#my mother in law is working on a payment plan to give us a new car

[lizzy-frizzle]

Oh shit, did you peeps know that humans are a collaborative species and that when you get help from other people it allows you to do things you couldn't on your own?

Fuckin wild

[deliciousangelfestival]

Chapter 2

Character : Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader (?)

Summary : Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her. 

A/n :This #### will be used to explain the character’s past. 

Warning : Grammar mistakes, since English is not my first language.

Somewhere in Brooklyn. 

There’s a female who is taking a nap on the couch. Today’s activity kind of exhausts her because of last night and the unexpected event at the restaurant. She wants to take a nap first before having dinner. But after 10 minutes, her beautiful sleep got distracted.

“(Y/N) !!! (Y/N) !!!” 

(Y/N) awakened up from her nap because of the smashing door. She rubbed her eyes with her backhand. When her eyes finally focused, she could see someone standing in front of her. 

She lazily asked him, “What’s up, Bambi?”

“Don’t call me with that nickname.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because you have grown up. But Peter Parker, in my eyes, I will always remember the boy who cried asking me for ice cream.” She put on her smirk smile, her hands moving fast to mess up his hair.

He slapped her hand that made her giggle.

“It’s not like I hate you coming to my house? But what’s wrong with that pouted face Peter?”

Peter heavily sighed; this time, he threw his body to the couch. He crossed his arms and pouted. 

“Aww, ~~ What's it, partner? If you keep sighing, you will get older.”

“Urgh,” Peter rests his head on her shoulder. “When can I have a job that doesn't relate to guns?”

"You can."

Peter lifts his head to get a look at her. "How?"

"Die first."

"Thanks (Y/N)."

(Y/N) shrugged her shoulder, "You can't get rid of it. It's already in your DNA."

She pinches Peter's cheeks. "Why do you sound sarcastic today?" Usually, every time he came into her house, she could see flowers behind him. Now the background changes into grumpy Squidward. 

Peter’s face still on the pillow, he grumbles, "You shouldn’t come to my work today."

"Why not? I'm worried about you."

"Pietro has been asking me about you."

"He knew I'm related to you?" (Y/N) seems surprised.

Peter nodded. "He noticed on my first day."

"He's good."

"But today…. It's not only him." Peter grumbled.

(Y/N) still impressed about Pietro’s instinct, she didn’t hear Peter grumbled since he speaks to soft "What?"

He shook his head "Nothing."

"Are you going to have a sleepover?"

Peter has been living in his place since he graduates from university. Before he said anything (Y/N), grab his hand. "Please… I'm tired eating delivery also instant mac&cheeseeeee~."

Peter shook his head; who would even think a former assassin like (Y/N) could act like a child because of food. 

####

To explain the relationship between Peter and (Y/N); both are not related by blood. (Y/N) knew him because of his mother, and she met him when she was an assassin.

And a deadly one. 

Why did she leave? 

Because of Peter. 

Something happened that made (Y/N) choose to burn everything from her past to the ground literally. She made quite a name in the underworld. 

####

"Fine." He answered that made (Y/N) raised her arms to cheer. 

"But only for today though, because my new housemate is coming." said Peter while he went to the fridge to get some ingredients.

(Y/N) looking at his back, the boy in front of him acts more mature than her. Time moved so fast the first time she met him; he asked her for a piggyback, cried when she didn't give him ice cream and blamed her when he's the one who broke his mother's favorite plate. 

And now, he is almost taller than her, independent, better at cooking and moving out from their luxury home. 

(Y/N) puts her chin on her palm. "I don't understand why you need to move out." She doesn't want to tell the truth that she misses him.

Peter already started cutting the vegetables. He had a reason why he moved out; somehow (Y/N) past will come to hunt and target her.

####

Peter knew everything about her and saw it. He could live with it, but he couldn't sleep every time he heard a gun, a sound of grunting because of the stabbing, and in the morning, he saw their house destroyed with bullet holes and destroyed furniture.

They have to move a couple of times. 

He never saw any blood and dead bodies, (Y/N) top priorities were to get rid of the blood and bodies before he sees it. 

Peter knew that she understood his reason why; he could see her teary eyes when he told her he wanted to move out. She felt guilty for all the things he had been going through because of her. 

But it takes two to tango. Peter was the one who asked to stay beside her before she dropped him with his aunt May Parker on that day. 

What (Y/N) said was right; it’s already in his DNA. Danger always follows him because of his mother. 

His mother used to be an assassin like (Y/N) until she met his father. She left everything to build a family together.  

But their happy life was cut short; one day, he lost his parents, and that's the first time he saw the dark side of (Y/N) and the first time he knew what revenge is. 

####

"I met someone." Peter answer. 

"Owww~ My brother is a man now~."

Peter looked at her through his shoulder. 

She nodded her head multiple times. "I understand you need privacy."

"But use protection okay?"

"Ugh,(Y/N)!! Seriously…?"

(Y/N) laughed while putting her hands on it defensively. "Sorry, I will stop it."

After 30 minutes, both of them finally eat dinner together. 

"Someone else beside Pietro also asked about you."

"Hmm."

"You knew who it was don't you?"

(Y/N) winked at him. 

She knew it must be Steve because it is obvious he tries to flirt with her, and she gave him her phone number. She made a program if someone put specific keywords along with her fake name, she would get notified. (Y/N) only tell her real name to someone that she could fully trust. 

She must admit he almost got her, with the help from Starks, the other genius, but she's better at hiding.-

"You planned to make him more curious about you right?"

"You're getting smarter Peter." (Y/N) want to meet Steve once again. Today the moment she saw his face, it looked like a cheesy chick flick movie. 

She could replay the moment he approached her. And when he tried to be cool to say 'Hi' but failed, that was cute. 

(Y/N) wasn’t planning to stay long at the restaurant today but she has to because she’s worried about Peter. Last night both of them went out to get dinner when they had back her old enemy try to target her. It failed since (Y/N) is much more powerful, but Peter’s shoulder got hit. 

He said he was fine, but her heart clenched when she saw the blue bruise on his shoulder. Peter is a stubborn boy; he doesn’t want to make her worried. But she is; that’s why she chooses to stay to make sure he’s alright. 

She didn’t regret staying since she met a gorgeous man today. Perhaps cupid plays its part. 

Peter added, "He's a good boss, don't shock him."

"You make me look like a cold hearted bitch." (Y/N) scoffed. 

Peter sighed. "The time when you were with Billy Russo?"

"It was brief, but we are cool."

"It's hard to believe when he sent his Anvil team to get you."

"Because of me, he learned that his team was weak. He even sent a letter thanking you and said let's meet again."

Peter furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head; he wishes he wishes the best for Billy. 

"The time with August Walker?" 

"To be fair, I betrayed him, but hey, we got a free helicopter." 

"Zemo?"

"Both of us agreed to break up, and he ended up married with his true love. Happy ending."

Peter sighed "(Y/N); the reason why I'm saying this is because everytime you broke up with your boyfriend, they would come after you." The aftermath is always messy. 

"I love this job, and my new friend. Please don't mess this up." He makes it clear since he liked his new workplace; the first time he came for the interview, he knew something different.

####

How Peter ended up working in Steve Rogers’s business?

Peter’s previous boss closed the restaurant to enjoy retirement with his wife. He recommended Peter to try at Rogers. 

Rogers restaurant has been known as a prestigious dining place. He thought his chance was small, but it turned out he passed with flying color. Wanda was impressed by the way he could keep up with her work ethic. 

After working a few days, he realized Rogers is not just a regular restaurant.

Pietro interrogated him to get some info about (Y/N), and one more obvious reason he saw a gun under Vision blazer, why would a manager own a gun? Why?

Then (Y/N) told him the truth that his boss is a famous mobster in Brooklyn. 

Peter sighed when he heard that; he thought he could start living like an average person. 

####

"You knew me Peter." She put down the knife and fork, then sipped a glass of red wine. 

"I'll listen to you. Besides, I quite like him."

Peter widened his eyes "You mean genuine like him right? Without any agenda?"

(Y/N) nodded, "Maybe he could be your future brother in law."

Peter immediately shivered to imagine Steve became his family. "Let's not think to far (Y/N)."

Unlike Peter, someone else already thinks of it. 

Somewhere far away, in a secret mansion where Steve and others gathered. 

Three of them sit around the table; Bucky and Sam were nervous while Steve is playing with the dagger. 

Natasha is furious. "I knew someday Rumlow will make a fuss at our area and make a big mess. But what I don't understand is why I got a call from the fixer and then the interior design telling me they want an extra payment because we asked them to finish in a month?"

She already anticipated the surprise attack from Brock since he replaces Pierce. It’s nothing new for them. 

She noticed that Steve doesn’t listen to her complaints "Did Brock hit Steve's head? It looks like he’s not listening to me.” 

Sam bumped Bucky’s elbow to talk to his wife. 

Bucky cleared his throat because his seat is near to her. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "Honey, Uhm… so today, something else happened."

Natasha listened what her husband whispered to her, what she hear made her gasped "Pietro!! Bring out the vodka !!" She called out their favorite bartender.

"Wake him up," Nat told her husband, her head pointed at Steve. 

Bucky threw a french fries from his plate at Steve. 

It hit Steve’s cheeks, successfully got his attention. He realizes Natasha sits in front of him, and Pietro serves them vodka. 

Sam shook his head; he silently murmured his boss also, his best friend is in lovesick right now.

"Ooh, something to celebrate?"

"Little white wolf told me you got lovestruck today?"

Bucky’s hand covers his red cheeks when his wife mentions his nickname while Sam pretends not to hear it. 

"Yes." Steve admitted. 

"Congrats.” Natasha smirked while asking him, “So... she's the reason why you want our restaurant to reopen next month?"

"Correct."

"Ow, interesting."

“What makes her unusual was, she’s the only guest that didn’t run when the fight happens.” Bucky said. 

“She’s the one who gave him that dagger.” Sam added. 

“And, we couldn’t find anything about her even with the help from Starks.”

Bucky and Sam told her everything; they told her with excitement like they found a discovery. 

Natasha was immensely impressed when she heard that “Can’t wait to meet her.” 

They wish Steve could find someone that can accept who he is. In the last relation he had, they tried to change him by asking him to leave the mobster. It ended up badly, making Steve became bitter about everything. 

If this woman not afraid to see what happened today, perhaps she could accept who Steve is.

"Me too." Said Steve, his lips could reach his eyes. His eyes are still looking at the dagger, thinking that he has to impress her the next time they meet.

A/N: Dum Dum dum~~~~ 

The female reader turned out to be a retired assassin.  At first, I want to make the reader be Peter’s godmother, but I don’t want her to be that old, so I change it to stepsister. 

Thank you for all the likes, my new follower and for repost. I really appreciate it. 

Please tell me if you want to be tagged for the next chapter.

>>>Chapter 3

Tag:

@cloudystevie, 

@marce170018

@stepheewdgirlie

@juliealma1

@valhalla-kristin

[lebguardians]

I’ve been on a Lambert/Eskel kick lately so here’s a one shot. I might do other one shots that go along with this one it just won’t be like a chapter story like so many other amazing writers on here. It’ll be a lambertxreader story.

Warnings: abuse, drinking, angst, blood

25 years ago...

The Witcher inhaled sharply in aggravation, running a hand down his scared face. He took this contract to take out a few sirens. The few sirens turned into several nests of them and the village leader in the island of Skeillge was trying to get out the payment they originally agreed to when it was a couple of sirens and not a whole horde of them. Having enough of whatever the man was saying Eskel stood at full height, glared at the man, and walked closer to the man to get in his face.

“You’re telling me that you hired a Witcher knowing you couldn’t pay, then lied about just how many sirens there were?” He snarled out. The man backed up, and was stuttering out some excuse Eskel could care less about. “No, no, master Witcher I’m sure we can come up with another payment... the law of surprise perhaps...”

Eskel’s jaw clinched, he wanted his payment so he can start the road back to Kaer Morhen for the winter. He isn’t surprise they tried tricking him out of payment. It’s a common occurrence. The humans always so thankful when a Witcher shows up but when it comes time for payment they either don’t pay, give him less than what was agreed, or run him out of town. It’s gotten even worse since he got the scars on his face.

Vesemir would kill him when he found out he called the law of surprise. He ripped Geralt a new one when he called it and ended up with Little Ciri. Well not so little anymore, she’s a grown woman now on the Path. She would always be little ciri to him. She brought so much life back to the old keep.

Letting out a sigh and rolling his eyes, he stopped then man’s rambling. Eskel could smell the fear on him and was just ready to leave. “Fine... I call the law of surprise as payment”. Just as he finished his sentence a little girl ran out of the man’s house and down to her father. Eskel’s eyes went wide, his head snapped to the village leader, and back to the little girl.

“Fuck...”

Present day....

Y/N rolled her eyes while she cooked dinner. Her mother died years ago and father was drunk of his ass again. Her father sat at the small table with a bottle of vodka in his hands grumbling angrily. The day mother died was the day everything changed. Her father turned to the bottle and left her to take care of herself. He was an angry drunk so she did her best to just stay out of his way. She took on odd jobs around the village trying to save up coin to leave skeillge and travel the continent.

“Where’s the food girl,” her father snarled at her. She rolled her eyes and tried her best to reply in a pleasant voice as to not anger him more

“It’s almost done,father”

Her father stood up and stumbled over to her. Y/n braced herself for a hit. “Fucking useless” he yelled as he smacked her across the face. Y/n hit the ground hard, tears welled up in her eyes, but she held them back as to not give her father the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “That damn Witcher with the scars on his face should have taken you with years ago. You should have died along with your mother.”

Y/n froze. “What... what are you talking about” she replied in a shaky voice, praying to whatever gods that it wasn’t what she fears it is.

He let out a sinister laugh “he called the law of surprise, but the whoreson left you. Tried saying he couldn’t rip a girl away from her family or whatever”

Y/n didn’t say anything. She just kept her head down. She realized she couldn’t stay her anymore and wanted to leave in case the Witcher decided to come back for her. She wanted her freedom, away from her father, away from this apparent Witcher. Her father stormed out the door probably to go to the tavern. The second he left, she stood up, ran to her room, packed a bag with everything she would need for the road including the coin she saved. She turned to her father’s room grabbed one of his swords, some coin she knew he stashed away, and some trousers and shirts. After all was packed she grabbed provisions for the road, got her horse saddled and ready to go and began traveling towards a harbor that could take her to the main land.

A year later...

Y/n was running as fast as her legs would take her. Taking a short cut through the swamps was costly mistake. She decided to get off the main trail and cut through the swamp to get to the next town quicker. She was quickly running low on supplies and needed to get more and maybe find some work. She didn’t see the harm in cutting through the swamp... until a kikimora jumped out of the water and was now hot on her tail.

She was quickly running out of stamina and tried thinking of some sort of plan. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight a monster. She barely knows her way around a sword.

She suddenly tripped and fell hard, giving the kikimora a chance to catch up. She hopped up as quick as she could but as soon as she stood up, the beast threw her back against a tree. Pain radiating down her arm and head. She picked up her sword and swore she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

She did her best to block and parry, staying on the defensive hopping it would conserve some energy. However, she missed her blocked and the beast cut her across the stomach deep. She immediately collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. Her held a hand to her stomach which was quickly being covered in blood. She tried to stand back up but screamed out as blinding pain passed through. Her vision going dark. She fell back to the ground, trying to stay conscious but was loosing the battle. Y/n eyes were heavy. She suddenly heard what sounded like a horse, and a man grunting, and a sword swinging. She couldn’t make out the figure as she was slowly loosing consciousness. Everything went quiet, her heart racing in her chest, she gripped the dagger on her waist ready to strike whoever was walking towards her. As she felt a hand, brush her hair off her face, she swung her arm trying to hit whoever it was with the dagger. The man swore and grabbed her wrist. Her whole body was shaking like a leaf.

“It’s ok, girl I’m not here to hurt you” the man spike lowly trying not to startle her. He could smell the fear and was impressed how she held her own for as long as she did.

Y/n groaned and trying moving away from him, she heard his gruff voice but couldn’t make out what he said. She was fading quick. Her fight or flight reflexes still high.

The man sighed, deciding to use axii to calm her. Her body immediately relaxed and he picked her up bridal style bringing her to his horse. She cried out in pain as he lifted her to his horse and he got on behind her. The last thing she saw before loosing consciousness was a man with yellow, cat like eyes and scars on his face.

If y’all like this I’ll write some more. Probably not consistently. I suffered a miscarriage this year and my grandfather isn’t doing well so I’m looking for an outlet.

[townofcrosshollow]

How to use music in your projects the RIGHT way

So I was browsing YouTube to find royalty free music that would fit the vibe of my game and I came across this absolute clusterfuck of a comments section. For context, the music in question is royalty free, and there is a $20 licensing fee.

I am going to have an aneurysm from reading this.

So here’s a quick tutorial on what these words mean and how to get music for your projects, the right (read: legal) way.

ROYALTIES are an ongoing fee that depends on how many times the work is viewed or purchased. For instance, you might pay a certain percentage of the revenue from a YouTube video, a fixed amount for each time an ad is run, or a sum for every 1,000 books sold. When something is “royalty free,” you don’t have to pay the artist any ongoing fees.

LICENSING FEES are a one-time payment for permission to use the work in your final product. Just like you need a license to drive a car or use Microsoft Word. And just like Word, there might be some different licenses available, like a license for non-commercial vs commercial work, or a license to use it in multiple works.

JUST BECAUSE SOMETHING IS ROYALTY FREE DOESN’T MEAN THERE ARE NO LICENSING FEES!

So knowing those very basic facts, how do you find music to use in your games (/other projects)? Well first of all, Kevin MacLeod. All of his music is both royalty free and free. There’s a reason every YouTuber and their mother uses his songs! But say all of his music is too overused for your taste (this is especially the case in horror!)

Go to Bandcamp and type in “royalty free,” then click “Music tagged with royalty free.” Boom. Tons of music and sounds you can use as long as you buy them once- and plenty are available for free, too!

But wait, there’s more! How do you know what you’re allowed to do with those songs? Let’s talk about Creative Commons!

A Creative Commons license is what many artists use to waive their copyright protections, and music that is free to use is often going to be licensed under one of these. They allow the artists to give permission for you to use their work under copyright law. It’s important to actually check the license on music you want to use, because it’ll tell you exactly what you’re allowed to do and what you’re NOT allowed to do with it.

Let’s say, hypothetically, I want to use this instrumental track in my game-

Awesome. Let’s check the license on that bad boy. It’s located right near the bottom of the page, under the lyrics if the song has any. If it says “some rights reserved,” you can click the link to see the license.

