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ringmyheart · 4 years ago

Note

Hey was wondering if I could get something for lookism characters with an older s/o, like they're 3-4 older. Please do goo, Jake kim and Scott kwon.

Good luck with the blog🤩🤩🤩

Goo Kim

When you get into the relationship, of course he knows ur age and that you’re a few years older than him, and at first he doesn’t mention it but once ur like just a little bit closer he’s probably gonna poke fun at the fact

Because there’s nothing wrong w u being older it’s just that in all the stereotypical or general movies or shows or books it’s like the older person in the relationship is usually the like stronger or more providing person ends up being the oldest in the relationship and ur not useless in the relationship at all but he’s out there like killing ppl and raking in thousands a day at like 19 😭

If ur walking around in public and someone stares at u for a little longer or one of the ten geniuses is looking at u just casually he’ll get up in their face and b like “whaaat?! Do you know who you’re staring at? That’s your elder over there!! Show some respect!!”

He definitely sends u cringy texts like “how’s my favorite 21 year old 😍😍😍😍” and it’s clearly somewhat condescending but he means it endearingly simultaneously

If u don’t know something that he asks u he’ll raise a brow and go “really? A four year head start and u can’t tell me that 🤨” and it’s all good fun but he’s always gonna say stuff like that

And this is all unprompted, if he knows ur actually kinda like insecure for whatever reason that ur older than him, maybe bc he’s already getting cash like crazy at his age, he’ll either start making fun of u relentlessly OR if ur serious about it he’ll cut it out of course and never mention it again. He might try to make u feel better by being like “don’t worry!! Physically and mentally im probably years older than you 😘” and it doesn’t really make u feel better probably but he kind of tries

It’s honestly no big deal to him what ur age is, but if he knows u don’t like him mentioning it so much he will bc he likes to be annoying LMAO and whenever u accomplish something he’ll be like “did u see what my s/o did?! My 21/22yr old s/o?! At their old age they’re still kicking it!!” And ur in NO means old but he just wants to strike a nerve in u and fight in public for fun

But when u put him joking about it aside, it really doesn’t mean anything in the relationship honestly. He doesn’t feel like there’s a certain way for things to go nd just goes about things normally, and he doesn’t really see people older than him as wiser or anytning so he’s not gonna like go to you for advice or ask you to figure things out for him just bc ur older

And honestly u don’t even need a job anymore bc ur gonna b together for a long time and he makes SOOO much money so if u hate ur job or college u have the opportunity to do what u want in life without worrying ab the pay bc he makes it all for u

And yeah he’s pretty stingy w money besides being filthy rich but when or if u need it he’ll give it to u ofc and he wants u to pursue what u like too so he’ll even go to ur job or college and just inform them “btw (y/n) isn’t gonna work here anymore” for u and gets u a job as whatever u want. He beats up ur boss so u can get promoted or something but if u ask about it he’ll deny it anyways and it’s like who else would beat tf out of my boss and he shrugs

Or if u like ur current job or college he’ll threaten the school or ur boss LMAO and have them give u more money or make u pay less or promote u

Even tho ur older than him he sees himself as the like leader of u two ?? Like he’s a really joke-y guy on the exterior but behind the scenes he is doing all the like hard stuff so u don’t have to. Like he sees it as he helps u and if u never offer much help or advice he doesn’t gaf, it’s like he helps u and in return he gets u LMAO

If u like ur job or college, don’t wanna quit and don’t want him threatening ur superiors he is like the number one customer of u guys

Like if u r working retail or as a cashier he is always going to that store nd buying stuff nd funding ur business and he gets chairman choi to do so too

Or he’ll just buy ur company or college LMFAO and suddenly sales r booming and u don’t know why r ur classes r so much easier

Yeah ur older than him and the twelve geniuses but he doesn’t let u near them 😐 he doesn’t want u to be a part of that type of business and honestly keeps u away from it besides maybe gun bc he’s always around him but that’s it

Like he doesn’t want u anywhere near his business or that type of stuff and if ur curios about it he says “u will understand when ur my age” or something LMAO so u will stop asking. It’s like the 1 time he’s suddenly rlly serious

If anyone else mentions how ur older than him in a demeaning way he’ll def be mad it’s like HE can make fun of u but no one else can, like ever. He will fight them nd win even if it’s just on the street or something

He’s threatened like two of ur friends behind ur back bc they made fun of u once and u mentioned it LMAO

He makes u do taxes (does he even do taxes ????? LMFAO) but if he does he makes u do them bc suddenly he thinks ur so much smarter and wiser

If he’s in a rut and needs ur help and it’s something dumb like he lost something he’ll b like “cmooon ur so much smarter than me 😣😩 ur like 21 u would know this for sure” to make u do it and he uses flattery

None of the ten geniuses know ur name bc he’s tryna keep u safe lol

If ur ever in a situation somehow vaguely similar to one he’s in and he needs help on it he’ll ask u what u did, and if u say something surprisingly smart or wise he’ll be kinda surprised bc I feel like he’s cocky and doesn’t think others can help him that much but u do

But overall, it means nothing to him and it doesn’t matter how much older u r he’s still gonna feel like the protector

Jake Kim

It REALLY means nothing to him. Like he honestly never mentions it and ur like does he even know??? Bc a guy like him who’s like a leader of a whole enterprise type thing gang usually seems like he’d wanna be the elder in a relationship so ur like “... u know I’m like 4yrs older than u right?”

And he’s like “...yeah? Was that important or something?” And just blinks at u so ur like ... never mind

Honestly he probably makes u a bank account and puts money in it to surprise u on ur birthday or something like a little fund thing and he has a bank account on the side for u that has like thousands of dollars

If u ever feel bad or weird that ur older than him bc he is so successful and younger than u, he wonders why it even matters??? Who gaf??? And he’ll just hug u or something and is like pls don’t even worry about that... wth

If u ever feel petty bc he’s so much more successful than u bc it’s like when u have a hobby that u love and then a kid ends up being so much better at it than u but SO much worse bc he has like millions at like 19 💀 then he’s like okay but it’s OUR little enterprise now since we r together to assure u. He’s not cocky about it at all

But he won’t offer for u to join or try and help him out in making money even if he’s got to or it’s vital bc he also doesn’t want u involved w Big Deal at ALLLLLLL either, u could literally b like the smartest person in the world but once ur his s/o he probably doesn’t want u involved in his business at all

He does assume ur kind of wiser than him bc of ur age, so he’ll ask u for help or advice more often

Tbh regardless in a relationship he probably doesn’t leave any work for u to do like he does everything the financial stuff the living stuff everything so it doesn’t matter if ur older than him or if u see it as ur responsibility bc of that he’s still gonna bring in the money for y’all

Like he’s gonna take care of everything even if ur older so there’s no pressure for u to “act ur age”

Never brings up the fact that ur older than him, but maybe once in a fight it got bad and he yelled “ffs ur 21 u should know better than this!!” And that hurt ur feelings or something so from then on he just never ever mentioned it

And when others mention it he makes a cut throat motion like “stfu😡” bc he took it as u not liking ur age being brought up rather than u not liking it being held against u but it’s still kinda sweet how he tries to preserve ur feelings sm

If ur in college or something, he tries to help u w hw and stuff and he’s rlly educationally smart I think like he might’ve gotten bad grades but he understands quickly

And eventually he’s just doing ur hw for u LMAO

One time he probably accidentally wrote “Jake Kim” on the top of ur hw and u had to explain to ur professor why that happened

If u work, he probably also bribes ur boss or something to give u a raise and promotion or if u wanna move jobs but r scared of the low pay he feels like it’s a dumb fear bc he is clearly rich af, like u probably don’t even need a job 😭😭

Ur allowed to since ur in ur 20s legally but he doesn’t like or doesn’t let u go around casinos bc he’s seen firsthand how bad gambling is and he has the money to compensate if u ever get into gambling and lose a lot but he just doesn’t want u to feel guilty or get addicted

Like if u pass a casino and wanna go in and r like hey wanna check it out he just grabs ur hand and keeps walking and is like “let’s not” and probably asks u at one point to pls not get into gambling

If ur kinda petty bc he’s so much better at fighting than u despite being younger he’s like u don’t even need to fight I can literally do that for u???? Bc he feels like the only reason U would ever need to fight is to protect urself so if u wanna do it for fun he’ll teach u but doesn’t take it that srsly

He maybe made like one joke ab ur age or sent u a meme he saw ab relationships but u left him on read and it was just a bad joke or something but yeah overall he really refrains from bringing up ur age like ever 😭😭

He thinks ur insecure bc ur getting older or something and that’s y so he might start going like “looking youthful today 😀👍” every morning to u and ur like oh hehe thanks ????????

If someone else ever voices that they think it’s weird ur older than him he’ll fight them too like first he’ll go “(y/n), is this ur friend ?” Like he did w jiho and if ur like no he’s like oh :)) and then punches them or something

Doesn’t tell u stuff ab his business and ur like I’m 20-23 I can handle it and he just refuses anyways and will leave u in the dark bc yk won’t even risk it

Someone in Big Deal might be like “use ur s/o to help us work nd get money since they’re old they seem professional” he kicked them out immediately ur not touching that shit

But generally, he doesn’t care about it at all, and honestly just cares ab u and not ur age

Scott Kwon

He definitely uses u to get into places only ppl 20+ can enter LMAOO

He’ll have u walk in first and then slip in past u and if he gets caught he grabs u and goes “THIS is my s/o!!! They’re clearly of age, and I’m their s/o so clearly I am of age too 😤😤”

Ur banned from like 50 bars because of this like there’s a little “if these two come and ask u to enter their bar DO NOT LET THEM ENTER!!” Wall for y’all

He might try and hide in ur coat or something to get in but it never works

He definitely makes fun of ur age in a cocky way like haha... an older person wanted to get with ME. Little old me. And he feels like hot stuff bc of it for sure

Brags about it a lot like will take out ur photo and goes “u see this?? My s/o?? Yeah they’re in love w me and THREE YRS OLDER... hold ur applause guys” and it boosts his ego sm

He sends u scarily recent memes or jokes on the internet ab older s/o’s if there r any, and eventually when u go on his Instagram at least 1/3rd of his feed is just ageist jokes

If it really hurts ur feelings, he won’t tell any jokes ab it and won’t mention it ever again but will continue to utilize ur age to do things he can’t at age 18-19

He feels proud that he’s making sm money and is such a good fighter despite being younger than u bc he feels like it makes u look up to him so he’ll boast about it like he’ll punch something and go see that babe????? I can do that and I’m only 19!!! And ur like omg that’s so cooollll!!!!! <3 and his heart just swells

Pays for anything u want like buys u everything u ask for or just look at tbh, and also feels like u have no responsibility just bc ur older and seees himself as like the “leader” if the relationship and has a sense of duty to helping u and everything

Steers u away from trouble ASAP too it doesn’t matter if u can hold off on ur own, if he sees guys that just look mean he and u r walking the other way and ur like bro what?? And he just lies and is like I liked the sunset this direction or smmn and he doesn’t confide in u ab scary things

Bc yeah u can probably handle scary or threatening news but he’s not gna risk it regardless

If he’s rlly stressed ab something that can’t endanger u he won’t tell u that much ab it but might vaguely describe his predicament and looks to u for help and comfort and u just listen and he feels so much better afterwards and he’s telling u all this and ur just like mhm uh-huh :) and so he starts confiding in u more

But ruins it by going like “damn old ppl r good listeners 😆” and ur like STOPPPPPPP

Everyone in God Dog knows ur name age face and occupation bc he’s always talking ab u LMAO

When he was younger and didn’t have that much leniency with the law he made u his legal guardian so he can do what he wants and he tries to use u to get him to do stuf by pointing to u and going “they’re my legal guardian and they say I can drink all this!!” And ur like “no I absolutely do not???!!!!!” And he thought by doing that he’d get anytning but u prioritize his health 🙄 and he’s annoyed but secretly loves it and loves u doting on him nd worrying ab him and his well-being lol

In general, he rlly doesn’t care that ur older than him. His only big concern I. A relationship ever is how he can keep u safe bc he’s in pretty like tough stuff, and he’ll make fun of u but in all good fun and loves u sm

Thank you for the request, and thanks for the wish of luck <3 I’ll the my best w this blog!! I’m not that good at writing for Jake Kim, btw, because his character can kinda confuse me sometimes but he seems to be popular so I hope I get more requests of him so I can get his character down and write him properly. 💘I hope this was what u wanted 😭

#Lookism x reader #Goo x reader #Scott Kwon x reader #Jake Kim x reader #Goo Kim x reader

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spectrumed · 3 years ago

Text

9. conversation

(I wrote this after having a few drinks, so I apologise for the occasional digression.)

One time, some years ago, I was at medborgarplatsen in Stockholm. I was about to watch a movie at the cinema there, Filmstaden Söder. I can’t remember the movie, but this was at a time I wanted to prove my worth as a cinephile, so it wasn’t a blockbuster. For those of you who don’t know the way around Stockholm, medborgarplatsen is a square that is pretty close to the heart of the city, some may even argue that it is the heart of the city (though, I wouldn’t.) The name translates to “the citizen’s place,” an example of Swedes’ general commitment to all things egalitarian. Though, nowadays, most citizens can only dream of living in a place as central as medborgarplatsen. Södermalm, the borough in which medborgarplatsen is located, used to be known as quite the working class slum. Though, like with most global cities these days, things have changed. I don’t much like to complain about gentrification, I think it has more to do with governments’ reluctance to build new apartments, preferring instead to stick their heads in the sand and pretend as if population numbers aren’t increasing. Like, sure, I am not asking you to tear down all those old buildings to build new ones that’ll have enough room for more people, all I am asking is for you to expand, build more homes near the city and develop the right kind of infrastructure and public transport that allows for people to not need a car to get around. Cities are supposed to be lived in, they are not history museums! It drives me nuts, all these NIMBYs and their incessant whining and complaining about basic and inevitable societal progress. GAH! JUST BUILD MORE GODDAMMIT!

… I am sorry, I think I happened upon a tangent here divorced from the actual topic I wish to discuss. In any case, I was about to watch a movie at the cinema, and I had an hour or so to spend before it started. I was around people. Naturally, I was uncomfortable. People, you never know what they’re up to. They could be spying on you. They could be recording you. Or worse, they could be entirely indifferent to your presence. It is scary how others treat you, or how they refuse to treat you. It is easier not to be around people. Or well, be around people on the internet. That way you can get some social interaction, without having to be physically present. Being face-to-face with a person, that can go either one of two ways. Either you find a familiar soul, someone you can relate to. Someone you can love. Someone you could imagine spending your life with. Or you find someone that makes you feel icky, someone who makes you want to jump off a cliff. And it is difficult to find a cliff when you’re standing in the middle of a city, at a public square. Not many cliffs are to be found in the middle of cities. You’ve likely experienced the sensation of finding yourself in an uncomfortable situation, one you wish you could escape from, yet knowing that you are stuck. The icy feeling overtaking you. The dread. The profound desire to just do whatever you can to convince whoever is pressuring you to go away and leave you alone. Even if that means paying them money.

A person came up to me looking for charitable donations. Now, I am not a rich man. I certainly don’t spend all day long biddy biddy bum. I am not a wealthy man with a wife looking like a rich man’s wife with a proper double-chin, supervising meals to her heart’s delight. I wish I could give more to charity, but I can’t. I feel very uncertain about my future. I fear for my economic prospects. Don’t ask me for money, I don’t have any to give. There are plenty of filthy rich people in this world, ask them for their charitable donations. Many of them don’t even pay taxes. Surely, they have lots of cash. They stay in their penthouses, worshipping Mammon, and they certainly don't go down any citizens’ squares. What kind of money do you expect to receive from bothering a person like me? I don’t look rich. Or maybe I do. Someone might look at me and think I’m one of those rich kinds of nerds, an internet wiz kid, a programmer who made some website that’s now really famous. In any case, I am not. I am just a lost and confused sheep yearning for a shepherd to guide me.

The person showed me a series of photographs of women being victimised. Some tortured, some beaten up, some exploited. Pakistani women. The person was raising money to help Pakistani women. A noble mission, certainly. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to say that “no, I don’t care about Pakistani women” and just walk away? I didn't want the person to think of me as some callous western chauvinist who isn’t willing to spend some of my money to make a real change. I do care. I care very deeply. But, well, I just don’t really have money. Not in that way. Not in a way that can make a difference. Still, if you’ve got a truly burning sense of justice, a desire to see things wrong get fixed, see the righteous win, then you will want any kind of cash donation you can get. I sympathise. I understand that the person showing me the photographs may not have cared to figure out whether I had money or not. I clearly did not look starving (I am fat.) Surely I could afford to make a donation. Even the littlest bit counts. I needed to give. They needed me to give. Just give a little bit. C’mon. Don’t you care about Pakistani women?

