#sorrynotsorry to those who didn't want this to happen

[maya-matlin]

What are your top 3 least favorite episodes from each Next Class season & why?

Ooh, least favorites. Okay.

Next Class season 1:

1.) #ThisCouldBeUsButYouPlayin: This episode pisses me off. It's not just that Zig cheated on Maya. I still think it was a somewhat lazy writing choice that simplified what was going on with Zig and the tension between Zig and Maya, but in terms of what was actually happening during this episode I sadly bought that Zig would make the decision he did in a vulnerable moment. For me, the biggest issue was the Zoe/Grace arc. All these years later, I still can't rationalize why the show felt the need to write Grace as straight and make the entirety of the fallout Zoe's fault. Experimenting plots are fine. Questioning your sexuality only to realize you're cis/straight plots are fine. The problem is, none of that was told from Grace's perspective. Everything about Grace during the first season of Next Class was kind of shrouded in mystery with everything she said or did implying she liked girls and reciprocated Zoe's feelings. The show went as far as allowing Zoe and Grace to have sex only to have Grace come out as straight less than five minutes later all to facilitate a bullshit plot twist to break up Next Class's main straight couple. It felt really condescending and like the writers were almost lecturing the fans as well for making assumptions when the writing, editing, directing and acting was all intentionally done the way it was to lure everyone into believing they were getting lesbian representation in a pretty cruel way. In universe, I'm still not sure why Zoe of all people needed to learn that lesson when Grace refused to use her big girl words to tell her otherwise. Then obviously, there's the mess with Zig and Zoe. It was never confirmed that they slept together and outside stuff from the crew suggests they only made out, but it was definitely implied something sexual went down in the actual episodes. As a biased Zaya fan, obviously I'd like whatever they did to be anything else. But also, Degrassi repeatedly wrote sketchy sexual encounters that unintentionally skirted the line of how consent is supposed to work so I really don't want to have to work through "Zig only slept with Zoe because he was unaware she was making a sex tape of their underaged selves" on top of everything else. Needless to say, I can't be objective about this episode. The acting was strong and the Miles story line was good, but those aspects couldn't make up for such a frustrating episode. For all these reasons it will probably always be my least favorite Next Class episode, period.

2.) #BootyCall: In my opinion, this wasn't a great series or season premiere. It did an okay job reintroducing the characters to viewers who hadn't watched TNG or the recent seasons prior to the show's cancellation, but the tone always detracts from the episode for me. I can't explain it. I know Next Class is considered the weakest Degrassi show, but even beyond that something didn't translate well. it felt like a hard reset and not in the best way. In terms of writing things I didn't love, this was the beginning of Tristan's frequent biphobia that the writers never seemed to find problematic. Zig's suddenly bad at guitar. It's almost funny now.

3.) #SorryNotSorry: Hunter is literally an attempted school shooter who made an actual hit list involving multiple main characters, some of which were his own friends and a girl he'd already emotionally tortured for weeks. Somehow, the entire episode ends with Hunter crying prettily into the camera and being embraced by Miles. I understand Degrassi aims to make us empathize with all the characters and wants us to understand why they do what they do regardless of whether or not we like them. But at the same time, I'm so sick of sympathetic school shooter narratives. This is a perfect example of one thing I hate about later Degrassi. Hunter gets away with all of this rather than be held accountable. The school never knew Hunter actually had a gun and he returns to the school the next year like it's nothing. He's allowed to form another group with the friends he sent rape threats with the previous year as though nothing happened. Maya doesn't even get a proper apology from Hunter, and she helps that trashy group multiple times! I know I'm focusing a lot of the aftermath, but this was the beginning of that shift. Otherwise, Frankie starts dating Jonah and Zig keeps doing the "maybe he actually understands he was trash for cheating on Maya, maybe he doesn't" dance. I just feel terrible for Maya in all this.

Next Class season 2 (I'll have to do the rest of these from memory because I recently rewatched season 1 but have yet to get to seasons 2-4):

1.) #ToMyFutureSelf: I don't think I thought this episode was bad. I think it was just kind of underwhelming? Small things bugged me, but the plots weren't terrible. Lola was insufferable in this one. Five minutes after being educated about institutionalized racism, she lectures and shames Shay for considering sending an apology letter for taking part in the protest. Even Tiny understood. It's just one reason I'll never be a fan of this friendship. I barely feel like Shay and Lola like or respect each other. This was also the awkward plot where Maya had a thing for Peter of all people and was rubbing up against him on stage. Gross. Craig and Sav were right there and presumably single. Definitely one of the cruelest things the writers ever did to Maya.

2.) #TheseAreMyConfessions: I don't even know who Grace is during this episode. For some reason, she really wants to go on a summer road trip with Zig and is trying to become his girlfriend without having a proper conversation with either Maya or Zig about it, telling both of them things like "I think Zig's ready to move on" with it being clear that Maya assumes it will be with Esme because she actually knows him while Zig is told Maya's cool with a Zig/Grace coupling when she has no idea any of this shit is happening. I still remember watching this episode for the first time at like 5:00 AM over a stream from Australia because they were randomly airing this season first with my jaw dropped in disbelief. Grace finally got an A plot after all the bullshit and confusion and that's what she was given.

3.) #SquadGoals: Mostly, I just like the other episodes from this season better. I think it was a better season premiere than #BootyCall, but the plots mostly didn't keep me engaged. The aftermath of Zaya's breakup with Zig showing up at Maya's window was bittersweet knowing things between them were still pretty thoroughly broken and that there was zero chance of anything improving without time and distance away from each other. Otherwise, it's a pretty Hollingsworth heavy episode. I hate Hunter, and I cared less and less about Frankie with time. The Triles moment was sweet, though.

Next Class season 3:

1.) #HugeIfTrue: The thing about season 3 is that all of the episodes are good, so there aren't very many writing complaints from me. That might change when I rewatch the season. But out of all ten episodes, I liked this one least. I know it's a fan favorite, but I didn't love any of the story lines. I don't care about the gamers' dick sizes. Frankie and Jonah were never a compelling couple. The Shay/Tiny friction needed and deserved more screen time so that it could be understood where both were coming from. Shay at times didn't accept all of Tiny and it was unclear when that changed for her or if she was projecting due to her own insecurities about sex. Poor Tiny was mostly a peripheral character despite the fact he had loads of potential. And finally, I just don't like Mola. I've never felt the magic or been impressed by Miles's fourth consecutive romance with the only person that understands him. I do love that this is a bottle episode, though. It was well written and executed. It's just not a favorite of mine.

2.) #ThatFeelingWhen: Again, this is a good episode. I just like it less than most of the other season 3 episodes. I still don't like Miles and Lola together, so their part of the episode makes me cringe. But otherwise, Zoe and Rasha getting together was sweet, I liked Frankie beginning to realize relationships bring out the worst in her and (massive unpopular opinion) I was glad to see Tristan finally wake up.

3.) #PicsOrItDidntHappen: I keep repeating myself, but this was another good episode. Maya's plot was fantastic. I liked the other two plots slightly less. Miles was unnecessarily a dick to Rasha and seriously cast himself in a play that had only three parts. I'm never getting over that. I don't love watching Frankie and Jonah story lines. I'm really stretching to find reasons.

Next Class season 4:

1.) #ILookLikeA: I feel bad when I shit on episodes with really strong Miles plots just because the others are mostly terrible or forgettable in some way. Again, I will never like or care about Hunter. I'm not interested in his reaction to Yael's gender identity journey. I was also indifferent to Goldi and Winston hooking up. Otherwise, Miles's plot was great. I just wish the writers had bothered to touch on Tristan's biphobia because the opportunity was RIGHT THERE to resolve it.

