#fuck you bullshit capitalist holiday

[eslanes]

I don't know when I'll be active again, I'm hoping in the new year. I'm working just about everyday between 3 jobs, flat out doing art commissions and still not making ends meet. It's exhausting and embarrassing. It's also zero help that my business funding doesn't kick in until after the holidays. I actually hate this time of year so much, if I had a choice in the matter I would opt out completely.

Anyway, hoping the rest of you have a safe, relaxing and happy holiday. Have a glass of wine for me while I lose my mind lol.

[bookshelf-dust]

who’s pretty?

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2,527

warnings: swearing, kissing, smoking (DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT), slight seasonal depression, innuendos/suggestive tone towards the end, allusions to nudity, fluff

a/n: hi!! i’ve been super excited to work on some christmas related fics, so here we are. i think it turned out super sweet and i think i might even like it! i really hope you guys like it too!! thanks for putting up with my shit. <333

————

Eddie spit out the plastic wrapper stuck between his teeth, setting the christmas tree cake in his mouth while he readjusted, tossing the film beside him on the porch and holding on to his cigarette more firmly.

Situated, the boy took an aggressive bite of the cake, red and green sprinkles crunching as he chewed. He swallowed, and took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He looked down, assessing the white icing covering his fingertips.

Eddie scarfed down the rest of his cake, licking the residue from his skin. Little Debbie wasn’t doing anything to soothe the ache in his chest. Neither was his cigarette.

Eddie watched the neighbors across the dirt road—it could hardly be called a street—wrap lights around their porch beams. Once up, they plugged them in, warm white lights illuminating the dingy gray of their trailer.

He tapped the ash off into the tray next to his thigh and scoffed a little. He always preferred the multi-colored lights to those.

He perked up, though, as the cat belonging to those very same neighbors leapt from the cat door and out into the sand, presumably in search of a mole or a cricket to snack on.

Eddie scratched his nails against the porch, watching for the cat’s head to snap up and notice that attention was waiting for him across the way.

He bounded over to Eddie, a black streak in the cool and foggy blue of the afternoon, starting to rub over his shoes and calves. “Hey, buddy.”

Eddie scratched behind the cats ears, rubbed his belly when he flipped over. But his visit was cut short as something moved in the overgrown grass and the cat shot away, back to business.

Eddie sighed, pushing off of the worn in wood, moving back inside.

The holiday season used to be Eddie Munson’s favorite time of the year. His uncle Wayne usually got two weeks off of work, and he’d spend them with his nephew, watching cheesy Christmas movies and eating themselves out of house and home.

He never got much in terms of gifts, nothing big or grand. But every band t-shirt Wayne brought home from the thrift store made Eddie’s heart grow two sizes. Every couple guitar picks or album that had a poster in the sleeve that Wayne would watch Eddie giddily tack up in his room.

As for Wayne, Eddie found that mugs were a very good gift, and could mean a lot. They did mean a lot.

Wayne didn’t love anything more than a nine-year-old, doe eyed Eddie running up to him with the present he’d hid in his room all December. He felt the same way when Eddie was twenty.

But it hadn’t been the same in recent years. It hurt, but Eddie knew that’s how it worked. Things changed, and the things you loved as a kid don’t feel the same as you get older. They aren’t the same.

Wayne didn’t get two weeks off for the holidays anymore. The plant wasn’t as abundantly employed as it used to be. He was lucky if he got Christmas Eve off and not just the day of. When Wayne was home, he was tired, and it wasn’t the occasion that it once was, full of hyper Eddie shenanigans.

But Eddie missed it. He missed going on walks to the rich neighborhoods to look at their elaborately set up light displays. He missed laying in bed at night, even long after he knew that Santa was actually Wayne and everything else was capitalist bullshit, trying to go to sleep so that his presents would be delivered.

Fuck, he missed being a kid.

He was lost in this mental turmoil spiral when the door slammed and Wayne returned from picking up dinner. Eddie hopped up, ready to help get plates out and make sure the restaurant hadn't forgotten anything.

"Hey, kiddo?" Wayne asked once they'd settled down to eat. Eddie looked up at his uncle from his place on the floor. With his legs crossed and hands bare of any jewelry, Wayne thought his nephew looked lightyears younger. Like his little boy. Eddie hummed in response.

"Merill's has a good bit of trees left. You wanna go pick one out in the next couple days?" Eddie's eyes lit up and he moved to sit on his knees, stuffing pizza crust in his mouth.

He finished swallowing, "Yeah, of course. You sure you won't be too tired or anything?"

Wayne watched as Eddie scanned for his next breadstick. He'd had that nervous habit since he was little: occupying himself while waiting for a response in fear that something would go wrong.

"No, bud. I'll be just fine."

And so they drove up to the farm and brought home one of the smallest and scraggliest trees--just like they always did. Wayne said those had the most character.

Later when it was getting dark outside and both parties were resting from getting the thing inside and in its stand, Eddie realized it was past time for Wayne to be at work, and he wondered if he'd possibly zoned out enough to entirely miss his uncle's goodbye.

He slipped down the hall, only to see Wayne sorting through various holiday lights. "Uh, Wayne?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"Aren't you late for work?"

"No, bud. I've got time off. Suppose I should've mentioned that, huh?" Wayne hadn't forgotten to tell Eddie. How could one forget that they had time off from work? He'd simply wanted it to be a surprise.

Eddie might've been very good at concealing his feelings in general, but Wayne knew he was bummed that Christmas had changed for the both of them. Wayne looked up at Eddie, who was practically beaming.

"Really? How long?"

"Two and a half weeks."

"Shit." Eddie was grinning hard, cheeks pinked and knees bopping slightly. He was excited.

"Guess that means your happy?" Wayne handed the boy one end of the lights to plug in and check they still worked.

"Well, yeah, duh."

"What would you think about asking Y/N over? She could spend the night on Christmas Eve and then the day if she's up for it. Thought maybe you'd like that. I could cook or somethin'."

"I think she'd love that. And you don't have to cook. She'd gladly eat take out, I know."

That night, Wayne stepped out of the bathroom to see Eddie lying on the floor in front of the tree reading, but also staring up at the colored lights in awe. Wayne felt his eyes get glassy and blinking the oncoming tears away. His boy.

He walked over, crouching to plant a prickly kiss in Eddie's curls, only to ruffle them afterwards. "Night, Eds."

Eds. His uncle was the only person that had ever called him that before you. He didn't say it often, but it was one of his favorite things to hear. "Night, Wayne."

————

"Hey, precious." Eddie swung the door open for you, simultaneously shoving a cookie in his mouth.

"Afternoon, Edward." Eddie wrinkled his nose at the use of his birthname, which you kissed in greeting.

"Want a cookie? They've got sprinkles."

"In a second. I've brought a gift for your pretty tree." You set your bag on the coffee table.

"Who's pretty?" Wayne asked, emerging from the back of the trailer.

"You Waynie," Eddie quipped, earning himself a playful smack on the back of the head.

"The tree is pretty, Wayne," you supplied. "I brought it presents. Sorta."

Eddie watched as you dug around, pulling free two ornaments, though he couldn't quite make out what they were.

"Here, Wayne, this one's yours." He held out his hand, and you set the object in his palm. His was a little Garfield ornament. The cat was wearing blue pajamas and was holding a little teeny coffee mug.

Wayne laughed appreciatively. "That's a good one, sweetie. Thank you. Will you find it a good spot on the tree for me?"

"Sure!" He squeezed your shoulder and watched as you put it front and center, towards the middle of the tree, that way Garfield could keep watch.

Wayne walked off into the kitchen, giving you space to give Eddie his prize.

Eddie waited patiently, though that was often a struggle for him. "Okay, I might've gotten you two. But I couldn't not get one of them." Eddie held out both hands, grinning expectantly. It was simple, really, the more you looked at it. A black sphere with purple lettering. One side said Master of Reality, the other Black Sabbath.

"Holy shit," Eddie said, turning the ball over in his hands. "Where'd you find this?"

"The record store in town had a whole bunch of old ornaments on sale, like they'd been cleaning out the back, and I thought you'd like it. Do you?"

Eddie smacked a dramatic kiss on your forehead. "Are you fuckin' kidding me? Of course I like it." He couldn't take his eyes off of it, mainly because it was so sweet of you to have gotten for him, but also because he thought it was funny that the store still had one considering how long the album had been out.

Eddie was lost in thought when you approached him with the next one. "When I went to get a book last week they had this little tree covered in book-related ornaments, and I saw this and I gasped so hard the lady behind me asked me if I was alright."

Eddie laughed, throwing his head back, and you took the opportunity to hang the ornament off of the tip of your finger to show him. He looked down, only to see a small painted ornament that looked like a book. It was The Hobbit.

"Baby." You were the one grinning like an idiot now. That one earned you a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Isn’t it cool?” You asked, pointing out that the text was raised and everything, that the spine even had ridges.

“It’s so cool.” He spun around to walk the few feet into the kitchen. “Wayne, would you look at this?”

Eddie’s uncle did as requested, smiling at your gesture. “That is very cool, Eds. Looks better than the copy you’ve got.”

“It totally does!” The boy wasn’t even slightly offended.

Eddie marched over to the tree, nestling the ornament amongst the others, along with his Black Sabbath one.

He turned to you, taking your face in his hands.“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m gonna be so annoying about those now.”

“I know. I prepared myself on the way here.” The smile he gave you was brilliant, and there was no other way to describe it.

————

The three of you spent a good portion of Christmas Eve making cookies: gingerbread, snickerdoodles, shitty sugar ones with sad icing jobs. Though, you did make sure to get most of it done early so there was time to chill.

You watched loads of movies. How the Grinch Stole Christmas had been on that morning, and Eddie extravagantly performed “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch” for you, poking at your sides to get you to smile.

Eddie rented Die Hard for you, just because he knew you had the hots for Alan Rickman. He slipped it in the VHS slot, only for Wayne to say, “This the one with her pretty boy in it?”

Eddie practically cackled as you sunk into the couch more than he thought possible.

“He’s not a boy,” you argued. “He’s a total man, thank you very much.”

You watched Gremlins, and Eddie laid his head in your lap. You missed the way Wayne looked over at the two of you, in awe of how lucky he was that his boy had found someone so good. He thought about how happy he was to have this little family.

Wayne picked up food from Benny’s, not wanting to have to cook two nights in a row.

At the end of the night, Eddie finished off his first pile of rentals with Silent Night, Deadly Night. You didn’t mind, not with how excited he was about it. You loved a good slasher anyhow.

It was well past midnight when the film was over, and you cleaned up the popcorn mess while Eddie rinsed cans out for the recycling before the both of you slipped away to allow Wayne some rest before the big day.

Eddie had been in the bathroom while you went into his room to get changed. You slipped out of your pajama bottoms, opting for no pants at all considering Eddie was like a human furnace.

You heard the door click shut behind you as you pulled your shirt over your head, leaving your back bare to him. Eddie wolf-whistled.

You through the shirt at him, aiming for his face, only for him to catch it instead. “Usually it’s dinner and a show, not bedtime and a show, but I’ll take it, hot stuff.”

“Shut the fuck up, Munson.” Eddie giggled to himself as he stopped you from putting on your own shirt, reaching for one of his own. He pulled out his worn in Master of Reality t-shirt.

“Seems appropriate, don’t you think?” He slipped the fabric over your head. “Stick your arm through—there you go.” Once settled, he kissed you sweetly before giving you a light slap on the ass as you climbed into bed.

“C’mon now pretty boy, let’s see my bedtime show.”

Eddie shimmed out of his sweats for you, stepping out of them with a flourish. You giggled at his underwear, which had little Santa hats on them.

“Don’t laugh, they’re comfortable!” He took off his shirt and you made grabby hands at him.

You sat up on your knees to kiss his spider tattoo and then the demon, making sure to hit them all. You made him spin to get the newer one on the small of his back: very sexy bat wings.

Eddie crawled into bed with you, switching his lamp off. “Now, look, I know I’m insatiable, and you’d probably love to stay up all night kissing me, and sweet-talking me, but we gotta get to sleep if we want Santa to come.”

He tickled his fingers up your arm when you stared to laugh, burying your face in his chest.

“Eddie, my love, you haven’t got a chimney.”

He scoffed, fighting a laugh. “You doubt Santa’s abilities to get me my presents though I lack the typical vessel? He has his ways, baby. Damn.”

Eddie reached for your thigh, grabbing hold and swinging it over both of his before kneading at the squish of it. He patted it fondly before he kissed your forehead.

“Merry Christmas, you little shit,” you said. “I love you.”

Eddie snickered. “Goodnight, pain in my ass. I love you more.”

The holiday season had officially climbed right back up to being one of Eddie Munson’s favorite things. He thought, laying there beside you that night, that you and Wayne were the best people in the world.

It felt like all the shitty Christmases had been leading up to this fucking excellent one, and he was over the moon.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[cervidaedalus]

I hate how things work out with govt ASSistance programs and and how absolutely over-complicated things have to be when you're reliant on them and other people just to live in Capitalist Hellscape, and it has me thinking right back to last month's bullshit and that asshole's stupid narrative.

