#is definitely newsworthy

[edennill]

We laugh at Sauron for not realising a golden-haired Aman elf with the audacity to challenge a fallen Maia with song can only be Finrod at this point, and conclude that Finrod's spell must have worked in part -- but I've never heard anyone ask how on earth did he never come up with the idea that Celebrimbor might have given the three rings to his three remaining family members!

Who made the spell this time?

[worstgirl-online]

did not get kissed so im [REDACTED]

[mayfly-maycry]

It’s a simple process, really; you walk up to the console, enter a number, and either the microchip implanted in your body at birth immediately kills you or a little slot underneath the screen pops out a wad of cash and you move on with your life.

The lines were long, so you had plenty of time to people watch. Most people walked away with nothing; anything short of 90% chance of sudden death wouldn’t get you any money, and less than $1000 was just not worth it, even for teenagers who thought they were invincible. Only a few people actually took the risk. You could tell which ones they were by how they tensed right before hitting the confirmation button at the bottom of the screen. And then went entirely limp as they crumpled to the ground, losing their gamble. Not one of them got their money.

As the person in front of you stepped up to the console, you idly wondered if the cash slots still worked, or if they had rusted closed from disuse. Or maybe there never even was any money in there.

And suddenly, it was your turn. You stepped up to the console, palms slightly sweaty. Of course, you had no intention of taking any chances, but it was still a little nerve-wracking to be only one typo away from death. There was a fingerprint scanner and a small number pad underneath the screen, which was black with three large words printed across it in white: "ENTER YOUR NUMBER."

You swallowed, scanned your thumb on the scanner, and used the number pad to do just that: 0. Just to be safe, you entered a few more 0's, a period, and some more 0's. Wouldn't want something weird to happen with unfilled digits. You hit the "enter" key on the number pad and held your breath.

The console's message changed: "CALCULATING REWARD..." It would come out to 0, then announce that you were free to--

The screen suddenly went blue, and from the sounds of protest from the people around you, yours wasn't the only one. As the technicians -- who were really just there to tote out the corpses of the foolish -- worked their way through the crowd, white text appeared on the screen:

Error on line 15:

Illegal operation: divide by 0

When a technician finally reached your side, he took one look at the console and cursed. "God dammit, who's the asshole who put in 0?!"

"Um... that may have been me," you admit sheepishly. You had no idea what was going on; of the hundreds of teenagers at the consoles before you who had also refused to risk death, not one of them had broken the machine, but somehow you had?

The technician shot you a disparaging look as he pulled a foldable keyboard out of his pocket and plugged it into a port hidden on the side of the console. "Seriously? Couldn't you have just jumped off of a building like a normal person? You didn't have to come in here and break our machine..."

The technician started tapping away at his keyboard, still grumbling, while your brain worked furiously to figure out what he was talking about. Why would he think you were suicidal for entering 0? You entered 0 because you wanted 0% chance of death--

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized. The number the machine wanted wasn't chance of death -- you were supposed to tell it your chance of life. Every person ahead of you who had made the same choice had entered 100%; you, on the other hand, had asked the machine for certain death.

In a daze, you watched the console screen as the technician worked. Instead of its usual simple, almost menacing black interface, it now displayed the rolling hills of a version of Windows older than you were with a terminal window pulled up in the corner. You didn't know much about coding, but you suspected that the mere 20 lines of code pulled up in the terminal were the entirety of what ran the machine.

The technician groaned. "Are you kidding me?! Why does it decide the money before it even decides if the person is going to live to see it?! And there's not any kind of error handling! How has it taken this long for the machine to break? I'd heard that it was shitty, but I didn't think it was this bad!"

You barely understood a word of what he said, but you did get the important part: you had asked the machine for certain death and been spared by a technical error. With a few more key presses on the technician's keyboard, the console returned to its original screen. The technician folded his keyboard away and turned to go.

"Wait...!" you called after him. "What should I do?"

The technician sighed and turned around. "Well, you can't use the console again -- the machine already marked your fingerprints as used," he told you. "At least there's an actual database hooked up to this thing so we didn't lose everything when it crashed," he added under his breath. The technician returned to his normal volume. "You're not getting any money, if that's what you're asking. Just be grateful you still have your life and get out of here."

His expression softened. "And, maybe take it as a new lease on life?" He put a hand on your shoulder. "I promise you, kid, life can be tough, but it's almost always worth living. Don't forget that, okay?" He awkwardly pat your shoulder before walking back to his post at the edge of the room.

You took his advice and left the room, truly grateful to be breathing in a way that, suicidal or not, you never had been before.

At 18 everyone must go to “the machine” and choose a percent that represents the odds the machine will not euthanize you. Those who live are granted 1000/(x^5) dollars. You confuse the meaning of the numbers and become the first person to ever put 0, but when the machine activates, you survive.

[jacquelineadelia]

Leftist Tumblr sure has a real conspiracism problem, huh

[rileyslibrary]

The elderly lady who owns the convenience store in Simon’s neighbourhood needs help with a faulty fridge. You tag along with Simon and discover more about him than you ever expected.

A/N: Fluff. Cosy read.

———————————————————————

“It’s right there,” Simon says, pointing down the street. “Just need to take care of something quickly.”

You follow his outstretched arm to a convenience store nestled on the corner. Furrowing your brows, you glance back at the street you had just walked down, spotting Simon’s house. It’s very close, you think to yourself. Maybe a three-minute walk away.

That’s weird. You’ve taken that same road to and from Simon’s house many times, yet this is the first time you’ve noticed the store.

Turning your attention back, you look closer at your destination. No wonder you never paid much attention to it. The store seems old and rather inconspicuous, blending into its surroundings seamlessly. Everything is understated, from the building to its decor—if you could even call it that. To the left of the entrance, there’s a stand of old magazines, and on the right, a table with two chairs catches your eye. You glance up at the sign above the entrance.

“Mary Mart,” you read aloud.

“That’s right,” Simon confirms, opening the door and triggering a bell to jingle. “Mary should be inside.”

He holds the door open for you, yet his gaze remains fixed on something inside the store. You step in and follow his line of sight to a lady holding a newspaper up to her face. That must be Mary, you presume.

“You alright, Mary?” Simon asks softly.

Yup, that’s definitely her. The newspaper covers most of Mary’s petite frame as she sits behind the counter. She seems so absorbed by her reading that she didn’t hear you come in.

Simon sighs and shakes his head. He gently taps the back of the newspaper to get her attention. Mary lowers the paper to her nose, and her face lights up immediately at the sight of Simon.

“Didn’t see you there!” Mary shouts, lowering the newspaper to the counter. “You alright, my dear?”

“Yes, Mary,” he murmurs, “neither did you see nor hear us.”

“What?” Mary asks, letting go of the newspaper and cupping her ear.

Simon taps his own ear, indicating that Mary needs to adjust her earpiece. Mary’s eyes widen, and she quickly follows Simon’s lead, turning her earpiece on. She gives him a nod.

“Better now?” Simon asks.

“Much, much better,” Mary confirms, then turns to you with a broader smile. “And who do we have here?”

You politely nod, introducing yourself to Mary, but Simon interjects before you say much.

“So tell me, Mary,” He says, glancing towards the back of the store where the fridges are, “which one’s acting up?”

“Oh, I can’t remember, dear, but it’s hard to miss it,” Mary replies, sighing. “It’s the one with the towels underneath. Keeps dripping water.”

Simon nods, his gaze still focused on the fridges. He begins heading towards the back of the store, and you instinctively follow behind him.

“How lovely of you, Simon,” Mary’s voice sounds from behind you. “Bringing me some company while you take care of that fridge.”

You stop in your tracks, and Simon does, too. Point taken, Mary. You glance towards Simon, and he gives you a nod.

“She’s harmless,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “And a pretty nice lady.”

“Don’t be long.” You whisper back. “We still need to go get some breakfast.”

Simon nods and continues to the back of the store. With a sigh, you return to the counter where Mary is and settle into a nearby chair.

“Anything newsworthy?” You ask.

“Nothing much, dear,” Mary replies, adjusting her newspaper. “The weather’s terrible, the economy’s getting worse, and people won’t stop killing each other.”