2.) #GetMoney: I feel like the first half of season 4 is slightly weaker than the second half. This is still a good episode. But no plots jump out at me as being great. Saad's is probably the best one, but it's mostly set up for stuff that happens later in the season. Shay's story line didn't grab me as much as I wanted it to, but maybe that will change when I rewatch season 4.

3.) #GetYouAManWhoCanDoBoth: There's nothing wrong with this episode. It's just kind of average considering 405-407 and 409 and 410 are some of Next Class's strongest episodes. I actually like Tristan's story line, but I'll always be disappointed this was all we got of his recovery. His character was put in a coma almost entirely in service of Miles's plot. So as a result, whatever development he has is kind of relegated to this one episode because the writers gave him nothing else. The subplots are pretty good. The Lola/Saad stuff was mostly setup while the aftermath of Shay and Tiny's first time is mostly just there to give Richard Walters an excuse to dance. So, I can't complain.

[cmishwrites]

FO4 Fan Fic pt 3

Some things: ~ Again this went long. There will be a pt 4. SorryNOTsorry. Tumblr wouldn't let me post the whole final chunk. ~ You can find pt 1 here and pt 2 here if you want to catch up with what is going on. ~ I could do a full series just on this background stuff XD but I swear this is just setting things up. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy. Again there's eye and brain bleach if you need it.

Warnings: inferred sexual abuse, drug abuse and torture.

Mojave Wasteland, spring, 2277. The year the Lone Wanderer crept from vault 101 in the Capitol Wasteland.

Hazy, screams, heat, stench of death. Calisto ran, her feet hurting, probably bleeding. Her head was stuffy, things were jerking in and out of focus. What had Gremlin given her? Right before he wanted her to preform another one of those things on him. She stumbled, hitting her head on something. Red smeared the rocks in front of her, and she was running again. Gunfire behind her. Were they firing at her? She tripped and slid face first down a steep incline that opened up beneath her feet. How long she slid she wasn't sure, but she pushed to her feet and stumbled on. There were things in the desert. Things she was afraid of. But they wouldn't want her to do things to them, no, they'd just eat her. People on the other hand… She tripped again, hitting her knees hard enough to jolt her through the chem haze. She hurt. In places she didn't know she had. She shook, hearing the screams fading behind her, and tried to look around, get her bearings. Firelight in the distance. And beside it, standing tall and facing her, shiny metal. Power armor. She squinted, wiping at her face. Grandpa? No, Grandpa was dead, and he never wore his power armor. It was broken, a pile of scrap in a corner. But there, standing beside the fire, turned in her direction was a suit of armor. She pushed to her feet, the haze trying to descend again, her vision going blurry, dotted, as she stumbled towards the campfire. The world seemed to jerk sideways and she was falling, then nothing. ~*~

The old scribe tromped over to the unmoving figure at the edge of the firelight. He rolled it over staring down. A kid? He lifted her up carefully carrying her over to his sleeping bag. She was bruised and bloodied. Her clothes ragged and torn, hair matted. He pulled out his medic bag shuffling through it. In the distance he could hear gunfire, fading off to the west. He secured a final bandage and pulled the thin blanket over the unconscious kid's thin frame. A ranger from the NCR had warned him the other day that they were targeting raiders peddling kids from the east. He wondered if this kid had been one of those taken. He sensed a story untold. He sat near the sleeping bag staring at the fire. There was a man, Doc Mitchell, who came from a vault and lived in a town that wasn't too far away. He'd take the kid there, see if the man could help her. If she woke up, maybe he would be able to get her story from her, find out how it was she came to stumble into his camp in the middle of the night. ~*~

It was early afternoon before he reached Doc Mitchell's house, up on a hill overlooking the small town of Goodsprings. The kid hadn't stirred during the walk, luckily he hadn't encountered any geckos or the other things wandering in the Mojave. Probably the first time he'd been able to go so far without having to put down some crazed critter. Doc Mitchell's eyebrows arched high when he opened the door. He motioned the old scribe in, led him to a room in the back. "What happened to this one?" The Doc asked as the old scribe carefully laid the kid on one of the medical beds. "Not sure. She stumbled into my camp late last night. Heard some gunfire in the distance." The Doc nodded and did a quick look over. "You bandaged her up good." He carefully removed one of the bandages on her arm. "I've had lots of practice." The doc looked at him before nodding. "I reckon you have." He straightened. "You're welcome to take the guest room, if you're going to wait this out." "I wouldn't just dump her and run." The scribe sniffed. "Besides I want to know her story." The Doc chuckled. "I reckon you would." "I'll pay," "No, no." The doc waved him off as he set up his medical supplies. He went over to the wash basin. "You just go rest, don't worry about payin." The scribe frowned under his helmet, standing for a moment at the door. He watched as the Doc washed his hands and glanced his way. "Go on, Storyteller, I'll let you know how this goes." He shooed him off, closing the door to the surgery behind him. The Storyteller, a nickname he gained after sharing tales he'd learned through his travels, muttered a curse under his breath before tromping into the large living area. ~*~

He'd dozed off, leaning against a wall as he waited. Years of wearing his power armor had given him lots of practice. When people couldn't see your face, they couldn't tell you were napping standing up. "I've done what I can for her." Doc Mitchel was saying as he sank onto the couch. He held a bottle of purified water in his hand and motioned another sitting on the table. "I don't know that she'll ever wake up." The storyteller sighed. "It's just a waiting game then." "Yep. If'n she does wake up, she'll have an interestin story to tell." The Doc grinned at him. "There's a side room you can stay in while you wait." "How much," "I told you not to worry about payin." The Doc lifted a paper. "But if you can run down to the general store, give this to Chet, I'd be much obliged." The Storyteller took the paper glancing at it. He was glad his expression was hidden. He was now an errand boy. ~*~

She was comfortable. Sore, but comfortable. She stared up at the strange fan spinning slowly overhead and blinked several times. Where was she? Memories, disjointed, and strange. Running, falling, gunfire, and armor blended with jerky hazy moments she pushed out of her mind. She wasn't going to think about those things. She slowly pushed herself up, aware of bandages covering her arms and hands. She was on a bed, in a dim room that oddly smelled clean. Her face felt odd, numb but itchy. She reached up, tentatively touching her cheek. Another bandage? "You're awake!" A male voice said. She tensed, turning towards the speaker, heart pounding in her ears. An older, balding gentlemen with light almost friendly eyes sat in a chair next to her bed. "How are you feeling?" "Where am I?" her voice was raspy and the older man handed her a can of purified water. She held it with both bands, trembling as she sipped at it. "You must be parched. Yer in Goodsprings. I'm Doc Mitchell. An old friend of mine brought you here." "Power armor." She whispered. She remembered the power armor standing in firelight. The Doc nodded. "He never leaves his power armor, least not that I've ever seen. Now, where you from, hun? He said you stumbled into his camp before passing out." She blinked, sipping at the water again, trying to form an answer. "East." She frowned, trying to remember the name of the little settlement she thought of as home. "I don't remember the name of the town." "East, huh?" He peered at her. "What's your name girl?" "Calisto." She hesitated. "Everyone calls me Cal." "Cal, nice to meet you Cal. How far east?" She frowned dredging up old overheard conversations. "North of the Commonwealth."

~*~ Tumblr doesn't like how long this went so the next bit will be up shortly. Hope y'all enjoy.

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Writing Notes Part Two!

Writing the fight scene in chapter 26 and how it kinda almost killed me! Warning, this post is VERY long and I am going to get music nerdy. Skip if you aren't interested! I won't be insulted.

I listened to Miserlou for three days straight. Not even remotely kidding. That does something to your brain and I found myself driving recklessly to work! I put myself in check, but yikes for real.