I'm on my power company's assistance program. Since early winter my electric bill has been a flat 20$. I was easily approved for that program. In June I receive a notice that I need to renew my benefits. The usual, first time on this program but I've been through this with other assistance programs. I sent in everything I need- or so I thought. I receive notices saying that my application was denied, further information is needed. What information? Oh no of course we can't tell you that. We want you to crawl on your hands and knees uphill to get that information because we can't possible make it easy for the filthy peasants. So it turns out I just need a letter stating my income and to email it. Okay, that's easy enough and I feel like I've done this for one of these programs before so I write it all the same. Name, account number, stating I'm disabled with 0 income and a family friend is covering my bills. This is sent on June 26th. "Please expect 5 business days to process your application". So that would land on the 3rd- factoring the weekend. July 3rd I get an email- please tell us your account number. Alright, it was in the letter, but I guess it needed to be somewhere else? I send that right away- same date, before business hours end. Of course the next day is a holiday, but I get a response on July 9th. "Please re-send your letter." ............. I had just paid June's 20$ power bill, I have exactly one week before my next bill comes through. I immediately send the letter again. So it'll be another 5 business days and my application will be approved- right on time for the next bill cycle! But things are never that easy when you're one of the poors. I check my billing statement. 20? No, 40? No, I mean it's summer so there's a/c. 60? 70? Nope. ONE HUNDRED FORTY TWO. That's more than -seven times- my usual fixed 20$ rate. Yeah, no, sure, I was on Ontrack and nothing about my situation has changed at all, I can totally afford $142.90! Today I call the office. The lady says it looks like my letter was submitted *yesterday*. Uh, not according to the Jun 26th and Jul 9th emails I do not think it was submitted on Jul 17th. I do mention that I can't pay the current bill, and she is understanding and kind and tries to get to the bottom of it to get my application through. She urges me to call the office again if there's any problems. It sounds like it was my county that might be responsible for the days and fuck-ups. A couple hours later I get another call from someone else at the office. I need *a whole ass other letter* that I didn't even need upon my first application, from *a whole other person* to verify I'm getting help with my rent and bills. And of course that person is on vacation. So this is all super stressful and after pacing around trying to figure out what to do and feeling helpless, as soon as I set foot in my bedroom I got emotional whiplash and the thought immediately crossed my mind, "If you were still on O's radar this would have made it into the PDF as you spending all your money on plants and being too financially irresponsible to pay your bills and details would become 'excuses'." You know- it's almost like it's a trauma response to abuse. From an abusive person. Oh... Anyway I'm working on trying to figure out what to do. If anything I'll just take the hit of late fees and hope they're waived once I get my application approved. My power isn't gonna be shut off especially if I just pay my usual 20$ now.

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

and not for nothing, but subsistence farming was not as labor-intensive as we imagine. our current labor expectations really fucked with our heads on that. 'hard work' and 'hard labor' have capitalist connotations for us, it never ends and we can never feel finished or accomplished. peasants in 1312 britain had an entirely different relationship to work-- roughly 4-6 hours a day 4-6 days per week with all winter off and quite a few holidays through the warm working months. Yes, their work was literally physically more demanding due do being in the past, but there was also far less because. like read david graebers bullshit jobs. doing utterly pointless work is both our current norm and new.

industrialization shifted workdays from 4-6 hours in their community to 12-16 in factories & resource acquisition to a fully individualized thing reliant on wages and hours worked. if a peasant finished their work early doing subsistence, there was no more work. they were done and went home. the explosion of urban, industrialized wage labor is a significant shift in the class dynamics we're observing. the 8 hour day/40 hour week is more than double the absolute working time of a historical british peasant, resources are much more strictly controlled, and while a king in 1312 may have had 100x the wealth of an average peasant, the wealthiest now make a million+ times more than the poorest worker.

and then back to bullshit jobs. there is a difference between productive labor and wasted labor. people feel worse when they're doing useless bullshit they don't like. they feel better when they're doing useful bullshit they don't like. they feel best when they're doing useful shit they do like. hard work isn't bad or evil or actually that unpleasant. I would literally genuinely enjoy laying brick for 4-6 hours a day for months on end if i knew the building would be useful for my community. I do not enjoy a call center no matter what they do. there's also studies showing that the literal exact same physical motion can have positive impacts if you choose it/want it (where it functions like exercise)* and negative impacts if you're forced (where it functions like injurious motion). there is an actual difference on your body and mind between productive labor and bullshit, and the vast majority of historical work was productive labor accompanied by a healthy amount of agency while the vast majority of ours is highly controlled bullshit. it's more fulfilling to finish a dress at your own measured, sustainable pace for your cousin who really really really needs a new one than to sit in a sweatshop sewing through as many of the same fast fashion garments as you can to avoid your pay getting docked.

this is all part of the 'better class position' bit. class is about agency and resource access.

i do still acknowledge that we had much less technology, literally every single task was actually physically harder, many people died young from the all of it, and i generally prefer my time period's medical knowledge. but people have always been people, they're just peopling under a different set of circumstances with a different knowledge base.

*you can hurt yourself with things you enjoy, too. not denying stress injuries for artisans my hands are also fucked

begging people to understand that there's a difference between getting into handicrafts as a hobby and being forced to engage in constant busywork for the sake of persistence. yes I'm sure you enjoy weaving. im not sure you'd enjoy it if it was all you did every day to keep a family of fourteen clothed while they work fields. and I'm sure they'd enjoy gardening in their free time too, but after a few years of ploughing stones under the sun, they'd probably also wish they could just buy stuff from a store. cottagecore fantasies aren't reality, and just because peasants had a better class position than you do doesn't mean their lives were better than yours are now.

[wack-ashimself]

The holiday ads and music alone already made me done with christmas. I really don't give a fuck this year. I love seeing my family, but fuck every other aspect of this bullshit. Christmas used to be something I looked forward to. Now it's just a cash grab for capitalists. There's no heart in it anymore. You never found it weird that when businesses need some money at the end of the year lo and behold a fuck ton of holidays happen? I'm not joking our holiday season is more conditioned for our capitalistic Empire than tradition and love. So why do we keep embracing it? It's not like it's actually helping us. I mean suicides always seem to Skyrocket around the holidays. Is that really mean it's good for all of us?

[skoliro]

man the holidays are coming and it makes me want to off myself every fucking year hahaha hurray for seasonal depression and it’s sheer ruthlessness

[eusuntgratie]

happy valentine’s day

💕femslash february💕

Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, E, 1200 words

for @pray-for-sound    

Allison unwraps the package slowly, more than a little nervous at the glint in Lydia’s eye.

“I thought we weren’t doing gifts, Lyds. Valentine’s Day is stupid - it’s just a-”

“Commercial bullshit holiday that’s an example of our ridiculous capitalist bullshit society, yes darling, I know. Open your fucking present.”

Allison grins. “Yes ma’am.”

Intensity flashes across Lydia’s face, quick enough that anyone else would miss it.

The box is small, and beautifully, perfectly wrapped. She pulls the silver bow away, lets it fall to the floor and starts to tear into the pretty pink paper with silver foil hearts. Of course Lydia wouldn’t stop at getting her a gift, she’d wrap it all perfectly too.

She reveals a small, nondescript black box, and opens it slowly to reveal an odd, c-shaped pink…oh. Allison feels herself flush.

“You know what that is, baby?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“So, no fussing, okay, because this is really a present for both of us.”

Allison smiles. She’s in a heap of trouble, but nothing’s more fun than Lydia’s trouble.

keep reading on ao3

[aro-bot]

ways that romance (as a capitalistic social construct, no i'm not talking about the feeling of romantic love) is inherently unhealthy, since apparently this is a debate topic now:

seen as the be-all end-all of adulthood

people expect a partner by the time theyre in their teens/early twenties

if you dont have a partner by then youre sad and pathetic and should be desperately trying to get one

many people's financial situations only become stable after they marry

many people marry SO THAT their financial situations will become better

people end up trapped in abusive relationships because of financial bullshit (see how this is capitalism yet?)

the entire holiday of valenteins day as it is currently celebrated makes the concept of romance seem like a. something everyone experiences, b. something everyone needs to experience (i know literally almost every single person feels like shit on valenteins day for something out of their control), and c. profits off of all of this

it combined with the patriarchy means many men feel entitled to women's feelings towards them

people will become romantically involved with complete or near strangers, and all but forget about and even move away from longtime friends to be with their partners

YES, SEEING ROMANTIC PARTNERS AS MORE IMPORTANT AS YOUR FRIENDS IS AN UNHEALTHY MENTALITY

putting all your emotional wellbeing onto one person is inherently unhealthy, for you and the other person

in conclusion: you can feel romantic love, you can date, you can do all that bullshit and i don't fucking care, but just. acknowledge that as a wider social construct romance is INCREDIBLY unhealthy and feeds a society of extreme loneliness even when you DO have a partner

just like, stop prioritizing your romantic partner over every single one of your friends and family jesus christ

[alottanothing]

Black Friday

Summary: After convincing Elliot to go out for an impromptu Thanksgiving, Darlene also manages to rope him into Black Friday shopping. Lots of Alderson Sibling bickering and fluff. I just want them to be happy damnit

Word Count: 8408

Warnings: Language 

Pairing: None

Tag List: @ramimedley​, @bohemian-napsodyy​, @sherlollydramoine​, @txmel​

Author’s Note: This whole idea started when I went shopping myself and bought a TV during a Black Friday Sale and @xmxisxforxmaybe​ and I began thinking what it would be like going Black Friday shopping with Darlene and Elliot. So, here we are 8000+ words later. I really could not have done this without her motivating me and giving this a look over to make sure it was at the very least readable. She totally rocks.  I hope you all enjoy this. I was apprehensive about writing Elliot, fingers crossed I did his character justice

The forecast that November day had proven to be ruthlessly dismal. A monsoon of sorts swept over the city; pelting the streets from morning to night. Precipitation descended from the heavens in icy sheets- sharp like pins- as it stung Elliot’s skin despite the ragged hoodie he wore. For the most part, the weather never led a crucial role when it came to his daily activities. Elliot was rather indifferent to it most days. The only time the weather proved truly beneficial to him was when he could use it as an excuse to stay inside. He was happiest barricaded in the idyllic solitude of his apartment, where the muffled sounds of the city, could lull his anxious nerves. Ergo, Elliot had not been planning to sulk through the current downpour, not even slightly. He would have much preferred to spend his night locked away and dry, seated at his terminal. There, he could focus all his energy on that ever-present itch in the back of his mind by finding a target and getting to work. He would have in fact, done exactly that- hacking and staying out of the gloom- but his sister had other ideas. Darlene was adamant that they go out for dinner. It was Thanksgiving after all.

Why her sudden interest in the holiday, Elliot was not entirely sure. And it was the intrigue therein that eventually saw him surrendering to her whim. It was not as though they had grown up celebrating with big family meals consisting of stuffing and turkey. No— they were lucky to end up with a bucket of KFC for Thanksgiving. Maybe it was nostalgia or a desire to feel a sense of normalcy that drove his sister to want to make the day somehow special. Whatever it was, Elliot doubted he would understand. What he did understand was that the Chinese restaurant she led him to, perfectly fit the mediocre holiday celebrating they were used to.

The glaring red and gold interior of the Lower Eastside restaurant was a stark contrast to the bleak black and grey of the streets outside. The warmth inside Elliot welcomes, gladly. It takes a moment of squinting before his vision grows accustomed to the alarmingly red walls. In mirroring motions, he and Darlene wipe their feet on the rug inside the door, before she takes the liberty of speaking with the hostess. Her voice carries through the empty restaurant with her usual spitfire timbre that bordered on the edge of flirty and cocky. The woman makes a mark with her pen in a notebook as she grabs two menus and asks them to follow her. Darlene responds with a sing-song  "Thanks, doll,” and turns to venture deeper into the empty restaurant. Elliot saunters behind his sister, mechanically pulling out a chair at their table before slouching into it-- the wooden legs squeaking under his weight. A shiver shakes him as he peels his damp hoodie off of his shoulders and hangs it on the back of the chair to dry, carding his fingers through his mostly dry hair.

“So,” Darlene chimes, nose buried in her menu. “What is the most turkey-ish thing they serve, do ya think?”

Elliot shrugs, glancing at the flat, laminated menu sitting in front of him. “Chicken?”

“Mmm, probably,” Darlene jibes, flipping the laminate over, front to back, while making a clicking noise with her tongue.

When their food comes, it comes quickly in a swirl of steam and scents that draw a growl from Elliot’s stomach making him realize how hungry he was. The arrival of their food provokes a grin to both their faces. Elliot’s being much less toothy than his sisters, but with the same- reserved- flare and gratitude.  As they eat, Darlene fills the silence of the eatery with stories from their childhood. Most of her words fall in a barrage of bitter soaked memories of their less than ideal Thanksgivings. Elliot only half listens, eyes fixated on his plate. His mind is far away, clawing at that hankering in the furthest part of his mind while he picks at his food with chopsticks.

Darlene exhales loud enough to coax him back to reality. “...I don’t think we had one good Thanksgiving growing up, at least not one that I remember.”

Elliot takes a moment to swim blindly through his clouded memories in search of something happy. There was so much of his youth veiled in shadow or obstructed completely, it's several moments before he uncovers a thought.

“The year before dad died,” Elliot says speaking more to his plate than to his sister, finding a somewhat cherished memory. “Angela’s parents, they invited us both over.“

“Shit, you’re right,“ she says as a slow smile unfurls on her face. “I do remember that. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much before in my life.” She chuckles before taking another bite of her dinner.

“Better than KFC.“ Elliot muses with a wistful pull to his lips, recalling the foggy memory. 

The most normal I had ever felt. The thought drifts into his mind, dark and bereft like the rain clouds outside. Elliot’s slight simper succumbs to his sullen thought causing his lips to settle into a thin frown.

“Definitely,” Darlene agrees ruefully, the shift in her tone mirroring Elliot’s expression. Her eyes flit back to her pate, resting her cheek on her balled fist as she picked the peas from her rice. Her stories overrun, it seemed by the sudden air of melancholy.

The restless squall continues to pelt and ping against the window of the restaurant long after Elliot and Darlene finish their impromptu Thanksgiving feast. They linger while the rain persists, neither wanting to brave the downpour again so soon.

The Wi-Fi inside the Chinese restaurant is average at best, but Elliot is glad for it nonetheless. As he pulls his laptop from his worn backpack, a sense of contentment settles him. It was quiet in the restaurant. The only sounds coming from the kitchen: indistinct chatter of employees coupled with the clack of dishes. The steady patter of the rain added to the atmospheric hum. Elliot finds his focus in those repetitive noises. As his finger fan over the keys, he calms completely, eager to finally sate the itch in his mind.

“Hey,” Darlene’s voice sounds, muffled due to Elliot's intense focus.  