In this case, here’s the summary of the license:

So it looks like we can use this song and edit it however we like so long as we make sure to credit the artist (generally with a name and link) and link to this license. Here are some other possible terms for CC licenses:

ShareAlike: You can remix and adapt the work as long as the new version is distributed with the same license.

NonCommercial: You can’t use it in works that make you money, such as in a monetized YouTube video or in an ad.

NoDerivatives: You can’t distribute an adapted version of the work, like a remix, mashup, or extended version.

If your song doesn’t have a CC license, check the description or any websites they have- they may have a different license listed there or included with the download. If it’s a small creator, you can always reach out to them and ask for permission. Otherwise, it’s fair to assume you’re not allowed to use their work.

Bottom line: Artists deserve to get paid for their work. If you wouldn’t want somebody to rip the code from your game without your permission or make money off of your artwork without paying you a dime, why should you do this with somebody else’s work? Take the time to make sure you’re allowed to use music the way you’re planning to use it, and be appropriately thankful when an artist does you the courtesy of asking for nothing in return.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 10 "Thanksgiving"

Listen. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't think I can bone you right now.

My wanger is way stressed out.

I've killed for our love.

I just gave her a little push.

You and I can pick up right where we left off.

You can bring me home for Thanksgiving and introduce me to my future in-laws.

What did you do with the body?

I put it in the meat locker. It's where we've been putting all the dead bodies.

I need to see the body.

Look, we can have a three-way with the body.

I'll show you the body, but not so you can have sex with it.

I'll show it to you so that you and I will share a dangerous secret that will strengthen our relationship and bring us closer together.

I don't understand how this keeps happening!

Is this meat locker, like, a wormhole to an alternate universe or something?

She'll probably stop at nothing until she gets her revenge by murdering you.

No one wants to spend a room service Thanksgiving alone.

Are you going to talk at all?

You shouldn't be mad at me.

We're the sane ones.

Now, I know you've got other plans today, and for alibi's sake we need to protect your cover, but I am not letting you leave on an empty stomach.

Is that what quail is? I thought they were bigger.

You know what I was picturing? Pheasant.

Time to slice off those breasts.

I feel like this holiday is all about family, and, well, as you know, I gave up on my real family a long time ago.

I mean, at this point, the closest thing I have to family is. . . you.

I understand that Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family and being together and thanking God that we were born rich in America and not in Uganda or Venezuela or any of those other African countries.

You're late. The game's just about to start.

What do you think would happen if those instructions were incorrect?

This family's fortune is built on being right on time.

There's nothing better than sitting together as a family, watching the game. Laughing, smiling, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company. That's what it's all about today. Togetherness.

I hate defrosted food.

Why is it called Italian Style Chicken Cacciatore? All chicken cacciatore is Italian style.

This is not what Thanksgiving is supposed to be.

A bunch of my sort-of friends have been killed and no one has asked me about it.

Oh. And I'm starting a new family tradition. It involves me never coming to any family occasions ever again.

Would you stop with the screaming?

It's more like a stay of execution until no one is looking.

I've never cooked before, but that should be fine, since I usually just pretend to eat.

Well, I can cook and eat for the both of us.

So we've decided to have an orphans Thanksgiving all together.

I mean, I guess you could come over here if you wanted.

And this year I'm so thankful for the lax indecency laws in Eastern Europe that inundate our Internet with millions of hours of hard-core porn.

You know, ever since I was a little boy, I knew what God wanted me to do and that was make money off the backs of creative people.

I am so thankful that he, for whatever reason, has not murdered me yet.

You have such a vast future ahead of you.

You'll meet so many new and different women. So many wonderful women to go out with and break up with and move on from.

You should be thankful that this table is too long for me to reach across and strangle you, bitch!

What are you doing here? How are you alive?

When I woke up and regained consciousness, I felt better than ever.

The only thing you're carrying is water weight, you bloated little tramp.

I have a little game to play that's gonna make the time fly right by.

No, I've never killed anyone as far as I know.

Okay, there is no evidence at all that mass murder is genetic.

I would say that is more than a little suspicious.

I have bathroom shame issues. I always wait until everyone is asleep and then I sneak down to poop in the little powder room downstairs.

I mean, don't we all agree that those babies are the killers?

That seems like an unnecessarily complicated cover story.

I think we have plenty here to go to the police.

What, are you drunk?

You know, the one time I call you for a little advice, you're hammered.

I suppose we should discuss the matter of payment.

I'm asking you to name your price.

Are you propositioning me?

No, I'm asking how much money it'll take to make you go away.

My family is super-gross rich.

That outfit screams desperation.

I am, however, willing to write you a check for $50,000 if you will leave now and never come back.

It's a lot of money for a family like yours.

What is the best part about Thanksgiving?

Tastes like Henry VIII just barfed in my mouth.

Well, I don't want to sound like a dick here, but have you ever considered maybe you should leave?

I brought some of my famous eight-meat stuffing. It's beef, venison, alligator, buffalo, rabbit, goat, rattlesnake and Spam. I cut all of the meats super thin, so that you're guaranteed every meat in every bite.

I thought you said you were leaving forever or something like that?

Have you ever even cracked open a book?

You did say just the other day that the only way to live is to play the long game.

I really hope you can come up with something better than that.

I can prove that you're the only person in this room we know for a fact is a murderer.

I saw you in the coffee shop the other day, reading one of your old Playgirl magazines.

Okay, look, there's just some stuff that doesn't add up.

Look, I've gone through all the suspects in my mind, and I can explain away all my suspicions for everyone except you.

Can we just talk this out, so you can help me see that I'm wrong?

I mean, it would fit in with your whole hard worker, let's find out the truth, never take no for an answer, awful personality.

Anything to redeem your beloved dead mother.

I can't rest when the killer's still out there, so I stayed behind to do some more research.

You're skinny and pretty, so that's a plus, but it's highly competitive, so you'd better be rich, too.

You know how at the beginning of the year, I was always secretly following you so I could just keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe?

I heard you talking to someone, but I couldn't hear what it was about.

Thank you for letting me talk about this, talk this out, and hear your side of the story.

Um, homely, ugly.

Gold digger! Not welcome.

No, no, too chunky to wear that outfit.

I'm fairly certain this board game's been tampered with.

And while my motivations were airtight and my conscience clear, still, I'm sorry.

I mean, no one deserves to be spoken to like that, particularly not by what is, without a doubt, the most awful family in America.

I've honestly seen more tasteful decor at a Sizzler.

And you, sir, give the kind, hard-working, deeply moral people who work in such a wonderful industry as Hollywood a bad name.

I am walking out that door and never speaking to you again.

How could such a stud evolve from a boy who was so clearly a douche?

Oh, please, look, I-I was so bombed at that party. I mean, I remember I puked while I was making out with some girl, but there is no way that I could've found my way back down there 20 minutes later, let alone 20 years.

This is really embarrassing, um, but I started the paleo diet, because I'm back on the dating scene now, and I-I wanted to lose some weight.

I never saw a body down there.

I-I was a bit of a man slut back in the day, and it was the '90s, so nobody wore condoms.

I'm obligated to take it to the police.

What are you gonna do with the money?

didn't take the money, idiot.

Okay, first of all, I experienced extreme emotional trauma this evening, and second, I'm the one delegating tasks, thank you very much.

I couldn't find any matches.

I was sharpening this knife.

You haven't eaten yet, have you? I knew it!

You've come back. You've chosen me over your awful family.

First of all, my family is awesome. How dare you?

So, without further ado, dinner is served.

[tossawary]

Chapter 19: “Weddings and Funerals” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines with commentary because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary. 

-

 When Shang Qinghua told Mobei-Jun that he didn’t need Shen Qingqiu assassinated, it wasn’t because he thought everything would somehow work out if he just sat back and didn’t do anything. It definitely wasn’t because he was planning a so-called “perfect murder” and didn’t want the demon lord messing up his plans. The Problem of Shen Qingqiu has always been a lot more  complicated than “just get rid of the guy potentially making my nephew’s life a living hell”. That’s why it’s a real problem! 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua’s thought process: “Can this problem be solved by: 

A) Waiting for the problem to go away? 

B) Murder? 

C) None of the above? 

If the answer is C... 

Fuck, it’s a real problem.” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua thinks that might actually be possible, though he’d have to do some research and smack his head until his Author God memories hopped into line. He thinks that the youth-restoration procedure would probably do the job, but he also thinks that Shen Qingqiu would probably rather be dead than be physically sixteen again or something (super fucking understandable) and have to start the cultivation process over from scratch (ah, that would be so annoying and embarrassing). 

- 

AN: Given that I actually invented a de-aging potion for this fic (if one that’s difficult to put together), the AU of “Original Shen Qingqiu is physically 16 again” has been rattling around inside my head ever since I wrote these lines. Shen Qingqiu was like, “Wait, let me picture how unbearably overprotective Yue Qingyuan would be... hmm... no, I’ll just stay like this.” 

- 

 Luo Jiahui seems a little anxious about the empty spaces at the table, but she fills the space as best she can by chattering about assorted restaurant business. At least until she abruptly takes a deep breath and says, “Hua-Ge, I have something to tell you.” 

 Shang Qinghua freezes in the middle of taking a drink. His unhelpful brain immediately races to guess the worst possible conversational subjects. His sister-in-law has somehow figured out that he’s a transmigrator?! His sister-in-law has decided that her son is not going to the Demon Realm under any circumstances?! His sister-in-law knows Binghe better than he does and has realized that the young protagonist is being abused after all?! Oh,  fuck, what is it? 

 “I’m getting married!” Luo Jiahui announces, breathlessly. 

 “Oh,” Shang Qinghua says, heart rate going at the speed of sound. “Wait,  what?” 

- 

AN: This chapter is why I didn’t go into the details of LJH/LQG in the last chapter, immediately post-timeskip. I wanted to blindside everyone with an “Oh, it’s THAT serious?!” moment. The last chapter established that “SQH is handling things”, then this chapter establishes that, as the plot goes on, “SQH is only barely handling things”. Which helps prep the following breakdown with the System World Update in chapters 20-22. 

- 

 “You didn’t have any time for yourself,” Shang Qinghua agrees, following this conversation of very obvious things that he already knew so far. He didn’t have any time for himself back then either, between organizing a conference and finding a cure on top of the usual day-in-day-out of the sect. “You did a really good job looking after them all by yourself!” 

 “They don’t always agree with that,” Luo Jiahui says, smiling but self-deprecating. 

 “Aha, well, they’re young.” 

 The disagreements of what was best for the children is why Shang Qinghua really had to get Fanli (who didn’t see herself as a child) out of the house by any means necessary. He was at a bit of a loss at how else to help. She was never part of  Proud Immortal Demon Way! Not even as a fragment of backstory mentioned in passing! Shang Qinghua struggles to compensate for these extra people who were never characters sometimes. 

 “Qingge was very understanding,” Luo Jiahui says. “But�� well… then Fanli was gone and I had the restaurant keeping me busy, but that was all my own choice… and what good was waiting really doing us? It didn’t have to be everything or nothing. So… we talked… about what we wanted and what- what we were afraid of… and we decided to go forward slowly.” 

- 

AN: I said in the Author’s Notes on AO3 that I was going to use Jiage to shame Moshang and Qijiu, and I meant it. TALK TO EACH OTHER!!! Shang Qinghua, you need to talk to Mobei-Jun about what you want! Shang Qinghua, you can’t keep putting things on hold because of the plot! 

- 

 No offense to either his sister-in-law or his junior martial brother, but aren’t love stories supposed to be a little more… fiery? 

 “When I was younger, I thought that falling in love was supposed to be all excitement and passion and not being able to live without someone even for a second,” Luo Jiahui admits, a little wistfully. “I thought that it was supposed to be thinking about them all the time, not being able to stay away from each other, and needing to know what they’d been doing every second they were away. It was like becoming a completely different person. I thought that being in love was about one of us getting horribly jealous every time we even talked to someone else, doing things I didn’t really understand and changing myself just to keep him happy, and keeping secrets and sneaking around just to keep things from exploding. Because love is not being able to help yourself like that, right?” 

 Shang Qinghua can’t really manage to speak right now. 

 It’s like someone has cut his fucking throat. 

 Which is fine! 

 “But that ended really badly for me,” Luo Jiahui says, with a nervous huff at her own understatement. “It was very exciting, but looking back, being in that kind of love was also very frightening sometimes… and it was a little lonely too… being in love with someone I couldn’t really talk to or trust.” 

-

AN: This is more specifically vagueing SVSSS Bingqiu than Moshang, but it’s also shaming Moshang too. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky wrote some extremely messed-up romances and he would have said, “Yes! It’s all super messed-up! That’s kind of the point!” But it also means that the man can’t really conceptualize (at least at first) or articulate the kind of relationship he would actually be happy to have with Mobei-Jun, especially when his relationship with Mobei-Jun had such violent beginnings 

- 

 The first person he tells himself is, weirdly enough, Qi Qingqi. Liu Qingge apparently already told both Liu Mingyan and Luo Fanli before he left, so Shang Qinghua heads over to see how the girls are handling it. (Also, he wants to pump Liu Mingyan for information on her mother’s opinions on weddings and marriage, in a really pathetic attempt to ready himself for the rumble.) He makes her agree to keep the information to herself before telling and she does, like a bro! 

 And then he tells and she laughs in his fucking face! Eventually, she realizes that he’s looking for sympathy, he’s not just here to let her enjoy his suffering, as a form of payment after everything he and Liu Qingge have inflicted on her. Then she laughs at him again, even louder. 

 Sure, he’d laugh too if he was in her shoes! But not to her face! Rude! 

 - 

AN: Qi Qingqi also pointed while laughing, I think. It’s funny because it’s not her dealing with Liu Family shit this time. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua expected, this time last year, to be laser-focused on the plot! His attention was not going to stray even a little bit, he promised himself; he was going to be 110% dedicated to making sure that everyone he tripped into caring about made it through the least shitty version of  Proud Immortal Demon Way  possible. He was going to be a  machine  of a transmigrator! No distractions! All he wanted was for his family to make it through the quickest, least shitty bare bones of a plot! And he was going to  achieve, damn it! 

 Instead, he finds himself planning his sister-in-law’s wedding and it eats up time he didn’t fucking know he had to give. Immortal Alliance Conference, eat your fucking heart out! Cang Qiong Mountain Sect? Did he work there? Nope, he’s never heard of the place! He’s the Peak Lord of wedding planning now! 

- 

AN: This is me telling myself I’m going to get my life 100% together and then getting into a new video game and baking cookies instead. Or ditching my housecleaning plans to hang out with friends at a moment’s notice. 

- 

 At the wedding itself, Fanli tells her sister’s father-in-law that Binghe is also  very into birds and Shang Qinghua’s nephew spends a good chunk of the rest of the celebrations (and his precious time away from Qing Jing Peak) held hostage by his own politeness, listening to his new grandfather earnestly tell him about the various migration habits of demonic birds. 

 Well! Better him than Shang Qinghua, honestly! 

-

AN: Inspired by that time we went on vacation and one of my brothers got mistaken by one of our travelling companions for a budding serious birdwatcher instead of someone who just thinks they’re neat - and also likes to point at them and intentionally call them by the wrong name. 

Also, LQG’s Dad in this fic and SY would probably get along super well. 

LQG and his dad in this universe have gone out on month-long camping trips to in which they pretty much don’t talk the entire time. They stalk monsters through the wilderness and have a great time.

- 

 Shang Qinghua is too busy keeping an eye on Luo Fanli and being  not talked to by Liu Mingyan, who is eighteen-ish years old now he thinks and still deeply embarrassed by the fact that he told her off for her real person fiction. (He doesn’t want to discourage her passion for writing! She’s pretty good for a kid! It’s pretty cute! Everyone needs their escapist hobbies! He just doesn’t want identifying information about his family being spread around freely, even if the characterizations of the couple are… uh… wildly reimagined, and he doesn't want to have to spend his very valuable time keeping a lookout for more illicit fiction.) It’s difficult to read her expression through the ever-present veil, but… yeah, she’s still pissed off at him.

 Ugh, teenagers. 

 Binghe is not allowed to bring several hundred nieces-in-law into Shang Qinghua's life. Just... no. Fuck, no. 

 He doesn’t even get a date to commiserate about this with. 

 It’s a very small wedding, family only (Luo Jiahui’s shitty parents  don’t count  and her older brother was forced to decline the invitation), so that Luo Jiahui and Liu Qingge can keep their privacy. Madam Liu huffed about it - the battles in talking her down were both great and terrible - but her son stood his ground! Sure, people might whine someday about not being invited, but the great thing about Liu Qingge is that they can more or less just say,  “Well, we couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted!”  And people just have to take that unless they want to claim they could take on the Bai Zhan Peak War God! 

- 

AN: Trying to imagine the AU in which SQH brought MBJ as his date to this wedding. SQH would’ve liked to be able to bring MBJ as a date, but alas, they are not dating and the groom would probably try to kill the man. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua is not expecting, soon after returning from his sister-in-law’s happy and long-awaited wedding, to be solemnly informed that Shen Qingqiu’s health has only really deteriorated these past months. Wow, that’s a huge downer. 

 Also, he already knew that? He’s been getting Mu Qingfang all the right supplies to treat their shixiong. He didn’t actually abandon his duties to the sect for a family wedding. He knew that Shen Qingqiu had fallen sufficiently ill to need tending on Qian Cao Peak in the past month and he considered it, well, convenient timing in regards to Binghe’s permission to attend his mother’s wedding not being randomly revoked. Cold-hearted, maybe! But he had lots of other things to worry about at the time, like informing Mobei-Jun that his sister-in-law was getting married and so he’d be regrettably absent to attend the wedding. 

 Then he’s told that Shen Qingqiu is not expected to improve this time. 

  “Oh, shit, they really think he’s dying,” Shang Qinghua realizes. 

 This really wasn’t in  Proud Immortal Demon Way. 

- 

AN: I seriously contemplated cutting this chapter in half because of this mood switch. Like, I went in intending on writing a serious mood switch, but in practice, wow. It felt like a lot more in practice. 

- 

 “Our sect leader asks about the boy and his progress,” Shen Qingqiu rasps, his voice turning more and more accusing. “He’s  so very  concerned about the boy. We can’t have such a beloved child  crying  to his devoted family that he’s been mistreated or neglected, can we? How flattering these assumptions are. It makes a man wonder what exactly people think he’s going to  do to the boy.” 

 Shang Qinghua might have an itemized list somewhere, honestly. 

 “Ah, I can’t speak for anyone else,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “But please don’t take it personally, Shen-Shixiong. I don’t really trust anyone. Anything can happen behind a locked door, you know?” 

 Some honest cynicism can go over well with the man. 

 Shen Qingqiu laughs bitterly now. 