I write early in the morning due to insomnia, so I try to reserve the evening for family and reading. I literally was listening to that song at 5:30 AM. I will get back to Miserlou in a bit.

I always write to music and if the music I am listening to doesn't work for the scene I end up scrapping a lot of it. Sometimes I like a tune, but the lyrics don't work or vice versa. Hence, I would never use the song Father Figure for this fic... because, gross.

ANYWAY. So I knew early on that I wanted to play with the idea of Bard Hunter. I touched on it very slightly in my Stranger Things AU and there are some call backs here, but I won't say what in case you haven't read it yet.

The idea of the Golden Guard impersonator snuck up on me. I felt the story was missing something, but I didn't know what until I was writing a scene and it was like. Oh. That.

So what better chance to test the concept of how Hunter would approach combat using Bard magic than to protect Willow (and their child) and friends against someone who is literally using his former persona to threaten those he loves. We've established that he wants to be as far away from his former life as possible, so between the false scouts, and seeing the Golden Guard Uniform with the artificial staff replica-- something that triggered him in the past -- fighting in a method that called back to that time would not work. He needed momentum. Confidence. Harpy Hunter has been done well. I wanted to try something different.

I wanted to write him a way to subvert expectations and fight back in a way that explored his creativity. I have mentioned in the past that the Rickenbacker Fire Glo 360 is a nod to the one my father had but never played. It's such a badass looking instrument.

So next, I obviously needed a song. And I needed a song that I could somehow describe being played as a fight was happening. I went through a lot of songs and genres. Master of Puppets is an obvious choice, because at this point it's pretty iconic as a battle song and it's got a killer riff. That said, it's been done, and much better than I could describe in writing. I tried. It wasn't good.

The lyrics actually were a big reason why it didn't work. I LOVE Master of Puppets, but I doubt Hunter would use a song that's so -- Belos-y in its lyrics? They would likely be more triggering than anything else. So I scrapped that.

I also love Enter Sandman, but the rhythm wasn't giving me what I wanted. Rush was a big contender. Free Will was one I really considered. Tom Sawyer was the perfect song to use lyric wise for the title track. I tried to write a fight to both of those songs, but as good as they are, they were too slow in parts and I couldn't imagine how the magic would work while listening.

Punk was beginning to feel closer to what I needed, but again lyrics were getting in they way -- so I realized the song Hunter would need to play had to be an instrumental. So I added that to the lore. Lyrics = intent. If you add them to what you play, it affects how the magic works.

I went back to metal at least one time, and got that whole Iron Man quip in, which was definitely self indulgence. Sorrynotsorry. But I realized the song was very heavy and the opening felt round, and gray. I needed something razor sharp and frenetic. Something bright yellow with shards of red. Something that felt like you were being hit by a million blades at once while you listened to it.

And then Misirlou came up on my iTunes feed and I was like --OH! I mention in the chapter that I very loosely based how Hunter used Bard magic in combat to how Viktor Hargreeves used his violin to channel his power over sound waves in Season 1 . I also wanted to make sure it felt inline with the canon powers he had gained from the magic of Flapjack in FTF. So I decided that it would need to be based on kinetic energy.

In order to stay in control of this particular form of Bard magic Hunter would need to stay in motion throughout the entire "fight". From here the energy needed to ebb and flow, first drawing the sound waves down into the guitar and then outward in tiny blades of magic.

I did a lot of research into Dick Dale and his style of "surfing music." I wanted to write something where the reader felt like the were in constant motion. Dick Dale's style is influenced by drums. Each note he played on guitar was supposed to be sharp and distinct from the other. He wanted the listener to feel the sensation of surfing. The low, the rise of the wave into the crest, and then the crash -- all of which gave me some really good inspiration for when Hunter would draw the sound waves down into the guitar and shape them to strike.

Of course this worked until he was hit off guard by the thing that scared him most. The thought of hurting the people he loves.

There is a reason Tarantino opened Pulp Fiction with Miserlou. It gets your blood pumping. I believe it was supposed to make you think of bullets. Here, I called back to the sound of a buzzing swarm of bees -- like the picture in Willow's scrapbook of their summer.

That said, I wanted the fight to be something that the Emerald Trio took part in together. I do want to write some more mini flashbacks to Raine teaching Hunter Bard magic.

I was happy with the result. It was a ton of fun to write. Now the question is am I going to be able to write the follow up chapter before I leave on my trip tomorrow.

If you made it this far into my rant, thank you!

Check out the link below to learn more about Dick Dale.

[keichanz]

thank you all so much for your kind words and support, my dear friends. i'm doing alright. to be honest, i'm actually more irritated than upset to have lost my job, because the means in which it happened is absolute fucking bullshit.

i'll give a watered down version of what happened if anyone is curious. also if anyone is curious, i gave a bit of a life update, too.

warning: this is gonna be long lmao #sorrynotsorry

basically a few weeks ago i got sick and couldn't work, so i requested a leave of absence. it was approved for two weeks, from the dates 1/31/24 to 2/14/24. my work computer would be locked during that range, so i would be unable to sign in and work.

during that time frame, i had been receiving emails from my work that required me to complete a task confirming that i would be returning to work on the 15th. those emails were delivered to my spam folder, and i wasn't even aware i was supposed to be getting any emails, so i never even thought to check there.

on the 15th, when i went to sign into my computer, i discovered that my computer was still locked. during the last week, my supervisor had been off of work as well because he was also sick, so all of my calls and texts to him were unanswered. also wanna mention i didn't know he was off because i wasn't told. anything.

so basically, nobody told me shit, i didn't complete the required task because i didn't know i had to, my work was like "welp we didn't get this from you so we're taking it that you don't want to return to work, so you're terminated" and there you have it. i lost my job because of their fuck up and in turn they're saying it's my fault.

pretty fucked up, yeah?

but anyway. i honestly can't say that i'm terribly upset. i'd grown to hate the job. it was too overwhelming, and i've learned that i just cannot handle a call center job. i've known this for a while now so for the past few months i've been applying everywhere for a job where it'll still be an office environment because that's what i have the most experience in, but being on the phone constantly isn't a requirement. remote and onsite jobs because i can't afford to be picky.

and some good news, i have an interview friday morning :) it's actually a remote hybrid position, at least that's what the ad said, so i can definitely work with that. might be good to get out of my house every once i a while. working from home has turned me into a bit of a hermit lmao.

now on to the life update. it's been...difficult. my new year did not start off very well. literally on new years day, at about 8 am, i was woken up to the unpleasant sounds of a cat throwing up a hairball. fellow cat owners, i'm sure you all know the sound. so i got up to make sure he was okay and that he got it out of his system. instead what i found was a trail of phlegm and romeo struggling. then he darted off to another part of my house, and i followed after him, worried.

i'm gonna give a little warning just to be safe: the next part mentions blood.

i will never forget the sight that greeted me when i found him and over a month later the image still haunts me. romeo's front was covered in blood, with the stuff literally pouring from his mouth and i fucking screamed and i SPRINTED to my bedroom to get my phone to call the emergency vet. i made an appointment to bring him in, and when i went to check on romeo again, he was in the same spot, however he'd managed to pass a fucking massive hairball. he seemed to be breathing okay and didn't seem to be in any pain, so not knowing what to do, i called my mom and i was sobbing as i tried to explain what happened. she and my sister (who's now living with my parents temporarily but that's another story) ended up coming over to make sure i was okay because when i tell you i was hysterical when i called her, i mean it. i was barely coherent and crying so hard she couldn't understand me.

while i waited for them to arrive, my boyfriend (who i was in a sleep call with and i woke his ass up) kept me calm until they got here. i love that man seriously.