His concentration remains on his work; his eyes darting back and forth with the letters and numbers he types on the screen. Elliot doesn't even register the piece of broken fortune cookie she tosses across the table at him.

“Heeey” she tries again with another piece of cookie, exaggerating the long ‘a’ sound.

Still, Elliot’s wide eyes remain wholly fixated on the screen in front of him— fingers working their lightning pace on the keys.

“Hey, asshole!” Darlene tries a third time, chucking the rest of the fortune cookie in a handful of crumbs to fall over him like confetti. His focus breaks the moment the flurry of crumbs tumbles down his face. 

Elliot blinks across the table to Darlene; his focus extinguished like water to a flame. His startled expression shapes into a silent question as his brow creases into a deep line while his eyes gaze imploringly at his sister. She meets him with an impish grin that touches her eyes with a mischievous twinkle. The gesture alone settles uneasily in the pit of Elliot's stomach. He attempts to swallow the sudden lump in his throat, and his jaw grows tight.

“So I’ve got this crazy idea…” she says in a tone that drips with the same amount of mischief as the rest of her features. Elliot's jaw grew tighter, his heart starting to nervously thrum in his chest.

As she leans across the table, Elliot feels the familiar twinge of his fight or flight sense stab into him. He shifts in his seat warily. Rarely did Darlene’s crazy ideas contend well with the multitude of anxiety and paranoia Elliot felt at any given time.

Elliot waits instead of responding, letting his question crease further into his features.

“Two words,” She finally says with abundant mirth. “Black. Friday.” 

Flight.

Immediately, Elliot's wide eyes dart towards the door. The sense of flight works through him with a tingling surge causing his heart to skip and his palms to sweat. However, instead of making an escape for the door, all Elliot manages is a look of unabashed horror. His hands fumble in search of his hoodie pockets, needing their security that moment,  only to flounder and settle in his lap. Several minutes pass, the air suddenly thick with silence and Darlene’s simper shifts into a scowl as the delight fizzles out of her expression.

“W-why?” Elliot husks out, finally.

All at once his sense of flight vanishes, as though a switch in his mind had been set off. And with it, he was suddenly fight.  A glare molds itself onto his features, one laden with disgust.  

“It’s all capitalist bullshit.” his tone grows bolder the deeper the idea settles in his mind. "Corporate America— that’s who benefits from Black Friday. It’s a fucking joke, Darlene.”

Darlene’s scowl intensifies and her wide eyes narrow at him. Elliot squirms under her vehement leer. The fierceness of her expression combats his sense of fight and with a beaten sigh, he concedes somewhat.

“Who do you even have to shop for?” He asks, genuinely curious— it wasn’t like they bought each other holiday gifts. 

“Me, bitch!” She tells him without hesitation.

I should have guessed. Elliot rolls his eyes, slouching deeper into his chair. He shifts again, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to allay the anxiety Darlene’s suggestion brought on.

“It’s 10:30.” He stresses, with a glance at the digital numbers on his still-open computer screen. 

It is a futile attempt to thwart her idea— he knows. But his sense of fight was still tingling through him, begging to be heard no matter how meek his argument was.

Darlene's glower falters only long enough to throw him an 'are you an idiot' look.

“Um yeah, the stores are open all night, dipshit.”

“No, Darlene,” Elliot scolds, that sense of fight still very much coursing through him.

“Look, Mr. Grinch.” She states in her no-nonsense way, leaning across the table as though she was about to interrogate him. “Either go shopping with me, right now so I can find shit for my own apartment. Or, I sleep on your couch forever.”

A brow hoists high on her forehead in challenge as she watches him. 

Elliot holds her gaze until the fight fizzles out of him. His head rolls back as a long, exasperated sigh parts his lips. Leave it to Darlene to offer an ultimatum so tempting.

Having his sister as a roommate had proven challenging in the beginning. Eventually, though,  he'd gotten used to the routine her presences called for.  Darlene was loud in comparison to Flipper and Qwerty, but he didn't hesitate when she'd asked to bunk with him. He did miss the solitude, however. Elliot wanted his apartment back, and his sister knew it. 

“Fine,” he surrenders, his defeat tasting sour on his tongue as it falls from his mouth in a haggard sigh.

In an instant, Darlene beams at him, eyes sparkling in the light of the neon 'OPEN' sign in the window. To a degree, her expression eases some of his apprehension, but he still wanted to go home. He stands to pack his laptop, trying to deter the sense of flight returning to him. With an unceremonious series of movements, he shrugs into his still somewhat damp hoodie, situating the hood over his head and buries his hands in the pockets. Darlene does the same, with a more avid flair having won. She gracefully cloaks herself with her winter coat, the faux fur of the bushy collar and sleeves swaying with each of her fluid movements. Elliot watches, idly wondering what it must be like to harbor such carefree whim.

“Let’s rock and roll,” she sings in a confident bravado that compliments her smile as she takes the lead with a buoyant march.

Elliot sucks in a deep breath and lets it out unnaturally slow to calm himself before trudging after his sister.

***

The first of the two trains it takes to get to uptown Manhattan was the quietest. Most of the passengers spent the ride busying themselves with their phones, which Elliot silently thanked them for. The second train was worse. 

Train number two was the closest to holiday shopping ground zero, and riddled with numerous obscurities. People from every walk of like frequented the subways; ranging from obscenely normal to often blatantly strange.  At present, the inordinately bizarre passengers made up most of the train. For each normal passenger, there was a counterpart at the other end of the spectrum. One man sat in a drunken stupor, sprawled over much of the seat dressed as a Christmas elf. Every minute or so he sipped from a not so well hidden tin flask while trying to muffle his bout of hiccups. Another man with an ill look about him wore a turkey costume that reeked heavily of body odor. To the farthest end of the car, a man wearing Santa shorts with a crocheted Santa hat skillfully moonwalked on roller skates, shopping bags in hand. 

Elliot gages them all warily as he stands at the threshold until Darlene scopes out a spot far away from the other passengers. Especially the drunk, smelly ones.

“All the decent apartments have outrageous rent,” Darlene whines, her tone filling with irritation. 

She had spent most of the first train scrolling on her phone on a realtor app, diligently searching for an affordable apartment to no avail.

Elliot sits beside her with his hood up, hands buried in his pockets. With his hoodie on, some of his nerves settled. Still, he did his best to keep his focus on only his sister and not the obscure passengers surrounding them.

“I’m gonna end up in some shithole like you,” She chides a little louder as her frustration roots deeper. With heedless swipes of her thumb, Darlene scrolls on her phone, and her lips press into a firm line. 

“Better your own shithole than my couch.” Elliot mumbles.

Judging by the immediate elbow she jabs into his ribs and the loud “Jackass!” thrown into the open his thought had fallen from his lips instead of staying in his head. Shit.

“Black Friday shopping? Really?” 

Elliot blinks hearing the familiar voice of his ever-present shadow self and looks to find Mr. Robot in the seat across from him- eyes glued to newspaper shopping adds. 

“Doesn’t this go against everything we believe in?” Robot asks, wadding up the paper and artlessly tosses it aside. “As if the corporate greed of it all wasn’t enough— the greed of the people, that’s where the real threat lies. Grown ass adults fighting over the last iPhone or 65” TV like it’s the Middle Ages and blood sport is all the rage again.” Robot shakes his head in disbelief, either from his own comment or the fact it was actually happening, Elliot can't tell. 

Elliot exhales and meets Robot’s eyes. “I know this isn’t our thing—“

“You can say that again, kiddo.” 

Elliot’s jaw clenches, irritation flooding his features hearing the snark in his alters voice. “But, if this is the first step to getting our apartment back, then I’m willing to take it.” 

“Can you take it, though?” Robot asks, his tone quickly shifting into one less condescending. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knee, his eyes earnest. “I wasn’t kidding— this is gonna be akin to gladiatorial combat for you. I can almost guarantee bloodshed.” 

Elliot shrugs, “that’s what I’ve got you for, right?” 

Varying degrees of concern drift over his face before finally, Robot sighs as he hangs his head with a slight shake 

“Yes,” he breathes out in a huff.  “That’s why you have me.” 

A silence passes between them, and the ghost of a simper works onto Elliot’s face, thinking.

“Besides,” he adds. “My money is on Darlene if it comes to actual bloodshed.” 

Robot peers through the lenses of his glasses, casting a look in Darlene’s direction. A single brow arches and he nods his agreement. Mr. Robot doesn't press him any further, sensing something akin to determination pulsing through his host self.

The rest of the train ride progresses appallingly slow— every moment pulsing like the ache behind a bruise. Several times the notion of escaping through the sliding doors at the next stop drifts through Elliot’s mind. Leaving him to wonder whether he harnessed the skill and agility to run back to his apartment before Darlene could catch him.  Something, however, keeps him seated beside her while she drones on about apartments and their ridiculous pricing. In his mind an array of red flags scream at him, and yet, he stays.

When Elliot and Darlene emerge from the subway station, snow greets them instead of rain. Both of them stand a moment at the mouth of the stairwell into the bleak station below, eyes to the sky as the flurries drift peacefully onto them. A smile works onto Darlene’s face as she sticks her tongue out to try and catch a taste, a sight that manages to press a single-sided smirk onto Elliot’s cheek. The air was still; peculiar for the usually busy Manhattan streets. White blanks the sidewalks, the crisp November night frozen enough to keep the flakes from melting away.  Darlene spins with childlike wonder, a giggle sounding into the air with a visible puff of breath, before hooking her arm through Elliot’s. She presses close to him and the added warmth he provides, merging them into the flow of foot traffic. Their practiced strides fall easily in line with the rest of the brave souls weathering the snow and the holiday shoppers. All the bustle doesn't arouse any anxiety. With Darlene anchored to his side, coupled with the snowfall,  a fissure of calm works through Elliot prompting his crooked smirk to morph into a smile.

It was a welcome feeling— serenity. And not one Elliot was precisely used to. On the chance it found him, he did his best to hold on to it for as long as his turbulent mind could manage. A reprieve from the itch he could never really scratch. For that moment, he refuses to dwell on the fact Darlene was marching him into battle. The weight and the unspoken admiration of having her with him was enough to silence the paranoia and the anxiety— his loneliness drifting away on the winter air spiraling with snow around them. Tenacity fuels his steps, made even more tranquil by the sound of snow crunching beneath his soles. He relishes in his relaxing muscles, calming mind, and the sights of the decorated storefronts they pass. Garlands and twinkling lights add magic to their snowy journey. Making Thanksgiving seem like an unimportant blip on the holiday radar.

As was the usual; Elliot’s glinting spark of serenity dies out even quicker than it comes. The moment Darlene surrenders her comforting grasp on his arm the onslaught begins. All he can do is stare as his sister is swallowed by the crowd pushing and shoving into the doors of a Manhattan shopping center. The abhorrent sight causes Elliot’s feet to stop, leaving him a frozen, anxious mess in the snow. 

In a blink, Robot is there beside him offering his usual odd sense of solidarity. The two exchange a glance— Robot exhaling a deep breath with a shrug, as though he too needs to work up to the hell they are all three about to endure.  Although, his apprehension seemed to stem from annoyance instead of the dread Elliot feels.

Elliot blindly pushes himself through the horde, tucking his arms and focusing his eyes on the tips of his shoes. A steady momentum was the key to surviving that battle, and he pushes forward diligently. He does all he can to make himself as small as possible in a futile attempt to slide through the crowd without making contact. It is only a few seconds,  yet the anxiety of it all has Elliot’s heart thrumming in his chest. There is sweat on his brow, by the end of it all and every breath leaving his lips fell in a haggard puff. He sighs the moment he breaches the other side of the crowd, the anxiety waning the second he was free. A sense of accomplishment washes over him and his wilted form blooms finding ample space between the sea of people and the glass doors of the mall. Small victories. Its the feel of Darlene's eyes, sizing him up that brings him from his high somewhat. He meets her look imploringly and she responds with an eye roll and a shake of her head.

“Come ooooonnn!” She hisses, turning on her heel with the grace of a practiced dancer, thrusting open the building’s door with the usual amount of fanfare Darlene’s demeanor called for. 

Elliot didn’t bother removing his hood, nor do his hands stray from the safety of his pockets. The heat in the shopping complex meaning little to him. His hoodie would keep him feeling secure if nothing else. He would sooner sweat to death rather than taking it off. It was something he could weave around himself when he felt like he was about to unravel completely. It was his tether to mental stability, and he needed it now more than ever.

“Aw…fuck” his exasperation falls from his mouth louder than he wants, invoking sour looks from the people passing him— not that he cares or pays them much heed.

“This was a bad idea.” Mr. Robot concurs with the same gravity in his tone that was pulling sickly at Elliot’s stomach.

Times Square was a vast wasteland compared to the droves of people inside the mall. All manner of noises from jolly Christmas music to screaming children echoed alarmingly in the hot air. It was as though the whole of New York had sardined itself inside the complex, creating a dizzying helix of sensory overload that for Elliot was the epitome of a nightmare. 

“Yup,” Elliot answers his alter self-aloud.

Both of them linger in a stupor as the droves of people outside clamor through the set of doors behind him, pushing and bumping his shoulders to hastily join the chaos. The shock doesn’t have time to fade before Darlene breaks through the crowd, backtracking to snatch up her stunned brother. 

“Elliot, I swear— come on!” Her long fingers bunch the excess fabric of his sleeve as she yanks him into the mass of people.

***

For possibly the twelfth time, Elliot peeks at his phone to see how much longer he was going to have to endure the trenches of Black Friday.

Two hours! A growl works through him. How could we have only been shopping for two fucking hours? 

It felt as though he'd been trapped in the capitalist hellscape for days. Yet, in reality, they’d been to one store in two hours. One. Fucking. Store.

Darlene was on her fourth trip to the fitting room, lugging an obscene amount of clothes with her. It took Elliot the length of her first two visits to the changing room before he rooted himself to the relative seclusion of a bench located outside of the women’s fitting room.

