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foreveia · 2 days ago

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take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course��no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you.

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no.

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world.

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end.

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head.

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him.

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 2 days ago

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Buried Secrets Chapter 1: Demons of Deception

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile.

Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

Word Count: 6.2k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Badass OFC, there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, blood), a surprise appearance or two, brooding Frankie

Chapter Quote: “Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself.”

Mya’s POV

I had been in a lot of tight spots in the past, but nothing could compare to this. The most infuriating thing about it all, it wasn’t because of something I did. I was left to take the fall by someone that I thought loved me.

When I came to, I found myself suspended from the ceiling by my shackled hands. My toes barely touched the floor, just enough to help take some of the weight off my aching shoulders and wrist that stretched above my head. The room was empty and dark, only small hints of sunlight sneaking in through the thick tattered curtains.

Looking around, I saw no way out of this. There was nothing I could use to my advantage and my restraints seemed secure. They had done their due diligence in making sure I couldn’t escape. That was the downside to being taken hostage by people who were familiar with your unusual skill sets.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door creaked open, but it felt like hours. A very pissed off looking Miguel Collazo and one of his enforcers strode into the room, pausing several feet in front of me. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach because I could sense he was beyond reason.

He gave me a menacing glare as he spoke with his thick Spanish accent, “I never thought I would find myself in this kind of situation with you, Mya. You are one of my best collectors, so I am torn on what to do with you.”

I was seething, “How about you unlock these cuffs and let me go. I had nothing to do with this, and you know it.”

He tutted, “I do not believe you. You and Damien have always been inseparable, so I know you know where he is. I want my artifacts and money back.”

Collazo was a pudgy little man with a crooked nose and curly villain mustache that rivaled Dustin Hoffman in Hook. He had a perpetually smug expression that I really wanted to bitch slap off his face as he smirked up at me.

“I don’t know where he is. What would he have to gain from leaving me behind?”

He shrugged as he began to pace back and forth in front of me, “I do not know, to keep me off his trail? It does not make sense to me that he would not tell you his plan.”

I scoffed, “Well I haven’t done that now have I? I have no fucking idea where he is. He was gone when I got home…his phone has been disconnected. I have no way of reaching him.”

The door swung open with a little more force this time. Comandante Veracruz entered, moving to stand next to Collazo. I could see his scruffy angled jaw ticking as his dark eyes looked me over from head to toe. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I could only hope he would take pity on me and talk Collazo off the ledge.

Veracruz was head of security for Collazo. Damien and I had gotten to know him well since we worked closely on several heists in the past. He had made his affections for me obvious but would never have acted on them because of Damien. Now that Damien was long gone, I hoped I could use his affections to my advantage.

“What are you thinking?” He asked Collazo in his Spanish accent.

Collazo smiled, “Still undecided…I am going to let Diego work his magic and see what happens. If she knows, she will break.”

Veracruz shifted his gaze to me. He looked conflicted, but didn’t say anything further. Collazo looked to Diego, nodding in my direction as he rasped out, “Comenzar.” (Begin.)

Diego stalked forward, then backhanded me across the cheek. I let out a threatening chuckle as I shook it off. “This isn’t gonna change my answer. I don’t know anything. All you’re doing is pissing me off.”

Collazo laughed, “Good thing we have you chained up then… Continuar, Diego.” (Continue, Diego.)

Diego gave me an empty stare before punching me in the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. He went on like this for several minutes, punching and slapping. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I pushed through the pain. I refused to let them see how bad I was hurting, even as I felt my left eye swelling and blood running down the sides of my face. All the while Collazo continued to question me.

“Perhaps you could also fill me in on what happened at Lorea’s? Was Damien involved with that too? How much of my money does he actually have?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know anything about that. Maybe he was. If he’s capable of this, then why not? But I don’t know anything. He didn’t tell me.”

Collazo inched forward, causing Diego to momentarily pause his blows and face him as he awaited further instructions.

“Are you sure you do not have anything you wish to tell me, Mya?” Collazo asked.

Clearly, this was going nowhere. It didn’t matter what I said. He didn’t believe me. I spit out the blood that was pooling in my mouth toward his expensive looking white leather shoes, “Yeah, fuck you.”

He didn’t seem impressed, “Still not breaking…I’m shocked. You are stronger than I would have guessed. Hora de tu especialidad, Diego.” (Time for your specialty, Diego.)

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Diego reach for the knife at his belt. A sadistic smile curling on his lips as he nodded in affirmation to his boss. However, he had made a mistake, standing too closely to me with his back turned. I reacted before he even realized what was happening, kicking the knife from his hand and using the chain as leverage to lift myself so I could wrap my legs around his neck. The adrenaline pumping through my veins allowed me to push through the debilitating pain, but I wasn’t sure how long I could hold him. Every muscle and joint in my body was protesting, but I still managed to clamp down tightly around his throat as he clawed at my jean-clad legs. He fought it for a time but eventually passed out from lack of oxygen.

Veracruz stood in shock as he watched Diego fall to his knees. Collazo let out a boisterous laugh and clapped his hands in amusement, “It’s always an adventure with you, Mya.”

I loosened my hold on Diego, allowing him to drop the rest of the way to the ground. I gave Collazo the best sarcastic smile I could muster in my current state, “Yeah? Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself then.”

Collazo chuckled, “I am going to miss your feistiness.”

Veracruz finally interjected, “Perhaps she is telling the truth. It does not make sense that he would leave her if she knew something. Maybe he is planning to return for her?”

Collazo weighed Veracruz’s words, his eyes eventually narrowing in suspicion. “Then he will find that she is missing and that you wait in her place…Acaba con ella, Comandante.” (Finish her, Comandante.)

Fuck. How do I get out of this one?

Veracruz gave a curt nod, taking a deep breath as he drew his pistol and walked toward me. He made sure to stay far enough away that he was out of my reach, but I could still see the nervous sweat forming on his brow and conflict burning in his eyes as he aimed at my face. He held the weapon there, his nostrils flaring and jaw flexing as he clearly struggled with his instructions. I held his gaze, my eyes silently pleading with him in hopes it might sway him to help me in some way. If he didn’t, I was fucked.

“What are you waiting for, Comandante? Finish her,” Collazo ordered again.

I sighed. I didn’t want to do this, but it was the only card I had left to play if Veracruz wasn’t going to help me. I knew it would stop Collazo in his tracks, but I hated myself for it before the words even left my mouth. The Comandante’s finger slowly moved to the trigger, but he was still hesitating.

I flinched away from the barrel of the gun. “WAIT! Wait…” I finally called out.

Collazo sneered as he twisted his stupid mustache with his fingertips, “Better make it good, Mya. This is your last chance.”

I could feel the fight leaving my body as I finally shared the news that I hoped would save my life - at least until I could come up with another way out. “I know the location of Paititi.”

Veracruz lowered his weapon, then turned to give Collazo a questioning look. Collazo’s brows pinched together in doubt, “You lie.”

I shook my head, “I would never…not about this.”

He scoffed, “How do I know you are not just saying this so I do not kill you?”

I huffed out a nervous laugh, “Well, that’s exactly why I’m saying it…but it doesn't make it any less true. I’ve seen the Vatican documents. I know where to look.”

Collazo smiled contemptuously, “That’s impossible. They are inaccessible...How?”

This was the tricky part that was probably going to get me shot, “I-I can’t tell you how…but just know, if you shoot me, the knowledge dies with me. No one else knows about this, not even Damien.”

Veracruz smirked in my direction, “Well…it seems the secrets run deep between both of you then.”

I let out a sardonic laugh, “Damien never believed in Paititi…he said it was a wasted effort…a myth. I kept a lot from him...”

Collazo came closer but made sure to keep Veracruz positioned between us. “What are you proposing, Mya? How can I trust you after this?”

“Let me prove my loyalty. Let me lead an expedition to find the lost city for you. All I ask is that you let me do it the right way, the legal way. I just need funding…”

He didn’t seem convinced, but I was still breathing, so it wasn’t a no. I changed tactics, now playing the role of a hurt and scorned lover, “I swear, I had no knowledge of what Damien was doing. IF he comes back for me, I’ll kill him myself. He betrayed me too. I’m here because of what he did. I can’t forgive him for that.”

Collazo sighed, “If you want to do this the legal way, you know you cannot have any known ties to me…”

I had him. Death would not be taking me today, but I had to think quickly so I could talk myself out of this mess.

“I’ll figure out the logistics…Maybe I set up a donation fund through the gallery…you can donate anonymously to fund the project. I’ll give you access to whatever I find first before I report the discovery.”

This was far from how I wanted to do things, especially since I was hellbent on getting out of my life of crime, but I saw no other way forward at the moment.

Veracruz turned to Collazo, “If you’re willing to chance it, I can keep an eye on her…”

Collazo met my gaze, “Fine. One wrong move though…and you are done. You understand?”

I nodded, “Yes, I understand.”

My eyes shifted to Veracruz, who visibly relaxed, realizing the threat had passed. Collazo turned to leave and tossed him the key, “Cuida sus heridas.” (Take care of her wounds.)

He watched Collazo exit and close the door before he turned to me, leaning in close to my ear as he worked to unlock the cuffs, “I really thought I was about to have to shoot up the place to get you out of here. That was clever…how long can you keep this ruse going?”