ashley looked romeo over since she'd worked with cats before when she worked for the ASPCA and told he's going to be okay. they managed to calm me down and convinced me not to go to the emergency vet in the city as it'd be a $200 fee. my mom called my local vet, left a message (as they were closed because of the holiday) and we waited for a call back. romeo was still doing okay and i cleaned him up the best i could. guys the amount of blood was...concerning. like seriously i was terrified to see him like that, i seriously thought something was wrong. god it was awful and i'm pretty damn sure i have some kind of PTSD from it. christ.

when the emergency vet called back, she said that romeo is going to be okay and the blood is probably just because the hairball was larger than normal and it aggravated his esophagus. said to just keep an eye on him, try to get him to eat something easily digestable, and if he's still vomiting, to call back and get him in today via emergency services.

so now, moving on. obviously afterward i made an appointment for him at my local vet, and it was discovered there that Romeo had a large matted hairball in his stomach. the vet had no idea how long it had been there, but it definitely needed to be removed, so he was scheduled for surgery. his surgery was about a month ago, and he's recovering very well. i'm beginning to wonder if that hairball had been the culprit of him constantly throwing up because now he's acting like his usual self of having the zoomies and he's throwing up less hairballs. so he's doing much better and i'm grateful, tho i'm still keeping a very close on him because fuck i NEVER want to go through that again. damn cat's gonna give me an ulcer with how much stress he put me through.

but wait, there's more lmao. not cat related, but something i've also been dealing with that i thought had been resolved last fucking YEAR. so, last year - actually around this time in february - i received a notice from the IRS that i owed over $3000 to them because my 2021 tax return did not match what is in federal data bases. and i was like uuuhh what. i had my dad look it over because im dumb when it comes to this sort of thing, and it was discovered that my social security number was used to claim unemployment benefits for the year 2021 in fucking CALIFORNIA. it's unclear if someone in the unemployment services in CA fucked up and typed in somebody's social wrong and used mine instead, or if someone in CA is deliberately using my SSN, but in either case, it's being used to claim UI. so i had to contact the unemployment services in CA which is called employment development department (i'll be calling it EDD) and guys lemme tell they are fucking IMPOSSIBLE to get a hold of. they are so understaffed that if someone is unavailable to take your call the automated system goes "sorry no one is available" and it just disconnects. so i had to call so many times to get myself into the damned queue, and even then the wait is nearly 30 minutes.

so i finally managed to get a human being, i explained everything to him, and he was able to confirm that yeah, i see the claim, you obviously don't live in california, and he told me to submit a fraud report stating that i don't live in ca, i have never lived in ca, i have no attachment to the workforce in ca, ect ect. i so submitted it, and then that was that and i thought that was the end of it and i didn't get anything else from the IRS for the rest of the year.

it was not.

the only reason i realized that this issue had NOT been resolved was because when i went to check the status of my federal tax return because GIMME MY DAMN MONEY I NEED IT, i got a message saying my refund had been "applied to overdue tax obligations" and i was like HELL NO so i called the IRS and yep they confirmed it was because of that stupid fucking unemployment bullshit and after yet again explaining everything that happened, they instructed me to call the EDD and ask for them to send me a corrected 1099 G form so i can in turn send it over to them then after that fill out an identify theft affidavit. so yet again, i called the EDD five million fucking times, managed to get in the queue, waited an ungodly amount of time to talk to a human, only to be told that lol sorry they can't prove that the claim isn't fraud just from what i told them so they can't send me a 1099 G form. im like?? BITCH I DON'T EVEN LIVE IN CALIFORNIA I NEVER HAVE YOU LITERALLY HAVE MY SSN CAN'T YOU LOOK THIS SHIT UP??? but nope they don't have proof so i was told i need to file an appeal on the "disqualification on the claim" (whatever tf that means) and submit ANOTHER fraud report.

so i did both of those things, then filled out the 14039 form (identity theft affidavit) and now i have to wait until march 4th to see if it was accepted and if i'll be getting my refund. which i desperately need because lol i haven't paid my rent this month :')) whoops.

moving on. since about last may, my kitchen has been getting renovated. so currently i do not have a kitchen. i don't have an oven, a kitchen sink, or even storage. well i kinda have storage because my cabinets were recently put up, but i can't use them all yet. i havent really been able to go grocery shopping and i've been living on microwavable meals and a LOT of takeout courtesy of doordash. it sucks because i MISS my kitchen, i wanna cook meals and actually fucking CLEAN MY HOUSE, but i can't. my dad has been amazing since he's the one doing it, and i'm forever grateful to him. my kitchen is about i'd say...maybe 80% finished. we're working on putting in the new flooring right now, so after that, i'll have my stove and sink again. it's nearly there!! i'll post pictures of the before and after is anyone is curious. so yeah i haven't had a kitchen for like almost a whole year lmao. it's been tough :'))

SO.

there you have it, folks. what i've been dealing with for the past month and a half. it has been stressful AF and please god i just need a break uuugghhh. but anyway, i applied for unemployment and waiting to see if i'll be getting anything from them as i continue my job search. hoping the interview friday goes well. i'll post an update if anyone is curious enough i suppose.

.....so i didn't mean for this to get so long lol thanks for sticking around to read the entire thing if you did. i'm glad some of my followers still care ❤️

i love you all and thanks for supporting me after all these years. grateful to have you guys and call you my friends.

anyway i'm gonna go play some DayZ and kill some zombies.

peace!

welp

lost my job lol

[ssironstrange]

Hawks of Nephthys pt. 3

I thought this was going to be the final part but i was wrong lmao sorry there will be one more after this.

(read part 2)

tagging: @im-trying-to-be-oky

     “There’s going to be a small ceremony held for the technique Christine and I came up with,” Stephen licked his lips, actually nervous for the first time in years. “I’d like you to come… as my date.”

     Tony waved a hand and the holographic screens were pushed away. It was obvious he was trying not to smile.

     “Are you sure? What happened to being afraid of it tarnishing your reputation?”

     “I don’t need reputation. My work speaks for itself. Besides, it’s no skin off my back if someone would rather have less capable hands operate on them just because I’m dating a man.”

     Tony rolled his chair away from the desk, stood and walked around it to meet Stephen where he stood fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.

     “Well it’s about damn time. I hate keeping secrets, you know.”

     “I know,” Stephen smiled with soft fondness. “And please—leave the armor here.”

     “Party pooper.”

     “Another time.”

     “Fine. I’m holding you to that. You’re gonna have a date with Iron Man one of these days. At that nice Italian place we like. Full armor. Might not even take the mask off.”

     Stephen couldn’t roll his eyes hard enough, yet he laughed anyway.

     Stephen opened a portal right beside where Steve stood in one of the compound’s many conference rooms.

     No one seemed particularly surprised.

     Except for Peter Quill who was still live on their view screen and apparently scrambled to get Gamora’s attention about it.

     “You found his ship? Him?”

     “We believe so. Picked up an old signal on the frequencies common to Earth.” Gamora responded, her tone carefully guarded. “Doctor, if it is him, the chances that he is still alive—”

     “Are infinitesimal, I know.”

     Silence and tension fell upon them like an itchy woolen blanket.

     Nebula broke through the quiet after a few long minutes.

     “We’re here.”

     None of them, not even Drax who rarely sported emotion, could keep their expressions impassive. One by one their faces fell.

     They didn’t have to say it.

     It was his ship.

     Stephen was gone from the compound and aboard the Benatar within seconds.

     Tony Stark limped out of a C-17 with his arm in a sling and Rhodes delicately supporting his every move. Somehow, Tony still managed to stand tall and confident. He was too thin, his hair was too long, he needed to shave, and needed to sleep for about two weeks straight.

