#trump's second term is going to be so fucking insane i can feel it

[feminariden]

Just woke and apparently Trump just defended Russia, posted Assadist propaganda and attacked Netanyahu on his "trvth" social media what year is this

[cow-tag]

Holding the universe in his arms/////Fuck it we ball jonatello fusion fic real

literally so fucking exausted i might not even continue idfk but i needed to get it off my google docs so i can continue or smthn idfk but here yall go enjoy

The crystal glowed with an eerie light, illuminating the room and reflecting off Donnie’s goggles. They carefully chipped a piece off and held it under a microscope, watching the colors swirl and change. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before, and it certainly wasn’t recorded in human history. ‘Makes sense’ they thought, huffing to themself lightly. ‘I found it on a crashed Kraang ship, so it’s probably some sort of alien material.’ 

The object glowed and almost pulsed. It was mesmerizing, one could fall asleep if they stared at it for too long. But Donnie wasn’t going to sleep. Not just yet. 

Now, Donnie should have expected what happened next. It’s rare they get a moment of peace with their family. But, surprisingly, the person that tumbled into their lab with a laugh and a shout was not an orange and green blur. Donnie looked over at the absence of orange for a split second, but immediately turned back when they saw the intruder. Of course he would bother them at this exact moment. 

“Heeeyyy, Stickmaster!! What’s that shiny rock ya got there?” 

Arnold Casey Bernid Jones Junior. The way Donatello got his full legal name is not important. What is important is the fact that he is their greatest rival. In love, in snarky remarks, in machinery, you name it. Except intelligence. They trump him on that topic. But either way, he has no reason to be here, and Donatello had no reason to put up with him. 

“Nothing you need to know about Puckhead, now get out of my lab before I lose a foot up your ass.” Donatello doesn’t move from their spot examining the crystal, not even when they hear a chuckle and a soft “Hot.” come out of Casey. He’s been doing that lately. He’s been.. Flirting. More so than normal. Which in and of itself is a feat, considering the walking pansexual disaster flirts with almost everyone he meets. No, the flirting is not strange. It’s that he’s been flirting with Donatello. An insane thing to hear, Don was shocked the first time they heard any words of romantic affection come from his mouth. But, alas, this is true. It started out small, just little “damn!”s and wolf whistle coming from the human. But it’s been escalating more as of late. Patting their shoulder and giving them a sly smirk, random offhand comments about their attractiveness, a couple sexual innuendos thrown in with their regular banter. Donatello hated it. They hated it so much, they hated the way their face flushed when he got close, hated the way their stomach flipped when he smirked. It was ridiculous, unnecessary, horrible, but somehow the best feeling they’ve ever had. 

“Come on, I just wanna look! Just a little peek?” Casey whines, slumping over Donatello’s shoulder. He was close. Too close. They could feel the warmth emanating from his body, feel the unnaturally loud thrum of his heart, could feel his hot breath on their neck. He was too close. Far too close. They shrug him off the best they can, which resulted in him groaning and spinning their chair, and by proxy, them, to face him. He steps back and crosses his arms, a slight pout on his tan, freckled face. It shouldn’t have been endearing. “Listen, Shit-for-brains, I have work to do. I need to study this.” They turn back, hearing another loud groan come from their ally. 

“Doonniieeeeeee, you’ve been in here for days! That's the whole fukin’ reason I'm in here, Leo told me to come and get ya before she came in to whoop your sorry ass into bed.” Donnie scoffed, of course that was why he was here. Their sister. He would never come in here on his own terms. 

[a small part of Donnie deflated at that last thought. They smack that part of themself upside the head, and focus on ignoring his presence.]

“Well, you can tell her that I am just fine staying where I am. I have been keeping up with my hygiene, and have been eating and drinking properly. There is no reason I should need to leave.” Casey barks out a laugh, pushing Donnie’s tools across the table to lean in front of them. “‘You can tell her that I am just fine staying where I am’” Casey mocks them with a high, nasally voice, adopting a smug, reserved look as he does so. “Bull! When was the last time you went out and ate?” He then yells, reverting back to his regular, loud voice. Donnie shrinks back just a titch at the volume, before scoffing and crossing their arms. “This morning.” They say, pushing the goggles up on their forehead. 

