#maybe its self centered to even think things are skewed toward me in the first place

[cuddlebugzz]

:(

[animatedminds]

Andor: Episode #5 Musing

So why not do this for every episode, eh? Between this and She-Hulk, the middles of my week have been uniquely fun these last few months. Still one of the best Star Wars things I’ve engaged since Lost Stars (which is very high praise: Lost Stars is phenomenal). But in any case, if I wanted to think about a singular thought that stuck with me for this episode, it would have be this episode (and the last’s) relationship with Cassian’s motive for joining this rebel operation - which is to say, he wants to get paid. I mean, there’s a lot of other things that hit me - Mon Mothma’s family and what it continues to say about complacency in a comfortable position, Luthen being scared for the team (aww, he does have a heart!), and so on, but this one is the one that got me thinking the most. Cassian is unabashedly in this for the money. A lot of Star Wars characters have been in it for the money (at least at first - more on that in a paragraph or two), but we rarely get the point of view of those characters and we especially don’t get Cassian point in not perceiving this motive as any reason to believe that he is any less committed to making sure the operation goes off successfully. He points out that his life and his potential livelihood are still on the line and he’s not going to quit on this job because failing it means he’s screwed just as much as any of the others. He’s avaricious, but it’s not treated as a self-centered trait at the moment - the trait he has right now that’s treated as a potential problem is his willingness to run if it feels unsafe, but even this compels him to constantly improve the plan and challenge the leaders to make it better, so that it does feel safe in his eyes - saving them from some very significant oversights. In short, the series draws a very hard line between being selfish and being disloyal - whereas in most other Star Wars series a character like Cassian would be earmarked as the obvious traitor (I do wonder if they’ll be betrayed, but I expect it will come from the most unexpected place - maybe even the kid who seems the most idealistic rebel of any of them).

And most surprisingly for the series, while the group distrusts and has difficulty opening up to him, when the truth comes out that he’s in it for money, it’s a momentary disappointment to the other rebels but it turns out to not be that big a deal. It turns out that the big obstacle to them trusting him wasn’t his motives that he was keeping secret from them, but the fact that he was being evasive and keeping secrets in the first place - while they do not share his reasons, his being open to them causes them to open up to him in turn and strengthen their bond. It’s not really a shocker to say that Star Wars has always been a heavily moralistic series - in most works in this series, the response would be for one of the rebels to proselytize at him about the cause and maybe even refuse to work with him. But instead, it’s accepted that everyone there is there for their own purpose, and what matters it that they all need to be unified and work together. Now, don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a first for the franchise by any means. Both canons have had their share of selfish or amoral characters who are depicted as no less heroic for their vices, and the current canon has been exploring this a lot in comics and books regarding the Rebellion - challenging their squeaky clean image by establishing that they do work with criminals or scoundrels from time to time, exploring those relationships and also having several characters from that side of the fence be treated as loyal assets to the Rebellion with - mostly - little fear to their betrayal. But the key word to that is “comics and books.” In its visual media, the most exposed and received parts of the franchise, all the way back to Lucas’ time the series has always endeavored to drift has hard towards moral purity as it can (to note, this exact skew is why Han didn’t end up shooting first). Characters with amoral reasons always drop them to become more moral figures over time. Smugglers become heroes. Bounty hunters become protective dads. Conflicted imperials become true believers. Fearful cowards become brave lions. Boba Fett becomes a noble warrior mostly offscreen. Etc. The series has strict moral lines and is unabashed about them, which is fine. We know that Cassian will eventually end up being one of those people who becomes a true believer, as he is that way in Rogue One. Maybe that transition even begin in this very arc. But the fact that the show treats him no lesser for at this moment being a desperate person who will only do good if there’s a paycheck in it for him is interesting. Like I said, the comics and books have been doing that quite a bit all over the range - there have been largely treacherous characters who are mostly in it for themselves and largely loyal characters who are mostly in it for themselves (compare Dr. Aphra to Sana Starros, for instance). But to see it on any screen - big or small - is a compelling step towards seeing new kinds of stories come out of the Star Wars franchise in a general sense, and I am all for it. I know it’s not the most important thing that happened in this episode, but again it’s the thing that hit me the most. I’ve been interested in stories that explore selfishness in less black and white ways recently - the original Peanuts comic being one of the best works to do so, by the way - so seeing it here was a surprise, but a welcome one to be sure.

[iboughtaplant]

Follow Your Arrow (or You’ll Never Know What You’re Missing)

Prompt: Childhood Friends 

Relationship: Geralt/Renfri

Rating: T

Warnings: no warnings apply

Summary: Geralt: I can handle myself. I am a Witcher. Renfri: And that [insert monster here] was coming at you from behind and I took care of it before it ripped your throat out

Here is my third fic for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Read it on AO3

Geralt’s head whipped up to look around, he had heard the slightest rustling in the underbrush behind him. He turned his head around to look right when an arrow zipped past his face and landed solidly in the center of the makeshift target hanging from a tree branch.

“You almost hit me,” Geralt grunted.

“I thought you were supposed to have quicker reflexes than that, or did those mutations do nothing?” A voice said. Geralt groaned in annoyance.

A few moments later, a girl of about sixteen, the same age as Geralt—who had undergone his Witcher mutations several months earlier—walked out from behind the bushes, bow in hand and a quiver of arrows on her back.

“Aren’t there other people you can terrorize, Renfri?” Geralt asked.

“Why would I want to when you’re my favorite person to terrorize? It’s what best friends do, they terrorize each other.”

“I think you have a skewed idea of what friendship is,” Geralt said, the small smile on his face a contradiction to his words.

“Well everyone tells me I’m crazy,” she said as she walked closer and slung an arm around Geralt’s shoulders, standing slightly on her tiptoes to do so.

“You’re not crazy, Ren,” Geralt said in a soft voice.

He knew that Renfri was going to reply with something self-deprecating disguised as something  humorous, so he changed the subject before she could continue.

--------------------

Geralt and Renfri had met when they were both young teenagers. Renfri had run away from Creyden and found her way to Kaedwen and eventually Kaer Morhen. She hadn’t expected that the Witchers would help her, but she did have quite a bit of coin she stole before she fled. And it turned out that Witchers, at least the Wolf Witchers she met, where a lot kinder than stories of them led one to believe.

Her friendship with Geralt wasn’t instantaneous in any way, but she felt drawn to him when she met him. He was quiet and only talked to a couple other witcher trainees that he had grown close to. He was also kind and strong and he didn’t shy away from her just because she was a girl.

Their friendship really started when Geralt caught her in the armory taking a bow off the wall where it hung. He could have told his teachers and gotten her in trouble, but instead he helped her sneak out and silently set up makeshift targets for her to shoot.

A few days later, Vesemir arranged for her to join the archery lessons of the trainees a few years younger than Geralt. Apparently Geralt had asked his favorite instructor to see if Renfri could focus on archery since she already excelled at it.

Renfri proved her ability within the first day, when she out shot all the trainees in the class. She also proved to be leagues better than Geralt and even some of the older witchers. She really was gifted with a bow and arrow.

Despite being an awful shot himself, Geralt would get a bow for himself and practice with her. It always ended in laughter from Renfri as Geralt’s arrows went wide or missed the target completely.

“Hey, Geralt, have you ever tried archery blindfolded?” Renfri asked.

“Um, I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Why not, at least that way you wouldn’t know what you were missing.” Renfri said, trying to hold in her laughter.

Geralt sighed in defeat.

--------------------

Some years later, when Geralt and the rest of his cohort were ready to head out on the Path, Renfri was pissed when she realized Geralt had set off without her. He had promised that she would go with him whenever he left and yet he left her behind and didn’t even say goodbye, the coward.

She knew that he had qualms about having a companion on the Path since it wasn’t something witchers really did, but he had promised and Geralt had never before broken a promise to her.

After breakfast, when she realized Geralt had left, she ran back to her quarters and dressed in traveling clothes and light armor before packing all of her things into a bag.

She slung her bag and her quiver on her back and grabbed her bow in her hand and set off down the stairs and through the corridors. Along the way, she came across Vesemir, who raised an eyebrow in question.

“Geralt left,” she said.

“He did,” Vesemir confirmed, “this morning at first light.”

“Without telling me,” she said bitterly.

“I see, well he shouldn’t have gotten too far yet, only a couple hours ahead of you, and we both know he is sure to rest that horse sooner rather than later.”

“You won’t stop me?”

“I don’t think I have ever been able to stop you from doing anything.”

“Thank you, Master Vesemir.”

The old witcher nodded. “Look out for each other.”

--------------------

There was not supposed to be a forktail this close to the keep. The older witchers, the experienced witchers, had set out a few weeks earlier and cleared them from the trails leading up to Kaer Morhen, but they must have missed this one. Or maybe it had only recently made its way here and took advantage of the lack of other monsters to fight over territory with.

Either way, it meant that Geralt already had to deal with a monster when he hadn’t even fully made it to the Path yet and wasn’t even getting paid for it. But a monster was a monster and it shouldn’t be so close to the keep.

Geralt left Roach where she should be safe. And she was well trained enough—despite not having been on the path either—that she would run if the fighting and danger got too close to her. He then set off in the direction he last saw the forktail to track and then slay it.

Geralt spotted the forktail a few minutes later, but it took a little while to maneuver to get within range to strike. He followed it to a small clearing ringed with trees and blasted Aard at it, sending it back into a tree with a solid thump.

The hit dazed the creature a bit, but it proceeded to rush towards him in attack. He managed to strike it with his silver sword, but it didn’t do much to slow it’s attacks. Geralt tried to retreat, but the forktail followed, flying up in the air where it was quicker and more mobile and then landing to lash out with its spiked tail.

When the forktail was turned away from him, Geralt spun to gain momentum and struck the beast again, this time causing more damage. But the beast still wasn’t close to being dead yet. Geralt was panting with effort and tried to catch his breath. He raised his sword to strike again, when the forktail again took to the air.

Geralt was trying to track its deadly tail while also keeping track of its head, knowing from the stories of older witchers that a forktail bite could be quite nasty. The forktail ended up above him and as much as Geralt tried to put some distance between them, the monster pursued him.

He started to think that he wouldn’t make it out of this fight alive when the forktail shrieked in pain and took to the ground. Geralt looked up to see an arrow through the forktail’s eye. And before he could swing at the weakened monster or wonder who had shot the arrow, another arrow was soaring through the air and sinking itself into the forktail’s wing, and then another swiftly followed, striking into the wound that Geralt had left with his sword earlier.

Knowing he couldn’t split his focus to find the archer, and already having an inkling as to who it was, Geralt took advantage of the forktail’s weakened state to kill it. He went around to the forktsil’s blindspot—caused by its partial blindness due to having an arrow lodged into its eye—and hacked through the neck with his sword, severing its head from its body.

Still panting with the effort and the adrenaline from the fight, Geralt slumped to the ground. He couldn’t think about cutting up the beast for potion ingredients quite yet. He took stock of his body, noting, thankfully, that he was uninjured, just a little bruised.

He then yelled out, “Renfri! You can come out now.”

Renfri emerged from the trees, bow still in her hands. She rushed towards him, not even giving a glance to the forktail. She knelt down next to him, and put her bow to the side, the arrows left in her quiver jostling against each other as she bent closer to look at him.

“You utter asshole, you absolute coward,” she seethed. “You left without me, without even telling me you were leaving.”

“Witchers don’t have companions in the Path. I can handle myself.”

“Oh like you were handling that forktail that would have ripped your throat out if I didn’t shoot it and weaken it? I think “Thank you, Renfri” is the phrase you are looking for.”

“Thank you, Ren.”

“Oh save it,  don’t say it unless you actually mean it.” Her eyes softened a bit then and she asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No. Just some bruises,” he responded.

“Well that’s good.” She then proceeded to launch herself at him and wrestled him to the ground. “Means I can beat you up for being a coward and leaving without telling me and not worry about you keeling over.”

They rolled and tussled on the ground for a bit and Renfri got him on his back again, hands pinned to the ground near his head as she straddled his torso. “I am coming with you. And I am telling, not asking.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. He then opened his eyes again and looked up at her. “I would be honored to have you as my traveling companion.”

“Damn right you would,” Renfri said as she let go of his hands and scrambled off of him and got to her feet. She held out a hand and he took it and let her help him up. She then went to pull her arrows out of the forktail’s body. Geralt followed suit and harvested the parts of the body that could be used for potions. He then perfunctorily cleaned his silver sword before returning it to its sheath on his back.

Once he and Renfri were both ready, he led the way back to where he had left Roach. He stashed the various forktail parts in his saddlebags. Before swinging up onto Roach’s back, he looked at Renfri and said, “Thank you for coming after me.”

“Always, you idiot,” Renfri said, punching Geralt in the arm.

--------------------

It had been a few months of being on the Path when they came across a large town that looked like it was preparing for some sort of festival. It looked like every inhabitant was out in the streets, setting up stalls and decorating storefronts. In a patch of empty land, men were setting up tables for arm  wrestling--as the sign they put on one of the tables informed, and further in the distance, targets for  archery and axe throwing were also put in place.

As they walked a little further they saw a table set up and someone taking down the names of those wishing to enter in the events.

“Geralt, come on, I have to enter. We both know I will win and then we will have enough coin to fix Roach’s saddle.”

“I fixed her saddle.”

“Yes, with an old scrap of leather you fastened with a buckle from a saddle bag.  It’s really holding up,” Renfri said sarcastically. “We need a real leather worker. Face it, it’s not your strong suit.”

“It’ll hold until the next town.”

“Stupid witcher never wanting to let anyone help you,” Renfri muttered. She then rounded on Geralt. “Why can’t you just admit that you know I will win that contest and that we could use the coin no matter how we acquire it? Just because you’re a full-fledged witcher now doesn’t mean you have to act  like a brooding asshole. I thought we at least had a couple decades before that happened.”

“Ren, wait—”

“No. I’m entering the archery contest and enjoying the festival. You can stay or leave, I don’t really care.” With that, Renfri slipped into the bustling market of the town, and Geralt lost where she went. She was the one person he could never track accurately and the one person he wished to always know the whereabouts of. But she knew him better than he knew himself and could easily evade him if she wanted to.

Geralt knew that Renfri was his weakness and it was exactly why he didn’t want to rely on her. It was why he set off on the Path without her. But he could admit to himself that he was relieved when she caught up with him and kicked his ass for leaving her behind. The problem was that he didn’t think he would ever be able to admit it to Renfri.

The least he could do was stick around and cheer her on in the archery contest she was dead set on entering. Roach could also use a break, they had been traveling for a while. With that decided, Geralt sighed and led Roach to the closest inn to see about a room and  where to stable Roach.

--------------------

Renfri stalked off into the crowd and headed towards the table with a couple men calling out, imploring people to sign up for the archery contest. And they advertised that the prize for winning was 150 crowns.

Renfri knew that she and Geralt could really use that money and she knew that she could easily win the contest regardless of whoever in this town she might be up against. While she wasn’t a witcher, she had still been trained in Kaer Morhen, not to mention she was a much better shot than most of the witchers she met, Geralt included.

Renfri knew she had lost Geralt in the crowd, and while she hoped he came to find her eventually, she would just catch up with  him in the next town if he didn’t. But she was on a mission now, a mission to further prove her worth. She usually didn’t care what others thought, but Geralt was different, he always was and always would be. He got under her skin in a way no one else did, but she almost enjoyed it.

That was enough thinking about her dolt of a best friend though, she still needed to actually sign up for the contest.

She finally approached the table and slapped down four crowns and twenty or so coppers  she had dug out of her coin purse. It was almost the last of her coin, She had only noticed the sign advertising an entry fee upon getting closer to the table. But, no matter, it was probably a paltry sum in comparison to the prize she would win.

“Hello, gentlemen. I would like to enter the archery contest that is being held.”

“I’m sorry, miss,” one of the men, spectacles on his face, said snidely, “but that is not enough coin to cover the entry fee.”

She was about to ask what the entry fee was exactly since the sign didn’t actually say when a young man came up to the table and the other man seated behind it greeted him and asked for five crowns.

“Well that answers the question I was about to ask, it’s five crowns for entry then? I’ll be back, see what I can scrounge up from my saddle bags. Just need another crown,” she said mostly to herself.

“I apologize, miss, the entry fee is ten crowns.”

“But that kid just paid five crowns. What’re the extra five crowns for?”

“This is usually an event for citizens of the town.”

“Oh really, it’s just because I’m an outsider then? Or do you just need an excuse to bar a woman from entering? Afraid I will win?”

“Unless you can find the coin to make up the rest of the fee, it looks like you won’t find out if you could beat out the other contestants.” The spectacled man said thinking he had had the last word, a smug smile on his face.

A smile that fell off his face a few moments later. Renfri was about to question it when she felt a presence at her back. The subtle creak of leather giving away that it was Geralt. No wonder the spectacled man had gone pale, probably not used to dealing with witchers.

Geralt reached an arm around Renfri and with a gloved hand put down six more crowns next to her four and scooped up the coppers, passing them back to her. She took them and shoved them into her coin purse tied to her belt.

“That’s ten crowns,” Geralt said to the men, “she has enough to enter.”

The men looked like they wanted to protest, but the beginning of a rumbling growl—and what was surely a matching scowl—from the witcher behind her had them thinking otherwise.

The spectacled man took the coin and handed it to the other man before asking for her name to add to the roster.

“I would say it was a pleasure gentlemen, but it wasn’t, so I won’t.” With that she slipped her hand around Geralt’s bicep and pulled him away from the table.