“Oh...” you murmur, “yeah, that’s bad.”

“Well, at least Boots has 20% off on all moisturizers,” she announces, slightly more enthusiastically than one might expect for moisturizers. She picks a pair of scissors from under the counter and starts snipping the voucher.

With Mary on a mission to get that 20% off of that newspaper, you take the opportunity to peek at Simon. He’s kneeling in front of the fridge at the back of the store, focused on the appliance. Occasionally, his brow slightly furrows as he inspects the faulty machine. Then he pauses, nods, and grabs tools or shifts his position to get a better look at it. You, on the other hand, have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you care. You are hungry and caffeine-deprived. You’re pretty sure Simon feels the same way.

Meanwhile, Mary has finished cutting through the voucher and returned to her reading. She often flips through the pages and snaps the newspaper to straighten it and remove wrinkles. Sometimes, she hums, acknowledging her current read. Other times, she clicks her tongue disapprovingly at whatever news she comes across.

And you? Well, you’re bored out of your mind, so you begin scanning the shelves and displays, taking in the assortment of merchandise neatly arranged throughout the store. Your eyes briefly pause on various items—a stack of magazines, a display of snacks, a row of household essentials—before finally settling on an old photograph hanging behind Mary.

In the photograph, a young man wearing a military uniform stands confidently. He appears to be in his late twenties and sports a well-kept moustache. Rather than looking straight ahead, his gaze seems to be directed right behind you. He looks confident. Strong. He feels present, even if he’s not here.

“Handsome, huh?” Mary asks, peering over her glasses before turning towards the picture behind her. “That’s my Walter right there.”

You clear your throat and nod. “Very handsome indeed,” you confirm. “Is he your husband?”

“Was,” Mary corrects with a wistful smile, her eyes drifting back to you. “My very first and last one.”

“Which war?” you ask, gesturing towards his uniform.

“You mean which war he served in or which war he died in?”

“Both,” you shrug.

“Served in too many,” she says proudly, lowering her gaze to her newspaper. “But the war my Walter lost had no guns or weapons.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Mary looks up from her newspaper, meeting your eyes with a tilt of her head and a warm smile.

“Coffee?” she offers but doesn’t let you respond. She has already turned her back to you, brewing a fresh pot.

“No, thank you,” you reply. “We intend to grab some on our way to breakf-”

“I don’t think Simon will finish anytime soon, dear,” she interjects.

“Then yes, please,” you reply, then mouth a silent ‘shit’ to yourself so that Mary doesn’t hear you. You peek once more at the back of the store where Simon is.

“He’s handsome as well, isn’t he?” Mary states, with her back still turned towards you.

You blush at Mary’s observation and look down at the gum assortment in front of the counter. “Yes,” you agree, nodding with a smile. “Yes, he is.”

“Met at the base?” She asks, pouring you a cup of coffee.

“You know where we work?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It takes one to know one, dear,” she says, turning towards you and handing you a cup of coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” you reply. “So you also served in the military?”

Mary’s expression shifts, her face lighting up as she lifts her index finger.

“Serve!” she exclaims, “Silly me; I forgot to serve the biscuits!”

She retrieves a plate covered with tin foil from below the counter and uncovers it, pushing the platter towards you. You politely decline, thanking her for the offer. But Mary insists.

“I made them myself,” she tells you warmly.

“And I’m sure they taste lovely, but-”

“Take the biscuit,” Mary commands sternly, yet still smiling.

You look up at her, and without looking back at the plate, you take a biscuit. You don’t know which one you picked, what flavour it is, or if there are any allergens in it. Mary’s assertiveness is enough to make you pop it right into your mouth.

Her smile widens. “Good?” she asks.

The biscuit is indeed good. Very good. But even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t dare say otherwise—not only out of respect for Mary’s age but also because something tells you she might have more experience than the convenience store owner she portrays herself to be.

“They are amazing, Mary,” you reply and swallow.

“Simon likes those too,” she states proudly. “I often bring some over when I bake them.”

“So you live nearby?” You ask, swallowing another bite of the biscuit.

“I’m his landlord,” Mary reveals, nudging the plate of biscuits closer to you, “help yourself to another.”

You oblige and take another biscuit, and Mary continues once you take a bite.

“So,” she begins, blowing the steam off her coffee, “I’ve seen you plenty of times in my neighbourhood.”

“I, um,” you lift one shoulder and idly pick up a pack of chewing gum from the assortment in front of you. “I do come by often.”

“I know,” she replies, sipping her coffee. “You’ve been passing by my store a lot lately.”

You subtly turn your head towards Simon’s direction, letting your hair fall to the side of your face to conceal your blushing cheeks from Mary’s view. Yet she doesn’t seem to let go.

“He’s a good lad,” Mary states. Always there when neighbours need him, ready to lend a hand.”

“Indeed, he’s very good with his hands.” You reply.

“You know best, my dear,” Mary remarks, smirking.

“I meant with fixing things!” You say, widening your eyes. “He’s good with his hands when it comes to fixing things!”

Mary chuckles knowingly. “He’s also quite popular with the ladies—both the single and the taken ones,” she continues.

“Oh, is he now?” You respond in a high-pitched voice, narrowing your eyes. You turn your body towards Mary, placing the chewing gum package back in its original position.

“Yes,” she confirms, leaning over the counter. “Simon never rejects the attention, being such a good-looking lad, but at the same time, he never reciprocates.”

“How do you know he doesn’t reciprocate?”

“Oh, you’d be impressed what people say in front of an old lady who, allegedly, forgets to switch her earpiece on.” She says, winking at you.

“So, women flirt with him, huh?”

Mary throws her head back and chuckles, flicking her wrist at you. “Oh please, my dear,” she says in between chuckles, “I would have practically done the same if I was fifty years younger and Walter wasn’t around.”

“And he doesn’t flirt back?” You ask.

“No, not really, but he used to be friendly with them.” She explains, tilting her head toward you. “And then something changed.”

You shift in your seat and lean forward. “What?” You ask, intrigued. “What changed?”

Mary leans closer, sliding the biscuit platter toward you.

“Mary, I should probably lay off the biscuits,” you say. “We’re supposed to be heading out for breakfast, remember?”

“Make it a brunch, dear, or whatever you young people call it nowadays,” she replies. “Simon won’t be fixing the fridge anytime soon.”

“How do you know?” you ask. “You just said he’s great at fixing things.”

“Not when there’s nothing wrong with the fridge in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“I detached the defrost drain to simulate water leakage,” she explains. “It’s an easy fix, but you can oversee it quite easily, especially when the fridge is as old as I am.”

“You tinkered with the fridge on purpose?” you ask, eyes wide with surprise. “Why?”

“Oh please,” she sighs, rolling her eyes, “I had to bring you both here somehow.”

You glance at the cookie platter. Understanding that you won’t get any more information from Mary unless you indulge, you grab another cookie and pop it into your mouth. Mary, the ‘insert-biscuit-here-to-continue’ lady, takes the cue and continues.

“And then, as I was saying, you began to visit more often,” she explains, glancing over at Simon. “And his reaction to all the attention shifted.”

“You need to elaborate a little bit more, Mary,” you press. “How exactly did it change?”

“Girlfriend!” she exclaims in a hushed tone, widening her eyes at you. “He says he has a girlfriend!”

You widen your eyes, just like her, and point at yourself. She nods and points back at you.

“And then there’s the toothbrush,” she continues. “He bought two! A green one and a pink one.”

“He gave me a pink toothbrush when I stayed over for the first time!” you whisper. “Said he’d bought it ages ago and forgotten about it!”

“He bought a pink toothbrush as a spare for himself?” She asks, and her eyes narrow. “Nonsense! It wasn’t too long ago, and I have the receipts.”

“You keep receipts for these things, Mary?”

“No, silly,” she shakes her head. “It’s for tax purposes.”

“Right, so, I’m the girlfriend apparently,” you murmur, massaging your temples. “But why are you telling me all this?”

“Simon isn’t much of a talker, dear,” Mary explains, her tone softening. “Not to mention the horrors he’s been through. Sometimes, you might even misunderstand him because of it. But I’ve known him for a long time. He’s like family to me. Sometimes, when words fail him, I feel the need to speak on his behalf.”