Elliot sat with his hooded head against the stark white wall, eyes laying their focus to the metal beams and canister lights overhead. The number of people in the narrow store would have been off-putting to anyone. They were loud, much to his distaste, but for the most part, each of them left him alone. The worst of it all was the overly chipper Christmas music, which added to his impatience.

“How the fuck does this count as shopping for stuff for a new place?” Elliot chides loud enough for his sister to hear in her stall and over the clamor of the store. His patience finally wearing thin.

“Get off my dick!” Darlene snaps much louder than necessary. “Eighty percent of my shit is from Goodwill.”

Elliot rolls his eyes sinking a little lower on the bench. Darlene may have shared his ideology about injustice in the capitalist regime, but it didn’t seem to hinder her desire to play into it. 

1:24 a.m. 

Elliot sneers as he reads the time. Two and a half hours. He drums his head against the wall, his impatience and anxiety mixing dangerously inside him.

“Besides,” She starts.

The proximity of Darlene’s voice draws Elliot’s attention as she breezes past him, a pile of clothes in her arms. He stands quickly, hoping she is finally done and ready to move on. 

“I can’t afford anything unless it’s on sale anyway— hold these,” She shoves several garments against his chest and he instinctively hugs them against himself. “I need a different size in this.” She holds up a vintage looking bomber jacket, as her eyes scan the surrounding racks for where she had found it.

When she moves, Elliot snakes behind her, following as she weaves in and out of the clothing racks until she finds one with many similar looking jackets. He forces his focus inward, feeling severely vulnerable in the open aisle. He knew his mind would find more peace zoned out than actively bearing witness to the shoppers.

“…No actually, Karen, I saw it first.” Darlene argues with her hand on the hanger of a perfectly sized jacket. 

“My name isn’t Karen,” the woman with the highlights and the bobbed hair cut recants, obviously offended. 

“Like I give a shit,” Darlene quips, “if you think your big ass shoulders are gonna fit in a small— keep dreaming. There are plenty of mediums and larges.”

For all the good it did him, Elliot finds it increasingly difficult to stay out of focus with his sister in a heated argument; over a fucking jacket no less. The usual flirtatious spirit in her tone becomes one of pompous snark which seemed to be escalating the woman's ire. He watches the entire altercation with a scowl and a look of bafflement.

“So, are you gonna handle this one or should I?” Mr. Robot asks popping in rather timely. His sudden presence eases Elliot's inner turmoil to a degree but every passing glance he risks towards his sister combats any and all repose. A matching look of exasperation weighs oh his alters brow as Darlene upheld the notion she deserved the smaller sized jacket.  

“No, I got it.” Elliot husks out after several moments, suddenly aware of the eyes watching them, not sounding too sure.

Robot lingers a step behind him, protectively, while gathering himself to his full height-- ready to tap in and fight if the situation escalates. Neither Darlene nor the other woman notice Elliot when he approaches and he wonders if the sound of his rapid heart would gain their attention.

“Darlene.” He tries gently not yet having worked up enough gall to match the degree of their dispute.

No response.

The pair continue their bickering with a plethora of insults that are every bit crass as they were creative.  

“Darlene,” Elliot tries again, a little more gusto in his tone. 

Darlene and her adversary throw him a quick scowl, disinterested in his incite, before going back to hashing out insults.

Elliot casts a look to Robot, who offers a more or less “ready when you need me” expression throwing his hands up in a dramatic shrug. While the easy way was tempting - using Mr. Robot to settle things once and for all-  that sense of fight was building within him. It stirs a fresh feeling of determination that helps urge him to handle Darlene himself. With a deep breath, he musters as much of his nerve as he can— stowing away some on reserve knowing this was sure to happen again before the night is over.

“Darlene!” He shouts loud enough causing a few of the other shoppers to jump.

“What!”

Fucking finally. He and Robot share in collective thought.

Darlene turns to toss him a sour look; jaw tight with fire in her blue eyes. Elliot’s steam fades quickly and his eyes fall to the jacket before meeting hers again, with an expression that he hopes conveys just how ridiculous she was being.

Darlene moves her eyes between the jacket and Elliot twice until her mind works out what he was trying to transmit with only his dismayed features.  

“Can we just pay for this shit and move on, please?” Elliot begs, in a gruff mumble. He gestures with a glance at the myriad bunch of garments in his arms.

Some of the fury dims in her eyes hearing the desperation in his tone. It takes only a moment more for her frustration to recede, reading the look on Elliot’s face, and she forfeits the jacket without another thought. 

“Guess it’s your lucky day, sweetheart,” Darlene sings irritably to the woman before turning and yanking Elliot by the sleeve of his hoodie again.

***

2:05 a.m. 

The numbers on Elliot's phone mock him, drawing his pursed lips into a deeper frown. 

“You better quit looking, kiddo.” Mr. Robot advises while idly skimming through the clothing racks near where they stand. “Time is only gonna keep tickin’ and you can’t stop it.” 

“I know,” Elliot bites out crossly, as his eyes desperately scan the surrounding shoppers in search of his sister. “Where the fuck did Darlene go?” 

They’d been in their second store for all of fifteen seconds before Darlene had vanished in the sea of shoppers, leaving Elliot to brave the crowd on his own— sorta. A perfunctory glance from the corner of his eye reminds Elliot he was never really alone, which was both soothing and off-putting. 

Robot looks up from the clothing rack, craning his neck in only mild interest then he shrugs. “She’ll be fine. God knows she can take care of herself in this shit storm of holiday madness.” 

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Elliot presses, relentlessly scanning the crowd “My money is on her, remember?”

Their current shop was more akin to a department store. It alone was immense with polished floors, and a set of escalators leading to a second level. The grandeur of the store offered much larger aisles, yet it still managed to lean on the edge of too crowded. For Elliot at least. Trying to find Darlene in that vast array of people and departments was going to require more extensive legwork than he was in the mood to do given the amount of anxiety vibrating through him. His hands only left his pockets to check the time on his phone, before they are shoved back into place where he can press himself together to deter a meltdown.

 “You do realize just standing her makes us look suspicious, right?” Robot says, having lost interest in the rack of half-priced men’s sweaters. “The backpack, the hood— that’s textbook shoplifter. Throw on some shades and a mustache and you could be the next Unabomber.”

“I don’t care,” Elliot argues, even though he agrees. “We’re close to the front of the store— she’s eventually gonna come back this way.” 

Mr. Robot rocks on his heels, tucking his hands in the pocket of his blue jeans, disinterest returning to his features.

Without warning, someone yanks off Elliot's hood, thrusting something down over his eyes. Panic surges through him like a strike of lightning, heart pounding as flight suddenly kicks in.

“Hey! What the f—“ Elliot yelps, but the panic dissolves when he snatches the knit cap off his head, Darlene swinging into view with a grin. 

“I found us matching beanies!” She chuckles, pointing out the hat on her head.

Both caps were made with a typical Christmas pattern in red and white hues— akin to what one would find on a holiday sweater. At the crown of each was a large pompom of matching threads, while the folded brim was embellished in flashy gold lettering. Darlene’s read: Merry Christmas ya filthy animal. While the one she’d attacked him with read: And Happy New Year.

A crooked grin ghosts over his lips recalling the Home Alone 2 reference fondly.  

“Don’t buy me things,” he scolds gently, tucking the hat in his hoodie pocket for safekeeping, returning his hood to its natural position. 

“Thanks, Darlene. You’re such a good sister, Darlene.” She mocks jabbing him in the ribs again. “But all I get is a lecture? Jackass.” 

Elliot exhales listlessly. “Thank you,” he offers in his usual monotone. 

“Pft. Whatever. Turn around and let me put this shit in your backpack—  I don’t wanna carry it and mine’s full.” She instructs motioning to the bags in her hand. 

Elliot does as she asks— realizing playing along and asking no questions was his best strategy to reach the end of their shopping extravaganza sooner rather than later.  

“So,” Darlene starts while situating her purchased items in Elliot’s bag, mindful of his computer. “I heard this guy in line tell his wife that one of the stores in here is selling those fancy coffee machines that you just buy the little cups for— like 75% off.”

Well, at least that was something to go into an apartment.

Before Elliot can even ask which store they need to go to in order to find that “deal,” a customer starts shouting at them. 

“Miss? Are you shoplifting that stuff you just put in his pack?” 

Both Darlene and Elliot cast her the same shocked and offended wide-eyed expression. In whatever part of his mind Robot was dwelling, Elliot knew he was laughing. 

“Hey?” The woman presses on, attempting to flag down a store employee with wild flailing arms. “Hey! This girl and her boyfriend are stealing things!”  

“She’s not my—“ Elliot’s voice cracks when his words rush out in an attempt to correct the woman. But, Darlene’s claws are drawn and ready, beating him to it.

“He’s my brother, asshole. And I’m not stealing!” Darlene tugs on Elliot’s backpack, causing him to stumble sideways as she draws him the several paces it takes to meet their accuser. 

With the same force, she unzips the pack and digs around until she finds the long strip of receipt paper from her purchases. 

“SEE!” She shoves the ribbon of paper in the woman’s face. “Back off me, bitch before I make you eat—“

Mr. Robot and Elliot exchange another baffled stare before focusing on Darlene. 

“You want me to get this one?” Robot asks.

Elliot shakes his head, jaw clenching growing more annoyed the longer he watches his sister. Is it going to be like this in every store? 

He takes a moment to shore up his nerve; tapping into what he’d stored away earlier feeling that wave of determination spread through him. This time Elliot forgoes attempting to gather his sister’s attention. Instead, he rides that fit of courage, wrapping his arms around her waist and uses all his strength to pick her up.

“What the— Elliot put me down!” Darlene growls as she squirms to free herself. 

“Nope.” He grumbles, struggling to keep his forward momentum steady with his sister flailing in his arms. “We’re gonna go find you that fucking coffee machine. Right now.”

***

The quest to acquire a “fancy-ass coffee machine” was the easiest bit of shopping they had done all night. After their accusatory run in at their last store, Elliot hoped this one would be smoother. The homewares department was well stocked, with wide forgiving aisles, and marked with clearly designated lines for each appliance. No other store was as organized; Elliot couldn’t help but commend whoever’s idea it had been. Even the employees were beyond helpful— to the point they almost seem afraid of the customers.

Perhaps the most astounding thing was how well Darlene behaved while standing in line to retrieve her new coffee machine. Granted she talked shit about the other shoppers who’d thus far wormed their way under her skin, but Elliot could drown that out easier than when she was yelling and on the verge of throwing punches. He even returns her smile to a degree when she excitedly asks the store employee for the machine she wanted—thanking the man with a giddy hop as he hands over the box. 

With the coffee machine hugged to her chest, Darlene cuts through the crowd, with Elliot close on her tail. He treads with his hands anchored in his pockets, limbs pressed tight against himself doing his best to weave through the horde without touching anyone who passes.

“Go wait over there,” Darlene instructs nodding pointedly to a part of the store relatively clear of people. “I’ll get in line and pay for this.”

Elliot’s eyes peek from around his hood to where she had suggested he wait for her. While that blessedly clear part of the busy store does beckon him like a sirens call, something told him Darlene would need wrangling again before she was through the never-ending checkout line. 

“Go,” she urges, pointing again with a nod. “I’ll behave.” She adds when he continues to linger beside her.

A sarcastic chuckle parts his lips, as a skeptical expression twists onto his features. Nevertheless, he saunters over to the empty part of the store Darlene picked out for him not missing the hushed “dick” she calls him as he walks away.  

Elliot positions himself within eyesight of his sister, relishing in the fresh solitude. The line was long, and he idly wonders which one of the many patrons Darlene was going to pick a fight with next. 

3:40 a.m. 

A ragged breath parts his lips, reading the numbers on his phone screen, stealing away some of the joy he’d found in his new private corner of the store.  The later it got, the slower time seemed to push on. At the rate things were going, he was never going to get the chance to scratch that part of his mind that ceaselessly itched.

“Maybe this should be our last stop.” Mr. Robot’s voice sounds in a tone that was brimming with concern. “I’m not sure you can handle—“

“I’m fine,” Elliot mumbles, his eyes never straying from his sister. “This means a lot to Darlene— I’ve been a shity brother, this is the least I can do.” 

“I’m in your head, kiddo. I can feel everything you're feeling. This hasn’t exactly been a spring picnic for us.” 

“I’m. Fine.” Elliot forces out although he isn’t sure if it is for the benefit of himself or Mr. Robot. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Robot was right. Not only were the batteries of Elliot’s phone dangerously low, so were his own. He wasn't tired— insomnia was an absolute bitch like that. But the batteries he used out in public where he tried so hard to be normal— those batteries were veering quickly into a single-digit percentage. He longed to be at his terminal— scratching the itch in his rampant mind. Where he wasn't expected to speak or smile, where he could thrive and recharge in relative solitude.

“Jesus, here we go…” Mr. Robot exhales suddenly, looking off in the direction of the checkout line.

Elliot blinks back to reality and follows his imaginary friend’s gaze. 

“Aw, fuck.” Elliot sighs, his head rolling back on his shoulders. 

This time, from what he can see and hear, Darlene’s vexation stemmed from a man displeased with an employee. She was valiantly giving the man a piece of her mind, throwing in colorful insults- as usual- and defending the employee with all she had.

“This is at least admirable,” Robot notes, crossing his arms. 

Elliot nods his agreement but feels his anxiety weighing him down. His reserves for handling disputes were dry.  

“Can you—?“ he asks meekly.

Mr. Robot pats him on the back reassuringly. “I got you, kiddo.”

Elliot throws himself on the back burner, allowing Mr. Robot the reins, while he tries to recharge for the time being. In all seriousness, Robot was better suited for the situation at hand— he could be just as garish and hot-headed as Darlene. The two of them could easily thwart any crowd or displeased customers with a snide comment and a middle finger. Elliot could barely order a coffee without giving himself a bit of a pep talk first. It hardly seemed fair. 

“What’s the issue here,” Robot asks the man who Darlene was currently in the ring with.