Once they were out of sight and earshot, leaning on the outside wall of an inn, she deflated a little and leaned her head on Geralt’s shoulder and groaned.

She then moved to lean her head back against the wall instead of his shoulder. Looking over to him, she punched him in the arm and said “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself.”

He chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I know you can handle yourself, I never doubted that. But they were assholes and I know that was the last of your coin. I also know that for some reason you care about this contest.”

“But you don’t. You didn’t even want to stop here. And now you have guaranteed that we will be here longer, and lost the last of <em>your</em> coin.”  

“I didn’t lose it,” Geralt said with a smirk.

“Then what do you call using the last of your coin to pay for my entry fee?”

“An investment.”

It was Renfri’s turn to smirk. “You think I’ll win?”

“I know it.” He said, and flashed her a smile that only she ever saw.

--------------------

The parameters of the archery contest were straightforward and fairly simple. Every contestant was tasked with bringing their own bow and arrows since the town didn’t have them to supply everyone with the exact same equipment. Everyone was to shoot five arrows and whoever hit the bullseye the most or hit closest to the bullseye would be the winner.

Renfri was a little upset that the contest was so simple and she wouldn’t be able to show off any trick shots, but nonetheless she was excited. There were still a few hours until the contest, so she and Geralt settled at a table in the tavern. They didn’t have the coin for an inn room, but they did have enough to order a meal to share for lunch.

While they sat and ate, Renfri saw to her bow and arrows. She checked the string of her bow, testing to make sure it was taut and fixed the fletchings on a couple of her arrows that were a little worse for wear.  

Geralt was quiet while she tended to her equipment. After they finished their shared meal, he took out his Gwent deck and shuffled through his cards to have something to do.

“Well that’s the best it’s going to get,” Renfri said in regard to the arrows she mended. She had a mismatched set since it was easy to lose a few on the road, but also easy to scavenge the arrows that were shot at them from time to time.

“We don’t have much longer to wait. It’s supposed to start soon,” Geralt said. “I’m going to check on Roach beforehand.”

“I’m going to head over to the field then, maybe practice a bit,” Renfri said.

“You don’t need practice.” Geralt said.

“But it can’t hurt,” she said as she fastened her leather chest guard around herself and then checked the fastenings on the bracer on her left arm. She then slung her quiver, full of her newly mended arrows, on her back and grabbed her bow off the table.

Geralt put his Gwent cards away and fastened his swords onto his back. They walked out of the tavern together and parted ways in the square, Renfri to the field and Geralt to the stables.

--------------------

When Renfri got to the field where the archery contest was being held, she looked around at her competition, not that any of them seemed like threats to her victory. Most were gathered around talking with a few taking practice shots at bales of hay with crudely painted target rings on them.

She also noted, unsurprisingly, that she was the only woman present, and probably the only outsider as well. The rest of the contestants were men or boys from the town, if the way they all seemed familiar with each other was anything to go by.

Renfri walked over towards the hay bales and stopped when she got to a plank of wood on the ground that marked where to stand to shoot from the proper distance. She ignored the people around and the glances they threw her direction.

Pulling an arrow out of her quiver, Renfri took up her stance behind the plank of wood, her left boot brushing against it. She drew up her bow and nocked the arrow, the fletching brushing her cheek. She took a breath and released the bow string as she exhaled.

The  arrow soared through  the air and penetrated the  hay bale with a thud. It landed just left of the true center, but still well within the center ring. With a self-satisfied smirk on her face she stared at the arrow for a moment. It felt good to shoot at a target just for the hell of it. She had gotten so used to shooting monsters or the occasional bandit, that she sometimes forgot she liked archery just for fun.

A few of the people gathered around actually clapped. It was odd and completely  unexpected, but nice all the same. She gave a cheeky bow before going to collect her arrow from the hay bale.

--------------------

Once everyone that wanted to had taken their practice shots, they moved on to the actual targets instead of hay bales to begin the contest. There were only ten competitors in total and they each had five shots to take. They went in order of how they signed up, so Renfri was close to the end of the lineup but not last, so she was in the second group.

There was a teenaged boy who took note of everyone’s shots by marking them on targets that he drew in the dirt. He would mark an ‘X’ for where each arrow struck.

Watching the first group, Renfri could admit that a few of them were skilled, but only one hit the bullseye, even if a couple others came close. When it was time for the second group to take their first shots, she was more than ready.

Standing on her mark, she peered around the gathered crowd of spectators. She caught sight of what she was looking for at the edge of the crowd. Geralt, standing out in his black armor, had stationed himself out of range of others, but still close enough to watch the contest.

Renfri caught his eye and he smiled at her, it was a slight thing as he didn’t like to smile much in public, but it was still there and it was for her.

When she lined up her shot and nocked her arrow, she closed her eyes. She took a breath and kept her eyes shut as she released her bow string. She heard someone let out a whoop and then opened her eyes, her arrow was lodged right in the bullseye.

The contest continued from there, with both groups taking their shots until everyone had shot five arrows. By the third round, with Renfri being the only one to even shoot three bullseyes, the rest of the contestants seemed resigned that she was going to win. But surprisingly none of them seemed too upset about it. Maybe they were here more for fun and tradition than to win the coin. With a town like this, whoever won probably spent the coin in the various shops in town, so really it all circulated back. With that thought, Renfri vowed to at least buy a round of ale for all of her fellow competitors after she won.

With her fifth and final arrow, Renfri hit the bullseye yet again, although this one was close to the edge of the circle that made up the bullseye. But it didn’t matter she won, like she knew she would. There was a lot of clapping, and Renfri looked back at the crowd, noticing that there were a lot more women watching than there had been when the contest started. The sight warmed something in her, but not as much as the sight and sound of Geralt with his fingers raised to his mouth to whistle through them. He was showing more outward emotion than he usually did and she loved that something she did brought it out.

She made sure all of her arrows were in her quiver, and started to walk towards Geralt, but in her way, she was intercepted by the spectacled man from earlier who politely handed her a purse full of coin. “Your prize, miss. It was well earned.”

She wanted to say something, but the man walked away before she could even utter a thank you.

On her way to Geralt, she passed the boy who had kept track of everyone’s shots and presented him with the arrow that hit the bullseye on her final shot. The boy looked delighted and thanked her before running off to show his friends.

Renfri finally reached Geralt where he was still standing on the fringes of the crowd. “So how did I do?” She asked.

“I’ve seen better,” he said with mock nonchalance.

“It’s only better when I’m saving your ass, huh?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he hummed.

“Well dinner is on me tonight and you can tell Roach that she will have a repaired saddle soon.”

Renfri started walking back towards the tavern they had been in earlier, but Geralt grabbed her arm. In a low voice, only for her to hear, he said, “thank you.”

“For winning us enough money to last us at least a month? No problem,” she chuckled. “If only contracts were that easy, huh?”

“Not just for that, Ren. Thank you...for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, you dork. But be careful, if you keep showing your soft side, other people  might catch on.”

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

The Forgotten - Part Four Temptation

Part four of my self indulgent smut and angst filled fic. 

SMUT SMUT SMUT (I know why you’re here)

In it’s entirety 

She could see Donnie; plain as fucking day but behind what seemed like a blue portal in flux. The light was in the middle of a giant arch, something the genius had been working on for years but was unable to get powered up. He had told her it was supposed to be a window between dimensions or possibly more. Leo had hoped it would be an easier way to move from Earth to the battle nexus and visiting Usagi but when the war had started it was abandoned for more important issues.

 It was like looking at an old tube television that didn’t have the best reception. The rolling lines of static rolled up the portal skewing her view of him occasionally but there was no doubt, it was her beautiful nerd.

She could see most of his body and he was typing away at a tablet in his hand. His goggles that sat upon his bald crown were smaller yet looked more advanced but that purple mask was still wrapped around his skull. Her feet moved before her mind caught up with them racing towards the gorgeous sight of the tall genius. “Don!”

 His head snapped up at her voice “Aurora!” Don’s voice was muffled like static, distant but she heard him. God he looked beautiful and most importantly alive!

 The view of the tall terrapin in the vortex suddenly became unstable swirling violently around him. Shrinking and growing with each pop of energy, like it was threatening to sever the connection at any moment. Aurora hurried to cross the large lab but the closer she got to it, the smaller the portal seemed. It was going away; she was going to lose him again!

 “Damnit!” She heard him growl looking down at the tablet that was now out of sight. “It’s still not right.” His brown eyes rose in sheer panic locked in on his advancing kunoichi. Donatello’s green arm pushed through the closing vortex outstretched for contact. “Aurora!”

 “No! Donnie!” She reached his hand just in time grasping it tightly reveling in the feeling of his three fingered appendage, he was warm and real. “Where are you?” she was nearly sobbing now as the portal shrunk further leaving only his shoulders and head visible. Her grip tightened on his hand ready to yank his tall ass through the opening. But then the warm flesh in her hand began to disappear, fazing in and out of solid matter much to her horror. No, she didn’t want to me alone anymore…..

 “Auo….r…a……I’m …st……tryi…….to get…….back.” his voice was breaking up along with the view of him.

 “No, no, no Donnie please I need you!”

 “My….broth…..I mis……..Aur...love………” Then the portal snapped and fizzled loudly before shutting down with a bang taking Donatello with it.

 The lab sank into darkness once again as the arch powered down. He was right there; she was touching him…..after 3 years Aurora had Donatello within her grasp. The crushing realization he was gone again brought Aurora to her knees. The cement floor was unforgiving but that pain didn’t matter. Her hands lifted to her nose and took a good pull finding his scent there, faint but it was there. She pressed the palms of her hands to her face trying not to cry, this wasn’t a bad thing, she had to remind herself. They thought he was dead; the idea of Donnie abandoning them was too incomprehensible to entertain so the other options were terrifying. Or maybe he was locked away in Bishop’s keep doing work for him against his will, the one they could never find. But now, now it was clear he had been transported someplace, someplace he was trying to return from. He was trying to get back; she had to hold onto that, it was all she had.

 Slowly she got her to feet, the resistance needed to know this. Maybe there was something they could do. Casey, April and Aurora could bring the arch back to head quarters and see if they could get it back open, find the last location of the transmission?

 Aurora began closing the Lair back down prepping for its extended hibernation. One last look at their bed she flicked off the light and made her way back up into streets of New York. April and Casey would be happy to know Donatello was alive and it would give the resistance new hope. It gave her hope.

 She kept to the roofs avoiding prying eyes from the streets. The way home was straight forward but still on high alert Aurora took a few extra turns to make sure she wasn’t being followed, even sitting in the shadows of a billboard to keep an eye on the horizon. There was no telling how persistence Raphael was in this state.

 When she deemed it safe to return to base Aurora slipped into the abandoned warehouse by the Hudson keeping to the shadows.  Moving past the old canning machinery and empty shattered crates the blonde made it to the secret door to the resistance’s base.

 As she reached the main level Aurora was greeted by April and Casey who looked like they had just returned their selves hands filled with boxes. April turned and let out a long breath seeing her friend returned safely.

 Casey set down the two boxes he had been carrying and greeted the kunoichi with a hug. “You ran into him? How’d the asshole look?”

 “He’s looking healthy and still a horny shit as usual.” Aurora moved to the boxes he had been carrying and peered into them finding canned goods and a small stash of ammunition. “Even under Bishop’s control he still has sex on the brain. I think his memories were trying to break through though. Raph remembered the game him and Leo used to play.”

 “Who marked you first right?” April chuckled handing off her extra weapon to the armory for safe keeping. “They were relentless weren’t they? I don’t’ know how you accommodated them every morning. You were lucky Mike and Don didn’t get into that.”

 “Yeah...” Casey chimed in handing off his gun as well. “They would have put you in a wheelchair for sure. They were in rut most of the time I can’t imagine four of them vying for the first fuck every morning. You’d never leave bed.”

 “They weren’t that bad…”

 “Commanders!” a voice shouted from down the hall. A young soldier came into view hauling ass as he ran to his superiors. His wide toothy grin was evident he had good news or at least thought he did. “We have one!”

 “You have one what?” Casey looked to April confused.

 “One of the turtles! We caught one! We wanted to surprise you.”

 All at once Aurora, Casey and April stopped breathing turning to each other in shock. This was not happening, what had they done?

 April swallowed hard moving towards the eager young man, “Which one?”

 “From what I’ve been told, Leonardo.”

 With the mention of his name the room began to spin. Aurora’s heart hammered into her chest making it hard to breath. This wasn’t happening. She pushed past April and gripped the man’s shoulders squeezing maybe a little too hard with her growing unease. “Please tell me you didn’t bring him here.”

 The man’s face paled instantly mouth opening to speak but nothing came forth. His silence was all the answer they needed.

 “Fuck.” Casey moved back to the armory and called for his gun again. “That’s it, we’re fucked you god damn morons.”

 “You fucking idiot.” Aurora growled pulling the inexperienced solider closer; she was ready to rip his head off his shoulders. “You did NOT catch Leonardo!” It was suddenly hot in the large hallway. Why was it so fucking hot?  “This was planned, Leonardo allowed you to catch him. Now he’s in the base compromising our position putting everyone here in danger. Please tell me you at least blindfolded him? Tell me you at least did that?”

 “Oh yes! We put Greg’s sound canceling headphones over his ears blasting his shitty music. Wrapped his eyes in black gauze and put a thick black hood over his head. He has no idea where we are.”

 “At least you had the sense to do that. But it might not be enough. Where is he?” April grunted in frustration resting her forehead on Casey’s shoulder.

 The soldier’s enthusiasm had dwindled with the curt scolding from his three superiors and now as he brought them to their willing captive the man’s head hung with embarrassment.

 As they moved towards the base’s center, where the lethal mutant was being held Aurora’s mind began to fill with anxiety. This is what he wanted; you don’t capture Leo unless he wants you too. He was a ninja master, taught by the very best and an efficient escape artist and a strategist, he was simply perfection. It was the very reasons Bishop coveted him and his brothers. In the wrong hands they were the prefect weapon, skilled killing machines that disappear into the shadows before you even knew you lost. This would not end well.

 Rounding the corner Aurora caught sight of him right away. Green taut skin stretch over mountains of muscle, thick arms and legs bound to the table in the integration room. His vision was still restricted but as soon as Aurora entered into the room Leo’s head turned towards her and she could see the fabric concave as he took in the air.

 “There you are.” His smooth voice purred through the fabric going straight to the center of her soul. She was in trouble and there was no denying her body still remembered him, craved him, just the deep vibrato of his vocal chords sent her body into overdrive.  

 Leo’s head followed Aurora as she moved around the table taking in his bound form. She watched his muscles flex and bunch as the terrapin tested his binds, calculating his options. The urge to touch the green scales of his arms was tempting, he was restrained but it was only a matter of time before he broke loose and reeked havoc on the good people here. She needed to prevent the bloodshed but how?

 April broke the bitter silence first her voice rising with her anger for their disregard of protocol. “How could you idiots bring him here without consulting us first? Especially Leonardo!”

 “We thought you’d be happy April. You too Aurora…..especially you…..We’ve been trying to get them back for years.” One solider stated as he stepped forward, the look on his face was of confusion but he had no idea what they brought down on their home. “He attacked us on our supply run and all of us were able to overpower him.”

 “Yes we want them back but not still under Bishop’s influence!” Casey came in next starting to pace the floor eyeing up his soldiers.

 Aurora paid no attention to the continuing argument between Casey, April and their team, the only thing that mattered was the green mutant laying a few inches from her. As she watched his hands clench and unclench Aurora remembered their soft caresses, endearing and sure. They were talented beyond anything she could have imagined when they first experienced each other. This deadly being, sleek, and inefficient so feared now, once brought her to the highest heights. She loved him without question but she knew if these restraints were gone he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her in this state of mind. Her fingers ran over the scar he had gifted her a few months ago. It was a sobering thought and a gloomy one.

 It was killing her being this close to Leo and not being able to touch him. Just a small touch couldn’t hurt…could it? Her hand moved from the cold metal table and ran over the dense muscles of his thigh. She smirked as they jumped at the connection; maybe fearless was a little anxious after all.

 “I have an idea.” Leo spoke again calm as ever yet pressing up into her hand. “How about we take this blind fold off, it’s getting rather itchy. Is this any way to treat a prisoner?”

 Aurora let a small laugh escape giving his thigh a quick squeeze before releasing the dense tissue. “Cut the shit Leo, we know well enough that you’re here on your own accord.”

 “Your troops got the better of me and subdued me with their superior skills; I am at your mercy my lady.” She could hear the sarcasm in his voice as Leo played out his game. She couldn’t see his mouth but Aurora could hear the smile, it absolutely dripped with superiority.

 “Where are your brothers Leo?” Aurora asked softly as the whole room watched their interaction.

 “Oh I assure you I am solo. When Raph came home he was rather frustrated. Told me he had gone looking for something we both covet, actually all three of us want but was unable to secure it. I decided I would try to locate it on my own. Besides, the thought of taking it first made me very……… motivated. Unfortunately I was found and taken captive by these fine soldiers before I could find my target.”

 Her heart began to thump wildly within her breast at the thought of his words, “What will you do when you finally get what you’re looking for?”

 The terrapin took in a slow breath before letting it out in a long low growl, “I haven’t figured that out yet. What does one do with something they obsess over? Kill it or let it consume you? All I know is I’m looking forward to the opportunity to purge myself of its influence.”

 Casey came up behind Aurora resting his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we can send him to R & D and see if they can find that little thing in him? I mean now we know what it looks like maybe they can pin point it somehow?”