“So you’re looking out for him,” you conclude, slowly nodding.

“Like the child I never had,” Mary confirms with a warm smile, pouring another cup of coffee. “And I can see how much he cares about you. But he’s not always good at expressing it. That’s why I thought I’d give you a little hint.”

“Thank you, Mary,” you say. “I appreciate you looking out for us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she says, handing you the extra coffee. “Now, how about you go over there and tell Simon to take a break? You can use the chairs outside while I go and reattach the defrost drain to the fridge.”

“Sure thing,” you reply and grab the coffee. “I just have one more question.”

“Go ahead,” she says.

“If Simon asks me what we’ve been talking about, what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I was rambling about the weather, the economy, and the 20% voucher from Boots,” she suggests, winking. “You’re a smart girl; that’s why he picked you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

———————————————————————

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part seven | r.c

summary:

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

OR; You deal with an intruder, lose your temper and Rafe and you take a shower.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only! (oral male/female receiving)

word count: 2,6k

author's note: long awaited im guessing HAHAHAH i hope you have survived so far. finally introducing the third character of this series.... you all know him. as usual, happy reading and i look forward to hearing about your thoughts <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. seven: "tell yourself you can always stop"

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The “intruder” was standing shock still, the two of you staring at each other. You didn’t think that was going to hurt you or anything, but the rollling pin was still raised in the air, ready to strike any second. While you didn’t necessarily share the disdain for pogues as your friends did, it didn’t mean that you trusted him. He broke into your house after all.

JJ Maybank, possibly the definition of a pogue, was standing in your hallway, hands raised in defense as he eyed the rolling pin in your hand. He looked almost bored.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?” you repeated, your voice strained.

“Uh, standing. What are you doing, princess?”

You let the nickname slide, glaring at him.

“Defending myself against an intruder.”

“Intruder?

JJ barked out a laugh, his hands clutching his stomach like he just heard the funniest joke in his life, though he quickly raised his hands again when you pointed the rolling pin closer at his face.

“You just broke into to my house, what are you if not an intruder?” you asked, affronted.

“I didn’t break in on purpose!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally broke into my house??”

“Hey, to be fair, you left the door unlocked.”

“Are you blaming the victim right now?”

JJ bit back a grin, his hand slowly reaching out to lower the rolling pin. You let him, but remained wary, your arms dropping to your sides.

“What are you doing here JJ?”

JJ took off his cap, running his hand through his messy hair once before putting his cap back on.

You tried to ignore that you thought he was hot.

“I was coming out of Ruby’s and trying not to be seen by anyone, thought I could hide out here for a bit,” he explained and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ruby Evans? She has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah well that would’ve been good to know before I hooked up with her and almost got caught by said boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Figured JJ would be caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Obviously you knew JJ, but only really on the surface. You didn’t exactly run in the same circles. But you knew that Rafe didn’t really like him, neither did Topper, but mostly because JJ was John B’s best friend. Kelce didn’t really have much of an opinion except for the fact that he thought JJ was hot, so that was that. What you did know, however, was that JJ shared the same disdain for kooks that Rafe did for pogues, so to catch JJ on the other side of the island was newsworthy.

“I’m surprised you’d get caught up with Ruby,” you said. “I thought you hated kooks.”

JJ merely shrugged, grinning at you.

“Why deprave the female population of the other side of the island of an experience with me only because of something they can’t change?”

You snorted, biting back a laugh because you knew that if he thought you thought he was funny, it was over for you. JJ took the moment to let his eyes wander over you, and you stopped yourself from wrapping the linen shirt around your exposed body. This was your house and you weren’t gonna let someone else make you feel uncomfortable. Much less a guy.

“Had a pool party?”

“Something like that,” you replied, meeting JJ’s gaze straight on. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his boyish grin growing.

“Should I take it personally that I wasn’t invited?”

You gave him a look and JJ winked at you, before his face lit up, like he remembered something.

“Hey, your parents are organizing the spring fling, right?”

“Yes, why?” You asked back, suspicious.

“Well, I was wondering if you could do me a favor…” He started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need some money to fix up my bike, and the country club always pays well. But the hostess kind of hates my guts, so she’d never hire me if I applied for the job. You think you could put in a good word for me?”

It was odd how JJ was able to switch from sarcastic to bashful the minute he needed something from you. You had heard from other girls that he was something of a womanizer, and the fact that he just came out of Ruby’s house just proved the point. So you tried not to put much worth on the grin he was giving you.

Most people would probably call it charming. You weren’t most people.

“… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Cool,” JJ said, honest to god pointing finger guns at you. This guy was unreal. He turned to leave the way he entered - through the patio door - but before he shut the door, he looked back to you, one foot already out of the house. “You’re not so bad for a kook, princess.”

JJ slipped through the small gap, closing the sliding door behind him. With a deep sigh, you locked the door, pulling down the blinds for good measure before you headed back to the kitchen. You put the rolling pin back in its place, shutting the dishwasher before switching it on, trying to act like that just didn’t happen.

Turning off all the lights downstairs, you headed towards the hallway, preparing to go to bed when two short raps came on the front door before it opened, as Rafe let himself in like he had been invited over. For some reason, it made you mad. You let out a sigh as you took him in and he raised a brow at you.

“You really need to lock the doors when you’re home alone precious,” Rafe commented and you snorted under your breath.

“Tell me about it.”

He shut the door behind him, locking it and you freed your hair from the claw clip, shaking your head out, feeling a migraine coming on.

“Did you really clean up the mess in the kitchen by yourself?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I would’ve helped you,” Rafe pointed out, annoyed.

“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me that you were staying over,” you retorted, just as annoyed. “Or that you were coming back.”

“Why are you being an asshole?”

Rafe’s irritation was evident in his voice and you let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Rafe. I’m just tired, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling your shoulders slump a little. “If you came to fuck I don’t think I’m really in the mood today, so you can just leave. I’ll just take a shower and go to bed.”

You didn’t wait for an answer and turned to walk into your bedroom upstairs, heading straight to the bathroom. As you stripped down, throwing you bikini and the overshirt in the hamper, you thought you heard the front door shut. You tried not to let the angry tears in your eyes fall as you stepped into the shower, instead, you turned the water on, letting it drench your whole head. Fucker, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe that he’d just leave like that. Before all of this, he never would’ve just left.

Then again, you wouldn’t be in this situation either. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t even heat the door to the bathroom clink open. Only when the glass door of your shower squeaked, you were made aware of Rafe’s presence as he stepped inside. You really had to work on your spatial awareness. He stepped under the shower stream, the water immediately soaking him up, your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Rafe gave you a displeased look, pressing himself against your backside.

You kept quiet for a few seconds, the knot in your chest unfurling slightly, and you found yourself leaning against him.

“I thought you left.”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Rafe’s voice was quiet as he murmured into your ear, his hand coming up behind you to cup around your breast. You bit back a sarcastic reply, because surely this wasn’t something a best friend would do.

“I wouldn’t just leave when I know you’re upset about something, you think you’re just a piece of ass to me?”

“I don’t know what we are these days,” you muttered, half hoping that Rafe didn’t hear you, but based on the way his hand clenched around your waist, he did hear. He turned you around in his arms, frowning down at you.

“Precious,” Rafe said, his voice tight. “You’re my best friend. Yes, the sex is fucking great, but it’s not worth losing you over. If you’re starting to question our friendship, we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked as the day you were born, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes, trying to clear your head. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

Rafe took a step back. It was small, he barely moved, but to you it felt like a mile. You couldn’t go back to just being only his best friend, so before he could move away even further, you reached out to pull him back in, leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him. Rafe grunted into the kiss, seemingly hesitant for a second before he all but melted into you, his hand wrapping around your hair to tilt your head further up. You lost yourself in the kiss for a second, your hands intertwining on the nape of his neck before you pulled away when it got too heated.

“I’m too tired for sex,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the warmth unfurling between your legs.

Rafe eyed you for a second, before he nodded, turning you in his arms again, his chest against your back.

“Let me take care of you.“

With a flick of his wrist, he turned the water off, before he ran his hand down your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs. Your breath hitched, pressing further into him.

“Rafe.”