I ummed and ahhed for a bit. I felt cautious, nervous, wondering how I could possibly explain my concern for these women while also recognising my lack of being able to really contribute monetarily to help them. Of course, at the moment, my cognitive functions weren’t properly functioning. No, I was stammering, I was overwhelmed, I was suffering a sensory overload. All these people around me, all this noise. I could have given the person asking me for a donation just some coins, a paltry sum, then pretended as if that was enough. But I didn’t. I gave him half of the money that I had on me. Not too much, but a significant amount of Swedish crowns. More than the cinema ticket cost me. Money I wasn’t prepared to spend at that moment. Still, it served the purpose. It made the world around me calm down. It lessened the storm. I don’t want to live in a world of chaos. I want things to be ordered. An ordered world can be understood, it can be categorised. Chaotic agents threaten the peace. Chaos makes me worry I might be exposed. I don’t want anyone knowing just how weird I am, just the kind of freak that I am. I want them to think I am normal. It’s easier to pretend to be normal when everything is calm, when people don’t freak me out.

One of the biggest social mistakes I’ve made is engaging in conversation with a person claiming to need money to take a bus to the dentist. They claimed that they had a dentist appointment, and in fact, it was paid for. They just didn’t have the money to pay for the bus. They needed me to give them just that little bit of money to buy a bus ticket. Simple, right? They were eager to convince me, so they began sticking their finger in their mouth, pointing at the tooth that needed to be pulled out. I told them that they didn’t need to show me, I believed them. But of course, I only said that because they made me feel uncomfortable. Did I believe them? Of course not. The person was clearly just looking for cash, a real scam artist, but I wasn’t socially adept enough to dismiss them. Sure, I can look back on it and think about this or that thing I should've said. Instead I just awkwardly mentioned needing to catch my own bus and that I didn’t have the time to talk. The scam artist followed me, continuing to engage me in conversation. I tried to appear sympathetic, I tried to appear normal, and the person took advantage of that. They needled me. They urged me to pay attention to them, making me feel like a monster if I didn’t. In the end I told them I would get them the money, but instead I ran and stepped on the bus heading back home to my place. They didn’t follow me. Of course they didn’t follow me. They didn’t have a bus ticket.

I came across them later, days later, at the subway. They saw me, tried to get my attention, but I ran into the crowd, hitting the escalator before they could get close. Later I saw them get accosted by security guards, clearly reprimanded for their behaviour, scamming people. Cornering people, telling them lies, then asking for cash. That’s not virtuous behaviour. Still, the security guards could only do so much. Did they stop the person from trying to scam people? Of course not. The person kept on badgering whoever paid them just the littlest bit of attention. Whoever looked kind. Whoever would be inclined towards making charitable donations. I had escaped that one time, but the person was adamant that they wanted me to give them the money they thought they deserved. Whenever I’d take the subway, they’d be there, trying to get my attention. And I kept running. I kept doing my best to avoid them. I felt like a real fool. Why couldn’t I just assert myself, pump up my chest and tell them that I was on to them? I knew the truth, I knew they were a fraud. Yet, I just wanted to avoid it all. I wanted to pretend as if I didn’t know them. That everything was just calm and peaceful, and there wasn’t a storm brewing somewhere nearby. This was everything about being surrounded by people that I hated. This, right here, was the ultimate reason I knew for wanting to become a hermit. Not having to put up with this kind of bullshit.

One time, the last time, the person came up to me, I couldn’t escape. I was waiting for the train. I was about to get to a lecture. The person saw me, and they stood right in front me. I was wearing headphones. I pretended I could not hear them. I pretended I could not even conceive of them, as if my mind were someplace else entirely. I pretended as if I had erased them from existence. They didn’t immediately catch on. They stood in front of me and they began commenting on my appearance. They decided, quite unusually, to congratulate me for my beard. Stating that I looked good with facial hair. Of course, I do. My beard looks amazing. I am not insecure about my beard. I may be insecure about my weight, I may be insecure about some things, but the two things I am not insecure about are my height (I’m 6’2”) and my beard. Still, I refused to acknowledge the scam artist’s existence. Other people waiting for the train were looking at us. They thought it was strange that I just stood there, looking straight ahead ignoring the person standing in front of me. But I did what I needed to do. The scam artist touched me, I still ignored them. Honestly, that is one of the most uncomfortable things I have ever experienced. Their hand on my chest. Them touching me. Still, I didn’t budge. Eventually, they gave up. They went away. I had won. I should’ve felt good about myself, I had come out on top. But I didn’t. I still felt awful. I had hurt their feelings. Why am I so weird, why am I so awkward? I really don’t know how to behave like a normal person.

I think I do better in long conversations with people than in short little chats. You can’t just get a quick impression of me and think you know me. One reason why I don’t think I could ever make for a good one-night stand. Unless you know me, I’m not a real person. I am just a caricature. I don’t feel as if I am really there, as if my presence alone is enough to make me a person. I am only a person through commitment, through being understood by someone else that has the right kind of patience to put up with me. For the most part, only I myself have that kind of patience. That’s why I enjoy my own company. I feel as if I freak out too easily when meeting new people. I feel as if I overwhelm them with information, like as if I am some walking thunderstorm demanding their attention. Yes, that’s the great irony of it all. I say that I struggle to put up with the chaos of others, the wild sea of people swarming the city, yet I am the worst chaotic agent of them all. I am a mess of a person. I am hullabaloo incarnate. And that is why I feel such an incessant need to repress. Don’t press the button that lets open the floodgates. Keep it all bottled up. Keep on being repressed. Keep on staring straight forwards, ignoring that person trying to scam you for money.

Of course that person isn’t reading this blog post. They’re busy trying to find some other sucker to pay for their drug fix, or whatever it is that they need money for. Maybe they’re just trying to pay for rent. In any case, if I had the person here with me, right at this moment, I would tell them… Well, I would yell at them… I would absolutely admonish them… I would... I would… I would probably just ignore them. It is so easy to try and pretend as if you’re more sociable than you actually are. In your head, things seem so easy. Yes, I know what I’d say, I know exactly how to express myself. But in reality, well, things are complex, the overwhelming actuality of it all swamps you. When haven’t you had that idea for the perfect comeback of a line to sling at a person you’re quarrelling with only after the argument is over? When haven’t you had an idea for just the right and proper way to awe another person with your mind and your words. I am sure they will be impressed with me now, if only I say the right things. If only I can act the right way. If only I don’t fuck it up. If only I don’t act like such a dork.

This blog is easy. I get to think about every word I express here. I get to erase sentences I don’t like. That backspace on the keyboard, it’s well-worn with use. Some folks don’t understand how I can be autistic and still be as good with words as I am. This is my second language that I am writing in. I am not some mute little chicken, some gagged little monkey. I know how to express myself, when I get the time. When I get that moment to write, I will write, and I won’t stop until I am done. All my posts I tend to write in one go, late at night when I should be going to bed. When I am in the right mood. When all those synapses in my brain fire the right way. Those moments, they are common, but they aren’t to be summoned just when I need them. They come when they wish to come. I can only be a passenger, going along with my brain, doing whatever it demands. In those other moments, those moments I am standing there, waiting for the train, I may become entirely mute. I may not have a single thing to say. I may look like a real dummy, some real himbo, utterly lost for words. I am not pretending, at those moments. I truly am lost for words. At some times, language is easy. At other times, I don’t even understand how to string a basic sentence together.

I am tired. I am going to go to bed.

#neurodivergent #neurodiversity #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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chattegeorgiana · 4 years ago

Note

Not meaning to sound rude/offend(I’m truly not) but why post about USA politics instead of Romanian ones? Ngl I know the 45th isn’t the one true problem to it all (though he still fanned the flames) but after living with 4 yrs of T**** damage(lucky for non-USA people you didn’t have to live with that) it’s just good to have him out of the WH. Also it’s not just the president in charge, decisions are also made by the house of Congress, the senate, and surpreme court. President does have power, just not 💯 % or else it be dictatorship.

What is going on with Romania?

I do post about Romanian politics as well. It’s just scarce. The same way that post was scarce.

I don’t post politics all day on Tumblr or social media. I try to stay as much away as possible, because people are too invested into this to see that the picture is waaay bigger than Trump or Joe or any other politician.

The political system is an abomination of a system made to divide people to their core.

The political system has divided people and extremized them to their goddamn core and you guys think this is a joe vs trump issue.

Congrats, you just fell into their trap. It’s what this system is meant to do.

You think non-USA people weren’t affected? Have you heard about NATO? Have you heard about international relationships?

Don’t think that you lived in a vacuum and there weren’t ripple effects of this thing.

US is/was a world superpower. Everything the US does has ripple effects. The same way those other big players also leave ripple effects.

As for him being out of there, of course, I am not even going to say that it’s good or not. You guys should know better.

What I would say is that careful with the mass media, ya know? Because some of the words he had said, were true. Some related to China, for example.

How do I know? Because little Romania, a country u guys have no idea about, or better said, my little hometown has been under the effect of Chinese MO.

A single thing has stood to me out of all the limited things that I saw about Trump and your guys’ politics: how he manage to raise employment rates again.

How? By putting people back to work in the very factories the Chinese bought and then closed.

How do I know that? Because that’s the Chinese MO from Romania as well. From my very hometown.

We had factories of corrugated board (3nd best in the whole wide world), factories that gave the 2nd most purest water in the world and whatnot.

These were the very basic factories that sustained the local economy in my little hometown. Know what happened after Chinese business people came and bought those factories?

Everyone was out of job and my county became the 2nd poorest region in the country, because the factories were closed. People unemployed that had to just flee the city if they wanted to survive. Because those business they did with the Chinese were pure corrupt businesses.

My hometown is mostly a ghost town right now, run by local mafia who got rich after doing those businesses.

So you see, in some respects Trump was right. And I know he was, not because he said he was. I don’t trust a word coming from any politician’s mouth.

I know he was because I’ve seen it happen with my own two eyes in other sides of the world. All you had to do is connect the dots for yourself.

The media tried to paint him as crazy for spewing some truth.

So before you believe everything the media tells you about him or how you should think about him, try to detach a bit and do your own research.

I’ve worked in the media. My very first job actually. I learned there how the games are done behind closed doors.

Now, you’ll say I’m a Trump supporter or idk what label you will put on me. Because that’s going to be probably the easiest way to explain this.

Well, I’m not. I won’t support anything political in my entire life lol.

Trump said some truths, but he has some issues as well. He’s a goddamn narcissist and that’s what it was his downfall in politics.

Politics nowadays is shrewd. He’s not. He’s full blunt direct force. The perfect ammo for the system to paint him whatever they want to. In that respect he’s stupid and I would’ve expected him to be smarter given all the shit he pulled in the past.

Like the thing with the banks and taxes that everyone blames him for.

Do I say he did a good or bad thing? Nah. I say he did a smart thing.

He found a way to give people jobs, while in the meantime getting himself rich. He found a loophole, yeah. But it’s not like all those instances with him not paying his taxes were done on his own. Nah. He had an agreement to people in power.

I often wonder... Do people hate him for not paying his taxes or for not having first the idea that he had to make money?

Because in the end it’s all reduced to money. Because money is power and it’s what makes the world go round.

He found a way to grab power and be outside of the locks of banks.

Don’t you guys have those credits ever since you’re in school? That’s literally chains on your future.

You spend most of your lives trying to pay back the banks who lock you in an eco system that generates money to them, while keeping you in chains.

He just found a way to be out of those chains. Out of that wretched system.

Because you see, that’s the issue... It’s a system issue, not a Trump issue.

I don’t have the moral authority to say if what he did is right or wrong. After all, he did create thousands of jobs for people as well while doing what he did.

But are you guys under the impression that Trump might be the only one who did that? Lol, tell me you’re not that naive.

Those kind of people have armies of accountants around them to make the papers look good.

It just so happened that Trump probably disturbed someone.

Because at those levels there’s a looot of power play. I mean, it’s not like in the past they didn’t all hang out together.

Come on, tell me you’re not that naive. It’s a move done by politicians ever since they goddamn invented that wretched system.

And since you asked by Romanian politics, what I’ve just written until now about Trump, is the same thing that happens in Romania.

It’s a global phenomena. It happens in every country. Here it’s the same, lol.

They all used to hang out together, and then whenever the elections come they start being at each other’s throats, posing as if they’re the biggest enemies.

But then you see clandestine pictures of them dining together at a restaurant. Or not even that. Just them hanging together.

You know, when the media isn’t there to be telling the story they want to tell to the audience.

Because if you think that the media isn’t politically subservient, you’re OH SO wrong.

Told you my first job was in the media.

You know what someone I worked with told me about some discussions they used to have in the USA on some sort of workshops or whatever u called them back in the day?

That US media hasn’t been free media since the 70′s. And that Romanian press was still free at that time (this was a discussion back in the 90′s).

But, there will come a time when the press won’t be free in Romania either. That they will write under political command.

Well, guess what happens nowadays? Exactly what that person said. It started somewhere back in 2008-2010.

In the pandemic for example, Romanian government gave the media 70$ billion in funds.

Which makes me wonder, why would the media need something like that, if it’s not an essential domain, like we oh so started labeling?

But hey, they did it in the pandemic so they are now free of any suspicions because if they did it now, all they wanted to do is “help”, right?

To write good about the political party in charge, while admonishing the others.

Despite people knowing all too well how the games are played.

So at the end of the day, all I’m saying is before putting your trust into politicians, look around you.

Now that it’s Biden, you say it’s a senate whatnot problem. Back when it was Trump, everyone blamed just him, as if he was the only one in charge.

Which is it after all? Is it a single person problem or a problem of senate/president/everyone else?

See what I mean?

Anyway... I’ll stop here. I am sure this thing won’t be understood in its true nature so I won’t bother anymore.

All I know is at the end of the day I have my conscience clean, no matter what.

So yeah, hope that answered your question. Basically to sum it up in Romania it’s the same shit as it is in other countries, only adapted locally, ofc.

But it’s still there to divide people, at the end of the day, so that’s that.

#politics #us politics #romanian politics

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rocksandrobots · 4 years ago

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 21 - Fishing Trip

"So what do you wanna do this weekend?" Hiro asked Varian.

The other boy only shrugged his shoulders as he had no idea.

It was Friday and they were both walking home from school while trying to make plans for the weekend. All of their other friends were either away or busy due to Father's Day coming up. Fred was going to accompany his dad on a mission. Gogo was driving down to her father's for a few days. Wasabi had bought plane tickets to fly back to his hometown of Seattle. Karmi went back upstate for the weekend with her parents, and Megan was still grounded, but had a full day planned to butter up her dad. Even Honey Lemon was going home to spend time with her abuelo.

This left Varian feeling a little awkward. In Corona they had a Guardians Day, which was meant for both parents or caretakers in general, but for Varian it was always a day for just him and his dad to spend time together. One of the few times in the year when his father wouldn't work in the field, or go to market, or have business at court.

Varian knew precisely what a day like Father's Day meant and how special time spent with the man who raised you could be. He envied his friends, but mostly, knowing this would be the second year without his dad pained him.

In a way, he was thankful that Hiro shared his delima. Though he certainly wouldn't have wished his predicament upon anyone, it was still somewhat comforting to know that he wasn't alone.

They were a less than a block away from the Lucky Cat, still discussing things to do, when a sleek car pulled to a stop beside them. The window rolled down to reveal a man with blonde hair, a large nose, and a wide smile. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a tan floppy hat.

"Hey Hiro! Go grab your overnight bag and some sunscreen!" He joyously ordered. "Your new brother, cousin, thingy too. We're going fishing!"

Varian could only look on confused, he didn't know this man nor why he wanted to him and Hiro to go on a fishing trip with him. However, Hiro apparently did know him and was also apparently not onboard with this idea at all. He stood with his mouth a gape with a look of horror in his eyes.

After processing this terrible news, Hiro could only sputter out, "But.. but why?"

The man in the vehicle began to offhandedly list his reasons. "Because fishing by oneself isn't any fun unless there's someone else around to show off to. Because I had an awful childhood, whose own father would never take fishing, and now I'm living vicariously through you. Also, you're still my intern and for the rest of the year, I still own you."

The man flashed another wide grin and Varian began to put the pieces together. This must be Krei. Owner of Krei Tech, the man in charge of the portals that brought him here, and also Hiro's boss. Though, this new revelation did nothing to stem the confusion in his mind. He couldn't for life of him see why he was being invited along on the trip nor did he understand Hiro's objections.

"But...but...b, but…" Hiro suttered desperately trying to think of way out of going.

"No buts! I've already talk with your aunt and got her permission, reserved the campsite, and I even bought you both fishing poles!" Still grinning, he reached down beside him and lifted the new poles up for Hiro and Varian to see.