     But he was alive.

     At his side, Pepper squeezed his hand while holding back tears as Tony approached the two of them on the runway. He took a look around at the Air Force personnel, sniffed, then let his attention fall to Pepper.

     “Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?”

     “Tears of joy,” She said through a bright smile. “I hate job hunting.”

     “Yeah, well,” Tired eyes landed on Stephen and his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Vacation’s over.”

     With his good hand, Tony grabbed Stephen’s as he walked past and towards the car and held it like he’d never let it go again.

     The docking clamps attached with a dull thud.

     “Stephen, the ship is dead. Not even the backup life support systems are active. Are you sure about this?” Gamora laid a hand on his arm. Her concern was touching.

     “I am,” He patted her hand, his own trembling more than usual. “I need to know.”

     Rocket chimed in. “Knowin’ is one thing, doc. You don’t gotta go and hurt yourself like that.”

     “I am Groot.”

     “See?”

     Despite the circumstances, Stephen let a fragile smile through. “I appreciate the concern, and I don’t expect any of you to understand. But this is something I have to do.”

     Magic cloaked his body in safety against the harsh elements of the dead ship.

     Stephen walked through the short terminal, opened the hatch door with a single gesture, and stepped inside.

     Too focused on the patient file that promised to bolster an already impressive record, Stephen didn’t see the tail light until it was too late.

     The car spun off the edge of the cliff, rolled and flipped multiple times on the way down, and landed nose down in chilly waters.

     Stephen opened one eye that wasn’t swollen shut fourteen hours later to Christine and Tony talking quietly and his hands in fixators.

     The deep and painful inhale and the spike in his heart rate alerted them to his consciousness. Tony’s eyes were red with heavy bags beneath them, and Christine could barely look at him.

     “What… did they do?” He croaked out, throat dry and lips swollen.

     “Take it easy, baby,” Tony placed a gentle hand on his thigh and fresh tears threatened to fall.

     “It—it took Tony a while to find you…” Christine’s voice shook.

    “What did they do?” His snarl was weak, but still enough to make both of them wince.

     Neither of them could look at him while Christine donned her best professional tone.

     “Eleven stainless steel pins in the bones, multiple torn ligaments, severe nerve damage in both hands.”

     “Oh, God…”

     “Stephen, honey, you were on the table for eleven hours. No one could have done better.”

     He swallowed the sandpaper in his throat and turned his head as much as he could to look directly at Tony.

     “I could have done better.”

     It was the truth and they all knew it.

     Christine excused herself and Tony squeezed his thigh tenderly.

     “Baby, I promise I’ll find a way to fix this.”

     Stephen drained every penny to his name on experimental treatments, more surgeries, and multiple therapies. Tony devoted his entire R&D department to it.

     Neither of them were successful.

     Neither of them stopped trying.

     No atmosphere control.

     No artificial gravity.

     No temperature regulation.

     There was very little difference between the inside of the ship and the vacuum of space outside. It was eerie and quiet enough that his own heartbeat seemed deafening. A simple spell was cast for a ball of light and it hovered over him as he walked, illuminated the darkness in a soft bluish glow. Anything that hadn’t been strapped down floated motionless until he pushed it from his path. Stephen knew there was no use actually searching the ship. There was only one logical place to look.

     Stephen headed for the cockpit.

     Stephen lost count of how many times they had done this now. It seemed inevitable they would attend the same galas, charity events, science and technology conventions, or award ceremonies. He watched Tony grow into his new CEO role under the guidance of Stane, a man who rubbed him in all the wrong ways. Stephen watched him evolve a mask for the media and public and delighted when it was taken off just for him.

    They would disappear to storage closets, bathrooms, and empty offices at first. Eventually, Stephen started going home with him, started staying the night.

     He looked over to Tony’s sleeping face beside him and felt a smile tug at his lips. Manhattan’s night time glow fell upon him through the huge windows of his penthouse suite—one he had been frequenting more often than his actual home in Malibu. He was soft like this, all his burdens and stress and sorrows suspended for a few blessed hours. The tension had long ago drained from his every atom, Stephen more than happy to take and take and take until Tony was spent. His hair was a mess, lips parted slightly for deep and slow breaths, face half smashed into the pillow he hugged, and his neck and shoulders covered in Stephen’s claim. No matter how many times he saw Tony Stark raw and vulnerable like this, it made his stomach flutter and heart forget a beat or two.

     “I think I love you,” Stephen whispered and finally closed his eyes to drift to sleep with a warmth inside his heart.

     Never had silence been so deafening as it was for him then. It was not like other silences which were, rather, lack of one dominant sound yet still enough small noises to fill the void. No, this was a true, total and complete silence. His blood rushed in his ears, his heart beat so loud he was sure the Guardians could hear it on their ship, and his every breath came in like the angry wind before a storm. It was disorientating to hear the basic workings of your own body, and just one of the many reasons Stephen liked to avoid actual space.

     He rounded the doorway, telling himself he was ready while knowing he wasn’t.

     The light from the orb increased, slowly pushing darkness back into the emptiness of space.

     Stephen’s chest tightened, the weight of his sorrow crushing so hard he was almost positive it would collapse into the black hole it felt like. Strapped in one of the pilot’s seats, Tony Stark sat motionless, suspended in time.

     Space was, at least, merciful in death.

     Cold numbness ate Stephen away at his very core. He didn’t even feel himself take reluctant steps closer.

     Tony was pale, his lips and fingertips tinged with blue and eyes shut. His head leaned to the side, pillowed by the chair’s headrest. Too skinny, even with the subtle swell of what little water had been left in his body trying to escape before it froze. He looked so peaceful, Stephen could almost pretend he was simply asleep.

     Almost.

     Cradled beneath his arm was the damaged remains of his helmet; the source of the distress call if he had to guess. Inside, a faint red light glowed on and off. Odd that Tony wouldn’t have shut it down once he knew the inevitable. Carefully, Stephen worked it out of the frozen grip of his would-be husband, his entire self functioning on autopilot to the point he barely knew if he was still in his physical body. A bit of magic was given to the nanite helmet, warming it just enough for its circuitry to function without the risk of failing under such extreme cold. The eyes flickered a few times, stayed on, then projected into the empty space of the cockpit.

[onewomancitadel]

Hey, your fanfiction/oneshots are amazing! I’m constantly rereading them because they’re so good lol. i mean, if you want another prompt, here’s one that’s been circling my head recently. Cinder plays videogames for the first time with Jaune. (I’m just saying, she does seem competitive. ;) Imagine how competitive she’ll be playing video games)

Nooo omg thank you T_T sorry I am such a baby about my fanfic, I take it far too seriously. I think sometimes I get sad I don't get many comments but I appreciate people just reading my fic at all, and I think I'm a bit stressed at the moment with uni and I'm projecting it everywhere else. You’re very kind and thank you for your message. I hope you enjoy the fic I ended up writing.

So, er, I took your prompt, didn't know how to write it, then remembered the obsesssion I've had with competitive Super Smash Bros. Melee for a good decade and a bit, and decided to put that to use. Sorrynotsorry. Not intending to represent or portray IRL people who compete, because that would be weird, I just love Melee lol.

I remember there was this extremely popular e-sports Over/watch fic in a fandom I was in, complete juggernaut, and for a long time I’ve always been like wow wish somebody wrote a MELEE fic, why doesn’t someone write a MELEE FIC so that person is me, I’m the one who has to do it. I have also always wished the vagaries of the comp scene were represented properly XDDD

So for some context:

Stock – like a life, you play with four stocks in tournament. Four stocking is beating somebody without losing a life, or dying. Puff is a slightly controversial character, and for a couple of years a very popular player dominated with her (contrary to popular belief Fox is the best and only good character in Melee). I don’t know if there’s anything else to clear up, because the rest is window dressing. Oh, CRTs are those old televisions which are really heavy, but they have no input lag so at in-person events they’re used. I reference some vague type of pandemic cuz it works for the setup of Crimson (OOH WHO IS THAT I WONDER), but just pretend it was Salem’s fault and everything is better now.