The cuffs loosened, I groaned at the ache in my joints as I lowered my arms and leaned into him for support, “It’s not a ruse…I was telling the truth…”

My words trailed off as I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

I shook my head, my breath now shaky as the pain began to overtake me, “Fuck n-no. I-I think he cracked some ribs.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry. I should have done something more…”

I winced as we began to walk, “No, I get it. It probably just would have gotten us both killed. You did what you could in the moment.”

Veracruz did have a soft spot for me, but I wasn’t a fool. He would never sacrifice himself for me. He wasn’t that selfless. He would only help so long as it didn’t put him in the crosshairs. He was an unreliable ally in the best of circumstances, and I knew that. At least he cared enough to see that I was taken care of while I recovered.

I knew I would have to watch out for myself as I plotted and planned because there were demons of deception around every corner. I could put my trust in no one, not even the one person I thought was safe. I was quickly learning they would all betray me in the end, which is why I wanted out of this life. I wanted to walk the straight and narrow again. The money was not worth death. It was getting too dangerous to continue living this way.

Six Months Later…

Frankie’s POV

I awoke with a groan, squinting toward the window to find the sun was just beginning to rise. The reason for my sudden waking, my cell phone incessantly pinging from incoming text messages on the nightstand. I didn’t even need to look to know that it was Pope. I huffed, reaching for the device to see what the hell he wanted this early in the morning.

Pope: We still on for the range today? I know we had a late night, but I’m still going.

Pope: Will and Benny are out. Apparently, Benny is feeling last night’s fight. He 100% got his ass kicked.

Pope: Which means Will is being his bitch today.

Pope: So, that leaves us. You better not stand me up, pendejo.

I rolled my eyes. Why can’t he just put all of that in one fucking message? He texts like a teenage girl.

Frankie: Chill the fuck out, pendejo. I’ll be there.

Pope: 9AM. Don’t be late.

Frankie: 🖕

Pope: 🖕🖕

I dropped the phone beside me on the bed and sighed. Without Benny and Will there, I knew Pope would start badgering me about going back for Lorea’s money. He was becoming almost obsessive over the idea. Not that I could blame him, having a little extra cash on hand would be a huge help right now. Supporting two households wasn’t easy, even if the new private security business was doing well.

I palmed at my sleepy face, trying to wake up. My eyes finally blinked open and surveyed my near empty bedroom. The bareness of the place was a constant reminder of how I had fucked everything up and ended up alone. Starting over was never fun, but this was torture knowing that my now ex-fiancé, Maria, had given me every chance and I squandered them. Now she was moving on, my young daughter now spending time with a new man in their life and calling him Papi while I fought for unsupervised visitation.

I had no one to blame but myself. I was the one who fell off the wagon and started a slow coke spiral after we got back from South America. What we had gone through, losing Tom, it was too much and we did it for nothing. We left with nothing to show for it but the body of our Captain. We got messy. I got messy. And it broke me. I should have put my foot down about how much weight that bird could carry. If I had, we might be living completely different lives right now. Tom might still be here.

I puffed air out of my cheeks before slinging the blanket off so I could go make some coffee. After padding down the short hallway of my very modest two-bedroom fixer-upper, I loaded up the coffee machine. I stood, leaning against the counter, scanning the space while the sputtering drips began to fall into the pot. I really needed to do something to make the place look less like military barracks and more like a home. Especially if I was eventually going to have my kid here. The mere thought of all the work that needed to be done made my chest feel tight. I had to shake my head to push the never-ending checklist out of my mind and focus on something else before it put me in an even worse mood.

Once my coffee was ready, I decided to sit out on the front porch swing to enjoy the calm of the morning. After getting comfortable, I let my mind run through several things that needed to be taken care of at the office. I was thinking through some budget requests while watching two squirrels chase each other around the base of an old Oak tree when movement on the street caught my attention. A blacked-out SUV crept down the road, eventually speeding up and disappearing around the corner. It put me on edge. It was too nice of a vehicle to be driving through this neighborhood.

I was probably just being paranoid, but the fear of one of Lorea’s business partner’s finding out who stole some of their money and then torched the rest was a very real concern - for me at least. The rest of the guys seemed to think we were in the clear. I wasn’t completely convinced, and it constantly had me on alert.

I sat for a while, my eyes scanning the quaint neighborhood I had chosen to settle down in, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Finding nothing, I eventually scoffed at myself, thinking that perhaps I was being ridiculous about this whole thing as I stood to go get ready to meet Pope.

A short time later, I found myself pulling into the gun range parking lot. This had become sort of a weekend routine for us. It served as an escape, allowing me to have a taste of the military life that I was so accustomed to before retiring. It was the only time I found that my mind was completely empty. There was something freeing about it, helping me to relax - most days. Today, however, was another story. I could tell from the look on Pope’s face as soon as he stepped out of his vehicle that he was cooking up some kind of plan.

He smiled as I approached, clapping me on the back in greeting, “Hey, hermano. You get enough sleep?”

I gave him a tight smile, “Could have gotten a little more if you weren’t texting me at the asscrack of dawn.”

Pope grimaced, “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Of course not... What did you book for us today?”

He turned to grab his duffel out of the backseat, “I got us two one-hundred-yard lanes. They only had one three-hundred open.”

I shook my head, “Figures. Alright, let’s go.”

The range was busy, for which I was thankful. It made it harder for Pope to get a word in. There was an eventual lull in the shooting, and he wasted no time in taking advantage of it. He leaned in closer, pulling one side of his earmuffs away as we worked to reload. I did the same so I could hear what he had to say.

“I think I can get us into Columbia, off the radar. I’ve got a contact…”

I held up my hand, “Stop. I don’t wanna hear it.”

I could see the frustration on his face as his jaw tensed, “Come on Fish, this could work. I’ll cover the cost again…get the documents…everything. No one knows where that money is except for us. We shouldn’t run into any problems. There wouldn’t be any contact with the cartel. It’s a quick in and out.”

After inserting a fresh magazine into the rifle and replacing my earmuff, my lips set into a tight line. I gave him a tense look before stepping to the firing line to discharge at the target. My non-answer seemed to end the conversation, for now.

I took the time to get lost in the target, giving it all my focus as I peppered it with bullet holes in and around the center. My mind was finally quiet, and I reveled in it, wishing it would stay that way for the rest of the day. I knew that was wishful thinking though. It never did.

Once that magazine was empty, I returned to the table that separated my lane from Pope’s so I could reload. He joined me, staring off in the distance, seemingly distracted by something before finally turning his attention to me and removing his right muff. I did the same as I gave him a warning with my eyes.

“How’s it going with Maria? Any headway?”

I shook my head, “Nope. If she has it her way, I’ll get zero visitation. She’s done with me…won’t listen to anything I have to say. She doesn’t believe I’ve cleaned up my act.”

Pope sighed as he gave me a sympathetic look, “Sorry, hermano. I hoped she would come around. Don’t let it get you down though. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need…”

I nodded, “Yeah, I appreciate it. I might need you guys as character witnesses if it gets to that point.”

He gave me a soft reassuring smile, “Consider it done.”

His eyes drifted again as a larger caliber rifle began to sound off from the far lane. He seemed intrigued as I raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He glanced over at me, jerking his chin upward indicating I should have a look. It didn’t take me long to figure out what had his attention, or who rather. There was a woman in the farthest three-hundred-yard lane, lying on her stomach, shooting the high caliber rifle that had ended our conversation. She was wearing army green fatigues that definitely did not fit like military issue pants as they hugged her curvy hips and ass just right. She was also wearing a black ribbed tank top, black military style boots, and a black SWAT hat pulled down low over her aviators. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. I could see why she had his attention. Aside from her attractive form, this wasn’t a sight we saw here very often.

As she stood, she turned toward us. Her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses with her lips set into a tight line, giving nothing away. I glanced at Pope, who seemed smitten already. I rolled my eyes at him as I stepped back up to the firing line. Hot women were always his weakness. He would disagree, but we all knew it.

When I returned to the table, it was clear Pope was still distracted as he continued to glance her way. His eyes finally met mine. “You been out with anyone since you and Maria split?” he asked.

I gave him an admonishing look as I shook my head. I didn’t feel like that was the best idea right now. I had too much going on.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Not saying you need to step into anything serious, but you do need to lighten up. A one-nighter might do you some good and help with that.”

I glared at him, “I’m not doing that. It always turns into trouble.”

He snorted, “Well…maybe you should be worse at it, so they don’t come back for more.”

I could feel my cheeks warming from his words as I flashed my middle finger at him, “Fuck off.”

He jerked his chin toward the last lane as the woman got into position again, hitting the three-hundred-yard target dead center when she finally shot off a round.

“You should go ask her out.”

I scoffed, “No. I’m not…”

Pope jutted his hip out, putting his weight on one foot, “Come on… Maria’s moving on. It’s time you did too.”

I could feel my jaw flexing at the mention of that, “No. Just let it go.”

Pope chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t blame you. That looks like too much woman for you to handle anyway. She’d probably kick your ass…I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

I shook my head, giving him an exasperated look, “What the hell does that even mean?”

He gave me a mischievous smile as he shrugged, then turned toward the firing line to begin shooting again.

