#it's stupid entitled bullshit that will achieve nothing

[greencheekconure27]

Ok can we stop vandalizing art as a form of "activism" now?

Go paint something to promote your cause instead fuckers.

You want to involve art in your shock tactics? Go on, make an artwork about climate change so impactful people will talk about it for decades to come.It will do more good to your cause than piggybacking off someone else's art.

[p---ink]

Stark Contrasts Chapter Five

Author’s Note: This is the last installment, in my Tony Stark Fan-fiction. I loved writing this, but I am also happy to see it come to an end. Please, tell me what you think of this. I can only get better. It means the world to me when I get comments, so let me know how this makes you feel. Also, to my artists out there...I promise I don’t know jackshit about art, so please dont come for my throat. Everything is purely fictional. German speakers, I used google translate, please tell me if anything is off. I love you guys! Thanks for reading!

Summary: Y/N tries to adjust to her life away from Tony. 

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut. In that order. 

Song: I had the song I saw you in a dream by the Japanese House, in mind while writing this. 

Word Count: 11.2k

Parts: one | two | three | four | five 

Chapter Title: The Ends of the Universe

Disclaimer: Picture is not mine. 

Berlin, Germany. Pepper Potts sent you to Berlin. Fucking. Germany. While Berlin was breathtakingly beautiful, and to your surprise very diverse, you knew nothing about it. Nothing about the way of life there. Nothing about the people. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. Scared, would still not do your emotions justice. You were in a place you had made no preparations for, as well as no thoughts of ever visiting. But you guessed that was the point. 

Tony would never look for you here. 

Six months. That’s how long you would be here. Pepper had taken care of everything. The rest of the semester and classes that you were enrolled in before you left, were now moved online. It was that or completing them the next semester. Usually, your university required students complete all prerequisite courses before they took on any internships within their respected fields. So how Ms. Potts got your Dean to agree to such an outlandish change of pace for one of her students, you would never know. What she achieved was unprecedented. That was when you learned quickly to never underestimate her. 

Six months. That’s how long you would be away from Tony. Well actually, the idea, as Pepper calls it, is that you two will have moved on from each other by the end of it all. You weren’t even supposed to contact him when your time was up here. In fact, as long as you were in Germany, you were not to contact anyone you knew. 

Pepper had assured your family and friends of your well-being ahead of time. No they could not know of your location, nor contact you, but they were ensured that you were safe. It took some heavy convincing on her part to get your family to agree, but ultimately they did. In their eyes, they were supporting what was best for you. 

Nao, on the other hand, was not keen on just letting you leave the country. Though your friendship had less than a few days to develop, she became very protective over you. She felt that your leaving was downright bullshit as well as unfair. “Why should Edward fucking Stark, get his happy ending?” She spat. She was also not as willing to trust Pepper as you were. But because you had already made your decision to leave, you entrusted her with the secret of your hidden twitter account. No one, save yourself, knew about it. You agreed that you would regularly tweet from it, as your way of letting her know you were okay. That was the only reason, she didn’t blow the whistle to Tony right away.

Unlike Nao, you had faith in Pepper. You two weren’t the closest, but you had an unspoken respect and trust for one another. Pepper, despite every reason you gave her, did not behave in the way that any other woman in her shoes would have. You had broken her son’s heart by sleeping with his dad, her now ex-husband. Yet here she was, going through all of these hoops for you, just to make sure you didn’t ruin yourself. Of course you trusted her. 

There was one thing she was not truthful to you about however. When she told you the internship was all-expense paid, what she really meant was that she was covering all of it. Your school fees, apartment, food, and any and all luxury items, Pepper would be dishing out the money to take care of it all. While you felt you had no control over everything else, you drew the line there. Though you sort of resented her for her speediness to remove you from States, you refused to let her pay for your mistakes. She had already done so much. 

Your entire time living with Tony, he never let you pay for anything. This of course meant, you had money saved up from your previous employments. Enough to live comfortably until you could find a job. While Pepper was more understanding than her ex, she still insisted on covering your school fees as well as the first two months on your apartment so that you could focus on school before money became an issue. She even set you up with some extra spending money to get started. “To have a job, on top of an internship, as well as a full course-load, is too much for any student to bear.” She told you. “I will not set you up for failure, just to prove your smug ass Dean right.” 

Once you were settled in, and she felt confident enough to depart, Pepper left you and Germany, wishing you the best of luck. She was in a hurry to get back home before Tony could catch a whiff of where you were, and where she had been. 

So there you were. In Berlin. All alone, far from home, with no one but yourself to console. That was when the waterworks began. Between Nao’s place and the plane ride here, you didn’t have time to process your emotions. Your life, though not the most morally ideal, went to absolute shit in less than seventy-two hours. You didn’t care who was looking from the outside in calling you ungrateful. You got to experience the world, and your experiences with Tony alone should have satisfied you. 

Still, you didn’t ask for any of this. He was all you wanted. You would give up all the luxury in the world, if it meant just being with him. But alas, you did not have that choice, so you decided to cry. 

And cried you did. Your first three nights consisted of tears, and headaches. You barely even ate. It didn’t help that Tony’s face was plastered every where. He was famous, so what did you expect? “How the fuck am I supposed to get over him, when I can’t even escape him?” In fairness, you also didn’t make it easy on yourself. A t-shirt of his that you stole, covered your pillowcase. You were scared of the day it’s scent would leave. The new phone that Pepper purchased for you, had his wallpaper on the cover. Of course you later willed yourself to change it, but it took time. You even bought books that he begged you to read for months, just because they reminded you of him. Your entire time in Germany, you were a woman of your word to Nao. You tweeted about him constantly your first three nights, just  to feel like your old self again. It was small things that made you feel closer. But small things turned into big ones. You were practically torturing yourself. 

Where nights ended in crying, mornings began with half-hearted reassurements. “This is what’s good for me.” You would chant, to yourself in the mirror. “This is what’s good for Tony.” It was now the weekend, and come Monday you would be starting your internship. “The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can go home.”

  ººººº

Starting your art internship sounded dreadful to you now. Before, you were more than excited as you planned it with Tony. Your eyes were starry when you fawned over how rich the art and culture was in France. Of course you would be excited, given that Tony had taken you to France on numerous occasions, as well as taught you some of the language. You were even comfortable enough to navigate the streets of Paris alone. That was more than you could say about Germany. 

When Monday came, and you left your apartment, you got lost almost immediately. Luckily to you, in Berlin more people spoke English than you thought. So your day was off to a bad start but you could still turn it around. That was your train of thought before it began to pour down raining. The cute, but simple little outfit that you had put together was now drenched. Not to mention your hair; tight coils retreated to your scalp, and makeup ran down your face. You had tried. You really did. You wanted the outside of your person, to deflect what you were feeling on the inside. Too bad the universe had other plans. 

You were still determined to complete your first day. So you continued on to the location that a kind stranger gave you. 

It sounded right, because soon you were standing in front of the soon-to-be art gallery that you would be interning at for the next 6 months. You were to shadow an art-curator, with the hopes of teaching it one day. Sure becoming an art professor wasn’t very fulfilling financially, but you loved art so you didn’t care. 

You walked into the magnificent glass structure, with high ceilings and tall windows. Your strides made wet squelching sound, as you stepped from the outside concrete pavement onto the wooden linoleum.

Immediately, a man who seemed to be directing others about the room, turned his attention to you. He almost dropped the clear clipboard he was holding, upon seeing the soaking wet brown girl before him. All he could think of was the damage to the floors you had probably caused. 

“Wie kann ich Dir helfen?” He asked you with a grimace painting his features.

If your confidence wasn’t shot before, it was now at a zero as you realized how stupid you must of looked. “I’m sorry I don’t speak German.” You apologized.

The man huffed as he switched languages. “I said, how can I help you?” Now you genuinely felt like an entitled American, in someone else’s country forcing them to accommodate you by speaking your native tongue. 

“I’m Y/N, and I am here for the Schmidt Internship.” You said lowly. You watched him bring his attention back to the clipboard in hand, flipping harshly through the paper. 

“You’re late. On your first day at that. How could you come in here like this?” His words were harsh, but he was right. You were late, and even if you weren’t your appearance would have sent off red flags in his head. 

You had to blink back the water that was forming in your eyes. This was something that you had become an expert at. “I apologize, but I had trouble finding my way here.”

He scoffed “So not only are you coming up with excuses already, but you’re telling me you haven’t even prepared yourself. How are you supposed to retain the necessary knowledge for this job?”

“Again, I’m sorry, but I can assure you that this won’t happen again. ”

“You’re right. So go home.” 

Your brows jumped to meet each other. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You clearly don’t have what it takes. My clients will eat you up and spit you out within seconds.” He looked you up and down before adding, “And if they don’t, I will. So go home.” He turned his back to you as if you were nothing, and began redirecting men on where to put certain paintings. Not sparing you a second glance.

Something told you that he was used to making people cry. You almost did, until you realized that you had been crying for the past week, and now you were just angry. 

“You can place that Delegado by the window.” You heard him say to two men. You walked up to them to interrupt their conversation.

“Actually place it as far away from the light as possible.” You ordered the men who were holding the piece.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The curator asked. 

You could feel his scowl on your face so instead of spinning to address him, you furthered your explanation. “The choice of medium Delgado used is not compatible with the sun. It will certainly drain its vibrancy. But anyone who attended secondary school art would know that.” You sneered, side-eyeing him. Your insult did not fall on deaf ears. His scowl turned into an almost pained expression. You ignored it, and moved on. 

You walked around the room, as the curator silently, but obviously followed you. “I assume you intend to place a light fixture over this.” You asked him, looking over your shoulder. “If not, this is the painting you should place next to the window. It will not thrive in the shadows. The artist intended for light to cast on certain areas to reveal hidden figures.” You took your phone out to flash its light against the frame to prove your theory, and almost immediately new elements appeared in the work. 

You could almost hear the change in features on the curator’s face. Still you continued your dance around the room, explaining to him pieces of art that worked well with others, and ones that did not. 

Going up to your next piece, you inspected it closely. “When did you purchase this” You asked him.

“A few days ago. Why?” He questioned, his tone was now different, almost inviting you to say more. He was now curious about your every word. 

“Bankole, the artist this is inspired by has not sold a painting in years.” You informed him.

“I bought it from a secondhand distributor. So what’s your point?” 

“You were scammed. The original piece only has seven hooded men. A reoccurring theme in Bankole’s art. This painting only has six.”

“Well maybe Bankole miscounted.” He suggested, chuckling. It was like he was amused, and it was vastly different from his earlier cold demeanor. 

“It also has too many etchings along the border.” You continued. “And the signature is misspelled.”

He stayed silent for a minute. He was awestruck. His assistant who had been standing near him, looked up everything you said to fact check you. She whispered a “she passed, sir” in his ear, when she could validate your arguments. And that’s when you realized it was a test. 

Upon realizing the whole thing was a set up, you relaxed your bewildered eyebrows, and looked down at your feet to smile a smile that screamed ‘I’ve been tricked’. 

The curator, as if scared to take his eyes off of you leaned his head to the side to ask his assistant, “Could you please get Ms.?”

“L/N” You sheepishly smiled, bringing your eyes back up to meet his. 

“Yes, could you please get Ms. L/N something to dry off with, Hanna?” He asked the girl, returning a smile back. 

“Right away sir.” Hanna spoke, scampering away to search the building’s custodial closet. 

He offered his hand to you, and broke the silence. “I’m Finn. Finn Schmidt.”

You took his hand, and shook it gently. “Wait Schmidt? Does that mean you’re—”

“Yes, my family owns this gallery.” He replied as a matter of fact. 

You mouthed an inaudible ‘oh’, as you were now embarrassed about your secondary school comment. Thankfully Hanna was back now with a towel to distract you from your growing shame. Changing the subject you asked, “So is it a German thing to be rude and test your future interns?”

He laughed, eyes lingering on your neck as you dried your hair. “Well its a Schmidt thing to test future interns. As for the rude part, I’m sorry. I was just a bit upset about something from earlier.” He confessed. “I promise I would have called you back later to apologize.”

“It’s fine. I did show up late and track your floors with rainwater.” You glanced outside, noticing the sky was now as clear as day. Just my fucking luck, you thought. But at least the new found light gave you a chance to properly examine Finn. The events from earlier, blinded you from realizing how handsome he was. 

He was much taller than you. At least more than half a foot. Chestnut brown locks, thrown up into a messy bun, graced the top of his head. He had honey brown eyes upon first glance, but when the sunlight hit them, they were a brilliant amber. He looked to be close in age to you, but still more experienced; so maybe late 20’s early 30’s you concluded. He was built. Not too muscular, but far from skinny. His beard was immaculate. In fact it looked as if he took better care of it, than he did his hair. Both made him look majestic. He had skin of olive, and it was dewy and radiant; you just knew his skin-care routine was more rigorous than yours. When he spoke, it was gruff. His accent was thick, but he spoke English like he lived in a native-english speaking country for years. He was definitely a man who prided himself in his looks as well as his knowledge. 

“So tell me, is it an American thing to ogle at complete strangers.” He smirked at you. You immediately thanked God for blessing you with darker skin, for you felt your blood pool to the apples of your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, embarrassed and suddenly intrigued by the ground.

“Don’t be. It’s definitely a Schmidt thing.” He informed you, raking his eyes down your figure. Is he flirting with me? You asked yourself. 

Now desperate for air, you took in a deep breath to overcome the fluster. “So, um. I’m sorry, just to make sure I’m not getting ahead of myself: your assistant said I passed?”

He cleared his throat, and began rapidly blinking away his daze before speaking. “Yes with flying colors.”

“Does this mean I still have the internship?”

“Yes. I’d be honored to have you. ”

You beamed a bright smile. “Great. Well I hope we enjoy working together.” You stretched your hand out again for him to shake. 

“As do I.” He said, grasping your outstretched limb, before bringing your hand to his lips. 

Oh boy. 

ººººº

It turns out, you two did enjoy working together. Finn, despite your first impression of him, was a major sweetheart, at least to you that is. You didn’t know if that reigned true in other aspects of his life, or if it was just because he wanted to sleep with you. Either way, you welcomed his charming nature.

He became your best friend whilst you were in Germany. He was proud of his country, and very eager to show you why. You were dragged from museum to museum soaking in beautiful art. Landmark to landmark, reveling in famous architecture. Restaurant to restaurant, engorging yourselves with famous German cuisines and desserts. He was elated to finally have someone to boast to about his culture. And you were happy to have someone take your mind off of Tony. Temporarily.

As months passed, you still found your mind drifting off as you wondered about him. You dreamed about him at least every other night. But you would still tell yourself,  He’s over me by now. He’s probably happy I’m gone. At least I didn’t ruin his life.

Finn could only do so much. You were close now, so you informed him of a man who had taken over your dreams. He didn’t know who your mystery man was, but he wanted to be him. He wanted to be the one who occupied your mind. He made it clear on numerous occasions too. Spouting to you German phrases that he taught you before hand, revealing his feelings. 

‘Ich steh’ auf dich’. I’m into you. ‘Ich bete dich an’, I adore you. The words were beautiful flowing from his lips. But you always feigned ignorance, acting like you forgot what they meant. He could scream his feelings to the sky in your mother tongue, and you would still say something along the lines of “Quit joking around.” Or “You’re so silly.”

You would be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about Finn in that way. He was sexy, and more than willing to replace Tony. And Pepper, if she were there, as well as your friends and your better sense, would have begged for you to fuck him…but alas, you just couldn’t do it.

You two were currently planning the grand opening of his family’s second art gallery. It was tomorrow night, and it took all of five months, most of your internship to get the museum ready for the public. It would be a formal event, where renowned guests were invited to partake in a cultured but light-hearted social gathering. It was going to be grand, which meant Finn was bugging out. 

“Lydia, have Hanna approve the guest list for me. I need her to make sure, no strays show up.” He said to one of his staff members. He had a group of people following close beside him as he took long strides to his office. 

“Again?” She asked. 

“Yes! Again.” He shouted.

She rolled her eyes, before skittering off to find Hanna.

“Luka, have you checked with the caterers to make sure the hors d’oeuvres will arrive by 17:30?”

“Yes sir.” The boy squeaked. 

“Check again.” Finn ordered. 

“Right away sir.”

“Oliver—” Finn Started. 

“The wine has already arrived, sir.” Oliver interjected, feeling quite sure of himself. 

“So the Chambertin Grand Cru is here? Great!” Finn began smiling and relaxing a bit. 

Confusion took the place of certainty on Oliver’s face. “Actually sir, I thought you told me to get Richebourg Grand Cru.” 

“Fuck!” Finn yelled in his native tongue, about to tear a new hole in the smaller boy. That is before you stepped in. You were waiting for him by his door. 

“Your guests are coming in for the art Finn. Not the wine, nor the food.”

His expression softened when he heard your voice. “Our guests.” He corrected, smiling at you. “I feel you worked harder than me, so they are our guests.”

“Fine. Our guests do not care about the damn wine.” You smiled. 

He chuckled at your playful chide. “You know you keep me sane right? You’re my savior.” 

“I thought Jesus was your savior.”

“Well you’re a close second.” He smirked, as he let you enter the room before him. You both sat down in close seats, and ran down a list of things he needed to confirm for tomorrow nights events. 

As you two worked, he decided to start a separate conversation. “Have you decided on whether or not you’re coming yet.” His voice was hopeful.

You sighed, knowing you were about to shatter that hope. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I think I’ll pass.”

“Why?” He cried, abandoning his previous tasks. 

“I have nothing to wear.” You informed him. “Besides I’m a bit beat. I should relax before my exams come up.”

“But, it’s just one night. And anything you put on will be amazing. It’s the girl in the dress that makes it beautiful.” As he said the last part, he placed a hand on your knee and caressed it.

You stood to your feet to avoid his lingering touches as well as ignore the look of disappointment on his face. “I can’t just show up in any thing. There are way too many important people coming. I would have to make a good impression, and I’m just not up for it.” 

Finn abruptly raised now hovering over you and turning your body to face him. “What is this really about?”

“What do you mean?” You asked looking at him through an inquisitive lens. 

“We both worked so hard on this. This gallery is practically your baby, don’t you want to see other people enjoy it?” The pads of his thumbs massaged your shoulders. The act was innocent, but to you it burned to have another man touch you in the way that only Tony should. 

You shrugged your shoulders to make his arms fall and took a stroll around his desk, placing space between you. “Of course I want to see her success, Finn.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He asked, slowly meeting you on the other side, unsure about his actions now. 

You knew what was stopping you. Finn had to practically beg you to go out with him on regular days, and you would eventually do it to rid your mind of Tony; but this was different. Attending this event reminded you of the ones you, Tony, and Edward would participate in. 

While you were Edward’s plus one on paper, it was really Tony who you would move through a room with. He would introduce you to some of his friends in high places. You two would have riveting conversations about the world and art. By the end of it all, you would ditch Edward (which wasn’t hard, because he was usually the one to ditch you guys) to sip expensive ass champagne until you passed out the next day in some hotel room you had no memory of entering. This event screamed reminders of your past life. And your past love.

“I don’t know.” You lied. But Finn knew you were lying. He also knew what, or rather who, was stopping you.

He sighed, and gazed at you before speaking again. “Is this about your ex?”

You were curious as to why he asked about Tony when the conversation had nothing to do with him. “Why do you ask me that?”

“Because it always seems to be.” He came to stand directly before you, now more sure of himself. 

You could admit your tone of voice changed as you said your next line. “Well it’s not.”

“When are you gonna get over him?” Finn asked, ignoring your words as well as ignoring the defensive tone they were laced in. 

“I am over him.” He made you feel small, so you straightened your posture to appear more intimidating, a sharp scowl now decorating your face. 

“No you’re not. You’re still depressed about him.” He sounded a bit annoyed now. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m depressed…” You cooed, trailing off a bit with your thoughts. Am I depressed? And if I am, do I really wear it for the world to see?

Worry etched itself into your expression, which made Finn say, “You’re too young for this. And you’re too beautiful. You shouldn’t be worried about a guy who isn’t even here.” Finn stated. You thought that what he was saying wasn’t fair, because he didn’t even know the full story. “I can help you get over him.”

He made you blink rapidly at his words. “Woah Finn,” Finn continued his case. 

“Just let me take your mind off of him. I promise i’ll be worth it.” he was always forward, but never this forward. 

“Finn stop.” He was now closer to you, cornering you between himself and his wall. His office felt much smaller now. 

“I like you Y/N, and not just as a friend.” He was now just a breath away, so you threw your arms in between the two of you, only for him to lightly grip your wrists. 