Fic title: The strange and intricate dating rituals of the nerd

Tags: author is a loser, author is a nerd, identity porn, finding excuses to make my dollies kiss, otherwise no content warnings. Vague modern AU set in Remnant, around 4,000 words (like a 10 or 20 minute read), oneshot, of course this is Cinder/Jaune, it goes without saying.

Fic summary for this would be:

Completely stupid, nonsensical Melee fan writes a fanfic, using the setting as window-dressing for her two favourite characters to kiss. The elusive Crimson challenges Juniper, or rather, Pyrrha, to a moneymatch.

“Is that legal?” Ren asked. “You can’t have a person as a prize, right?”

“I’m not moneymatching them. It’s alright.” Then Pyrrha looked at her notifications. She had so many Jaune wondered if her phone were hot to the touch. “It must be a joke!” Pyrrha tried.

Fic begins under the cut. This isn’t going on AO3 lol. Hope you enjoy it iressent, I think this fic appeals to only us two.

“How do you even make money off video games?” said Nora. She was dabbing at ketchup on her chin, oddly reminiscent of Weiss.

“I think you stream?” Ren offered.

“Well, yeah, that’s what you do now,” Jaune said. “But like, tournament winnings can sometimes be enough, or at least they used to be, with sponsorships, but yeah, I guess you have to stream now or whatever. I don’t really care though.”

Not like he was ever going to tell his parents he wanted to play Melee for a living. That was never going to happen.

“I think it doesn’t matter if you make money or not, Jaune. I’m sure we’ll both have fun anyway,” Pyrrha said. “This is the biggest tournament in Vale. There’s people coming all over. We might even make friends.”

“What are you gonna do with your tournament winnings, Pyrrha?” said Nora. Pyrrha giggled and shook her head.

“Don’t jinx it, Nora.”

“We’ll come cheer for you both anyway.” Nora and Ren shared a look. They didn’t play, but Jaune and Pyrrha both did, and Pyrrha wasn’t embarrassed about it the way Jaune was. It was like, video games. Taken seriously.

But it was just a weekend tournament, so it was alright. Online was good now, but nothing compared to it in person. Well, maybe not carrying all those heavy CRTs.

“Besides, it’s the first tournament that Crimson’s attending,” Pyrrha said. “Though I think they spelt it with a zero?”

“A zero and an underscore,” Jaune added.

“Very… creative. Though I suppose their Twitter is also… very…”

“Ooh? Gossip?” said Nora. “Show me their Twitter!”

Crimson was not exactly the most popular figure. They had only attended online tournaments, and nobody knew yet how those results compared to in-person tournaments. Rollback was good, but it wasn’t 1:1. Crimson also had made themselves somewhat of an outspoken figure.

“Crimson isn’t Pyrrha’s biggest fan,” Jaune said. Pyrrha was probably the best of them. Easily the best. She’d had tournament wins in Atlas, when Jaune and Pyrrha had accompanied Weiss for that one awful trip home, and as soon as it had been over they’d funnelled Weiss back with them, and then there wins back in Argus, her hometown. Jaune played doubles with her, and he was good support, but he hadn’t won a tournament before.

“I play a character which makes some people upset,” Pyrrha said.

CRIMS0N_ @-crims0n

Anybody who plays puff is cheap lol

errant tim @Hamburgerhelper69

just say you’re jealous of juniper and go

CRIMS0N_ @-crims0n

Sure jealous of that chick who stalls. I’ll moneymatch her idc

querantian @querantrrrrrrrrr

like she’ll moneymatch u,u only play online,even then u only play fox. fox is broken,andu abuse waveshine

CRIMS0N_ @-crims0n

I use Falco sometimes and at least waveshine actually takes effort

Nora looked up from her phone where Pyrrha had linked Crimson’s account. Jaune had never seen Nora look so put off, confused, but also close to losing it.

“Does Crimson just argue with people online all day? And a moneymatch?”

“Pyrrha’s not moneymatching Crimson. That would be a match… for money,” Jaune added.

“About that,” Pyrrha said, and nervously laughed.

A new Tweet had come in just then:

CRIMS0N_ @crims0n

@JNPRoz moneymatch, you win i never use fox again, i win i get your doubles partner jaune

Jaune had been sipping his drink when he read that and choked on it. Ren thumped him on the back.

“Is that legal?” Ren asked. “You can’t have a person as a prize, right?”

“I’m not moneymatching them. It’s alright.” Then Pyrrha looked at her notifications. She had so many Jaune wondered if her phone were hot to the touch. “It must be a joke!” Pyrrha tried.

“Yeah, I don’t know why they’d want me. I’m not even good,” he said, and laughed. “They must just be messing with you.”

Of course, that was when Crimson said they were resolutely not messing around. Pyrrha turned her phone up for Jaune to read it.

“I think you should do it,” he said.

“But you can’t be a human prize.”

“They might not even really mean it. Maybe they just want people to be hyped. Or controversy. All press is good press?”

Crimson’s Twitter was really a testament to that.

“I mean, Vale’s best player versus Mistral’s newcomer who everybody thinks is kind of a troll, it would be cool,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha was considering it. He could see. He felt like the devil on her shoulder. Of course, he could see all the ongoing drama on her phone, but he loathed to check his. They were a good doubles team, but he wasn’t that good, and he didn’t know why Crimson had decided to troll Pyrrha like this. Other than the fact people speculated Jaune and Pyrrha were dating.

Of course, in that case, he would’ve thought Crimson would want Pyrrha, whoever they were. Jaune wasn’t a catch.

It was good drama, anyway. He watched Pyrrha start to type a Twat.

Juniper | Oz @-JNPRoz

I’ll do it. If it’s legal.

-

CRTs really were way too heavy. Like, he understood they had no input lag, but sometimes he missed playing online, because on weekends he could roll out of bed for a tournament with no fuss. Then again, since in-person events had returned, he realised he missed being around people too. He made idle chatter and helped avert a disaster with getting one of the televisions up a narrow staircase to the playing hall.

They had hired out an event centre in the middle of the city, which meant carrying televisions that far for the tournament was one thing, but there was also expensive parking. He and Pyrrha had driven in with their equipment, and now she’d gone to find somewhere cheaper to park.

“Mr. Muscles over here!” Cardin thumped Jaune on the back. Jaune scoffed.

“Yeah, I’m no Mr. Muscles, there are four CRTs at the bottom of the stairs you could help with.”

“Oh, no, I can’t, I’m interviewing people for my channel. Pre-event stuff.”

Jaune noticed the camera guy beside him. Dove? Lark? Jaune couldn’t remember his name. He put his hands on his hips and said, “Well, for documentation purposes, Cardin hasn’t helped bring in a single CRT—”

“And that’s Pyrrha’s doubles partner, everybody!” Cardin cut in and stood in front of him.

“You can just edit me out later anyway.”

“I’m not great at editing,” said the camera guy. “And Cardin doesn’t pay me.”

“You get exposure,” said Cardin.

Jaune didn’t miss people anymore. It had lasted for about ten minutes. It was the height of summer, and the hall was already starting to stink up with heat. Unfortunately, he also knew Cardin didn’t wear deodorant. He could also smell the absence of it, his pungent body odour like the opposite of a pheromone. Maybe it was for the best Cardin wasn’t helping.