“Well for starters, these employees are too lazy to bring me these in a different size,” the man motions to the khaki pants in his hands as he speaks- bile dripping from every word.  “I don't want to do it myself then have to wait in this line again!” His fiery eyes move back to Darlene. “And then this bitch had the nerve to tell me I am the one who’s being lazy— it’s these idiots who won’t do their job!”

“What did you call me!?” Darlene sneers. Mr. Robot quickly sticks his arm out to restrain her as she lunges at the man. 

“Cool it.” He urges sternly, before turning back to the angry customer. 

“No! He’s the one who's a lazy asshole!” Darlene yells before Robot can form another word. “The employees— they are tired. It’s almost 4 in the morning and they are working so you and me and all these other greedy people can buy new khakis and quarter priced coffee machines. The least you could do to show them some appreciation for working this horrible night shift is going to find the right size of your boring tan pants yourself, you arrogant prick!”

Darlene shoves past Mr. Robot, continuing to tear down the man who’d foolishly picked her as a sparring partner.

Elliot and Robot watch, sharing multiple “This is ridiculous,” glances as the two continue to argue. 

Darlene’s spat grows louder by the minute, drawing a crowd of both shoppers and employees—most of whom seemed to be agreeing with Darlene. 

“Dude,” 

The sudden unfamiliar voice and proximity causes Elliot to jump, finding an employee staring at Darlene with hearts in his eyes.

“Your girlfriend is a badass.”

His gaze passes between his sister and the man standing beside him. “She’s not my girlfriend, she���s my sister,” Elliot tells him with a disgruntled huff. 

The man’s mouth pops open in awe and the look in his eyes intensifies.

“Really?” He pauses long enough for his smile to stretch across the entirety of his face. “Is she single?” 

The employee’s comment takes a moment to register until Elliot and Robot both issue the man a soured look and no other reply.

Before her altercation turns into outright war, Elliot tosses Mr. Robot another pleading look with the hopes his other self can settle things with Darlene. Mr. Robot dives back in without hesitation.

“Look, it’s late and I think it's safe to say everyone is a little anxious—“ Robot begins, placing himself between Darlene and the angry man. 

“Buzz off, Elliot,” she pushes him out of the way. “I can handle this fucking asshole myself.” 

“Oh, I don’t dispute that, sweetheart. But you’re sorta holding up the line arguing with Khakis here. “ Mr. Robot gestures to the angry customer. 

A fraction of her rage fades, and her eyes narrow in his direction. She leers at him—her way of silently asking why Elliot was gone. 

Mr. Robot lets his confident air fall slightly, meeting Darlene’s gaze, not wanting to start a dispute with her, too.

“He’s fine. This was getting a little much for him so he tagged me in.” He speaks vaguely enough to confuse anyone who hears his whispered assurances. 

“I’m here,” Elliot says softly, surfacing long enough to put his sister at ease. 

Darlene's air of distrust dwindles the moment she detects her brother poking out from behind the veil of Mr. Robot. 

“See,” Robot says to Darlene. “Now, can we move this along, please? Before chucklehead here asks the employees to bring him a venti peppermint mocha while they’re fetching his pants.” 

Elliot and Mr. Robot both notice the sudden look of alarm on Darlene’s face, but, they don’t notice it fast enough to duck as she does. As it turns out, Khaki man must have been a boxer, because, with one swing, the insomnia no longer matters— Elliot and Robot are out for the count.

***

The food court was arguably the last place to find peace amongst the chaos. The acoustics there were profoundly worse, causing even the quietest whisper to reverberate off the walls creating an annoying thrum that did not pair well with headaches. Yet, somehow, Elliot found himself amidst the disorganized roaring with no one to blame but himself.

The corner table was far away from the teaming shoppers, which helped hinder some of the madness to a degree. Elliot was going to have to remember to thank her for knowing that was the best place to leave him. 

He and Mr. Robot sat alone in the lively food court doing their best not to focus on the bustling people swarming like bees around them. While it had been Robot who’d taken the brunt of Khaki man’s deft swing, it was Elliot who was currently feeling the after-effects of the right hook. He didn't remember much about how he'd wound up in the loudest part of the shopping mall. The trip was beginning to come back to him in increments as he sat. Mostly he recalled dizzy memories of Darlene meandering the sea of tables while supporting his weight. She’d stuck around waiting to make sure his consciousness came back to him fully, before leaving him with the promise she would be right back. 

Both his head and his jaw pulsed and ached— his lip busted and bleeding. Mr. Robot was right, blood had been shed.

“This could have gone better,” Mr. Robot notes, gaging the state his host self was in. 

“It could have gone worse,” Elliot disagrees, his words slurring slightly as he holds the sleeve of his hoodie to his cut lip to try and stop the bleeding. 

Robot’s brow furrows, knitting together tightly in doubt. “Oh yeah?”

Elliot nods and shifts uncomfortably in the plastic chair, his tongue fussing over the cut on his lip to taste whether it was still bleeding. “We only got kicked out of one store, Darlene didn’t hit anyone, and none of us got arrested.”

Mr. Robot drums his fingers on the table, nodding in agreement, but his brow remains creased with slight skepticism. “The night is young, kiddo.”

No, It really isn’t. Elliot thinks, knowing the time had to be well past 4 a.m. “I know Darlene. She’ll wanna go home now.”

By the look on Mr. Robot’s face, he didn’t seem convinced, Elliot, however, was certain. Their night had been riddled with ignorant people, scuffles, and false accusations. Even Darlene had to have had enough of the Black Friday fun for the night. She may have been better suited to handle crowds and people, but she and Elliot both shared a short fuse when it came to dealing with them.

“Here,” Darlene’s voice sounds as she slumps into the empty chair adjacent to where he sits. “Your lip is swollen,” she notes pressing an iced coffee drink to the busted lip. 

It takes him a moment to realize what exactly it is she’d shoved unceremoniously against his face-- a flurry of expressions contorting his features until they land on one of annoyance and query. 

“You couldn’t have asked for a bag of ice?” He quips, his words obscured somewhat by the cup on his face. 

Darlene shrugs and leans to sip from the long straw. “I was thirsty.”

Elliot rolls his eyes, taking the cup from Darlene as he positions it against his mouth in such a way, Darlene could easily still drink. 

Even with the noise and the masses of people around him, that sense of calm swept over Elliot again with his sister so attentive and there for him. They had never been the type of people to come right out with words of sentiment. For them, actions did speak louder than words.

“Sorry about your coffee machine,” Elliot says sincerely, heartened by sharing her peaceful company.

The fight with Khaki Man had resulted in all three of them being escorted out of the store without the prize of their wanted purchases.

With the swelling down, Elliot hands his sister the cup. Darlene tips it, stirring what remained in the mostly empty cup, scooping out the whipped topping as best she could with the straw.

“It’s cool,” she assures him in a devil-may-care sort of way. “While you were passed the fuck out, that employee who thought you were my boyfriend told me he would hold one for me if I went to dinner with him next Friday.”

Elliot’s face quirks into an amused and somewhat intrigued smirk. “Are you gonna go?”

“Duh,” Darlene chuckles. “I want that damned coffee machine!”

Elliot’s simper presses a little firmer into his cheek. This was a successful trip after all.

Even with the yelling and flying fists, Darlene had gotten what she’d wanted, Mr. Robot came to bat exactly when he was needed (like he was supposed to), and Elliot’s heart felt a little lighter seeing the joy on his sister’s face.

“Let’s blow this joint,” Darlene decides after successfully scooping all the leftover whipped cream out of the cup. “We can torrent Home Alone or something.”

When he stands, Darlene quickly pulls him into a hug as a thank you. 

“Yeah?” she asks, resting her chin on his shoulder. She holds him close waiting for his arms to weave around her as they always did. 

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her just as tight. 

When they break away, both of them wear a smile. She giggles and beams when he removes his new hat from his pocket and puts it on. As she twirls to leave, she hooks her arm with his, holding him close.

“Come on, boyfriend!” she sings merrily, making for the exit beyond the crowd, and Elliot can’t help but to actually laugh.

[geftheshittalkingmongoose]

What's pretty heartbreaking about this whole quarantine thing is that some people are finally waking up to how nightmarish and unnecessary the American capitalist system is but dont realize that we could very easily change it

For example, I work retail. During the early stages of quarantine, we were doing curbside pickup exclusively (our store is now open to the public, but we still do curbside). During those weeks when only us employees were allowed in the store, we were the most productive and happy we have ever been.

We were able to fill and package orders while chatting with one another, having snacks and water as needed, using the bathroom the moment we needed to, and cleaning and sanitizing after ourselves every step of the way. We all felt great, were excited to work, and felt safe because we could trust each other with things like basic hygiene AND mask/glove safety.

No bullshit small talk and fake smiles for strangers and no sweeping up and mopping their messes. No digging around for stuff because lazy customers hadn't tucked product into random spots after deciding they didnt want it. No waiting for sometimes up to an hour or more to pee because so many people expected our attention. We worked hard, worked well, and loved every moment. Customers even pointed out how everything was so efficient, no product being sold was damaged or missing parts, and they were all pleased with our speed and overall energy. Everything was seamless and functioning fantastically.

The second our doors opened to the public again, every day has been more horrific than peak season holiday shopping with the added risk of COVID-19 exposure AND anti-maskers starting fights with strangers and employees sometimes multiple times a day.

Some have said that they missed being able to walk around stores and see everything for themselves, and that's why they'd rather shop in store as opposed to online. Sure, I can understand that, but now the evidence has shown that you're choosing the ease of browsing at the expense of safety, product quality and availability, and individualized attention from us workers.

I honestly want to ask every one of those people: is this worth it? Yes, you can browse the store, but now that any old stranger can come in, we cant guarantee that things are in stock, or that all of the parts are in the box. We cant take the time to answer your questions because so many people refuse to read signs and demand to be walked to a location or refuse to take the time to look for themselves. I, as an individual, cant help you tackle your problems or assist you because thirty other people in this building expect the exact same level of care.

When folks are lined up in cars, in a clear and defined order with a paper that has their exact order receipt on it, we can do exactly what you need in a heartbeat. Check the number, grab your order, and hand it to you.

"I actually need help too!" Have a question? I'll gladly answer it. Need a replacement item? Just hand me what needs replacing and I'll get it right now. Once it's your turn, I can almost guarantee that what might normally takes 30-40min for you can be pared down to 5 or less because I have the knowledge and time to spend with you without interruption. Not your turn yet? While youre waiting (in your car, mind you) you can do whatever you want! Listen to loud music, eat, watch videos on your phone, call up your grandma, basically anything you can do sitting at a desk with your phone or anything else you bring with you! The world is your oyster, and then when it's your turn, you can expect personalized attention from someone whose entire job is facilitating your needs! AND and, because each interaction takes no time at all due to our ease of work and ability to work fast, you're only going to be waiting maybe half as long or less compared to how long youd take if you were physically walking around.

Why the fuck do people think that in-store shopping is better? It's worse and harder for everyone involved and it's a fucking nightmare for us retail employees at the expense of, what, someone wanting to walk around in a Joanne's for an hour? For what?

I dont know... yeah, long ass rant, but its how I feel.

[ntshastark]

smallville lb: part 17 (5x07-5x11)

(part 16)

5x07

green, red, black, and now silver kryptonite??? all bullshit

when is pink kryptonite making an appearance

==

LOVE when they go meta on the soundtrack

==

BOLD OF THEM TO USE THIS ON A LOIS-LESS EPISODE

but i do love a reminder of how iconic she is

==

honestly is there any car insurance that accepts the kents at this point???

==

==

dude you gotta pick one or the other

==

clark’s Foreshadowing 101 class seems really interesting

==

me when asked what i’m gonna use to pay for stuff

==

BY ‘UP NORTH’ DOES THE MEAN THE FUCKING NORTH POLE AND BY ‘KNOW A PLACE’ DOES HE MEAN THE FUCKING FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE

==

oh no

we’ve officially entered love triangle zone

==

oh sweet past tense, how i’ve longed for you

i wish you could be with us for longer

==

lmao the ‘i was hallucinating so you having powers probably was part of that’ plot device that saved clark so many times is now gonna be used on him

==

..........or maybe not

==

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

==

cinematic parallels of lack of trust in a relationship

==

this is so sad :/

==

lex’s fall from grace was so fast and random, i don’t even know what happened, i mean

1. he’s doing stuff that he would’ve been vehemently against in the earlier seasons (like leviathan and holding onto Magical Ageing Baby’s blood)

2. other than that, though, he’s not even that bad??? and this stuff isn’t even what clark is resenting him for, he’s just always assuming everything is his fault now????

3. everyone is acting as if it was Always Inevitable because it’s In His Blood and He’s Always Been Like This, Actually - including clark, who should be the #1 defender of Blood Doesn’t Define You

4. what even was the catalyst here???? the shock therapy? clark finding out about his investigation? bc they’re acting as if it’s the latter and he’s, in fact, Always Been Like This, Actually - when he’s actually proven time and time again that he was a decent person

==

pre-crisis superman: a summary

==

so he’s made of silver kryptonite??? or silver kryptonite is made of him??? idgi

==

5x08

I’M ACTUALLY CRYING

==

SHELBY

==

lois lane dragging lex luthor through filth? feels like home

==

i’m gonna shove her pulitzer up your ass

==

milton or whatever keeps dragging humans and i’m like??? am i supposed to disagree???

==

i’m sorry what

==

LMAO I KNEW IT HE’S ZOD

==

my little cousin (5yo) walked in and asked what i was watching and i said it was a superman show, and pointed out clark and he went “where are his glasses”

BITCH I’D ALSO LIKE TO KNOW

==

NOT EXACTLY HOW IT FUCKING HAPPENED PAL

==

==

ugh not the fucking caves again

==

oh ok

so, not zod

==

EXCUSE ME RAINSTORM SMELLS AMAZING ALWAYS

==

man i wish that were me

==

a shitton then

==

yeah how crazy would that be

==

FORGET LEX/KRYPTONITE

THAT’S THE REAL LOVE STORY OF THIS SHOW

==

let pa kent live and fuck your foreshadowing

==

5x09

ok i specifically remember pointing out that his mother wasn’t a redhead in the flashbacks

==

oh my god is this a ghosts of christmas thingie

==

it’s jonathan’s last christmas :(

==

oh so they remember nell exists??

