#oh also yeah aside from generally pulling back from online spaces for the most part I've started a FAST-PACED full-time job

[andisupreme]

I moved recently to start a new job and part of my commute now involves one of those high capacity toll booths where a two lane road suddenly flares out into 5-7 lanes of total anarchy with no lines anywhere, and then narrows back down to two lanes again, and we're just supposed to sort ourselves out? Who designed this

anyway I dreamed up this helpful anatomical guide on the drive home

[thankskenpenders]

So there’s this little cartoon you may have heard of...

As I’ve said on this blog before, I’d never watched all of SatAM. This might be shocking to hear from someone who runs a blog dedicated to Archie Sonic and one of the top twenty Bunnie Rabbot fangirls in the world. But it’s true.

SatAM was very difficult to track down compared to other Sonic cartoons when I was a kid, and I just never got around to watching it as an adult. So for the longest time, I had only ever seen the first episode, which I found uploaded in parts on YouTube in 2007. As the one cartoon featuring the characters I liked from the comics, it became sort of this holy grail of Sonic media for me as a kid, especially with people online always talking it up as the best thing ever and petitioning for a revival. Hell, to this day, a lot of people hold it up as this masterpiece and act like the Archie comics were a complete mockery of it

Anyway so I finally got around to watching the whole series with my boyfriend these past couple weeks, and it was pretty good. So instead of covering a comic today, here are some thoughts on the cartoon that started it all

General Thoughts

SatAM is a pretty good show. It isn’t the greatest piece of Sonic media ever, unlike what some older fans will tell you. It might not even be the best Sonic cartoon (you could easily make a case for the Japanese version of Sonic X, or Sonic Boom if you’re looking for something more comedic). It hasn’t aged the most gracefully, in some ways. The animation’s cheap, the stories sometimes bland. But for a DiC-produced video game cartoon from the early ‘90s, it’s really solid

I think that in many ways, SatAM is carried by the strength of its ideas over its actual execution. The darker, more serious tone is a really cool idea, even if at times it can get a little dull, and even if the show actually gets silly as hell pretty often. (This is a show where Snively literally tortures a captive Antoine by preparing French cuisine improperly.) That opening scene of Robotropolis in the first episode actually sets the mood really well and feels like it came straight out of some cyberpunk anime from the ‘80s or ‘90s. The concept of Robotnik turning people into robot slaves is really cool, even if surprisingly little was done with this aside from Uncle Chuck’s storyline. And I think the Freedom Fighters make a great supporting cast for Sonic, even if the writers didn’t use them to their full potential

Interestingly, I’d often heard from fans that season one was the stronger of the two, when I’d say that the opposite is true. Season one episodes were pretty samey, usually involving low stakes missions to Robotropolis with no real continuity, and Sally ended up being a damsel in distress more than I’d like--hell, so did Bunnie in a few episodes. It wasn’t bad, but it was highly repetitive, and I got a little bored at times. Season two had a few real stinkers (the Antoine episodes) and Dulcy was an unwelcome addition, but I thought the heavier focus on continuity gave the season some real momentum and more emotional weight, which made it way more enjoyable overall

Things I Liked

Sonic. I quite liked this version of Sonic, actually! Jaleel White is a great Sonic, and he was written pretty well. At times the extremely tubular ‘90s lingo was grating (I never wanna hear “Gotta juice!” again), but I was surprised to see that this version of Sonic had a lot of heart. He really cared about the well-being of his friends and Uncle Chuck, and they even let him cry a couple times. I thought they struck a good balance between snark and sincerity with him

Sally. I don’t think SatAM Sally was perfect, but I liked her. I’m still of the opinion that she should have been given more ways to defend herself physically (maybe some kind of power of her own) so that Sonic didn’t have to save her as much, but I liked the banter she and Sonic had. Unlike the early Archie comics, Sally doesn’t come off as the bossy girlfriend who ruins Sonic’s fun. Maybe it’s Jaleel White and Kath Soucie’s performances doing most of the work, but they had a fun back and forth dynamic, with Sally’s sarcasm keeping Sonic’s ego in check, but there still being clear chemistry between the two of them

I also liked the greatly reduced emphasis on her being a princess compared to much of Archie’s material. Like yeah, it’s there. Her dad’s the king, and left her some classified info via Nicole. But her status doesn’t really affect things much. They don’t talk about her having this grand destiny and being the next in line to rule. It’s clear that she’s in charge of the Freedom Fighters not because of her status, but because she’s smart, brave, and gets shit done. That’s the Sally I like.

Plus! In the finale, Sally insisted upon going with Sonic for the final confrontation, and was a crucial part of the climax. Her powering up with Sonic and matching his speed and strength ruled. Compare that to the climactic defeat of Robotnik in Archie, where she was fucking dead

Robotnik. I don’t think much needs to be said here. Jim Cummings rules as Robotnik, like everyone has always said. He’s just so evil and so much fun to watch

Snively??? I’ve never cared for Snively as a character, but Charlie Adler rules and his over-the-top performance made the character way funnier than he should’ve been. Just something about all the little noises he makes, and the way he almost shifts into the Red Guy voice at times

Nicole. It was fun to see Nicole start to get more of a personality in season two, having some banter with Sonic and also picking up some slang from him. It makes the later decision to turn Sally’s computer into a full character (which would have happened in season three, and obviously eventually became a big subplot in the comics) make a lot of sense

King Acorn. While he was only around briefly, I liked that he wasn’t a huge dick, unlike Archie’s King Max

Things I Didn’t Like

The misuse of the other Freedom Fighters. This is, by far, the show’s greatest crime.

I already write approximately 100k words a week on this blog about how I think Bunnie Rabbot is amazing and criminally underused, so I’ll keep this brief, but I was shocked to see how little she was used in this show. People tend to say Dulcy stole her screentime in season two, but she didn’t have much to do in the first season either! We somehow never got a single episode focusing on her. The one where she got temporarily deroboticized focused much more on Uncle Chuck. We never got to learn the story behind her roboticization, or delved into her feelings on the matter much. She mostly just served as a positive, lighthearted supporting member of the team who acts cute and gets some funny lines, but usually stays home

Antoine might have been even worse, honestly. Like, they used him so much! They had multiple episodes focusing entirely on him! And yet I’m not sure he ever really helped. Sonic and Sally kept taking him along, but every single time it felt like it would’ve been a wiser decision to bring Bunnie instead. The jokes about his broken English were just dumb, and god, the way he constantly hits on Sally and starts kissing her hand at the most inappropriate times is just SO fucking creepy. SatAM Antoine is just a horrible, one-dimensional stereotype. There’s a reason why readers of the Archie comics wanted him out of the series until later writers majorly rehabilitated him

Rotor also didn’t get much use, which was a shame, but it at least felt like he was used efficiently. I got the vibe that Rotor was much more bitter about the war with Robotnik than his friends, and it would’ve been interesting to see this explored more. At least we got that one fun episode where he went to space with Sonic

Dulcy. Oh my fucking god. I wanted to like Dulcy! I really did! But most of the time she was just a clutz used for comic relief, and they kept reusing the same joke where she crashed, bumped her head, got dizzy, and thought she was talking to her mom. This happened in almost every episode she was in.

The other miscellaneous Freedom Fighters. Like in the early Archie comics, none of the other miscellaneous Mobians they meet were as interesting as the core cast. They just always felt very bland and I was never as invested in them as the writers wanted me to be. Ari was boring, and that episode where they found the underground city and this other dude started hitting on Sally was a drag. Lupe’s cute though

Rings. This is a common problem in Sonic adaptations, but the fact that rings always serve as Sonic’s instant win button kind of sucks. Basically any time Sonic’s in a pinch, he pulls a ring out of his backpack, powers up, and wins. Not exactly a recipe for suspenseful action

Oh, also, I did kinda find it weird how much Sonic and Sally kissed? Like, all the time? Often while their friends just stand there and stare at them? Not something I’d expect from a Sonic cartoon

Things Archie Did Better

I’ll limit this to the first 50 issues or so, since I don’t think it would be fair to compare two short seasons of SatAM to the highlights of nearly 500 issues of comics

Tails. Tails is okay in SatAM, Archie just used him as Sonic’s sidekick way more. He was barely even in the show. Poor little guy only gets to play dirt hockey all day

Bunnie. Again, Bunnie was underutilized in both series, but the Archie comics did her better. They actually showed the story of how she got roboticized (even if it was a silly story), and they got to flesh her out a bit more. Gallagher showing that she was a carrot farmer before her roboticization and saying she wanted to be a hairdresser was at least something. And as I keep harping on, Rich Koslowski’s backup story in #37 where we find out Bunnie has recurring nightmares about her robot parts taking over and making her a threat to her friends? This single backup story did more to flesh her out than all 26 episodes of SatAM combined

Antoine. Not hard to do better than SatAM here, really. He was really bad early on, serving as little more than Sonic’s punching bag, but eventually they started to set up a romance between him and Bunnie and explored his past a bit, saying that Antoine’s father (his personal role model) was a member of the royal guard who was roboticized in the war. While he still had a long way to go, these were important first steps towards him being a decent character. Hell, these days, being Bunnie’s love interest is one of Antoine’s defining characteristics! And it doesn’t come from the cartoon at all

Roboticization in general. I was surprised how little this came up in the cartoon! In the comics, it’s such a central element. We see more of the heroes’ loved ones turned into robots, and we even got some fun stories where characters like Sonic and Sally were roboticized temporarily. The Freedom Fighters’ efforts to reverse the process was a major part of the plot for quite a while. Bunnie’s fear of losing control is a pretty important part of her character (even if it was only touched on briefly), and after they’re rescued, the rest of the Mobians fear that the “Robians” (including Sonic’s entire family) will turn evil again. It comes up a lot! There are interesting things to discuss here! But SatAM only really talks about Uncle Chuck. We never even see what happened to everyone else

Closing Thoughts

SatAM is not the best show in the world, but it is a solid and enjoyable one. It’s easy to see why people who grew up with it are fond of it, even if I think that it’s long past time certain fans quit acting like it���s the only valid take on the Sonic source material and petitioning for a third season. At the very least, the concepts and characters introduced here are strong ones, and it’s easy to see how they spawned over 20 years of comics exploring said ideas in greater detail. While I’m not sure I could recommend it to non-fans, I think it’s definitely worth checking out for Sonic fans who missed out on it (especially fans of the Archie comics)

Anyway I got to see Bunnie dropkick some Swatbots twice her height so I had fun

[marshmallow-phd]

Market Surprises

Genre: Neighbor!AU

Pairing: Kris x Reader

A/N: Once again, I’m bringing you another little story inspired by @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme moodboard above! (Also, it’s Kris. How could I ever resist?) (also, do not be surprised if the title changes a few times, I’m still not satisfied with it)

**

Going to the market was one of your favorite activities. While most people hated the very idea of going grocery shopping, you had the exact opposite approach. Maybe it was simply because of where you chose to shop.