Jaune rolled his eyes. He hoped Cardin would go away, but instead he found a new victim lurking by the backdoor entryway.

“Well, hello there!”

Jaune followed him. There was a girl standing by the doorway, too nicely dressed for a Melee event, her black hair wavy and thick. She wore an eyepatch over her right eye, and she was, in want of a better word, maybe something more specific to capture her, beautiful.

He immediately felt pity for her. Cardin was bad enough around him.

“Cardin, can you go annoy somebody else? Or make yourself useful?” he said from behind Cardin, but Cardin ignored him.

“And who might you be? Are you someone’s girlfriend? Did you get lost?”

“He doesn’t represent us,” Jaune said to her. “I mean that literally, I don’t think anybody watches his videos. Cardin, go away.”

Jaune slipped past her to go fetch more of the CRTs. When he did, she felt hot, hotter than summer. He was not, in Cardin’s words, here ‘to pick up chicks’. He was here to win. Well, watch Pyrrha win. These events were about the game. Plus it was the one time he didn’t feel like a complete loser.

What he was also here doing was picking up CRTs. Not a date. Which he was currently struggling with. He was about to start crying for help, until the girl appeared again and took the other end wordlessly. They lifted it up at once, and went up the stairs, her first.

“You’ve got it?” she said.

“Yeah, I’m good, just minding the stairs.” They went carefully, because if it dropped, it would be a complete nightmare. “Cardin leave you alone?” he puffed out.

“You should watch his video when he uploads it.”

They made it to the top and navigated their way to where it was supposed to go for the pools. Jaune laughed. “I don’t think even Cardin’s mom watches his videos.”

She made a pitying noise. “Aw, but he works so hard. What with paying his friends so well.”’

He couldn’t help laughing again.

Jaune let the others setting up take over and went back to grab the next one. Only a few left.

She was funny. He didn’t feel so bad about having to carry the televisions in the heat, now. The event hall was starting to fill up with people trickling in the front, probably hoping to play exhibition matches before the event proper started. Jaune had got up way too early for this day. At least it hadn’t been so hot then.

“So you’re here for the tournament?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, and smiled, like she had a secret. He tried really hard not to check her out. He was here for the game. But she had a curvy waist, and a sundress on like she had just walked in from a spring picnic, not a sweltering summer day. She was lovely, in that type of way he wasn’t used to: a pair of glittering earrings on, a smear of lip-gloss, slightly flushed cheeks, the floral print of her dress matching her eye, a dusty blue to complement the oddly sweet, fiery orange.

“Well, good luck. But most of all have fun,” he said. “I just like being around everybody here. Not that I’m any good at the game! Well, I’m no tournament winner.” Then he awkwardly laughed and ran his hand through his hair.

He expected her to turn and go, but she tilted her head at him. “Aren’t you Juniper’s doubles partner? You won the Atlas tournament before everything went online, and before that, all of Vale’s.”

“Well, yeah, but that was mostly Pyrrha,” he said. “I don’t place as well in singles.”

“But you did. You came second in Atlas.”

“I don’t think they’re that great over in Atlas, to tell you the truth. Metagame is so different here. But with online I think they’re getting better.”

“Yes, online,” she said. “You don’t think it’s corrupting the game?”

“If you can’t carry a heavy CRT, can you really call yourself a Melee player?”

She seemed to like that. Her smile was pretty. It was sort of mean, and almost a smirk, but it was pretty. “I can’t imagine Cardin would like that. But you and I managed well enough with them. Let’s say we take the rest?”

Jaune liked the sound of that. Tournaments were cool, but nobody liked the set-up, or the expensive food, or the hotel prices. Or Cardin interviewing people for his shitty channel. Or, for that matter, Cardin swindling them out of a dinner fare. It was nice to think about being near everybody again, but it was all about the game.

Of course, Jaune was a fucking idiot and had a crush now.

“I didn’t get your name,” he said. “I feel like if I drop a television on you, I should at least know your name.”

“Cinder,” she said. “You’re Jaune.”

“Just Jaune,” he said and shrugged.

-

Jaune played pools, since the transition back from online events meant they wanted everybody to qualify again, previous wins or no. His Marth was pretty good, and it’s not like he had picked Marth to start with because he was the pretty swordsman— he liked the way he played— but it’s not like it had nothing to do with it. Marth felt smoother to him than Fox, but even the vanguard of Foxes, Crimson, seemed to have a thing for defending him and the matchup.

He found it kind of obtusely funny.

The tournament went on and he mostly focussed on the sets, ignoring Cardin between games and keeping to himself. He didn’t end up talking to anybody much, and he progressed through the Losers' bracket after one loss to a slippy Fox. He had the poor luck of facing Cardin, who threw his controller when he lost, and refused to fist-bump at the end of the match.

Jaune’s fist remained in the air just for a second or two longer than he should have. He went to the next match. By the time Jaune tuned in, the Winners’ Bracket final was taking place. Whoever won this he would face next.

It was Crimson versus Juniper.

And it was Cinder, the girl with whom he’d spoken earlier. She was lazily stretching in her chair, ignoring Pyrrha talking to her, until she blankly nodded at whatever she had said. Cinder was Crimson. Crimson, who thought Pyrrha was cheap, and spent too much time on Twitter, the Mistrali troll, who entirely been anonymous until Cinder had flounced in wearing a sundress and lip-gloss and helped him carry the stupidly heavy CRTs.

He had to hide his laugh, because nobody else would understand. Crimson, who wanted to win him in a moneymatch.

Which meant either she had an interest in him, or she really, really wanted to mess with Pyrrha. It was probably the latter. It had to be the latter. That must have been why she was coy and sweet with him, and fluffed up his Smash skills. He was glad he hadn’t preened before her. He didn’t fall for that type of sweet talk. But she was pretty, and funny, and he had liked talking to her when he had been hot and annoyed.

It’s not like he and Pyrrha were dating anyway, though. Crimson wasn’t going to manipulate or upset Pyrrha the way she thought she could. They were good friends, sure, but it’s not like Pyrrha had feelings for him or anything, and it’s not like Jaune was her doubles partner to worm his way into dating her. They liked playing together.

And Crimson had taken messing with Pyrrha too far.

He sat down in the audience to watch the match. He didn’t know what he expected. Crimson went Fox, Juniper went Puff, and then it was match, set and ready. The commentators were annoying and kept going on about Crimson’s playstyle, which was so aggressive they couldn’t keep up with her movement, and then they were bringing up how surprising it was she managed at all to be good offline, and then they brought up the moneymatch. Everybody knew about the moneymatch.

“Like, it’s obviously to fuck with Juniper,” said one of the commentators.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah but like, is it even allowed?”

“I think it’s just to— whoa, Crimson just suicided, did she do that just to avoid Juniper taking a stock? Oh man— yeah I think it’s allowed in the spirit of him playing doubles with her but does Juniper even have a back-up? She could probably play doubles by herself—”

“Just her going whomp on everybody—”

“Uh, did Juniper just lose?”

“I think she did, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Pyrrha did lose. It was close. Their last set, Crimson had nearly four-stocked Pyrrha— she didn’t die, not once, and then on Pyrrha’s last stock she suicided. Three times. So they were even.

“Wow, that is so unsportsmanlike,” said the second commentator. She was really, sincerely, trying to mess with Pyrrha. Jaune didn’t have any doubts then. When Crimson won, nobody even cheered, but there was a lot of yelling. Crimson, or Cinder, he supposed, fist-bumped Pyrrha, and looked happy, despite all the drama.

It was good drama, he gave her that.

“So wait, is Finals— wait is the Grand Finals Jaune against Crimson? Juniper’s knocked out? That’s it?”