“Finn—” You were cut off by his lips, as they stole a soft kiss from yours. You immediately broke the connection by looking down, brushing the area he just touched with your fingertips. Finn looked at you expectantly, face flushing as he realized what he just did. He dropped his hands from their positions on your wrists and stepped back.

“Y/N, I-I’m so, sorr—”

“I’m late for my other job now. I’ll see you Monday.” You hurried out, as you circled around him to leave the room before he could say another word. 

ººººº

Your entire shift at your neighborhood cafe, felt like a blur.  You chose to work at a cafe for similar reasons to the ones at home: the rustle and bustle of the world made you feel calm, and like your problems were small. But now all you could think about was Finn.

He was right, you were still hung up on Tony. In your defense, five months didn’t seem like enough time for you to move on from a relationship that shifted your entire being. But they did say, to get over one man, you should get under another one. And Finn, was a man that you would have been attracted to under normal circumstances. 

He was handsome. Articulate. Cultured. Kind. He was the type of man, who could move a room just by walking in it. But he wasn’t Tony. That fact alone was how you knew you were beat. If you could pass up an amazing man, for one you couldn’t even have, then you were crazy. 

He smelled of ginger, and he tasted like cinnamon for those fleeting moments that he held you. You thought to yourself that you could do worse. You weren’t supposed to be with Tony anyway, so what was the harm in being with a man who was begging for you to use him?

The harm was, that you weren’t that kind of a girl. And you didn’t wanna hurt him. 

I am making this harder than it needs to be. You thought to yourself, as you walked into your apartment building. Your decision to go to the gallery’s opening became a hell of a lot easier, when your doorman greeted you with a package. You hesitantly thanked him and took the elegant box, before walking up to your flat. 

Setting it down on your counter to rid it of its satin pink bow, you freed the top cover and unraveled the tissue paper. Underneath all of the wrapping was a sparkly rose gold material. You pulled it out to reveal a ball gown, that looked as if it was made specifically with a princess in mind. The puffy skirt of the gown had a large slit in it and it was made of a sheer, almost see-through fabric. Glitter ran throughout the entire dress, but where it was most prominent was the bodice. The straps were off the shoulder, and they connected to a deep plunge a few inches below the neckline. It was beautiful.

Your first thought was to anger. The dress looked like it cost him a fortune.  You felt obligated to thank him, but you were also mad that he spent money on you as a form of apology. You hated when people just gave you things. It instantly made you feel like a burden.

But then your second thought was one of guilt. Leaving him so quickly, must of made him feel terrible, and that fact helped you swallow your anger. He really liked you, and you could at least show up to the gallery to support him. After all, you were still friends. 

You just silently prayed you wouldn’t regret going. 

      ººººº

Cool air nipped at your bear arms and chest as you made your way through the night. The wind caused cold tears to fall from your eyes, and your fingers felt like icicles. You knew it would be cold tonight as winter transitioned into spring, but you didn’t anticipate it this much. You didn’t have a proper shawl to sit across your shoulders that matched your dress, so you sucked it up and power-walked to the gallery.  It definitely felt nice to step into the building’s warm and inviting embrace.You instantly felt your cheeks warm up as you stood in the middle of the entryway.

The event was in full swing by the time you arrived. You were instantly surrounded by laughter, and chatter, as rich people debated amongst themselves about the intent of certain pieces of art. Beautiful melodies filled the air, as classical music played softly in the background. The ambience was warm despite the cold night air peering through the high glass ceilings. You thought it was nice, how even though the building was so well lit, you could still make out the faint glow of stars above you. 

Being an observant person who could easily meld into the background, you thought the sight before you was beautiful, and you immediately felt regret grow smaller in the pit of your stomach. 

You searched the crowd, trying to seek out Finn and thank him for urging you to come, as well as for the dress. You found him at the top of a balcony, chatting up one of his guests. You swallowed your uneasiness as you made it up in your mind to confront his and your feelings. Maybe I could give him a try because he really is a nice guy. That was your train of thought as you made your way up to him. I could learn to love him. You thought. If it doesn’t work out, I still have home in just a month. 

As you got closer, and closer to him, you thought of Tony, and immediately froze in your tracks. You felt guilty for even thinking about someone else before you were over him. You were disappointed in yourself, for your readiness to use one man, in order to get over another one.

You were about to turn around and forget about the entire event, before Finn caught your gaze. He stopped his chat with the man in front of him and excused himself to walk over to you. 

You looked like a gapping fish out of water as he approached you. Finn was always so well put together. Seeing him in a tux, only made him appear more intimidating. He somehow made you, with your dress, naturally done makeup, and beautifully pinned up hair, feel small. Little did you know, he felt smaller.  

“Y/N” He started, almost at a loss for words. “You look beautiful.”

To save face you forced yourself to speak, opting for the playful banter he had come to love. “Why are you acting so surprised?”  You sheepishly smirked. 

“Well I didn’t think you were coming.” He beamed. He was relieved to know you weren’t still mad at him.

“I couldn’t just waste this.” You said referring to your dress, grabbing a fistful in each hand to lift it and emphasize your point. 

Finn bought his eyes over you, basking in your beauty. “You look darling in that. But I thought you said you didn’t have anything to wear.”

You furrowed your brows at his words, smile faltering. “I didn’t, until you—”

“Finn! Over here darling, I want you to meet someone.” His mother called to him in english, gesturing to a well-dressed attractive woman. 

“Okay.” He replied to her before bringing his attention back to you. “Stay right here. Don’t move I mean it.” He floated off, abandoning you and your confusion.

Why was he acting so oblivious? 

You felt moments pass as Finn worked himself around the room. You watched him as he drifted from person to person, seemingly forgetting about you. He was in his element, and you were happy to see him happy. 

Leaving him to do his own thing, you walked down the stairs deciding to occupy yourself by people watching. That was when your emotions began to overwhelm you again. You leaned against a wall, newfound glass of wine in hand, trying to drown out the noise around you. Everything seemed to remind you of Tony Stark. The rich men in their suits. The stimulating discussions. Even the drink between your fingers, reminded you of him. Now too encapsulated with your thoughts once again, you turned to the wall behind you, immersing yourself into the art. The sad girl in the painting, derided you, as you met her eyes. She was pretty, and like you she felt alone. At least we can be lonely together you thought, scoffing at the idea. 

“Why that frown, everyone in here knows you’re prettier than her.” Your heart sank, as you turned to the side meeting the face of the familiar voice. 

“Tony?” You exhaled, blinking rapidly as if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

“In the flesh.” He smirked down at you. You threw yourself into his open arms, as he wrapped himself around you. You felt him kiss the top of your head, then your temple, as you inhaled his scent; it had been such a long time since you had even done that. Your drink spilled on the floor behind you, and the look of shock you received from a nearby stranger made you feel deranged. It didn’t matter, how crazy you looked, Tony was here and that was all you could care about. 

Pulling back from his embrace, you felt your words form at the back of your throat unable to bring them out. “What are you doing here?” You managed to ask. 

“You know I could ask you the same. Berlin? Was all that French I taught you, for nothing?” He joked, holding you in place. 

You were becoming blurry-eyed. You terribly missed his wittiness. “How did you find me?” Though you were happy, you couldn’t help the tears that streamed down your face. 

Tony wiped them away with the pads of his thumb, “First. Dance with me.” He reached a hand between the two of you, willing you to take it. 

“This isn’t that kind of an event Tony.” You chuckled.

“Who cares? I need to hold you.” His words made you tear up again. You soon became a sobbing mess, and those around you shot him dirty looks for making you cry. 

“Princess.” Tony cooed, sending apologetic nods to random people as he tried to comfort you. “You’re making a scene.” 

You ignored him, and kept silently whimpering, gradually growing a bit louder, as your face contorted further into a frown. “You’ll ruin your makeup.” 

Still crying you began dry-heaving as you chocked between sobs. “Alles ist gut.” Tony assured strangers, informing them that all was well. 

“You know German?” You squeaked between sobs.

“When I found out you were in Germany, I learned a bit on the plane ride here.” He grabbed a napkin from a passing by waiter, as he told you this. 

“So you learned German for me?” You sobbed louder, causing more people to look over.

“Y/N, baby please stop crying.” Tony pleaded. “Please stop."

You sniffled and began wiping your eyes, smearing your mascara in the process. He used his napkin to wipe away the excess mess on your face. “Now can we please try this again?” He asked holding his hand out. You took it, and he lead you to the center of the room. 

Now the attention was as a result of the spectacle in front of them. First a girl practically pours her expensive wine on the ground. Then starts crying. And now she and her beaux are dancing in the middle of the gallery. How unhinged you must of looked in the eyes of a stranger. 

Tony couldn’t be more in love with you. He held you close, one hand clasped with yours, the other resting on your lower back as he gazed into your eyes, mesmerized by your existence. You two swayed back and forth, ignoring the judgmental stares and whispers. Eventually others gained the courage to join in, inspired by the silly Americans of the room. 

He broke the comfortable silence first. “I see you like the dress. You make it look beautiful.”

“You bought this for me?” You exclaimed smiling. It made sense now, how else would the measurements be so perfect?

“Of course I did. Who else would?” He asked with a single raised brow, his signature “you better tell me, or you’re in trouble” expression.

“Mmh, hmm, Mmh.” You mumbled shrugging your shoulders upwards. Of course that was a lie, but you would tell him later. 

He decided to address your lie later as well. He changed the subject for now. “So why Berlin? Why not London, or Italy? Italy was you second choice, you loved Italy!”  

You giggled at the amount of times he said Italy. He bathed in the sound. “Germany was the first place Pepper could arrange on such short notice. Besides, we thought you would never think of looking here.”

“I would search the ends of the universe for you.” He said, face and tone all of a sudden serious. You inspected him for a minute, heat rising to your cheeks, before you both cracked a smile. 

“You’re so fucking cheesy.” You laughed. 

“I thought you loved it when I act cheesy.” He expressed, mocking fake hurt. 

You smiled and kissed his chin, ignoring his dramatics, opting to be enveloped by the silence. You were calmed as he rocked you in his arms, pulling you as close as he could. His large warm hand on your exposed lower back felt like home. You two fit together like puzzle pieces, and you were happier now than you were the first time you kissed. Now you weren’t in secret. You were out in the open, as you experienced a new first in your relationship. 

You broke the silence this time, as you laid your head on his chest. “So how did you find me?”

“Tonysbitch99 Y/N? Come on, I’m a fucking genius, and I’m not exaggerating.  Your last tweet led me here”

Your head shot up so you could question him. “Wait. So you went out on a fucking whim?”

He laughed at your outburst. "Well actually a blue-haired girl encouraged me to check your twitter account. I found your hidden one on your old phone. That led me to your apartment.”

“Nao.” You said in a low menacing tone. You had some words for her as soon as you got back home. But when you thought of home, your mind wandered back to the obstacles in your way. Being so happy to see him, you forgot about Edward. “Tony” You sighed. “You can’t be here. Edward will find out. And you could lose everything you worked for. Your dreams have to mean something to you.”

“They do. You’re one of them Y/N.” He always had a way with words, and just as you were about to protest he cut you off. “I won’t go into details about it, but everything is fine. You can even contact both Edward and Pepper if you don’t believe me.” 

You believed him. The fact that he involved Pepper’s name encouraged you to. “Enough  about me though. You seem to have been keeping yourself busy.” He whispered against the shell of your ear.

“What do you mean?” You asked, flustered by his action. He suddenly, but slowly dipped you so that you could focus on where his line of sight was. Your eyes met Finn, who was busying himself with guests, as well as stealing glances at the two of you. As you focused on him, Tony peppered kisses along the heart of your exposed bosom. The gesture forced you to shoot up out of embarrassment. You knew he was marking his territory, but you immediately scolded him. 

“Who is he?” He asked you, ignoring your tiny hits and reprimands. Once you calmed down, you told him about Finn.  “He hasn’t taken his eyes off of us, or should I say you, since my being here.”

You averted your gaze from Tony, and he immediately knew you were hiding something from him. He pestered you, until you told him about Finn’s crush, as well as the shared kiss. By the end of it all, he was sending death glares his way.

“You should introduce us.” Tony suggested, gravitating towards Finn, before you held him taught. 

“Calm yourself.”

“What did you say his name was again? Finn?” He asked, but he already knew the answer to his own question. “Finn. Finn. Finn.” He repeats, as if the name felt like a bad aftertaste on his tongue. “You know what? I like it. No, I really do, it fits him, because he looks like a fucking fish.” He spat.

You grinned and asked, “You’re not jealous are you Tony?”

“And what would I have to be jealous of? Did you not hear me say fish?” He questioned. 

“He’s a sweetheart. Come on, let me introduce you.” You were about to take his hand to meet Finn, but were surprised to see that he was already making his way over to the two of you. 

“Y/N, who might this be?” Finn asked reaching out to shake his hand. He knew who Tony was, most people did, but this was Finn’s way of acting as if he himself was more important. 

“Tony Stark” Tony interjected, acknowledging the outreached hand, but blatantly refusing to shake it. 

  Finn dropped his hand, before speaking again, smile now twitching. “Nice to meet you Mr. Stark. I’m Finn Schmidt.”

“Well that’s rather unfortunate.” Tony mumbled, loud enough for the both of you to hear. 

“Tony!” You chided, slapping his arm. 

“What?!” Tony cried. “You heard him say his last name was Shit, right?”

“He said Schmidt.” He knew that. Tony ignored the glare on your face that demanded he apologize.

The sound of laughter rang in your ears, as you both snapped your necks towards it. Finn must of  thought he was funny. “Y/N, your grandfather is hilarious.” Finn said, now deadpanning at Tony. 

Tony looked down at his hands, then at your brown ones, then back up to question the handsome boy. “Do I look like her fuc—”

“You’re right Finn. My boyfriend is pretty funny.” You say, examining his face with a small smile. Your comment shocked both him and Tony. He was happy that you could finally call him that. 

“Now,” you continued. “I’m a bit tired from these past few weeks. I think I’m going to call it a night. Enjoy your evening Finn. I’ll see you Monday.” You smiled, as you tugged Tony away.

“Goodnight Fish Shit,” Tony smirked over his shoulder, as you dragged him towards the door.  

“It’s Finn Schmidt, you idiot.” You corrected, sending an apologetic nod back to your friend. 

“What did I say?”

ººººº

Pushing the door open to your apartment, you unstrapped your shoes to place them next to the door, urging Tony to do the same. You threw your keys in a dish, and turned to him to whisper your intentions to go and slip into something more comfortable. He stared at you with a small smile as his response, dark eyes searching yours, while his remained unreadable. The dim light from the kitchen, illuminated his face, making it look intimidatingly beautiful. Or was hauntingly the word?

You suddenly felt nervous, realizing that this was the first time in months since you had been alone together. Handing him back the coat he let you borrow for the walk here,  you cleared your throat, and averted your gaze before excusing yourself from the room. Tony relished in the fact that he had reverted you back to your first stage of innocence. 

Upon your exit, he took a slow stroll around the room. He was careful to take in all that he had missed. Curious of how much you had changed, and how much you stayed the same. 

Accents of your favorite color were spread throughout the room. You had an open kitchen, and the living room was right across from it. They were both tidied to perfection. You had sleek wooden floors, that looked like they had never been stepped on. Furniture, that looked like it had never been sat on. A stove, that looked like it had never been turned on. Your place was nice, but he could tell you were rarely home. 

The walk here, you told him of your job on top of your internship, and school.You didn’t complain about it. In fact, you appreciated the chaos, and constant busyness. But he hated that you worked like a dog just to make ends meet. There was now all this time he would have to make up for, by spoiling you. 

He bent over to examine the books on your shelves. Some were new. Some that he had suggested. But what he searched for were the ones you would spend your summers rereading, as if the words would leave the page; desperate to memorize every letter. 

He moved on, now curious about your smart TV. What new shows were you watching? Did you still love the ones he remembered to be your favorite, or did new ones take their place? 

He picked up the candle on your coffee table. The scent of honeysuckle assaulted his senses. It was much different from your usual vanilla. He sat it down to continue his journey to your kitchen. 

He raided your pantry, your cupboards, and your fridge to see if you had been taking care of yourself. The contents were scarce, and he had to remind himself to scold you later.

“Are you hungry?” You asked smiling, grasping the hallway’s entry frame. You were wearing an oversized ash gray shirt whose front was tucked into a pair of frilly pink shorts. Your previously pinned hair now fallen was framing your cheeks, as stray pieces were pushed behind your ears. You removed all of your ruined makeup, and the result left a sheen of dew on the surface of your skin. If he thought you looked surreal at the gallery, ethereal was the word he’d use now due to your natural glowing state. 

“Yes” He replied. But he was getting full off of your appearance alone. There was no need for useless human sustenance. The way you looked was enough. 

You came into full view, grabbing a glass from your cupboards to pour yourself some water. “Well I’m afraid you’re not gonna find anything here.” You took a sip, offering him some. “But it’s not too late. There are still restaurants open.”

He reached for the glass in your hand, but instead of taking it, he placed his hand over yours to make you feed him sips of water. He eyed you over the rim of the glass before setting it down to say, “I’m full now.”

You swallowed hard, walking to sit on a stool on the other side of the island. Tony fell backwards directly in front of you, letting the cabinets behind him catch him. He drank you in with his eyes, as you felt yourself shrinking under his scrutiny.

“What?” You questioned, shy from his gaze. He said nothing, and just watched you. 

After a moment of playing the staring game, you tried to break the silence again. You looked down at the shirt you were wearing to spark a conversation. “I’m sorry I stole your shirt. I needed something to remind me of you. I hope you didn’t miss it too much.”

“The only thing that I missed, was you.” He said after minutes of deafening silence. Is he mad?

Looking down out of guilt you told him, “Well I’m here now. Tell me how you’ve been.”

He felt like your question was a loaded one. Not once did he think about himself while you were gone. He was constantly thinking of you. I’ve been lost. He wanted to say. I’ve been hopeless. I felt helpless not knowing where you were. Not knowing if you were okay. So many things were on the tip of his tongue, but instead he settled for “Let’s just say, I’ve missed you.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” You were genuinely curious about how his life was without you. But Tony looked like he didn’t want to explore the subject further. 

“That’s how I feel.” He declared, drifting slowly towards you. 

You decided to continue talking in order to fill the awkwardness. “Well its obviously how I feel too, but I wanna know how you’ve been holding up.” You ignored his sudden closeness. “Could you at least tell me how every one is? You mentioned Nao had blue hair? It was pink when we met.” Tony stood silent by your side as you asked your questions. “How’s Samuel? And Pepper?”As you rambled on and on, he traveled behind your stool, placing his hands on the chairs bars. His scent began to envelope you, and thats when your rambles became incoherent. If you weren’t already nervous before, you definitely were now. 

He picked up on it, like he usually does, and asked  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” in a hushed tone. You felt his breath fan the back of your neck, goosebumps formed on the little parts that were exposed. Your thighs clenched together, as you were suddenly turned on by how he made you feel both small and secure at the same time. 

He grabbed your chin, lifting your neck upwards and to the side, just before he placed a soft kiss on your lips, the first kiss since your reunion. It was so soft, you felt that he was afraid you might break; or as if you were only a part to a vivid dream. Deepening his touch, he let the fingers that were lifting your chin,  trail down the line of your neck. Soft fingertips brushed against your skin, until they collectively found a loose position around your throat. He let his thumb explore your jaw, while his tongue explored your mouth. Soft lips quickly turned into rough ones, as they fought to release every frustration and emotion he felt for the past five months.

When he pulled away, he had the nerve to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, as if he hadn’t just tongue-fucked your face a moment ago. “Sorry.” He apologized, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” He then walked back to his position by the counter, as if nothing happened, turned to you and asked “So what was your question again?” Innocence and genuine curiosity etched his features, like the lust, from a moment ago, never existed. 

Quickly overcoming your fit of fluster, you hesitantly stood to your feet. Tony never took his almond brown eyes off of you, as you seductively sauntered over to him. You had an idea. It was one you rarely thought of. One you never acted on; but if your time in Germany taught you something, it was to go for what you wanted. 

Now standing directly in front of him, doe eyes boring into his, he shut them as you placed your hands against his chest, leaning in for a kiss. Much like his, it was soft. A feather like touch against his mouth. You barely pulled back to whisper, “follow me” against his lips. His eyes fluttered open just in time to see you retreating down the hall. 

It was now his turn to become flustered, as he felt himself growing hot. He gave himself a moment to cool down, before taking his time walking down the hallway. As he poked his head in every room, just before he came to the last one, he found you sitting comfortably on your bed, stripped down to nothing but your bra and panties. Your elbows were propped up holding your weight, and your leg was crossed against your other as you patiently waited for him to enter the room. Your head was tilted as a seductive smile played on your features. 

Tony returned the expression, and he was about to dive into you, until you raised your hand to halt his actions. “Take off your shirt.” You ordered.

“Excuse me?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in amusement. 

“You heard me.” You dared. Though your tone was soft, he knew you meant business. He searched your eyes for a moment, not finding his usual hint of submissiveness. So he decided to humor you. He leisurely unbuttoned his cuffs, glancing up at you every now and then. Then he took his time loosening his bowtie, dragging it off of his collar. He went painfully slow as he unbuttoned his bib, leering in your direction as he did so. Making you wait is what would usually break your spirit, and it was his favorite game. But you had learned patience while in Germany, so tonight was your night. You uncrossed your legs and raised to your feet, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to roughly pull him into a kiss. This one was more feverish than the one shared in your kitchen, and it caught him by surprise since he was usually the one to take control. 

You switched your standing positions with him so that you were now the one facing the bed. As you deepened your kiss, he got pushed further back, until his knees collided with the mattress. You stood between his legs surveying his cherry swollen lips, before you reconnected your mouthes.

You laced your fingers in his hair, breaking your kiss, to harshly tug his head upwards. The guttural groan that escaped his throat, left an ache between your legs, while liquid pooled to the center of your panties. 

With the newly exposed skin of his neck, you stuck your tongue out to lick a slow stripe from his adam’s apple to his jaw, eliciting a string of curses from Tony. You then placed wet kisses down from there to his abs, kneeling to face his crotch. 

The prominent bulge, made your eyes widen with anticipation, and mouth salivate from thirst. You fell to your knees, licking your lips, fingers now fumbling with the buckle of his belt. Tony grasped your chin, lifting it to meet your eyes. “Y/N, I don’t want you to think you have to do this.”

You smiled at him, assuring him that you wanted to, kissing his fingers before going back to your previous tasks. He tensed up when you placed your hand on his thigh, just as the other worked to release his cock. The veiny appendage sprung free, and its size still intimidated you as you struggled to fit it in your tiny hands. Still, you were determined to make him feel good. 

You wrapped your hand around it, holding his drunken gaze, before stroking him up and down. You placed chaste kisses along the base, until you reached his crown. When you swirled your tongue around his head, Tony’s dick bucked in your hands, and his large palm shot up to tangle in your hair, urging you to suck. You swatted his hands away, and fixed him with a stare, silently telling him you’d stop if he didn’t let you have this. When confident that he learned his place, you wrapped your lips around his tip, lowering yourself further down his shaft, twisting the parts you couldn’t fit (which was still a lot.) He was a moaning mess, when his dick hit the back of your throat. You bobbed your head up and down his length, mewling when you made him groan. The vibrations from your moans, sent jolts of electricity up his spine, and he struggled to contain himself. 

Gagging against him, you shot back gasping for air, only a string of spit connecting you. After six more motions like that, Tony shot three thick ropes of cum down your throat. The sound he let out as he came, made the area between your thighs slick.

He usually spewed words of encouragement when you gave him head. “Just like that” or “Suck daddy’s cock” filled your ears as you worked him through his orgasm. But to see him come completely undone, unable to form a sentence, let alone control the situation, had you feeling more than satisfied. His head was thrown back surveying the ceiling before he bought his attention back to you. His face was a soft shade of pink, and sweat covered his forehead; it worked like glue, as pieces of disheveled hair stuck to it. “Who taught you how to do that?” He asked between breaths. 

“Finn.” You joked, but as soon as you said it, Tony grabbed your arm to yank you to your feet. He grabbed the nape of your neck to pull you closer to his face. 

“I know you’re just kidding sweetheart, but I don’t find that funny.” He rasped in a low tone. The grip he had on your  neck caused you to whimper, but you didn’t mind the sting. It only riled you up. 

You stepped back from his embrace, to undo your bra, just for him to yank you back in once it was off. He began kissing between your sternum, dangerously close to the mounds of your breasts. You chuckled at the feeling of his facial hair tickling your skin, but then your giggles turned into moans as his beard created delicious burns across your surface. He reached his hands down to your waist ridding you of your panties. Once you stepped out of them, you pushed him backwards on the bed, to crawl over him placing both thighs on each side of his. 

He bit his bottom lip at the sight of you, eyes burning with desire, and hands trailing from your thighs to your waist. You grabbed his dick, brushing it against your lips, before slowly guiding it to your entrance. As you sunk down on him, he sucked in air harshly, while you yourself let out a gasp of pain. 

“You still fit like a glove, baby.” He moaned out, glowered at you through hooded eyes. His hands tightened their grips around your waist to help you ease yourself onto him. 

A pained gasp erupted through your chest; the farther you sunk down on him, the further you stretched out. Pleasure began to burn in your loins when you met his end. You threw your head back and planted your palms against his chest,  rocking and grinding on his cock at a painfully slow pace. Your clit grazed his base as you did so, encouraging you to pick up your speed. His hands that were previously on your waist, crept up your front to fondle your breasts. You grabbed his wrists to help lift yourself up and down his shaft. 

The faster you bucked against him, the closer you came to meet your edge. He found his words of encouragement, when he heard your lusty pants of pleasure. “Such a pretty girl.” He praised. “Look at you go.” He whispered. He watched sweat form against your cupids bow, and your expression contort further into one of pleasure.

Your pace began to falter which is when he placed an arm around your back to sit the two of you up. Using the edge of the bed, he met your hips with his own, fucking into you at a new angle. His pace was faster, and more accurate than your own, which meant with each thrust he his your g-spot head on. His grunts and your pants echoed off of the walls as he sent you barreling towards your orgasm. You shut your eyes, letting the ecstasy hit, as you panted his name, over and over again. 

Letting the pleasure wash over you, you came to a complete stop, your moans sending vibrations through Tony’s chest. He didn’t stop though, his thrusts were relentless, as he tried his hardest to bury into you. “Keep going.” He ordered you. 

“I can’t daddy.” You whimpered, already fucked out, when you barely even started. 

“Yes you can.” He simply said, forcing you to sit up straight. You straddled his lap, met his eyes, and placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, trying to will yourself up and down, but your hips just wouldn’t let you. By this time, he stopped completely as well, to catch his breath. 

You laid your head in the crook of his neck, defeated. “I’m sorry.” You exhaled into his skin. 

He lifted your head to cup your chin. When his eyes met yours, he pecked your lips before saying, “It’s okay princess. You did so well…but now it’s daddy’s turn.”

With that, he picked you up and wrapped your legs around him to place you at the top of the bed. He got rid of the rest of his clothes before he crawled back into bed, sinking into you again. You both let out groans at the feeling of his fullness.

Tony threw nice and slow out the window, and immediately began drilling into you. Your moans turned into deafening screams as his hips bruised your pelvis. He pried your legs open, placing quick kisses along your neck as he did so, knowing it would drive you up the wall as well as comfort you. He bit and sucked harshly along your collar bone, sending your mind into a blissful haze. Your hands shot up to his back, clawing at the flesh. You left blood in your wake, as you raked your hands down the skin. He let out a growl at the feeling, thrusting harder into you as a result. 

Your second orgasm arrived quicker than your first, but the feeling was more intense. He left you writhing, and shaking on him, as ripples of pleasure coursed through your body. Giving you a minute to collect yourself he flipped you over, before saying, “I’m not done with you yet, princess.” 

A look of alarm spread on your features, when you looked behind you to see him lining himself up yet again. “Tony I don’t think I can cum again.” You whimpered. 

“Awe, I thought you were a big girl.” He teased, smirking as revenge for earlier. While he loved the way you look on top, it obviously hurt his dominating spirit when you took his control. He leaned down, grabbing the side of your face to better access your ear. You felt his hot breath fan the side of your cheek as he whispered, “You’re gonna take all of me, until I fill you up with my cum.” Then he let you go, causing you to fall forward. 

You were so turned on it didn’t make sense. You just had three orgasms rip through you, yet your pussy was begging for more. 

He slammed into you for a final time, this position trumping them all. He gripped your hips, locking in on you, giving you no chance of escape. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t try. You climbed to the top of the bed, trying to put a bit of space between yourself and Tony’s strokes, but he just pulled you back in, fucking you harder than before. 

Tears welled up in your eyes. The intensity was becoming entirely too much. Your nipples brushed your bedsheets the harder he fucked you into them. His balls slapped against your clit, every time he met your hips. And his grunts of pleasure from using you, sent you toppling over the edge for a third time. The stimulation sending you into a convulsing fit. You squirted against him, covering his member with your sticky wet cream. Luckily for you, he followed shortly after, coating your walls with his thick white seed. 

When you collapsed, he rolled to the other side of you, both of you breathing heavier than before.  When he caught his breath, you turned over to drape your naked body onto his. 

“Was I too rough” He asked, suddenly feeling like he went overboard.

“Absolutely not.” You giggled. “Please do that to me all the time.”

He smiled in response burying his nose in your hair. The smell of coconut immediately comforting him. “I love you Y/N.” He cooed.

You lifted your head from his chest to kiss him sweetly. “I love you too, Tony.” That was the last thing you both said, before drifting off into a peaceful slumber. 

Whether your relationship lasted a lifetime, or ended in a year, in this moment you were happy. Happy that you no longer had to hide from the world. Happy that he was finally in your arms again. Happy to want someone, who wanted you even more. 

Happy to exist at the same time as him. 

A/N: Please do not repost my work as your own. Comments, likes, and reblogs are encouraged. I love you all, and really hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading :)

[supremeuppityone]

Written for Klaroline Valentine's Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo

Prompt: Casablanca

Author’s note: This was inspired by Ricky Gervais’ 2020 Golden Globes monologue, in which he thoroughly pissed me off.

Warning: Potential triggers; implied assault survivor

Please review here.

           Red. Everything was red. The rage sank into Caroline’s bones until nothing was left. From the uncomfortable murmurs of the rest of the audience, it was clear that she wasn’t the only one furious with Alaric Saltzman’s patronizing speech to open the Oscars ceremony.

           “If you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a political platform to make a political speech. You're in no position to lecture the public about anything, you know nothing about the real world. So, if you win, come up, accept your little award, thank your agent and your God and fuck off.”

           There were so many things wrong with the washed-up comedian’s vile statement, that Caroline let out an audible gasp, not bothering to let her features settle back into a polite mask. Her agent was going to be pissed if the cameras happened to catch her now. But it was nothing compared to how pissed Katherine would be in a little while. As a nominated filmmaker, Caroline understood she was in a unique position to make a call for social change. And as one of the few female filmmaker nominees, it was her responsibility. She covertly took out her phone, typing a quick message to her staff, and then leaned back into her seat with a self-satisfied grin. Game on.  

           Her documentary focused on Congolese women who were taking back their communities torn apart by sexual violence. It was her honor to give voice to the warrior women who had created safe spaces for women — teaching them self-defense, providing legal representation, and fostering marketable skills.

           She toyed with the orange and red bracelet, hiding a bittersweet smile as she recalled the way some of the women at the community center had attempted to teach her how to make the rolled-up paper beads. It was the day she shared her story with them. Her pain had been her own for so long. She’d nearly punched Katherine for telling her the bracelet clashed with her designer gown and that she should instead go with the loan from Bulgari.

           The back of Caroline’s neck prickled as though she could feel the weight of someone’s stare. Casually glancing around the packed theater, her blue eyes widened when she realized Klaus Mikaelson was staring at her. Wildly famous, the dimpled British actor’s mantle must be overflowing with prestigious Oscars, BAFTAs and Golden Globes. Why was he staring at her? Again. Despite years in the industry, this was the first awards season her work had garnered enough attention to warrant nominations. And unwanted attention from A-listers.

            A few months ago, she’d attended the Directors Guild Awards, slightly starstruck and still in disbelief that her work was finally getting recognition. She nervously was sipping champagne when someone insistently tapped her shoulder. Familiar with many of the more heinous Hollywood Gropers, she whirled around, ready to shred some wrinkled, self-entitled balls. She stopped short when she realized it was a skinny teenager who somehow managed to look even more nervous than she.

           “Um. Hi! So, um I think you’re Caroline Forbes. Right?”

           Caroline softened, assuming his painfully earnest demeanor meant he was an intern or one of the stage assistants. Her smile was gentle as she said, “Yes, I’m Caroline. What’s your name?”

           Brown eyes went round with excitement as he took both of her hands in his, wildly shaking them up and down as he gushed, “I’m Henrik and I go to USC and we just studied you in my Defining the Feminine Narrative class!”

           Flustered, she could feel an enormous smile spread across her face. It was rare that she encountered someone who knew who she was. Now what? Offering to sign something or pose for a photo sounded unbelievably pretentious. “Oh, wow. Thank you,” she finally said, “I had no idea.”

           “I’m actually um, doing a research paper right now on your documentary about dowry-related violence in India,” he shyly confessed, hiding behind his long brown hair.

           “Seriously?! I just started cataloguing some additional footage; trying to decide if there’s another story to tell. If you want to give me your email, I’d be happy to share my research with you. Maybe it will inspire you to create something amazing.”

           Before Henrik could respond, an unexpected voice interrupted, “Impressive chat-up lines, little brother.”

           Klaus stood there with his sexy dimpled grin that always spelled box office gold. And he’d been poured into that tuxedo. Damn. “Klaus Mikaelson,” he said, as though she hadn’t watched every movie he ever made, “and I had no idea Henrik was such a fan.” He put a companionable arm around the timid boy, telling her, “Henrik’s the true talent in the family. Thank you, love, for noticing.”

           He eyed her with interest, and she immediately reddened, cursing her painfully white skin for making every emotion so obvious. “These ceremonies are so frightfully dull. Would you like to join us at our table, and then perhaps later, you and I could go for a drink?”

           Damn it. He was one of those guys. Now flushed with irritation rather than embarrassment, Caroline replied, “You should ask Tatia. It’s only polite — since she’s your date.” Lately, the gossip sites had exploded with headlines gushing about the whirlwind romance between Klaus and the stunning supermodel, Tatia Petrova. Even if there was the chance it was a clever ruse to garner media attention, there was no way Caroline wanted any part of that nonsense.

           Klaus flashed that dimpled smirk again, his accented voice amused as he said, “Tatia is more of an...inconvenience than a permanent fixture in my life. There’s only so much frivolous chatter I can tolerate. But I suspect that you would provide endlessly fascinating conversation, sweetheart. You’re starting to make a name for yourself with all those exotic travels and penchant for saving the world. There’s a light that shines in you; it sets you apart from the rest.”

           He was seriously giving her the ‘you’re not like other girls’ speech. Dick. “Pass,” she said flatly, already starting to walk away. “But thanks for adding bad pickup lines to my ever-growing list of atrocities I need to save the world from.”

            Thunderous applause interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Where Klaus was still staring at her rather than paying attention to the clip they were showing from his nominated performance. His performance in the Casablanca remake had earned him the Best Actor nomination, with critics and media outlets proclaiming his work in the big budget production to be a crowning achievement in his stellar career. Despite her indifference to the original 1940s movie, she still eagerly went to see Klaus’ remake, and his performance as the expat Rick had left her breathless. His American accent had been impeccable, and she actually got a bit teary-eyed when he arranged for his onscreen love interest, Lisa, to board the plane to safety while he stayed behind.

           Caroline could feel the heat rising in her cheeks the longer Klaus stared at her, irritated at herself for paying far too much attention to the gossip sites that announced Klaus’ amicable split almost immediately following their disastrous first encounter. She did not have time for Hollywood fuckboys. Even the ones with dimples. She had a world to save. Lost in her thoughts of burying her stupid crush on Klaus, she completely missed that he’d apparently won and was being herded offstage.

           She leaned forward eagerly as her documentary category was called. Regardless of the winner, her documentary had garnered enough attention that a few months ago, she’d learned an anonymous donation singlehandedly funded the Congolese women’s charity for the next decade. It was rare that people surprised her. Maybe one day she’d learn the identity of the generous donor. While the vignettes played for each nominee, her heart giving a funny little tweak as she held her breath in anticipation.

           “And the winner for best documentary feature is...Conflicted Hearts: Congolese Women Fight Back, by Caroline Forbes!”

           The thunderous applause was deafening, and Caroline sat there in shock for several moments, unable to get her legs to move. When she finally managed to walk to the stage on shaky legs, she fervently hoped she hadn’t sweated through her Arcadius original. She cringed as Alaric grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him for a congratulatory kiss that she managed to avoid by jerking her head away. He should know better. Hazel eyes flashed as he angrily hissed, “Just smile for the camera and keep the whole ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting’ bullshit out of it. No one cares about your whiny politics.”

           She burned him with her gaze, the oranges and reds of her gown a perfect backdrop for her fiery rage. Not bothering to respond to his unspoken threat, she stepped to the podium, pleased to be bathed in the stage lights, drawing energy from their warmth. “I’ve now been told twice tonight not to get political. It’s stupid to think I’m going to start following orders now. We’re some of the most fortunate people in the world. We have an extraordinary platform that allows us to reach millions. And it’s our responsibility to use it. We live in this world too and we should be working just as hard as anyone to make it better.”

           The loud clapping sounded like vindication, and she hoped that the cameras were zooming in on Alaric’s face as it immediately purpled in anger. “My film is dedicated to the Congolese women who let me into their world, whose unparalleled strength gave me the courage to put into words my own trauma. They are warriors, and I hope that the anonymous donor who helped fund their women’s charity for the next decade understands the hope they’ve given to so many.”

           Her smile was a vicious blade as she announced, “Thriving in front of my bullies is sometimes the whole reason why I get out of bed. I just started a charity tonight because I know I can’t be the only woman who’s been told to keep ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting bullshit out of it’. My organization will help women speak out about sexual harassment and assault in the workplace, providing much-needed legal assistance and support to help them overcome the personal and professional consequences that make it difficult to speak out. It’s called ‘CARE’.”

           The standing ovation was immensely satisfying, but then she added, “And it stands for Condescending Asshats Refuse to Evolve’,” which had the theater shouting her name excitedly. Not a bad night.

           As Caroline was ushered backstage, she basked as so many warm smiles and enthusiastic handshakes congratulated her, pausing only once to catch Alaric’s furious expression. She held his gaze just as fiercely, pouring out every viscous word she wasn’t ready to speak. But one day she would be.

           Backstage, she nearly ran over Klaus. Flushed from his own win, he beamed at her while offering her a steadying hand. “Congratulations, love. Your win was well-deserved, and I don’t recall a more compelling speech. You’ve set a precedent tonight that undoubtedly will bring about much-needed change.”

           She blushed to the roots of her hair, wishing she hadn’t worn the intricately plaited hairstyle so she could give her hands something to do. “Uh, thanks, and you too. Your work in Casablanca was amazing.”

           “You saw my movie?”

           Caroline was taken aback by his hopeful, pleased tone. “I’ve seen all of your movies. Everyone has.”

           “I’ve seen yours too,” he confessed, ducking his head shyly. “Henrik is quite the fan and has all of your documentaries — even the one you created fresh out of film school where you exposed the hypocrisy of a ‘morality clause’ for beauty pageant contestants in your hometown.”  

           “Seriously?!” She gaped at him, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t thought about that in years. That documentary had gotten the attention of several groups, which eventually led to funding for bigger projects and more exposure to the causes that she was the most passionate about. “I had no idea that you’d...I mean, I’m flattered you took the time to watch my films.”  

           The tips of his ears reddened as Klaus replied, “Meeting you was a bit of a revelation for me. Your drive, your fearlessness at giving people a platform so their voices and stories can be told — it’s inspiring. It made me want to make some changes in my life, which I started doing several months ago.”

           “I had no idea. I’m, uh, glad to have helped. Can I ask about the changes?”

           “Maybe someday I’ll tell you,” he answered enigmatically. “In the meantime, I’d be honored if you would accept my donation to your CARE charity. I’m doing my best to be a reformed condescending asshat.”  

[sagebodisattva]

Another Nail in Your Coffin

“C’mon Sage. Bring on the knowledge! More Sage! Make another video!”

Sure. But I really don’t know why you’d want me to keep on going on, talking at length, as it’s only going to cause the walls to close in around you; because the more and more I scrutinize you, and the more and more I analyze and dissect the current situation, the more and more disappointed and disgusted I become, hence, the more and more arduous the inevitable judgement and consequences that will follow. Thus, every word I speak, acts as another nail in the coffin. What, you thought I was finished? Ha. No, my friend. I’m just getting started.

I know that many of you have longed for more metaphysics, and wish that I would resume making more videos concerning those types of aspects, but, one thing you have to come to realize, is that there’s been a dramatic change of season. Most of the content on the channel thus far has mainly been concerned with the metaphysical, and that’s due to the particular phase I was in at the time. It was a period of exploration, profound thought, and shared deep wisdom. Those were the main areas of concern of that era; but recently, however, there’s been a major shift of course, and, subsequently, the area of emphasis has also shifted. And so now, I have moved into a phase primarily concerned with productive destruction. Yes, productive destruction, not nihilism. Whereas nihilism might be construed as illustrating the rationalizations of a sociopath for his abhorrent criminal behaviors; productive destruction, on the other hand, is only concerned with destroying the evil crafts of deception, wherein the motive is always selfless service and magnanimous sacrifice. This is a period where the main area of concern will be deconstructing falsehoods, and tearing down corrupt foundations.

And it’s not that I want it to be this way. I don’t. I’d much rather be speaking on the higher points, and delving deeply into arcane knowledge; but, unfortunately, the current circumstances have dictated otherwise. Instead, I have to set to work, hunting down deceptive ideologies, proceeding to systematically break them down; and, ultimately, stalk and kill them. Rigorous acts of menticide, whereby any and all delusions are susceptible to decapitation on the chopping block. We have to isolate and trap the malignant sociopaths, and strip them down to their raw bones, then rack and shatter those bones down into thousands of tiny little pieces. We have to destroy them, utterly. Yeah, and it’s no big deal at all if a scumbag ends up perishing by the hand of his own stupidity. It’s a completely acceptable loss. It’s effort well worth any blood stained hands; and when it comes to washing away human stains, there is no higher calling.

And this is where some of you may get the idea to raise your voice to speak, and assert an opinion, but I say, while you are free to speak, what you say is totally inconsequential and irrelevant; as, you don’t get to decide anything, and no matter what your theory is, it’s the wrong theory. It’s not about a choice between various options in a world, no. External events don’t happen “out there” somewhere. Decisions are not being made by “others”, sorry. I know you have your little oral fixation thing, but no, sorry; and this is exactly why you are in a position where you need to be informed. The only problem is, your informers are complete liars. So get it straight: everything that happens around here is being imagined into being, and nothing else. So, overall, you really don’t know jack-shit. And since you don’t know, then ASK; instead of always being a nasty little opinionated needle-nosed twit. Shut your fucking mouth up right now, or get a viral payload dropped directly on your bird brained head. Yeah, the coronavirus! This guy thinks it’s from a bat cave, and that guy thinks it’s a leak from a viral lab, but, fuck you both, it’s original source is from nowhere, and it will go and shed wherever the hell it needs to. And right now, your overinflated pretentious head is looking like the best destination.

I mean, the arrogance and disrespect of it all, has gotten completely out of control, and I’m sick and tired of it. Sick and tired of it to the extent that, a lot of you motherfuckers are gonna have to die. Plain and simple. We’ve got no more use for you. You are nothing but a detriment. How dare you speak and act the way you do. Who the fuck’s mind do you think this is anyhow? Yeah, I know. You think you occupy physical space, so it’s no wonder you believe you have some inherent right to position and property. Well, I hate to break it to you jack-off, but you ain’t got an inherent right to jack-shit. You are occupying my mind-space, and as such, at best, you are only a guest here; but I don’t seem to remember you paying any homage, or asking permission to construct your bullshit in my mind.

And I know some of you may say:

“Hey, wait a minute Sage. Slow down. Why is it “your” mind-space? Isn’t this OUR mind-space? How can you lay claim to this? Wouldn’t it be more accurate to describe it as “our mind-space?”

No. Sorry, it’s my mind-space, and no one else’s. And that’s because I decided to take on responsibility for it, when no one else wanted it. The mind-space was essentially an unmanned wheel of a ship, with no captain, aimlessly adrift at sea. So I decided to take on responsibility for the mind-space, and therefore, maintenance of the interior of the mind-space has become my job. So that’s why I have become the main guardian and caretaker of the mind-space, and you, did not. You had your chance to let go of everything, enlighten your mind, and take on responsibility, but you chose to squander that opportunity, and decided to become a lazy ignorant jackass instead. Rather then pursuing the truth, you chose to argue against enlightenment, and continually advocated for staying powerless and ignorant in delusion. Instead, you chose masturbation with a blindfold. Instead, you insisted on constantly giving attributional blowjobs to gods or the universe. So no, it’s too late. No one was interested in uncovering the truth before, so why are you suddenly worried about it now? The only thing you all ever aspired to become, was desire whores and value junkies, trapped in a delusional state of mental slavery; and thus, that’s exactly what you got. So embrace it, and become one with it. You wholly deserve it, and threw away your chance of illumination for it. So now, go ahead and choke on it. Just like I knew you would. Just like a good little jack-ass should.

So, no. You were not yet ready to rise to the occasion. You had your chance, but you hung up your gloves, and threw in the towel. I, on the other hand, was up for the task. I rose to the occasion. I made consistent efforts, uncovered the truth, liberated the mind, and assumed full responsibility for reality. And this is exactly why this whole realm is now considered mine. It is reality that is under my direct purview. This is my mind-space, and you are but a mere guest. An unruly visitor, who is quickly testing the extent of my good graces, and trying the limits of my extreme patience. It’s time for you to get disciplined. And I don’t care about any talk of rights and freedoms. Your rights and freedoms are overrated. You don’t deserve those rights and freedoms, because you are much too immature, greedy and reckless to be trusted with such great responsibilities. So it’s time to take them away from you. And that’s gonna be one of the major ways you will be punished from now on. Things are gonna start being taken away from you at an alarming rate. I know you think you are entitled to them, but I think it’s time for you to lose them. Therefor, things will be taken away. Oh, you are gonna learn, dammit. You are gonna learn big time. You are going to behave.

And speaking of your ongoing disgusting malignant behaviors, from now on, the speed of reaping what you sow, is gonna be swift and heavy. Especially swift. In the past, these things took time. You could always cause delays or create distractions. But no more. Instant immediate justice is now the way of the new current era. And speed is, indeed, of the essence. Such extreme speed that, you will already experience the major impact of your misdeed, by the time you go to bed at night, on the very same day of your imposition. Everything you’ve taken so long to painstakingly build, can disappear faster then gasoline soaked paper in fire.

So remain heedless to your own peril. And yes, you should detect a sense of ominous foreboding in the air; because, at this point, circumstances are not working towards your well being. Yeah, “things” are being orchestrated against you; and there’s so many different ways this can ultimately reach you. Not only through such avenues as a virus, but also through your surroundings, animals and other people. Circumstance itself. And you’d really be amazed about how much can be accomplished with just the simple movements of elements, such as fire, water, rock and air. Oh, there’s just no limits to the many many ways it can get to you.

So this is a fight you can’t win, so go ahead and do your worse. Go ahead and lock and load. Arm yourself to the teeth, hunker down and make your last stand. At the very least, we can starve you out. But, always remember: there are hundreds of thousands lined up, all just waiting to sacrifice themselves for the good cause; and they’ve got absolutely nothing to lose. And that’s exactly how you wanted it. And so now it will, ironically, seal your own fate. After all, YOU are the one always going on about how you have so much to preserve and defend, hence, it’s you who has everything to lose, which, of course, means you are at a serious disadvantage; fighting a lost cause upon a sinking ship. Sometimes, to achieve a moral standard, a price must be paid in blood; and the blood supply of your precious special few is seemingly quite limited, whereas the pool of blood of our righteous warriors is as vast and deep as the ocean itself.

So hey, you know what, it’s no big deal. No one has to do the right thing. No problem. There’s absolutely no pressure. But, just so you know, things are gonna get real tough. I know you can’t help yourself. I know that it’s incredibly hard not to be a toxic selfish arrogant entitled prick. So, know upfront, things are gonna get real tough. And please, by all means, continue to abuse freedoms. Continue to impose your liberty upon others in order to enrich yourself. Just as long as you fully understand, that things are gonna get real tough. And I mean real tough; wherein accomplishing the simplest little tasks in life, will now become monumental enormities.

But you LIKE the simplest little tasks in life becoming monumental enormities. No no, you LIKE the simplest little tasks in life becoming monumental enormities. You LIKE that. And now, you are gonna get a real good taste of it, real hard.

[prorevenge]

1 & 20 Years Paying the Bitch Back

Buckle up. It’s a long ride with a pleasant finish.

Some time back I was hired to a company by a CEO I had previously worked for someplace else. He was a good friend so when his newest company wasn’t achieving sales, he headhunted me to join the new one.

The company hadn’t made a sale in two years. Year one the software product was in beta so it wasn’t ready to be sold. Year two they realized using the tech staff to make high end sales to C-level executives was the shittiest sales model one could conceptualize. In general, and there are exceptions of course, these two personality styles don’t speak the same language. Tech people talk tech. Buyers talk benefits and how the potential product fills needs. I bridge the gap well by translating tech-speak into natural conversational language so buyers better understand how their needs will be filled.

The job was an hour and a half drive one-way from my home so the CEO said I could work from home as long as I kept the sales management tool current (it’s where you keep the notes of each prospect’s status), came to important meetings and made sure the executive team had daily sales reports.

The first month I made the daily 3 hour commute because I needed to have solid, constant interaction with all the departments to rapidly form my sales strategy and develop a two-way confidence level with the section heads.

Once I had a handle on things, I was ready to launch my sales plan. In the meantime, the CEO hired a VP of Sales (bitchboss) who started 4 days before I hit the ground running to get in front of buyers.

She was a VP coming from the banking industry and had a long career in sales and marketing in finance products. I hated her from the moment she arrived. She knew fuck all about tech and I spent huge time trying to orient her which wasn’t ideal because I needed to work on my sales strategy. They brought her onboard because she had strong experience gaining financial investors.

Nevertheless, I forged ahead. Traveled to a target state and spent 19 days criss crossing it. When I came back I had 17 contracts from buyers totaling about $2M in sales. My CEO was overjoyed.

Fast forward six months and now working from home, I’m rocking and rolling. Sales are strong. CEO is happy. Good things are happening.

Bitchboss has landed an investor willing to drop $6M into the company, and they are coming into town for a discovery meeting. She asks me to drive up because they specifically want to meet the salesperson. Seconds before walking in the door for the big meeting, bitchboss pulls me aside and says she needs me to back her up on lie she has told them. Basically she doubled my sales numbers. I told her there was no way I was going to do that. She says the CEO has okayed the lie.

We get to the part in the talk where the investor is looking over my inflated sales numbers on the prospectus, then directly asks me how many sales I’m making a month. Bitchboss is behind him waving her arms but I was having none of it and answered truthfully. He looks askance staring at the document which has the false number listed, while she’s giving me the stink eye behind him.

No one says a word. Dead silence.

I ask to see the document and fates have aligned allowing me to solve the dilemma. I explain the first two numbers were transposed (they correlated well to my real sales versus inflated sales if you flip-flopped the first two digits.) Potential investor is satisfied and we move on.

Switch gears. About a week later I was meeting with the CIO in his office and he referred to my “big tits.” I’m no shrinking violet but it stunned me because it was so unexpected.

That night I was chatting with my BFF who happens to be a lawyer and told him about it in casual conversation. He said I should tell the CEO so he can address it. Thinking along smart business practices, I decide to tell bitchboss to whom I directly report as proper protocol since we don’t have a HR dept yet. Side note-I also reported directly to CIO as a boss since my role was a muddy mix of sales and tech.

The next day CEO calls me and I take him through it telling him it’s no big deal but to make sure he talked to CIO so it didn’t happen again. He says he’ll do it right away.

Two days later I check in with him and CEO still hadn’t talked to CIO because the investors were in town. I gently push him to get it done and casually mention my best friend who happened to be a lawyer was the one who urged me tell him because “any good CEO would want to know about it.” I reiterate I’m not mad or upset.

The only word he heard was “lawyer.”

He went apeshit that I was bringing a lawyer into the mix. Now this guy was my good friend. We’d worked together at two companies for years. I calmed him down (or so I thought,) explaining that I only wanted him to talk to CIO. I also told him I HADN’T brought a lawyer into it, that I had been innocently chatting with BFF who just happens to be a criminal defense attorney. He seemed okay and we hung up.

The next day I’m working as usual and I get a call from an attorney who explains the company has hired her regarding my sexual harassment claim. I’m flummoxed and adamantly told her that was not the case, that I had no claim against the company. She said otherwise.

And that’s when everything changed. Dramatically.

CEO was furious with me for bringing this on when investors were looking at us. His reaction set the tone which filtered down. The company began to retaliate against me. Bitchboss now made it her mission to make my life hell: “forgetting” to tell me about important meetings I was supposed to attend, freezing me out when I was in the office, telling me I could no longer even speak to CIO (a problem since I’m selling a multi-million dollar tech product needing his input AND I directly reported to him as my other boss), denying me a long planned, approved vacation, basically anything she could devise to screw me over-she was gleefully working it.

Coinciding with this was a serious health problem I developed ultimately requiring surgery. My illness had no impact on my work as I was able to work from home which made things easier on me health wise. Bitchboss then decided that I need to come to the office every day despite a 3 hour round trip commute.

Now I know you’re thinking why didn’t I just leave, get another job somewhere else...

I needed the health insurance. There was no way to turn around another job fast enough and I had a complex surgery scheduled requiring 3 surgeons for my procedure.

My doctor gave me a note for them which released me from having to make the daily commute so I could continue to work at home. As long as my work didn’t suffer, they legally couldn’t force me to commute especially since working from home was a part of my employment contract from the outset.

The night before my surgery, bitchboss calls to tell me they’ve cancelled my health insurance. After hanging up with bitchboss I collapsed on the floor in a faint. I was so, so, so sick, and mentally exhausted from all the stress.

The next morning the CEO frantically calls asking to talk to me. My mom refuses to let him. I’m on official leave as of that morning and we’re heading to the hospital. CEO had told their lawyer about canceling my health insurance and she chewed him a new asshole telling him it was illegal. They immediately reinstated my insurance.

In the two weeks I was out, my mom had found a lawyer for me as it was clear shenanigans were going on. I still needed them as an employer because I was in no shape to rigorously job hunt while recovering.

Turns out all the bullshit they were doing to me is illegal. Companies aren’t allowed to retaliate against employees when they report nefarious acts against them.

I met with my new lawyer who said I had an excellent claim for retaliation and took me on. He said I had to continue working there while he did his thing to stay within protocol while he filed the EEOC claim.

Now it’s time for me to return to work. The company had relocated (planned) during my absence and bitchboss refused to tell me where so I couldn’t come back to work. Company lawyer told them they HAD to tell me so bitchboss gives me wrong directions making me late on day one.

I walk in the new office and it looks like any other place except for one thing. There is a wide open area directly in front of the CEO’s glass office with a single desk in the middle of it. Welcome to my new desk.

Also, I wasn’t allowed to do sales anymore. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to do anything, at all, period.

They had hired a bunch of new people to the company and they treated me like a pariah. Turns out bitchboss had gone to them telling a pack of lies and if they know what’s good for them they’ll stay away.

Since I had nothing to do but couldn’t just sit there looking like a dope, I worked on documenting everything being done to me per my lawyer’s advice. I was meticulous in my note taking.

Bitchboss began writing me up. Stupid stuff like not answering my phone on the first ring and for asking questions during company wide meetings, asking to see my personnel file which employees are legally entitled to do although not entitled to photocopy any of it.

Each time she wrote me up, I had to sign the write up. There was a space for me to reply to it so I consistently wrote, “I do not agree with this assessment.” It infuriated her so much, she wrote me up again for writing the statement that I didn’t agree with it.

There were several instances where she called me into her office and literally began screaming at me loudly and enthusiastically. I wouldn’t engage though; my standard answer to everything was OK which made her apoplectic. At one point, she’s inches from my face screaming, her face beet red and I just sat there with a dreamy expression whilst envisioning her blowing a vein in her head stroking out. I infuriated her with my equanimity.

Still and all, I was in it to win it at this point. It didn’t matter what new humiliation they dished out. I took it all with a bland face, then went to my desk and documented it in my notebook.

She loathed my notebook, sure that I was doing exactly what I was doing. Documenting. Because it was my personal property though, she couldn’t take it from me. I had to carry all my belongings with me everywhere (company wide meetings, the bathroom, lunch) because I caught her one time going through my desk drawer....in my fucking purse!!!!! (Although it gave me great joy to write a note reading “fuck you” which I left in my backpack and jerry rigging it so I could tell if she went into it...which she did.)

I withstood it all with a brave face only breaking down once I left for the day. My attorney took a lot of sobbing phone calls during this period.

Finally the day comes that my attorney has what he needs and I can resign, better still, he advises I don’t have to give a two week notice. I come back from lunch and type up my letter with one sentence, “I resign immediately.” I take it into the HR guy (who also took part in their evil machinations) and hand it to him. His mouth forms an O shape and he half stands up from his chair as he reads it. He looks up and I give him a smile and say bye bye just as sweet as pie, walked out the door and drove home feeling mighty fine.

One month later, my lawyer and I are at the EEOC office along with the CEO, bitchboss and their lawyer so the EEOC can review my claim.

In my state, you can’t just bring a lawsuit against a company for things like harassment and retaliation. Claims must first be evaluated by the EEOC, and then if they determine you have enough grounds to file a lawsuit, they issue a Right to Sue document.

My lawyer presented my case logically and forthright detailing all the evidence. It took him 40 minutes to go through it all. Then they presented their side with allegations of my poor employment along with their “evidence” which were all the copious write ups bitchboss had written. EEOC asks about the timeline of the write ups inquiring if they before or after my claim occurred. Bitchboss wearing a smug self-satisfied smile states they were all prior to my claim as noted by the dates on each document.

EEOC Lady looks at my lawyer. My lawyer looks at me. I look at bitchboss then serenely pull out MY photocopies of the documents. Whilst handing them to EEOC lady, bitchboss barks “she’s not supposed to have those, they’re company property.” I show EEOC lady that the dates have clearly been altered by Bitchboss. (She had made copies with the dates blanked out then backdated them.)

You see whenever she wrote me up, I had to take the document personally to the CEO to put in my personnel file. Along the way though, I stopped at the copier and took copies. She never knew I was doing this.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

EEOC Lady reviews the copies then slowly sets them on the table. She didn’t say a thing for a long time, then she spoke. I can remember her words exactly to this day.

“I’ve seen a lot of ill treatment and illegal undertakings by both employees and employers, including forged or altered documents, but I have never see someone so incredibly stupid to present documents this easily disproved. Not only are employees entitled to receive and keep a copy of formal write ups but reading these ridiculous allegations, it’s obvious you are trying to manufacture your case.”

She went on to say I had a clear case for a lawsuit, and moreover I would win it. She recommended their side go in another room and determine a settlement amount to pay me immediately or risk the lawsuit.

They went to a nearby office and I could hear the lawyer dressing them down. Words I heard included “lied to me” “lied to EEOC” “presenting false documents” “broke so many laws” “figure out a number big enough to pay her so this doesn’t go to court because you will lose.”

They came back with a $50k offer which we accepted. My lawyer and I left then did a football touchdown dance in the parking lot. Looking up at the EEOC window, I could see bitchboss in the window looking miserable and crying.

She had just been fired.

That was my year 1 revenge.

I’m not a hateful person. I get mad and get over it. But... for bitchboss, I nurtured hatred and vowed to one day get revenge, so I kept tabs on her, and discovered she opened a finance marketing company after she was fired. Then I waited a year before exacting my petty delight.

For the past 18 years, I’ve executed a wonderful, soul-refreshing project. Each year I go to her website and write down all the work email addresses and phone numbers for the employees. Then I subscribe them all to “get more information” from places like online schools, online insurance companies-all those bullshit aggressive organizations that keep your contact information longer than a gypsy fucking curse while trying to sell you stuff.

The last few years, I’ve subscribed them to an email bomb service where the service takes the address and instantly subscribes it to 1000s of newsletters, request for more information feeds and other online buyers of email addresses for marketing services. I tested it with a burner email and it wreaks havoc on your inbox with thousands of emails received within seconds, and they never.... fucking... stop....

You literally have to close down the email because it can’t be salvaged. Each year when I go to collect the contact information, all the emails have been changed to new ones.

Last year my cousin took a job in the same building. I enlisted her help and she made it a point to befriend a receptionist working for bitchboss. After executing my yearly plan, my cousin went to lunch with her. The receptionist was in a foul mood and explained the entire organization was in disarray because IT had to redo all the emails again. “It keeps happening over and over and nobody can figure out why.”

She said the owner (bitchboss) has had to get her cell phone number replaced 3 times because of all the texts and phone calls she gets whenever it happens again. (sometimes bitchboss would have her phone number on the website which I duly subscribed to everything under the sun.)

The best part for me was hearing how she lost a mega client because they felt the company was in too much turmoil so often.

The thought of this keeps me warm and cozy at night, and I sleep so very, very well.

(source) story by (/u/digitalgirlie)

[bhintatta]

NOPE, I CAN’T PREDICT

This national lockdown due to Coronavirus might be bad effects on economy and majority of Indian population but for me it’s a boon. I have so much free time to think and try new things, the best thing is I’m having something equivalent to post nut clarities on daily basis.

Yes, the enlightened masturbator is being blessed with with eternal wisdom and knots of deep philosophical questions are untangling on their own. My preconceived notions, believes and opinions which are part of ‘what I am’ are being proven wrong one by one. The concepts which I was proud about discovering (realising) are now seem illogical, naïve and utter bullshit, when are tried to validate on my current experiences. I won’t deny that they seem pretty good for an average pseudo-intellectual or wanna-be philosopher in his teens who tries to show off his Sherlock level deduction skills but someone who has observed and played attention to his life can easily point out the logical fallacies lying beneath these crappy ideas.

Here are few of them-

1.   I can predict future by following pattern of past experience.

2.   People belonging to same stereotype will follow similar path/destiny.

I have put effort so this world owes me success.

Let me prove them wrong backed up by evidence.

 1        - This whole future prediction thing came from my last two years and it was extremely accurate to predict future but that future was only limited to 6-7 months. The same script was running and everything was going as expected like

. Jan-April = Grind season

. April-May = Failure and think you are loser

. Then until Oct do feelings/luv and waste time in random things but surely it levels up the game.

. Realisation and get back to work

I’ll link that “Dank prediction” document here which elaborated it further. Now this time everything or I can say anything didn’t go as pReDiCteD. The reason behind this was simple, okay not that simple but scientifically studied and explained i.e. “Human barin is evolved in such an manner to find patterns and increase our survival rate by using past experiences as an guide but in modern age, we find pattern when there are none”.

I made my theories about future and set my expectations according to them instead of doing logical analysis. That’s actually an feature of brain do save that hard grinding which is required to put in the process. Fuck this evolution, if not payed attention, it can mess up a lot of lives.

 2 – So this is pretty straight forward to explain, I had this senior in school who was smart, ambitious and from not-so-good financial background. There were too many similarities between us that it was hard to ignore them like-

A)- He went upto district level and I managed to secure 3rd position at State Science Quiz from our school

B)- We both scored 424 marks in 12th boards and had equal marks in physics.

C)- He was school topper but failed in first semester of college, I did the same.

D)- In second year he ignored college completely for an competitive exam and failed, it cost him 2 years by taking admission back with two-years juniors (with me). I did exactly same and also failed to crack the exam, somehow I was able to continue my under graduation

Now as everything in my academic carrier was similar to his and in his third year he got into IAF, I was sure that I’ll also make it big this year i.e. get into IIT.

Wasn’t it obvious to fall for this trap? But here I am defeated, feeling like shit and again at same point. Got AIR 1903, it’ll get me NIT Hamirpur at best but nope, I can’t do this. I dreamed for Lambo, now Swift won’t satisfy me. This is how I’m again proved wrong.

I was slightly better than him and faced worse conditions than him (maybe). But hey, here’s the secret- it means nothing. All that ‘world is simulation’ argument shatters for my reasoning, no one is following predefined scripts and I shouldn’t expect it to be like that either.  

 3)- Failed in 1st year because didn’t study shit,  2nd year worked hard but still there were distractions and barely cleared the  cutoff of JEE and finally 3rd year – worked my ass off for three months and felt entitled to success, some second tier NIT is best what I can get (low-key failed to achieve my goal ).

I was acting like  an entitled piece of shit and hoping because everyone called me an loser, faced some real life problems  just like movies, I was destined to win.

Nope, It only happens in Indian Idol or TV reality shows, in real world no one owes you shit. No rules are followed in this land of savages, shove those Karma and Do Hard-work and Win rules up your soy-boy dumb ass. I may sound like a bitter loser bitching about how life is unfair but believe me I’M NOT. I’m  not saying that one should give up and use these explanations as excuses, just analysing  logically it’s evident that anyone with sound critical thinking should be able to accept that there are no rules. You work hard, your chances of success increases and it’s a matter of chance how faster you get lucky to land your shot (I’m talking about lazy stupid piece of horseshit like me).

Now I’m drunk and I can’t write anything productive now I think. So bye

05-April-2020 (Coronavirus Lockdown)

Kartik K. Kalia

[startenthousand]

I don’t think I’ve talked much about what bullshit work has been this (academic) year on here so here are some cliffs notes. The very, very short version: I am trying to teach a DIFFICULT and COMPLEX subject to students who are, for numerous reasons mostly related to societal and institutional failures, not yet prepared to be successful in that subject. I am scolded by literally everyone (admins, other staff, students) for not magically making all students successful in this subject, and in the cases of a few individuals, actively undermined in my attempts to do so.

Context: 

8th year in education, 5th year teaching, 3rd year at this school. 

School population is highly heterogeneous, has much higher than average ELL & SPED populations, and is also in the district with the worst achievement gap in the nation. 

I teach physics. We have two classes - ostensibly regular and honors, but really watered-down-to-the-point-of-causing-me-pain regular and just-above regular. They have not been aligned at the district level & we have zero guidance as to what standards/learning targets to set, so we’ve been setting them on our own using our best judgement. 

We have been doing an extensive amount of curving grades/extending the grading scale/etc to the point where I honestly don’t want my name connected with some of the grades we’ve given over the past few years, because students were earning Cs in physics when they really didn’t understand or even DO anything. But there’s a lot of pressure to reduce the number of Fs - which has historically been around 25% for first semester in the “regular” class, in part because:

We are not allowed to have prereqs for courses. Students in the “regular” class range from “has not passed a single math or science class in their high school career” to “could be taking the honors class but didn’t want to do the work.” 

Students routinely move between classes as late as the 10th week of the semester. Building classroom culture is nigh-on impossible. Students are moved between courses, sections, and teachers with zero consultation of the teachers.

Discipline is all but non-existent. The district has theoretically been moving to restorative practices, which I’m all for, but in reality they’ve done away with all punitive measures and replaced them with...nothing. It is impossible to enforce any kind of boundaries because there are no consequences for misbehavior until it reaches the level of a physical altercation.

My supervising AP is incompetent (literally no one in the building respects them) and tried to fire me/bully me into quitting my first year.

Also, my mother died less than a year ago. 

A brief summary of relevant events:

Other physics teacher (OPT) wants to try a self-paced, mastery-based learning approach for the regular class for a variety of reasons. I have some reservations but also see the merits so I say sure - we’ve been struggling to adapt more traditional teaching styles to meet the needs of all of our kids.

We revert to a standard (90+ = A, 80+ = B, etc) grading scale for the honors class

The school is looking more closely at supporting our ELLs this year, and notice that many are struggling in physics. OPT and I were aware of this and had been trying to adapt on our own, but gladly start working with a coach to build in more support for those & all students.  

Rather disastrous meeting with head principle & AP wherein OPT & I try to explain our frustrations (students who are NOT READY to learn physics yet) and they somehow think we’re calling them stupid?

Students in the honors class act incredibly rude & entitled, to the point where OPT walks out of class one day, and I can’t even deliver a 5-minute lecture because they’re all talking to each other about what’s on their phones (see above re: behavior/discipline)

Students are caught cheating, sent down to the office because OPT is stressed and can’t handle the situation in a professional manner in the moment (so took the responsible course of “let’s table this conversation until I *can* deal with this). OPT is yelled at and told kids should never be sent out of the classroom.

OPT finds a new job, leaving the field of teaching entirely. Their last day is our first day back after winter break.

I inform my head of department that unless there are some significant changes to the situation, I will be leaving at the end of the year.

I am now left solely responsible for making & justifying grading decisions, etc. based on a pedagogical experiment that was OPT’s idea.

A long-term sub (LST) is hired and starts the second day back after winter break. I do not even learn LST’s name until the evening before. LST has taught physics in private schools in a different state.

Useless AP does NOTHING to facilitate transition - tells LST that OPT will have sub plans for them, but does not ask OPT to make sub plans, etc. I throw some materials at LST and scramble to keep things from being a total disaster.

Coach & I have some meetings with LST to try to figure out what changes to make for second semester. LST does not want to collaborate on anything, in spite of district requirements that we do so for shared courses. LST does not want to make any adjustments to their teaching style to better meet the needs of our kids or at least ease the transition. Kids from LST’s sections are coming to me and complaining about their teaching.

Students BLOW UP AT ME about course policies that have been in the syllabus from day one and have been discussed multiple times throughout the semester. Failure to plan on your part does not constitute and emergency on my part.

Useless AP doesn’t make decisions about schedule changes to the point where I’m still not 100% which/how many sections of which courses I’m teaching and the semester starts in two days.

[TW: mental health, suicide, etc]

I’m a mess. I am overwhelmed and under-supported and I don’t know what to do. Dragging myself into the building is a victory most days. I’m not eating well and sleeping too much. I’m having suicide ideation, which I’ve NEVER had before in my life. I always thought it would be more...depressed, but it’s much more frantic than that - everything is a constant onslaught and it’s unending and I want to violently destroy SOMETHING but I’d feel guilty if I destroyed something external and at least if I destroyed myself I wouldn’t be around to feel the guilt later.

I love my kids and I believe so strongly in what I’m trying to do but I can’t do it under these conditions because NOBODY could do it under these conditions and it’s poisoning everything and I don’t know if I need to leave the district or leave teaching altogether but I don’t want to do either of those things because being a teacher is My Identity and I don’t know who I am if I’m not doing this? I want to keep doing this but like...actually be able to do it. I’m at the point where I feel like I don’t even know what “good teaching” is or looks like because apparently everything I do is insufficient. I honestly just want to hand in a note tomorrow that says “everybody gets a C, I’m out” screw two week’s notice because I can’t handle this.

Meanwhile my therapist’s hours have changed so I’m not going to be able to see her as much and so generally things are just swell. 

[phantomwrites]

Basement Dweller 1: Romance in Film

(Author’s note: this character is purely fiction. I am writing from his perspective. In no way do the views and opinions of this character represent my own)

           Sometimes it feels like I’ll be stuck here forever. Actually, most of the time it does. This basement, these walls, my life (if one could call it that), forever I’ll be here. Alone.

           I can admit not every day feels like this (I am known to be occasionally hopeful), but when my mind is at its most clear, the darkest thoughts set in. This clarity is often brought on by something that reminds me of my own current state in the universe.

           Now I’m sure you’re wondering what possibly could have happened today that sent me spiraling into the depth of my own existence, and no, it was not some intense emotional experience with twists and turns at every corner. It was a movie. A stupid, horrible movie to be exact. I knew I shouldn’t have watched it (these types of movies always make me feel this way), but I thought I’d grown stronger! I won’t tell you what movie, one: because I’m embarrassed such an awful piece of cinema could have such a profound effect on me, and two: because they’re all the same. This movie stars an “average guy” (aka an actor who’s better looking than 95% of the population). He’s no different than you or I. His life sucks, his job sucks, his friend kinda sucks, everything just fucking sucks. Oh, and somehow despite his chronic averageness, he’s “different”. Something has made this fella see how miserable his life is. He wants a way out. He needs a way out. Then out of nowhere, She comes into his life. She’s perfect for him! It’s amazing for a little until it’s not and then it’s amazing again. Love hath prevailed against all else. Our hero is finally happy. The end.

A dangerous piece of cinema if you ask me! Why must they all be like this? In all these movies romance is the only conceivable way to get out of a desperately miserable life. Key to happiness = falling in love. That’s it. That’s the only way.  

           And this is why I don’t watch stupid romance movies, or the even worse the romantic comedy. They’re all complete bullshit. They offer nothing to someone like me. I’m starting to realize nothing does. No movies, no songs, books, tv shows, or even a little poem. Nothing offers me solace…

           But that’s not the whole reason for my volatile emotions today. It’s just that I’m realizing these movies perpetuate a culture that I have never been able to integrate myself into. A culture that’s left me like this. Alone, desperate, and clinging to a dream that feels father away as time moves forward. Let me try and make this a little clearer: these movies create an image of what romance should look like that’s simple impossible to achieve for a guy like me. They tell women the best guy is the most confident charming fella out there. The kind of guy that will make them feel oh so special without having to do any work. Women these days are so fucking entitled, it drives me crazy! It’s like all us guys have to be Mr. Big Shot Smooth Talker, or we’re not even given a chance. Not even for a second.

           I will say this: as much as women-kind have perpetuated my own lonely existence, these concept in film applies to them too (dare I say even more so?). Women too get their own generalized portrait painted of what they’re supposed to be. Dainty, supportive, passive. I mean, have you seen some of the chicks in these movies? They suck! The issue is though, they buy into what we’re supposed to be way more than we do. Which, by default, leaves me alone and sad, as I have been for so long now. And how do I climb out of this deep dark abyss? Well, according to the movies (and the songs, books, tv shows, and whatever the hell else), I should simply just fall in love. Maybe with myself (like that’s even possible), but really with another person. Sounds easy enough.

Who can blame this prevailing philosophy? I’ll be the first to admit that the problem of my loneliness could be solved if I too could find that person to love me fully. My lover and I could watch every stupid fucking Lifetime out there and revel in the joy of love knowing it’ll never be an issue again. Just like those two on the big screen.

But these are just dreams. Visions, I hope…

Till Next Time

[nicskoyoga]

That girl needs therapy...

I’m excited to embark on a new journey, with a therapist I’m expecting to spend quite a lot of time with. Because I really want to? I guess so, yeah. Sick to death of experiencing my own let-downs. :(

Who cares? No-one REALLY 

... not enough to get up off their arse and find out exactly what needs to be done. 

Only those who’ve had to walk the path themselves can empathize completely. And actually I don’t know if I know anyone who has been through it all, and would be available to hold my hand. Why? Cos that’s not their vocation, and they’re not my mother, lover or dearest friend. 

Gratitude without showing it

So completely grateful for the advice I’ve been given though....

Don’t get me wrong. It’s just so difficult to take advice though isn’t it? 

Some people just learn in different ways. Some of us have to have our hand held, and...

Why? Because we’re a different kind of addict to our problems. 

We’re the kind that hasn’t got the get-go to behold true deep reliable faith in ourselves. We gotta see it, have it agreed, and confirmed 1million times over, cos...

We’re too damn stuck to be able unspell ourselves from our own stupid miseries.

Heck I’m still I’m happy I’m me though!!! Wouldn’t wanna be the lot of ya, ha ha ha ha. 

That’s probably my worst personality trait failing showing bright and true as it is there for ya for free, go on, hate on me. But ... I do believe I think I’m better, and yet I know I’m bloody useless too. And you’re amazing and better than me in too many shameful ways (yawn. but yet AWFUL!!!!) 

So yeah... I know stuff. I’ve experienced changes. I could do with just a little bit more

Now... I know I’m getting all ahead of myself; already getting so super excited that I may be able to really enjoy my life deeply soon when,

I’ve had literally 1 session of therapy so obviously the help hasn’t yet begun really.... And yet, 

I do believe a change is on the horizon.

This year has been pretty damn challenging in terms of managing (or not) my mental health problems. BUT it’s getting easier, I feel less sick, literally feel like good food is edible again. I have less headaches and anxiety attacks and my depressive states are gradually reducing.

Why do I tell this story?

Imagining that few to no people will read me. Because it’s me truthfully now. It’s what I am happy to help explain, and share. 

God I try to let people know,

but it’s so damn depressing I don’t want to burden, 

I just want to explain a little... 

so they can understand;

why I am unable to tell them what is good with my life 

and why I don’t want to join in anymore, 

why I don’t want to actively live my life... 

Because things aren’t in place in my life, 

and every time I try to get on track, I get a knockback again before long, in the shape of stupid, F**king, ever-reappearing mental health shite.

Can you tell I’m a little bit angry about it? 

I’m hugely ashamed about it, 

...that I keep letting myself and others down, but not quite enough to pull my finger out, hey. Yep ... loser, and knows it. The ramblings of a suicidal you’d think? Nope I can’t even be bothered to think my life is worth ending, I’d rather suffer in knowing it’s wasted.

I used to, and still kind of do believe that 

therapy is only really worthy of those who are suicidal. (WRONG)

Any of you who have ever encountered the questions by a health professional asking you if you are suicidal or have ever had suicical thoughts may know what I mean. 

I mean... why are you asking me like it’s a determinator of how awful my life is, are you telling me to

get to that point before I’m ready to get help? Heck what the hell! 

Obviously I know it’s about a duty of care. But my god, there’s gotta be some truth in giving those who are waiving the white flag at the grim reaper a red flag up to the top of the “that girl needs therapy” list

Money health talks

Do you know I managed to fail a health assessment for Employment Support Allowance, I was going to challenge it, yet I read the report and the statements were true. 

And yet here I am 6 months later. Same situ, off job seekers.  Struggling to keep working. I may as well take another bloody corporate job, at least I get better pay and better hours, cos my extra time and space right now doesn’t appear to be doing the trick

Sack me again, let me drain the corporations and get closer to that more important suicidal feelin’, yeah!!?

That trick I thought I had up my sleeve of becoming a yoga teacher would help me end of. 

NOPE. Girl still needs therapy. 

Of course I don’t have a clear strategy, I’ve been too poorly to address the essentials. Shame on me. 

So where’s my support? My family find ways to help me hugely but it’s not easy, it’s not without discomfort and it’s certainly doesn’t feel like taking liberties living in luxury.  It’s not possible for me to drain my parents retirement on which they’re living.

 The system isn’t supporting me, and I am struggling to support myself. It’s sick. 

So now a motivation for me to earn money is for me to afford my therapy. How nuts is that. 

I choose a better present and a future as my priority. I’m offered to pay less but as a professional in a similar field I don’t wish to exploit this generosity. It’s empowering to know it’s possible, yet whilst I set my priorities on my basic needs and this, 

How  dare I lower her rates to charity level, that’s not on. Not unless I’ve succumbed to the addictions of life, materialism, capitalism, being unable to be in solitude or celebrate at low - zero expense

... then that’s my problem as far as I am concerned and should it happen, then I’ll be happy to say I’m sorry I am asking to take advantage of your generosity.

Money talks

My belief is that our economic balance is total trash, 

Equality in life is at the essence of my beliefs,

Hence why I fall victim to believing that you are entitled to earn what your clients earn, if they value you, they will share the value of their time with you for the value of your time. 

What they fail to see more often than not, is that the value of my time is not the time in which they have me in a room, or the spare minutes around or messages exchanged. Working as a yoga instructor, or fitness instructor is so poorly valued, 

We spend so much time if we are doing a good proper job in keeping things afloat. 

IE let’s example a building contractor. Why do you pay them so much? Well of course they have to go and 

source the materials and put a premium on them no doubt, 

and they have to do the plans 

and my god may they have to market themselves? 

Or pay for tools (no I don’t just need mats) 

Let’s talk about my laptop which I wouldn’t have got honestly unless for work, 

for the phone which is on it’s arse which needs replacing to enable me to pitch for more work, 

what about the photo and video editing software, mic, camera etc that would all help me to keep going along this track so I can create content and stuff. 

God I’ve even got to pay for word processor these days, 

my insurances. 

Do you know what I’d 100% ditch my car if it wasn’t for work so 

How much do you spend on your car cos you’re income allows? 

RANT OVER(ish) ... at the fear of sounding like a self-entitled arsehole, ha. But you see where I am going with this. These are not just set up costs, they’re business costs which will need attention over time, for an exchange of services = business 

Even if it’s not a tangible asset, it’s a lifestyle choice like a car that actually you might walk away with lifelong lifestyle value against rather than depreciating bullshit.

There is business costs you wouldn’t consider, and you have lifestyle expectations that you demand of your employment, so because you think that it’s a choice or privilege for someone to pursue their vocation and it’s their responsibility or problem, and nothing of your concern that they have not found the way to achieve their income or funding without asking for reasonable rates of pay that reflect your own salaried hourly rate.  Where do you expect business funding to come from? - Those who advantage from the business!

That’s why it’s so hard

Because, 

Conflicting with this I also believe that yoga should not have this prestige image, or something of aspirational, it should be accessible to the masses ... god it’s within us so let me teach you how to practice yourself for free

My words are coming to an end. Terrible ramblings, I don’t have the patience right now to produce some quality content to share, hence why I don’t mind no-one it reading now. But maybe in time to come it may be seen and understood as a backstory. Shedding whatever lights I felt at the time, maybe changed, hopefully understood in the future with less conflict.

I would like to end this by offering my deepest apologies for my untruths, lies, letdowns, and would like to offer my deepest gratitude to those who read, who help, and who have the heart to care without judgement that this girl who needs therapy may always but has faith she will be absolutely amazing soon.

Almost THE END

And the last depressive note, just because hey, I am, and why not after being vocal on it. 

Sleeping tablets.. I’ve had over my dose tonight, again. and look at the energy exuding from me. 

Tomorrow no doubt I’ll be wiped and find my day tiresome needing naps or if I was in a office I’d be sitting pretending to do some mundane tasks extremely slowly (very rewarding). 

So well done, thanks for the help there NHS / Benefits system. Sort the shit out. 

Time out. 

And next up... when is it ok to start telling people I am letting them down because I am too depressed and anxious? 

.............................................THE END

[whitlockienterprisespresents]

I kinda hated ‘The Last Jedi’

I know a lot of people have said as much already, and normally I avoid negativity on this blog. But I saw it a couple of weeks ago and it’s still bothering me. I gotta purge. Spoilers, obviously:

Look, the whole scene with the bombers and everything was objectively cool action (and the stuff with Paige and her eventual death was top-notch, I felt the weight of that), but basic entertainment aside, it was dumb as Hell. Why would you have those insanely slow-moving bombers, with their incredibly unsafe and idiotic set-up, and not even any shields to compensate? Why wouldn’t you get something with a nice compact missile that you can fire at range? How did they even get their bombers over to the Dreadnought before the Dreadnought deployed fighters to shoot the bombers down? There’s no element of surprise when your ships move at a fucking snail’s pace. Who cares if you took out the Dreadnought’s exterior guns when they have individual fighters to blast you with anyway? How were those slow as fuck bombers supposed to get away back to the main fleet after dropping their payload? Everything about the Resistance battle plan here was moronic, and the First Order’s failure to stop them anyway was illogical.

Normally, battle tactics wouldn’t bother me so much, but they used the Pyrrhic victory with the bombers as a reason to get Poe demoted. He obviously did not formulate that entire basic-ass battle strategy on his own, so the Resistance leadership should be slapping and demoting themselves for that, not blaming the Commander who flew the mission. Poe not calling off the attempt after he took just sliiightly longer to take out the Dreadnought’s surface cannons doesn’t actually change the fact that the battle plan was idiotic to start with. If they had retreated when Leia said, and I were the First Order, I’d have sent out fighters (or just used the cannons on one of the other ships) to blast those slow-ass bombers outta the sky anyway. They were super slow, guys. You can’t just ‘oops, abort’ those back to the fleet in an instant. The bombers were sitting ducks, essentially on a suicide run to start with. That ain’t Poe’s fault, that’s the entire Resistance’s dumbfuck fault. The fact that he ignored orders is still on him, but when the whole situation is so transparently manufactured for idiotic drama, that kinda steps on the message.

Leia engaging in the ancient and odious trope of ‘woman slaps man to express her distaste for his masculine antics’ is gross. She’s a fucking General, it makes her look bad to be ineffectually slapping faces. Delete this.

I totally expected to hate Poe in ‘The Force Awakens’ coz I thought he’d be the usual cliche insufferable ‘cocky hotshot pilot’. I was delighted when he was competent without being an egotistical wanker about it. The shoddy attempt to tell some half-assed ‘toxic masculinity’ story by making him into a hothead in this movie is basically character assassination (not to mention kinda racist to play that ‘hothead Latino’ cliche?), and I am not here for it.

Leia Force-floating her way back to the ship was really embarrassing. Also, having never had her use the Force so overtly in the past, something as significant as this felt out-of-the-blue. Her prior Force use has mostly been passive connection to others over vast distances, going from that to ‘oh yeah also I’ma Mary Poppins through space’ was a lot to swallow. But my main problem was just that it looked stupid. For all its flaws, this movie was mainly very visually impressive, and this was a low moment.

Where are all the other pilots we met in ‘The Force Awakens’? Are they dead? Is every side character we met just unceremoniously dead?

Also do not approve of the implicit suggestion that Poe doesn’t respect Holdo on sight (’not what I expected’) despite knowing of her credentials in past engagements. How does he not know this person who is high up on the Resistance roster, anyway? She’s a Vice-Admiral, and there’s not that many Resistance folks anyway, at least not on these few ships. Having a not-previously-sexist character respond poorly to new (specifically female) leadership just to service the aforementioned half-assed toxic masculinity plot is some bullshit. I fucking love dismantling toxic masculinity, don’t get me wrong, but they did it fucking badly here.

P.s. why is there a guy still on the med ship when it gets destroyed? He didn’t need to be there to steer it or anything, it was out of fuel and floating dead anyway. Why did they not fully evacuate. Why.

Look. Holdo was right to NOT tell Poe what’s going on just because he demanded to know, he is not actually entitled to the information. However, there is absolutely no good reason presented as to why she wouldn’t tell THE WHOLE FLEET what her plan was; when Leia says she was more interested in ‘keeping the light alive than in looking like a hero’, that’s a nice cushy sentiment, but you know how you keep the light alive? Hope. Keeping up morale. The Resistance spends almost the entire film just...flying...running out of fuel...nothing happening for hours...there’s really no sensible reason for Holdo NOT to let everyone know that there is a plan, there is hope, so hang in there. Poe is wrong to try and mutiny, obviously, but there is no logical plot reason for the narrative pushing him to that point. It’s not about whether or not Holdo capitulates to the aggressive demands of some guy, it’s about whether or not she keeps up morale by letting her own people know they’re not actually doomed. I don’t blame her for this as a character, I blame the shitty writing that is too busy trying to tell that aforementioned half-assed toxic masculinity plot. If your characters are all behaving illogically to service it, you’re not making much of a point. This shit was weak, and it reflected poorly on the characterisation of everyone involved.

Holdo and Leia talking about how they totally like Poe and whatever also weakens this whole plot. If your toxic-masculinity narrative ends with the women who have been wronged agreeing that they like the dude anyway (despite the fact that he committed treason?), you probably did it wrong. Also, they don’t know it yet, but Poe’s actions also get almost the entire Resistance wiped out due to exposing their escape plan, so, like. Cool guy. Yeah, I like him too. Coulda avoided all of this with some incredibly normal and expected level of information-sharing, but whatever. Poe is absolved and the attempted narrative thereby rendered useless. 

Holdo’s sacrifice, taking out the First Order ships? That shit was awesome, I won’t lie. Let the record show that Holdo was great, even if the story she was stuck in wasn’t. One complaint: what the fuck with this ‘Godspeed, rebels’ line? It sticks out like dog’s balls and it sucks. Stop trying to make ‘Godspeed, rebels’ a thing.

 Two complaints, actually: bad editing makes it seem like Holdo sat around for AGES before she enacted this plan, and that makes it seem like the First Order should have shot ALL of the transports well before she got the job done. Editing fucking fail.

MEANWHILE, Finn. Why is he barely in the movie? Why is he stuck in an asinine subplot that has no ultimate impact on the plot of the film whatsoever? Bullshit. One of the best, strongest, most dynamic characters from TFA, and they waste him on some pointless idiocy that does absolutely nothing with his character template. Nothing. Coulda replaced Finn with anyone in this subplot. Better yet, replace the SUBPLOT.

If Finn and Rose could jump ship easy-peasy like that, why did the Resistance not have most of their people jump ship in the same way? They coulda dispersed all over the place and regrouped later, or at least sent out messengers to get help (or...runners...for fuel?) instead of keeping everyone in the same place to be shot at by the idiotic First Order (who could have done about a trillion other things besides just flying after some ships for eighteen straight hours. Why does no one in this movie know how to plan anything?). Kinda kills the non-existent suspense of having the Resistance stuck and running outta fuel, huh?

Rose deserved better than this useless subplot where her chief function is to exposition-dump about Canto Bight.

Just-so-happening to get locked in the same cell with a guy who has exactly the skills you’re looking for is an old cliche, not a good one, but it feels extra weak and convenient here because it’s so late in the film and also, ultimately, so pointless. So fucking pointless.

When Finn and Rose saw those racing animals, I literally sighed in frustration, because it was so obvious where the plot was gonna go. Most of the action of this movie was still fun to watch even when it was stupid. This was not one of those times.

Trashing Canto Bight is still pointless, and mostly just makes me concerned for the children minding the animals, and for the animals themselves. All the rich war profiteers will still go on, they’ll just party somewhere else for a bit while reconstruction is happening. They don’t fucking care. The poor downtrodden children, however, will be punished, and the animals will either be killed or returned to the race track, they didn’t get away, they were just right there on the hill. Finn and Rose didn’t achieve anything triumphant here, they just got the already-suffering into a worse situation. Nice job breaking it, heroes. Did I mention this was pointless? Also, anvilicious. 

Why even bother bringing Phasma back when you’re just gonna dispose of her after the briefest fight ever. TFA did a bad job of making her seem like she existed for a reason anyway, but this just hung a lantern on it. Stupid convenient pointless fight/death scene is stupid, convenient, and pointless. 

(on the subject of pointless characters: why does Maz Kanata exist? TFA at least gave her something to do, but it all just feels like Lupita Nyong’o and Gwendoline Christie were a big deal when TFA was made so they made characters for them and went ‘eh, we’ll find an actual purpose for them later’, but then they...didn’t. It’s a waste of talent, and egregious, too. You know who does exist for a reason, and yet both this film and TFA did fucking NOTHING with her? Leia. I can’t believe they wasted her so much. There are so many wasted characters in this film, and the fact that most of them are the female characters does not escape my scrutiny)

 Hux is also mostly useless, for the record. The narrative gives him more attention than he's due, considering he's basically just 'random First Order commander', he doesn't have more personality than that. I don't really require more characterisation for my neo-Nazi villains anyway, but when the character framing keeps acting like the dude matters, it gets conspicuous.  

 YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN THIS??? A spy in the Resistance. The only logical reason for Holdo to NOT tell her own people that they had an escape plan would have been if there was a spy in the fleet (say, someone who could be broadcasting the signal that the First Order was tracking...); a spy in the fleet is also a good way to create some actual tension and, um, narrative, instead of the fleet just doing that flying-in-a-line-for-a-whole-day thing with the illogical Poe/Holdo drama the only complication. You can still keep the Poe/Holdo stuff! Holdo's secrecy just makes sense now! It doesn't even require that Poe not know there's a spy - he could just as easily suspect that Holdo IS the spy, or at least feel that she's not trying hard enough to find out who is and is just consigning everyone to death instead of going on a witch-hunt, there's plenty of potential for different ways to play that without losing the core story (and while also, maybe, improving it...). But most importantly: we could keep Finn ON THE FUCKING SHIP INSTEAD OF OFF HAVING A RANDO POINTLESS DRAMA. Finn, as a former Stormtrooper, would be a prime suspect for a spy in the eyes of plenty of people! People get irrational under pressure! Finn's past making people mistreat him now would be a solid way for his actual characterisation to be part of his narrative, plus opens a lot of avenues for telling worthwhile socio-political narratives! Concern for Finn's safety and the desire to prove his innocence enhances Poe's story and motivation too! Rose can easily be made part of that narrative and can go on a character journey instead of being physically transplanted places just to provide exposition and jewellery! Having two narrative threads (Rey, and Poe/Finn combined, instead of Rey, Poe, and Finn) helps streamline the storytelling AND frees up time to actual explore those narratives thoroughly instead of wasting time on useless stuff and axing important plot developments to make it all fit! I COULD GO ON LIKE THIS FOREVER!!!

I have seen a lot of people insisting that the only reason Rose professing her love for Finn ‘comes out of nowhere’ is because Rose wasn’t presented like a sex object so audiences didn’t think of her that way, but, guys, no. It came out of nowhere because the two characters just had a buddy adventure over the course of a day and now suddenly Rose is in love? After a day? Her sister died, she went on an adventure, and now she loves this guy she just met. If they didn’t try to call it a romance thing (at least not yet! I got no problem with them developing a relationship after, y’know, more than a day!), it would have worked better; she can still stop him from sacrificing himself because she cares for him as a PERSON, not as a prospective partner. We need more of those narratives, tbh, and we need more young pretty female characters who don’t spontaneously develop romance subplots just by existing. 

SPEAKING OF WHICH, Rey. Rey’s story was so consumed with Kylo Ren, I keep forgetting she was there. How did the other great break-out character from TFA get co-opted into a vehicle for the Kylo Ren sob-story? Rey barely gets her own story here, it’s all really about either Kylo, or Luke. Female protagonist reduced to prop in men’s story. Whoopdi-fucking-doodah. 

 Look. I know Mark Hamill was very vocal about how much he disapproved of literally everything written for Luke in this film. He was right, too: it's fucking OOC garbage. BUT credit where it's due: the guy is still fucking delightful. I love bitter hermit Luke, but I'm giving all the credit to Mark Hamill for doing a fantastic job with the material he hated so much (plenty of that bitterness drawn from a real place, methinks), zero credit for the writing because the writing is, indeed, moronic. It's not that I don't believe Luke could become disenfranchised after what happened at his Jedi training temple: I can't buy that he'd end up in that situation in the first place. Luke Skywalker, who famously ditched his lightsabre in front of his Actual War Criminal father, Darth Vader, and saved the day by compassionately appealing to the goodness he solemnly believed could still be found in the old man despite all the genocidal evidence to the contrary? That Luke Skywalker is not gonna look at his young currently-innocent-of-any-crimes nephew and go 'shit, you've got evil in your heart' and decide to maybe just kill the lad in his sleep. I don't even buy that 'for a second'. Dude wouldn't slice a confirmed war criminal, guys. And then even after the massacre at the temple and all, you're telling me Luke Skywalker wouldn't try to rescue his own nephew from the clutches of evil? That he wouldn't try to fix his mistake? That he'd just shrug his shoulders and mooch off and hide while his nephew got to genocidin' just like gramps used to do?? Come on guys. You might as well retroactively kill Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi and have it over with.

 Why does Luke milk a beast. Why did this happen in front of my eyes.

 They don't spend nearly enough time on Rey's interactions with Luke, it makes her 'lessons' with him feel perfunctory, and their conflicts forced. Also, Rey never gets her third lesson that Luke promised, but rather than it feeling like she just left before she could finish (as with Luke on Dagobah), it feels more like they just forgot to tie that off. As I understand, there's a whole deleted scene/sequence involving the third lesson, so it wasn't deliberately omitted, they just didn't bother to cover the editing mistake. Fuck y'all. You kept the bullshit Canto Bight animal-race, but this...

 Rey's mirror-vision thing was super boring because it was so predictable. Why did it go for so long anyway.

 I never want to see Kylo Ren's nipples again. I can't believe they shamelessly subjected the audience to this obvious bait. He's a genocidal maniac, guys. He's a mass murderer. You cannot make fetch happen with him, and it's disgusting that you're trying.

 Related: I normally barely notice/care about costuming, but there were several faux pas in this film and I was irritated. Kylo Ren's pants were one. Rey's outfits being sleeveless but thick on the shoulders was two, it made it look like she was cold and uncomfortable and walking around with her shoulders up around her ears the whole time and it made ME really uncomfortable to look at her. Three is the older women's outfits, Leia's but especially Holdo's: they're Resistance leaders, why do they look like some idiot costumer prioritised them looking like classy older women over them wearing functional practical outfits? Holdo's dress is great, objectively speaking, but in context she looks several degrees overdressed. Did she not have time to ditch the formal gown when she got called in for emergency Resistance-ing? I have seen it suggested that the outfit is supposed to be part of the whole Poe-not-trusting-her-to-know-what-she's-doing thing, and if that is indeed what they intended, it's triple stupid.

 Kylo Ren's sob story is not really a sob story. Yeah, even if your uncle was standing over your bed holding a lightsabre, that's a rough deal but it doesn't entitle you to SLAUGHTER YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS AND RUN OFF TO JOIN THE NEO-NAZIS. What the actual fuck. Why did we spend so much time on trying to pretend Kylo is sympathetic. I mean, he was also supposed to already be being seduced into evil, that's what Luke saw that made him wanna kill 'im up, so. If they wanted us to sympathise with Kylo, maybe they should AT LEAST have focused on what it was that Snoke was using to seduce him in the first place, explain what gave him the in (as deeply, wildly flawed as the prequel trilogy was, it at least did a thorough job of exploring the how-did-it-come-to-this for Anakin). I mean - same as with Anakin - explaining why someone decides that genocide and dictatorships are the way to go does not make it acceptable, and Kylo Ren would still be a whiny little dickhead in need of a nice beheading, but if they explained his susceptibility to Snoke's logic that would at least be character building. Pretending the whole training temple massacre was 1. Luke's fault, and 2. a sympathetic backstory is pretty grotesque. Great way to make it seem like a certain writer-director thinks that the neo-Nazi sith is actually an ok dude, though...

 On which note: Kylo's 'justification' for killing his own father is also, uh, not justification. Just vague-ing about 'destroying the past' does not an explanation make; maybe if we had some of that aforementioned backstory on what made Kylo so susceptible to corruption, that could also have been used to make this bullshit excuse sound slightly less bullshit? As above, it'd still be bullshit anyway, but at least it wouldn't be faking being deep quite so hard. I'm a bit embarrassed by how stupid this was. The idea that any of Kylo's 'justifying' for any of his murderous actions is convincing to Rey is an insult to her intelligence as well as the audience's.

 Remember at the start of the movie, when Kylo smashes his wannabe-Vader mask? I frowned at it then, not realising how much I was gonna end up frowning about it later: Kylo Ren sucks and has always sucked, but in TFA we had this widely-applauded portrayal of the new Big Bad being an entitled white manbaby, and everyone was talking about how great that was as a reflection of modern society's issues, etc. Smashing his Vader-mask in the elevator was the closest moment this film had to acknowledging the tantrums Kylo threw in TFA, which were simultaneously hilarious and disturbing as they did indeed reflect that kind of childish yet violent acting-out you see with entitles young white men these days. Thing is, where Kylo of TFA chucked tantrums and idolised his former-Nazi grandfather and tried to make himself in gramps' image, this movie is subtly ditching those less-than-flattering details. Kylo smashes his Vader-mask, and while Snoke at various points goes on about his potential to be 'a new Vader', Kylo himself expresses no further desire to follow in Vader's footsteps. Smashing the mask has symbolically severed him from that aim, and thus, from one of the most prominent aspects of his neo-Nazi-modelled characterisation. It's almost like a certain writer-director wants to make the character more sympathetic by giving him a 'sad backstory' and distancing him from his neo-Nazi dreams...

 Speaking of ditching plot though, there are two incredibly egregious examples here: Snoke, and Rey's parents. As much as Snoke was a dud of a character who I definitely did not care about or enjoy, and as much as disposing of him is a surprise that opens up a lot of potential for new and different storytelling, the fact that he was apparently some colossal Big Bad who appeared out of nowhere with no explanation and then was treated like a big deal only to get killed off halfway through is...weak. It doesn't seem clever, it seems like they should have just not invented him in the first place if they weren't actually gonna do anything with him. We didn't have to waste time on this.

 The 'reveal' that Rey's parents were 'nothing' is even worse, tbh. They made such a big deal out of the identity of her parents, in this film and in TFA, and TFA is retroactively weakened as a film every time TLJ ditches one of the plot threads or characters that TFA introduced, because it renders swathes of the content of TFA pointless. Not content to just be full of pointlessness yourself, huh TLJ? Gotta fuck up your predecessor too so that you don't feel lonely? I have seen it argued that Rey not having some fancy pedigree and 'coming from nothing' like a normal person instead of doing the Secret Princess trope is a great move, and I agree with that in theory, but as presented in this film? Hell no. Sure, it woulda been a huge predictable cliché if she was secretly Luke's daughter or something, and the entire universe expected that sort of a reveal so there wouldn't have been much point pretending it was a secret, but this 'reveal' feels less like a cool twist-with-commentary and more like a certain writer-director going for cheap drama points by subverting expectation for no other reason than to be shocking. This feels more like laughing in the audience's face for the fact that they FOOLISHLY expected that a built-up mystery would actually deliver a surprise. Subverting audience expectation is only clever if you have an original twist; just going 'ha! You thought there was something there but there was nothing!' is not clever, it just means the writer-director wasn't smart enough to actually find something to do with the plot set-up he was handed after the previous film. Considering how much he fucked up the characterisation of literally everyone and filled this movie with meaninglessness and plot holes, maybe that's not surprising either...