The neighborhood that you lived in was close to an outdoor market where local farmers would bring their produce and fresh goods to be fully appreciated. You would spend a good hour there each time, looking over the fruits and vegetables, bargaining with the butcher over prices, and just conversing in general with the vendors. It was calming to you, how shopping for daily sustenance should be. It was more personal, where you knew the name of the person who grew your tomatoes or cut your pork belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help carrying these bags home?” Mrs. Wu asked you for the third time today. “My son would be more than happy to go with you.”

While you had at least four large bags of groceries to lug home, the bags were reusable cloth so you didn’t have to worry about any of them ripping and you were sure your arm strength could hold out. Of course, no matter how many times you told Mrs. Wu that, she still tried to get you to accept the help of her son.

There was no mistaking her hidden agenda. She was always talking up her son, saying how handsome he was and sweet and kind. One time she even boldly stated that the two of you would look good together.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Wu, I can handle it,” you assured her with a smile. “But thank you! I’ll see you next week.”

She waved goodbye to you along with her motherly smile. “Have a wonderful day, dear.”

With two stuffed bags in each hand, you began the uphill trudge to your little home, ignoring the groans of your calves as the bottom of your tennis shoes dug into the asphalt street. You stayed off to the side of road, careful of any cars that might be rushing by.

“Hey! Tomato girl!”

You groaned. Seriously? You were almost there. You were almost home free.

Kris, your neighbor who drove you up the walls, came running up behind you, his typical self-confident smirk plainly on his face. The two of you had been neighbors for a while now and yet, he still referred to you by that stupid nickname he came up with when you first met.

It was before you bought the reusable bags. You’d planned on making a large batch of homemade salsa with a recipe that you’d found online and were rushing to get back to your kitchen. However, the bag wasn’t strong enough to hold the quantity of tomatoes you’d purchased and just outside your door, it ripped, sending the fruit rolling away. The only one around to “help” happened to be your neighbor that you’d only ever seen in passing.

His idea of helping included a few teasing comments that you weren’t in the mood to receive graciously. Because of that, you refused to give him your name the next few times you ran into him. That resulted in his annoying nickname, constantly calling out to you as “tomato girl” until you gave in and told him your real name. Occasionally, when he was being obnoxious, he’d still use that stupid nickname to grate on your nerves.

“I have a name, Kris,” you gritted through your teeth.

“I know, (y/n),” he chuckled. “Do you need any help?”

“No, thank you,” you grunted unconvincingly. “I’ve got it.”

A heavy sigh left Kris’ throat. “Okay, then. I’ll… see you later.”

He walked away and a strange feeling of guilt started bubbling in your stomach. But you quickly pushed it aside and entered your home.

As soon as you closed the door behind you, your phone began to ring. You answered it when your hands were finally free of the groceries, putting the bags down on the counter. It was your best friend’s name brightening up your screen.

“Hello?” you said slightly out of breath. The irritation from just a few seconds ago was still very apparent in your voice.

Your friend laughed in your ear. “Uh-oh. Sounds like someone recently saw their very cute neighbor.”

“Cute?” you scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Kris wasn’t cute, in your opinion. He was the kind of guy who walked around in ripped-up skinny jeans and large shirts with earrings, sometimes diamonds and sometimes hoops. His black hair was long on top with a sharp undercut, often covered up by a ball cap. Tattoos decorated his arms. While they were all tasteful, he still wasn’t quite the kind of guy your mother had envisioned you bringing home to meet her.

Then again… when you really thought about it, his face wasn’t too bad. His eyes like a smoky quartz, were a bit magnetic with a glimmer of mischief behind them. The natural pout of his lips were a bit intriguing and his high-bridged nose was a bit adorable.  

What the hell were you thinking?

“He is not cute!” you insisted.

Your friend giggled at you. “A double denial? Has someone been thinking about her neighbor a little too much?”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a sarcastic comment. “Did you call me just poke my buttons or did you actually need something?”

“Oh, yeah!” There was a mild shuffling in the background before she came back to the line. “Do you want to check out this new bar that just opened up here recently?”

For a second, you thought it over. It had been a while since you’d gone out and you could use a fun night with some socializing. “Sounds like fun. What’s the bar called?”

“Um, like Tian Di, or something like that?”

Interesting name. You were definitely intrigued. “Sounds good. What time were you thinking of heading out?”

“You know the real fun doesn’t start until after ten!” your friend exclaimed.

You couldn’t help but laugh along with her. “Alright. That gives me plenty of time to get ready. Meet you at your place around that time?”

“You got it!”

After hanging up, you went back to your groceries, putting every little thing in its designated space. You still had a few hours before you needed to get ready, so you opted for a long, hot bath, sinking down into the water while your favorite playlist danced from the Bluetooth speaker. This was turning out to be quite the nice Saturday, if you did say so yourself.

**

Downing another shot, you giggled relentlessly as the alcohol burned your throat pleasantly. There was no doubt that you were getting well passed tipsy at this point. Your heels were becoming harder and harder to keep your balance on. Why did you wear them again?

Right. Because they were cute.

Why was fashion such a sacrifice?

“One more! One more!” your friend chanted.

“No, I need a real drink!” you yelled back over the music.

What your friend had described as a “bar” was really more like a nightclub, but you were already out and dressed, so you didn’t fight, instead choosing to make the most of the night.

“Fine!” your friend pouted. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick!” She disappeared into the crowd as you let her know that you’d heard her.

Turning to the bartender, you got his attention and said, “I’ll have the cherry round-about, please?”

“Make that two.”

Frowning, you turned to the new voice and your jaw dropped.

It took a second for you to recognize your neighbor. Gone was the hat to reveal dyed chestnut hair parted in the middle and hanging just over the cheeks on either side of his face. His jeans were no longer full of rips and holes, instead simply decorated with a zipper on each side where the pockets normally were. The long sleeves of his black shirt were pushed up to his elbows, giving you just the slightest peak at his tattoos. To be honest, they were kind of alluring, not vulgar, but intriguing, making you want to ask why he got each one.

Over the top of his shirt was a strange olive-khaki vest with rivet holes in the collar and chest and long chains that looped down from the pockets and hung loose underneath his arms. On anyone else, you would have sneered at it, thinking it strange, but somehow, Kris pulled it off, whether it was just how well it fit him or if it was his air of confidence that made it unquestionable.

Your heart was doing a funny dance in your chest while he just kept smiling at you. No, you still wouldn’t say that he was cute, but in your drunken haze, you’d dare say that you were becoming very attracted to him.

“Put it on my tab, Luke,” Kris told the bartender, only taking his eyes off of you for a second to address the issue of payment before coming back to meet your gaze.

“Wha’ you doing here?” Oh, wonderful. You were slurring already. No chance in pretending that you were sober now.

Kris chuckled at your grammatically incorrect question. “Just out for a good time, same as you. And it looks like you’re having a very good time.”

Unable to hold back the urge, you stuck your tongue out at him, making him laugh again.

Damn it. You liked his laugh. It was deep, scrunching up his nose and widening his smile to an eye-crinkling degree. Why did you not like this guy before?

When Luke the bartender put the two freshly made drinks down in front of you, you swiped one of the glasses up and began sucking down on the delicious red liquid.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Kris insisted, putting one of his (very pretty) hands on top of the glass and pushing it down and away from your mouth.

Before you could let out a very loud protest, your friend came back from the bathroom, practically jumping on your back as she squealed, “Oh, my god, you must be Kris!”

At her already knowing his name, Kris raised an eyebrow while you cringed with embarrassment. A while back, she’d wanted to know what he looked like, so one time when she was over, you kept an eye on the window and pointed Kris out when he walked by.

“Y/n talks about you all the time!”

Oh, just kill me now.

You did not talk about him all the time… did you?

Kris laughed again. “Well, what a coincidence. I talk about her all the time, too.”

You pursed your lips at him, confused. “She means I complain about you a lot.”

“I figured that was the case.” That correction didn’t seem to ruin his mood at all.

Over the course of the next few hours, the three of you sat there and talked about the most random things including topics of pop culture and occasionally complaining about the annoying songs blaring from the speakers while hitting back the drinks. Or, at least, you and your friend were still kicking them back. Kris had stopped several hours ago, still very sober.

Intoxicated or not, you discovered that you actually enjoy conversing with Kris. You were falling for his laugh and discovering that he was actually a large dork behind the cool façade.

At one point, a friend of his showed up and, before you knew it, your friend was declaring very loudly that she was ready to head home, sending a wink in his friend’s direction. The four of you headed out of the club while your friend called for an Uber. The two extras hopped in the back of the car and disappeared down the road.

“Don’t worry,” Kris assured you. “He’s a good guy. He’ll just make sure she gets home and then leave.”

You nodded, trusting his judgement.

It turned out that Tian Di was just a few blocks from your house, so, instead of wasting money on a ride, Kris walked with you. However, you only made it a few steps before you stumbled in your shoes.

“Whoa, there.” Kris was able to catch you before your knees hit the sidewalk. Thankfully, you were wearing jeans, but the impact still would have hurt like hell. Crouching down in front of you, he offered, “Get on. I’ll carry you.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you said quickly, heat rising up in your cheeks.

“You’re going to end up getting hurt if you keep stumbling around in those shoes,” he pointed out. “And I’m not going to let you walk around on the concrete barefoot. It’s not that far, just hop on.”

Giving in, you wrapped your arms around Kris’ neck while situating yourself on his back, legs tightly locked around his waist when he stood back up. He kept a good grip on your thighs, not letting you slip for a second.

If you allowed yourself to be honest, you were quite enjoying this, letting your heavy eyelids close with contentment.

**

Kris made it to your door without any problems. It was just his luck that he happened to run into you at the bar and even more so that you didn’t immediately run away when he approached. He finally figured out that his teasing style was getting him nowhere with you and so he decided to play the gentleman, just being nice and talking without a hint of sarcasm. And now here he was, fitting into the role of hero as he carried you home on his back.

Except now you were fast asleep, your grip a little looser than it had been in the beginning. Thankfully, your keys were already out in your hand, so Kris gently tugged them out of your grip and let himself inside.

Since you were next door neighbors in these little townhomes, he knew the basic layout of the place and was able to take you to your room without any difficulties. Getting you down onto the bed wasn’t as easy, but he managed to lay you down without waking you up. Oh, so he thought.

Just as he stepped away, you reached out and took hold of his wrist, keeping him place.

“Don’t go,” you mumbled. Your eyes were still closed and you were shoving half of your face into the pillow. You were too cute to resist.

Knowing that you would probably yell at him in the morning, Kris laid down beside you, shocked when you immediately attached yourself to his side. He smiled to himself as he wrapped an arm around your waist and drifted off.

**

Boy, you were in for a rude awakening.

At first, you were very comfortable with whatever pillow you were snuggling up with. Until you opened your eyes.

When you realized that the warm pillow was actually Kris, you screamed, throwing yourself off the bed in the process of shuffling away. The loud noises jolted Kris awake, immediately pushing himself up to a sitting position where his eyes found you on the hardwood floor.

“What are you doing down there?” he laughed.

“Me?” you scoffed. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were the one who asked me to stay.”