Casey raises an eyebrow. “And what was the date of this, ‘this morning’?” he says, eyeing them suspiciously. Donnie pauses. 

“April 3rd.” 

There's a moment of silence before Casey bursts out laughing again. “April 3rd?!? Dude, it’s the fifth today!” Donnie jumps back at that, rushing to their laptop to check the human’s facts. He was right. HE WAS RIGHT?! Donnie had been cooped up in their lab for two whole days?! They swear it hadn’t been that long! But the universe was against them in this. And apparently was hellbent on making it worse, because Casey then grabbed the crystal. “So, on account of this new realization you have just had,” He said, holding the glowing thing above his head in a ceremonial way, “I am going to confiscate this until further notice.” 

Donnie stood up and shouted, lunging for the crystal. He somehow managed to swerve away from them, laughing and jumping around. “Casey! I don’t know if it’s safe to touch! It could be unstable!” They moved to grab it again, but he was too quick. How was he too quick?! “I dunno don, seems pretty safe to me.” He runs the crystal from the middle of his thigh to the side of his collarbone, smirking the whole time. It pushes up the side of his hoodie for just a moment, putting his hip and lower waist on full display. Casey wasn’t likely to be seen without layers of black clothing, and Donnie was surprised to catch a glimpse of freckled skin before the hoodie fell back down. Apparently Donnie was Immensely tired, because not only was Casey faster than them, that last little trick he pulled was effective in slowing them down even further. They curse themself for being so easily flustered. 

Casey laughed at Donnie’s state, hopping back and forth around them. Crystal in hand, he was literally running circles around them. Donnie continued to try and fail to grab the crystal from him, resulting in the pair entering a sort of dance. Casey came close, Donnie lunged, Casey dodged and barked out a laugh. The crystal seemed to grow brighter in Casey’s grip everytime the two made some sort of contact, illuminating his face in an ethereal way. This was not helping Donnie’s case at all. At some point Casey started dancing around the mutant, his laugh filling the room with joy. Donnie hated it. He came close, grabbed their hand. The crystal grew impossibly bright. He let go, spinning around and around, dragging Donnie with him. Donnie was dizzy and annoyed. This was so ridiculous! He was messing with a potentially dangerous force, with no regard for his safety! And while this was no different than normal, it was endlessly infuriating. To top it off, Casey ended the spin with a dip, holding donnie in one arm and the crystal in the other. He held the crystal far away from Donnie, but the light still managed to reach his eyes. 

There was a moment, a still moment, where everything was calm. Where, for a moment, the light filtered through Casey’s fingers with an unearthly glow. Where, for a moment, Casey’s normally dark eyes seemed to hold an entire galaxy. Where his smile was as big as could be, missing teeth and all. Where his dimples indented his cheeks in a way that perfectly matched the splattering of freckles on his face. Where all the acne scars seemed like stars, light spots scattered across his face. Donnie saw themself in his eyes, along with the galaxy they held. Logically, they know it was just the reflection of light off their goggles. But, for a moment, it seemed as though they were peering into puddles of space. And, for a moment, Casey was just so impossibly beautiful that they could not stand to look at him anymore. 

Thankfully, the moment was ended by the pair being enveloped in white light, forcing them both to close their eyes. 

[With how observant they were, Donnie seemed to miss Casey’s flush as he dodged and weaved, seeming to miss how loud his heart was. They seemed to miss that Casey did not have a galaxy in his eyes, because he was looking at Donnie like they were his whole universe.]

[notaaronsroommate]

listen, I get it, I'm also vote cucked, i'm gonna vote for biden lesser evil yadda yadda. I know, I know. You need to understand, you're not talking down to podcast irony poisoned white bernie bros in 2016. The reason biden isn't going to get elected to a second term is because much of the democratic voter base in several important states are Muslims who came out for the guy in 2020 and then watched him vaporize their people overseas and be quite callous about it.

You can finger wag all you want about it to whiny socialists on twitter, but the Palestinians and Muslims and people who are upset about a genocide supported by the guy who ran on not doing things like that aren't going to respond to scolding. I keep hearing "trump will be worse for the situation in Gaza" and I simply don't see how, given that there's not anything a theoretical other president could be doing worse besides being mean about it on twitter. There's not any policy that would materially top whats happening now. Basic candor, admitting he's kind of dogshit in his role as president, but pointing out it's not strategically viable to replace him/ there's no way to make the party replace him would go a long way. I'm the moderate of the "I don't like this guy" faction here, I fully agree that voting is a free action you get and that there's no real merit to not doing so. Unless you embrace accelerationism (making things worse faster to collapse the system as a whole) there's not really any good reason not to vote for biden. But frankly, saying something like "appealing to moral feelings" as a pejorative is the sort of shit that lost the game in 2016. The lazy assumption that you deserve a win because the other guy is always worse leads you to utterly out of touch lines of thinking like that. Lesser evil voting requires some degree of mea culpa, lest it become effectively a hostage situation "you better vote for me or I'll let the other guy kill you fast instead of slow" Its insane. It is not a healthy democracy where one parties excesses are all excusable because the other is fascist. I'm going to vote for biden. But for fucks sake. for fucks sake.

There’s some common threads I see in the anti-voting posts going around, and I feel like I need to discuss some of them. Let’s start with the biggest one:

Voting to punish evil. I see lots of variations of this. Biden is supporting Israel, therefore we can’t vote for him. Is there any viable candidate who would stop the genocide? I don’t think the anti voting crowd actually cares. They are appealing to moral feelings rather than political strategy, because strategically, you have to realize that voting is not going to change foreign policy, and that change has to be pushed by other means. It’ll probably be something in the long haul.

Democrats should run someone else. First of all, this is a shit strategy. You don’t primary your president in the second term unless your party is falling apart. This may come from people from countries where replacing the head of government is easier, but the POTUS is the de facto party head. Also, going to the lack of thought to the goal — do you know someone willing to primary Biden and able to win who would do the things you want.

Biden hasn’t done anything anyway. This is just a way to bat away pro arguments. There’s plenty of lists of progress on lots of things. Student loans, insulin price caps, regulations, anti-trust.

Putting the entire Palestinian genocide on Biden. I’m not saying there’s not culpability there, but understand that the entire US government is in support of Israel, on both sides. It was a miracle we got a handful of Senators to call for investigations. We should cut off aid, absolutely. Who’s running to do that? And keep in mind that Israel chose to engage. US officials would have liked a more limited response, not out of care for Palestinians, but because they know from experience that it will come back to bite Israel in the form of newly radicalized Hamas recruits.

Liberals just have no hope for change. This is a new one. Just some idea that people are stuck in a rut and that’s the reason the two party system exists. The two party system is a mathematical consequence of the way we vote. There is reason to hope for change. The change, though, whatever means you choose, will take decades. Keep working at it. The hope is not that this election will fundamentally change things. The hope is that many small political actions over the years will push things forward.

Funnily enough, I haven’t seen a whole lot of third party promotion, just lots of this rhetoric aiming to punish. When voting, ask yourself:

Is this problem I have with this candidate something that the other candidate would be better on?

Are there other political actions I can take that will help?

What things can change with a different President or Congress, and what needs to be pursued by other means?

Withholding your vote as a punishment isn’t really going to help. Biden doesn’t know who you are or why you are not voting for him, and there is no one with a chance of winning that will do everything you want. But you have other means. Protest, organize, donate, build up alternatives, advocate for a different system.

Vote to give yourself space and get a little bit. Do other things to keep things moving.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

On a fundamental level I do not like abortion. I do not share identical sentiment on it too conservatives however and I'm aware where they disagree. However I see this shit all the time lately and it pisses me off.

First of all babies conceived from tape are RARE. And in the West itself rape itself is also rare. Does it happen? Yes. No one with a brain will deny that. But this shit right here is bullshit.

First of all, VERY FEW states have a full ban on abortion. I'm not aware at all that Vance has made statements saying he'd legislate a full ban either. Secondly he's not the person that world be signing laws into effect. And Trump had already said he's going to leave it up to states. But this is the type of rhetoric you get from racial feminism that I personally hate. Up until about the mid 2010s, it was pretty much generally agreed upon that on a fundamental level life started at conception. Doctors thought this, lawmakers thought this, religious leaders thought this, people generally agreed on that sentiment. However due to the rise of what became second wave and third wave feminism, we started having people say that life does not in fact start it conception it starts sometime after birth. But that would mean that the child growing inside you doesn't exist that it is a non-living blob with nothing there at all until it breaches the vagina.

And hey if that's the argument you want to make that's fine. You're allowed to be wrong. Because here's the thing Colorado allows abortions up until birth. And we've recently gotten reports that there are babies that are just kind of left to the side to die after fail abortions. And it drives me utterly insane that people can't keep their legs closed at all or be responsible and use every metric at your disposal to head off at the pass the potential of getting pregnant. What this means on a fundamental level is the fact that there are condoms there are female condoms there is spermicide there is birth control. There are a lot of things you can use to prevent getting pregnant if you are insistent on not having a child.

Once a human life Sparks at conception it is a human life. Because if that was never the consideration then you would not have laws that talk about double homicide in regards to pregnant women. The entire sentiment makes me angry. And rape is actually one of the few instances where I will disagree with conservatives. Because while I personally view it as a life I admittedly and torn on the prospect of a woman having to carry a rapist child to full term. Having said that however, the prospect of that happening is literally so low I have to ask questions.

But the post also makes an implication that Tim wants to feed people's kids and that's fundamentally not true the man has presented stolen valor that did not belong to him, because he chickened out before going to war. He was a weekend warrior on top of that. For those of you in the military you'll know what that means. He deployed to Italy of all places. He has outright lied about vance. He is a socialist of the worst kind. He let Minnesota burn during the 2020 riots. And he actually with help from his AG, struck down a provision that voided pedophilia as a sexuality that was protected.

In other words, his State considers pedophilia a sexuality and a protected class. Consider that. God this pisses me off so fucking much. The sheer level of arrogance with all of this. It's fucking wild. Stop making me have to rip these things to shreds. Conservatives can argue with me all they want and I don't care. I don't have strong feelings about abortion aside from just, "It's not a contraceptive. If you don't want kids don't have sex". That's about how I feel. Life has always started at conception. Get over it.

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that ��� not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?���

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[qqueenofhades]

I also feel like it's worth pointing out in a bit more detail just how bad-faith this decision was:

Creates, for the first time in US history, the category of "absolute presidential immunity" wherein If The President Says It's Official, It Must Be Legal, I Guess, which is terrifying for any number of reasons;

As noted by @carsonjonesfiance above, everyone knew that "the president can do whatever he wants and it's legal" was rightly rejected as batshit insane when Nixon (who looks like a kid selling ice cream cones next to Trump) said it; now the Heritage Foundation is making excellent progress on their "install a theocratic fascist dictator whose theocratic fascist dictatorship is legal because we say so" decades-long process of court capture;

The three liberals on the court, especially Sotomayor, wrote a scathing dissent warning that this makes a mockery of the constitutional republic and the principle that no one man is above the law (which, you might say, was the impetus for the founding of America in the first place, where King George III Just Saying So was not acceptable as a system of governance). They're also notably, and I suspect correctly, unconvinced that the vague "official/unofficial" distinction is ever going to amount to anything, because the SCOTUS conservatives will just fucking throw out anything they don't like and rewrite the laws as necessary.