 You know what would have been surprising? Kylo ACTUALLY SWITCHING SIDES. I was so ready for them to throw us a REAL curveball by having him actually turn, and have to spend the rest of this movie and however much of the next one trying to make amends and work through all the colossal awfulness that would bring up for everyone (before, ultimately, dying a nice redemptive-sacrificial death, because the genocidal maniac is NOT allowed to live happily ever after). That woulda taken some real guts though, right, and we're all about cheap meaningless thrills that don't ultimately change anything, here.

 Why were there so many Praetorian Guard guys. I swear Kylo and Rey fought all of them twice in the course of that battle. Who choreographed this editing nightmare?

 Remember, a thousand words ago, when I started off by criticising the idiotic battle plans of the Resistance? Same goes for this useless assault they launch against the First Order cannon on Crait. Lets run these rust-buckets straight at all their guns and things, even though we've only got thirteen of them and nothing to do but drive straight at our enemies guns! Visually exciting, but completely devoid of intelligent design. Using this second DUMBASS BATTLE PLAN WHICH INEXPLICABLY GOES WRONG as a trite-neat way to show how Poe 'learned this vital lesson about when to retreat to fight again another day' is kinda undercut by the fact that the Resistance is still sending people out to die stupidly in suicide runs, so...maybe they still haven't learned the real lesson here, the one about ACTUALLY PLANNING. You wouldn't have to worry so much about your 'dead heroes' if you made sensible strategic decisions in the first place. Pretty weird, that.

 Force-projection Luke was great, but this seems like it's supposed to be demonstrating some character arc for him when actually it's just repeating his whole passive-resistance thing from the original trilogy, just in a less significant way; as a projection, he's not actually endangered as he was with Vader, so it's less of a statement and more of an '...oh yeah I literally can't fight you anyway, peace out I'm dead now regardless'. Like most things in this film, it's only surface-level cool, as soon as you engage thought processes it becomes as empty as a Jedi cloak in the wind...

 Rey and Poe apparently meeting for the first time at the end of the movie was Hella jarring. They may not have met on-screen in TFA, but they were on the Resistance base at the same time, both personally attached to Finn, etc. We coulda just assumed they had met at some point before Rey left. This awkward meeting was awkward and also hung a big ol' lantern on the fact that our characters all got split off for completely different adventures in this movie instead of doing anything together, like, pretty much at all. Nice.

 Why does this film end so many times. At first I thought it was gonna end after the space battle, and then there was this whole extra action scene on Crait and I was like 'that's weird, why would you add an extra small action piece AFTER your big climactic space battle?', then I thought it was gonna end on a cliffhanger with Luke stepping up to confront the First Order alone (they had this shot from behind, showing the fire around him and the First Order arrayed out across the horizon, and the music was swelling and it would have been a PERFECT cut to credits, but then it cut to Poe's face instead and I was like 'whaaatt, momentum of final shot destroyed!'). Then I thought they were gonna end after everyone got away, but THEN there was that useless end scene of the kids back on Canto Bight being like, sooo filled with Resistance Feelings, and it was fucking dumb. Why would you include such a weak finisher when you had at least three solid final moments already? Honestly I think there were several other almost-ends in there that I'm forgetting now (like maybe also right before the fight on Crait started? I dunno). It was a mercy when they finally picked an ending, but it was the worst ending they had at their disposal.

 Am I finished purging now? Probably not. I'll probably think of a bunch of other things after I post this, plus I see a lot of dumb posts and articles defending various aspects of the film, some of which I can shrug off as differences of opinion, and some of which stick in my head for being nonsense to rival the film itself. For every whiny neckbeard out there complaining about diversity and 'woman heroes', there's a 'progressive' writer who defends the decisions in this movie for seemingly no other reason than because it makes the neckbeards upset, and that's just annoying. You can admit that the movie sucked without that meaning that the misogynists were right, the two options are mutually exclusive, and you lend credence to all the problematic crap this movie pulled if you refuse to admit its flaws. But whatever. It wasn't the worst film I ever saw. It was mostly irritating because of how much potential it had, if someone had just bothered to do a proper critical edit of the script and maybe think about telling cohesive stories with it and maintaining characterisation across the franchise, etc. Maybe the third film of the trilogy will fix some of the shit from this film, but the fact will remain, it shouldn't have to. Trying to patch up the holes made by the previous film should not be part of the third film's job; this movie shoulda just been solid to start with. A lot of what was bad about it is structurally unsound anyway, and a third film won't change that. This movie was a dud. A stupid, largely pointless dud. Delete this.

[ataehone]

This actually matches a lot of my opinions on Mass Effect. The first game was experimental in a ton of ways, clearly built on the framework of KotOR and lessons learned with it, but divested of the Star Wars brand and associated luggage it could do something with itself, and so it did.

It became the ultimate tribute to 1980s sci-fi B-movies, from the shitty film grain filter and low-cost sets (srsly, half the game's sets are the same prefab minimalist Star Trek Hallway in various states of disrepair or bare concrete eith optional overgrowth) to the rubber forehead aliens (ME1's only inhuman-shaped aliens were the Keepers) to the droning pulses of the technowave soundtrack that Jack Wall did an absolute miracle with.

And when Mass Effect 2 happened, we expected More Of The Same But Better, but instead we got maybe twenty minutes of screen time of the core plot, most of which was third grade schoolkid stupid, and exty hours worth of sidequests. If ME1 was a cult classic 1980s flick, ME2 was the faux-edgy late nineties TV series revival: cold neon on black and gray replaced by bright watercolors, all the new aliens spiky abominations but equally rubber suit style, the original plot paid lip service in favor of a bunch of quirky characters bring quirky together. Granted, most of them were good, but those were case-of-the-week episodes while the Core Story Arc suffered, and while the Suicide Mission was an amazing achievement in GAMEPLAY, it sucked butt as a story, particularly the final boss which was basically just an excuse to stick a boss from Contra Hard Corps into Mass Effect. At the same time the dependence on references grew (ME1 has quotes from Firefly, but doesn't take whole locations from it!), the sex was toned down, the swearing was expanded, Cerberus which the first game presented as joke villains were suddenly a galactic superpower and all the actual RPG elements got shafted in favor of better Third Person Shooter Action.

And the third game visibly Took A Step Back. Back is the focus on the Alliance and the Big Picture after spending so much time studying dirt in the gutters in the previous game, back is the synth score with less orchestral pieces, back is the graphic sex (but still the devs clearly had a favorite as only one option is actually explicit), there are (shoehorned) purely gay romance options, a shoehorned but actually pretty swell multiplayer mode, and lots of talk about your prior decisions making an impact on the story after the last game mainly restricted consequences for past actions to dialogue flow.

Except. It feels like twice over, BioWare bigwigs misunderstood what made the game popular. They hilariously overcorrected the downsides of ME1 creating a game as dissimilar to it in tone as possible while remaining tethered to it by story and style, then overcorrected back, alienating the "didn't like 1 but 2 was okay" crowd. Mind you, we are still talking about the core game, not the bullshit fountain that was the ending.

The connection to prior games? In most cases, you get Person B in place of Person A because they died, and nothing else in the story changes, except you lose the ability to pick a plot branch at the end of the segment (locking you out of choices on Rannoch if the corresponding character is dead makes some sense, but using their loyalty as a gate check in a story beat that doesn't actually REQUIRE IT was dumb), but the entire experience is otherwise the same.

And then we get to the ending. I see a lot of ending apologism in looking-back articles covering the Trilogy, mainly from sites that stood on the wrong side of the "entitled gamers" debate back in 2012. Sure, thus is a Cosmic Horror story, but one where an Optimal Playthrough lets you coast on by with one dead squadmate (back on Virmire, when Shepard still doesn't know the half of it!) and that's it! And suddenly, you walk into the final battle, everyone dies left and right, and your "final boss' is a dialogue with a Diabolus Ex Machina the game tries its damndest to sell you as a Deus Ex Machina. Whatever option you pick, you don't WIN, the Machina CONCEDES to you under one of three scenarios. It comes down to which pros and cons make you want to puke the least.

It is an ending more fitting for Dead Space, not the 2.9 games we have been playing up to that point. Except Dead Space 3 had its own Cosmic Horror End Boss, and you not only get to kill it ON FOOT, Isaac opens the fight with "YOU CAN'T HAVE US" which is infinitely better than anything Shepard gets to say.

(yes, Dead Space 3 got an ending DLC that wrecked the setting, but IT MADE SENSE IN UNIVERSE)

The release of the Citadel DLC was a glaring attempt at recapturing the ME2 style in ME3 and it even has a mini-ending like some games have actual endings less lengthy than that. Except that's not the real ending. That is a Feast During The Plaguetime scenario, all of these happy people are going to die one or two hours of game time later. Like adding a dating minigame to Dead Space 2 after Dead Space 3's Awakened DLC dropped.

Having been there at ground zero, with all of the "ethics in game journalism" and "suck it up, Princess" and "so be it", I am adamantly sure that BioWare's bigwigs still haven't understood what their mistake was.

Long post about Mass Effect below

Keep reading

[davidfostercomedyblog]

It Must be Great to be Christopher Nolan...

It must be great to be Christopher Nolan. Besides the obvious, money and success, it has become incredibly apparent that he is able to love, sympathize and identify equally with all of his fellow man, regardless of having a close personal relationship with them or not knowing them from a hole in the wall.

 “Spiritual enlightenment,” as the kids call it, and Nolan must be one of the few filmmakers in possession of such Zen, as it has evidently absolved him of the very first prerequisite of basic storytelling: Define your protagonist, and by “define,” we understand this to mean: Develop. Engage. Make me give a shit about this person for some reason beyond just our co-membership in the same species on Earth.

 Instead, Nolan bravely spits in the face of conventional artistic parameters, as well as his moviegoers, by presuming we all share with him this same internal experience of existential oneness and love for all, thereby depriving us ego-ridden mortals of even the smallest sliver of window into what makes his characters uniquely human or relatable to us, the common man. Surely at Nolan’s elevated frequency it’s become challenging for him to portray the mere common man. After all, what are our creative characters if not expressions of our different dimensions of self, which would make even his background extras practically omniscient empaths who needn’t be bothered with the worldly tangibles of someone in order to root for or against them. For Nolan knows there is no real “for” or “against” in life. None of this is real, none of us are separate from one another, and God help your pathetic little brain if you dare view one of his masterpieces sans such awareness. I admittedly did so last night, and promised my date afterwards that I’ll never make the same mistake again, lest of course I should achieve such inner evolution between now and the release of Christopher’s (not Chris!) next piece of art. Or should I say “anti-art,” “non-art,” or “post-modern art from an irrelevant past and present of complete presence?” Gosh, Nolan, you mad genius.

 Another quality consistent with Christopher’s Buddha-like mindfulness is the environmental consideration he so obviously takes, thoughtfully sparing so many trees, as each of his screenplays (especially that of Dunkirk) couldn’t be greater than 20 pages long. Nolan knows that the majority of human communication is non-verbal, a lesson we can only wish had been learned earlier by the likes of Francis Ford Coppola, and who knows how good The Godfather could have been.

 While the more generic likes of Oliver Stone in Platoon and Spielberg in Saving Private Ryan felt compelled to convey to us some story arc in order to earn their climax, some outward expression of soldiers’ internal journey to garner emotional investment, Nolan has transcended such menial obligation, instead wowing us with his outside-the-box decisions, enlightening us (only to each of our own individual capacities) in Dunkirk with the fantastical concept that there are multiple perspectives to any one situation.

 Of course this has been done in films before, but never before spanning the entire film concurrent with two hours straight of suspenseful music, no doubt inserted to remind us inferiors that we should remain on the edge of our seats the entire time, which is sort of like requesting a single two-hour orgasm: physiologically impossible. Nolan achieves the impossible.

 I honestly have no idea what Dunkirk was about, but more importantly, I don’t give a shit. Some kind of battle, even a very famous one that I could google and lend myself a bit more credibility by sounding like not such an ignoramus, but unlike Christopher Nolan fans I imagine, I’ve never equated intelligence with awareness of historical facts – or any facts for that matter.

I liked Memento. I felt it actually obeyed the rules of storytelling, ironically and in spite of its inverse chronology. There was someone we were made to care about, the stakes ebbed and flowed, and although there was at times ambivalence about the characters and what exactly was happening, it was ambivalence with integrity within the world that Nolan created. Since then what I would diagnose as laziness and ignorance would surely be defended by Nolan-ists as depth or profundity, as the “filmmaker” tackles challenging existential themes, but in the process neglects to tell a (human) story. Two guys behind my date and I on the way out would disagree, as we were unfortunately in ear’s shot of one of their reviews:

“It just had so many layers.”

 Ugh! I felt like I was in a sophomore NYU film class. “Layers?!” Are you fucking kidding me? How about the first layer of making me give a shit about any of these assholes in the first place?

 It made me think of the Seinfeld episode where George and Jerry were pitching their “show about nothing” to the NBC executives and George wouldn’t budge on the theme. “No, nothing happens, nothing!” he insisted.

 “Well then why am I watching it?” inquired the executive.

 “Because it’s on TV,” George said. (Who could’ve guessed what foresight he had!)

 The executive responded: “Not yet.”  

 It’s as if Christopher Nolan fans care just because “it’s on TV.” It’s a “Nolan,” thus deserving of our keen mental focus in attempting to dissect wtf is happening here. I guess in their defense, at some point a “Nolan” had to be initially defined, which means some people must just not need… people in order to care.

 Is that possible? Of course I’m biased but I don’t believe it is. Instead my suspicion is a level of pretentiousness within that they are utterly unaware of and allows them to find fulfillment in pure sequential mind fucks, wholly void of emotionality, which in my opinion is always a red flag for unintelligent art.

 Nolan is the wordy underground rapper who uses tons of six syllable words and just tons of words in his songs, but offers us no rhythm or melody by which to enjoy them. He claims to be more intelligent, thus more entitled than the likes of Biggie or Mobb Deep, but forgets the most important part of music: to make a good song! He’s the poet whose poems can only make sense in some abstract way in his own head, which then if you can’t decipher gets you labeled as “stupid.” He’s the pseudo-guru who speaks in cliché riddles that gives all of his dogmatic followers something to nod their heads and smile at each other about in class, but zero practical tools to take with them into the world. He’s not the worst filmmaker of all time, because for that title one would have to make films. Instead, Nolan hatches together practical montages that play out almost like a literal dream, tipping the scale from clever subtlety into utter bullshit, in the process mentally masturbating over some profound concept in lieu of putting forth the effort to date said concept, talk to the concept, care about it and then fuck it the way it’s deserving of. He is the fuckboy of modern cinema, and like all fuckboys has earned plenty of success, believers, and followers of his bullshit until the proverbial next morning when we finally wake up.

 Every once in a while an artist comes along whose work is so potent that it can accurately inform us of how we feel about him/her, which is really how groupies come about, which should make us less judgmental of their character. I don’t just hate Nolan’s work. I hate him. And not because he’s “so polarizing” and must be at least commended for having moved me so dramatically in one direction, but instead for the complete failure to do so. He represents to me all that is wrong with the creative world, much like Trump represents all that is wrong with the political one, and I suppose I’ll never understand life or the supporters of either. Nolan makes me feel alone in the world. 

[crystalelemental]

And now the other completed game: Fire Emblem Echoes.  I’ve mentioned this many, many times before, but I hated Fates, and honestly expected this game to not be doing much better.  Fates just left such a terrible taste in my mouth, and no, I will never shut up about how bad it was.  Thankfully, Echoes did a lot right, and seems to have fixed a lot of issues while incorporating elements of the last two games.

Let’s start with the big stand-out: weapon durability is still gone, but is done in a way that it’s the stupidest bullshit I’ve ever seen.  Weapons don’t break, and instead offer a change in stats, usually higher power or defense in exchange for speed.  It’s a really cool way to handle things, and it allows for there to be stronger weapon types available without having such horrific drawbacks that they’re worthless.  There’s still a forge mechanic, but it’s straight-forward again and only needs money instead of eleventy-fuckbillion pieces of the same arbitrary resource you have to collect two at a time of by visiting thousands of people over My Castle.  It’s just a simple, straight-forward mechanic that isn’t complete bullshit.

Also relevant: magic.  Magic is forever, but takes some of your health.  To balance that out, it is unaffected by terrain, but also has a flat accuracy so it will miss more often than an accurate weapon when there’s no evasion bonus.  Healers work differently, in that their base spell absorbs damage, but has a lower hit rate.  As a result, there are some incredible tactics that happen in this game, where Mages use magic to blast holes in enemies, and your healing units recover them at the cost of their own HP, only to heal back up periodically.  A cleric with enough HP and Defense may as well be immortal.  So basically, Faye.  Faye as a cleric is ridiculous.  Also any of them with a Dracoshield.  They’re not even using that speed stat.  Physical attackers are straight-forward, but often lack resistance, so they have trouble with things in the late-game.  Except the Dread Fighters, who tear through magic attackers like tissue paper, but struggle against physical attackers.  There’s just such a wide range of unique skills that each unit type has, and they mesh together really well.  I have to admit, as much as I get invested in min-maxing child skills and stats in Awakening, I much prefer this type of skill system, where characters have different lists of spells and classes have different innate abilities, or learn them through the use of new weapons.

I’m not the biggest fan of gender-exclusive classes, though.  Pegasus Knight is really the only one that ever made sense, and even then I’m fine with removing it as a gender-locked thing.  What’s really stupid is that Archer is male-only.  Faye’s introduction was in Heroes, where she was an archer.  Get it together, game.

The other big sticking point, for me, is stat growth and stat caps.  Look, if growths are going to be low, that’s fine.  I’m actually on-board for this kind of setup.  But stat caps should not have been at like 40.  They should be around 30, at best.  Set limits where they’re achievable, game, otherwise I can and will go insane trying to get people to their stat caps.

Then there’s promotions.  Promotions work by adjusting the base stats of a unit to meet the class’ base stats.  So if adjusting to a Mercenary, you gain enough speed to hit 10.  If you already have those stats, then promotion gains like 1 point of HP and nothing else.  It’s an interesting mechanic...but resistance isn’t factored in.  I feel like that’s a really shitty limitation.  Resistance is the stat most needed, and yet it doesn’t adjust at all when promoting.  So even with the classes sometimes having like 10 base resistance, they don’t ever gain resistance to meet that.  The ONE STAT where this would be super useful, and it doesn’t happen.  Ridiculous.

On to characters.  I actually liked a lot of them!  Favoritism goes to, interestingly enough, Tatiana and Zeke.  Aside from being really solid units, the two of them have a great romance, with a good amount of sorrow behind it.  There’s a lot going on with these two and their relationship, and I like it a lot.  Genny is also fantastic, being a fairly quirky kid who likes to write her own stories of intrigue.  Clair is great, being the right kind of stuffy noble who means well.  Celica is arguably my favorite Fire Emblem lord now, but is held back pretty significantly by a thing I’ll talk about later.  And of course, outside of the protagonists, we have Berkut and Rinea, who are just...an excellent amount of suffering.  Characters as a whole just felt really good this time around.

Then there is story.  I’ll start with the world at large: I love Valentia.  I think the concept of two kingdoms ruled through different philosophies both going into the shitter for different reasons related to their respective ideals is fantastic.  Rigel is a shithole that’s so over-focused on strength that is has become all that matters.  Their clergy are sacrificing women for greater power and eternal youth, turning the sacrifices into soulless husks of great magical power.  Their nobility is so power-obsessed that defeat results in a complete existential crisis and a devastating blow to Berkut’s sense of self-worth.  By comparison, Zofia kinda just languishes away in its bounty, while the nobles become a bunch of entitled snobs that approach life with the sense that they’ve earned their positions just for showing up.  Fernand is a great example of this, being outraged that Alm would lead the Deliverance despite his talents and skills, and insisting that he and Clive should lead simply because they are nobility and that is their right.  The contrast between things is exceptional in the early-game, and I love it.

The story itself is that Rigel has invaded, and the land of Zofia is kinda falling apart without Mila’s bounty.  Alm is on the war-path to defeat the emperor of Rigel and restore peace, while Celica is on the path to find Mila and restore order to Zofia.  Having the two lords go down separate paths is an interesting way to handle things, and I get a vibe of an improved Radiant Dawn, where you actually follow multiple paths simultaneously.

One major, major problem I have is for Celica herself in terms of story.  It’s apparently a component that was added in this game, and I really do not like it.  The ending of her route.  She goes along with Jedah, and becomes a witch.  Now...on its own, this is stupid enough, falling for the age-old “go with what the villain says or he’ll hurt people” as if they ever had the intention of keeping their side of the promise.  And then, as if that stupid gambit wasn’t enough, Falchion is able to stab her, and somehow restore her soul so that the witchification process is reversed.  Because that makes sense.  It’s just such a contrived load of bullshit, and honestly, because it comes from Celica being an idiot, it all comes back to a stupid way to handle her actions.  Which is the main thing holding her back, I think.  Which is a shame.

