#no really money making skills; trouble working for whatever reason; just kind of screwed

[medicinemane]

I just think that the main barrier to being good at a lot of different things isn't about that you couldn't be good at it, it's about time, and it's about affording equipment and materials

It's gonna be a lot harder to find the time for even one hobby if you're working full time, and make no mistake, there's a real problem of getting what you need to actually work on stuff

[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[writer-panda]

Hit on the groom and what became of it - chapter 2/Take me out maybe (with a sniper rifle)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous or Batman (and other DC characters). This is just a fanfiction. 

Chapter 1  -|-  Next

--------

As much as Marinette disliked the meeting with the female entourage, when the time came to start working on Adrien’s suit she wanted to scream. She could clearly see that he was uncomfortable with even the gentlest touches. She did her best to make it as non-invasive to him as possible.

They had absolutely no privacy whatsoever. The Bodyguard (Gerard; His name was Gerard) and Nathalie observed their every move. Marinette was half-convinced it wasn’t her who was under watch. 

The professional atmosphere was far cry from her usual working environment. When Uncle Jagged, Clara Nightingale, or even Diana Prince came to her for clothes, it was always very informal. They would joke, gossip, or exchange stories while she worked. Now? Now she was wary of even speaking with Adrien. 

Likewise, the boy refused to meet her eyes or open his mouth. 

At some point, when she was trying to find the right shade of white for the undershirt, she noticed a make-up stain that was not there before. 

“I’m sorry, but I will need to request you remove the makeup. It is staining my materials.” She informed Nathalie and Gerard coldly. It was all she could do to resist calling the police there and there. Sadly, the commissioner was good friends with Gabriel, so it would most likely just end her career and make it worse for Adrien. 

“I was assured it would not leave stains on materials. Please accept our apologies. We will cover the costs of destroyed materials,” Nathalie informed her in an equally cold voice.

“I see…” Marinette’s lips thinned. Inside, she was screaming. But there was nothing she could do. The hit was in place. Soon Adrien would be safe. It would go without a hitch. It had to. 

As the group was leaving, she could’ve sworn the Bodyguard gave her a mournful look. As if he shared her sentiment, but was powerless to stop it. She’d know that look. She saw it in the mirror all too often.

---------

The Wedding (even the narrator started to capitalize it) came faster than Marinette wanted to accept. And there were still no words about the kidnapping. She made sure to specify that they were to take him before he was married or no payment. Did she not make the money enticing enough? Were there already attempts that were stopped without media coverage? Maybe she forgot to check some boxes?

A million scenarios ran through her head as she wandered through the alleyways.

The whole event was happening in Gotham Botanic Garden. Whatever the weak excuse was given to the press, Marinette knew the real reason: it was one of the few places in the world where Gabriel could marry his son to Lila legally without messing with courts. And bribes were said to be cheapest there. 

As the designer for both the bride and the groom, she was invited to the main ceremony. 

Lila was kind enough to even give her a seated place… right next to Chloé Bourgeois.

Marinette had a hard time deciding if it was bigger punishment to her or the mayor’s daughter. Ultimately, the two girls did their best to not look at each other during preparations. At first, that is, because the first chance she got, Chloé to drag the designer to a remote garden gazebo in a secluded corner when she was least expecting it.

“Wha-!” Marinette was about to protest, but the blonde covered her mouth. She seated her on the bench and took the seat on the opposite side. 

“I’ve been friends with Adrien since we were kids.” She announced in the usual ‘I’m-better-than-you’ tone. “I also know that you’re not always an idiot.”

“Gee! Thanks, Chloé… I’m honored with your praise.” Marinette deadpanned, interrupting the heiress. “Now get to the point”. She really hoped her dress wasn’t damaged or she might just turn to murder. 

“Fine. You worked with Adrien on his suit.” She paused, and for a moment, just a brief moment, her mask fell. That was not what Marinette expected. She has never seen Chloé so… so… The designer’s brain lacked the word to describe how her childhood bully looked like. “How is he?” The blonde asked, her voice almost trembling. 

Marinette opened her mouth, but no sound came. 

A moment passed.

“Not good.” She finally admitted. “During the measurements, he winced even at delicate touches. Plus I was called in last week to make some adjustments to his garments. He lost weight between then and now. And he wore makeup on his right arm. On both occasions.”

“Makeup?” Chloé’s eyes widened. 

“Yes. I would’ve probably missed it if I didn’t soak my fabric into makeup removed beforehand.” She thought back fondly to her brilliant idea. 

“They hurt him!?” Chloé burst out after few seconds. “I will show those… those…”

“Believe me, I share the sentiment.” Marinette nodded sagely. She needed plan B and needed it fast. There had to be something… “I slipped him a burner phone on his way out. I doubt they found it. If it gets really bad, he can try calling the police.”

“You are devious sometimes, Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Thanks. I try.” 

“So… they are coercing him into it?”

“I think so. He is resigned to his fate it seems, but he tries to show some rebelliousness. It wasn’t his father’s idea to hire me and Lila would rather walk to the altar naked than wear anything by me.” Marinette cringed. Any interaction she had with the Liar made her feel almost dirty. And forcing politeness was physically painful sometimes. 

“I got that much from the fact he hasn’t reported it yet. That burner phone was a good move, but Adrikins was always too obedient.”

“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with it,” Marinette muttered, but Chloé didn’t hear her. The heiress somehow managed to derail her rant into telling the story of her entire childhood.

Marinette listened only with one ear, filtering the information for something useful. The rest of her consciousness focused on something else. She started to seriously entertain the idea of using Miraculous to get Adrien out. She would need a combination of several powers though. Trixx was the obvious choice. Illusions would be a great asset. Maybe the Tiger, for the Power Up? If Roaar didn’t exaggerate her power, she would be able to put a distance between them and the city before anyone even realized what happened. She would need to time her illusion right though. And there were the American Heroes to watch out for…

If she didn’t use miraculous immediately, she might get a drop on the bodyguard(s) and then make an exit using Kaalki’s power when they were alone. Disable cameras, take out the guards, get in, portal out. It was feasible but still involved too many risks. If anyone connected miraculi to the operation, Ladybug would be in great trouble. She couldn’t endanger Paris like that… not even for her partner and best friend. 

Then, there was the most dangerous plan. Don’t use Miraculi at all. She was confident enough in her skills to enter undetected. Maybe even sneak out. The question was, would Adrien make it. She could sneak him Plagg’s ring. Chat Noir would have no problem leaving any prison. But… there would be the same risk as when any other Miraculi was connected and the whole point was not to use them in the first place. 

“Ugh!” She let out an angry sound that startled Chloé. 

“What’s with you, Dupain-Cheng! Don’t you see I’m opening my heart to you!?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to do something productive.” She snapped at the blonde. 

“Why, I…”

“Silence. Your tale was entirely unhelpful. Let me focus.” 

Gotham. What was in Gotham that could help her? The most corrupt city, famous for its high crime rate, mad villains, and eternal gloominess. Even now she could feel some of it resonate in the air. As if the whole city was one big Akuma. Probably no help from the establishment… The police were more likely to put a bag on her head and deliver her to one of the crime families… 

“What in Gotham can help…” She voiced her musing loudly, causing Chloé to peak up.

“Waynes!” She proclaimed. “That serial adopter would jump at the chance to get another orphan…”

“Adrien isn’t an orphan… Yet.” Marinette grumbled. “But he will be married by then, so I would need to plan a double homicide… Meh. No great loss.” She said without a shadow of care. It was like the thoughts about the murder were completely normal for her. 

Chloé shivered. “Remind me not to get into your way when you’re in that mood.”

In the distance, the orchestra was starting to play, signaling the guests that the ceremony would start soon.

“Ugh! Hawkmoth it!” Marinette raged as she ran to the clearing. She no longer had the time and if she was the only one missing, Lila would make her prime suspect for anything that happened. Blast it. She would get one more chance. Screw the career. She could survive living somewhere in Argentina if it all went to hell. 

-------

Adrien already accepted his fate. His father and Lila made sure that all avenues of further rebellion were closed. He exhausted everything there was. 

To this day, he was grateful for that burner phone from Marinette. He made sure to hide it but always have it somewhere nearby. It became a form of a lifeline for him. A one-off save-your-life ticket. It would only work in short term, but at the rate everything was going, it could potentially save his life…

He missed his life before the mess with The Wedding started. 

Hell! He even missed Plagg’s stinking cheese. He would maim for some camembert.

“Adrien,” Gerard spoke solemnly. There was no need for more words. They both knew what was about to happen and Adrien took just a bit of solace in the fact that he was not entirely alone, even if no one could help him. 

“I’m ready.” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

Before he realized it, the ceremony was undergoing. Lila, in her stunning dress, held the attention on herself like a pro. No one even thought about looking anywhere but at them. The dress was similarly just so… Lila. It made all of her features all the more proponent. Yet, there was just a small, barely noticeable, stitch that said Marinette. A smile ghosted his face. There was some good out of this. He managed to make his friend famous. After today, no one would deny her style. 

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The marriage officiant spoke. Adrien didn’t even care what convention the wedding was in. 

The silence swept across the garden. 

No one dared to even breathe loudly.

Adrien lowered his head. Here, the last…

There was a rustle somewhere close to the front. He looked up, a small glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes. 

Marinette was standing there, her backs straightened and one finger held up. “I…”

She felt the gaze of hundreds of guests on her. They were the most influential people in the world of modern business. Waynes. Luthor. Queen. Burgeiose. Agreste… And they all kept staring at her. 

She tried to swipe the hall with a glance, but something attracted her attention. A glint of light somewhere in the distance.

“Watch out!” She shouted, tossing a chair she was sitting on just a moment ago. 

The metal item sailed through the air until it crashed in the middle of the alley.

With an arrow sticking out of it.

For a second (which felt much longer) everyone stared at it.

Then the mass panic started. People got out of their chairs and started trying to get out of there. They trampled one another as each considered themselves to be the most important, hence first to evacuate. It was chaos.

Among the mass of people, Marinette tried her best to make it to the altar. She saw that Gerard and several other hired bodyguards were of similar minds. 

She managed to squeeze through the crowd the fastest, only to find Lila knocked out and Adrien and the Officiant missing. Adrien’s cousin (best man) and Alya (bridesmaid) were both nowhere to be found. They probably ran away. There was still no trace of the Groom. That is until she saw a giant mass of brown mud dragging the boy away. 

The sad thing? Adrien wasn’t really protesting much. 

Gerard was the next to make it through. He noticed Adrien a tad quicker and tried to chase whoever it was that tried to kidnap Adrien, but a fist made of mud slammed into him, sending him flying away. 

“Holy Hawkmoth!” Marinette cursed once more. Okay, so far, it was only a curse for her, but he deserved it. 

In the distance, police sirens could’ve been heard, but with how fast the mud was escaping, Adrien would be long gone before the police arrived. Marinette had to do something.

Wait… Why am I trying to stop the kidnapping I ordered? She suddenly questioned herself, freezing in place. 

Two guards rushed past her and started firing at the mass, but the bullets seemed to be about as effective as Parisian police when dealing with Akuma. 

The last Marinette saw of Adrien he was being taken into the sewers.

-----------

After the police arrived, Marinette was of course first to be interrogated. (“Gee… Thanks, Lila”). They wanted to know how she noticed the arrow, did she see the attacker, how did the kidnapper looked like, and dozens of other questions. By the end, she was exhausted. Somewhere after the sixth question, her phone pinged. Luckily, the police didn’t bother with checking it and believed that it was just a worried friend. 

Not the kidnapper trying to contact their employer.

Finally, after the police released her and informed her that no further information was needed, she could contact her Maman.

“Sweety? Are you okay? I’ve seen the news!” Was the first thing that came through

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine. The police held me back for questioning a bit. I’m going back to the hotel and be back in Paris first flight tomorrow, okay?”

“Stay in Gotham! I’m coming to pick you up!” Her mother informed her.

“Wha-!? But there is no need! Seriously Maman! There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

There was a silence on the line for a moment and Marinette could feel that her mother was trying to glare at her through the phone. It worked. 

“Fine… I’m at Wayne Plaza, room 30-14.” She relented, not wanting any more arguments. She would still have several hours to sort the mess with Adrien. What could possibly go wrong?

Trying her best to be careful, Marinette left the site of crime and traveled to the industrial district. The taxi driver couldn’t be bothered less about why she wanted to go there. He just wanted to get paid and leave. 

The only-slightly-creepy aura of the completely silent area full of factories and warehouses served as a perfect background to contacting the kidnapper. Marinette, after making sure she was truly alone, activated the voice-scrambling app on her burner and dialed the number that sent her the text about successful work. Her Maman showed her that, thinking she wanted it for a prank. Or that’s how Marinette presented it anyway.

“Who is this?!” A voice on the other side of the call asked.

Marinette took a deep breath before answering. “I was led to believe you have what I wanted.” She tried her best to channel Chloé into her voice. 

“Ah… Yes… There’s been a… complication.”

“What do you mean ‘complication’?” She hissed into the phone call. 

“Um… I had the package… But then someone stole the stolen package…” Whoever that was informed her. 

“Who?” She demanded. 

“Last I checked, Lawton was the one who had ‘im… But it might’ve changed. But don’t worry, Boss… lady?” They asked. Marinette didn’t give either confirmation or scolding, so they continued. “I’m still in the game.” With that, they hang up. 

“What did I just get myself into…” She moaned. Then, the realization hit her. “What did I just get Adrien into…”

Elsewhere, Adrien was starring into a pair of curious sea-green eyes. 

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

[lovelyirony]

roommates au for ironhawk (tony/clint) if u like them thank u

Clint Barton swore to himself. He didn’t actually think that they’d stick him with Stark as a roommate for the training course. 

It wasn’t that he disliked him. It’s just that…well. Tony Stark wasn’t really known for his skill. 

He was known for being a rule-breaker. A serial party guy. And someone who didn’t exactly fit SHIELD standards. 

There was the common theory that daddy bought him in. Wanted his son to have the distinctive bragging rights that SHIELD training gave. 

Higher-ups had already told Tony that he was not to receive special treatment. 

“If I wanted any I would’ve talked to the US military recruitment officers,” Tony snarks back.

Clint nods at that. At least he knows he won’t be getting any preferential treatment. 

But knowing and experiencing are two very different things. 

Clint also doesn’t want to get into trouble. He was already a bit of an oddball; they had brought him in from a failing circus where he was hailed as the best marksman in all of North America. (And if he really wanted to brag, probably in most of Europe as well.) 

Most everyone else has been in training since they were young. Or they know the right people. 

Both he and Stark are alienated a bit. 

Tony, quite frankly, doesn’t give a singular shit about how many people steal what meager dessert he gets from the cafeteria. 

“Yeah, yeah, go take my pudding cup and fuck right off,” Tony says to Rumlow. “I’m sure that your CO will simply love the extra sweets you’re gonna put into yourself right before we run.” 

Tony gets pudding thrown into his hair. A couple of flicks land on Clint’s shirt. 

“Barton, why hang out with the rich kid? Hoping he pays your way in?” Rumlow sneers. 

Clint would like people to pay for many things. But he doesn’t ask and he doesn’t hope because he likes earning his own shit, and most of all this position in SHIELD. 

He earns a trip to the office of Director Fury when he lands a clean upper-cut to Rumlow’s jaw. The guy cries. Clint scoffs. 

“He’ll pay for your funeral when we kill you at the obstacle course,” Clint says. “Tony, let’s get going.” 

Tony looks impressed to say the least. 

“Well damn, Barton. I didn’t even think you tolerated me.” 

“I’ve tolerated worse.” 

“I don’t know whether to like that or know that I could have the potential to be terrible.” 

“Let’s get going. I’ll hang back just in case I get called.” 

“You will. Might as well walk to Hill’s office now. I’ll steal you an extra dinner roll.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

Clint is early for one thing in his life, and it is this meeting with Fury. 

Fury looks at him over one eye, a black eye-patch on the other one. That is new. Very new. 

“What happened to your eye?” 

“I trusted somebody.” 

“Hill finally get you?” 

Fury doesn’t laugh. Clint does. It’s habitual, part of being nervous. 

“I understand that you punched Rumlow in the face?” 

“Yes sir. Couldn’t control my temper.” 

“Rumlow shouldn’t have been a little shit,” Fury says, snorting. “Don’t tell him that. He’s Pierce’s problem, thank god. Tell them I whooped your ass. Because I did. But I don’t give a shit what goes on so long as you get away with it.” 

Fury will come to regret these words in many instances, including one about four years later when Tony steals a coffee machine during a mission. But that’s ofur years from now. 

Clint gets back to training. Says he got roasted within an inch of his life. 

“You’re a shit liar,” Tony says. 