Fucker. I was half tempted to talk to her just to prove a point.

I suddenly felt like eyes were on me as I glanced back over at the woman. I couldn’t tell because of her glasses, but it appeared that she was looking directly at me with a small smirk on her full lips. One eyebrow raised slightly as she picked up another clip, returning to the rifle to reload it. Now I was intrigued.

By the time Pope and I finished off our last magazine, she was gone. As we walked to the parking lot, Pope was quietly berating himself for letting the opportunity pass before he asked if I thought she might be back again. I shrugged, somewhat amused over his new infatuation because I knew he would be distracted by someone else as soon as he stepped foot into the bar later this evening.

After our goodbyes, I made my way to the local auto parts store to pick up a couple of specialty tools that I needed for a restoration I was currently working on in my spare time. I had inherited my dad’s dark red 1970 Chevelle SS 454 when he passed away several years ago. We always said we would work together to fix it up, but it never happened. Instead, it sat idle in his garage for years. It did the same after I took over ownership of it, not having the time or the energy for it. Now that I was alone, I found myself with plenty of opportunities and the need to keep myself occupied. It was another one of those things that helped keep my mind distracted when I needed it most. I was actually thankful for it even though it was turning into an expensive project.

With the new tools in tow, I returned home. After making myself a quick sandwich and scarfing it down, I sequestered myself away in the dilapidated shack beside the house that was meant to serve as a garage. It quickly became my refuge, and I had zero complaints about it - even if it did have a leaky roof and shitty lighting. It got the job done and that was all that mattered.

I spent all afternoon working, attempting to keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of the large bags full of money hidden in the Andes mountains of Chile. After the cluster fuck we got into last time we were in South America, I was having a hard time reconciling the idea of going back. Pope was right, we had no reason to interact with the cartels this time. We could easily sneak in and collect the cash without anyone knowing, assuming it was still where we left it.

What we should do about the money was a constant internal battle for me. I didn’t know if I should accept Pope’s reasoning over mine. However, the fear of losing another team member acted as a grey cloud that hung over my head and kept me from going back. I couldn’t go through that again. It affected every decision I had made since we got back. I couldn’t shake it no matter how hard I tried. The risk was too high without guarantee of a reward.

While I respected Pope’s attempts, I still had to consider outside forces that we had no control over. He had all of the trust in the world for his ‘contacts,’ but I didn’t. It would only take one of them to tip off the cartel if they got wind of what we were doing. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. I had spent hours going through every angle, all the possible problems we could run into. All of his plans seemed too dangerous, leaving too many unknowns. He just needed to accept that as my final decision and stop trying to rope us into another one of his crazy plans.

That was my final thought on it - for today anyway.

Mya’s POV

I had been planning the expedition for six months, meticulously researching every detail. That’s how I ended up at the local gun range for the last three Saturdays, doing a little recon on the owner of the security firm I was looking to hire. Collazo offered to provide security, but I needed this to be as far removed from him as possible to protect the reputation of my Gallery and the Archaeology Preservation Foundation that I had set up to fund the dig. Veracruz would still be on site to keep an eye on things, but all other aspects of the project were up to me and that included keeping my team safe.

Delta 5 Security Solutions had been recommended to me by a number of high-profile locals. It was owned by a military veteran named Francisco Morales, who worked to keep other veterans employed. Because of this, Delta 5 Security Solutions seemed much more equipped to handle the dangers of the Peruvian jungle than other firms. Word on the street was that they even offered specialized air transport services, on occasion. I needed a couple of pilots, so they seemed to check all the boxes. It would save me from having to set up multiple contracts at least.

The more time I spent watching Francisco, the more I questioned if he was the right choice. He definitely didn’t have the brightest of personalities, often seeming frustrated and stressed when he arrived at the range - like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I could, however, see his focus and determination as he fired at the targets. He was a good shot and exuded authority and control with his weapon. Sure, he came across as a little disheveled and scruffy, but there was something under the surface that intrigued me just enough to see where things went.

Like most Saturdays, Francisco wasn’t alone for his latest outing. He was accompanied by one of his employees, Santiago Garcia. Santiago seemed a lot more easy going and appeared to enjoy pushing Francisco’s buttons based on the serious side eye that was being thrown his way. From the intel I had gathered, these two, along with the Miller brothers, all served in the same military unit and seemed to be close friends in addition to running the security firm together. I had been watching all of them over the last several weeks to get a feel for their dynamic. I could see that they were loyal to each other and worked well together. It was almost for those reasons alone that I felt they would be a good fit. At least they understood loyalty and it left me wondering how loyal they could be to me if things took a turn.

However, I knew this all hinged on Francisco accepting the job. I had been warned that he wasn’t big on risks and wasn’t afraid to turn jobs down for that reason. He really was an enigma that I couldn’t figure out. Aside from his gruff demeanor, he seemed quiet and introspective - a reluctant leader, but the guy in charge, nonetheless. He also seemed to be having some life struggles but appeared to be on the upswing from those. I was concerned that it could serve as a distraction for him, but I still found myself wanting him and his team. I wouldn’t settle for anything less. My gut told me there was more to him than meets the eye and I wanted the opportunity to peel back those layers so I could find out who he really was as a person.

As I positioned myself on the ground to shoot the high caliber rifle that I had rented from the range, I could feel eyes on me. It probably wasn't the best choice since I hadn’t intended to draw attention to myself. There weren't a lot of women at the range, let alone any shooting a weapon like this at three-hundred yards. After hitting the target with multiple rounds, I stood, adjusting my aviators as I glanced toward the two men I was here to watch, realizing that I definitely had Santiago’s attention. Francisco gave me a brief glance before stepping up to shoot his own rifle. I had to give it to him; he didn’t allow for distractions. Santiago on the other hand, seemed to have at least one weakness. Women. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes over that realization as I packed up to leave.

After running home to shower and change into more professional attire, I headed toward my antiquities gallery to open for the day. Soon after opening, a well-dressed gentleman with dark hair and a beard entered, immediately asking to speak with the owner. The first thing I noticed were his kind eyes and submissive nature. He definitely had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him. Once I introduced myself, he got down to business with a polite smile.

“I apologize for showing up without an appointment, but I got a lead on this painting and wanted to follow up on it right away. I’m looking to purchase and pay cash if you have it…or can point me in the right direction.”

I returned his polite smile with one of my own, “If you can provide me with the details, I’d be happy to check our inventory for you.”

He pulled out his phone, tapping away to pull up a picture, “It's the Cazador (The Hunter), by Luis Magin…a 20th century Maya oil painting.”

I could feel my blood run cold as my body tensed. This was a missing painting listed in the National Stolen Art File. I was taken aback that this man would be asking for stolen artwork. He didn’t seem the type.

I laughed nervously, “Sir, I’m sorry…but we don’t sell stolen art. I’m not sure why you were sent here…”

He reached to pull a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it up, revealing Damien’s name scribbled on it. I could feel my breathing pick up as I fought to stay calm. Something felt wrong about this.

“I was told you could put me in contact with Damien Ravenwood…”

He seemed a little pushier now, like that name was supposed to magically solve the problem.

I shook my head, “I no longer associate with Damien Ravenwood…for obvious reasons. I don’t allow black market antiquities in my gallery.”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, “My apologies. It must be a misunderstanding…”

His words trailed off as he reached inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket to pull out a business card, handing it over as he continued, “If he happens to show up…for any reason at all, please give me a call. I’d love to lock him down for a few minutes of his time.”

I glanced at the name on the card, Vincent Delacroix. It was obviously fake - a mashup of two famous painter’s names. There was nothing else on the card but a phone number. I gave him a tight-lipped smile as I waved the card in the air, “Yeah, sure, Mr. Delacroix. I’ll be sure to send him your way.”

There was something seriously off with this guy. I wasn’t sure if he was a black-market buyer or working undercover. Either way, I did not want to be in the middle of it. ‘Mr. Delacroix’ nodded and smiled before moving toward the exit. He paused halfway to the door, turning back in my direction, “I’m assuming you no longer have contact with Miguel Collazo either then? Or Persephone, by chance?

I could feel my jaw clench at the mention of Collazo and my black-market alias. I shook my head, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve had any dealings with those individuals.”

He gave me a charming smile in return, “Yeah, I thought that might be the case. Never hurts to ask...Thank you for your time, Miss Carnahan.”

He hesitated briefly, still smiling as he turned to leave. Once he finally exited the building, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

I was startled from my thoughts when my archivist, Emily, appeared at my side. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea…if he shows back up, come get me. No one else talks to him. Understood?”

She nodded in agreement.

The day was certainly taking a turn that I hadn’t expected. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about as it was, it felt like something else had just been added to the list.

Chapter 2: The Divine Source

✨If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to shoot me a DM or leave a comment.

A/N: SURPRISE! I know I said I wouldn’t start posting until Closed Position was complete, but it’s taking me for fucking ever to finish that one and I think I’ve made you wait long enough. Since I’ve got a decent start with this lovey adventure, I’ll go ahead and start posting. 😘

Now that we’ve gotten the first chapter out of the way, what are your thoughts? How are we feeling about Mya and Frankie? We definitely started with a bang (no pun intended).