“Relax,” he murmured into the skin of your neck, tongue lapping up the water droplets that clung to your shoulder. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

His hand ventured further down, one finger dipping into the warmth of your folds and you let out a soft sigh, the stress leaving your body. You had half a mind to tell him to stop, you you found yourself saying nothing. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, searching for something to hold onto while the pad of his thumb stroked circles over your most sensitive little spot of nerves, having you moan out his name.

“That’s it,” Rafe said, leaning further down so he could slip his finger into your cunt, your gummy walls opening up to his digits, your knees growing weak. Both of you were still wet from the interrupted shower, and you should’ve been long cold by now, but all you felt was Rafe’s warm body pressed up against you and the heat coiling in your lower stomach. Rafe’s movements weren’t fast paced, but he applied pressure in just the right places, you felt your orgasm coming in no time.

“Shit,” you gasped, laying your head against his chest, catching Rafe’s eyes on you, seeing a hunger in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, but before you could question it, he kissed you, stealing your breath away. The kiss was the last thing that threw you over the edge and with a small, breathy moan you came apart on Rafe’s fingers, clinging onto him for dear life. As you caught your breath, Rafe placed his hands on your waist, steadying you.

“You good?”

You let out a grunt, squeezing his wrist. “You know the shower is one of the most dangerous places to have sex in?”

“… That doesn’t sound right.”

“Shut up,” you huffed, taking your hands off of Rafe, testing your footing, before you turned, getting on your knees.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” you asked back, wrapping your hand around his cock and Rafe let out a moan, carding his fingers through your hair. “Your dick has been pressed into my back for the past 15 minutes, let me suck you off.”

“If you insist.”

Rolling your eyes wordlessly, you pumped his cock for a but, before licking a strip along his shaft, making Rafe curse above you. You only smirked to yourself, before you wrapped your lips around his cock, knowing that was all he wanted right now.

“Fuck,” Rafe hissed, his grip on your hair tightening, thought you didn’t mind, your focus solely on sucking the life out of him. Your tongue was pressing against the small slit on his tip as you moved your mouth along the length of his cock, hand still wrapped around his lower base, where you couldn’t quite reach. You weren’t a beginner when it came to cock sucking, but you weren’t a professional either. It was safe to say that Rafe was pretty content with your skills though.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you took in as much of his cock as possible, continuing to suck on him, a mixture of saliva and Rafe’s precum smearing around the edges of your mouth, making a whole mess in your face, though you continued unperturbed.

“Shit, you really give the best head prec-”

Your nails dug into his thighs, and he cut off, replacing your nickname with your real name, and you eased off his thigh, sighing softly as the head of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, hoping it wouldn’t bruise again. It didn’t take long until Rafe slowly started thrusting into your mouth, his hips stuttering that you knew he was close.

“I’m about to come,” he warned you, his voice hoarse and the grip on your hair less hard. You only let out a hum of acknowledgement, not lessening your movement until Rafe spurted his cum down your throat, groaning out your name. You took your mouth off his cock, having swallowed his bitter cum and wiped your mouth, satiated.

Meanwhile, Rafe was leaning on the shower wall, gently extricating his hand out of your wet hair, heaving breaths.

“You’re a minx,” he told you, pulling you up for a quick kiss. You only grinned against his lips, swatting at his bare chest. Nipping on your lower lip, Rafe reached behind you to turn the shower back on, to finally finish what you had come here for in the first place. Together, you showered quickly and thoroughly and as Rafe washed the soapy suds off of you, hands all over your body, it felt intimate but not in a sexual way. You tried not to think about it too much.

When the both of you were done, hands all prune-y, you exited the shower, wrapping yourself in a robe and handing a towel to Rafe so he could dry off. You did a quick run through of your nighttime routine, while Rafe watched bemusedly as he brushed his teeth, but didn’t comment on it. When you were both done, crawling into bed, your hair still damp, you settled into your side of the bed (which was a wild statement in itself, as Rafe turned off the light in the bedroom, before getting in bed on the other side. You were content to fall asleep, safe and soundly tucked in, when Rafe reached under the blankets to pull you close against his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck.

Your cheeks heated, and you side eyed Rafe as he got comfortable in bed, your shoulders tense.

“I meant what I said,” he then muttered, arms wrapped around your waist. “If you ever feel like our friendship is changing or this makes me feel like you can’t trust me, you gotta tell me precious. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you mumbled, laying a hand on his, trying to reassure him, even though your heart was racing a mile a minute. Rafe didn’t reply, and before long, his breath evened out, but you were still wide awake.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: okay real talk, how many of you guessed who the intruder was???

[theroyalbard]

Behold my (Definitely not a self insert) Gravity Falls Oc

Sam Cedar

24 years old News producer for the Gravity Falls News Network

Frequents the bars around town to party and generally have a good time. Uses her special ear phones in order to perform party tricks and influence those around her into having a good time and sometimes create newsworthy stories for her shows the next day.

[arottmntepisodeguide]

A Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episode order

There wasn't any correct viewing order online, so I just made one myself.

Season 1:

Ep 1: Mystic Mayhem

Ep 2: Origami Tsunami/Donnie's Gifts

Ep 3: War and Pizza/Down with the Sickness

Ep 4: Newsworthy/Minotaur Maze

Ep 5: Repo Mantis/Hypno! Part Deux!

Ep 6: Shell in a Cell/The Fast and the Furriest

Ep 7: Mascot Melee/The Longest Fight

Ep 8: Bug Busters

Ep 9: The Gumbus/Stuck on You

Ep 10: The Purple Jacket/Portal Jacked!

Ep 11: Mrs Cuddles/Hot Soup: The Game

Ep 12: Smart Lair/Pizza Pit

Ep 13: The Evil League of Mutants

Ep 14: Late Fee/Bullhop

Ep 15: Al Be Back/Nothing But Truffle

Ep 16: The Purple Game/You Got Served

Ep 17: Shadow of Evil

Ep 18: Man Vs Sewer/Mystic Library

Ep 19: Mind Meld/One Man's Junk

Ep 20: Sparring Partner/Warren and Hypno, Sitting in a Tree

Ep 21: Turtle-Dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man/Operation Normal

Ep 22: The Mutant Menace/The Ancient Art of Hide and Seek

Ep 23: Snow Day/How to Make Enemies and People Bend to Your Will

Ep 24: Cloak and Swaggart/Jupiter Jim Ahoy!

Ep 25: Insane in the Mama Train

Ep 26: Endgame

Season 2:

Ep 27: Many Unhappy Returns

Ep 28: Todd Scouts/Goyles, Goyles, Goyles

Ep 29: Flushed But Never Forgotten/Lair Games

Ep 30: Breaking Purple/Repairin' The Baron

Ep 31: Air Turtle/Pizza Puffs

Ep 32: Sidekick Ahoy!/Always Be Brownies

Ep 33: Mystery Meat/Hidden City Job

Ep 34: Donnie Vs Witch Town/Raph's Ride Along

Ep 35: Hidden City's Most Wanted/Bad Hair Day

Ep 36: Fists Of Furry/The Clothes Don't Make the Turtles

Ep 37: Battle Nexus: New York

Ep 38: E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind/Shreddy or Not

Ep 39: Anatawa Hitorijanai/Rise

This is a condensed version of one I made on Reddit (removing the essentials list, an alternate episode order, explanation of episode placement, etc), in case anyone sees any similarity between this post and that one. I'm confident that season 1's first half (at least everything before Bug Busters) is in a suitable order, but the second half is definitely up in the air about where the episodes go. Leave any comments if you notice something is out of order.

[gulyas069]

maybe it's newsworthy that humanitarian aid has ceased after israel took control of the last crossing they didn't control yet, maybe it's not, who knows for sure. our mass media definitely doesn't think it is

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

TW for SA. Steve was violated, too. He deserves to have a voice, too. These guys need a lot of healing and love. They're going to get it.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Steve’s POV

It was early in the morning on Saturday, and Steve was staring at his closet, trying to decide what to wear. He was pretty sure that Eddie was joking when he called it a date. . .hadn't he? Spending time lately with Eddie Munson and Nancy has been a surprise, but he was finding it quite enjoyable. He was definitely still in love with her, but he was also starting to have feelings for Eddie. It didn't take the kiss to realize that, but it definitely helped. He and Eddie hadn't really talked about it, nor had he talked about it with Nancy. It had been a vulnerable moment for Eddie as he thought he was dying, and Steve wasn't sure how to approach the subject. He wasn't sure how to even deal with his feelings for two people, and he couldn't help but wonder if this is how Nancy felt struggling with her feelings for two people had gone. . .if Nancy had feelings for him at all. If only there was a way for him to date both of them and for them both to be okay with it.