Absolutely flustered because the memories of last night were flooding back to you all at once, you scrambled up from the floor, putting your fists on your hips. “You shouldn’t take my intoxicated ramblings at face value.”

Rolling his eyes, Kris slid off the bed so he was now standing nearly toe to toe with you. With gentle fingers, he cupped your jaw and caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Are you saying that you don’t actually like me?”

“Uh- well… no, you see- it’s just that- I mean, come on, we-”

You couldn’t finish a single thought or sentence. You were completely cornered. Actions truly spoke louder than words. Because – well, maybe you did like him. Last night kind of proved that. And… there was a fine line between irritation and attraction, wasn’t there?

You sighed heavily, pouting your lips. “Okay, so maybe I do like you… like that. What about it?”

Not answering your very important question, Kris dripped down and pressed his lips to yours. It was a deep kiss, one that made you snake your fingers through his sleep-tousled hair as he pulled you in closer with his warm hands pressed against your back. With incredible expertise, he gripped your hips and lifted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. However, not so expertly, Kris ended up tripping, sending both of you backwards onto the bed.

You couldn’t help but laugh hysterically as you pushed yourself up. “Smooth.”

Kris simply shrugged, the faintest of pinks painting his cheeks. “Part of my charm, right?”

Shaking your head, you giggled, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Satisfied with that answer, Kris pulled you down again, continuing where you’d left off.

**

Almost two weeks had gone by and you were still in a slight state of shock at the fact that you were dating your neighbor Kris; the boy that you couldn’t stand just a while ago was suddenly making you smile and your heart race. Oh, well. Life was just funny that way, you guessed.

Said boyfriend was scheduled to come over tonight for dinner and you wanted to make him a meal that would really impress. That meant a trip to the market.

You were currently looking over the tomatoes, smiling over the irony of it all.

“Finding everything all right, dear?” Mrs. Wu inquired when she stepped around the display.

“Yes, thank you,” you nodded. “In fact, I think I will call it good with these.” You held out the bag you’d filled with her goods and Mrs. Wu counted everything before adding it all up on her calculator she’d pulled out from her pocket. You handed her the amount due and started off.

“Wait!” Mrs. Wu called out before you’d taken two steps.

“Yes?”

“My son is just inside,” she grinned at you. “Please, let him help you with your bags.”

You sighed. “Mrs. Wu, I really appreciate it, but-”

Your jaw dropped. Because who else just waltzed out of the shop but none other than Kris. He kissed his mother on the head before stepping up to you, taking the bags out of your hand. There was no fight from you; the shock was still much too present.

“Come on,” Kris smirked. “I’ll help you home.”

Shaking your head, you followed him up the road while Mrs. Wu waved excitedly behind you. She had no idea that the pair up she’d been trying to concoct this whole time had already happened and her wish manifested. You were absolutely dumbfounded as you stared at Kris’ back, but you quickly ran to catch up with him, happy with the little surprise from the market.

[braincoins]

“Of course you brought Chinese,” Matt chuckled as he held the door open.

“Someone has to look after you two,” Shiro told him as he walked in.

“We eat! Hell, Katie still lives at home most of the time; she gets Mom’s home cooking.”

“DO NOT CALL ME KATIE, MATTHEW!” 

Shiro laughed at that. “Hi, Pidge!” he called. And before he knew it, she was wrapped around him, hugging him hello.

“Thank you for bringing us food! My brother has been starving me!” she wailed.

“We had pizza last night!” Matt cried out in self-defense. “And cereal this morning, and we walked over to Gino’s for lunch...”

“Starving,” Pidge maintained. Shiro let her grab the bag of Chinese food and make off with it.

“She’s a growing girl,” he reminded Matt. “So, I know we should probably eat first, but...”

“Impatient?” Matt chortled to himself. “Don’t worry about it; you don’t have to be polite with us. Come on in.”

Matt’s living room had the standard equipment: sofa, TV, game consoles, stereo. But it also had two desks pushed together, with back-to-back multi-monitor computer setups. One of the desks also had a laptop on it, which seemed unnecessary to Shiro, but he wasn’t going to press Matt on his methods.

The Holts were two of the best white hat hackers he’d ever known (not that he’d known many), and that they were fun and friendly was a bonus. 

“Haven’t seen you on much lately,” Matt said.

“Been busy,” he replied. 

“Busier than usual. Can I convince you to show up tonight? We could really use you.”

“Sorry, can’t.”

“Damn. Well, I’ll tell the guys I tried.”

“Say hi for me and give them my apologies, will you?” He pulled a chair up to Matt’s station.

“Sure.” Matt sat down as Pidge handed him the carton of General Tso’s. “Thanks, sis.”

“So, I’ve been working on the Galra stuff and Matt was looking up those people in the photos you sent last night,” she said. 

“Yeah, let’s start with my end,” he said. “Entrepreneurs, businesspeople, CEOs. Some old money in there. But no one that’s involved in anything shady, unless you count Maria Villanova’s kickbacks to the hospital to promote their prosthetic. And that’s a pretty new thing, done specifically to counter Galra’s new up-and-coming prosthetic lines.”

“Yeah, I... may have heard about those.” Shiro pulled his sleeve up to show them.

“Oh wow, is that a GalraTech model?” Pidge asked. When he nodded, her eyes lit up. “Take it off, I want to see how it...”

“I can’t,” he told her, pulling his sleeve back down. “It doesn’t detach.”

“Weird,” Matt said. “How does it feel?”

“Weird,” Shiro confirmed. “But... good. Much better than the one I got from the hospital.”

“Huh. So maybe those kickbacks are pretty necessary,” he replied.

“My turn! I have all the cool stuff,” Pidge declared. She was only 15 but she’d already graduated high school. She was technically enrolled in online classes at State, but she’d been taking online courses from colleges all over the country for the last year or so. She split her time between her parents’ home and her brother’s apartment, supposedly so that she could have easier access to the downtown campus when she needed it. In reality, the only reason she wasn’t living with Matt full time was that he had a romantic life he wanted to indulge every now and then. 

Thinking about that just made Shiro realize how long it had been. Adam had broken up with him... a year ago? Year and a half? Had it really been that long since he’d been held, been kissed, been loved? And it made him ache all over again at the feeling of Allura’s betrayal that really wasn’t a betrayal because they weren’t anything but co-workers and crime-fighting partners, but dammit, it had hurt like a betrayal. The main reason I never asked you out was because you were my boss, but you go out with your boss like it’s not a big deal? And that that boss was LOTOR of all people, and...

He shoved all that aside. “What’ve you got for me, Pidge?”

She grinned her crooked grin - a Holt trademark - at him. “Galra got all big and important because of some new energy source they claim to have.”

That got his attention. “Just as clean as solar but 10x as powerful?” 

She nodded. “The very same. They’ve been peddling it to every manufacturer in every industry, doling out sample machines that just seem to run smoothly and cleanly forever. And ever since the, uh... accident,” her eyes jumped to his arm briefly, “they’ve even been talking with the DoD.”

“Department of Defense?”

She nodded. “Not just as an energy source for weapons systems but as a potential weapon itself.”

His stomach churned. “You’re telling me that this energy source - quintessence, I believe Dr. King called it - vaporized Zarkon’s wife and his response is to whip around and try to sell it off to the Pentagon?”

“Oh, it’s weirder than that,” Matt put in. “There hasn’t been a published obituary for Dr. King. Granted there’s no body to bury, but there hasn’t been a wake, a memorial, nothing.”

“He doesn’t even care that she’s dead?”

“Or he doesn’t think she is,” Pidge put in. “He hasn’t spoken much since the accident, but when he does, he refers to his wife in the present tense.”

Shiro shook his head. “She’s gone. She’s gone, gone like my arm is gone. There’s no way... She was standing right by the machine when it blew.”

“Pidge, tell him the good part,” Matt put in before popping some chicken into his mouth.

“A few months before the accident, Galra was doing some construction. They wanted a lab on the city outskirts, for testing slightly more dangerous stuff, I’d bet. I found some chatter - just rumor, mind you - that they found something when they were digging up the land they’d bought for the facility.”

“Like what?” Shiro asked her.

“Well, this is just my theory, but... you know the word ‘quintessential,’ right?”

He nodded. “Yes, I know a lot of big words,” he teased.

Her mouth twisted at him. “For millennia, philosophers and scientists believed that the world we inhabit was entirely made up of four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. Aristotle added a fifth element, the aether: the material that fills the rest of space, mostly invisibly but sometimes taking the form of stars and planets. Many writers described aether as a kind of invisible light or fire - you know, like an energy source? In the Middle Ages, it was referred to as the quinta essentia - the fifth element. Quinta essentia came to stand for anything so perfect that it seemed to surpass the limitations of Earth.

“So, what if - now just hear me out - this thing they found wasn’t terrestrial in origin?”

“Pidge,” he groaned.

“What if they found a piece of alien technology and...”

“Pidge, will you stop with your alien conspiracy theories?”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory! Not this time, anyway. It makes perfect sense! Tech from a super-advanced alien civilization that Dr. King was able to reverse-engineer and...”

“Look, Pidge, I’m sure there are aliens out there, but there’s nothing saying they’ve been coming to Earth. We’re such a tiny planet in an otherwise unremarkable part of a huge galaxy...”

“I’m not even talking about that!” she insisted. “It could be debris or something! I’m not saying aliens landed on Earth - at least, not this time I’m not - just that something extraterrestrial was dug up and that’s why Galra’s tech division suddenly has unlimited clean power out of nowhere!”

Shiro looked to Matt for help.

He just shrugged. “Dr. King was a genius; it’s not outside the realm of possibility that she created it herself. But then again, all geniuses have stood on the shoulders of those who came before them. It’s also worth considering that she found something to use as the basis for her further discoveries.”

“You’re a good brother,” he told Matt, because what else could he say in response to that dissembling bit of nonsense? He was clearly just trying to back his sister up on her crazy theories.

“I’m not crazy,” Pidge told him as if she’d heard his thoughts. “If they’d found something normal, we would have heard about it. But it took me a lot of digging to find out about this. They kept it hush-hush.”

Shiro held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m willing to concede they found something that they wanted to keep secret. And that it’s possible that they used it as the basis for what became their ‘quintessence’ they’re peddling. But do you really think it’s... I dunno, alien star energy or something?”

She made a thoughtful noise. “I don’t know. I mean, the ancient philosophers also believed in alchemy and astrology and nonsense like that. But I think it’s something... fundamental. Something truly quintessential.”

“Yeah,” Matt put in, “scientists don’t always come up with the best names for things. Like ‘Jupiter’s Red Spot’ - how boring and on the nose can you get?”

“They also come up with names like ‘deoxyribonucleic acid,’” Shiro replied.

“Okay, point. But my point is that maybe she called it quintessence not because it’s some long-lost, non-Bruce Willis-related ‘fifth element’ but because she viewed it as something quintessential to the universe.” He shrugged.

“Whatever it is, that quintessence is powerful enough to be getting them a lot of industry and government attention,” Pidge concluded. “But the weird part is...”