- 

AN: It can be fun in media where Character A is like, “Ahhh, I hope no one discovers my secret!” And Character B is like, “So, about this extremely obvious thing that you’re doing...!” 

Shen Qingqiu is as honest and open as he is throughout this scene because he honestly thinks that he’s dying. He’s determined to be blithe about it. 

- 

Shang Qinghua at least gets to see Mu Qingfang’s face journey as Shen Qingqiu accuses their sect leader of letting him think that he’d left him to die. As Shen Qingqiu yells about being treated like an unwanted ghost, as a potential blackmailer, as an embarrassing disappointment, as a petty troublemaker, as a spoiled child, as a problem to be solved, and as the last blemish on Yue Qingyuan’s reputation - anything but as someone worthy of being trusted with Yue Qingyuan’s problems and of being treated like an equal friend. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t think Shen Qingqiu wanted to hear his excuses, and Shen Qingqiu shoots back that he would rather fucking die than beg the man he’d thought had forgotten about him to explain when exactly he became not worth rescuing as soon as possible. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t want Shen Qingqiu’s pity or to force the man to be grateful that he’d  tried. 

 Shen Qingqiu tells the man to go fuck himself. How could it not hurt for someone he loved to hurt him and then just…  move past the hurt  like the pain wasn’t  who they were? 

 “All the world could revile me… reject me… leave me to die… and I would pay their hatred no heed! What do they truly know of what I am? Of who I am?” Shen Qingqiu demands. “But if  Qi-Ge  could throw me away… decide that I just wasn’t worth the  trouble anymore now that he’d had a taste of a better life… then I really must be wretched beyond all things at the root! If he believed it, then… then it had to be true.” 

- 

AN: Because I just wrote a Qijiu confrontation over this exact thing, like, a few days before, I thought that I could get away with writing out this entire confrontation in full. I think it works better if the audience has to imagine some of it. And because SQH is the POV character, it felt right that he not be in the room and not be a full witness to this scene. He doesn’t get to see everything. 

[shyrose57]

2: Upon first glance, no. Though they do tend to avoid the subjects of parents or siblings, and also try their best to avoid conversations that lead into sharing their past. Their also not so pushing about knowing the brothers past relationships and their childhood. Ranya and Seth are the brothers parents! Ranya is their mom who is 20% enderman, and Seth is their dad who's fully human.

3: But is there any proof of it being bad for you? That's exactly what it is, its just Team Rocket but switched if that makes sense. Raq's trying so hard to capture Ran and now Ranbob, he's planning so many plans and coming up with so many unique ways to capture them. But the groups dumb shenanigans and the fact most of them just kinda flop around half the time SOMEHOW manage to foil every plan he has and its pissing him off. But now I also have a angst idea that features Raq getting his hands on a potion of blinding and using it. 

4: He was screaming because he was trying to escape the others and resorted to trying to make himself seem big and stronger than them, like a animal sometimes does to escape a predator. And also he was screaming because Cletus grabbed his arm and was trying to keep him from moving, and Ranbob's brain sadly registered the touch as painful. 

6: Benjamin does actually just carry around blankets, mostly just in case someone gets cold or someone gets wet and need to be dried off. But he also does carry a special blanket only for Ranbob, its a very fluffy blanket, is a bit heavy (which helps ground and reassure Ranbob), and is big enough to cover the top half of his body. But they don't carry around tea or anything for Ranbob to drink when he gets sad, mostly cause the times they tried to do that either it got spilt or Isaac drank it. 

10: I have developed the town a bit further. The town has a population of only 300 (may change though, but no matter what it's going to be a small town), and is situated in the Crater, where homes and business are built into the side of the Crater, with overlapping bridges, stairs, overhangings littering all around the Crater (if anyone is having problems imagining it tell me, I have some pictures I found that fit what I'm trying to describe pretty well). Wilburs decendent shall be called Lucia, and some residents of the town are Siren-the towns only blacksmith and armourer, also one of the most knowledgeable people in the town due to their great fascination with history, Adler-one of the only remaining Clerics that actually make all possible potions and even new ones at times, and almost freely gives them out, Atlas-the towns trouble maker, and the one who goes adventuring, but he also has a great interest in astrology, and can read the stars to figure out locations of things or upcoming events, Josh-He's just Josh, no one's quite sure what he does, Atlas suspects he has a secret mob grinder since he has so many mob parts and seems to have whatever someone needs, and Lucia insists that he's the one that does the communication and trading with big cities but no one believes him (spoiler, he's the redstone expert but since redstone isn't used a lot in the town he hasn't actually told anyone), Asidi-town guard, mostly just checks on the residents, though is also greatly defensive of his home, and Mripat-the towns mayor/leader, though she mostly lets people do what they want to do, its only when people want to build new things or have suggestions, or break a law does she actually act like a mayor/leader. The town itself doesn't have a set name yet but im thinking maybe Kelalen Kepungkur (Forgotten Past), but just Kelalen for short. And its mostly forgotten by other kingdoms and towns, because it doesn't belong to any certain kingdom, and due to them being forgotten, their incredibly nice and tight knit, but also suspicious of new comers. Infact Ran and Ranbobs groups where going to be chased out of the towns property until Lucia stepped in, saying how he recognizes the black and white skin. 

11: It is! He figured, hey the memory book seemed to help Ranboo, who says it won't help him? Though it only slightly helped him at first. Eventually he'll get hugs without pain, I promise you.

12: IN MY DEFENSE, you never told me not too.

13: Ok so this is the additional fluff, this is not canon to the story at all, as it just simply seems to out there to actually fit in the story. But anyway, I was thinking that upon returning to Mizu, Ranbob finds a hidden room. And in one of the rooms there's a sort of ghost box type thing, where people can hear and even see nearby ghosts (that is what immediately got it out of the story). So Ranbob manages to get the box to work, and when it finally starts up, the ghosts of his family is actually behind him cause they've been following him the whole time. At first Ranbob is horrified and quickly backs away from them, borderline breaking down crying at seeing them again, cause he's gotten overwhelmed with grief. At first the ghosts don't follow him, but suddenly Memi runs out after him, and Ranbob has to fight the instinct to protect himself, and instead leaves himself vulnerable to whatever they want to do to him (which he imagines is degradation and even hitting). But instead Memi just hugs him tightly and cries into him, saying how she missed Big Brother so much. And Ranbob can feel this, and this wasn't what he was expecting, so he's left shocked and frozen. Until Lias also approaches and hugs him too, saying how he's so sorry and how he missed him too. Then Seth and Ranya both join in on the hug, saying how their so sorry Ranbob had to suffer alone and how they failed him because they didn't protect them. Meanwhile Ranbob is shocked, but he soon gets over it and hugs them back just as tightly. Repeatedly saying how he's sorry and he didn't mean too, all while his family comforts him. In the end, they manage to convince Ranbob they have no harsh feelings towards him, comfort him, talk to him about what to do with Ran not trusting him, say how their so proud of Ranbob for growing so strong and breaking Dreams hold on him, and listen to Ranbob share stories of his haunting. 

2: First glance, huh? How about further glances? Also, how did Ran get so much Enderman blood in him if he had a human father and a mother with only 20% in her?

3: Yeah, actually, I think they have medical studies on it? Something about blood loss, or infection, maybe? Idk the specifics, anon.

Okay, so I’m not sure I read this right. The group’s shenanigans accidentally defeat his plans? Is that right? Or do his plans just flop on their own? Also, oof. Can’t wait to see how bad that goes. Which poor Ender boy is subjected to blindness?

4: Hahaha, ouch, ouch, ouch. So, like Endermen screaming? Also, he registers touch as painful? That’s...not good. Is that something that happens often, or just during his relapses?

6: Benjamin just carries around blankets. He’s a fluffy blanket dealer. You come to him looking even slightly in need of a hug, and he burritos you in blankets. Payment is self-care. 

Also, Isaac drinks it? Is he like a tea gremlin? Locates tea and drinks it no matter what?

10: Sounds like a lively little place! And quite frankly, I already love Lucia. For what reason do the townsfolk have towards being suspicious and chasing people off though? Have they had trouble before? Also, Lucia recognizes Ranbob as Ranboo’s descendant? Or just that he looks similar? How does everyone react to the sudden hostility, and then being allowed in?

12: EVERYONE KNOWS YOU DON’T ADMIT TO A CRIME, ANON, GOODNESS! Also, fair. Mean, cruel, and sadistic, but ultimately fair. I did not say not to. That is true.

(Still mean, how dare-)

13: Anon, how dare you call this fluff, just. This is so bittersweet, I’m literally crying. I can’t believe you’ve done this. 

[zahra-kha]

Dear Diary 31

You’re starting to fill up, huh? If this keeps up I may have to buy another diary eventually. At least I’m keeping up with this!

I met up with Trystan for that lunch I promised him, it was nice to catch up and talk. I tried to push off the unpleasant chatter as long as I could and just talk about happy things, but eventually we had to get down to business. It’s a lot more fun to talk about the past, our adventures, and things we can look forward to in the future. It’s not like I don’t want to talk about my troupe or the things wrong - but it brings the mood down and that feels so vexing. I don’t want my business to be the reason such a great atmosphere gets destroyed. It makes me feel awful.

I also just don’t like being the center of attention if I’m not performing. It was one thing when I was just talking about Sahrin with Tachi and sorting out my thoughts. I feel frustrated since I was unconscious for a lot of what happened, so there’s information I’m missing too. After the slumber party at Gail’s I’ve been hovering around the encampment but everyone’s been huddled in their spaces and I haven’t been able to do any digging.

But I’ll backtrack. Cecilia showed up at Plume which I was happy about, because I wanted to bring her to the party. I got to fight Trystan at Plume and I forgot how devastating he could be in a fight since I usually just watch him. Oh, we’ve fought side by side before, in adventures and in Murea, but it’s not quite the same as getting an actual boot to the chest.

That hurt like all the hells. I blacked out for a while, too. Would definitely fight him again though.

Venomtongue was being herself and placed bets on me, but I saw her hovering at the medical cot when I was coming to. She didn’t say anything, but I like to think maybe she was a little worried about me. ♥ I should probably tell the others it doesn’t bother me when she calls me Barbarian. It’s like we have our fun little snarky nicknames for each other. I wanna fight her again, it’s been a while!

It was a pretty easy night for Plume. There was this huge guy named...Hikaru? He didn’t seem to speak common so it was a little awkward trying to see if he wanted anything, but I liked his look and he fought well! He fought against Tamala’s sister and won.

The matches went on to time for almost each one that night, it was insane! Really great bouts, everyone was great at holding their own. And then at the end Jasper pulled up Zhao and Quin (who was surprised, I don’t think he signed up initially) to help him train. I think he’s trying to sign up for some sort of tournament but he’s not satisfied with his current skillset. I didn’t quite catch all of it, but considering how well he fended off two people at once, I think he should be proud of the skillset he has. It’s not easy fending off two people at once, especially someone with a gunblade.

Also poor Quin, we might have messed with him too much. He is still learning and for someone just getting into it, he’s doing a good job. I just like to give my friends a hard time. He’s amazing when he’s doing his usual thing though!

After Plume we went to Gail’s shop (with all the poisonous plants in the front, yikes! It’s really pretty inside, though) and chattered. I think there was some overal general confusion regarding how we were going to use the baths but that got sorted out well enough.

I don’t mind using communal baths, and I love hot springs, but I wasn’t exactly sure if Conor wanted to bathe with everyone or not, so I opted to just take a quick bath first because I was sweaty and stinky and I wanted to be clean more than I wanted to soak. But then he walked in as I was about to get undressed and started taking off his coat and I was...confused? Did he or did he not want- I didn’t get it.

So he left me to bathe, with me still a bit confused as to what was happening, and when I finally finished and go out, a few more others had arrived. Cecilia was quiet during most of the exchange, which I guess is to be expected since she’s been through an ordeal and she doesn’t really know anyone there. It is a little sad to see how much she’s changed, though. She used to be sassy and full of life. I don’t know what all happened to her, but I’m so angry it occurred because someone manipulated her for...I don’t even know why.

In more pleasant news, Conor has a girlfriend! She’s got a rather unusual name but I feel with his personality, they fit pretty well together! I hope it works out for him, I was a bit sad when the last lady friend he had didn’t work out. It happens of course, but I like to see people happy. Maybe it’s silly of me, but I don’t think it’s wrong to want people to find true happiness with their special someone if they’ve found someone they want to be with.

He was happy to gush about her, which I thought was cute. It reminded me of my father when he gets into talking about mother sometimes. If she’s around, it’s one of the few instances where she’ll lose her cool and get flustered. When Cahil and I were young we thought they were so gross and mushy. Now that I’m older and a romantic at heart, I think back on those moments fondly.

I may also be a bit homesick. 

After Conor left, I talked to Gail about if there was anyway her people at GHOST could hide Cecilia or protect her. I didn’t even think about if I could give them anything to offer in return, I guess I’ll have to take that into consideration. I was so focused on just finding a way to secure a line of safety for Cecilia but maybe if I offer my services or something they’ll consider that a form of payment. I don’t plan to ask them to tackle on my troupe’s problems and offer nothing in return.

I was hoping Cecilia would be able to offer us more information about what happened to her and whoever the hells this Sabe woman is, but we did find out it was Armand that passed the message to her that Sahrin was kicking her out. Cecilia is new to the troupe so I can’t really blame her for not challenging Armand and trusting his word. I mean, when you think you’ve joined a family, why would you distrust anyone within it?

Hopefully Gail can coax a bit more information from her regarding whoever Sabe is and what happened while she was gone.We all know Armand isn’t behind whatever is going on, and Gail thinks whoever is must be trying to get rid of anyone who isn’t a founding member. But why now? Armand’s been in the troupe for years and so have I. Armand joined when I was twelve, then I joined officially when I was fourteen. I’m twenty now, I’ve been with them for six years.

Why would someone decide to get rid of us now? Why not do it while we were still back in Radz-at-Han? It’s appallingly easy to make the right people disappear if you have the right connections back home. Why wait to come to a foreign country with no connections and foreign laws?

I want more answers. I’m upset, hurt, and sad that there are those in the troupe willing to go to such lengths to hurt our own and I don’t even know why. I feel so exhausted being in the dark, not knowing who to trust.

I’ve cherished these people since I was a child. Have we all been just sitting on a bed of lies? Have I been smiling, laughing, and performing with people who have wanted to see me dead all this time?

I hate this. Every time I think on it it makes me feel alone and scared. Bonds outside of family are so fragile.

[the-lack-of-errors-in-star-trek]

MIDNIGHT FLIGHTS - 0.2

Chapter 2

It had been a few weeks since the strange night had occurred at the bar, and Anna seemed to move on from sleeping with Derek as she had with other partners in recent years.

"He was just too cocky and sure of himself." Anna complained to Nastya over a coffee last week, noting that his lack of being around often, plentiful attitude, and unwillingness to settle in any measure became a turn off for her, "Note to self, don't sleep with Feds." Anna laughs.

Still despite this, every once and a while Nastya would receive a shopping invite from Penelope, her excuse that with the blonde's line of work, some people outside of a federal building would do her some good. They had actually become decent friends, not seeing much of the others, but it was definitely enough to be invited to a friendly brunch. So this is exactly why she had met up with Emily and Penelope five hours after they got back from a cross country flight, a healthy 10am brunch to cut loose and hang around civilians for once.

Nastya was the first there, the reservations under Penelope for four people, leaving the young teacher to wonder who the fourth person would be. Emily is the next to arrive, spotting the table by Nastya's brown hair in a twisted updo exposing her gold necklace over a white sweater, jeans, and heeled boots like usual.

"Privyet," Emily greets her, the two standing to kiss on the cheek, a nice welcome to Nastya who could read that Emily tried wholeheartedly to respect and not insult Nastya's background. "How are you doing?"

"Privyet, I'm doing well," Nastya answers sitting down at the same time as Emily, "How was the great state of California?"

"You know we barely see anything except the crime scene." Emily laughs.

"Yeah that's fair, maybe you ought to go there on an actual vacation, lord knows you all need it." Nastya suggests, while keeping an eye on the door for Penelope to come through with the mystery person. She turns back to the agent in front of her, "Seriously, I don't know how you all do it, that long in a career like this? Anna finds Derek insufferable. It has to take its toll on all of you?"

Emily nods along, readjusting in her seat, "I think Derek coming across as a hot-shot is more to do with his personality than his job, but I do see what you mean." The last part leaves her lips as a laugh.

The conversation between Nastya and Emily picks up the longer they wait, most of it by sharing details of the previous case, save for all of the gore, focused mainly on Emily's gripes with the local Californian PD units butt-hurt that they couldn't handle a serial killer by themselves.

It was during Emily's rant about the police that Penelope walked in with the tall man who drove her home just a few weeks ago, Penelope eager to hug Nastya and sit down, Spencer more awkward just by waving and selecting the seat across from her.

"Is that really true, Pen?" Nastya asks her as Penelope settles into her seat and starts looking at the menu, "Do these people really give you hell just because you're not physically there?"

Penelope nods in response, "Yeah, they don't like how big government can just swoop in and learn everything needed, but it's whatever, I get what I need every time."

Nastya nods along and turns to Spencer, "Nice of you to join us, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright, how about yourself?" The answer from him is short and feels scripted, and suddenly Nastya understands Anna, all of these FBI men are very curt and guarded in basic conversation.

"I've been doing good, glad everyone is pretty good given the circumstances." She answers, while understanding that he could have been barely listening. Much of the brunch consists of Natasha interacting with the other women present, and Spencer not really adding much to the conversation. The drinks come and go, as does the food, and for the most part everyone is enjoying themselves.

Spencer can't help but run through an internal monologue, questioning why Natasha puts him off, and why he can't seem to be engaged in the conversation like he would have been at work, or at least without Natasha there. Spencer settled on the possibility that she was just too new to the dynamic, and didn't appear to be a stable fixture, considering it took many months for him to open up to Prentiss, let alone Rossi. Was he really expecting himself to open up to her after a few weeks? It seemed impossible, and yet when she looked at him, and honestly looked him in the eyes, he couldn't help but to feel like he should. Hell, she had all of their numbers, even Morgan's who had stopped seeing Natasha's friend only 6 days and 15 hours ago.

Natasha's voice rang clear, "What's everyone's plans for the rest of this fine Sunday?" She smiles, glancing at everyone in the room, taking notice that Spencer was staring at her passively.

Penelope was the first to answer, "More than likely go home, play some online games, and relax before we get that inevitable phone call from Hotch." To the last part Emily and Spencer chuckle. Emily is the next to speak up.

"Mainly spend some quality time with Sergio and watch chick-flicks." She smiles at the end.

"Your boyfriend?" Natasha asks, causing Emily to laugh.

"No, my cat. But if any man could be as great as him? That'd be a miracle." The response is warm and filled with humour, keeping the topics light. "What about you, Reid?" Emily attempts to rope him into the conversation.

"Library." It's a short answer again, like he just wants to leave the table now. In reality, he'd rather be with his work friends than alone, but can't bring himself to stay interested in much.

Emily raises her eyebrows slightly as a reaction and turns to Natasha reposing the question to her. "And what about you?"

"I'll probably just go home, keep the fort held down while my Mama runs the store." She answers. "Maybe have Anna over to make sure she doesn't get the idea to call your co-worker again." Penelope and Emily can't help but to laugh at the idea. Natasha then looks at her watch. "Speaking of, I should probably foot my bill and take leave, I didn't realize it was already noon."

The table says their goodbyes as Natasha packs up and leaves her payment on the table for Emily to close up, and walks out of the restaurant glad she was able to spend good time with her new friends doing something other than shopping.

As usual, the trip back to the home and store was uneventful. She greeted her mother who was working, by waving to the window as she walked up into the apartment. As she entered the home, she took a moment to really soak in her life, how insane it was to be casual friends with federal agents, as one would just be casually friends with military members in Russia. Sure she knew if any of them came around to this area of D.C. it would spur odd looks by an untrusting immigrant populus, but for the most part all of the people she had met were kind and non judgemental. It would be a lie to say she was unaffected by mob activity on the East Coast, it's mob activity that killed her father, yet somehow even just knowing that her and her mother kept to themselves, their work, and their church created an air of enough safety to at least make those types of friends.

It's on this train of thought she remembers to call Anna. She picks up on the third ring of course.

"Privyet, what's going on?" Anna answers the phone, sounding slightly rushed.

"Privyet Anna, do you have plans today? You could come over, or I could go to your apartment." Natasha keeps the request short but it takes Anna a moment to respond.

"Ummmm, I'm not exactly sure if now is a good time, Nastya. I'm a little caught up in something at the moment." She finally answers Nastya, her voice quieter than usual.

"You're busy? At 2 in the afternoon on a Sunday?" Nastya questions her, already knowing the outcome.

"Look, don't be mad, but he's in the shower, and I need to go before he comes out." Anna rushes the answer, knowing Nastya would berate her for this later.

"Anna! We agreed!" Nastya switches into Russian. "You dumb bitch, kick him out!"

"Love you, bye!" Anna laughs at Nastya's temper, blowing a kiss before hanging up the phone.

The blunt hanging up makes Nastya shake her head, settling down onto the couch to pass her time watching the TV. She knew her mother would be closing up the shop in a few hours, and decided against going back out.

Later that night, as Nastya and her mother sat down to eat dinner, the obvious questions about the day are expressed over the meal.

"How was work?" Nastya asks, savouring the meal in front of her, it was basic, just pan cooked chicken and potatoes, but it was good food with the weather only starting to warm up.

"It was good, thank you Lisichka." Her mother answers after swallowing her mouthful. "You know how that shop is, busy until it's quiet, and quiet until it gets busy." More chewing fills the living area until her mother asks a question. "How was your time out?"

"It was good, the man who drove me home went along with Emily and Penelope. The girls are very welcoming, the men not so much." Nastya answers, fiddling her piece of chicken around on her fork. "I think Anna saw Derek again today, I called and she said she was busy with 'him' but I didn't get a name."

"That Derek boy isn't good for her, too flashy." Natasha's mother laughs. "But she'll do what she wants, I only hope her parents don't throw a fit."

"You never throw a fit when I sleep with someone."

"Because you have good taste, Anna needs a good Russian boy in her life, none of these so-called agents. It'll only make life more difficult for the Lebedev's. They already lost one son, no use worrying over a son-in-law who could also die." Her mother's commentary on Anna's life makes Nastya laugh at first, but then settle due to the nature of the rest of the comment. That was the one aspect of conversation that always made Natasha irritated, of course mothers always loved their daughters, but sons were just revered more, and a son with dangerous work? Anna better plan on having children fast if she were to ever settle with someone like Derek.

"It'll never go that far, Mama, Anna loves fun too much." Natasha covers for her practical sister. "She won't nest a home until she's in her 30's."

"A waste of her youth if you ask me. And what of you? When will you settle down on your fun? Teaching is nice, but I want to see our family name continue as well." The conversation had usually always gone this direction, causing Natasha to lay her fork down.

"Mama, I love you, but please. This isn't Russia, I can marry and have kids whenever I please. Anna too." Natasha leaves the answer stinging in the air, talking about tradition and culture was always a point of contention with her mother, and just as she went to open her mouth, the home phone rang. Natasha went to answer.

"Privyet, Semyonov house." She answers. Thankfully it's Anna on the other end.

"Nastya! Listen, I got the apartment cleaned up, come over?"

"I can't, I have work tomorrow, Anna." Nastya eyes her mother knowing staying here is the only option mentally.

"Jesus, I do too, but you're all caught up no?"

"Nyet Anna, I can't go. We can talk after work tomorrow but it's best if we just stay in, yeah? It's dark out and not the safest. If you need anyone just call Derek again."

"I would but I can't, these fucking agents and being called at any hour of the day, any day of the week. You were right."

"I know I was," Natasha chuckles at her friend's antics. "Stay in, we'll get dinner sometime this week."

"Okay, bye."

"Love you, bye." Natasha hangs up the phone and goes back to the table to discover that in the brief conversation, her mother had finished her plate and started on dishes.

It would be that later in the night, she found herself hovering over the contacts in her phone as she laid in bed trying to go to sleep. Spencer was saved as "Dr. Reid," a note to their acquaintanceship having more merit than a friendship, and she wondered what would have to be done in order to even have a shot at being friends. Sure she had her own, from work, from the church, the people she grew up around, but there was something about Dr. Spencer Reid that made her want to at least try to get to know him.

[weaselle]

My parents and their values during Covid

My parents, a retired doctor and nurse, are far from perfect and I spend a lot of time concentrating on their faults... but they are actually really really good, very admirable people, and I thought I’d spend a little time focusing on that.

My mother grew up poor, raised by alcoholics who couldn’t always afford to have enough shoes for all their children. My mother put herself through nursing school as a single mother -- I remember being sick at 5 years old, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping on the floor next to her desk because there was no one to stay home with me and no money for a baby sitter. We used to have to count the slices of salami on our sandwiches for lunch because she had to budget down to the individual slices of lunch meat used per week in order to keep groceries in the house. After graduating, she worked hard, bought her own small house, and wound up raising four children.

So when she reached retirement age and decided she could afford a house-keeper (two sisters, actually) to come clean once every two weeks, well, I figure she’s earned some comforts like that. Over the years, she has been proactive in giving them regular raises, and is always concerned with making sure she is a good person to work for.

This whole pandemic, she has told them to please stay home, while she continues to pay them their usual amount. I’m very proud of her for that, I see a lot of people with opinions on what employers should be doing for their employees during the pandemic, but she’s really putting her money where her mouth is. For months now, every other week, one of the sisters shows up, my mother puts on a mask, walks out front, hands them their payment, wishes them well, and they leave, They have a few times expressed uncertainty about this, maybe feeling guilty, not wanting to take advantage of my mother, but she always assures them that they are not, that they should feel comfortable with being paid, that they are all doing the right thing, that she is spending the same amount of money she had always planned on spending; she asks about the health of their relative in chemotherapy that lives with them, and reminds them she’d never want to do anything that would physically or financially harm that person. “It’s a crazy time, we’re all in this together, we each have to do whatever we can for the people around us” she says. She’s a very good human.

My dad’s father was a doctor. He died when my dad was about 12, and my dad also became a doctor, like his father. When he finished paying off his medical school debt, he bought a house -- one with a studio apartment attached, he’s always had an eye for investment. When he married my mom, they bought a house together and kept the houses they had been living in previously. Those two houses and studio apartment became rentals and part of their retirement plan.

My father is a good man, and a good landlord. He is extremely responsible about maintaining the properties (oh the many times growing up he had me helping him paint or repair fences etc). He always keeps the rent lower than those houses should really go for - he says as a resident of this city who can afford to own more homes than he lives in, it is his responsibility to help ensure there is decent affordable housing available.

When tenants give him a deposit, he invests that deposit in a CD account, which is a no-risk, high-interest investment where the bank pays you a much higher interest rate if you promise to leave your money in the account for a specified amount of time; an amount of time that he matches to the length of the lease, reinvesting it when/if a new lease is signed. When the tenant vacates the property, he gives them the deposit and all the money that investment earned. 

He explained to me that the deposit money is not his, and if he wasn’t holding that other person’s money they could have used it to their advantage. He told me it seemed wrong for him to prevent them from using their own money to benefit themselves that way. He said that if we lived in a just world, where everyone took responsibility for their actions and did the right thing, the deposit wouldn’t be a necessary standard, and he didn’t feel right denying someone use of their own money just because some people in this world can’t be trusted. The law already says that landlords must pay a savings account interest rate on deposits for these reasons (did you know that kids? It’s true, although I’ve literally never known of any other landlord who has done so without threat of lawsuit). But my father didn’t think that was enough, he felt the only moral option was to invest it in whatever would earn the highest amount of money and remain zero-risk, because if they had control of their own money, they could definitely make better investments than a savings account interest rate. in 35 years he has given every one of those deposit investments back with a single exception (his meticulous screening process failed him one time and he wound up with a couple that literally was cooking small batches of meth there, they did a lot of damage).

One of his tenants lived on his property for ten years, left for two years, and then moved back in because he said he’d rather have a longer commute than deal with any other landlord.

All during the pandemic, he has stopped collecting rent.

There are some pandemic provisions for people having trouble with their property if you take the time to go through the tons of paperwork involved, and he has been doing that. He hasn’t talked about it, but I would guess he feels like his properties are his responsibility, and that forcing his tenants to be responsible for the problems this pandemic is causing property owners is passing the buck; it is not the tenant’s fault they are having trouble paying rent, and they certainly can’t be responsible for doing anything about the situation, it is clearly an issue to be handled between a property owner and the bank.

These are my parents. They have their faults, but they are truly good people, and I’m grateful to have been raised with their values.

[mortuarybees]

oh I just sent you an ask and then realized that you answered my question in a previous ask, so ignore me. (Though I do have another question about them getting married or at least choosing to be committed to each other forever). Thank you for this AU though!

THIS GOT LONG I’M SORRY. The chef suggests that this be paired with Mitski’s cover of Let’s Get Married, which actually invented the institution of marriage.

It looks like this:

It’s a balmy Sunday in April, 2014, and Aziraphale’s hands are clasped before him, forehead pressed to his knuckles. He’s nervous; he shouldn’t be, he knows, but he is. The pew is hard and uncomfortable, unforgiving–Crowley would laugh at that, and even as he smiles, the thought makes his stomach clench.

The service ended a while ago, but he likes to remain, reading through the echoing chatter until everyone has gone and he can have a word alone with Her. Praying in a room full of others feels obscene and vulnerable, like leaving the front door open for the neighbors to peak in.

Please, please, please, he thinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, praying, knows that if today is the day, he needs to go home before Crowley gets irritable and worried, but he wants to feel certain, the way Crowley had been.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale likes gold. Loves gold; he grew up in an ancient and wealthy family, with so much money they’re casual about it, crystals dripping from chandeliers and fine tableware so old it belongs in a museum, and he won’t admit it–not now, especially–but he misses the elegance, the luxuries, misses a wardrobe full of Harris tweed and Burberry and Liberty’s. He likes gold, he would want gold, and Crowley is helpless to do anything but give him what he wants.)

It’s been a long time, Aziraphale thinks. He’s getting older–I’m getting older–he only gets one life. He’s the restless kind, what if he says no?

He asked first, he reminds himself, and then counters it by pointing out that last time, it didn’t mean much, to him. No, that isn’t fair, it meant something, but it wasn’t binding.

He doesn’t need to bind himself to you, he tells himself. He’s committed in every way he can. He’s never been the restless sort when it comes to us.

I’m overthinking this, he thinks, bemused, and as if God agrees with him, he hears the door behind him open, and Crowley’s relieved voice boom, echoing in the empty church and certainly disturbing the bad-humored priest, “Christ, there you are. I thought maybe the Rapture came and the rest of London was too godless to notice.”

Thank you, he prays. Amen. He turns around and smiles. “Crowley, dear. Would you like to sit?”

“Best not,” Crowley says, stopping at the end of the pew Aziraphale occupies. “Surprised I haven’t burst into flames yet, don’t want to push my luck getting comfortable.” He looks around and points at a painting of Saint Sebastian, posed in a rather un-agonized manner. “That why you come here all the time? An excuse to gawk at younger men?”

“Crowley,” he scolds, getting to his feet. He ducks his head to hide his smile and puts his hands in his pockets, toying with the small velvet box inside. “Please, dear, keep from blaspheming inside the church. Besides, you’re far better looking.”

“Damn right,” Crowley huffs, and he takes his arm possessively when he exits the pew, pulling tight against his side. He looks beautiful in the mid-morning light, hazy and soft, hair loose around his face, the stained glass painting colors on his pale face when he squints up at it as they leave. The face of John is mirrored perfectly in the lenses of his dark glasses for just a moment, and Aziraphale wishes he’d ever really tried his hand at art, just to immortalize in rich oil paint the rainbow of light on his face, the Beloved Disciple in his eyes, the swipes of glitter across his cheekbones, the black lace top under his leather jacket, pierced a million times over with all manner of pins over the years; he thinks if he wasn’t at peace before, this picture does it.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” he murmurs when it’s ended, when Crowley tilts his chin down, curls his lip against whatever blasphemy he was certainly thinking and it’s just him again. Just them, and God as far away as She always feels.

“I was kidding, angel,” he says, thumb stroking a reassuring line down his coat sleeve. “Ogle some guy all–” he gestures, quite theatrically– “shot up with arrows if you like. He’s dead, I’m not. I win.”

(It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and Crowley and Aziraphale arrived in London six months prior, alone and uncertain, refugees on a foreign shore. They both grew up in rural villages–wildly different experiences; Aziraphale’s family had an estate and he attended some posh boarding school on the moors, Crowley slept on a bus bench on more than one occasion–and the city is new and frightening and exciting. It seemed like the place for two young queer men to go, newly anointed adults forging a life together.

Aziraphale likes it, Crowley knows he does, he likes the museums, he likes the beautiful old buildings and the British Library, he likes taking walks in the park, and he likes having a home of their own, a home with Crowley. He tells him everyday, a comment here or there with a soft smile. But he’s wounded and mourning; he misses his family, and his new way of life is a bit of a shock. He won’t admit that it hurts, just sniffs and insists he knew it was coming, but Crowley knows him better that that. He loves London, but he can’t help but see the life he’s lost in every crevice of the life he’s found.

Crowley doesn’t believe in divine providence, but if he did, this would be the surest evidence of it: on his way home to their shithole of a flat with his first paycheck in his pocket, he passes the window of an antiques store, and sees it in the window. It catches the afternoon light perfectly and shines gold against the black velvet display; it’s a clunky old-fashioned sort of ring, with angel wings forming the band. Crowley has been thinking hard about this for years now, and it’s absolutely perfect.)

The sunlight outside comes weakly through the clouds, pale but just bright enough to avoid dreariness. Crowley relaxes once they step from the church steps and onto the sidewalk; his first boyfriend broke up with him with a vague and plausibly-deniable note in a cheap bible left on Crowley’s front porch when he returned home from a summer church camp, and Aziraphale thinks he’s always been afraid in the back of his mind that Aziraphale is going to come home from church someday and do the same thing, though he’s never said as much.

“I brought the rolled oats for the ducks,” Crowley says. “Figured we ought to stop in, since we missed last week. Otherwise they might mutiny.”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale says, and that had been his plan, but it’s all becoming so terribly real and sudden, isn’t it? He could wait just a little longer–

No, he can’t. They’ve waited long enough.

(It looks like this:

Crowley, ever-charming, talks the proprietor of the antiques shop into setting the ring aside for him. She’s suspicious of him, with his sibilant S and the pins on his leather jacket, but he’s wearing his work uniform, a perfectly respectable red polo shirt and black slacks, and he gives her a down payment and a long and terribly touching story about his college sweetheart that’s mostly true, apart from the gender of the lover in question.

The truth is, there are some things which can be easily done without, and some things that can’t. Aziraphale prefers fancy vintages from significant years and miraculous rains in the French countryside, but a £5 bottle from Sainsbury’s won’t ruin New Years. They can buy store brand cereal, the eggs discounted because one of them has been cracked, they can throw Aziraphale’s fancy embroidered throw over the pullout and hang richly dyed moth-eaten curtains from the theater department’s dumpster and pretend it’s the Hotel d’Alsace. But there are some things that must be done right, some things that cannot be done without, and he’s convinced that this is one of them. He could as easily propose with a plastic ring from the coin machine at their favorite bar, but Aziraphale is going to love this ring; even if he says no, pats Crowley on the cheek and says, “How romantic of you dear boy, but that’s not really what’s done, is it?” he’s still going to love it.

He’s secretive and vague about the extra hours and side gigs he takes on to make the payments. Aziraphale notices, he knows he does, he knows him too well not to, and he’s curious and a little alarmed, but he felt bad enough lying about where part of his first paycheck went without having to do it again every month when he stops in to make a payment on the ring.

It takes six months, but she finally hands it over, along with a comment about how she’s thought about it and she thinks it’s really rather noble, what he’s doing, and he best keep to it, best not break this poor girl’s heart, she’s read about people like him, giving it a go with nice girls for a couple years and then skipping out, sticking them with kids and a broken life. He rolls his eyes and says he’ll pass the message along to his boyfriend after he proposes, and saunters out, a skip in his step. It’s perfect; he’ll still wear it every day and admire it on his hand the way Crowley admires it now in the sun, and even if he says no–well, that would be a fine consolation prize.)

There is a bench they’ve been coming to for fifteen years now, so habitually the ducks flock to them when they arrive, flicking oats into the water. Crowley is catching him up on the fight he missed while he was out (the walls are thin and the neighbors provide endless entertainment with their incessant and bafflingly banal bickering; it’s a proper extended universe, their family disputes, and the mother-in-law is visiting, so it’s been an exciting weekend), and Aziraphale is trying to listen, he really is, even though he insists eavesdropping and gossiping aren’t especially neighborly–“oh, come off it, angel, you know they’ve got their ears pressed to the wall when we fight, not to mention when we–” “Crowley!”–but he cant focus on anything but the weight in his pocket.

He’s been putting money away for a year now, ever since legislation to legalize it was introduced last July. He’d known it would take some time to pass, but if they were willing to propose it, it would be soon.

“Alright, what’ve you got squirreled away, huh?” Crowley demands, the dozenth time in a few short minutes his hand has gone to his pocket to ensure it’s still there. “I’m hungry. Was so worried you’d gone off and joined some cultish offshoot I couldn’t eat. Well, a more cultish offshoot. Is the Catholic church an offshoot? Suppose it must be, not like Jesus named a pope–”

“It’s not food, dear,” Aziraphale says, sighing. “And he did, he gave Saint Peter the keys to Heaven and he was bishop of Rome. Blasphemous old serpent.”

“I’m sure they all say that,” Crowley says, waving a hand. He eyes him curiously, flicking a rolled oat so it hits a duck in the head. “What is it then?”

Aziraphale’s heart thuds chaotically in his chest. “Crowley, dearest,” he says, turning to face him. He takes his hand in his, desperate for the anchor, the reassurance. “I love you.”

“Love you too, angel,” Crowley says, looking alarmed. “Are you alright?”

“You love me,” Aziraphale repeats, both wishing desperately he could see Crowley’s eyes, search them, and desperately glad that he can’t. Crowley’s bare eyes are so terribly expressive, the sight of them so intimate, he couldn’t bear it.

“‘Course I do,” he says, with conviction. “More than anything. What’s this about?”

“Crowley, my love,” he says hoarsely, and he kneels on one knee, still clinging to his hand.

(It looks like this:

It’s October in 2000, and it’s been raining like the coming of the second flood for days. Crowley stands at the window, biting his lip and scowling at it, sick of it and about to start refreshing himself on the principles of chaos magic in a bid to end it.

“Crowley, dear, you’re making me nervous,” Aziraphale grumbles from the sofa. He loves a nice rainy day, loves curling up against Crowley with a cup of tea and a book or one of those awful television shows with the flouncy costumes and overwrought acting, but even he is growing tired of being stuck inside all day and getting soaked to the bone on his way to work. “Come sit down, would you?”

“I’m busy,” Crowley mutters.

“You don’t look busy,” Aziraphale says. “It looks like you think you can scowl the rain into submission.”

“Works on the plants,” Crowley tells him, and he knows Aziraphale is rolling his eyes without having to look. He’s half a mind to do away with his idea all together, just do it right here in their cramped little studio, when quite suddenly, the rain lets up to a light mist. He stares at it, jaw slack, for several long moments. When it doesn’t start pick up again, he shouts, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk?” Aziraphale frowns. “In this?”

“It’s just misting and we haven’t gone out properly in days,” Crowley says eagerly. “C'mon, get dressed, I want to go to the park.” He won’t have time to get dressed properly, doesn’t want to risk the return of the storm–which is a crying shame, he had such an outfit planned–but he yanks the pants he knows make his ass look the best out of their dresser and a deep purple blouse with lace around the cuffs Aziraphale once said made him look very royal, stripping out of his pajamas and hopping into them as quickly as he can.

“The park?” Aziraphale puts his book aside. “Well, I suppose I would rather fancy a stroll, stretch my legs–”

“Excellent!” Crowley throws him a horrible pair of houndstooth slacks and the first button down he sees. “Get dressed.”

“Crowley–”

“Dressed!”

“These don’t even match!”

“I don’t care! Get dressed!” He darts to their vanity, staring wild-eyed at his reflection. Eyeliner is smudged raccoon-like around his eyes, but his sunglasses will cover that. He picks up a brush and yanks it violently through his hair. His eyes dart to Aziraphale, taking his sweet time picking out a new button down. “Dressed! Dressed, c'mon!”

“I’m getting there,” he mutters, waving lazily at him. “What do you think, green or white, dear?”

“You look best in blue,” Crowley tells him. He pulls his hair back, then lets it fall again, then pulls the front back and secures it a few pins and a comb he knows Aziraphale likes. He spins around to see Aziraphale quite leisurely buttoning up his shirt. “If you don’t hurry, I’m leaving without you.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, but his fingers quicken, and he sits down to tie his oxfords. Crowley hurries to join him, shoving his feet in his boots and lacing them up as quickly as he can. The moment they’re both done, he yanks him up, hauling him to the door, shrugging his leather jacket on and tossing Aziraphale his blazer. “Wait, I’ve got to get my bag–”

“You don’t need your bag,” Crowley insists, and reaches into his pocket to make sure the ring is there.

Aziraphale frets the whole way to the park about how it’s bound to start pouring again any moment, and Crowley rushed him so much he forgot to bring an umbrella, they’re going to get drenched, they forgot bread for the ducks–unaware as they were that one ought not feed a duck bread, for its own sake–and St. James’ Park is positively sodden and it’ll take ages for his wool socks to dry out. Crowley doesn’t care; he links their arms and slogs bravely on to their usual spot, grateful that the heavy rain has cleared it out. The only other people around are a mother and child, some ways off, enjoying the brief respite.

“Angel, I’ve got something to ask you,” he says urgently, and he wrenches his sunglasses off–wait, he forgot, the eyeliner–he slides them back on, then takes them off again; he knows how Aziraphale likes to see his eyes.

“Yes?” Aziraphale looks confused and alarmed, he doesn’t like surprises or irregular reactions. He jumps to the worst every time, starts overthinking every twitch of Crowley’s face, and Crowley loves him, the anxious prat.

“I love you,” he says. “Do you love me?”

“I love you more than words can say, darling, what’s going on?” His eyes search Crowley’s face, his brow furrowed.

“Do you–” he swallows hard. They’ve never talked about this, not really. “You don’t think this is–y'know, a sin, right?” It feels so awkward in his mouth, his tone not weighty enough. The truth is, he’s never really seen what all the fuss was about, why so many other queer people struggled so much to reconcile their lives with the Church. The Church rejected him, so he rejected the Church, and he hasn’t looked back. But it means something to Aziraphale. He doesn’t know if he struggles with it still, but it means something to him. It means a lot to him.

“Oh, Crowley, dear,” he says, his eyes clearing. He touches his cheek, so gently Crowley could scream. “Of course not. This could never be a sin, I’ve been reading–”

Crowley can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Of course you have,” he says, beaming at him. “Of course you have. What have you been reading, angel?”

“Well, Montefiore’s ‘Jesus, the Revelation of God’ points out that Christ’s early life–”

“Flaming homosexual, Jesus was, then?” Crowley asks, unable to smother his unhinged grin, and Aziraphale isn’t sure what he’s so giddy about, but it seems like he can’t help but smile back, a little uncertainly.

“There was John, of course, the Beloved Disciple, and there’s a rather interesting idea about the Wedding at Cana, which is of course in some ideas thought of as a symbolic marriage of Christ to the church, and some–there’s this beautiful German print, of Jesus and John at the wedding, I’ll have to show you–some have suggested that it’s also a more literal marriage between Jesus and John–”

“Christ, angel, you’ll marry me, won’t you?” Crowley breathes, and he kneels.

Aziraphale blinks at him, brow furrowed, his mind clearly trying to catch up to this sudden switch in the topic of conversation. It’s always hard to interrupt one of his rambling little speeches, he gets so invested in them, but Crowley will just have to make it up to him later, let him lecture above him well into the night about apocryphal writings and stained glass and this print or that; right now, he just need to be engaged to this ridiculous man. “Er, what?”

“Marry me,” he says. He had a whole proposal planned, but he’s forgotten it, and it was stupid, anyway. “Marry me, I–” he fumbles in his pocket, pulls the ring out of the little felt bag the proprietor put it in and holds it up like an offering. “I have a ring. Will you marry me, Aziraphale?”

“Are you–” Aziraphale’s eyes are getting wide, his breath coming fast. “Crowley, you’re not joking about this, are you?”

“Why the fuck would I joke about this?” Crowley snaps. “Look, see, I got a ring and everything. Do you like it?”

“Crowley–” Aziraphale gasps, a wet and rough sound. “I–I suppose it would be legal, technically, but I–Crowley, you know how I feel about, about–what do you mean–”

“It’s not legal, I know, but neither is buggery, technically, just can’t be prosecuted, but that’s never stopped us,” he says. He knows, he knows how Aziraphale feels about playing to his assigned gender, even when it’s convenient. “Look, it’s not like Jesus and John had a marriage license, is it?”

And Aziraphale starts crying.)

“Angel,” Crowley says, staring down at him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale releases his hand to pull the small velvet box out of his pocket, opens it carefully, precisely, and holds it out to him. “Crowley, my dearest, will you marry me?”

“We’re already married, angel,” Crowley whispers, and as if unconsciously, his thumb strokes the tattoo on his left ring finger.

“Well, certainly,” he says. “But it’s legal now, and I know that what the state has to say doesn’t matter much, but you know–well, you remember how it can be, without something legal. Something on paper,. And you don’t have a ring.”

“I have better than a ring,” Crowley says, but his eyes are glittering, fixed on the little black ring in the box, a band of silver around it.

Aziraphale swallows hard. “Crowley, I would really quite like to marry you, officially, dear, if you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll–I swear to somebody, angel, you’re the stupidest genius I’ve ever met,” he swears. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot, I–what the fuck does the ring say, Aziraphale?”

He smiles, can’t help but be pleased that he’s noticed. On the inside, in his own hand writing, is You Make Me Live, Dearest, in deference to the song Crowley has, on many occasions, blasted so loud their neighbors have pounded on the wall, practically shouting the lyrics at Aziraphale, hauling him, laughing, into terrible dancing that usually ends up knocking something over. Aziraphale takes a deep breath, and sings very quietly, and off-key, voice wavering (he hasn’t sang since his second puberty; he had a lovely voice, before, he was in a choir, but he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it since), “Oh, you make me live, whenever this world is cruel to me–”

Crowley grabs him by his lapels and hauls him up into a hungry kiss, passersby be damned.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale is crying, his face in his hands, and Crowley is frozen on his knees, all his giddy joy slowly leaving him, a hollow humiliation replacing it.

“Angel,” he says, hating how his voice cracks. “Angel, I’m sorry, you don’t have to say yes–you can keep the ring, I want you to have the ring–I won’t–I won’t leave, if you say no–unless you want me to, obviously–” Shit, shit, shit, he didn’t fuck up that bad, did he–

Aziraphale drops his hands, startled, and stares at him. “Why on earth would I want that?” he asks, and he goes to his knees on the wet concrete, pulling the ridiculous handkerchief that matches his ridiculous bow tie from his breast pocket, dabs at his eyes, wipes his nose, and puts it in his pocket with a deep breath. “I never–I never thought this would be possible, the way I wanted it,” he says at last. “I never even–considered it, really, I wished, perhaps, but I never–” he stops, and he stares at Crowley with such warmth and love it settles him, a little. He’s not going to turn him out, and that’s really all that matters.

“I just thought, I know you wouldn’t want to do it…officially, so it might not be legal, but maybe–you and me, we could say some vows,” he says. “If you wanted. If you don’t, that’s fine,” and his voice, the goddamn traitor, cracks again on the word.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t said yes, have I?” Aziraphale says, and he smiles, a watery thing, puts his hand on Crowley’s wrist. “Yes, darling, I’d love nothing more than to marry you, I really wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” he says, and a smile begins to form. “Oh. That’s–great, then.”

“You ridiculous thing,” Aziraphale says, beaming, and he throws his arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. He can feel his lashes flutter against the soft skin there, the slide of warm tears, his breath ghosting across the fine hairs, and he shivers.

“Hey,” he says, nudging him. “Hey. Did you see the ring?”

Aziraphale laughs, leaning back onto his haunches, and wipes at his eyes. “The ring?”

“Yeah, the ring,” Crowley says, waving it about. He thinks it looks even more impressive in the washed-out grey light, shining like a second sun.

“Crowley,” he whispers, seeming to really truly notice it for the first time. “Where–where did you get this?” His hands hover around it, reverent, as if he’s afraid to touch it.

“An antiques shop,” he says proudly. “Give me your hand.”

“How did you afford it?” he asks wonderingly, and he lets Crowley take his hand in his, slide it onto his finger, smiles at his little sigh of relief when it fits.

“Saved up,” he says. “That’s, er. What I’ve been doing, going out.”

“I was curious,” Aziraphale says, and his eyes well up again. “Oh, darling, all this time, you’ve been working?”

“Wanted you to have the best,” he says. “Look, see, they’re angel wings.” He runs a finger around the band, beaming at it. “You like it?”

“Crowley, my dear, I love it more than I can say,” he says fervently, and he puts a hand on his cheek again, leans in to give him a chaste, brief kiss. “Let’s go home,” he suggests. “I’ll thank you properly.”

Crowley leaps to his feet, bringing Aziraphale with him, and they don’t quite run to the bus stop, but it’s a very close thing, giggling like drunk teenagers sneaking out late, laughter peeling through the park when Crowley’s poorly laced boots send them tumbling, arms linked, into the grass.)

It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and it’s 2014, and they run home from the bus stop in a sudden downpour of rain, having forgotten umbrellas, absent-minded and distracted by more important things. A leather jacket is shed onto the floor, a tweed coat thrown in the vague direction of a coat rack; Crowley throws Aziraphale’s suspenders off his shoulders with pleased gusto, a tie, belt, shirts, hit the floor with abandon, sunglasses are placed very delicately somewhere safe. Crowley pulls at Aziraphale’s binder insistently, in 2000, yanks his white undershirt over his head in 2014; oxfords and combat boots are tossed and hit the walls and floor; they stumble over their pants as they try to take them off without stopping, without taking their hands off each other for even a moment, and the old bed creaks when they tumble onto it. The headboard cracks against the wall, knocks the crucifix loose, and the thud is followed by shaking laughter overtaken by gasps, and cries, and fervent declarations, hands clasped, mouths sliding inelegantly together. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you; and they’re both thinking with desperate and delighted devotion, my husband, my husband, my husband.

[sunflowergirl522]

Legally Blonde 7: Take it Like a Man

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Just a legally blonde AU with you starring as Elle Woods. Based on both the movie and musical.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2009

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Bucky throws his case file onto the table and rips off his tie while sitting down. You try to hold back your tears as you lean against the table next to him. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to tell me the alibi.” He’s exasperated and he’s directing it at you even though the majority of it wasn’t because of you. He knows that he’ll regret it later but right now it can’t be helped.

“Well I can’t because I gave Natasha my word. Having an alibi is not the only way to win this case.”

“No but it sure would help!” 

“Work with me, we can free Natasha the right way, the noble way.”

“This is not a lifetime original movie Y/n. I’m not interested in nobility right now, I’m more interested in saving her life!”

“No you’re not! You’re more interested in impressing Pierce.”

“Well he is my boss if I impress him, he’s gonna make me associate.”

“By jeopardizing your clients trust in our integrity!” Bucky is left speechless at that and scoffs while trying to find words to say.

“Well when you put it that way.”

“Exactly! You butthead.” You shove his shoulder and go back to casually leaning on the table, getting out of your defensive stance. “My word means something, and I know yours does too.”

“No one’s called me butthead since the third grade.”

“Maybe not to your face.” You both hold eye contact with serious faces before breaking into laughter. “C’mon let’s get outta here.” You lead the way out of the building and to your car which you both arrived in together.

“Why do you always have to be right?”

“I don’t have to be when I’m with you I just am.” You start to drive off once you're both situated in the car.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asks when you miss the turn to go to your dorm.

“You wanna impress Pierce? I can help.”

“Okay, how?” You park the car and turn to look at him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, I love your scruffy vibe but casual Friday isn’t in Pierce’s vocabulary. You gotta look the part if you wanna get ahead.”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you about not judging a book by its cover.” Bucky gets out and begins to follow you.

“She did but I also know that books with tattered covers stay on the shelf.” Once your at the entrance you turn to face him.

“Oh thanks a lot.”

“This isn’t a perfect world. You think I haven’t been judged my whole life, you think it wasn’t a good idea to make navy my new pink?”

“No, that was a good idea.”

“I know.”

“Where are we exactly?”

“You trust me don’t you?” Your tone suddenly turns serious and Bucky begins to get suspicious.

“Of course.” 

“Then don’t stop now.” You both enter in and Bucky stops as he looks around. “Welcome to a department store. Take a deep breath and let it all in Buck.” Bucky looks at you when you use a nickname you’ve never used before. “Do you smell the pure oxygen they pump in? It’s because they care.”

“Love?” A worker comes up to Bucky and his head snaps to her thinking she's talking about them.

“Excuse me?”

“Love, the new fragrance from Chanel.” She goes to spray it on him but Bucky stops her once he gets a whiff of it.

“No thank you.”

“Think of the people you want to impress. I need you to swallow your pride for me Bucky, and just nod yes to me.” You start with trying a new tie on him. “Here you’ll become what you’re supposed to be, you think you can’t but you can. Think of the guy you want to be, this is your chance to make it, so take it like a man.” Bucky fixes his collar and the tie knot to how tight he wants it while you go speak to one of the workers.

Bucky can’t help but wonder what you want or why you guys can’t leave things the way that they were. He also can’t help but wonder why he can never say no to you while he walks over to you and the attendant. “What’s that smell?”

“Subtext by Calvin Klein.” A different attendant hands Bucky a sample of it before leaving.

“Alright, I’m gonna show you different shirts and you just tell me what you think.” The first shirt he sees is a blue one.

“That I don’t like.” A plain white shirt is next. “That’s kind of neat.” Bucky takes that one and under it is a shirt with a pink, white, and black geometric pattern. “Guys who wear that get beat up on my street.” You giggle at his comment before taking the shirt out of his hand and walking away. Bucky knows that he’s in your hands and that he can’t try to retreat into his shell now. You come back to him and show him a coat jacket and he nods and smiles at it. You push him to a changing room for him to try everything on.

“God, I love shopping for guys and watching them change right before my eyes.”

“Don’t watch me change.” Bucky sticks his head out and you wave your hand at him in a dismissive manner. 

“Your confidence is gonna grow, you’ll bloom like a rose.”

“Okay, this is nice.” He's referencing how you’re taking care of him. “Is this the price?”

“Don’t worry this is my treat. Now, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” You have him come out and stand in front of a mirror with you.

“Whoa.” You both speak at the same time.

“I look like Steve.”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s just me.”

“That’s the best part. The outside is new just now it reflects what’s already in you. I couldn’t change that if I wanted to. And I do not.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. This is no gift, it’s payment in kind because you saw beyond all the blonde to my mind. We’ve got to buy this. What are you, blind. You look hot! You’ve become the guy you’re meant to be. Go get changed and I’ll go pay.”

Bucky can’t help but think of how this isn’t quite the guy he would’ve chosen to be. When he has you standing next to him so close he thinks he likes your plan. He’s glad he took it like a man when you hug him out by the car.

***

You’re sitting patiently as Wanda paints your nails before the trial. “I love this classy lawyer pink you chose Y/n. When those jury people see your nails, they’ll just know that they can trust you.”

“Which is more than what the team is doing. They are all over me to give up Natasha’s alibi.”

“Even including your friend, Bucky?” Wanda puts emphasis on friend trying to hint at the feelings you both have for each other.

“Well he’s on the team too.”

“Ya, and in more ways than one.” Wanda mutters under her breath and screws the cap onto the polish. “Are you sure you don’t want me to paint little gavals on them?”

“That’s fine Wanda, I think that might be a bit too much. And don’t think I didn’t hear you, Bucky is just my friend.”

“Well I could sure use a friend like that.” Right after she says that the delivery man that comes by so often walks in the door.You nudge Wanda's foot under the table to get her to look.

“I’ve got a package. Where’s Wanda Maximoff?”

“Oh my god.” Wanda whispers while whipping around to fce you instead of him.

“He’s coming over here.”

“Hey there, name’s Sam I’ve got a package for you. Kinda cool karma isn’t it?” Wanda freezes and you tap her on her shoulder to get her to snap out of it. When that doesn’t work Sam turns to you to sign for her. Wanda just sits there stuck staring at him and offers up a smile. “How ya doin’ today?”

“Fine.” Sam then leans down and places the box at Wanda’s feet while keeping eye contact.

“Take it easy.” Sam then struts out of the building.

“Maybe you’ll get a friend sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, come on, I can barely talk to him. I’ve got nothing to offer and he’s like walking porn.”

“Oh, please you have the right equipment, you just need to read the manual. Here, I’ll show you a little maneuver that my mom taught me in junior high. In my experience it has a ninety eight percent success rate of getting a man's attention and, when used appropriately, it has eighty three percent rate of return on a dinner invitation.”

“Wow.”

“It’s called the bend and snap.” You stand up and go into the middle of the room to show her. “I think I dropped something on the floor that I need to pick up. So you bend down and snap! See?” Wanda nods at you and you wave your hand to get her to get up. “Come on. You try it.” Wanda tries to do it and doesn’t have it down which is okay. “A little less bend, a little more snap.”

You eventually get everyone in the salon to start to do the bend and snap. “Good job everybody!”

“Oh my god the bend and snap! Works every time!” Peter Quill, a hair stylist comes out of the back to see everyone doing it.

You hang out at the salon until Wanda is done with work and then go to her place for a few hours. By the time you leave to walk home it’s starting to get dark.

“I called your room last night.” You see Thor talking to two girls and as you pass you can hear their conversation.

“I heard.”

“I was thinking maybe we could go out sometime.”

“No. You’re a dork who’s always going off about a mythology no one cares about.” The girls both laugh and you pause.

“I’m in law school.”

“Look, I'm not gonna go out with you. I can’t believe you’d even ask. Girls like me don’t go out with losers like you.” Your heart hurts at how she’s talking to the biggest softie you’ve ever met. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Excuse me.” You turn around and march up to Thor and slap him. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“What?”

“We spent a beautiful night together, and then I never hear from you again?”

“I…” Thor looks at the two girls and then back to you. “I’m sorry?”

“Sorry for what? For breaking my heart, or for giving me the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known and then just taking it away?”

“Uh, both?”

“Well forget it. I’ve already spent too many hours crying over you.” You then turn and walk away with a smile on your face as you hear the girl ask him when he wanted to go out.

***

“And where was she exactly?” The other lawyer asks Lila, Clint Barton's daughter.

“Standing over my father’s dead body.” 

They pull the pool boy to the stand next.

“Mr. Wilson, can you tell us what this is?” She holds a thong out to show him.

“My uniform.”

“This is the uniform that Mrs. Barton asked you to wear while cleaning her pool?”

“Yes.”

“And are you or are you not having an affair with Natasha Barton?”

“Define affair.”

“Have you and Mrs. Barton had sexual relations?”

“Yes. Okay? Yes.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, court will reconvene tomorrow morning at nine A.M. We’re adjourned.” Natasha stands up angry and turns to talk to you.

“You know a Delta Nu would never sleep with a man who wears a thong.”

“Never!”

“I just liked watching him clean the filter.” The police guard starts to pull Natasha to the door.

“I know.”

“Take care of me Y/n.”

“I will.”

[queenmuzz]

Deep Blue Sea:  Chapter VII

Cutting Questions

Read full on Ao3 HERE

I can’t believe I agreed to try this on. You stared at the multiple copies of yourself in the full body mirrors as you cringed at the multi-angle view of the monstrocity masquerading as a wedding dress.  It was far too floofy, with enough taffeta layers that made you think that you were a pure white pastry.  And the bodice was far too tight, even for just a try out.  You swore your lower ribs were being crushed as the lady pulled the laces of the corset, and it took all your willpower to not cry out.

“There we go…” she said, triumphantly, and she twirled you around so you could get a good look at every side of this disaster.  “We may have to let out the bust a bit, and a little at the waist, but you look stunning!”

I look like a goddamn jellyfish, was all you could think.

You waddled out, attempting to not trip over the fluff that obscured your legs, to face the duo that eagerly waited for your appearance.  Surely they would find it as ridiculous as you did!  But the look on your mother’s face was not encouraging.

“OH MY GAWD,” she said with tears in her eyes…”You are absolutely gorgeous!  The dress suits you perfectly!”

“I dunno,” you said, attempting to be diplomatic.  Last thing you wanted to do is be known as a bridezilla, “I’m not sure it fits me”

“Well, of course,” she crooned, “It’ll need some alterations, but you’ll feel like a princess walking down the aisle with it.  The congregation will love it!” She was obviously taking the word ‘fit’ literally.  “And what do you think, Sarah?”

You silently prayed that your best friend would at least have the gumption to say something.  “It looks nice….” she started politely “but perhaps it could use a splash of colour?”

Your mother’s eyes widened, and she clapped her hands together.  “Yes!  A light pink would really bring out the colour of the diamonds on your engagement ring.” She paused, pinched up her face and thought for a second, chin in her hand.  “Ah!  Sequins!  You need more sequins!  It’s all the rage wedding this season.”   She turned to the saleswoman. “You MUST have something like that!”

The saleswoman, surprisingly, was a bit hesitant, considering she was about to make a major commision off this sale gently prodded, “I’m sure the bride would love to add to the suggestions.”

“I was hoping,” you started, “That it would be a bit less ostentatious.  Something a bit more simple, less fancy”

“Nonsense,” your mother interrupted, “This is YOUR day, you need to go all out!  With luck, this will be the most important day of your life.” She turned back to the saleswoman.  “Money is no object, but my daughter MUST look her best for her special day.”

The lady turned to you, to get your approval, and you wanted to say something, anything to get out of wearing yet another hideous top designer couture, but that excited look on your mother’s face just made you hesitate.  You couldn’t bear to see her face fall as you told her what you really thought of that dress. (Pink?   Your mother had to know you hadn’t liked that colour since elementary school!) And how sequins just didn’t suit you at all, you preferred the slender, simple backless gown with the green sash at the waist, that stood at the front window.  (The sneer your mother gave at it when you suggested it was enough to shut your mouth.)

But it was late afternoon, and you’d tried almost a dozen dresses, and frankly, you were tired.  And when you really thought about it, you’d only be wearing the dress for one day.  Perhaps your reticence was unreasonable.  After all, your mother had worn three different wedding dresses throughout her lifetime, and perhaps she knew what was best for you, maybe you should just trust her.

“Very well…” you said, and your mom giddily followed the sales lady to the back. You flopped down inelegantly on the cushioned sofa, and sighed.

“You know,” Sarah volunteered hesitantly, “this is supposed to be YOUR day, you shouldn’t be such a doormat”

“I’m not a doormat!” you hissed, attempting to not cause a scene.

“Suuuure you’re not,” she said rolling her eyes, before looking back at the dress in the window. “I love you to bits, but man, you gotta stand up for yourself.  You keep letting your parents push you around, it’s not gonna ease up, no matter how much you give in to their demands”

You cracked, just a little bit, Sarah had a point.  You spent your entire life trying to live up to their standards, and yet, it was never enough.  There was always a way you were supposed to dress, a business you should look into, a new contact you should make, a man you were supposed to marry-.  You decided that you would let that train of thought leave the station.

“I can’t,” you said quietly, looking down at your hands resting in floofiness that was your lap, “they’re expecting so much of me, I’d be letting them down right now”

“Well,” Sarah countered, “you stood up to them before, when you said you wanted to go into Marine Biology all those years ago.  I remember the  horrific arguments you had with both of them, you even stayed with me for a few weeks until they gave in.  And look where it got you, a Doctorate in your dream subject, and the ability to do the thing you really love; explore the ocean!”

“That’s because I felt passionate about it, Sarah”

“So does that mean you aren't passionate about this wedding?”

You clammed up, any words in response died on your tongue.  Sarah, despite her veneer of benign cluelessness, was an expert at cutting straight to the matter.  Did you feel passionate about this wedding? Did you even love Fredrick?  Would you ever love him?

“We’re baaaack!” your mother’s voice smothered your thoughts and doubts as she and the saleslady brought out a dress that quite possibly was even worse looking than the one you were currently wearing.  You gave one last longing glance at the the beautiful dress in the showcase, and allowed yourself to be shepherded back into the dressing room, leaving behind a beaming mother, and a resigned best friend.

*****

The sun was low in the sky as you finally left your mother’s place, after wishing her and your newest step-father a good night.  Sarah gave you a tight hug, with a concerned remark that no matter what you chose, she’d have your back.   You knew that you were hurting her by going through with this, but it would work out in the end, you knew it.

You sat back in your driver's seat, pausing after starting the engine.  It had been a draining day, and all you wanted to do was to have a bath, wrap yourself up in some towels, make yourself and Vergil some food, and just chill.  Despite all the stress from the wedding plans, and the the steep learning curve of taking up the reins of your father’s company, talking with Vergil about anything, and yet nothing at the same time calmed you down immensely.  You always looked forward to those times.

But first, one last errand before you went home.  You told your wireless system to make the call, and as you pulled out of your mother’s driveway, the drone of a dial tone reverberated in the car.  A few rings, and your father’s voice answered.

“Ah, how’s my favourite girl doing?  Did you pick your dream dress out?” he asked cheerfully.

“Yes, mom helped pick it out it’s a-” 

Your dad interrupted you, “Now now, don’t tell me, I just want it to be a surprise!  Just have your mother send me the bill, I’ll work out the payment”  You breathed a sigh of relief, you didn’t really feel like somehow describing the abomination that took the guise of a dress in a somewhat positive light.   

“Listen, sweetheart” your father said, “I’ll be out for a few weeks on business, accompanying your future father-in-law on a trip to check up on Fredrick, and maybe sign some more deals, so no ‘Take Your Daughter to Work Days’ for a while.  You got any concerns or any requests, you’ll have to call me.  Me and Mr. Sombra are on the cusp of a deal that will be mutually beneficial for both our family, and Fredrick’s.”  Another sigh of relief, one less stress point to deal with.  

Suddenly, in the background, you heard a popping sound, which sounded like fireworks, but the rhythm sounded off, it sounded like… Gunshots!?

“Dad!” you barked out worriedly, “Is everything alright?”

Your father’s response was cheerful and reassuring, “Ah it’s alright, I’m at the gun range, Mr. Sombra decided we should get to know each other better with our prospective hobbies while we work on this deal. I think I might be getting the hang of this gun thing, although I’ve gotta resist the urge to close one eye to do so.  Tomorrow, I get to show him the joys of breadmaking!” Your dad sounded as giddy as a schoolgirl to share his passion project, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I gotta go, your future father-in-law is begging me to try out this new pistol he purchased!”

“Okay, say Hello to Fredrick when you see him!  And have a safe trip!” you chirped, “I love you, dad”

“Love you too, sweetheart, bye!”  As the phone call ended, you began to relax.  Sure, today had been a draining day, but your father’s upbeat energy perked you up.  Perhaps your conversation with Vergil wouldn't be so dour today.  You sensed he had some issue with your father, but you never brought it up, simply because you never wanted to see him as he was when you first met.  You wanted him, if not happy, at least content and untroubled.  You hummed a familiar tune for the rest of the way home, but no matter how hard you thought about it, you couldn’t figure out where you heard it from.

As you pulled into your driveway, the cheerful mood skidded to a halt.  Another, unfamiliar vehicle was parked beside your usual parking space, but nobody was seen.  You tensed up.  You hadn’t expected any guests, and to just get on the property, you had to have a way of getting past the security gate.   

Cautiously, you got out.  It couldn’t possibly be a burglary, what idiot would park in front of your home while looting the place?  But still, you had your fears, not for your property, nor for even yourself.  What about Vergil?  

Your stomach dropped as your front door opened, and out came a slimy slug of a man...Doctor Griffon.   He was practically beaming, whistling a jaunty tune, with a regular sized briefcase in his left hand, and a long narrow briefcase in his right.  To your untrained eye, it looked similar to a gun case, and your blood ran cold.  

The doctor finally noticed you after he locked the door, (how the hell had he gotten a hold of the keys?) and smiled, totally oblivious of what he was doing to your emotions.

“Ah, My dear!  I was not expecting your arrival!  I must say, you’ve done a marvelous job on rehabilitating Angelo.  I was worried it was languishing in captivity, but you’ve managed to bring it’s original colour back, and it’s gained some weight, you must tell me your feeding schedule-”

“Cut the crap, Doctor. How the hell did you get a key?  What the fuck are you doing here? ” you hissed.  

The man deflected your anger as if it was a pesky fly.  “Your father gave me permission and access to your home, to take care of the creature, in case of emergencies, and I deemed it an emergency, since you’ve missed the deadline to deliver your monthly report for the past three days.”

Wait what?

You quickly checked your phone.  Sure enough, the asshole was right, in the hubbub of bridal shows, cake tastings, and now wedding dress try-outs, you had missed the deadline.  It was hard to resist the urge to slap yourself for this stupidity.

“I’m not sure how you managed to wrangle the creature without it’s leash,” he glanced down at the long  briefcase, “But I’m highly impressed you were able to.  I’ll admit I thought you were just faking the measurements…”

“You could have called me, let me know, I could have gotten you the information you so desperately  needed.  Instead of breaking into my place without my damn permission.”

The bastard dangled a ring with a single key on it, in front of you. “Like I said, this was given to me by your father, with permission to-”

You didn’t let him finish as you yanked the key out of his grasp.  “Consider the permission rescinded.” you said curtly.   He attempted to speak again, but you wouldn’t let him.  “Talk to my father if you want to contest this, because I’m not letting you set foot on my property again.  Am I making myself clear? Your voice lowered dangerously, your adrenaline pumping through your system, the key clenched so tight in your fist, you could feel the start of it cutting into your palm.  Immediately, your brain went into overdrive, preparing on how to react should Griffon try to take the key back, punch him in the face, or in the gut, or a kick to the groin?

But you needn’t have worried.  The doctor, despite his glares, decided to back off.  No doubt he would attempt to contact your father, but both of you knew who your dad would side with.

“Very well,” he glowered, “but if anything happens to the specimen,” the urge to punch him reached a deafening crescendo, “I will hold you personally responsible.” And with a huff, he shouldered past you, got in his car, and with a slamming of a door, he peeled out, going towards your family’s central warehouse building.

You let out a ragged breath, The next time I see him, I’m going to skewer the bastard, you thought viciously.  The previously relaxed feeling that you had worked so hard to build melted like snow under a blowtorch.  How could you have been so fucking stupid?  You had spent the last decade turning assignments on time for your doctorate, why did you forget now?  All your efforts at gaining Vergil’s trust had just been shattered because of your negligence…

Vergil…

You ran towards the door, clumsily failing to get the key into the hole, and spreading blood from your newly cut hand all over the handle.   It could wait until later, you had to check up on the merman, that was your priority right now.

After a few tries, you got the door unlocked, and you rushed inside, tossing your belongings everywhere in your haste to get to the aquarium.   “Vergil!” you called out, but no response reverberated in your head.  You plastered yourself against the glass, trying desperately to find him.  And after a few moments of panicked searching, you saw him, hidden behind his usual rock where he usually spent time alone.  But now he was unmoving, curled up in a defensive ball, his eyes vacant, staring at nothing at all.  “Vergil!” you yelled, but no response.  What had that asshole done to him?  Did it have something to do with that leash? What if he’s hurt?

Without quite thinking, you clambered onto the platform, and after a moment to gather your breath, you dove in.

The cut on your palm protested at the salt water, but you didn’t care, as you swam to the far rock.  You cautiously approached Vergil, unable to talk to him with your weak human lungs, which already started to burn. Vergil remained staring straight ahead, his eyes transfixed on nothing, unaware of your presence. So, you did the only thing you could, and placed your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.  Come back to me, Vergil.

And then, without warning, both his hands shot out, grabbing your shoulders in a vise tight grip.  In your surprise, you let out the last of your air still in your lungs, the bubbles rising to the surface.  You went to follow, but Vergil wouldn’t let go.  Panic forming, you started struggling, but the merman was as solid as the rock he hid behind, and wouldn’t budge.  And what was worse, the vacant look in his eyes was still there, he had no idea he was drowning you.  For a split second, you thought about trying to hit him, to knock some awareness back into him, but that would make it worse.  So, as you felt your body slowly shutting down, conserving all the oxygen it had for only vital functions, you did the only thing you could think of.

You softly caressed his cheek, hoping the gentle touch might, possibly be the thing he needed to snap him out of his catatonia.  

To your relief, it seemed to work, and his eyes focused on you in confusion.  All you could do was keep your eyes focused on his, as everything besides his face became a dark blur.  Panic filled his face, and you were aware of rushing water, and then the feeling of cool air on your cheeks.  Spluttering and coughing, you gulped up the air, as Vergil gently guided you to the platform and helped you clumsily clamber up onto it.

“Forgive me…” you heard him murmur as you stood on all fours, still attempting to catch your breath. “Had it been a few moments later, I would have....”

“Not your fault, Vergil '' you gasped out, finally able to regulate your breathing, as the pounding of blood in your head slowed down, as the adrenaline stopped flowing.  “This was all me, I should have sent in that report, so ‘he’,” you spat out the word in hatred, so Vergil knew who you were talking about, “wouldn’t have shown up.  But I was so. Fucking. Forgetful. You felt like crying, but you kept it locked inside.  You both didn’t need the additional emotions tonight.

You felt a soft hand placed upon yours, and you looked into his grey eyes, softness replacing the blankness that had been there a few moments ago. “It appears,” he said with a gentle smile, “we are at an impasse to who’s at fault.  Shall we agree that we have both done the other ill?”

“I suppose we could do that,” as you used your hand to brush your soaked hair out of your eyes.  Suddenly Vergil frowned, he gently turned your other hand around, revealing an angry red gash.

“Did I…?” he started to say, but you shushed him.

“No, that was me, when I was confronting the Doctor”  Vergil stiffened at the mention, and you sought to assure him “Vergil, I swear I will never let him near you again, if I have to fucking kill him.”  He looked at you, as if he was searching for sincerity on your face, before nodding in gratitude..  You had never been so serious about something in your life.  Vergil didn’t deserve the treatment you could only guess that he’d been through.  If you could have chucked him into the ocean this very second, you would have.  But despite everything, he still answered ‘no’ to your question of freedom every morning, so you respected his wishes.

“You should get yourself dry,” he said, “you humans tend to get sick when you remain wet for a period of time.”

You got up, wincing at the pain from your palm and you pushed up off of the wood, “I’ll be back soon, and I’ll bring you supper, any requests?”

“Not particularly, anything you wish shall be fine” he answered, his voice unexpectedly soft.  You gave him a reassuring smile, and descended the stairs.

*****

You sat in a warm fluffy pj’s your hair still damp, but otherwise fully dry.  You’d made his favourite for him, ramen, with some slices of leftover pork chop, which he slurped up greedily.  He was still getting the hang of using utensils, but he was doing so much better.  You snacked on a turkey sandwich, not feeling the urge to prepare anything more strenuous than that.  Your hand had stopped bleeding, but still ached, and although it looked bad, with some ointment and some bandages, it would be more annoying than anything.  You pulled up your medical supplies to tend with it, but then heard Vergil’s voice. 

“May I?” and after giving your approval, he gently took your hand, amazed as you spread the cream over the cut.  He frowned, as he watched.  “I thought it would have healed somewhat by now, if not as quickly as us”

“Nah,” you shrugged with your free shoulder as you reached for the wrapping that would keep it protected while you slept. “Although cuts on our hands heal pretty fast compared to other parts of our bodies, we just need to keep it covered so it has a chance to heal.  It’s painful, but it’s not like a wound to the gut or anything.”

You began to wrap your hand, but somehow, Vergil took over, gently winding the cloth around your palm, taking care not to press down on the wound.  The way his fingers softly grazed your knuckles....  You suddenly felt slightly warm at the touch.

“May I ask you a favour?” he asked as you placed the supplies back in the kit.

“Sure”

“Will you sleep here?” he said, tapping the platform.  You paused, and watched to see if he was making a joke, but his face was serious.  “It would put my mind at ease, after all that has transpired today” he requested earnestly.

“Of course” you responded, and relief flooded his face.  “I’ll just have to get some more blankets and such, sleeping on bare wood is rather uncomfortable.”

So, several hours later, you were in a nest of blankets and pillows, lulled by the sound of water, on the cusp of sleep,  when you heard the sound of water sloshing gently, and a cool hand caressing your cheek.  Strangely, it didn’t yank you back into wakefulness, but instead calmed you down even more.

The last thing you heard before sleep truly claimed you was Vergil’s voice, barely a whisper.

“Sleep well, Sifa”

Tagging @harlot-of-oblivion (apologies if I tagged you twice, Tumblr glitched out, and I had to repost.)

[prorevenge]

Abusive mom is ruined and wanted

It's a rough story to start, so I'll just go chronologically.

The first exmaple of how evil she was my older brother told me. Back when I was really young, my dad was in the Army and managed to score some leave (vacation time) from Desert Storm to surprise my mom for her anniversary. When he knocked on the door, all my mom said was "Why aren't you dead, I need the money." Her new beau then started backing out of the garage in my dad's mustang cobra.

He got revenge, but that's a story for later if you guys want.

The divorce was pretty much what you expect, mom got custody of me. My dad later tricked her with some money and got me for a visit, then filed for custody since my mom had warrants out for her arrest.

A few years later my dad remarried to your typical evil stepmother who doted on her daughters and hates her stepson. For example, for Easter my step sisters got huge baskets of candy and chocolates, a couple toys, etc. I got an old soup can with my name painted on it (poorly) that "I could use for pencils."

This witch managed to talk my dad into sending back to my mom, and here the story begins in earnest.

Where my mom was living was an old two bedroom, one bath house. My sister's shared one room, my mom and stepdad shared the other, my brother got the whole basement, and I got a "room" so small that I could touch fingertip to fingertip each wall, and it was double that long. I had a curtain instead of a door.

I got nothing. I hated life there. I was one of only a few white kids at school, so I got beat up alot for being white, it was low income area in Michigan, so I was the one who always had to shovel, rake, mow, and then my mom would "rent me out" to the neighbors, and they all just paid her. I did all the chores and was "grounded until she felt like ungrounding me." I basically sat on my bed for six years anytime I was not in school, cleaning, or making her money.

I learned this later, but my mom was "extorting" money from my dad. She would demand $3000 for a school photo, and he willingly paid $700 a month in child support, even though there was no need to. (He worked in the oil field business after he retired, on a corporate board). She would make stuff up like "Our car broke, etc" and demand money. My dad had to fork over $12,000 for me to go visit him for a week. He couldn't take me in at the time, he wasn't home enough (lots of travel) and he was single, but I found out he was sending me Christmas and birthday gifts every year, and I later found out from my brother she pawned them all. He bought me a brand new Color Gameboy, which was promptly taken away because "I was grounded." She pawned that too. She would often hit me for stupid reasons, like when I once put the dishes away a bit damp or if I managed to get a chocolate milk from the school cafeteria. Once I got fed up and pushed her, she called he police and he chided me.

In short, it was hell.

Meanwhile my sister's got upgraded to a private school and lots of amazing toys. She took custody of my grandfather who had MS from the waist down and couldn't even use the bathroom by himself. She got power of attorney and took all his money and blew it, as well as taking half his pain meds (like Vicodin) and giving them to my brother to sell. This will be important later, kinda.

Now the revenge part. This is going to be a bit long, so I apologize in advance.

In my junior year of high school, I got to working in the library. My teachers were amazing and supportive, and knew my situation. I got my dad's email, and we started planning. He figured once I finished high school, he would personally come up and get me. Finally when my mom decided to have a "graduation party" for me, complete with inviting all her friends and none of the like, two people I could call a friend, a couple days before my graduation ceremony. About two hours before the party was going start, my dad pulls up. I invite him in, and he looks around, looks confused. He leans in and asks me "Where is she?" I point. She was right in front of him lying on the couch. He screwed up his face, and said he'd wait in the car.

While I was gathering all my stuff in a single garbage bag, my mom finally realized who this stranger was, and lost her shit. She tried everything from bribing me with Nascar tickets (I hate Nascar, she liked it but I knew she didn't have any) to physically obstructing me. She had pulled out all the stops for this party, spending a couple thousand and lots of time cooking, err making me cook. I get outside, throw my stuff in the truck, and we take off.

(Side story. We get halfway down the street and my dad has to pull over. He laughs uncontrollably for awhile. I asked his what's up, and in his Texan accent says "Boy, when I was a kid I always wanted to marry a movie star. I just didn't think it be Jabba the Hutt." Evidently they didn't recognize each other at first, she put on ALOT of weight after they divorced.)

We get to his place, and it starts. I get updates from my sister in law. The party was f*****d. She was humiliated. Since she didn't have me, my dad stopped sending money. They had months worth of unpayable bills. She had to pawn her jewelry, pull my sister's out of the private school and back into public school, sell one of the cars she had. Soon she started calling for money claiming someone stole the mail all the time so they couldn't pay their bills and needed money to replace the mailbox so they wouldn't steal it anymore.

It was refreshing knowing I was free, and I could say no with no repercussions. I was happy to live and let live. I vowed to leave her be and let her sink or swim by her own hand. I was elated to be free, and had no desire to look back at that part of my life.

But she wasn't done with me.

I decided to follow my dad's example and join the service. I decided the Navy was the place for me. My job required a top secret clearance, so they do a very thorough background check, to include a credit check. Turns out I was delinquent in mortgage payments, I was receiving social security, and I owed a power company alot of money among other credit card debts. That b****** stole my identity and ran me into debt since she couldn't get anymore money. I knew about identity theft, it just never occurred to me that a parent has everything they need to do so.

This couldn't stand. After I finished basic training and my technical school, I spoke to my Chief (supervisor). Chief was awesome. She managed to wrangle me a "temporary assignment" to a recruiting station in my old town where my mom lived so the Navy would buy my plane tickets. I spoke to the police and filed a report. One by one I managed to clear most of the debts from me and send all the debt collectors after her.

Then I made a visit to the social security office. I was in uniform at the time, and spoke to a clerk about how I was somehow getting payments when I never got anything. She looks up the account, and boom. My mom was here. She claimed I was permanently mangled and disabled in an accident and I was physically unable to sign, giving her permission to cash my checks. The clerk read that last part out slower as it dawned on her that I was clearly more than able. She opened a case. For the monolithic bureaucracy that was the government, they move pretty fast when someone's stealing money from THEM.

Turns out when they went to investigate, she had already skipped town. They issued warrants for her arrest and she is on the run.

I got cut a check for $20,000, the amount that was garnished from my wages for what she stole from the social security administration, and she now owes that much to Uncle Sam.

So this was ten years ago.

So evidently my brother found out that not only am I doing great, I am very successful. I recently left the service and I am starting an even more exciting job. So he told Mom, and she came crawling out of the woodworks via Facebook for money for a "doctor", but I told her prison gives free medical care, and it felt good. Turns out when my aunts (her sisters who lived in another state) found out about how she treated me, she was cut out of everyone's will, to include my grandmother. Unfortunately we didn't get to my grandfather before she cashed in on him.

So heavily in debt, with no family to turn to, no way to get a job, with fraud on her record as well as selling prescription medication, and warrants out for her arrest, my mother, Jabba the Hutt, is receiving hers.

I got cut a check for $20,000, the amount that was garnished from my wages for what she stole from the social security administration, and she now owes that much to Uncle Sam.

Sorry if this is the wrong sub, but I thought I'd share.

(source) story by (/u/Admiral_Bismarck)

[whomstism]

George rambles a little bit about a job interview he had, RV Life, The Gorilla glue girl and now the Gorilla glue solo cup guy, and the 117 year old lady that survived covid ---------------------------------- --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/the-whomst/support

_________

(Rough unedited Transcript of The Whomst Podcast Episode 129 )

Hey what's up everybody welcome to the homes podcast episode 129 I randomly checked a hundred episodes ago around like 28 to 29 and I don't know why I checked on soundcloud but I did just to see if like anybody listening see if I missed some like comments or whatever but uh, I got a few more more listened than I expected cuz I don't promote. 

A soundcloud at all and back when I was using soundcloud it just was not it was not what's up because I can only upload like four episodes so like the the earliest episode I post say if I post some like six seven eight, nine, I'll have to delete six so I can upload eleven, you know what I mean, cuz I cuz the only give you like a certain I think is like two hours of free free hours or something like that three minutes and I'll use it up in like four episodes or three episode five. 

Talked a lot in one especially in this case. I did episode like episode 27 to 28 with Jason fifi a friend of mine from in fellow comedian from our Alabama and we were we talked for like an hour and a half something like that so that took up like all my space so but that was like the last episode that I uploaded on soundcloud before I realized. 

Because the only way they'll give me more time more spaces if I paid for it and you know what? I'm not paying I'm not paying to talk to myself I'm not that damn crazy right like yeah spend money to make money but it's out of cloud come on good good thing I didn't good thing I am cheap and I kept looking around because I I wouldn't have found my current host would you probably hurt the uh the ad from the beginning of the episode the anchor that anchored out FM, that's basically where I use and now a lot of people use see. 

I thought that's kind of thought I kind of ran into something new like a year ago, but every time I ask people who started up a new pipe. Guess and I try to recommend them the anchor host they already know about it and look yeah, look, okay. I guess I'm not as unique as I thought oh shit. 

But man check the shit out, um, but yeah you already know who's podcast if you knew TLD are basically what to show is it's just me George Collins. I'm a comedian. I just talk about the news talk about what's what's going on that's kind of just do whatever like but uh you already know this episode and all episodes is brought to you by ugly drinks calm that is a the drink of choice for this show ugly drinks calm, they just actually rebooted a flavor great flavor they try to. 

Tease it on Twitter. I kind of guessed that shit quick as hell, but great flavor great flavored sparkling water, so I guess recommended TI if you don't like grape some some weird reason try out peach peach or. Yeah, I recommend peach flavor just try that so ugly drinks.com let's just jump into it, um this week before we get into the news, hey I finally got I actually got two interviews this week. 

I'm trying to get trying to get a second job because you know, I can't really save with my current money that make up I make pretty decent but it's not. I can't save because of me. I'm I spend money on bullshit all the time and I can't stop it, it's a drug yeah. 

I boss you on Amazon I post made a lot of stuff because I don't like cooking. I think I told you I like the ratio of how long it takes me to cook and how long it eats depends on if I actually cook it so yeah, so in the buying a lot of post makes because that's shit and, I mean, yeah, it's my own fault, that's all that is I need to fix it, but what can you do huh what can you get all right but? 

Okay because I did the research right and I don't remember if I told you I'd not but I actually got in contact with some of the some of the gets crushed words with some of the RV sellers here in Vegas and they hit me up and you know, how car salesman this is like they just trying to like make a sale and they'll tell you anything and I told them I had bad credit and shit like that and I mean, you know, yeah, we see what works out and then as he was telling me that I remember when I'm trying to get a car backing out. 

Obama and I'll just try to get my own car again after my ex wrecked my other one. Basically they'll they'll tell you hey yeah we try to work something out but in reality yeah, they'll sell you car but they'll like deposit or be like double sometimes triple so I'll like oh fuck last time I looked at RV and like a dealership they wanted like fifteen twenty thousand like before they even checked your credit so it's like I could just imagine what exactly they wanted. 

I might be exaggerating a little bit it might actually been like ten thousand but it's still in the thousands it's a thousand. Couple thousand dollars deposit, it's like a it's like a fucking house it is house it is a house. So I can just imagine they look at my credit and they're like yeah, it'll actually be like $25,000 down some shit like this so I'm like they kept trying to call me which that's that's cool and all but I'm like, I know I'm not gonna be able to get whatever is no no way yeah, you're gonna be nice enough to let me get something down, let me put a little bit lower down. 

Sort I can get it there then there going by the book instead of going by then they're they're not gonna take a chance you feel me like cuz it's not because the rent the quote unquote rent of the RV I can handle no problem that's that's not a problem at all especially because me doing a math my current rent and my car is will be about a thousand dollars so I can handle an RV which is gonna be a little bit lower than that actually so I can actually handle. 

Because if I got the RV to actually help me out I'm gonna get rid of the car I'm gonna get rid of the car. I'm a I'm not gonna be I'm gonna be staying in this place no more so I can handle whatever payments I have to make for RV so whatever extra money yeah, I'll be saving up I can use for whatever maintenance for an RV but since it'll be like a semi new one. 

I won't have to worry about maintenance or anything like that. I can actually focus on like the things that I need for like to keep it keep it going, you know, I don't know. I don't know it for sure because I haven't. Tad an RV myself but I know you had that like licenses and it might be something here something different than the last time. 

I looked it up in Bama might be some like parking laws or whatever in Vegas. I don't know. I haven't looked all that up. I'm probably should but at the same time like, I don't I don't I'm I don't I don't have the money for it, so what's the plan me looking up if I don't even have one you know what I mean? 

I don't know me being semi negative but yeah I said that because I had got that the second job second when I didn't get it yet, but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get it my experience if they don't they don't pick me. I don't know why maybe because you know, you know what's funny about that because the interview it'll just place called I'm not gonna no, you know it fuck it, it's not fucking say it. 

I don't know what crazy motherfucker listen to this all right, but it was basically they don't want to be called a temp service but they're a temp service and it's they are they basically trying to hire someone for janitor work and I've had plenty of that is whatever and. 

They they try to be like we're done we're we're new we're a new modern day interviewer so we don't do all that old school stuff so one of the things they had me do on top of the application which was weird because they asked me for an interview then did an application that's backwards but a part of application was a survey for like, hey, we're gonna see what type of personality you have so it'll be like three questions and each questions be like a one example would be how do you? 

View yourself and underneath the question to be like a literally a hundred words that you can click multiple words, of course. Click it as many words you want to describe yourself. I kind of. I you I wanted to make a joke about it if I wasn't so serious about getting this position I would have been joking and just like it's either I would have picked just one word out of a hundred words that they gave me who just picked one to describe me or pick all of them just like picked every single one of them just to like fuck around you know, I thought that I don't know but that's it. 

I thought that that was that's like a new thing and then when she was interviewing me, right she was like, One thing that kind of caught my eye which is kind of funny she made it very clear like yeah, we're gonna we can't ask you if you have a criminal record bud if we run one well something pop up like right now and this is like okay, can you do you think you'll be able to pass a drug test well we also senses legal here we it we don't test for marijuana she like made this super clear as if. 

A lot of people did they got they tried to get the position had that issue so they was like who didn't get rid of it or? Or they you know, what kind of makes makes it kind of clear because a lot of people when I first moved here was like, oh they do a drug test but they don't test from marijuana but I'm but you know what I never tested it. 

I never wanted to be in that situation, you know what I mean, like just in case what it would have these mother could just lie, huh? And you get caught and I got marijuana and my system and I just like go take a drug test now. I'm in trouble and I don't have a job anymore because I took marijuana because I had marijuana in my system what I'm gonna argue with them like oh I thought it was legal but like I don't know I stomped I still kind of scary about this so I'll try to like not do it just in case yeah, you never know like who am I? 

I don't have money for lawyers. I can't fight this shit fuck that so no, I'm not taking that chance but she made very clear maybe it was a test. I'm not testing that she angled. Me you're not gonna trick me into failing the drug test plus, um, one thing I'm kind of glad they didn't do it's like hey dress because at the second interview I got the one I didn't go to it was a different position. 

I actually forget what it was no we was working for it was one of those people that works that runs the little cart at the airport and like put it in and out whatever one I didn't I didn't pick that one because it was like nine bucks an hour and like the reviews. 

I've heard that's on ND because You do like reviews of jobs and some other well a good amount of reviews were saying like, oh it's is really hard work and she like that. I'm like nah I'm done and I could look I don't look I'll work hard. I don't mind working hard but at this point how long I've been working in manual labor. 

I I'm not getting paid nine dollars an hour to do manual labor again, all right, you have to pay more than so I kind of left out alone plus on top of that airport job. I mean, I could have moved up but who I ain't got time for this shit. 

Deals like a come to the interview and in business casual and I they never. I could never really understand it like for like certain jobs like like says say if I try to get hired for Walmart when I was younger and like my my sister is on my mom or something like that was me like you have to dress up you have to dress for the interview so like that which didn't make sense because I was I was just becoming like a janitor or like a car pusher like why am I coming in like a half a suit for like that doesn't make no goddamn sense like a dress for the job you want like I'm going to be a carp pressure like I'm coming in jeans and a t-shirt. 

I'm. Come with a smile on my face that's about the only professional thing that I'm gonna put on on purpose, all right Christ, that's that's by anyway, that's what the janitor job the actual interview actually went to. They didn't do that they I just kind of came in the the the clothes that I were to work basically just like these black g black pans and like a black t-shirt my jacket. 

I didn't like look overly hood or anything like that. I don't think I could even if I tried but. But they I if I don't get a job. I don't know. I'm kind of rambling whatever anyway. Well, okay the only reason why I brought that up is because they could have FaceTime me because I went if you know the layout of Vegas, I live on the north side all the way on top right and the interview was all the way at the bottom like past the airport in on like Russell Road, so I'm like, That was like a solid 30-35 minute drive just on my raggedy ass the reggae is jeep just for like a five-minute interview just for them for them to say hey yeah, we just wanted to see your face and see if you come on time and then they gave me the actual application like I said, I gave it to me after the interview and then said we'll hit you up in a few weeks. 

This is a waste of fucking time man all day damn gas plus like look. I don't know it's because maybe because I haven't been driving long distances in a long time, but driving on the highway in Vegas kind of like. Kind of kind of freaks me out sometimes man and I look I just try to rest stay away from them just I just stay on the land stay on the streets these people can drive a drive all extra aggressive and shit only I ain't got time for that. 

I'll be trying to chill. I mean, I maybe you know what maybe the dumb driving all crazy or keep me like alert and because you know, I got the narcolepsy so I'm like, that's the one thing that kind of makes me kind of scary because I'm like driving straight for a long time kind of fucks for me, so maybe the shitty drivers. 

Shaking me awake actually helps maybe I should appreciate what I have. I don't know hope this thing is stop recording. Jesus Christ, oh my God, okay. I didn't. Oh shit all right in the news after 16 minutes of me wrangling okay, look yeah, I already know about the gorilla glue girl and a good news out of that stupidity she she uh, she got certain that surgery but basically we got some doctor that did it for free which is fucking cool as hell. 

Who basically created this like little mixture that broke down the the glue. And she got her hair back, so I mean not all of it, but like she got her hair back, so she's seen my back to normal which I'm kind of happy for for that but same time. 

Yeah, I'm look I'm repeating what other people say it like what the fuck like how to who why did you think that was good idea? Anyway but it was a good good ending to the story on top of she's not I'm pretty sure you saw like online where she was they were saying that she was going to sue the people who created gorilla glue which ended up just being there just another fucking internet lie doesn't rumor one from trying to get clips clicks. 

So at the end of the day, it's just stupid people got stupid prizes and they got a way out of it so that's that's cool like I said, I'm happy for but that's not the end of the story y'all that's at the end of the story, ah, there's a why what one thing why is it always the black folks brah these motherfuckers are like throwing us back further and further every time make some steps it's always some motherfuckers there is you know, it's not even just black people it's just people in general just fuck. 

Ing us up every time we make a step in in a good path somebody always try to do something that are like. Basically give aliens a reason why not the ever communicate with us we're too damn stupid as you can hear me talking um, but no man okay, yes another gorilla group glue is situation this guy I think is from Louisiana, okay, just listen to this clip man. 

Louisiana guy thought that she was that the outcome look. I'm not even remember these people name but this guy from Louisiana made a video. I guess he's a rapper or whatever. He basically thought that the gorilla will girl. Was making it up that it was all for clout like gorilla glue isn't that strong so he so what he did fucking IQ of a thousand what he did was uh, took a bottle gorilla glue. 

Put it on a party cup one of those red solo cups and put it to his lips and he pretty sure you can guess you want to take a guess what happened yeah you're you're right he's in the hospital foot shit he's in the hospital for gluing red solo club cup to his lips and he got it how how some of the articles saying it they saying that he got his whole lip removed. 

I doubt it. I'm pretty sure the surgeon just like cut the surface. That that was actually glued on that's it because anything else seems excessive. I'm not a doctor who knows. To buy it there's a funny thing is like listen to this clip don't show you right and I'll show you but listen to because he basically goes on the news and interviews one of the wonderful things like Fox 6 is I'm sure like that. 

Basically what happened in his mindset and all that stuff is just overly stupid just listen.

you know, all right so the funniest thing about the whole thing is is I love how he he wants to like, oh I'm gonna be careful about like making sure my lips aren't exposed to like this virus and it's an open cut and all this nonsense right but this the motherfucker that put glue on them in the first place like come on like, Look okay let's play devil's advocate for a minute okay, let's say I understand his point of I want to I want to prove that she was doing this all for cloud is all for faking she like there so I wanted to have a real video critical real video of glue actually touching skin, it's not that strong right flow, right? 

Why lips why the lips bro you you had any other place on any other non-incentral places on your body it could have tested it on like your arm yeah your fingers you could be doing arts and crafts, you know, how the glue gets on your fingers like you can test it at that way anywhere else anywhere else does not important like he might he might as well hes squeeze squeeze a little bit and it's nostrils and close them all fuckers up like as well, so we go in important parts up let's let's glue my glue my These I can't talk. 

Let's glue my lips together. Jesus Christ. I'm surprising to do that now plus you know, what what we know is stupid is he didn't he said he we wanted to see if it was real what you're doing real. He could have just he didn't do it on his hair like I figured what he looks like. 

I'm now but uh, he could have tested it Harry at least that's stupidity is comparable at least it has a theme like oh I was I was trying to prove that the her superglue thing wasn't real so I put it in my hair or in my beard so I'm like that at least. 

At least he got that at least you still stupid you still stupid as hell but at least I understand unless you did test on the exact same thing she did you know, but now let's let's put a put this glue a cup to my lip now. I can't use my lips. 

I have to have a mask on the cover of my lips, he pie it only like the where the mask cuz he wasn't wearing it properly in in the video. He was still had he still had his nose out so he was just he just had to mask on the cover his fucking glued on lips, that's that's about it so. 

It's I mean, I guess that one has a semi happy ending he. I mean, he's not so much embarrassed that he didn't he he's going on TV the interview people know his name. Like you doing this for for cloud like it's not working bro, like no one's gonna buy your wrap album yeah, you're mix tapes, oh yeah if people do buy it's really fun novelty just like oh yeah, this is the dude who this is the rapper they glued his fucking lip to a red cuts red solo cup like that's about it. 

I would buy it. I mean, you got that I guess. 

So the sister survived covet, she's 117 years old look me personally. Look if I was 117 and I finally got covered but I will be ecstatic just like fuck finally getting the fuck out of here like god damn and then it don't happen. I'll be pissed because uh, I don't know if you heard it but she's she's blind and on the video she's looks like sitting in a chair obviously she can talk since they interviewed her. 

I mean did like I said, it's just me personally like I can't live that long. I just can't like it's it's been 29 almost 29 years and I'm done with it already, so I'll just imagine. Fuck that's like was 80 almost 90 more years yeah fuck that man. I'm sorry like just in me. 

I like I think I've said it before it's like when I get old enough to where like if something unfortunate happened it happens to me to where I like because I don't mind being old and I could take care of myself just fine yeah if I have the money to take care of my myself and I'm like comfortable that's cool. 

I'm not saying just like being old fuck that no I'm saying is um, If I something happened to you where I can't take care of myself and I just need like let's say if I have kids like my my son on my daughter to take care of me or or if I had the money to to do it have like some like nurse. 

Come to my house and have to do everything for me then fuck that just this like punch me in the soft spot in my brain like just uppercut me into heaven like god damn it, like I know I can't I can't do that man cuz um, I remember when I broke my leg and I don't know just them having it happen to help me get up to go to the bathroom it's just the masculine and even though it's not it's the it's the job and some of them don't complain about it it's cool they they happy to help people and it's people like that that's that's great but don't don't help me the only way to help me is get one of those like miniature novelty bats. 

Crack me across the skull. I write a note so you don't get in trouble fuck that's why I was thinking. I had a random thought earlier this week on Twitter saying, uh, okay, you know how you have like an argument not? I know I don't know if you've done a done before but you've seen it or you heard about it to do this again to an argument and at a bar and one of them gets one of them shoots the other one and. 

Sometimes you'll see the videos on like world started like oh you got a gun shoot me dead shoot me dead and what if its like if that person does shoot them can they is there a loophole in the system? That says, oh says he's especially got video of it like this dude acts for it he asked for you to shoot him is there a loophole in the system that says oh yeah, well you you was just doing this man a service is there something out there like that could add a little yeah that'll take a lot of like a lot of stress out that will take a lot of these people who. 

Try to use that as to to make themselves look tougher like that you need in brah like they'll really think twice about saying whatever they say in an argument like but yeah back to cracking me against the head with a bat. I mean if she's cool, she's happy doing that, but like like she said what she's scared, she's like no. 

And that's why I think like she does talk she just done now she just kind of just waiting you she don't even watch TV she like listening it's like what the fuck do you do you just she's a nun does she just pray all day. I'm kind of fucking around a little bit but like what does she do all day it's like how do you stay sane? 

Is the is the thought of of God or whatever she believes in and follows is that so calming that you're fine with living this life how long has she been blind that's that's why I want to look up to. Because whatever keeps her saying on a daily. I I want somebody because I can see I can walk I can take care of myself and I am depressed. 

Then and that's that's why that's the one thing I don't like the back like when I was a teenager because I'm an atheist so I'm more of a gnostic now because I don't argue with people about it. I understand why people need things like back when our teenager. I'll argue with people about like the afterlife of God notice stuff, but now I kind of I understand why people need it and, I'm kind of jealous. 

I kind of how my brain works. I just cannot. Cannot do the whole religion and spirituality spiritual spirituality and saying that word it stuff like that. I just can't do it, so that's why I'm not but I'm jealous for people who can who looks into a book and can be happy. 

A book and just just have hope and be happy for the rest of their life just doing whatever because they have this this figure in the sky looking out for them quote unquote looking out for them. I'm jealous for that so if that's. Was keeping this lady alive and being fine with the fact that you can't do shit for real. 

Then. Is on owner like. That's good that's cool. I guess I don't really have nothing funny to say about it, it's just like I am I'm gonna I'm a little bit jealous of people who just if that actually is the reason that's keeping her alive and keeping her saying then and yeah, that's that's that's what's up but um, 

Not me though give me into about 60 and I can it and it takes me like three times as much strength to get up out my seat nope ended please game over well when I fart and I and I fucking pissed myself nah don't hit in this shit. I never oh I didn't want to end it on a dark note but like down but I look I'm happy that she's survived she's a second old second oldest person ever in the world, I guess. 

I've been looking for number one is. That's that's not a good existence. I wonder what their diets are like what how did what did you eat on for all your life to survive that long sometimes like I was arguing with people not arguing but we just have enough conversation on the clubhouse. 

About death because this dude came in like super fucking woke, you know, those dudes who have like a three dreads but they call it locks now yeah he had three locks and so he's like super spiritual and shit like you start talking about like playing the garden and shit he's like asking us do we plant gardens like obviously a fucking don't come on now? 

I don't I don't garden it's the same way. I don't like cooking it's like I'm not fucking waiting. Two and a half weeks to eat one tomato wait, obviously if you keep doing it you do it do it properly yeah. I know but like still I'm not it's just takes too fucking long but so I appreciate the moderate modern day way of us eating shit yeah, it's not great for us but like who the fuck cares like? 

Haha look at stuff it's just. You don't matter if you eat well you're still gonna die and it was like saying those same delves truck that that was being negative. Because like I don't know because I because I accept death that's that's I don't know people just don't understand me. 

Let me see hold on what the fuck? Oh well, basically I'll just say and tell them I'm like it don't matter if you eat well like yeah, oh add maybe 20 years to your life but do it do it really really matter especially when you're 60 if I die at 60, sometimes it don't matter you like you eat all the well your exercise every day you take care of yourself you take your vitamins and you'll still die of stroke at 32 like sometimes you get unlucky and like you can't. 

Just blame food it's not always food it just sometimes, you get luck unlucky it's like I had I had a stroke during the fucking pneumonia. I was fine. I was working fine that week before and then I went to sleep woke up fucking body hurts so like the shit happens all right and I'm actually I'm actually taking care of myself. 

I only started only start eating like shit and again because I was in quarantine for so goddamn long and I couldn't do shit. I just got bored so I just went back to what I was doing but before that I was taking care of myself, so. Explain that damn. 

I don't know I'm gonna leave it at that. I've been talking for too long. I talk to you later thanks for listening episode 129 now see ya next week thanks for listening, um shit just I got the links on the Instagram and the bio is you can buy merch you can all borrow that good stuff follow me on Instagram at regular as George shared a show share the show. 

I appreciate y'all love y'all peace.

[georgiaprelawland]

Cryonics And Legal Quandary

By Chris Louis-Jacques, Kennesaw State University Class of 2021

September 2, 2020

A taste of immortality is no longer a thing of fiction. Scattered across the world rest hundreds of frozen brains and bodies who strive to be resuscitated at a future date; this peculiar process is completed through the staggering practice of Cryonics.Cryonics is the low temperature freezing and storage of a human body or severed head, with the hope that resurrection may be achievable in the future.To further clarify, they exist in a state of deep cooling called cryopreservation and have entered a frigid slumber after their hearts cease beating [4]. Before all of their cells die, the tissues of their brains were suspended using an ice-free process called vitrification [4]. Every patient is legally deceased, but if they could speak, they would likely argue that their remains do not constitute dead bodies at all. Rather, in a sense, it is a state of unconsciousness [4]. Cryonics is regarded with skepticism within the conventional scientific community because of the unproven result of a resuscitated patient thus far. Moreover, criticism has also centered along the fact that once a patient is resuscitated, their past comprehension of reality will be a thing of fiction. Thus, the patient will have to consider how much time has passed, will they retain their possessions, and to what extent has their sociopolitical atmosphere changed into [4]. Although, as time passes, every Cryonic institution takes a step closer to this immortal potentiality and develop new strategies to accommodate for those cogent uncertainties.

A look into the Cryonic Institute’s (one of ten cryonic organizations) webpage reveals the monetary requirements that one must have to be cryogenically preserved. Annual Membership cost for Human Cryonic Suspension is $35,000. A Lifetime Member's cost is $28,000 [5].

The ubiquitous awareness of this phenomenon is slowly circulating into societies across the world. With slightly under 200 patients who have already commenced their prolonged drowse, and well over 1,500 members, Cryonic Institute is steadily growing their empire of immortality [6].

Thus, one’s scrutiny of the expenditure required would lead them to believe that this process is only an affair of the elite. Although, kindred Cryonic organization, Alcor, introduces an alternative route. In regard to the preservation of a whole body, Max More, CEO of the Scottsdale-based Alcor, declared the stipulation be, “a minimum of $200,000, which isn't as much as it sounds, because most people pay with life insurance"[2]. Therefore, various monetary plans can be administrated for the varying candidates. Elaine Walker, 47, is a single mother and part-time college instructor at Scottsdale Community College and she signed up to have her head frozen by Alcor following her demise. Walker, having just finished college, initially deduced that cryonics was too costly for her budget. Fortuitously for her, the company shifted to permit front-funding requirements with life insurance policies [2]. Wilson was then left with a measly monthly payment of $14 in life insurance and an annual $600 towards Alcor’s membership fees [2].  

Moreover, this new technological phenomenon has been met with legal quandary that rebukes this unprecedented process. The first legal case to grab national attention was when JS(name remains omitted by the wishes of the family), a terminally ill 14-year-old who desired and eventually acquired approval from the High Court to have her body cryopreserved following her demise, in aspiration that she will resuscitate and join humanity once again [1]. This unprecedented event gained attention because Cryonics is still a concept of mere theory until a patient is finally reanimated in the future. The conflict arose when her father condemned her wishes, but, as a response, JS launched a legal challenge that declared her mother should be allowed to decide what to do with her body following her demise [1].Furthermore, JS, being too ill to attend court, wrote a letter armed with a sincere rhetoric to properly inform the court members of her plight, “I am only 14 years old and I don't want to die, but I know I am going to die. I think being cryopreserved gives me a chance to be cured and woken up — even in hundreds of years' time.I want to live and live longer, and I think that in the future they may find a cure for my cancer and wake me up” [1].Judge Peter Jackson presided over the case; he visited JS in the hospitaland ruled in her favor before she faced her demise in October [1].  This ruling was hitherto undreamt of in contemporary time, thus, the judge noted that the case raised issues about cryonic preservation that should construct regulations in the future [1].

Thus, the legality intertwined with Cryonics has certain loopholes that can grant families insurance of their dearly departed wishes. The vast majority of US states do not obey the demands of cryonics contracts [3]. Therefore,cryonicists maneuver this colossal rebuke by signing a Document of Gift, which essentially is a donor’s card that allows you to donate parts of your body [3]. This document is accepted in nearly all 50 states[3]. With stories such as JS’s and Elaine Walker’s, various payment options, and the widespread recognition of this technological marvel, legal regulations are inevitable to appear in the coming future.

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Chris Louis-Jacques is a senior at Kennesaw State University who is pursuing an English degree with a minor in Film Studies. After graduating in May 2021, Chris plans on attending law school. 

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[1] Adam, Karla. “A 14-Year-Old Won a Legal Battle to Be 'Frozen.' She Hopes to One Day Be Woken up.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 18 Nov. 2016, www.washingtonpost.com/news/worldviews/wp/2016/11/18/a-14-year-old-won-a-legal-battle-to-be-frozen-she-hopes-to-one-day-be-woken-up/.

[2] Guzman, Zack. “This Company Will Freeze Your Dead Body for $200,000.” NBCNews.com, NBCUniversal News Group, 26 Apr. 2016, www.nbcnews.com/tech/innovation/company-will-freeze-your-dead-body-200-000-n562551.

[3] Istvan, Zoltan. “We Need Better Laws to Protect the Rights of Future Frozen Cryonicists.” Quartz, 21 Feb. 2019, qz.com/1555363/cryogenics-is-facing-legal-trouble-with-body-preservation/.

[4] Nuwer, Rachel. “If Cryonics Suddenly Worked, We'd Need to Face the Fallout.” BBC Future, BBC, 24 Apr. 2016, www.bbc.com/future/article/20160424-if-cryonics-suddenly-worked-wed-need-to-face-the-fallout.

[5]https://www.cryonics.org/membership/faq#:~:text=No%2C%20cryonics%20services%20are%20separate,Yearly%20Membership%20is%20higher%3A%20%2435%2C000.

[6] https://www.cryonics.org/ci-landing/member-statistics/

Photo(s) Credit: Cryonic Institute (www.cryonics.org)