"This is crazy," Steve muttered.

After what seemed like forever, Steve decided on a striped red and blue polo. He straightened the red collar and stared at the lip gloss sitting on his dresser. He debated with himself and finally decided on wearing it. They've seen him in Scoops Ahoy before wearing lip gloss. He puckered his lips and started putting it on, trying not to think about smearing it across Eddie's mouth with his own. Steve stood back and started doing a slow turn in front of the mirror. Were his jeans tight enough? Maybe they were too tight? Or too loose? Steve slapped his own ass. No, just loose enough. Steve winked at himself in the mirror and shot himself finger guns.

"You got this," Steve whispered, and then he deflated. "This is not a date. Stop acting like it's a date."

A loud knock on the front startled him, and he headed downstairs. He told them where to meet, right? When he opened the door, Hopper was standing on his doorstep.

"Hey, kid, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Hopper asked.

"No, I'm not heading out until later," Steve said and stepped aside. "Come on in. I made coffee not too long ago. Would you like a cup?"

Hopper shut the door behind him and smiled.

"That would be great. Thanks," Hopper said and followed him into the kitchen. "You got a big date later today?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it a date," Steve blushed. "I'm meeting Nancy and Eddie later to look through my grandfather's things at his old salon. Nancy wants to work on her sleuthing skills. I doubt she'll find anything newsworthy."

"Maybe not newsworthy but maybe worthy to you. What brought this on?" Hopper asked, taking a sip of the coffee Steve set in front of him.

"Well, I kind of want to go to cosmetology school to become a barber," Steve said, tapping the counter nervously.

"You would be good at that. I remember going to your grandfather's shop. He'd be the only one my dad would trust with his hair. You do remind me a lot of Otis," Hopper said.

"Really?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, he'd be proud of you," he said. "And I think he would be touched that you wanted to follow in his footsteps."

"Thanks," Steve said, swallowing thickly.

"You thinking about reopening the shop?" Hopper asked.

"Well, with the mall taking up most of the businesses, I'm not sure that would be the smartest decision," Steve shrugged.

"Well, you'd be surprised with how many people loved Otis," Hopper said. "Think they'd love to go to the salon again, knowing his grandson was running it in favor of going to the mall. People used to come in from out of town to get their hair cut by him."

"Wow," Steve said. "I didn't know that. I was really little when he had to close the store."

"Well, if you need any help setting it up, I'd be happy to help out," Hopper said.

"Thanks, Hop," Steve said, smiling.

They fell into silence for a while as Hopper finished his coffee.

"I don't know if Nancy talked to you, but. . . ," he trailed off.

"She said that you needed to talk to me about something," he said.

Hopper sighed and pulled a small object out of his pocket. He placed it on the table. It was a role of film. Steve looked at him questioningly.

"I don't exactly what happened the night Barb died, but I do know that Jonathan was looking for his brother and stumbled onto your little get-together," Hopper sighed. "I also know that he took a picture of you and Nancy getting. . .close. Particularly, of Nancy taking her shirt off. I know when you found out that you tore up the photos and broke his camera, which I have to applaud you for not decking him. Turns out he kept the film strip all this time."

"He kept it?" Steve asked softly.

"Nancy found it when she went to pick up her things," Hopper said.

"She didn't say. . .was she okay?" He asked.

"She was a little shaken up. She was probably trying to prepare herself to talk to you about it," he said. "I'm going to ask you the same thing that I asked Nancy. Do you want to press charges against Jonathan?"

"Charges?"

"For violating your privacy, harassment, stalking, and trespassing," Hopper said.

"What did Nancy say?" Steve asked.

"I'm not going to tell you until you tell me your answer," he said. "What do you want to do?"

His stomach churned as it did the same damn day he saw those photos. He remembered seeing them for the first time, and he couldn't help but hate the guy who took them. He remembered how worried he had been at the idea of Nancy seeing them. While over eager sometimes, he always made sure that his sexual partners felt safe and comfortable with him. . .to think that someone did something like what Jonathan had done. . .to make Nancy not feel safe doing that when she clearly wanted to. . . Well, it pissed him off. Jonathan had come into his backyard and took a picture of something that was supposed to be private. Not to mention that he saw Barb sitting there looking all sad and lonely, then left without asking if she was okay, but he made sure to take her photo. Both Steve and Nancy had thought she had gone home. . .Jonathan had been the last one to see her alive. He could have done anything and maybe the demogorgon. . . No, it would have taken him as well or killed him. He took Nancy's photo without her permission and Barb's photo because. . .what?. . . He thought they were saying something? He also knew that Jonathan probably still meant something to Nancy, that he definitely still meant something to Joyce and Will. He liked them both.

"No, I don't want to press charges," Steve sighed heavily.

"What do you want to do then?" Hopper asked.

"Chuck this fucking film role at his head for starters," Steve said and Hopper laughed.

"It's exactly what Nancy did," Hopper said. "It's alright if you're angry with him. You're allowed to feel all that and let it out in a healthy way. Don't learn from me. I've kept so many things bottled up until it's stormed out of me. Release a little bit of a time, and it won't break the glass. Getting angry doesn't mean you're anything like your dad. You have every right to be hurt by what Jonathan did."

"You keep saying that you don't give good advice, but that seemed pretty good to me," Steve sniffed.

"It was a rare moment, probably won't happen again," Hopper said, and Steve laughed. "Come here, kid."

He pulled Steve into a hug, and for the first time in a while, Steve realized that this was what it was supposed to feel like to have a dad. Steve pulled back from the hug, wiping his eyes.

"You need me to stick around?" Hopper asked.

"No, I just . . . Need time to myself. I need to think," Steve said softly.

"I get it," Hopper said. "You know where to find me if you need me, kid. I'm here. I'll get someone to dispose of the negatives."

Steve nearly bit his tongue to stop himself from saying 'thanks, dad', but he managed, and then Hopper was gone. He stood in the entryway for a while, just staring at the wall as his mind went blank. He slowly walked up the stairs to his room and stared at it from the doorway. He glanced at the plaid walls and the plaid curtains as well as the plaid blanket on his bed. Whenever his parents were gone, like they were now, Steve always felt much safer with them out of the house. He felt like he could breathe again. His parents didn't like clutter. They liked everything orderly, just another way of letting people know that they're better than other people, especially Steve. At the same time, it was also another way of hiding their differences like their freak of a son who wasn't allowed to have the things that mattered to him. He kept them tucked away in a box so his parents wouldn't give them away. They loved to give away stuff for 'charity' to make themselves look good. They especially loved using his stuff. So when they were gone, he would pull his things out and set them up. He felt safer when they were up, but he had yet to pull them out, and looking around the room, he suddenly felt overwhelmed. He wanted Nancy to feel safe with him that night, and it failed to happen for both of them.

Barb had died that night while they were together, and a part of him would always feel guilty about that. He also knows that him and Nancy weren't doing anything wrong. They both wanted to be with each other that night, Steve had made sure that it was what Nancy wanted as well. If he learned anything from his parents' relationship, it's what not to do. Steve wandered over to the window, the very window that Jonathan had taken a picture of, and stared down at the pool. It felt like it was taunting him. The only time he had ever really felt safe here was when his grandfather lived here for a while, then when he had become friends with Tommy, and then Nancy came into his life. When she was there, it felt like nothing could go wrong, and then shit had hit the fan. His heart got broken, and the kids came tumbling into his life as well as his house. All these people. . .they had made it a home because that's what they were. . . Not the house itself. No matter where he went, they would follow him nestled safe inside his heart, and he could turn anything into a home. . .except for this house. Suddenly, he knew that he couldn't stay here anymore. He had to find another place to live. It was the final nail in the coffin.