“...why aren’t they announcing it?” Shiro finished for her. “Well, to be fair, they tried, and looked what happened.” He held out his right arm as proof.

“Yeah, but that was a local demonstration for local reporters. They’ve been really cagey with this stuff.”

“Hmm, good point.” He smiled. “Thanks. As usual, you two do amazing work.”

“Naturally,” Pidge said.

“We’ll email it all to you,” Matt said. “As soon as we get our fee?”

“Of course. I’m covering it this time; new owner’s locked down the discretionary funds.” Just as I knew he would.

“Oh yeah - the son of Galra’s CEO?” Pidge asked. “That’s gotta be fun.”

He wasn’t surprised she’d found that out. “Yeah, it’s fantastic. Fortunately he doesn’t know what I’m working on.”

“Yeah, he’d shut that down quick, fast, and in a hurry,” Matt agreed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” He stood. “Enjoy the Chinese. I’ll send the money over when I get home.” He headed for the door.

“If your plans for tonight fall through, log on!” Matt called after him.

“Will do, but don’t expect me!” I’m going to have to talk to Starlight about this. Assuming she shows up tonight. His heartache could wait. Galra - and its CEO - were definitely up to something, and he intended to find out what. His mind raced on the information he’d just received, distracting him from that lingering off-putting thrum from his right arm.

{Previously in The Adventures of Starlight & Paladin…}

[storiesbeyondthestars]

Okay, so I read through a bunch of different spoiler free, S7 articles, and I’m going to give my opinions on things I read, and I did take some screenshots of different articles, so this ends up getting kind of long because I am a long-winded person. (Edit: I lied. This got super long.)

First of all, the consensus is that this season is going to be a wild one that focuses more on personal interactions and relationships, which is awesome! 

What we can see from the two above parts of an article (or a couple I can’t remember at this point where I screencapped what from -10 for research habits), is the truth we’ve always known that family is the real story behind Voltron. Lauren said it was about love. It absolutely is. I’m excited to see that this concept is really taking hold here, especially since we’ll be seeing all different kinds of love and family. 

As much as I love my ships, I love the story between everyone has a whole even more. To see this directly is going to be amazing.

Just throwing this out there, I’m like 95% sure they’re referring to Lance here. He’s easily the most sacrificial one of the team, and we know that Jeremy had a hard time voicing something because it was mostly crying. I think we found what it is.

While I’m a bit sad that the girls get pushed aside a bit, I always remember that it doesn’t mean they’re not there, not important, not doing stuff. They are. I get the feeling that they’re not going to go on the same kind of emotional journey as all the boys are this time around, which is kind of telling? 

I’m okay with Shiro not being a Paladin anymore. In fact, I think it’s the best possible thing for his character. He was the perfect leader and comfortable as a Paladin, and the best way to show what a character is made of is to put them in a situation where they’re not in their element entirely. So I am SO excited for Shiro this season.

Also, Hunk focus? Hell yeah. And my little, biased shipper heart did backflips at the last part involving Lance and Keith, though with the acknowledgement that the ‘crush or two’ thing may not at all have to do with them and it could just be about being leader and right-hand of Voltron. Plus...

I’m not quite sure I hold much value in an article that can’t spell Allura’s name right, but if Lance is a focus this season, and Allura’s not, but they show signs of a stronger bond...? 1 + 1 ≠ 2 in this case. Keep in mind, I’m not saying that Lance’s endgame isn’t Allura, I’m just saying that there’s some contradictions here.

Also while on the topic of specific characters...

I saw someone saying ‘oh look Shiro IS going to be a Paladin’. No. No he’s not. This is in reference to Season 3/4 when Shiro returning cut into Keith being Black Paladin. Of course we know the REAL Shiro wouldn’t have pushed Keith and stepped on his toes as much as Kuron did, so I think he’s going to feel bad about that. There may be a little awkwardness to it, but I think we’re going to see Shiro really actively be pushing Keith to lead, taking a step back. It’s what he wanted originally. 

I really, genuinely think that the line up for the lions with this team is final. However, it could hint towards people taking over for them in the future, or moments where they pilot other lions, but not permanently.

This is SUPER interesting. This roadtrip to Earth is going to focus a LOT on interpersonal relationships and I am HERE for that in every sense of the word. I’m very curious about the characters who’ll pull apart, since I honestly can’t see it being the core team, but that doesn’t leave much room, does it? It’s not going to be Keith and his mom. It won’t be Allura and Coran. I COULD see Shiro kind of purposely pulling himself away from the others a bit, including Keith (kind of a stepping off and ‘go be great’ thing like he did with Pidge in S1E1). These don’t HAVE to be negative things. I can’t see it being Keith and anyone, because he’s been gone for a long time from his point of view. So I don’t know.

Gimme all the matchups. Gimme Keith and everyone (since he’s been gone so long). And I genuinely mean everyone. Gimme Keith and Pidge on their field trip or something too. Don’t let them be the Zuko and Toph of the group. ALSO Hunk and Allura. I wanna see them be awesome together. Hunk, Allura, and Romelle side trip please!

Plot lines long thought abandoned. Okay, my shipper brain went towards Klance. I’m sorry, it did. My logical brain, however, says that this is not in reference to that at all. I think that might have to do with Hunk and Shay, whether to say ‘yes this is a thing’ or ‘no sorry but we’ll acknowledge this for you’.  

The second part, character development people have been hoping for with certain PaladinS. Okay, this one does scream relationship-wise to me, but it also CAN still be platonic. It really, really can. I really think this is in reference to either Lance/Keith, or Lance/Allura. And yes, it could genuinely be either one of them. 

This just is sort of reinforcing to him that they’re talking about Lance/Allura, Keith/Lance, or potentially, maybe even Keith/Allura but the last one is less likely to me (that’s the key here, because even watching through again, Keith and Allura being together romantically doesn’t make sense to me, but that’s a personal interpretation. You may very well see something I don’t.)

The way paragraph structure works is you group like things together to make a single point. If something is in the same paragraph, it should be related to other things in it. First episode in season 1 we established that Keith and Lance were going to be tied to one-another’s stories in some form. We also established that Lance was attracted to Allura (he was flirting with her). 

‘Arguably been on that path all along’. They think people are going to argue about it. It’s a romantic ship one way or another, and it has been planned since day one. No amount of screaming, threatening, or crying from a loud, small, nasty part of the fanbase has changed a thing.

I actually can’t find the article where this one came from. Now, first, we need to look at what could possibly be seen as a controversy, since that has a negative connotation to it. It’s also a very interesting word choice. Is it that the majority of the online community is going to lose their shit? Or is it the parents of kids watching it might stop and say ‘wait, what’? 

I genuinely get the feeling that this is either going to have to do with a relationship, or a personal sexuality arc. 

I think if it had to do with Shiro and Adam, they’d say it. It’s not a spoiler anymore. We KNOW they’re going to dive into it more. 

The online fandom is going to be generally super excited for LGBT+ portrayals on this show. It wouldn’t be a controversy at all to show Adashi (I like this one more because Adam called him Takashi), or for Lance to have a bi-arc.

Klance, maybe a little more-so, because shipping in general can be very touchy (if the backlash of calling Adam abusive says anything). It’s still possible though.

Also as much as I don’t want to say it, that small, loud, nasty portion of the fandom that flips out may do just that if Allura and Lance end up being a thing, but honestly, I don’t think either of these last two things would be considered a controversy.

Keep in mind, the core audience of Voltron is not teenage/adult fans online. It’s created as a family show, meaning that it absolutely is made to appeal to older and younger audiences a like, but the core audience are kids.

Kids who don’t spend time on tumblr/twitter freaking out over ship, and their parents that are going to be spending the money on merchandise.

I think many people would be excited to portrayals of LGBT+ relationships, we know that there are those parents that will swear off the show because of it. We know there are people that will scream about it ‘forcing representation in everything’ as if media content in and of itself hasn’t always been informed by political or personal opinions and issues (spoiler alert: it has). 

The ONLY thing I can think that would be considered controversial (which I don’t personally agree with but here we are) would be more LGBT+ rep. Maybe it is just Shiro and Adam’s relationship, maybe it’s Klance, maybe it’s just a bi-arc for Lance. Maybe it’s something else. 

It’s all about perspective. 

OKAY SO THIS PART. THIS PART HERE. They’re going to spend like at least a year and a half getting to Earth. Holy shit. There’s so much room for character moments here and growing together in ways that they couldn’t in the castle. The castleship was HUGE. I mean, the lions are massive and they’re always shown as teeny-tiny compared to it. There was lots of space to get away from one another. Camping in lions? Nope. All together all the time. This is absolutely Why relationships are going to be front and center.

It also means that they’ll be gone from Earth for two years at minimum. That’s insane.

Time itself playing a narrative is amazing too! I get the feeling that everyone’s going to think Voltron is gone. There are going to be aliens on Earth. They also had blueprints nad plans for Altean tech and they had examples of Galra stuff as well. People think Voltron is gone, but they’re not going to completely lose hope. In fact, Voltron will be like martyrs probably. Almost a legend again. ‘Legendary defender’. 

There was also one saying that Voltron might almost be outdated, which is wild but makes so much sense. Lotor made his own that almost beat them, after all (with Allura’s help). Haggar’s been to Oriadne too. Voltron is going to need some kind of boost in the end to go back to being the legendary defender it always was.

And finally...

LESS MOTHERFUCKING TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE FUCK YEAH.

[onceuponamirror]

Bughead, 9

9. meeting online au

(also had an anon send me this one so y’all really wanted it!) (also, this one got long, whoops)

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He never set out to be a Reddit guy. The connotations there were just too fraught—maybe five years ago, the description could just bring to mind shitposts and recycled memes, but it’s 2017 and he’s trying his actual, genuine hardest to not be an edgelord. 

Unfortunately, he thinks he has the predisposition for it, so he has to be careful. Especially considering what a snowflake standard he held himself to in high school. But in the same way undergrad taught him he’d never fully be a woke white dude and to fight his instincts to alt-control-delete his emotions, he’s avoided being an Internet Guy. 

There’s a sense of irony with the fact that most of his interests lie in the nostalgic, anyway. He likes Kubrick films. He dresses like he personally raided Kurt Cobain’s closet. He listens to a lot of David Byrne. 

But he still came of age in the aughts, so there’s a level of inevitability about his dependency to technology—particularly during the month he inherits his father’s motorcycle. 

“I’m getting to old for this thing, Jug, and you’ve gotta get around town,” his father had said, tugging a plastic blue tarp off. He supposes what was underneath it could be construed as a motorcycle, but only in that it had two wheels. 

“I think I’m better off with the bus,” Jughead said gloomily, his eyebrows knotted in the general direction of the bike. 

“Come on, son. It just needs a little elbow grease. I’ll help you fix it up,” his father had offered, though Jughead knew better than to rely on that. 

His dad has come a long way with his rehabilitation and was there when he really needed to be, but it was the times that things weren’t a life-or-death necessity that he didn’t always show up. 