==

as someone who’s never even seen an Actual Tree decorated for christmas, only ever plastic ones, and who has an amazing christmas with her family every year nonetheless, the importance usamericans put on chopping down trees so that The most capitalist holiday ever feels Real is just. so funny.

==

CLARK BETTER BE MARRIED TO LOIS IN THE ALTERNATIVE REALITY

==

you know what? i’m actually not minding this particular version of lex/lana

==

CHLOE???? lex truly has no taste for clark ships

==

nice

==

lex deserves this life :/

==

WRONG ICONIC BALD WHITE COMICS CHARACTER who’s obvious in love with his male friend-turned-enemy

==

HE’S GONNA DELIVER PRESENTS TO CHILDREN IN ONE NIGHT??? ON CHRISTMAS EVE??? HOLY FUCK SUPERMAN IS SANTA CLAUS

==

YES

==

oh defintely

==

..........or maybe superman talks santa claus out of suicide

==

ok so lex really is in the smallville medical center

but he was shot in greenville or something?????

==

CALL! HIM! OUT!

==

the colourful christmas lights in the background just Make It

==

jonathan is alive in lex’s dream, which is set 7 years later :(

==

ALL HE WANTS IS TO BE ADOPTED BY THE KENTS

LET HIM

==

IT REALLY WAS SANTA, I LOVE IT

==

A FUCKING ICON

==

ARE YOU KIDDING ME YOU MONSTER, IT’S FUCKING COLD

==

hey, with the fortress of solitude and all, clark is technically santa’s neighbour, right??????

==

AND YALL WANT POOR SHELBY TO STAY OUTSIDE???

==

lmao sure

sidenote: as a nordestina, my brain physically cannot process being out in the snow with your arms bare

in fact i can’t even imagine how cold being out in the snow must be

==

he’s already out of the bed??? after such a high risk surgery???? bitch when i had a fucking nosejob i had to stay 24 hours only getting out of bed to pee

==

5x10

==

WAIT IS THIS GONNA END WITH JONATHAN GETTING SHOT

I THOUGHT I HAD TWO MORE EPISODES, FUCK YOU

AND LOIS IS GONNA KILL HIM???????????????? FUCK YOU

==

i love how at home lois is at the kent farm, even not living there anymore (or dating clark yet) 🥺

==

you know who’s done a great job of being a campaign manager before??? pete

==

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

==

LITERALLY WHY

i mean i know things with pete ended up going to shit but chloe knows and it’s all right so???

==

but the episode started with him already having won the election, and then said “48 hours earlier”??????

==

daedalus was the one who built the wings, but continue

==

THE ACTRESS IS ACTUALLY SHAVING OFF HER HEAD???????

FOR A ONE-EPISODE ROLE?????????????????

carolina dieckmann wishes

==

honestly is there any security at all at this mansion???

==

clark getting there but lois having already kicked the villain’s ass, ugh, i fucking love them

==

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

==

WOA HAHAH THAT’S CRAZY RIGHT CLARK

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT CLARK

==

what is it with luthor men and being into the women in relationships with kent men

==

5x11

==

OH MY GOD WAIT

ISN’T SUPERPOWERED DUDE NOT WANTING TO FUCK HIS GIRLFRIEND BC HE’S AFRAID TO KILL HER AND GIRL JUST WANTING TO GET DICKED DOWN LITERALLY A PLOT IN ONE OF THE TWILIGHT MOVIES??????

==

THIS EPISODE IS FROM JANUARY 2006

WHAT IF...

==

yall made pete leave “because he knew clark’s secret”, now at least have the balls to have it affect clark’s decision process about sharing it again

==

I’M ACTUALLY CRYING

MY LIL SHIP IS FINALLY BEEN VALIDATED BY THE NARRATIVE

==

I THOUGHT SHE MEANT SKIPPER OH MY GOD ((AS IN THE NAME CLARK WANTED TO GIVE SHELBY WHEN LOIS WAS CALLING HIM CLARKIE AND THEN SHE SAID TO CLARK THAT MAYBE HE SHOULD BE SKIPPER AND THEN I MADE THIS

==

speaking of shelby, look at this fucking icon

==

villain-in-waiting is... very accurate

==

i wish

==

killing jonathan in the middle of the senator plot is such bullshit tho?????

==

lana not putting her hair up when they’re being basically boiled alive is ?????

==

her outfit *chef’s kiss*

==

i’m actually... not opposed to lex/lana after the christmas ep

==

tough luck, buddy

==

so... jonathan dies on the next ep...

i was planning on just watching and being done with it but mel actually climbed onto the hammock with me and is sleeping on my lap rn and i don’t wanna ruin this moment

also, my mom is asleep and i don’t wanna risk waking her up crying

also, it’s 2am

also, yes, i’m pulling excuses out of my ass

==

eta: power went out as soon as i went to bed lmao, i wouldn’t have been able to watch it anyway

[unproduciblesmackdown]

merkleymrack replied to your post “kinda a funny shtick of mine that i’m aro and have such strong takes...”

(1)i agree with u 100%, i think love is hyped up so much, partially because people looove the narrative that love can save you in some way. whether that's saving you from evil, from your shitty environment, from mental illness, from sadness, or from yourself. and that is basically bullshit. "love" as a mystical force and chemical attraction between 2 people doesn't and can't do any of that. real relationships forged over time, based on trust and compromise and a fundamen-

2) tally optimistic outlook on life can help you deal with life, but that's not as snappy. and i think this ties in nicely with what you pointed out about love being perceived as isolating (in a positive way almost) by lots of people: it is because they are co-dependent and attracted to this toxic relationship because it feeds the narrative that "love" is all they need to be happy or to be saved. thats my hot take of the day

talk series criticizing Romahnce, every thursday at 6

for real though let me accuse capitalism some more for Not Great Ideas About Romantic Love b/c like!! that’s basically all you’re allowed to look for in terms of reliable companionship and Any kind of close relationship from your peers. b/c the Nuclear Family is the imposed social unit of choice b/c extended families don’t allow for enough isolation / cut-off support networks......you Outgrow the nuclear family you were born into, and then you’d better find your romantic partner asap to start the next generation nuclear family, because you’re not gonna get other support / community anywhere else, better enjoy having friends before everyone righteously pairs off and sees each other way less, because it’s Totally Fine to have all of your time -> energy -> identity -> existence consumed by just your roles as Parent and Spouse

not to mention like, whenever people of any relationship status are super overworked and like, especially with having unreliable / inconsistent schedules that don’t line up and needing to work a thousand hours a week to scrape by, people have less time to spend with each other and to foster those connections when they’re like always At Work or exhausted and recovering from work or, when they Do have some free time, it doesn’t like up with the free time of their friends’..........like hmm too bad there’s not One Person who is super devoted to Just You and can always make time and prioritize You, Alone.......

Life Under Capitalism is dehumanizing and alienates everyone from each other and doesn’t value life and commodifies anything that people might find adds Value To Their Life and like, our grievances and suffering is just Personal Problems that need to be fixed through our Personal Choices, b/c community is strangled off, isolation is pushed, and you need to Have Money or Die, and there’s the idea that the Way Things Are is flawed but ultimately okay and works out for good people............and it all brings it around to like, the idea that actually Finding Romance is *all* that life is about and is the one route to happiness. like, this concept is just casually trotted out in whatever media as blatantly as that, that “what’s even the point of being alive if you don’t find that Special Someone” and everyone just kinda goes “huh, yeah, that’s true...” like, it’s just Fine to accept that life is a hellscape and you’d want to die if it wasn’t for this one nice magical thing (your true love(tm))......like, maybe there’s a problem with that? we shouldn’t all just accept that life is unbearable but romance is the sole cure? and it’s not even really Anti-Capitalist when a holiday movie / any romcom is all like “this career person thinks that Love is for suckers and only making money is good, but then eventually their romantic interest shows them otherwise and they realize that said romance / a dash of Family is actually what Really matters” b/c it’s just like.......hey don’t be upset that you can’t actually Get Ahead under capitalism!! the people who are making more money than you are unhappy, i promise! it’s fine that you aren’t really succeeding Financially, b/c you have Love, so be happy with that and don’t think that there’s any systemic issue here.

anyways and like yeah of course it does probably seem to people like Romance is the only thing that can improve [insert any bad situation about their lives] because what even else is offered to people, seemingly, right......it’s like, first of all i hope you have a good relationship with your Nuclear Family, b/c they’re the only ones who will be Unconditionally There For You......but even if you do, it’s not like those people can be Everything in your life........and re: friends it’s like, well, i hope you’ve made super lasting friendships in high school and/or college, cuz after you enter The Working World good luck making new friendships!!! even if you do you’ll drift apart b/c nobody has time to nurture the relationship!!!! meanwhile of course everyone should be looking for romance, and hey, that will transform your life and enable you to endure all the other miserable everyday shit you go through, b/c the one person who matters cares about you. and they’d better b/c that’s the only really strong mutually supportive “unconditional” relationship you’re guaranteed! clearly!!!

like of course positive relationships of any kind tend to Improve Someone’s Life......of course isolation makes everything worse for anyone......it’s not like a good romantic relationship SHOULDN’T improve stuff for people, but like, no way should it be the case that romance is the ONE THING available and it better fix fuckin Everything or else you’re on your own when it comes to dealing with those problems that Aren’t improved and if you can’t deal with it on your own you’re fucked, cuz it’s romance or nothing!!!! it would be totally convenient to like, be deeply in love asap and have that make everything amazing and hopefully it’s ur life partner so that you don’t have to worry about Struggling On Your Own like..........a romantic relationship is really all that looks to be on the table according to the Life Narrative that’s pushed really hard. and defining that romance as “this person will always be there for you for Anything and you’ll always be there for them and you’ll always be happy as long as you’re With Each Other” is really Something when life under capitalism guarantees no happiness nor for anyone to be there for you or care about you or help you otherwise

like yeah Friends are nice but they’re kind of sold as the nice optional bonus, or like, they’re there for you but you don’t have to be there for them, low maintenance ideally, and if they drift away when you don’t spend time on them or support them then that’s fine as long as you’ve got that romantic partner b/c that’s how romance is so often defined, as being More than any other relationship, like, hey i don’t Need anything else, i don’t Need anyone else, it’s fine if i only have you, for some reason we gotta view relationships as Tiered and know which one’s you’d consider disposable if you put them all through a winner-take-all tournament bracket.......brilliant approach which is totally fine if the agenda is “give people One Good Relationship with One person which must fulfill their existence and fix everything lacking” like ok

i mean there it alll comes back around to going “augh jesus christ” at Isolation packaged as romance where it’s like “[as long as Romance] it’s fine if i die, it’s fine if i don’t have anyone or anything else, it’s fine if we never engage with the world or talk to anyone else again”.......like fuck!!!! this is horrible!!!!!! god!!!!!! Isolation is Bad gang!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and abuse overlaps sooooo hard with isolation, and you’ve got that deliberately isolating tactic that abusive partners pull that like, you can’t spend time with family and friends, it’s me vs. them, and you should always be prioritizing More Time With Me and be perfectly happy with *Only* our relationship or you don’t *really* love me..........but then this same sort of Concept will be just be touted as Ideal Romance as long as both people are cool with it lol!!! like, i don’t even Want to be around or think about anyone else, this one person is my whole Life And World, other loved ones who????? it’s Just Us now and hopefully forever, #sweet

like it’s pretty Effed Up that people have to feel like there’s only one way to expect someone to ever be at all devoted to them or really care about / understand / support them and that’s through having a Current Great Romantic Relationship, which must and should be *everything*..........like, everything i think abt “this idea about romance seems awful” is about like........romance shouldn’t be this way for even people who currently have that kind of relationship, and it should Always Be Fine to be single, even if you want / hope for a romantic relationship.........i’m keenly aware that snagging a Romantic Relationship seems like the only way to have someone committed to being On Your Side and paying attention to your existence every day. but really of course that shouldn’t be the case......and when a romance IS had, why is it worse to have a grounded view of it like, when people compare it moreso to friendships rather than to being some kind of magical bond which effortlessly yields Everything You Need In Life, so now you don’t have to care about anything or anybody else

sounds mean or Cold or whatever to be like well the way i see it is that “romance is unnecessary” but i mean, first off it is, you don’t Need it and some people don’t want it. but imo it’s not Bad to see it as just like, a sick bonus, a really awesome thing if you want it and it happens, but like, of course life isn’t Worthless or Ruined if someone who Wants a partner is single / becomes single. like, ideally Being Single regardless of whether you want that to be permanent or not should actually be enough on its own for anyone to be happy!! nobody should Need to have a partner to be happy / feel like their life is okay the way it is. like, is it not actually more ~romantic~ or whatever to feel like okay, i would be fine and happy with being single, but i would rather be with this other person because i Want to be, but i don’t Need this relationship to be okay. vs. the whole like i *need* this relationship type “that’s the puppetmaster who cursed my dick” approach where it’s like, god believe me this isn’t my idea but i MUST be with you, i’m miserable without you so i basically have no choice, this is like, the universe holding me at gunpoint. why not have choosing to be with someone just like “yeah i prefer this to Not being with you and i think it improves my life overall” without anyone having to feel like it’s their only option for happiness

anyways i really can’t imagine the concept of like, a Romance just absolutely cutting down all these other aspects of your life b/c you don’t care about / Need that shit anymore being an at-all pleasant or appealing concept versus like, it just being its own positive relationship that enhances everything and Doesn’t become your sole source for so much shit like validation and commitment and intimacy and support / help and companionship and etc etc etc etc etc etc

i’m sure this isn’t the only tangent i forgot to throw in somewhere else but everyone knows my “'teen angst’ is largely comprised of anticapitalist sentiment in the face of the hellscape and cognitive dissonance of adult life under capitalism and YA media deals with this and the struggle to find genuine connection and value in everyday existence" takes, well, it’s kinda wild how it’s basically a requirement for any YA work to have a thread of Romance running central to the whole thing. not like that doesn’t happen in other Genres, and not like some works don’t lean into that way harder than others, and not like every main char Ends Up with the/a love interest at the end, but it’s like, jeez. imo supports my idea that romance is Supposed to be *the* panacea for the ailments of capitalism

[ravynfyre]

please stop with the baby yoda

so I am totally willing to admit that this is probably just my complete and overwhelming aversion to all things humanoid baby related, but...