“Holy shit. Jaune? He came second in Atlas, right? In singles? But Crimson just beat Vale’s best player. This is crazy, man. Is the moneymatch after this?”

“I don’t wanna be the guy taking bets on that.”

Jaune now had Vale’s hopes pinned on him, and the fan-favourite was out. He put his head in his hands. Before he could grow too maudlin, he decided he would catch Crimson. He pushed past sweaty fans and navigated through throngs of people complaining about Pyrrha’s loss, and ignored the ones who tried to talk to him, as he searched for that head of black hair and pretty, tight waist. The troll from Mistral.

“Hey, whoa, hey,” he called ahead to her, both of them now in the quiet hallway out from the main hall. There was a place for drinks nearby, which was where she was probably heading.

“Good matches?” she asked, as if she had not just won hers.

“Cardin had a tantrum when he lost. What about you, though?” he said, barely containing the confusing swell of interest and annoyance he felt. “I hear you beat Juniper, Crimson.”

She crossed her arms, and then kept walking. She didn’t go for the drinks, but instead there was a small, rickety door which opened out to an unstable set of stairs into an alleyway. He could hear the sounds of the city, and felt the heat not having let up yet, only just getting started. She went down and he followed her.

“You are not doing the moneymatch! Or at least change the terms!” he burst out.

“But it’s funny,” she said.

“Okay, sure, it’s funny, but Pyrrha and I are real people, not circus entertainment. You could’ve at least just made it about money and not winning me. People would’ve still enjoyed it, if that’s what you wanted.”

She was watching him, bored. “I don’t want money.”

“I know you want to embarrass Pyrrha, but we’re not dating, and I’m pretty sure everybody on Twitter is now convinced we’re dating. Pyrrha only took the moneymatch because of my persuasion, but this is out of hand,” he said. “Especially because— I talked to you for a bit before— I knew who you were. You were…”

But she was confused now, and her one-eyed gaze was hard. “What? I was what?”

He said, kind of pathetically and kind of miserably, “You were nice. I always thought Crimson was funny, and they always defended Marth, and I wondered if Crimson were really that mean. And then I met you, and you were pretty, and it was so hot carrying in all of those TV’s, and you made me laugh. And then I find out you were just probably talking to me like that because you were messing with Pyrrha, with your weird one-sided rivalry. Pyrrha doesn’t even think Crimson is a bad person!”

Cinder was quiet, her mouth pouted. “You think I’m pretty?”

“That’s not the takeaway I wanted there!”

She laughed, but it was short. “I thought it would spice things up a little. It’s just talking smack. And I think you’re cute, anyway.”

“No, you don’t,” he snapped. “You’re messing with Pyrrha.”

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t go that far. I just wanted people to see you were a good player, and somebody wanted you. I could have just asked for her as a doubles partner instead.”

“I’m not that good.” Now he was blushing. Why did she make him blush? It wasn’t fair. It was already so hot. The wind blew, and it didn’t cool him down at all, but he caught the smell of her perfume: bright, like violets, without being too sharp.

“I like the way you play. It’s understated, yet elegant. I played for a long time before I turned up on the scene, and it takes a longer than people think to get good. But you just play. And you play well. You always seem like you have fun,” she said. Then she shrugged one shoulder, coy.

“I never wanted to use the tournaments to hook up with someone, you know. That was like, my one rule going in, not to be a loser who immediately hits on the nearest girl.”

“If it makes you feel better, I did it first. If challenging Juniper for you in a moneymatch counts.”

It was sort of horrible, but he laughed anyway. “Like what, you’re some sort of knight fighting for my hand?”

“In a video game,” she said, and then he couldn’t help laughing again, and he watched her sweet little laugh too. She talked smack online and could be kind of mean for no reason at all, but he liked her. Then she added, “And besides. Pyrrha needs somebody around to challenge her.”

“Pyrrha just wants to play the game, too, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “But would people have anything to talk about if I weren’t causing trouble? Besides, I don’t think Pyrrha likes the fame much.”

“Being Internet famous was not her idea of a good time, no.”

“So why don’t we put on a show for her,” said Cinder. “And tell her she played well. She didn’t even camp once.”

Jaune shook his head. “Do you actually not like Pyrrha?”

“She’s something different. The only problem for a long time is that nobody had practice against her, because nobody else played Puff. But now we do. So who knows.”

Their matches were good. Jaune wanted to make Pyrrha happy more than anything, and in the end, he had fun. Cinder won. It was close.

When he fist-bumped her, her smile was that same half-smirk, but she seemed delighted. Cardin came over to interview her for her win, and said, “So Crimson’s a chick! Can you confirm, are you trying to steal Jaune from Juniper?”

“Yes,” she said, which must have been to fuck with him.

Cardin hooted, “Moneymatch! Moneymatch! Moneymatch!” but Jaune wanted to tell him Cinder probably already had won him, moneymatch or no.

Pyrrha came over to him and said, “I think you played very well, Jaune. I know you had a lot of pressure riding on that.”

“It’s okay, at least it wasn’t on you. By the way, about that moneymatch… Crimson, or, well, Cinder, said she wants to change the terms. If you win, she won’t say any stupid stuff on Twitter for a whole month, and if she wins, you have to give yourself a break for a week.”

Pyrrha scrutinised him. “What did you do?”

“I did a little investigation work. And, well, I met her before I figured out she was Crimson.” Jaune rolled up his controller and went to make his way out for the post-game talks.

“I thought your rule was no hitting on girls at tournaments?”

“She started it,” he said.

“She did, didn’t she?” Then she laughed. “Wait, she wasn’t trying to be horrible to me? She was just…”

“Extremely awkwardly and weirdly trying to ask me out, yes.”

“That’s bizarre.”

“I know,” he said, dreamy. He had been checking Cinder out when he shouldn’t have, though, so they were even. He didn’t say that part aloud.

By the time it had grown dark, he searched for Cinder. “We need to pack up and go,” he said to her, “but do you need a lift to your hotel or something?”

“It’s not far from here,” she said.

“Do you want me to walk you back?”

She tilted her head at him. “Don’t you think it’s a bad look, going back to the hotel room of your doubles partner’s virtual enemy?”

“What, because you talked shit online or because people will think we’re sleeping together?”

“Oh, think we’re sleeping together,” and then she smiled meanly.

“Depends how long you’re in Vale for.”

Cinder was, in fact, in Vale for longer than the tournament. They were able to catch Cardin’s video uploaded together, which didn’t have any cuts and ran for twenty minutes.

Cinder hummed to herself. “You looked exceptionally handsome carrying all of those heavy TVs. I’m sure that’s gender regressive of me.”

“Yeah, but you helped, so I think it’s alright.”

They got to the part where Cardin was buzzing Cinder, and she was in an argument with the camera guy about the moneymatch and Pyrrha definitely winning, before Cinder said, “I intend to fuck him, if you really want to know. Not play doubles with him,” and then Cardin had gasped and told his editor to cut the profanity, which he had failed to do so.

Jaune tried to be subtle, but where his hand was on Cinder’s waist was not so, he knew. “I didn’t know that.”

“I came to the conclusion once I got there at the tournament, in case you’re worried.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, it was the same for me.” He hid his laugh into her smooth shoulder, then he kissed her, and up her neck, to kiss her on her full mouth.

-

CRIMS0N_ @-crims0n

sorry I talked so much smack at you @JNPRoz that was a fun moneymatch. promise I wont say anything mean even tho you lost lol. enjoy your break

Seagull @seagul2222

Its ‘you’re’

Juniper | Oz @-JNPRoz

Thanks Crimson. It was fun! I look forward to you coming to Vale again, though I think Jaune might too… I’ll beat you next time! <3 (: