.  At all times, you should try and stay away from Revenant, Loki, and Cypher.

154.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to re-create scenes from Pulp Fiction.  

155.  Do not fake heart attacks around Dr. Krill.  The poor guy is stressed enough as is.  

156.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to challenge Thomas Drake and Liara T’Soni to a “who knows more secrets” game.  Lord Inquisitor Hector Rex was very displeased when Drake stole the Grimoire of True Names.  (Note from Amberley Vail-  How the hell did he manage to get his hands on that?)

157.  Thomas Drake is no longer allowed to steal things from the Imperium of Man or the Jedi Order, considering the consequences of such artifacts being in the wrong hands.  (Note from Thomas Drake-  Of course.  I would never…)

158.  It is not a good idea to piss off any Scoundrel that considers themselves an information broker.

159.  Introducing the Black Templars to heavy metal was, in retrospect, a bad idea.  

160.  Any ancient alien technology should be submitted to the proper authorities, not sold on Ebay.

161.  Challenging a Klingon, Sangheili, or Drev to a duel is a horrible idea.  As already mentioned.  However, challenging a Custodian to a duel is suicidal.  

162.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use Tony Stark’s nicknames for anyone.

163.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use telepaths in casinos.  

164.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start “prank wars”.

165.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell themselves or any part of themselves to Trazyn the Infinite.  

166.  Be warned.  If you challenge any of the Scoundrels to do something sexual, they will most likely do it.  

167.  Do not challenge John-117 or John Shepard to a drinking game.  They cannot get drunk.  You will die of alcohol poisoning before they’re even a little tipsy.  

168.  While several of the Scoundrels are members of highly elite military forces, none of them are members of any of the following:

          The Swiss Guard

          The 101st Airborne Division

          The Winged Hussars

          The Immortals

          Napoleon’s Imperial Guard

          The SAS

          The 62nd Red Army

           Spetznaz

          The CIA

          The KGB

169.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to kidnap penguins.

170.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mount bayonets on bayonets.

171.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hand over annoying journalists to the Borg.

172.  Do not ever say the phrase “What’s the worst that could happen?”

173.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hold contests to see who can cause more of these rules to be created.

174.  Adam Vir is to stop bringing new alien species onboard the Omen as pets.

175.  The Scoundrels are surprisingly creative when it comes to revenge. Don’t piss them off.  

176.  Unless you are a Space Marine or Sister of Battle, “Deus Vult” is not a valid excuse.

177.  If you need upgrades to your weapons and gear, please use the engineers on your team or other government approved individuals. 

178.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to host their own version of the Hunger Games.

179.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to quote Monty Python.

180.  No matter how good they are with technology, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to get any members of the following species to upgrade their gear:

          Protheans

          Forerunners

          Necrons

          Eldar

          Rakata

181.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to summon any of the following beings to the material universe or into space ruled by any of our governments:

          The Nightbringer

           Darth Nihilus

           Lord Vitiate

           The Old Ones

           The Kwa

           The Reapers

           Deus

           The Dominion

           Any C’tan

           Any individual or entity associated with the Ruinous Powers

           Shadow Revenant

182.  If you ask them to, most of the Scoundrels will, in fact, “draw you like one of their French girls”.

183.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to bring members of extremely logical-minded species to modern art museums.  

184.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to seduce diplomats.

185.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to yell “Ramming speed!” when at the controls of their starships.

186.  There is only one God-Emperor of Mankind, and none of the Scoundrels are it.

187.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use Batarian soldiers as target practice.

188.  The Imperial Inquisition encourages the Scoundrels to use heretics as target practice.  

189.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to initiate random fire drills.

190.  Shepard is no longer allowed to lord his SPECTRE status over Alliance enlisted personnel or other “lesser beings”.

191.  Adam Vir is not allowed to tell fictional horror stories about Operation Steel Eye.

192.  Adam Vir is not allowed to tell factual horror stories about Operation Steel Eye.  

193.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to say the phrase “We ride at dawn!”.

194.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to pool their resources to buy any starship over a kilometer long.

195.  THE SCOUNDRELS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO STEAL STAR DESTROYERS OR ANY OTHER STARSHIP OVER A KILOMETER IN LENGTH.

196.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make clones of each other.

197.  None of the Scoundrels have holidays named after them.  (Addendum: Cain does, on the planet of Perelia.)  

198.  The Scoundrels are encouraged to stay away from the planet Perelia.

199.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refer to their crew as “my glorious minions”.

200.  John-117 is no longer allowed to attempt orbital reentry with nothing but his suit of armor.

201.  Do not imply that Caiphas Cain and Amberley Vail are in a relationship, because, no matter how probable it may seem, Amberley will kill you.

202.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell toasters to the Adeptus Mechanicus.  

203.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hold “Casual Fridays”.

204.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use jetpacks.

205.  Don’t try to blackmail Drake. The last time someone tried to do this, it was with his sexual history. He laughed in their face and personally published the video on the internet.  His public approval rating then went up 30%.  

206.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to replicate the experiments of the Vault-Tech Corporation from the Fallout video game series.

207.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play Triumphal March whenever they enter or exit a room.  

208.  None of the Scoundrels are to be allowed anywhere near a lightsaber.  

209.  None of the Scoundrels are allowed or authorized to knight anyone. 

210.  None of the Scoundrels are allowed to edit this list.  

[dreamgirlvibes]

One of the most fascinating things is knowing that every person sees the world differently. Even just a picture. I can show someone else the same picture and they will analyze it and be receptive to it in a totally different way.

This is why I love feedback. This is why I ask certain individuals that I look up to in different kinds of areas what they think. Not because I don’t trust my own judgment, but because I can sometimes miss out on the “bigger picture” or not interpret the meaning of something how I need to.

It’s important to always believe in your views and yourself. But without feedback, without the valid opinion of others: where would anybody truly be? That’s what learning really is. Observing other people’s point of view on things, grasping their definition of it and analyzing the thing mixed with your point of view. It’s recreating what you saw or heard or felt and extracting that in the world with your own twang.

This is why I started @prettybosstalk women’s networking group. I decided that without the feedback of other women, who are inspired, interested and in the same direction as I am: I won’t see or learn the things that I need to. I can’t be my own team. As nice and sweet and heavenly as it sounds to be a one person team... it’s not realistic. Whether it’s just YOU, your name and your work on something: your team is still FEDEX, AMAZON, USPS, OFFICE DEPOT or whatever store, the carrier or merchant you use to launch and work your business. I’ve decided to embrace other women and make them my team and I theirs. I’ve decided that without the genuine support, love, teamwork and inspiration of my same breed, I just won’t succeed as I would want to or need to.

Pretty Boss Talk came as an idea back in early 2020 when the pandemic started. I had my business @facesbykeren centered on my mind at the time, but Pretty Boss Talk was also another idea in my task list. Once I gave attention and babied my own business, I decided that it was time to start investing into Pretty Boss Talk.

It literally came to me about two months ago. Early November. What inspired me the most to go back to this idea was seeing how many women there were who actually decided to do what I did and follow their dreams. I also kept seeing some of my personal friends, introduce their dreams to me and all to social media as well. It seemed like there were signs everywhere. I’m a reader, so I tend to always read new books and go back to older ones that I’ve learned from and enjoyed, which made me sign up for this reading club that sends emails to me about the latest books in different subject areas. The books that were constantly popping up as “new reads” were motivational, women's empowerment books! A majority of them at that! I truly kept wondering why out of all types of genres I love to read, these books were just popping out of nowhere?

I don’t ever question God or His motives for my life. I never have. Even after everything I’ve been through, all of the hardships, the struggles, the pain and suffering: he’s always lead me to where I needed to be and in my purpose. Whether those decisions came after my stubbornness. He’s always been patient and kind and tolerating. He’s always given me pats on the back or whippings I know I deserved.

Pretty Boss Talk was a pat on the back for me. So many signs, so many door openings. Networking with so many women. So many opportunities just coming my way. It was inevitable at this point. This network group was calling my name. And I answered.

This has only been 2 months in the making in the public eye, but in my heart it’s been stamped there for a very long time. This was honestly one of my proudest moments to come forward and decide that I want to create something beautiful. I want to leave a footprint in the world that I tried and did something good, something positive, something uplifting and helpful.

As lovely and creative and beautiful that this is, something I’ve found: there would be no Pretty Boss Talk without my girls. These women in this group are all amazing, bossy, intelligent, uplifting and inspiring women. They have given me more drive than I have ever had in my life. They’re so positive and helpful with each other. They celebrate each other and give concrete advice to one another and input so many ideas... that kind of passion is rare. It started off with 5 women that I knew for sure would be receptive to this and all of a sudden: I started getting friend request after friend request and I was so amazed at the response to this group! Currently there’s about 40 exclusive women that are active in the group, but my friends request list is out the roof! It makes me want to cry just knowing I can be a part of something that allows other women to elevate just as much I want to! That I can provide a resource to other women without them feeling like they need Google or can’t ask another person due to everybody believing they’re stealing ideas or trying to copy business content. I strive to keep progressing and keep performing and keep motivating these ladies just as much as they do to me! My goal is to eventually have women all around the world connecting and embracing one another and watching it all just flow and glow.

You may ask why this group is private? And not public. I decided that as an exclusive group, it visualizes the fact that this is a sisterhood. That it is not merely random people connecting together to receive more information and ideas, but a way to bond and to create true relationships and feel that we are our own team. I want to establish that in each of their lives. That every time they were rejected, every time they weren’t brave enough to try out for something, that every time they tried to come into a group and felt unseen... It stops here. I truly want each and every person to feel like an individual. To feel like the matter and that their voice is heard and they are noticed. That way they have to say, what they have to sell, what they have to provide and introduce is BIG, and necessary and demands attention and support. My mother calls it a “business sorority” and I kind of like that lol. Maybe, eventually it will be or can be now! As long as we all know and understand that every woman matters and that each person is important and all are welcome, my goal will meet and this group will be successful.

I’m so proud of what’s to come. I’m beyond excited. I pray every day for breakthroughs, for all the hard work to be seen into fruition, for all the goals to be met, for success to be abundant, for our cups to be overflown, and to be booked and busy! For all the ladies and this group and whoever else comes as well! I believe in a few weeks, a few months, in a few years: Pretty Boss Talk will be a name people will recognize, women will recognize, businesses and customers would recognize to not just a networking group but a strong team and a force that is immovable.

I will continue to thrive and strive. My plans for this group will stand and everything will be successful because I know God has my back, my girls have my back and most importantly I have my back and believe in myself.

If you are interested in joining our networking group of businesswomen who believe that we all can accomplish our goals together, we all can inspire and network and elevate together, and that we can genuinely embrace, elevate and help each other: please feel free to contact me through DM and add the Instagram page @prettybosstalk or email me: facesbykeren@gmail.com

This is a journey we are willing to take with you. A journey that you don’t have to be alone in. A journey to help each other be the woman and businesswoman we were intended to be.

Take a risk, a step, a chance... whatever you want to call it and dream big... but with US!

Love, Peace, and Light always to you,

Keren Pereira

CEO of FacesByKeren

Founder of Pretty Boss Talk

MUA and future Esthetician