#i also hate how fucking expensive a necessary device is.

[mxlooker]

i kinda hate that im asking this but - if i were to open up commissions to help save up for a motorized wheelchair (one that i can actually use / transport bc the one i bought was a lie but since it's completely brand new / unused + put together already im going to sell it to pay for some of the cost) would anybody be interested ?

like. i would be open to doing art / writing / moodboards / phone backgrounds and such. i'd make it pwyw bc i know ppl don't have much money these days and i'm very unsure of how to do my own pricing.

the motorized wheelchair i need is a little over $3k (which. yowch. ik.) and i can probably get ~$2k for the one i bought bc that's what i spent, but i'd be willing to negotiate w/ a nice person, so im going to need to save up ~$1k for it :(

[definitelyunhingedagentphoenix]

How each I Expect You To Die character sleeps.

Handler:

This man wears pj shorts with the agency logo on them and a t-shirt that has holes in it. But somehow it's cute? And one of those really uncomfortable blue robes that never fit properly. He carries a cup of tea to bed every night with the intention of drinking it while reading or watching a movie. He NEVER drinks it. The second he gets in bed he falls asleep. He's a side sleeper. Almost always on his right side. WILL CUDDLE WITH ANYONE WHO IS IN THE SAME BED! Hates blankets. Somehow wakes up with zero blankets left on his bed but is still in the same position he fell asleep in.

Roxana Prism:

Sleeps anywhere but a bed unless forced into it by someone else. Robutler was good for making her go to bed on time but on her own, she just falls asleep where she falls asleep. Couch? Yeah. In her lab? Most likely place. If she does change into sleep clothes, it's just an oversized t-shirt. I mean that. Like it's a fucking dress on her. Snores a little. Sleeps like the dead. Will not wake up unless absolutely necessary.

John Juniper:

He wears a matching silk set of pjs. Has an entire sleep regimen. It starts with a shower where he loudly recites monologues he has done in the past or is currently learning for a role. Then a 40 step skin care routine. Once he makes it to his bed he takes off his dramatic ass robe that looks like something a woman who just murdered her rich husband would wear when the cops show up to investigate and gets into bed. He has someone whose entire job is tucking him in. Like tight. This man does NOT move in his sleep. He wears a sleep mask and puts his arms over his stomach and STAYS that way until he wakes up.

Dr. Zor:

Has an expensive pair of pjs and goes to bed like a normal person. Literally nothing of interest. If they can't sleep because they're haunted by the memories of their past, they turn on some white noise or rain sounds and falls asleep pretty quickly after that.

Agent Phoenix:

Looks like they fucking died in a glue trap. Limbs should NOT bend that way but they do? And it's comfortable?! They claim it helps them with their back pain but there is no way that's true. Most of the time they come home exhausted and just collapse on the bed in their work clothes. If they can muster the strength to have a shower beforehand, they wear something warm, something comfy, and something that if they were attacked in their sleep, they wouldn't be embarrassed. Not that they would know if they got attacked. They would sleep right through it. Only three things can wake the agent when they're sleeping. Their alarm, their handlers voice and their nightmares.

After the death engine, they were fine. There was something about the Death engine. They knew they were going to survive that. Even if it seemed far fetched, they KNEW they would be okay. But after the elevator, they developed bad nightmares. Something about knowing that the decision they had to make would either save themselves or save millions. They hadn't hesitated to remove the power cords from the elevator; the only thing keeping them from falling to their death. They had attached them to Zor's device and stopped the launch of who knows how many nuclear weapons. And they had fallen, as if in slow motion, hearing the pain in their handlers voice as they called out for them, heard Zor taunting them, watched the fire rising...

When they had believed they were about to die, it was fine. But when they lived. When they pulled themselves out of the rubble of the collapsing building, and to the nearest safe house, something had changed in them.

They relive that day very often. Each time a little less vivid. With each retelling it gets a little easier to cope with.

When they wake up, they've thrown most of the objects that aren't glued down around the room using their T.K. implant. This is also how they end up in the uncomfortable positions. Though they will never admit that.

Hivemind:

Cuddles with the bees.

[verus-veritas]

Legacy

Revenge, Technology, Mind Transference, with a dash of unrequited love. What’s not to love? /Verus

"Dude! P-please! I'm sorry! Whatever you think I've done, it must all be a mistake!" Andew yelled, thrashing against his confinements and eyeing the only point of exit in the room. His firm muscles were wet and taut against his clothes, and his handsome face flush red with terror and worry.

"Are you really sorry though? It didn't seem like it from the way you acted during Gavin's funeral. The sneers and laughter you made as his parents said their final words to him..." I said, hiding in the shadows. Only my feet and the contours of my body was visible for him to see.

"N-no offense. I just found it funny when the parents said they wish he'd atleast gotten a girlfriend before he passed away-" The same devious sneer returned on his perfectly handsome face, as he most likely remembered the scene in his head.

"Of course you found it funny. Because you knew he was completely gay. Gay, and had a massive crush on you for ages. He literally worshipped the ground you walked on, and spent most of his waking hours wishing he could be with you." I explained, slowly walking around him as I pulled out a flimsy latex cap with electronical nodes attached to it.

"And I let him. I did no wrong." Andrew talked back. His eyes following my figure until I stood directly behind him.

"No! You lead him on, made him believe you were actually interested in him. And then you destroyed him. You are the reason he ran out of the house crying, and you are the reason he didn't see the truck speeding towards him!" My voice was shaking as I quickly slapped the cap onto his head, accidentally pulling out a few strands of his hair.

"Ouuch! Get this thing off me!" He shook his head and began thrashing about again.

"You know. He really loved you... He said he was going to make you the happiest man on earth. Showering you with gifts and undying love, and be by your side forever and ever. That's why he trusted you so wholeheartedly and let you do whatever you wanted."

"Naive..." He quietly muttered under his breath.

"He was even fine with you staring and drooling over other girls. As long as he could stay by your side."

"What a fag..." I could hear him gritting his teeth.

"But that evening when you invited him over, only to have him find you in the bedroom hooking up with a random girl... that completely ruined him. You shattered his dream, his self-confidence, and his sensitive soul! He didn't know what to do and where to go, which is why he ran straight out into the traffic..." My voice was uncontrollably going up and down now, as I was unable to hide my emotions.

"Dude only had himself to blame. He should've known I only had him around for the free stuff he bought for me." Andrew snickered, as he looked down at the expensive shorts Gavin had bought for him a few weeks prior.

"How dare you!" I tried to punch his shoulder, but knew I was too weak to do any real damage against his hard muscles.

"Y'know... it almost sounds like you had feelings for him- Wait a minute! You're that pastry white kid that always walked around with him aren't you?! Hah! 'Ghost boy' we called you!" The tone in his voice shifted - with more confidence and arrogance. Back to the way he normally talked - a manipulative bastard at heart. "I see. So you best friend Gavin never had feelings for you, and now that he's gone you blame yourself for not having stopped him."

"......" I clenched my hands till my knuckles turned white.

"Hah! Maybe you really were a horrible friend. Have you thought about that you might be the reason he's dead?" He laughed, obviously enjoying the way he was toying with my feelings.

"...you have no idea..." I mumbled, as tears began to flow down my cheeks.

"Maybe you should be the one sitting in this chair - tied up and wearing this stupid cap on your head. Hehe."

I took a deep breath and calmed myself, before walking around him once again and turning so he could see me. See the real me... one last time. "I will. Soon."

"W-what do you mean with that? And why are you also wearing that ridiculous cap?" He asked. His tone in voice once again becoming panicked and anxious.

"You see. The reason why I'm so pale is because I spend so much time at home playing with my inventions and devices. Coding is one of my favorite things to do. And for the last few months I've relentlessly been working on creating this device we're both wearing right now. It was originally only meant to be used on you, recoding the patterns in your brain into loving Gavin as much as he loved you. While also erasing all of your bad traits and turning you into his ideal boyfriend... but there's no reason for that anymore, is there? So, I upgraded it into 2.0, which can now be used with two people."

"P-pff... yeah right... and what does this new version do then?"

"It can transfer the consciousness between two human brains. Even recoding the brain into believing the new consciousness have always been in control of its own body. All the memories, habits, and even muscle memory will be easily accessible to the new permanent owner." I explained, as I began fiddling with a machine by our side. The nodes on our caps lit up.

"Permanent?! Wait a minute. Let's say all of this freaky sci-fi stuff is actually real, what's going to happen to my consciousness?" Andrew asked, as he began to get more anxious by the beeping sound of the nodes on his head.

"All gone. Overwritten by mine. Erased out of existence with no way of restoring it." I answered nonchalantly. Flicking the last switched around, the device was now ready to be activated.

"What the fuck! Then you're basically killing me?! Get me out of here, you sick freak!" He began violently thrashing against the back of the chair, and flung his head around to get the latex cap off... but to no avail.

"Am I really though? Your memories, your body, and your relationships will all still be here, under my complete control. I'm just... discarding a small part of you that's no longer necessary."

"No...no... Help! HELP! SOMEONE!! THIS CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER IS GOING TO KILL ME!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, but the soundproofed walls would do him no good.

I flicked the final switch and walked over to him as the machine began buzzing. Standing in front of him, I suddenly sat down on his lap and grabbed hold of his face. I stared into his fearful yet piercing blue eyes and slid my hands across the cheeks and contours of his face.

"This beautiful face of yours that Gavin loved, I promise I'll take good care of it and cherish it until the day I die. It's the least I can do to honor my friend Gavin." I leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on his sweaty forehead, while holding him in place as he screamed for all he was worth.

"No! Noo! NOoO-Uoogguuughhhh" His scream turned into a gurgle as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. At the same time, my eyes went white and hazy as my pastry body slumped over and fell on the cement floor. Most likely cracked open its head or something from the sound of it.

"NgOOuoouughhgguuuhh!!!" Andrew's head flung back and forth as if to fight whatever was invading his head, but it barely took a minute before the thrashing suddenly stopped and his head slumped down.

His eyes were closed, his face flushed red from exertion, and the sweat and drool pooled down onto his expensive shorts. A further five minutes of stillness and blinking nodes passed before any activity was seen.

---

*Gasp*

I awoke to the cap on my head giving me a quick electric shock. In front of me laid my old withered body, lifeless and without a doubt stone dead. My throat felt dry and tired, and the ties on my arms hurt like hell. In fact, everything felt, looked, and smelt different. The smell oozing from my sweaty clothes that once smelt great now stunk in my nose. I could recall from Andrew's memories that he showered atleast twice a day. I showered atleast twice a day.

After some fiddling with the special knots in my back, I easily slipped the rope off. Massaging the sore parts on my wrist, I soon relished in how big and strong my new hands looked now. Hands who should've been holding Gavin's...

I explored further up till I reached my new bulging biceps. Squeezing them I felt how firm and taut they were. I never in a million years would have managed to get myself this big, but here I was, standing in the body of a perfect specimen. The body of the man who my friend loved, but who didn't truly love him back. If only I could've done this before Gavin died... Would he have loved me instead, or would he have hated me for what I had done? Well, atleast he would've been alive.

My focus went to my Andrew face, as I caressed the blemish-free skin and the small stubble forming on it. The face of the man I had hated for a while, the face of the man whose identity I would have to take over, and the face I would see in the mirror for as long as I breathed. It was one of the most handsome faces I've ever laid my eyes on no doubt, so I'm perfectly fine with that decision.

My hands continued to explore what was now mine; running fingers through my lush but wet hair, following the outline of my cobblestone abs, and shaking my strong and muscular legs awake from sitting too long.

Not long after I finally slipped the drool and sweat-soaked shorts off myself and watched as the tool between my legs arose to its new owner. It might not have been as long as my former one, but the very girth of it made up for it. As I enveloped it between my palms, I realized that no one had ever been as intimate with Andrew's tool as I was now, and no one would ever be. Not even Gavin would if he was somehow resurrected. Only I, Andrew would ever know how this throbbing member would feel in my own hands, the endorphins and pleasure its touch would send throughout my amazing body, and the ultimate earth-shattering orgasms I would experience as I edge myself to climax every day from now on.

The very thought of it immediately brought me to the brink of orgasm, so I quickly spread my legs apart and thrust the member fully through my grasp. It was all that was needed as I suddenly began shaking with pleasure and exploded shot after shot of Andrew seed all over the floor, myself and my former lifeless body."Ugh! Uuuugh! UUUuOOGggHH!!"

“.... Holy shit.....” I moaned, slightly shocked by the unfamiliarity of the new voice coming from my throat.

Reeling from my first ever orgasm in my new body and life, I sat back down on the chair and took a breather. I was sweaty, my crotch sticky, and my armpits stunk. Yet, I know I still looked glorious. How couldn't I? After all, I am Andrew. The man who Gavin loved, and who loved him back just as much, if not even more...

I will dedicate this new life of mine to worship and care for this body just as much as Gavin would have. His legacy, Andrew's body and life, and my consciousness have finally become one... and I promise I will carry them with pride and confidence to the grave... even if it is the only thing I will accomplish in this short insignificant life of mine.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (3/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 1.5k

After an exhausting day, Bucky just wanted to go home, have a drink and pass out in his bed. But of course, he had to forget his keys and phone in his office. He debated going back to the club because he knew you were going to be there. 

It wasn't like he was avoiding you, he just prevented going to places where he knew you'd be present. He stayed in his office or was just absent from the club during your shifts. Well, maybe he was avoiding you.

He was an ass to you, which he usually didn't care about because he was an ass to everyone. But for some unexplained reasons, he felt bad after being mean to you. When you walked in with your kind of a shitty story with a lot of plot holes about how you wanted to change scenery, he assumed you were sent by his enemy, Rumlow.

All it took was one background check for him to figure out you weren't lying. What he couldn't figure out was why you'd leave a perfect job in a big city and move to a smaller one and work in a club. 

He didn't need anything when he walked into that store. James Buchanan Barnes is one of the richest people in the town, of course, he had people to do mundane chores for him. He came to that store for you. He needed to apologize to you. Not only that, but he felt something weird in his stomach like he had bad hot dogs, but this was worse. It was his guilt eating him up and stealing his sleep. 

But Bucky Barnes did not feel guilty, not for some girl that threw her perfect life away for a bartender job. So he offered the job to you, simply because you wanted it so much. Maybe his approach was not ideal, but he was trying. He also didn't exactly offer it to you, but he did give it to you and left, hoping that you'd come to his club and take the job, which you did.

He would drop extra tips on your counter every now and then. He would make sure that you do not have to serve their rough customers. Likewise, he was sure Wanda and Pietro could handle anything thrown in their way like drunk touchy customers, drunk flirty customers, drunk angry customers. Furthermore, he made sure you got the busy business customers that are there for work.

It's not like he didn't think you couldn't protect yourself, but again, he barely knew you. Honestly, there wasn't much to dig about you either. You didn't lie about your college and work, and that was enough for him to believe you weren't some double agent sent to spy on him and his business. 

Still, he didn't like you. He didn't like how you were always sweet and polite to customers. He didn't like how you joked with Peter and how your eyes lit up when you laughed at something that Wanda said. Not only that, but he didn't like that his family and friends trusted you enough to hang out with you. You weren't a spy, but you could still be some sort of hypnotizing witch by the way everyone liked you in an instant. Mostly, he didn't like how he felt after getting a glimpse of you. He didn't like that he was so intrigued by you and how he wanted to know you. He didn't like how his eyes would linger on you during daily CCTV camera inspection a little longer than necessary.

Bucky just wanted to get his stuff and go back to his place as soon as possible. He didn't expect anything when he walked through the door, he specifically didn't expect his nemesis assaulting his employee.

After shoving Rumlow out of his club and away from you, the mob boss instantly made his way towards you. Bucky didn't know how to approach or console you. He couldn't touch you, he was aware that you wouldn't react positively to a man replacing the touch of a man who forced you. 

He stretched out his open palms towards you in surrender and submission, hoping that you'd realize he wasn't going to attack you.

"Hey, y/n." He gently called for you.

You flinched, but when you recognized the voice, you reluctantly opened your eyes to find his blue ones and outstretched palms in front of you.

"Hey, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you."

Carefully, you placed your hands in his, and he held yours very lightly like he was scared that you'd break. Maybe he wasn't wrong. Softly, he started running his thumb in circles on your palm in an attempt to soothe you. 

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, closing your eyes in regret.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have worn this," you could feel the tears streaming down your face, but you didn't want to face him. "It's all my fault "

In your head, you were convinced it was your fault and Mr. Barnes, your boss, is going to yell at you and fire you. You were preparing yourself for another blow that never came. 

"Hey, y/n. Please look at me."

Unwillingly, you did. 

"You listen to me very carefully. It wasn't your fault. The only person at fault here was that fucking asshole."

Bucky knew it was your trauma talking. He never forgot the resilient girl that kept dropping random movie references in a conversation with a mob boss. He thought maybe you didn't know, but both of you knew you were not naïve. He couldn't let your susceptible brain convince that strong girl that it was her fault, he desperately needed you to know it wasn't.

"No, I shouldn't have-"

"It's not your fault," he told you carefully, still maintaining eye contact. He knew you were in a vulnerable state, and he should not push you, but he also knew that your mind is going to conjure up stuff to deal with trauma. He couldn't let your mind justify a heinous, vile act of a monster. "Do you understand that?"

Begrudgingly, you nodded, and Bucky finally let a breath out he knew he was holding.

"Is there someone I can contact? A partner or a family member?"

You shook your head and took your hand away from his grasp.

"Okay, so here's what we're going to do. I'm going to take you home and we are going to talk about this in the morning. We'll take further steps when you're feeling a little better," he planned. "Does this sound okay?"

Bucky understood your nod as a yes and proceeded further," Doll, you gotta let me in, please. I can't take you home if you don't talk to me."

You blinked a few times, trying to ground yourself. Finally, you took your phone out of your back pocket and handed him the device with your address on the screen. He took it from you and without saying another word he started moving towards the door and you followed.

The mob boss would never accept this to anyone, but he frequently kept looking over his shoulder until you were seated in his car. He kneeled down and put the seatbelt on you before making his way towards the driver's seat, but when you flinched at the contact of his skin with yours, it made his heart ache.

The car ride was silent, which you didn't know whether to appreciate or not. On one hand, silence can be deafening, leaving you alone with your thoughts. On the other hand, noises can be annoying. So you settled with humming a Taylor Swift song and Bucky didn't say anything. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but every 5 seconds he would glance your way.

After reaching your home, Bucky stayed in the living room while you got dressed in your bedroom. You called for him when you were finally settled in the comfort of the silk bedsheet you brought last week. Bucky tucked you in bed, making sure that you were comfortable and he was about to leave, but you broke the silence at last.

"What happens next?" you asked.

"If you feel comfortable, then we'll talk about this tomorrow," he informed you. "But I swear to God, doll, I will make him suffer for what he did to you."

You didn't know what that meant, so you just nodded.

"I'm going to lock the door behind me, doll. Sleep well." 

"Please stay," you murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

You didn't know whether he heard you or not. You didn't know whether he stayed or not, even if he heard you. You were too tired to check and before you knew it you were already asleep.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams  @akkinda10​

[yeojaa]

didn’t know me.

pairing.  jhs x reader.  rating.  general!  we are family friendly.  tags.  this is just... cute.  there’s a bit of swearing, teasing, mentions of beer, etc. but nothing bad.  wc.  2k.  beta reader.  my beloved @hobi-gif​ and my wofe @periminkle​!  💖

You’ve always been one to take the things you want, pursuing them with a ferocity your mother calls intense.  You have no qualms about decorum or bashfulness.  To you, if you’re not the first - you’re the last. 

You’d done it all your life.  First, in kindergarten, when you’d taken the orange blocks because they were your favourite colour.  Then, in high school when you’d tried out for three varsity teams and made it onto all of them.  More recently, at work, where you’d demanded (read:  gently requested) a raise after you’d consistently been covering for your less-than-reliable manager. 

If you wanted something, you went for it.  There was seldom anything that could stop you - including your soft-spoken best friend. 

“I’m gonna do it.” 

It being asking the cute guy waiting in line for his number.  It being embarrassing your poor best friend who’s got her face hidden behind your shoulder, soft blonde bangs brushing your cheek as she shakes her head in a poor attempt to deter you. 

“Don’t make it weird,”  she whispers into the collar of your coat, denim rough against your neck. 

“You’re the one making it weird!”  The hiss is quiet, gentle.  More coaxing than reprimand or displeasure.  This is a usual occurrence for the two of you. 

Whereas you were relentless, unrepentant - rays of sunlight on the hottest day of summer - she was the softest breeze, barely a ruffle of leaves.  You complemented and completed each other and had for the better part of your lives.  Exactly why you’d opted to take this trip with her and only her;  she was the one person who didn’t drive you absolutely insane after a certain number of days together.  She filled all the empty spaces of your puzzle, rather than smothered you with her own shape. 

Still, you sometimes had disagreements.  Now was one of those times. 

“What if he doesn’t speak English?”  

She’s being far too realistic, of course, in her patented Ivy way.  You have to admit - she has a point.  The likelihood of this random stranger even understanding you is slim but you figure it doesn’t hurt to ask.  When in Rome Okinawa, right? 

“Then I’ll use Google translate,”  you retort around a mouthful of laughter, the sound buzzing around your teeth.  You’d think they’d stung her by how Ivy recoils, grimacing at you in the same instance you advance a step.  “Wish me luck!”

She doesn’t.  You don’t care.  

A hand reaches out, two fingers poised. 

And then he - the cute fellow customer with jet black hair and expensive sneakers on - faces you, but not because you’ve spoken.  He turns because his companion has caught his attention, jerking his platinum blond head toward you.  At least, you think it’s blond.  You really can’t tell with how his bucket hat is pulled so low over his ears, the bottom half of his face obscured by a plain black mask. 

The words die on your tongue, suddenly stolen by the sheer beauty of cute guy’s face.  He’s disarmingly handsome, with high cheekbones and a perfectly upturned nose.  His mouth splits - heart-shaped around bright white teeth - and you can’t help the little tumble your heart takes when he smiles.  It brushes itself off before falling all over again, nearly launching itself out of your chest and at his feet. 

“Hi?”  There’s something lyrical about his voice, like summertime and riding in the car with the windows down.  It’s also accented - peculiar in a way that’s strangely familiar.  You can’t quite place it. 

“Hi!”  You all but chirp, probably with the dumbest look on your face.  You hope your smile offsets it.  “Could I have your number?” 

Sunshine - because that’s his nickname for now and it feels terribly fitting - blinks at you, head tilting in a way you can only describe as adorable. 

“My number?”  It’s an echo, in less of a what the fuck way and more of a did-I-hear-you-right way. 

You nod once, twice, a hopeful laugh rolling off your tongue.  It slots into the spaces between you and settles, strangely nervous.  You’re not used to the anxiety that’s thrumming through your veins and causing a ruckus in your ears. 

There’s just something about him. 

“Yeah, your number?”  As if to illustrate your point better, you raise your phone and wave it about, tapping against the back of your fluorescent pink case.  “To text you?”

Realisation dawns, passing in pretty rays over his face.  “Oh!”  For a moment, he seems ready to give it, every inch of his expression wide open. 

Then, all at once, it falls - blinds dropping across a window.  He seems deep in thought, his gaze jumping to the blond that’s now made himself comfortable at a table a few feet away, back hunched and attention focused solely on the screen of his Samsung.  Your stare follows, traipsing the narrow ridge of the other’s shoulders before swivelling back to the ball of light before you.  

God, you can’t get over how good looking he is.  It’s almost hard to look at him, yet somehow harder to look away. 

“You want… my number?”  

“If that’s okay,”  you murmur, with your most disarming smile.  You know it’s a solid effort - you’ve won parents and bosses over with it.  Three years of braces had done you good.

He’s seemingly stuck, torn between giving into the strange girl in front of him and something else you have no idea about.  You can practically feel Ivy burning a hole into the back of your skull with each moment that passes.  She’s definitely going to hold this against you for at least an hour. 

“I can have yours?”  A sleek iPhone - no case, to your horror - is fished out of his pocket and offered to you.  You can’t help but admire his hands, the way his knuckles wrap around the slim device.  “I’ll take your, um, number?” 

It’s not what you’d expected.  Truthfully, a part of you wonders whether this means he’ll take it and never use it.  You hope not.  

“Sure,” you agree readily, nodding with a delight that feels a little much for a chance meeting in a random mochi donut shop.  You try not to dwell on it as you enter your contact details, passing the phone back over with two hands. “Don’t forget to use it!”  It’s meant to be flirtatious, friendly without being too forward.  You’re unsure if it’s lost on him.  You think it might be by how he beams at you, offering nothing in return. 

“Gaja.”  

The interruption breaks the stillness between you, spoken so quietly you almost miss it.  It comes low and swift from the blond that’s joined Sunshine’s side, stealing his attention from you.  You try to hide your disappointment, though it’s quickly replaced by wide-eyed wonder. 

You don’t mean to stare - you probably look like a fish out of water - but realisation brings with it unflattering expressions.  It’s a simple fact of life.  

“Kamsahamnida.”  Your Korean is rusty - clearly without practice and uncomfortable on your tongue. For not the first time, you wish you’d been more receptive to your parents’ insistence that you learn.  

Surprise flips across Sunshine’s face, thrusting his eyebrows to disappear behind his fringe.  Then he grins, so big and unreserved that it really is blinding - like staring directly into the sky on a day without clouds.  He looks on the edge of speaking - as if all the words are balanced right behind his teeth, ready to spill out with the same abandon as his joy - before Blondie repeats himself, this time with more urgency.

You’re holding them up.  Oh god. 

With a swiftness usually reserved for the volleyball court, you sidestep, nearly knocking a lurking best friend over in your haste.  Your head is bowed - a decidedly strange gesture for you - and you glance up through a curtain of swept bangs and thick lashes.  “Mianhaeyo.”  You want to say more but you’re fumbling, trying to find the words you’ve never taken the time to properly study.  “I… um...”  

There’s a hand in yours, squeezing in reassurance. Or maybe frustration.  It isn’t always easy to tell with Ivy.

“It was nice to meet you” is what you settle on. 

“You too,”  Sunshine returns, far too kindly, with that same brilliant smile that has your jaw aching with the intensity of your own.  He’s all but ushered out the door, though he turns at the last minute to wave - a sweet thing that makes you laugh.  “I will call!”

Waiting isn’t something you do well.  As evidenced by your go-getter attitude, your patience tends to run thin.  You want things and you want them now - but it seems that isn’t in your cards.  Shit hand, you think.

So you sit and you wait and well, you’re not really sitting and waiting.  You’re still living your life and enjoying your vacation.  You’ve been to the beach - there’s a neat underground tower Ivy had dragged you to that had you gaping at the fish swimming by at eye level - and you’ve had probably too much taco rice than is strictly speaking necessary.

But you haven’t been able to get him out of your head and it’s driving you more than a little crazy on the third day that you haven’t heard from him.

“Are you listening to me?”  It’s Ivy, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with two intricately woven bracelets held aloft.  They’re both pretty and hardly discernible in their differences.  One’s blue and the other is… a slightly darker shade of blue?

“Huh?”  Your thoughts are a million miles away, focused solely on the memory of a certain Sunshine boy.  

“Which one!”  She’s exasperated, flailing her wrists just enough that one trinket whacks you right between the eyes.  Okay, so you deserved that.

You’re rubbing at the red mark, turning away in the same instant you speak.  “That one.”  

“That one?” 

“The one on the right!”

She grumbles something that sounds awfully like I hate you but you’re too busy checking your phone to really call her on it.  No new messages, save for the three group chats you’re in that absolutely refuse to shut up.  You don’t count those.

“A watched pot never boils,”  she hums from somewhere behind you, before lapsing into stilted Japanese with the kindly old woman behind the counter. 

You know she’s right but that doesn’t change a thing.  You check your phone twelve more times between exiting the small jewellery shop and stepping into the karaoke bar.  It’s not really that often, you tell yourself.  Most millennials sit on their phones for hours!  You’re a step above, truly.

Until Airi’s husband is grilling you, poking fun at the fact that you can’t seem to tear yourself away from the device in your hands.

“Don’t forget you’re out,”  he teases around the rim of his beer, arm slung comfortably across his wife’s shoulders.  “Live in the moment, y’know?”  

If you weren’t so close - if they weren’t hosting you at their apartment for this leg of your trip - you’d probably ignore him.  As it stands, he’s like an annoying older brother and receives a swift kick to his shin.  You grin just as he grimaces, nearly spilling his glass of Sapporo all over his front.

“Hey— you brat!”

“Takes one to know one,”  you retort, tongue out and mischief wrapped into every syllable.  “Don’t know how you’re married.  Didn’t think kids were allowed to.”  

Across from you, Airi stifles a snicker and the rest of your group breaks into laughter.  You’re in the middle of throwing middle fingers at Sunny when a hand clasps your forearm with an aggression you can’t ignore. 

Ivy’s staring at you with eyes the size of saucers, mouth curled into a perfectly shaped ‘O’.  A part of you wants to shove a limp fry into it - until you follow the line of her arm, the length of her finger. 

Because on the screen - serenading your ragtag group of friends in the terrible voice of Airi’s little brother - is cute-guy-from-donuts.  Sunshine. 

What the hell?

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​​

[princesstadashi]

A Post for Newbie Ren Faire Goers!

So, provided this god awful virus doesn’t shut them all down, it’s about ren faire season, at least for me and probably for some other people! And today at work I had this flashback to when I first started regularly going to faire, and man, was I confused about a lot of things--and I realized that maybe this would be a good time for me to make a post for others who are getting ready to visit their first Ren faire, or who are familiar with Ren faires but might still have questions and want to learn more. If you’re ready, let’s dive into this!

What the heck is a mug strap? It may sound random, and you may have never even heard of a mug strap, but this is actually one of the first questions I had about ren faires because it was something so many people were asking me if I had, so let me explain: It is a piece of leather that has two loops (at least one of which can come open), one loop to go around your belt and the other one (for sure the one that comes open) which can go around the handle of a mug or other drinking vessel for ease of carrying it! Which brings me to my second question:

Why are there so many shops selling wooden mugs (and other similar items?) This is because it is very, very important to stay hydrated at faire, especially when the weather is warm outside! A mug is an easy way to hold your drink of choice, and the mug strap mentioned above means you don’t have to carry it in your hands once you’re finished drinking! At least my local Ren faire has drink stations with water and gatorade for season pass holders, and even if yours doesn’t there are always water fountains! Do you need a mug to attend a Ren faire? Definitely not! But they’re pretty darn useful if you plan to go regularly instead of constantly buying bottled drinks, plus they look pretty cool!

What is “the cast”? The people hired by the Ren faire to play characters, you’ll usually see them walking around in the streets (or “lanes”) and performing in shows and events!

What the heck is “garb”? To put it in very simplified terms, it’s the old-timey clothes or “costumes” that you’ll see people wearing :)

(More below the cut!)

Is garb or any sort of costume necessary? No, absolutely not! Plenty of people go in regular clothes! But it is fun to get dressed up :) And you don’t have to have a full costume straight off--that stuff is expensive, so it’s okay if you need to build it up over time if you want to do that--all that matters is that you’re having fun and getting into the spirit of things! Back to not dressing up: Again, it is totally fine if you want to wear regular street clothes, and a lot of the cast will probably have fun asking about your “outlandish outfit” and any modern devices that you have with you! HOWEVER. I hate that I have to say this, but I do: if you don’t choose to wear garb, don’t be a dick to the people who are wearing it. Usually everyone is very chill, and of course some of the cast members will be wearing costumes that are meant to be very showy. But especially with regards to fellow guests: don’t treat them as part of the “spectacle” or like they’re animals in a zoo: basically just don’t stare, don’t treat them like they’re weird for dressing up no matter their age, and remember that they’re just people wanting to have a good time like you, they just want to look totally badass doing it!

So is it not okay to talk to people about their costumes or to ask them for pictures? Please, as long as you’re being polite, feel free to ask--many people like me feel like the reward of all the work we put into our garb is compliments and people asking for pictures! But use common courtesy: if someone seems uncomfortable with you talking to them, just leave them be. And always ask before taking a picture! You might see some photographers taking candid shots, but most of those people are professionals and have gotten permission to be doing that. General rule of thumb is just treat people like you would want to be treated!

I see a lot of people being very flirty/touchy feely/etc. with each other, am I allowed to do that? So here’s the thing about Ren Faires: especially the cast, we tend to all be very open with each other and let loose a bit in a safe space. And a lot of stuff like that that you’ll be seeing is between people who already know each other and are comfortable with each other, even if we might not be acting like that if we’re in character. Now does that mean no flirting is allowed? Totally not! But just like in any other social setting, use common sense: see if the other person is comfortable with it, and if not respect that and back off. Simple as that. Also please keep especially in mind with the cast that this is a paying job for them so while they have a lot more freedom than a regular customer service job, it is still in a way customer service, so they can’t be super rude to you if you’re making them uncomfortable. But also keep in mind that there is security and no one is afraid to call security on you if you’re being inappropriate with anyone, and they will escort you out.

Is that sword (or other weapon) really sharp? At least in my experience, no--for safety reasons, most weapons are blunted--they’re still heavy so they can absolutely do damage as a bludgeon, but everyone tries to avoid more injuries than necessary. 

Can I hold that sword (or insert any other cool looking prop)? ASK. Dear God, ASK before you touch anything that someone else is carrying! I don’t mean to freak you out, but most of this stuff is VERY expensive and quite possibly damageable, no matter how sturdy it looks! Also if you start fucking around and injure someone else? There could be liability on the owner of the thing you were fucking around with. Some people will be chill about letting you handle their props, but if not, just be polite and thank them for their answer and move on! I’ve seen too many things be damaged/lost that were irreplaceable because people didn’t use common courtesy so I feel very strongly about this!

Do I have to use old fashioned speech? No, but it’s fun! And there are some pretty fun terms that are used to replace modern terms that don’t have a equivalent in the Renaissance! A few of my favorites: “The Book of Faces” = Facebook; “Please God 13″ = PG 13 (usually used to let you know if the content of a show will be slightly more mature); “Master or the Cards”/”Lady Visa”/”New World Express” = various names for common credit and debit cards!

Speaking of credit cards! There are a lot of vendors who take credit cards, but not all of them do, and sometimes reception can be REALLY spotty out in the faire grounds, so I’d say bringing about $40 per person (if you’re planning to eat lunch and dinner there) in cash is always a safe bet. Some faire grounds will have an ATM, but the line can get pretty long, and who really wants to pay ATM fees? Also tipping is how a lot of performers get to keep performing their craft! So having a couple ones to put in the basket at the end of a show if you choose to see a show is always a nice idea!

What about drinking alcohol, is that a thing? Yes, most Ren faires won’t let you bring your own, but most of the faires I’ve been to have plenty for sale! Just another general rule of courtesy: please do not treat this like a frat party, and try to avoid getting completely wasted and being a dick. Believe me. There’s a difference between being buzzed and having a good time and that. I have seen it too many times to count. It isn’t funny. There are usually children around you, and this is a public space. We all see you, and we’re all silently judging you. Please know your limits and drink responsibly!

I’ve worn cosplay before, is that okay to wear to Ren Faires? Cosplay is totally encouraged, especially if it works with the time period and/or it’s a character that is a time traveler! Hell, most of my “garb” is made up of cosplay! But please keep in mind: this is not a convention. There will be very, VERY limited places to sit. There will be very limited cover from the elements. You will most likely be walking on dirt roads with rocks and, if it has rained at all, you may be walking in several inches of mud. And the walk back to the car in the parking lot is a LOT longer than you think. So only wear something that you will be comfortable wearing for eight+ hours without being able to sit down for long/without having to remove parts of, and also something that can stand to get dirty and being out in the elements! (I have seen SO MANY floor length satin dresses that get dragged in the mud and it makes me physically cringe thinking about trying to get those mud stains out!) ALSO. COMFY SHOES. DEAR GOD. Invest in inserts if you can, just wear the comfiest fucking shoes you can find, your feet will thank you later!

Last of all: Don’t be afraid to ask question, and don’t be afraid to join in! Ask the cast and shop owners what the most fun things to do are if you aren’t sure what to do--sometimes they can point you in the way of really fun experiences that you wouldn’t even know about otherwise! If the Ren faire offers maps, definitely worth the investment, they’ll help you keep track of where you are (believe me, it’s super easy to get turned around!) as well as telling you where/when fun events and shows will be! Combining the two: one of my favorite parts of my local faire is Pub Sing, which is listed on the map but I might not have gone to without friends bringing me the first time and I LOVE it now. It’s basically a bunch of us sitting on wooden benches while one of the cast members leads singing of pub songs, and audience participation of new verses to the songs, lymericks, and toasts are fully welcome, and there’s even a big circle dance anyone can participate in and it’s always a great time, I try to never miss a single pub sing if I can help it!

So--yes, this probably got way too long, but hopefully this helps answer any questions that anyone might have had! Please feel free to comment if you have any other questions!

[lesless]

How are we all coping today?! Siren noises. Anyway I had already voted & have been distracting myself by playing Among Us, comfort spending, cleaning, & organizing. The four horsemen of Lauren Being Stressed.

I got a 15% off coupon at Sephora so I decided to go restock on deodorant, face scrub, dry shampoo, & foundation while it’s cheaper. I also got myself a little treat, a sampler of Youth to the People which is stupid expensive normally but $24 for two different little things. I also bought myself cozy pajama pants & very fuzzy socks. Yesterday I got heels for my bridesmaids dress because I only own a small pair for swing dancing & a platform pair from back in my retail days, which doesn’t go with the dress at all & are not comfortable nor reliable for standing long periods. I’ve worn neither in a long time. I really like the pair I got but don’t see myself breaking them out much in the future. But protip any pair that straps onto your ankles & has a thick heel is much more stable. Lastly I bought a relatively cheap laser hair removal device, because I do not want to go finish my pits at a place. Idk if it will work but hey $ back guarantee, & I’m so lazy. I hate shaving. Anyway. So concludes my splurge spending, which I hadn’t done in a while (since getting warm stuff for Yellowstone, which I guess wasn’t really a splurge so much as necessary because it was 16 fucking degrees) but still I do feel a little guilty spending $ always. Most of it was restocking things I use so. That helps.

[frauleinalcantara]

listen before i go ( Jonh Shelby x Reader )

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 (𝑌 / 𝑁) 𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑎𝑡 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑦, 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑏𝑜ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝐽𝑜ℎ𝑛 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 2,390

Birmingham, 2019.

Public transportation moved slightly by making (S/N) sit quickly in his seat so that it would not fall embarrassingly and funny. After settling in place, he stuck his hand in his purse and tried to pick up his cell phone, unlocked him and sent a direct and blunt message to his sister:

"On standby I already apologize, I had to leave early for the interview, enjoy the coffee.

I love you.

An involuntary sigh escaped from his lips, while his fingers touched: Send message.

It was three months since you moved to central Birmingham, where your sister lived just over a year ago after getting a scholarship at the University of the City, meanwhile you finished school and was recommended by the services you provided at Sparkhill library to work as a secretary at a beverage production company and exporter. You couldn't deny that at first you thought about giving up such an idea, because it was a strong change, going from a public library to a liquor company. But you can't deny that you needed the money to pay for your studies and help your sister with the expenses of home, you had to accept.

The phone ring made her stand out a little bit of the seat, looking sideways in search of some fun look that saw the scene, you picked up the device and visualized the screen:

“Melanie”

A young woman approached and sat next to her, she looked at her quickly and wished her: Good morning, you smiled without your teeth and wished the same. However, your worried eyes returned to the screen of the phone that flashed alarmingly, you slid your index finger on the screen answering it.

"Finally,  " began to creak his teeth.

— Melanie  —  (Y/N) sighed  , I am almost in Small Heath and...

"Great, when you get there, go to the station and take the first train here! — screamed in response, the girl next door seemed to have noticed the discussion on her cell phone, because her eyes left the book resting on her lap and spied in singing, the fingers of (S\N) rubbing in the scarf involuntarily and nervously  — Do not rush into their decisions, see, wait a little longer and inform the agency that the job they suggested does not match your profile and experiences

"Mel,  I love her, and I appreciate the concern — the  voice has failed behind the right words for persuasion —But   I don't want you to burden the expenses of the house, plus I want to start my college soon, I need the money—A    defeated sigh might be heard on the other side of the line, while a delicate smile sprouted in the corner of the young woman's lip (S\N).

"If nothing works out there in Small Heath, we'll look for something right here, all right?

"Yes, closed—    hummed (S/N), pulling your fingers away from the scarf.

" And try to come back early, avoid busy streets...

(S/N) hung up the phone quickly because she knew Melanie's warnings would last for hours if she thought it was necessary and remembered everything. However, in relation to the moment he got on the bus and there, close to arriving at his destination, a twinge of confidence appeared in some part of his body that drove out the butterflies that dwelled there.

A touch made her look quickly to the side, finding certain blue eyes.

"I apologize for listening to your conversation—   the woman began by closing the book and sticking it in the bag, (S/N) readily recognized it: Communist Manifesto, Marx and Engels.

"Imagine, I apologize, I've got in the way of reading with the conversation...

"My boyfriend gave it to me as a gift while I had asked for a trip, so I'm desetting that reading as much. But I couldn't let it slip that you're after a job.

(Y/N) shook with his head.

"In fact, I've been referred by the college in partnership with the employment agency, it's like a project, you know?

"Of course, my boyfriend participates in an association in Small Heath, we like to engage in these social initiatives —  commented interested and turning a little to observe her better  —  It's thought-provoking, because you don't overload yourself at work and can afford school.

"And you still have experience as an advantage! —  smiled (Y/N), The woman's gaze jumped out the window and she rose in a simple way.

"What's your name? "asked  her.

“(Y/N) Turner “ responded even though he did not understand the woman's sudden interest.

"Well, my name is Ada Shelby—   presented himself simply —(S/N), give me your number so we can keep in touch, if it doesn't work out your job, I can fix something for you in the association.  

(Y/N) stood up quickly, getting a confused look from Ada.

"Are you going to get down on this? Well, I'm going to owe you, too.

"Where would this company be interviewed?

You searched for a card inside your pocket and spread your eyes in an attempt to read the name, because you had forgotten your glasses and only at that moment that you needed them had noticed oblivion:

" Shelby Company LTDA  —  answered (S/N) and noticed the woman's upset feature  —  Ada, do you know this company?

Ada took a deep breath and continued:

"It is the business of my brothers, (S/N)  —  clarified indicating to the card "The distillery and export. Come on, let's get down before we get over our point ".

The woman headed to the transport doors and went down with all her convinced golden, while (S/N) simply jumped anyway on the sidewalk and staggered with Shelby.

                               ━━━━━━━━━//━━━━━━━━

The façade of the firm was presentable, nothing very luxurious, however maintaining the appearance of a serious business and that grew every day.

"But of course they wouldn't accept, he never cared about  us — she  muttered as if it were obvious, she looked at her as if she had said a secret and after tried to disguise it —Well, I'm guiding you, (Y/N) because I admired your stance on helping your sister, and besides, I'm afraid of certain attitudes from my brothers, so be yourself and be calm, Thomas reads people as if they were books.

You didn't contain a nervous smile that sprouted in the corner of your mouth, and Ada mimicked the gesture.

"I thank you for the support and slight confidence, for I am an unknown — you lifted the clock and it was about saying goodbye to Ada who mentioned that he would stay there for some time, for he had affairs to deal with an aunt.

The sound of your heels made an annoying noise in front of the room in which you had to cross to get to the office of Thomas Shelby, the head of the company. Faced with all the curious male looks that stopped for an instant their works, their gaze urgently sought a female figure in front of all those laughter, parallel conversations and some men even drank. Finally, as a light at the end of the tunnel you spotted a slender and elegant woman carrying some folders in the middle of all that euphoria as if it were something normal in everyday life.

"Excuse me, I'm (Y/N) Turner, the college employment agency referred me to an interview here at this  company —explained  by showing the card and some papers the woman looked closely at.

She lifted her gaze and let out a soft smile.

"I am Lizzie Stark, I am The Secretary of Mr. Shelby — she  dared not shake hands, for she held the folders —Apparently, you are the last to be interviewed, Thomas spent the morning in the office attending everyone who also came for the job, God knows how much he hates getting stuck in the room.

She said in a tone that she turned herself in so that it looked like the two were more than boss and secretary.

"I understand how tiring it must  be,"  he replied (Y/N) in an attempt to respond to all that short outburst, in a positive way and not just as a nod- to a nod —  So do I announce myself or do you need to do that?

Lizzie looked at her with a certain kind of sympathy and surprise.

"I could let her go and see Thomas' face when he saw you breaking into his office, but you're too cool for that, Miss Turner, accompany me —she  put the pile of briefcases on the table of a young man sitting stripped, looking at the chaos of the place as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"What the hell are you doing, Lizzie? - the boy was unworthy to stand up promptly and turn his attention to (S/N) who felt uncomfortable in front of the scene.

"Either you do something here, Finn or I tell Tommy to put him to work in the Association of Ada and Freddie.

(Y/N) stirred a little while listening to Ada's name, and this Finn grumbled bravely and picked up the briefcases.

"Don't fuck, it's just crazy  there —he turned around taking one last look at (Y/N) who bothered the boy's attitude by offending the association in which Ada, had said he faithfully engaged with her boyfriend.

Lizzie touched her and asked me to follow her to Thomas Shelby's office. At each step the heart of (S/N) accelerated more and more, remembering Ada's comments about man and his personality.

The woman touched the door twice and opened the door quietly, she made a sign that (S/N) would wait a moment, and the girl obeyed her adjusting her outfit once again, she possessed a lock of her hair behind her ear, while carrying a basic makeup, with a simple outline and a soft gloss on her lips, which contrasted perfectly with the white high collar blouse under the black blazer and the pants of the same color. (Y/N) had worked hard to look serious and determined with that appearance , but deep down the feeling of millions of butterflies breaking into her stomach, returned more intensely when Lizzie made a signal for her to enter the office.

The young woman breathed calmly, while the woman gave her a space and smiled openly, (S/N) only broke eye contact with the same that conveyed comfort to her only with a smile, when she visualized the room, the most intimate place in that whole company. The room had a powerful and elegant look, the curious look of young Turner landed on the man leaning against the huge desk crammed with papers.

He carried sharp blue eyes and a rigid posture.

— (Y/N) Turner, this is one of Shelby Company LTDA's top owners, Thomas Shelby      — presented Lizzie with a satisfied tone.

You smiled in respect and approached the man in calm footsteps. He deflected the look from (Y/N) to Lizzie.

"Thank you, Lizzie. You can leave us  now— the  voice sounded authoritarian and at the same time kind. The woman obeyed promptly, and the light door knock could be heard.  

The young woman firmly shook the man's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby, "he  just nodded and pointed his head to the leather-coated chair.

"Do you accept anything, Miss Turner? Water, whiskey...— he  could visualize his frightened look and snuff, you suspected it to be a laugh, a serious man like him would deprive himself of laughter in the face of a situation like that with a young woman —Sometimes I forget that I'm dealing with young people.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby... but I'm fine  —  he stuttered (Y/N) and mentally hated it, a simple answer and her anxiety spoiled her.

He served himself as whiskey and soon turned the dose with a single sip. He walked a little and sat in his armchair, his fingers strolled through his eyelids and he breathed a long breath.

"All right, Miss Turner, how did you find out my business? —  asked by raising his arm towards him, opening his hand and expecting something you suspected to be his resume. His agile hands flew into the briefcase, taking the paper out of there and landing it in the man's impatient hand, he sought his round glasses and read it.

" As stated in the curriculum and you must be aware, there is a project that the employment agency and the college carry out for young people who stand out in some way. They enjoyed my service at Sparkhill's library and they forwarded me here after my studies were completed. I did some research on his empire — (Y/N)   highlighted fun and noticed the man's considerate look at it.

"Sincerely, tell me, would you dedicate yourself here at the Shelby Company?

Persuasion, (Y/N)! But how to persuade a man who was in control of the conversation?

"Just as I dedicated myself to the library, I would do the same here, sir, even more so because I will finally make money — (Y/N) laughed nervously by observing man's immutable expression — Anh...As I said, I will do everything in my power to see the well-being of those to whom I work and contribute positively to the growth of the company.

He watched her another moment and turned his gaze to the curriculum, Ada's words returned strongly to her head. He was comparing the physical (Y/N) and the (Y/N) curriculum.

After a moment, he took off his glasses and stood up walking to the young woman, handing him the resume.

"Your references are acceptable, and by far you are the one that seems most fit for that  position "—you  couldn't help but let a small smile out.

He scolded her with a look.

"But don't be happy, Turner. I'm hiring you, because you're the only one who stood out and I can't stand anyone else here flattering me ".

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby.

"You're still going to have to make a lot of progress, so far it's just," he said at the end,  "Tomorrow  you can start, ask Lizzie for guidance that she'll tell you what to do.

"I promise not to disappoint you, sir," exclaimed once again leaving the room with a victorious smile.

[bigtittyhimmler-blog]

Luke Turner fights antisemitism

It is without pleasure that I must announce that the door of the third bathroom stall to the left in Berlin Ostbanhof train station has chosen to participate in a virulent antisemitic hate campaign against me by slamming itself shut on my exposed dick, inflicting serious damage to my penile tissue, and causing the end of my dick to turn purple and swell alarmingly. While this attack was shocking, it was sadly not unexpected. Doors have a long and documented history of collaboration with far-right ideology. For instance, the Nazi architect Albert Speer’s designs frequently involved doors or door-like structures. This attack was clearly intended to evoke cruel and disgraceful antisemitic tropes: by mutilating my dick, the door alluded to the notion of the ‘castrated Jew,’ while also mocking the religious practice of circumcision.

This vile attack has forced me to withdraw from the bathrooms at Berlin Ostbanhof train station, where I can no longer allow strange men to fuck me in the ass. I encourage my fellow artists, writers, and curators to do the same. I suggest that the train station be demolished entirely, and replaced with a public showing of my 2014 artwork WHAT IS A TWIG, consisting of a black canvas printed with the words ‘what is a twig’ in a different shade of black. I have written to every company that posted advertisements in the Ostbanhof, asking them why they continue to support structurally antisemitic institutions. While I am still awaiting a reply, I am shocked that trains are continuing at stop at this station, literally platforming abuse.

It should be obvious why this is taking place. The violence against me has severely disrupted #TRUMPISARIGHTWANKER, a performance art piece in which I livestream myself gently masturbating for eight solid days to footage of my previous work, #TWOFINGERSFORTRUMP, itself a video installation that shows me masturbating to my 2017 intervention, #BUGGERTRUMP. (This last work, an extended touring project, was sabotaged by alt-right fascists who perforated one of my testicles with a kebab skewer.) My art aims to create a participatory, welcoming, and loving digital space in which the public is invited to take part in the process of artistic production by telling me how wonderful I am. As such, it’s a powerful rebuke against the politics of racism and division.

I wish I could say that this assault was an isolated incident. However, as a result of my courage in speaking up against people I don’t like, there have been multiple racist attacks on me and my work from within the art world in only the last 36 hours:

Instagram user “@squantblort” published a photograph of a frog sitting on a lilypad. The frog has an unfortunate association with the fascist ‘alt-right’ movement, which has repeatedly threatened, harassed, wedgied, and humiliated me. This image was ‘liked’ by CUNY adjunct Daniel Daintree, a supposedly ‘left-wing’ intellectual who clearly has no problem indulging in racist imagery. I demand that Daintree be fired.

Well-known New York artist Julia Klurpell had a dream about me in which I was a glob of tar floating in a gutter. Associating Jews with gutters, filth, disease, and sewage is a rancid and ugly antisemitic trope, deployed frequently in Nazi propaganda. Despite the art world’s silence on this utterly unacceptable dream, I’m brave enough to insist that there is no possible excuse for platforming racist harassment inside your own head. I demand that Klurpell submit to a full frontal lobotomy.

In the Crafts 4 Kidz workshop in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, an eight-year-old boy failed to spin a bowl on a potter’s wheel, and said that ‘the Turner is stupid.’ Attributing personal failures to Jewish influence is a shocking and vile antisemitic trope. By allowing this child to remain on its premises, the Crafts 4 Kidz workshop has directly platformed hate speech and enabled harassment against Jewish artists. I demand a) a full and sincere apology from the workshop b) that the child be permanently deplatformed from Crafts 4 Kids, along with all other workshops, galleries, exhibition spaces, biennales, and places that look nice, c) that before he’s ejected the child’s ceramics are smashed in front of him, d) that all Crafts 4 Kids employees take turns stamping on the shards of broken pottery, and e) restitution of $1.6 million. Only then can the Crafts 4 Kids workshop begin to repair the damage wrought by its long history of complicity with fascism.

The Louvre is in Europe, a continent historically occupied by Nazis, and contains none of my works.

When I started furiously retweeting myself about all this, twitter user “@homosexual_kumquats” harassed, gaslit, and cruelly taunted me, telling me to ‘calm down dude’ and ‘get a grip.’ This gaslighting is clearly an example of antisemitic denialism, insinuating that Nazi hate crimes like the Holocaust or the eight-year-old boy’s pottery comment were ‘false flags,’ invented by Jews. Who is “@homosexual_kumquats”? How are they connected to the violent hate campaign being waged against me by the door, the frog, the dream, the child, the Louvre, the sky, and the moon? I am going to spend three months exhaustively going through their social media history. I am going to find out where they live, and install listening devices in their home to see if they ever laugh at any joke at my expense. I am engaged in calling out fascism and antisemitism in the art world, and if anyone publicly states that this is ‘bizarre’ or ‘creepy’ or ‘obsessive,’ or that I’m a ‘dead-eyed narcissist,’ or that I’m ‘pathologically fixated on trying to cause suffering for others under the flimsy pretense of fighting oppression,’ or that I ‘hide behind a Jewish identity to deflect any and all criticism of my stalkerish fixations,’ or that I believe ‘all such criticism of myself or my deeply weird behavior is inherently illegitimate and racist,’ or that I’m a ‘big dumb crybaby bitch who can’t stop writing open letters every time someone upsets me,’ or that I’m ‘the heir to the vast Turner-Bianca PLC textiles fortune, and have used that money to buy myself an art career I don’t really deserve, which is kinda par for the course in the industry, but instead of actually producing any worthwhile art I’ve chosen to deploy my incredibly privileged position to mount endless crusades against extremely marginal art-world figures while ludicrously positioning myself as a perpetual victim,’ or that I’m a ‘habitual liar and hysteric,’ or that I’m ‘drunk on moral self-righteousness,’ or that I ‘keep pretending that the contemporary art scene, which is probably the safest place for Jewish people in the world, is actually a hive of antisemitism, because some weirdos who make frog sculptures don’t like me,’ or that I’m ‘riding the coat-tails of a popular and necessary movement against fascism to pursue my own personal vendettas,’ or that I ‘seem to take particular delight in trying to disrupt the careers and livelihoods of young women,’ or that my face ‘looks like a squished bug,’ or that I ‘got my dick trapped in the door at a train station bathroom while jerking off to footage of myself and now it’s turned all gross and purple,’ then this can only be because they’re fascists and antisemites themselves.

[kiibearer-a]

AND NOW FOR MY IN DEPTH REACTION POST TO KH3 IN ITS ENTIRETY:

( jokes on me I actually made this in depth ) 

What the absolute fuck was that.  It’s not even meant in hostility, I just don’t at all get what any of that ending meant or what it was supposed to represent or support. I’ve spent all day thinking WORST CASE on what was possibly going to come of that ending. Was Sora going to die? Was Sora some how in relation with the Master of Masters, was Sora going to be Norted and made to fight everyone and it was their turn to fight against him—like all of these possible scenarios that could have been REMARKABLY worse than what we got.  And frankly, I don’t even know what we got. I have no idea how to break that down and make anything from it, because this ENTIRE GAME just completely negated all the years of Sora’s journey in the span of two hours.  There was just...so much unnecessary digging at all these holes that had been already been too deep that looking at this as a whole is just so exhausting because I don’t even know where to start. I can start by saying, none of this will probably change my interpretation of Sora or his motivations or his drive? It didn’t matter. The story absolutely did nothing to absolve a lot of the overarching and LOOMING impressions that it was giving, so, it just...doesn’t change Sora. WHICH HERES THE SCOOP ON SOMETHING I LITERALLY WAS PLANNING ON DOING THIS WEEK 

( because I have no way to reorganize this, here begins the list of frustrations I guess :  ) 

01. Sora’s resolution—So a big thing that really bothered me this game was this intense reminder that “Sora is nothing without everyone else”. Throughout the series as a whole, more specifically KH1, CoM and DDD, there are a lot of themes of this SCRUTINIZING “teasing” to Sora’s character that he is useless and incapable without the aide of others. Honestly, it’s more fair to say that Sora being the main character is whole heartedly an accident. It’s fair to call him dull, ordinary, unimpressive and unremarkable. But what captures so much of his character and WHY he is the main character is because he is all those things and that’s what makes him remarkably amazing to those around him. He exceeds every and all expectation because people think him incapable when he is profoundly capable, even by the thinnest of margins. His confidence only grows with others beside him. Sora is extraordinary because in every instance he faces, he overcomes the odds because he believes in how capable he is to solve it. He will do anything to fix a problem, he won’t stop until others are helped. And all of these things are also FLAWS. His flaws are his strengths because he’s learning how to grow from his mistakes and his failures. And from the previous settings of hearing people tell him how incapable he is because he’s not as good, not as tough or as smart—he grows because he’s trying to CHANGE to be better. And the same thing I have heard throughout the majority of this series is people telling him “Don’t ever change.” Sora has changed. He’s grown self-conscious, he’s anxious and hesitant. More reliant on others than himself. Because he’s been so stunted by this need to remain who he is, but unable to change and evolve from all the hurt and suffering he has endured and taken for others. And never got the chance to evolve from that AT ALL, this game. I was half expection with worlds like Tangled, and San Fransokyo, and the small hope of Moana that characters like Rapunzel, Hiro and Moana could show Sora that in these moments of weakness and incapability, just because you are alone or abandoned or scared and hurt, these things do not define who you are and who you are TO OTHERS. They test you to grow and change and believe in the way that you can make differences and learn from those mistakes and put downs.  And Sora didn’t get that at all.  02. Kairi— First and foremost, I personally would want to apologize to every Kairi player there is because what Nomura did to her was awful. What has happened to Kairi this entire SEIRES, was awful and shameless and I’m just...really frustrated that I don’t have more sympathy to care for her the way I want to. She has been a bone for Sora to follow the whole time, she has been a fridge, she has been a set piece, a plot device, a plot foundation—all while never being able to control her own agency in the process. Every decision is made for her, and every decision she makes does not feel like her own. Her relationship with Sora feels so...stagnant despite all this pressure between their bond and their intertwined destinies. There is no foundation because we don’t know who the hell Kairi is. We don’t know what she likes, where she came from, what she wants because anything scripted will tell you “Sora”. And from her, Sora is her personality in these games. And it’s absolutely UNFAIR. The entire ending I sat there thinking, “Neat everyone is just...catching up like old friends, after you know, Sora seeing the one person he’s fought so hard to protect and keep safe just shatter in front of his eyes....AND NO ONE IS THE LEAST BIT CONCERNED, MUCH LESS SORA HIMSELF?” I felt Naminé had more people that cared about her than Kairi did, because in this strange pocket of tethers Kairi ONLY had Sora. She hardly interacted with Riku, or gave him the time of day, despite him also being a part of their friendship. She didn’t deserve ANY of that. She did not deserve to die to be Sora’s motivation for saving the world from darkness, and Sora shouldn’t have “died” at the expense of saving her. They have done enough for each other to prove their bonds and their ties that they didn’t need this self sacrifice to solidified what they meant to one another. Whatever the relationship between them, be it romantically inclined or not, they genuinely failed her. They failed to give Kairi the resolution she needed : which what to not be DEFINED by who Sora was to her. 

03. Xenhanort— At this point I’ve fought them so much I don’t even care. I can genuinely say with @dawnbreaks as my witness, I did not die a SINGLE death this entire playthrough. Not once. There felt like little challenge, the stakes didn’t feel as severe as they maybe should have been and for all the work and effort anyone has put in to trying to understand what happened, and why we were fighting; there was no result satisfying that felt good enough to explain that. Why at the very end, did the organization members get agency and then were killed? Why at the last minute did Xehanort, a man HENOUS ENOUGH to spilt a boy apart and leave him for dead, kidnapper of several people who he in turn forced himself into vessels, a man PREPARED TO PURGE THE WORLD ANEW, suddenly changes at the presences of fwens and just STOPS. I get that “Oh this is a Disney title and we can’t have him going murder spree on everything”—LIKE ITS A TAD LATE, but wHY would you reform him. His actions are WHAT DEFINED HIM AS THE VILLAIN. He was cruel and uncaring, and intending to let everyone UNDERSTAND THE CASUALTY OF HIS SACRIFICE BEING NECESSARY. ...I hate when villains are shafted in their own cruelty because of a good triumphing evil. We know the difference and I’m sure the villain knows the difference in context. What makes a good villain is when their context can justify the reasoning behind what they do, it shows their motivations and their strive towards their goal ; often parallel to the hero. And most good villains don’t simply CHANGE because someone asks them not to. Otherwise why be a villain at all.  04. Sora’s Death ?— I love Sora. With all my heart and soul, I GENUINELY love him a lot. He has been a character who has been there for me through a lot of hard times, he’s been someone I aspire to be like and a character I have treasured DEARLY. At this point, I would have rather Sora stayed dead. At the first point in time when he ended up in the Final World, I would have rather that’s where he stayed. Aside from the fact that his story is becoming a dead horse beaten, sometimes death in stories happen. They are sad and upsetting and all around unfavourable, but his “death” was so...unnecessary. Much like Kairi’s. There was absolutely no reason for it to have happened to either of them, much less at the expense of EACH OTHER. It’s not romantic, it strengthens no bond and there was no WEIGHT behind either sacrifice. It was just to kill time.  A brilliant example of a death made fair was Noctis.  Noctis is another character who I truly love, who I enjoyed every step of his journey and in the end was absolutely devastated to lose. But his death MEANT something. Because I played an entire goddamn game that showed what he gave toward that sacrifice and how he went from a self-preserving child to a KING, who knew the sacrifice that was meant for not just HIS people but THE PEOPLE to survive.  It was a death that was beautiful and tragic because it FUCKING MEANT SOMETHING TO ME, as a player, and watching Sora die for Kairi meant NOTHING. And that sounds so cruel and unfair, but its because she too died for nothing. She was not stopping Xehanort from anything. She was not a means to his end. She was not a driving force that could contain or deny his success. She was a girl who has and ONLY has been define by her relationship to Sora, and was used a pawn to motivate him, when he didn’t need it.  And for Sora to do the exact same thing, after people who have fought themselves back from the brink for and with him, to let him just WALK away to retrieve her, and then just blink away, not only denies everything I did in this game. But it denies everything that Sora has done for her and that he’s meant to do for her.  IN FACT, I plan on making a verse with the intention that Sora is dead.  Because the idea of Sora even trading himself to restore her once sealing Kindgom Hearts is a far better outcome than just TRADING life tokens and waking up in a FFVX ripoff.  I don’t understand what this game was trying to explain, narratively.  Combat was fun.  Seeing old characters rendered in the new engine was nice.  Watching how more animated Sora was and over all his look and mannerisms and just following his journey again was comforting.  But what did I do? And why. There was no point to anything that I just did in games prior, because all of it is gone in this one. And that’s really disappointing after waiting 13 years, to beat a game in five days. 

[canadian-buckbeaver]

In Thirium, I should Hate You

Gavin and RK900 (newly named Richard) are on the trail of a couple of noctious gangsters who have been distributing a new form of Red Ice. For months they have been tracking their every move, every communication.  Tonight their plan is foolproof... sort of.

For @nikki-on-edge!  Here is my form of our art trade!

The city was quiet and dark.  Clouds were on the horizon, the promise of rain high in the air.  Well, the weatherman had said that there was about an 85% chance of precipitation today.  But that didn’t matter.  Even that would work out in their favour.  See, he had learned that there were three main types of civilians.  During this time, the majority of the civilians would be home in their warm beds, sleeping and dreaming of the sun or of loved ones. Others may be still working during the night, searching for more time in a day, or for a better tomorrow.  And others yet may be predators lurking in the shadows, stalking the night, waiting for unlucky prey to fall into their traps. Yet, he and his partner were not like these three main groups.  They were part of a rare, fourth option.  One that took many characteristics of both these different groups and made it into their own.  Usually they were home, sleeping or listening to one of the many media outlets.  Other times they worked around the clock, trying to finish a little more work before the next sunrise.  And others, as was the case for tonight, tonight they hunted.  Hunting the hunters.

Tonight was the night that all their planning would come to fruition.  It was foolproof, down to the last detail.  They just had to follow their plan.  They had already parked their car about five blocks from the takedown site and were making their way to the designated meeting spot, at least thirty minutes before they were scheduled.  His partner and him made their way quickly and quietly through the night, avoiding the garbage that littered the area.  Avoiding giving away their positions.  Everything was going according to plan.

As he followed behind his partner, he allowed his gaze to look up at the sky, scanning, searching. He knew that humans once told of ancient myths of the stars and planets in the sky.  In particular, they told many stories of how the stars above were used by gods and angels to look down upon the earth that they loved.  It was a beautiful tale but…

His eyes narrowed slightly, searching the dark skies.  Despite it being the ideal time of night, stars never appeared in the city skyline. Earth’s atmosphere had long since succumbed to human’s constant poisoning of the environment, leaving the skyline cloaked in dust and pollutants, blocking their ancient light. The air was heavy and humid tonight, the forecast calling for rain and thundershowers but for now, now the sky was clear.  Bright blue lights scanned the horizon as he silently followed behind his partner.  He could almost imagine where the stars would be…

“For fuck’s sake, are you seriously gonna follow me absolutely everywhere I go?” the human growled in a low whisper.

“I’m sorry detective, but as per my programming and directions that were given to me…”

Gavin scoffed, interrupting the android.  “I’ve told you before where you can stuff your programming.”  The man increased the size of his stride, probably hoping to put more distance in between himself and the android.  RK900, or Richard as he had been ‘named’, said nothing but also increased his stride, easily keeping pace with his human partner.  Flashing yellow, his LED light sparked at his temple as he scanned Gavin quickly.  Aside from the slowly increasing heart rate from their near jog, the human seemed to have normal vital signs.  Oxygen was at 98%, his heart beating about 73 beats per minute.  He was exhaling more water, but Richard attributed it to the abnormally warm night…

Gavin ducked behind a corner, peeking out at the street, eyes narrowed.  Following behind him, Richard stood behind him, ready to fight or defend, whatever was necessary for the mission.  “Are you sure it was supposed to be tonight?” Gavin asked again, eyes slowly looking up and down the road, hand on his hidden carry.  The firearm was fully loaded, safety on.  Extra ammunition was hidden in the secret pocket of Gavin’s coat.

Though both he and Gavin hoped that they wouldn’t need any of those bullets.

“Yes.  My research intercepted their coded email with today’s date and this location.  Fred ‘the King’ should be meeting Billy Bully here in approximately thirty minutes…” Richard reminded him.  Humans seemed to need constant reassuring that he had done his job right. After all this time, the creators were wary of their creations it seemed.

“I didn’t need a fucking essay.  It was a yes or no question, but I suppose that you forgot to take that into your calculation.  I swear you chunks of plastics love to hear the sound of your own voices.” Gavin snapped at him.

Richard’s eyebrow rose slightly with mirth.  As much as Gavin wanted to pretend that he could work without assistance, he seemed to constantly need reminding of important information.  His hormone levels severely compromised the memory banks. Richard’s mind did not rely on chemicals that were finicky as the day was long, luckily.  His hardware really was much more superior than the organ that humans called a brain.  “I admit that it is a plus.” He said, quickly scanning up and down the street.  No sign of the dealers yet.

Eyes flashing, Gavin looked back to face him.  “Just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.  

The android looked at him levelly.  “It means that it gives me the chance to recalculate my evidence, making sure that I have come to the right conclusion,” Richard explained.  “And, since we have come up with no clues to counteract with anything that I found this morning, we can conclude that…”

During his talk, Gavin had turned away from him, watching the road ahead of them.  The human wasn’t listening, he realized.  Probably had gotten ‘bored’ of him again, or he was speaking that sarcasm that he was so fond of.  Then again, Gavin was busy plotting their next move, or possibly the best way to try and escape him.  Gavin was one of a few humans that the android couldn’t get a proper read on. He was sarcastic, rude and obnoxious, his distrust and disgust for the androids open and honest.  yet he seemed to be hiding something from him, from the rest of the department.  Gavin could have rejected having the robot as his partner after all.  

Instead of asking more questions or continuing talking, Richard fell silent, deciding that he wouldn’t risk their mission for the sake of a few words.

Besides, he had more than made his point.

Time seemed to pass slowly for the two.  They stood there in the alleyway, waiting, not daring to move.  If they were spotted now, then all the progress that the department had made over the last three years would have been for nought.  They would have to start all over again, right from the beginning.  All while civilians and others lost their lives – overdosing on Red Ice, getting pulled in the middle by the warring street gangs. No, for the sake of the mission and the lives of others, failure was not an option.  If they were able to take out these officers and remove this Ice from the street… well, it would save countless lives.  Perhaps people would finally see what he, or his kind, could bring to society.  That they were useful, not just for accidentally replacing their human counterparts but also for….

“Someone is coming,” Gavin whispered, interrupting his thoughts.  Richard quickly pulled himself out of what Hank and Gavin called his screensaver mode.  The alley and street were still dark and quiet, nothing out of the order to be seen. He turned to face Gavin.  Gavin had done these tricks before, engaging his Combat Mode before it was necessary and wasting precious power and opportunities. This time he could see that Gavin was not joking around.  In Gavin’s hands was his department-issued cell phone, complete with all the bells and whistles installed.  A small flashing light was getting closer.  During their last mission, Richard had managed to install a tracking device on one of the cars, just above the tailpipe where no one could see.

And now… now another car was approaching from behind them.  Their lights and engine off as they silently coasted towards the meeting place.

He pulled Gavin back slightly, letting the alleyway shield the both them from immediate view.  The clouds still covered the moon, obscuring their shadows.  For once, Gavin let the android pull him back.  Protect him.  

Richard watched the cars’ approach carefully, his LED spinning with a soft yellow.  Both were typical trash cars.  Cars that were used for meetups like this and, if they were identified, were typically dumped, wiped and tossed with little expense to the drivers.  No care necessary, run them into the ground… much like how some viewed their androids.  Used them until they broke… lifeless toys…

His motherboard flashed with a quick warning before it self-repaired itself, causing him to once again focus on the mission.  He didn’t need to be distracted, he and Gavin couldn’t afford it.  Too much was at stake.  The cars were parked now, Gavin watching them carefully.

As the men stepped out of their respectful cars, Richard pressed the triangle on his jacket. His jacket wasn’t just part of his outer shell.  It was also full of hidden gadgets, ones that would help make the police’s jobs easier in the gathering of evidence.  The audio and camera hidden inside his zipper head came on silently, recording the men’s every move.  Of course, both himself and Gavin planned on arresting on them, but they would need as much evidence as possible for their case to hold up in court.  And according to recent statistics showed that the combination of audio and video was the second strongest form of evidence, second only to DNA.

Though, without much light, the video might as well just be moving audio.

“Do you have it?” one of the men asked the other.

The other man scoffed. “Of course I have it.  You better have my fucking money.”

“You watch your fucking tone with me.  Don’t you dare treat me with any disrespect.”  The other man stepped closer to the other’s car.

“Listen here close, asshole.  I have others who are wanting to get their hands on these pills.  You were the first one to connect with me, meaning you’re the first served.  So shut your fucking mouth, and give me my money, or I’ll move down to the next one on the list.  Got it?”  The man pulled a briefcase from the back of his car, opening it in a smooth move. The dim light from the car’s interior gave Richard just enough light to see it glint off hundreds of small baggies. Baggies that held little red pills.

There they were. The new, concentrated form of Red Ice that had been slowly hitting the market.  Richard could feel Gavin tense beside him, his heart rate increasing slightly. Growing excited or stressed, Richard couldn’t immediately tell.  Moving slightly, he gripped Gavin’s elbow, seeking to steady him.

This time, Gavin did not appreciate the comfort.

Jerking his hand away, he stepped to the side to get more distance in between him.

Bumping into an incorrectly placed garbage can.

Time seemed to pause for Richard.  Scanning the area he evaluated possible solutions:

1)       Grab Gavin and retreat for now – losing the men and the pills

2)      Put Gavin in harm’s way and allow the men to see him

3)      Shoot them, losing any other connections that they would have to this trafficking ring.

4)      ….

 Richard propelled Gavin behind him as the men turned towards the noise, both drawing their guns at the silhouette.  His LED flashed yellow as he activated his telecommunications. “This is RK-900, codename Richard working with the Detroit Police department.  I am at Newport Ave in view of a drug deal…” the men opened fire. Richard could smell the hot iron of the bullets. “Shots are fired.  Immediate backup is requested.” He closed off the communications, choosing instead to focus his attention on the two slowly retreating gang members.  They were trying to get to their cars he realized.

Trying to escape.

He felt one bullet go through his right arm, and then another go through his left leg, thirium spilling onto his clothing.  Neither of these were particularly vulnerable spots.  He could still function…

For now.

He had the mission to focus on.  Richard began to walk towards the cars and men, one hand guarding his core as the men shot on.  He had to immobilize the dealers before they returned to the cars, escaping with the pills and themselves.  They needed to get the drugs off of the street.  They needed to take down the ring…

One of the men readjusted his aim, firing just to the right of the android.  Why…

The answer was obvious.  Gavin had been spotted.

Without a second thought, Richard moved into the path of the bullet.  With a jerk, the bullet entered his chest, blue thirium spurting onto his jacket.  His shell was severely compromised.  If he took any more bullets in the same area, his electronic circuits would begin to be affected by the excess metal.  

There was the sound of a quick, professional reload.  And then the shooting continued.  Another bullet, lucky shot or not, found his hip joint.  Richard grit his teeth as the bullet jammed in the socket. No… if he couldn’t…

Red, white and blue lights lit up the small alleyway, cloaking everything in bright lights. Police officers, androids and humans together, surrounded the two gangsters.  Guns were drawn, orders snapped…

The two men, outnumbered and outgunned, surrounded.  Guns placed on the ground and kicked away.  Arms coming up to rest on their heads.

The ordeal over at last.

Mission Accomplished.

* * * * *

Gavin had disappeared amongst the lights and uniforms when the police had shown up.  Richard chose not to say anything at first.  The man was unpredictable at best and completely volatile at his worst.  For all he knew, Gavin was busy doing something else that Richard had overlooked, or perhaps even getting coffee.

It was when the repair android on sight had finished repairing him and Gavin still hadn’t reappeared was when Richard realized that there was something wrong.

Letting the other investigators take over the crime scene, Richard slowly walked down the alleyway, scanning for clues.  Behind a couple of cardboard boxes, he found him.

Gavin’s stats were completely out of line of what a human considered normal or good.  His heart rate was too fast and hard, elevating his blood pressure to dangerous levels.  His breathing was laboured and shallow, causing his oxygen levels to drop. The man was trembling and sweating, hunched in on himself like a broken child, head between his knees.

A small gasp escaped him.

Reacting instinctively, Richard came beside Gavin.  Wrapping an arm around Gavin, he pulled the smaller man into his lap, rocking softly.

“What the fuck?” Gavin demanded, trying to control his breathing and his heart rate.  Trying to control the situation.  “Where the fuck did you come from?  How…”

“Hush for now,” Richard said, rubbing the man’s back as a mother would a child.  “Do not think of that.  Deep breaths in.  Hold. Breathe Out.  Concentrate on me.”

Gavin tried to argue again, his eyes glaring at the android.  Richard held tight to the human, shielding him from the boxes, from the rising sun, from whatever demons were chasing him.

Slowly but surely, Gavin’s stats improved.  His oxygen increased, his heartbeat slowed, trembling disappeared.  Instead of continuing the struggle, Gavin sagged against the android, his eye fastened to the deep blue stains on Richard’s once white jacket. Thirium stained everything that it came into contact with.  Richard would need a new jacket.  “Sorry.” he croaked.  “I’m sorry.”

Richard’s LED whirled yellow as he took in his words.  “Sorry?  Whatever for?” he asked.

“You know what!” Gavin snapped quickly before looking away.  “I caused this… I shouldn’t have been a cop… this… this isn’t the first time… no… I just…” his heartbeat was rising again, his pupils dilating.  “I could have lost you…”  He began to tremble again.  “Tim… he… last time shots were fired…”

Richard briefly recalled seeing the picture of a Timothy MacDonald Jr. on the wall of heroes at the police department.  The man had been partnered with Gavin before the rise of the android cops…

And had been killed in a standoff.

“He… he shielded me from the gunman… just like you…. it was because of him…. because me… he…” Gavin stuttered.  “I’m supposed to be above this… put this guilt behind me…. but… seeing you… seeing you bleed…”

“My mission is to help protect Detroit in coordination with the Detroit Police Department.  That means I do what I can to protect you and the citizens, you first.  I cannot help you and the citizens if I am offline.”  Gavin slowly turned to look at him, the wild animal look slowly leaving his eyes.  “Besides, it takes a lot more than that to kill an android.” Richard told him, squeezing him tightly, “and you would have never lost me.  Even if they had managed to kill me, my memories would have been uploaded into the next robot and I would have returned.  Just like with Connor.”

Gavin looked at the android, eyes seemingly searching him for any mirth or sign of a lie. Richard met his gaze evenly. Everything he had said was true. He needed to do what he could to complete the mission and keep his partner safe.

“I suppose that means that I am stuck with you until I retire.”

Richard allowed a small smile to spread across his face.  “Well, since I was assigned to you personally, technically you would be stuck with me until I was deactivated or until you passed.”

A false look of horror flashed across Gavin’s face.  “Oh fuck no am I getting stuck with a fucking android for the rest of my life!”  He struggled against Richard’s grip, hands coming to push at his chest.  “LET ME GO, YOU TIN CAN!”

Chuckling, Richard held tight to the struggling human.  Gavin was back.

[babaleshy]

Time for me to rant. If anybody is morbidly curious about what it’s like to live with Trump supporter parents where one parent basically projects himself onto Trump, you can click the thingie. But the context of how this is different from other times I’ve bitched about my folks on my old account is we’re not starving for once. We actually have some money and are trying to get some shit together so we can take care of the urgent needs such as fucking house repairs and shit.

So... We live on a farm. I won’t say where, but right over the hill is a goddamn oil pad. My parents aren’t rich or anything from the oil rights, but I am reluctantly admitting that we are finally getting some money in to where we could repair our tub so we don’t have to risk blisters from pulling a DIY string to turn on the cold water through a ventilation duct because the faucet is fucked. We also got the train to our tub fixed so that way when we shower, we’re not standing in filthy-ass water that can’t drain properly no matter what we shove down the drain to fix it with. We had to replace the entire drainage system for both bathrooms.  Yes. Both bathrooms. The second one is just a toilet and a sink but that sink had the same clog problem due to YEARS of rust build-up because there’s so much goddamn iron in our well water, which my dad states is “actually water coming in from a flooded mineshaft,” and at this point, it would not surprise me if he was right for once.

We also finally got new working vehicles we don’t have to keep taking in for repairs we can’t afford in hopes we can make it to the grocery store or in hopes my mom and my husband can make it to work. Still 2 vehicles, but they are much newer than what we had before (I’m not car-smart, so I couldn’t tell you what years they are or whatever).

My mom also finally paid off all of the credit card debt we were drowning in. This includes both of mine we were forced to use and max out and never make payments on because we couldn't afford to eat several times. That’s about $3k in the hole if you include late fees and interest on TWO credit cards under MY NAME. Because we didn’t have money on us so we could fucking eat.

We are hoping that soon we can get all of our teeth fixed. My husband and I have wisdom teeth in dire need of removal. All of his are rotten, one of mine is rotten but all four are crowding my teeth, all four of us have cavities in our teeth we’re doing our best to keep from getting worse. So the next logical step is teeth. I’m trying to apply for Medicaid but now apparently you’re required to do that over the phone, now and I need a day during the week where my husband has off so I can get some help with this phone call (long story, I just have trouble with phone calls). We also really hope we can find a dentist and oral surgeon NOT IN THIS AREA. A BIG REASON WHY HALF MY TEETH ARE FUCKED IS BECAUSE OF PURPOSEFULLY BOTCHED JOBS BY AN ASSHOLE DENTIST SO YOU’D KEEP GOING IN AND HAVING YOUR FILLINGS RE-DONE.

But hey! We’re doing financially better, now. Especially since my mom plans to give me birthday money this year, and my parents don’t seem to have a problem with paying (if necessary) to help me get tested for dyslexia.

With all of this good news, you’d think my dad would be just tickled, right?

Nope.

He bitches about spending money. He has a mole hill of money he sees as a mountain and he wants to sit on it and never spend it. He bitches anytime spending has to take place. At all. He parrots any and all things Trump promotes and shit. My dad wants to be Trump. My dad is racist, thinks Mexicans are invading America to take our jobs and rape our women and murder Americans (same with any non-white refugee from anywhere), he thinks the military doesn’t get enough support of any sort, with his excuse being “we need to make sure we can show the world we can destroy it at any time we want to so the rest of the world respects us.” Btw, he equates fear with respect. There is no debating him. I’ve tried.

My dad says if he is somehow convinced his xtian god isn’t real, then what’s the point in being a good person? He’d start killing everybody just because there would be no god to judge him. THIS IS THE SIGN OF A MENTALLY UNHEALTHY, UNSTABLE, UNSAFE INDIVIDUAL. Luckily, my dad is actually all talk 99.9% of the time. My dad is lazy, and even states that his ideal life is to sit in an apartment without ever having to move, and he’d have servants at his beck and call. He actually tried several times to convince my mom to move into an impoverished part of the south intentionally because “we would live like kings with the money we’ve got coming in right now.” He’s full of shit because it actually isn’t that much money. It’s just that we can stop starving. (For context, my mom wants to move north ever since her mom/my grandma died because her sister is all she has left and she lives up north, and since Kent State is up there, I’m fine with that.)

My dad wants to sit around and be lazy and absorb any and all conspiracy theories on YouTube that appeals to his fucked up worldviews on a device he claims to hate and wishes never existed. He also bitches about having to drive my husband around, who “should have gotten his permit and license by now” despite the fact that he finally got new glasses after 10+ years of not being able to afford to upgrade his prescription and needs to get used to his new vision. My dad is convinced that because he willed himself through his own problems that literally everyone else can do the same. My dad is the most self-centered adult outside of celebrity-hood I’ve ever seen. My husband has anxiety because being behind the wheel of a machine that could easily kill people freaks him out, and he’s not sure if he can see a counselor for managing his anxiety on a regular basis is going to be possible right now.

My dad thinks my husband works at a retail video game store to support his hobby and nothing else “because of all the damn games and statues he keeps buying” when my dad likes to ignore the fact that employee discounts, clearance sales, trade-in credits, and special deals exist. 

My dad is a miserable old bastard, and because we’re in the same situation as him, he cannot stand how we enjoy ourselves to make the most of it. Misery loves company, and he can’t get past the fact that his life changed forever when he got hurt and permanently disabled at the steel mill back in ‘95. He has since then refused to accept what has happened to him, and would rather be a miserable piece of shit and take down anyone else nearby with him. Which could be why he bitches about having money he can spend, now.

And he does all of his venting at my husband. I know my dad is trying to goad my husband into saying or doing something stupid so my dad has a reason to either kick us out or be physically violent. My dad doesn’t like the fact that my husband isn’t a fucking idiot. My husband grew up with a family full of anger-filled assholes. He knows the ropes as much as I do. And the fact that my husband sticks up for me while I’m not around shows to my dad that my husband truly does love me, and wouldn’t only stick up for me while I’m around. He has called my dad on his shit quite a bit when I’m not around. My dad HATES that he can’t dangle the indirect message of “you’re all by yourself, no one else thinks you’re right” above my head. And ever since my husband started routinely calling my dad out on his shit, or defending me when my dad bitches about me over stupid shit, my dad has backed off me for the most part.

My dad wasn’t counting on me getting married to a good man. My dad previously equated good men with financial wealth. Turns out my dad was proven wrong, and he can’t stand it. That fucker is the whole reason why I have had so many self-image insecurities (and still do) and my dad can’t stand it that my husband isn’t joining him on mocking me. My husband tells him to fucking stop. My dad dares not do it in front of my mom, because she tells him to stop.

My parents aren’t in a very health marriage. There’s more footage of convincing evidence of Bigfoot than there are times my parents did something together because they love each other, and I’m not talking about anything expensive, either.

Mom sleeps on the couch because she told me she can’t stand his snoring. However, I remember my mom once telling me that my dad “doesn’t have an ‘off’ switch with his libido” so I’m guessing that’s another reason why.

Both of them sit in the same room on opposite sides of the room (mom on the couch, dad in the busted-ass armchair) on their devices (mom on her tablet and/or phone and dad on the computer that’s by/in front of his chair), only talking to each other about certain articles they read, and not much else. They’ll occasionally watch something on the TV together on Netflix or Hulu but that’s about it.

Mom wanted to live on a farm and raise horses ever since she was a little girl, and through manipulation and the excuse of 4-H projects through me and my brother, she finally got her wish. And my dad is against having any animals of any sort. All he does is bitch about them. He also bitches about how much country my mom listens to (and I can’t blame him there; my mom is the whole reason why country music is the bane of my fucking existence).

Aside from boinking to have 2 kids and mourning over the loss of one of them, my parents have very little in common. I have no idea how or why they got together other than my dad made my mom laugh and didn’t break her jaw like her ex-husband did, my dad had 3 exes and wanted to make the 4th one count, and my mom found out she was pregnant with me before dad proposed (I’m GUESSING knocking my mom up is what made them decide to marry, I dunno).

My mom has (VERY FEW) redeeming qualities, so I take advantage of her mama bear nature to ensure I’m safe under the same roof as my dad. I’m unintentionally appealing to her desire for a farmer-daughter by wanting to garden, though I made it very clear I will never be responsible for farm animals again. She also doesn’t mind the fact that she’ll never be a grandmother to human babies. I’m willing to bet it’s because she never wanted me and doesn’t blame me for not wanting kids of my own. She gets points for not being exactly like her own mother, but I could’ve used some meaningful and caring mother-daughter bonding instead of the distant I-see-you-as-a-burden-now-that-we-are-living-in-poverty treatment I got growing up.

I could point all of this out to my parents, and they would rather spend more time coming up with excuses or redirecting the blame instead of, you know, APOLOGIZING FIRST. And I say this because I have brushed on the topic before and they got SUPER defensive about it.

I was an accident, they got married probably so I wouldn’t be born out of wedlock and so their respective families wouldn’t look down upon them, they thought they had this and had a second kid, a year to two years later dad gets hurt at the mill and we’ve been impoverished ever since but because boys bring more promise of success than girls---especially girls who are different like I was and still am---my brother was automatically the favorite. And I was always screamed at.

Boy would I love to see a therapist instead of a one-hour visit with a counselor trying to figure out as much of why my brain is the way it is once a friggin’ week. Not blaming the counselor, because he’s awesome. But my counselor did say that he’s actually a bit surprised but glad I’ve figured out some way to live with this. It’s because I know how they act, how their minds work, how they would react if I said or did this or that. Having all of this free time and being alone with my thoughts because my husband works his ass off for pennies only for my dad to try and make him spend money on necessities instead of spending his own goddamn money has allowed me to think about and even analyze my own parents; how they act, why they act this way, why they’ve acted that way, etc.

I do consider myself lucky that they aren’t worse than this. My mom is actually much more understanding with me, now, and that’s probably because I’m the last child she has left. So I guess after living in a shit or unhappy marriage and working her ass off to raise two kids and then losing one, she tries to be the good xtian mother and be thankful for what she has now. It’s a guess, though. The whole thing could be a facade for all I fucking know.

Dad’s all talk, but because his tone is the same whether or not he makes his shitty, stupid jokes, or can’t keep certain thoughts to himself and feels the need to say them aloud (SUCH AS POINTING OUT I HAVE CLEAVAGE LIKE IT’S SOME “OMG WOW YOU HAVE BOOBIES NOW AFTER HIGH SCHOOL” IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY COLLEGE IN MY EARLY TWENTIES THANKS DAD THAT WAS CREEPY WHAT THE FUCK), it’s hard to tell whether or not he’s serious about some of the shit he says.

He projects himself onto Trump because he wants to BE Trump. Trump says if Ivanka wasn’t his daughter, he’d date her. I wouldn’t be surprised (I’d still be creeped out) if my dad said something similar. And he has tried to talk about my appearance and how I could make money with it such as a pin-up cosplay calendar because apparently I “look so attractive” while at the same time he shames me for having “skin so pale my legs blind him from reflecting so much light while I wear shorts.” And when I call him out on it, he genuinely thinks he’s done no wrong. My dad is pretty much Trump Lite, and it’s creepy.

But I know the fucker. I can play at his fucked up game, too. All I gotta do is talk about periods or vaginas, because suddenly when his daughter talks about, you know, being a human, suddenly it’s just too much for him.

And he hates I can play this fuck-ass game with him.

And I’m glad he hates it.

Because it’s evident he will never see himself in the wrong. He never has, never does, never will. Because he’s got one excuse or answer after another, and when he runs out, it’s time to drop the conversation before he gets pissed and ruins the night for everybody.

So I’m glad I’m good at playing this game back at him and being damn good at it. That’s what he gets for being a piece of shit.

[thesffcorner]

The Word Is Murder

I haven’t been conflicted on a book like this, in a while. The Word Is Murder is a murder-mystery novel written by Anthony Horowitz. It follows, Anthony Horowitz as he gets approached by a Detective named Hawthorne to write a book about a case he’s been called to consult on: the murder of a woman who just six hours prior, went to a funeral parlor and planned her own funeral. I read Anthony Horowitz’s previous book, The Magpie Murders, but before that I had been a massive fan of both his work for the Hercule Poirot and Midsomer Murders TV series. I had mixed feelings on The Magpie Murders; I thought the actual mystery was great, but there were many points in the book, where I felt like Horowitz used the characters as mouthpieces for his own opinions and frustrations with current politics, culture and the publishing industry, and I found I didn’t agree or like with a lot of what he said. So I’m having a real hard time discussing this book, because, unlike in Magpie Murders where you could make the argument that description is not endorsement, and that those are the opinions of the characters (even though one of the character seemed to be quite an obvious self-insert), here we are reading from the PoV of Anthony Horowitz. He has written himself into the story like John Byrne into The Trial of Galactus. It’s a literary device that creates interesting tension, because I was left wondering how much of the book was actual life, and how much was fiction. But it also created a massive problem, because it was very hard for me to distinguish between the opinions of the characters and the opinions of the author when they are literary telling me that I should view them as the same person. I am not in the habit of seeking out media that I know would piss me off. I am aware that homophobic, or racist, or xenophobic people exist, and I don’t think that authors should only be allowed to have them in their fiction as villains. But I’m just tired; tired of having to read about horrible men that I’m forced to sympathize with or excuse their behavior because they are ‘geniuses’; tired of uncritically presenting dangerous and violent ideas in fiction; tired of the unawareness of who your audience is, and alienating so many people because of callousness. Horowitz seems to really like layers in his book; there’s a lot of meta commentary in his work, not just on the genre of crime fiction, but also on the author as a person who is both responsible and part of the story. And unfortunately, to me this whole book read as one long meta on ‘problematic’ white men, and why we should just ignore their very obvious failings, and even sympathize with them because they are so good at their job. Before I go into that, let me talk about the actual plot of this book. This is a very classic, very Sherlock style murder mystery; there are many references to A Study in Scarlet, which at this point is probably the most overused and over-referenced Sherlock Holmes story. I will say that the references were relatively subtle, and the mystery was interesting enough to keep me engaged on its own level; I wanted to know who had killed Diana Cowper. I also appreciated that, like a good mystery writer, Horowitz had given us all of the clues to the case, and the misdirection came in how the characters interpreted the clues or what they considered important. I really liked the little argument between Hawthorne and Horowitz about what details are written into the book, and how mentioning or omitting the wrong thing can lead the audience into the wrong direction. The push and pull between writing something that is true and something that is compelling was very interesting, and I enjoyed the bickering between Hawthorne and Horowitz about that. Unfortunately, I have to say that I would have probably preferred this story, had Horowitz not written himself into the book. For starters, there’s a moment in the book, where he’s having a meeting with Peter Jackson and Steven Spielberg, that’s such a shark jumping moment, I had to pause the book and skim it. It made me feel such a severe case of second hand embarrassment, not to mention how much I LOATHED that Horowitz allowed Hawthorne to bully him into doing what he wanted anyway, and said nothing about it. The older I get, the more I sincerely dislike when people try to modernize Sherlock and Watson’s dynamic. The early seasons of the BBC show got away with it, because early on, Sherlock wasn’t a complete prick to Watson, and what they were dealing with was on national security threat levels. Sherlock wasn’t just some random detective, he was solving an international conspiracy, and even still, I disliked how easily manipulated and spineless Watson was in a lot of scenarios. Here, it’s even worse, because this isn’t supposed to be fiction; it’s supposed to be real life, and having Horowitz blindly decide to go chase down a lead and then getting himself in mortal peril was ludicrous! Not to mention Hawthorne BLAMING Horowitz for interrupting him during an investigation and which leads to a character’s death because Hawthorne gets distracted (????) and then again blaming Horowitz, instead of just telling him not to go anywhere near the lead suspect or just simply letting him tag along to Canterbury! The other thing I really hated, were the actual characters themselves. We will get to Horowitz, but I want to talk about Hawthorne first. Hawthorne is supposed to be the Sherlock type character; I liked that he had a chameleon type personality where he would change his character based on who he was talking to; what I didn’t like was his casual xenophobia and violent homophobia. The xenophobia was quite subtle, but once you were looking for it, it was there. He treats the immigrant, queer and black characters supremely poorly, is a lot meaner to them and snappier, while being needlessly kind to the white, straight women. I also didn’t understand why Horowitz had grown to care for/like Hawthorne; Hawthorne was a dick to Horowitz the whole time, he hijacked his life, his free time, his house, ruined what was probably the most important meeting in Horowitz’s life, he almost got him killed because he refused to talk to him, and was needlessly and purposefully secretive about his life. I also hated all the little jabs he does at the expense of Horowitz’s writing; if you hate the way he writes so much, then why the fuck do you want him to write your book? Then we have the fact that Sherlock, the most famous asexual character in the literary canon, was turned into a divorced straight guy who is a raging homophobe, for no goddamn reason! Why was it necessary to give Hawthorne a wife and child? So he can act all indignant around the queer characters? So he has a justification for pushing a 60 year old man down the stairs with handcuffs? His homophobia is never properly addressed; it doesn’t influences the plot, he doesn’t grow and change, and I downright refuse to believe that Hawthorne is a real human being and any of this happened. He is entirely Horowitz’s creation, so why would you chose to write about a white homophobe, instead of someone, anyone else? What message are you sending to your readers, queer readers who like your work and stories? That we should gloss over Hawthorne foaming at the mouth because a rich man dares to be openly gay, and calling him a pervert and implying he’s a pedophile, because why… to humanize him? Implying that he must be closeted himself, because it’s 20 fucking 19, and the stereotype that all homophobes are closeted queers still won’t fucking die. Then we have Horowitz. I’m assuming making himself kind of dense and very overprotective of his writing was intentional, but even still this character just made no sense. I like that he was proactive, but why on Earth did he agree to write with Hawthorne? Why was it necessary that this was himself, and not a character? Because if I am supposed to believe that Horowitz the character, really is Horowitz the author, then I am left with the uncomfortable realization that he is someone who is willing to excuse and gloss over blatant homophobia, and xenophobia, just because Hawthorne is good at his job. Plenty of people are good at their jobs, and they don’t go around calling gay men perverts and pedophiles, or push cuffed suspects down the stairs! Even the limp anger Horowitz has when he realizes that Hawthorne is a homophobe, is not because he actually cares about those gay friends he has; how it would make them feel knowing that he’s glorifying a man who wants them dead or in a mental hospital. No, he’s worried writing about Hawthorne might ruin his career. Then he uses this as a way to lash out at the ‘media’ who supposedly took his statement that a landlord refusing to provide a service to a gay couple on religious basis, as what it actually is: homophobic. No, death threats are never called for, but you don’t get to pretend people are just sensitive, because you exposed either your ignorance or your bigotry for the press to see. Then we have the ending. Horowitz is just petty? I mean sure, he did almost die, though I wonder how he didn’t realize until that point that the woman at the signing was related to Hawthorne. The mystery was good. Horowitz’s writing is always good. But I can’t get behind any of the messages, and I do NOT want to support a series about a homophobe and his author friend. I will not be continuing the series and I don’t think I will read anything else from Horowitz again.

goodreads

[humanityinahandbag]

I have not even seen HT3 but you've got me cackling over the image of Ericka holding a handful of file folders, spread in her hand like a proper folding fan, peering over them at Drac until he notices her and then fanning them further, wiggling her eyebrows as she shows off the colored tabs she's just placed on the folders. Alphabetical by color of course.

I’m fucking cackling. Might expand on this later and make it a longer one shot. But for now, have a quick Fanfic. 

So here it is: my first Hotel Transylvania 3 One Shot. 

Enjoy, @bunnikkila. This one’s all for you.

Kiss Me Alphabetically

A story in which Ericka has time and uses it productively. 

Dracula does the same. 

Ericka stood at the desk, alone. Not alone per say. Not if one considered the piles of folders she’d obsessively piled around her as companions of their own kind. Each of them filled with receipts and notes and menus and itineraries. Each adorned with neat, archaic, graceful text. It was a quirk she soon learned about Dracula; that he refused to use anything less than gold-tipped fountain pens, claiming something of nostalgia. It was his way of dealing with the modern changes of the world, she decided. If he should be made to carry a cellphone and log guests in by means of a computer, then he’d at least find the time to dip pen to ink.

She flipped through them. It was a slow night. Monsters filing in and out lazily, asking for little more than direction or spare towels. He’d long gone to deal with a mess on the third floor (apologizing for having to scuttle away, pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaving her to her own devices).

It was an honor in itself that he trusted her alone with something as important as his hotel. The way he’d said “I’m refiling the finances for the next quarter- files are in the top drawer” without any hint of question fumbling his words, which were (as they always were in the way he commented, the way he spoke, the way he watched and smiled and loved) brewing in respect.

She was familiar with the processes, as she was in most things in the industry, and so she’d drawn out the files and riled through them, searching out the logs from the past months.

What she’d found was a certain amount of organized chaos. “Whooo boy…” To a degree, they were understandable. Notes with notes. Finances with finances.

And yet…

Ericka rolled her shoulders before grabbing a pen and one of the many markers she kept on hand in the little drawers under the desk. One of the zombie bellhops -Carl was his name? Or maybe Callum?- wandered over and groaned something.

“How did you deal with this?” she asks, patting the piles of folders.

“Auuuuurgurarg” said Clyde/Callum.

“Was there any rhyme or reason?” She picked one up and waved it. “Look at this! No color? No alphabetizing?” Ericka picked open one of them with two pinched fingers like she was dealing with a dead rat and not months worth of massage receipts and pool-related accident reports. “And look at this! Did he date three months out? Did he prioritize dates? Did he converge files? No! Of course not!”

“Auuuugragagalll” sympathized Clyde/Callum.

Ericka slapped down the files. She scrubbed her forehead, pinched the space between her brows, and rubbed her eyes. “How has this Hotel not collapsed yet…” she muttered. “How has this hotel not gone up in flames. Because I can assure you- obsessive color coding is totally integral to the success of any business.”

“Aghhhhhhphhhh” agreed Clyde/Callum.

Ericka took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. “Right,” she said, giving the colored markers a determined, long look. “I’ll need a coffee, a new box of staples, and a whole lot of hope. Think you can do that?”

“Pfffff” said Clyde/Callum, hobbling off.

Ericka flipped through the folders. There were at least twelve out. All of them, as he’d directed, taken from the top drawer of a blue filing cabinet. But there were three filing cabinets behind her (one blue, two gray), not mentioning the manilla folders and the cheap fold-out capped boxes left along the back wall.

Fixing her hands on her waist, mumbling an old captains sailing prayer, Ericka drew forth whatever strength years battling the high-end luxury seas had bestowed her before throwing herself to task.

Dracula eased through the slim crowd that perused about his hotel, greeting them all with gracious smiles and sharp, stately nods. He hoped the slow gait and hunched shoulders wouldn’t give away his exhaustion. It had been a leak in one of the vacant rooms. A burst pipe that needed attending to. And so he’d taken down the serial numbers, talked to the on-site handymen (zombies), and managed to get some sort of estimate on timeframe and payment.

He’s grateful to return to the relative safety behind his desk. The lobby was empty by the time he returned, nearly silent except for the telltale sound of paper scraping against paper and the scrape of a pen writing. 

The sounds, once he follows them, come from Ericka and a desk hidden beneath folders.

He stepped closer. Cocked his head. “Um…?”

She looked up. “Oh!” Ericka grinned. “Hey there, you! How’d the repairs go?”

“They’re going. What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “Light work. Nothing too drastic. Just keeping busy, you know.” Pointing across the mounds of folders she’d stripped from the filing cabinets behind the desk (all of them he saw open and empty behind her) she said “I finished the quarterly report, by the way.”

“Uh?”

“Don’t worry. Ran the numbers three times. We should probably think about cutting buffet expenses. I think we’d be able to pull through next quarter with extra money for pool repairs if we cut back.”

“Um?” He blinked. Sliding cautiously into the space behind her, careful not to disrupt the Whatever that was going on in front of her, he nudged open the folder she’d pointed to.  

Her own steady handwriting had joined his. Red circles around certain numbers and blue underlines pointing to mistakes he’d made with past calculations.

“Oh, and I also organized your notes. You should really think about donating to an archive or something? These are from… what? 1847?” She poked a set of folders farthest to the left. She’d colored in the tabs on top with blue and wrote dates in on black.

The set beside those had been colored orange. And the ones beside those, red.

“Um…” he said again. There was a tiny fire building in his chest.

“Oh, and look.” She put down the pen she’d been using to meticulously mark dates on each colored tab to grab the Yellow stack (sitting between the now green and fuscia folders), fanning it in front of her with the grace of a dancer. She gave them a flutter, and then did the same with her lashes. “Alphabatized,” she purred. “You like it?”

He blinked. He couldn’t seem to find a way to shut his mouth, his jaw weighed down by invisible pullies. 

Dracula’s silence must have lasted too long, because her delighted expression turned into something of disappointment, and she was soon fussing with the closest stack of folders despairing; “You hate it. Oh- god. I knew I shouldn’t have touched anything but your system wasn’t updated and… and I’d like to remind you just like I did Clyde or Callum or whatever his name is that obsessive color coding is integral to the success- MMPH.”

His mouth against hers effectively cut off whatever she was about to say.

He was glad there was no one in the lobby. Especially when he flicked a hand, blue energy leaping out to push folders to the side to make space when he lifted her up and sat her down at a level height.

“I was working on those! Dracu-mmm!” He moved his mouth from hers down to her jaw. Her throat. The dip between her neck and shoulder. “Honey, we’re in the lobby.”

He nipped her neck and she gasped. “No one here,” he said against her skin.

“Not yet, but anyone could- oh my god do that again.” He dragged his teeth down the line of her artery a second time. She huffed, crossing her legs. Chiding herself for a fuzzy mind, she reminded herself about the task at hand. A voice in her brain chanted; color coding! color coding! color coding! “Someone could check in! Any second! And I have to finish!”

He kissed her again anyway, harder. “You color coded my papers.”

“I did.”

“That is… so incredible.”

Her laugh tapered off into a gasp when he paid special attention to her jaw. “I’m loving this praise. I really am. But Dracula- someone could check in.”

“Good.”

“No! Not good! Not good! They could see a Vamp-mmmm-a Vampire going to town on a -aughhh- humans neck!”

“It’s a lovely neck,” he reasoned between kisses. “Absolutely delectable. A world class, delicious neck. Have I ever told you I love this shirt?” She’d swapped out her higher collared wear for a white button up that she’d only found reason to keep buttoned to mid chest.

“Yes,” she said, watching him reach a hand up to move the collar of the shirt away. “Many, many times.”

“You should wear it more, you absolutely organized minx, you.”

“Dracula,” she snapped.

“Ericka,” he crooned back.

“Dracula I’m busy.”

“So am I,” he argued. To prove his point he bit down lightly on her clavicle. “Very, very busy.”

She groaned. He laughed, reaching behind her to get a firmer grasp on her back with every intention of hoisting her higher to see just how far he could get his teeth down her shirt before having to start the unbuttoning process. His fingers pushed back on the folders. Three of them slipped to the floor.

With a righteous gasp and a frustrated exclamation of “oh come on” Ericka was pushing him back, turning around to growl frustratedly at the fallen soldiers of scattered papers on the lobby floor, and then turning back to fix Dracula with a steel and stone glare. He did his best to make his eyes look as I-Am-A-Victim-of-Circumstance as possible. “Do you know how long it took me to organize these!” Her fingers flew up to assault her blouse, securing a button that had begun to undo itself with more force than necessary. Dracula watched forlornly.

“Oh- Whoops.” She glared harder. His smile was all fangs and guilt. “Sorry, honey… Would you believe it if I said I was distracted?”

“No.”

“Well I was!” Dracula waggled his brows.”You’re very distracting when you talk about bureaucracy!” 

She huffed, flapping her arms up, letting her hands slap defeatedly down against her thighs. “I’ll have to go back and reorganize them all, now!”

To his credit, he did actually look guilty, grimacing down at the mess behind her. “It’s only a few. I can help-”

She breathed, heavy and slow, anger dissipating into something fond. Who was she to pass up affection from time to time? And… it really hadn’t taken her that long. “No- no it’s fine. It’s faster if I do them alone. Maybe you can help after I laminate them?” 

Dracula’s head snapped back. He blinked. Blinked again. The feeling of holy fire in his chest returned. “Laminate?” he peeped.

“Mmhm. I was going to staple together the financial reviews from the last few years, too, and compound and color code them. Maybe we can draw up some sort of two-year plan-”

The rest of the folders flew neatly to the floor, caught by a blue light, and settled into piles around the lobby. Dracula’s arms linked around her, his mouth back to work tracing patterns up and down from her neck to her mouth.

Ericka found herself suddenly very unconcerned with two-year plans and was instead decidedly concerned with how deep she could burrow her fingers into wonderful black hair.

“You are incredible,” he said, every word punctuated with affection. “That (kiss) is the most (kiss) attractive thing (kiss) I’ve (kiss kiss kiss) ever heard, Captain.”

“Oooh! You like that!” She wound her legs around his waist and pulled her head back to look at him from between her lashes. “Wait until I tell you about my plan to consolidate the computers check-in system.” Ericka lowered her voice into a husky, svelte whisper. “It’ll save us at least seven percent on the bottom line.”

The check-in desk was left empty when Dracula very quickly lifted her up and whisked her back to their room, her laughter a ghost against the stone.

The files were temporarily forgotten. 

But they’d get back to them later. Much, much later. 

[ninawritesastory]

Kenny Headcanons

Since it’s Kenny’s birthday, I figured now would be as good a time as any to post some headcanons I have about him.

- Kenny has issues with financial security, so throughout middle school and high school he works three to four semi-steady sort of jobs and takes on a number of by-contract type of jobs. The semi-steady jobs are: waiter/busboy at City Wok, newspaper delivery, farmhand at Farmer Bill’s, and seasonal work picking fruit/veggies at local orchards/farms. The by-contract jobs can range from fake dating to fixing bikes to landscaping, and Kenny develops a wide and diverse skill set.

- He saves up at least half of every paycheck he gets and rotates between three separate funds: Karen’s college fund, the apartment/house fund, and his own college fund.

- Throughout college (and the rest of his life), Kenny is constantly diversifying his income sources. They range from ordinary jobs to online ventures to babysitting to stocks to eventually opening several of his own businesses (each in a different niche). He does a lot of freelance writing and journalism, and becomes pretty good with a camera in order to increase his profitability.

- Kenny spends a LOT of time on teach-yourself type websites. He watches a shit-ton of tutorials on YouTube and the like, reads every how-to book he can get his hands, and learns from observation when he can.

(Putting the rest under a read more because there are A LOT.)

- He has Dissociative Identity Disorder, and goes between three distinct main alters: there’s Kenny, Mysterion, and Princess. Normally Kenny’s the host and therefore the one fronting most of the time, with Mysterion taking over from time to time---particularly when they’re confronted with any sort of danger. Princess rarely takes control, and it’s unclear what sort of circumstances trigger her. She’s most likely to take over around Karen, though. He doesn’t have any blackout amnesia issues when he switches with Mysterion or Princess, but the memories they acquire take on a sort of third-person POV feel, kind of like Kenny’s watching them instead of physically being part of them.

- Going off that, Kenny’s system, while small, is very fluid. He’s aware of his main alters (there are a handful of lesser developed alters he’s unaware of that hold particularly traumatizing memories but they virtually never front) and most of his switches are planned. However, both Mysterion and Princess are capable of keeping certain memories from him if they deem it necessary.

- Mysterion is built largely out of Kenny’s heroic tendencies and sense of justice. He’s probably the most serious of the three, and holds the lion’s share of Kenny’s leadership skills. Princess has most of Kenny’s cunning and manipulative behaviors. If Kenny decides to use less-than-moral methods to achieve his goals, it’s highly likely that Princess will be the one to handle those situations. In a lot of ways, she’s Mysterion’s opposite. However, she also takes on a lot of Kenny’s more nurturing and empathetic feelings. 

- They are all fucking reckless as hell, but in different ways. Kenny’s reckless in that he places absolutely no value on his own life. Considering he comes back every time he dies, Kenny is willing to try a lot of dangerous stuff ranging from stupid stunts to drugs and beyond. Mysterion is constantly on his case about it, considering he was formed initially as a protector identity. Unlike Kenny, Mysterion’s recklessness is calculated: since he’s aware that death isn’t final for them, he’s willing to put himself into more danger than others and uses it to his advantage in combat. Princess’ reckless tendencies come from her empathy; she’s way more willing to take chances and risks emotionally than either Kenny or Mysterion. Anytime Kenny makes progress in his interpersonal relationships, that’s a result of her influence.

- Due to the separation between himself and his alters, Kenny doesn’t really view himself in a very positive light. In his mind, Mysterion’s the brave hero who’s done so much for the town and Princess is the intelligent, confident, caring one. He sees himself more as a bad influence and perpetual screw-up.

- Kenny and Princess are both pansexual, but Mysterion is straight. Kenny’s demiromantic and both Princess and Mysterion are aromantic. It kind of makes relationships a bit of a challenge, especially when Kenny develops a romantic attraction to another guy.

- Fucking loves 80s remixes of pop songs. His favorite is the one with Alejandro by Lady Gaga. Aside from that, Kenny’s taste in music is very eclectic.

- His fashion sense is both fucking amazing and semi-questionable at times. You can actually kind of tell who’s more in control on a particular day based on how Kenny’s dressed. If it’s a more masculine sort of outfit, that’s Mysterion; more feminine, that’s Princess; a weird mix of both, that’s Kenny. The kid will wear fishnets under ripped jeans and a croptop when left to his own devices.

- Kenny lets his hair grow out to about his collarbones. Mysterion can just put it into a ponytail and Princess is quite fond of parting it into a set of cute bushy pigtails.

- While Kenny engages in a few pseudo-relationships and some not-so-safe sex throughout his teen years, he eventually develops feelings for Butters and falls hard for him. Even though he doesn’t really know about the whole DID and alters thing, Butters is really good at picking up on the subtleties of Kenny’s switches.

- He is severely nihilistic. The constant dying-and-reviving thing has really warped his perception and value of the world.

- Kenny has a weakness for cute things. It has nothing to do with Princess, he just loves cute stuff. The kid would have eighty-seven of those phone charms shaped like food with the cute smiling faces on them if he had the money.

- He was conceived in that ritual the Cult of Cthulhu got his parents into, and he’s supposed to be a sort of portal through which Cthulhu can properly enter the mortal realm. (Kind of in the same vein as the whole Raven/Trigon thing in Teen Titans.) This would actually permanently kill Kenny. It’s supposed to come to fruition on Kenny’s 18th birthday. 

- Kenny has violet eyes as a result of Cthulhu’s interference. His eyes glow a bit in the dark and when he’s feeling intense emotion.

-Kenny has the potential to go full-on Eldritch Abomination if he’s pushed far enough.

- Despite his poor self-image, Kenny still has a firm moral compass and desire to do good. He will willingly sacrifice himself to save his friends without any influence from Mysterion. He’s very protective of the people he cares about, and places far greater value in their lives and continued survival than he does in his own. (This will continue even after the curse is broken.)

- He grows up to have a facial structure very similar to his father’s. Kenny shaves religiously in order to avoid any further resemblance to the man. (Which is kind of a shame, since he personally thinks he’d look good with a beard. But he can’t get past the strong resemblance, so no beards for him.)

- Kenny would love to be a housewife. However, an entire childhood of abject poverty has left him with a lot of mental blocks preventing him from enjoying that kind of life. Kenny needs to be bringing in a certain amount of income or he starts to get anxious.

- He loves to sing. He’ll sing pretty much anything, but only when he’s alone. People have caught him humming to himself in public, though. He has a great voice, and come middle school it becomes the music teacher’s mission to get Kenny into the choir. His range is enviable and his lung capacity is the stuff of legends.

- Kenny doesn’t play any sports in school due to the expense, but he joins a few intramural teams where the cost is much less. He really likes soccer. He also learns archery, and gets inspired by Lars Andersen, so he gets really fucking good at more medieval style archery.

- The boy never gets past 5’6’’. He doesn’t eat nearly enough or nearly well enough to gain much in the way of height. While he’s not the shortest guy in school (that would Kevin Stoley), he’s dwarfed by most of his friends. It’s a point of contention with him, and he hates when people point it out.

- Kenny and Kevin were very close when they were little, even sharing a room, but when Kenny started to die on a regular basis, Kenny was put in his own room and the two had a falling out when Kevin couldn’t remember any of his deaths. When he gets a bit older, Kenny regrets the fight and wishes he could be that close to his brother again, but instead tries to emulate that relationship with Karen.

- Kenny’s closest to his mother, and she’s his preferred parent. She’d be his go-to parent if he felt he could rely on his parents for decent advice or help. He loves her very much and wants to get her out of poverty, too. The fact that there’s not all that much he can really do to help her is a bit of a sore spot, which feeds into why he’s so focused on taking care of Karen.

- His likelihood of being killed skyrockets on his birthday. As a result, Kenny has never had a birthday party by any stretch of the phrase, he’s never received a single birthday present (although most people swear they gave him one), and he’s grown to kind of hate his birthday. He’s taken to hiding out in his room if he can manage it, but that’s not always successful.

- Kenny goes through a severe nihilistic phase in middle school (around sixth grade, actually) where he doesn’t even bother to try. He ends up borderline-failing everything and starts smoking and hanging out with the goths in order to bitch about how much life sucks. (Butters ends up getting sick of it around April of that school year and essentially manhandles Kenny back into giving a shit about school and life in general.)

- As he gets older, Kenny’s friendships start to shift. He hangs out with Stan and Kyle less and starts hanging out with Craig, Tweek, Bebe, and Red more often. (Ironically all four are the only ‘out’ kids in their class.) He drops Cartman altogether.

- Kenny and Red end up fake dating for nearly a year in order to get Red’s dad off her back. (He doesn’t take her coming out as a lesbian very well, and it’s either pretend to be straight with Kenny or try to dodge her dad’s underhanded efforts to ‘straighten her up’.) This is what spawns the whole ‘fake dating’ business Kenny ends up running throughout high school. He even starts to plan switches with Princess in order to help the guys out, too.

- Kenny has seriously considered applying to Raisins.

[foundcarcosa]

ccxxv.

What kind of makeup do you think is appropriate for church? >> The kind that makes one the most comfortable to wear.

What would you wear to church? >> I wear anything I want to church. None of my clothes are blatantly inappropriate church attire except for a couple of band shirts.

Would/Do you like having brown eyes? >> Having brown eyes is fine with me.

Do you spend a lot of time on the internet? >> I sure do.

Could you live without the internet? >> I’d survive, I’m sure, but internet access enriches my life in ways that I find indispensable. I would be loath to give that up.

Have you bought anyone a Christmas gift? >> I bought three people Christmas gifts, and about ten people got cards.

Do you have a Christmas tree in your house now? >> Yes.

How do you feel when someone hates on Apple? >> Understanding.

Do you have an Iphone? If so, which one? >> I don’t.

Favorite flavor of jello? >> I like cherry.

I see. Do you have long toes? >> Not any longer than anyone else’s, I don’t think.

What’s something someone said to you that bothered you? >> I can’t remember anything off the top of my head.

What is one of your favorite compliments to receive? >> Anything regarding my fiction.

Do you compliment other random people? >> Occasionally.

Could you see yourself buying a truck as your go to vehicle? >> I could see that, yes.

What kind of car do you want? Something less than $100,000. >> A Tesla Model 3.

What kind of gift would you appreciate for your birthday? >> I’d appreciate being given a gift, period. Books are nice, if we must be specific.

Can you type fast? >> Sure.

Can you type without looking at the letters? >> Yes.

Did you take typing classes? >> I was self-taught. I think I might have had a few half-hearted attempts at typing classes in my school career, but I didn’t pay them much attention since I already knew how.

What do you use Facebook for? >> Lately, as a meme repository (and a login device, since a lot of websites have that “login through facebook” feature and I’ve used it enough times that keeping an account is necessary). I find a lot of things about facebook -- format wise and content wise -- to be more trouble than it’s worth.

What do you look like in your profile picture? >> On facebook? I look like me sitting by the river.

Do you love cartoons? >> Sure.

Name a band that you like. >> Vanden Plas.

Name a band you don’t like. >> Mumford & Sons.

Name a genre of music you don’t like? >> Bluegrass.

What genre of music do you listen to around the house? >> No specific genre.

You think it’s wrong to tell a person ____. >> That they should off themselves because of some perceived moral failing.

What kind of compliments have you given? >> No specific kind.

Would you rather give or receive? >> ---

Do you paint your own nails? >> Yes.

Do you like acrylic nails? >> No.

What is your favorite red lipstick? >> I don’t have one.

What are your favorite colors to wear? >> Black, gold, green.

What colors do you NOT wear? >> I don’t wear white, but that’s mostly because wearing white makes me paranoid about getting it dirty. I think black people in white is a compelling aesthetic. Maybe I’ll get over the paranoia one day.

Where do you shop for most of clothes? >> Amazon, Hot Topic, Rue 21-type stores, Plato’s Closet, thrift shops.

What are your favorite clothing stores/shops? >> I don’t know if I have any. All clothing stores manage to disappoint me in some way eventually.

What kind of shoes do you like? >> Boots.

Describe your style in one word. >> Eclectic.

Describe your current personality in one or two words. >> I’m not sure I can do that.

What is your opinion on weed? >> I enjoy it and I think other people should be able to enjoy it (or abstain from it) at their leisure.

Are you afraid of child birth/pregnancy? >> Yes, which is why I refuse to experience it.

What are your favorite bottoms to wear? >> Pajama bottoms, rave pants, Gap jeans, long layered skirts.

Do you like dresses? >> I do, but I’m particular about the kinds I’ll wear.

Would you rather be called a geek, a nerd or a dork? >> It doesn’t matter to me.

Do you eat cake with a spoon or a fork? >> Some with a fork, some with a spoon. Depends on the consistency of the cake.

What age will you be next? >> 31.

Did you graduate high school? >> I did.

Do you make youtube videos? If so, leave your URL >> I used to take video surveys. That was wild.

Do you flat iron your hair? >> No.

What physical features do you wish you had? ( name 2 ). >> Ram horns and a big dick.

Would you ever get plastic cosmetic surgery? >> Probably not. (Also, I’m being facetious about the big dick. It just sounded funny. Dead ass serious about the ram horns, though.)

Ever broken a bone? >> No.

What are your favorite youtube videos to watch? >> Music videos, Honest Trailers, and stuff like School of Life.

What is your favorite sex position? ;) >> Definitely missionary.

Do you like red lipstick? >> Sure.

What color will you paint your nails next? >> I don’t know yet. I need some new colours. I desperately need a good vibrant shimmery gold.

What is one of your favorite Disney movies? >> Hunchback of Notre Dame.

If you could meet a real life Disney character who would it be? >> Tia Dalma, hands down.

Are you afraid of ghosts/hauntings? >> No.

Do you like to play computer games a lot? >> Yes.

Are you a sore loser? >> Not usually.

What is your favorite game to play with family/friends? >> ---

What is your beer of choice? >> I’ll always go for something by Founder’s, Abita, or Leinenkugel.

What do you plan to buy next? >> Probably groceries, and maybe a couple of things for my room.

Do you like shopping? >> Not especially, but I try to find ways to make it less boring/aggravating.

What is one of your favorite things to do on the weekend? >> Hm.

Here, I’m giving you $500 dollars to one store, where would you spend it? >> Let’s just go for Amazon and call it a day.

Would you look good in a Beatle car? >> I’d look good in any kind of car, I’m sure.

Do you play slug bug? >> Sometimes.

What kind of computer are on? >> Normandy is a Lenovo IdeaPad.

You are attracted to ___. >> Where do I even begin.

Do you like glitter? >> I like looking at it sometimes, but I don’t like having it all over me (which is what inevitably happens any time you even think about glitter).

Have you ever owned a Quija board? >> No.

Do you like to text? >> Meh. I prefer instant messaging, especially since that means I can use my computer keyboard.

If you had to be an animal for Halloween, what would it be? >> Let’s stay on-brand and go with spider.

Do you have more dry skin or oily skin? >> Dry.

What kind of shampoo do you use? Be specific. >> I use OGX’s teatree and mint conditioner.

Do you have acne? >> No.

You’re glad that you don’t ___. >> have to do anything specific tomorrow.

You’re glad that you do ___. >> have a new library book to read.

Your favorite cuss word? >> I guess “fuck”.

Are you obsessed with any superheros? >> I’m really into Doc Strange.

Do you read comic books? >> Sure.

Do you like the Sunday paper and why or why not? >> I have no opinion on the Sunday papers.

Do you have cable? >> No.

What’s a show you wish that was still on air? >> I wish Carnivale had gotten to run its full course.

Do you listen to the radio at all? >> Not unless it’s playing in the car.

Do you like hip hop? >> Sure do.

Do you like pretzels? >> The big soft ones. But I’ll eat a few of the small crunchy ones too, if they’re there.

Do you like snow? >> Yeah.

What’s your favorite thing about your favorite season? Name the season. >> I am currently in the market for a new favourite season.

Name something that starts with the first letter of your first name. >> Ley lines.

Name something that starts with the first letter of your middle name? >> Frogs.

And your lastname. >> Dryads.

Do you have pets? If so, what and what are their names? >> I personally don’t, no.

You want your next pet to be what? >> I’m not even sure I personally like the idea of pets anymore. (Human ones aside, I suppose--)

Are you a religious person? >> Yes.

Do you like pina coladas? >> I’ve never had one.

Do you like coconut scents? >> BPAL’s Elegba fragrance has coconut in it, and at first I was like “hrm...” but it works. Anyway, I like coconut circumstantially. Sometimes it’s just too much, but sometimes it just works.

What is your favorite Bath and Body Works candles? >> ---

Would you spend 20 dollars on a candle? >> Eh, I can get candles I like for cheaper than that, so probably not.

What is the goriest thing you’ve seen in real life? >> I’m not sure.

Do you look in the mirror a lot? >> Nah.

Do you brush your teeth twice a day everyday? >> No, once.

What brand of toothpaste do you use? >> Tom’s of Maine.

What is a dessert that you DON’T like? >> Chocolate cake.

And one that you love? >> Tiramisu. --Dammit, I accidentally left the rest of my tiramisu and Chinese food at Sparrow’s parents’ house! >:|

Twilight or Harry Potter? >> I prefer HP to Twilight.

Would you rather be a vampire or a mermaid? >> I don’t think either of those would suit me very well.

About how many times do you fart in a day? >> I mean, I don’t count or anything.

I see… well… what is your favorite angry music? >> I don’t know.

Do you have a favorite number? >> Nine...? You know, I think I’m just going to settle on nine for a number. It’s eight plus one (and eight is my dad’s number, so that makes a kind of sense), and it’s in nineteen, and there are some mythological connotations to consider. Eight’s a really good number too, though. But maybe I’ll go with nine. Nine will be mine.

Had a crush on somebody that every1 around u thought was ugly? >> Sure.

Are you happy with your physical features? >> Most of the time.

P.E or Math? >> Math.

Math or Science? >> Hm.

Creative Writing or Art? >> Creative Writing.

When you doodle, what are you usually doodling? >> Spirals, shapes. Little dancing stick figures.

What is something that you like that is really cheap in price? >> Incense from Sleeping Bear or whatever the name of that mall store is.

What is something that you like that is kind of expensive? >> Travel.

What do you do when someone is really rude to you in public? >> Depends on where my head is at. I’ve done everything from laugh to ignore to fly off the handle.

Do you argue with your significant other a lot? >> No.

Have you ever had a really painful breakup? >> Yes.

Which is better smoking or vaping? >> I assume vaping is less risky.

Do you write in print or cursive? >> Mostly print, for legibility, but I enjoy writing in script.

Do you have neat handwriting? >> It’s gotten less neat over the years, since I’m always on the computer. But it’s still quite legible most of the time, I think. I just have to get the fluidity back into it.

What do you like to write with? >> Pentel Flair type pens.

Do you keep a journal/diary? >> I keep a dreamwidth, and sometimes I even update it.

You should. Do you eat salads? >> Yes.

What do you like in your salad? If you do. If not, what is 1+1? >> Multiple types of greens, a bit of vinaigrette, a little feta, something crunchy like onion or celery or chip shards or small crackers. Pieces of apple is nice too.

If you HAD to change your eyecolor, what would you change it to? >> Hazel.

What would you not change it to? >> Blue. Although it’d be funny from a Deschain point of view.

What is one of your favorite colors? >> Dusky purple.

Do you prefer to be pale or tan? Don’t say in between. >> I definitely prefer being dark.

Favorite thing to do on your phone? >> Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, Bejeweled, reading ebooks.

What magazines do you like? >> New Scientist and Revolver.

What is your favorite book? >> I can’t possibly choose anymore.

What is your favorite thing about Christmas? >> The music.

I’m giving a ticket to wherever you want, where would you go? >> New Orleans.

Here’s $5, what do you do with it? >> Right now, nothing. I’d probably use it for a snack at the gas station during one of my walks.

Cool. Cool. Favorite flavor of Ice Cream? >> Butter pecan, I guess.

Least favorite flavor of ice cream? >> Anything chocolate.

Do you prefer white or black electronics? >> Black.

What is your favorite deodorant? >> I like the smell of my lavender one.

Are you a good kisser ( make out )? >> I like to think so.

A stranger comes up to you and gives you a big hug, what do you do? >> Recoil and fight my way out of it.

Do your eyes tear up when you’re nervous? >> No.

Have you ever gotten the shakes in public? >> Sure.

What do you like to order from Starbucks? >> Eh.

Vanilla or Chocolate? >> Vanilla.

Apples or Bananas? >> Apples.

Fruit or Veggies? >> Veggies.

Water or Milk? >> Water.

Regular Milk or Chocolate Milk? >> Regular, if I must.

Would you milk a cow given the chance? >> I’d have to at least try it.

What kind of underwear do you like? >> The kind that doesn’t give me a wedgie or some other kind of discomfort. (That’s... harder to do than it seems. A lot of underwear styles don’t sit right on me for some reason. Sparrow says it’s because my butt’s big. Probably.)

Where do you shop for your underwear? >> I don’t have a specific place.

Chicken or Fish? >> Fish.

Firm pillow or soft pillow? >> I prefer it to be a little firm.

What are you wearing when you go to sleep? >> Usually a t-shirt and pj pants, in this season.

Do you take any meds? If so which and why? >> No.

Do you like this survey? >> Sure, it was fine.