In other words, as Sotomayor puts it, "this decision grants Trump all the immunity he asked for and then some." Because not only did SCOTUS make up this bullshit "the president can do whatever he wants actually!" fringe legal theory and enshrine it in American jurisprudence from now on, they didn't even bother to deal with the consequences of that decision. They made no attempt to sort out which of Trump's acts were "official"; they just kicked the can back to the circuit court and went "lol you figure it out, good luck." Let's note that SCOTUS can once more unilaterally torpedo whatever the lower courts come up with, so they might just be wasting their time to define "official" vs. "unofficial" acts anyway.

After SCOTUS swiftly took review of this case in December 2023, after the lower circuit had already issued an extremely comprehensive opinion refuting Trump's claim, they took as long as possible to deliver this terrible decision in the first week of July; even if it had been less terrible, there's still almost no chance that the legal wrangling would be over before the election. The wingnut SCOTUS doesn't care about anything except helping Trump remain viable through the election, if need be with blatant and unprecedented juridical interference.

This was deliberately made to shield Trump from the actions of his first term, and it will embolden him even more in his second term. SCOTUS has just given him a blank check to say anything that he goddamn well pleases in his career as a fascist dictator is actually legal; he can just designate it as an "official act," end of story. This is after SCOTUS has spent this entire term blatantly and shamelessly rewriting, tossing out, gutting, or otherwise ignoring DECADES of settled precedent in order to make it easier for the worst elements in American society to do whatever they please. This is what all that Heritage Foundation/Federalist Society/Harlan Crow dark money gets you. SCOTUS is functioning exactly as designed and it will not be stopped until it is stopped.

Hillary Clinton warned about literally all of this, repeatedly and in detail, in 2016. People laughed at her, scorned her off, called her every name in the book, and did not bother to vote for her. Trump won and stacked SCOTUS to the current result.

Aside from being an unaccountable fascist dictator in his (please God never to happen) second term, he will also stack the deck even further. Thomas and Alito will retire and be replaced by younger wingnuts, locking in this current ideological imbalance for the next 30 years. I would wager real money that there would be nothing of American democracy left if this happens.

The next president will have at least two SCOTUS picks. Two SCOTUS picks from Biden would flip the court 5-4 liberal and make the tiniest bit of progress actually possible again, arrest this slide into uncontrolled fascist theocracy, and put at least a few fucking guardrails back on this lunacy.

Biden is 81. Get over it. Biden has a stutter. Get the fuck over it. Biden isn't your personal perfect progressive pony candidate (while the left is now turning on former Online Leftist darlings Bernie Sanders and AOC as soon as they expressed any desire to work to make change with the system and didn't immediately burn it all down and make everything into Communist Paradise):

GET THE FUCK OVER IT.

Here are your next two clicks!

Hey y’all remember when Nixon said “it’s not illegal if the president does it.” And we all agreed that was insane and unconstitutional? Well what a difference a couple decades and lots and lots of dark money make

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 19- Everyone Loves A B-J…

Summary: It’s Frank’s birthday and the Adler-Gallagher clan enjoy a family based weekend that brings Frank several surprises along the way, whilst both him and Fliss get a gift that money simply can’t buy.

Warnings:  Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  LONG update here guys, and sorry, I really couldn’t resist the Trump bashing again. For what it’s worth, I cannot WAIT to write Frank’s reaction to that election when I finally get there. All together know “F**k Donal Trump!”

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 18

Well, you done done me, and you bet I felt it, I tried to be chill, but you're so hot that I melted. I fell right through the cracks, now I'm trying to get back.

Given that Alex's stay at his grandparents was a success, Fliss felt much happier about her planned surprise few nights away for Frank. She had already booked most of it in early January, having roped her parents, Mary and even Frank's colleagues into her plotting to ensure that the days she had selected- Thursday to Sunday over the second weekend in March- were booked as leave and factored into the rota at the shop without him knowing. Mary, being her usual googling genius self, helped Fliss to find the perfect place to stay in the area she had selected along with a number of activities and she’d booked the whole thing on her credit card so that Frank wouldn't see anything suspicious showing up on their bank statements. That said, despite all her secrecy, Frank could tell she was up to something. He knew her too well not to spot it. And being the impatient little shit he was, he tried everything he could to coax it out of her to no avail. She wasn't for cracking, and neither was Mary. All he kept getting told from both his girls was "wait for your birthday" which was driving him insane. He even tried to catch Fliss out mid sex one evening. He lay over her, languidly dragging his cock in and out of her at a torturously slow pace, promising her he'd let her come if she told him what she was up to. She'd simply panted out that he was an asshole and then looked up at him with those eyes, wide and bright, shining with love and as usual he'd caved. He never could resist when she looked at him like that and a few minutes later she was crying his name whilst Frank was still none the wiser as to what was actually going on. The morning of his birthday rolled around much the same as any other Saturday morning, except Mary had opted to stay home the night before instead of going to Roberta’s as they were going out for breakfast. The morning sun was warm on Frank's face as it spliced through a crack in the curtains, but that wasn't what had woken him. It was Fliss, kissing and nuzzling all around his shoulders and the back of his neck as she snuggled into him from behind, her hand snaking around his waist and dipping into his boxers.

He gave a croaky little groan as her hand wrapped around his semi-hard cock, lightly stroking him as she continued gently kissing his neck, the heat from her body radiating into his as she pressed her chest to his bare back. Frank turned his head so he was looking over his shoulder and she met him with a cheeky smirk which turned into a slow, gentle kiss, perfect for the lazy, slow strokes she was giving him.

"Happy birthday baby." She whispered, nudging his nose with hers.

“You can say that again.” He choked as her grip tightened around him.

“Happy birthday baby.” She chuckled and Frank rolled his eyes giving a huff of laughter but before he could reply Fliss had gently pushed on his shoulder, coaxing him over onto his back. She moved so she was hovering over him, kissed him again before her mouth made its way down his chest, nose and lips tracing a path down his happy trail and across his Adonis belt. With a soft moan of her name, Frank’s hand tangled in those soft, morning-tousled waves of bright, auburn hair he adored as she glanced up at him with her deep, brown eyes, the polka-dot bed covers peaked around her head. She gave another cheeky grin as her hands reached for the side of his boxers and he shifted his hips to allow her to pull them down. Her eyes locked on his she wrapped her hand round the base of his cock and gave a few further flicks of her wrist, causing him to sigh before she adjusted herself, pulled her hair over one shoulder and took him in her mouth. Frank moaned, totally blissing out as Fliss licked and sucked her way around his dick, the hand that wasn't in her hair fisted around the bed sheets as he felt his pleasure mounting the more she worked him. His hips bucked slight as she took him all the way to the back of her throat, a motion she repeated for 3 or 4 times until he was gone. With a hiss and a croak of her name Frank spilled himself down her throat, his fingers tightening around her hair as he sighed, laying back, eyes closed, chest heaving.

With a smirk Fliss pulled his boxers back up and crawled the length of his body, laying on top of him, her chest pressed to his. He smiled, his eyes still not opening as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close for a second, basking in what a fucking amazing wake-up call that had been, until the baby monitor on the nightstand suddenly emitted a loud gurgled screech signalling Alex was awake and sure enough, as they both turned to look at the screen they could see him attempting to roll over in his crib.

“It was a lot easier when he was right here.” Fliss pouted, her chin on Frank’s chest as she peeked up at him and Frank gave her a stern look.

“We’re not having that argument again, Liss.” He shook his head, “He’s 6 months old now. He can sleep in his own room.”