“Dude has an eye-patch now. Said it’s because he trusted somebody.” 

“Fury doesn’t even trust Girl Scout cookies, there’s no way he trusts an actual living human,” Tony says. “We have to find out.” 

Tony and Clint bond over two things: 

1.) They both feel terribly out of sync with everyone else because they are funny and also are not used to anything due to life experiences. 

2.) They are underestimated. 

Everyone thinks Clint has no fucking clue what’s going on. He’s spacey, most often forgets anything in the morning but coffee, and turned in one of their practice reports in green ink. Maria Hill nearly had an aneurysm. 

Tony is the rich kid who everyone thinks bought his way in and has only passed due to Benjamins or higher. 

Tony has not, because his dad actually hates that he’s in training and his mother thinks that he’s at an elite boarding school that Howard chose. They also happen to think that due to media presence, that is who he is. 

They can use their skills to advantage. Clint sees more than what people want and Tony knows more than what people want. 

They pair up for a mission. The objective is to rescue a hostage in under twenty minutes. 

The pairing before them has Rumlow, who is incredibly smug about how he incapacitated the attackers with brute force and rescued the hostage in ten minutes. 

“Beat that,” Rumlow says. 

“What’s the money?” Clint asks. 

“Two hundred bucks,” Rumlow says. “Lookin’ to take a girl out on a nice date.” 

“Hope you tell her you might have to cancel,” Tony says. 

-

They finish in four minutes. 

Tony disarms security in one minute, Clint paintballs the attack team in a matter of moments, and the hardest part is untying the agent acting as the hostage. 

Clint tosses the rope to Rumlow. 

“Tell your date you’ve gotten tied up at the moment and to take a rain check. You also owe us a hundred each. We’re nice like that.” 

- 

When it comes to partnering, Clint has to deny the opportunity to team up with Tony. 

“And why would that be? You both get along reasonably well,” Maria says. “Hell, you still beat records that were set decades back.” 

“Well usually SHIELD doesn’t like relationships to be part of partnership,” Clint says. “And to use the worst term possible, I’m banging Tony like a goddamn screendoor.” 

“I detest you every single day,” Maria says. “But noted. Tell Phil that I owe him fifty when you go out, okay?” 

Clint laughs. 

“Will do, Maria.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

- 

Clint slinks back into their apartment, dropping keys in the bowl on the counter and leaning over the couch to give his boyfriend a kiss. 

“How much money did Phil owe?” 

“Fifty. We got him good. Also, Fury said no to the possibility of a cat scratch. I think there’s more to that, though.” 

“He’s lying,” Tony says. “I bet if we found an agent he worked with then we could probably figure out the truth.” 

“Phil and Maria both won’t tell us, we’re screwed,” Clint says with a sigh. 

“Then we’ll just have to try Danvers,” Tony says, teasing. 

He pulls his boyfriend over the couch. 

“Ugh, I was gonna get coffee.” 

“Not your fucking death wish type caffeinated shit,” Tony says. “You already had a morning cup. I refuse it. I’ll make you tea.” 

“Tea tastes disgusting.” 

“Hush, the only tea you ever had was when we stayed at that shitty motel.”

“Still. Don’t like it. It’s like they forgot to flavor hot water for a moment.” 

“I’m going to kick your ass and make you love herbal tea.” 

(Tony succeeds in this.) 

- 

No one actually knows of Tony’s history in SHIELD. Or that he’s dating Hawkeye. He usually works in the offices or on updating the computers, which SHIELD always needs. 

Natasha blinks after a mission that went on for a month. She sees the ever-elusive tech, who embraces Clint in a hug. Clint takes it one step farther and dips Tony into a kiss. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Tony grumbles. “By the way, your asshole dog misses you.” 

“Lucky?! Aw, I knew you kept him,” Clint teases. 

“He ate your pizza. I got him dog food and chipped. He’s as much a disaster as you are.” 

“I…did not see this coming,” Natasha says. 

“Heh, maybe I can surprise you,” Clint says, smiling. “Nat, this is Tony. My boyfriend. Also the best employee here.” 

“Even better than Phil?” 

“Who do you think enables his caffeine addiction?” Tony asks. “And who can get you good soup and catering?” 

“I will do literally whatever you want if you can get me good food,” Natasha says. “Or good coffee.” 

“I’ll set something up for next week,” Tony says. “For now, I’m dragging my man home and not letting him leave for the entire weekend.” 

“Now that I’m not opposed to,” Clint says, tugging on his shirt. “Bye Nat!” 

There’s a maniacal cackle as Clint tickles Tony, who responds in kind by signing “fuck you” at Clint. 

[multifandom-stranger]

4 . 9 . 16

The Broken Few Pt. 1

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: Topics such as mental and physical abuse, self harm/cutting, and drug use are mentioned. Strong language is used as well. Read with this in mind please.

Heavy footsteps slammed into the puddles riddling one of the many back alleys of Seoul. A certain figure was following suit trying to catch him. “Shit! Oh fuck, oh fuck…” Mark hissed in between heavy breaths. He had been dodging around corners and shoving people around on the streets to try and shake the man off but nothing could change his keen focus induced by a blind rage. 

“MARK LEE GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!” Mark looked over his shoulder to see just how much distance he was gaining and the answer was not that much. What he could see was that god awful ‘father’ of his. He had to refer to the man as such even with no blood relation. Mark has been put into the foster care system a year back. To say it was the safe space he needed to grow as a troubled teen was a fucking joke. The man in charge of their foster home was ruthlessly abusive to all the children in his care. 

Mark has been beaten, thrown, and mentally broken down by this man who had promised to give him the life skills for success. His only splice had been his friends on the streets. One day he snuck out during the night and bumped into some dude. Literally. He was running away from the hell hole he called home and right as he turned his head caught a flash of white before hitting the ground. He had big round eyes and pure white hair. No way in hell that was natural. Mark just sat there knocked down for a bit as the stranger stared at him with a… weird look. “What’s your name?” said the man as he extended a hand. Mark took it defensively and scoffed. 

“Why should I tell you?” Mark snapped back at the probably older man.

 The man smiled gently at Mark as he restarted the conversation. “I’m Taeyong and I help people like you.” What kind of asshole says shit like this is?

 “The fuck? Whatever man.” Just as Mark began to walk away his wrist was grabbed harshly by the taller of the two. He winced since he had been dragged by it earlier. “What the hell!?”  That same indescribable look was on his face. It was almost like he was reading a book that both informed and saddened him. Mark felt as though he was a tiny thing being observed under a microscope. Taeyong just gave off this oddly sweet and intimidating aura.

 “I can tell you know,” he said gently. Taeyong pulled up the sleeve of the arm he had grabbed and confirmed his suspicions. Bruises. Mark's arm had a few older ones along with the very obvious thing that adorned his skin. Lines upon lines of cuts. Same as his bruises, some were old and almost healed whereas some were newer and caused the previous grip to be painful. “After all, I’ve been there too. Takes one to know one.” Taeyong said as he rolled up his own sleeve. Mark instantly notes the familiar discolored lines adorning his pale skin. 

Even with his faded scars on display Taeyong smiled softly and said, “So do you wanna come with me to talk about why? I sense your running away as well. I have a place for people like us where we can feel safe for a while.” 

That was when Taeyong led him to this crummy little abandoned rooftop apartment. Apparently the place had been foreclosed or something. Point was that no one was there and no one would move in. The only sign of the place being lived in against regulations was the colorful lights that peered through the grimy windows. Taeyong stopped by the door and turned to face Mark with a smile. “Gonna tell me your name or what kiddo? That is, if you trust the stranger you walked off with enough to introduce yourself.” he teased with a light chuckle.

 Mark joined in his brief laughter and stated, “I’m Mark Lee. Nice to meet you Taeyong.” He extended his hand with a smile which Taeyong gladly returned as he shook his hand. Without another word he opened the door to reveal a rather inviting room, unexpectedly so. Sitting in this room with hand painted art on the walls, posters, small string lights, and lots of other cool things were three other boys now staring at the new face he was to them.

 “Guys, meet Mark. Mark, meet the guys.” Taeyong said and then pointed to one of them. “No hair over here’s name is impossible to say so we just call him Ten.” Ten proceeded to give him a small wave and a half smile. “Then there’s Jaehyun. He’s kinda the wanna be cool guy.” 

“Ya! Wanna be? I’m the real deal you asshole!” Jaehyun fired back with a scoff and a quick dismissive wave to Mark.

Taeyong continued, “Finally, the rabbit. See, doesn't he look like one?”

 Another outburst was heard, this time from the last boy with orange hair. “I’m not a rabbit! Why can’t you introduce anyone normally.” 

Taeyong waved a hand at him to tease and finally gave his name. Ever so sarcastically he sang out “Mark meet Doyoung! I really hope you get along well.” Ten rolled his eyes with a smile as the other three chuckled at his antics. “Now for the serious stuff. You gotta go back by dawn or something right?” Taeyong asked. 

Mark stared at him, taken back again. “Literally how do you guess this shit?” 

“Seventh sense is what I call it,” he leaned in closer to Mark as he continued. “But I think I have one hell of an intuition. Alright alright, court is in session!” 

Suddenly he was pulled back into a seat by the boy closest to him, Doyoung. Mark looked at him a bit confused before he whispered, “Relax, this is how we all had to do it. Roll with it.” 

Taeyong slaps the small table twice and looks back to Mark. “Spill kid. What’s your strife?” Looking around the room he saw everyone had gone silent and begun to stare. They didn’t hold any malice in their expression or boredom. Each person in the room seemed to be hanging on a thread, waiting for the moment he spoke. It felt oddly comforting. Even if it wasn’t, why not open up? Not like he’d ever see these guys again. 

“I uh, I’m in a shit foster home. Guy in charge makes us refer to him as father even though, clearly, he’s not related to any of us. I have no idea who my real parents are so it’s not like I can just leave. The main issue is that he beats the hell out of us. Day in and day out if you do anything he finds punishable, you’ll get hit for it. I just… It’s also his words though. I’m sick and tired of being called a fucking mistake or that my parents left me for a reason.” Mark started to feel his eyes tear up a bit before he resorted to his usual trick. Looking up as high as he could. He always did that when he cried. Look up at the ceiling, sky, stars, whatever. “I would do anything to feel like a person. A real person. Not a shell of one or a mistake. That’s why I cut. I wanted a feeling. I wanted an escape.” he said as he started to breath heavily and grind his teeth together.

 It amazed him that once he lowered his head he was met by that same look of understanding. Not pity or disinterest, but of empathy. There was a long comforting silence before Ten carefully broke it. “I was kicked out for being gay. I was also abused too.” 

Then Jaehyun added, “My parents both are addicts and tried to sell me off for drug money.” 

Doyoung chimes in calmly stating, “I’m lucky enough to have had great parents, they just passed away a while back.”  The room filled once again with a comforting silence.

They all shared glances of sympathy until Taeyong once again slapped his hand against the table. “Jury’s verdict? All in favor say aye.” One by one the three other boys all said ‘aye’ and Doyoung patted Mark on the back. “Court adjourned. Mark, are you willing to join our little family here?” Taeyong asked with his big brown eyes all rounded out with curiosity. 

“Depends on what you mean by that. Why should I?” 

Jaehyun leaned over Doyoung so that he was in line of sight with Mark. His expression got dead serious in that moment. “Kid, you either stay at the foster home or you can stay here with us and work to make a living of your own.”

Ten peeked over Jaehyun just barely and added, “We pick-pocket and do little jobs for people to get by. And yeah, it’s small but we have this little place to call home. We lead our own lives and do whatever the fuck we want here. No one can hurt you here.” “Best part is that this family is the best one any one of us has got. Pretty soon I bet you’ll fit right in.” Doyoung said as he placed an arm over Mark’s shoulder. “I know it’s not an honest living but it’s something. Are you in?” Taeyong asked. The other three looked at him with blank expressions. Whether he said yes or no wouldn’t change their lives too much, they just wanted to see the kid happy because they saw that pain in him. That pain they all knew too well. 

Surrounded by the darkness of the night outside the apartment Mark knew he still had plenty of time to get back but why the fuck would he. This was definitely a better shot at living life than living with that monster back home. Fuck it, this was his new home. Mark looked to Taeyong and said with a newfound confidence “I’m in.”His new family looked around at each other with big wide grins. 

Jaehyun lightly punched Mark on his shoulder to catch his attention before saying, “Here’s the rules, okay? One, loyalty above all else. We’ve all been fucked over by those we trusted.” When Mark glanced around once more he noted in the back of his mind that Ten looked particularly hurt. “Second, be smart. Don’t do something dumb enough to get in big trouble. If you fuck up so big it screws the whole family over, consider yourself out. We don’t want you here if you're just using us.” Mark knew the heavy nature of the streets. The rules were typical of most gangs or small families he had heard of but they seemed more reassuring than daunting. Why the hell would he stab these guys in the back if they’re the ones sticking out their neck to take him in. “Finally, listen to the older members. Since your the youngest and newest you gotta lot to learn from us kid.” 

Mark nodded as Ten held out his hand. Looking down there was a small needle in it. “Take this and prick your finger. Then go seal the deal by leaving a mark of your print on the wall.”

 Mark glances over to where Ten has pointed with his free hand to see four bloodstained marks upon the dingy green wall. He took a deep breath before taking the needle and walking up to the wall. “You know, this is like some mafia shit.”

 Taeyong let out a small laugh and looked at the kid with particular amusement. “You in or not? I’m not forcing your hand at all, but just know that once you're in your family. We’ll do anything for you at the drop of a dime and we expect the same back.” Mark stared the thing down for a bit before pricking his finger. A small bead of blood emerged and grew until he stamped it against the wall.

 Now here he was, running from that damn foster dad of his. He had called the cops to search for him but Mark has been living with the boys off the grid for weeks. It had almost been a month before the local police found themselves at a standstill. That’s when he went back out into the streets again. But he couldn’t forget one thing. The only thing he ever had left to him from his parents was a ring. It was a thick, plain silver band that only fit on his pinky finger. He had been told it was his mother’s ring. And of course, he left it at the fucking foster home. To cut a long story short Mark shimmied the damn drainpipe, got the ring, but got caught on the way out by the demon of a father figure he was forced to have. Of fucking course. So here he was, running down alleys and through streets to get away. “God damnit!” Mark shouted to himself. He had finally made it out, yet he just had to get the ring and get himself into a whole load of trouble. He had been working on the streets a lot these past few weeks so he knew a way to get a major gain and lose the man. Mark took a sharp left turn before starting to climb the chin fence he knew was around the bend. Once at the top he hurled himself down, landing with a thud. He looked back to see the old man run up to the fence and hit it in frustration from the other side. 

“Where the hell do you think a fuck up like you can even go, huh?! You got nobody! No one but me!” Mark could feel the rage swell. He did have somebody. He had Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten, and Jaehyun all there for him. 

Mark kicked at the fence sending that bastard back on his ass. “Yes I do! I’m not worthless! I’m not a fuck up! And I’m certainly not alone. If you ever try and find me again I’ll be the one to kick your ass for once. That’s a promise, not a threat.” With that he broke his firm glare and ran off to the rooftop apartment oasis he now called home.

[beatriceeagle]

Where do you think teen wolf jumped the shark? Also, non-specific, but do you have a favourite (and least favourite) TV finale? Thanks!

I heard a TV writer once discuss shark-jumping in terms of suspension of disbelief. “You get one buy,” is how he put it. On Psych, we’ll buy into the idea that Shawn does wacky hijinks in pursuit of convincing the police that he’s a psychic, because that is the show’s central premise. But if you try to add one more unbelievable thing on top of that (say, werewolves) the high-wire act fails. You’ve asked the audience to believe too many things, and now their faith in the show has collapsed.

But as even that writer acknowledged, it doesn’t usually work that cleanly. Shows rarely jump the shark all at once. Even seemingly obvious cases like, I don’t know, Bones, usually show some cracks in their foundations before they do whatever massive thing it is that completely fucks over their show. And often, it’s not a case of so much doing something that breaks the suspension of disbelief as it is breaking your contract with the audience. We agreed, implicitly, that we were going to be this kind of show—but now we’re this kind of show, instead.

The weird thing about that is that, in theory, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. The Good Place broke its contract with its audience at the end of season one in a pretty major way: A lot of the twist of the first season of that show only works if you assume that it’s the kind of show that doesn’t have twists. (And despite it being one of the best first seasons of a comedy in years and years, I know people who felt betrayed by that twist!) Agents of SHIELD, as I wrote about earlier today, broke its contract with its audience massively at the end of its first season—it spent 18 episodes establishing a world, and character dynamics, and operating procedures, and then not gradually, but all at once, said, “Okay, none of that is what we’re doing anymore”—and became a much better show for it. Sometimes, you just have to say, “Screw the old world order,” and let people come along or not.