Still, while Providence, Rhode Island is technically a city, it’s also got a bus system designed by a four year old with a crayon. 

And he’s far too principled for ride-shares, so it might not be so bad to have an alternate form of transportation. So he says fine, Dad and he takes the bike, and on second thought, takes another helmet too, though he has no idea why. What, is he going to wear one on top of the other? 

Still. The thing looks like it’ll dismantle itself at a slight breeze.

However, a couple hours into the manual he’s checked out from the Brown University Library, he realizes he’s in way over his head. The only part of the book he understands is the chapter that makes him realize they’re not even describing the type of motorcycle he has. Great.

From across the living room, Archie says he should google it, to which he replies, golly, no one’s ever suggested that before, and in response gets a pencil thrown at his head, followed by a request to throw the pencil back so he can finish his work. 

Rolling his eyes and tossing the pencil back—he doesn’t aim for it to land a foot away from Archie, but is pleased when it does—Jughead pulls his computer forward. His fingers hesitate over the keys, realizing he actually has no idea what kind of bike it is. It’s small, that’s all he knows. 

He shoots his dad a text asking him, but a glance at the time tells him his father is halfway through a shift at the construction site, and he’ll be lucky to hear back by nightfall. 

He peruses the internet with a half-hearted attempt to figure it out, but unsurprisingly, google searches titled small motorcycle and small bike with one headlight and what the fuck is this thing do not help. 

He has a few photos on his phone of the motorcycle, so the only things he knows about it is that it’s got a slight build and the brand is Honda.

Eventually, he finds himself on a Reddit thread for mechanics and classic car enthusiasts, and decides that’s a good place to start, because the only other thing he knows about the bike is that it’s old. 

Jughead makes an account and uploads his photos with the caption - uh, i know this sounds pretty stupid, but i inherited this bike and i’m trying to get it up and running but realized i have no idea what it is or where to start. any tips would be greatly appreciated. 

He closes his laptop, deciding he’ll use the interim time to work on this thesis. Between his work as a TA, the overall sufferings of being a grad student, now this stupid motorcycle which was supposed to help more than hinder, and the fact that he’s caught himself spacing out over the pretty blonde in his writing seminar twice—which is just—he isn’t thirteen, he should be beyond this—well, he’s a bit behind. 

After a couple hours, he checks the thread. There’s a response underneath his post, from a one MiniCoop59, informing him that they’re not totally sure, but thinks he owns a Honda GB500 cafe racer. 

He googles it, and that appears to be exactly the one sitting in the garage, so he goes back to the Reddit tab. 

yeah, this is it! thanks! now i just need to find the right manual this time lol, he comments back. 

And he expects that to be the end of it. But when he checks his email fifteen minutes later, there’s a notification from Reddit, and MiniCoop59. 

No problem! They’ve typed back. I wasn’t sure, my area of interest is more old cars. But glad I could help. 

He clicks on their username, curious to see what else they’ve posted, for no real reason other than utter and complete procrastination from his thesis. 

As he expected, Jughead finds a couple posts about engines, advice about fixing up an old Volkswagen van with a wry additional comment asking if they’re planning on following around the Grateful Dead for a while. It makes him snort. There’s also, more surprisingly, a post on a thread about anxiety where they talk about the pressures of deciding if graduate school is worth it or a waste of money. 

He raises his eyebrows, not only because he admires their response to dealing with anxiety and being frank about the way it manifests so that it doesn’t control you—and also because of the part about grad school. That’s definitely a question he’s asked himself, even halfway through his own second degree. 

Jughead returns to the original thread. 

it was, he writes. thanks again. also, hey, i’m bored and procrastinating, so i looked at your profile. ever figure out if grad school was a waste of money? been asking myself that and have no real answer. 

The response doesn’t take long. 

Haha! No, never figured it out. But too late now, I’m already enrolled. 

same. guess that’s how they get us.

Big time. Especially the Ivies, they trick you into thinking it’s so worth it! Like, if you got in *there*, you have to take that opportunity!

same again. Brown should be called Green for all the cash they’ve sapped from me. 

After that, MiniCoop59 stops answering. Jughead considers this reasonable, given that it’s almost dinner time, and if they’re at an Ivy league school like him, they’re somewhere on the east coast and thus in the same time zone.

However, they also don’t reply the next day, or the day after. It doesn’t matter, because his dad has gotten back to him, with a voicemail that confirms MiniCoop59′s answer. (His dad is still terrible at texting.)

Eventually, Jughead forgets all about Reddit, including the bike in the garage, especially the deeper into the semester he gets. He’s too busy, and he’s not going to ride the thing around in the dead of New England winter, anyway, so he stops trying to rush it. 

However, as leaves start to appear on trees and he’s no longer wearing all five of his layers at once to stave off the cold, Jughead thinks about the motorcycle again, and decides it’s finally time to fix up the thing. 

He checks the thread once more for the brand MiniCoop59 has given him, and heads to the campus library, his eyes flicking over the snow drop flowers peeking out of the soil. Spring is almost here. 

He recognizes the woman behind the circulation desk as the pretty blonde from his fall semester writing seminar, and his throat runs a little dry. He’s done his best not to create a fantasy around someone he doesn’t know, but he hasn’t been able to get past the one time they were in a group together and she critiqued his essay so perfectly that he actually almost got turned on. 

He’s pretty sure he remembers her name is Betty, because it’s such an odd name for a millennial he doubts he’d make that up. But the class was so big and they were only in the same group that one time, that he can’t be positive. 

But. Well, he’s always had a thing for nostalgia, so it’s just the kind of name he’d accidentally think was the name of his crush.  

“Hey,” he says, his fingers around the edge of the circulation counter. “Looking for some help finding a book.” 

She glances up from her novel, her big green eyes roving over him. “Sure,” she says, her neck tilted slightly, as if perhaps trying to decide if she remembers him too, or if that’s just his imagination. She closes the book and pushes it aside, rolling slightly in her chair to face the library computer. “Do you know the author?”

“Uh, I’m actually looking for a manual,” he says, scratching behind his ear. “On motorcycles? I have the model and make, if that helps.”

She smiles, though her head is fully angled now, looking at him curiously. “It will. Let’s head over to the section and see if we can find what you’re looking for. I’m Betty, by the way.”

“I know,” he says, and immediately squeezes his eyes shut with a cringe. “I mean, we were in a writing seminar together.”

“Oh!” Betty says, standing from her chair. “I thought that was you! You’re…Jughead, right? Hard to forget that name.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah. I get that a lot. It’s still better than the alternative, though.”

As she leads him across the library, the look she passes him is a little wry. They pull to a stop in front of a shelf that has been categorized by the label MANUALS and the further sublabel of MOTORCYCLES. 

Jughead pulls out his phone and finds MiniCoop59′s description. “So I was told I have a Honda GB500. Oh, cafe racer,” he says, and when he lowers his phone from his face, Betty is gaping at him.

“Oh my god, wait, are you HotDogHotDogHotDog?” 

His face burns bright red as the gears turn in his head, and he stares at her right back. “I…what? You’re MiniCoop?” 

She giggles, hiding her snickering behind a polite hand. “Don’t give me that look, when your username had the word hot dog in it three times.”

“That was…my dog’s name,” he says lamely, still too shocked and embarrassed to say anything else. He huffs. “Look, okay, I was not planning on using that profile ever again. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“Obviously,” she replies, still giggling. 

He groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. When he looks at her again, her expression has turned slightly rueful as she nibbles on her lip. “Um—listen, I didn’t reply because when you said you went to Brown too, and you’d read my post about anxiety, I just…I didn’t want you to be someone who knew me. Didn’t want to be judged.”

He’d honestly forgotten she’d stopped replying, and is surprised that she has any guilt over it. But at the wide look in her eye, he’s realizing that just might be her personality; perennially worried she’s upset anyone. 

“It’s really okay,” he says. “I get that. I mean, I didn’t know who you were. But even if I did, I definitely wouldn’t judge you. I actually…admired it. What you talked about.”

It’s true; if anything, this just endears her to him more, her honesty and the self-care she talked about. Her lips press together thoughtfully, but she pivots quickly, her attention moving to scan the bookshelf. “Well. I think this is what you’re looking for,” she says, offering him a weathered manual. 

“Thanks,” he says, after a moment. He swallows, trying to gather his courage, because this is the girl he’s been thinking about since October, and she looks especially beautiful against the light filtered through the stacks. “Uh, listen. “Would you want to…um. Hang out sometime? I mean, like, while I work on the bike?” He rushes to add. “Since I know you have an interest in mechanics, and, well—”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” She interrupts, her lips tipped up in amusement. 

He blows out a breath, not sure if she means about his haphazard attempt to ask her out, or the motorcycle. “No. None.” 

Betty’s grin is nearly shy as she nods. “In that case, I would love to,” she replies, and Jughead decides he’ll have to thank his dad for the motorcycle one more time.

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[welcometophu]

Not Your Destiny: Chapter 24

Marked Book 1: Not Your Destiny

Chapter 24

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Ángel drifts through the hour after midnight, enjoying the peace and quiet on his own for a while. The ache of lying on the ground finally gets to him, and he pushes to his feet, brushes the grass from his clothes, and walks inside.

Luca sits on the counter in the kitchen again, raises one hand in silent greeting before going back to whatever he’s typing on his phone. When Ángel stands there, he glances up, saying, “Sam and Max went to bed, and so did Hayley and Tanner. They’re sharing one of the guest rooms. Zita and Danny finally got their miscreants to actually sleep after midnight, and they gave up and locked the door to their suite. There’s a pile of kids in one of the other guest rooms, so I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping there. I think your grandmother and mine claimed a guest room; they’re still talking in the living room. Tony’s upstairs with Gabi watching movies, at least as far as I know. I’m probably heading out in a half hour, partly because my cousins took over my room and there’s nowhere for me to sleep.”

That was a lot of information, and a lot more than Ángel can handle at this hour. “Short version is check a guest room before sleeping in it, Tony and Gabi are hiding, and Abuela’s in the living room?” he asks.

“Mm,” Luca agrees, nodding at his phone.

Ángel gets himself a large glass of water, carries it into the living room. Abuela looks up as soon as he enters, a woman of similar age looking over as well. They sit turned toward each other on the couch, and Abuela motions for him to join them.

Ángel doesn’t want to sit awkwardly between them, so he drags one of the other chairs closer and sits there.

“Ángel, mijo, this is Sofia. She is your Luca’s grandmother,” Abuela says. “I haven’t seen her in years, not since I was a girl. She is older than me, but you would never know.”

“Flatterer,” Sofia says with a smile. She leans forward, touches Ángel’s knee as her nostrils flare. She inhales, then sits back, a small smile tilting her lips. “I have heard of you.”

“Oh.” Ángel really has no idea what to do with that statement. “Luca talks a lot.”

“He’s not the only one.” Sofia clasps her hands, pressing them together like praying for a moment, before she drops them to her lap. “They are all like my own grandchildren. My sister, God rest her soul, was grandmother to the Mollicones.”

Oh. Oh, wait.

