#should have used a 40 developer

[shiftedvoid]

Here’s how the hair turned out, not sure if I like it or not

[feminist-space]

Cat in the Hat:

"The German Health Minister gave an important update on the Covid situation yesterday.

I’ve written up the section of his speech from the video below for easy reading.

It’s immensely refreshing to see a government minister warning of the harms of Covid in such a transparent way."

https://x.com/_catinthehat/status/1732092683508678954

Prof. Karl Lauterbach

Health Minister, Germany

4 December 2023

"This second (long Covid) round table was very interesting, lasting three and a half hours. It serves as a unique forum for dialogue among scientists, researchers and those affected by long Covid, facilitating the exchange of ideas.

There are many new findings about long Covid. Not all of them are good news. One piece of not-so-good news concerns the fact that long Covid is actually still a problem for those who are newly infected. One estimate that has been put forward is that the risk of contracting long Covid now, even after vaccination, is around 3%. Now you may say, "that's not such a big risk" , but there are tens of thousands of people who are repeatedly affected in a short period of time. And so, the long Covid problem has not yet been solved.

We have also established that there really are many subgroups of long Covid and that we do not yet have a cure. And it was clearly pointed out that we are also dealing with problems here that will challenge society as a whole, because vascular diseases often occur after long Covid. Throughout Europe, we are currently seeing an increased incidence of cardiovascular disease in the middle-age group - from 25 to 50. This is associated with the consequences of Covid infections.

We also very often find cognitive impairment in older people. And one participant pointed out that it may well be like the Spanish flu, where 20 years after the Spanish flu there was a significant increase in Parkinson's disease and probably also dementia.

This is something we must pay attention to, as the past infection afiects how the immune system in the brain functions, as well as the brain's blood vessels, potentially increasing the long-term risk of these major neurodegenerative diseases. This is why we need to conduct very intensive research. This research has played a major role.

What is the overall assessment of the situation now?

We have to be careful. Long Covid is not curable at the moment. We also know that over 40% of those who have several manifestations of long Covid, for example, five or more, still have symptoms after 2 years, so it doesn't seem to heal spontaneously. We also know that those whose symptoms are more pronounced at the beginning are less likely to heal.

So some of what we know from the demographics of long Covid has been confirmed, and we now know more precisely which mechanisms in the brain, but also in the blood vessels and the immune system, are responsible for this. Professor Scheibenbogan will explain this briefly later.

At this point, I can only say the following - this is particularly important to me:

First of all, long Covid is a disease that stays with us and that we cannot yet cure. And we are seeing an increasing number of cases as the waves of infection continue to affect us.

Secondly, Covid is not a cold - with a cold, you don't usually see any long-term effects. You don't see any changes in the blood vessels. You don't usually see an autoimmune disease developing. You also don't usually see neurological inflammation - these are all things that we see with long Covid. Therefore, one should not assume that Covid infection is just a common cold. It can affect brain tissue and the vascular system, and we still lack an effective treatment, making these studies crucial.

Significantly, we know that the risk of long Covid decreases when you're infected but have been vaccinated. That's why it's concerning that only 3 million people have been vaccinated with the new, adapted vaccine. That is a very bad result.

Please protect yourself from severe infections.

Please protect yourself from long Covid.

Currently, the danger posed by Covid is indeed being underestimated. Nothing is worse than infecting someone at Christmas who then becomes seriously ill and may not fully recover."

Alt text is included in all images of this post.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

Are you a Tankie?? Do you think the USSR was a good nation? Do you maybe even defend Stalin somewhat, not just Lenin? Do you support Mao or ''commuist" nations in the modern age like China or North Korea? I think Commuism is a good ideology, but anytime it's been attempted alongside a government, it's been used as an excuse to control and oppress people. I think it can only work feasibly under anarchy because a government will never release control of its citizens.

I used to be an anarchist myself. I'm not going to say there's some magic phrase that will convince you to become a "tankie" like me, but I will say that if you haven't read some of the core works by Marx, Engels, or Lenin, you should give them a try sometime. "State and Revolution" especially. There is no magic "abolish the state" button that can be pressed to do away with all authority in one stroke. The material conditions must be changed first before the state can disappear.

I would also recommend checking out Pat Sloan's "Soviet Democracy", and pretty much anything by Anna Louise Strong but especially The Soviets Expected It, The Stalin Era, and In North Korea. On the subject of North Korea, you should also watch the democracy "Loyal Citizens of Pyongyang in Seoul".

There is a lot of propaganda surrounding actually existing socialism in the West, and it is important to separate truth from fiction. People do not fight in revolutions only to turn around and accept new oppressors. Every currently existing socialist state is democratic, and that includes the DPRK. Democratic does not mean ideal, but it does mean that people have a say in who is running the government. Even more than that, in every existing socialist state the people have the right to recall elected officials at any time, something which is not guaranteed in most bourgeois democracies, including the US.

Can you imagine members of the ruling party meeting with the people directly on a regular basis to discuss and debate the issues that matter most to the people in the US or any other bourgeois democracy? Can you imagine government officials whose top priority is the material welfare of the most disadvantaged citizens? You look at government meetings in China, in Cuba, in Vietnam, in Laos, and in North Korea, and that is what you see time and time again. That is the crux of politics in these countries, the material conditions of the people and how to improve them. They are dictatorships of the proletariat and thus the proletariat are the class for which the state exists to benefit.

Finally, you should read the 1986 paper "Capitalism, socialism, and the physical quality of life" by Cereseto & Waitzkin. While it is nearly 40 years old, it used World Bank data (clearly not a source biased in favor of communism) to demonstrate how on average socialist economies outperformed capitalist ones at similar levels of economic development in terms of actual material conditions for the average citizen. Being 40 years old, it also has the advantage of comparing data at a time when the number of socialist nations was at its highest. If you want to see more recent examinations that take a similar approach, you should read any papers by the economist Jason Hickel, but especially his 2016 paper "The true extent of global poverty and hunger", where he demonstrates that capitalism has by and large failed to improve material conditions outside the imperial core, and that the only nations that buck the trend in the developing world are the ones who have rejected neoliberal economic policy, most notably China, whose socialist economy has been responsible for the vast majority of people lifted out of poverty in the last decades.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

oh my god i figured it out

okay so it took an accident of me not checking on it, but I FINALLY figured out why I wasn't getting enough loft on my bread:

I was NOT giving enough time for yeast/bacteria production.

So if I do my other bread recipe's 4 hour levain development, then follow the pullman's recipe and do about an hour and a half initial rise (with stretch and folds) with a one hour final rest and rise, I get something like this:

okay that rose in the oven but like. not a whole lot, yknow?

tried again, a little longer on the levain, but this time I tried to do the final rest/rise in the fridge overnight like when you have an overnight ferment on a classic sourdough

oh that's a lot better! but the recipe is for a PULLMAN'S loaf, it should be square as possible, am I using enough ingredients?

NO I WAS. I JUST WASNT GIVING ALL THE TIMES ENOUGH TIME

this time I let the levain (40-50g starter, 35g whole wheat flour, 35g AP flour, 70 mL water) develop for like six and a half hours in a proofer or a slightly warmed oven.

pour levain into a stand mixer if you've got one, bowl if you dont. Mix in sugar (35g) and warm water (400mL). Let that sit for the usual half hour in proofer.

add flour (600ish grams total, i often do about a third whole wheat to two thirds AP), 5g salt, 80-90g fat of choice (butter, margarine, etc). I put it in the stand mixer for around 10 minutes on low. (this is a REALLY old stand mixer so it CAN go real slow- do 7-8 min on lowest setting on a modern mixer, 15 min if you wanna do a hand knead)

cover and put in proofer. As usual I did 4 stretch and folds at half hour intervals, but on the final interval I forgot about the timer- it was left in the bowl for around a full hour after the last fold rather than the planned half hour.

by the time I checked on it, it rose WAY more than i was expecting it to. Decided to roll with it (lol), greased the pullman's pan (butter if no one's allergic, margarine otherwise), flattened, rolled up the dough, plopped it in and slid on the lid.

Did the final rest for two full hours in proofing temps, then baked at 350-60ish for a half hour with the lid slid on, 15 min with the lid off.

so, all in all: the ideal loaf of pullman's sourdough starts when you wake up and comes out around dark lunch.

not practical but hey! an interesting study to be sure

[sissydiaperloverzoe]

2025 Sissy Feminization and diaper life

Ok, this is replacing my last feminization post moving forwards. To help me towards my goal I need as many notes as possible (Likes, Coments and reblogs), I am already wearing tights for life, so this will add to it

UPDATED LIST - more tasks added

on the 1st January I will look at the notes and my attire will be changed immediately for the whole of the year

5 notes - haircuts are forbidden unless getting trimmed in a feminine style in a salon

10 notes - deodorants will be replaced with anti-persperants and body sprays

15 notes - mascara will be worn daily

20 notes - boy underwear replaced with panties and bra and hosiery

30 notes - my toe nails will be painted weekly in different shades of pinks and reds

40 notes - nude lipstick or lip gloss to be worn daily

50 notes - all household chores to be done by me, wearing a variety of dresses and wigs

60 notes - all body hair to be waxed off at the earliest opportunity

80 notes - ear piercing and earrings mandatory

100 notes - feminine tops to be worn daily

110 notes - manicures and possibly extensions to be done on my hand monthly, with bright feminine colours to be painted to my nails

120 notes - full makeup and perfume to be wore daily

130 notes - nappies (diapers) to be 24/7, only time I’m to touch the toilet is for cleaning it, I’m aloud upto 5 nappies a day but I must have permission for a change

140 notes - I will wear c cup breast forms whenever I’m wearing my bra, which should be as close to 24/7 as possible

150 notes - due to safety concerns, when not on the work premises I will be wearing dresses or skirts, with minimum heel height of the length of my flacid penis (aka 2 inches)

160 notes - I will now only be permitted 4 nappies a day

170 notes - I am to go on a strict slimming world diet and feminine exercise plan aiming at toning up my tummy, and developing a sexy bum

180 notes - DD breast forms to be worn at all times

190 notes - I’m now only permitted 3 nappies a day

200 notes - wigs will be worn at all times until my hairs feminine enough

210 notes - the minimum heel height will be the height of my erect penis of 3.5 inches

220 notes - only 2 male projects to be kept. The rest must be sold to pay for a new wardrobe of skirts and dresses, nappies, makeup and accessories

230 notes - feminine small fuel efficient car to be bought, and current noisy expensive uncomfortable car to be sold

240 notes - weekly shopping trips for new wardrobe to commence

250 notes - feminine accessories must be used

260 notes - I’m aloud 1 orgasm for every 10 I give

270 notes - I must stop going out on boys night, I need to find girly friends to help me

280 notes - I must feminise my mannerisms, each time I get picked up on forgetting something I’ve already been taught, I lose a nappy change that week

290 notes - all male non work clothes to be thrown out or given to charity

300 notes - to begin a course to help me into a feminine friendly job that matches current pay

so please may I ask you all to like, comment and reblog to ensure my life is never the same again

[ask-an-epidemiologist]

Why "COVID anxiety" is not an actual disorder

In psychiatric terms, a phobia is considered as such if, and only if, it is unreasonable. So, an average person experiencing panic attacks at the sight of bees would be considered to have a phobia, because they are more afraid than the risk bees present to them.

However, a person with a fatal allergy to bee stings would not be considered apiphobic. This is because, with the risk of death bees present to them, having panic attacks is considered a rational reaction.

I'm sure you can already understand my point.

COVID not only can kill you (particularly if you're medically vulnerable), but it can cause severe disability. Even ignoring that people who have had COVID in the last three weeks are 81 times likelier to die of cardiac events than uninfected people, survivors of COVID are also 40% likelier to develop neurological sequelae. Rates of POTS or other dysautonomias (dysfunctions of the autonomous nervous system, which can be anywhere from "uncomfortable" to "rendering a patient bedridden") are through the roof, and neurologists are finding huge increases in the under-45 demographic of their dementia patients- a demographic that was previously extremely rare.

If someone wears protective eyewear while welding because they don't want to be blinded by an arc flash, we consider that a normal and reasonable precaution. So why are people who mask being labeled as "anxious about COVID" considering that this virus will very likely disable them if not kill them outright?

"COVID anxiety" is a rational behavior, not a medical diagnosis- so why are we treating it as one? Simple: it's another politicization of medicine. Just as "hysteria" was used to silence women, and lobotomization was used to subjugate inconvenient people (especially of rival political affiliations), "COVID anxiety" is being used to silence those who refuse to cooperate with the false narrative that COVID is over and/or no big deal. The very sight of a mask is a stark reminder to medical officials and laymen alike that they should be doing something they aren't. It's why some doctors aren't even "letting" chemo patients, one of the most severely immunocompromised demographics, do this. Because even though they are carefully avoiding a lot more illnesses than COVID, the sight of the mask still makes the doctor think of the COVID precautions they are ignoring first and foremost.