I know I teased that Veracruz would be making an appearance. It turns out…he may have a slightly bigger role than I originally planned. We need a little extra tension with Frankie and I think Veracruz will serve as an excellent plot device for that. How do we feel about him so far? 🤭

We had another special appearance too. Anyone want to take a guess on who Mya’s surprise visitor is?

In the next chapter: Mya will drop in to visit the boys, Frankie has a decision to make, Mya accidentally gets a little nerdy on Frankie, and Frankie and Veracruz cross paths. Please do share your predictions. 😏

Tag group 1:

@2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

@bunniboo0015 @burntheedges @captainredspade @chaoticfestninja @cheekychaos28

@christinamadsen @copperhalfcent @darkheartgatita @diabaroxa @din-cognito

@elisabethloves @fifitheragertot @for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury

@harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @imdrinkingpedro @jackie923 @janeie87

@jeewrites @jensensational71 @jessthebaker @jessthebaker @joels-darlin

@kate-skates @katw474 @kels976 @lady-bess @gwendibleywrites

@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @madnessofadaydreamer @maggiemoo1892

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #triple frontier #adventure fic #frankie gets his fucking money

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crazy-pages · 11 hours ago

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@thefirsthogokage Also that's just not true.

According to this study, 71% of people surveyed who were "abusing" ADHD meds in college actually tested symptomatic for ADHD (and the true number was likely higher, the tests are very conservative).

Also ADHD med use is actually counterassociated with addiction to and harms from dangerous substances, likely because so many people with unmedicated ADHD turn to actually dangerous stimulants to approximate treatment.

The pills are also not addictive at ADHD dosages. They're not even harmful if you suddenly go off them, beyond the consequences of suddenly being unmedicated for ADHD. You are literally advised to skip a dose every once in a while to avoid building up a tolerance (which is not the same thing as an addiction). They can sometimes increase your blood pressure, but the list of medications which can do that is longer than my vascular system laid end to end. My favorite licorice tea is literally worse for that than my ADHD medication.

They also apparently have an extremely unpleasant high when overdosed in pill form (I've seen survey research describing it as "a jittery buzz that won't let you go to sleep and doesn't even give you more energy"). They can hypothetically be ground up and snorted for an intense and dangerous high, and I'm sure somehow has done that, but I've never been able to find any population level research which so much as mentions the practice in non-prescription users.

Also it's not like there isn't a long list of non regulated substances which will give you an intense and dangerous high if crushed and snorted.

So seriously, what is the actual danger? This is an honest invitation. I've worked through all the research I can find on the subject, and even the most negative research explicitly funded by anti-drug programs and with a serious bias against drug users doesn't actually mention any harms! The closest they will mention is the potential for addiction addiction, but I've never actually seen evidence in the literature of people being addicted to ADHD medication, in the sense of physiological and psychological symptoms that negatively affect their life. The closest I have ever seen has been college students using it to put off sleep to study, and if you think that's a sufficient harm to regulate a substance, I have some serious news for you about caffeine on college campuses.

I am the kind of pedantic nerd around medication who reads the full pharmacist booklet for my allergy meds. I did my research before going on ADHD meds, because I had heard all of the scary stories about them. But I literally could not find any actual research supporting it. Only stuff citing the hypothetical possibility of addiction because it's stimulant. It's not without potential side effects, and I would much rather people speak with a pharmacist about it before using it for the same reason people should do so for any medication with potential side effects. But that's a problem caused by the overly strict regulation, not prevented by it.

wild how we have a medication that is super effective at treating a debilitating disability but its controlled to hell and back because What If Someone Takes It For Fun like i have an idea who gives a shit

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gogandmagog · 2 days ago

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Anne of the Island, Chapter One!

And wellll, I guess I’m actually starting off before chapter one! And it’s two things, really.

First, this inclusion, before Maud even adds her own sweet dedication:

I sometimes wonder how many then-contemporary readers saw this, knew the whole source, and fully took it as a spoiler… either way, it’s pretty clever. These four lines of Tennyson are taken from the poem “the Day-Dream,” specifically from the third part called, “the Arrival.” And maybe predictably, it’s about the Fairy Prince’s arrival into the titular Day Dreamers (who btw reverts inward to avoid harsh realities, in case it wasn’t Anne enough already) life. And of course anyone who’s already read Anne of the Island will know that this is a huge theme in the overall arc of the novel. I also like that Maud took this little verse patch in particular, because it aligns sooo precisely with Anne and Gilbert’s romantic beginnings… the ‘precious thing discovered late,’ for sure, but also in mention of the drawing of ‘the veil’. Anne of the Island directly follows Anne of Avonlea, which ended nicely with Miss Lavendar’s wedding to Stephen Irving, and very importantly, also this kind of naked moment between Anne and Gilbert where they each recognise their shared future and feelings, and the narrative says, “...it was as if a veil that had hung before her [Anne’s, that is] inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings…” So, yeah. This epigraph is pretty much perfect.

Besides which, I also want to be even more extra annoying, and say that Tennyson is already in general a reocurring soft spot for Anne and Gilbert. It’s Anne’s playing at Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott that sees Gilbert saving her life for the first time, and it’s that near-drowning that ushers in Anne’s real forgiveness for Gilbert’s old slight. Other things too! Later in the series, when Gilbert pronounces Captain Jim dead, he uses a Tennysonism and tells her that Captain Jim has “crossed the bar.” (Here’s Crossing the Bar, just in case.) LATER later, in Anne of Ingleside, Nan mentions Anne “read to her one night from the old volume of Tennyson Father had given her long, long ago…” + many more such cases, and imo just cute.

But really, onto Chapter One! The Shadow of Change.

A slam dunk of a title. The Shadow of Change could nearly be considered a proper character in this chapter because it’s eeeeverywhere. There’s liminal space for like miles, in all directions. There are obvious things, spelled out to the reader, in grocery-list fashion... the season is changing from summer to fall, Diana is engaged to Fred Wright, Anne is leaving Avonlea behind for college, and Mrs. Rachel is moving into Green Gables. I could almost cite this whole opener when trying to pick out a chapter highlight, because Maud’s prose is so visceral here, on hopes and anxiety. I always get a real lump in my throat about it. But there are other things changing, too. When Gilbert overtakes Anne on the bridge, they're lingering over their past, rather literally. It's only been one tiny week since the events of Anne of Avonlea, where an "unseen finger" turned the page on Anne's girlhood, leaving before her "womanhood, with all its charm and mystery." Gilbert was midwife to that transition, and now here he is again, placing his hand over Anne's, and teasing out a brand new (and involuntary) womanhoody physiological reaction, one "not strictly sensible,” from her, to top it all off. And even though it kind of scares her (I feel like this is a good point to remember that while Anne is 18 here, Gilbert is nearly 21, which imo kind of contributes to him being in an awkward position; kind of one-or-two-steps-ahead of Anne, and perpetually needing to wait for her to catch up), Anne's still reflecting on the pleasantness of his touch, later toooo... complete with a dig at poor Charlie Sloane lmao.

Also, really fast, when Gilbert's mentioning that Kingsport "has the finest natural park in the world", the Maud scholars, when it comes up for them, like to supplement this postcard! Since fictional Kingsport is based on non-fictional Halifax, Point Pleasant Park is evidentally the likely inspo behind for Kingsport's nameless park.

Okay, what else??

Davy. Davy is the original Sour Patch Kid. First he says something sour, and then he says something sweet. But for me… the first big laugh of this book is always, “But if you did want to catch a man, how would you go about it? I want to know.” 💀 Can you imagine?

Now anyway, I’m sure this post is full of ugly typos and bad syntax and incomplete thoughts but it’s 11:50 and I’m for bed! But I’m so excited to be reading this book with so many friends. I always learn so many new things from you guys!

#anne of the island book club

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theloganator101 · 3 days ago

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There was a post about about their Hazbin Crackship and I've been inspired to make my own post talking about mine! Which is Blitz and Grell from Black Butler!!

Now that you're here, let me explain my ideas on this and why I think they would be a good pairing than Stolitz.

One thing I know for certain is that these two would DEFINITELY match each other's energy! The way they would be killing people in sync would make it look like they're dancing. And since he has an employee who has a transgender sister, he would immediately pop a cap in anyone's ass who would dare misgender Grell.

So let me propose my ideas for how their romance can bloom.

Imagine this tall human looking Reaper comes in looking to work for Imp as her previous workplace... wasn't all that kind to her. And after demonstrating what she can do Blitz hires her on the spot.

Cut to some shenanigans of them completing jobs and whatnot and Grell was able to fit in comfortably with these group of misfit imps, and her knowing her way around a chainsaw and taking great pride in her killing reminds Blitz so much of himself... and eventually starts to fall for her.

Sure there's Stolas, but they only get together to fuck once a month in order for him to keep their only method of transportation. When Grell learns about this, she just says "Why don't I take us where we need to go darling? I can open portals to earth so we don't really need that little book."

Grell's more emotional passion and how she's able to stay true to herself despite what others say about her would certainly catch his eye. She’s literally everything he isn’t, maybe even better. But Grell would be able to reassure him that he is beautiful the way he is too and needs to start seeing that for himself. And from there the two would start to grow closer and share some nights alone together... nights that made Blitz feel things that he didn't feel with Stolas before.

