#laying the groundwork

[mafaldaknows]

Forgot to add:

[evilhorse]

Loved the Dominators in Invasion! laying the groundwork for a storyline a thousand years later (two plus years in real time) in Legion of Super-Heroes in which they destroy Earth’s moon.

(Invasion! #2)

[filosofablogger]

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Cheat 'Em

I guess that if you already know you’re going to lose an election, maybe you decide it’s a good idea to start figuring out ahead of time how to overturn the results, to turn the tables in your favour after the fact.  That seems to be precisely what the Republicans are doing … already planning how to circumvent a win by President Biden on November 5th and orchestrate a coup along the lines of the…

[spooksier]

head in hands, on my freaking knees. the running theme of dopplegangers and other selves in protocol both textually and metatextually is going to send me to an early grave. like. beyond it just being cool as hell, its such an interesting way to take a sequel/side-quel/whatever of a story where even the most minor character has a whole fanbase behind them because yes! we’re all waiting to hear from our faves after so long and here they are! but not really. the voice is the same but the person is not, at what point do you stop being you and start being someone else? is that you?

and ! ☝️ id argue that sam and alice as characters play into this theme because they are both completely different from jon and martin but also exactly the same (sam being very friendly and personable in a way that hides his obsessiveness, alice being loud and sarcastic to hide her loneliness/jealous streak) (also erm. theyre actually canonically south asian and trans this time. win.) (we also get this with gwen (literally a bouchard) and celia (literally from tma)) the whole team is meant to ring the archives alarm without any fire. similar but not the same yknow?

idk man playing with expectations and familiarity like this is so cool to me. like yes ill trust the voice in my computer telling me to dig myself deeper! it sounds like my friend jon!

[distortion-station]

A MESSAGE FOR JONNY SIMS AND ALEXANDER J NEWALL:

you wanna give jon and martin a happy ending sooo badly. you want to make jon and martin so safe and alive and outside a computer even

[connabeth]

annabeth teasing percy about him being on the brink of calling her a friend (even though he literally just said he’d turn his back on his dad for her because she's done a lot more for him in days than poseidon his whole life, which goes a lot deeper than maybe friendship) is gold because you KNOW she is never letting that shit slide. down the line in season 2, when she's crying in his arms underwater in a bubble over what the sirens showed her, i hope she wipes her tears real quick and tells him he went through quite the length to save someone he could never be friends with. in season 3, when annabeth is rescued from being kidnapped (after percy sneaks onto a quest he has no business being on yet again because he cares about her too much) and he asks her to dance on olympus during the solstice, i hope she jokingly declines because they could simply never be friends and not friends don’t dance with each other. in season 4, when he’s by default assumed to be a companion on her quest, i hope she goes ‘actually…i only bring my friends on quests with me’. in season 5, when he asks for a kiss for good luck, i hope she puts him in place bc who asks people they’re not even friends with for kisses? when he confesses his feelings for her and is trying to tell her she’s his tether to his mortality and a reason he denied godhood, i hope she goes ‘surely you didn’t think of me. because we could never be friends” before she kisses him. writers do your fucking jobs PLEASE

[dykebeckett]

fascinated by this subset of ostensible leftists who pivot hard into fash rhetoric as soon as something doesn’t go their way.

[acourtofthought]

"I'm Tamlin's emissary for formal uses, but this was Andras's shift. So someone needed to fill in. It's an honor to do it." But now - now we need order, Feyre. We need rules, and rankings, and order, if we're going to stand a chance of rebuilding. So what he says goes. I am the first one the others look to - I set the example. Don't as me to risk the stability of this court by pushing back. Not right now. "No. I decided to take you myself. For that exact reason. They don't want or need your help. Your presence is a distraction and a reminder of what they went through."

"Amarantha had...camps for them. The nobles and favored faeries were allowed to dwell Under the Mountain. But if the people of a court weren't working to bring in goods and food, they were locked in camps in a network of tunnels beneath the Mountain. Thousands of them, crammed into chambers and tunnels with no light, no air. For fifty years." / "It was forbidden to speak of it. Some of them went mad, started preying on the others when Amarantha forgot to order her guards to feed them. Some formed bands that prowled the camps and did -" "They did horrible things. Right now, they're trying to remember what is is to be normal - how to live." "Things were bad, Feyre. I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite." "I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to bet I'm no longer welcome at h-the Spring Court." Home, he had almost said. "You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit." "Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male." / "You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully." "They say a beast prowls these lands now. / And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability." "Many of us would be wiped out entirely. Especially...Especially those of us who are weakened. And when the dust settles, there would be at least one court left vacant, it's lands bare for the taking." The argument that Lucien is pathetic for wanting to reconnect with Tamlin is laughable because it's watering down a pretty major plotline and the fact that the Spring Court was Lucien's HOME for centuries. Tamlin was Lucien's friend, he helped rescue him from his brothers and he gave him a job but this is not just about Tamlin, it's about an entire Court filled with people. Lucien felt it was an honor to guard the borders which protected the people of Spring. Lucien asked Feyre to not force him to risk the stability of the court. He asked her to put an entire people first, not Tamlin. The people who suffered for 50 years, the ones who weren't the nobles and were forced to do terrible things. He showed concern for them as they worked towards rebuilding their lives after Amarantha. Lucien performed the Rite with his abuser to help the lands of Spring. Lucien expressed sadness over not being able to return to Spring, not just to Tamlin's Court but the land beyond it. Isn't it more than likely that Lucien was trying to help pull Tamlin from his depression, not for the sake of his friendship with Tamlin but for the sake of the people of Spring who are currently without a ruler? Who have been without a true ruler since UTM? For the safety of Prythian in general considering the location of the Spring Court and how it borders Autumn and the human lands? Lucien Anti's often miss the bigger picture when it comes to Lucien's actions, focusing solely on what he did or didn't do for Feyre (despite the fact that he was willing to die for her on multiple occasions). They forget that an entire people and their safety is at stake. That Lucien often acted like a leader focused on the good of the many and not just the one.

[pianokantzart]

Luigi's Mansion Hints/References in The Super Mario Bros Movie + Production

[twig-tea]

Things from Wandee Goodday ep 3 I can't stop thinking about:

I love so much that we got some good friends with benefits tension around personal boundaries when Dee asked who Yei was and then backed off (but Yak told him anyway). And between the jokes about rimming, Dee demanding Yak pay more attention to his dick last episode, and starting this episode in the 69 position, I am very, very here for this show saying over and over that sex is not just one act.

[ID: Gif of the beginning of episode 3, whichi is a pan-to-shot of Dee and Yak laying in 69 position on the floor under blankets]

i loved the different responses to hearing someone you love is in a "Friends with Benefits" situation; Kao warned Dee not to catch feelings or read too much into the situation and Cher/Yei teased Yak for lying to himself about what the situation is. Both are super valid and speak to who Dee and Yak are, who Kao and Cher/Yei are, and all of their experiences with love. And it speaks to the closeness of these relationships too, that Cher noticed Yak's necklace gone immediately and Kao similarly clocked its addition on Dee instantly.

Super here for Kao being the ultimate support bestie at work, equal parts haranguing and backing Dee up. Their relationship is perfection.

I really liked Yak peace-ing out of their agreement when Dee dropped a huge request with no context, that was so valid and in the spirit of FWB (he didn't actually owe him a bigger conversation).

I've already reblogged a couple of other people (@negrowhat and @lurkingshan) talking about this so I won't belabour it, but I am judging Dee for not only ignoring Yak's boundaries by going to his workplace and forcing him to train him and then flirting with him during training sessions after Yak both made clear he's worried about being out at work and had ended their agreement. I hope we get more of an explanation for Yak's reticence about dating a man while aiming for the championship as well as his change of mind.

The conversations with Cher and Oyei have me so curious about their history! Tell me everything, show. I put these questions in tags on a gifset (but to put them on main: Where is Oyei and Yak's father (who is also a former champ but apparently uninvolved with this family business, if he's still alive)? What happened to Yak's mother that he doesn't know if he takes after her? Why can they go to Cher's family for financial help but not Yei/Yak's (to the point where they had to take out what sounds like a predatory loan during COVID)? What is Cher afraid of re: being seen being affectionate to Oyei, and where does that come from? Is this history related to why Yak is so worried about his relationship to Dee getting in the way of his championship? All of this is seeded so organically and I'm so, so curious. It also has me even more in my feelings about Cher and Yei calling Yak their son.

[ID: Gif of Yei saying to Cher: I own this place. What's there to be afraid of? From the set linked in the paragraph above]

[I have a clown theory that Cher and Oyei's relationship is why his dad is out of the picture and his gym is in financial trouble (because it prevented Yei from getting sponsorship despite being a champion), and why Yak is worried about being in a relationship with a man even though he knows his brother won't care...we'll see how much of this the show pulls together!]

The flash of trauma from Dee at the crosswalk was interesting too; where is that going? What happened in Dee's past and how is it going to affect the story in future?

[More clown speculation: Is it related to why Dee is so good with patients and passionate about ortho? Has he seen someone in his life become disabled due to physical injury?]

Speaking of, I really loved seeing Dee be good at his job and great with patients and their families. In addition to it being just nice to see and good for our understanding of his character, it sets him up to have a fighting chance in the contest too, since patients apparently get a vote.

I love love love the camaraderie and giggling between Dee and Yak around making Ter jealous and shoving their fake relationship in those gossiping nurses' faces. The way they are actually friends who like one another and enjoy spending time together is just really wonderful to watch.

My biggest question is: Will Dee get a chance in this narrative to show up for Yak the way Yak has been showing up for Dee? And how can that current imbalance be reconciled with this all leading towards Dee trying to get a placement to go abroad--and his self-stated toxic trait of always needing to win? [shoutout to @chicademartinica for laying that out succinctly in her post]

In the meantime, I'm having a blast.

[heich0e]

you know that bit from gone girl when the girl who's gone is like "i'm so much happier now that i'm dead"? that's me w jjk canon. i stopped caring abt it years ago and have not once regretted that decision <3

[rainbow-nerdss]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Enjoy this hit from the bucktommy pit I've fallen into over the past few days! 💙💙

“Eddie gave me a shovel talk, you know?” Tommy says, next time they get together. They're at Buck's again, and Buck is cooking for them. He drops the spatula at Tommy's announcement, spinning to look at him. “He what? Jesus, I am so sorry, he shouldn't have—” “It's fine,” Tommy assures him. “It was cute. He cares about you.” Buck snorts. “Sure. He hasn't scared you off, at least?” "Nah, trust me, I've sparred with the guy enough times to know I can take him if I need to.” Buck raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn't underestimate him. That guy knows how to fight dirty. Trust me. He's scrappy.” “Scrappy, huh?” Buck turns back to the pot and stirs it again. “Hey, come taste this?” He holds out a spoon. Tommy joins him at the stove, standing far closer than necessary, almost flush against Buck's back as he takes the spoon in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “Delicious,” he announces. “Is that Bobby's Chili?”  Buck nods. "Yup!" “Man, he was always so secretive about that!” Tommy complains. “How'd you talk him into sharing?” “Pays to be the favorite, I guess!” Buck preens. “So, what? Eddie suddenly decided to go all white knight protecting my virtue now I'm dating a guy?” He asks, steering the conversion back around. Tommy leans against the countertop beside Buck. “Nah, nothing like that. He just said that… He reminded me, forcibly, that you're a good guy, and I should probably refrain from hurting you, if I can help it.” Privately, a part of Buck glows at the knowledge that Eddie did that for him, even while he plans to rip him a new one for interfering. “I should clarify, Evan. I'm not… I’ve mentioned Victor, right? My ex?” Buck nods, turning to face Tommy in order to give this his full attention. “He sort of… did a number on me. Meeting you, doing… this, it's great. I'm just not…” “You're not ready for something serious,” Buck realizes. Tommy nods. “But, what we've been doing so far…?” “Is great! The dates, the, uh… other stuff, all amazing, but—” “You just don't want anything more serious than that.” “Exactly. If that's a deal-breaker, I can—” “No!” Buck rushes, putting a hand on Tommy's chest. “I mean, this is good for me too. Takes some of the pressure off, actually.” Tommy visibly relaxes, and Buck takes a moment to turn down the heat on the stove, leaning further into his space. “You said you were a relationship guy,” Tommy says, clearly wanting to make a hundred percent sure. Buck does him the courtesy of taking a moment to consider his answer. “I used to think I was. I thought my options were either ‘serious relationship’ or ‘meaningless sex that left me feeling like crap’.” He steps closer, close enough that he can feel Tommy's breath ghost across his skin. “But lately I've been discovering the joys of things being… somewhere on a spectrum. Keeping things fluid.” “Yeah?” Tommy asks, moving even closer. They might as well be kissing now, but they aren't quite, just a hair between them. “Yeah,” Buck repeats. “Though,” he adds. “For the sake of clarity. When you say other stuff, is that referring to the flying lessons you still owe me, or—” Buck pulls away just a fraction, just enough to allow Tommy the opportunity to reach out and keep him there, pulling him back into a dizzying kiss.

Tags:

I was tagged by @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon and @bidisasterbuckdiaz

And tagging:

@theotherbuckley @aspecbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 @neverevan @loserdiaz @goforkinard @kwills91 @trenchcoatsandtimetravel @devirnis @steadfastsaturnsrings @sunflowerdiaiz @lover-of-mine @liabegins @lovelettertothewise @slowlyfoggydestiny @buddieboos @shitouttabuck @pirrusstuff @jesuisici33 @nmcggg @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @your-catfish-friend @eightpackdiaz @gigi-gigi @bisexualbuckleys @loveyouanyway @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @arachanae

[zours025]

I changed the zombie apocalypse outfit for alfie just a tad. looked too much like normal ame to me and i was like. gnaws fingers. this looks wrong. gave him the hat also. + extra fruk stuff (implied) that i drew on class notes

[ilynpilled]

obsessed with the fact that neither of those things are true 😭. is it truly that hard to come for jaime for the right shit pls

[luuxxart]

something something sleeping like a dog on the floor…. idk I never pierced the veil

[jainydoe]

Misdirection, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 the sugar daddy au I promised...

This is not a love story. 

That’s not how he looks at it, anyway. 

Because he is, at his core, a hopeless romantic. Devout in his worship. Ever since he could twirl a flower and tuck it behind someone’s ear, he’s kneeled, their bodies his altar, every act of service his own type of prayer. In his youth, he couldn’t go days without it. After his classes, then in between classes, then sometimes, under the table, one hand writing notes, the other up a girl’s skirt, he’d whisper covenants in their ears, verses upon verses of the old poets and the new on how their beauty would snuff him out right there. It’s why he’s got his sights set on the Bureau - boots on the ground, hands in the dirt, paid to bring justice for souls ripped before their time. There’s nothing more terrifying than death - and in that, there’s nothing as seductive.

Then he gets to college and meets Johanna. The ultimate love story. Boy meets girl. Girl convinces boy the best solution to their raging hormones is a casual sexuationship where he can rail her and make her cum as much as he wants and he’ll let her cheat off their orgo and anatomy exams as payment. Boy is stupid enough to fall in love with girl and she’s bored enough by the rest of the riffraff to actually marry him. 

In a shock to all, girl runs off and leaves boy with a baby, a soft little thing with grabby fingers and a gummy smile. He ignores the fact he has her eyes. Tells himself it doesn’t make him love him any less. As if branded and bruised, he can’t bring himself back to church. Not for a while. Not until the sting wears off. He tries meeting men at bars, women at libraries. He smiles and kisses hands and hopes they can see in his demeanor that he’s a man of faith. But maybe they aren’t believers. Maybe they find him dumb and naive. He’s flailing. Begging. Deranged. The spare times once or twice a year, eventually, that he’s pitied enough to be dragged to some hotel room, the Single Dad, the Divorcee, he’s gone for hours, babbling praise and praying on high that he hopes this will work, that this will make them stay, his devotion, his care. Everyone wants passion until it’s from Emmrich, it seems. 

When he turns forty six, it marks a full year since the last time he’s had someone, and maybe it’s the time to reflect, but it’s allowed his allegiance to rot into hate. He’s a prude, now. A stiff. He’s always looked down on his colleagues who, in their happy marriages with their happy wives and happy lives, live in secret disgust, wasting away their bodies and wallets on themselves. Agnostics. Romantic on the holidays. Phonies. 

It takes years to beat the love out of him. He’s celibate. He’s focused on fatherhood. He’s hardwired into work, the tsunami inside washing itself over the lives that intersect his area of expertise. He’s promoted. Then promoted, again. He’s at the top of his game. He’s the shit. He’s working 36 hours a week with the Bureau, and teaching at Nevarra U., and his students adore him, and the faculty worship him, and he tells himself this kind of love is enough. He’s Mr. FBI, Mr. PTA, Dr. Genius, and nothing and no one will have him on his knees ever again. 

Then he runs into Archibald at the annual faculty gala. 

SUBJECT: CLICK NOW for HOT Singles in YOUR AREA! XXX

Archibald Battenberg, PhD, JSD <abattenberg@nu.edu>

to evolkarin

Hey old pal,

Glad to have run into you. Mimi thought you were quite the charmer - just like old times, right? If you’re interested in other girls like her (or even her for that matter I’m all for liberation and whatever) I’ve included the link below. I’m sure you’ll pick a winner from the litter. Let’s get drinks, yeah? Celebrate the divorce? On me.

- Archie https://msdirection.com/ The code is SUGAR4BABY

Archibald was a fuck-wit and a menace. Had been since college. But Emmrich was notorious for skipping things ever since Manfred - really, ever since Johanna - and he wasn’t gonna go to the gala, seriously, but then he had a glass, then another, then Myrna called his private landline and there he was, cocktail in hand, counting the minutes until his alarm would indicate it’s time to vaporize into the night. As he’s nursing his manhattan and ignoring eye contact with the dean, he spots a woman, satin and sleek, a pampered panther in a sea of slippery sea beasts. She’s not a believer, he can tell, but the way she’s looking at him - she sees him for what he is and slinks his way before he could protest. They shake hands and she speaks eight languages and compliments his watch. Says she likes men who appreciate the real deal. He laughed in that breathless way he does when he’s shocked and on edge, watching her blunt hair frame her jaw in a way that made her attention all the more cutting and examining. Like a surgeon assessing their canvas. When he learned she was on the arm of Sloppy Archie-berg, he was a bit stunned. With Archibald’s signature ham-fisted tie, hoggish way of holding himself - Emmrich was pretty sure he didn’t even own conditioner. It was only once his date excused herself, though, that he’d revealed her secret. That Miss Mimi was a creature of the night. A call-girl , he called her, and Emmrich could tell Archie felt naughty even saying it. Like a child admitting they’d eaten sugar before bed. When Mimi returns and kisses Archibald’s cheek, Emmrich aches. Not for her, but for God. For the light of eternal delight to shine on his lips once again. He used to consider Johanna’s mouth the kingdom of heaven, and wonders, for the first time, if he’s been a misled fool. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he ever found Archibald charming, but when Save-the-Dates went out for the big Volkarin-Hezenkoss wedding, he was the only one to respond with condolences. Emmrich decides to email back a yes to drinks and notably forgets all about Mimi and her company until the postcard from Antiva arrives in his mailbox. 

Dear E,

Fuck you. I miss you. I’m moving back to the area. Say hi to the little guy for me.

Rot in hell,

J

There’s a verse he thinks of, about how the armor of God will protect you from the devil’s wiles, and maybe, he considers, God’s armor could be purchased through a subscription to Ms. Direction’s. It has to be. Because, for once, here are women who want it. Who want him. A man willing to tithe. This is for the Real Deal, he thinks. Not pussy-footing, quick-fuck, cheap-date juveniles. He’s dizzy as he locks the study door, Manfred in bed, all the lights out, and stares at his laptop as if it will begin whispering a beckoning call. Emmrich, come quick, come now, come enter your credit card information. 

He does. 

In a manner almost chaste and sweet, the website is basic. Bare-bones. He appreciates it. The way the black background and red font make it clear you’re here for sex. It’s been years since he’s let his eyes roam over others, and, for a quick moment, he thinks it’s a bad idea. Shallow biographies. Stupid usernames. Feet? Maybe he’s too old. Maybe he’s too tired. He’s on page four, wind wiped out, he doesn’t investigate why he thought Ms. Direction would have a slew of Nice Girls waiting, hands outstretched. If that hand were holding a crop, however. He crosses his legs and continues perusing the digital classifieds, willing himself to focus. Eventually, that leads to work-brain. He reminds himself these women aren’t in danger. They’re not minors. This isn’t illegal. His eyes gloss over in boredom. 