That is to say, "COVID anxiety" is a punitive diagnosis made by doctors when they are angry at the discomfort they feel when their patients remind them of their utter inadequacy, and they created this solely to stigmatize and demean patients to ensure they wouldn't subvert the expected power dynamic again.

Zero competent medical professionals actually use this terminology for their patients, and if yours uses it for you, run, don't walk, to a new clinic. Helping you is a secondary goal at best for your doctor.

[vague-humanoid]

The year is 1998. While antiviral drugs to treat HIV had been approved a decade earlier, only five out of 33 million people who carried the virus were receiving the life-saving treatment. Nowhere was the situation worse than in South Africa. The country had the highest global prevalence of the disease with nearly one in five people infected and 200,000 children orphaned.

Treatment options were limited. That year, the Minister of Health released a report outlining the deficiencies in the country’s health care system. The principal finding was that most South Africans could not afford antivirals. The average monthly income at the time hovered around $220 a month, which was nowhere near the $1,000 per month the pharma companies were charging for their wares. Faced with a virus that was decimating his population, Nelson Mandela made a choice that landed him in court for the first time since his arrest several decades earlier for resisting apartheid.

His government broke the patent regime for the antivirals that was chiefly responsible for killing his people—allowing parallel imports in which generics companies manufacture the drug without the patent-holding pharma company’s consent. He was instantly sued by 40 pharmaceutical companies. Bill Clinton’s administration cowered to pressure from the pharma lobby and placed South Africa on a watchlist, subjecting the nation to possible trade sanctions. It ended up being an enormous PR disaster for the obstreperous pharmaceutical firms. After three years of mounting pressure from AIDS activists, the pharma companies finally dropped their case.

While this story has a happy ending, Mandela’s battle against Big Pharma was only a small part of an ongoing war to provide equitable access to HIV medication. In the decades since his court case, taxpayer-funded research has contributed enormously to the development of new HIV treatments. New drugs can now allow people living with HIV to enjoy normal life spans, and completely reduce the risk of new transmissions. Used widely, medications should allow the complete eradication of HIV from the planet. The only obstacle the world is now facing is the same one Mandela stared down: corporate greed which prioritizes profits over human life.

@startorrent02

[felassan]

Original post:

amirdrassil: "datamined veilguard character descriptions google doc is now complete. i've even organised all the characters into their respective factions and added a clickable table of contents!! yippee!!! [link]" [source]

Please note that this work and document resource was put together by amirdrassil on Twitter! they kindly gave me permission to cross-post it here. 🙏

DA:TV spoilers and long post under cut.

VEILGUARD DATAMINED CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS These are all taken directly from the game files; wherever a character had interesting additional information such as accent, age range, or appearance, I’ve also included it.

GODS & SPIRITS

RETURNING CHARACTERS

COMPANIONS

CROWS

VEIL JUMPERS

WARDENS

SHADOW DRAGONS

LORDS OF FORTUNE

MOURN WATCH

KAL-SHAROK

MISCELLANEOUS

UPDATE (19/11/24): Added Teia, Viago, Anaris, Aelia, Hezenkoss and Rana.  (Thank you to @/ZILVYR on Twitter for finding these ones!) I did my best to look through the files as thoroughly as I could, but if you find any more I missed, feel free to DM me on Twitter (@amirdrassil) and I’ll add them with thanks. :-)

I’m adding a disclaimer here, because I’ve seen a lot of people treat these datamined descriptions as absolute canon. Many of them are remnants of scrapped or altered storylines, meaning that they no longer align with the finalised story that the game presents.  Please take everything you read here with a grain of salt, and where the game’s content itself directly contradicts the datamining, the former should always take precedent over the latter. At least as far as “canon” goes! And of course, it goes without saying, but please don’t use any of this datamining as an excuse to be mean to anyone; please understand that game development is a lot of hard work, and storylines are scrapped all the time as writers get new ideas or are faced with inevitable roadblocks from the game system side of things! No matter what, Veilguard was made with love. Anyways, feel free to use any of this as fuel for fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, or just healthy discussions about what the game might’ve been.  Thank you very much, sorry for rambling and please enjoy!! :-)

GODS & SPIRITS

SOLAS AGERANGE: 40 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Solas, from the previous game. (Some characters also have a TTS voice assigned to them, and Solas’s is “PeterSad22k_HQ”, which makes me laugh/cry, as no other major character so far has had their TTS voice specified as being the “sad” variant.) ELGAR’NAN AGERANGE: 99 ACCENT: British Isles; an ancient contemporary of Solas. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Ancient elven god-king. Blighted. GHILN’NAIN AGERANGE: 35 ACCENT: British Isles; an ancient contemporary of Solas CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Ghilan'nain is our sinister Mad Scientist god. Analytical and curious, she uses magic to mutate people into powerful but disturbing forms. She often lists things in a clipped fashion, cataloguing as she sees. She's obsessed with experimenting on all kinds of living beings, viewing everyone (except her fellow god, Elgar'nan) as potential "stock". She's pitiless about her work—Ghilan'nain will happily slice open a hundred people for parts—but is not purposefully sadistic. It's nothing personal. She can be angered, however, by people interfering in her plans. When she is, rage runs cold. Some backstory: Ghilan'nain is an ancient, now corrupted, elven god. She rose to power thousands of years ago by creating living wonders, and had the distinction of being the only mortal elf uplifted into the pantheon. She embraced the corrupting power of a force called the blight in order to improve her magic, and has been unalterably twisted by it over the centuries. BETRAYAL OF FELASSAN CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A powerful undead born from Solas's regrets and betrayals (in this case, Solas's murder of his friend Felassan by stabbing him in the back).

FALL OF THE PROTECTOR CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A powerful undead born from Solas's regrets and betrayals (in this case, the death of Mythal). SLAUGHTER OF THE PILLARS CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A powerful undead born from Solas's regrets and betrayals (in this case, the murder of the Titans). SPIRIT OF PROFIT CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A Spirit of Profit who has set up shop in the Crossroads. They are friendly, but very single-minded and tend to speak in one or two word sentences, mostly about profits. SPEECHPATTERN: Simple, clear expressions of intent. This merchant is a spirit with a singular mind (i just thought this one was neat!) GENERAL FELASSAN AGERANGE: 40 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The second in command of a resistance army. You've an elf who's fought against the tyranny of your gods, cruel despots who've enslaved your people. You're practical, level-headed, and have good sense for what other people are feeling, which makes you well-suited for your role. Your leader is an elf called Solas, a powerful mage who isn't quite the people person you are. You respect him, and are there to help him with whatever he needs - especially when he needs guidance about being the face of a resistance. THE CARETAKER SPEECHPATTERN: Simple, mysterious, with a sense of vast wisdom and power ARCHETYPE: Angel / otherworldly helper who gives the player what they truly need, not necessarily what they think they want. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A mysterious masked and cloaked spirit. They are patient, otherworldly, and helpful... in their own way. The Caretaker is the guardian of the Lighthouse, a magical shelter. Unknown to the player, the Caretaker is what remains of a truly ancient dragon, who long ago took on the form of this spirit. Underlying their patient and otherworldly nature is a sense of strength. The Caretaker was summoned centuries ago by ancient elves, the original builders of this place. Now it has new inhabitants: the player and their friends. You're guiding them through the mysteries of the Lighthouse, but do not give any straight answers. It's important to you they bridge the gap themselves. NOTE: The Caretaker is referred to as they/them because they're a supernatural entity (as opposed to the more normal human non-binary characters in the game.) We'd like a feminine voice to differentiate them from some of the other spooky/mysterious spirits in the game who sound masculine (e.g. Vorgoth.)

SPIRIT OF CHAOS CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A spirit of chaos and freedom, unleashed by Solas to break through a labyrinth to his ally Mythal. SPIRIT OF NEED CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A spirit heavily implied to be the Caretaker in another era, speaking with Solas about the attempt to rescue Mythal. Speaking with the spirit, Solas makes it clear that he will sacrifice anything to save Mythal. ANARIS AGERANGE: 35 (no other info except what’s in cyrian’s description) XENON THE ANTIQUARIAN CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A nobleman who made a deal for immortality which did not include eternal youth, Xenon is the master of the Black Emporium, a shop selling curiosities from his personal collection of magical items.

RETURNING CHARACTERS

THE INQUISITOR AGERANGE: 30 APPEARANCE: Inquisition uniform under a long cloak with hood. ARCHETYPE: Relatable leader and mentor CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The Inquisitor, the protagonist from DA:I. Confident, knowing, they are still the head of a powerful organization, but now act in a mentor role. They would bring too much attention if they get personally involved, so they are looking for the right people to act for them. CHARTER AGERANGE: 30 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A returning character from DA:I, Charter serves as Rook's link to/mouthpiece of the Inquisitor and what's left of the Inquisition. VARRIC CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Varric! DORIAN CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: It’s Dorian! MORRIGAN AGERANGE: 40 SPEECHPATTERN: Morrigan-y. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Returning character from previous games. ISABELA AGERANGE: 50 APPEARANCE: Well-aged but perfectly maintained warrior gear for close and brutal fighting. Two possible appearances, depending on how the player resolves her past: 1. Dark black dyed hair 2. Red hair with streaks of grey CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Isabela from Dragon Age II

COMPANIONS

HARDING AGERANGE: 29 ARCHETYPE: Girl-next-door CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Scout Lace Harding, from Inquisition. It's been almost a decade and Harding's a little older and wiser, but she still thinks of herself as the simple country girl from Ferelden. Harding is cheerful and friendly, and always tries to be positive. She is kind, warm and compassionate, quick to laugh and slow to anger. EMMRICH AGERANGE: 50 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Follower - will have an audition script. MANFRED CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: An undead skeleton that serves as Emmrich's faithful assistant and companion. Manfred is curious, loyal, innocent, and wants to be helpful. He doesn't speak at first, only replying in hisses that express his mood. Over the course of the game, however, as he learns more, Manfred eventually surprises everyone by speaking in short, one or two word sentences. ASSAN (listed as “GRIFFON”) CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Davrin's griffon. A VO character so he can squawk and screech during banter and ambients. LUCANIS AGERANGE: 36 ACCENT: Hint of Italian, but not as strong as Zevran's. (He is from a coastal city in Antiva, which had an influx of Tevinter refugees from Seheron after the Qunari invaded 100 years or so ago. That’€™s why he looks and sounds different from Zevran and Josephine.) APPEARANCE: Lean, sinewy, handsome, but haunted Antivan human man. Mid thirties. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Once the heir to the First Talon and the Antivan Crows' best mage killer, Lucanis now bears scars both physically and mentally from his time as a brainwashed executioner for an evil mage cult. No longer the pragmatic assassin always in control, he wrestles with becoming what he’s spent his life hunting: a demon-possessed abomination. He longs to return to his former glory, but the monster inside him demands blood and vengeance. With his future hanging in the balance, Lucanis must decide whether to give into the demon or control it.

DAVRIN (he doesnt have anything aaaaa) BELLARA (she doesnt have anything either aaaaaaaaaa) NEVE AGERANGE: 30 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A mage who knows the streets of Minrathous, Neve helps investigate crime in Tevinter's capital. Hired by Varric to assist in the fight against Solas, Neve brings her unique blend of time and ice magic, along with her investigative skills, to the team. Neve is clever and driven, with a dry-but-playful sense of humour. She can be cynical about the world - especially Minrathous - but she believes in doing the right thing herself and has a strong sense of duty. TAASH CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Taash is a Qunari agent with a specialization in infiltration -- a thief, basically. She can scale buildings, pick locks, and take out enemies with quick and brutal efficiency. She is also blunt and laconic -- more likely to answer with a single word than give you a big long monologue. She's not grumpy as much as badass deadpan -- she doesn't trust people in general, and she doesn't like thinking or talking about her feelings, but she believes in what she does. (Taash correctly has the “NonBinary” gender tag, but unfortunately the CharacterDescription field misgenders them. However, it also seems there are some things here and there that changed in early development, like the Qunari agent thing.)

CROWS

TEIA AGERANGE: 28 ACCENT: Italian/Spanish SPEECHPATTERN: Warm APPEARANCE: Elven female, mid to late twenties CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Passionate, showy, hot-blooded, flirtatious, and arrogantly confident. Teia believes she's a celebrity athlete who will die gloriously before she gets old and live forever in song. She has no guilt about being an assassin, and thinks anyone who judges her for it just doesn't understand how things work in Antiva, or indeed anywhere in the world where powerful men play games. Abandoned as a child, she has a soft spot for the downtrodden. VIAGO AGERANGE: 32 ACCENT: Italian/Spanish SPEECHPATTERN: Formal, hint of snobbiness APPEARANCE: Human male, early thirties RACE: Human (Brazilian) CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Calm, ambitious, and ruthless, Viago is the bastard son of the late King of Antiva. As a high-ranking member of the Crows, Viago has just as much influence as the Monarchy, but he still resents the fact that he is not a legitimate heir and feels his birthright was stolen from him. Beneath his cool exterior is a lot of anger and frustration. He will not be satisfied until he sits upon a throne. ILLARIO AGERANGE: 35 SPEECHPATTERN: Charming but with a hint of smarminess. ACCENT: Italian APPEARANCE: Ativan pretty boy CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Antivan pretty boy. Mid 30's. Illario is a power hungry assassin who cares only for himself. On the surface, he is a fun-loving, upperclass Antivan with a weakness for wine, duels, and gambling. But beneath that shallow facade is a calculating, ambitious man with grand plans for the Crows.

SPITE SPEECHPATTERN: Taunting, sing-songy, creepy CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The demon trapped inside Lucanis's head. Spite was once a Spirit of Passion drawn to Lucanis's will to live, but years of torture and a desire for revenge has twisted him into a Demon of Obsession. CATERINA AGERANGE: 80 ACCENT: Italian/Spanish APPEARANCE: Older Korean-Spanish or Korean-Italian woman (from the same region as Lucanis). Can easily play the part of both sweet grandmother and mafia boss. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The Godmother of the Antivan Crows. Sassy, ruthless older woman of power, who will do anything for the success and protection of her family/house. ZARA AGERANGE: 35 APPEARANCE: Beautiful human mage. Mid 30’s. SPEECHPATTERN: Soft and teasing with a Tevinter accent. Upperclass, so formal, but not cold. More of a sensual snob than an ice queen. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A vain, hedonistic Tevinter Magister, who uses the blood of her slaves to stay young and beautiful. She is Lucanis's nemesis and is the one responsible for forcing a demon inside his head. CALIVAN AGERANGE: 55 SPEECHPATTERN: Formal, snide CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Calivan is the prison warden in charge of the Ossuary. He is as cruel as he is curious and likes to experiment on his inmates with blood magic. GOVERNOR IVENCI AGERANGE: 45 SPEECHPATTERN: Formal, curt, demanding APPEARANCE: A Trevisan government official. They don't go around armed, because they secretly know they don't have anything to fear from the occupation. ARCHETYPE: Money-respecting Official demanding the heroes stop disrupting the status quo. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Governor Rayan Ivenci is a non-binary human, about 45, Trevisan with a Caucasian appearance. They used to be a mercenary and still have the skills, but have softened somewhat as they aged. They have been a government official for a decade, and have grown sick of being a toothless figurehead. The Crows are the true authority in Antiva, relegating officials like Ivenci to almost symbolic bookkeepers. Ivenci thinks the Crows are spoiled mascots, and Treviso should be ruled by serious figures who don't waste time on petty rivalries and theatrics. Ivenci allowed the occupation and has made steady profit from it, selling out Treviso with the intent that the Crows would be killed fighting the Antaam, expecting that and when Antiva eventually ousted the Antaam, Ivenci would solidify power before Crow houses in other cities could re-establish here. Under Ivenci, Treviso would be the thin edge of the wedge that ended the Crows power. But the Butcher didn't rampage, and didn't kill all the Crows. This has left Ivenci pretending to help fight the occupation, while also chastising the Crows for stirring up trouble. Once the Butcher is dead, Ivenci casts aside any pretense and simply takes power.

FLETCHER AGERANGE: 30 SPEECHPATTERN: Measured, serious. ARCHETYPE: Connected merchant guild leader ACCENT: Antivan APPEARANCE: Fletcher is a tradesperson and a skilled combatant with a bow. They are always dressed for travel. They aren't flashy, preferring to appear as their own guard instead of a merchant hawking wares.  CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Fletcher is a human Crow with merchant ties. Skilled in bows and ranged support, they are kitted for travel and protecting people and goods on the move. They are non-binary, tall with a thin build that codes slightly feminine. Ethnicity can be anything.

HEIR AGERANGE: 40 SPEECHPATTERN: Calm, measured. Almost dispassionate. ACCENT: Orlesian APPEARANCE: She is pale with short dark hair and an Orlesian accent. Dressed in good light armor befitting someone who trains others in small-weapon combat and takes the occasional hit. She was the assassin trainer in Inquisition, but it's been many years and doesn't need to match the appearance except in a general sense. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Heir is a Dalish elf who acts as a trainer and mentor for young Crows. JACOBUS AGERANGE: 15 ACCENT: Antivan SPEECHPATTERN: Sullen teen with an axe to grind APPEARANCE: Young, skilled, lithely muscled. Jacobus is well trained in double-daggers, but has the typical lack of discipline of an undirected teen. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Jacobus is a young male Crow who is in danger of losing himself to vengeance. He should be as young as we can make him. If he can't be a child, he should be no older than 15. His family were killed by the Antaam, and the hate is still fresh. Skilled in daggers, he is lithe and quick, but sullen in his mannerisms. He doesn't smile yet. Ethnicity can be anything. ARCHETYPE: Youthful spite for the world NOA DE ACUTIS AGERANGE: 55 ACCENT: Antivan SPEECHPATTERN: Formal with strangers, warmer with her brother. APPEARANCE: Older veteran Crow female duelist CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Noa is an older female in her late 50s. She has been a Crow for all of her life, and remains capable and fit. Her build has the old-woman wireyness of a duelist's body that was fit her whole life. She is slow to smile, and is the more serious of the de Acutis siblings. Ethnicity can be anything, but needs to match her brother Neri encountered in the Crow plots. ARCHETYPE: Older sister, skilled assassin

NERI DE ACUTIS AGERANGE: 55 ACCENT: Antivan SPEECHPATTERN: Thoughtful, homespun APPEARANCE: Classic swordsman assassin, with an old-fashioned flare. He doesn't look dated, he looks distinguished. A godfather displaying modern tradition. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Neri is an older male in his late 50s. He has been a Crow for all of his life, and remains capable and fit. His build has the old-man-strength of a swordsman's body that was muscular his whole life, but has now lost some of the mass as he transitioned to a mentor or godfather role. He has a hard face, but is quick to a melancholy smile. Ethnicity can be anything, but needs to match his sister encountered in a later plot. ARCHETYPE: Stern but loving godfather FLEDGLING DARTONIA AGERANGE: 17 SPEECHPATTERN: Tentative due to inexperience. More confident after seeing Rook in action. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A young person in training to become an assassin. Nervous because of inexperience, but capable and willing.  Farming background. Hunted for food. Now living in the city because the lands were lost to occupation. Dartonia and Temitri are encountered in the Crow sanctum, the Diamond casino. They chat casually with each other about how their training is going, and the things they've heard about. They are young recruits to the Crows, still getting used to their training and the strict but caring manner of their trainer, Heir. They respect and have a little fear of the veteran Crows like Viago and Lucanis.  Especially Lucanis, who is a figure of some renown.

FLEDGLING TIMETRI AGERANGE: 17 SPEECHPATTERN: Over-disciplined to compensate for inexperience. They relax after seeing Rook in action. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A young person in training to become an assassin. Overcompensating for inexperience, but capable and willing. Traveled with a military family. Used to discipline, but has crafting hobbies like making various kinds of dolls. TREVISO GONDOLIER AGERANGE: 50 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A blue collar gondolier pilot who runs errands in the canals of Treviso. Used to slipping past patrols for stealthy deliveries, before and during the occupation. Fit from daily work, you are no soldier or assassin, but you help in your way. ARCHETYPE: Workaday everyman who helps the assassins get from place to place. QAMEKMASTER CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The Antaam Qamekmaster is a fanatic who normally is in charge of brewing the horrible mind-stealing poison, qamek. Like all Antaam, he is large, muscular, and has a soldier's mentality. However, now he is giving in to the corruption of the gods. He thinks this makes him better than the regular Antaam, and he's been locked up by the Butcher because of it. When Rook finds them, they willingly succumb to the corruption entirely, and become a monstrous creature called a Reaver. Once transformed he is a massive, fleshy juggernaut consumed by fervor and rage. Most of his dialogue is combat as the transformed Reaver. CHANCE CANDIDE AGERANGE: 25 SPEECHPATTERN: Confident, with a flare for the dramatic. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Standard Crow garb on a young man. Chance is a stylish, dramatic Orlesian who joined the Crows to be their emmisary among the courts of Orlais. (French accent.) He has since joined the effort in Treviso, and is fighting the Antaam occupation alongside his fellow Crows. He has chosen to rally people in the underbelly of town, which is a bit of a contrast from his previous position, but that's what he likes. He's the bright spot in a dark time for many people. ARCHETYPE: Gentleman assassin

MARKET MASTER AGERANGE: 45 SPEECHPATTERN: Friendly but businesslike APPEARANCE: Market master in expensive clothes. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The all-business master of the market in Treviso. She's frustrated by the occupation, but uninterested in discussions about who should be in charge. She's only interested in getting whoever is at the head out of the city's business. Her name is Master Sidestreet Alidare. Sidestreet is a nickname representing her low origins and her ability to do deals on the side.

VEIL JUMPERS

CYRIAN AGERANGE: 30 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Bellara's brother. Zealously dedicated to the rebirth of the elves. Half-possessed by Anaris, an ancient elven would-be god who lives inside a magical mask. STRIFE AGERANGE: 50 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: One of the Dalish faction agents. Strife is a keen-eyed hunter who grew up in the elven city slums, but was taken in by the forest-dwelling Dalish elves and taught to be an expert woodsman. He's rugged, tough, adventurous, and doesn't suffer fools. He feels some disconnect between his city-upbringing and his current role as a hunter - somtimes Strife worries he's an imposter, not truly growing up with his people, but he's tried to take their teachings to heart. Strife is loyal to those who earn his friendship, and fiercely protective of his clan. IRELIN AGERANGE: 25 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A Dalish elf who grew up in the woods, Irelin has learned the ancient and incredibly rare art of shapeshifting. She uses this ability to move secretly in the forest, scouting for her people. Practical and no-nonsense when it comes to defending her clan and her friends, she has a healthy distrust of outsiders, especially the humans who've persecuted and exploited her people for so long. Irelin takes a secret joy in the thrill and power of shapeshifting, however. She loves exploring as the different animals of the forest, and knows some of their paths better than anyone.

WARDENS

ANTOINE AGERANGE: 25 ACCENT: French (Orlesian) CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Antoine is a cheerful and enthusiastic member of the Grey Wardens. He's quick-witted and willing to run with a crazy plan. Compassionate and kind, he'll put his life on the line to protect others. (filename tag is “agent_improviser”) EVKA AGERANGE: 30 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Evka is a devoted member of the Grey Wardens. She's a good-natured pragmatist who's calm under pressure and not easily fazed by the monsters of Thedas. Despite her professional attitude, she isn't above some mild sarcasm or gallows humour. (filename tag is “agent_tracker”) WARDEN GRETA AGERANGE: 30 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A Grey Warden lookout. Greta is friendly, personable, and loves being a Grey Warden. She is generally positive (though has a low moment following the fall of the Warden base Weisshaupt). Greta provides information to Rook and always welcomes a chat. If Rook is a Grey Warden, Greta has met them before--they both became Wardens around the same time. Greta doesn't know Rook well--it's more like running into an old school mate--but she likes them. WARDEN RHODRI AGERANGE: 30 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A Grey Warden lookout. Rhodri is determined and brave. He worries about other people, but tries to show confidence so others are not afraid. He prefers simple solutions to complex plans.

HOLDEN AGERANGE: 35 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The father of Mila, the little girl in Weisshaupt mission. MILA AGERANGE: 9 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A plucky little girl Rook meets during the siege of Weisshaupt. JAYNIE AGERANGE: 40 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A Grey Warden lookout. Jaynie is organized and observant. She's someone who likes to have a plan. She is a loyal friend and has a dry sense of humour. Jaynie believes you should always try your best. FLYNN AGERANGE: 30 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Flynn is the local physician in Lavendel. They recently went through the Warden Joining ritual which gives them Warden abilities (though they will remain a doctor). Flynn is smart and compassionate. A pacifist who is somewhat soft-spoken and has a self-deprecating sense of humour. (there’s other minor wardens with names and short personality descriptions; if you’d like any of them just let me know. to the nobody that is reading this. i have a headache rn. but i will persevere.)

SHADOW DRAGONS

TARQUIN AGERANGE: 39 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Tarquin is a burned-out templar who had the idealism beat out of him years ago. He now fights with the Shadow Dragons, offering a more cynical, realistic view that often contrasts with the idealistic and impulsive Viper. Tarquin is a trans man. SPEECHPATTERN: Gruff, deadpan. (filename tag is “agent_cop”) THE VIPER AGERANGE: 30 (filename tag is “agent_vigilante”) MAKAL DAMAS AGERANGE: 45 ACCENT: British/Tevinter-Appropriate CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The secret head of a criminal organization. Calm, businesslike, and shrewd. He may run a crime network, but he has a sense of loyalty and a code. That said, he'll be violent and ruthless when needed. ELEK TAVOR AGERANGE: 30 ACCENT: British/Tevinter-Appropriate CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Charming and friendly con artist. Friends with Neve despite being on opposite sides of the law. CAT CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A cat. HALOS AGERANGE: 50 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A blunt-but-kind merchant. Knows he sells the best food in the city. Neve is his most regular customer and therefore his favourite.

LORELEI AGERANGE: 40 SPEECHPATTERN: Fereldan, from Denerim, so she should have an accent that matches our Fereldan accents. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Lorelei is an elf who runs the pawn shop that conceals the Shadow Dragons' hideout. Lorelei was originally from Ferelden, captured and sold to Tevinter slavers. She has since been freed thanks to the Shadow Dragons, and continues to work for them. MAEVARIS TILANI AGERANGE: 50 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Maevaris Tilani is a powerful, notorious Tevinter magister who was one of the founders of the Shadow Dragons. Respected by some, and hated by others, Maevaris will not rest until she achieves her dream of changing Tevinter for the better. Maevaris is a trans woman and her first appearance was in the comic book, Dragon Age: Those Who Speak. AELIA AGERANGE: 30 ACCENT: British or Tevinter-appropriate CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A devoted member of the Venatori who believes Minrathous must return to its former glory. Neve foiled her plans in the past. Cold, determined, passionate. RANA SAVAS AGERANGE: 30 ACCENT: British/Tevinter-appropriate CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A determined and idealistic templar. By-the-books, she believes in following the law and that rules are the best. Doesn't give up or compromise her ideals despite the corrupt system she finds herself in.

LORDS OF FORTUNE

DRAGON KING AGERANGE: 45 SPEECHPATTERN: Blunt, arrogant. A brutal warlord or crime boss. Also speaks lines in the Qunari language. APPEARANCE: Big Qunari (ox-man) with enormous shoulders and battle scars. Old enough to be a military commander, but not so old that anyone would think of him as weak. Big, brutal, mean. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The Qunari in charge of the Antaam in this area. Used to be a military officer, but when the Antaam went rogue, he became something like a warlord of cult leader. A powerful warrior with a booming voice. He should sound like the paragon of big dangerous evil masculinity, and he makes his warriors go through painful rituals to prove their devotion. He's strong, blunt, and devoid of mercy or empathy. Will likely kill anyone he doesn't see as useful or entertaining to him. Basically, a bad guy doing his evil bad guy best. SHATHANN AGERANGE: 50 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Qunari woman in her 50s. Former Qunari government worker who fled with Taash when Taash was revealed as a fire-breather. CUTTER AGERANGE: 24 APPEARANCE: A Qunari, but only about as tall as a human -- short by Qunari standards. Dresses as a mercenary, fashionable because he's full of himself. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Cutter is Qunari, but he grew up in Rivain and acts human (ie, he does not follow the Qun or even know much about it). He's a junior member of the Lords of Fortune, the same mercenary band Taash is in. He's young, cocky, and jealous of how strong and competent Taash is. He wants the respect Taash has earned, and when he doesn't get it, he betrays Taash and sells them out to the Dragon King. Generally speaking, he should act with the kind of smug, entitled confidence of someone who doesn't have much real-life experience -- bluster with jealous insecurity underneath.

KARASH AGERANGE: 50 SPEECHPATTERN: A little stilted and formal, because he grew up speaking another language. CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A middle-aged Qunari man who was a civilian navigator and weather expert assigned to work on a military vessel. After seeing the military commit war crimes, he deserted, and now lives alone on a beach, doing odd jobs and keeping to himself. He is polite but withdrawn, a little cautious around strangers. Taash (and Taash's mother, Shathann) bring him food from time to time, and he is much more comfortable around Taash, talking to her more like an old uncle. (Again, incorrect pronouns used for Taash here in the character notes.)

MOURN WATCH

MYRNA AGERANGE: 25 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Myrna is a necromancer from Nevarra. Utterly precise diction, calm demeanor. Crisp, polite, and intimidatingly competent. Myrna often speaks in declaratives, and absently drops archaic or obscure words at least once a conversation. She's not unfriendly, however, and firmly on the side of those doing good. Myrna is part of the Mourn Watch, an elite group of necromancers who run Nevarra's sacred repository of the dead: the Grand Necropolis. They also protect people from occult dangers, a duty she takes seriously. VORGOTH CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Vorgoth is deep-voiced, solemn, and imposing. They're a member of the Mourn Watch, an elite group of necromancers from the kingdom of Nevarra. But what Vorgoth is exactly—their species, age, gender, whether or not they're alive—is a mystery, shrouded and masked in a cloak. Vorgoth clearly has supernatural powers, however. Even their voice has an otherworldly echo. Vorgoth doesn't speak much, and only in short sentences. As one of the Mourn Watch, they help guard Nevarra's sacred burial complex, the Grand Necropolis. Like all Watchers, Vorgoth is also sworn to stop occult threats to this world, and takes this duty seriously. NOTE: Vorgoth is masculine in appearance (tall, broad) and voice, but their pronouns are "they/them". Vorgoth does not use they/them because they are non-binary (as opposed to our more typical non-binary characters); they use them because they're a total unknown (and may be a pluralistic entity; in the rare instance Vorgoth refers to themselves, they use "we" not "I".) HEZENKOSS AGERANGE: 50 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Arrogant, supremely confident, and spiteful, Johanna Hezenkoss is a "mad-genius" necromancer supervillain with grand plans to conquer the kingdom of Nevarra. Hezenkoss is all feverish energy and big, sudden gestures. She is constantly fueled by an overwhelming ambition and rage. Hezenkoss is probably as intelligent as she boasts, incredibly powerful, and filled with a seething resentment that people try to keep stopping her from ruling everything. Foremost among these people is Emmrich Volkarin, her former friend and fellow necromancer. Johanna and Emmrich have known each other for decades-they used to work on magical research together in the Mourn Watch, an elite order of Necromancers. They had a falling out when a power-hungry Johanna started practicing forbidden necromancy and was kicked out of the Watchers for it. Ever since then, Johanna and Emmrich have clashed as he's tried to stop her villanous schemes. In this game, Hezenkoss has crafted her most diabolical plan yet: a 10-story tall bone golem that can drain peoples' souls and crush anything in its path. She'll stop at nothing to complete it so she can take over Nevarra's capital city. Emmrich and his new friend Rook, frustratingly, stand in her way.

LICH LORD CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: This is lich: an ancient, undead mage. Her speech is formal, authoratative, and occasionally sharp when she has little patience for the living. Speaks in shorter sentences, as she's so old she's fallen out of the habit of vocalizing too much. While impossingly sinister-looking, she's not evil. She just has a viewpoint that thinks in centuries instead of years. KEEPSAKE CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A spirit that guards the Grand Necropolis, an enormous underground complex full of the sacred dead-and undead. There's a lot of possessed skeletons wandering around down there.  Keepsake manifests as a glowing, floating, see-through skeleton in a shroud. Keepsake has worked with the necromancers who take care of the Necropolis for ages, and knows a lot about what's going on down there. Sometimes mocking or sardonic, with a dryly morbid sense of humor, it's still dedicated to helping people. Keepsake always appears with its companion spirit, Curio, who's the more positive and upbeat of the pair. CURIO CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A spirit that guards the Grand Necropolis, an enormous underground complex full of the sacred dead-and undead. There's a lot of possessed skeletons wandering around down there.  Curio manifests as a glowing, floating, see-through skeleton in a shroud.  Curio has worked with the necromancers who take care of the Necropolis for ages, and knows a lot about what's going on down there. Its chatty and friendly, often deeply curious. A strange, whimsical being, intrigued by the mortals who wander through. Curio always appears with its companion spirit, Keepsake, who's the more sardonic and cynical of the pair.

SEALED SPIRIT CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A prideful, ancient demon that's been sealed away for centuries.  You're malevolently curious about what makes these foolish mayfly mortals tick. As part of your imprisonment, you've been splintered into multiple bodies with the same mind. You use them to goad the player, hoping they'll try to defeat you, because you think you can manipulate them into freeing you from your prison. If they do, you have a surprise for them: once freed, you can possess an undead dragon, wrecking untold devastation on the land that thought it could chain you.

KAL-SHAROK

STALGARD AGERANGE: 40 CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Stalgard is a dwarf from Kal-Sharok, a mysterious dwarven city that has very little contact with the outside world. Stalgard is stoic and steadfast and serious, with a strong sense of honor. DURRA CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: Durra is a dwarf from Kal-Sharok and Stalgard's sister. She is one of Kal-Sharok's historians, known as "Stewards of Memories." Much like her brother, Durra has a strong sense of honor, but is a lot less serious. STONE ORACLE CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: The Oracle is a mysterious entity. known to the Kal-Sharok dwarves. They revere her as a spiritual figure. She is connected to the Titans and makes herself known through a strange rock statue. The Oracle was originally Shaper Valta (first seen in DAI's 'The Descent' DLC). After Valta connected with the Titan in the Wellspring, she became the Oracle and made herself known to the Kal-Sharok dwarves. All Oracle lines should have audio processing on them.

MISCELLANEOUS

THE SCHOLAR CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A self-important, uptight scholar. He is trying to prove himself to the academy and will go to any means to do so--including murder if that's what must be done. THE EXECUTOR APPEARANCE: Human-appearing CHARACTERDESCRIPTION: A masked and hooded figure that speaks like someone unfamiliar with language in general. Stilted, awkward, but with a low menace. SPEECHPATTERN: Stilted. Is trying to form words from thoughts that are far more complex than a regular person's.

[source]

again please note that this work and document resource was put together by amirdrassil on Twitter! they kindly gave me permission to cross-post it here. 🙏

[reasonsforhope]

"Namibia is the driest country in Sub-Saharan Africa, and home to two of the world’s most ancient deserts, the Kalahari and the Namib. The capital, Windhoek, is sandwiched between them, 400 miles away from the nearest perennial river and more than 300 miles away from the coast. Water is in short supply.

It’s hard to imagine life thriving in Windhoek, yet 477,000 people call it home, and 99 per cent of them have access to drinking water thanks to technology pioneered 55 years ago on the outskirts of the city. Now, some of the world’s biggest cities are embracing this technology as they adapt to the harshest impacts of climate change. But Namibia leads the way.

How did this come about? In the 1950s, Windhoek’s natural resources struggled to cope with a rapidly growing population, and severe water shortages gripped the city. But disaster forced innovation, and in 1968 the Goreangab Water Reclamation Plant in Windhoek became the first place in the world to produce drinking water directly from sewage, a process known as direct potable reuse (DPR). 

That may sound revolting, but it’s completely safe. Dr Lucas van Vuuren, who was among those who pioneered Windhoek’s reclamation system, once said that “water should not be judged by its history, but by its quality”. And DPR ensures quality. 

This is done using a continuous multi-barrier treatment devised in Windhoek during eight years of pilot studies in the 1960s. This process – which has been upgraded four times since 1968 – eliminates pollutants and safeguards against pathogens by harnessing bacteria to digest the human waste and remove it from the water. This partly mimics what happens when water is recycled in nature, but Windhoek does it all in under 24 hours...

Pictured: These ultrafiltration membranes help to remove bacteria, viruses and pathogens. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

“We know that we have antibiotics in the water, preservatives from cosmetics, anti-corrosion prevention chemicals from the dishwasher,” Honer explains. “We find them and we remove them.”

Honer adds that online instruments monitor the water continuously, and staff ensure that only drinking water that meets World Health Organisation (WHO) guidelines is sent to homes. If any inconsistencies are detected, the plant goes into recycle mode and distribution is halted until correct values are restored. 

“The most important rule is, and was, and always will be ‘safety first’,” says Honer.  The facility has never been linked to an outbreak of waterborne disease, and now produces up to 5.5m gallons of drinking water every day – up to 35 per cent of the city’s consumption.

Namibians couldn’t survive without it, and as water shortages grip the planet, Windhoek’s insights and experience are more important than ever.

Interest from superpowers across the globe

In recent years, delegations from the US, France, Germany, India, Australia, Singapore, and the United Arab Emirates have visited Windhoek seeking solutions to water shortages in their own countries. 

Megadrought conditions have gripped the US since 2001, and the Colorado River – which provides 40 million people with drinking water – has been running at just 50 per cent of its traditional flow. As a result, several states including Texas, California, Arizona and Colorado are beginning to embrace DPR.

Troy Walker is a water reuse practice leader at Hazen and Sawyer, an environmental engineering firm helping Arizona to develop its DPR regulations. He visited Windhoek last year. “It was about being able to see the success of their system, and then looking at some of the technical details and how that might look in a US facility or an Australian facility,” he said. “[Windhoek] has helped drive a lot of discussion in industry. [Innovation] doesn’t all have to come out of California or Texas.”

Pictured: The internal pipes and workings of Namibia's DPR plant. As water becomes scarcer in some parts, countries are looking to DPR for solutions. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

Namibia has also helped overcome the biggest obstacle to DPR – public acceptance. Disgust is a powerful emotion, and sensationalist ‘toilet to tap’ headlines have dismantled support for water reuse projects in the past. Unfortunately, DPR’s biggest strength is also its biggest weakness, as the speed at which water can re-enter the system makes it especially vulnerable to prejudice, causing regulators to hesitate. “Technology has never been the reason why these projects don’t get built – it’s always public or political opposition,” says Patsy Tennyson, vice president of Katz and Associates, an American firm that specialises in public outreach and communications.

That’s why just a handful of facilities worldwide are currently doing DPR, with Windhoek standing alongside smaller schemes in the Philippines, South Africa and a hybrid facility in Big Spring, Texas. But that’s all changing. Drought and increased water scarcity worldwide are forcing us to change the way we think about water. 

Now, the US is ready to take the plunge, and in 2025, El Paso Water will begin operating the first ‘direct to distribution’ DPR facility in North America, turning up to 10m gallons of wasterwater per day into purified drinking water – twice as much as Windhoek. San Diego, Los Angeles, California, as well as Phoenix, Arizona are also exploring the technology."

Of course, DPR is not a silver bullet in the fight against climate change. It cannot create water out of thin air, and it will not facilitate endless growth. But it does help cities become more climate resilient by reducing their reliance on natural sources, such as the Colorado River. 

As other nations follow in Namibia’s footsteps, Windhoek may no longer take the lead after almost six decades in front.

“But Windhoek was the first,” Honer reminds me. “No one can take that away.”"

-via Positive.News, August 30, 2023

[gayerthanevertbh]

widow behind closed doors pt. 1 | n.r

summary: You moved into a Craig's list apartment and met a woman through an online chat. Despite issues with your parents, you felt seen by the woman, the fleeting excitement rushing through your heart as she continues to develop a relationship with you online. However, the owner of the building, Steve Rogers, warns you to avoid the upper floor. You followed his orders, but wonder who lives behind closed doors and most of all, who is the woman behind the phone?

warnings: online dating, slight dark!natasha romanoff, age difference (natasha is 40 while reader is 20,) g!p natasha, manipulative behavior, and smut - 18+ minors dni

notes: not sure if i want to make this a story but this is just in case if i do. this is just the start of the series, this will also be posted on ao3 so let's see how it goes! let me know if you want me to continue it. don't worry, training season chapter two will be posted soon :)

Last month, as you turned nineteen, your mother kicked you out. Naturally, you lived at a friend's house for a short while until you had enough money to rent a new apartment close to your university. The fact is, out of all the websites, Craig's List was the one you used when looking for this apartment complex.

Fairly speaking, the apartment building looked normal—at least from your own vantage point—and had the required utility. Mail from the outside, a laundry facility, and a smoking section. Though you occasionally light one, you do not smoke. Conversely, your friend Julie smoked as if her lungs were not burning. She never listened to your advice about not smoking three times a day.

With a big huff from your lungs, you toppled the last box outside of your chamber. Steve and Wanda were two people who assisted you in getting settled. Grading them for helping you arrange things in your new room, you turned around with a friendly smile.

“Thank you again, Mr. Rogers,” you said as you shook his hand. “This room is pretty big.”

“No one really rents here,” the man replied with a small smile on his face. “It’s the least I can do. You know, especially that you’re a student.”

You chuckled, turning your head away. “Please, I don’t even want to hear about that.”

“How old are you?” Wanda asked with a curious look on her face. 

“I just turned 20 last month,” you said with a pained groan. It is not so ridiculous given your connection with your mother; you did not forget the time she kicked you out of the house. “How about you?”

She smiles. “We’re the same age! If you have time, maybe you could stop by my room. It’s just on the left corner of the building.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You both fell into silence until Steve held his hands together, staring at Wanda and then back at you. “Well, you should settle in. If you need anything, I’m just downstairs. You know the number of my apartment, you can just knock at anytime.”

“Steve, should we tell her about N—”

“We also want to inform you not to go to the upper floor,” Steve interrupts Wanda and says Your eyebrows wrinkled as you looked at the girl and saw her covering her face on her shoulder. “We have a friend who can be very... mean. She doesn’t like anyone going to her floor and she’s technically also the owner of this building.”

“Really? Oh,” you huffed, wondering who they were talking about. “Don’t worry, I will not go up there.”

Steve put his hand on your biceps and patted. “Thanks, kiddo. Anyway, just knock on our doors if you need any help.” 

You closed the door and sighed longingly as soon as they left your room. Today was going to be a long day of you sorting every box you had in this room; you would most likely desire take-out after all this chaos. You considered the woman living on the top floor as you were making your bed. What did she look like? When they claimed the woman was peculiar, what did they mean? So many thoughts crossed your head, trying to figure out who the woman was they were talking about. You shrugged, minded your own business, and soon nodded off. 

———

Late at night, you placed an order for a pizza, tried to watch a movie on your laptop, and visited a website none of your friends knew you were first visiting. Almost as if it were Omegle, the service allowed users to communicate with total strangers—and you could add them as friends via chat. Alone, you were eating a slice of pizza and texting a few people from the website. Carl, a male, asked whether he might have coffee with you tomorrow afternoon, but you gently turned him down since you just moved in. When, really, you have no interest in men. You consider them not as a lover but rather as a need.

Though it sounds horrible, that is reality. Men are often cruel, while women can communicate with you through their elegant, luxurious words. You enjoyed the sensation when a woman complements you for not just your appearance but also for the way you talk from your mind. It was not surprising that they adored you for your beauty; sometimes it can feel fantastic, but you wanted to be really understood—not only by appearance. And so, after some time, you were ready to shut your laptop until you noticed an email sign on top left.  

Someone has left you a message. 

You boldly opened the message and found a woman called Natalia messaged. As you went over her message, you grinned.

Natalia: Hey there! Are you new here?

You: no not really lol xD i’ve been using this website since a year ago.

Natalia: Strange :P I never saw you on my suggestions. Do you have an age limit to 40 plus?

You: yeah! i wanted to try something new

Natalia: Hm. Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen you here. Your name is Y/n? Or is that just a nickname? Haha.

You: nope, that’s definitely my name! And is your name not a nickname?

Natalia: Definitely not a nickname :)) 

As you spoke with this woman you could feel your heart beating and your body heating up like it was an oven. Since many people do this, you are simply hoping the conversation stays normal. Otherwise, things could go strange. They only pursue nudes, and you're honestly bored of that. You bit on your lower lip as you considered your response, but she slammed it right into you.

Natalia: How old are you? Are you really 20? ;((

You: yeah... heh. and are you really 40?

Natalia: Yup. It's weird, isn’t it?

You: are u looking for a sugar baby lol

You let out a quiet laugh as you waited for her response. 

Natalia: HAH! No, I’m not. I just really want to talk to someone. Is that bad these days? 

You: not really. i’m just a little traumatized by this website. everyone keeps asking me to send nudes. 

Natalia: I understand; sometimes young women ask me to send some too. So I understand how you feel :)

By the way, are you currently studying?

You: yessss! i study at NYU. :DD 

Natalia: Really?! That’s great! You know, when I was in my 20s, I tried to study there, but I lost all interest. It’s good that you still want to study :)))

Where do you live?

Given that you only connected with this woman online, it's best that you remain mum about your exact location; unfortunately, there are many predators in the world today. Even though it pains you deeply to lie to this woman, you couldn't help but chew on your lower lip as you considered telling a lie. Before you could mention that you lived at this new apartment, a thud on the floor interrupted you. With a quick turn of your head, you strode over to the door and opened it.

From over her shoulder, a woman shot you a lifeless stare, and you felt inadequate. You stepped outside and asked, “A-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Grumbling under her breath, the woman made her way to the staircase. She picked up the paper bag and proclaimed, “Who are you supposed to be?”

You gulped down your saliva and muttered, “I’m new here.”

Turning her head away from you, the mysterious woman—who seemed like the most stunning woman you'd ever seen—muttered something in Russian that you couldn't quite decipher. Her boots thudded loudly as she walked upstairs, shaking her head dismissively. The door slams shut, and your body twitches in response. 

The woman was, in fact, very intimidating.

And strange. 

And mean. 

As you shut the door, you sigh and try to comprehend that the woman might have been going through a difficult time. Steve was spot-on from the start: the second floor is not a good place to be. Reason being, you might get booted out if you indulged your curiosity. You sat back down on the bed and swiftly typed back to Natalia, who was waiting for your response; the once-bustling city of New York was now peaceful. You shut the curtains. Somehow, you wish she had been waiting for you.

You: sorry... some mean neighbor was at my door. Lollll

Natalia: It’s okay :)) It’s late there, darling. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep? 

She referred to you as "darling" and tossed your head back onto the pillow. You struggle to suppress your scream. As you let out a heavy sigh while you mentally resorted to thoughts of Natalia, completely disregarding the brief encounter you had with the unfamiliar woman just moments before. Having an attraction to older women was undeniable; it was just your personality. With a hint of excitement building inside of you, you snatched your laptop from the foot of the bed and began typing away, taking matters into your own hands.

God, you were such a fool.

You: yeah but i have to finish my pizza before i go to bed!

how about you?

Natalia: Can’t. I have work ;(( 

Talk to me tomorrow, okay? I like this conversation that we are having. ;)) 

Even though you were unhappy that she had to leave, you couldn't help but notice that it was getting close to two in the morning. You wanted to stay up all night, so you sigh and type on your keyboard. 

You: okay! :D gnnn x

Natalia: Goodnight, darling. 

Your mind was at peace with Natalia while you slept, which hasn't happened in a long time. What does she look like when you meet her face to face? Was she attractive? Even though you hadn't laid eyes on her face, you were certain that she was. Despite this, you were hoping to ask about sneak peeks so that you could avoid sleepless nights in the future. However, you recalled that you had met an unknown woman on the internet—a self-assured person. You definitely wouldn't cross paths with her in person.

Right?

yes ik a repost eugh

[marzipanandminutiae]

would you have any reading suggestions to learn more about the earrings are evil era??? I've never heard of that aspect of fashion history and I am curious

Oh man, it was wild

you saw the first stirrings of it in the 1890s, when you started to get (mostly white and middle-to-upper-class) proto-feminists arguing that ear piercing was barbaric- keep an eye on the racist undertones there; they will come up again-and forcing women to suffer for fashion. I cannot emphasize enough that, until that point, ear piercing had been pretty much normal for this race/class/gender group. For centuries. You see criticism of the practice here and there, but nothing that really stuck.

The objections slowly increased until roughly the mid-1920s, when everything reached a tipping point and pierced ears became largely taboo for most white Americans and Brits of northern/western European descent. If that sounds HIGHLY specific, it is- communities from southern and sometimes eastern Europe retained cultural practices of ear piercing, to the point where it was often used as a point against them by mainstream society. It was also associated with Latino people, Black people, and the Romani, which. Yeah. I don't need to tell you how that went down.

It also developed associations with sexual immorality and/or backwards thinking. One newspaper letter I read came from a teen girl in the 1940s, wondering why she shouldn't pierce her ears if her very respectable grandmother had piercings. The response was something like "well, they did all sorts of things in the Bad Old Days that we shouldn't do now." True in many ways, or course, but...piercing your ears? That's the hill culture decided to die on as far as antiquated behavior that we should leave behind? Apparently yes.

Earrings themselves never went out of style, which led to the birth of clip-ons and screwbacks. Ironic that the "don't surfer for fashion" crowd was so eager to embrace screwing tiny vices onto your ears, but there we are. My own mother (born 1953) remembers her mother (born 1926) always taking off her screwback earrings immediately after getting home from a party, literally in the foyer of their house the second the door shut. There had been adaptations for unpierced ears before- Little Women, published in 1868, describes Meg March hanging earrings from a flesh-colored silk ribbon tied around the base of her ear -but they'd never caught on like this before.

However, the pendulum was soon to swing back. After just 40 years of Piercing Panic, in the 1960s, girls began piercing their ears again in droves. As piercing moved from the slumber party or summer camp back to the professional jewelers whose families had been early professional piercers in the 19th century- and to befuddled doctors who had no idea what they were doing yet still received piercing requests -cultural commentators had no idea what to make of it. Some decried the new trend while most took an air of bemused neutrality. My personal favorite article expressed surprise that "Space Age misses" were adopting these "Victorian traditions."

(In 1965, my grandmother took Mom to the anesthesiologist down the street who was offering to pierce his young daughter's friends gratis, and got it done. My grandfather had strongly disapproved of the idea, but in the end it took him a week to notice the new earrings.)

As to sources...honestly, I've just gone to Google Books, specified a time frame, and typed in "ear piercing," "pierced ears," "pierce ears," etc. Tons of primary sources at your fingertips, though I'm not always great about documenting or saving what I find. There's not much written about it formally, I've found- no books or scholarly studies. It may just be too close in history to attract much academic attention, though I find it fascinating.

This little blip where something that's been normal for most of western history suddenly became taboo for a hot second.

Also my ear piercings just turned 20 five days ago, commemorating the date that I was taken with much ceremony to Piercing Pagoda (and that horrible gun; it's a wonder I didn't get keloids) to get me out from underfoot while the Thanksgiving feast was being made. Grandma got hers pierced on the same day, at age 78. Happy Birthday, Marzi's ear piercings!

[honey-flustered]

Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)

MDNI +18 Only!!

Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader

Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, who’s seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. You’re not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of heads…and tongues?? (8.5k words)

A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. I’m learning to fall in love with writing again. It’s a slow process but someday I’ll be able to share all the great things I’ve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.

Older!Eddie photo edit by: @/eddiemunsons-missingnipple

CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of reader’s ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants

You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, —seated in the passenger seat— attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.

“Babe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.” You pout.

“Amen to that, sis,” Tana says, snapping her fingers. “Had a guy tell me that he thinks I’m the one for him. Turns out, he’s married with a baby on the way.”

You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.

“I had a guy ghost me because he didn’t like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that ‘they should only be exclusive to him’.” Your friend, Essie, shares.

“I feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,” Brooke chimes in. “I’m in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.”

“You kinky little minx!” You laugh. “Are you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?”

“Can it be both?” Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.

“I say…” Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. “We choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.”

“I’m in!” Essie beams.

“Me too.” Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.

“I don’t know, guys,” You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. “We’re pretty drunk but I don’t think we’re drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Let’s just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.”

“That’s…okay but it’s not as epic as Tana’s idea,” Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. “Come on, y/n. It’s only for tonight. You know, we’re just having some harmless girl time fun. It’s not like we’ll be breaking and entering. We’re just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.”

You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

They cheer at your response, knowing that they’ve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. “Since, I’m the most sober one here. We’re doing this my way,” While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “I get to choose the place.”

——————

The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.

With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, “Ugh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?”

“Shhh,” You order, putting a finger to your lips. “If we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?”

“How could I forget? It’s the most basic prank ever.” Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.

“It’s still a huge pain to the homeowner,” You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. “He will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.”

Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. “Umm, y/n, where’s Essie and Brooke?”

Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. “Oh shit,” You facepalm. “How could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?”

“Hew we awe,” Essie carries a ‘baby talk’ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. “Evwyone meet Wilbur.”

“I’m sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!” You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.

“The barn, obviously.” Brooke replies.

“What happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and you’ve already broken a handful of crimes.” You scold.

“But we’re saving him, y/n. You don’t want this pig to become bacon, do you?” Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.

“We’ve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!” You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper you’ve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.

You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.

Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after you’re forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.

A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.

“What the fuck?” He says through gritted teeth. It’s not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. “What. The. Fuck!”

You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.

“I-I could explain. W-we were just—”

“We?” He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.

You were afraid that he’d say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.

Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. He’s robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You don’t see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative one—-only this time you were the one at fault.

“I’m sorry.” You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a “Please don’t call the cops.”

He sighs deeply. “I’m not going to call the cops…”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.

“You’re going to call your parents,” He finishes. “And you are going to tell them that we’re going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.”

“Oh, fuuuck.” You groan.

————-

“I’m so very sorry, sir. Truly,” Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. “She’s been acting out a lot ever since she’d gone away to university. My wife and I don’t know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, you’re too busy cursing them out to care about how badly you’ll be punished for this.

“I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse or when someone could’ve seriously ended up getting hurt.” The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.

“Now I was thinking…though I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, I’m a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughter’s exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,” Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. “It appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If you’re looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.”

“Excuse me!” You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. “Tell me you're joking.”

“Nope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to

Mr. Munson’s farm every day after your time at your mother’s shop. You’ll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.” Your father explains.

“And what if I don’t?” You ask, defiant.

“Then you’ll be cut off and you’ll have to earn money on your own.”

“Y-you m-mean a j-job?” You ask, horrified.

“Exactly.” Your father confirms.

You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. “I like the sound of that, sir. You’re a good man.”

You shriek in anger. “You’re the worst!”

You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.

————

Your father had no doubts that you’d be going to work on the farm once he’d threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, you’re immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. It’s officially Hickville.

Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie won’t answer the door, praying that he’s changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.

“Oh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and it’ll all seem worth it.”

“It’s not fair!” You rant, pushing passed him. “Why am I being the only one punished? This was all Brooke’s idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.”

“His name is Wilbur,” Eddie corrects. “And who are we talking about exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You sigh. “Bad things always happen to good people.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie says, staring you down.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really think you’re the victim in all of this?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we check out the lovely view of the TP’d trees blowing in the wind?” He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.

“It’s just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.”

“Wow,” He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. “Your audacity to diminish all the negative things you’ve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.”

“My therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.” You retort.

“Is that so?” He asks mockingly. “Well then, you’re gonna love this special job I have for you.”

—————

Which leads you to the situation you’re in now. You’re staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.

“There’s no way I’m milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,” You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. “You know what I mean, pervert.”

Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this ‘pervert’ thing to your advantage. He’s obviously single or he wouldn’t be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!

“Mr. Munson,” You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. “I’m actually really good at milking other things after all. You’ve got me pegged at that. Maybe…I can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.”

He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! “That was rich. Seriously, that performance was just…moving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men who’ve tried,” He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. “I don’t buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. It’ll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why don’t we go back to the task at hand, shall we?”

You’re fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. You’re going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.

He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.

“This is so gross!” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to disassociate and imagine that I’m in a niche boutique in Manhattan.”

“Ah, spending daddy’s money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.” He mutters.

“You have no right to judge me just because you think I’m privileged.” You snap.

“I don’t ‘think’ you’re privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?”

You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.

“Oops.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.

——————

You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your father’s happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.

“Hey, honey, how was your first day?”

“Question, father,” You begin, calling him the formal term instead of “papa” or “dad”. “Do you love me?”

“Now what kind of silly question is that?” He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.

“I’m just curious because I don’t think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.” You respond.

“You milked a cow,” Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. “Someone save the poor girl! She’s gaining new life experiences! You are such primadonna.”

“Shut up, ya little twerp.” You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.

“Your brother’s right, dear,” Your father says. “You are being really dramatic. I don’t get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite movies—”

“That just isn’t me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.” You grumble.

He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldn’t help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.

But why is it that your father’s words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasn’t the makeover or the new friends and partners you’d make along the way…it was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldn’t believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person you’ve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And it’s not like you’d feel this way forever. Once you’re done with this hell labor with Eddie “The Devil” Munson, you can go back to your popular life.

————

The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.

Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.

“Wilbur. His name’s—”

“I know!” You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. “Hey, get back here!”

The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.

It’s as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home and—-though you hate to admit it—he was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.

Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large ‘C+’ above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.

You raise the paper to your eyes and read:

If I Were A Hobbit

If I were a hobbit, I’d be so free

I’d frolic in the grass and smoke some trees

With furry feet and a merry heart

From adventure’s call, I’d never depart

With Bilbo’s tales, I’d while away time.

In the beautiful land of Middle Earth’s rhyme

I’d wander the fields beneath the sun

I’d travel it world cause it’s all in good fun

If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldn’t get laid

But, hey, it’s goddamn worth the price I paid

You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what could’ve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.

“We’re continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.”

You jolt away, facing him. “I-I’m sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.”

“This looks like a shed to you, sugar?”

“Trailer…shed…it’s no different.”

He chuckles dryly. “You are a piece of work.”

“Look who’s talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.” You comment, holding up the poem.

“Give me that,” He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. “Ain’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to go snooping around people’s things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, you’d probably go against him.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You hiss.

“Right back atcha, sweetheart.” He retorts.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I continue to do so.” You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, hot on your trail.

You enter a bedroom and it’s another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. It’s no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.

“You little brat,” He huffs. “I’m too old to be dealing with this shit!”

“Live a little,” You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. “Dance with me.”

He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddie’s protests.

It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munson’s exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.

“Oh my god, Mr. Munson. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.

“It’s all in the past now,” He sighs. “Besides, I’m fine now. I still have my friends. They are like family. They’ve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. That’s more than enough.”

Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and it’s addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.

His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one another’s and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.

You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. It’s the first time you’ve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. You’re suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.

He’s quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. You’re left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.

Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping it’ll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.

————————-

Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.

You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“By the way, I’ve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, you’re still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, he’s working you.”

“Hardee har har,” You say, unamused. “Will you just help me with this pig?”

“Alright, alright,” He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from his grasp and into your arms. “It’s all in the technique.”

“Easy for you to say. He already knows you.” You grumble.

“Now what you’re gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down you’ll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way he’ll know to stay put,” Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. “He’ll tussle with ya a little but it’s only because he’s not used to being handled by other humans. He’s still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.”

“You mean you weren’t going to turn him into bacon?”

“No, sugar, Wilbur’s family. Now get up on here with me. Don’t put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.” He instructs.

You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddie’s before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Like this?”

“Just like that, sugar. You’re a natural. See? Now I’m just gonna go ahead and get up and you’ll take the—”

“What? No, don’t leave me! He’ll just shake me off again.” You protest.

Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddie’s lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.

You sat on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returned with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.

He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.

“You’ve got—erm, your bikini bra…” You’ve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You eish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what he’s insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.

Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?

You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.

“I-I s-should go,” Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. “Have a good evening, Mr. Munson.”

You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddie’s large hand rests on your shoulder.

“Wait! I can’t send you off like this. You’ll track mud in your car.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” You scoff.

“Why don’t you shower here and I’ll offer you some fresh clothes? I’ll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.”

“You being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help but think there’s some kind of hidden agenda.”

He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. “No, sugar. I’m just extending some needed hospitality is all.”

—————

You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.

“It’s my old high school club t-shirt.” He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.

“You were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”

“You know D’N’D?”

“Know it?! I loved that game.” You say, excitedly.

“I didn’t think kids in your generation still played that game.” He laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod. “I was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone who’d joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.”

“No way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,” He looks you up and down. “I would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.”

“I’ll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasn’t always like this back in high school.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Well, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me would’ve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. I’m different now though.”

“What’s so wrong about being a nerd?” He inquires, scooting closer to you.

“I used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.”

“I think if I’d known you then, we’d probably be good friends.”

“Yeah right. I seemed like the bad boy type who falls for the cheerleader. You wouldn’t have looked twice in my direction.”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. “I would see you.”

He repeats for emphasis. “I see you.”

You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. You’ve never felt so vulnerable. It’s strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.

“Besides,” He says, breaking the silence. “I think it’s you who would have ignored me. I’m not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadn’t even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was ‘the freak’. To some people today, I still am one regardless if I’m innocent.”

“I would’ve believed you’re innocent. I’d have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

There’s that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddie’s just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.

“Hello.” You say, answering the phone.

“Hey, baby,” A familiar voice says on the line. “It’s been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.”

Now the memories come flooding in. It’s an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man who’d taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.

“What do you want?”

You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wondering—-“

“Luckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I don’t care if you want me. You could forget my number and then you’ll forget me. Have a goodnight.” You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks, noticing the way you’re hyperventilating.

“I am now,” You sigh. “That was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit made me feel stupid and like I needed him as if he created me. And back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. It felt good to give him a piece of my mind although I wish I could have said more.”

“I think you said enough. I’m certain you hit him where it hurts.” He laughs.

“I should probably go.” You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.

“What happened to staying for dinner?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson”

“Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”

“Eddie,” You say, testing his name on your tongue. You’re not exactly sure if you’re ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. “I’m sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.”

“You mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?”

“Come on, dude, I need this. It’s not like you can give me great advice about guys.”

“I could. Considering I am one.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re close enough for that kind of session.”

“We just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.” Eddie says.

“We’re friends?”

“Us, geeks, stick together?”

“That’s just an oath. Doesn’t exactly confirm a friendship between us.”

He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Your eyes narrow at him.

“That would suggest that I’d be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldn’t be. Therefore, no this isn’t blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I don’t care if we’re friends. I don’t care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think it’s within our best interest that you don’t hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think I’ll be taking you home, hmm?”

“And what about my car?”

“I’ll take good care of it for tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.” He smiles smugly.

If looks could kill, he’d be 7 feet under and you’d already be in hell.

————

Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.

“Have a goodnight, sugar!” He shouts as you slam the door in his face.

Once you’re inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.

You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. “Hey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear who’s in town?”

“Yeah, Stefan, I know. How’d you know?”

“He's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.”

“I already did. Told him to fuck off,” You say. “And I thought I’d feel a lot better about it but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped small dick.”

“Oh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isn’t it? Like an undeveloped banana. Anywho…you wanna get high at my place and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns. I’ve got Jell-O shots.” She singssongs the last statement.

“I can’t remember. I’m on lockdown,” You sigh. “If I get into any more trouble or I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.”

“Bitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where we’re supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! I’m coming over to pick you up.”

“Tana, n—” But she’s already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, you’re forced to make a plan.

Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, you’ll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friend’s car and you’ll be homefree.

Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tana’s car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.

“Tana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.” You yell down at her.

“But it’s all for the sake of fun experiences.” She retorts. “Come on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?”

“She'd probably fire you as a friend.” You growl.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’m ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.”

“What?” Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.

“Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” You smile.

“Yeah, because I’m the one breaking your fall.” Tana groans.

“Payback’s a bitch, love.”

—————

“So, is the farmer plowing your garden?” Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.

“Tana!”

“What? That’s got to be the only reason you’re officially over Stefan.” She says.

“I was already over Stefan. Eddie’s just my headache.”

“You’re on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.”

“I’m not!” You insist.

“And did you say Eddie? That’s the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? He’s so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer.” You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.

“Yikes, I’m sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.”

“He’s not my…well, he is. But…he’s not a murderer. He never killed her. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I don’t know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in ‘86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that I’ve seen done to those corpses.”

“Bummer. Guess we’ll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. It’s no wonder he practically lives off the grid.” Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and you’re alone to ponder your thoughts.

An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment he’d asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that he’d genuinely enjoyed the little company he’d gotten.

You hear Tana’s footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that you’ll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.

“What the hell is this?” You sneer.

“I just thought maybe you should hear him out.” Tana says with an anxious smile.

“I’m out of here.” You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.

“Where are you going? Your car’s not here.” Tana rushes down the stairs after you.

“I’ll walk!” You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where you’re unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.

“Mr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Your father says.

Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. “I can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. It’s a new number since you’ve blocked my old one.”

With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. It’s not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.

“If I could just explain...” You begin.

“No, y/n, I’m sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? He’ll be graduating next year. Should anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?”

You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.

“I was just having fun.”

“Is that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.”

“Well, I’m not that anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.” You yell.

Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. “Get in the car. Now!”

You shoot Eddie an angry look. “Us, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.”

Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your father’s command.

“As for you, young lady,” your father points to Tana. “I will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.”

Tana’s mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.

————-

You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. There’s no way he’d ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.

A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing you’ll be getting yet another punishment. You’re surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.

“What do you want, twerp?” You say.

“You should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. I’ve never seen him like that.” He says.

“I know. It’s just that I hate when people remind me that I was…a loser. I didn’t mean to be so awful to him, though.”

“You were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. I’m happy that you’re finding yourself and all. But you don’t have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. It’s your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, that’s okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, that’s okay, too. As long as it’s something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like you’re some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.”

“Wow, Aspen, I’m impressed. I did not know you could speak incoherent sentences.” You tease, pulling him into a hug.

“Fuck off.” He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.

————

The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and let’s just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each other’s arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.

The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.

However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thought letter long abandoned to the ground.

His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

“I-I’m s-so sorry….you…friend…mean…,” You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. “Bitchy…geeks…believe you…stupid pig Wilbur…never would have met a great man like youuuu.”

He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. “I know, I know.”

“Understand?” You ask.

“Yes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.”

“Accept?”

“Yes, I accept your apology.” Eddie laughs.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you. Even when you’re being an annoying brat. ” He says.

“Good,” You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. “I’m happy we’re friends again.”

“Friends? Who said anything about friends?” He quips before patting your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re friends again.”

“Now you could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.” You beam, skipping into his home.

“Only if you’re a good girl.” He challenges.

For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didn’t find amusing about it anyway.

“You should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anything in that note will top that moment but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Read it when you’re alone though. I don’t want to see your face when you read it.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ll be all smug about.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“And you say you hardly know me,” He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. “So…Stefan…he’s a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.”

You laugh. “I’m playing it by ear. He says he’s changed but that’s every jerks’ favorite line.”

“Just let him know that if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” He threatens.

You step into Eddie’s space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.”

Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ears. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. “You smoke weed?”

“Baby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we smoke this one together.” You suggest.

“After your father chewed you out for it last night?”

“He knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.”

“You’re starting to throw that whole ‘friendship’ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.”

“My friend’s a dealer. I’m going to take full advantage of that.” You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.

He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. “I don’t even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.”

“Babe,” You say almost insulted. “I always carry a lighter. You never know when you’ll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. We’re the only animals left here. Just you and me.”

“Alright, fine I guess we’re doing this. Don’t tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.”

“Mhm, yeah sure, bud,” You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. “It’s your joint. Don’t you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.”

“You wanted it badly so I let you take it first.”

“I didn’t want it ‘badly’. I’m not a fucking addict,” You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. “I just thought it’d be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when you’re high.”

“It’s nothing special. I’m the same as I am now.” He shrugs.

“You mean, ‘a stick in the mud’?”

He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.

“You jerk, I just pick all that out of my hair.”

“Serves you right. Now hand me the joint. You’re hogging it,” He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. “You’re such a tease.

He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesn’t help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after he’s gotten it until he lets out a puff of smoke in the air then looks back down at you once again. It’s evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isn’t because of the weed.

Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. He’s caught fully by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. You’re the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.

The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then they’re around your neck, unable to keep them still because he’d like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often growls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.” You whisper desperately into his ear.

“So do you, sugar. Ain’t even inside you yet and I’m already about to blow.” He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.

“Can I fuck you, Mr. Munson?” You plead.

And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it won’t be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.

He’s obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

“That’s okay. Um, this was…this was really spontaneous.” You don’t immediately get off, wanting more and hoping he’d give you more so that he can make you cum, too.

Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I need to—-this was a mistake.”

And once again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.

[rynnthefangirl]

Things Ford can and should be blamed for:

Holding a grudge against his brother breaking his project for 40+ years and never once checking on Stan to make sure he was okay after Stan was literally made homeless at 18.

Completely falling for Bill’s lies just because he fed his ego, and subsequently building a portal to the nightmare realm that nearly destroyed the entire world.

Ignoring Fiddleford’s warnings and then causing Fiddleford trauma that led to him frying his own mind in an attempt to cope with it all.

Trying to still preserve his research even after realizing Bill’s true plans instead of just playing it safe and burning it all to ensure nobody can ever complete Bills work.

Making very little effort to reconcile with Stan upon returning to Gravity Falls, giving in to his pettiness and bitterness and not acknowledging all that Stan did to save him.

Projecting his own experiences onto Dipper, and trying to push Dipper onto a life path that would be very detrimental to his social and emotional development.

Not telling Stan and Mabel about the rift to ensure that they know to be on guard against Bill’s attempts to get it.

Things Ford should not be blamed for:

Being upset with Stan for costing him his dream school and believing that Stan may have done it on purpose. Not sticking up for Stan in the moment as he is reeling from what he believes to have been a huge betrayal.

No using his research grant money-- which is specifically for doing scientific research-- in order to financially support his brother.

Giving Stan the journal to go hide away and not prioritizing Stan’s feelings and wants while in the midst of a psychological breakdown due to Bill’s torment and threats.

Being angry at Stan both for pushing him in the portal and also reopening the portal, thereby creating a rift that Bill can use to invade their world.

Wanting to shut down the Mystery Shack and take his house and life back.

Messing up the Zodiac circle (my Stan twins hot take).

Things Stan can and should be blamed for:

Assuming things would be okay with Ford’s project and not informing Ford about what happened.

Dismissing Ford’s valid anger and hurt after losing his shot at West Coast Tech and instead making the situation about himself and their treasure hunting plans.

Again making things about himself when Ford tries to get his help with hiding Journal 1. Not putting aside his own feelings when he sees how distressed and mentally unhinged Ford is, instead provoking him and starting/continuing the fight that leads to Ford being sucked into the portal.

Breaking the zodiac circle by pettily insisting on a thank you when the fate of the world is at stake, and then punching Ford when Ford responds pettily in kind.

Things Stan should not be blamed for:

Becoming a criminal grifter in order to survive after being kicked out and disowned by his own family.

Not reaching out to Ford during their 10+ years apart because he doesn’t know how he’ll be received. Also being hurt and angry that Ford never reached out until he needed something.

Taking Ford’s identity so that he can keep his house and work on the portal.

Creating the Rift by bringing Ford back (Ford being angry is understandable because of how big a threat Bill is, but the warnings were written in invisible ink and he didn’t explain the full situation to Stan, so that fault really isn’t on Stan).

Trying to keep the kids away from Ford.

Being angry at Ford for continuing to hold 40+ year old grudges, rebuking Stan’s attempt at reconciliation, and refusing to thank him.

[aeskairo]

Okay, but we should take a moment to appreciate this scene:

So these birds are called woodcocks TODAY. But in the 1800s they were called SNIPES.

The word "snipe" used to cover about 40 species of very similar looking birds, but sometime in the past 200 years, a few of those birds were renamed woodcocks.

But anyway, when they're flying, they make these unpredictable turns so theyre one of the most difficult birds to shoot.

So a sniper is literally someone who is really fucking good at shooting THESE SPECIFIC BIRDS.

That is literally where the word "Sniper" comes from.

At this point in the story Asirpa just met Ogata. She doesn't know anything about him yet.

Ogata has based his entire self worth on being a sniper.

He feels that being raised in a broken home caused him to not develop things that are fundamentally human. He's defective and broken.... missing important pieces. That's why people mistreat him and things don't work out for him.

As defective and broken as he sees himself, he does have one good thing. HE IS A DAMN GOOD SNIPER.

He went ALL IN on this sniping thing.

He has disturbingly intimate knowledge of all different types of guns, down to the sounds they make while being fired. He knows and employs a bunch of sniping techniques that no one in Japan has ever seen, he knows the history of sniping, he read up about sniping techniques of the American revolution. He can load a gun with his tongue.

Like I said, ALL IN.

His marksmanship is thing that gives him value. Even if people despise him, he can be relied upon and needed as a weapon.

It's the only thing about himself that he's proud of.

And Asirpa just denied him that.....

She doesn't think he can do it. She doesn't think he's good enough.

#Triggered.jpg

So of course he was going to get up at the asscrack of dawn to shoot these damn birds. He probably spent the whole night bubbling around in his low self-worth.

He is a sniper and can indeed shoot a snipe..... In fact he can shoot THREE snipes. Way more than you.

There you go. This is an important scene.

Little girl meets Adult man for the first time and invalidates him in the worst way possible.

[nobodysdaydreams]

I enjoy looking through these Wicked AU’s where the Wizard stays and raises Elphaba and becomes a (still evil and very morally questionable) but loving father to her and her friends. However, I have a controversial opinion that this works best when the Wizard is written as someone who becomes a dad in his early 20’s/college age.

Like no offense to Jeff Golblum’s casting, he does a fantastic job, but he’s also in his 70s, which would make him in his 40s when he had Elphaba, and I just do not see that for the Wizard. Crying about how “yes, he was hooking up with random women and drinking strange beverages and yeah, he always wanted to be a dad, but no, he never ever considered that one thing might lead to the other because he was too busy enjoying his youth! His 42-year-old youth, far too young to consider fatherhood even on the table even though it was all he ever wanted and he had a whole song about it.”? I just personally feel like the Wizard’s actions make so much more sense for someone who’s in their early 20’s, just arrived in a magic land, is a generally selfish and irresponsible person, and isn’t considering the future or long term impact of their actions. Plus this man is from the late 1800s/early 1900s so whatever level of child development knowledge you picture this version of the Wizard having, lower it even further if you can.

With this in mind, I would appreciate a Wicked AU where if the Wizard is gonna stick around to try to be a dad, his young age and carefree, irresponsible, and somewhat selfish attitude is reflected in his parenting choices. He’s not a teen dad, but he’s certainly not much older. Melena Thropp hands him the baby and is he’s like “why is she green?” And she’s like “I don’t know, but my husband can’t know about this, so that’s your problem now.” And the Wizard’s like “well, I suppose this is what happens when you repeatedly hook up with an older married woman in a magical land and drink weird potions with her. Wasn’t how I envisioned becoming a dad, but at least it’s not the weirdest Friday I’ve ever had.”

Then he takes Elphaba traveling with him and tries using the “loving single dad” image to impress women like he’s in a Hallmark movie, while also trying to casually ask people for advice on kids because he doesn’t have a clue. When do you send them to school? Do they have schools in Oz? Should he try to homeschool her? Elphaba starts reading on her own and instead of concluding she has great mysterious power the Wizard is like “wow, my little girl’s so smart, I guess some kids can just do that aren’t I lucky I don’t have to teach her?” and never questions it. No clue how child development works. No clue what is age appropriate. He’s taking five year old Elphaba along with him when he performs magic tricks in bars at midnight. He’s taking her to evil business meetings as he’s plotting to take over Oz when she’s too young to know what’s happening. His advisors witness Elphaba’s skill, tell him she’s the key to securing their power for all time, and he’s like “right? My daughter is so special, she’s my lucky charm! 🥰” not even realizing she’s obviously the witch that was prophesied because he thought all of Elphaba’s skills were just cute little quirks. The Wizard’s advisors suggest blaming the Animals, and the Wizard’s like “no, we can’t do that. My daughter loves them. We will blame someone else and spread malicious lies about them instead.” Like he’s still evil, he’s still scum, but he’s also like “I’m a dad now. I can’t arrest and torture my child’s friends. I’ve gotten a “father of the year” award in my Father’s Day card for the past nine years, I cannot jeopardize that when I’m so close to a decade winning streak.”

Eventually, Elphaba uncovers every evil thing her father is doing at like 14 and defeats him and his advisors with her super powerful magic because the Wizard’s advisors have been training her this whole time, hoping she’ll become their weapon while the Wizard has been encouraging her as a loving dad telling her she can “be anything she wants to be” and making sure all of Oz adores her. So when Elphaba defeats his armies, takes over Oz, and exposes all his crimes, he’s not even that mad. A little teenage rebellion, that’s all this is, plus her skill is so impressive, the Wizard can’t help but be a little proud, and she’s running things better than he ever could, so why not just let her do her thing and go back to building model replicas of Oz in the garage? His advisors are begging him to stop her and he’s like “why? She’s doing such a good job!” “She defeated us for all time! A pathetic child!” “Super powerful child is more like it. How could I not be proud?” “But you’re her father! Do something! Stop her! We must bring her down!” “Nonsense, teen rebellion is normal. All teenagers say stuff like “I want more independence” and “Dad, I love you, but what you and your friends are doing is morally bankrupt and as much as it hurts me, I have to stand up for what’s right even if it means standing against you”. It’s fine! It’s just a phase. Chill out and let the kid and her friends run things. Enjoy the retirement. I know I am.” “Sir, you’re only 38.” “Exactly. The perfect retirement age. I’m an old man.” “But Elphaba single handily defeated our armies! Her power is out of control and cannot be contained!” “Again, all I’m hearing is how impressive she is. And to think, it’s all thanks to me. Raising her as a single father and she becomes the most powerful witch in all of Oz, can you believe it? Gosh, I’m wonderful.”

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Uptown Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley is in love with the admiral's daughter. He needs to win her heart the best way he knows how - serenading her with the help of his friends.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings: swearing, Jake teasing Bradley about being old.

word count: 2k

“Man, I can’t just go talk to her.” 

Bradley put his head in his hands as he sat at the back of the Hard Deck with his friends. Running his long fingers through his short, golden-brown curls, he sighed before looking up, his hazel eyes full of anxiety and frustration. He’d been pining after a girl who’d become a regular at the local bar for a while - the first day he’d seen her, he was smitten. 

She’d come in with her long hair pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail, a warm, friendly smile on her features as she spoke with a few others in the bar. Bradley had wondered who she was, and where she’d come from, a question none of his squadron seemed to know the answer to. That was, until their team lead, and Bradley’s surrogate father of sorts, piped up with an explanation, having heard Bradley audibly swooning over how great she was to everyone in earshot. 

“That’s Admiral Simpson’s daughter. I wouldn’t try your luck there, if I were you, Bradley,” Maverick had warned, smirking as he took a sip from his beer glass as he looked over between Bradley and his mystery girl.

Bradley had gone quiet upon learning this information, unable to even fire back at his friend Jake’s retorts and quips about how Bradley was punching above his weight on this one, even as a skilled aviator. In a way, Jake was right, no amount of skill or experience in the air, no number of awards for his service, or medals of honor could put him in the same league as the Admiral’s daughter. Her father had recently become the commander of the entire Pacific fleet, and Bradley was just a lieutenant, serving as an aviator for the past 19 years, his entire naval career. 

At nearly 40, Bradley was beginning to consider retirement, weighing his options between becoming a flight instructor for Top Gun, the very flight academy program that he’d graduated from himself, or, ending his naval career to enter civilian life happily. With the exception of Maverick, the rest of his team were considerably younger than he was, the next oldest being Jake, at barely 35. Admiral Simpson’s daughter was easily a decade younger than him, if not more, and probably accustomed to much more in life than anything Bradley could offer her. Naval rank aside, she was likely much more used to living the life of luxury, where as Bradley had never really experienced it, outside of the odd frivolous purchase here or there, like his 1972 Ford Bronco, custom painted bright blue to restore it to its former glory when he purchased it. 

Despite all these reasons why Bradley should just forget this juvenile feeling crush he’d developed on her, he couldn’t shake it. Every time he caught a glimpse of her stunning smile, or heard her infectious laugh, the sweetest sound his ears had ever come across, he couldn’t help but fall right back into it again, like a trap that was set perfectly for him. Bradley was head over heels, but worst of all,

“You’re fucked, man. You can’t win here.”

Bradley sighed again as he shook his head, bringing himself back to the present moment. He looked up at Jake, who, upon seeing the confused look on Bradley’s face, laughed and repeated himself.

“I said, you’re fucked, man. There’s no winning here, you either go in there, you say hi to this girl and you ask her out, her dad finds out and you get your ass shipped out to another base faster than you can salute, or you ask her out and she turns your old ass down, either way, you’re going to end up unhappy and not with her,” Jake shrugged as he sipped his beer, leaning on his pool cue.

Bob, the more shy, reserved of Bradley’s team, shook his head. He pushed his glasses up on the end of his nose, adjusting them as he set his plastic cup down on the bar counter, shrugging his shoulders as he interjected, a rare occurrence for Bob, most of the time.

“I mean…Bradley could probably win her over,” He said quietly, nodding his head, “It wouldn’t be hard, I mean, he has an impressive career record, he’s a nice guy, he’s not bad to look at,” Bob shrugged, “I think he could pull it off. It’s her dad I’d be worried about. But, maybe he wouldn’t care so much? It’s not like Bradley’s gonna – what’s that term again? Hump and go? Surf and turf?”

“You mean hump and dump?” Jake snickered, shaking his head, “I think Brad here’s a bit old to pull off the hump and dump nowadays anyways. Maybe 20 years ago.”

“Easy, I only just turned 39 in June, thanks.”

“39 is practically old enough to be a grandfather, Bradley,”

“Oh come on, it is not,” Bradley frowned as he looked at his friends. Bob fiddled with his glasses nervously, avoiding eye contact, Jake smirked as he held back a laugh, and Reuben and Mickey pretended they didn’t hear the conversation, focusing instead on their game of darts taking place a couple of feet away, “Is it?”

“How many years older than you is Mav, man?” 

“I dunno,” Bradley shrugged his shoulders, “22, maybe? 23?”

“Right, so when he was 39, you were…?”

“Uh,” Bradley looks up at the ceiling as he counts in his head, trying to work out the math, “16?”

“Right…you see where I’m going with this?”

“Fuck, you’re right, I could be someone’s grandfather. Jesus Christ,” Bradley frowned, shaking his head as he sipped his beer again. 

“Relax, you’d have to had a kid at like, 23 or earlier, who also had a kid young for it to work, but it’s not impossible, is all,” Jake nodded matter of factly as he sipped his drink. Jake grinned as he spotted the girl in question walking by their seats, his elbow sharply poking Bradley in the ribcage as he nodded his head slightly in her direction. 

“Now’s your chance, loverboy. Take it now if you’re gonna shoot your shot,” Jake whispered with a smirk on his lips. 

Bradley nodded his head once and took a deep breath as he set his beer bottle down on the table. With a nervous smile, he put his aviators down over his eyes to hide their anxious gaze before heading over to the piano. If there was one thing Bradley could do to win her over, it’d be serenading the bar with a fun, classic upbeat tune. Normally, he’d go for his favourite, Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lewis, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Bradley put a hand on Jake’s shoulder, his grip firm as he leaned in to whisper to him.

“How confidently can you sing Uptown Girl?”

“You mean like, “uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world, I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy…?” Jake laughed as he cocked his eyebrow, singing the chorus of the song in his slightly off key baritone, “Oh, you’re not seriously doing this, are you?” He drawled, shaking his head before shooting Bob, Reuben and Mickey a look of disbelief. 

“I love that song!” Bob said enthusiastically as he stood to his feet, “We’ve got your back, buddy, let’s go win her heart!” 

Jake rolled his eyes and laughed before following Bradley and his friends to the piano. Bradley took his seat on the piano bench, lowering his sunglasses to make eye contact with his dream girl’s gaze, a confident smirk on his face as he winked at her before putting his glasses back on. He wasn’t sure if it was the beer coursing through his veins or the sheer smitten head over heels side of him taking over, but his new found confidence had Bradley playing the opening bars of the 80s hit on the piano, his friends offering nothing but encouragement for his somewhat ridiculous idea. It wasn’t the smoothest way to get a girl’s attention, but, it was different, and would almost certainly stand out in her mind, he reasoned with himself. 

“Uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world. I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy, I bet her momma’s never told her why,”  

Bradley sang out, his deep, gravelly voice ringing out as he carried each note perfectly in tune as he played the song’s melody on the piano. 

“And now she’s looking for a downtown man, that’s what I am,”  

Bradley’s eyes met with hers as he sang, unable to stop himself from smiling wider than he probably should have as he belted the song out, making it clear that out of the crowd of people around them singing along, his full intent was just to get her attention on him. 

“And when she knows what she wants from her time, and when she wakes up and makes up her mind,” 

Bob, Jake, Reuben and Mickey harmonized alongside Bradley, making for a perfectly imperfect set of backing vocals. While none of the four of Bradley’s backup singers were particularly great singers, their harmonies were enough support for Bradley to carry his way through the song without looking like he’d just lost his mind and started breaking out into song. 

“She’ll see I’m not so tough, just because, I’m in love with an uptown girl, you know I’ve seen her in her uptown world. She’s getting tired of her high class toys, and all her presents from her uptown boys, she’s got a choice,” 

As Bradley continued to sing it out, with his friends as moral and vocal support, he noticed that his mystery girl was making her way closer to the piano, seemingly leaving behind whoever she had arrived with as she inched her way towards the man who was apparently serenading her in the middle of a crowded bar near a naval base. She flashed him a smile, her cheeks a soft blush as she raised an eyebrow at him. Bradley couldn’t tell if the blush in her features was from embarrassment or flattery, but he hoped it was the latter of the two. 

“And when she’s walking, she’s looking so fine, and when she’s talking, she’ll say that she’s mine,” 

Bob and Jake began dramatically singing with one another, using Jake’s empty beer bottle as a makeshift microphone, while Mickey excitedly drummed along with his hands on the wooden top of the piano. Reuben began dancing slightly as he sang along to the words, all four men now completely immersing themselves in their performance with Bradley, and all four likely contemplating how they’d get Bradley to repay them for their public humiliation in the name of getting him a potential date. 

Bradley grinned as she approached the piano, her hands resting on the wooden top as he played the last few notes of the song, his eyes completely fixated on hers. To him, at that moment, she was the only person in the room. The only face he cared about in the crowded bar was hers, and now, it was right here, standing in front of him. 

“You’ve got quite the talent,” She curled her sheer, gloss-coated lips up into a grin as she leaned on the top of the piano, looking directly at Bradley.

“I’m a man of many talents, this was just a couple of them on display,” He nodded his head once, trying to keep his composure as she leaned towards him, willing his eyes to not wander down her body, “I’m Bradley. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, US Naval Air Force,” He said his title with a sense of pride that he hoped didn’t come off as bragging. 

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant,” She grinned, pointing to his empty beer bottle that sat atop the piano beside her, “Care to grab another one of those with me?” 

“Absolutely,” Bradley said as he hopped off the piano bench at an almost breakneck pace, leaving Jake, Bob, Reuben and Mickey fighting off fits of laughter at Bradley’s eagerness.