The reason why I came up with this pairing was because of how Helluva Boss failed to convince me why Stolitz was meant to be. When it's clear that there's a clear power imbalance between them, Blitz never seemed all that interested in Stolas until Vivzie and the narrative demand it, and how Stolas never goes through a proper arc or really change for the better.

At least to me, Grell would provide Blitz the love and realization he needs in order to get his act together. She is a well rounded person who takes great pride and love in the thing she does, and that is killing people. It's these kind of similarities that would allow them to connect and dive deeper into realizing just how much they need each other and how alike they really are, that there IS someone to love them for who they are and not be disgusted at the darker side of them.

Anyway that's why I ship Blitz and Grell.

#anti vivziepop #anti vivzipop #vivziepop critical #vivzipop critical #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti stolitz #crackship #crackshipping #black butler grelle #Blitzo x Grell

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11queensupreme11 · 2 days ago

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Hi, I wanted to ask you a question about a hypothetical scenario: Let's suppose that the time between dimensions is different, so while Hera thinks that 2 years have passed, for Percy many more have passed, he got married and had a son, in this case there is only one, Hera seeing that he does not want to return decides to kidnap the baby to use as a hostage. How would the Yanderes and the Pantheons react? (Considering how much they love Percy, let's say that the baby completely resembles her)

HERA IS SOOOOO FUCKING DEAD OMG 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

poseidon: oh gods in pjo universe can't die that easily??? PERFECT, BECAUSE HE WANTS TO SKIN THIS BITCH ALIVE. he will put hera through the worst sort of torture once he gets his hands on her, it'll be so bad that she might actually fade away just from the despair and agony alone 💀

hades: welp, looks like cerberus got a new chew toy! 😍 okay but seriously, the beings of helheim have NEVER seen hades so furious before, not even when poseidon killed zagreus. some goddess breaks into his home in an attempt to kidnap HIS wife only to snatch their BABY instead??????? hera better fucking run because the entirety of helheim is gonna come after her now

apollo: this man damn near almost blew up the sun when he witnesses pjo!hera flee through the bifrost with his baby in his arms. the only reason he doesn't is because percy's already dragging him to the bifrost to get their son back. once he gets to the pjo verse, THEN he'll blow up the sun to plunge the world in darkness and then hunt hera down alongside his wife. she better hope apollo never catches her because he's always been very good with dishing out slow punishments

beelzebub: this man has LOTS of experience in experimenting with gods, but hera is a different kind of god that he's never experimented on, and now he has the chance to! yaaaaay! congrats hera, you've gone from queen of the heavens to another one of the devil's lab rats. he will pluck this goddess into pieces and sew her back up again, study everything about her (and thus, learn how gods work in pjo), and create some sickening curse that could only slowly kill pjo gods. this is the worst yandere to piss off because not only will he hurt hera, but he'll find a way to hurt every OTHER god in the pjo universe too

cú chulainn: YOU TRIED TO KIDNAP HIS WIFE AND THEN YOU GO AND KIDNAP HIS NEWBORN SON????? this dude was an absolute MENACE when he was a demigod, and now that he's a god he's 1000000x worse 😭😭😭😭 he doesn't know how pjo gods work yet, so he can't kill hera but man is he gonna give her a brutal beatdown. the worst is that he'll get so angry he shifts into ríastrad mode and rampage everything in his path, so it's not just hera that's gonna get hurt

anubis: this had to have happened during the ONE time he was away from his baby's side cuz he's too attached to stay away. he'll be at a meeting one minute and rushing back home the second he senses something off with his mate and then he goes absolutely feral when he finds out that percy got attacked, nearly kidnapped, and their baby got taken. hera's become the prey to his predator, he's hunting her down now and once he gets his hands on her, HE WILL RIP HER TO SHREDS

loki: idek how hera managed to get past all his protective wards and spells, but well, she did it! oh, but did you really think he wouldn't put a tracking spell over his baby in case this exact scenario were to happen??? HAH, well hera better run fast because loki's already hot in her heels ready to cut her open like a fish

as for the pantheons, they're all ready for war 😂😂😂 hell the whole UNIVERSE is ready for war. this isn't just a simple kidnapping. a goddess from a DIFFERENT UNIVERSE broke into theirs, tried to take one of their own (percy), and then successfully took another (the baby). aside from personal reasons, hera's actions aren't something that they can let slide. they ALL are ready to work together to get the baby back and punish the criminal

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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twentyyearstoolate · 6 hours ago

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Whatever's left after the fall of the U.S. Hegemony will roll out some landmark case studies on just how badly the Democractic party shot itself in the foot over and over by trying to brand itself to appeal to the phantom moderate conservative, alienating literally everyone else left of a nonexistent voter bloc, while simultaneously trying to cover their corrupt asses by promising the wealthy that, and I quote, "nothing will fundamentally change."

This whole campaign was echoes of 2016 when, where Trump was running trains on the Democratic party by campaigning against "out of touch elites" and "Making America Great Again," the DNC was... largely reinforcing his statements against them by refusing to run the popular socialist candidate for fear of upsetting their rich donors, passing up the campaign trails in states full of working class people and riding on a platform of "America Is Already Great."

I have reservations about the legitimacy of the 2024 election. Between Trump's open admission on "Not needing your votes," the number of threats directed at polling locations during the election, and data scientists across the board pointing out the irregularities in noise with an up to 5% uptick in "bullet ballots" marked only for Trump in swing states, combined with the fact that software engineers have been pointing out for decades just how susceptible some of these machines are to manipulation? With all the ways the U.S. interferes in foreign affairs around the world, in retrospect, I'd be surprised if this country's had a real election in a long time. But it certainly doesn't help that Democrats continue to burn their constituents by running a Republican-lite platform, like the disagreement here between liberals and conservatives is on the best way to use our resources to improve the lives of U.S. citizens, as perhaps it was several decades ago, and not, y'know, whose lives are worth even keeping, let alone improving.

Every shitass Democratic administration in my lifetime has placed undue emphasis on some magical idea of "Bipartisanship," as if we're supposed to want to agree in any part with the people who are literally creating a technocratic ethnostate that works its citizens eighty hours a week to make a dozen people trillionaires. We all know this is wrong, we're watching fascists dismantle the government in real time, again, and the Democratic leadership is pointing fingers at everyone and everything but themselves, again, as they're almost certainly planning to run yet another milquetoast campaign for some white bread trust fund baby candidate on the hollow premises of "Unity" and "Saving Democracy" while continuing to ignore their constituents who are begging, pleading for them to learn a lesson and stand up for anything. I hope in my lifetime we see more Gen X/Millennial candidates who were raised in the turmoil of Reaganomics working class life like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who is one of the few sitting in congress right now who's speaking to the anger the people of the United States feel, finally get seats at the table and can begin to undo the lifetimes of damage a corrupt, narcissistic, geriatric leadership has inflicted on this country.

It is kind of funny that Biden waxed his ego about how he was the only one who could stop Trump after Charlottesville and now the US treasury is being robbed by a south african nazi. Genuinely such a shit president on his face

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felixcloud6288 · 1 day ago

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Dungeon Meshi Chapter 73

This is a new meaning to "Eating your words"

Look at that giant pillow! This has probably been the most comfortable sleep the party has had in weeks.

Laios offhandedly mentioned he's borrowing some clothes from Thistle. Delgal was wearing something similar but I didn't find any panels of anyone wearing that specific coat. I bet Laios chose to wear it because it has a fur-trimmed collar. He seems to have a light preference for that design element, maybe because it was normal to wear it in his youth.

So. Many. Pillows.

I take it Marcille never drank alcohol before, or at least not in large quantities. She doesn't know what a hangover is.

They're talking about their journey almost being over (again). At least this time, we can already tell how things are going to go horribly wrong. Becoming dungeon lord is not a good idea at all, and we still need to see how the Canaries screw everything up for them.

Laios has developed an understandable fear of the dungeon rabbits. He got spooked by the bird because he thought it might be a rabbit jumping out of the bushes.

Y'know, Laios did refer to Kabru correctly back in chapters 38 and 52 so he remembered Kabru's name for at least a week. First time I recall Laios getting Kabru's name wrong is chapter 66. I want to say there were two distinct days between chapters 52 and now (57-60 and 63-72) but there's room for several days to have passed between them since the party was near the start of the seventh floor in the first day and they had climbed all the way to the bottom the next time we see them.

I wonder what was going through Kabru's mind when he saw Falin. It would indicate the party must have come into conflict with Thistle and very recently too. So now he has to be concerned about whether or not he's too late in stopping Laios from becoming the new dungeon lord.

Kabru pulled his sleeves down to hide his cuffs.

Now that I think about it, Kabru wasn't wearing his armor when he left the dungeon in chapter 38, but he had his equipment on in chapter 53. Maybe someone else carried it back through the portal or maybe he had to buy a new set when he got back.

Laios shook Kabru's hand back in chapter 38. He's not good at remembering names or picking up on people's intents, but Laios has proven he can pick up on behaviours. So even if he can't tell why something is off, he can tell Kabru's handshake is not the same as last time.

Is that what a succubus actually looks like?

I love how Pattadol's fairy always expresses Pattadol's emotions.

Chilchuck is making everything worse. He might as well have said "We used black magic on this journey." And then he never says anything else or tries to stop Laios during the rest of the interrogation.

In an alternate timeline where the lion didn't warn the party about the Canaries, this entire interrogation could have gone differently. The Touden party still needs to be concerned about the elves finding out about Marcille using ancient magic, but they wouldn't have any reason to believe the Canaries are a threat and might be willing to explain the situation.

The Canaries are a task force designed to prevent demons from escaping the dungeons, so the last thing the Winged Lion wants is for its pawns to work with the group that is specially-trained to stop it.

Why is one of the ingredients for bavarois "That one milk"? The only milk I can think of is succubus milk.

Never stops being funny watching Kabru suffer the consequences of his attempts to manipulate Laios.

That slime is the one from floor 1? They've been traveling for about a month now!!

I think Otta does have a point about the slime coming from a graveyard. Who knows what kind of bacteria is inside it.

I'm disappointed Cithis managed to hypnotize them that easily.

For someone with a bad sense of direction, Mithrun is very good at showing up where he's not wanted.

Nothing replaced Izutsumi meaning she was teleported to an open space.

back

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi readthrough

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holyguardian · 2 days ago

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Aerith exhaled a contented little breath, watching Alba with a small tilt of her head. If only it could feel that easy for them... to just, join in, happily, without any fear. Lucis had been full of excitement at first but then she found herself feeling daunted by so much, so soon.

Somnus must have felt it too. Like it would be impossible to ever map out this new home.

She barely got to turn around when that yelling perked her attention. "RORAN!" she called, her tone accusatory as her little brother came close to bowling her off her feet. She shocked a laugh and immediately, as if reflex, closed her arms around him in a squeezing hug.

Little man was not supposed to be here. Their mother was strict at the best of times, and look at him, flying the coop! Not that she could fault him too harshly. He didn't understand the full picture. He was shielded, as best he could be, these were exciting times where good would triumph over bad in his mind.

"I'm calling the next dragon ride you little cheek, and when I find that pumpkin I'm going to shove it on your head so we never lose you again — get back inside!" she chased him playfully, right into their father's waiting arms. The look on his face when he exited the stable to see his son flagrantly going against the rules was one she would remember for a long time.

Teeth showing in a sharp little grin, Aerith calmed a little when Somnus stepped closer to her side. Her hand brushed his, her fingers gently scooping his up to hold his hand with a small, reassuring squeeze.

"Roran is the whirlwind here, we don't have to rush. First I will take you to the barracks, the soldiers who travelled with us will get the beds inside, sheltered and warm, and then we can check in at the infirmary. They're both close walks so we don't have to go far. Let's put our minds at ease and then we will make our way inside. We'll smell ripe and awful and that's fine, we'll only be seeing my mother and no one else, and she would rather receive us as we are. Then I will show you to our room. Normally I would say it's a good time to rest before the evening meal, but I think we should get cleaned up, get dressed, and I can give you a small tour while there's still daylight. Come on." she gently pulled his hand to follow, her other hand raising to give her father and brother a wave. "We will be inside shortly. Make sure Roran doesn't let the dragon loose in the few minutes we're gone~"

Aerith guided Somnus as promised. When they reached the barracks, she respectfully remained further back, urging him to check on his men and to assess the barracks for himself. Then they changed course to the infirmary. All of the injured soldiers had already been tended to, they were in beds that looked fluffier and cozier than even those of the barracks, and they were already being assessed for potions, dressings and further treatment. It made her briefly turn her attention on him, nudging to see how he was feeling. He was good, he claimed. Better than good.

Then she was guiding him to the inner-palace. Even made to pause, coaxing Gilgamesh closer so he would have no troubles with access from the Queensguard. It was immediately obvious how strict they were — a sad necessity.

"I don't know what your normal arrangements are in Lucis, but we'll make sure you aren't far from Somnus. Eeeeeven if we have to put you in my pretty pink bedroom, but I'm certain my mother has that all worked out." Aerith spoke to Gilgamesh, apparently more than comfortable with a one-sided conversation.

"Here we are." she nodded to the Queensguard, who opened up the final door. The inner-most palace, where her mother waited with an incredibly worried look on her face. While Roran escaped, she received an update about the caravan from her elite guards.

"Oh, Aerith, Somnus," Ifalna uttered, sounding exactly as she looked, a deeply worried mother. She approached them without any titles or air of royalty, simply gathering them both into a hug. Her left arm held a strong grip around Somnus, though her right was weaker where she held Aerith. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking between them.

Aerith melted immediately. Her lips pursed as she smiled, her brows creased, and she tried her best to keep herself held together. She had been standing straight for so long, but one worried word from her mother and she felt like a delicate flower again. "Mum... we'll be okay, it's okay," she reassured, hugging her back. She cast a quick glance to Somnus at her side, cleared her throat a little. "I was going to show Somnus where our room is. After everything that happened, we really need to have a good scrub and new sets of clothes. We can talk about it later, if you want, but we could also just not talk about it too. It really sucked. Now we're home."

Ifalna gave her daughter a look. Of course she would dodge the talk, her specialty was dodging the talks. But the Queen nodded her consent nevertheless. She could get the full story from her husband, after all. "Alright. Off you go. But I do expect to see you at dinner."

There was so much to take in. Everything was familiar – and yet entirely different. Somnus recognize the way the capital was built up. Though the castle was closer to town. With higher walls. And many mor stories. Only the tower of the divine could reach that high back at home. Somnus had to make an effort not to stare with an open mouth constantly.

He tried to keep everything in mind that Aerith told him – but it was overwhelming. Usually he was so good at retaining information… but now… Somnus was just quietly grateful he could lead Alba to a good place. The Chocobos there really were treated like royalty. Back at home the gysah greens were all they got as treats and anything above that? Somnus had scavenge for that himself. Here, they got handed produce from the endless fields beyond the walls.

The farmlands really were a gigantic basket of goods. That was what his mother had once called these lands. So fertile and giving, that the entirety of Eos could be fed here. Mayb that was an overestimation. But now Somnus really could see, why others wanted these lands so badly.

He would have to visit all these places. The Queenswoods. The Ancient Forest. If he was permitted, of course…

Alba seemed happy, squeaking sweetly at Aerith when she was fussed again, before she proudly trotted off to join the other Chocobos at the feeding trays.

Somnus looked after her for a moment, still holding onto her reigns – and hoping he would have a similarly easy introduction into the court here as his feathery friend, who was already ruffling her feathers among the others.

Just as he turned to follow Aeirth, teher was a loud yell and someone came barrelling through the guards and soldiers.

Blond spiky hair with arms thrown up and a smile so big, as if it was Roran’s birthday and nameday at once.

“AERIIITH!”, the boy knew no mercy, running for his sister and he would have probably overthrown her with a hug, had he not come to a skittering halt right in front of her. His arms thrown around her, he seemed to cuddle against her with the biggest glee.

“Finally you’re here! It was so boring! Have you seen all the soldiers gathered outside?! I flew over them with uncle Leif, I was allowed outside once! It was amazing! And we have a giant pumpkin from the harvest! It’s as big as Nidhogg’s head, you have to come and see it! And tell mom to make pumpkin soup from it, not roast it! The cooks don’t listen to me! Oh, hello, Somnus!”

Wow. Somnus did not even know what to say. The boy was like a whirlwind and Somnus could barely lift his hand, when he was passed by the prince consort, who picked the boy from the hug with a sidenoted: “Prince Somnus, Roran.”

Though there was no real scolding, the boy just continuing his laughter, when picked up and hugging his father, who tried to chastise him for not staying in the inner palace and listening to his mother.

Somnus used that opprtunity to step to Aerith's side once more, whispering questions: "Are we expected to wash and dress up first? Into what?"

#somnus-lucis-caelum #verse; star crossed

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anamericangirl · 2 days ago

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Long message ahead (sorry about that LOL):

It's so insane to me how the left will constantly claim to be the pro-woman party and then turn around to tell any woman who disagrees with them that they hope said woman dies in some way or gets raped, and I'm not just talking about that repulsive ask you got. They'll say disgusting things like that even to other leftist women who disagree with them on only a handful of issues. But yeah, sure, they 100% care about the rights and safety of women. Totally.

If I'm honest, that's what "woke me up," so to speak, and I know I'm far from the first - the realization that they claim to want to protect "marginalized"/minority groups until someone from said groups disagrees. Then out come the violent threats and slurs that they reprimand others for or claim that conservatives are doing, thinking they can "revoke your [minority group] card" as if someone will stop being female or POC or homosexual/bisexual or disabled simply for disagreeing. Personally, I think it's them admitting that they use these characteristics as shields, so "revoking" them from those who dare to disagree makes them feel stronger. Since they put so much weight on the "community" aspect, they think kicking out anyone who disagrees will leave the opposition destitute and are implying minorities can't stand on our own.

I'll never stop pointing out that the only people who call minorities "marginalized" (defined as being treated as insignificant or peripheral) are leftists. The only people who are openly treating us as an unimportant second class are leftists, and they are the only ones who have ever consistently implied we are such in society ("you can never escape what we labeled you so that means we gotta either tear everything down and start again, or you can just live in fear").

Like I said, it's nothing new, but it's stopped shocking me when something makes them show their true colors. It just happens to be the election right now.