I’m so done with baby yoda already.

sick of the little cretin. just over it. I do not find it cute. I do not find it adorable. I do not enjoy seeing it on my dash, on my feed, in my news blasts, anywhere. Just... done. I will *never* watch The Mandalorian now. Ever. If anyone invites me over for any type of socialization that may include “television viewing” and they put that shit on? I will leave. I am THAT done with it. I am GLAD that Favereau fucked Disney hardcore by not allowing them to create any baby yoda product for this holiday season to prevent leaks and spoilers, because I cannot even FATHOM how much MORE saturated everything would be if there was fucking product to feed this fucking obsession everyone I know has with the little cretin.

and if you are one of the people who likes or loves or adores the little thing? more power to you. your kink is not my kink and that’s okay and all that rot, y’know? have at, you can consume my portion of the capitalist media glut of the character, I HAPPILY bequeath it to all and sundry. I do not look down upon anyone who DOES like it. I am totally willing to admit that I am being UTTERLY IRRATIONAL in my deep seated LOATHING of this character. It’s me, folks, not you. Please, go enjoy your thing. enjoy it to the fullest and suck up as much joy as you can, because that is a fleeting thing in this world. Enjoy it. Take it. (preferably as far from me as possible) But, seriously, love your little baby yoda thing if you do. Please.

just please leave me out of it. don’t try to drag me, kicking and screaming, into your obsession, your love, your enjoyment... because I WILL. I will kick and scream and shriek and flail, and no, not in a good way. I have VERY complicated emotions about Star Wars anyway, and very UNcomplicated emotions about babies, and the MORE a thing is hyped, the LESS I will hop that bandwagon, so throw all three of those into a blender? And I will fucking inflict physical damage on anyone else trying to suck me into this shit. So, I’m begging... just leave me in my “uncultured pit of curmudgeon bullshit” to stew in my rapidly approaching phobia levels of loathing for the little menace, okay? He’s really starting to actually creep me out, and shoving him down my throat? Yeahno. I’ve got filters on now. My blacklist is set. The next person who tries to stealth me with fucking baby yoda shit is going to get blocked. I love all y’all, but I seriously cannot, WILL not, tolerate someone intentionally trying to fuck with me like that. Please.

So, go enjoy your space dad and his little thing. the premise would be adorable, and if it were a dog or a cat or something not baby like? I’d probably be more into it, except that it would probably still be too oversaturated for me to get into it for another year or so, because I am ALWAYS late to the party. (horse being led to water and all that, y’know) Please have your fun. But I am done fooling around. My tolerance is gone. I just can’t deal right now. Magnus Ravyn is out.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

okay, y’all, i’ve gotta back on my tl;dr bullshit soapbox about something:

so, the other day, i was just mindlessly scrolling through my corporate & capitalist hellscape facebook™️ (i.e. LinkedIn) and came across this totally trite mostly bullshit meme that was shared by some corporate executive search man (whose name i decided to crop out bc eh):

so i obviously agree with the last three points on this list, bc god yes my life would’ve been a bit better if I didn’t get all my dialogue about mental health only from teen mags and horrible portrayals in teen tv shows (and also this hellsite). and hell yeah everyone, and I mean EVERYONE needs to learn that failure is okay many situations (like failing a class in uni or school) bc everyone fails at something sometimes. and dealing with failure is HARD. and time management is something that I’m pretty sure everyone lies to fuckin hell about on their resume, bc lots of people really suck at it, myself included. so yeah. that needs to be taught. and i also agree with the “how to manage your health” point. bc thats becoming ever more prevalent and important with career burn out etc.

but entrepreneurship? people management? conflict resolution? creativity? how to manage money? public speaking? like y’all. three of those ARE taught/learned in school, who the fuck wrote this meme? 

for anyone who actually paid attention in maths class, (which is probably very few people outside of the top performing classes), there WAS A WHOLE FUCKING UNIT that focuses on financial maths (in australia anyway). I ignored this unit as well as maths in general at school, bc I generally hated maths and was convinced that I was somehow never going to get a job. but i remember the gist of the overall topic and its subtopics. one subtopic teaches you how to calculate your wages in various contexts (overtime, double-time and a half, holiday payments, im pretty sure maternity leave pay was jammed in somewhere? idk if other countries would have double time & a 1/2 like australia though). another subtopic teaches you how to calculate interest on bank loans and credit rates on credit cards. a third subtopic teaches you how to calculate savings (obvs in terms of discounts in shops)....im sure there was a bit about budgeting in there somewhere? im pretty sure there were some questions were about tax payments somewhere as a subtopic enrichment exercise? but you get my gist. are these not money management skills? in some sense? like if i could find one of my old maths textbooks or old maths books i’d give an example of a question, to make my point stronger. but the problem, like i said before, is that a load of people (myself included) just zone out in maths in high school and stop trying with it. they forget what they’ve learnt, and just remember how much they hated algebra and how they’ll never use it again. maths was one hell of a fucking strong bitch, guys. but maybe i’m wrong.

creativity? excuse me? have people forgotten about art classes? drama classes? english classes? music classes? need i go on? okay don’t get me wrong, most of these classes did focus a lot on memorising quotes or facts about people (artists/writers/poets/composers/dramatists etc) or specific  periods/movements in art or theatre or literature for example.... but the amazing sculptures/paintings etc people created in art for their final projects in year 12, or even in year 10 were works of their imagination. the scripts people write in drama or maybe english (if you had a fun teacher who did a screenwriting unit, for example) are creative asf. especially in year 12 when they do their major projects, where they may produce a monologue or a short movie, and then there’s a group piece. drama students might even make their own costumes for these performances. LIKE AIN’T THAT A LOT OF CREATIVITY RIGHT THERE Y’ALL????? and english. lowly old english. THEY HAVE A WHOLE FUCKING TOPIC ON CREATIVE WRITING FOR FUCKS SAKE. the original music people might create for their final projects too in year 12? does that not count as creativity? like yes, i know a lot of these things do still have to meet bs assessment criteria (especially in catholic schools, where the main things are you don’t offend the catholic education office and jesus/god lmao) to be considered worthy of a mark for your year 12 exams. but FUCK. HOW THE FUCK AREN’T ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS COUNTED TOWARDS BEING CREATIVE???????? like fuck your corporate creative ideation or w/e bullshit, Callum. drama and english even lend themselves to improvisation in some instances, like public speaking, which is examined further, below.

next, we move on to public speaking. this shit is basically taught from the first goddamn day of “show & tell” in kindy/kindergarten, and this fucker has the gall to say that it’s not fucking taught in schools? someone call in miley cyrus/hannah montana to throw the fuck down in this motherfucking hoedown BC THIS STUPID-ASS MEME-FUCKER HAS NERVE. i hated public speaking. absolutely hated it. even though it was ironically one of the places i ended up excelling in in english classes. even when i fucked up in my english speeches with like “oh, fuck.... said nelson mandela,  i’ve seem to’ve lost my palm card. wait, shit! there it is... excuse me while i pull it out of my ass. whoops, sorry miss” *bats eyes and finger guns at my year 9 english teacher who has her head in her hands and is done with my shit, while the class laughs at my gaffe* i’d still end up with like 73% or like 26/30. it was baffling. but for people who weren’t the class clown/smart alec like i was from years 7-10 (and like i actually wasn’t once i moved schools).... public speaking is like the leading cause of anxiety, right? like by the time i got to doing speeches/presentations at uni i was having panic attacks... the thought of presenting to my classes made me fucking sick with fear and anxiety. nearly every subject i did at uni (even when i tried to avoid subs with public speaking assessments) and throughout school had some type of presentation/speech whatever you want to call it project/activity in it. even fucking SPORT/PDHPE at school and even philosophy at uni. and these fuckers are saying its not taught in schools. FUCK  OFF. like yeah, i get that they actually mean it in the professional sense.... where people can give the sappy bs motivational speeches or an insightful ted-talk worthy 20-minute presentation... or a great sales pitch. but like??? save that for mike “my dad phoned in to EY and i have a job waiting for me after uni” mcfuck in a business major or law degree? or for clubs like toastmasters? fuck. ok enough of the skills we learn in school. let’s move onto the businesslike-sounding ones of “people management”, “conflict management” and fucking “entrepreneurship”. like. what the fuck? okay in some sense people management and conflict management could potentially be used in managing friendships and relationships in your personal life. but like. i can feel the business underpinnings and i dont like it lmao. like why do you want fully functioning adults straight out of school, franklin? and there’s extra credit conflict management subjects at uni??? or at least my home uni had it... and i never did them bc they were intensive courses during summer break lol. but the one that pissed me off the most was entrepreneurship. LIKE ARE KIDS NOT FUCKING ALLOWED TO BE KIDS NOW????? well  apparently: “NO! YOU MUST ALWAYS THINK OF MONEY MAKING WAYS TO BE RICH! YOU MUST BE ENTREPRENEURIAL!!!!!! YOU MUST GENERATE BUSINESS IDEAS FROM THE TIME YOU CAN FUCKIN’ WALK!!!!! AND SPEAK!!! CHILDHOOD AND BEING A TEENAGER DON’T EXIST WORKER BEE!!!! CAPITALISM FOR ALL!!!! WORKER BEES!!! CAPITALISM IS YOUR FRIEND!!! OWN A BUSINESS BY THE TIME YOU’RE 8 YEARS OLD!” like it’s insidious asf. and it doesn’t acknowledge that most entrepreneurs are already privileged people anyway, who usually have some type of money to start off their venture (or that’s what it feels like anyway). and yeah throw all the “THIS BOY IS AN ENTREPRENEUR AT 18!!! 18!!!???? BY STARTING HIS OWN BUSINESS AT 12!!!! WHAT A CHAMP! 😁🙃” clickbait news stories at me, but i don’t fucking care. the concept and perceived over-importance and almost preaching mindset of entrepreneurship is slowly becoming insidious and toxic asf. call me paranoid. but that’s what it feels like.

but with those last three topics, i want to make a point that school curriculum’s (in australia at least, and probably worldwide) are so jam-packed already with sport (which is pointless and shitty), geography (ok how to read maps is important, but i never bothered to learned to do it properly), history, science, english etc etc etc..... that like.... where the actual fuck are the gonna jam the above bs (people management”, “conflict management” and entrepreneurship) into the curriculum???? and also teachers are already over-worked enough as it is, they don’t need another load of shitty subjects pushed onto them. and they sure asf don’t earn enough (especially in the states) to have this bs pushed into their subject schedules either. keep them at uni, where they should be. or just in the workplace/in the general public where they belong. and if people suggest that you could probably push these subjects into the year 11/12 business studies programs or elective commerce courses in years 9/10, save your goddamn breath. like i remember looking at business studies hsc papers in years 11/12 to see what they did.... and it was pretty chock-a-block anyway. and my experience of my year 9 commerce was horrible, to say the least. let kids be kids, for fucks sake. they shouldn’t have to be fully functioning adults in the workplace, by the end of high school, for fucks sake. AND ENTREPRENEURSHIP IS NOT AN ESSENTIAL SKILL????!!!! FUCK OFF WITH THAT SHIT, WILHELM. anyway. that’s my rant over about how i hate how corporate people are trying to be #relatablewiththeyouth🙃 with their shitty versions of “10 things i wish we learned in school” memes.... and failing.... without realising that this is why millennials are suspicious and cynical about meme usage by corporate people/corporations.

[timeisacephalopod]

Scavenger Hunt

I uh, forgot Valentine’s Day was coming up and even though I think its a Garbage Holiday with no meaning outside of making money in this capitalist hellscape it does give a good excuse for some fluff so here I am swooping in with some Tony/ Rhodey high school AU fic :)

Yeah, okay, sometimes Tony finds the attention he gets annoying and okay actually no that’s not true at all he’s always loved being the center of attention. But Valentine’s Day is always the day where he can live it up in a whole new way if only for twenty four hours. The problem? This year he happens to be dating someone and Pepper’s giving him some disapproving looks so he’s pretty sure his usual plans will not fly with Rhodey.

“But Pep, its the greatest scam I’ve ever concocted,” he says. “Last year you got to reap the benefits,” he adds.

Pepper gives him a look. “Tony. You can’t just go on dates with people when you’re dating someone. Unless he’s okay with that and I happen to know he is not.”

“Would be if the person I went on a date with was Sam and I invited him,” he mumbles. Fucking Sam Wilson, his competitor for Rhodey’s affections for almost a year and hello, Tony’s both cute and interested. There was no need to be snubbed like that when Sam didn’t even know Rhodey existed. That was just rudeness.

“Are you inviting him on a date with Sam?” Pepper asks and he sighs. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“But Quill offered food, and Bucky always gets into really weird situations like being robbed by raccoons and stuff and those are fun stories, and Clint... I can raid his candy stash, I know where it is. Point is, there are things to be gained from this,” he says. 

“Yeah, like a date with your actual significant other,” Pepper tells him.

“Food, Pepper,” Tony says meaningfully.

“With Rhodey,” she tells him.

“You suck the fun out of everything,” he mumbles.

*

Rhodey raises an eyebrow and he doesn’t look impressed and Tony gets that, really, but this is about swindling people not dates. “Rhodey, I get bears,” he says. He’s got a whole fleet of them, collected since people started giving them to him when he was in seventh grade. There’s a lot of bears and they’re all very cute.