Ángel leans forward. “Your sister was the Bonita that Abuela knew.”

“She was.” Abuela pushes herself slowly to her feet, and Ángel joins her, moving into the hug as soon as Abuela gestures. He kisses the top of her head, murmurs happy new year in response to hers.

“I think it is late for these old bones,” Abuela says. She nudges Ángel toward the couch. “Keep my old friend company for a time. Sofia, I will see you when you decide it’s time for sleep. Good night.”

Ángel sits on the edge of the couch. “She wants me to talk to you,” he says quietly, watching his abuela head for the stairs.

Sofia pats the back of the couch. “Be comfortable, Ángel. I’m not planning to scold you. Verita and I haven’t spoken in a long time, and I am the only one left of my generation that was close to Bonita. And who is close to Zita, now. So certain things fall to me.” She lifts her hands, shrugs in shallow motion. “They could fall to Zita, but she has her own ways. What we talk about can stay between us.”

Ángel’s mouth opens. Closes. “Okay,” he says slowly. “What?”

“We are not Clan,” Sofia says quietly, and she sits back, as if that’s some grand revelation.

It’s just late enough that it’s frustrating. That her words add an edge back to the nice floating sensation that Ángel had after the night. He raises his hand to his lips, lowers it slowly. “I know,” he says slowly. “That seems to be a sore point.”

Sofia sniffs, makes a dismissive gesture. “Clan do not understand. They think we are lesser. That we are something to be looked down upon because we are proteiforme—changeable—but only into one form. They do not respect those of singular lineage.”

“That’s it?” Ángel shakes his head. It seems ridiculous, but he remembers reading that the Clan were proud of their forms. That the more forms a person had, the higher the power. The greater the Talent. That rank depended upon forms. “So you only have one form you can take. All of you.”

“We are Lince.” The word rolls off her tongue, musical and sweet. When Ángel frowns, Sofia repeats it for him again. “Lince,” she says. “We are from the north, in the foothills of the mountains. Family is important to us; there aren’t many of our line, and most of us are here, aside from those few who remain in Italy and a few in Germany and Austria, and those who have scattered.”

“How do you not die out?” Ángel blurts. “You can’t intermarry; that’s not safe.”

“We don’t,” Sofia assures him with a soft laugh. “We have our ways, Ángel. Our family expands by our will.” She gestures across the couch at him.

Ángel touches his hand to his chest, and she nods. He shakes his head. “I’m not Lince,” he says firmly. “I’m a Mage.”

“Mm.” She shrugs. “You say that as if it matters.” Sofia swings her legs down from the couch, stands slowly. She’s even tinier than Abuela, but she’s strong as she leans over to hug Ángel, her face close to his ear. “You are family, Ángel. Whether Mage or not, you are family.”

Talent doesn’t work like that. You can’t just adopt someone, say they’re family, and make them a part of your Lineage.

But you can breed with them—if people are into that—and the children might be Lince.

“You weren’t born a Mollicone,” he says quickly, and Sofia turns back from the bottom of the stairs, smiling slightly, pride in her expression.

“I was not born a Mollicone or a Bianchi, but I am Lince now, yes,” she says. “Good night, Ángel. Find your place, and sleep.”

He stays there on the couch, mind reeling because this is new information, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with it.

Lince.

He rolls the word on his tongue, whispers it aloud. “Lince.”

Ángel pulls his phone out, opens the documents he’d started online for his notes, and adds in “Lince” as a new header. Then he switches to a browser and types it in.

It brings up a district in Peru, an Italian armored car, and a Spanish tank.

It also brings up an entry for the lynx, including the eurasian lynx. That one seems promising, and Ángel clicks through.

A moment later he locks his phone, shoves it in his pocket and stalks into the kitchen. Luca looks over at him eyes wide, and slides off the counter.

“What?”

Ángel jabs him in the chest. “You’re a cat.”

Luca’s fingers twist around Ángel’s wrist, hard enough to move him, then gentling as he turns Ángel’s wrist between them, the ink showing clearly.

Luca presses against the ink with his thumb. “Yeah,” Luca says softly. “I’m a cat. But I’m not your cat.” He lets go of Ángel’s wrist, pats his cheek with one hand. “It’s late, Ángel. Go find a bedroom and get some sleep. I’m sure Gabi will let you use her couch.”

“She’s a cat,” Ángel whispers, and Luca pulls him in, wrapping his arms around Ángel’s shoulders, rubbing his cheek against his hair. Ángel lets Luca hold him, lets him nuzzle for a long time, and takes comfort in it. “You’re all cats.”

“Lince,” Luca whispers. He cradles Ángel’s chin when he steps back. “Go get some rest, Ángel. The world will be clearer in the morning.”

Well, shit.

The soulmark is generic. Broad. Ángel stares at his wrist, at the large cat staring back at him. It’s Lince. Definitely. His soulmark is a part of this large family, one of these shapeshifters who hate magic. But the mark doesn’t give him the smallest clue who it is.

He feels like he’s gotten all the information he wanted tonight, and it hasn’t actually helped him at all.

He climbs the stairs slowly, follows the noise to Gabi’s room. He knocks before nudging the door open, spots Tony sitting on the couch with the TV on, while Gabi dozes. There are a half dozen or so people in sleeping bags on the floor; when Tony stands, Gabi stretches out and he covers her with a blanket.

Tony presses a finger to his lips, ushers Ángel into the hall. “Our aunt and uncle took the bed,” he murmurs. “This whole place is full right now.”

“And half the people left.” It reminds Ángel that he heard a car and a knock earlier, and he thinks about asking, but it’s probably not important. “I can go back downstairs, sleep in the living room.”

Tony gives him a dark look. “Why? Someone’s going to wake up a disgusting hour and start moving around, and you won’t get to sleep.”

“Like you. Putting breakfast out,” Ángel points out, and Tony makes a face.

“Probably not as early as usual tomorrow, but do you really want to take that risk?” Tony motions for Ángel to follow. “Come on.”

Ángel follows, trailing after Tony on the way up the stairs. He realizes that he has no idea where his bag is, but somehow when he walks into Tony’s suite, it’s right there, sitting on the couch.

“Luca moved it earlier when someone decided to take over the guest room you’d claimed,” Tony says. He heads to the closet, pulls down two pillows and a blanket. “He figured I’d rather have you crash in here than Maritsa and Cleto, and he’s right. Emerson’s bag is in the closet in the other guest room. You can deal with leaving things here after everyone’s gone.”

Ángel picks up his bag, pulls out a pair of sleep pants, and just watches as Tony moves around. “Why didn’t you end up with half your family asleep on your floor?”

“Seniority,” Tony says. “Same reason Zita’s just got Danny and the kids in her space. There isn’t much we get to claim, but territory is part of it.”

Territory. Because they’re cats.

A low laugh bubbles up at the sudden bright image of Tony grooming himself in the middle of the floor, watching to make sure no one else comes near.

Both eyebrows go up, and Tony watches him. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Ángel sinks onto the couch, pulls the blanket over his lap and holds onto it. He glances at Tony, wonders just how well Lince can hear and smell and what Tony’s thinking right now. Ángel feels like his heart’s going rabbit fast as he shoves the blanket onto the arm of the couch. “Not really ready to sleep, yet, though.”

“You realize, I’m translating that as Tony put a movie on and I’ll fall asleep five minutes in, which is what it meant when Gabi said it.” His tone is dry, but Tony still grabs the remote, drops onto the couch next to Ángel and turns the TV on. He flips through streaming services, finds a dark comedy. “This work?”

That was… easier than Ángel expected. He exhales slowly, nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that works. I just. I should—”

Tony hits pause, stands up and leaves the remote on the couch. “I’m going into my bedroom to get changed. Come on in when you’re ready—the bathroom’s off my room, if you want to brush your teeth.”

Get changed. Brush teeth. Yeah, Ángel should do all of that.

As soon as the door between the two rooms closes, Ángel digs out his sleep pants and an old t-shirt and changes. He shoves his shoes off to one side with his bag, finds his toothbrush and realizes he completely forgot toothpaste.

He knocks on the door, holding the toothbrush up to cover the fact that Tony startled him by being so quick to open it. “Can I get some toothpaste?”

They brush side by side in Tony’s bathroom, and when they’re done, Tony leaves Ángel to do what he needs to do. By the time Ángel gets back to the living room, Tony sits in the middle of the couch, the remote in his left hand, his other arm lying across the back of the couch.

Ángel’s chest goes tight as he settles in on that side, leans back to feel Tony’s arm behind his shoulders. It’s hot behind his back, the rest of the room chilled from the night air earlier.

“Grab the blanket,” Tony says, and when Ángel does, Tony helps arrange it across both of them.

Now he’s warm and comfortable and Ángel sinks down, curling closer to Tony as the movie starts. When Tony’s hand drops to settle onto Ángel’s shoulder, Ángel makes a small, pleased noise, and burrows closer, head tilted close to Tony.

Tony presses his nose to Ángel’s temple, inhales.

Ángel wonders what he smells like, if it’s good or just something neutral. He could ask, but at the same time, he isn’t sure he wants to know. It’s good enough that Tony’s not moving, staying close after the cautious breath.

The movie plays, and Ángel finds that place again inside his head where he can let go of the tension and float. His eyes close, the sound of the movie washing over him. “Not sure I’m gonna make it through the movie,” he admits.

Tony’s laugh rumbles against him. “It’s fine. If you sleep, you sleep. You need to get some so your head’s clear when we go to the garage.”

“It’s Sunday,” Ángel protests, and Tony nods.

“Yeah. It’s Sunday. We’re going to work on Helga.”

Oh. Oh right, that. Ángel pats Tony’s chest, sighs out more of the tension from his shoulders. “You’re a good guy,” Ángel murmurs. “You just don’t want anyone to know.”

“You keep thinking that.” Tony’s hand covers Ángel’s, keeps it still against his chest.

Ángel’s fine with that. Perfectly fine.

His hand curls against Tony’s shirt, and Ángel lets himself slide into sleep.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

[awkwarddezzy]

Uplate on RL Dan

typed this all last night on a word doc and felt too lazy so I only proofread once

Hiya lovelies! Whoever read Anywhere But Here and 7 Days are aware RL Dan (if you didn’t read the stories, his name is David) and I broke up. Since posting those imagine fics, a lot of things have happened. I mean A LOT. Between then and now, the things that happened will make you guys dislike RL Dan less (should you hate him for what he did). DO NOT BLAME HIM FOR HIS CHOICE. As you’re about to read, what’s going on with us atm will shed a new perspective for our entire situation.

PS before I forget I learned what “her” name is. However, for privacy purposes, I’ll call her Sarah like what I did in 7 Days. As for David, I’ve grown used to calling him RL Dan here so that’s the name I’ll be sticking with.