TLDR: minorities aren't "marginalized" because of Western society, leftists just labeled us that to say exactly what they think of us, and realizing this has freed me.

Also, your blog is awesome.

Well I am very glad you have escaped that toxic mindset and your eyes have been opened to how destructive and despicable the left really is.

They parade identity politics and thrive on the idea that how a person identifies themselves is the end all be all of their entire being and thus they present themselves as a group who is pro-every identity to look like they accept you based on identity alone. But that mask falls off once you dare disagree with them on one thing. Then you are the enemy. And that's because they really don't care about identity. They care about ideoloy and if your ideology doesn't match theirs, then they try to revoke your identity as if they own it and get to decide what it's acceptable for people of certain identities to believe or not believe.

And, as someone who fits into more than one identity they claim to be "pro", I have never been welcomed, accepted or tolerated by them because I don't have the opinions they want me to have.

When you get down to it, if you disagree with them, they are racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, ableist, etc. and they collectively use more slurs than any other group I have ever seen. But they think it's ok because they're using them on people they don't like.

They aren't good people and I think more and more people are coming to that realization. They are their own worst enemy and their behavior will turn more people away then it will bring to them and that is the only good thing about them.

They attract a lot of people because they are good at publicly playing the empathy card and looking like they care but it doesn't take long to see the that's all bs when you really start watching them.

I am glad you have been freed from that and I'm glad you think my blog is awesome! I think you're awesome :)

#anon #answered

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thebreakfastgenie · 3 days ago

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While back you said we need a functional rightwing party in the US, elaborate on that?

I said we need a functional conservative party. It's not technically incorrect to use right wing in this context, but colloquially right wing often implies farther right/more extreme, so I want to be clear that's not what I mean.

Unfortunately, half of this country (give or take) is conservative. They need a party to vote for. They're not going to just vote for Democrats anyway, we have ample evidence of that. I would like them to vote for a conservative party that is not comprised of insane wannabe fascists as the Republican Party currently is. I know in partisan politics people love to call their opponents evil, but that's not an exaggeration with the Republican Party at this point. I think that can be hard to see because we used hyperbole against Republicans in the past before it was literally true, and also because the far right capture of the Republican Party has been a longterm project, but they used to be normal. Bad, but normal. Nixon resigned before articles of impeachment were brought against him because Republican Senators told him they had the votes to convict in the Senate. That was a mere 50 years ago. And Nixon era Republicans weren't exactly cute and fluffy, a lot of their policies were very right. They still rejected their president when he got caught committing crimes.

We need two parties. The US system makes it pretty much impossible to have more than two at the national level, and it's really not that big a deal--with primaries and state-level parties we can have parties like the modern Democratic Party that are effectively large coalition parties. Having one party isn't good. Philosophically I'm against one-party rule and just in terms of functionality, there's a reason everyone complains about New York Democrats. In states that are so non-competitive they effectively have one party rule, the government tends to become dysfunctional. You see a lot of corruption and cronyism too. Elections are decided in the party primaries, which means you have to registered with that party. Even in open primary states, you can pick which primary you vote in but you can only vote in one. So you have to choose between building opposition or getting any say at all over who your governor, mayor, etc. is. Sometimes people who would, for example, be Republicans in any other state, run as Democrats in deep blue states because it's the only way to get elected. That's also not helpful.

Even if it wasn't a terrible idea, one party rule at the national level is not really viable. Enough of our voters are fickle and perpetually dissatisfied. "Democrats win every election for the foreseeable future" is not a viable election strategy. As we've seen, we can't count on that. People complain that liberals say every election is life or death, but we say that because every election since 2016 has been life or death. That's not normal. Losing elections is supposed to be disappointing, not apocalyptic.

As a left-leaning person, of course I think it would be great to have a center-left party and a left party, but that's not the reality of the electorate. Most of this country is further right than me. I'm not going to give up on persuasion, but in the meantime they need a party to vote for that isn't attempting to implement fascism and blowing up our relationships with our allies. People who don't agree with me have a right to political representation too. I would never vote for this hypothetical functional conservative party, I would campaign against it every time, but for the health of democracy it needs to exist.

#tl;dr i just want to spend the rest of my political life campaigning against Tax Cuts Party not Fascism Party

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paladinsbrainrot · 6 hours ago

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hello just wanted to say I think you’re really cool and I love your art!! I also LOVE romike too, super excited for their dynamic in s5

I’d love to hear your thoughts on them and if you have any predictions/theories/things you’d like to see with them next season :]

OHHHHH MY GOD thank you this is such an amazing question !!!! so sorry it took me so long to answer however i have very many Thoughts™

the idea of robin and mike being friends is soooo dear to me you don't even understand. romike has been on my mind since before s4 even came out #Tbh I just think that they are so similar and tethered and it's just so shocking that they haven't properly interacted yet!!!

obviously I think romike first came to fruition through the idea that robin would act like a gay mentor to mike and kind of guide him to realize his feelings for will, but they're so much more than this mentor/mentee relationship. not only would it be an interesting dynamic to explore as they have barely interacted, but they are literally both Anxiety As A Person and their personalities would compliment each other so well. mike's reluctance to open up to people & robin's willingness to ramble to anyone she meets? sign me up. both are bottling up their emotions in totally different ways. i would live for them awkwardly bumping into each other and mike finding her annoying at first but then realizing she is literally his carbon copy and that they are so much more alike than he first thought. (I would argue that they are literally madwheeler 2.0 sans the bitchiness.) them both bonding over the fact that they have trouble expressing their emotions and that they feel like outsiders????? them both realizing they are stuck in the same boat and using each other as an outlet to open up (+ it would be way easier for them to talk about these things because they aren't super close)????? hEllooooo duffers Are u seeing this?????? their dynamic would be so interesting if they don't write it I'm going to have to do it myself.

as for general predictions/theories..... oh boy I have Lots!!!!

I think that the writers are leaning more towards a rowill focus than a romike one this season so I don't think we will see as much as them as I would hope for. BUT this post gives me the idea that we will get a bunch of romikewill scenes on the farm with maybe a dash of one-on-one romike content sprinkled in there for the wellbeing of the people (the people being me and the other two romike fans on this app). as much as I love romike I think will and robin are the characters who Need to talk to each other the most because they're both still closeted. though as I said before I pray that the duffers will realize the potential that romike has as well 🙏

so I've basically done a whole lot of rambling and haven't even answered your question so I'm just gonna get straight to what I want for them this szn if this were my perfect world 🎉

I have this one recurring dream that mainly only exists because of a fic I wrote an extremely long time ago but basicalllyyy the essence of it was that mike and el were in this weird phase in their relationship where they were distant, awkward, and were almost uncomfortable around each other? so mike, incredibly frustrated and fed up with this, starts acting moody and withdrawn from everyone else. also bc this is s5 lets just add the fact that his sister is missing, he just got beat up by the school bullies, and maybe he and will got into the painting fight or something. so just imagine mike being almost reclusive and reserved on the farm set. maybe robin notices his lack of exuberance (that's probably not the right word but whatever) and decides to take matters into her own hands. she asks what his deal is and if he's doing all right with everything going on. mike pretends he's super annoyed by her because of all the questions she asks him but maybe she makes some offhand remark about how they're stuck on this stupid farm and it'll only get worse if he keeps acting like this. (and also, they have bigger issues to worry about!) so mike, quickly realizing that robin is literally the only person on this farm that is there for him to talk to, opens up to her a little reluctantly about everything going on with him. it's important that this is a slow process and that he doesn't dump everything on her at once. maybe he says that he doesn't know what he's doing with his and el's relationship and how will's not talking to him and that he feels he keeps screwing things up with the people he cares about the most. insert moment of robin being robin and clearing up the air, relieving the tension off mike's shoulders, and also giving him some very valuable advice!! obviously there's much more here to explore upon but the general gist of it is that they become much closer after this. robin learns that she can open up to mike too, about how some "person" that she's interested in is giving her mixed signals and how she is actually very scared about the end of the world but feels like she has to deflect everything with humour. they learn they are able to confide in each other and boom romike world domination!!!

I kind of what them to be like a mix of steve & robin and mike & nancy and mike & max, if that makes sense. like steve and robin's closeness, mike and nancy's worry about each other, and mike and max's bickering and (loving) malice. Idk mike is very irritable and snarky and robin is very direct and straightforward and also very tentative so I think their dynamic would just feel natural and compliment each of their personalities!!

I also think their dynamic could be veryyy beneficial to discovering the key to destroying vecna once and for all !!! these two are arguably the smartest characters on the show and work in very like minded ways. robin figured out when blue meets yellow in the west (cough) and that music is the key to getting out of vecna's mindscapes. mike has had wayyy too many clutch moments during the show that I can't mention here otherwise this post would get too long, but you get the point. putting both of their brains together might help our characters figure out how to end this battle. this script that maya hawke posted a while back that features both of mike and robin's names makes me very hopeful that this will be a possibility in s5. (potential st5 spoilers incoming ->) my current running Theory is that mike and robin discover that the military or hnl (is it still running in s5? idk) are running experiments on kids again and use the mccorkle farm and subsequent tunnels underneath to help the kids escape. (mayhaps this is how derek ends up on the farm after being spotted with the military??? idk.)