"Fuck you!" Steve screamed, tired of holding it all in. . .tired of trying to remain 'perfect'.

He grabbed the flimsy, shitty curtains and tore them down. He ripped them in half easily. Stupid, ugly cheap curtains. He stared at the red car poster hanging in his room, the only thing his parents let him keep, and then his eyes landed on his bat. He picked it up and swung. It hid the picture, the glass breaking as the nails pierced it. The picture clattered to the floor. He turned to the haunted window and swung again. The glass flew outward as his bat went through the window. He stared at the plaid walls and let out a yell as he hit it with his bat, careful to avoid the studs. He hit the ugly wallpaper over and over again until he accidentally hit a stud, and his bat got stuck.

He slid to the floor, tired, and stared at the destruction he had caused. He started to laugh until his laughter turned into tears, and then he was just crying as he thought about the night that led to the downfall of his relationship with Nancy. He thought about Barb and how he wished desperately that she was here, that he could get to know her. He wished that Jonathan hadn't been in those woods, that he didn't have a reason, too. He wished that the Upside Down didn't exist, and he could still have all of the important people in his life. He wished his grandparents were still alive so he could have parents who loved him. He wished his parents were different. He wished for so many things, but most importantly, he wished people could see him for who he truly is. . . The person he always tried to be.

Steve cried so hard that he knelt on the floor with his head in between in his knees as he released all of his pain, his anger, and his sadness. He released everything, including the contents of his stomach, all over the floor. He wiped his mouth and didn't bother cleaning up the room. He moved his boxes and clothes into the guest room, leaving everything in his former room just the way it was. He made sure to grab the bat, though. He changed clothes and brushed his teeth but didn't bother reapplying his lip gloss. He put on his comfort sweater and ate some toast. As he munched on his toast and drank some water to rehydrate, he wondered how Nancy had handled it. He sighed. He needed to see Nancy. He wasn't going to push her to talk, but he kind of needed at least talk to her about it.

He played soothing music as he drove to Nancy's, and he realized he hadn't called first. Shit. Oh, well. He pulled into the driveway and walked up to the front door. After he knocked, Steve was relieved to see that Nancy had answered the door first.

"Hey, I thought we weren't meeting at the Salon until later?" Nancy asked.

"Uh, something came up. I wanted to talk to you about it. Do you want to go to the quarry?" Steve asked.

"Sure, let me get my purse," Nancy said.

The drive to the quarry was silent, as was the walk down to the bottom. They sat on a small patch of earth, took off their shoes as well as their socks, and put their feet in the water.

"Hopper came to see me this morning," Steve said.

"He told you about the film strips," Nancy stated.

"Yeah," Steve said softly and paused.

"You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready," Nancy said gently.

"I don't know, I think I might have overreacted. I just stared at my room, at the window, and just started hitting everything in the room with the bat. I lost it, then I started laughing and then I cried. I cried so hard I threw up. I don't know, it was like on top of everything in that house that happened to me. . . To us. . .it was just too much. Either that, or I really am crazy," Steve said.

"Steve Harrington, you have every right to feel the way that you do," Nancy said. "You're not crazy for finally letting it all in. You've held in so much for so many years. At first, I was just mind of numb. I was in shock. I kind of let everything in that I had been ignoring and pushing away. I told myself that it wasn't that, not compared to what happened to Barb. When I got home and took a nap with Holly, it helped to know she was there. Yet later that night, I woke up in the middle of the night from yet another nightmare about Barb, and I puked my guts out. We've been holding it all in, don't you think it's time we feel it?"

"Yeah. . .it's just . . . It was you he took a picture of, Nancy. Do I even have a right to feel this way?" He asked softly.

"It was your house. . .your room. I was taking my shirt off to sleep with you. It was our intimate moment, and he violated that moment for both of us. You have every right to feel that way, just as much as I do," Nancy said.

"I can't believe he kept it," Steve said.

"He said he forgot it was there, which might be the case, but it still makes me feel weird," Nancy said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not sure if I'm ever going to be able to like the guy, Nance," Steve admitted honestly.

"And that's okay, too. You don't have to like him just for my sake," Nancy said. "It was really sweet that you tried to."

"I really wanted that moment to be special for us, Nancy. It meant something to me that you wanted to be with me like that. I want you to know that," Steve said softly.

"It meant something to me too," Nancy said sweetly.

"Do you think I overreacted?" He asked.

"You reacted exactly the way you felt you were supposed to when something like this happens," Nancy said. "You just need to let it in. We both do. Feel it now and forgive him later. . .not for him but for us."

Nancy put her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. Steve stared at the rippling water ahead of them. It really was beautiful out here.

"Do you think that one day we're going to think about what we did that night without thinking about what else happened then, too?" Steve asked.

"No, I think we're always going to remember, but I do think, I hope that we can finally stop being scared of the intimacy we shared that night," Nancy said softly. "It was never a mistake. . . Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I never apologized for calling you bullshit. . .for putting the blame all on you," Nancy said. "You didn't deserve that. You weren't a shitty boyfriend either. You were the perfect first boyfriend and I fucked it all up. Don't say it was okay, either."

"It wasn't okay, but neither was what happened that night. After spending time apart, we both had time to think. I think I forgave you the moment you walked back into my life, Nancy Wheeler," Steve said.

Nancy opened her mouth to say something else but closed it again. He kissed her forehead. Steve sighed and leaned his head against hers. He felt closer to her than he ever had before. Maybe it was going to be different this time.

Chapter Seven

[nodynasty4us]

Another letter from the October 13, 2024 mailbag:

D.T. in Columbus, OH, writes: I would argue that the (definitely real) bias in media coverage has a much simpler explanation than being some sort of conspiracy to help Trump. Simply put: Negative stories about Democrats are more "newsworthy". Keep in mind exactly how low the bar has been set for Donald Trump. He utters crazy, rambling nonsense every day. He says bigoted things all the time. So "Trump does something awful" is not really an interesting news story. It is very clearly a "dog bites man" event. This isn't a moral judgment, or excusing Donald Trump's behavior as acceptable. But if the purpose of news organizations is to provide people with information they did not yet have... well, reminding people that "Trump is still a crazy a**hole" is a waste of effort. Everyone already has this information. By contrast, when one of Trump's opponents screws up, it is quite noteworthy. Corruption, bigotry, or mental impairment are not expected from the Democrats. In the first debate this year, Donald Trump's rambling was actually way less coherent than what Joe Biden said. But the impact for Joe Biden's campaign was much more significant. Everyone knows Donald Trump is incapable of presenting a coherent argument. But people had higher expectations for Biden, so his bad performance was more newsworthy. This was a "man bites dog" situation. It was information that many voters did not already have. I don't like the imbalance in reporting, either. I wish the bar had not been lowered so much for Trump. But that's not something the news organizations can change by themselves. That can only be fixed by the voters, many who are inexplicably still willing to vote for Trump.

[mud-castle]

Given that hyenas *can* move up their hierarchy through social means (that newsworthy lass who went from lowest to highest rank through the power of well-placed friendship), and that Canon ranks kits above warriors for food distribution, perhaps kits inherit the highest rank from their parents? This allows a lower rank warrior to improve their social standing by mentoring a high-born kit, and lets struggling apprentices fall down the ranks for ~drama~

Oh, I know that hyenas can improve rank through social means, it's just rare and our queen Waffles is a particularly exceptional gal.

Improvement in rank through mentoring a higher kit is something I didn't think about. I'd imagine it's rare and the leader has to really like you, or trust whoever recommended you so it's uncommon. Considering the higher up you are, the better the education you receive, I'd imagine it's not as common for apprentices to slip, but definitely easier for a cat to slip than to rise. I'm pretty set on them being matrilinial though, for simplicity if nothing else.

...lowkey at this point I should be applying all this worldbuilding to my ocs and focus more on the actual story of this au...

[conceptmobius]

Staff Recruitment

Greetings! This is a post regarding staff recruitment for Concept: “Mobius”, as you probably surmised. Vertekins and I always looking to add to the ranks and make the site as detailed, informative, and cool as it can be. If you’re interested in joining, great! Let’s find you a spot! Incidentally, you may be able to fill multiple roles, but first things first. You need to run before you can Spin Attack, after all.