“You’re about to get a smack,” Rhodey warns him even though he wouldn’t ever do something like that. Rhodey’s harmless. Okay he wants to joint he military, which, boo, but still. He’s currently harmless.

“There are so many presents and all I have to do is act interested for a day,” he says. “Sometimes not even that long.”

“Are you seriously trying to talk me into letting you screw people over for some bears and chocolates?” he asks. “Because that’s so below your pay grade.”

Interesting argument. “Its not the money spent, its the attention I like,” he says.

Rhodey sighs, “man, you are lucky I like you because you are a total dick,” he says, hands on his hips.

“Aw, don’t be like that platypus. I just like chocolates, and bears, and dates. And attention,” he adds somewhat late even if that’s his primary motivator for mostly everything.

*

Natasha sits behind her desk, light hanging above her and she knows she looks like she’s the femme fatal in a film noir but that’s how she likes it. “Rhodes,” she says, tone aloof.

Rhodey rolls his eyes at her. “I know its you who posts all the memes to the school’s blog stop pretending like you’re some kind of like... action movie villain,” he says, not even getting the damn genre right. Offensive, seriously.

She leans forward in her chair, eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” she asks. “And what are you prepared to do to get it?”

It earns her another eye roll and that’s rude, she’s putting effort into this image okay. He should show some respect. “I happen to know you have a crush on Pepper and I could maybe swing you a date. Just tell me how the hell to deal with Tony on Valentine’s Day,” he tells her.

She snorts, “lost cause, find someone else.”

“Oh, and here I thought you were the best of the best. Guess I’ll go to Sam...” he says and Natasha lets out a soft huff.

Sam god damn Wilson. Her sworn enemy, master of petty revenge. He’s good, but he’s so not stealing her business. “What exactly did you have in mind?” she asks grudgingly.

*

Tony wakes up, resenting the earth and everything on it when he notices the rose. He almost dismisses it out of sheer annoyance that he’s been forced into waking up this early by the bullshit education system that can suck an owl but the note sitting on the Stem catches his eye. He blinks a few more times, attempting to wake himself up before reaching out to the note.

The writing on it is Rhodey’s, which doesn’t surprise him any but the little note inside telling him to go to where they first met does. Easy enough instructions so he pulls himself out of bed, grabs his back pack, and follows the clue. They met on a playground that shouldn’t be populated with children for another hour so he’s got time to get there before someone else inevitably finds whatever Rhodey has left for him there.

He manages to avoid the children, narrowly, thanks to some delays getting to where he needed to be but he finds the small stuffed bear dressed as Wonder Woman anyways and he grins, snatching it and running off before the bus load of kids manages to snatch it first. Yeah, kids are great and all that but they can get bears from somewhere else. Also, he’s always loved Wonder Woman and Rhodey is one of three people who knows that. He plucks the note off the bear and reads it as he sticks the bear in his bag for safe keeping. Next stop, their first kiss. Also easy.

The arcade has been closed forever, but Tony finds the note and the chocolates easily enough. Next up, their first date. Honestly, Rhodey could have made the clues harder but he’s made up for it in cuteness so Tony accepts it and moves off to school, which is kind of clever on Rhodey’s behalf anyway. He needs to get to school by the time he’s through with this so sending him there in the midst of the scavenger hunt makes sense.

He doesn’t expect to find Rhodey on the bleachers but he takes it, bounding up them and plopping himself in Rhodey’s lap. “I love the bear,” he says excitedly.

Rhodey wraps his arms around Tony’s waist and grins, “you better appreciate this, it was a mad dash putting it all together,” he says and Tony laughs.

“Natasha helped, didn’t she?” he asks and Rhodey makes a face.

“Nope,” he lies and Tony laughs again.

“Did so. This is the wholesome version of the plot to Gone Girl. Got to say that I’m happy she cut out the bits where you frame me for your death and then plan your suicide to ensure I’ll go to jail and also kill Neil Patrick Harris because I cheated on you. Seems like all that would have been a downer, especially since I haven’t cheated on you. And also, you’re not pregnant. I mean neither was Amy but still, you get the-” he starts but Rhodey cuts him off.

“What the fuck plot did you just throw at me? That’s where Natasha got the idea of a cutsey scavenger hunt?” he asks, horrified. But he’s admitted to his folly so ha!

Tony shrugs, “yeah, it was their anniversary tradition to do a scavenger hunt. Guess she stole the idea but without all the thriller stuff,” he says.

Rhodey shakes his head, “I’m never going to her for advice again,” he mumbles. “Thought that first kiss one would have kept you longer than it did though.”

He raises an eyebrow, “please, how could I forget your awkward attempts at a kiss?” he asks. They were thirteen, just about to go into high school and had no idea what that’d mean for them. Well, for Tony it’d mean dumbing himself down enough that he doesn’t get jettisoned into college without Rhodey, but for Rhodey they had no clue. Aside from knowing he’d excel in math and science they were at a loss. So they did what they always did when stressed- they went to the arcade to blow off some steam and probably stayed there too long. They’d been about to go home, sitting in the parking lot waiting for Rhodey’s mom to come pick them up when Rhodey had kissed him. It was awkward, and weird, but not that bad all things considered.

“Give me a break, it was my first try at kissing someone,” he says, a light blush hitting his cheeks.

“Mine too, but my attempts did not involve clicking teeth,” he says. Poor Rhodey had been embarrassed when he’d pulled away but Tony had pulled him back because someone needed to teach his helpless ass how to kiss. Granted he didn’t have much practice. Or any, but he still thinks his attempts were better than Rhodey’s.

Rhodey looks surprised though. “That was your first kiss?” he asks and Tony shrugs.

“Yeah. Didn’t you know that?” he asks, frowning. He thought he told Rhodey that but maybe he didn’t. He’d been there, it makes sense as to why he wouldn’t have said anything.

“No. I um. Thought you’d kissed a lot of people at that point,” he admits softly.

Yeah, he’s not the first person to buy into his reputation and its not even a well earned one. “Nope, just you until almost a year later,” he says and Rhodey looks like he’s told him the secret to life. “You’re the first person I slept with too,” he adds and Rhodey shakes his head.

“That can’t be tru,” he says and Tony wrinkles his nose.

“Well, first guy,” he amends, “Hope was the first ever technically.” It was awkward and kind of bad and they decided maybe they weren’t compatible after all. Granted that’d been a long time coming but their sorry attempts at sex sort of... solidified that. Now she’s with her weird cheerleader boyfriend and Scott... has a case of Chronic Dumbass and a rumored kid named Cassie but they seem good together.

“Hope?” Rhodey asks because they’ve all heard the rumors.

Tony shrugs, “yup. Not Sunset, or Tiberius, or half the school like both of them claimed. Hope. And it sucked. No offense to Hope.” He’s pretty sure that was a mutual feeling though so he doesn’t feel bad saying it. They really shouldn’t have messed with a good thing, trying to force romance on their poor friendship. Rhodey had been much better, if experimental.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that?” Rhodey asks, baffled.

He sighs, “I thought spreading more rumors about the stupid rumors Sunset and Ty spread would make the whole thing look as stupid and ridiculous as I thought it was but uh. I think I made it worse. Like a lot worse. By then I just kind of accepted it.” He’s always liked the attention anyway, even if he’s not really all that comfortable with his reputation. But its easy to get a reputation and hard to lose it.

Rhodey’s arms tighten around his waist, “Ty and Sunset are assholes. Also, this solidifies my believe that if a white girl has a hippie name she’s not to be trusted. I met a Moonstone once and she was wild.” Poor thing looks traumatized too, which Tony shouldn’t laugh at but he totally does.

*

He’s pulling his stuff from his locker and he has to hand it to Rhodey, the balloons were adorable, when Rhodey hands him flowers too. “Aw, I thought I only got the one rose. Thanks!” he says, sniffing at them.

“Those were from me!” someone else says and Tony looks over to find Justin Hammer standing there and oh, not even in Tony’s worst nightmares. 

“Oh my god, don’t be disgusting. I know you have a habit of taking credit for other people’s work but leave Rhodey out of it,” he says, wrinkling his nose and turning to Rhodey. “Thanks for the flowers,” he says happily.

Rhodey grins, “I think this just goes to show that I’m all the attention you need,” he says and Tony laughs.

“Okay, I underestimated you. Your efforts are noted and extravagant. You doing anything after school?” he asks.

“Obviously not, I’ll be with you,” he points out and Tony grins.

“Great!” he says, walking away before he does something dumb like tell Rhodey what his present is.

*

Tony doesn’t expect to find a bunch of little gifts all day but he has to hand it to Rhodey, he really did go all out. Which kind of makes him nervous because he only got Rhodey one thing and sure its kind of a big thing but still. Rhodey put a lot of effort into this and he half assed it.

“I’m sure whatever you got was fine,” Rhodey tells him, sensing his nervousness.

“How do you know I got you anything?” he asks, nose in the air.

Rhodey snorts, “you might be a dickhole who tries to swindle bears out of people on Valentine’s Day but I know you got something for me,” he says.

Tony lets out a huff, “to be fair if I swindled those bears this would have cost you less,” he points out. Rhodey’s on a budget, he isn’t.

“I uh, actually had a few things already so I just integrated them into Natasha’s thriller without the thrills idea,” he says. “Which you were right about by the way, I asked.”

Yeah, he knows he was right. “Told you,” he says, pulling Rhodey up the stairs to his room. Rhodey follows along ruefully, letting Tony pull him into his space. “Stay here,” he tells Rhodey before running off to his closet to get his present.

‘If its you naked, I’ve already seen that,” Rhodey calls to him and Tony lets out a laugh.

“That’s not it. Well, right away,” he amends, pulling what he needs and running back out to Rhodey. “Here,” he says, handing over the papers.

Rhodey frowns at them for a moment, confused. Then he starts reading and his eyes grow wide. “Is this real?” he asks, sparing a brief glance to Tony before looking back at the papers.

“Obviously, Rhodey,” he says, rolling his eyes.

He doesn’t expect Rhodey to let out a loud yell before he starts jumping around in excitement but he’ll take it. “You are the best!” Rhodey yells, all but slamming into him, arms curling around his waist tightly as he lifts him up and spins around.

Tony lets out a soft huff, “its just flying lessons, Rhodey. You kind of out did me,” he says.

Rhodey looks at him like he’s nuts. “I got you some trinkets, you fulfilled a lifelong dream of mine,” he says, gratitude high on his features.

“Well, you’ve had an obsession with airplanes since forever,” he murmurs, shrugging. “Seemed like a logical gift.”

Rhodey pulls him into a kiss that’s almost as awkward as their first. “You know how much I’ve always wanted to fly. Thank you,” he says softly, kissing him again. Thankfully this time its not as rushed.

*

Rhodey is still vibrating with excitement the next day and Tony shakes his head. He didn’t think he’d like the lessons that much but he’ll take it. Rhodey’s going on about stuff that Tony has a vague knowledge of, airplane stuff mostly because Rhodey has done research when Sam walks up.

“You two are aware that on occasion I mess with people to amuse myself, right?” he asks and Rhodey frowns. Tony’s pretty sure he’s got the same look on his face.

“Um. Yeah?” Tony asks more than states when it becomes clear Sam is expecting an answer.

Sam nods. “My greatest long con is you two idiots. This absolute dumbass,” Sam gestures to Rhodey, “decided that of all the people he would take and interest in he chose me despite the fact that he is obviously in love with you,” he says to Tony. “But you didn’t see it until he decided he liked me so I thought ‘hm, what can I do to make these idiots realize they’re meant for each other?’ So I acted cool and aloof- took a few notes from my neighbors cat but your stupid ass took that as me playing hard to get. Meanwhile Tony was practically waving his arms around to get your attention but did you notice? Nope. This went on for so long I thought I’d die before you two got together. But then I thought, what if I show an interest? Not showing an interest wasn’t doing anything, might as well try something new. Low and behold I have one single conversation with you and boom. You were dating Tony by the end of the week. So you’re welcome,” he says, walking off with that.

Rhodey turns to him, “what the hell just happened?” he asks.

Tony frowns, eyes trained on Sam as he weaves his way through the students. “Um. I think Sam played us both for a year and decided to tell us about it in the worlds strangest power move. I didn’t get the ‘weird flex, but okay’ meme until literally right now.”

“Great. Think he can play Pepper into a date with Natasha because that’s the price I paid for her help and I don’t know how to convince a straight woman to go on a date with the world’s most aggressive bisexual.”

Tony squints, “your gaydar is broken, Pepper’s one hundred percent not into dudes. But she’s weirdly obtuse about it. Tell her Natasha needs help in a business class and send them to a restaurant. Problem solved!” he says.

Rhodey looks skeptical, “you’re terrible at this. I love you but you have no idea how to give advice,” he says.

“Got any better options?” he asks and Rhodey sighs. “That’s what I thought. Face it platypus, without my bad advice to keep you afloat you’d die.”

[scienceoftheidiot]

It's crazy how people on this website make a big big big deal of Mother's day

I mean I call mine on this day and that's it. Mostly because I never call her so it's an occasion. I love my mom I just hate phones.

It's mostly a thing kindergartens do to have a justification to make the babies build specific things, and just a capitalist special day where omg you can buy kitchen appliances for less! Because of course moms are just that!

Mother's day here is on another day also so every time I get confused and call my mom and she's like uh not today but thanks.

Oh and also? In my country this holiday was set up by the WW2 nazi collaborationnist government to celebrate the patriotic mothers who stayed home to take care of the children. I mean.... Yay, no?

Do we really have to make a big deal of it? You love your mom, show her any day. You don't love her, well, you don't have to do shit for her.

Not a big deal. USA once again making a crazy thing out of... Eeehh a capitalist 20th century bullshit. And making people who have problems feel like shit (or rather if you look at my dashboard, making people who love their mother feel like there is definitely something wrong somewhere if so fucking many of you had an abusive mother).