I am trying not to get my hopes up about robin and mike being spotted at hawkins lab together (potentially with el and will too 👀) but I have a feeling that this is related to whatever was going on in the tunnels. I have No Clue about what is going down at hawkins lab but one can only hope that they are there because the gang realized they needed two of the smartest people as well as the two strongest/most powerful to figure out the situation with the gates. great minds think alike or something like that!!!

this is more leaning towards romikewill territory but Idk I would just liveeeee for a scene of robin picking up on the labyrinthine circumstance that is will & mike's relationship and teasing mike about it !!! and in return I would like a Lot of mike teasing robin about vickie. I think (key word Think) vickie is on the farm with them so I need lots of scenes of robin not so subtly flirting with vickie and vickie flirting back and giggling like a maniac and mike noticing out of the corner of his eye and smiling. i want him to go up to robin later and just whisper shout that vickie is soooo into her. something similar happening with byler and robin noticing would also be very plausible. i just think it would be so sweet for mike and robin to see themselves in their friends and the people around them to help guide them towards their self-acceptance arcs, and learn that there is some hope for them after all ☹️ the only thing I don't want to see is only one of them being used just to further the romantic advances in the other's story. like I don't want the only reason robin interacts with will and mike in s5 to be to help guide byler towards e/o or for mike to do the same thing with rovickie!! it's important that they both realize that having queer friends is just as significant, and that they both are able to confide in each other about their struggles and worries, whether it's about their relationship or not.

there was also this one leak from early 2024 (another leak warning if you haven't clicked off this post already) that stated that mike and robin had a few scenes together because mike was worried about will, and robin was worried about vickie, and bonded because of this. I think this is a much more plausible way for them to start talking to each other than that scenario I mentioned earlier lol. I really hope that vickie is related to derek or the turnbows in some capacity; it would make her such less of a random character and also give robin a reason to be worried about her (and would also tie into them helping derek escape and the fact that he's on the farm with the rest of them). romike confiding in each other about the fact that they feel like they are useless/can't save the people they love AUGHHHH give it to me now . (edit: the leak is mentioned somewhere in this post you just may have to dig for it)

this post is very long and a total incoherent ramble so I am Very sorry but unfortunately I will never be normal about romike a day in my life. @willelworld (my lovely fellow romike enthusiast!) made a very great point in this post that I would like to end off with because it just sums up what is so perfect about them:

I really hope that my favourite adhd losers will be able to bond over their social incompetencies and sexualities and suppressed emotions and so much more in st5!!!! they just have such best friend material so I hope the duffers do not waste this absolute perfect opportunity to write a queerplatonic friendship ^_^

#when i saw this in my inbox I literally screamed UGH i love being perceived and talking about my favourite underrated stranger things duo #asks #romike #robin buckley #mike wheeler #byler #st5 spec #st5 spoilers #st5 wishlist

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robot-roadtrip-rants · 6 hours ago

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Because I am a CHUMP and a FOOL I went and watched the short after I finished your video. It brought up a lot of memories from my youth. As some of your commenters noted, Amberlynn is a stereotype from the aughts, not from the 20s. I saw jokes like Amberlynn all over the place when I was a teen. I remember the fandom and the fangirls who inspired the Amberlynn jokes. Let me tell you about the world--well, the US--that the real-life Amberlynns grew up in.

This is the era of abstinence-only education. Purity balls are in the news, and Disney Channel pop stars are wearing purity rings. When Amberlynn is a teenager, her teachers tells her that people who have pre-marital sex are like chewed-up gum. When she turns on the TV, she hears Miley Cyrus announcing that True Love Waits. If her family goes to church, she may have been issued a promise ring. Amberlynn is a nerdy girl; she may be reading fantasy/sci-fi novels with smutty content, like I did when I was a teen. And she may have to hide those novels from her parents, like my friends did, or else they'll get taken away--she's too young for that filth.

But there's this wonderful new thing called the Internet. It opens up all kinds of amazing doors. Amberlynn has been composing adventures about her favorite characters in her head for years, and now she learns--she's not the only one! There's this whole site, fanfiction.net, where people post all the adventures they composed for their fandoms. Some of it--gulp!--is pornographic. And there's this thing called a "blog"--it's sort of like an anonymous online diary. Amberlynn can post whatever she likes, and no one will know it's her! Best of all, her parents have no idea what she's getting up to on the computer. They're probably not Internet literate. If Amberlynn is careful, they'll never find out about all the filthy, disgusting smut she's reading and writing, they'll never know all the fucked up, angsty thoughts that she lets out on her Livejournal.

And all that filthy, disgusting smut that she's writing...well, there's kind of a running theme. Whether het or slash, the top is always a dominant, sexually aggressive man forcing his attentions on a shy, innocent, submissive bottom (either woman or uke). The bottom always cries and struggles and insists that they totally don't want to have sex, but when the top keep harassing them, they slowly give up the fight. They can't help themselves, it just feels too good to be kissed, felt up, penetrated. Pretty fucked up, right? Why on earth would anyone write such problematic, rape-excusing shit?

I want you to go back and reread my second paragraph, and I want you to think about what that does to a teenage girl. What it's like to be told that having sex is like being chewed up and thrown away like gum, to hear pop stars on TV tell you that "not everyone, guy or girl, wants to be a slut!" You're looking at the boys around you and you're wondering what it would be like to touch and be touched, and everything around you tells you those desires are Wrong and Bad and Slutty. That's what Amberlynn is going through right now. Good Girls don't have sex. Good Girls don't even want sex. But hey...if a really hot guy forced really good sex on you...well...it's not your fault, right? Not even if you enjoyed it.

Amberlynn isn't the first girl to unconsciously follow this line of thought. This shit predates the Internet by centuries. I'm dead serious, you can find Regency romance novels that follow the same formula. Dubcon/noncon gives women who have been raised in repressive environments an excuse to enjoy sexual fantasies without feeling shitty about their natural urges. A lack of agency means a lack of guilt.

Now, the Internet offers Amberlynn a degree of freedom to express herself that she may not have felt beforehand. But it isn't 100% free. Early on in her geeky Internet journey, Amberlynn is going to learn that not all geeks are created equal. There's a hierarchy.

See, geeks in the aughts really REALLY want everyone to know that they're Not Like Other Geeks. Society hadn't atomized into a million little niches yet; there was much greater pressure to conform to "normal." Geeks weren't "normal." And the way we handled that was to cannibalize our own.

One of the best ways to demonstrate normality is to find an even weirder person and mock them for their normality. So that's what we did. I say "we" because I definitely participated. I laughed at all the furry jokes. I sneered at the OCs and the self-inserts. I'm guessing Vivziepop did, too. We were geek kids learning how to be geek adults, and our only model was, well, The Geek Hierarchy. And it was really, really important to reaffirm our normality because, deep down inside, we knew we were at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Geek girls are abnormal. Geek girls are intruders into male spaces. Geek girls write fanfiction (ew!) about boys kissing (EW!), and they obsess over hot male characters (EW EW EW!!). It's normal for (straight!) dudes to thirst over sexy female leads, to draw dirty fanart, or to even write their favorite male character kicking ass and getting allllll the pussy in 50-chapter sagas that everyone praises. But a woman doing the same to male characters? Or worse, writing them as a f****t? Disgusting.

(I'm sticking to the cishet perspective here because that was my experience, but TRUST ME, there were queer issues a-plenty. Not a few of the Amberlynns of my era were using fic spaces to figure out their sexualities and/or gender identities. I don't think I can describe those experiences, but I want you to know they were happening.)

So if you're a geek girl in the aughts, you never, ever, ever talk about your fic to anyone outside your fanfic circle. You definitely don't discuss dirty fic, or self-inserts, or slash. You never talk about your ships, you never crack certain jokes, you never give people your Livejournal (or Tumblr, or AO3, or...). And when other nerds mock those FREAKS and WEIRDOS obsessing too much over their smutty headcanons and ships and whatnot, you nod and smile. You comply with the Geek Hierarchy.

Amberlynn doesn't comply. Amberlynn chooses violence.

By the time we meet Amberlynn in her twenties, she has long since abandoned any pretense of normality. She proudly wears her fandom merch. She covers her walls in monsterfucker posters. She has the gall to watch pornography. And--gasp!--she has kinky, gross fantasies, and she wants to be desired. She is every stereotype of gross girl geeks piled into one character.

Are we going to discuss how geek girls have used fandom spaces to explore their sexualities for decades? Are we going to discuss how purity culture has impacted those explorations? Are we even going to bring up how so, so many people who have issues with organized religion will latch onto Hell/paganism/magic/whatever their childhood faith told them was Bad? No. Amberlynn has grievously violated the Geek Hierarchy. She needs to be punished. She needs to be made an example of what not to do.

I may be swinging a bat at a hornet's nest here but comparing the Weeaboo-boo short to literally any Hunter: The Parenting episode, especially Boy Story or any episode with Grimal in it, really makes the difference clear. That short sucked so much ass, mostly due to mean-spirited misogyny.

#helluva boss #amberlyn pinkle #geek hierarchy #I still have baggage over this #I still have hang ups over SIs and OCs #Or how couples interact with each other in a fic #I assume Vivziepop does too #I don't think this episode would exist otherwise #and I get it #shit's ingrained #but we shouldn't pass our generation's hangups onto the next

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