MARIANNE, 19 Looking for a stud to treat me like a princess.

JULIA, 29 Just a naughty girl who needs to be punished. 

RAVEN, 25 Let me treat you like filth-

He actually does click on her profile. But as he looks through her photos, sees her bedroom, the clothing on the floor and vat of lube - he wishes her well and leaves with a feeling of murky disgust. 

It’s as he’s exiting her profile, deciding to exit the site altogether and possibly consider asking for a refund that he spots her. 

Her. 

It’s straightforward. A photo of her face. She calls herself Rook. Doesn’t explain why. She needs money for rent and is hoping to spend time with someone interesting. He can be interesting. If he tries. In that moment, he’s twenty again, looking purposefully at a girl’s mouth, then in her eyes, asking if she believes in the afterlife. Of hauntings. Of spirits and the occult and drawing little symbols on her palm that, according to legend, will connect her more deeply with the beyond. 

He types a message. 

Dear Rook,

You seem pretty interesting, yourself. I’m, certainly, interested in learning more. Would coffee be of interest?

For fuck’s sake, stop using the word interesting. You’re a doctor. Be eloquent. Fuck.

Dear Rook,

Coffee?

Too chaste. This is a stranger. 

Rook,

No. 

Darling Rook,

God.

Dear Rook,

I’m interested. Wanna get coffee?

Emmrich

He clicks send and feels the air rush out of chest as if sucked up by some phantasmal vacuum. He shuts off the laptop, tosses it on his desk and quickly paces up the stairs to his bedroom, working a knot into his robe. This is about as daring as he’s been since signing up for the gym membership, and we all know how that went. 

The next morning passes quickly. Daycare then a morning class on elementary forensics then a quick lap on the track at the academy. He’s catching his breath, gulping down an icy reprieve when an email comes in. 

SUBJECT: Re: Message to rookie24

His phone slips out of his hand, falling face down onto the grass. A student looks his way. He waves a hello, beginning to itch all over. His fingers shake as he opens the message.

Hi handsome,

Coffee sounds good. I’ll be at Crossroads by Fade Ave at noon this Saturday. Hope to see you there.

Rook x

He knows that means a kiss. He feels it, too. Standing there, sweaty and pulsing, he feels his heart rate quicken even more at the promise of something over the weekend. A date. A cheap miracle.

–

“You have got to be KIDDING ME,” she yells, ignoring the passerbyers and scared parents, beginning to grip their children tighter. She’s not one for making a scene, especially on the train, but this is the final straw. 

Her medical bill is thousands. For an IV and aspirin and sitting in a cot. Look, hindsight, twenty-twenty, blah blah blah, point is she thought maybe fighting people for money could be a good way to get the bills paid. Taash said so, themself. And Lucanis and Davrin taught her how to properly throw a shank into someone’s side. And she wasn’t even that hurt, ultimately, but she did black out after Rowdy Regina Rockhouse (stupid name) got her in the back of Bellara’s Suburu and icing herself in the ER until 3am. She’s made a list on her fridge of sure-fire ways to get money without signing up for a third job or selling body parts. But after crossing out Underground Fight Club , she writes in gently, small, at the bottom ask Neve about selling body parts. Thankfully, she has lunch with Bell before giving Neve a call. 

“I’m, like, poor. For a while, I thought I was poor, now I realize I wasn’t. This is it. And shut the fuck up, I know you’re gonna say some shit about rock bottom, going up and whatever, I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Bellara is sympathetic in a way that’s not suffocating. Rook loves her for it. Trusts her for the life she’s lived that should’ve made her jaded, but didn’t. Maybe it’s that trust that has her not totally dismissing Bellara and calling her immediately crazy for her suggestion. 

“You could always join a dating site.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She twirls a stick of honey in her tea, looking at the patrons surrounding them. “Check out that couple. That guy just bought her a pastry and latte. They look so happy. Maybe, oh, I don’t know, maybe meeting someone nice could help distract from all the ugliness?”

“You want me to whore myself for pastries.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m gonna have to beg Mauricio to not evict me for the third month in a row and you think pastries and dick will fix that.”

“I’m not trying to minimize your issues, Rook, I mean, I can help with your bills for a little, or you could come stay with me, maybe, you know I don’t mind,”

“I don’t want you like that, Bel. You have a great ass, don’t get me wrong,”

“Rook,”

“But if I’m gonna be giving out the sugar, I’m gonna need some considerable sugar to make up for it. Oodles of sugar. Like, piles.”

“I don’t know how to talk with you when you’re like this.”

“You’re a genius, Bel.” She kisses her on the forehead and steals her apple turnover, taking a chomping bite as she makes her way to the exit. “Sugar for sugar, Belly baby.”

It takes about a half hour of careful research before she finds the perfect site. It even looks sexy. Catered towards brats and babies to be worshipped. She snorts. She’ll bite. She’ll fashion herself the nymphette of some old guy’s fantasy if it means paying off a credit card, or two. Hell, she’s fucked uglier men for less benefits. She tells herself this will be a cake walk. 

She tries taking photos. Lacy edits of her with big eyes and red lips, but the thought of attracting anyone with it makes her nauseous. She figures her face will do. They’ll be looking at it a lot, probably, may as well see it for all it’s worth. She chooses one where she’s smiling and not still bruised from Raging Re-bitch-a-zilla Rockfart and calls it a day. No one will message her. She’ll forget she made the account. She will show up on Lucanis’ doorstep and promise him her firstborn in exchange for a roof over her head and possible bodyguard duties, because Mauricio will threaten her life in a week. It’s two in the morning and she’s almost finished with the final episode of Love is Kind when she gets a message. He doesn’t have a profile photo. He’s messaging potential cash-sluts past midnight. All signs say Do Not Interact. Which is why she brings it to Neve. 

“Jesus, Rook, is it really that bad?”

She squints at her, knocking back a shot of bourbon and ignoring the way her throat widens up into a retch. “Was the direness of my situation not clear when I joined Taash’s fucking fight club? Or did that nude modeling bullshit? Or that outward-bound type camping gig where I slugged tents and crap for Lace?”

“It was very sweet of you to help those kids.”

“Yeah, well, now I need help.” She twirls the bottom of her glass against Neve’s desk. It’s ten in the morning but Neve doesn’t mind. She never does. Rook doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse. “Besides, some of those kids might be my competition now for cradle-robber-cock.”

“I don’t think your new friend will want you to call him, or it , that. Besides, he seems to like your profile. I say just go for it.” Rook shifts in her seat. “What’s stopping you?”

Nothing. Everything. This would be another person to disappoint. Another crutch. Another life she ruins. Neve is a mind-reader. “Stop being melodramatic, Rook.” She takes her hand, offering her quintessential, moody smile. “Whoever this Emmrich is, I’m sure he’s a big boy who can handle the likes of you.”

She messages him back. 

–

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Emmrich’s bed, vests and trousers splayed as he stands in the mirror, posing. 

I look like hot, wet shit. 

He grabs at his hair, pulling, eyes closed and breath slowing. This is fine. He’s fine. It’s just coffee. Something he drinks often. 

This is meant to be pleasurable. 

He holds that to his chest as he begins the ritual of preparing to leave the house. Lotions. Colognes. Hair gel and face creams. Would she like the way he smells? Does she hate facial hair? Or neckties? Or kids? 

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Rook’s floor. Is this the kind of guy who would want her in a dress? Should she wear black? Or something bright? Is this an interview? Should she shave? She calls Bellara and Davrin, hoping for a balanced review. They can’t agree on an outfit. She feels like hot, wet shit. Then comes the text from Lace. I’m stranded in the middle of Arlathan but Bell’s at work and I know you live close to the lab so I was wondering if maybe you’d possibly rescue me? Also Bellara’s agreed and Taash is here, too.

Rook is used to playing the hero. It’s the role she’s been cast in for years. But in this moment, she hates Lace Harding. She hopes her and Taash get stampeded. Or that they drown. These images provide comfort as she begins the trek to Bellara’s 2011 chariot. She’s never been a romantic. But for once, she feels truly hopeless.