We chatted on Facebook Messenger a few times throughout winter break. When I originally posted the stories, I assumed Sarah and RL Dan would get a chance to meet, talk, and start a proper relationship over the break. I was ready to spend the next three weeks wallowing in my misery and playing the role as supportive best friend as I watched their relationship progress. But that didn’t happen. She was supposedly under a home lockdown for whatever reason. Maybe she was grounded for doing something bad. Maybe an alien attacked her like what happened with Tabitha in that Sims ep last year lol. I didn’t know. She had no way to get in touch. On top of that, she was sick. As someone who has asthma, I felt bad for her. This is a season for getting sick. RL Dan was feeling incredibly disconnected since he wanted so badly to talk to her. So I gave him words of encouragement, telling him things will get better and to think positive. And it did… I guess. He got to talk to her a couple times before New Years Eve, though he was laying low and mostly focused on the holidays.

He appreciates when I’m around to cheer him up. He knows about my situation of barely having internet at home (a reason also explained from 7 Days). He’s happy I’m still there for him, because he was afraid I wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore. But I’m not that sort of person. Experience from the past taught me to keep fighting for people even if they’re pulling away.

We’re both emotional messes. It’s one among many reasons why we’re so close.

He told me a little bit about Sarah. In his words, “she’s smart, funny, she laughs at my jokes, she’s always been there, she makes me laugh, she loves her family, I just think she’s great.” He described her as a likable person, but in the back of my mind, something felt off. I didn’t know what it was, but I imagined her as one of those “dream” nerdy girls that seems so perfect you wouldn’t expect them to have a bitchy side. I didn’t tell him that though. I didn’t want to sound jealous, and I really did want him to be happy. He was doing what I wished I could’ve done in the past with someone else.

I also asked him why he wanted to talk to me when we started the poetry unit for our creative writing class. Apparently, I did mention I was into MCR too when we had to do that whole explanation of our opinions about poetry. In his head, he thought I was cool and felt intrigued to approach me after class. It was something I was curious about for the last few days, especially since you guys know I’m incredibly introverted and have a difficult time socializing to people outside of social media.

Fast forward to this Monday. What was SUPPOSED to be my first day of microbiology lab was a bust since I got an email in my college email account from my professor telling us class won’t start till Wednesday (today). So for the next few hours (because I didn’t wanna go home yet), I was chatting with Crystal aka @beforethebraces, later, RL Dan. With Crystal, we talked about… well, something that makes her incredibly happy right now that I can’t share the details yet (I’ll let her be the one to give me the green light for the big reveal). But anyway, we also talked about David and our thoughts about Sarah. We had a very, very deep conversation over the feelings I still have for RL Dan. She gave me the best advice about believing there’s a reason we met. She agreed how we’re highly suspicious of Sarah’s feelings for RL Dan. Between the two of us, we analyzed the events I knew happened with Sarah and RL Dan and realized there was something fishy. We sensed Sarah didn’t feel the way RL Dan felt toward her.

When I got to chat with David (he had class and immediately left campus afterward for dialysis), he told me he ran into Sarah on his way to class. They did some catching up. He learned her phone was acting up, hence why she couldn’t reach him. She was also still sick (he thought it was the flu), so even if she could get in contact with him, she didn’t feel well enough to do so.

So how do I secretly react?

😡😡😡

I sensed some lying.

Lemme break it down for you guys.

The most obvious one: You can’t have the flu for three weeks. As a future medical specialist, it isn’t possible. A flu is only supposed to last a week or two. Anything beyond a week could mean something serious.

Second: the way RL Dan described their encounter seemed like she was distant from him, as if she feigned being sick so she wouldn’t talk to him. If you’re being distant, it usually means you’re hiding something, or at least have something weighing your mind.

Third: What if the lockdown was an excuse? It was a possibility on the back of my mind while I was on break, but didn’t think much of it since it would make me sound jealous. But it was likely. Think about it: if you’re sick, wouldn’t you desperately want to talk to the people who matter to you? That’s what Crystal and I would do. When I was really sick in 10th grade and was absent from school for 3 days, I was desperate to get online and talk to my friends so I could tell them what was up. I barely kept my resistance to stay offline. My mom drilled into my head to get better, so that’s what I did. And I was so exhausted I’d sleep most of the day away.

In general, I had a hunch Sarah wasn’t being truthful. But I wouldn’t allow my suspicions cloud my friendship with RL Dan. I did what a good friend would do: give a great pep talk, because that’s what I’m a master at (ask Crystal; just being there for her and not being a judge gets her through awful times). I kept him company while he was on dialysis. He told me he had issues with his schedule. We tried to make plans to meet up the next day, though the time I’d arrive at school is the time he has a class. So we just let that tiny dilemma be. We’d have time to meet another day once we get used to our spring courses.

So that brings me to yesterday. He found me sitting at one of the tables in front of the campus Subway. I just finished my first day of a micro lecture class and doing my usual Tumblr spree/waiting for another chat room to open for Mystic Messenger (I finally started deep story and crossing my fingers to land on Jumin’s route). I planned to stay for 10 minutes or so before catching a bus home. We talk for a bit, and he finally tells me he discussed his feelings with Sarah with her.

She. Changed. Her. Mind.

She told him she didn’t feel the sparks anymore and the door is now 100% closed. In other words, it’s done-zo. Oh, and he apologized for our breakup. He still feels bad about it.

We met up again a couple hours ago, though it was short. He wanted to see me before he had to head home, eat a quick lunch, and go do his dialysis. In that time frame, we talked like we usually did. Still super close, still open and didn’t act weird around me, still just… him.

How rare is it for exes to remain like best friends? You guys tell me.

So… what happens now? Where do we go from here? RL Dan says he’s fine about it. Good actually, since he knows the truth and now he can move on. I feel guilty about my hunch being right. I’m selfless and was so supportive for his happiness. But I can’t help but feel… hopeful. A door closes and another opens. An end to a beginning.

I’ve let go of my fears about love. I did that during the break. I’m not scared anymore to fall in love. I’m not letting my past hold me back. I feel refreshed for 2017: with school, with love, with life… with everything.

Think positive. That’s my motto for the year.

I’ll give RL Dan a few days to think it over. I was so, so tempted yesterday to ask him about us, but my feelings weren’t what’s important. It’s his. I won’t make the mistake to give him space, because trust me, I made that choice once and it was the worst choice I ever made. But I will be here for him. I’ll talk to him and continue to be his confidant. Now isn’t our time. It’s too soon for him to jump back into a relationship. No matter how much I want us to get back together, being hasty will only lead to disastrous results.

Then again, a part of me thinks we never actually broke up. I see it as us pressing pause in our relationship; someday, when the time is right, we’ll press resume.

Red string of fate, ya’ll. I still believe he’s on the other end of mine.

I care so much about him. It’s scary. I don’t want to lose him as a friend. For now, I’ll set aside my emotions and get through the rest of the week. I’ll talk to him one-on-one about our relationship next week (unless he brings it up sooner). I’ll tell him I still have feelings for him. I’ll tell him I didn’t give up on him and wonder if we could open the door for our own relationship again. I’ll go on a first date we never did and be the girl that won’t ever hurt him again.

So… yeah. You guys deserve an explanation for what’s happening between David and I. Dating him during a time where I suffered through a semester-long existential crisis over questioning what I was doing with my life really helped me out. I was in such a funk and he was that fallen angel who rescued a princess of darkness. He reignited my passion to go into the medical field. And it’s not everyday I meet a boy who resembles Dan Howell (and a bit of Phil). When I truly got into Dan and Phil in early 2016, I structured my ideal boyfriend to be someone who’s a mix of Phan. And guess what? I met that person. I met that person who knows about their existence. I met that person who I don’t have to put a persona for. I met a boy who showed me the best parts of falling in love and refused to let me go when he chose Sarah.

He matters. He’s… my cheesehead (a nickname I started calling him since he’s so cheesy AF lol). He understood the part of my past that made me fear trusting people. He’s everything I could ask for in a red string soulmate.

Nowadays he calls me fam. Like we’re family.

I adore him. He’s a beautifully broken boy I waited 19 years to capture my heart like this.

Trust me on this, everyone. I know what I’m doing and I won’t let him hurt me again.

I’ll definitely update you guys again once I do our one-on-one talk. You guys have been incredibly cool about us and I really love sharing these kind of details with you. It’s exhilarating to experience events that become incorporated in my imagines.

My life… it’s a gigantic fanfiction eh? 😂

[ramblingpillager-blog]

VRC: Brandon

Brandon swaggered, as only a VR avatar could swagger, through the crowded bar. How stupid that VR bars were nearly impenetrable. It’s not like you could drink real alcohol in a VR bar. 

His ID twinkled above his head, RecklessABrandon. That made him swagger too. He was proud of that one. Took him three days to think of it, and then he had to totally redesign his avatar to match. His avatar, like Brandon in the flesh, was muscular, fit, and attractive. He spent as much time running at the gym as he did in his VR headset.

Unlike many, VR didn’t suck Brandon in for days at a time. He liked being outdoors in the Minneapolis sun. Climate change had made the central US weather pretty erratic, but Minnesota had lucked out. The winters were milder, and the lakes and parks helped make the summers a little more bearable. Plus he had hockey practice three nights a week most of the year. His VR time had to pack a lot of entertainment for each minute, since he had so little.

The hot chick at the bar watched him cross the dance floor and worm his way through a crowd of cheering sorority sisters who’d gotten wasted and come to the VR bar to fuck shit up. But this girl wasn’t into that shit, and Brandon nodded approvingly.

Of course, everybody in VR looked great. It was the risk you took, building relationships with these projections of people’s illusions rather than their physical beings. “Outing” avatars had become a pastime for a whole sector of Internet trolls, members of the jealous class who hacked into less-secure VR networks and stalked social media for any clues that might link an avatar to its owner. The fact that RecklessABrandon wasn’t afraid to have his name in his handle meant he was either too solid in real life to care what people knew about him, or he was part of the troll gangs who loved to out their victims.

Of course, it was easy to dump one avatar identity and pick up another, so almost no one knew Brandon led the r/outage board for “kills,” as they liked to call them. It was all meant to be base human cruelty, but sometimes the cruelty hit its mark too hard and victims took themselves out of VR permanently, usually via suicide. If you couldn’t VR, you struggled to get anywhere in life. Unless you were Amish. Some of the outed people moved to Amish country, no joke.

Trolling had gotten so bad, Congress haggled over two bills, one banning the use of anything but real names (it got shot down immediately by privacy advocates and domestic abuse victims groups) and another to apply a 5 year Internet and VR ban to anyone caught outing someone else. The second bill almost passed, but some of the Internet freedom groups drummed up enough fear that the government couldn’t be trusted to identify trolls unless it also had access to everyone’s usernames, profile information, and location data, something the Privacy Act of 2027 had banned outright thanks to Senator Snowden’s efforts to reform the US’s privacy laws.

Brandon loved Senator Snowden. In fact, he donated money to his re-election campaign every six years as a quiet token of gratitude. Privacy laws had bolstered security around everyone’s account information. As someone who understood those systems too well, RecklessABrandon felt little fear that his side hobby would get him busted.

The girl at the bar was still watching him. Hm. Was that an invitation? Might as well knock on this door while it was available. Maybe she had one of the new suits that let people experience in the flesh what they were doing in VR. Because he sure did, and VR sex was way better than the original. If you had the right person. And a little daring.