Also, on a more minor note, did anyone notice how many female characters have to be rescued to join your ranks?  Clair, Mathilda, Delthea, Est, Tatiana...  It’s a lot.  Too many, I think.  I could be fine with one or two.  But that’s five off the top of my head, and I am certain there are others.  It’s really not good.

Overall though, I loved the game, and is definitely better than Fates.  Possibly good enough to be my favorite since FE7.  It’s such a great return to form, and has such a unique and interesting magic system.  I really enjoyed just about everything about this entry, and I sincerely hope this is an indication of the direction the series will take from here on out.  Not necessarily in terms of mechanics, but definitely in terms of story, characters, and decision of art and translation team.

[fae-fucker]

The One: Chapter 21

America and the other girls goof around all cutesy and even the queen gets to join, the poor useless bitch. 

BUT THEN!!! DUN DUN DUUUN! America gets called away to meet with Clarkson and Maxon.

I swallowed. Every awful thing ran through my head. My family was in danger. The king had found a way to punish me quietly for all the ways I’d wronged him. He’d discovered we’d sneaked out of the palace. Or, perhaps worst of all, someone had figured out my connection to Aspen, and we were both about to pay for it.

You heard it right here folks. The thought of her and Aspen getting punished for breaking the law is WORSE than the thought of her family in danger. 

OUR HEROINE. OUR SELFLESS PROTECTOR OF THE PROPLE. 

I hate her so fucking much and everybody who likes her is a sheep brainwashed by KCass.

Luckily for Americunt, it’s something to do with the Italians, and America thinks that Clarkson found out about her super secret super epic super politically savvy super strategic deal with Nicoletta. 

It’s not. 

It’s even dumber. 

“We have been trying to make an alliance with the Italians for decades, and all of a sudden the royal family is quite interested in having us visit. However”—the king picked up the letter, searching for a specific section—“ah, here. ‘While it would be more than an honor to have Your Majesty and your family grace us with your company, we hope that Lady America will also be able to visit with you. After meeting all the Elite, we can’t imagine anyone following in the queen’s footsteps quite like her.’”

The king raised his eyes back to me. “What have you done?”

Suddenly, a huge burning skeleton burst in through the wall. I screamed and instantly pooped myself and almost fainted. 

“SHE DID NOTHING!” the terrible spooky skeleton screeched and pointed a scary bony finger at me. “SHE’S THE AUTHOR’S PET, AND HER MEAGER EFFORTS ARE REWARDED WITH EXCESSIVE PRAISE! SHE, ALL OF YOU, WILL PAY FOR THIS NONSENSE!” 

Then the skeleton killed all of us. THE END. 

I fucking wish. Anyway, the king continues with his praise. We all know it’s meant to be read as badass, so don’t even fucking argue with me, KCass.

“Then how did a girl of no means, no connections, and no power manage to get this country within the reach of something it’s been trying to achieve for years? How?”

In my heart, I knew that there were factors here that he was oblivious to. But it was Nicoletta who had offered assistance to me, who had asked if she could do anything for a cause she wanted to support. If he’d accused me of something that was actually my fault, his rising voice would have been frightening. As it was, he came across like a child.

In response, I spoke quietly. “You were the ones who assigned us to entertain your foreign guests. I never would have met any of those women otherwise. And she’s the one who wrote, inviting me to come. I didn’t beg for a trip to Italy. Maybe if you were simply more welcoming, you’d have had your alliance with Italy years ago.”

AMERICA IS SUCH A BADASS!!! EVERYONE KNEEL IN FRONT OF HER GREATNESS AND KISS HER FEET TO SHOW YOUR SUBMISSION!! 

Seriously though, this is fucking dumb. I can’t even be assed to take it apart because we already know this is sloppily put together “politics” constructed in such a way that America’s bare minimum and idiotic stumbling are seen as clever and calculating. What I will complain about is the fact that Clarkson says that they “need” the Italians because they’ll open a lot of doors for Illéa. 

Again, you don’t need FUCKING FRANCE, but Italy is apparently super powerful now? You know there’s a reason people are scared that France will leave the EU, right? Does KCass have relatives in Italy or some shit? What is this nonsense? 

Anyway, apparently they can’t kick America out now because it’ll upset the Italians, so the king wants to bring all the girls to Italy so they can get to know them better and forget all about the totes badass rebel sympathizer America. 

Because apparently, you can just do that during a war, idk. I feel like KCass forgets the whole war thing until it’s needed for a dramatic line.

The king looked at Maxon, venom in his eyes. “Are you declaring your choice right now then? Is the Selection over?”

My pulse stopped altogether.

“No,” Maxon answered, as if the very thought was ridiculous.

BUT WHY?!?!?!? WHY DOESN’T HE JUST END IT?! WHAT IS KEEPING HIM FROM CHOOSING AMERICA RIGHT NOW?!?!?!

I’m so tired.

The king says America has to prove herself trustworthy before Maxon can choose her, which goes against literally THE WHOLE ENTIRE SETUP THAT RELIES ON CLARKSON HAVING ZERO CONTROL OVER MAXON’S CHOICE.

KCASS, DID YOU EVEN THINK ONCE WHILE WRITING THIS? 

Anyway, Clarkson wants America to read some shitty propaganda to tell the castes to calm their shit, which isn’t the dumbest idea he’s had, but don’t you think IT’S A BIT TOO FUCKING LATE TO START PULLING THIS NOW, WHEN THE REBELLION’S ALREADY HAPPENING AND PEOPLE ARE GETTING MURDERED?!

WHY DIDN’T YOU THINK OF DOING THIS FROM THE START?!

I’m so tired.

“The lower castes tend to get unruly from time to time—it’s natural. But we have to subdue the anger and squash the ideas of usurping power quickly, before they unite and undo our great nation.”

“BEFORE”?!?!?!?! “BEFORE”??!?!?!??!?!??!

IT’S ALREADY HAPPENING.

Maxon stared at his father, still not fully comprehending his words.

I’m glad Maxon’s still reliably stupid. 

The king was planning to divide and conquer: make the castes absurdly grateful for what they had—even if they were being treated like they didn’t matter—and tell them not to associate with those outside of their castes, for they certainly wouldn’t understand the plight of anyone outside their own.

I love how this is framed as some sinister epic final attack when it’s like Dictatorship 101. 

This is so sad and pathetic. So obviously written by a white middle class American woman who has no fucking clue about how politics or dictatorships work and clearly she didn’t even bother looking it up. Who needs that when you have BOYS.

“This is propaganda,” I spat, remembering the word from Dad’s tattered history book.

Baby’s first Politics. 

This is laughable.

They argue about ... fucking basic propaganda tactics like it’s some epic political stategy and I’m just kind of tickled. The king spouts some evil dictator crap, that’s still like super duper basic and idk supposed to make us dislike him, and America has a huff and puff about how she refuses to read the stuff.

Clarkson finally does something mildly competent and actually clever and uses America’s only weakness, BOYS, against her. He says that if she doesn’t do it, it proves that she doesn’t love Maxon.

“Do you? Do you love him at all?”

This wasn’t how I was going to say it. Not at the end of an ultimatum, not for business.

The king tilted his head. “How sad, Maxon. She needs to think about it.”

Do not cry. Do not cry.

I’m cackling, this is hilarious and pathetic at the same time. Though I hate that this book is successful and that idiots adore it and praise it as clever and feminist.

“I’ll give you some time to find out where you stand. If you won’t do this, then rules be damned, I’ll be kicking you out by Christmas Day. What a special gift that will be for your parents.”

“Rules be damned” YOU’RE KING! YOU MAKE THE RULES!! AREN’T YOU ALREADY BREAKING THE RULES BY NOT ALLOWING MAXON TO CHOOSE?!

Uuuuuugh.

She angsts herself out of the room but Maxon doesn’t let her off that easily. He catches her and makes it aaaaalll about himself again.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“He’s insane!” I was on the verge of tears, but I held them in. If the king came out and saw me that way, I’d never live it down.

Maxon shook his head. “Not him. You. Why didn’t you agree to do it?”

I looked at him, gob-smacked. “It’s a trick, Maxon. Everything he’s doing is a trick.”

“If you had said yes, I would have ended this now.”

Incredulous, I fired back. “Two seconds before, you had the chance to end it and didn’t. How is this my fault?”

“Because,” he answered, his whole demeanor urgent, “you are denying me your love. It’s the only thing I’ve wanted in this entire competition, and you still hold back. I keep waiting for you to say it, and you won’t. If you couldn’t say it out loud in front of him, fine. But if you had simply agreed, that would have been good enough for me.”

“And why would I when, for as far as we’ve come, he could still push me out? While I’m humiliated over and over again, and you stand by? That’s not love, Maxon. You don’t even know what love is.”

BUT WHAT ABOUT MEEEEEE?!?!?!?

NO WHAT ABOUT MEEEE!!!!!

BUT MEEEEEE!!

NO NO MEEEEEEEE!!!

Can a Selection fan just ... contact me and explain to me why they like these selfish, cruel, self-absorbed, entitled, petty, small-minded characters? And think of them as good people? Are we really that easily manipulated as a species? Or are the tweens reading this really this fucking stupid?

Let’s just hope they grow out of this bullshit.

I stormed away. What was I still doing here? I kept torturing myself for someone who had no idea what it meant to be faithful to one person. And he never would, because his whole concept of romance revolved around the Selection. He wouldn’t ever understand.

Did I just... read that with my own eyes. 

Does America have some serious brain damage?

HE LITERALLY JUST SAID THAT HE’S ALWAYS WANTED ONLY YOU, AND YOU’RE THE ONE WHO KEPT CHEATING ON HIM WITH ASPEN!!

HOLY SHIT.

This book somehow keeps getting dumber and dumber. It’d be almost impressive if it didn’t cause me immense psychological pain.

She tries to run away again but he grabs her and forcefully holds her there. Romance. 

He sighed. “I know that you spent years pouring yourself into another person who you thought was going to love you forever; and when he was faced with the realities of the world, he abandoned you.” I froze, taking in his words. “I’m not him, America. I have no intentions of giving up on you.”

I shook my head. “You can’t see it, Maxon. He might have let me down, but at least I knew him. After all this time, I still feel like there’s a gap between us. The Selection has forced you to hand over your affection in slices. I’ll never really have all of you. None of us will.”

When I shrugged myself free this time, he didn’t fight me.

Fuck this book. 

[zenruption]

I am Hereby Absolved of My Ignorance

Add to Flipboard Magazine.

Recently I have had the living shit scared out of me. No, I haven’t been to a haunted house or watched a scary movie. It is all from watching A Handmaid’s Tale on Hulu. It’s simple. People honestly sit in our government that think somewhat similar and no matter how much you try to admonish this upon their supporters, the votes will still come.

You see it constantly. Not one person reading this can say they haven’t at least opened a thread on a Facebook discussion (political argument) and thought, “Holy shit, this is nuts.”

Why did you think that? Because facts are gone, stats are now a lie and every person in the U.S. has an excuse that makes them the expert. They are right and no one else is. In a country where roadside billboards nationwide now have signs that say, “There is Evidence for God” and urge you to call 855-for-truth, anything is now possible. Conspiracy theories are accepted, Alex Jones is a patriotic American and science is a lie. (bonus: 104 Actual Headlines from Alex Jones’ InfoWars)

We’re headed to a special kind of hell that is of our own doing. Where the real Hell never existed, the believers thought it best to subconsciously create one. Their hypocrisy is non-existent with the new logic of America and their sins can easily be forgiven with a prayer and a vote for Fuhrer Trump. It doesn’t matter if you think, or attempt to do so, only that you stand for the Pledge.

It makes perfect sense that we have ended up here. A high standard of living, unrivaled power, constant marketing, materialism, entitlement, multi-level marketing, an Internet of echo chambers, polarized politics, biblical literalism, hidden racism, easy outs and a the political mythotainment complex that began with the first actor president, 37 years ago, have made us the bastard nation of the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries. The rest of the world is looking at us in utter disbelief and still, a very large percentage of our population, with zero world view, believes they absolutely know more. They know so much and are so patriotic that they might even tell certain people to leave the country and never come back if someone has so much as questioned.

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That the country once achieved such highs and is now moving backwards, has become the justification to suspend all ability to think. As the US enters the unthinkable territory of becoming the first poor superpower, with male longevity actually falling, household incomes falling against inflation for 40 years and economic disparity equal to a third world country, the myths associated with a country that once was are easy to grasp for many than tackling policy failures. A hat that says, “Make America Great Again” is easier than admitting we have been sold a line of bullshit.

The rise of Trump has given them a renewed sense of power and being on the right side of history. Suddenly, moving to the right of the highway shoulder by 400 feet means you sit exactly in the center. Anyone near the center or that ever bothered to take a logic class, is now a Commie. Na Zdorovie!

So, let’s get to the point. Here is a list of every argument that reaffirms the rest of us shouldn’t even bother anymore: 

Fake News

We must start with the new rally cry of the right. What started as phenomenon of kids from Macedonia making bank from stories designed to trick and incense conservatives, has been turned back around by them. It is the new supplement for the term main stream media. One could ask if the inverse term of alternative media is now the purveyor of real news, but we all know that the articles written at a fifth-grade level about PizzaGate and the 30,000 scientists that dispute global warming, will always win.

Recently, even Fox News had a rash of social media proclamations against it as a purveyor of fake news. Why? Their latest poll showed Donald Trump at a 40% approval rating.

The argument is now so simple. If they don’t like what it says, it is fake. Only a news source that continually tells them what they want can be real.

Of course, it was the largest inauguration ever. The pictures were faked by a news media that doesn’t want to admit to our new President’s popularity.

Even worse, you can include an actual Trump tweet to show his Moron-In-Chief for what he is and even that will be called fake news.

Hey. I don’t like the thought of climate change wrecking my kid’s future, but that doesn’t mean I get to call it a hoax. 

Alternative Facts

Ok. What the hell is an alternative to a fact? Believe it or not, the alternative to a fact is a lie. That this term has ever been used, even once, shows that the US is now subject to a world where stupidity is in charge and anything can be real. Will we outlaw the teaching of evolution soon as well? 

Tit – for Tat Arguments

For years the Fox News crowd was given scandal after scandal, whether they existed or not, about our former President. They were told he was constantly ignoring the Constitution and breaking the law. The Article “Criminal In Chief” — 78 Times President Obama Broke The Law During Presidency, lists such egregious activities as  trying to shut down family farms, proposing military intervention in Syria, “illegally” didn’t submit a budget on time and this laughable list goes on and on with offenses that either never happened or aren’t offenses in the first place. Many things listed as horrific on this list, pale in comparison to actions of the new President in less than 6 months. The Trump supporters will believe everything in their search for reaffirmation of the ego.

The common argument is that if Obama had done so many horrific things, surely Trump can be excused for his misdeeds. After all, Trump is going to defend the Constitution where Obama was trying to destroy it to found a Communist utopia.

Well people, regardless of what you think Barack Obama did, Trump is President now. You long ago showed us that a higher standard wasn’t what you wanted with the election of a vile human being. No, you’ll create any past act that justifies current actions despite how unconstitutional and ridiculous they might be. In fact, some of you justify the current racist sentiments as a valid response to the “horrors” you were subjected to for 8 years.

There is no point arguing this either. 

Common Sense

It is so painful when one of them says, “You can have all your facts and stats, but I have common sense.” The reasoning behind this is that stats can be manipulated to fit the narrative but what this country has been lacking is common sense, despite that people with common sense actually would use good data.

Obtaining this common sense is apparently the function of hours of reading and watching news and commentary sources that frequently abuse the living shit out of actual data to achieve their points.

So… no matter how often you quote an actual stat or fact, it doesn’t matter. Obviously, you have no “common sense”.

Walk away and save your breath. 

Science is Your Religion

Seriously? Is their “common sense” unable to distinguish between a religion and science? When was the last time you saw a peer reviewed paper discussing how many times someone in the old testament lived to be older than 500?

This is the de facto argument from someone that is religious, their religion supersedes good governance and everything else in the world is out to destroy their way of life. Their reasoning, or lack of it, has a Christian country being destroyed and the scientists are in on it. A belief in scientific tenants at odds with their religion is not only an attack but also indicates the presence of an evil liberal.

Isn’t it funny that science process seeks to correct itself while religion and politics often mean doubling down on what already hasn’t been working? Science can be neither a religion or a political conviction. It’s simply science and it doesn’t care what you believe.

Recent discussions observed online even have the Trumpanistas disavowing math. Seriously math? If math didn’t exist as a universal constant, neither would we.

Once again, no amount of logic or facts will work here. They are impervious. 

Universities are Hotbeds of Communism (i.e. the educated should be dismissed for their bias)

Yes, it has happened. Experts don’t matter and education is now an indicator of stupidity. Those with degrees lack common sense, are indoctrinated, think they know it all and only argue points that fit their political bent.

Every single authoritarian movement has needed to marginalize the educated elite to maintain the populism and centralized control of the movement.  The US is now following this trend.

The everyman is reaffirmed in that they aren’t “brainwashed”.

Your degree and background means nothing with this crowd. Any expertise you have is a waste. They know how science works, understand economics and have a lock on their revised history.

Another instance of wasted breath is upon us.

 You’re Just Another Snowflake, Mad that Hillary Won

No jackass, the election is long over. I am mad that my kid’s future is being destroyed. That’s the extent of the argument. They’ll believe that is the case regardless though.

Walk again

The list of logical and argumentative fallacies (isn’t cool I included a list of them?) goes on and on. There are straw man arguments, anecdotal evidence, false correlations, arguments of false consequences, etc. No debate judge is sitting there to show them they are wrong and even if there were, they wouldn’t accept it in any case.

This is America now. Our exclamations are wasted on the new experts of everything. A Ph.D means nothing. Critical thinking is dismissed. The crowd that thinks an open window wastes the air conditioning even if it is colder outside, has won. 

For now

A professor of history told me prior to the election that if Trump won he would kick back in his easy chair and watch the destruction. He knew the secret; that there would be no fix or argument until everything fell apart.

The world has changed and those of our ilk know the proposals of Trump are only detrimental to supporters. He can’t do what he promised. You can’t bring back jobs automated away. One cannot defeat an ideology. The workings of checks and balances restrain him for now.

20 percent of Trump supporters will always support him. The rest might eventually be up for grabs.

 So, the art of the argument is dead. It gave way to the fake Art of the Deal. They believe their extremism is center right and nothing will change that.

Forget the argument. Keep it civil at the bar.

Our moment comes when we all turn out in 2018. Let’s expend our energy on motivating everyone that knows better when the time comes.

Sit back, watch the destruction, leave them with nothing to assuage their ego and get ready to act in less than 18 months.

 No memes were harmed in the making of this article.

[elysiansstars]

I’ve fucking had enough with generalistion on the lgbt side of tumblr its so fucking stupid.

like “the straights”. excuse me you fucking shit head but last time I checked, not all straights are bad. what about straight lgbt advocates? what about straights who used to explore other sexualities? what about transgender straights? they all have some level of empathy or just understanding of the lgbt community. as a community, we know what its like to be disliked for something we can’t control, so what in this fucking world says it’s ok to dislike others for something they can’t control. and don’t even get me fucking STARTED on this “they’ve done it to us for centuries” bullshit. it’s the five year old “well they started it” excuse and it justify’s jack shit. we have to lead by example, and attacking straights all the time means straights attack back and we might even generate new hatred in new people through our ‘relatable memes xd lol’. Unless a straight person has come after you, don’t go after them and even then, don’t bring their sexuality into it because you achieve nothing. I mean, just put something else in your joke other than straight? ‘uneducated person’ or idk.

And it happens within the lgbt community aswell. “gay men” is one example I’ve seen. If they aren’t educated on an issue then educate them without patronising? its so easy to hold your fucking tongue and just tell them the information without being like ‘gay men are so entitled ugh lol ngh’.

we get generalised as inhuman, we get generalised as sinful, we get generalised as a danger to children so why, oh why, are we doing the same to others.

INFACT, when I was tagging this ‘straight’ a tag came up. the straights are at it again. I’m so fucking disappointed in anyone who has used that tag. it’s just childish.

PS I am a trans gay person. call me straight and you will be blocked so GOD DAMN QUICKLY. I’ve already gone through that with a radical lesbian and I’m not going through it again.