Hiro let out a wordless half groan, half whine in defeat, before turning around and slumping towards the cafe. Varian blinked and looked back and forth between the two of them unsure what to do. Krei waved to him cheerfully, clearly excited for the upcoming trip, and Varian numbly waved back before deciding to follow Hiro and pack his own bag.

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

Varian found himself enjoying the fishing trip more than he had expected. The first day was spent mainly getting there and setting up the campsite. The second day was spent fishing, exploring, and just taking in the scenery.

Varian had been allowed to bring Ruddiger along, as Hiro had also brought Baymax. His pet was overjoyed to be back in his natural environment and Varian had to admit that he felt more at home here in the great outdoors than in the crowded streets of San Fansokyo. The big city was fascinating but he'd always be a simple farm boy at heart.

Krei felt much the same way. The businessman hadn't been raised in the countryside the way Varian had, but he had a great love of camping, fishing, and being out in nature. His passion stemmed from childhood summers spent on vacation at something called 'summer camp'.

Varian found he got along with older man well. They spent the ride up chatting about science and it's more practical applications, spent the trip sharing wilderness tips, and fishing out in Krei's boat. Fishing had never been Varian's favorite activity, but he now found a new sense of nostalgia for it and the praise Krei would send his way whenever he caught one helped to fuel his enjoyment of the sport even more. Plus he got a chance to show off his cooking skills after they had cleaned their catch. Not the most pleasant task ever, but Varian could stomach it much better than butchering other kinds of meat.

Hiro however did not enjoy fishing, or camping, or anything to do with the outdoors really. The other teen mostly sulked the whole trip. When he wasn't busy gagging at the worms used for bait or getting scared by the unfamiliar sounds of the local wildlife that is. Mainly he stuck close to Baymax and the tent, bored out his mind and annoyed he had been forced to come long. Varian's enthusiasm only aggravated him further and, if he was being honest with himself, he was a little jealous by how easy things came to the other boy. He'd spent half a year trying to get on Krei's good side and impress him, while Varian had managed it in mere minutes of meeting the CEO.

The only time Hiro came out of his grumpy shell was at night, when they built a campfire and roasted marshmallows. Varian had never had smores before, but they were tasty, if also sticky and a little too sweet. Ruddiger however went nuts over the fluffy sweets and had to be kept from stealing the whole bag of them. Hiro didn't really care one way or the other about the traditional treat, but was more than eager to share ghost stories with the rest of the group. Gleefully recalling with gory detail about the spirit of an ax murderer who apparently stalked the woods. Perhaps it was a little vindictive of him, to try his best and scare the other teen, but Hiro couldn't help filling a little thrill whenever Varian gave a little jump or clutched his pet raccoon even tighter in comfort.

Keri was only amused by the story. He'd heard similar ones growing up at camp. He laughed at the end of Hiro's tale.

"Ha! Kids are still telling that one? Let me tell you a real horror story."

It was about tax audits.

Both boys could only shrug at each other.

"I do not understand the purpose of a 'ghost story'." Baymax observed.

"It's suppose to be for fun." Hiro informed him.

"I see; an adrenaline rush within a safe and controlled environment can be considered a pleasant feeling for some people. However I do not understand how taxes figure into that."

"Uuuuh, neither do we." Hiro admitted, "but I guess fear is subjective. Do you have any stories to share, Varian?"

Varian had to rack his brain on that one. His own life was more of a horror story then most ghost tales he knew, but he didn't want to devel into that. Instead he told a folk legend that his dad had once told him. It had been an old story from his home country; a parable about a rich man who was so greedy that he hoarded a well from the poor townspeople during a drought. Forcing them to pay him tribute lest they die of thirst, but he made the mistake of refusing water to a witch and so was cursed to become a vampire. To spend an eternity in thirst himself and to be forever alone, because he could no longer get close to other people without risking harm to them.

"And so a leader must care for his people, son," he remembered his father instructing him at the end of the tale, "He must share and give back to the community. He who sacrifices love for his fellow man in exchanged for selfish possessions, forfeits his right to live among mankind and to even be called a 'man' himself."

If only his father's words had been true. If real life had been as simple as stories, then Corona would have sided with him and not the evil king who kept the wondrous healing flower hidden away and who turned his back upon people need. But Varian conveniently left out this more personal anecdote.

"Wow." Hiro said flatly. "That's deep."

He wasn't used to horror stories having explicit morals attached to them and didn't know how else to respond. The tale hadn't been scary so much as eerie with an unnerving ending. Unlike his serial killer story, it wasn't anything you could be afraid of happening to you, yet questioning your place in the world was somehow more off putting than simple dismemberment.

The mood was broken however, by Ruddiger stealing Hiro's marshmallow off his roasting stick. It turned out to be last one as Krei had spent the majority of Varian's story battling the gluttonous raccoon over their food stores.

"I know racoons aren't 'mankind', but does this mean he's doomed to be a marshmallow vampire now?" Hiro joked as Varian got onto his pet.

"I don't know. Your robot looks like a walking marshmallow though." Varian shot back good naturedly.

Now out of food, save for leftover fish, they all decided to tuck in for the night.

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

Hiro hated the woods. He hated how unfamiliar everything was, how inconvenient it was, and most of all he hated how gross it was. He woke up irritated and sore from sleeping on the thin sleeping bag inside the tent. He couldn't find anything decent to eat for breakfast. He never stopped grumbling while he was forced to use the bathroom outside. To make an awful morning even worst, he couldn't shake the feeling of being stalked as strange animals hooted and howled. One bush in particular shook right when he pasted it. He nearly jumped out of skin when Ruddiger pop out of it holding the last of the fish in its mouth.

He groaned as he watched the raccoon scurry away and climb up a tree a little ways off from the campsite. He didn't much care for the creature, or for wild animals in general, but he knew how important the pet was to Varian and so had tried to be polite about having it around. Still Hiro's patience was wearing thin. The walking bottomless pit had eaten practically everything in the camp.

Hiro reluctantly followed after, debating if it was worth trying to get the fish back. Probably not, he didn't even like the taste of fish all that much to begin with. He stopped in surprise when an apple core fell from tree and nearly hit him. He looked up and found Varian sitting in one of the top branches, raccoon by his side, and reaching up to pick another apple off the tree.

The other teen paused when he saw Hiro. "Hey! Morning! You wanna an apple for breakfast?"

Hiro's stomach growled in response but all he actually said was, "How did you get up there?"

Varian laughed, "Climbed up here. How else you do think? Fly?"

Hiro looked up at him blankly. It was an obvious answer, of course, and he felt silly for having asked it.

"Come on up!" Varian encouraged. "There's plenty of apples to go around."

"I..I can't." Hiro admitted sheepishly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know how to climb a tree." He mumbled.

Varian looked surprised by this revelation and before Hiro could do anything else, the other boy quickly climbed back down to join him.

“You never climb a tree before?”

‘Well, I did once, with Baymax’s help.” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.

“It’s not like there’s a whole lot of trees in San Fransokyo to climb.”

“Oh, well, it’s easy. Here, I’ll show you. Just put your foot there, in that knot, and place your hand here on this bump in the bark.” Varian instructed, helping Hiro find the footholds. “Now you see that groove up here, place your other foot there, and as you hoist yourself up grab that lowest branch with your other hand, like climbing a really uneven ladder.”

Hiro did so, though not without some struggling, but eventually he pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.

“Great!” Varian cheered and followed after with practiced ease. “The hardest parts done. Now all you gotta do is swing up the rest of the branches, like so.”

Varian took off, showing Hiro the best way to navigate the tree top. Hiro followed him, mimicking the other boys actions. With great effort he hauled himself up onto the final branch and heaved a ‘wooooph’ in relief of having made it up.

His sigh quickly turned to awe though when he caught sight of the view. The early morning sun sparkled on the lake. Further out a misty fog was beginning to disperse and you could see the opposite shoreline reflected in the water like glass. Beyond that giant redwoods poked out of the canopy of trees and way, way off in the distance you just about make out the tips of blue mountains.

“Woah.” He breathed. Hiro had to admit, you didn’t get scenery like this in the city.

‘Here.” Varian handed him an apple. It was smaller than the ones you’d buy in the store, with pink and yellow skin. Hiro tentatively took a bite. It was crunchy and very tart, but edible. Not to mention it was practically the only food they had left in the camp, so Hiro wound up eating it all and started in on a second one.

“So, where did you learn to climb?” Hiro asked taking another large bite of the wild fruit.

“Oh, I’ve been climbing trees since I could walk.” Varian laughed. “We owned an apple orchard along with the farm. Also the forest is right next to my village.”

Ruddiger joined them, procuring his own apple and sitting right on Varian’s lap to enjoy his meal. Varian scratched his pet’s ear.

“Does he ever get full?” Hiro asked.

“Nope.” Varian replied, and then they both broke into giggles.

Once the laughter had subsided Hiro commented, “I guess that’s why you’re so good at this outdoors stuff. This is the first time I ever been fishing, and with any luck, it’ll be my last.”

“My dad taught me.” Varian quitely confessed. “He’d take me on trips like this sometimes. Try to teach me how to hunt and fish. The fishing is a lot better than the hunting, let me tell you. I never could fire an arrow right and I can’t stand the sight of blood.” He cringed as if recalling a gruesome memory. “But, I guess he was just looking out for me. He taught me the skills he had to live on to survive. Apparently there were no farms where he grew up, the land was always baren. I guess that’s why he prefered gardening to being a knight.”

“Wait, your dad was an actual for real knight?”

Varian nodded, “Yeah, I found his armor after...after the accident. Along with a bunch of other important stuff he never told me about.” He added bitterly.

Hiro didn’t know how to respond to that. So he stayed quiet and let Varian dictate the conversation.

“Anyways, it worked. The fishing did come in handy. I had to do a lot of that, when.. when I was on my own.” He worked his jaw as he mulled over that last confession, his eyes gazing out to into the distance, clearly not seeing the breathtaking view before them.

Hiro’s heart dropped. He had a vague idea of what happened to Varian, but this was the first time it really hit home just how messed up the other’s teen’s life had been before now. He could empathize with losing a loved one, but he had always had his aunt and his friends to depend upon. If nothing else to be there and take of him as he sank into depression. But Varian had to do everything for himself, even while battling that same depression. The idea of having to catch or scavenge for your own food on top caring for you ill father was a nightmare that Hiro could barely comprehend. A nightmare that only somehow got worse.

“Fortunately, there’s a river that runs through my village, and I could set up lines overnight and just go check them in the morning, and we had food stored up for winter. Like oats, bacon, dried peas, that sort of thing. That is, until spring rolled around and the king's guards run me out of my house.” He said irritably.”Then I just had to forage or steal to survive.”

“Be...because you stole medicine?” Hiro asked disquietly. He couldn’t imagine a world so cruel and yet to his surprise the story got even worse.

“Oh no, this was before I stole the flower.” Varian said matter of factly and Hiro just stared at him in horror. Varian heaved a heavy sigh and went on to explain. “My father was the only other person who knew about the sundrop. The king kept it hidden from everyone. I guess when he found out that my dad, was, was ‘gone’, he decided to try and remove me from the picture, so as to keep his secret safe. He made a bunch of false charges about me ‘attacking the princess’ so that no one would believe me when I asked for help or told them the truth about the flower. Then he sent his elite guard to arrest me and I had to run.”

Varian gave a little shrug and added, “I guess after that, ‘treason’ didn’t seem like that big of deal. I mean they were going to throw me in jail either way, and not many people leave those dungeons alive.”

Hiro could barely process what was being told to him. He didn’t know what to say. His stomach churned and his breath shallowed. Varian’s past was far scarier than any ghost story.

Then suddenly he felt guilty. He’d been so caught up in his own grief and his own struggles with readjusting, that he hadn’t actually stopped to think about things from Varian’s perspective. He had thus far grinned and bared the discomfort of having his life turned upside down, because, well because that's what he thought he needed to do in order to be a mature decent person. And while that was true in part, it never occurred to him that this move was yet another upset in Varian’s life, in a long, long string of seemingly never ending upsets.

Hiro found himself so easily annoyed by the other teen, yet he really had no right to be. Varian was readjusting to whole new culture and way of life in addition to struggling with his grief and trauma. So what if he cooked weird food sometimes, didn’t always know the appropriate conduct to certain situations, or was so super confident in nearly everything he did that it made Hiro self conscious and a little jealous at times. Deep down, Varian was suffering through something that no one in Hiro’s little corner of the globe could fully understand, and the least that Hiro could do was try to be a little more patient and a little more open about letting Varian into his life.

“You know,” Hiro slowly said, trying to ease the conversation and offer a little understanding, “I never really knew my dad. I was just four when he and my mom died. It was always Tadashi who taught me things, like how to ride a bike or how to hotwire a robot. Though he never taught me to climb to tree, so I guess that’s one I owe you.”

He smiled encouragingly at Varian, who nervously returned it. Once again Varian wasn’t used to praise or acknowledgement that he anything ‘right’.

“Maybe, you could teach me more outdoorsy stuff.” Hiro offered. “And I can teach you more about more modern stuff, like how to play Mind Smith II Turbo .”

“That..that’s that video game you like, isn’t it?” Varian asked as he tried to remember what Hiro even talking about.

“Yeah!” and with that Hiro eagerly launched into a detailed description of the game.

Soon the boys were interrupted by Krei emerging from the tent. He stretched sore back and tried to reheat the leftover instant coffee he’d brought. He then promptly spit it back out in disgust. The boys tried their best to suppress their snickers. Keri spotted them anyways.

“How ‘bout we pack it up and go get tacos instead?” He asked them.

“Yeeesss!” Yelled Hiro, who was more than ready to go.

“Sounds great!” Agreed Varian. “We’ll be right down!”

Keri went back in the tent to start packing and Ruddigger scurried down after him, hoping to maybe steal another treat from the camp.

Varian stood up and started to also make his way down when Hiro’s voice stopped him.

“Ummm...Sooo how do you get down exactly?”

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

The day ended with a trip to Yaki Taco and a huge feast of fast food nachos and deep fried burritos. Rudiger was once again confined to his carrying cage, but was allowed a cup of some cheese sauce to snack on. Baymax was let out of his charger case to kept an eye on the mischievous raccoon. All agreed it was actually the best part of the camping trip.

“Say, ‘cheese’.” The robot said, as he took a photograph with his internal camera.

The three guys sing songed the the word even as actual cheese dripped off the burritos they held in their hands, plastering on dopey grins for the camera. Then a few more pictures with silly faces to complete the set.

“Fantastic!” Krei said. “I want copies for the office.”

“Why?” Hiro asked.

“So if any clients come in I show off ‘my family’ to them instead just the photo of my mother. I love the woman but she doesn’t necessarily impress the image of ‘family friendly company’.”

“I knew there was a catch.” Hiro scoffed.

Keri looked wounded. “Hey, I told you, my employees are my family.”

Hiro rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help giving a little smile at that. He knew Krei well enough by now to know that, underneath his seemingly conviving self-serving self, he had a heart, and he wouldn’t have invited Hiro and Varian along if he didn’t care.

“Aunt Cass put you up to this, didn’t she?” He prodded.

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” Krei insisted and they gave Hiro a knowing wink. Then more seriously he said, “I know what it’s like not having your dad around on Father’s Day. So, I figured, why not a fishing trip? It’s better than being stuck at home while your father’s away on a business trip to Tahiti that weekend.”

Hiro raised in eyebrow. Keri had a tendency of oversharing at times.

“Buuut, enough about me. Who wants dessert!?”

#big hero 6 #varian #Hiro Hamada #tangled #ruddiger #krei #BH6 the series #tts #rta #tangled the series

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relationshipsandpolitics · 5 years ago

Text

Part 3

Since I last posted, we’ve gotten word that a certain rich asshole is going to enter the race. Now, I could do 500 words on why this guy is awful, but it would sort of go against my belief that just because someone is really rich does not mean we need to pay extra attention to them and their thoughts. This guy is not winning the nomination, won’t even poll about 3% in most states, and overall is not worth the amount ink that will surely be spilled on his campaign. Next.

Joe Biden. Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders

So we are down to the final 3. One of those 3 objectively should have been culled much earlier. If I was doing this purely based on the level of support for each candidate, this guy would have been cut about 8 candidates ago. But Joe Biden is still the front runner, consistently leading national polls and absolutely killing it in several early primary states like South Carolina. Biden remains popular among black voters, who serve as the lifeblood of the Democratic party. Even though his policies and personality suck, he is unique from all the other shitty centrist candidates. So he gets his own takedown.

Joe Biden is a very old man hoping to blind the voters with his connection to President Obama. And for the most part, it’s working like a charm. Forget the fact that he is a rambling, incoherent mess during campaign stops. Forget his abysmal views on race, including his support for segregated busing and racist colleagues. Forget the fact this guy railroaded Anita Hill and still can’t sufficiently apologize to her. Forget all the bad parts of Joe Biden. That’s what he is banking on. Biden is trying to win not based on policy or his strategy for improving the lives of everyday Americans. No, he is trying to win by painting a false image of who he is and how electable he would be. Biden is basing his entire campaign on appealing to low-key racist white suburbanites who don’t want to pay more taxes. That’s his base. And it’s not an awful strategy. But it highlights something terrible about the Democratic voter.

The average Democratic primary voter appears to support progressive causes. They want to see Social Security expanded. They support a $15 minimum wage and gun control. They support paid family leave and some form of universal health care. But the average Democratic voter of a certain age, race and class level doesn’t want to fight for those things. Because while they agree with those policies in principle, they won’t be that affected by them, and more importantly, would have to pay more in taxes. So they say they support these goals yet refuse to put any skin into the game to achieve them. The other possibility is that they would support enacting these policies and paying a bit more, but they don’t think anyone else would and thus think we need to support the least-controversial candidate. No one really likes Joe Biden, or if they do, no one can really identify what exactly he is running for. Even though health care remains a joke in this country, Biden isn’t arguing to make it better. He isn’t supporting a wealth tax. What is this man running on except a vague idea about returning dignity to the American worker. Yet voters still support him, either because they know he actually won’t change anything (except make it ok to be gay again) or because they think not changing anything is the only way for a Democrat to win.

The American voter (not just Democratic voters) collectively is a stupid person. They personally want a politician to enact massive change to better their lives, yet believe the ideal candidate is a moderate who won’t do anything major, and still someone in doing nothing substantial, will improve their lives. Then, just to double down on that stupidity, they will vote the opposition party into power in Congress to ensure nothing happens, all because they love compromise. Of course, the last thirty years of politics have shown that bipartisanship is a myth.

The American voter is both very ignorant and very naïve. We accept that. But it’s tougher to accept that from our politicians. At a recent fundraiser for millionaires, Biden touted his sincere belief that when Trump goes, Republicans will have an epiphany and start working with him to make our country better. Folks, this is disqualifying. The sheer insanity of that belief needs to be a deal breaker. Biden, in the very same speech to the very same contingent of rich assholes, said that he personally called dozens of Republicans to get Merrick Garland on the Supreme Court. The Republicans said no and pulled a move so disgusting and unprecedented that we will never see something worse in our lifetimes. And this was all before Trump was even nominated.

Joe Biden is an idiot. He also is in the bag of the rich. He regularly attends fundraisers hosted by lobbyists for some of the most nefarious industries. His campaign is mostly funded by Wall Street and Health Insurance. And how do you think he’ll govern once in office? Will he go after these bad actors? Or will he appoint them to his Cabinet? Remember, this is the guy who worked in an administration that wanted Larry Summers as Fed Chief. He appointed Timothy Geithner as Secretary of the Treasury.

Joe Biden would continue the worst aspects of Obama’s administration without all the good stuff. He’d be in his late 80’s by the time his second term ended, too. For the love of all that we hold holy, we cannot nominate Biden.

It is now time for the top two candidates. I would happily vote for either of these candidates, so my choice for one is not a slight on the other. Each candidate has issues, but they are minor compared to what they bring to the table. So I urge you to vote early and often for either of them.

Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders

A presidential candidate should make you excited to vote for them. It can’t just be “I can’t vote for the other guy so I guess you’ll do.” It’s a recipe for disaster. People need a reason to take a couple hours of their day, find parking, wait in a long line, deal with eighty-year old volunteers who yell at you to close the curtain more, and then go into work and deal with their daily amount of shit. People need a reason to see the process of voting as exciting.

I think Bernie and Elizabeth are the only two candidates one can reasonably get excited about. I’m not saying everyone will be excited by them because a lot of people don’t support their policies. I call these people assholes. But can anyone honestly say they are excited to vote for Amy Klobuchar or Joe Biden? Even if you support their bland policy proposals which consist of “we need better jobs but fuck if I know how to do that.”

But which one to choose?

I’m going to start with Bernie. The negatives against him are one of perception rather than reality, but in politics its not the truth that wins out but what you can convince people the truth is. And Bernie will definitely be portrayed as an out-of-touch Socialist. While the youngins like the word “socialism” the majority of the electorate is still scared to death of the term because they equate social democratic government as the Soviet Union and bread lines. In other words, most people are stupid. Sanders best hope would be to hammer home how amazing European countries are, the benefits they enjoy without all the negatives that Republicans conjure up in places like Venezuela. Unfortunately, Republican messaging still rules the day. Even if you could strap a person in a chair and explain point by point why Sweden and Denmark work as social democracies, they still wouldn’t get it.

Trump will absolutely attack Bernie for being a socialist, and the problem compared to the other candidates he would attack for being a socialist is that the suburban Democratic voters would actually believe him. Bernie absolutely will upend the system, and a lot of people are still benefiting from that system. People like my parents. They have a good amount of money but are not rich. Taxes going up on them will impact their daily lives, and most of the benefits Bernie is advocating for would not benefit them. There is a lot of good research out there that suggests the key for Democrats to win across the board is to get the suburban moderate vote. And there is a legitimate argument that Bernie will not get that vote. Now, one can say that those voters would never vote for Trump. But you must remember a very important thing about politics: white people can get pretty racist when they think you’ll take money away from them.

But here’s what I love about Bernie. He is entirely genuine in his advocacy for the poor and working class. Most politicians say they care, of course. They give a speech supporting raising the minimum wage or not cutting Medicaid. But they also tie themselves with rich donors and businesses whenever they can. They support the poor until there is a good reason not to. Not Bernie. He’s been singing the same tune since the sixties. He doesn’t care if it isn’t popular. He’ll make it become popular. Bernie almost single handedly shifted the conversation on universal health care. We are talking about paid family leave and free college because of him. And the man deserves credit for that.

Bernie has been hit a lot from the Democratic establishment. People are still sore that he had the audacity to challenge Hillary Clinton. Even though he endorsed and campaigned heavily for her after dropping out in 2016, there is still a narrative that he sabotaged her campaign. Let’s be clear, though. The reason why the establishment Democratic contingency dislikes Bernie is because he thinks they are just as corrupt as the Republicans. Which is true. Democrats work out of the same bubble as Republicans. They rub shoulders with the same Wall Street donors. Try calling up your Democratic Senator to get an in-person meeting. Now look at who does get those meetings. I support Bernie because he actually is trying to change our corrupt political system. A politician can’t work within the given system without being corrupted by it. The system is a cancer that needs to be destroyed.

Bernie has said some dumb things and has held some dumb positions. This can’t be denied. He’s been accused of being a racist, sexist and homophobe. Some of this is absolute bullshit and some of it is based on dumb things he’s said. But judging by the policies the man has supported, the votes he has taken, and what he has said during the 2016 and 2020 campaigns, does anyone honestly believe him to be a racist, sexist or homophobe?

If you are having a tough time getting behind Bernie, I’d ask yourself the following questions:

Do you honestly believe he would pursue anti-women and anti-reproductive rights policies?

Do you think a more robust paid family leave policy, along with a policy promoting affordable childcare, would significantly benefit women?

Do you think Bernie would restrict LGBTQ rights or would he expand protections for this group?

Do you genuinely believe Bernie would support or champion policies that would discriminate against black people?

Do you think health care is a crisis in this country and everyone should have access to it? If so, do you think Bernie makes the situation better or worse?

Do you think a president should fill his administration with people from the financial and insurance industries? Do you think Bernie would do this?

Do you think millionaires and billionaires should be taxed more and more money should go into programs that help the poor and middle class?

Should college be free or at least much more affordable?

Ask yourself these questions. Don’t worry about whether he can get them passed. Truth is it will be tough for any Democrat to get anything passed. I’d be looking at which candidates are most willing to use executive orders (hint: it’s Bernie).

We can’t keep hedging our votes on what’s practical because the truth is everything is doable with enough willpower. Think about how insane Social Security is as a legislative success. We taxed everyone, rich and poor, to provide money to senior citizens for the rest of their lives. That’s insane, and we did it. Same with Medicare. If you think are country needs massive changes to secure our future, vote for the candidate who is advocating for massive changes. That candidate is Bernie Sanders and…..

Elizabeth Warren. Everything good about Bernie can also be said about Elizabeth Warren. This is a person who literally created an agency designed to help consumers go against corporations. Warren has correctly diagnosed the problem for wealth and income inequality and a lot of the bad shit that’s been happening to the American worker. Corporations suck. Rich people suck. They both need to be taxed way more and we need to use those funds to give benefits to the poor and working class. Warren has a plan for pretty much everything, and that is a great thing. She doesn’t talk in platitudes about restoring dignity to the working class. She identifies the problem and comes up with an actual solution.

And for her efforts she gets skewered by her opponents and the media. When Pete Buttigieg says we should invest more in affordable housing, no one pushes back on exactly what that means. But when Warren releases a comprehensive plan to pay for Medicare for All, she is eviscerated. Her plans should be critiqued, but they should also come with the acknowledgement that she has put in the work and is way more open with the American people than the other candidates. The media and voters need to start making candidates pay a price for not articulating actual plans for their policy goals.

Warren is fucking smart and driven. She has the brain and energy to do the job. She’s not a crackpot; she’s an advocate for the little guy. Honestly, there isn’t much to criticize Warren on outside of how she will pay for her policy proposals. But the media will attack what little they have while giving Trump and the more moderate Democrats a pass. When Trump or Biden talk about strengthening the military, no one will ask what that means and how much it will cost. But when Warren comes up with a tax plan to pay for free childcare, every single pundit will pounce the second some study comes out that her funding is off by a few million.

Of course, the dumbest part is the idea Warren needs to fully fund any proposal. Right now, the economy has been doing great for about five years. And in that whole time, we’ve been running huge deficits. Maybe government spending without offsets isn’t such a big deal. Warren can’t say that because the media won’t allow her to. It would be great if Warren could just say “things are going great now despite a trillion-dollar deficit, so why not get free healthcare for a $2 trillion-dollar deficit?”

That’s what I love most about Warren. The lines of attack against her are so shitty. Bernie has legitimate concerns that the Republicans will easily exploit. The best they can do with Warren is attack her policies, which are broadly popular. And with Warren, you get a bunch of different contingencies that will come out for her. You have women and those who want to see our first female president. You get progressives excited about finally having a candidate who advocates for them with a fighting chance. And because she is being so careful not to raise middle class taxes, I think you get a lot of the suburban vote.

I think Warren can win this thing. She articulates the message well, she lacks genuine baggage and when compared to Trump, she comes off even better.

So who is my final pick? I’m going with Elizabeth Warren. Not only does she hold most of the same policy positions as Sanders, but she also is fundamentally opposed to the corporate interests that got us to this point. And I think she can better cajole moderate Democrats to support her agenda. Finally, I think she comes with less baggage.

What I would love to see, based on the polling, is for Warren to either win or come in second by a close margin to Biden or Buttigieg. Sanders would drastically underperform, at which point if New Hampshire was also going poorly, he could drop out and swing all his support to Warren. That would make her the clear front runner. Let’s see what happens.

Elizabeth Warren

#elizabeth warren #bernie sanders #joe biden

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gluupor · 6 years ago

Note

Andreil. A Knight and Day AU, please!

So, uh, I have no idea what this is. I’ve never seen Knight and Day and only have the vaguest idea what it’s about (spies, maybe???). Instead of doing the logical thing, and admitting that and turning down the request or looking into the movie, instead I wrote this: which is definitely not what you wanted or asked for. Oh, but @annawrites it has a fake relationship! But again, probably not what you wanted. Sorry anon! Enjoy anyway, I guess?

Whenever anyone asked Neil what he did for a living, he responded by saying he was a spy. This always was met with impressed faces and probing questions about his job. Was it like being James Bond? everyone always wanted to know. Was he out there, taking names and kicking ass? Neil always tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially and said that he couldn’t talk about it, that it was classified.

He wasn’t lying. He was a spy. What he didn’t mention was that he didn’t work for the CIA or the FBI or the NSA. No, he worked for the IRS. He was an accountant spy.

His job consisted of going undercover at suspect companies and looking for evidence that they were committing tax fraud or other white collar crime. He suspected that all the people who were so impressed with his profession would be less so if they knew the particulars.

Luckily, there weren’t all that many people who asked. He socialized mainly with his coworkers at the IRS (who, obviously, were aware of what he did for a living) or with his coworkers when he was undercover (and it’s not like he could tell them that he was spying on them).

In general, he liked his work. It brought together his two biggest talents: math and lying about his identity. He knew that some of his coworkers, like Dan and Matt, had lofty goals and ideals about making the world a better place by punishing the rich, but Neil was in it for the money.

As good as he was (and he was very good) every so often he made mistakes. Like today.

“Come on, pick up,” he muttered into his phone. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“Foxes’ Dry Cleaning,” answered Dan’s cheerful voice. “We clean up your messes.”

“Hey, babe,” said Neil.

“‘Babe’?” repeated Dan. “Our relationship seems to have gotten a lot more serious without my knowledge.”

“How are you? Still free tonight?”

“I’m pretty sure that your current identity doesn’t have a significant other,” sighed Dan. “What happened?”

“Well, you know how I wasn’t planning on being out at work?” asked Neil.

“Neil,” groaned Dan.

“I know, but I was caught off guard, Chad,” said Neil, testily. “So I need to know if you’re free to come to the office party tonight?”

“Everyone’s busy.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” said Neil. “I know that, but I would really appreciate—”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Everyone wants to meet my husband.”

“You’re usually better at obfuscating,” grumbled Dan. “Someone will be there by five.”

“Great,” said Neil in relief. “It means a lot to me. Love you.”

“I’m going to tell Andrew you said that.”

“Okay, bye.” Neil hung up and rubbed a hand through his hair. Goddamn Barbara. This was all her fault.

She was one of those well-meaning busybody types with her nose in everyone’s business, telling them how to live their lives. Neil did not feel guilty at all that he was probably going to be arresting her for tax evasion in the near future.

He’d been doing pretty well at brushing her off when she asked about his personal life, sharing only little bits about his fake background. He’d also been successful so far at shutting down her attempts to set him up. All it had taken was one momentary lapse when he hadn’t had his guard up.

“I invited someone to the office party tonight that I really think you should meet,” Barbara had said.

“Mmm,” said Neil, completely noncommittally, focused on his calculations. He was missing something, somewhere. It wasn’t adding up properly.

“I really think you’ll like her, she’s super great.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You need someone to take care of you.”

“I’m married,” Neil had muttered, his mouth saying the words without permission from his brain. “Uh,” he said, catching himself and looking up. “I mean…”

Her eyes had narrowed at his left ring finger which was completely bare. She raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Really? How come you never mentioned it before?”

“Look,” said Neil, checking around to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop. “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure how people here would react to… him.”

“Oh!” said Barbara, suddenly flustered. “I didn’t know you were— not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she hastily tacked on.

“If you could keep it to yourself?” he asked. “I’m not ready to be, you know, out here.”

“Of course,” she said, nodding a lot and watching him with newfound interest. “Of course I won’t tell anybody.”

Neil had not had high hopes and his lack of trust in her discretion had been proven correct less than an hour later when Evelyn, a very professional HR rep, had stiffly stood next to his desk.

“I am sorry,” she’d said, “Mr. Jacobs, that you have felt the need to hide your sexuality.”

“Oh, please don’t—” started Neil.

“This company is very accepting of a variety of different lifestyles and I want to ensure you that we will swiftly deal with any person that is making you feel uncomfortable.”

“Uh,” said Neil, stupidly.

“As such, we request that you invite your… partner to the office party tonight. He will be welcomed with open arms.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, Neil, you have to,” said Barbara, popping up from god-knew-where. “We feel simply horrible that you’ve felt the need to keep this from us!”

Neil opened his mouth and closed it, feeling like a fish. He turned back to Evelyn. “This whole conversation is making me feel uncomfortable,” he tried.

“We look forward to meeting your partner tonight,” Evelyn replied.

“Husband,” Neil said grumpily. He hated the term ‘partner’.

“I can’t wait!” said Barbara.

Which was when Neil had given up arguing and decided to call Dan for help. There was only one thing that could solve this problem: a fake husband.

He’d teamed up with several of his co-workers before, pretending to be married. It was easier to work with a supporting partner and having a spouse that came to visit him at work was a good cover. But he didn’t need a normal husband for this. He needed Chad.

It was originally Erik who had made up the persona. He’d been working with Dan at the time and she needed him to pretend to be her boyfriend at a party at the company she was investigating. She told him to be as distracting as possible but to remain above suspicion.

Erik had taken these directions and created Chad: a golden retriever of a human being. He was a personal trainer/masseur/underwear model, who had a smile like sunshine and absolutely nothing going on below the surface. He was so pretty and dumb that everyone instantly understood that he was arm candy. He’d smiled beguilingly and let Dan’s middle aged female coworkers pinch his biceps. He’d been so distracting that Dan had successfully planted several bugs in executives’ offices while everyone was looking at her perfect boyfriend. After that, Chad had been a tool that all of them used from time to time.

Nicky, Jeremy, and Matt were all very good at being Chad (Erik was still the master), Kevin and Neil were passable, and no one asked the twins to do it after Andrew had tried once and made everyone incredibly uncomfortable with his wide grin.

There was also a female version of Chad, called Candi (with an i) that Allison always had too much fun pretending to be, although she was better at being a bored, bitter trophy wife.

Neil knew that they were swamped right now; there was a reason that he didn’t already have a backup fake significant other. He felt bad for his slip up, but having a Chad at the party tonight would be useful. He’d found quite a few irregularities in his accounting and he wanted to bug his boss’ office to get an idea of how widespread and intentional the tax fraud was. He hoped that Matt was available to come, although Kevin would be fine, too. Those were the two he worked with most often.

He spent the rest of the afternoon half-focused on his work and half-worrying about the party that evening.

It wasn’t until Barbara was standing by his desk, rocking excitedly on the balls of her feet that Neil was made aware of the time.

“Jameson,” she said, addressing him by his undercover name. He was pretending to be a trust fund douchebag and he had a name to match. “Is he on his way?” Her excitement was palpable, although Neil had no idea why.

“I’m sure he is,” answered Neil. He actually had no clue who was coming or how to contact them, but he trusted Dan not to let him down.

“What’s he like?”

“Uh,” stuttered Neil, desperately trying to come up with the most generic description ever that didn’t include any hints to Chad’s physical appearance. “Nice.”

Barbara gave him an unimpressed look, but he was saved by his office phone ringing. He pointed at it and she sighed happily.

“Mr. Jacobs?” said the gruff voice of the building’s security guard. “I have a Chad Jacobs here to see you.”

“I’ll be right down,” said Neil, heading to the elevators. Barbara was still watching him with heart eyes as the elevator doors closed between them.

He spent the trip down wordlessly thanking Dan for sending someone to save him. Once he arrived, he smiled in relief at the familiar blond head. He always felt best with Andrew at his back, even though Andrew made a poor Chad. It wasn’t until he’d taken a couple steps out of the elevator that he realized his mistake.

Aaron looked like he was on the way to the executioner’s block as opposed to an office party where he’d have to pretend to be his real-life brother-in-law’s fake husband for the evening. Although, Neil was in agreement that there wasn’t a lot of difference between the two.

“Babe,” he made himself say, reaching out a hand. “Come upstairs.”

Aaron pushed past him into the elevator without acknowledging him.

“Ground rules,” he said as soon as they were alone. “I’ve decided that Chad is uncomfortable with PDA.”

“Remember that Chad is gay and shouldn’t be caught staring at women’s breasts,” Neil said snippily in return.

“Maybe Chad is bisexual and is considering leaving you.”

“You’re here to back me up, not to make this harder,” grumbled Neil. “Could you try to pretend to like me?”

“It’s not like you like me.”

“You are not even in the top three people who I hate most in the world right now.”

“Really?” said Aaron with interest. “I thought I was usually number one. Who’s beating me?”

“Well, Dan, obviously, for sending you.” Aaron nodded in agreement. “Andrew, for not being available to come himself. And Kevin.”

“Kevin? Kevin didn’t do anything.”

“Everything is at least partially Kevin’s fault.”

“Fair,” Aaron paused. “What do they know about me?”

“That your name is Chad, that we are married, and that you’re nice.”

Aaron glared. “Fine,” he muttered, and took Neil’s hand. His palm with warm and clammy and Neil resisted the urge to snatch his hand away and wipe it on his pants.

“I’m going to murder Dan,” he muttered, as the elevator arrived at his floor. “Smile!” he added. “We’re in love.”

“Great,” sighed Aaron, pasting an unconvincing smile on his face.

As soon as they got back to headquarters, a raucous cheer greeted them. Matt popped the cork out of a bottle of champagne.

“Mazel tov to the happy couple!” he shouted.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re hilarious,” muttered Aaron. “Give me some of that so I can forget this ever happened.”

“Aw, did your husband not treat you well?” chortled Nicky.

Aaron set his jaw and didn’t answer.

“Did you get the bugs placed?” Dan asked.

“Yes,” said Neil, giving a full-body shudder.

“What?” said Dan, noting his reaction. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” replied Neil. Dan was not impressed, her expression demanding. “I almost got caught. It’s okay, it worked out.”

“How did it work out?” asked Allison, sounding completely delighted.

“Give me the alcohol,” said Aaron sharply.

“Come on, tell us!” cajoled Erik.

“I hate all of you,” said Aaron.

“It’s all in good fun,” said Renee.

“Yes,” said Neil dryly. “Hopefully one day we’ll find it just as funny as the rest of you already do.”

“Tell us! Tell us what you’re hiding!” said Katelyn.

Aaron sighed heavily. “He dragged me into a closet and got on his knees. Then I had to make fake sex noises until one of his coworkers caught us. It was the worst moment of my life. I would appreciate the oblivion of alcohol now.”

Everybody laughed heartily and looked to Andrew for his reaction.

He shook his head at Neil. “I don’t answer your call once and you elope with my brother?”

“Serves you right,” replied Neil.

Andrew stepped closer to him, lips twitching.

Neil glared at him. “Not you, too.”

“I always wanted the two of you to get along better, but this is not what I meant.”

“You’re going to regret making jokes when I leave you for him.”

“You’re not going to do that,” said Andrew seriously, although his hazel eyes were still amused.

“You know how petty I can be.”

“You won’t,” reiterated Andrew with confidence. “You only swing for me.” He pulled Neil into a kiss and he immediately melted. He didn’t know how Andrew could affect him like this, after seven years of marriage and over a decade together.

Still. He wasn’t going to let this go that easily. “Mmm,” he moaned. “Aaron.”

Andrew pinched his waist in retaliation.

Nearby, Aaron whimpered unhappily into his champagne.

#aftg #tfc #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #fake relationship #spies!#my fic #bits #long #asks #anon

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leeuwchen · 5 years ago

Note

Can you write the 14 for Angst and Fluff for Ringsy? Thank you.

This one took a while but here it is (including minor spoilers)

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” –

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

If Easy Winter had to rate the different versions of Richard Beckmann, this one would be particularly difficult to put a number on. Sleepy Ringo for example is shockingly cute in 8 out of 10 times and therefore easily a candidate for a high score. Hungry Ringo on the other hand is almost always unpredictable and can go from weirdly hot to downright annoying within a split second but would still nick 9 out of 10 points because he looks so content when being fed that one can’t help but falling in love with him all over again. And then there is Smug Ringo, like the one standing right in front of him inside the kiosk now, who is clearly meaning no harm but saying all the wrong things, nevertheless.

“Sorry, but can you please repeat, what you did to my place?”

“I reorganized it.”

Easy takes a look around and sighs.

“Reorganizing, you say? Reorganizing is putting the chocolate bars from the right-hand to the left-hand side because they are easier to grab for you from there but this…”

He has no idea how to finish the sentence without sounding too annoyed. There are new shiny price tags on all of his products and a plastic-coated list with new “buy together - combination deals” that Ringo probably would call improvised but is still looking more professional than most of the stuff Easy has put up here lately. It must have cost his husband a great deal of his working day to come up with this concept.

“How long did all of this take, Ringo?”

The tall guy in front of him shrugs nonchalantly.

“Ahhh, don’t worry about that. I had your numbers before-hand since I did your taxes yesterday, so I knew your price calculation was a bit…”

“A bit what?”

Ringo furrows his brows tentatively.

“A bit… not so good?”

“Meaning?”

There is a long sigh coming from very deep-down Ringo’s chest before he calmly tries to answer the question, clearly feeling that they are at the verge of a fight now.

“Bärchen…”

“Don’t you Bärchen me now, Hase, I mean it. The kiosk is doing just fine without you meddling with my calculations.”

“Exactly, Easy. It is doing just fine. But it could do so much better. Here… take a look at today’s earnings and you’ll see what I mean.”

Ringo opens the cash register and yes – no need to count there – this is more than Easy would have made on an average Sunday, he has enough experience to see that right away. So why isn’t he happy about it? Why does he feel like picking a fight? He knows Ringo is the smart one… he always has been… and normally it doesn’t bother Easy. He knows Ringo is unchallenged at the moment, having no job and no real perspective for once in his life. He should just let him have this… but he can’t, and he doesn’t know why. Meanwhile, Ringo is still looking at the money he made proudly. “Oh”, he suddenly exclaims, “and Leni still owes us 2 more Euro since she didn’t have enough money to pay for her soft drink and chocolate sugar rush…”

“Leni doesn’t have to pay more than before… she’s family!”

“First rule when owning a business: No family favours!”

“Bit rich coming from someone who never pays.”

Ringo chuckles softly and helps himself to some wine gum.

“Okay, let’s say I am the one exception you are allowed to make.”

“Allowed to?”

There is a warning in Easy’s voice but Ringo seems completely oblivious to it. In his world, showing his husband the money clearly is enough to prove himself and his arrangements right.

“Well, I won’t write a penalty scale or something like that but you should really listen to me. I’ve studied business administration after all. I know how to avoid suboptimal calculations. Just don’t worry about it if you are not interested in doing the mathematics yourself. It’s peanuts to me, really. And you know what else? I must admit… I never thought of this place like that, but it does have some potential. If only you would - ”

“Can you shut up for once in your life?”

The words are out of his mouth quickly and they are not even true. Sure, they both can get wordy at times (who in this street can’t?) but they are also good at finding the exit, giving the other one some space and getting back to their respective points calmly after a while. So, this whole shut up for once-stuff is hell of an unfair thing to say and Easy knows that but it’s too late now as Ringo has indeed shut his mouth and nods silently before turning around to leave.

“Honey, I…”

But his husband is out of the door already and for a moment, Easy waits for the door of the kiosk to slam shut behind him but it doesn’t and somehow he doesn’t feel relieved by the silence.

“Sorry, but I think, you gave me too much change. The tag says 2.50 - There.”

The young woman points at one of Ringo’s new signs and shows Easy the money in the palm of her hand. He raises his shoulders defensively.

“No, no. It’s still 2.25, forget the sign. My new temp mixed up some of the prices.”

She smiles at him.

“Okay, cool. I was just wondering and didn’t want to trick you.”

“Don’t worry. Everything around here stays the same.”

The woman walks away and grinning Leni steps up to the window holding up a coin.

“So, I don’t have to pay you the 2 Euro?”

“Of course not… just forget it, please.”

Leni puts the money back into her pocket and takes the wine gum Easy is handing out to her. “Good, but don’t forget to tell, Ringo”, she says while chewing, “out of all of my dads around here, he is the strict one.” Easy smiles.

“He didn’t mean it like that. He just wanted to help my business.”

“And did he?”

Sighing Easy helps himself to a chocolate bar and narrows his eyes thoughtfully.

“He did.”

“But?”

“He might have been a little bit… overachieving.”

“I’m shocked and surprised… since normally he is known as such a laid-back person.”

Easy chuckles quietly.

“I know, I know… you can’t hand him a project and expect him not to act on his business instincts. But you know what’s really bad?”

“What?”

“I acted like a complete asshole.”

Reaching through the window to get some more sweets Leni eyes him suspiciously.

“Well, now I’m really shocked. Shall I set up a fake photo shooting a bit outside of town to get you two to talk things over or would it be enough to take over your shift here so you can go and apologize?”

“Would you do that?”

“What do you think?”

Tobias and Vivien are standing in the kitchen cooking together when Easy enters the flat share.

“Oh, hi. Is Ringo in our room?”

Tobias shakes his head while putting his hands around his girlfriend.

“Do you really think your hubby would voluntarily stay away from food? Unless… were the two of you fighting?”

“No! Well… not proper fighting… I… I said a pretty stupid thing. Really, really stupid.”

“Well, then”, Tobias says calmly and points to the ceiling with his index finger, “I would have a look around the roof top terrace if I were you and hope that my brother hasn’t picked up a hot blonde on his way up there… hey.” He rubs his rip cage with indignation as Vivien has forcefully pushed her elbow there. “Don’t be an ass!”, she tells her boyfriend who gently puts his face against her shoulder holding her closer and with a small trace of jealousy Easy leaves them alone, heading to the roof.

Ringo is sitting in the small hut, his laptop in front of him. Carefully, Easy knocks on the door frame.

“Can I come in?”

Ringo looks up from his work.

“Well, there is an entrance fee but since you are family I am not allowed to take it - so be my guest.”

His words don’t sound like a real invitation so Easy decides to lean against the door frame instead.

“I’m sorry I told you to shut up when you weren’t saying anything wrong… and even if you had been saying something wrong that wouldn’t have been an acceptable way to handle a dispute.”

Ringo nods and hums approvingly.

“I only wanted to be helpful and the new prices weren’t unreasonable. They were still fair offers.”

“I know”, Easy mumbles and pushes himself away from the hut’s frame to slowly walk inside. “It’s me, really. I am really emotional when it comes to the kiosk, you know?”

Ringo chuckles.

“I might have noticed. But I meant no harm. Nothing would have happened to it.”

Strolling around the inside of the hut, Easy tries to find the right words.

“As a photographer I do like all the different locations, the weird customers, the constant change… the challenges… but when it comes to the kiosk, I want everything to stay the way it is. The same people coming back there every day buying the same stuff, having a nice chat, mostly about the same two or three topics. It’s home. Well, no… you are home… but it’s still something very emotional and to me the kiosk doesn’t need to do more than provide for a fair living so when you made all these changes it felt like you were belittling what I have built there and that striked a nerve. I’m sorry, I know you only meant well.”

He is looking down at the man sitting on the old worn-out sofa. Ringo is looking grave, fumbling around his nose bridge with one finger for a few moments before clearing his throat.

“I see. Well… we all have our soft spots, I guess. You see, whenever you tell me that I meant well it reads to me that I may have meant well but still acted like same old evil Ringo.”

“Wait? What?”

Easy is sitting on the couch next to his husband before even realising.

“That’s not what it means. Not at all. We have left that behind for good, okay? You don’t need to prove yourself to me and you are allowed to make mistakes like everyone around here does without being judged harder because of stuff you did in the past and it wasn’t even a mistake, it was… wait… Am I your lockscreen?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

With a swift movement Ringo pushes the screen of his laptop down but Easy is still grinning at him when he turns around again.

“Why am I your lockscreen? I thought your lockscreen was supposed to be something you envision for your future or something you identify with like this ridiculous picture of a shark Huber has put up in his office.”

“I think, you kind of answered your question yourself”, Ringo mumbles softly, putting an arm around Easy’s shoulder, pulling him closer to his side.

“Getting rejections to all of my applications isn’t the nicest experience so from time to time I like to look at something that makes me feel better about life… myself… the future.”

“And that’s me?”

Ringo rolls his eyes.

“Now that’s fishing for compliment but yes – if you must hear it – it’s you. Always you… well, almost always. I sometimes have a look around Saskia’s bakery webpage to decide which pastry will cure my poor unemployed soul but I guess that’s the kind of cheating we both can live with, right?”

Smiling, Easy nudges his nose against the soft skin of Ringo’s neck.

“Maybe. But better not tell me too much about it, I can be unreasonably at times and I am again very sorry for how I acted today.”

He gently kisses his husband’s cheek, waiting for Ringo to turn around for a proper kiss but the other one just sighs and lets his finger run through some of the curly dark hair in Easy’s neck.

“Don’t worry about it anymore, okay? It gave me a business idea after all.”

“It did? Well, let’s hear it then!”

Easy frees himself from Ringo’s hug and sits up excitedly. Ringo seems to be a bit unsure for about one second but when Easy nods at him encouragingly, said insecurity vanishes visibly.

“Well, I thought… not all small businesses are against change… and there have to be tons of people who just started or took over a business and don’t adapt numbers as quickly as I do so they would be thankful for someone going over their calculations pointing out flaw- I mean, not so well designed strategies. I have already emailed someone I know from university about it who went into that direction in Frankfurt… not that I really need the advice.”

“Of course not, you are Richard Beckmann after all.”

“So, what do you think?”

Ringo is looking positively excited now and Jumpy Ringo is a solid 10 in 10 out of 10 times so Easy can’t help but kiss him hard before he answers his husband’s question.

“It does sound like the perfect thing for you to do.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.”

There is a sigh of relief coming from Ringo and his upper body kind of slums back against the sofa’s backrest.

“Oh good, because I wasn’t sure if I might be losing it.”

Contently, Easy rests his head on Ringo’s chest, putting his arm around his slender waist.

“I really think, you would do well as a freelancer. Huber was always holding you back and claiming the glory for all your hard work.”

“Yeah, getting some appreciation would be nice for a change.”

For a while they are sitting there in silence, huddled together until suddenly Ringo’s cell phone beeps and he wiggles around a bit helplessly because Easy is not willing to give up his comfy sleeping position on his chest. When he finally manages to get his mobile and checks the message, he chuckles triumphantly. “What is it?”, Easy inquires drowsily and the telephone’s screen is pushed in front of his nose showing a picture of Leni who has put up today’s earnings in little towers of coins on the kiosk’s desk. “You have to read her message as well”, Ringo demands. Easy scrolls down to the picture’s caption.

“RICHARD BECKMANN, BUSINESS GOD!”, he reads proudly.

#asks #writing prompts #ringsy #ringo x easy #ringo beckmann #business god #easy winter #leni schäfer #tobias lassner #vivien köhler #unter uns spoilers

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7-wonders · 6 years ago

Text

Inside Out

Summary: After one too many instances of Duncan being the token stuck-up rich guy, you’re ready to show him how the rest of America lives by taking him through a day in your life.

Word Count: 6746

A/N: Oofta, this is long. Sorry about that. Hope you guys enjoy; feedback is always appreciated, my inbox is always open, and I’d love it if you would reblog this. Thanks!

The first time that it happened while you were out with Duncan, you were willing to excuse it. He had been grappling with a stock market dip that threatened to send the Shepherd Foundation into a financial crisis, so him not bothering to look up from his phone to place an order, as well as not tipping the barista, was something that you had quickly forgiven. A smile towards the overworked employee and a folded ten dropped into the tip jar is sure to make their day better, something that you know from experience. Besides, there’s no way that Duncan would be the type of person to not tip; the man has more money than he knows what to do with. Even with that reassurement in your mind, your smile still falters when he takes the coffee from the barista without even bothering to thank him.

The second time that it happened, you were talking yourself through a list of errands that needed to be ran on your day off, trying to figure out the most logical plan of action for what you needed to accomplish. When you had shook your head before angrily muttering that you “can’t fucking afford taking the car to get the oil changed” and deciding to change your own oil, Duncan had scoffed.

“That’s a joke, right?” He had laughed, looking up at you over the thin frame of the glasses he wore for working at his computer.

“Uh, no? I’ve been putting off getting my oil changed for months now, and since I still don’t have the extra money to go and get it changed I just need to change it myself before my engine stops working.” You were sure that the look of confusion on your face was almost comical, but you had never met anyone who was baffled at the idea of a car’s oil being changed.

“Don’t people do that for you?”

“Yeah, but that costs a lot more money than just going to the auto store and buying the oil so I can change it myself. I’ve done it before; it’s not difficult, just tedious.”

Duncan mulled the words you spoke, the idea of goods being exchanged for services such as auto mechanics obviously not having crossed his mind before. He didn’t bring it up again, but you could see the disdain in his expression at the thought of you having to do something as low-brow as changing your own oil. The next day, you “found” a hundred dollar bill tucked in the pocket of your jacket, as if Duncan thought you were stupid enough to believe that you had just missed the money in your pocket before (you didn’t give it back though; although you had already changed the oil yourself the night before, the money was still more than enough to buy you groceries for two weeks and still have some left over).

The more time that you spent with Duncan, the more that you saw the less undesirable aspects of his personality that you had purposely turned a blind eye too when you first got into a relationship with the man. That’s not to say that you’re this perfect human who never makes a mistake; quite the opposite, in fact. You’re clumsy, opinionated, and prone to engaging in heated debates about topics that you’re passionate about with random strangers.

The one thing that you’re not? Entitled.

Duncan Shepherd, you’ve realized after three months of dating, is one of the most entitled people that you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be too shocking that the heir of a multi-million dollar political foundation and one of the most influential lobbyists in Washington expects everything to be handed to him on a silver platter, but you had been wooed by his intelligence and wit far quicker than you could see how he treated those who he thought to be “beneath” him. The little one-off insults, which he probably thought nothing more of once the words left his mouth, were a daily occurence now, although you’re sure that’s because you’re looking for them now.

After a bicyclist blocked the lane because a police car was in the bike lane: “Maybe if they could afford to get a ride somewhere, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting killed on their commute.”

When the waiter at a fancy restaurant apologized for the delay in seating: “Do you people even know who I am? Who my family is?”

Upon seeing a food drive donation center in the lobby of his building: “Again? Didn’t they just do one a month ago?”

After you gave money and food to the nice homeless lady who sits outside of your building: “You know that she’s probably conning you? That’s their game, most of them go to their house after this and laugh at people like you, with your heart on your sleeve and always willing to blindly give.”

The negativity got tiring, if you were being honest. It’s entirely possible that he is right when he tells you that you see the world through rose-tinted glasses, but is it such a bad thing to see the positives in people? To understand their struggles and want to brighten up their day or help them in any way that you can? You really don’t think that it is.

The breaking point comes when Duncan comes over to your apartment after work. You’ve just barely finished putting the perishable foods that you bought at the grocery store away, yelling for Duncan to let himself in so you don’t have to set everything down. You don’t even have to look at him to know that his nose is crinkling as he takes in your small apartment. Small in Duncan’s world, at least. For you, it’s the perfect size and you love how cozy it is. Stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, you turn and kiss him on the cheek when he wraps his arms around you.

“How was your day off?” He mutters into your ear. Finals are finally over, which means that you’ve been able to enjoy a rare day off before your work schedule kicks in.

“Busy. I still have to fold the laundry that I finished this morning, I cleaned the place for almost an hour, and I just got back from grocery shopping.”

“Do you need help putting the rest of your groceries away?” You’re mildly shocked that he’s willing to do any sort of chore, but nod nonetheless.

It’s silent for a minute while you both go to work at removing items from the bags and placing them on the counter. When you finish with your bags, you turn to see Duncan holding a package in his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Uh, coffee?”

“No, it’s not.” You furrow your brows, snatching the bag from him and turning it to make sure that you did, in fact, buy your favorite brand of coffee.

“Yes it is. Same brand I’ve been buying for a year now.”

“But...it’s already ground?” He looks just as confused as you feel right now.

“What other form would it come in?”

“Everybody I know grinds their coffee beans at home.”

“I don’t really have time for that, and plus this is way cheaper than buying actual coffee beans.”

“I’ll have to buy you a coffee grinder.” Duncan muses, pivoting towards the corner where your coffee maker sits. “And maybe a new coffee machine, too? Seriously, (Y/N), did you get this at the Salvation Army? What if--”

Your vision goes red as he starts to nitpick at your personal assets, rage blocking your ears from hearing what else he’s saying. It’s infuriating, to have this man that you deeply care for, and who knows that you’re from two very different upbringings, go through your items and decide what is up to his standard.

“--are you even listening?” Duncan asks, suddenly looking at you now. Breathing deeply, you place a hand on the counter before looking up at him.

“You know, you’re extremely entitled.” His eyes widen, and he looks almost offended by your statement. Good, you think bitterly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not entitled, (Y/N).”

“You, Duncan Shepherd, are arguably the most entitled motherfucker I’ve ever met.” You raise a hand in warning when he starts to open his mouth, letting him know that you’re not finished. “You think you can come in here, look through all of my things, and tell me what I should do better? I’m so sorry that not all of us have the money or means to buy a fucking state-of-the-art coffee grinder.”

“Is this about money?” Duncan says after a long moment. “Because I’ve told you before, I will gladly pay for anything you desire.”

“No, it’s not about the money! Jesus, Duncan, I’m not a charity case.” You throw your hands up. “You think that everyone who isn’t in your tax bracket is below you, and it’s disgusting to watch.”

“Name one example.” He scoffs, leaning against the fridge and glancing at his watch like this is a waste of his time.

“Literally whenever we go out. When have you ever tipped someone?”

“I expect a high degree of service. They shouldn’t automatically expect a tip, they should have to work for it--”

“And when have you ever done a fucking honest day’s work in your life?” You cut him off.

“What are you even talking about?” Duncan asks in disbelief. “I work every single day for countless hours.”

“Yeah, at your family’s foundation.” You bite back, pushing yourself off of the counter and facing mere inches away from him. “The only job you’ve ever had is one in a comfy office that’s had your name inscribed on the door since the day you were born.”

“That’s not the only--”

“Oh, right, I’m forgetting your illustrious college internship with the Senate Majority Leader. Silly me! I forget, Dunc, did your mom stop seeing him four or five years ago?” Duncan grips your wrist in his large hand, yanking you against his chest.

“I suggest you take a few deep breaths before you say something that you’ll really regret.” He warns lowly, visibly seething when you laugh.

“‘Regret?’ I don’t regret anything about this! Do you know when I first got a job? It was right after I turned sixteen. My parents made it clear to me that I needed to work for what I wanted in life, and that it was time for me to start making my own money. I worked two jobs until I was nineteen, and the only reason I cut back to one is so that I could do a work-study and take some of the money off of my student loans.

“And please don’t mistake this as bitterness, because it’s not. I fully believe that money, if taken for granted, poisons people from the inside out. Rich people like you don’t understand anything about living a normal life. I can’t just hire somebody to go get groceries for me, or do my laundry, or drive me around, or buy my fucking stupid-ass goat shoes when there’s a limited-edition release and I can’t be bothered to stand among everyone else.” You shake your head in disdain, tears pricking at your eyes. “Your wealth has poisoned you, Duncan. You can complain about struggling all you want, but your only struggle is that you would be absolutely lost if you weren’t able to throw your money at all of your problems to make them go away.”

The air in the apartment is heavy, feeling much the same way as it does after a summer storm has swept through the area and washed away the heat of a Washington July day, only leaving behind the humidity and steam from the evaporating rain. Your chest heaves, a weight off of your shoulders now that the words that have been building up inside you are finally out in the open. Duncan stares at you, lips parted as he tries to form some sort of comeback to what you just said. You laugh lowly, wiping your eyes on your sleeve and gazing out the window to avoid looking at him.

“You should go,” you say quietly, “it’s almost time for dinner, and I wouldn’t want to soil your refined palate with the three-day old spaghetti I’ll be eating.”

You’re expecting him to leave, to storm out the door and not speak to you until you physically can’t handle the silent treatment any longer. That’s why, the more time that passes without any sign of movement, the more rage that starts to course through your body.

“Why are you still here?” You finally confront, spinning around to face Duncan. His eyes meet yours, the blue shade darkened by the tears he’s been holding back.

“I don’t care how mad you are, (Y/N), but I’m not just leaving after an unresolved fight.” Duncan’s calm demeanor only infuriates you more, and you huff loudly as you roll your eyes.

“Fine, whatever, go ahead and stay! But don’t expect me to say anything to you.” He wants to say something else, but instead he sighs and nods.

“Duly noted.”

It’s easy to ignore Duncan at first. He sits patiently at your counter, almost as if he expects you to apologize to him (for what, you’re not sure). If he’s going to annoy you with his presence, you decide, you’re going to annoy him as much as possible. The music on your bluetooth speaker is turned up as far as it can possibly go without you getting noise complaints from your neighbors, and you’re sure to play the rock music that Duncan absolutely hates. It’s kind of fun to purposefully ignore him, and the giant glass of wine you have with your leftover spaghetti makes you snicker everytime you furiously avoid eye contact with him. The only time you do make eye contact with him is when you go to bed, staring at the man sitting on your couch while you shut the door to your bedroom.

Unfortunately, Duncan’s a master of deciphering when, where, and how to pick his battles. An hour into tossing and turning in your bed, right when you’re starting to get lonely enough to consider opening up the door and begrudgingly asking him to move off of the couch, Duncan sneaks into your room and slides into bed next to you. You sigh when his arms wrap around you, but your body relaxes against his anyways.

“You were right.” Duncan breaks the silence with a sentence that you’ve never heard come out of his mouth.

“Seriously?” You’re shocked and tired, which doesn’t make your sentences the most coherent.

“I don’t understand what it’s like, and I do tend to use my wealth to my advantage and to belittle others. I just didn’t realize I was doing it to you, too.”

“Why is it any different when you do that stuff to me?”

“Because I care about you.”

“See, that’s another thing you don’t get, Dunc. Basic human decency towards everyone, even strangers, goes a long way. You should strive to treat everybody nicely, as opposed to just those you care about. Money can only get you so much, in terms of connections and friendships.” You mutter, breathing steadily so that you don’t launch into another tirade against him.

Duncan stays quiet, mulling over his next words carefully. He’s thinking for so long, in fact, that the steady feeling of his chest rising and falling almost lulls you to sleep. When he speaks, you don’t fully comprehend what he’s saying. Duncan has to shake you slightly to get your attention, making you whine before you turn over to pitifully glare at him.

“I was almost asleep.” You grumble, a yawn slipping out of your mouth.

“You can sleep after this,” he promises quickly. “(Y/N), I want to understand what you go through. Your life is incredibly different from mine, and at the risk of sounding conceited, I want to experience what it’s like to live ‘normally’ for a day.”

“You know that means you can’t use your black card? Or call your driver, or utilize any of your assistants, or--”

“Yes, I understand. I’m completely ready to do things for myself.” You cock an eyebrow at him, but nod nonetheless.

“Okay then.” Wanting to tease him more is quickly nullified by the fluttering of your eyelids as they forcefully drag shut, desperate for you to sleep.

Something’s off when you wake up, but you’re not sure what it is at first. Rolling your head to the side, the first thing that you notice is that your bed is empty of the man who laid there mere hours ago. The second thing you notice, and the thing that has you immediately awake and jumping out of bed, is loud cursing and the smell of something burning. Your mind is racing with all of the possible worst-case scenarios that could have led to the current predicament--faulty wiring, a charger exploding, somebody breaking into your apartment and lighting the curtains on fire (that last one is definitely a little far-fetched, but your anxiety doesn’t really care)--while you round the corner and slide into the living room.

Your fears are extinguished, but your confusion is only increased. Duncan curses between his teeth while he throws a smoking pan into your sink, flipping the water on to help quell the burning. Your nose crinkles at the scent of charred food, and you open the windows to help clear out the smell.

“What the hell did you do?” Duncan’s eyes are wide when he turns to face you, expression mirroring that of a child who just got caught with his hands full of forbidden treats.

“I thought I would try to cook breakfast, but that didn’t really go to plan.”

“Ya think?” You tease, examining the stove to see where he went wrong. “For starters, the burner’s up way too high; that barely gives you enough time to cook your food before it’s starting to char. What were you trying to make?”

“Bacon?” Duncan says sheepishly, cheeks a bright pink as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “And then it started popping and sizzling, and the grease--”

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that pops onto your face as he holds a hand in your eyesight. Sure enough, he’s got his own battle wounds from the hot grease landing on his skin. It’s minor, but grease blisters are still a pain in the ass to deal with.

“Aw, Dunc.” You coo, kissing his hand where the blister sits. Duncan hisses slightly through his teeth at the sudden coolness of your lips against his irritated skin, but he doesn’t move his hand until after you pull away with a wink. “Have you never made breakfast before?”

“No. We always had kitchen staff when I was growing up, and I don’t even eat breakfast until I get to the office now and I can make one of the interns grab me something.” He admits, averting his gaze when he mentions growing up with a kitchen staff.

“At least you wooed me with your pasta-making abilities before you attempted to make breakfast.” You reassure him, kissing him quickly. It’s easy to see that he’s genuinely trying to stick to the challenge that he imposed upon himself last night, and you don’t want to dampen his spirits before the day’s even begun. “I think I have some cereal in the cabinet, if you’re hungry? That’s one food that you can’t burn.”

You notice with delight that Duncan already started the coffee, and you eagerly fill your favorite mug up with some. Stirring some creamer in, you readily take a sip in the hopes that it will wake you up. Although it does wake you up, it’s not from the caffeine being consumed. Instead, the bitter, burnt taste has you coughing in disgust, dumping the coffee out and filling your mug up with water to wash the taste out of your mouth. Glancing over at the table, Duncan smiles awkwardly at you, a mouth full of cereal.

“Sorry.”

Breakfast was rougher than you had thought it would be, so you decide the next ‘task’ for Duncan will be something much easier: laundry. Duncan had blanched when you told him to cancel his laundry service for this week, but he wasn’t going to back down when it came to showing you that he was more than capable of doing things for himself.

“You have this nice laundry room that you don’t even use?” Glancing around the spacious laundry room, that’s arguably the size of your bedroom, you’re shocked.

“No, it’s just easier to get it sent out.”

“It may be more convenient, but it’s also a lot more expensive than doing your own laundry.”

You sit on top of the dryer, waiting for Duncan to return with his laundry basket. You’re still mildly befuddled that you didn’t know this laundry room was a part of Duncan’s penthouse apartment, but it’s a very large place, and it’s very easy to get distracted when your sexy boyfriend makes it his mission to fuck you on every available surface of the capacious apartment. You were even nice enough to bring your own laundry detergent and dryer sheets; it wasn’t necessary to ask if he had the supplies to do his own laundry when you already knew the answer.

Finally he returns, pushing the sleeves of his black cashmere sweater up to his elbows after he sets the basket down. You’re momentarily distracted at the ripple of his muscles before looking away in the hopes that he didn’t notice, but the smirk that paints his face makes it obvious that he’s noticed. He always does. Holding out a large hand towards you, he effortlessly helps you off of the dryer.

“So where do we start?”

“Where do you start?” You correct, snickering at the panicked expression on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Laundry really isn’t that difficult, Duncan. Surely you did your laundry in college?” The guilty look on his face makes you groan loudly. “Really, Dunc?”

“Look, everybody I knew in college had their laundry sent out--”

“All senators’ sons and the heirs of influential families?” You barely pause, knowing what he’s going to say. “Look, I’ll help you with the first load, but after that you’re on your own.”

“Thank you.” He says brightly, kissing your forehead before dumping all of his clothes into the washer.

“Uh, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna separate those?” He turns around, face a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

“Like, one load for shirts and one load for pants?” You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shaking your head slightly.

“Not...exactly. More like one load for all your lights and one load for all your darks.”

“Why?”

“So that way, the colors don’t bleed and turn your clothes different colors. Here,” grabbing the first item you see that isn’t black, you turn and hold up his light blue dress sock, “what pile would this go in?”

“The...da--lights?” He guesses, grinning when you nod.

“Yeah, exactly! It’s not as difficult as you think it will be; the lighter colors and whites go in one load, and then your darks go in another. Considering the majority of your wardrobe is black, I wouldn’t be too worried.”

“I think I’ve got it?” Duncan says hesitantly.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. I want to do this myself, I want to prove to you than I can do this.” He’s so eager that it makes your heart twist painfully, but you nod and caress his cheek.

“Alright. Just yell for me if you need me, okay?” He nods, playfully slapping your ass as you turn to leave.

The experience of Duncan doing his laundry seems to go much easier than making breakfast, and eventually the sound of the machines doing their job and Duncan humming has you dozing on his couch. You’re barely propped up on your hand, only keeping yourself awake by your head dropping and startling you back awake momentarily. You’re half-tempted to just say ‘fuck it’ and take a nap, since it really does seem like Duncan’s got the hang of this laundry thing. Of course, the second you actually do let your head drop back against the cushions, Duncan’s loud “shit!” has you jolting up off of the couch.

“What happened, did you set the laundry room on fire?” You’re having visions of Duncan managing to set anything and everything on fire; maybe his family had an actual reason for never teaching him how to do things for himself, maybe it’s because he’s a walking matchstick.

“No, worse.” He says sadly. You hustle into the laundry room, stopping in the doorway when you see the dejected look on his face.

“Oh no.” You try to look as sympathetic as possible, but it’s hard when Duncan’s sadly holding up a baby pink button down shirt.

“I could have sworn I separated all of the whites, but I guess this was stuck to something?”

“Dunc, what do you even own that’s red?”

“My red Gucci blazer that I got a month ago.” He groans.

“Baby, it’s okay.” You soothe, taking the shirt from him and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“This has happened to you before?” He asks brightly, pleased that you’ve also experienced the same thing.

“Well, no…but I have friends who have had this happen to them!” Duncan sighs, clenching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “Hey, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I can’t even manage to do the laundry right.” Slipping past him, you glance inside the washer to look at the other clothes.

“Look, that shirt’s the only casualty! I’d say that you did pretty good.”

“Really?” He doesn’t believe you, but you’re determined to get rid of that heartbroken look on his face.

“Yes. Drying’s the easy part, we just hang up all your shirts and dress slacks to dry, and then we can use the dryer for everything else.”

You start sorting through the washed clothes, throwing the ones that need to be hung up on top of the dryer. Duncan goes to work at hanging those up on hangers, while you set the dryer to the needed settings. Looking at the man in front of you after you’ve finished, you’re struck by this moment of sudden domesticity. You’ve never really seen Duncan do chores before, and the quiet, comforting silence of working together to finish laundry is odd. Nice, but definitely odd.

“So? Ready to call it a day?” You ask once Duncan’s finished.

“No. I told you I was going to make it through a whole day, and I’m not backing out now.” It’s only noon, and at the rate things are going you’re a little worried that living life in the ‘middle class’ is going to absolutely wreck him by the end of the day.

“You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. What’s next in a normal day for you?”

“Hmm, what sounds scarier to you: going to the grocery store or washing a car?”

“Neither of those are scary, (Y/N).” You roll your eyes.

“Yes, I know that, but which one strikes the fear of God into your soul at the mere thought?” Duncan’s entirely unamused, but plays along anyways.

“I guess washing a car?”

“Alright then, we’ll wash the car before we go to get groceries.” Duncan just barely bites back a whine, resolving to stay strong like he’s intended.

“Why is washing the car a big deal? We’re just going through the automatic one, right?” Duncan asks once you’re both safely in your beloved car and driving towards your destination.

“We could go through the automatic one,” you chuckle, “but considering I don’t get paid until next week and we’re making this as realistic as possible, I’m going to pay the four dollars for the manual wash and we can wash it ourselves.”

“You’ve washed your own car before?” Duncan’s legitimately aghast at this admission, the mere idea of such an act of labor incomprehensible.

“Why is this more surprising to you than when you learned I could change my own oil?”

“Huh...I don’t know, actually. Maybe the knowledge that I have to help out with this particular task?”

You pull into the empty car wash stall, pulling four dollars from your center console and handing it to Duncan.

“Here, go put that in the machine for me, please?” You smile widely, pecking his lips when he takes the money from you and opens the door.

Hopping out of the car, you grab the rubber floor mats and prop them up against the wall before meandering over to Duncan, who’s carefully reading the instructions on the machine.

“Ready? Once you put the cash in, the timer starts.” You grab the spray wand from its docking station.

Duncan feeds the bills into the machine, which beeps at him to let him know that the time has started. He tentatively takes the spray wand from you, and you press the ‘wash’ button on the machine.

“Just make sure to not stand too close to the car, or else the water pressure could damage the paint.” You remind him. Experimentally pressing the trigger, Duncan jumps at the sudden spray of water that douses your car.

“Am I doing it wrong?” He looks to you to make sure he hasn’t screwed this up.

“No, you’re fine! Keep going.” You encourage him.

It takes him a little bit to get the hang of it, but soon he’s spraying the car like he’s done this a million times before.

“What next?” He asks, watching while you press the ‘soap’ button.

“Now it’s the soap. Just do the same thing that you just did.” Duncan’s face lights up at the stream of bubbles appearing on the end of the wand, quickly maneuvering it so that it gets on the car. “That’s good,” you call once the timer beeps for the final two minutes, “now grab the brush.”

“And scrub the car?”

“Exactly!” Duncan’s hesitant at first, and you can tell that he’s worried about scraping your car.

While Duncan works on scrubbing your car, you turn the wand back to the rinse setting and clean off your floor mats. Your quiet hums abruptly turn to a loud squeal when something cold and wet touches your hair, jumping as it drips down your back. Whipping around, you playfully gasp at the sight of Duncan with soapy hands.

“That wasn’t in your job description.”

“Neither is this.” Your grin morphs to a look of shock when Duncan swipes his hand across your nose, leaving a trail of bubbles on your face. Duncan laughs loudly when the foreign object makes you sneeze, wiping his hands on the rag he grabbed.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” You ask, lunging over to grab a handful of the bubbles.

Duncan grabs at your hand in an attempt to stop you, but you’re just quick enough to lightly slap his face and paint his cheek with the suds. He growls playfully, and you laugh while you try to pull away from his grip. He wraps his strong arms around your torso, easily lifting you up in the air while you shriek. The furious kicking of your legs does nothing to stop him, and he blows one last scoop of bubbles in your face.

The battle comes to an end when Duncan lowers you back to your feet, hands still resting on your ass. He smiles down at you, wiping the remaining bubbles off of your face with a gentle touch. Once he’s certain that your face is clean, he kisses you deeply. You have to stand on your tiptoes to even comfortably reach him, his firm grip on your ass helping slightly to keep you level with him. The shrill beeping of the timer sends you both jumping apart, glancing at the angry red LED screen as it reads 00:00.

“I think I have another dollar in my car.” You mumble, fingers intertwining with his.

“No need, I have one.” Sure enough, Duncan produces a dollar from his back pocket, feeding it to the machine without taking his eyes off of you.

The car is washed without any more incidents, and you and Duncan are on your way to the grocery store.

“Wait, why aren’t we stopping at Whole Foods?” Duncan’s euphoria at finally accomplishing a task today is quickly replaced with confusion as you pass by the chic building with its iconic green lettering.

“I already told you that I don’t get paid until next week, and even if I did get paid today, Whole Foods is the sort of place I only shop at when I get my tax refund.”

“So, where are we going?” You wish you had your phone camera out so that you could capture the look of absolute horror on Duncan’s face when you tell him.

“Walmart.”

There’s a reason you’ve been saving grocery shopping for the final activity of the day. Although these other tasks have been challenging for Duncan, you feel like this one will be the most eye opening. He’s never had to budget for food like you have to every week, deciding which staples are more important depending on what’s the lowest price. He doesn’t get the struggle of only having thirty bucks to buy enough groceries to last you two weeks, and he’s certainly never had to buy the generic brand of anything. This isn’t so that he can pity you; instead, it’s so that he can truly see what the people he treats like garbage have to go through. The baristas who depend on tips to buy their food, the homeless woman who can get fresh fruits for her kids with the money that you give her, even the canned goods that you buy from here so that you can donate to the food drive in his building.

Duncan holds onto you tightly as you enter the supermarket, eyes darting around as he takes in this uncharted territory. For you, this place is all-too-familiar, but Duncan’s experiencing a Walmart for the first time.

“Why are there so many screaming kids here?” He whispers in your ear.

“Just a hallmark of any Walmart, I guess.” You pull your grocery list up on your phone, mentally plotting out what aisles you’ll hit first. “Okay, I need eggs, juice, rice, pasta, breakfast foods, almond milk, bread, and peanut butter. Maybe some fruit and vegetables, too?”

“‘Maybe?’ Are the ones you like not in season?” You turn red, picking at your fingernail to avoid looking at him.

“No, sometimes they’re too expensive and I can’t afford to buy them.” You mutter quickly. For some reason, you didn’t think that the issue of money would be brought up while you were buying groceries; willful ignorance, on your part.

“Oh.” Duncan says, as though he hadn’t quite realized that sometimes people have to forego certain things in order to make ends meet. Maybe he didn’t realize that until now, you muse; it’s not as if his childhood nannies did the Shepherd family grocery shopping here.

“Let’s just go.” You try to change the subject, swinging the cart around to go down the aisles.

“Does that happen a lot?” Duncan asks as you begin to walk down the first aisle.

“Does what happen a lot?”

“You not being able to buy groceries?”

“Oh, it’s not that I can’t buy any groceries, but I like to have some leftover money in case of emergencies and so that I have some to give to Marta.”

“Marta?” Duncan asks.

“The ‘homeless’ woman that sits outside my building, the one you’re convinced is conning me? She sits there on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while she works odd jobs the other days of the week until she gets a call back for a job interview. Her kids are in school during the day, and they don’t know that they’re on the verge of homelessness. I try to give Marta at least ten bucks a week, that way she can make it to the Dollar Store and get some food for her and the kids.”

“Really?” His voice comes out quietly, and you have to lean closer to hear.

“Of course. There’s good, honest people like Marta who have just fallen on some hard times, and I want to be able to help those people in any way I can. Being charitable isn’t a negative trait.” Duncan’s silent, mulling over what you’ve just told him.

“But you still have to limit yourself to do that?” He finally questions.

“No, it’s just that I have to sometimes skip a couple of items so that I can buy the essentials.”

“What are the essentials?”

“Stuff that I can make multiple meals out of. Bread is a big one,” you grab a loaf of bread from the shelf and toss it into the cart, “I can make sandwiches, french toast, garlic bread, and I can make breadcrumbs to top almost anything.”

“And rice and pasta?”

“Again, I can make almost anything using that as a staple. Chicken fried rice, casseroles, any type of crockpot meal. With the variety of noodles that there are, I could make a different meal every day of the week using just one box. You start with your staple foods, the foods that you know are the most important, and then you go from there.”

Duncan listens intently as you explain the intricacies of grocery shopping on a budget, hand resting on top of yours as he pushes the cart along with you. He watches while you look at the shelves, barely checking to look at the prices before throwing the generic brand of pasta into your cart.

“Why’d you pick that one?”

“Because it’s cheaper.” You explain simply, as if this is the easiest thing in the world to understand.

“But why is it cheaper compared to the other ones?”

“The other ones have name brands on them. Stores will often increase their profits by producing their own generic lines of products that they sell cheaper than everything else.”

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” He says suddenly, turning on his heel and walking out of the aisle. You’re a little confused, but brush it off as a phone call from one of his employees that he has to take before continuing on your way.

Duncan doesn’t come back for another ten minutes, and by then you’re nearly done with your shopping. You shouldn’t be getting worried over him, considering he’s a grown man, but the sheer size and dizzying labyrinth of shelves that make up a Walmart would disorient even the most skilled store-prowler. Right when you’re starting to mentally debate about whether or not you need to call him, his deep voice gets your attention. You snap your eyes up to see him carrying a blue shopping basket, loaded to the brim with food items.

“Think this will be enough for Marta and her kids?” You stare at him, lips parted as you try to think of something, anything, to say.

“You--you got all this for them?” Duncan nods, his full bottom lip pulled between his teeth as his eyes seek yours.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be a nice thing to do.” You laugh in disbelief, nodding slightly.

“It’s definitely a nice thing to do. But...why?”

“If there’s one thing that today’s taught me, it’s that I really am an ‘entitled motherfucker.’” He references the words that you had thrown at him in anger yesterday. “I don’t want to be like that anymore, not when there’s people like you going without certain things just so that they can make someone else’s day a little better.”

You can’t think of any proper response to that, so you just lean up and kiss him.

“You, Duncan Shepherd, can be extremely sweet when you want to be.”

“You make me want to be ‘sweet.’” He mutters against your lips. “Oh! Look what I got for you!”

“Duncan!” Your face lights up when he pulls out a couple of cartons of fruit, making him grin widely. “You have most certainly redeemed yourself.”

“Enough for you to make some of that chicken fried rice you were talking about earlier?” He asks hopefully.

“I think that’s a fair trade.”

Tag List: @khaleesimel @sammythankyou @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26@langdonslove @heda-mikaelson @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sebastianshoe@let-me-try-mom @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @pastel-cloudz @nana15774@queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58@dolceandchalamet @dandycandy75 @alexcornerthethird @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @wroteclassicaly @langdonsdemon @trelaney @rocketgirl2410 @starwlkers @hexqueensupreme @divinelangdon

#Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagines #house of cards #house of cards imagine #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine

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shiinonomee · 5 years ago

Text

Talking to Strangers

Meet a friend, choose a name (albeit, not well)

Word Count: ~2,000

OC centric, Third POV, Code Vein Fic

Guilt gnaws at her stomach whenever she remembers the barely concealed fear that had been in Oliver’s eyes.

The eyes of a man who knew he was going to die.

He would lose himself to the bloodlust—exacerbated by the thick miasma here—and what was that besides dying?

She could’ve stayed with him—could’ve kept him company. But it wasn’t what he’d wanted. If he’d had the strength she is sure he would’ve shoved her in the other direction with that good-natured laugh of his.

Go on—I’ll be right behind you.

A lie that she could perhaps let slide, just this once.

Both the squad sent in before her, and half of her own had been wiped out. Things aren’t boding well; even if Io had saved her from the brink of frenzy less than an hour before.

The exhaustion had knocked her straight out afterward. She hadn’t had time to put two and two together until after she had come to, in yet another unfamiliar place. Someone had been nice enough to get her up to speed, then; someone who said he was like her.

A revenant. Apparently, she’d been dead before someone had infected her with a BOR parasite, which had effectively brought her back to life...in a sense. The main difference is that now, rather than food to sustain her, she would need blood. This is all fine and good, of course, except for the fact that the military currently houses and keeps track of every human; and the only other source of what she would now need to survive are blood beads like the ones she had sprouted earlier with Io.

And, just her luck, they are pretty hard to come by these days.

That is why she is where she is, now—exploring underground caverns that had been created in what everyone is calling The Great Collapse. She still doesn’t quite understand what that was, but she knows it had been a disaster-level event that had killed many revenants when they had been human.

As she understands, the military upholds a levy system for blood beads, everyone must pay the tax or...face the consequences, she assumes. Except, now that they are so difficult to find what with all the blood springs drying up, and it is so much more dangerous to go out with the ranks of the Lost growing larger every day, many people keep revenant thralls and force them to go hunting. She can’t help but feel as though she is at fault for Io being in this situation. She shouldn’t have let herself pass out in the open. Now they are both at the mercy of those who would send them easily to their deaths, just as they had poor Oliver.

They’d given her a purifier mask to battle the miasma, at least, and the gear they say they’d found her with. A sword, beautiful golden rapier, that she has no clue how she’d obtained.

Yeah, apparently memory loss is a big thing with revenants—go figure.

She can see the tubes that run along the blade—there to collect the ichor of the Lost she kills and filter it through her mask. Her bloodveil—armor of sorts—is a long blue silken thing that trails behind her arms when she walks. Apparently it draws ichor, too, and much faster. She’s been trying to figure that one out, but before Oliver had really been able to explain it to her, he’d...

She sighs heavily and keeps moving, mind moving to Io as a sort of defense mechanism.

They’d kept her up top with them--her kidnappers. She can only pray that the strange girl who’d helped her is safe; it had made her strangely furious to be forcibly separated from her. She’d had to grit her teeth against the urge to drive her new sword through their chests, given that she’d been wildly outnumbered and had no idea if she actually knew how to use this thing.

Turns out she absolutely did—as a few minor Lost found out the hard way when they had rushed her and instinct had kicked in.

It balances perfectly in her hand, weight nicely distributed. It’s easy to wield and paired with the speed the bloodveil she wears gives, her she makes for a deadly foe. She worries about it doing the job for some of the bigger ones, though—so she sneaks past them when she can.

If she could get her hands on one of their bigger weapons...

It takes a few fights to fire her out, but luckily she stumbles upon a mistle before too long. They had told her that these had the ability to clear the miasma. They also look pretty similar to that tree Io had led her to when they’d first met—the bloodspring.

She thinks it is reasonable to assume that her blood could have some sort of effect on this, as well, so with only a little hesitation she uses the blade of her sword to slice a thin line across the meat of her index finger. Red blooms from the cut in several little beads. She watches it build up, transfixed for a moment, before holding it out over the cocooned mistle.

A faint glow emits from its tendrils as it shudders and opens almost immediately upon contact. She smiles without really realizing it at first—and for the first time since she’d first put it on, she pries off the purifier mask and lets herself breathe the fresh air.

“Well, that’s really something, isn’t it?”

The sudden voice makes her start. The golden blade glints in the low light of the mistle as she whirls on the intruder with it pointed directly at their chest. Had she had the time to be stunned yet again by her quick reflexes, she would be.

Instead, she glares hard at the man across from her, standing in the mouth of one of the tunnels she hadn’t yet explored.

Slowly, he raises the gloved hand that isn’t holding his crimson-bladed sword.

He’s good-looking—with loose brown curls and eyes so rich a brown they appear red. His skin is pale and blemish-less as a doll’s, and he has a small and angular face. He’s dressed well, rolled up sleeves on his checked button-up and a nice looking waistcoat. Dark leather pants tucked into equally fancy leather boots. He looks as likely to host a tea party as cut down a wave of Lost.

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you—but you really surprised me, there. I’ve never seen anyone able to do what you just did before.”

As if to emphasize his harmlessness, he puts his sword away.

“My name is Louis. Do you mind if I rest here a moment with you before moving on?” He motions to the mistle, “This is the first one I’ve come across, and it’s actually functioning now, thanks to you.”

She watches him closely without saying anything for a long while, sword still hovering still in the air in front of his heart.

“The lost and miasma in this area are enough trouble for me, I assure you. I wouldn’t want to make an enemy where I could avoid it, instead.”

A moment longer and she falters. She isn’t built to be such a hard-ass, really. Even though she would do anything to get back to Io, she has to agree that to talk things out is preferable for her, as well.

Her gaze softens and she lets her sword fall.

“Please don’t make me do anything we’ll both regret.” She says softly, and then nods to the mistle. “Take what time you need.”

She sees his eyes crinkle at the corners as if he is smiling behind his mask, and realizes that he is a second later when he removes it.

“You have my thanks.” He says jovially, strolling closer. “It’s good to see someone else down here—I’ve been traveling alone up until now.”

“That’s not dangerous?” She asks, tilting her head.

He does the same back at her, offering a patient smile.

“Oh...” She murmurs, eyes cast downward, “well, I had a partner until...recently.” Louis sobers at this, an understanding look in his eyes.

“I’m truly sorry to hear that.” She nods and shakes herself out of it. “Anyway, it isn’t too terribly difficult to get back home from here, so I decided not to trouble anyone by asking them along. I like to think of myself as somewhat capable.”

Again he offers a small smile. She returns it with her own, hesitantly. “That’s fair enough.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, per se, but she can tell he wants to say something else. She can feel him stealing glances every now and again as they relax—free of the danger of the Lost for a while. When she finally looks up again, she can see his brows knit in concentration.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“If I did, I think I’d already be offended, yeah?”

That makes him chuckle a bit. “Where did you learn to do...” he glances again at the open mistle, struck dumb for just a moment before recovering and meeting her eyes once more, “...that?”

Once more, she tries to recall her past; anything that might in some way pertain to activating mistles and bringing bloodsprings to bloom. And once more, she finds nothing but the empty void of her memories gazing back solemnly. “I’m sorry...” she says sincerely, “It seems I can’t remember anything. I’ve been trying, but...”

Louis nods, once again looking upon her with a deep understanding. She wonders to herself just how vast this memory problem is among revenants. “Well, it’s no matter, really. It is rather unique, though.”

“You’ve really never met anyone else who could do that? Io seemed to know I could do it before I did...”

“Is that a friend of yours?”

She nods. “I think so? She’s the first person I met since losing all my memories. I’m trying to make my way back to her, now—but I need to find blood beads, first. I’m worried about what’ll happen if I don’t.”

“Hm.” Louis is thoughtful for a moment. “That’s why I’m here, too, in fact. Perhaps we could continue the search together, once we’re done here.”

“I don’t see why not—as long as you don’t try to run off with all of them.”

He chuckles again, “You have my word.”

“Good to work with you, then.”

“And you.” He agrees, “Might I ask your name, in that case?”

She halts for a moment. Io had told her that they would give her a new one, so she hadn’t thought much about it since waking. Her thrall number is apparently Four, and while it would work well enough she didn’t quite fancy being referred to by something those people had come up with.

Still, when she thinks back—the only origins she remembers are the ones born from waking up on that road with Io. She couldn’t very well steal Io’s name...so maybe...

“Road...-y...” She says haltingly, cheeks flushing embarrassedly at the unnatural sound of it. It tumbles clumsily off her tongue, but Louis doesn’t even flinch.

“Rhodey? That’s a fine name.” She doesn’t know if he says it because he can tell she’d just come up with it on the fly or because he truly thinks so; still, she appreciates the honesty he speaks with.

Really...not even a street name; but the road itself...

She tries not to wince visibly at her own blandness.

“I’m glad you think so...” she mutters, and he laughs. Then, sparing one more curious glance at the mistle, he adopts a look of careful resolve on his face.

“You know,” he starts, pondering something, “I’m actually doing a study on bloodsprings, beads, the like. Your ability could really do wonders, and perhaps along the way, we could find out how you came to be able to affect them, yourself. It wouldn’t be a one-sided deal, I can assure you of that much, at least. If you’d like to be involved we can discuss it once we’ve returned topside.”

Rhodey stares wide-eyed and unblinking. “Really?” It sounds better than being a thrall, at any rate. Perhaps he would be willing to help her free Io and herself from captivity. He nods. “I’ll...I’ll think about it. I need to get back to Io, before anything else.”

“Then let’s not keep her waiting.”

#code vein #oc ; rhodey #fic ; carrier of the blood

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child-of-sunshine · 5 years ago

Text

Just gotta rant for a minute so this is going under a cut

I can’t stand the way tumblr in general talks about “rich people” (which they can’t define to save their fucking lives) and particularly when they mention “millionaires” as though it actually means something significant in terms of wealth.

First, no one seems to understand that by today’s inflated standards, a million dollars really isn’t that much. A quick google search will tell me that the average “middle-income” parent in America will spend over 250k to raise a child from birth to 18 years old. If a couple has 4 kids, they’re already spending over a million dollars on those kids. Yes, that’s over 18 years, but it’s still meaningful.

If a person makes 100k, which is supposedly the 85th percentile of income, it only takes them 10 years to make a million dollars. And yes, obviously they’re spending money too, and it’s not like their savings or their net worth are going to be a million in that time, but people don’t even seem to comprehend that their earnings over that time would literally be a million. Someone earning the average American income, let’s say 50k because I get conflicting information from various sources, would only take 20 years to earn a million dollars.

And calling “millionaires” (putting that in quotes because people (a) do NOT understand the difference between net worth and actual liquid assets or even income) rich, particularly in the context of the “eat the rich” rhetoric, is ridiculous. I know this site has a serious problem with black-and-white thinking, but for fuck’s sake.

Let’s take a look at my parents.

My dad grew up in a relatively low-income household. His mother’s grandparents came straight from Italy with a few dollars in their pockets and nothing else. Her family struggled to get food on the table at times. She worked very hard as a seamstress and married a man who had a good job at Ford back when that meant actual benefits including into retirement, and so they managed to raise two boys without having to worry too much about being able to afford food or housing. They saved like crazy and spent the minimum that they possibly could on themselves, so that when they reached retirement, they had a pretty decent amount of savings for the rest of their lives and could finally enjoy some luxury vacations and get a small but nice house in Florida.

My mom grew up in a truly low-income household. She was the youngest of five siblings living in a tiny, shitty town in Nowhere, Michigan, with two parents who smoked constantly, in a house that sat next to some kind of horrifying mystery waste pond (she and both of her sisters had cancer, my mom at just 36, and one of her brothers died from some kind of unknown neurological deterioration). Her father got TB and spent time in a sanitarium, after which he became a withdrawn alcoholic and then died relatively young. Her mother became depressed, stopped working, and died of cancer. My mom lost both of her parents in her early 20s, before she even met my father.

Both of my parents were gifted with the great privileges of great brains and being white. Even in their crappy hick town in the middle of nowhere, my mom managed to be in the top of her class (of 56 whole people) in high school and earned a scholarship to a state university, literally the only way she could have afforded to attend. My dad worked to pay for his college as far as I know (because back then you could actually do that). They both got bachelor’s degrees. My dad became an engineer, a good career, and quickly found a job with a relatively new, small local company. He worked extremely hard, long hours for years and moved up to being a manager, and the company has grown a lot over the 25+ years he’s now worked there, with the result that he now makes a low six-figure salary. My mom took a computer programming course after realizing her journalism degree wouldn’t get her much paid work, and has worked as a programmer for 25+ years now, switching jobs sometimes, usually making somewhere in the 60-70k range in the last decade or so.

My mother got pregnant with my sister around the time she and my dad got engaged. She was working a crappy programming job and he’d barely started as an engineer, making nowhere near six figures. They lived in a trailer park, in a trailer with a hole in the floor and steps that were a safety hazard. She’d spent some time living with her sister, who’s 13 years older than her and never had children (thus had a house and some savings). My dad’s mother, the seamstress, made my mom’s wedding dress for free as long as my mom bought the material for it, which was just about all they could afford. They had a nice, small wedding when my sister was about 2 (she was afraid of my mom’s dress lmao) and one of my cousins took the pictures.

Four years after my sister was born, my parents had saved up enough to put a down payment on our house, a moderate-sized family home in a suburban neighborhood that was just being built. The house was a little over 200k. She got pregnant with me and the house was finished just after I was born.

My mom got cancer when I was 2 years old. They haven’t talked to me much about it. Her sister spent a lot of money to buy her a really nice wig made of animal hair (which, unfortunately, she could rarely wear because it made her very itchy). She went through surgery, chemo, and radiation. She spent months sick as hell and miserable, while trying to raise two young daughters. Thankfully, they’d saved enough to be able to handle the medical bills, particularly with my dad’s good job that had good benefits and, by then, was paying him a pretty decent salary. My mom recovered, thankfully (over 20 years in remission now!).

In 2008, when the recession hit, my mom lost her job quickly. She tried finding new ones but couldn’t. No one was hiring programmers, they were getting rid of them. Her depression got a lot worse. I was in high school and depressed myself (in large part because of the situation at home, though my parents don’t know it, that became suicidal depression a while afterward), and they had to start paying for therapy for me. My sister was in college and had to try to pay for it herself because my parents’ college fund for her hadn’t gone as far as they’d hoped. My dad’s company supplies machines to auto manufacturers. They were worried. They laid off some people, thankfully not my dad, and others had to take pay cuts. My parents started sitting down and seriously going over finances. My mom and I had to completely quit figure skating, my only physical stress outlet (like I said, that contributed a LOT to the severe depression). We had to cut down the grocery bills and think about not buying gifts for family members’ birthdays and such. My grandparents, happily retired by then with good savings, paid off the rest of our mortgage and told my dad to pay them back without interest whenever he could, so that no matter what happened with the jobs, we at least wouldn’t have to worry about losing our house. I listened to my parents scream at each other over money and I cried myself to sleep a lot of nights.

Guess what? My dad is a millionaire. Definitely not in liquid assets, but in net worth he probably just barely hits 1 million. He now makes a low six-figure salary and when the economy is doing okay, he invests some of it in the stock market, mostly in low-risk stocks that are guaranteed to have payouts (I don’t know a lot about this, so that’s all I’ll say). He inherited/learned his dad’s extreme money-saving ways and saves as much as possible. He’s an engineer and very handy, so whenever possible he does home and car repairs himself to save a lot of money. I managed to get a scholarship that covered almost all of my undergrad tuition, I lived at home for half of undergrad and all of med school to save money, I worked in retail in undergrad and as an EMT in med school to pay for some of my own stuff, and they didn’t pay for any of my med school tuition, so that’s it for their educational expenses for me. My mom’s had a good, stable job for the last few years that pays in the low 80k range, I think. We live in a house worth ~250k that we now fully own thanks to my grandparents.

A few years ago, my dad’s brother bought a crappy, tiny, nearly-condemned cabin in the woods up north for about 20k (seriously, it was shit). He and my dad put in a few hundred dollars and a TON of time and manual labor to fix it up, and now we pay half the bills on it and both of our families use it for vacations. We have a small (19ft) boat that my dad bought as a gift for my mom when she had cancer--he got it extremely cheap from a guy who’d bought it, barely used it, and just wanted rid of it. It’s a 1994 and full of problems now, but we’ve managed to keep it going (barely, at times) and my dad has taken really good care of it over the years. A friend of my dad’s got him into snowmobiling about a decade ago and once his brother bought the cabin and they fixed it up, my dad got a cheap, crappy used snowmobile, which he used for a few years before reselling it and upgrading to an actually nice, new one, because yeah, he could afford it. He’s upgraded a couple times, good for him. When I actually have the time off, I go up with him in the winter and ride one of his old ones that he kept and fixed after it had an engine problem. It doesn’t cost much to renew the trail permits each year and I borrow my uncle’s gear for riding, so other than the initial cost of the sleds, it really costs us nothing to go riding (gas is extremely negligible in snowmobiles, they can go 120+ miles on a single 8 gallon tank, and we store them ourselves at the cabin so we don’t pay for that). We store the boat in our garage at home (like I said, it’s small) so other than the permit and gas for that when we take it out, again, really no continuous expense.

My parents pay all of their taxes without trying to do any bullshit work-arounds. They don’t have a lawyer or a tax accountant or a financial advisor, my dad does it all himself. He keeps track of all of our finances himself. We don’t pay a landscaping service or a cleaning service or any of that crap, we do it all ourselves like any other middle-class family. My mom donates regularly to charities for cancer, animal rescues, and injured veterans.

But to tumblr, incapable of seeing nuance, we’re “one-percenters (absolutely nowhere near true) who own a house and have a ‘vacation home’ and a boat and recreational vehicles” so we’re pretty much just as bad as Bezos, because anyone who isn’t actively struggling to put food on the table or in horrible medical debt because of our disaster of a system is apparently “rich” and there’s no such thing as shades of gray.

#sorry that was insanely long #no one will read it though so it doesn't matter #that's why I made the read more #just needed to write down thoughts and bitch #I hate the politics on this site #so many good ideas SO badly implemented #the splitting on here is completely fucking ridiculous #and I'm really sick of seeing things that imply me or my family are evil and inherently bad for existing comfortably #and going on occasional vacations #and being able to afford the medical bills when I got a tumor and needed surgery

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