So anyway, when I ask, “When did Teen Wolf jump the shark?” I’m asking both, “When did it stop being the show it agreed to be at the outset?” and also, a little bit, “When did it get bad?” And there are two assumptions built into those questions: 1) That Teen Wolf at some point stopped being the show that viewers first signed on for, and 2) That Teen Wolf was ever good.

And, okay, I don’t think that Teen Wolf was a bad show, clearly, because I have watched seasons one through three… a lot. There is something compulsively watchable and fitfully well-observed, about that show. The scenes between Scott and his mom, or Stiles and his dad, or of just Allison, alone, are often shockingly well-observed on a human level. There is some great, almost melodic dialogue, performed by really good actors.

But also, I mean, it’s really silly. The first season is paced atrociously. There are all of these over-the-top cinematic sequences of lacrosse. The mythology is incoherent, even before they start piling stuff onto it. And it doesn’t seem to have a central theme until well into its third season, at which point its central theme is extremely ethically questionable.

But I think the thing is, that’s the show that viewers signed on for! They signed on for this silly, heartfelt, overly cinematic, occasionally weirdly insightful, sometimes very funny werewolf show, that couldn’t pace a 12-episode story arc to save its life. And there was no one moment where that show transitioned into being a different thing. It would be really easy to point to Allison’s death, but honestly, I think her death was fairly in keeping with the kind of show Teen Wolf had been up to that point; one thing that the show had always handled pretty well was teenage heartbreak, and although the ramifications of Allison’s death were handled weirdly, when they did pop up, they tended to be some of the better bits of late-season Teen Wolf.

I will say that season 3B was a huge tonal shift from previous seasons. It’s significantly darker than anything that came before it—not just at the end, but all the way through. It’s not really goofy the way that previous seasons were. On the other hand, 3B is a really good season of Teen Wolf. In many ways it’s the show firing at all cylinders. They’ve got their formula down. (Teen Wolf at its best is a villain + a secondary villain who’s hunting the main villain and making trouble for the good guys in the process + a handful of emotional throughlines.) They’ve got a genuine atmosphere going. They’ve got a tremendous central performance from Dylan O’Brien. And the plot completely tracks!

The problem is that 3B leads into season 4, which maintains the tonal shift—it is literally, physically darker, as all of the ensuing seasons are—but is also bad. There are moments of season 4 that I like, but it’s also the point in time when Teen Wolf gives up on the “two villains” model in favor of the “five hundred villains” model, and also introduces a bunch of new characters, which it is absolutely not capable of dealing with. Also, at around this point, Teen Wolf stopped plotting logically and started plotting thematically. What I mean is that, for instance, in season four, suddenly Lydia, Stiles, and Scott all have massive, encroaching financial issues. Of these, Stiles’ are the only ones that are connected to any previous plot point on the show itself. Lydia’s are, if I’m remembering correctly, introduced mid-season for like two episodes. But more to the point: These financial issues don’t go anywhere. There’s like a running bit with a duffel bag of money from the Hale vault, or whatever, but it’s ultimately meaningless, because the financial issues are not there to either move the plot forward or elucidate character. They’re supposed to be a thematic counterpoint to the hired assassins who have shown up in Beacon Hills.

That kind of theme-based plotting is a) not Teen Wolf, and b) completely outside of Teen Wolf’s skill set, and as soon as the show started working that way, it immediately became an incomprehensible mess. I reviewed every episode of season 5A, and I still could not tell you what the fuck was happening in that season.

But that can all be walked back. I’ve watched shows that got bad—sometimes in ways that made them feel completely unfamiliar to themselves—and then got good again. (For example, Community‘s season four finale is a shark-jumping moment if I’ve ever seen one, and season five, though it had Harmon back at the helm, still didn’t feel like Community in some vital way—but season six is my second-favorite season of the show, and keeps trying to sneak its way into being my favorite.) The moment that I think of as being the point of no return, for Teen Wolf, is when they wrote Kira off. When Allison died, at least it felt meaningful, and like it was part of the natural progression of the show saying something. When Derek and Isaac left, it was due to the actors understandably moving on, and came about in ways that felt like natural exit points for the characters. But Kira’s exit was just Teen Wolf flailing, getting rid of characters who felt like likeable, old-style Teen Wolf (and who the show had put three seasons of development into) while filling up the cast with a bunch of mostly bland next-generation people. After a season with no Danny and no Coach, writing Kira out was really Teen Wolf just intentionally burning its bridges.

And actually, if you go back, it all starts even earlier than 3B. I think the cracks in Teen Wolf’s foundation start in 3A (a season I’m generally fond of!) with the introduction of the capital-M Mythology: the True Alpha stuff, which ended up really fucking with its ethics and the way that Scott functioned on the show long-term; and also Lydia’s banshee stuff and the Nemeton stuff, which ended up just being incredibly confusing. Season 3B is remarkable, in hindsight, for how comparably well it deals with those elements, when they all ended up being a huge drag on the show, in the long run.

So my short answer is that Teen Wolf jumped the shark in season 4, but my longer answer is that it was a process, starting in season 3A, and not really ending until season 5.

My favorite TV finale is, I think, the Lost finale, although the Community finale is certainly high up there. (Controversial, I know, but I will stand by this opinion til the end of time.) My least favorite, though I know it’s practically a cliche, is the How I Met Your Mother finale. When my sister was helping me brainstorm to figure out my answer to this question, she noted that a unifying factor among many terrible series finales is that they undo major aspects of the show that preceded them, and she is completely correct. This is the same reason that, even though it’s unusual for people to stay with their high school sweethearts, Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione had to be together in the Harry Potter epilogue; if you want to make that point, you had a whole series to make it. Trying to be clever and pull a fast one with the ending is just irritating.

Send me meta prompts to distract me from my migraine! 

[uselesslilium]

So, who wants some Chikai Kuji meta?

Chikai is a character who’s done a lot of awful things. He almost got Enta stabbed, he shot his cute underling, and apparently he’s got a chronic case of backstabbing syndrome towards his criminal allies. And given we’re never fully let into his head, any understanding of him is going to be based heavily on personal interpretation. That said, I do feel there’s one thing about Chikai that has only one reasonable explanation - his threat towards Toi in episode 9. In my opinion, the only way it makes any sense is as a bluff, and I figure I’ve spent way too much time thinking about it anyway, I may as well lay out the reasons why I think so and get it off my chest.

Also this is pretty long and includes screencaps (mostly linked, but a few directly in the post), so under a cut it goes.

Let’s start with the explanation Chikai gives for his threat, that Toi is ‘too good’ to survive in the criminal world. It's essentially the same one he used before to explain to Toi why he shot Masa, that he was doing him ‘a favor’ by killing him because he wouldn’t survive for long - but even for that murder it’s extremely weak. Especially since we as the audience were made aware of another potential one with far stronger backing just earlier in the episode: the fact that Masa knew Toi was the one who killed the head of the Yurikamome (named 'Kamome’ in the light novel). 

How he found out is a mystery, but we can infer from Chikai’s frustration with him that Chikai’s tried to keep him quiet about it before and clearly hasn’t succeeded. Toi being the one who killed Kamome was a secret that both brothers have shaped their lives around keeping. If Masa couldn’t be trusted to go along with the cover story, then silencing him was Chikai’s only guarantee that the truth wouldn’t get out after they left. Still an unquestionably terrible thing to do, but Chikai’s generally pretty terrible. More pertinently, we’ve seen a consistent pattern of him being terrible out of pragmatism (selling his dead parents’ belongings for cash, stealing from his own gang to pay off his family’s debt, kicking Enta at an on-coming sword to protect himself) and no previous indications that he has this extreme, twisted sense of mercy. And in a more meta sense, there was no point in showing us that conversation between Masa and Chikai if it didn’t mean anything. It was a deliberate choice.

But if he was just being pragmatic and protecting their secret, why not tell Toi that in the first place? Because Chikai didn’t know Toi overheard that conversation between him and Masa. As far as he knows, Toi thinks Masa was just a nice doofus and has no reason to suspect otherwise. Meanwhile, the truth of Kamome’s murder is a serious weight for both of them, and Chikai is both aware Toi still worries about it and blames himself, and doesn’t want him to. Admitting that the secret got out to someone and that Chikai felt the need to kill that person to resolve it would only make that worse. Or, if you feel less charitable, maybe he just didn’t want to admit he screwed up and let something slip at one point. Or both. But Chikai has spent the last four years trying to keep the burden of Kamome’s murder off his little brother’s shoulders as much as possible, so it does make sense that he’d prefer what he sees as a glib lie to another heavy truth.

That in and of itself severely weakens the believability of his threat towards Toi later on. If he didn’t actually kill Masa just because he didn’t like his odds as a criminal, then it makes even less sense for him to kill Toi over such a vague reason. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume I’m wrong and Chikai really did go full ‘survival of the fittest’ on Masa with no deeper reasons beyond what he stated outright. It still doesn’t make sense that he would abruptly decide to do the same to Toi. Masa, at the very least, was loud and overly honest and wouldn’t listen to any of Chikai’s directions. He was ill-suited to a life of organized crime, and if you squint and tilt your head far enough, you could maybe kind of see why Chikai might think a mercy kill was a good idea.

Toi, on the other hand, hadn’t done a single thing to get in Chikai’s way or jeopardize their escape all night. On the contrary, he was extremely helpful. He brought a bag full of money and his own gun, and even involved himself in the shooting skillfully enough to take out one of the guys trying to kill Chikai and help him get away. There’s nothing about his actions that reveal him as ‘too good of a person’ to work successfully alongside his big brother. In every way, he was useful, loyal, and showed zero hesitation to do whatever Chikai might need him to. Even Chikai himself told Masa just a little earlier that Toi was ‘special’ when it came to criminal skill and capability.

Put bluntly, it isn’t practical to kill Toi at that moment, not when he’s still completely committed to doing anything for Chikai. Certainly not when there’s a third enemy still unaccounted for, who Toi could be useful in helping to take out. Not to mention if what Chikai did really want was to kill him, why be so slow about it while Toi still has a gun of his own, especially when Chikai just fired without warning at his previous victims? And of course, why bother going out of his way to pick Toi up and take the extra risk of waiting all day for him in a city full of cops and revenge-minded gangsters on the lookout for him, if he just planned to drop the hammer on Toi at the first sign of difficulty once they were together? He could’ve saved himself a lot of time, trouble, and an extra bullet by just leaving on his own without saying a word to Toi if he was going to be that quick to discard him over nothing.

And there’s one more point that further clarifies the overall picture - Chikai’s reaction when he sees Toi’s gotten involved in the shootout. If Chikai’s priority was how useful Toi could be to him, then he should have been impressed or relieved or excited to see him taking such action on his behalf. But instead, he’s shocked, even almost panicked, when he realizes Toi’s taken out one of their opponents on his own. It clearly wasn’t part of his plan, or anything he asked or expected of Toi. And in many ways, it’s a mirror of what happened four years ago with Kamome. Once again, Chikai’s seeing his little brother take up a gun - the exact same one, even - and kill someone to protect him. Given Ikuhara’s track record with parallels, that’s almost certainly not a coincidence.

The simplest explanation for his sudden distress is something we were shown through his conversation with Enta just last episode, where he admitted that he’s not really happy or comfortable with the lengths Toi will go to for him. There’s no satisfaction or pride in either his voice or expression when he talks about what Toi gave up for him years ago, only wistfulness and some regret, emphasized by his own choice to hold onto an old photo of his little brother doing what he loved most. The conflict in Chikai’s own feelings is actually laid out here relatively clearly: he wants Toi to come with him so they can stay together, but he’s aware that it isn’t what would really be best for Toi. 

If he were kinder or more selfless, Chikai would’ve cut Toi loose himself once he realized that. But as we’ve established, Chikai kinda sucks. So instead he chose to let his own ‘desire’ win out and asked Toi to join him anyway, accepting the newest sacrifice Toi had to make for the sake of their connection. But that doesn’t mean his own misgivings have vanished either. Just hours later, he’s already offering Toi an out by reminding him he can still go back if he’d rather be with his friends and that it’ll be too late before long.

Given all that build-up and the parallels to the Kamome incident, the shootout seems to be the event that forced Chikai to finally accept that Toi being with him and Toi being safe or keeping his hands clean were mutually exclusive. Whatever Chikai had been telling himself up until that point, there was no more denying just what being together would mean for Toi.  Even the gun Chikai thought he’d taken out of Toi’s hands permanently has resurfaced, and in fact was never actually gone in the first place. All of his assumptions about his own ability to protect his little brother were definitively contradicted, and he’s left to face reality. A life at his side would mean a life of constant danger and more killing, and even if he never asked Toi to go that far for him, Toi would still throw himself into the thick of it for him all on his own, every time.

So, to sum all that rambling up:

It’s far more likely that Chikai murdered Masa over the Yurikamome secret than anything else, making his stated reason for later threatening Toi completely groundless.

Even if he did kill Masa because he wasn’t suited to a life of crime, Toi is extremely skilled and loyal to him, which Chikai himself acknowledged earlier.

Chikai’s already expressed conflicted feelings about both taking Toi with him and Toi’s willingness to do anything for him.

Chikai becomes visibly panicked, not over the shootout itself, but specifically when he sees Toi’s gotten involved in it.

Which brings us to the end result: Chikai’s finally decided to ‘throw away’ their connection once and for all, just as Toi’s decided to confront him by stating in no uncertain terms that he’s ready and willing to do anything to maintain it. Chikai thinks he knows how loyal Toi is, but he also just heard Toi admit he’s afraid Chikai will treat him as expendable the way he does everyone else. Given everything that’s come before, it seems clear to me that he chose to do something very stupid, but not entirely without logic. Confirm Toi’s fears with a threat, one that specifically refutes their connection as ‘brothers’ which means so much to Toi, in the interest of scaring him off and severing things between them permanently. After all, in his own words, if things aren’t working out, just throw it all away.

It was doomed to fail, of course. Because it was a terrible idea that deeply underestimates Toi’s devotion, as Chikai always seems to do. But as a plan and as part of Chikai’s overall character, the whole thing being an extremely stupid, misguided bluff is really the only explanation that fits. Not to say this exonerates him of his many, many other wrong-doings (of which I’d include even making this threat at all), nor is this meant to convince anyone to like him. But to assume Chikai was being serious and really did plan to murder his own brother on a whim contradicts basically everything we do know about his feelings for Toi and most of his actions up to this point, which I believe does the writing as a whole a massive disservice. It was a deeply unhealthy relationship that needed to end, and to say Chikai did a lot of things wrong in how he handled it is like saying the ocean is kind of damp. But as the last few minutes of the episode confirmed, nothing really mattered to him more than Toi. There was no way he was ever going to pull that trigger.

[thepetulantpen]

Modern AU/Kindness

(Hey I know this event is literally over but I finally finished day 6 of @mollymauklivesfest so I’m posting it now. Better late than never?)

Molly’s general rule of thumb is to leave the world a little better than how he found it.

And a little more chaotic.

Typically, he’s found, in order to achieve both of those things, one will eventually be on the run from the cops.

Which he is now.

As he nearly gets run over for the third time that night, diving across traffic and into an alley where he leaps onto a dumpster and scales an apartment complex, he takes a rare moment of reflection to think about how he ended up in this position.

It either started with the kids who tried to rob him or the racist elven lady, depending on how much faith you put in Molly’s moral code.

...

When a bony hand reaches into his purse, Molly stops and fidgets with his phone for a bit to give the kid a better chance. He may not be the most observant person, but even he saw the three dirty, skinny children sneaking up behind him.

He’s not exactly made of money- he reads fortunes, for gods’ sake- but he can spare something to give to people even less fortunate than him. Whatever they can swipe, they’ve earned.

When Molly dies in Crossy Road, he moves on and the kids scatter, back to whatever alley they crawled out of. He wishes he could help more, but they’re just three of many in this city.

It probably won’t keep him up at night, but it does distract him long enough to not look where he’s going, long enough to trip over an older elven lady. Old enough to look old, which means she must be ancient.

“Sorry-“

Molly cuts himself off at the look on her face, needlessly shocked and disgusted. He knows what that means.

There’s no major freak out, which is nicer than previous encounters of similar types, but she does mutter “demon” as she crosses the street in a hurry. She’s dramatically rubbing at the front of her shirt, as if Molly might’ve gotten a bit of his Infernal on her.

He’s gotten it before, gotten it far worse. It probably won’t keep him up at night.

That might’ve been the end of it, if Molly wasn’t Molly.

The shiny pearls around her neck and the gold bracelets on her wrist give him an idea.

And that is what’ll keep him up at night.

...