 That was something. There would need to be round the clock security on him but if he was here they could try and utilize the opportunity to see if they could locate the device with a living host. “He does not leave this table and his restraints will NOT be removed for any reason. Any reason you hear me!? Not without Casey, April’s or my explicit orders.” Her violet eyes moved with urgency as the soldiers took in her orders. “There will be no less than six guards posted to him at all times. If he tries to fidget more than usual you knock his ass out. Am I clear?”

 “Yes Aurora.” They all responded in unison.  

 The sound of the terrapin laughing behind her was off putting but she did her best to ignore him, she was too tired for this bullshit.

 As they carted Leonardo out the door towards the R & D wing she heard him, “I’ll be seeing you later Aurora.”

 The room empty April moved to her friend wrapping her arms around her neck pulling her into a tight embrace. “You look like shit.”

 “Thanks.”

 “How was the lair? Anything need attending?”  Casey asked softly coming up behind the two woman.

 That’s when Aurora remembered, she pushed April from her embrace and her face lit up, “Donnie!”

 “What about him?”

 “He’s alive! I saw him for a few second today! In the lair, in his lab!”

 Casey and April’s mouth hung open still trying to process what the kunoichi was saying.

 “Fucking what?” Casey moved first his eyes wide and hopeful. “Why for only a few seconds? Where the fuck is the genius?!”

 “Do you remember that big arch he was working on, the one he said would be a doorway to different dimensions? It happened right after I got off the phone with you. I could hear something going on in his lab and opened the door to that thing powered up and Donnie just behind the blue energy field.”

 “No fucking way! What did he say?” April was now bouncing up and down smacking Casey on the back waiting for more information.  

 “Oww Ape, fuckin stop it.”

 “No! Keep going Aurora.”

 “The portal was unstable and began closing right away and the connection was shottie. His voice was breaking up but I heard him say that it wasn’t right yet and he was still trying to get back.” Aurora’s voice was cracking with her exhaustion and her bubbling emotions, it had been months since she had a good night’s sleep and it was catching up with her. Taking a small second she recomposed herself and started again. “He’s not dead and he didn’t abandon us. God I wish the guys were here to hear this.” Another shaky swallow of her dry mouth and Aurora looked up at her hopeful friends.  “I’m not sure if we should bring the arch back here and see if we can figure out where the last transmission came from or if we should just wait until he figures it out? The thing is, I never saw it working before. Did he go to the lair the last day we saw him to work on it and did something go wrong? Mikey was certain he saw him go into his lab here before we went to bed.”

 Then two sets of hands landed on her shoulders making the kunoichi stop. April’s hands cupped her cheeks and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her parched lips. “Take a deep breath Rora, we are so happy you were there to witness it. It gives us hope, but I can tell you’re about to crash, you need some sleep.”

 “Yeah we’ll have this discussion when you’ve had at least 6 hours sleep. We’ll deal with Leo and the arch when you’re a little more rested. She’s right you do look like shit and today has been an emotional one for you.

“For us all.” Aurora corrected him with a shuttering breath.

 “Sleep.”

 Begrudgingly Aurora shuffled to her room, her large empty room and didn’t even bother with a shower. She could swear she still smelt Raphael on her and maybe, just maybe that would help her sleep. Maybe she could trick her mind into thinking he was there sleeping at her side. She stripped of her clothes and crawled into bed pulling the cool covers up to her chin.

 Closing her eyes Aurora pictured Raphael and Leonardo, the brute and his taste, her lips rejoicing at his familiar flavor and Leo’s voice and the feel of his skin. Then Donnie and the quick but thankful handful of his grasp, all it was missing was her ball of sunshine, Mikey. With their memories fresh in her mind Aurora’s subconscious began to drift allowing her a seamless transition to slumber.  

 She didn’t hear the door open or the bed dip with his weight but as the cold steal pressed down on the soft flesh of her throat Aurora knew it was too late. She didn’t struggle there was no point in it, if she moved even an inch the way he didn’t want he could soak theses sheets they had once shared with her blood.

 Her eyes opened slowly, Leonardo’s face coming into focus as the sleep faded from her vision. The terrapin was just above her and the look he wore was purely sinful. Like the cat that had just eaten the canary or was about too. Aurora swallowed feeling the mutant finish crawling onto the bed to join her.

 “H-how many did you kill?”

 A soft patronizing chuckle filtered from between his perfect lips. The blade clutched in his hand tilted making Aurora’s neck follow, that was if she didn’t want her carotid to open. “Don’t worry, I took no lives tonight.” Leo shifted forward grabbing at the thin sheet that covered her naked form and began to pull. “I came here for only one reason tonight and killing your people would put a rather large kink in my plans.”

 She didn’t resist and allowed the fabric to pull free of her breasts watching the blue in his eyes disappear as his pupils engulfed the vibrant color. “You mean your men.”

 Leonardo’s breathing had increased but his hold on that damn blade never wavered. “Yours, mine, it makes no difference, I did not kill a soul within these walls. They will wake in a few hours with splitting headaches.”  His lips pursed for a moment focusing in on the two round globes now heaving on her chest. “They are more spectacular then what I could have imagined.” The descent of fabric halted for a moment as Leonardo’s head lowered and his nostrils flared. “I can smell him on you.”

 “Your brother? Yes, Raphael was rather insistent that he have me before you.” Aurora rose slowly making sure not to make any sudden movements keeping her eyes locked with her deadly guest. “He found out just how inventive I can be.”

 Leo allowed her to rise to a sitting position finding as he did the rest of the fabric fell pooling at the ultimate prize. Her midriff wasn’t perfect, the scare he had left months ago plus a few others that kept it company had healed nicely. His free hand reached out touching lightly at the abrasion smiling as the muscles below jump at his contact. “Raphael is impulsive, undisciplined but none the less is the very best on my team. When he told me you got the better of him tonight my already peaked interest in you heightened. I didn’t’ dare tell him the mere scent of you on his clothes sent my animal instincts into overdrive. Now smelling him on you makes me want to drench you in my scent.”

 “It’s presumptuous to think I’d allow that to happen if I refused Raphael’s advances earlier.” Aurora’s voice shook slightly as her confidence waned at the sight of him looming closer, eyes practically fucking her. Suddenly the walls of her sodden cunt began to vibrate with unparallel need.

 “You forget my little ninja; I’m mutant and part animal.” His nostrils flared once again. “I can smell your arousal, its delectable aroma is thick and I can taste it on my tongue. In fact I am positive you want me just as much as I want you. Maybe even more?” Leo closed his eyes and took a deep breath growling as her pheromones made every pleasure receptor snap to life. “Fuck…. why do I want you so much?”

 That was when she heard the desperation in his voice, it was faint, but she could hear the slight tremor in his words. He was breaking under the stress of uncertainty. That was her moment and she moved with all her training taking possession of his weapon and lunged forward.

 In the scuffle the sheets pulled free and Aurora found herself on his lap, arm securely around his throat pressing the tip to his jugular. Their mouths were so close, so fucking close and she could smell the tea on his breath as it fanned over her face. Leonardo still drank the same Gyokuro brew; his expensive taste followed him into servitude. Fuck, she didn’t think this through at all. She was naked straddling his thick powerful thighs and she could feel it, straining against his pants pulsating with each beat of his heart.  

 “Tell me I’m lying.” He mused but found his cockiness underappreciated and sucked in a breath as the tip of the blade pierced the green scales drawing a bead of crimson. But he was a stubborn turtle and refused to back down. “If we were something, show me. Remind me of what I’ve been missing all these years.  Your scent, your god damn scent has been haunting me for months, haunting us. I don’t do this… I don’t…… I don’t lose control and all I want to do is bury myself so far in your body that I forget everything. Forget this war; forget why I don’t feel at home anywhere but with you, someone I have absolutely no memory of. Do you have any idea how infuriating that is?”

 He had no fucking clue; her bitter laughter filled the room, “Try loosing the people you love the most for years, coming up empty handed in your pursuit to find them again and again. Then suddenly they appear with no knowledge of you, dead set on your demise. Try enduring the pain of being sliced open by one of the men you love and as you bleed out he wraps his hands around your throat slowly squeezing the life out of you.”

 She watched the cockiness drain from his face, unexpectedly at the loss for words. The hardness in his cold blue eyes softened searching her for the truth. He was contemplating something.

 She continued, “Raphael remembered something tonight, a game you and him used to play. I think smelling me on him jogged your memory a little as well.”

 The terrapin let out a long sigh and she could feel a little of the tension leave his body, he was no longer coiled to strike, “I wasn’t angry or jealous. It was strange……it was just the competitiveness; he had gotten to you first. ”

 “Tell me Leo, why did you come to my home?”

 “For you.” His voice was but a whisper, soft and sweet against her lips, the venom slowly disappearing with the space between them.

 Aurora’s tongue moved across her bottom lip tasting his breath, he was so close. “What do you want with me?”

 “I had two plans; one would rid me of the temptation and the other………. would satisfy it.”

 “I see since I am still breathing I deduce you’ve chosen the latter.” Her hips rotated slightly brushing the bulging fabric of his crotch against her folds, so close. “What was next on your plan then?”

 His vibrant blue eyes moved from her violet eyes to her lips before moistening his own with his tongue. “To…to taste you. I need to know what you taste like.”  

 Keeping the blade semi embedded Aurora leaned forward closing the last inch granting Leonardo what he craved, she in turn savoring him. The tea and his scent invaded her senses as she opened her mouth entering Leonardo’s with her tongue swiping over his finding it just as eager.

 Then she heard it, his rumble the deep vibrating growl that emanated deep within his chest pouring out and into her mouth. Over and over their mouths engaged and reengaged in a desperate battle, breathless and aggressive feeding off each other’s growing excitement. Leo made no attempt for the weapon, but his hands moved to her naked waist pushing her down coating his pants with her arousal gaining just enough friction he yearned for.

 Aurora whimpered into his mouth, what was she doing? What the fuck was she doing? Her body was moving on its own but she didn’t want it to stop. Her hand moved between them fumbling for the belt buckle of his pants making quick work of them. Her deft fingers unbuttoned the top of his pants and drew the metal teeth of his zipper down keeping it free is the sensitive flesh below.

 It didn’t wait for an invitation and sprung free as it’s clothe prison was peeled away. She could smell him now, the salty musk of his precum that was smeared over the spongy head of his freed cock. Her fingers encompassed the remarkable girth and the tip of her thumb dipped into the moister swirling it under the head making the terrapin gasp.  

 Breaking their kiss Aurora sunk the tip of the blade in further and Leo growled in reaction. “Tell me what you really came here for Fearless?” rising up Aurora hovered over his cock positioning the long throbbing flesh just below her. “Did you come all this way to fuck me, to have me first, to drench me in your scent?” Her tongue came out and painted a warm wet stripe up his cheek stopping at his ear. “Do you want to remember how it felt when you poured all that you were up into my womb, marking me inside and out…” lowering her body she pressed the weeping helm just into the wet heat of her cunt. “I want to feel the stretch of you filling me with this enormous cock.” Aurora could feel the tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes. It had been years since she had him like this. She could feel the heat of him, the throbbing flesh in her grasp. It had been too long. But she had to remember this wasn’t her Leo.  

 “I want to be inside you. I want it so bad.” Leonardo growled pulling her down on him, but the strength of her thighs held up against his.

 “Say please Leonardo…..don’t be fucking rude….” She could feel him shaking with need desperate for a taste of what his body was apparently so starved for.

 His sudden shift made Aurora pull the blade back before it severed his carotid as his warm mouth enclosed around her throat kissing and sucking gently. Leisurely his hands abandoned her hips and traced up her naked back making her arch at the wondrous feather light sensation. “Please.” He finally whispered through heavy exhales into the moister he left behind.  

 The sensation of him splitting her open on the down slide was overwhelming, reminding Aurora that it had been years since she had taken any of them. Thankfully there was no pain but a twinge of discomfort accompanied with the delicious stretch of being so splendidly filled. Leo’s ascending fingers finally reached the top of her shoulders and clamped down assisting the final few inches to climb home.

 When he was seated fully inside her body, the terrapin let out a throaty groan pressing his beak to crook of her throat. One hand left her shoulder and wrapped protectively around her waist keeping her securely sheathed. Besides the elevated breathing the mutant made no noises but refused to let her rise to ease the pressure building.

 Suddenly his hips rocked up eliminating any space that had remained between them. His mouth opened taking in a section of her neck letting his tongue run over the heated flesh. Then she felt his cock expand and his grip loosen allowing her to lift up beginning the unhurried pace.

 Rolling her hips rotating them just enough to make slow circles finally made the hulking turtle below her voice his appreciation.

 “Fu..ck…mmhmm…faster..”

 “No.” she growled softly into his ear while running the cool edge of the blade still in her possession across the green scales of his throat. “You came into my room uninvited with a weapon and intentions of ending my life, we do this my way or I send you back to the lab missing a few limbs.”

 Leo’s griped shifted back to her hips while he tilted his own to change the angle. When she gasped and shuttered at the new friction his mouth opened into a toothy grin. “You won’t hurt me. You said it yourself you love me.”

 Leaning down to his neck Aurora began to cover his lustrous green skin with open mouth kisses rising until just the tip of him remained in her body. When she got the weeping wound she had inflicted her mouth enclosed around the hole clearing the tepid crimson from his flesh. She felt the vibrations through her lips as his voiced his pleasure tilting his head to the side to give her better access.

 With a pop her mouth released his throat and she began gradually lowering herself back down on his titanium length.  “You nearly killed me a few months ago while Raphael watched on. I spend nearly a month in the infirmary because of you, one of the most important people in my life. That was a sobering reminder you are not my Leonardo, my kind, gentle, honorable leader…my lover. You may have his ridiculously muscled body, his unmatched skill but your soul isn’t there. There is something in your body keeping you under Bishops’ thumb, keeping the real you from surfacing. The real Leo would rather be dead then be in the service of that mad man and I am now 100% behind that. So you better be on your best behavior.”

 No form of protest came from the turtle, but his mouth turned up into a smug grin before leaning forward to capture Aurora’s lips. The demand behind the kiss was insistent as his tongue pushed into her mouth and his hold around her waist began to urge her to move.

 She could feel him throb with each beat of his heart; every inch of her core was stretched to its limit. That was how big Leonardo really was and he wasn’t even the largest of his brothers. Raphael held that title, his length was roughly the same as Leo’s but to take Raphael was always a slow start. Luckily he was a patient man.

 She began again, taking her time with each rise and fall on his engorged length. Up and down tilting her hips back so the tip of him could hit just the right spot. Every cell in her body started to ignite with awareness of the long lost sensation of being taken by a mutant turtle. Each time Aurora sheathed herself on every inch of Leo the head of his cock pressed to the back of her channel eager to flood it with his climax.

 The pace was kept slow. Aurora didn’t want this to end too quickly; it had been far too long since she had experienced any of their bodies like this. And she had forgotten how intense being intimate with them was. Leo’s grip on her was tight, keeping her as close to him as possible. His mouth ran wild over her, dragging his wet tongue over her throat to her clavicle and down to the top of her breasts. His hands moved up from her hips to her waist urging her back so the warmth of his mouth could find the dark tissue of her nipples. He sucked at each of the heavy globes with enthusiasm, circling each peak with his tongue until it hardened to a stiff nub. Trying her best to stay on guard as the blue terrapin began to worship her chest Aurora found the new angle and sensation of his feasting too distracting and released the pressure of the blade off his neck.

 “Leo…fu..uck…..” it was impossible to refrain from praising him, he was a man of focus. When he set his sights on a goal Leonardo did all he could to complete it to perfection and the act of lovemaking was no different.

 Both hands fell to his broad shoulders and started to roll her hips faster fighting at the coiling pressure of her climax as it started to chase her down. Harder she fell down on him spearing herself over and over until the fire in her belly erupted in a blinding rush of endorphins.

 Leo must have sensed her at the end of her rope and bit down on the puckered flesh of her nipple sucking it into his mouth. His right hand left her side and lowered between them slipping a single digit into her heat finding the soft pearl and began rubbing the flesh in soft circles.

 There were no words to express the feeling that washed over her senses. The feeling of dying and being brought back to life was the best way to describe it. Her body arched, tensing up and Aurora let her head fall back allowing his name fill the room in blissful cries of ecstasy.

 “That’s so pretty.” He growled breathlessly rolling his hips up harder into her body.

 As her body ran through her climax Leo took over the rhythm fucking her though her high right into the slow climb to the next one. The blade held loosely in her hand Leo took advantage of her momentary distraction and stole the weapon from her slack grasp.

 She barely registered the loss of the upper hand as he increased the tempo of his hips and kept the steady strike of that one spot sending her higher and higher prolonging her peak. Even after all these years his body knew how to bring her the utmost pleasure, or was it Leonardo himself remembering.

 As the crest finally began to ebb bringing her back to her mutant partner Aurora’s mind finally registered she was no longer in control of the knife. His three fingers held the handle firmly and ran the sharp tip over the scar he had left months ago and his eyes flashed dangerously.

 “Do it.” She wouldn’t be scared of him, if this was how she went it was one hell of a way to go; stuffed full of Leonardo still buzzing from her orgasm.

 Leo chuckled softly rolling forward until Aurora was on her back and he was hovering over her pressing her thighs open wide with the hard plain of his pelvis. His head tilted reaching for her chin making sure she was looking at him. He thrust abruptly sinking to the hilt before pulling almost all the way free. “I don’t think I will.” With the flick of his wrist the knife flew from his hand and embedded into the wood of her closed door. “I’m not done with you yet.”

 Grabbing her right thigh Leo hoisted her calve up over his shoulder and rocked smoothly forward sinking into her tight heat with great care. The plunging girth of the rooted flesh was overwhelming dragging splendidly within her walls igniting the fire in her belly. Rapidity it allowed her rising climax to feed on her view above her. The view of Leonardo, the dominate male taking claim to what was once his, it made her core clench and ache.

 As he started to drive forward gently Aurora could see the softness return to his gaze like her Leonardo. Like it was six years ago and he were still hers. She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up as long as that thing still roamed his body Leo would never be hers. But in this moment she allowed herself to dream.

 Then out of nowhere Leo’s voice dropped an octave, dark and needy, “Aurora…tell me you love me.” The look on his face was serious but his eyes gave the mutant away, the blue orbs were pleading like he genuinely needed to hear the words. His grip tightened on her hips and he began to pound into her faster chasing after his own climax. “Please.”

 Ripping her leg from his grip Aurora rolled them claiming the high ground once again keeping with his hurried pace as she resumed her ride. She allowed him to recover pulling him back up into a sitting position. The terrapin wrapped his arm back around her waist and set his gaze back on her flushed face.

 “W-why? Why should I g..ive you that? Mmm …fuck!”

 “Humor me….please.”

  What could it hurt? She did love Leo, just not this version of him.

 Then she could feel him pulse and expand, he was about to topple over into oblivion. Eyes widened and Aurora arched as the extra width made her peak hit without warning. The heat of it raced through her body like a box of fireworks going off under her skin. Her hands shot to his face cupping his sharp jaw line and she leaned back into her spine curling climax. With what little cognitive ability she had left she gave him what he wanted. “I love you.”

 It consumed her quickly eating up all of her strength racking her body with small but powerful tremors. She blacked out for a moment but Leonardo kept her from falling, like he had always done, keeping her safe when she was most vulnerable.

 “Rora.” It was faint but the nickname only the brothers were allowed to call her escaped Leo’s lips.

 It was then she felt Leo tense and grip her hips sinking as deep as he could reach as the turtle spilled his molten seed deep into her willing body. Each brutal drive up erupted ropes of ejaculate coating her with his scent filling Aurora until it her body could take no more. With one final drive Leo pulled Aurora down on his cock locking them in place making sure every drop of his cum reached its destination, marking her. His.

 They clung to each other with all their remaining strength riding out their euphoria until Aurora kissed him, kissed him with such ferocity it stole the final breath from their lungs.

 With the need to breath staggering they finally pulled apart.

 As his blurred vision became clear Leo could see tears flowing freely down her cheeks, and the sight startled the leader momentarily. His hands reached to her face brushing the moister with his thumbs, “Did I hurt you?”  

 “No, not in this moment at least.” Aurora could feel her heart thundering below her chest as she stared at the terrapin. But this wasn’t her Leo and if she didn’t do something now their location would be comprised so she did what she had to do to keep everyone here safe.

 Her hands shot out in concession pressing into the soft tissue of his body. Three points, deep into the muscle making Leonardo gasp in shock. His blue eyes widened in surprise and his lips thin into an angry frown.

 “I can’t have you leave here conscious, he’ll take us all and kill Casey, April and I. Everything will be lost.”

 Leo’s hand shot out and his fingers tips dug into her arm sluggishly. His eye lids drooped and his mouth opened as his muscles gave up their tension. With his final conscious thought Leo’s lips formed his last thought before he succumbed to the darkness, “I would never ……….let him hurt ….you.”

 As his body went slack Aurora wiped away her tears and shuttered as he slipped from her body. The loss of his warmth tore through her like a hurricane sinking her further into despair. She took a moment to run her hands under his shirt tracing her fingers along the scarred lines of his plastron. She had to remind herself, he was warm, he was alive and he was healthy.

 With a heavy sigh she dismounted and wiped him clean before securing his pants. Gathering her com Aurora pressed the button making a connection to the person on the other end.

 “Casey, I need you to come to my room. We need to get him out of here before he wakes up.”

 “I’m on my way.”

@imthegreenfairy88 @alonia143 @ravn-87 @tmnt-bucklover @tmntspidergirl​

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 10

Summary: y/n almost murders someone but jake peralta talks her out of it

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, the end is nigh

Word Count: 2095

A/N: it’s almost done. 

                                                    //////////

Wong dropped Peter and I off on the roof of my apartment. “Stay safe.” Then he was gone, and we were alone. Well, alone until the calvary could get there. The Avengers were working with the FBI and the Nine-Nine for a perimeter, but I didn’t really think it would matter. This person was clearly determined to get to me, they wouldn’t let a police perimeter get in the way.

“Who do you think it is?” Peter asked quietly, his eyes on the sky. He was decked out in his Spider-Man suit, his first appearance since his name was cleared, and I could feel his leg bouncing with joy. Sam mentioned a suit at some point for me, but we were a bit preoccupied to actually get around to it. I had to make do with my Vans and the comm in my ear.

I kept my eyes on the ground. My apartment building wasn’t exceedingly tall, but it gave me a fairly good vantage point for the happenings of New York City. “Someone from Beck’s crew. I did kind of ruin their lives, someone is bound to be pissed as hell.”

“I didn’t even — do you feel that?”

It started out subtle. Barely a flinch. But then the ground started to shake harder and harder. And then I saw the cause.

Sand. Tons of it. Rolling in from the coast.

And straight toward a person.

The sand piled around him and he just kept getting bigger and bigger until a giant sand man was standing in the middle of Fourth Street.

And all I could think of was Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” he (It? Do we even worry about proper pronouns?) shouted. Peter flinched at how loud his voice was, but that was the least of my concerns. “It is time for you to meet your doom!”

“Good!” I shouted back. “Make it quick, I hear they have unlimited mimosas in heaven!”

Maybe (definitely) my self-preservation skills were skewed, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. And the longer I had him monologuing, the longer he didn’t kill people.

“You made me become this,” he shouted again, “and now you will pay the price!”

Then he slammed his sand-fist as close to me and Peter as he could reach.

“At least he just got right to the point,” I mumbled. I looked at Peter. “I’m really hoping him being this big makes him slower. I’ll see if I can do something about the sand.”

“I’ll try and web him up, see if we can topple him over.”

“Great.” Peter swung away and I lifted myself between buildings, trying to get close enough without being in hitting distance.

Sand is trickier than rocks because the particles are loose. But if I could compress them, or maybe add some water...

Fuck it, let’s just do it.

I got closer (my first mistake) until I could feel the sand particles whirling around me. I latched onto a few (my second mistake) and tried to pull them away from the Sand Man (my third mistake).

Why are these mistakes, Y/N, this sounds like a foolproof plan.

Well, you see, I thought I was pulling the sand away from the body.

Nope.

I was pulling the Sand Man toward me.

And I realized it a second too late.

His hand swiped me off the roof and sent me crashing into the ground below. “You won’t fool me so easily, Y/N. You’re going to pay for what you did.” I brushed the gravel off my palms and groaned as I stood up, my ribs on fire. Before I could get my bearings, though, sand started to swirl around me and lifted me into the sky. Sand Man tossed me around like a rag doll, trying to give me whiplash, before he threw me up in the air and let me fall, no support.

He wasn’t expecting Peter, though.

“I gotcha,” his voice rang in my ear. We landed a couple blocks away and his hands immediately reached for my shoulders. “Are you okay, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I snapped probably a bit too harshly. “Look, if we’re going to be successful at all with this thing, just assume I’m okay, okay? Thanks for catching me.” I leaned forward and kissed him right on his jaw, mask and all, then I ran back into the center of the street.

“You want a piece of me?” I shouted at him (I’ve decided on ‘him’). “Come and get me.”

Then I pulled a Bolin and made the street split with lava.

Peter stayed up top and tried to tie up the Sand Man, but I pushed the lava forward, underneath his feet. I was hoping it would start to melt the sand, but he just compressed the particles and held his ground.

“It’s like he is the sand,” Peter’s voice echoed in my ear.

He is the sand.

“I have an idea! I could really use some back up.”

“What’s up?” Peter, Sam, and Wanda met me on the ground.

“Distract him. Get as many bits of sand away from him as possible. Not enough to notice, but enough to start shaking him down. Got it?”

They nodded. “You’re the boss, Y/N,” Sam said with a wink, then he flew up in the sky.

I stayed low, but close. And I let my senses take over.

This guy, he was literally the sand. The more sand, the bigger he got. So, take away the sand, and he’ll get smaller. I just had to keep the sand away.

I was chucking rocks and balls of fire and gusts of air at the Sand Man, but that was all on autopilot. The main part of my brain was focusing on the sand that fell, and making sure to blow it far enough away to stop him from getting it back so quickly.

And it started to work. Slowly but surely, Sand Man was getting smaller, and he didn’t notice.

But he would eventually, and I needed a plan for that.

Sand castles stick together better when the sand is damp, that’s just how they work. But when sand is too wet, it falls apart.

No sand, no man.

“When you guys see the big wave coming in, get the hell out of here, got it?”

“Y/N, what are you planning?”

“It’s kind of a long shot, but just let me try it. Keep the sand away until the last second, okay?”

I walked out into the middle of the road and reached for the water. There were thousands of gallons rushing beneath me, but those were too damaging to New York City, and it’s been through enough. I reached further and further until I felt the salt of the ocean and I let it take over my senses. There was a huge tug in my gut and the sound of the waves rushed over my ears.

I looked at the Sand Man, the guy responsible for my parents’ disappearance, the guy who had made my life a living hell the past week, and I screamed.

A huge maverick of a wave came through New York City and crashed on the Sand Man. Wanda, Peter, and Sam got out of the way just in time.

The Sand Man toppled over and lost even more sand, but he started to get back up.

“Hell no.” My hand formed a fist and I felt the water following my movements. The huge water fist came up and landed one huge uppercut to his jaw and sent him down all over again. Then I made my own hurricane with him in the middle of it. More and more sand was lost in the water, and once he was down to size...

I dropped him.

But he didn’t have Peter to catch him.

He slammed against the asphalt and finally dissipated into a normal-sized man, even if he was still made out of sand. I unclenched my fists and the water made its way back to the ocean, taking a few park benches and a hot dog stand with it.

I stood over him and shouted, “Who the hell are you?” hoping he would open his eyes at my unrelenting fury. This jackass had my parents, I wasn’t going to show mercy.

And he had the audacity to laugh. “You’ll never find them, Y/N. Over my dead body.”

My hands flickered with lightning. “That can be arranged.”

“No killing, Y/N,” a new voice rang out in my ear.

“Jake? You’re on comms?”

“I know, cool, right? I’m talking directly into Spider-Man’s ear. Whatever, anyway, no killing, we still need information from him.”

I glared at the Sand Man and he just blinked lazily at me. “What’s your name?”

“Like I said, over my—“ I zapped him once, just a little spark, but his body (can we even call it that? it’s literally sand) shuddered. “Bitch.”

“That’s not very nice.” Peter landed softly beside me and glared at him too, his mask eyes narrowed. “If anyone’s a bitch, here, it’s definitely you.” Sam and Wanda joined us on the ground, and eventually the 99 joined us too, Jake at the front.

“Y/N that was awesome! The way you got the huge wave to come through and then you made a hurricane and ohmygoditsspiderman.” Jake couldn’t help but start blushing, just a little bit. “Can — can I have your autograph?”

Peter glanced at me, a smirk on my face, before responding, “Uh, yeah, sure, ‘course. You got a pen and paper?”

“How are we supposed to cuff this guy?” Diaz asked, looking at the Sand Man. “Last I checked sand isn’t the most stable.”

We all just kind of looked at each other for a second before I stepped forward and grabbed Sand Man’s wrists. My concentration was kind of shot, but I had enough left to focus all of my energy into my hands, heating them to a temperature well above comfortable. Slowly, glass started to form from the melted sand, and I slammed his wrists together, bonding them. “You’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

“That seems like cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Tell me where my parents are and maybe I’ll let you out.”

He just grinned and followed the detectives into the squad car, where Detective Diaz may or may not have smashed some sand in the door.

I turned to Peter and wrapped my arm around his waist. “Can we go?”

“I don’t see why not.” His grip tightened around me and we swung out of the wreckage. I completely wrapped my legs around his hips and latched my other arm around his shoulders, but I kept my eyes wide open.

I could get used to this.

I recognized the apartment building we landed on — I’d visited Peter up here plenty of times to remember the small dying plant in the corner of the roof and the twinkle lights that ran out of battery a long time ago. “C’mon,” Peter said as he started for the fire escape, “let’s get cleaned up.”

May washed my jeans while I showered and I airbended them dry, but my shirt was torn to pieces. Peter left out his old band t-shirt, but I could barely get it on. My rib cage was already starting to splotch with blue and purple bruises, and with my adrenaline wearing off, I felt every hit I took today. After a few grunts a multiple hisses of pain I looked over at my jeans then back down at my legs and had one definitive thought: “there’s no way in hell I’m putting those back on.”

I stuck my head out the bathroom door and whispered, “Pst, Peter.”

His own head popped out of his bedroom door. “What?”

“Can I steal some sweats?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” His head disappeared and reappeared a second later. “Here.”

“Thanks.” A couple more grunts later and I was completely dressed in Peter Parker’s wardrobe (no complaints there). I walked back into his room and he was laying on his bed, Gilmore Girls playing on his laptop. “I got you hooked, didn’t I?”

“I just want Luke and Lorelai to end up together, is that too much to ask?”

I snickered. “No.” I laid down beside him and, ignoring the painful protests my ribs screamed at me, I curled into his side. We got ten minutes into an episode before I whispered, “Do you really think we’ll find them?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

His heart was steady.

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​ @yougottalovefandoms​

[funkymbtifiction]

I’ve never considered ESTJ tbh. I think I seem to be too unrealistic to be SJ most of the time. Can ESTJ be idealistic and trust deeply in intuition for good or ill? I know it’s a stupid question but I can see that both Ni and Si seem correct and I still don’t understand both of them.

I don’t know if this is Si issue but I tend to view myself as a part in a very large web of fate that joins everybody together. But think deeper I think it comes from what I learn as a child. I think most of my belief system is a blend of many beliefs I learned in my life (from real life, novels, books and experience). And I do trust in its teachings. <-SiNe axis, social dominant in the Enneagram.

But I don’t have the ability to nurture relationship and learn from mistake. I tend to repeat the same pattern, the same mistake if it concerns people. I just can’t wrap my head around how to change. Like recently I try to fix my mistake but I don’t know how to. I mean … I know it’s wrong but I don’t know how to approach people while making them feel good. I can’t be verbal in my affection and I don’t know when to stop when it comes to boundary and end up driving people away. My friends are all tired because I don’t learn from my mistake. I hate myself for it, but I just don’t know how. If Si is learning from experience and fix things then inability to learn from mistake couldn’t be Si, could it? <- if your mistakes are all tied to “people,” it’s a manifestation of immature inferior Fi’s inability to know how to connect to people on an emotional level and be emotionally expressive.

Also, from my ESFJ friend’s word. She has info-graphic memory. When she thinks about something it’s like going back to what happened in the past and zoom in on the exact details that happen. I’ve never really had that moment. I’m terribly forgetful and lack attention to details. It bores me to death. But it could also be argued that I’m detailed person. I love linguistics, ethnic wisdom and ethnography and when it concerns these topics I can nail in on the smallest detail. E.g. my friend mispronounce a word in Indonesian, I immediately correct it. I can spot it from miles away. My friend asks me about phonology and sound change, I gave him all the details I know. When someone writes something and it’s factually not correct about language I can argue on spot. Because I remember it. I even innovate my conlang based on these knowledge though I can’t finish it because new ideas come in and I revise it many times over. When I work out on these knowledge, I rarely need anymore research to write a good article about it. I just know it back to front and can play with it rather fluidly. When I practiced something, say … archery, I need to drill through it and slowly adjust it until I can do it without thinking. If I focus on something I can do it all day, learn it from bit to bit until I know everything about it. But mostly, I’m a slob. <- TeSi. Being a slob has nothing to do with MBTI type. Also, you just Ne-contradicted yourself within the span of a paragraph. You neglect details and hate them, yet have the patience to sit there and learn it incrementally? High Si.

Am I enneagram 1 if I’m not driven to be perfect or hardworking. I shame myself for being improper (too vulnerable, too stiff, not fun, not someone anybody wants to be around) but I can’t do anything much about it. I’m not fun, no way I can be fun and humorous. I’m stiff, no way I can be silly or goofy. I’m emotionally skewed, I’m trying to fix it but don’t know how. I want people to love me as much as anybody but I don’t know how to not drive them away to be honest. My e 3w2 senior usually preaches about him being activist and care about the democracy and politics. I have to say that he disgusts me. So fake, there’s no backbone in those hollow words. He doesn’t feel the ideal in his heart and that disgusts me. <- still sounds like 1w2. Stiff, restrained, self-shaming, propriety, won’t allow yourself to let loose and be silly, yet a 2ish desire for connection and love.

Huzzah to my group for still having been patient with me even with year of mistakes and repeated imperfection. I can’t feel love from anybody around me and I have real trouble making any connections with people because I can’t sense their tender emotions. I can’t really receive their kindness and respond back other than trying to help ‘fix’ something for them. Every attempt to build rapport ends up in people getting annoyed. It’s odd, really. I really don’t know how to express the depth of my feeling without having people getting annoyed or feeling trapped. I don’t even know how much I care about them, I just know that I don’t want to lose them but don’t know how deep it is or how to express it. Sometimes it feels like I only care about myself but that’s not the case. <- you know, this is just inferior Fi frustration and… it’s fine. Seriously. Show people you love them through action and what you DO for them, and stop trying to be “emotional.” You will send yourself into an over-sensitive Fi grip. Tell them they matter to you. Write them a note. Do something for them. And don’t be “needy.”

And … is it normal for ESTJ, one of the most practical of all type, to dream an almost unrealistic dream and actively work for that dream? I dream to create a union for ethnic groups in large scale. Even now I’m working on it. <- how is this unrealistic, though? An unrealistic dream would be you’ve never picked up a guitar in your life, but by this time next year you plan to be front and center on stage as a western star. If you have a semi-realistic dream (a union) and you are actively working toward it, that’s not “impractical.” That’s … well, Te.

But I do have some serious problem of not considering enough big picture (I tend to get hooked up in a single detail or project and forget about the others or feel trapped in the present, like the dream is still a dream even if I work for it). It feels as if I’m trapped in the present and each day is …a day. I scheme to get ahead a lot but when I need to wait for the time to act, I get trapped in the present and lose focus unless forced to focus on it. And other thing is, I suck at organizing. I plan things step by step but when it comes to the entire project, for instance, I tend to neglect one aspect or another at times. Maybe it’s because this is my very first project though. I need to balance out every aspects of project and look at the big picture. I need to learn it. Thankfully, my ENTP co-president is great at big picture thinking <- you can’t be locked in the present, too focused on details, and unable to see the big picture and be an intuitive; they are the opposite – unrealistically focused on an ideal, a concept, the big picture, and neglectful of the details or practicality of it. Sounds like tert-Ne impatience to me; you know what you want, why isn’t it happening yet?

Other thing is, I find many SJs to be hesitant and worrywarts. I’ve never really hesitated to do something ambitious and usually I see someone who hesitate to do what is right or avoid to be cowards. It’s judgmental but that’s how I feel. I’ve never really thought of danger as something to fear but something to confront and fix. People say I’m naive though because I’ve never really think about the danger of the situations and willing to plunge myself into it at anytime.

Spoken like a true social 1-core Te-dom. You’re judging 6-core ISJs.

ETA: So much anxiety and desperate desire to connect to people, btw, shows you are a social dominant, whatever Enneagram type you wind up identifying with. The first dominant focus of the Enneagram instinct is a place of “over-focus,” and you are over-focusing on acceptance. Inclusion. Wanting to participate. Being so “desperate” may be off-putting to people, and prevent you from what you want, so... try cutting yourself some slack, thinking about what is good about you (your logic, your ability to problem-solve, your strength with being in the present), and then “present” that as an offering to connect to other people. Don’t try and connect emotionally, in a Te way, show them what you “bring” to them as a friend, a lover, a participator in life.

[aion-rsa]

Bo Burnham: Inside Songs Ranked from Worst to Best

https://ift.tt/2JMbiJl

The musical of the summer was supposed to be a life-affirming celebration of one of New York’s most vibrant neighborhoods, full of color, romance, and big group dance numbers. Instead for many viewers, the musical of the moment was filmed and performed by one man, alone in isolation from the comfort (or discomfort, really) of his own home, with songs centered on techno paranoia, mental health, and the fear of aging. Maybe after a year stuck in their homes, audiences could relate to the existential dread and general anxiety on display in Bo Burnham: Inside more than a conventional movie musical.

Billed as a stand-up special, Burnham’s latest musical comedy endeavor finds the former wunderkind holed up and feeling more uncomfortable than ever. Writing, editing, directing, and performing from a claustrophobic studio, Burnham’s stand-up special skews more toward being a straight-up musical, and not because the special is light on jokes and missing an audience. Rather this has all the hallmarks of a musical narrative and plays closer to experimental cinema than sketch comedy.

Burnham expresses his characters’ inner-thoughts, fears, and desires via song throughout a contained narrative, in this case the narrative being one man trying to occupy himself during a pandemic. It has ballads, charm songs, comedy numbers, “I Am” and “I Want” songs, and a big reprise. By capturing his personal pandemic experience and putting the whole affair to song, Burnham has created one of the most compelling (and catchy!) accounts of life during 2020.

To celebrate the musical that we all needed after a year in our homes, we’ve decided to rank every song from Bo Burnham: Inside. You can stream along via the Inside (The Songs) album on the streaming platform of your choice.

20. I Don’t Wanna Know

Merely an interlude, “I Don’t Wanna Know” doesn’t quite work outside of watching the special itself. However, it is a clever way to address the fact that modern audiences do not have the attention span to sit through a film at home without checking their phone or complaining about a runtime.

19. Bezos II

While certainly meant to poke fun at the real-life Lex Luthor, it’s not that fun to listen to Bezos’ name repeated. Stil, Burnham does elicit a few laughs with his over-the-top mock congratulations. “You did it!”

18. Any Day Now

A Sesame Street-like mantra that plays over the credits, “Any Day Now” suggests this could all end either hopefully soon or on a depressingly vague far-off date that will never come. We’d like to think it’s the former, but it’s safe to assume what Bo thinks.

17. All Time Low

While this number gets docked points for its short runtime, it absolutely packs a punch with its four-line, single verse. After Bo admits that his mental health is rapidly deteriorating, he describes what it’s like to have a panic attack set to a chipper ‘80s dance backbeat. Unfortunately, we don’t get to ride the wave long enough, and judging lyrics, that’s probably a good thing for Bo.

16. Content

This strong opening number musically sets the vibe for Inside, letting us know that we’re in for some synth-heavy throwback beats that would be best listened to underneath a disco ball.  Also incorporating silly backing vocals, a hallmark of many of Inside’s best tracks, Burnham declares he’s back with some sweet, sweet content. “Daddy made you your favorite,” he sings, and he ain’t wrong. 

15. Bezos I

Unlike the reprise in “Bezos II,” “Bezos I” gets by off its increasingly deranged energy, with Burnham roasting fellow tech billionaires and working himself up into a manic frenzy by song’s end. Musically, it sounds like the soundtrack to an intense boss battle on a Sega Genesis game before ending with a sick little synth solo and Burnham hilarious squawking. It’s arguably the only acceptable thing that Bezos has ever been associated with.

14. Unpaid Intern

While “Unpaid Intern” is one of Inside’s shortest tracks, it absolutely makes the most of its time. The jazzy tune scorches the exploitative nature of unpaid internships before Burnham breaks out into a laugh-out-loud worthy scat routine. It unfortunately ends too soon.

13. Shit

Inside’s funkiest jam sounds like Burnham wrote the lyrics for a new Janelle Moane album cut. Bo show’s off his vocal dexterity and plumbs the depths of his depression in a surprisingly danceable fashion. Throwing in a little faux crowd interaction helps bring home the fact that we have all felt like this at one point or another during the pandemic.

12. Sexting

This slow-jam details the complications of sexting, throwing out hilariously too-true punchlines like “the flash makes my dick look frightened.” “Sexting” feels like one of a few songs that could most easily appear on previous Burnham specials. Proving that Inside’s musical textures do not come exclusively from ’80s synth pop, the outro of the song expertly mirrors modern pop trends by throwing in some trap-influenced “yahs” at the end of Bo’s lines.

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11. How the World Works

Influenced by comedian Hans Teeuwen and children’s entertainment in general, “How the World Works” finds Burnham going back to the well by playing the ignorant, smarmy white guy who is oblivious of the real issues plaguing nonwhite Americans. What’s even better though is Socko calling Burnham out on forcing others to educate him for his own self-actualization instead of doing the work on his own for the betterment of others.

Socko pointedly asks “Why do you rich f—— white people insist on seeing every socio-political conflict through the myopic lens of your own self-actualization?” Not to keep things too heavy, the song ends with an absurdist bit where Burnham returns Socko to the nether place that he goes when he’s not attached to Burnham’s hand. Scathing and bizarre, it’s a great piece of social commentary. 

10. FaceTime With My Mom

While most of the music of Inside feels directly transported from the 1980s, “FaceTime With My Mom” seems only inspired by the past decade’s musical trends, updating the sounds in much of the same way that the Weeknd and Dua Lipa have. This is Bo Burnham as a hitmaker, and his attempt is convincing. “FaceTime With My Mom” earns easy laughs by getting to the seemingly specific, yet universal things that all our moms do over video chat. 

9. Goodbye

Every good musical needs a good closing track, and Burnham nails it with “Goodbye,” pulling off a reprise that weaves in many of the special’s signature musical moments and touches on the special’s core themes. A forlorn piano ballad before it soars through Inside’s best motifs, “Goodbye” caps a triumphant musical achievement, coming back to “Look Who’s Inside Again” just to punch you in the gut one last time. 

8. Problematic

Addressing his past work and some aspects that have not aged well, while also skewering celebrity apologies, “Problematic” is self-aware critique by way of an ‘80s workout bop. From the specific Aladdin confession to the overall apology for being “vaguely shitty,” Bo has never made accountability sound so good.

7. That Funny Feeling

This is Bo Burnham’s version of Father John Misty’s “Holy Shit,” a laundry list of all the stupid things that are signaling the fall of culture and civilization as we know it. If Misty hadn’t gotten there first, we may have had this one ranked higher. Still, Burnham manages to come up with a sticky chorus that you’ll be humming the next time something makes you feel like you’re living in the uncanny valley.

6. White Woman’s Instagram

Perhaps the special’s most playful moment, “White Woman’s Instagram” uses the musical cues of an inspiring empowerment anthem to poke fun at the predictably, perfectly curated feed of a “girl boss” Instagram. The song is greatly enhanced by the accompanying visuals, which find Bo recreating the meticulously staged and glamorous portraits that women pass off as their everyday lives.

However, Bo always likes to sneak in some sentimentality, and imagines a genuinely heartfelt post to his white woman character’s deceased mother. Don’t worry, the emotional moment doesn’t overstay its welcome, and we’re soon back to laughing at horribly derivative political street art.

5. All Eyes on Me

The droning synth and pitch-down vocals make “All Eyes On Me” oddly hypnotic and beautiful. The song seems to be addressing Bo’s depression along with his need for validation and attention, a juxtaposition that many performers deal with. It becomes clear that Burnham isn’t addressing an invisible audience, but himself, trying to will himself up and out of his dreary mental state.

4.  Look Who’s Inside Again

A classic “I Am” musical song, “Look Who’s Inside Again” just may be Inside’s most emotionally resonant track that seems to hit closest to who Bo Burnham was and who he is today. This is the song that I will most likely regret the most for ranking so low.

“Well, well, look who’s inside again. Went out to look for a reason to hide again,” perfectly describes the cycle of depression and will, for me, be the special’s most lasting moment. The downbeat ending “come out with your hands up, we’ve got you surrounded” is heartbreaking enough to send a shudder down your spine.

3. Comedy

The special’s real first number is absolutely packed with hooks, from the “Call me and I’ll tell you a joke” bridge to the “Should I be joking at a time like this?” change-up. This is Bo really flexing how far he’s come as a musician, expertly utilizing autotune and a key change (us “stupid motherf***ers” can’t resist them).

“Comedy” also finds Bo comfortably in the lane that we’re most used to seeing him in, playing the egomaniacal white messiah with a wink. “Comedy” is the tone-setter and it’s so good that it lets you know that you’re in good hands for the next hour plus.

2. 30

Either I’m ranking this song too highly due to its personally relatable nature or the fact that I haven’t been able to get “All my stupid friends are having stupid children” out of my head, but I really don’t care. “30” is Inside’s biggest earworm and addresses the existential terror that comes with no longer getting pats on the back for being a young wunderkind.

“30” also examines generational differences, showing how 30 year-old people are more infantile than ever. However, at the end of the day it all comes back to those shimmering keys and that irresistible refrain. Apologies to my friends with children.

1. Welcome to the Internet

No matter how deep and emotionally rich some of Inside’s other tracks may be, “Welcome to the Internet” is the one that will live on the longest. If this were a traditional musical, this would the antagonists’ showstopper; a vaudevillian romp through the alluring chaos that is the internet. Speeding up and slowing down the pace to mirror the manic, addictive nature of surfing the net, Burnham pitches the negative aspects of online culture as they are: a feature, not a bug. Promising “a little bit of everything all of the time,” “Welcome to the Internet” is almost as enticing as the dark tool itself.

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[brandilovevip]

What I Believe About Coronavirus

It’s been a HOT topic on Twitter...

So what do I think is really going on and what do I think about Coronavirus? 

Read on.

WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON

When health events like this happen ( and they happen often ) 

there is always some fear and trepidation.  In recent times however it has become an obsession in the media to track and breathlessly report the number of deaths especially with the flu and/or any other viral outbreak.  They don’t do this with any of the actual leading causes of death in the USA which are:

1. Cardiovascular Disease  deaths each year 647,457 2. Cancer deaths each year 599,108 3. Accidents deaths each year 169,936 4. Respiratory Disease deaths each year 160,201 5. Stroke deaths each year 146,383

So every flu season, despite the flu not making the top 5, we are fed a steady diet of fear and mounting death.  When you add in a “rogue” virus like the Chinese Wuhan Coronavirus, things get really out of hand. You would think that they believe The Walking Dead and Outbreak are documentaries.

This FEAR drives ratings and the progressive left’s globalist agenda. This agenda is the agenda of 90% (+) of the global media,  the EU , China etc.  There are few countries left in Europe and Asia that don’t want globalism. They have already been pacified.  The great spirit of America however has not. Donald Trump’s election was a shock to the globalist agenda which is clearly on display in the democratic party.  They are now out in the open as unabashed, socialist/communist “progressives”

meaning… globalists.

There are a number of “conservative” publications out there that believe that Covid-19 was created in a lab an purposefully unleashed. I do not believe that is the case,  although I do think it is possible.  I do however believe that they had foreknowledge of the virus and it’s potential spread & impact.

Why do you believe this Brandi?

Because of Event 201.  If you haven’t read about this, you need to educate yourself. This ACTUALLY took place. The “players” and sponsors should be looked at closely.

Only a few months ago, in OCTOBER 2019, Johns Hopkins, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and the World Economic Forum (a fraternity of self-professed globalists) ran a “pandemic simulation” called “Event 201” specifically focused on CORONAVIRUS.  Not Ebola, or Swine Flu or even Avian Flu – but CORONAVIRUS.  The simulation features the spread of coronavirus in South America, blamed on animal to human transmission (pigs). The conclusion of the exercise was that national governments were nowhere near ready. 

Event 201 played out almost exactly as you see it in the world today.  Even their propaganda pieces are eerily similar.  

Some very disingenuous or perhaps rather stupid people have been arguing that this kind of thing is “normal”, claiming that we are “lucky” that the elites have been running simulations in advance in order to “save us” from a viral outbreak.

I believe that Event 201 was not a simulation but a war-game, played out to study the possible outcomes of an event the globalists already knew was coming. They played it out to see how to use it to their advantage.

In their simulation 65 million people died worldwide.  A number they knew was false but it would certainly scare the sheep into submission.

Does anyone really believe that Event 201 is pure coincidence? Does anyone really believe they left up their “findings” for any other reason than to frighten readers?

But what do globalists have to gain directly from a coronavirus pandemic beyond simple chaos that can be exploited?

Interestingly, a representative from Johnson and Johnson, one of the companies that may end up designing a “vaccine” for the Coronavirus, suggested during Event 201 that a “centralized” global economic authority in charge of funding and procuring vaccines for various nations in crisis was an option for solving the pandemic.

The reason why globalists want a collapse is simple – They need crisis in order to manipulate the masses into accepting total centralization, a global monetary system and global governance. They are also rabid believers in eugenics and population reduction.

Regarding a “centralized” global economic authority  and a global monetary system ...  did you notice the Democrats included language pertaining to a digital currency in their bloated, globalist agenda filled coronavirus bill after pulling the rug out from under America.

The US and China are still currently in the middle of a trade war. This trade war has been demonized by Democrats and RINO’s alike. And despite it being the right thing for America, the Phase 1 deal was always a joke because it demands that China quadruple its purchases from the US within the next 1-2 years. This was never going to happen. 

The Chinese cannot be trusted.  They are the most evil, unfeeling regime in the world. They are cold , calculated and intelligent. They have made, through money,  slaves of many of the worlds largest, most influential and wealthiest corporations and people.

Now, because of the impact of the Chinese Wuhan Coronavirus,  there is no chance that China will meet the requirements of the Phase 1 deal as China’s economy will slow under the weight of the pandemic.

Coincidence? 

If Trump continues tariffs against a nation in the state of a viral emergency, he will look like a monster.  If he doesn’t continue the lockdown and one person dies thereafter, he will look like a monster. They have him in an almost impossible situation. He knows it, which is why he looks so somber & frustrated.

Another advantage of the viral crisis is that the globalist establishment will undoubtedly blame “climate change” for its impetus.  Even though there is absolutely no concrete evidence linking human carbon emissions to climate change or viral outbreaks, given enough public fear, globalists will attempt to link the things together as if it is a proven fact. 

 Not only will they have a rationale for an economic collapse THEY created, but they can also present a virus as an “act of nature”, and use it as a rationale for implementing carbon controls. (ALSO PRESENT IN PELOSI’s DESPICABLE BILL)

So what is really going on:

The globalists are using COVID-19 to their advantage to wrestle back control and complete their globalist mission. They know that if Donald Trump gets re-elected their horror of a dream is over.

BUT BRANDI THIS IS A DEADLY VIRUS, YOU ARE BEING STUPID.

It is a deadly virus. It is highly communicable. But is neither as deadly or communicable as the fear mongers want you to believe. I’m not going to go through all of the FACTS here. But I would encourage you to read this excellent article:

http://archive.is/yuaUq

If the USA follows the pattern in SIMILAR countries with similar population demographics and geography then we should see maybe 250,000 total who have contracted this and a death rate of 1.5% for total deaths around 3,750

We have all been around death. Iv’e lost most of my family and it’s always gut wrenching. But if the numbers hold true, the 3750 deaths due to Coronavirus are about 5x less than the number of homicides we have every single year.

Where do I agree with the trolls that bombard my Twitter account?

I agree that we need to have a far better protocol in place for WHEN pandemics happen and I believe we need to make a HUGE investment into our healthcare system. Some things I would love to see them consider:

1.  Everyone wears masks during a “Pandemic Protocol”  I know , I know…  surgical masks don’t stop the virus from getting in.. but if EVERYONE is wearing them it does stop a lot of the virus from getting OUT.  Japan has an 80% adoption rate for masks.  They have major population centers and yet.. their numbers remained low.

2. Have tests ready.  Jesus. Everyone on the planet seemed to have more tests than us.  That’s embarrassing. Test everybody.

3. Isolate & quarantine the most vulnerable to death, first.

4. Immediately close borders and international travel

5. If needed, in extreme situations impose a reasonable self isolation and social distancing period not to last longer than 21 days.  

6. Have teams at CDC ready to collaborate with local and international physicians to discuss treatment modalities & vaccines.

7. Build regional medical facilities in conjunction with private, non profit health care systems to handle sudden increases in medical emergencies.

This closing down of the country however and spreading fear the way they have is grotesque and evil. Do you think it’s any less horrible to die from  Cardiovascular Disease , Cancer an Accident, stroke, suicide or murder?  No. Death is horrible and sad.  But it is in fact part of life.  I don’t want to die, I’m not looking forward to death but I do know that at some point, it will occur.

I’m ever thankful that in addition to my thirst for facts vs fear, I also have contacts across the medical landscape. In every single case, they tell me the same thing. If you don’t smoke, If you don’t have major underlying medical conditions and are in good health… then you have very little to fear even if you do contract the virus. Yes, it may have a 1.4% - 2.0% death rate but those numbers are skewed toward those 65+ and those with major medical issues.  Regardless of age if you are generally healthy, you are looking at a death rate equal to or less than the common flu.

And they also tell me that if you do get it,  demand that you be treated with the combination of Hydroxychloroquine and a Zpack unless there are contraindications.

Lastly…

Some things that have become perfectly clear:  

1.  Socialized Medicine would be a Disaster 2.  Open Borders = Complete Insanity

References: 

https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/leading-causes-of-death.htm

http://archive.is/yuaUq

https://www.europereloaded.com/how-viral-pandemic-benefits-the-globalist-agenda-event-201/

https://docplayer.net/11605196-Foreign-affairs-april-1974-the-hard-road-to-world-order-richard-n-gardner-volume-52-number-3.html

https://www.technocracy.news/globalization-faces-disaster-with-supply-chain-leaving-china/

https://meaww.com/wuhan-coronavirus-warned-2017-lab-wuhan-deadly-diseases-escape-lab-level-4-safety-scientists

[simplysoriya]

The Eternal Serpent

{Prelude, vibe }

Chapter 1: Decisive Discoveries 

Legends are fickle things. While most reside in the imagination of a simpler time? There were always grains of truth embedded into the story of it all. Some stories were like a ball of snow rolling down a hill of the same. In our very nature there was always a spin, an addition, a subtraction, sprinkled with some embellishment, equaling a legend that had an easier flow or a more adequate lesson. There was nothing malicious about the practice- As was the truth behind all oral histories, they tended to bend over time.

Though, even as a rarity, some legends had more truth than others…

A busy desk was toiled upon in the humble two bedroom apartment in Silvermoon as raindrops pounded the glass sill beside it. There was some personality to it between scrawled out papers and hand sketched maps. A seashell here, a dream catcher there, decorated in all one would expect from a bubbly monk who loved the beach. But those personalized decorations were eclipsed by the obsessant project, looking every bit a detective's motive board rather than a delve into Pandarian lore. 

A cork-board rested against the wall at the edge of her desk, each of the four corners used as a section for her stockpile of information. Pictures both useful and purely aesthetic were tossed about, both pinned to the board and lazily resting on the simple oak desk. A quadrant flanked one side labeled Eye Witness’, complete with three portraits pinned into them, two of which seemed to have notes skewed to the back of the sketch. Though under it had a similar portrait sketches, they seemed to be silhouettes of a head complete with a question mark over the face. 

Adjacent her collection of interviews was a similar set up of information. This time focused on the legend itself. The Temple of the Eternal Serpent was written in bold letters above what looked like a transcript bearing a Lorewalkers seal. A text she had scoured over more times than she could count, to the point where she could comfortably recite the tale with little error.

Directly beneath the subject of her investigation, and the tale that sparked it, was geographical maps of the Pandarian provinces with locations both circled in red with some even sporting a cross through them. While the mainland of Pandaria was focused on in her markings, there were cutouts of the Isle of Thunder as well as a map of Azeroth before the Cataclysm.

Each section had a simple line of thread running from their corners into the center of the board where Possible Locations??? was listed…. Though the lack of anything concrete paved the way for a blanker looking space then the rest of her work, with naught but a picture of a full moon with more question marks scrawled on it out of frustration.

One section sat solitary in its own corner with no tether to speak of. Simply labeled Trials of the Serpent along with three sections representing the three tests written out beneath them. Strength, Spirit, and Soul. Perhaps the busiest of sections of board, this one in particular had scrawled out notes pinned with personalized reminders and revisions to the stories she’s heard. While it had the most information, it looked to be the least figured of the bunch- save for maybe the possible locations she lacked.

Burying her face in her hands as frustration at her own stagnation mounted. Desperately pleading to herself for a good break in unraveling the mystery of the Eternal Serpent. Not often did the chipper monk wallow in self-doubt, but a rare concession was made as she sat at her desk. Listening to the sound of rain against her window.

Right up until an impressed “Damn.” pierced the white noise as a voice came from over her shoulder. “You tryin’ to catch a serial killer kiddo? Cause I know a few.” 

The mixture of silent footsteps and her focus elsewhere paved the way to Soriya’s miniature heart attack. Jolting forward in her chair as the familiar voice of her father found her ears. He did this near constantly- and yet every single time it never failed to scare her.

“I’m going to punch you one of these days.” The young monk replied in an aggravated tone. Or as aggravated as Soriya got, at any rate. 

“Good. See? That’s good parenting right there. I’m teaching you how to get on that fight response instead of the flight response.” Kirollis added with the usual joking swagger exuded. 

Turning in her chair to better face the rogue, Soriya sent her backhand toward Kirollis’ shoulder in a love tap. “Be that as it may…. I won’t be playing pocket healer that day.” She chided before poking her tongue out in his direction in teasing fashion.

Kirollis half-smirked, half-smiled, as he knew full well just how empty those words were. He let her have the moment in the end, instead shifting his attention back to the cork-board with an interested bob of his head. “So what’s with uh… all this?”

With a forearm the young monk cleared the notebook chalked full of tabbed pages. Shifting her gaze toward the corner of her desk as her lips contorted to one side. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep her little venture to herself, rather a sense of pride. She wanted this to be hers. 

“It’s just this legend from Pandaria. You wouldn’t like it. It’s full of dragons and wishes and poor villagers and voodoo and stuff.” However she never was all that convincing of a liar.

Kirollis quirked an auburn brow as he gaze Soriya a questioning look that denied anything other then genuine intrigue. Eventually settling on the edge of her double bed both letting her know he wasn’t going anywhere and making himself comfortable.

Once more Soriya let out an exasperated sigh at the realization that he wasn’t moving anywhere soon. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“C’mon, tell me about it.” Pointing a finger toward the board in question Kirollis continued, “I know what that is. You’re lookin’ for an old legend?”

“No.” The monk countered. “Well… yes. But I’m really close to finding it!” She exclaimed, only to be met by an unconvinced audience. 

“Right. So... a dragon? In Pandaria. Like a Cloud Serpent?”

Soriya gave a single nod of her head in confirmation. “More like -the- cloud serpent. Or well, the lineage of one.” Begrudgingly she relented to tell the tale. “So the story goes that the son of Yu’lon, long ago, neglected his duties and went to go live in a mountain. Basically he gave bad wishes to the villagers who lived close by, essentially like… bribing them to worship him. So eventually the villagers got a buncha bad wishes and they made a temple tomb for him.” The Mistweaver summed up as simply as she could.

The rogues eyes flicked toward the board once more, seeming none too phased by the rigid retelling of a tale that clearly had a lot more too it judging by the evidence right before him. It certainly wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever heard, and that point was further drove home as he simply commented, “Neat. So, where do you think it is?”

A silence overtook the pair as Soriya blinked a few times before staring at her father. But a fleeting sense of admiration took her as Kirollis just seemed to believe her chasing after some legend as if it were true. 

“Neat? That’s it? You hear about a dragon granting wishes and you’re response is ‘neat’?” Soriya questioned in a patronizing tone, despite the warm feelings a mere moment ago.

Kirollis took the jab well, simply shrugging, “Sori… our ranking government literally comes from another planet. A giant demon stabbed our planet baby last year. I’ve somehow managed to make it to almost two-hundred. Stranger things have happened.”

Soriya’s brow furrowed as she conceded. “Yeah… fair points.”

 “So?” Pointing toward the center of her board he added, “Is your best lead really the moon?”

“Uhm… well…” She reached a hand up to rub at the back of her neck. “I’ve talked to a couple of peop-... well the families of a couple of people. Stories their grandparents used to tell them.”

“Oh!” As an afterthought Soriya swiftly added, “There was this one group that was said to have actually found it pretty recently. But I can’t find -any- of them, the last person I can prove saw them said it was on the Isle of Thunder, but I couldn’t find anything even close out there.”

Kirollis took a moment to take in the information offered, letting out a “Hm.” As he got to his feet and took a closer look at the maps drawn out. “Ya ever think about the outskirts of Uldum?” 

“Uldum?” Soriya brushed off the random location. “Why would I go there? I mean, looking for this that is.”

Once more the rogue cast an incredulous look at his daughter. “Cause thousands of years ago Azeroth was all sorta connected? Pandaria probably connected somewhere around Uldum.” Squinting some he hesitantly asked, “Sori, did you not know that?”

“Why would I know that?!” The monk protested.

“...because it’s basic world history…”

A quick history lesson was given as the father and daughter duo exchanged ideas well into the night. While Kirollis educated her on the finer points of early Azeroth, Soriya filled him in on the legend she pursued. They had always got along and found common interests, but when it came to entering the others world there had always been a lack in joint projects. And while she was reluctant at first? Soriya eventually found herself thankful for the lucky break she was looking for.

[bl-giftexchange]

Connection Issues

 To @light-of-hyperion From: @needshea1ing

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT HAPPY HOLIDAYS 8’)))))))))

Words: 2144

Ship: A hint of Rhack. Just a liiiittle hint 8’)

*

The lights flickered above his head again and this time, Rhys could not hold back his sigh. He instead spun on his computer chair, looking at the neon that seemed to be having a rave party all by itself.

“Jack?” He called out, not expecting an answer. “Jesus, Jack. Will you please stop? I’m trying to work here if you hadn’t noticed.”

The lights only seemed to flicker harder, and a steady beeping coming from the security system could be heard now. Someone was apparently having a bad day. At least it wasn’t like the other time, which had included a sudden central heating shutdown that had lasted for a couple of hours until Jack realized that his little ‘harmless prank’ also affected the circuits he used to interact with the outside world. Computers never much liked cold weather.

Rhys shook his head, putting his headphones back onto his ears and went back to type at his computer.

“Don’t make me restrict your permissions any more, Jack. Pretty sure you wouldn’t like being stuck in a coffee machine.” The warning seemed to take effect, as the lights stopped flashing and the security system went quiet. In a second, the old Atlas base turned awfully quiet.

The first weeks could have driven anyone up the wall, and Rhys had quickly invested in a new pair of headphones to put at least some music on while he worked. Rebuilding a whole company from the ground was tedious work, and while he had found a couple capable hands that were ready to do the literal heavy lifting for him, he was pretty much alone working on logistics. He needed a couple more weeks before things could really get started. A few months and things would start rolling smoothly again.

Or they would, if some jerk wasn’t constantly demanding Rhys’ attention by suddenly shutting down the lights. Which he did at the very moment the newly ‘promoted’ CEO let his guard down.

“You know Ole Jack makes the best damn coffee in this godforsaken place, cupcake. C’mon.”

The whole base went pitch black for a few seconds before the emergency lights sputtered a couple times as they turned on. It wasn’t enough to work in a productive manner. Rhys groaned and put his headphones down, his organic hand rising to rub the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

It was the third time this week. Three times a self-centered idiot decided it was play time and claimed his attention in one of the most infuriating ways. At least this time the computers remained on thanks to external batteries. Earlier this week, it had been the wifi. The second time, Jack had pulled the best number in his ‘let’s annoy Rhys’ repertoire yet and had put something on the intercom speakers through the whole building. Rhys didn’t even want to know how much time Jack had lurked around the net to find that porn sound clip he played in a loop for a whole hour.

Nope. This time, Rhys wouldn’t fall into Jack’s game. He would purposefully ignore whatever he did. If he didn’t get the attention he craved so much, maybe he’d just… stop whatever he was doing, get bored and put the lights back on. It worked with kids, so it had to work with a giant manchild, right?

Except the giant manchild was in fact a bunch of codes and had a skewed perception of time now thanks to this. It could probably be days before he’d put the lights back on.

Rhys couldn’t help but curse at his previous reasoning. Feeling lonely at the then-desert base was no good reason under any circumstance to reinstall that AI into the mainframe, even with extremely restricted permissions. At the time, it had felt like a good idea. Rhys could use the company, and maybe… Maybe just clear the air about the whole crashing-Helios-down-and-trying-to-get-rid-of-its-leader-permanently situation. He had miscalculated Jack’s reaction by miles, and a dark part of his mind told him that had he not slightly toyed with his coding, the AI would probably had blown the whole base into the stratosphere. The first month and a half had been straight out hell. Rhys didn’t even know how he could have been so patient with whatever Jack threw at him. Maybe it was masochism. Maybe it was the disgusting remains of the star-struck feeling he had back when Jack addressed him for the first time.

Maybe it was wishful thinking and stupid optimism when he thought that everybody deserved a second chance. Or a third, in Jack’s case.

After a time, Jack had seemed to calm down – or at least to slow down on the whole ‘I’m angry at you so I’ll turn the sprinklers on while you work’ thing. Rhys had been lucky on that one, as the water had not been turned back on yet. All it earned him was instead a bunch of insult thrown at his head and a couple hours of radio silence. But then Jack had slowed down in his demonstrations of anger, and instead seemed to demand attention in a somewhat nicer way. He sometimes reminded Rhys of a child that noticed his temper tantrums went unanswered at best, unnoticed at worst.

Ugh, he really, really needed those lights on.

“Okay now, what’s up?” Rhys gave up, asking to the security camera in the corner. He had soon given up on any form of intimacy after installing Jack into the Atlas system, and he now knew his favorite spots to check on him from.

“I. Am. So fucking b-o-r-e-d, Rhysie. You got no idea how dull this is.”

A nearby screen flickered on, displaying what was now a familiar sight to Rhys. Jack looked back at him, an electric blue rendition of his sharp features on the screen in what looked like a parody of a webcam call.

“Seriously, how can you do this all day?” The AI continued, leaning back as if it was on a computer chair. “I look at you and every single time you’re there going tipitty-tapitty at this stupid keyboard looking like you’re brain dead already… which, come to think of it… yeah, maybe you are.”

  There was a pause during which Jack looked expectantly through the screen, seemingly hoping for a reaction from Rhys.

  “Thought you’d have it in you, kiddo, but I’m getting disappointed now,” Jack pressed on. “Where’s the gusto? The explosions, the bandits dying, the cash flowing in and the ladies swooning?”

Back in the day, Rhys would have wished for all of that. There was a small part of him that still wanted it, but he quickly smothered it into silence. It was not anywhere near realistic, not when things hadn’t picked up yet.

  “That’s your idea of success, Jack. Not mine,” he ended up replying, turning away from the screen and turning on the built-in flashlight in his robotic palm. If he couldn’t work, at least he would go outside and take a break. He did more than the standard overtime hours, all that while dealing with Jack’s bull. It was more than deserved.

  “Aw, come on! Don’t tell me you don’t have dreams, boy. We all do.” The screen turned off, another one lighting up down Rhys’ path. “Take a hint from a pro: a company without a vision doesn’t work. If there’s no endgame goal, there’s no drive. And people want that stuff. They wanna go towards something, anything. You gotta throw them bones and make them think your idea is worth it.”

  Yeah, right. In Hyperion’s case, it was ‘worth killing and dying for’. Even if Rhys didn’t want to admit it, it took more than just a nice goal to follow. What Jack gave his employees was a promise for something bigger than just people – and as much as Rhys hated to admit it, he bought into it as well.

  “I have a goal, don’t you worry about that,” Rhys mechanically replied, headed for the door.

  “Oh yeah? What is it, then?”

  Oh. Yeah, shit, what was it?

  “It’s– ah. Uh.” He could feel Jack’s judgmental stare like a thousand needles on his skin. “I want to find a way to help people. How, I don’t–”

  “Don’t we all,” Jack cut in, his tone sharp over the speakers. His voice softened a bit as he continued. “I wanted that as well. You know it, cupcake.”

  Rhys stopped in his tracks, turning to look at the closest screen. No, don’t fall for it. You know what he did–

  The eyes that met with his through the glass were those of a tired man. The smile did not seem as mocking anymore, the exhale of breath almost submissive. Either it was a display of faked emotion in order to manipulate him, or it was genuine – which would be welcome, for a change.

  “Y’know, I get it, you’re still mad. Hell, I am still mad sometimes. But I meant it: we could do great together. Fix things. Make it all better.”

  Rhys wanted to believe him. He really did. It was the same voice that had convinced him to sign up all that time ago. The same man that persuaded him that bearing with Vasquez’s and a couple other assholes’ antics were worth overlooking, because in the end, they would make things right. Sure, Hyperion worked under the law of the jungle, but they achieved things. There was a big deal of Jack’s own personal vendettas imbued in the system, but in the end things went towards the same goal.

  He had believed in it.

  Hell, he even had one of the stupidest boy crushes on Hyperion’s leading man ever since he set foot on Helios.

  Maybe it had all been part of the game, but he had put his trust in Hyperion. And even if it ended up crashing down (literally), Jack was right: he could be of help because he knew how those things worked. Even after his death, he had left a legacy behind. And that was something Rhys wanted to emulate with Atlas.

  The screen flickered, Jack moving to a nearby holographic projector to face Rhys. With the way the emergency power supplied provided only that much light, the projection was even clearer. It was exactly like Rhys remembered it when Jack had been installed in his own cybernetic implants, only he was confined to the space provided by the holographic devices. He stood there at full scale, barely an inch and a half taller than Rhys – which didn’t really make any difference thanks to the CEO’s heeled boots. Rhys walked closer, eyes fixed on the three dimensional image; Jack almost looked tangible that way.

  “So, what say you? Wanna partner up with the handsomest man in the six galaxies? And, huh, by that I mean me.” Jack smirked, and Rhys groaned. There he was, the asshole he knew.

  He made a deal with the devil once. Doing it again could be the worst idea he’d ever have.

  “Easy there. I’m more looking for a… mentor of sorts.”

  The groan Rhys got as an answer was telltale: Jack didn’t like not having a part in the decisions per se, and having the role of a guide was far less profitable for him. It was as far as he was ready to go, though. Giving Jack any more latitude to do as he pleased could be dangerous.

  He was playing on the safe side is all.

  “Heh. Chicken not ready to go all in I see.” Rhys puffed his cheeks at Jack’s statement, which earned him a short, loud laugh. The hologram was suddenly close to him – too close, even. Jack was pushing on the limits of the devices allowing him to materialize.

  “Alright, I’m game. I’ll play it your way.” A hand made of blue light rose, and Rhys almost flinched despite knowing very well that physical contact was impossible. It was only a projection, nothing real. Yet he still felt the prickle of little electric shocks as the hand cupped his cheek and a thumb lingered on his lower lip. Jack’s head was tilted to the side, his piercing gaze staring Rhys down. “But know that whenever you’re open to a more involved alliance, I’ll be there. All you need is to be ready to wear your big boy pants, kiddo.”

  Rhys almost missed the clicking sound before the lights turned back on and the hologram vanished. Despite it all, he could still feel the tickling feeling of small electric shocks on his cheek and lip. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the exit door. He couldn’t go back to work now.

He had once again made a deal with someone who could very well be the end of him. The break was more than desperately needed.

[deeeknows]

Wowwwwo im honored and excited for you to read this blog. This one was hard for me to write so dont hate me if it is less easy to understand. Id love to discuss anything you guys hate/love in the comments. See you on the other side.

June 28

today was a big day for me as i was looking forward to taking my math assessment all day. i should have studied but hindsight is 20/20. what i will note is my trip with Uesin. he selflessly gave up his afternoon to drive me to my house, to get food, and then to lanham. What i appreciate about him is how thoughtful all of his actions are. not even just the ones that place me on the receiving end but rather how he places purpose in every decision he makes. i want my relationship with God to mirror how his looks in these ways one day. but after we the assessment i drive back and there is a group meeting centered around Vaughn and he was telling us about his relocation story. a very humbling experience but it seems like God does that to many people that being give them a task they cannot complete on their own. Important Part There is no way for me to claim i trust God with my life and then not my child’s life. so when i feel called to move into the city and education for my child comes up i dont think I want the best for my children. i want what God has for my family and i trust that following his will we do the rest. secondly i learned there is no way to do this alone. no matter how much i tell myself i hate people and want to be alone community is neeeeeeded for relocation. not only will God get you plugged into the city but he will plant you in community with folks with the same mission as you. your church should represent where you live and the values of Christ. make the sacrifices needed to do Gods work if youre going to go there you might as well all the way do it. Important Part people call tell when youre just moving in as compared to bringing Jesus into their Community.

June 29

without much change in my day to day this week i was eager to see where my life would be challenged. my first adventure came when i went further out of the city with Megan and Lestle to the bank. our walk confused me slightly because of what i anticipated to be true about the city was just not lining up to be true at all. everyone thinks the city is the worst part of baltimore but Important Part i am starting to believe i have reason to believe that the people who live outside the city before they are in the county technically that have the most strenuous places. ostracized from the county because they arent good enough and without the “resources” of the city. its a hard life out here. fastforward to dinner time im walking to hiphop chicken and a woman starts screaming to me if i want to buy any movies. its in my nature to stop and talk because i just cant pretend like i cant hear someone speaking directly to me or keep walking when someone is trying to get my attention. so tell her i dont have any interest in any DVDs or console games or perfume but that also wasnt good enough for her. so she crosses the street to better communicate her need for a dollar just have something to drink. the thing that was catching me was we were on our way to eat dinner and i had already decided i wasnt going to spend my money because i wasnt to hungry. so i told her i didn’t have any singles but she can have and i assured her that if i did she would be in luck. shortly after i ended up giving her the 5 to her surprise and she starts crying. i ask her name and then she tells me and i say i will be praying for her but my family group was standing a ways off and were waiting for me to go to dinner. as i tried to walk away she reaches out for me and asks for me to pray for her now. by the time im finished she is in full blown tears and i just gotta go because i cant be out here crying in these streets. i tell this story because i think for me and her it was more than about the mere 5. Important Part while the 5 would get her something to drink it wasnt going to meet all of her needs and we both knew that. the immediacy she wanted her interaction with her Savior right then. and it just teaches me not walk past anyone again because besides “costing me” 5 dollars which was only mine for all of 5 minutes i was able to be with her in her interaction which i believe she will remember way longer than she will remember the 5 i dont even remember what it looked like.

June 30

Who am I. Question I’ve found in all of my conversations since Sunday. Looking for ways I could define myself without telling people what I’m not. Today’s thought provoking comments came by the brilliant minds of Feitian and Lestle. After I was taking notes on my Asian culture 101 class I started to realize my questions weren’t specific to myself and that many other people groups go through the very same things I do. Seeking to find ones self. Feitian communicated to me the exact thing that I knew I couldn’t have been the only other person thinking. That people don’t want to know you, they’d rather skip all the time it would take to get to know each person and use what they have gathered previously through most times skewed lens to contextualize you. Important Part Who you are and who you aren’t are two different people trapped in one body. And most times we are stuck in between looking for someone else to shine some light on us to help determine where our strengths and almost-strengths lie. But I didn’t come to this until the 3 of us went around and spoke about how we were having such immense difficulty communicating who we were to the next person or how hard it was without describing what we weren’t. I believe we live in our pursuit for purpose in our lives and we start with figuring out who we are and what we like. Most times we never make it to the second part without placing our identity in Christ. Important Part It sounds super corny but I have been thinking all week and those are the only concrete things I can describe myself with that others cannot change the definitions to. Who knows. Maybe one day I won’t be afraid of someone knowing me better than I do. But I can’t call it as of yet.

July 1

Writing this a day after wasn’t my smartest idea yet. But we didn’t do as much. It was comprised of a seminar on racial reconciliation. while this seems like a super broad topic and it is. the main parts of what we were doing were focused around a couple steps that really broke down the process into knowing who you are racially and ethnically and what that means for our society and how can we knowing our differences work to create heaven on earth. this whole seminar was a challenge as to what i thought heaven was going to look like. i can see now what a real working definition of unity looks like. unity is fully realized in diversity. as a puzzle works there are many many pieces and they are all shaped through cultures and experiences they have been in. Important Part we needed more than 1 uniqueshape to complete the image of God and thats what unity is about. accepting people who are different from you and working with them because we all together reflect God

After the seminar we went on a trip to the National Blacks in Wax museum. While it was a learning experience i would have enjoyed maybe another hour or 7 to properly pace myself to get to really digest the museum. The worst part about this whole thing for me is in the idea that many of the atrocious acts that were used to oppress black people in the past were not only “based” out of christian beliefs but also done by christian people. So to think about reconciliation for me is to attach myself to an agent that was used to divide people in the past didnt sound appealing at all. Important Part But i realize i serve a God that is big enough to take what some people manipulated to hurt and dehumanize my people and redeem not only what was taken but Christ’s name. This is so important to me because the more broken the more we can see God’s grace cover many times over.

July 2

as practicing sabbath becomes more and more a thing im getting used to im thankful for the time im putting aside to be alone. lol and be with

God. i went over to the Zubeks home and there i met so many new friends. these people im starting to see work together to get your will done and i say the way teamwork looks. vision casting and group work does more and helps to create a community that is dependent on each other. every part of me hates being dependent on someone else but im trying my best to do more than just isolate myself and grow to work with people towards a common goal. but today i went to worship at a mass. it was so new and short i didnt even realize it was over when it was. a different pace but not something i dont think id do long team. i dont see enough variability for myself. i like the experience. id want to get to understand why they do all of what they do for their practices.

July 3

monday was a day that we began to get back into everything with brother Jeff. as a starter we spent about 30 minutes in prayer interceding on behalf of the kids who were just coming back from camp, playing in the league, and the coaches. This is so valuable to me because of what the kids experienced while they were at summers best 2 weeks. This christian camp was a structure and environment that many different kids have in. Brother Jeff took these 7 kids and they all took MAJOR steps in their walk with Christ. And this is great to see but everyone isnt going to be at the best 2 weeks forever and the situations these kids are coming back to isnt one that would accidentally foster them to continue to grow. Important Part Which is why we were fighting in prayer for these kids to meet us halfway so we can continue to pour into them while they are around. becoming an intercessor is exciting me more and more because im becoming like my momma and i see the importance and value of what she does so well. pray for others. i might have to get me one of those closets that dont have a door since i feel like id get locked in and die. but thats besides the point. we then went shopping for the 4th and the weekend for him before coming back home and doing more admin things. then my favorite part of it all. spending time with the youth came. we took timmy*** to the park to hoop for quite some time. seeing and getting these kids to be themselves and slowly begin to look up to myself and lestle and begin to ASK us questions just shows how willing and eager they are to learn. cant wait for more times.

July 4

Writing this blog now I’m still experiencing the 4th in the city and so the nonstop fireworks kept me awake enough to write this entry. To begin my 4th I went to brother Jeffs home and had a cookout with the kids and some of his closest mentees. Over a couple games of uno, burgers, and corn we discussed among many other things honor. While it might seem like a little thing to you guys honor for these kids is VERY VERY important. As I believe it should be for everyone but in biased. Honor and respect is given to those who earn it and something you would never give up on your own accord without a fight. While I know this to be true in my life it didn’t settle in how serious this was until asked point blank where put in a situation you had to Choose walking away with your life or dying with your pride that some would choose to die. Not only did this seem almost ludicrous to me but it wasn’t until shortly after that “death before dishonor” really held any weight. Not only were these kids being put in these situations but they were being forced to make these decisions and would rather die and be known as a real one that held to their values than to flake even when your life is on the line. I love it when someone teaches me something new about myself and this was definitely a time i could realize who i was and where i could grow, Because just putting it in my Blog doesnt mean id be willing to give up my life for anything. Important Part These soldiers would be rocking it in the army of God but until we can get them to stand on the solid rock of Jesus things prolly not gon stay too bright.

My second part of my day I want to compare firework experiences. While they aren’t entertaining to me I enjoy seeing others amused by them. To start off we went to the Zubek Home to watch then after our crab feast. People start to filter onto the roof of their rowhome in SOWEBO and lean up pretty much with their significant others. As people all around the city shoot of their fireworks the thing that stuck out most to me in this situation was how people were celebrating. The laid back privileged group of christians versus the constant street show that we watched for close to an hour as they blocked off stricker less than 50 meters from our home opens my eyes to so many things and actually visible comfort zones. Important Part I want to remember to that the people in Baltimore are not here to put on a show for me on my rooftop but rather that im challenged to learn, experience, and love on the people to try and better understand them. Connections work wonders as we watched and listened to the fireworks go off from 9-2 am non stop.

While this blog was harder for me to write i think there were less Important Parts as well and i dont want yah to hate me for it. Hopefully the ones ive pointed out in this last week add help with anything you might have experienced once upon a time. My last impressions would be to find 3 things you can tell me about yourself without telling me who you arent. My challenge would be to try a vegetarian lifestyle for a week. And my question would be where would you put yourself on the death before dishonor scale?

[theconservativebrief]

Right now, on the website for Edible Arrangements, you can purchase a bouquet of cut fruit featuring cartoon-style flowers cut from pineapple with bulbous cantaloupe centers, with leafy moons of honeydew and fat strawberry roses, dotted with sprigs of shiny red grapes.

You can buy many arrangements like this one, in various configurations, depending on your budget and edible needs. Sometimes, the pineapple is shaped like a star and not a daisy. Sometimes, there are orange wedges. Some arrangements have fruits dipped in chocolate. The “Peace & Doves Bouquet” depends upon a small flock of pineapple birds in white chocolate coats.

They cost between $24.99, for a petite-sized FruitFlowers® Bouquet, and go up to $1,999, for an Incredible Edibles® Chocolate Spectacular, which is less an “arrangement” than an edible shrub.

In the two decades since the company was founded, it has become an icon and a punchline. It is the ultimate gift for gift’s sake, a category of objects that exist exclusively to be presented to someone else. It is not that nobody wants an Edible Arrangement; it is just that wanting (or not wanting) an Edible Arrangement — a present that exists at the intersection of frivolity and groceries — has very little to do with getting one.

There are no rules, of course, preventing you from buying yourself a chocolate-covered pineapple bouquet, but there are customs. An Edible Arrangement is like a MacArthur Fellowship; you cannot nominate yourself.

Tariq Farid opened the first Edible Arrangements store in 1999 in East Haven, Connecticut. He had been working in the floral industry, so he knew about flowers, and he was also aware that there were people making bouquets out of fruit and so he started selling those, too, in a corner of his flower shop. He didn’t invent the concept, he tells me. It’s just that now, if you picture a fruit bouquet, it’s probably one of his.

“I’ve always done things according to what customers think,” he says, which is good, because customers loved his arrangements that were edible; as of early 2018, annual revenue topped $500 million.

The banks he was trying to get loans from did not. In Connecticut magazine, he described these initial meetings: “I looked like I was on some type of drug like speed or something. I’m going, ‘THIS IS GONNA BE BIG,’ and they’re like, ‘It’s fruit, in a basket.’”

This, in fact, was the whole point. It is fruit. It is in a basket (or a vase). But people did not understand. He would show them the brochure in his pocket — as the company was starting, he always carried a brochure in his pocket — and explain, and they would tell him how cool it was, and then confess that they’d thought it had something to do with edible underwear.

This confusion did not last long. According to Farid, “every customer that came in loved it and wanted to know how they could order more.” The first major fruit-flower holiday they were open, Easter 1999, they had “about 28 orders. It was amazing, the type of response we had.” And it would be easier to dismiss this as entrepreneurial puffery if the brand did not — despite various troubles — currently have 1,200 stores in 11 countries worldwide.

People think Edible Arrangements are very expensive, Farid says, but that’s wrong. “Our most popular arrangement is $25. We wanted to make it an everyday option, and that’s what we did.”

Thanks to an army of specialized fruit-cutting machinery — the company holds a staggering number of patents for devices relating to the slicing of melons — you can impulsively swing by an Edible storefront and have one arranged on the spot, in “7 or 8 minutes.” It can be a planned gift, or an impulse gift, or a gift you give when you can’t think of a different gift, or for when you forgot you needed one.

If you are presented with an Edible Arrangement, Farid really wants you to say “wow.” To feel “wow.” To taste “wow.” The company is in the “wow” business: Up until about two years ago, Farid says, the mission statement was “to WOW you.” (It has since changed to the more community-minded “to fill the world with goodness,” although “wow” remains a top priority.)

“I mean, we’re a gifting company. That’s why you send a gift. You give a gift to wow someone, to make their day.”

“I mean, we’re a gifting company. That’s why you send a gift. You give a gift to wow someone, to make their day,” Farid explains. It is not just a gift, but a symbol of a gift. “I am a gift!” announces an Edible Arrangement. Its primary job is to exist.

The Edible Arrangement beautiful giftiness is also what makes it a joke. There is an Onion headline: Continued Existence Of Edible Arrangements Disproves Central Tenets Of Capitalism. “According to experts,” the article reads, the company has “defied all modern economic models, expanding continuously for the past decade despite its complete lack of any discernible consumer appeal.”

But to economist Joel Waldfogel, author of Scroogenomics, a credo against the inefficiency of holiday gift-giving, gifts are rarely logical propositions. A good gift is something you wouldn’t buy for yourself, I propose, which is an unoriginal insight, but also what I think.

From an economic perspective, though, it’s the opposite. “What’s efficient is to give somebody something they would have purchased for themselves, or cash,” Waldfogel says. “But that’s not really gift-like.”

And in most situations that require a gift, “cash is not acceptable,” except in very specific circumstances: your grandmother might give you cash, but you are probably not writing a birthday check to your boss. But an Edible Arrangement is perfect for when cash would be both ideal and colossally inappropriate.

And so it makes sense that some number of arrangements are corporate gifts, bestowed upon one company by another, because it’s Christmas and they appreciate your business. In November and December, peak corporate gifting season, this constitutes about 11 percent of the business.

“It’s a great item to send to an office where everybody can enjoy it,” Farid points out, for the same reason a more classical fruit basket is a great gift to send to an office: “If you send chocolate or candy, maybe some people will say, ‘I can’t eat sugar.’ If you send fruit, everybody will dig into it.” What he does not say is that an Edible Arrangement is blissfully impersonal; it is the color ecru in gift form.

The primary target customer, however, has always been not a corporation, but “a mom,” Farid says. “Or that 25- to 40-year-old female demographic — skewed female, because a lot of times the decisions get made by the lady of the house, except for Valentine’s Day and possibly Mother’s Day.” And even then, sometimes it is the 25- to 40-year-old woman demographic telling her husband, “Hey, don’t forget mom, it’s her birthday, let’s get her something,” he says.

But how intimate can a present between lovers be, if it is equally appropriate as a gift between corporate law firms?

Mother’s Day is the biggest Edible occasion — there are late presents, and early ones — but the single busiest Edible day is Valentine’s Day, because “it’s all about love.” It is similar to other gifts given for these holidays — a bouquet of actual floral flowers, for example — but, Farid notes, the value proposition is higher, because cut fruit is beautiful but also food. In the great schism between “things” and “experiences,” a fruit bouquet is both: You gaze at it, but then you eat it.

But how intimate can a present between lovers be if it is equally appropriate as a gift between corporate law firms? As one former Edible Arrangements employee recalled to Munchies, they are also big with men trying to hit on women they mostly do not know.

“They’d write notes like, ‘Saw you at the club the other day, you told me where you worked…’” and then it would be up to him to wander through a Macy’s with a vase of floral melon balls looking for a woman based on vague physical characteristics and no last name. Except that the men aren’t wrong. “Everyone,” he concluded, “is so thrilled to get these weird topiaries of fruit.”

And yet it is easy to be dismissive of Edible Arrangements. Unlike fruit-gifting competitor Harry and David, purveyor of gold-wrapped pears, or the perfect $125 melons sold at Sembikiya, Tokyo’s most famous luxury fruit market, Edible Arrangements has always identified as working class.

“When we started, we were mostly in blue-collar towns,” says Farid. “And our stores did the best in those towns.” He attributes this to the healthy selection of lower-priced options, and a belief that “blue-collar people tended to celebrate a lot more.”

His own father, after bringing the family over from Pakistan, worked as a machinist, so he understands. “We know we have to take care of those customers who are celebrating but have limited resources.”

Is it so wrong to give a gift that exists to be given? Is it a bug that you need know nothing about your recipient to present them with an Edible Arrangement, or is it — perhaps — a feature?

It is rarely a misstep. “The worst thing that can happen is you’ll moderately enjoy it and then it’s gone,” Waldfogel tells me. “It’s not some kind of permanent burden, like the ugly picture that hangs on the wall that you’re expected to have on the wall every time the giver comes visiting.”

Waldfogel has no public stance on Edible Arrangements, but he will say that there is “something special about it … I suspect for most people, it’s not a usual thing to consume.” And in that way, yes, “it has some of the criteria that you might associate with a ‘perfect gift.’”

But the problem with gifts is that they are occasional; even in the age of extreme self-care, people are mostly not buying chocolate-dipped fruit trees for themselves. “Where we’re going towards now is we have a lot of treats,” Farid says: chocolate-dipped fruit chunks, fruit smoothies, “donuts,” which are actually chocolate-covered Granny Smith apple rounds. “Our ideal customer is the person who treats themselves. The ‘gifted giver,’ we call them.” The company, he says, has evolved “from gifting into a treat business.”

Does this mean that we aren’t giving so much anymore, I ask? Not at all, Farid assures me. We’re probably giving even more now, if anything. “You can send a little emoji and make someone’s day.” Sometimes, his kids send him a heart; he loves that. It’s a gift in itself.

“What people give has changed,” he continues. “People want to be a lot more sensible.” But the basic impulse to give? No, that hasn’t changed. It’s just that there’s a new recipient now. It is us, gifting ourselves the gift of being gifted.

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Original Source -> What is the meaning of an Edible Arrangement?

via The Conservative Brief

[theycallmeshaggyrogers]

A Smarter Version of My Rant Shitting on English Majors

This is, above all else a criticism of my department. It’s not a carefully structured argument about why I think its curriculum should change so much as me, an observer and participant, shitting on my department’s cirriculum in pursuit of whatever catharsis I may enjoy in writing this.

I think what bugs me the most about my school's English department is that the major curriculum is centered around students who want to be educators. To my knowledge, there is only one class a semester that teaches you how to write, be it poetry (reserved for rich, "artsy" lesbians who don't understand the value of their parents' money), narrative fiction or essay writing, while the rest are effectively seminars where you learn about the professor's interpretation on a series of works you may have no interest in approaching, but you gotta get your English credits somehow.

My point is, the department is skewed towards teaching skills such as literary interpretation and essay-writing to people who wish to teach for a living. I mentioned in a previous rant post that if you want to be any sort of freelance writer, it's better to go into mass communications instead. But it doesn't have to be. I think if my department, and by extension English departments at colleges all throughout the Anglosphere were to diversify the content they teach where you learn more than just how to interpret a literary work, such as how to give literary criticism, learning to make your writing sound professional or hell, even a class on how to create your own portfolio site! Jesus Christ, English Department! Teach your students how to be professionals in the working world!

Culturally speaking, a BA in English is considered to be of lesser value by your peers than a BA in a business concentration or a BA in a STEM major, and even if lesser value than most BFA degrees. I have friends and a significant other studying computer arts and animation at SVA and they will all be guaranteed employment upon graduating, not only because they are learning actual skills that can be widely applicable to their industry, but because they also learn how to professionally brand themselves with portfolio sites and semester demo reels. Things are actually expected of them besides fulfilling credits. I can barely organize a proper senior thesis project with professional advisement because there is such little incentive for the damn thing to exist in the first place.

When I say English major, you probably think of out of shape hipsters who think they're misunderstood geniuses and long to live in a metropolitan area with like-minded individuals. You probably also think of a few pitiful jobs these kinds people land after college: news blogger, gaming journalist, etc. These are not admirable jobs and to call it professional work is a huge stretch. Even a keyframe animator working for a tiny production studio contribtes more valuable mass media than a bottom of the barrel top 10 list on Buzzfeed. To be an English major means to struggle to assert your relevancy. All you have after 4 years of college is a vast, questionably useful knowledge of classic literature, maybe a few postmodern novels and writing trends and little to no experience pertaining to creative writing. It is for this exact reason that most of my writing is either for my broadcasting major or done on my own time. I am a writer largely by the means of my own efforts. I can give my English classes credit for providing examples of what engaging, interesting and memorable writing is in the form of Shakespeare or Elie Wiesel, but the action of actually writing, not to mention self-branding to employers and consistent portfolio revisions/updates will be the reason I land whatever writing job I do after college.

Writing is what landed me a scholarship to go to college in the first place, and I know where I want to go after I graduate. The reason why I rant about this is because unlike my department peers, I have no interest in teaching. I am so terrified of not finding work with my BA in English that I commit to learning other skills in my second major. Knowledge of how to operate expensive, industry-grade cameras on a closed set is far more useful than analyzing the sociocultural issues of the Gilded Age aristocracy of Manhattan as portrayed by Edith Wharton or learning how to deconstruct Modernist poetry. Literary academia is an insular community that only truly welcomes the most educated and the most patient of aspiring intellectuals. Its produced content can only be shared and enjoyed within a small circle. Basically, English departments and English classes are glorified book clubs. I'm not suited for this. I want to create for a wide audience, and if smart people happen to be part of that audience then that means I have done my job well. When I think of someone like this, I think of the director Edgar Wright. His films are fun and over the top enough to be crowd pleasing, but the way he films a scene or transitions between them are creative and clever to the point that they demand analysis. You can enjoy an Edgar Wright movie without a college education, but you can only enjoy Moby Dick with a doctorate.

[double-birds-blog]

Picking Up the Pieces

By Chase Woodruff

Here’s a needlessly elaborate version of a hypothetical first proposed to me by sometimes Double Birds contributor Adam Felder: On Sunday evening, just before the Cardinals open the regular season against the Cubs at Busch Stadium, an Omnipotent Time-Traveling Baseball Genie appears before you in a blinding seraphic vision. He offers you a deal: he will guarantee that the Cardinals win 100 games and the World Series this season, but they will do so at the cost of having traded away or released every single player in the organization over this past offseason. Tell the genie to snap his fingers, and the Cards will open play on Sunday night with an equivalently talented roster full of random major-leaguers—some you like, some you don’t, some you’ve never really thought about or even heard of—and will go on to be World Series champions. If you want, the genie will wipe your memory to maximize your enjoyment of their title run, and there will be no adverse effects on the organization’s long-term outlook.

If there were ever a time that Cardinals fans should want to take this deal, it’s now-ish. The Big Three who formed the competitive heart and cultural soul of the team for almost a decade are nearing the end of the line; one of them is already gone, and the other two will be before long, one way or the other. There’s some above-average young talent on the roster and plenty of promise in the farm system, but nothing that quite yet resembles a new core. The Cubs look to be in a dominant position in the NL Central for years to come, and few things would be sweeter than immediately answering their first world championship in 108 years with the Cardinals’ twelfth.

Still, there’s no way I take the deal. For me, the experience of watching the Cardinals and the thrill of seeing them win—whether it’s a World Series or a division title or a getaway-day game against the Brewers in mid-June—has too much to do with the connective tissue between the present and the past. I’d ultimately rather watch Alex Reyes and Carlos Martínez and Matt Carpenter and, yes, a mobility-scooter-riding Yadier Molina try to battle their way into contention in the next few years than watch a guaranteed world champion full of players I’ve got no history with. My love of the Cardinals depends on the sense—even if it’s really more of an illusion—that there’s a naturalistic order to who they are and how they came to be, that they’re not just an arbitrary collection of interchangeable run-production and -prevention machines.

This is not everyone’s perspective. It’s probably not most people’s perspective, these days. Free agency forever changed the way fans conceived of their relationship to the local nine, and much in the last few decades has reaffirmed that shift. The internet turned fantasy sports into a phenomenon and put everyone in charge of their own dream team. The sabermetrics revolution made heroes out of general managers and stats geeks and punctured many of the game’s old player-driven pieties. Games like The Show and Out of the Park allow us to simulate running our favorite clubs to astounding degrees of depth and realism. The democratization and fragmentation of media have brought fans into the conversation like never before; to follow a baseball team in the age of blogs and Twitter and text lines is to swim in a sea of nonstop amateur analysis and debate about how the team is run.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of this, of course. The reserve clause thoroughly deserves its place on the ash heap of history. Advanced stats have helped us better understand the game than ever before, and the digital counterculture that grew symbiotically with them, from Baseball Prospectus to FanGraphs to the SB Nation network and beyond, is home to some of the best baseball writing you’ll find anywhere. No small part of the fun of modern baseball fandom comes from thinking like a GM would: agonizing over lineups, wishcasting trades, debating extensions and call-ups and position changes and defensive shifts and future free agents. There’s a reason why I’ve spent an unhealthy percentage of my spare time in the last ten days on OOTP 18 saves and fantasy drafts.

But if you’re looking for signs that baseball fandom’s new analytics-driven, GM-centered normal is starting to bump up against its own limitations, and maybe twist into something more sinister, you can find them. Outflanked by smarter, nimbler outlets on the analysis front, traditional media have retreated into roles as access brokers, peddling scoops and laundering spin for front offices and skewing the conversation back towards the interests of management and ownership. Sabermetrics evangelists created a movement just popular and sacrosanct enough for Major League Baseball to co-opt, and the communal DIY ethos of its mid-aughts heyday has given way to the era of MLB Advanced Media’s opaque, proprietary Statcast™, doled out on MLB Network or by approved media outlets in doses just frequent enough that you don’t forget they’re Powered by Amazon Web Services™.

You could see the results in something like last month’s World Baseball Classic, which managed to achieve a degree of success despite the steady stream of cold water being poured on it by team executives fretting about injury risk and spring-training disruption and the pundits and columnists dutifully echoing their concerns. For many in and around the game, the obvious excitement and emotional stakes for players and fans of every country not named the United States—not to mention some great baseball—weren’t enough to make the tournament anything more than a novelty, if not a nuisance. One thing it was, of course, was an opportunity to roll out the newest Statcast™ metric, Catch Probability™, which will grade outfield catches on a scale from One Star Plays™ to Five Star Plays™. If you don’t think we’re headed for a world where Randal Grichuk can make a Papa John’s™ Four Topping Catch™ Measured by MasterCard™ Presents Statcast™ Powered by Amazon Web Services™, I’ve got a Papa Slam to sell you.

If modern baseball has become a cult of the front office, then Cardinals fandom is one of its most radical sects. That was evident even before this spring, when a substantial minority of Cards fans began talking themselves into being okay with needlessly showing Yadier Molina the door, but it’s certainly unmistakable now. Few fanbases in sports are more reliably willing than we are to trust the process, to accept that Mo Knows, to prove that we are the savvy dispassionate experts to every other team’s fickle emotional mob. There are different strains of this frame of mind out there—dull Cardinal Way moralism for some, I Fucking Love Sabermetrics triumphalism for others—but they’re united by an abiding faith in the system, in upper management, in the virtues of technocracy.

It wasn’t always this way, not even in the Moneyball-chic days of the mid-aughts. Walt Jocketty built some of the best Cardinals teams of any of our lifetimes by trading aggressively for the elite veteran talent other teams couldn’t afford; whether in spite of or because of the star power he assembled, he never had much of a profile of his own. Even after he’d become a casualty of the new era represented by Jeff Luhnow and the MV3 had shrunken to an MV1, the formidable twin presences of Albert Pujols and Tony La Russa remained most central to the Cardinals’ identity.

That all changed over the course of a single offseason, though, and both the Cardinals and their fans leaned hard into their new self-image as the team that actually definitely didn’t want Pujols back, anyway, thanks. It helped immensely, of course, that the club was finally starting to reap what had been sown by Luhnow—who, ironically enough, had left at the end of 2011 with the other two—and results were very good. They hired a room-temperature bowl of oatmeal as field manager and it didn’t seem to matter much. The legend of the 2009 Draft Class grew. Michael Wacha, compensatory draft pick for the loss of Pujols, embodiment of the Cardinals’ drafting and development wizardry, pitched us to the World Series and we all said, See?

As recently as a year ago, many of us still wanted to believe that that particular golden age hadn’t ended yet, that the Cardinals were still the team of the Wacha who’d outdueled Clayton Kershaw twice and not the Wacha who’d been trotted out by the bowl of oatmeal to give the season away a year later. The Cubs looked to have surged ahead over the course of an offseason or two in part by doing what the Cardinals wouldn’t, hiring a competent (if profoundly obnoxious) manager and spending aggressively on top-tier free agents to augment their cost-controlled young talent. But plenty in St. Louis still managed to convince themselves to trust the system. “TIME TO SHINE,” proclaimed the Post-Dispatch on Opening Day 2016, after one of the most disappointing offseasons in living memory. “Grichuk and Piscotty are the centerpiece of the Cards’ plan to ramp up offense and stay on top with homegrown talent.”

It’s one of the great fallacies of our time, in baseball and elsewhere, that a well-intentioned managerial class can serve a set of interests distinct from those of ownership and capital. The Cardinals have been enormously successful in persuading fans that their emphasis on “homegrown talent” and “internal options” and aversion to spending big on the free-agent market had everything to do with sound front-office strategy and nothing to do with the club’s league-high profit margins. It’s not at all dissimilar to corporate elites’ success in convincing an entire generation of young people that temp jobs without benefits and plummeting homeownership rates are just part of The Flexibility That Millennials Want. So maybe it’s not a surprise, then, not entirely coincidence, that in the space of a week, 2016 taught us two indelible lessons about the terrible shit that can happen when we place too much faith in technocratic managerialism. The system won’t save you, because that’s not what the system was designed to do.

And now we move forward; it’s Todd Ricketts’ world, we’re just living in it. Dexter Fowler arrived to remind us of all the ways in which a player can be valuable that don’t show up on FanGraphs or a front-office spreadsheet—and to spell it out quite explicitly in case anyone missed it—but the truth is that not much could have changed in the Cardinals’ offseason, and not much did. We may or may not have to wait until 2018 for a test of whether Bill DeWitt is willing to adapt to the new reality, but Fowler wasn’t it, and Edwin Encarnación probably wasn’t, either.

If the Cardinals somehow manage to put together a run in 2017, it will be an especially gratifying season, because it will mean that some combination of the many things we want to be true actually are: that Aledmys Díaz is for real; that Carlos Martínez is a true ace; that Fowler can produce like he did last year; that Lance Lynn is Lance Lynn again; that Stephen Piscotty can be not just good but great; that Waino is not finished; that Yadi is going to live forever. If it all breaks right, though, for once the credit shouldn’t go to the system, or the process, or the Way. The fun won’t be because this was all part of the plan, but precisely because it wasn’t.