Brandon nestled himself into his VR rig, moving gracefully in real space within a full 360° harness that allowed him to act out every motion he was performing within the virtual environment. His swagger may have been exaggerated a bit in virtual reality - a man’s got to represent, after all - but anyone who really knew him in VR could pick out his gait as he strolled IRL.

“Hey. What are you doing in a dive like this?” he opened, hoping a slight nod to film noire might score him some points with this woman who radiated confidence and allure. Mmmmm. He didn’t need his mesh suit to tell his body parts what to feel. She generated everything he needed. 

She tipped up her chin in a manner of greeting. Too chill to be bothered to speak, he noted. “Want to join me in some whiskey and then some sex?” Brandon didn’t beat around. He’d learned that people in VR tended to be more upfront about their goals, since they had a level of anonymity to protect them. And he had to consider that this gorgeous model might be piloted by some dude in a half-assed piece of shit rig in a slum in Oklahoma City. You had to take risks, if you wanted to gain any glory. Besides, he loved outing the cross-gender VR avatars. Absolutely made his day. 

“Hello, Brandon.” Her voice came through his headset as an alto, smoky with an undercurrent of bourbon and danger. She stood up and slid over a seat so he could have the stool. He noticed her incredible figure, her size D breasts, her dress slit up the thigh allowing him a glimpse of black lace panties. If she wasn’t here for sex, she sure was hanging out the wrong shingle.

“You mean RecklessABrandon,” he responded with a wink. Gotta make sure the bitches are clear about his self-confidence. Plus the wise ones would heed the warning: This guy is fine with you knowing his real name. Don’t fuck him over, or he’ll destroy you IRL.

“Fine. Then I guess you’ll have to call me PollyM0th, if we’re going to be all formal about it.” She swigged the last of her bourbon and set the glass aside. “I’ve got a room booked upstairs, and I’ve been itching to try it out. Are you wearing a suit?”

“Yeah. Top of the line Nike 2689, just came out a month ago. If you so much as brush a fingertip across my arm, I’d feel it.”

“Excellent. Let’s see how much it can take.”

***** One benefit of virtual sex was the avoidance of pounding and shouting in the flesh, which always had the risk of generating threats from the people next door or below. Brandon followed PollyM0th up the stairs to a room at the end of the 3rd virtual floor. VR had spawned an entire industry of virtual real estate, where brokers bought and sold virtual apartments and houses for real money. It made little sense to the aging Millennials but nobody gave a shit about them anyway. Whoever hadn’t made the jump to VR got left behind, as far as most VR residents were concerned.  If you were the type to spend most of your time online, what did it matter how shitty your apartment was in real life?

This woman clearly loved her space. The oak door opened at a touch - virtual fingerprint lock technology, he noted. It wasn’t enough that the door probably recognized her ID; this was an additional security measure meant to ensure no one could hack their way into her VR space. Wise move.

The interior, as was common in VR apartments, vastly overflowed the physical “exterior” of the apartment. In virtual space, rules of geometry were irrelevant. Renters could pay for as much interior storage as they wanted. PollyM0th clearly paid for a lot.

She grabbed him by the tie (Brandon always dressed up to go clubbing; only slobs didn’t) and pulled him toward her for a kiss that was shockingly passionate. His Nike suit did not disappoint him; these models included a comfortable lightweight face mesh that enabled the wearer to experience exactly something like this, a kiss. He mentally praised his foresight in refusing to skimp on quality where it mattered.

A small file chimed in his vision. His hands were occupied though with this vixen chewing on his lip while she groped for his trousers. He put his hands to better use, feeling around her shoulders to unzip the back of her dress. It fell away revealing her naked torso. God, she was beautiful.  He didn’t even care that she was probably a 250 pound middle-aged woman from some godforsaken corn town in Iowa. He’d hack her tomorrow to find out for sure; right now he wanted the sex.

PollyM0th maneuvered them both toward a spacious bedroom appointed with a variety of chains, hooks, and posts. Ah. A BDSM junkie. Of course. He’d been a little lax lately in checking out the women he banged in VR; and as a general rule, he avoided the kinky ones unless he had some reason to believe they were good at it. Hopefully, this one would let him handcuff her, bang her, and then leave her till the cuffs expired in an hour or two. Virtual BDSM was actually pretty dull even with a good flesh suit.

As if she’d read his thoughts, PollyM0th stopped kissing and groping and looked him over. “You probably think this is dumb, don’t you, my lair of sexual fantasy and bondage. Most men do.  They just want to handcuff me to the bed, and walk out once they’re done. I hope you’re not so dull.”

He eyed her, letting his eyes wander over her gorgeous form. “For you, madam, I would do anything tonight.”

“Anything?”

“Absolutely. Do your worst. I can’t wait.” He pulled off his tie and threw it on a chair. Arms spread wide, Brandon dared her to make it worth it.

Oh, she did. Brandon lost track of time as they tumbled, groped, banged, sucked, whipped, tied, and teased their way through a pair of orgasms each. She showed little signs of slowing down, though he was getting pretty tired. His Nike suit transmitted every experience perfectly, though now he understood why the salesman had emphasized repeatedly that his suit was machine washable.

PollyM0th eyed Brandon up and down, his naked avatar reclining lazily on the bed. “I bet you’ve never actually done anything really interesting in VR,” she challenged, narrowing her eyes at his virtual penis with a questioning look.

“What? God, woman, you don’t even know me. I’ve done everything with this penis, both in the flesh and in pixels.” Brandon found himself genuinely offended.

“Are you willing to put that Nike 2689 through its paces one more time? Or are you done for the night?” She got up, turning her lucious rear view toward his appreciative gaze.

“I can take anything you can dish out. Tie me up, do what you will. I’m ready.”

“Did you notice I sent you a file awhile back?”

No, he hadn’t. His hands and brain and penis had all been busy when it’d arrived, and he’d completely forgotten to see what she’d sent. He flipped the file onto his virus checker and frowned. Yellow bar. That meant the file would execute a program. “What is this? I don’t run programs from strangers.”

She turned around, holding a metal bar and a pair of handcuffs. “If you want to put me in these, you’re gonna have to open the file. Look, my dad runs a company that writes VRware for suits like yours. That’s why I have such a great suit myself. My dad programmed the software to perfectly fit my body.  And he wrote an enhancer that works with any top-line suit. You’ll feel things you’ve never experienced before, I promise.”

He flipped the file open without a pause.

***** Oh god, oh god. This is horrible. He couldn’t say it, but it was all he’d been thinking for the past ... how long had it been? He had no idea.

If anyone had walked into Brandon’s actual apartment at that moment, they would have seen him frozen motionless in his $2500 VR rig, his ankles and knees and wrists suspended in front of him, in alignment with his head. On his screen, they would have seen the whole picture: his virtual body was locked in a steel frame, ankles and knees and wrists handcuffed to a bar that ran all the way to a metal collar around his neck.

He’d discovered some things about his Nike 2689 that the salesman hadn’t mentioned, or perhaps the girl was telling the truth about her dad’s programming abilities. Either way, once she’d locked him in place with what he thought were self-timed handcuffs, his face mesh had hardened into a mouth piece that blocked his ability to speak. The material covering his eyes went opaque, blocking his vision. And the suit otherwise responded realistically to being handcuffed to a metal bar and suspended from the ceiling.

But it wasn’t the physical pain that tore at him right now, though if the bitch was to be believed, she’d kept him cuffed for two hours already. His body suggested she was telling the truth, and his full bladder was beginning to force its way into his consciousness with urgent warnings. If I piss myself, and my girlfriend finds me in here in what looks like a whorehouse covered in my own urine, she’s going to walk out and never come back.

No, it’s what she’s saying.

“Well, Brandon, I’m glad you dropped by tonight. You know, I’ve been waiting in that hell-hole of a bar every night for four weeks hoping to find you. You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? How many people have you outed? One hundred? Two hundred? Your profile on r/outed suggests it might be closer to two-fifty.”

This is when he realized she wasn’t role playing anymore.

The virtual cuffs were made only of pixels, but his Nike suit squeezed even harder around his body, stifling his breathing and holding him rigid in places that weren’t meant to be immobile at this angle. His back ached, his neck muscles burned, his tongue felt wooly since it’d been probably 4 or 5 hours since he’d had a chance to drink any water.

“Two hundred and fifty people, lives opened up and smeared all over the Internet, for your pleasure. Dick move, Brandon. Brandon Lewis. Brandon Lewis of 365 Sycamore Street, Minneapolis.”

Underneath the mesh suit, beads of sweat formed on Brandon’s face as he blanched. If she outed him....

“Oh yes, you’re fucked. The only question is whether I’m going to fuck you and crush you, or just humiliate you.  What’ll it be?  Oh, right, you can’t say anything.” She waved a finger toward a menu and Brandon felt the mesh around his mouth loosen.

He panted and tried to lick his lips. “Please, I don’t know what you want, but this is genuinely painful. Please let me go.”

“Of course it’s painful, asshole. Why do you think I did it?”

“These cuffs are going to expire soon, right? Like, I get your point, ok? You think I’m a total dick because I outed people. Yes, I did it. I’m Brandon Lewis. Con-fucking-gratulations on your google skills, bitch--” A sharp pain shot through his back as she grabbed his virtual ankles and twisted them one way while turning his wrists and the bar in the opposite direction

“Look, Brandon, here’s the situation. These aren’t timed cuffs. I have total control of your suit. Also, while you’ve been hanging there, I’ve dumped your hard drive data and located your complete activity log for the past four years. One, I can’t believe you’re still using the same crappy hardware. Guess you put all your money into your fancy experience suit. Two, I’m about to doxx you into no tomorrow on r/outed. I know your troll buddies won’t care that you’ve been outing, but the FBI watches that board daily for clues, and I’m about to make sure they find you.

“Hopefully the FBI will figure it out soon, because I have no intention of releasing a piece of shit like you back into the wild. I’ve locked your door -- thanks for installing smart locks, by the way -- and posted the code along with your address and list of outings on the r/outed board. It’s currently 5am. Assuming the FBI checks the board first thing in the morning, you can expect someone to show up and release you by noon today. I’ve also texted your girlfriend that you were with me all night having hot sex, and she’s pretty angry with you. I think I watched her storm out the door via your security cameras. So I’d say you’ll be all alone until the feds come to lock you up.”

Brandon swallowed. He was numb all over, unrelated to his uncomfortable position. He raced for ideas, hoping to hit on something he could say that might work as a bargaining chip.

He didn’t even get to take a full breath to speak before the facial mesh tightened across his mouth, mirroring the gag PollyM0th crammed into his mouth in her virtual dungeon. She smiled. “I don’t want to hear it, Brandon. Save it for your lawyer.” She waved her left hand in the farewell menu gesture, but instead of disappearing from the frame, Brandon watched as her bedroom faded from his view. He was left looking at the grey grid of a blank program in his own developer software, watching the clock in the corner blink slowly toward sunrise.