Caleb wakes at 3:34 am to the sound of his phone buzzing violently against his nightstand. He grabs for it blindly, wondering which of his dumb friends could be calling at this time of night.

The screen lights up too bright in the dark, washing over his face and making his eyes squint to adjust. ‘Robin Hood’, Molly’s chosen nickname on Caleb’s phone, is calling, which would’ve earned Caleb money if he’d bet on it. These sorts of calls are Molly around 80% of the time.

He lets it ring for a few seconds, pretending to debate taking the call. He promises to himself that if this isn’t an emergency, he’ll kill Molly, but it’s an empty promise, one he never keeps when Molly calls him high or horny or just bored.

He answers the call.

“This had better be good, Mollymauk.”

There’s a huff, some shuffling, and the sounds of a busy street on the other end of the call before Molly finally speaks, out of breath.

“Yeah, yeah it’s an emergency, actually,” he grunts and Caleb hears something slamming against metal, “Are you still friends with that guy in Nicodranas?”

Caleb sits up in bed and rubs his eyes. He really doesn’t need this, at 3:36 in the morning.

“Friends is a strong word.”

Caleb can practically hear the eye roll on the other end of the line, but he ignores it because Molly has no right to be annoyed with him, when he’s calling at 3:37 in the morning.

“Associate, acquaintance, whatever. Will he still help you cross the border?”

“Molly, what-“ Caleb sighs and shakes his head. He’d been fine when they talked last week. “What could you have possibly done in the last few days that makes this necessary? No, no, don’t tell me, I want plausible deniability. Just, how soon do you need to leave?”

“Well-“ Molly starts but is cut off by the blare of police sirens and his own footsteps against the pavement. When the noise fades a bit, he asks, “Does that answer your question?”

Caleb groans, standing to grab his coat and books. It’s going to be another long fucking night.

“Unfortunately, yes. Can you hold out till morning?”

He can imagine Molly grinning on the other end, feels the sharp energy of it through the receiver.

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt my skills?”

...

After about the third rich person party he’d robbed, Molly starts to think he’s getting in a little too deep.

But he’s got a bag full of jewelry and other useless expensive trinkets and he’s driving to yet another pawn shop, so he’s committed for now.

Emerging with a wad of cash is pretty satisfying and spending it on a car full of non perishable meals and blankets eliminates all doubt and conflicting feelings from his mind.

This whole scheme has gotten pretty ridiculous and is starting to take way too much planning- he’s had to research parties and fake identities and pawn shops. It shouldn’t have been this elaborate when the premise seemed so easy: steal from the rich, give to the poor. But bullshitting your way into parties without a plan is risky, and selling hoards of jewelry to the local pawn shop every week is a sure way to get investigated and arrested.

It’s a lot of work, more work and planning than Molly typically participates in, but it’s worth it. The people who attend these kind of parties are the perfect sort of uptight that provides endless entertainment, and pretending to be rich (or even royalty, on one occasion) is not only fun but empowering. Nobody dares question guests at these parties, he could tell them he got banished from a pirate island and they’d nod politely while sipping champagne.

Some people would say it’s exhausting pretending to be someone else, but not Molly. For him, it’s exhilarating to weave lie after increasingly ridiculous lie- and it’s not hard either. Rich Molly is just Molly but worse and more shiny.

He will say that the best part isn’t the parties or the lies. It’s now, as he rolls up to one of the dark alleys in the worst part of town and finds the sad little camps of boxes and torn blankets.

The kids don’t approach him, watching warily as he sets down his offerings of food and other supplies from Dollar Tree. It’s the most he could get with the money he made, plus his efforts in bargain hunting and buying in bulk. They’ll eat and be warm for months, hopefully.

This camp is just one in a series of stops he’ll make today, grim reminders of the desolate conditions the poor of Zadash live in. He’s determined to keep up this act until every one of the kids in this city has gotten their share of its wealth. Or until he’s arrested.

One of the bigger kids comes out first, opening up cans of fruit for the little kids and passing out blankets. He waves to Molly, a small gesture of thanks before he turns his attention to his charges.

Molly waves but doesn’t stop long, heading back to his car before he gets wrapped up in a conversation. He has more work to do, if he’s going to make this city better.

...

Caleb rubs at his eyes again, trying to make them focus on the map through the haze of his exhaustion and shakiness of Molly’s shitty driving.

They almost go airborne on a bump in the road and Caleb scrambles to keep hold of his books.

“Scheisse, Molly. Easy on the gas pedal, I need to make sure we’re going the right way.”

Molly nods absently, eyes darting in between the windshield and rear view mirror, watching fervently for any sign of authorities. Caleb’s contact in Nicodranas has outlined the fastest, most discreet route over the border, but these things can change so fast that there’s never any true guarantees of safety. At least he has Caleb here to navigate and steer him out of trouble. If anyone can bail Molly out of a jail cell, it’ll be Caleb.

“Left here.”

Moly turns the wheel too hard, taking the turn as sharp as he can. Caleb is holding onto the armrests for dear life and staring at Molly in disbelief. It’s a wonder to Caleb that they haven’t died yet, with Molly being as impulsive in driving as he is in life. He should’ve called Fjord and made him give them a ride.

“You’re just going to attract more attention if you drive so fast,” Caleb pauses as he watches the meter lower a little closer to the speed limit, he’s got to find a way to distract Molly from the high speed chase he’s envisioning, “Finish telling your story, I’m dying to know how your flawless plans could’ve been outsmarted.”

...

Picking pockets is not a terribly difficult art. Some can do it masterfully, some are abysmal at it, but most can do a decent job and grab a few things without trying their luck.

Molly falls into the last category, but he’s too stubborn for his own good. He just has to get that last bracelet.

The woman he’s robbing, a respectable, no nonsense businessperson, looks down at Molly when his hands slip. He manages to not only screw up his extraction of the bracelet, but also drop the rest of her jewelry to the ground with a loud series of clinks.

Molly only has time for an abashed smile before he’s leaving a tiefling shaped cloud of dust behind him and utilizing his other talent: running.

There’s an broken window, a two story climb, and a crash through some overly manicured hedges, then he’s hitting the pavement and diving down the nearest alley as sirens wail in the distance.

He stops to heave in a few breaths, preparing for a chase, and that turns out to be a mistake as the guards for the party are smarter and faster than he thought. There’s shouting and uniforms so he makes a quick decision, jumping up—

“I can’t believe you. We had to leave the country because you suddenly became a bigger kleptomaniac than Nott?”

“Technically,” Molly smiles at Beau across the table from him, “you didn’t have to leave. This is just your excuse for a vacation.”

Beau crosses her arms and returns the shit-eating grin. “But I couldn’t leave my best friend to fend for himself in his run from the police.”

Molly is going to fire back, maybe bring up the time they had to evacuate a town because of something Beau did (they can never go back to Trostenwald) but Jester walks in carrying a tray of cookies and he’s sufficiently distracted.

“Look what my mama had the cooks bake!”

Jester giggles as Beau and Molly immediately pounce on the plate, competing to build the biggest cookie pile. She grabs a cookie from Beau’s pile and sits down with them, smiling with crumbs in her teeth.

“Since we’re sort of trapped here until the police forget about Molly-“

“Trapped is such a strong word.”

“-then we’ll have to plan a bunch of beach days to fill time. We’ll get to drag Caleb out there and we could invite Nott’s family, I’m sure Yeza would love to see the ocean!”

Jester’s words become indistinct as Molly zones out, happy to enjoy this moment with friends despite the circumstances that landed him here.

It’s a happy ending really, and some good karma from the world at last. He did something good by doing something bad and now he gets to hang out at the beach with his friends- his family.

Gods, he can’t wait to goad Caleb into buying swim trunks in the most atrocious pattern possible.

[nardaviel]

Part 6 / ?, introducing seasons(!) and an exciting new supporting cast member(!!!).

Many images contained within. The tags have spoilers, if you care about that sort of thing and if it isn’t already too obvious to count as a spoiler.

Starting out strong again with a chance card from En, just like in the last post. En would definitely go with the experimental piece but it’s a bit nerve-wracking because he's going to be promoted today, I think, if he doesn't screw this up.

Never mind about the promotion, then. :c

Especially if he's going to be pissed off for the rest of his shift. Poor En-chan. I���m interested in Pig Nose Galaxy.

Congrats, Atsushi! Everyone’s money-earning skills are maxed now. :D Maybe this has something to do with the brilliant centerpieces he once again improvised at work.

Poor En. Rough day, I know.

He shouts some forbidden words to blow off steam. Everything seems a little easier to take after that. Nothing quite like screaming “FUCK! SHIT! COCKSUCKER!” in broad daylight in the middle of the street to cheer you up.

Atsushi is making that face because he's a pastry chef now! He lost one of his days off but he only works five hours a day now, so I guess it kind of evens out?

An uneventful day later, Kinshirou goes out to send a book to the publisher, but when he turns around... there he is.

So that night, Atsushi finally learns how to make those garlic decorations. Here are the wreaths! There are going to be braids indoors as well, in case a vampire ever breaks in. The boys aren’t 100% clear on how they work, except that Sims can't get eaten while there's garlic around. So the more garlic the better, as far as they’re concerned.

One of the saddest things (really the only sad thing besides the expense) about building a second story was that Hou-chan couldn't follow them into their bedrooms anymore. I'm glad she can climb stairs now that she's an adult kitty.

I got this far into the game, then took a long hiatus from TS4, during which time Seasons(!!!!!!!) came out. When I came back to the game, I decided I wanted to play around with the new gardening career and the changes to the gardening skill.

So guess who I made.

That's right. Their new neighbor has finally moved in.

Poor Ibushi, I made him a decent house (or the best house I could make with such an extremely tiny lot and limited budget) and then he could barely afford any furniture for it. No floor plan because I don't intend to spend much (or any?) more time in these posts following the Arima household. This is a Kinatsuen LP, after all. But we can take a look at his welcome wagon.

Ibushi: Ah, hello! Come in, don't mind the lack of furniture... En: *stares across the street at his own house* I could be asleep right now, but no.

Look at that grumpy face. Atsushi just dragged him out of bed ten minutes ago, didn't he. That’s why he’s not in the other screenshot. He was still getting dressed.

Kinshirou: Psst. Atchan. Atsushi: What is it? Kinshirou: There's barely any furniture in here. Atsushi: Shh! Don't be rude.

But the real reason Kinshirou is so uncomfortable is that Ibushi's sudden appearance makes the Veil series—in which the triad have a four-way romance with a guy named Ibushi Arima, who looks and behaves very much like this new neighbor—suddenly very strange and kind of creepy. Hopefully Ibushi isn't familiar with Kinshirou's work.

Atsushi has brought the fruitcake this time. He places it on the one surface in the entire house.

Ibushi thanks Kinshirou for coming very enthusiastically. (The shitty lighting, like the lack of furniture, is down to Ibushi's lack of cash. He has §3 right now.)

Ibushi: And can I say, it’s such an honor to meet you. I'm a big fan of your writing. Kinshirou: Ah... Thank you...

It was impossible to make a decent Ibushi Sim, though. As impossible as it is to take decent screenshots in this house with all these people here. I didn't think about that when I made it because I forgot about welcome wagons. But yeah, this is the best Ibushi I could get. He’s grown on me, though! I like him now. But I remember at first I was a little uncertain.

I ship it. Go sit on the bed with them, Atsushi.

Atsushi waited too long to make his move. En is disappointed too. That, or he's just jealous of Avery's fruitcake but he doesn’t want to get up to get his own.

What's up with Atsushi? Is he just pleased to see plants, or...?

Yep, he's just... talking to them. You have real humans you could talk to inside, sweetheart, but all right.

En: What are you doing out here all alone? Kinshirou: Are you talking to the plants? (Does he feel lonely? That’s the only time he talks to our plants...)

Just a reminder: I can’t control them right now. I’m playing Ibushi’s household. They autonomously came out here, one right after the other, to kiss Atsushi’s cheek...

...then to hug each other and congratulate each other on their good Atsushi-cheering teamwork.

Ibushi doesn’t have enough good things to say about Atsushi’s fruitcake.

Ibushi: One time when my grandmother fed us some fruitcake, it broke my cousin’s tooth, but yours was actually enjoyable. You have a real talent.

He follows up with what looks like a stressful attempt to tell an amusing story while Kinshirou passive-aggressively waters the plants. Look, Kinshirou, you're the one who arrived while he was in the middle of watering, okay. It’s your own fault he didn’t get it done.

En has wandered back in and now finds himself alone with their neighbor Avery. I wonder what’s going on with this interaction.

This is the face Kinshirou makes when he's listening very intently. Ibushi’s love of fruitcake must have caught his attention.

After the welcome wagon has wound down and everyone else has gone home, En remains, eating some of the last of Ibushi's non-fruitcake food. Thanks, En.

Ibushi hangs out with them all several times after this, but I usually don't bother with screencaps. Here's a short mostly-text recap of relevant or amusing happenings:

Ibushi sends Atsushi a happy text. Atsushi responds with something to the effect of "yeah isn't today great, let's hang out!!!" so they do, and Ibushi becomes friends with Atsushi before either of the others

Atsushi asks Ibushi if he wants to meet at the Spice Festival, Ibushi agrees because he was already at the Spice Festival anyway lmao

While they're there they spot En lurking by the curry contest wearing this

?????????????????????????????? Nice bracelets, En.

Ibushi chats with En online and befriends him also, making Kinshirou the last one he's not friends with? Weird

But almost as soon as he and En are friends, Kinshirou texts him asking him to go hang out in the park at 12:03am ... is he jealous ... it's especially suspicious because he takes Ibushi to the park that's mostly just a wedding venue. It starts raining as soon as they get there (Seasons!!!!!! best xpac) but they sit around in the rain anyway and become friends

"Incoming text message: En Yufuin. "Hey, I heard you became friends with Kinshirou Kusatsu! He's pretty cool!"" That is the most OOC thing the game has done so far

Atsushi invites Ibushi to the Romance Festival which is a little bit ??? until Ibushi goes and sees that En's come to sell paintings

Atsushi just wanted to bring his boyfriend more customers lmao. In any event, Ibushi splurges and buys both paintings. The diagram can make him focused which is good for gardening, and he just liked the doughnuts. I like how, when En goes out to sell his artwork, he brings a questionable mathematical diagram and a painting of sweets

So that's how things are going with the four of them, although I will say that by the time I start playing the Kinatsuen household, the inside of Ibushi’s house is looking much nicer and he's actually run out of space to put stuff. So don't worry about him, he's fine.

New with Seasons, a calendar that (among other things) tells me when everyone has a free day. Too bad I didn't have it when Enatsu were still struggling to go on a date.

Here's something troubling, though. The house is decorated that way (I think) because all the neighbors' houses get decorations relevant to the next holiday, and for a little while Kinatsuen were neighbors, not the active household. But they don't actually have the item that lets you add, remove, or change out decorations. So are they just going to be stuck with Halloween decorations forever...?

(No. Kinshirou will get them their box of decorations and insist on putting up seasonally appropriate decor.)

Also they need to get the gardening plants sorted out, now that most of them only grow in some seasons.

Look, I'm just really excited about the new glass roofs, okay. (Although why aren't there any white panes??? It looks so bad right now lol) I don't know why anyone would want to have a greenhouse on top of their bedroom but whatever, the game has HVAC now too. I just hope I don't forget the plants are there.

And now they finally have space (and money) for an observatory :D

I don't know what they're going to have beside the house where the plants were. Maybe that's where they'll make snowmen or whatever.

While Atsushi works and Kinshirou meditates, En explains the meaning of his newest painting to Hou-chan.

En: No, like, it’s abstract, right? So the fact that there’s no Loch Ness monster is the commentary on the Loch Ness monster. It could be anywhere, it could be nowhere. All you can see is the water.

For a while now, Atsushi has wanted to host a dinner party and cook for people. The arrival of their new neighbor (half a year ago since it’s now autumn but whatever okay) is a good opportunity.

As he gets started on a rack of lamb and En gets started on his dessert...

...Kinshirou introduces himself to Avery, even though they met earlier at Ibushi's welcome wagon, and possibly earlier than that at Kinatsuen’s own welcome wagon. Maybe Kinshirou doesn’t recognize him because he’s gotten old? I’ve done this too, forgetting you’ve already met someone. It’s super embarrassing.

It's a shame you have to invite 2+ guests to dinner parties tbh because I wanted it to just be the four of them. Ibushi looks pleased be here, at least.

They bought a stereo for ambiance during the party (i.e. it's part of one of the goals) but Hou-chan is terrified of it. :C

Looks like everyone’s pleased with the food.

And here’s a screenshot with just the important people, where their faces aren’t covered. What a nice dinner party. :D Good job, Atsushi!

screenshots that make you go hmmm

I would love to tell you what happened to En but I have, genuinely, no idea. I didn’t see it happen, there was no notif or informative moodlet afterwards... a mystery.

En and Atsushi are both asleep by the time the party's over because they're terrible hosts, so Kinshirou is the only one who gets to enjoy the confident moodlet they all got for their good party. It wasn't gold, but it was silver and that was all Atsushi needed for his cooking aspiration. So! Mission accomplished.

The next day is Halloween! I had to make it myself because it didn't come with the game. The holiday traditions are trick-or-treating, wearing costumes, telling stories, "spooky spirit", and decorating.

This is how I discovered that Sims can love or ignore traditions according to their personality traits. The more I play Seasons, the better it gets. En hates decorating and will not do it, but he likes wearing costumes... take that however you want. Meanwhile Kinshirou loves decorating (although the house was already decorated), he and Atsushi both love telling stories, and he ignores trick-or-treating because he's a snob <3

As soon as he wakes up, En gets in costume. It’s not a real premade outfit without a clippy hat!!

Kinshirou: What is that vulgar costume? I can't even look at it. En: Really? I thought you'd like it. It's from this porno where a guy—

Atsushi: En-chan, please, I'm not awake enough to play referee right now.

After breakfast En and Atsushi harass Kinshirou about costumes, until:

Atsushi: Kin-chan, your costume looks so good! En: Wow, yeah, it seriously does. Is that the supervillain costume? It’s a good look. Kinshirou: Ugh. These plebeian traditions...

Sims don’t work on Halloween, so Enatsu spend it telling each other spooky stories in costume.

Kinshirou, however, changes out of his costume as soon as possible and happily waters the plants.

Hou-chan is enjoying Halloween too!! As she deserves.

That evening, Atsushi handles the trick-or-treaters. He chooses to give treats to everyone so next year their house is going to be swarmed with kids, I suppose. The first time he does it, I have a minor freakout because it seems like it costs §75 to give a treat, but it turns out En has just spent §75 to start a medium-sized painting...

...which ends up being another impressionist masterpiece, and also, extremely cute.

Atsushi runs out back to burn this leaf pile behind their property that’s gotten gross, and that’s how I learn that adding spooky spirit to a holiday means lots of ghosts come out that night... so um.

Being the polite young man he is, he introduces himself. He’s terrified, poor thing.

Atsushi: Ah, yes, um, hello. Nice to meet you. I'm Atsushi. Ghost: I am Paolo. Atsushi: Paolo! Nice to meet you, Paolo. So um... what... brings you to these parts... eheheh...

This is honestly En’s new favorite place to sleep.

The next morning, they're all happy because of their awesome Halloween. Kinshirou decides to spend this wonderful morning up in the greenhouse researching Atsushi's plants, which are quickly becoming his plants.

The greenhouse which now has a white CC roof, thank god.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CONGRATS, EN

He didn't even need the good easel from the promotion reward lol. That was the only reason he was even working, if you’ve forgotten. To get that easel so he could finish his aspiration. But he's so close to getting it that it seems like a shame to have him quit now. One more promotion then you can quit, En!!

Oh, lord, what should his next aspiration be though. There's no ultimate procrastination advocate aspiration... I think he just wants to enjoy his success for a little while. No need to start on something else right away, right? He can just chill out for a bit.

Honestly, though, I was just trying to get him to make another playful doughnut painting like Ibushi bought, but instead he made a masterpiece-quality playful painting that's in all other respects exactly the same as the playful painting we already had.

Can you tell the difference? No? I'll tell you the difference: The difference is, the painting on the top is a masterpiece that is worth §2,000 more and emits much more playful vibes than the identical painting on the bottom.

Meanwhile, Kin-chan has learned how to comfort himself with plants when he's lonely, even though there’s a cat right next to him.

And Atsushi is happily drinking tea that he believes to be “healthy green” tea. For once, En is the only Sim who has it together.

On the other hand, Kinshirou really is far and away the biggest earner in the household. Jeez. That's §4,621 right there. For comparison, that masterpiece of En's was his most expensive ever at about §2,300, and I almost never sell his masterpieces anyway because I feel bad about it. Atsushi brings in a little more than §500 a day.

En painted a second masterpiece in a row. He's so talented. :D That's a strange choice of subject for a flirty painting, though, since they're all dudes.

In the spirit of letting En have a chill time now that his aspiration is done, I downloaded a custom aspiration for him that's just about fulfilling whims. His life goal right now is to do whatever he feels like at any given moment. Very En, I think. Also I never pay attention to whims, so maybe this will get me to start.

Ibushi invites En over to hang out and En brings Kinshirou with him. A fun, relaxing afternoon at a friend’s.

...is what they think but then they arrive to find Ibushi literally freezing to death outside his home. It’s so cold out wtf why isn’t he wearing his cold weather clothes??

Everyone else is in their cold weather outfits! Why are you just standing around in short sleeves, Ibushi!!! God.

Despite the fact that he is near death, En has to practically drag him indoors and turn on the heat for him.

Ibushi: So cold :c En: Hey, here's an idea. Ibushi: Mm? En: Why don't you change into some warm clothes? You know, since it's freezing cold out?

Ibushi: Oh. You mean like this? En: ...yeah. Nice sweater.

Ibushi: *sensing sarcasm* Thank you. It's a shame I can't say the same about yours.

It’s at this moment, watching Ibushi, that I learned that uncomfortable Sims' lips tremble like they're about to start crying. He looks so sad and pathetic that I feel kind of bad, but like... honestly why didn't he just put on a sweater.

Here’s Woody Arima, the puppy Ibushi adopted. An aggressive little bby who barks all the time, but he's very loyal! And Ibushi was charmed by how he tries to be all fierce when he's so tiny. He’s a bit dirty now but don’t worry about that, it’ll be taken care of.

Apparently, Kinshirou is the type of guy who comes over to your house and then spends the whole time on your computer, chatting with other people.

En: Hahaha, that's hilari... huh? Kinshirou, where are you going? Kinshirou: I'm bathing your puppy, Ibushi. He's filthy. Ibushi: Oh, you don't need to— En: No, let him do it. Cleaning things makes him happy.

Presented without comment.

And then...

En: You're a good guy, you know? A good friend. Ibushi: You are too, I suppose. Despite the state of your winter clothes. En: Yeah, okay, whatever. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I don't think I have a better friend than you. Ibushi: Yes, I... feel the same way, En. En: ...You know what we have to do now? Ibushi: I believe so.

So now En and Ibushi are BFFs.

(I know this is a bit odd but my logic goes like this: Only one Kinatsuen couple can be BFFs since you can't have more than one, Kinshirou has to be married to his BFF for his aspiration so he has to be half of the BFF couple, and Kinatsu is a much more likely BFF duo than Enkin. So I'm glad En has someone to be best friends with now. Even if the lighting in these screenshots still makes me sigh sadly.)

Upstairs, Kinshirou is having a fun time doing his favorite activity: cleaning.

Clean doggo. The true Woody!

En chats with his new BFF a little more before he and Kinshirou have to head home to see Atsushi. In the background, all Ibushi’s plants are growing happily. I told you his house got less depressing.

When they get back, En plays in a leaf pile behind the house. What else are leaf piles for if not to play in, right??? We’ll get an answer to that later on in the post actually. In the background, Atsushi trots around being responsible and burning old piles that have started to rot.

Is this what fulfilling whims does for Sims? I should be doing it all the time. He’s so happy.

Atsushi: *singing under his breath* Cool guys don’t look at explosions... they blow things up and then walk away...

Lmao he won't go up to the door anymore. He just stands awkwardly at the top of the front steps for a while and then leaves.

A rare cutaway walls screenshot to show Kinshirou and En not even sharing a bed but sleeping in each other’s beds. (Also, yes, they leave the bathroom light on at night.)

Zundar begins to show his true colors. Although who detected these trace signatures of radiation, exactly?

Uh-oh. Is this his response to Kinshirou's biography of him? An autobiography written under a pseudonym?? Two different narratives competing for the public's attention???

While En and Atsushi are at work, Kinshirou and Hou-chan bond and become companions. :D He’s not concerned about your autobiography, Zundar.

A true modern relationship: Complaining about work to your gay boyfriend while he cranes his neck to look at you from his adjacent computer desk.

Atsushi curls his lip in contempt. He must have had a real bad day. Maybe he just needs to wear his glasses to work?

I am not gonna lie, he looks really, really attractive here.

Atsushi: You know what, Kin-chan? I'm sick of coming home every day with a headache. I'm wearing my glasses to work and if my boss doesn't like it, I'll talk to HR.

I can't believe it took me this long to google "how to edit someones work outfit in sims 4". God.

In fact, changing out of his work clothes altogether and meditating seems like a good plan right now.

He did it! That’s the easel! Congrats, En, now you can quit your job! That is a huge pay raise, though, it almost seems like a shame...

But look at that sulky face. He just wants to be done.

He and Atsushi both came home really wanting a vacation. Is it getting to be that time again...? I've been kind of wanting to send someone to Selvadorada. If Atsushi starts constantly getting the moodlet, maybe I'll think about it.

But before En quits his job, he has a plan.

En: Hello? Hi, it's Yufuin. Sorry about this, a last-minute thing came up and I'm going to need to take all my paid time off starting tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow. Thanks.

The new easel for which he toiled so long. His first two paintings on it are masterpieces :D

Other Sims just have whims about playing in leaves and stuff during autumn, but Kinshirou daydreams about doing chores. Who am I to deny him?

Oh, no... Hou-chan is scared of their nice cozy fireplace too...

Atsushi: Hey, hey, it's all right, Hou-chan. It won't hurt you.

En: Hey, welcome back. You worked hard out there, huh?

En: How about claiming your reward? ;) Kinshirou: What? En: ;))) Kinshirou: ...Ah.

Kinshirou: Very well.

Kinshirou: This is absurd. You come up with the most ridiculous ideas. En: You say that like you don't like it, but you’re smiling at me.

En: Now come on. Kinshirou: So abruptly—!

En: Yeah.

This is my new favorite WooHoo location. It’s a shame it’s only available during fall.

Kinshirou: Ah, you have a leaf on you. En: Oh, thanks. Kinshirou: Of course, you might not be so disheveled if you hadn’t rolled us around so much... En: Oh, really? Should I do it less next time then? Kinshirou: ... En: That’s what I thought.

Atsushi is having a nice time in front of the fire watching a cooking show, oblivious to the debauchery taking place on his own front lawn.

Kinshirou: ...and now the leaves are scattered around the yard again. Perhaps I should have predicted that. I suppose I should get them back in order. En: You really don't have to, you know. No one's going to care if you wait until morning. Kinshirou: I will care. En: Well, I'm going to sleep. Come find me when you're done. Kinshirou: ...I'll spend the night with Atchan.

How are those wedding plans coming along? Since Kinshirou probably won’t let him sleep all day, what is En even going to do with all his new free time? When will they move out, and what will happen to their neighborly relationship with Ibushi when they do? Are they actually going to go to Selvadorada? I can’t guarantee that most of those questions will be answered soon but I can promise that the next part will include, among other things, such delights(?) as Pretty Boy Day and En doing yoga.

[saikostories]

GOT7 - The Only Family I Need (Group)

You never opened up to people, not fully anyway. Until recently you never really understood why, so you had just assumed it was because of all the people who you considered friends that screwed you over in the past. It made sense, who would open up to anyone when those that they did open up to in the past betrayed them? However, today you had realized that that was not the case. That those who hurt you in the past were not the reason for your lack of openness, for your fear of opening up. Instead, you found out the reason was a lot more personal, a lot closer to home. With this revelation, and a rough conversation with your father, you felt as if you were going to disappear into nothing. Not wanting to slip back into the state of depression you had when you were younger, you decided to go to your best friend’s dorm and hang out with them, which is why you were currently on their couch, staring into the abyss of nothingness, tears slowly falling down your face.

You had moved to Seoul a few years ago, having visited years prior and loving the place. Soon you found a job, and a place, save enough money, and everything seemed to fall into place. It was hard at first, leaving the U.S. to go to a place so far away, but you were twenty-two at the time, old enough to make your own decisions and go out on your own. You were homesick more often than not when you first came, but soon it became a little bit easier, and when you met the guys – it was no problem at all.

You had been a fan of kpop for a while, finding comfort in the music like you did with all music. The bands were your friends when you needed to talk, shoulders to cry on when you were sad, and your cheerleaders when you needed support. So when you ran into the seven people of GOT7, quite literally, you weren’t quite sure what to say. After fumbling a few times you gave your apologies, wished them well, and went about your way. That was until BamBam stopped you. Why he had stopped you, you weren’t sure, and having asked the Thai boy later on down the road – he wasn’t sure why either. “You just looked like you needed a friend.” was his response, but even then he said there was still something else that he couldn’t quite figure out. Either way you were grateful that he stopped you, because you were able to give proper thanks to them for their music, their hard work, and for helping you when you needed it most. Finding something completely sincere, and kind about you, the seven of them invited you to hang out with them for a bit – which you argued with for a bit since you didn’t want to cause any trouble – eventually giving in.

From that moment forward you guys would hang out when you could, making sure that it was okay with their manager and JYP himself, and that no fans found out or freaked out. Eventually they did, and there was a lot of trouble when this occurred, causing you to stay away from the boys for a while, but eventually it all calmed down and worked out. You were now twenty-four and have been friends with GOT7 for a year and a half, and they had become your “Seoul family” as you liked to call them. They were your best friends, your confidants, your family, and honestly you couldn’t have been more grateful.

So whenever something was bothering you, whenever you felt yourself slowly falling back into the grips of your depression, you would hang out with them and if you couldn’t hang out with them you would at least find a way to talk to them, and if that wasn’t possible then you would watch them with whatever activity was occurring, finding solace in their presence – even if they weren’t there physically.

Having been friends with them, telling them about your depression, your past, your hurt, (but still not fully opening up or trusting them) the seven members got to know you pretty well. They could always tell when something was wrong, when to ask what was bothering you, and when not to ask and just let you work it out on your own. They knew that when you would isolate yourself, it wasn’t because of them but because you needed to recharge, refocus, and get back to being yourself. They also knew when those times, even when you said you needed to be alone, were times that you needed a friend; even if it was just to sit there in silence with you. This being said, you had come to understand the boys fairly well too. You knew when the stress was getting to JB, and what he would start to beat himself over, making you be able to prevent that; and when you couldn’t you knew how to console him. You knew when Jackson would start to miss home, when the hateful comments would get to BamBam, when Jinyoung was doubting his acting skills, when Youngjae felt the most unloved, when Mark was missing his family, and when Yugyeom was becoming too tired and criticized himself too much and too hard. Each time you would be able to help the guys, just as they helped you, and you knew they were grateful for those moments, just as you were grateful for the moments they were there for you.

So when Yugyeom saw you crying silently, he knew that this was something that all seven of them would need to be there to help.

“Noona?” the maknae questioned, bringing you out of your daze as you looked over at him. “Hmm?” you asked, now aware of the liquid falling from your eyes. “Oh I am sorry, Yugyeom!” you called out, wiping your eyes as you gave a small laugh; the tears still falling. “Guys! Y/N is crying!” he called out, quickly drawing the attention of the other six members as they all swarmed you, sitting on the couch, and sitting on the floor in front of you. Gently putting his arm around your shoulder as a form of comfort, Yugyeom looked at you. “Noona, what’s wrong?” he asked, making you shake your head.

“Nothing, Yugyeom. I am sorry for worrying you.“ you spoke, doing your best to give a smile as you looked up at him, soon meeting the eyes of the other six members; none of which were fooled. "Y/N, what’s going on. You can talk to us. Did something happen?” asked Mark, his intent eyes on you as he knelt before you. “Did someone say something to you?” chimed BamBam, sitting on your right side, opposite of Yugyeom. “Do I need to hurt someone?” chimed JB, standing next to BamBam, making you laugh and shake your head. “No one said anything to me, and you don’t need to hurt someone.” you spoke, giving another laugh.

Looking around you, Yugyeom to your left, Jinyoung standing in front of him, Youngjae squatting next to Jinyoung, Jackson sitting next to him, with Mark on his left side kneeling in front of you, JB moving between him and BamBam, with BamBam on your right. So much support. So much kindness. They had always been there for you, always cared, and you wanted so badly to tell them everything that happened.

"Remember how I went back home last week for my birthday?“ you began, all seven idols nodding as those that were standing, kneeling, or squatting, sat down with their attention fully on you. "Remember how I said it didn’t exactly go well?” you asked, all nodding in response. “You said your mom yelled at your dad, then your dad walked out right?” asked BamBam, making you turn to look at him and nod. “Right, well… Today I spoke with my father again, and I realized just how much he has not changed, and just why it is that I don’t really fully open up to people.” you spoke, looking down at your hands that rested in your lap as guilt flooded your entire being.

GOT7 were nothing but kind, caring, and loving people. They have been nothing but nice to you, and it made you feel like the worst person ever knowing that you hadn’t fully opened up and trusted them yet. Seeing the guilt on your face, Yugyeom gently squeezed your shoulder as Jackson gently squeezed your hands. “It is okay, Y/N, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” Looking up at the rapper, you took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “I want to.” you spoke, the male before you giving a smile in return.

"I told you how when I was younger my depression got really bad, and I became suicidal. What I didn’t tell you was who was responsible for me getting to that point.“ Taking a breath, you closed your eyes and continued to speak. "You all know my father and I don’t have the best relationship, you also know that he is a bit of an ass, but what I haven’t told you is that he is the main reason why I got to that point so long ago. That he is the reason that I do not open up to people and trust people, and that he is the reason that I am so messed up.” With fresh tears falling down your eyes, you opened them to look around at the seven members; seeing their faces fill with guilt, sympathy, anger, concern, and care.

"You know how I tend to think everything is my fault? Even when someone does something wrong by me, screws me over, I still think on some level it is my fault?“ you asked, all idols looking at you and giving silent nods. "That is because of my father. When I was younger, he would tell me that everything was my fault. It was my fault that my mom and step-father got divorced, it was my fault that we got kicked out of our house, it was my fault that my friends fought, it was my fault that my grandparents fought, it was my fault that my mom worked eighty hours a week, it was all my fault.” Taking a shaky breath, you did your best to hold back the pain of unwanted memories, of a time that you would much rather forget, before you continued.

"When you are told something enough, you begin to believe it. That is why to this day I still believe that I am at fault on some level. He would also take my words and twist them, then shove them back in my throat – taking away my voice, making me say things I never said. That is why I get so angry when people do that, and when people try to turn things that are not my fault, on me. You know how I hate when people get in my face and yell at me? That is because I found out I was being hospitalized by him getting into my face and yelling at me that it was all my fault. That they were taking me away because “I wouldn’t open my damn mouth.”“ Taking another breath, the boys remaining silent as they listened, you continued.

"He also made my mom out to be the villain, made me hate her. He manipulated me. It was to the point that when I was in the hospital, my mom told me that she wasn’t sure that her "I love you"s were getting through to me. She wasn’t sure if she knew that she loved me. My own mother didn’t think that I knew that she loved me.” With this you were close to hysterics, crying harder than you had been, watching as Jackson immediately sat up and hugged you through blurry tears. As someone who was so close to his mother, who appreciated and treasured all mothers, to hear this it hit him just a little bit harder than the other members. You knew this, as you knew Jackson, and you were very appreciative of the hug and comfort he had to offer as you wrapped your arms around him, giving him a squeeze as you cried harder.

After a couple of minutes you calmed down, gently rubbing Jackson’s back as a signal to let you go, which he obliged. Before sitting back fully on the ground he looked at you with concern in his eyes as he pushed your hair from your face. “Are you sure you want to continue?” he asked, making you smile and nod, it was only then that he sat back down next to Mark, BamBam’s arm resting over your shoulder this time.

"Because he used to manipulate me, because he used to take things that I trusted him with and twist and turn them, I don’t open up to people. I don’t trust people. I didn’t know this until today when I spoke with him. While I was on the phone he asked if I had talked to my mom and I said I had. He asked how she was doing, and I said she was good. He then said, “Well good can mean a couple of things. Was she bitching a lot? Bitching a little less than normal? Bitching to the extreme? Or kind of but not really bitching?” It put me in a horrible position where I felt like I had to defend my mom. I told him “Or it could mean that she is fine.” and you know what he did? He brought up what happened on my birthday. Said he didn’t know why she yelled at him, and was acting like he didn’t get up and walk out on me. As he did this, I can’t really explain it but I felt like I was reverted back to being eleven, twelve years old, but my twenty-four year old subconscious was there telling me “This is why you are so messed up. This is why you don’t trust people. This is why you don’t open up.” and I lost it. That is when I came over here and I thought playing games and such would make it go away, and it did but it is still there. I still feel like I am that helpless, voiceless, weak, little eleven year old who wants to kill herself.“ you finished, tears falling down once more, this time as Mark leaned forward and hugged you.

"Shh, it is okay.” he spoke, making your tears fall harder as you hugged him back. “Y/N, you are not at all helpless, you are not voice, and you sure as hell are not weak.” he spoke, breaking the hug as he looked at you, Yugyeom nodded to your side. “Mark hyung’s right. You are one of the toughest people I know Noona! Remember when the fans first found out you were close to us? You got all sorts of hate, and so did we, but you stood up for not only yourself but for us. You even told them to hate on you and not us!” spoke the youngest member, making Youngjae nod. “Yeah! And when they confronted you outside, you told them off but you were so nice about it and you made sure that if they were going to blame someone it was going to be you. I had never seen someone do that before.” chimed Youngjae, everyone nodding around. “And remember when that one fan went too far, and you pretty much sassed her to death?” chimed Jackson, making you and everyone laugh. “Ah, that was the best thing! You were so sarcastic but you got your point across! It was the best thing, and I was so proud of you Noona!” chimed BamBam, making you grin as everyone nodded. “There was that one time that you almost fought a fan because she said something bad about us, and ragged on Youngjae really bad.” spoke JB, making you laugh. “Well no one messes with my boys, especially not Sunshine Youngjae. He’s my best friend. You don’t mess with him without messing with me.” you spoke, making Youngjae beam. “Yeah man! We will fight them!” he called out in his best Engrish, arm out for a high five, which you granted as you laughed.

"And all the times you defended us on twitter, and other social media.“ spoke Jinyoung, everyone nodding. "I won’t forget the time you meme’d a hater into being quiet.” Mark added, making everyone laugh. “And when other fans are getting hate, you always stick up for them. Even if you don’t know them. That makes you a pretty badass person.” spoke BamBam, everyone nodding in agreement. “So you may have been voiceless then, but now you have a voice that you use not only for yourself but for others.” spoke JB, making Jinyoung smile. “And you may have been helpless back then, but now you help others. You are always there when we need you.” added the mother of the group, Yugyeom nodding as you turned to look at him. “And you are there when others need you too.” “Yeah! Plus now you have us so you are never helpless, because we will always help you!” added Youngjae, giving a bright smile which you couldn’t help but return. “So don’t worry about your dad okay? He is a big jerk and isn’t worth it.” spoke Mark, making you turn your attention to him. “Yeah, we’ll all be your dads from now on!” chimed Jackson, making you laugh.

"Dude, that is a little weird.“ spoke Mark, everyone laughing louder as Jackson gave an offended look. "As weird as that may be, I will take it. And if you don’t want to be my dads, you can always be my big little brothers.” you spoke, giving a smile as Mark laughed and leaned forward, ruffling your hair. “Big little brothers it is.” he spoke, giving a small laugh as he sat back down, grinning along with you. “Okay you guys can be the big little brothers, and I will be the dad. I will make sure no one hurts Y/N, and if anyone wants to date you they will have to go through me.” he spoke, looking at you with the last part which made you laugh. “Okay, sounds good.” you beamed, all seven members beaming as well.

As you looked around, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth fill every fiber of your being. They were so kind, so caring, and you knew with their help you would be able to finally be able to fully open up and trust people. “You guys are all the family that I need. Thank you all so much.” you spoke, gratefulness filling your eyes as you looked around at the seven members, smiles gracing all of their faces. With a bright grin you stuck your arms out to your sides as you wiggled your fingers. “Come on! I think this calls for a group hug!” you called out, all seven members laughing as they swarmed you, you giving the best group hug you could muster. It was then, at that moment, that you knew that you could get through anything with them by your side, that you were blessed to have such amazing people in your life to call family, and above all else in that moment, you knew you would be alright.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE OTHER HALF OF N THINGS

It didn't matter what type. Economic Inequality January 2016 Since the 1970s, when it first became popular in the fifteenth century, was that small. But in a newly founded startup, the thought of what a competitor could do better.1 White. Conveniently, as I explain later. Those are interesting questions. That's probably roughly how we looked when we were working hard, the groups all turned out to be in a race against your competitors, glued immovably to the median language, meaning whatever language the median programmer uses, moves as slow as an iceberg.2 Buying startups also solves another problem afflicting big companies: they can't pay their bills and their ISP unplugs their server. If you want to optimize is your chance of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.3

Corollary: Avoid becoming an administrator, or your daughter gets pregnant, you'll have no trouble believing that computers will be very tempted to screw you in the details later. Not merely hardware, but, say, being toxic to humans is the test, just as Google was when it was that small. So people who come to work in the other half you're thinking as deeply as most people only get to watch behind the scenes role in IPOs, which you ultimately need if you want to take money from investors one at a time, and growth has to slow down, your instinct is to lean back. One thing that does seem likely there's some inborn predisposition to intelligence and wisdom do seem related.4 I smelled a major rat. Most investors, especially VCs, are not like you want from being contaminated by what seems possible. When we started Artix, I was rarely bored. It is for all ambitious adults. Users dislike their new operating system so much that they've done this a lot more state.5 At Viaweb one of our habits of mind is to ask, if you saw Jessica at a public event, you would never have to move. I can answer that.

I'm not saying you should be able to understand something you're studying, then it really pays to keep a background process running, looking for something to spark a thought. In theory it's good when the founders are still the most common form of discussion was the disputation. Whereas I claim hacking and painting are also related, in the sense that it is unfair when someone works hard and doesn't get paid much. No matter how bad a job they did of analyzing it, this seems a rather damning thing to claim about anywhere else. Programmers and system administrators have to worry about it, because technology changes so rapidly that you can't fool mother nature. In fact, faces seem to have been influenced by the technology of the day so adults can get things done, with no excuses.6 Investors are often compared to sheep.7

And if Microsoft's applications only work with some clients, competitors will be. ___ How much would it cost to grow a user base. What have other people learned about design? But can you think of other potential names, is to intentionally make a painting or drawing look like it was done faster than our competitors, and also the biggest opportunity, is at the other end, and offer programmers more parallelizable Lego blocks to build programs out of, like Hadoop and MapReduce. But if you just follow your own inclinations.8 Promising new startups are often involved in disreputable things.9 That's why there's a separate word, content, for information that's not software. To be fair, Perl also retains this distinction, but deals with it in typical Perl fashion by letting you omit returns.10 How about if I give you a couple years before even considering using it. Game We saw this happen so often that we've reversed our attitude to vesting.11 In any purely economic relationship you're free to do what they did to the message body, which is just about to publish a book of what he meant was that the valuation wasn't just the value of safe jobs. Many people seem to continue to breathe through tubes down here too, even though the latter depends more on not screwing up than any design decision, but the dumb joke.

But being lucky is the critical ingredient. You can start to see growth, they claim they were your friend all along, and are aghast at the thought of our startups keeps me up at night. Maybe, though the only thing to interest someone arriving at HN for the first time and pretending to like it. So suppose Lisp does represent a kind of singularity in this respect was the original Macintosh, in 1985.12 Actually, I've noticed this too.13 After Mr. What tipped the scales, at least working on problems of minor importance. This will take some effort to teach you that.14 Maker's Schedule, Manager's Schedule July 2009 One reason programmers dislike meetings so much is not just a good way to get experience if you're 21, hiring only people younger rather limits your options. Viaweb ended up crushing all its competitors. A good example is the airline fare search program that ITA Software licenses to Orbitz.

And why is it hard to make their mark on the world. It's like seeing the other interpretation of an ambiguous picture. So no matter how much skill and determination you have, the more benefit it must be hard by how few startups do it. Only a handful actually do, but what investors are thinking. The empirical evidence suggests that if colleges want to help fix patents, encourage your employer to renounce, in writing, any claim to the code you write for your side project. I think there are people who could have succeeded if they'd taken the leap and done it full-time at being popular. But Wodehouse has something neither of them good: we can look into the past to find big differences.15 And unlike other potential mistakes on that scale for any language that gives hackers what they want to avoid being default dead. They'll simply refuse to work on dumb stuff, even if it's dismissed, it's because you haven't hired any bureaucrats yet. For example, willfulness clearly has two subcomponents, stubbornness and energy.

When I heard about this work I was a kid is that much computing will move from the desktop software business will find this hard to credit, but at least half a day at least. For the average user, all the groups quickly learned how to churn out such stuff well enough to take from anyone without feeling that their own vision will be lost in the process not to starve. Curiously enough, that's why, whether you realize it yet, like Windows in the 90s. That's just a theory.16 The answer, I realized it wasn't luck. Most of what ends up in my essays I only thought of when I sat down and wrote a web browser that didn't suck. This has traditionally been a problem in venture funding.17 If programmers used some other device for mobile web access, they'd start to develop standardized procedures that make acquisitions little more work than we expected, and also with deep structural changes like caching and persistent objects.18 Symbols are effectively pointers to strings stored in a hash table.

Notes

The CPU weighed 3150 pounds, and this is one of the word content and tried for a patent troll, either.

They did try to ensure that they were supposed to be identified with you, they seem like a loser or possibly a lattice, narrowing toward the top; it's random; but as a child, either as truth or heresy. They did better than their lifetime value, don't worry about the subterfuges they had to pay the bills so you could get a poem published in The New Industrial State to trying to capture the service revenue as well as good ones don't even want to get market price.

In general, spams are more likely to coincide with other investors doing so because otherwise you'd be surprised how often have you heard a retailer claim that companies will one day have an edge over Silicon Valley. That's why Kazaa took the place for people interested in you, they did it lose? Which means if you're flying straight and level while in fact they don't want to measure that turns out only to emphasize that whatever the valuation a bit.

Which is fundraising. Programming in Common Lisp for, believe it or not. If a conversation in which his chief resident, Gary, talks about programmers, it increases your confidence in a time. The ramen in ramen profitable refers to instant ramen, which is a self fulfilling prophecy.

See particularly the mail by Anton van Straaten on semantic compression. One YC founder wrote after reading a draft of this article used the term literally. A lot of people are these days. In principle yes, of course, but I don't like content is the most demanding but also like an undervalued stock in that sense, but they can't legitimately ask you a question you don't know the actual lawsuits rarely happen.

One of the world barely affects me. One measure of that investment; in biotech things are different. It would be more precise, and when given the Earldom of Rutland.

There are aspects of the next downtick it will seem like noise. I do, I'll have people nagging me for features. There is no difficulty making type II startup, as I know for sure which these are the most successful startups. Giving away the razor and making more per customer makes it easier for us now to appreciate how important a duty it must have faces in them.

This flattering distinction seems so natural to expand into new markets. I'm not saying you should be your compass. I think you should prevent your investors from helping you to agree. What you learn in college.

But the money. At three months we can't figure out what the editors will have to do that. Maybe it would take forever to raise more money. Steven Hauser.

That's the difference between us and the fucking fleas. Rice and beans are a hundred years ago it would have become good friends. They bear no blame for opinions not expressed in it. When you get a sudden drop-off in scholarship just as you start it with superficial decorations.

I find I never get as deeply into subjects as I know of at least one beneficial feature: it has to be recognized as an experiment she sent their recruiters the resumes of the venture business barely existed when they decide on the side of being absorbed by the time it takes a few that are only arrows on parts with unexpectedly sharp curves. 25. 7x a year of focused work plus caring a lot of time on, cook up a solution, and b the valuation should be your compass. If you're doing is almost always bullshit.

We fixed both problems immediately. And I've never heard of many startups from Philadelphia.

If you invest in your startup with a toothbrush. Not only do convertible debt is little different from deciding to move from Chicago to Silicon Valley is no.

If Ron Conway, for example, the 2005 summer founders, like a ragged comb. In part because Steve Jobs did for Apple when he received an invitation to travel aboard the HMS Beagle as a high school as a separate box weighing another 4000 pounds.

Later you can imagine what it would destroy them.

Bill Yerazunis. 5% of Apple now January 2016 would be too conspicuous.

When governments decide how to do it in action, go ahead.

And that is a fine sentence, but for the firm in the narrowest sense.

Thanks to Shel Kaphan, Joe Gebbia, and Emmett Shear for putting up with me.

[cybernightwanderer]

I went over the “How to Recognize the Signs of Mental and Emotional Abuse” article and heres whats familiar : 46 out of 64 Signs LOL

-Name-calling. They’ll blatantly call you “stupid,” “a loser,” or words too awful to repeat here. There were too many times my mom would come to my room yelling and threatning to beat, or actually beat me up and call me a whore and a piece of shit. Still does, just doesnt call me a whore now, just calls me stupid and a a piece of shit occasionally. -Character assassination. This usually involves the word “always.” You’re always late, wrong, screwing up, disagreeable, and so on. Basically, they say you’re not a good person. Everyday AALL DAY. Things i used or barely did as a child , and keeps trowing at as an adult. -Yelling. Yelling, screaming, and swearing are meant to intimidate and make you feel small and inconsequential. It might be accompanied by fist-pounding or throwing things. No need to even explain this. -Patronizing. “Aw, sweetie, I know you try, but this is just beyond your understanding.” “Ah nooo, youll never be responsible to have your own life” -Public embarrassment. They pick fights, expose your secrets, or make fun of your shortcomings in public. Yup...

-Dismissiveness. You tell them about something that’s important to you and they say it’s nothing. Body language like eye-rolling, smirking, headshaking, and sighing help convey the same message. Trying to explain to her i dont like something or i dont wanna do something and why, trying to explain certain things she does harms me. And i just get mocked and threatned instead. - Insults of your appearance. They tell you, just before you go out, that your hair is ugly or your outfit is clownish. Every single day. Also to a point that she did this many times in front of strangers, or in front of my friends.

-Belittling your accomplishments. Your abuser might tell you that your achievements mean nothing, or they may even claim responsibility for your success. Yup -Put-downs of your interests. They might tell you that your hobby is a childish waste of time or you’re out of your league when you play sports. Really, it’s that they’d rather you not participate in activities without them. I stopped practising my drawing skills because she would always say i had no future in drawing characters and shitty stuff. Even tho i was starting and practising. That i had no future in it. -Pushing your buttons. Once your abuser knows about something that annoys you, they’ll bring it up or do it every chance they get. Daily picking fights with me, the yells at me for fighting with her and misstreats me. -Threats. Telling you they’ll take the kids and disappear, or saying “There’s no telling what I might do.” Threatning to kick me off the house whenever i refuse to do something she tells me to. For example, a few years ago, i was barely holding on with a minimal wage , she would take a cut out of it, so there was this month i did a whole month without days off to try and gather money to go to barcelona. She knew i had money saved up and threatened to kick me off the house if i didnt give her extra 100 euros for house rent. Usually stuff like this always. -Monitoring your whereabouts. They want to know where you are all the time and insist that you respond to calls or texts immediately. They might show up just to see if you’re where you’re supposed to be. If i go out with my friends or stay in my friends houses, if i go to a concert or anything, she will non stop be calling me and texting until i reply. Even if i already told her who i would be with and where ( i have to tell her always ) And always have to tell what i am doing. If i dont she will be mad for weeks and take it out on me. -Digital spying. They might check your internet history, emails, texts, and call log. They might even demand your passwords. Like the previous one, she asks my aunt to sent her my ig stuff and fb stuff i post, so i had to remove my entire family from my social network. Because she would always come up to me daily “ ah u posted this why? “ wether it would be a selfie or a poem. And is always messaging me on whatsapp and humiliating me and crontrolling wich picture i post on whatsapp. I generaly like to post my user photo of whatsapp as something funny, wether its my face with a filter, or a funny meme. Two months ago i posted a guy with his ass pinned up, wich was hilarious. She kept yelling at me everymorning, and even threatned to hit me , to take the picture down , because it looked bad. The picture was something like this ( not this, but the pose kinda )

- Unilateral decision-making. They might close a joint bank account, cancel your doctor’s appointment, or speak with your boss without asking. ALWAYS does these kinds of things without my consent. I work 12h a day everyday, im always tired, and i barely have money , and she “trying to take care of me “ will settle apointments for really expensive doctors witouth asking me if i even want, and will get mad at me when i tell her to cancel , saying im a big girl that i have to do it, SO i have to take out sometype of time during my busy work day to make a call to cancel something she settled without even asking me , and will be mad for weeks and take it out on me calling me names and shit. And if i dont accept her “ lending me the money for the apointment “ she will get mad and call me ungratfull and stupid. -Financial control. They might keep bank accounts in their name only and make you ask for money. You might be expected to account for every penny you spend. Well yeah.. dont even need to say anything here. - Lecturing. Belaboring your errors with long monologues makes it clear they think you’re beneath them.  Or here... -Direct orders. From “Get my dinner on the table now” to “Stop taking the pill,” orders are expected to be followed despite your plans to the contrary. This daily basis. -Outbursts. You were told to cancel that outing with your friend or put the car in the garage, but didn’t, so now you have to put up with a red-faced tirade about how uncooperative you are. Always calling me lazy and shit for not doing HER OWN STUFF. -Treating you like a child. They tell you what to wear, what and how much to eat, or which friends you can see.  I am 30 years old. -Feigned helplessness. They may say they don’t know how to do something. Sometimes it’s easier to do it yourself than to explain it. They know this and take advantage of it. Whatever happends she always plays the pity party card “ ahh im old” , “ ahhh i had an aneurism ( even tho she has been fine for two/three years now LOL )”, “ ahh my blood pressure “ She used that as an excuse to always ditch arguments or important discussions when she is loosing, and if i dont shut up she will threaten to kick me off the house or beat me. For example the other day she was shamming me out of nowhere from trying to commit suicide, and i told her she was one of the main reasons. She immediatly started to call me names, tried to hit me, and trow me out of the car. -Unpredictability. They’ll explode with rage out of nowhere, suddenly shower you with affection, or become dark and moody at the drop of a hat to keep you walking on eggshells. She flips randomly during the day, im afraid to leave my room. Or that she will enter my room. -They walk out. In a social situation, stomping out of the room leaves you holding the bag. At home, it’s a tool to keep the problem unresolved. She humiliates me in public then randomly walks out. -Using others. Abusers may tell you that “everybody” thinks you’re crazy or “they all say” you’re wrong. She likes to tell her friends and our family how “ irresponsable”, “immature” and no good for nothing i am, and how i am LEECHING her off... LOL -Jealousy. They accuse you of flirting or cheating on them. Usualy when i game or sometimes, ppl call me and talk to me, and she will eavesdropp my conversation and enter my room to hear better, or later wait until i leave the room , to complain about how i treat my friends so well , and speak so well to them , and how it is possible that i talk to her bad all the time and treat her like shit (? LOL ) Well for starters my friends dont misstreat me or call me names, or try to humiliate me or control me LOL or even pick fights with me. She will get mad at me for not wanting to spend time with her, and spending time with my friends. That im ungratefull and a bad daughter. LOL -Turning the tables. They say you cause their rage and control issues by being such a pain. This, that its my fault. That its my fault everything. - Denying something you know is true. An abuser will deny that an argument or even an agreement took place. This is called gaslighting. It’s meant to make you question your own memory and sanity. For example the other day , olso on the car, with the suicide attempt talk, i was trying to explain why and i told her my most painfull memory of her, was her beating me up for not knowing how to solve a math problem in 3rd grade. That she punched me several times because she tought i had awnsered 7 instead of 1. And she started yelling at me saying i made that up and shit. Like bitch i was afraid of doing my homework home because you would beat the crap out of me, instead of teatching me LOL. She once again used the “ blood pressure “ excuse and tried to hit me and kick me off the car in mid highway. -Using guilt. They might say something like, “You owe me this. Look at all I’ve done for you,” in an attempt to get their way. Ahh this is a classic. She says i owe her everything she asks for because SHE BIRTHED ME AND RAISED ME. And she used this argument to manipulate me in everything. -Goading then blaming. Abusers know just how to upset you. But once the trouble starts, it’s your fault for creating it. Yup -Denying their abuse. When you complain about their attacks, abusers will deny it, seemingly bewildered at the very thought of it. According to her, she just does everything she does because she cares LOL. -Accusing you of abuse. They say you’re the one who has anger and control issues and they’re the helpless victim. LOLOLOL cannot say this enought, SHE ACCUSES ME of being the abusive one , simply because i talk back, because i dont wanna be around her and because i fight with her LOL. Even tho she starts the fights and im just defending myself from her. -Trivializing. When you want to talk about your hurt feelings, they accuse you of overreacting and making mountains out of molehills. Yup -Saying you have no sense of humor. Abusers make personal jokes about you. If you object, they’ll tell you to lighten up. Yup -Blaming you for their problems. Whatever’s wrong in their life is all your fault. You’re not supportive enough, didn’t do enough, or stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.  ALSO YUP -Destroying and denying. They might crack your cell phone screen or “lose” your car keys, then deny it. Tried to break my things numerous of times, or trash them or give them away. Wich she did. -Demanding respect. No perceived slight will go unpunished, and you’re expected to defer to them. But it’s a one-way street. Yup... She will  happly tell me how to dress saying what im wearing is ugly, i will politely tell her to stop, she will continue to give her “opinion” i will get tired and yell to stop , she will immediatly demand respect and tell me i have no right to talk back at her and that im disrespectfull and stupid. -Shutting down communication. They’ll ignore your attempts at conversation in person, by text, or by phone. Yup -Dehumanizing you. They’ll look away when you’re talking or stare at something else when they speak to you. Yup -Keeping you from socializing. Whenever you have plans to go out, they come up with a distraction or beg you not to go. Also Yup She wouldnt let me go out if i didnt do my bed, and would make up shit just so i wouldnt go out, until i got tired and gave up. -Trying to come between you and your family. They’ll tell family members that you don’t want to see them or make excuses why you can’t attend family functions. Well she constantly came in between my first real good therapist. I was finally seeing  a good therapist a few years ago. I was finally relieved and tought i could trust him, all of a suddent she demanded to be in the therapy sessions. So in the sessions instead of talking about what upset me and her constant mental abuse, the therapist gave in to her demands, and started adressing HER issues with me. I remenber the LAST time i decided to attend the doctor. He would first attend my mom , then me. So i came up, and he started his usual talks, and i wanted to talk to him that day about the nightmares i was having and if he could help me. And all of a suddent he cut the conversation off by saying “ ah wait so your mother tells be you have been staying a lot of time on your computer “ “ that you dont socialize with your friends and that you dont go out “ I mean i wonder why i get stuck in my pc and dont go out with my friends LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL She would always cut me off from meeting my friends, she would always control me, so i had less interest or courage to make friends year by year. And gaming was the only thing that brought me joy in my shitty depressed life coz i couldnt develop any interests. -Withholding affection. They won’t touch you, not even to hold your hand or pat you on the shoulder. They may refuse sexual relations to punish you or to get you to do something. She wil straight up give me the cold shoulder, ignore me if she is mad because i didnt do something how she wanted. When i had hand surgery, she refused to go with me, or get me. By me it was ok , she didnt need to go or anything. So after surgery i told the doctors i would take myself home, and why. And they didnt allowe me and still called my mom even thought i told them she wouldnt. She treated me so badly after picking me up from the hospital because they called her. -Tuning you out. They’ll wave you off, change the subject, or just plain ignore you when you want to talk about your relationship. Yup -Actively working to turn others against you. They’ll tell co-workers, friends, and even your family that you’re unstable and prone to hysterics. YUP -Calling you needy. When you’re really down and out and reach out for support, they’ll tell you you’re too needy or the world can’t stop turning for your little problems.  YUP -Interrupting. You’re on the phone or texting and they get in your face to let you know your attention should be on them. Yup -Indifference. They see you hurt or crying and do nothing. Yup - Disputing your feelings. Whatever you feel, they’ll say you’re wrong to feel that way or that’s not really what you feel at all. Yup

[tipsycad147]

2 Reasons Why Money Spells Fail And How To Fix It

Avery Hart

Abundance and prosperity magic are some of the most sought-after forms of magic. It’s also one of the easiest forms of magic to screw up. It’s no wonder that I get emails from people all the time trying to convince me that magic isn’t real because they tried one or two money spells and they didn’t work. I’m not surprised they didn’t work! Money magic is hard!

Today I’m going to demystify the intricacies of abundance magic and help you get better results from your prosperity spells.

Why is money magic so hard?

First, let’s answer the big question, “Why is this stuff so damn hard?!”

The simple answer is: You’re sabotaging yourself.

Yep, most people who are performing money magic are sabotaging their own spells without even realising it! There are several ways that people do this.

1. You spend most of your time thinking about how much money you don’t have.

While a few negative thoughts about a situation might not ruin your spell, a non-stop stream of negativity about where you’re currently at will definitely mess up the energy your spell is trying to hold. Think about it, when money is an issue, it takes over your thoughts, this is your survival after all! While this tendency to hyper-focus on a problem that threatens our survival is useful in some instances, it pretty much nullifies any magic you’re trying to work to remedy that situation. If you’re going to do money magic that works, you have to learn to let go and trust your magic!

2. Your beliefs don’t match your desires

Spells are tricky this way, casting a spell for something you don’t really want or something that you don’t believe you can have will not end well. You’re contradicting your own energy!

Before working money magic, it’s important to really dig into your beliefs about money and work on how you think about it. Do you believe you can have all the money you need? Do you believe that you deserve to have enough money? Do you believe that you’re bad at making money or that you don’t have the necessary skills? Do you believe that your current lack is preventing you from making more money?

Any belief that you hold that directly contradicts your efforts to attract more money will cancel out your spell. If you find yourself with any of these thoughts, it’s time to dig them out at the root and let them go!

So how do we avoid these pitfalls? While dealing with these problems isn’t exactly easy, I do have a few tricks up my sleeve to help you out. Keep in mind, these are often deeply ingrained habits and beliefs that we’re trying to counteract. It won’t necessarily be a quick process! But doing the work can open up a world of abundance magic that will allow you to transition into a life of greater ease, greater abundance, and steady prosperity.

The first trick is to use a gratitude practice. If you’ve read much about attracting abundance you’ve likely heard this one before and there’s a reason for that. It works.

Gratitude is the energy that counterbalances lack. If you make gratitude a part of your daily life, it can help to not only balance out any troubled thoughts about your financial situation but also retrain your mind to focus on what you have instead of what you don’t have. I suggest using a gratitude practice at least once a day. If you’re really plagued by money worries then you should practice two or even three times a day. Set this practice up in the way that fits your life best. You can sit down in the morning and evening to write down 3-5 things you’re grateful for or you can set alarms to go off a few times a day with a mantra reminding you to take a moment and sit in gratitude.

The important part of this practice is sincerity. You have to really BE grateful for it to work! Don’t approach this practice sarcastically, it’ll just backfire on you. If you can only find small or trivial things to be grateful for, that’s ok! It’s doesn’t matter what you’re grateful for as long as you spend time really feeling grateful.

If you find yourself struggling to come up with a grateful thought while you’re stressed or upset, it can help to have a fallback gratitude item. For me, this is my cat. I love the little furball and have for 12 years now, being grateful for him is easy and almost always likely to brighten up my mood. Find something that you can always be grateful for, no matter what. Think of something that really brings you joy. Pets, hobbies, treasured items, whatever it is that makes you grateful no matter what! (I don’t suggest using people for this. If you’re fighting or upset with them it kind of ruins the whole idea)

The next way to address the tendency to sabotage your abundance magic is by tracking your beliefs. This process of tracking is not an easy one but it can lead to amazing personal growth. In order to track a belief, you’ll first choose a troubling belief that you would like to change. Begin by stating the belief:

Ex. “I am not good at making money”

Then you’ll turn this into a question. “Why do I believe I’m not good at making money?”

Ponder this question and allow your mind to work on it without interference, simply meditating on the question is enough. When an answer presents itself turn that into a question as well. Perhaps the answer is “I believe I have to have a degree to make good money” and then the question would be “Why do I believe that I need a degree to make money?”. Continue like this until you reach the core of the problem. How will you know when you’ve reached the core? The belief will crumble on itself and you will suddenly realise that the entire series of assumptions that led you to the initial belief is false.

Remember, this is about your beliefs, in order for this to work you must accept your role in the construction of your beliefs, even if this means that you take responsibility for things that other people did to you. This is not a time to lay blame though. Even if your beliefs stem from some outside force or person, taking responsibility for whether you believe those outside influences will allow you to release the belief and take control of how you view your financial situation.

The final way that we can address difficulties in abundance magic is with daily rituals. The ritual below can be performed every day and will help to transform the way you feel about money and empower your abundance magic like never before.

Daily Abundance Ritual

For this ritual, all you’ll need is a candle dedicated to the purpose of this daily ritual. Sit down and get comfortable in front of your unlit candle, breathe and centre yourself.

You’re going to choose an affirmation and turn it into a spell. Here are some example affirmations for you.

“I am a magnet for money, wealth flows into my life easily.”

“Life is simple and money is easy to come by”

“I am good at making and keeping money, my energy and habits welcome abundance.”

You can create a new affirmation every day, or you can use one affirmation every day for a week or a month or as long as it still feels right. The only thing to keep in mind is that this affirmation should be phrased positively! Think about what is or could be, not what isn’t or what you would like not to be.

After you’ve finished centring yourself begin to focus on your affirmation, repeat it in your mind and really allow the energy of this idea and these words to infuse into your own energy. See or feel yourself glowing with the energy of abundance, feel how it would feel to have more than enough money whenever you need it. When you’ve built up this energy enough, light your candle and allow this abundance glow to rush through your arms and into the candle.

Allow the candle to burn for as long as you like (remember not to leave it unattended). This can be 5 minutes or 50 minutes, it’s up to you. When you’re ready to close your ritual, blow out your candle and feel that abundance energy rushing back to you and taking root within you.

This ritual is great for use in the mornings, I like to work it into my morning routine by starting the ritual before I put on my makeup or shower, allowing the candle to burn while I get ready, and then closing it before moving onto the next part of my routine.

This repeated holding of energy can actually fundamentally change the overall energy you project concerning money on a daily basis. By regularly performing this ritual, you can retune your beliefs and energy and stop sabotaging your money spells. You may even find that this daily ritual alone is enough to attract more abundance into your life!

https://thetravelingwitch.com/blog/2018/3/26/2-reasons-why-money-spells-fail-and-how-to-fix-it

[girlwsoftsound]

Watching and Waiting || Ross MacDonald Oneshot

Word Count: 1,105 Summary: Ross, a single-father and history professor, decides to take you, a Uni student needing money, in as his babysitter. The rest? (Pardon the Pun) History. Author’s Note: A cute lil Ross fic to brighten up your day! Be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!   

When Ross hired you, he thought of you as nothing more than a kind girl with experience taking care of children in their parents’ absence.

He thought nothing of you past what your credentials on your resume told him. You were kind, sweet, and took to his kids, a daughter and a son both aged six who both shared his dark brown hair, without any trouble. It was as if you had taken kids for ages. Yet, you were only a twenty-four year old looking to get an MA and needing some money on the side, honing in on your skills and passion for children. You simply clicked with kids, and it made you a great babysitter when you were not in class. Ross could see that. He adored that. He often paid you extra to show his gratitude for that. Being a history professor, he often had to work long days that went occasionally long after they were let out of school. Knowing his children were happy and taken care of with you? Well, his money could hardly thank you properly for that. It was a start, though.

Soon, even that didn’t seem like enough. Ross saw how you slaved away helping him out, and he felt terrible knowing that you probably went straight from taking care of his family to working on your degree. You probably were so exhausted, but too reliant on the job to be able to do anything about it. So, he decided to approach you and ask if there was any way he could help you with school. He had no idea what you were taking course wise, but he was a History professor, and dammit if there was a way he could help, he would help. The fact that you were a Political Science major happened to fit that perfectly. Whenever you could, Ross tutored you in any bit of history on the subjects necessary for you to know. You didn’t know it, but he would spend nights researching facts for you, anything to lower the burden of work he placed on your shoulders and know that he cared. You appreciated it immensely, and made sure to thank him for it every time.

These tutoring sessions blossomed into something Ross never could have predicted after a year, though. Perhaps it was how he got to see your passion for your work first hand, or your laugh whenever you got a question wrong, or how he was so in debt to you - whatever it was, it caused him to develop less than professional feelings for you. You, to his shock and awe the first time he hinted about them, seemed to have also developed the same. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why, but for whatever reason, his money and tutoring became rare ways to thank you. New thank yous came in the form of secretive nights alone under bedsheets, clothes strewn across the floor and mouths hungrily going after one another. It wasn’t bad, really. Ross had been divorced for years, and you were not committed to anyone. However, it felt like it needed to be secretive. And, you were about seven years younger than him and happened to go to the same University that he teached at. You both just knew there would be questions, so it stayed secret, and only fun.

Life remained this way, a simple back and forth routine, until two years after you began working for him, when you had your degree and the twins no longer needed to be watched. Caught up in sports, they busied themselves until Ross could get off work. Graduated, you did not need the extra cash anymore, getting a job nearby with your MA that paid well. It was pointless to carry on. It was pointless for you to stick around, and for Ross to employ you for nothing. Yet, Ross found himself struggling to let you go. It seemed, over the course of his time sleeping around with you, he had also fallen madly in love with you. He could not bear to see you go. On the summer night that was supposed to be the end, he ushered in a new beginning - he asked you out.

You said yes, and kissed him without any hesitation.

He took you out to dinner the following night.

You were dressed beautifully, a flowery skirt and a white tank top making you look positively ethereal. Ross showed up wearing all black. A short-sleeved, skin-tight shirt and black jeans completed his black shoes perfectly. His beard freshly trimmed, he looked like a god. You two fit together, arm-in-arm, like you had always meant to be that way. You got a seat in the corner of the restaurant, sitting happily next to a window overlooking the water feature outside. His eyes on your the entire time, he marveled at how gorgeous you looked out-loud, feeling liberated in doing so. You blushed and told him about his handsomeness, something you also had not been able to comment on in public before. Kissing your hand, he was glad that you could.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you this,” he said softly after the waiter gave you both your fair share of wine. “You’ve come into my life and really changed it for the better, {Y/N}. With the kids...with how you just make me smile...I know we have been just screwing around this past year, but you accepted this date so I know you felt it, too. There is something between us that is special. We get each other. We’re supportive of each other. Frankly...I was scared of the day that I’d lose out on that, because I know what my life was like without it. I suppose...I suppose I’m just glad that you came along and decided to stay. No one has before.”

You smiled back at Ross, your built up emotion causing you to nearly giggle through your teeth. “I’ve felt the same way for so long,” you confessed happily. “I never thought you’d do anything about it though because of what we were - a student, and a professor. I’m so glad though now that...that it’s not a big deal anymore. I like you, Ross. I always have. And I’m so glad that you let me into your life.”

Leaning across the table, the two shared a kiss, a proper and unabashed kiss. Things between you two had been hazy and confusing for so long. It felt wonderful to finally watch them flourish and carry on naturally. It was wonderful to get to say Ross was yours.

[gamesception]

New Vegas, part 18:  Fun with Robots

I finally met an actual for real companion!  Apparently I could have met them ages ago, but I was in a rush to get out of Primm for some reason or other that I don’t remember and isn’t important.  Regardless, after finishing out Novac, I decided to backtrack a bit to make sure I didn’t miss anything important, and when I got back to Primm I found this busted up old eyebot.  I didn’t quite have the skills to fix its broken parts, but I did have the spare parts available to just replace them. 

Anyway, I don’t know much about ED-E yet, but so far they’re pretty great.  I had a sniper character in a star wars rpg back in the d20 days whose best buddy (and most expensive piece of equipment) was a floating eyebot spotter, so having ED-E around is kind of nostalgic.

I like them a lot.

My backtracking excursion didn’t otherwise find very much, and frustratingly my gold acquisition has somewhat stagnated due to my vow of not murdering the hell out of dozens of raiders to loot their sweet sweet gear, so I didn’t even have much stuff to sell or money to buy things.

So pressing on from Novac, next on the road was the NCR held solar plant Helios One

Apparently the place isn’t really working at all.  The NCR recently took it from the Brotherhood of Steel, who apparently sabotaged the systems and activated the automated defenses around the central controls before leaving.  Despite it being a potentially sensitive location, the NCR commander guarding the front is desperate enough to let me in when I imply I have even the slightest bit of technical knowledge.  From the way she’s talking, it seems their on-duty engineer is a real screw up, in addition to the troubles the BoS left behind.

His name is Mr. Fantastic?  Is that a Fantastic Four joke?  “Theoretical degree in physics?”  OMG, this guy’s a riot.  I can see why the NCR’s having trouble with this place.  Also, this is another mark against the NCR being competent enough to run a bed & breakfast, let alone the entire wasteland.

Fantastic’s not the only “expert” at Helios One, though.

Ignacio Rivas is a scientist with the “Followers of the Apocalypse”, an organization Bethany can sort of get behind, in that they seem to be unambiguous baby-faces?  Dedicated to preventing a repeat of the apocalypse that destroyed the world by keeping knowledge of pre-war weaponry suppressed, but also with an aim of helping people and re-building the world by reviving and spreading the knowledge and benefits of less dangerous tech?  Sot of a mirror-image Brotherhood of Steel, spreading tech rather than hoarding it, and eschewing dangerous weaponry.  Sort of like an opposite days Brotherhood of Steel?

Nice, but kind of uncomplicated?  Also, at least as of their first impression in this game (and I don’t know if they were in earlier Fallout games as I never got very far into the games before Fo3) they seem to be doing more ‘suppressing dangerous technology’ than ‘restoring helpful technology’.

Case in point, Ignacio here is smart enough to get this place operating and supply more electricity to the wasteland, but suspects there’s a dangerous weapons system here and doesn’t want to help out much lest the NCR find it.

I mean, that and the whole automated defense system he can’t get past...

Speaking of super fighting robots, something Ignacio says triggers EDE to start playing an old voice recording...

Seems EDE used to be an Enclave bot.  That’s... worrisome.  I can’t make much more of this, and further conversation with Ignacio isn’t triggering anything else at the moment, so...  *shrug*.

Anyway, Fantastic wants me to route power to just a couple NCR communities, Ignacio wants me to supply power to the wasteland more generally.  An easy enough choice for Bethany, so with the mission objectives well defined, it’s off to see about this automated security system...

Honestly, it’s kind of a joke with EDE.  I don’t know if restoring that bit of memory powered the eyebot up at all, because I don’t think I’ve been in a fight with them before this?  But it’s kind of embarrassing how much more effective my companion is at cutting through the assorted hostile robots in the area.

Not that I don’t get in a few good hits myself.

Anyway, soon enough we’re at the main controls...

The power output from the facility isn’t enough to supply the whole region reliably, but whatever, even the NCR locations will be getting more juice now than they were before, so they can’t complain.

Ignacio thanks me and gives me a science book, which is nice, and I make my way towards the next stop on the road, Boulder City.

[brothermouzongaming]

Warmind thots

Better if only by a bit

I understand that Vicarious Visions made this expansion, a fact that is a little troubling if you ask me and my pessimistic tendencies. Even with that information, I almost forgot another developer had taken care of this expansion because it was very much along the lines of Bungie’s typical format. I still feel that these thoughts and feelings are relevant and still perfectly appropriate despite Bungie doing this a little differently this time around. The fact remains: nothing is going in the game that doesn’t have Bungie’s approval. Hell, as far as we know Vicarious merely did what Bungie would’ve done anyway, following a template that was explicitly written by Bungie. From what I understand they did design the Raid Lair but I doubt they were given such liberties with dlc given what we have is reported to have been lined up for a while. Regardless, the overall message of this is that the Warmind dlc is an improvement. The subtext is that such an accomplishment means fuck-all in the face of what can only be described as a huge flop for both Bungie and Activision. Despite what the financial reports may say.  Changes to exotics are great and give us something to grind that improves our favorite guns. Escalation Protocol is a challenge that takes coordination but is still a great idea at its core. Nodes are another means of grind that again give guardians a reason to come back. Curse of Osiris was a low bar to step over, but at least they did it and did it fairly well.

“Dress-tiny”

Good god how is it that the dlc adds blander armors. I think the focus on armor is all wrong and centered way too much around looks but since it’s here; the least they could do is stand out. Hunters get straight up screwed with some of the least impressive and lazy designs I’ve ever seen. Literally solid color sleeves and a slightly different glove design. Titans are clearly the character type that inspires the artists the most because from the looks to the functionality they have it the best hands down in my opinion. My preferred class, Warlock, sits somewhere in the middle. With armor pieces that work like a dream in the field, some that are beyond useless and those are just the exotics. The legendary pieces rarely vary in any significant way beyond a couple points this way or that way between the whopping three stats you have to manage. So looks are really all that is left, and there isn’t anything definitive about a lot of these “legendary” pieces of armor. The shader situation is an absolute trash fire, hopefully, the Warmind dlc was gonna add some interesting tweaks to the color scheme...imagine my surprise when the color pallets are few and far between as far as anything really distinguishable. I put on four shaders on some pants and they all looked exactly the same. That’s one of Destiny’s many problems, it’s only half in with all of its ideas.

“Remember whoo you areee”

Lion King reference aside, I can’t be any more serious. *snaps fingers repeatedly* Hello Bungie, wake up! You are squandering all the goodwill built up in your past successes. I understand this is far from the team that brought us Halo: CE but I would’ve thought they would be fighting in its memory. The ambition is there, I commend and respect that much. The effort and execution, however, has been wildly lackluster. I can forgive a large amount of D1′s problems, it’s an ambitious idea that was gonna have some kinks and issues in it. 

Company’s like Ubisoft and Capcom are giving away the occasional free update to games like The Divison and Monster Hunter World respectively. For Destiny 2 to become essentially the biggest flop of this generation and offer no respite or token of gratitude to the fanbase that stayed is miraculously idiotic. Oh what’s that? They gave us the broken Prometheus Lens? Aw, that’d be nice if it wasn’t the only gesture Bungie has made, and it released so broken it singlehandedly turned the Crucible into laser tag. Yes, that was fun, but it wasn’t even something Bungie did, it was an accident. That accident for a short period of time was the most exciting and engaging thing that has happened in D2 for a while now. The initial concept of Destiny is very promising, especially when you find out it’s in the hands of Bungie. I can’t help but feel that somewhere along the way they realized that the idea was better than the actual physical manifestation of it. Now that they’re in way too deep, all they can do is press on through the self-made muck and mire. Doing what they want to expand the franchise rather than improve it; coming from a developer I once revered it’s both infuriating and deeply saddening. Please Bungie, get it together for your sake, not ours. I’m not buying D3 and I have a funny feeling a decent amount of people won’t either, you aren’t an indie dev with no experience. Why are you acting like it?

Copy and paste

Warmind’s loot pool is vastly more interesting and enticing than that of Osiris. The sharp geometric shapes, as well as the sounds and skills associated with the guns, are very distinct and dare I say enjoyable. They don’t drop quite as often, Destiny has reverted back to its old ways in that sense and I’m not against it at all. If we get everything in the first week what’s the point of paying so much/ what’s keeping us here? My issue is the recurring problem of both reskins and returning exotics. Osiris was fairly wrought with reskins and even worse with poor and just unsavory perks, these guns rained from the sky I practically had to set up a direct deposit to my trash bin. Even better, these weapons seem to be tiered and earned with different kinds of currency. Now getting that new auto rifle or sub-machine gun feels good when it drops and not repetitive. The bringing back of D1 exotics is nice, there’s no reason in the world why some of these guns can’t and shouldn’t exist in this game. When two of the four guns are D1 guns, that’s when I get peeved. There needs to be more, I’m not talking truckloads but half the guns shouldn’t be D1 guns not for dlc we paid for. Honestly, how hard is it to design a new gun, what are you guys saving it for D3? Why not put out as much as you can to satisfy a fanbase that is struggling in the here and now? Seriously would it kill you guys to throw us a bone beyond fixing the issues we shouldn’t be dealing with at all? I know I can come off as entitled, but realize that this is a game with so much money behind it that I’m genuinely uncomfortable with the figure itself. This money could’ve gone to like... help people. Bungie got $500 million for the franchise as a whole, let’s say it broke up evenly which is about  $166,666,666. Where the fuck did that money go? Destiny 2 is essentially one massive asset flip and when players like me were told D2 would progress the series, it’s done almost nothing but regress. So maybe as a paying customer who has been deceived and lied to since day one of this game, maybe in this instance entitlement is a little understandable. 

Change ‘Gon Come

The exotic changes are good, this is a big step in the right direction. Destiny beat its dick to no end about being a power fantasy, then D2 came around and took away the power. These guns are starting to feel exponentially better, really living up to the “exotic” term. Escalation Protocol is brutal, I’m worried it is more difficult than any random group of guardians can handle. The most I’ve done a run with is four or five and I’m suspecting it may take somewhere up to seven. Hard isn’t bad but it’s crushing to the point where I can see players avoiding the event entirely to go complete something they actually have a chance of achieving. The title of this segment is two parts, change is coming to Destiny in the form of the development end. Changes to the game that are efforts in the right direction to give this game a sense of life and purpose. We’ll see what E3 holds, this “Comet” expansion is gonna be featured due to their “brand new game mode” or whatever, something that’s “never been done before int he genre of FPS”. I have no idea what that means but it sounds like th same high aiming that got us in this mess to begin with, we will see. The other half is the changes in the form of who plays Destiny/ how many people will be playing Destiny. I said it earlier and I’ll say it again. Four years is too long for a big name dev like Bungie to say “sorry guys, making games is hard”. You signed up for this, you had time to prepare. No one asked for Destiny, and though making games is no doubt very difficult; I don’t see how you can use that as an excuse in a case of sheer negligence and outright maliciousness by Bungie. Change ‘gon come, one way or another.