Concept: “Mobius” is a Sonic the Hedgehog site dedicated to information about the games within the franchise and the worlds, characters, and events within. While there are multiple wikis and whatnot that serve this purpose, we’re trying to do things differently. We want to enrich the world of the Blue Blur and hopefully make it more cohesive, less muddled, and more fun. Obviously, this is too big a job for a few people, hence the slow trickle of updates over the years.

So, we need a team to tackle this endeavor, and we have many branches for all skill sets. You'll also be asked to help out here, as well, but more on that at another time.

Writers

Arguably one of the most important roles. Writers will be contributing the bulk of the site’s content, from articles and reviews to think pieces and news blurbs. You’ll be expected to be able to spell, know your grammar, and write coherently. If the most writing you’ve done is on Twitter, you may find yourself at a loss here, especially since you’ll probably have to be your own editor, unless you ask your teammates for help (which you can, to be clear).

Artists

Another absolutely crucial role. You’ll be responsible for how the site looks: graphics, character art, zone landscapes, etc. It’ll be a big task, but you’ll always be credited for your work, with links going to whatever platform you choose.

Programmers/Modders

Your job will be to modify the games. Why? Two reasons.

We’ll be using various games for clips and showcases, and we need them to be accurate as possible. Many of them are either missing content, have various inaccuracies between one another, or just don’t look/sound/play right for our purposes. We can’t very well show Sonic’s world if it’s lackluster, can we?

We want to show what even the worst of the franchise could look/sound/play like if given the TLC they deserve.

I know this doesn’t sound necessary or worthwhile, but I assure you, it will make sense in the future.

Theorists

You’ll be helping with various theories and doing your best to plug up various plotholes in the Sonic universe. Unlike certain other game theorists, however, you’ll be expected to show restraint when speculating and not go off on tangents or grasping at whatever straws you see.

Cartographers

Your job is a doozy: making a single, DEFINITIVE map of Sonic’s Earth. You see, there have been many in the games, and they’ve been different every time, depending on the game or the area it's based in. And each one has been inconsistent. Heck, people don't even know where Green Hill Zone definitively is, despite its number of uses.

THIS.

WILL.

NOT.

DO.

If anyone is going to take Sonic lore seriously (and few people do), we need one map that can be used for every game. That way, there is more consistency in the narrative and people have a more defined view of the world.

Modelers

Your role will be to make various character renders to be used for the cast in the Character Database. You’ll be working with the artists to make the most “true to life” representations of Sonic and the others as you can. You might also find yourself recreating certain areas or scenes from the games, demonstrating various abilities, or just letting the cast style on each other.

News Reporters

You’ll be reporting on everything Sonic-related that is newsworthy, whether it be a game announcement or a funny pic from Sega. Just try not to post any memes.

That'll do for now, although, we're welcoming anyone with a notable skill set. If you think you have something to contribute to Concept: "Mobius" that is or isn't listed here, let us know. Just be aware that we can't afford to pay anyone for their work.

Thank you very much in advance!

~Ryan

[rorisparkles]

Rottmnt fandom hear me out.

I know we agree that Origami Tsunami is most definitely the second episode of the show BUT. What if. And hear me out. War and Pizza is the second and Origami Tsunami is the third? I'll explain my reasoning:

Firstly, in War and Pizza April has a job at Albearto's and, judging by her talk with her boss ("I hope we aren't headed for another of your "epic party fails", Party Captain O'Neil") and her phonecall with the turtles ("April still hasn't gotten through the happy birthday song yet, guys" "or cake"), it seems that she's been working there for a while. But, at the end of the episode...she's fired! And guess what she's doing when she appears in Origami Tsunami? That's right, going to a job interview! (that ends up being at Leo's Paper Hut, so no real job) She's looking for a job after being fired!

Secondly, Raph's powers (weapon powers). In Mystic Mayhem they don't work, obviously, because he just unlocked them, and in Origami Tsunami they awaken HARD. But but but, in War and Pizza he has this line: “Power Smash Jitsu! Or not”, because he doesn't control them yet. So I propose to you: he unlocks them in Mystic Mayhem, he tries to control them in War and Pizza and THEN they awaken in Origami Tsunami. In the eps after that he's much more comfortable with them!

Thirdly, and this is more of a minor reason, it's true that they start their heroing in Origami Tsunami, but War and Pizza isn't really a mission. April asks Donnie for a favour and the others come with just for the pizza, chaos ensues. It's more of a casual episode before the missions with the other mutants/The Foot begin!

So yeah, lemme know if you agree! I also am debating myself on which episode should go in forth place (I can't decide between Donnie's Gifts and Newsworthy), but that's for another post. Thanks for reading!! <3

[earlgreytea68]

EGT's FAQ About A Fall Out Boy Cover of the Billy Joel Song "We Didn't Start the Fire" Covering Newsworthy Items from 1989-2023

Why isn’t it in chronological order?!

Was the original in chronological order? Yes, roughly speaking (it wasn’t in exact chronological order, either, for instance, the Brooklyn Dodgers won their first World Series after Disneyland opened but the Dodgers are mentioned before Disneyland, but I get it, it is roughly chronological and definitely more so than the Fall Out Boy cover).

The original, however, was also about a different time period in history: It happened to cover the Cold War. It makes sense that it would go in chronological order because there was a very definitive narrative arc to that portion of history: The Cold War started, all these things happened during it, the Cold War ended.

The era since the Cold War ended arguably lacks this narrative arc. So it makes sense that if you were doing a “We Didn’t Start the Fire” for the modern era, you wouldn’t go in chronological order. That would imply a “beginning” and an “end” that our era doesn’t deserve. Arguably, what mostly characterizes the post-Cold War era (and especially the twenty-first-century portion of it) is the jumbled chaos of time-meaninglessness. We say it all the time on the internet: What is time anymore? It means nothing? We have no sense of it. Things that happened yesterday turned out to be from 2003. There are a ton of other memes about this. You can’t believe the pandemic was over three years ago now. You can’t believe it’s been seven years since the 2016 election cycle. You can't believe that Friends is as far away from us as The Andy Griffith Show was from Billy Joel. Our histories, both personal and on a grander scale, feel like a jumble we can’t untangle, and so does this cover of the song.

In the 90s, people used to talk about being at “the end of history,” and they meant this in a good way. Like, there was this belief that “western democracies” had won and now all we had to do was keeping going up. Obviously that fell apart quickly, but I am Pete Wentz’s age, and I remember very much being given that message when I was in high school and college. In the way that the country boomed after winning World War II, it was assumed we would also boom for a long, even more extended period of time because our victory was even more complete. And then September 11 happened and it felt like it accelerated everything falling apart much more quickly. But that fever dream quality of growing up “post-history,” so to speak, is I think captured really well in the non-chronological lyrics, in a way that I think following a chronology would have done a disservice to. Our lives are this weird mish-mash of constant horrors mixed with the numbing agents of pop culture, and so is this song.

The song ends on September 11, and there have been 22 years of history since September 11, and I get why it’s upsetting to people for the song to end on an event from 2001, and at the same time I think it’s the most effective part of the song, because it does not feel like that was 22 years ago, it definitely feels like it was yesterday, and it also feels like sometimes it’s the only thing that happened in the past thirty-plus years, because of how much it dwarfed everything that came before and how much it colored everything that came afterward.

Also, Fall Out Boy did make a deliberate choice to change the way the chorus goes. Billy Joel sings, "We tried to fight it," and Fall Out Boy sings, "We're trying to fight it." That, to me, adds to the impression that this isn't a narrative with a beginning and an end, it is all over the place and we're still in the middle of it all. So the song ends in the middle, basically.

I am speaking, of course, from the bias of a privileged American born in 1980 who graduated high school in 1997. But, speaking from that bias, I personally get why it’s not chronological, and I don’t think it’s a fatal flaw of the cover. To me, after a moment of being surprised the first time I listened, I felt like I got it and it captured the era better, and it was a feature not a bug. Obviously not everyone will agree, but anyway, I just wanted to say it.

There’s no way they did that on purpose, though.

I’ve got news for you about literary analysis, which I can confidently state as a writer myself: I’m sure there are some writers deliberately doing stuff on purpose but I bet a lot of it is the stuff you don’t even notice. The stuff you do notice and make much of, I’m always like, “…well. Gotta pretend I knew I was doing that all along…” I used to feel guilty about that, but I don’t anymore, because I’ve decided that the things I do instinctively, because they feel right to me, count just as much. When it turns out later that I was doing something because of x, y, z, only I couldn’t articulate it, I think that’s okay. And I also think it’s better than okay when people read what I write with their own experiences making it mean something to them that I would never have thought about.

Which is to say, I’m not particularly bothered by whether Pete Wentz said to Patrick, Joe, and Andy, “Let’s not do it chronologically in order to capture the chaos of this era.” He probably didn’t. But he did make a choice not to do it chronologically, and that’s good enough for me. (He actually starts with a very early reference, so it’s like he’s faking all of us out, like, You thought this would be a nice chronology, but it’s not, it’s an absolute mess.)

Didn’t Pete Wentz basically say it was just too hard to do it chronologically?

Never believe what Pete Wentz says about his own lyrics. He says Thnks fr th Mmrs is about Coachella.

Okay, but you’re surely giving him too much credit.

I’ve been analyzing the man’s lyrics for a long time now. He’s so much smarter than anyone gives him credit for, tbh. Believe me, I also used to think it was just coincidence that he kept tripping over these really elegant, multi-layered, evocative phrases. After twenty years, I don’t think it’s coincidence anymore. I think he just knows how to write.

But also, We Didn't Start the Fire gets held up as a Cold War epic, and it wasn't actually about the Cold War either, Billy Joel just lucked out that the Cold War ended the year it came out.

Fine, but anyone can just rhyme a bunch of proper nouns together.

Yes! You are correct! Anyone can do that! Go for it!

Yeah, but why is everyone paying so much attention to Fall Out Boy’s?

Honestly, I don’t know. They put out a really stellar album that most major media outlets and casual social media managed to ignore, and they’re in the middle of a super-ambitious tour where on any given night Patrick Stump might cover Queen or they’ll just pull out something old or maybe something brand new and I haven’t seen anyone talking about any of that, either. So I’m not entirely sure why suddenly everyone’s so fixated on what Fall Out Boy is doing, but Idk, if you’re curious, the new album is excellent and doesn’t have a single cover song on it, it's all original and it's got ton more Pete Wentz lyrics to pore over.

The lyrics are very sports-heavy, though. Was that necessary?

The lyrics are extremely Pete Wentz. I know everyone else in the band helped him, too, but these are the things Pete Wentz cares about: Chicago sports, Marvel stuff, Tiger King, other emo bands. Lots of other stuff, too, but the fact that he includes the Cubs and not the Red Sox is entirely a function of Who Pete Wentz Is. It’s actually an extremely personal listing of the last thirty years, and I kind of like that about it, too. Everyone’s version of this song is different, and that’s cool!

But it doesn’t even mention COVID!

I, too, was surprised by that, but it mentions Tiger King, and I think that’s better, it made me laugh and also very vividly evoked that particular time to me better than just saying, like, "COVID-19 quarantine" would have.

There are other huge events it leaves out!

Yes. There are.

I can’t help it, I just really hate the song.

That’s cool. There are songs I really hate, too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(the funniest thing to me is that many people make fun of Patrick's lack of enunciation making lyrics unintelligible, but he's worked so hard on his singing that people can understand these lyrics, oops)

[amazing-spider-man-book-club]

The Amazing Spider-Man #5

Published: October 1963

Containing: "Marked for Destruction by Doctor Doom!"

Synopsis: Doctor Doom hides away in NYC in an effort to use Spider-Man as a means to strike the Fantastic Four, and Flash Thompson is captured in Peter's place forcing the latter to take action.

Read alongside us here:

@frankendykes-monster : I had to look up if spiders actually communicated through radio waves or whatever given that Doctor Doom is the second villain in the series to now contact Spider-Man through frequencies attuned to spiders. I did find out that spiders can communicate through every available means you'd assume from animals aside from radio waves, probably a predictable end but whatever I needed to see if it was a real thing.

The Amazing Spider-Man has now been bumped up to monthly publication status, with #4 having been released in September of 1963. It's a quick way of realizing that the character was almost immediately becoming the crown jewel in Marvel's line-up, and frankly what a great issue to celebrate this milestone. You can tell we've settled into a groove given that all of zero new characters are introduced here, but we do get Flash Thompson and Liz Allen *and* Betty Brant as fully named cast members with their respective relationships to Peter also having been settled in; though I think it might be some time before Liz and Betty realize that they're romantic rivals. I love the subtle dichotomy between Peter and Spider-Man; Peter figures it would be cool to let Doctor Doom just kill Flash but knows he can't stand aside, more and more subtle hints at the character's eventual emotional breakthrough near the end of this run.

Something funny to me is that Jameson admits so casually that he's in the news business for money which is the reason for nonstop Spider-Man coverage. Funny because even in-story, Spider-Man is the little guy, surely The Fantastic Four or The Hulk are more newsworthy items. A reasonable critique on my part given they didn't *have* to make Spider-Man have three crossovers with that team so far.

This isn't a fan blog for the Kirby/Lee Fantastic Four run so not much to cover with Doctor Doom beyond him being the definitive comic book supervillain. Everything about him is marvelous and on display here. It's interesting that this issue takes place immediately after Fantastic Four #17 (Ditko was a noted comics reader, Kirby wasn't, hence when the latter handles Spider-Man in other titles, Peter just shows up disregarding anything actually happening in this series), but Lee doesn't leave a little editorial note pointing readers to that issue. Doom being able to whip up multiple new lairs in NYC is beyond hilarious to me, he's easily the most stereotypical character Peter has had to face so far but that's probably more than anything a showcase of how low the relative stakes have been so far. Remember when The Vulture was just hiding out in a barn planning petty thefts? Doom has a right to gloat about his prowess on multiple levels given that that's what we've seen so far.

One thing I'm not keen on is that we've fully entered an era where Spider-Man's webbing can do things just because an action scene calls for it, like here where Peter can make web balls that break open that reveal thicker webbing inside or creating huge shields to defend against ice attacks. There's a general rule of thumb on Spider-Man does with webs and this goes far beyond that, a rare instance of this reminding us that this is still the earliest portrayal of the character and not everything stuck (no pun intended).

This is our first issue where Spider-Man's suit is finally colored blue instead of using a soft purple as the secondary color. Lee's narration has started to enter that self-aware era that people constantly associate with him, and while it by no means detracts from the issue I can't say I'm a huge fan of the fourth wall breaking by highlighting that there may be better comics out there or apologizing for taking so long to get to the final fight, for example, but I digress.

@duel1971 : This story pits Peter against Doctor Doom, arch-nemesis of the Fantastic Four. The FF themselves don’t appear for more than a cameo, allowing the story to focus on the conflict between Doom and Spider-Man. In typical bombastic fashion, the narration boasts that the fight between Spidey and Doom will be the “gol-dangest, ding-bustedest, rip-snortin’est super-characters fight you’ve ever seen!” I don’t know about all that, but the fight is in fact really cool, featuring some innovative panel layouts by Ditko and creative use of Peter’s webbing.

I love Doctor Doom but the moments in this issue that really stuck with me all involved ASM regulars. Liz Allan, who Peter struck out with previously, speculates that Spider-Man is a dreamboat under his mask. J Jonah Jameson admits explicitly that his feud with Spider-Man is a tactic to sell more newspapers and magazines, revealing how hollow he is beneath his bluster. And, most notably, Flash Thompson dresses up as Spider-Man to try and prank Peter and ends up getting kidnapped by Doctor Doom.

Doppelganger Spider-Men are a recurring theme by now, and putting Flash in the role is interesting to me given how he would develop in later years under different writers. In terms of this story, however, we just get to laugh at the bully’s expense for once, and Peter has a devilish moment where he considers just leaving Flash to die. He does, in fact, forget to actually save Flash at the end after defeating Doom, leading to a very funny scene where Ben Grimm threatens to beat him up after the Fantastic Four find him cowering in the wrecked lab.