“I know, I know…” She sighed, pushing herself up away from Frank and climbing off the bed. He watched her go laying back on the pillow, giving a roll of his eyes at the ceiling. That had been one hell of heated discussion earlier in the week when he’d suggested it was time Alex moved into the nursery at night instead of just taking his daytime naps in there. Fliss had protested, shown him all this stuff on the internet about how it was better for kids to be in their parents rooms until they were 12 months old, which Frank and countered with articles to the contrary he had found and stated Mary had never slept in his room from the moment he’d had her. She’d gotten upset, teary, but he wasn’t caving in. He’d hated being so damned forceful with her but the fact was as much as he loved the kids he selfishly and unashamedly wanted his private space back, a space where they got to be alone with one another to allow them to be Fliss and Frank, not mom and dad. Plus he also knew the longer Alex stayed in their room the harder it was going to be to get him to settle in his own space. Eventually, after Fliss had realised this was one thing she wasn’t getting her own way with she’d given in, and spent most of the night tossing and turning, sniffing a little, and when he’d tried to cuddle her she’d told him to piss off. Frank had merely taken a deep breath and backed away, knowing full well that when she got up in the morning and saw that Alex was fine, she’d feel like an ass. And he’d been right. She’d been up at the crack of dawn, straight into the nursery and come back a few minutes later, sidling up to him and hugging him from behind whispering that she was sorry, and the entire thing had been forgotten.

A thud on the bed jolted Frank from his thoughts and he looked down to see Thor had hopped up on the foot of the bed and he flopped down, his head on the peak that Frank’s feet were making.

“Oh, it’s like that is it buddy?” he asked and the dog merely looked at him before giving a contented sigh, his tail thumping on the bed. Then his head perked up as the door to their room pushed open again and his tail grew even more frantic as Fliss entered with Alex in her arms. She placed him down on the duvet and climbed into bed again, both watching as their baby promptly rolled from his back onto his tummy, his head raising to look at Frank as he gave a loud gurgle, grinning up at his daddy.

Frank gave a huff of laughter as he sat up against the headboard and hooked his hands under Alex’s arm pits, standing him up on his thighs. Gently he moved his hand so the baby could grab onto his fingers and Alex stood, looking around the room as Frank helped him stay in place.

“Mum thinks he’ll be crawling soon.” Fliss smiled as she lay back, watching the two of them “I mean he’s already sitting up and bum shuffling on the floor so…”

“God help us…or more to the point God help Thor!” Frank snorted as Alex gave a loud shriek as he spotted the dog led on the bed. Thor once more thumped his tail but made no effort to move. At that point, Alex’s legs gave a little wobble and he plopped down onto the soft duvet, sitting up and grabbing at the pattern on the cover before he looked up, grinning once more at Frank.

“He’s always so happy.” Fliss beamed at the baby who waggled his arms excitedly as Frank once more helped him stand up.

“He does nothing but sleep, eat, drink and mess in his diaper.” Frank shrugged “What’s there to be miserable about?!” Fliss snorted as Frank cocked his head and studied his son. “His hair is definitely going darker.” He mused.

“I know.” Fliss smiled “I’m glad his eyes aren’t though.”

“Glad?” Frank turned to her. “How come?”

“Because they’re just like yours.”

Frank smiled as Fliss leaned over and kissed him softly. They spent a little more time in bed, watching Alex’s various attempts to shuffle over the top of the bed towards the german shepherd at the bottom, before they heard Mary’s door open. She headed into the bathroom first before she knocked on their door and when Frank told her to come in she dive bombed on the bed singing Happy Birthday and demanding that he get up to open his gifts.

It was only since being with Fliss that Frank had really had Birthday or Christmas presents to open since he had left Boston. Granted, Roberta had normally gotten him a little something from her and also Mary but now it was different. And not that he was materialistic but he loved the fact he felt a little spoilt. He sat on the couch and unwrapped each one in turn to reveal a couple of new shirts, a pair of sneakers and a framed photo of the four of them which had been taken by Bill at the last Competition Mary had been in. She was sat on Monty in her full show gear, rosette attached to the pony's bridle as Alex perched in front of her, held safely in place by Fliss's hands. Frank stood at the other side of the pony, his arm round Mary all of them beaming at the camera. "Thanks guys, I love it all." Frank looked up smiling, before he paused as Fliss handed him an envelope "More?"

She nodded from where she sat on the floor with Alex who was stood on shaky legs, hanging on to her fingers just as he’d done with his dad earlier. Frank looked at her suspiciously before he slipped his finger under the flap and tore it open. He pulled out the piece of paper, which was a flight itinerary and his eyes widened as he looked at the destination. "We're going to Vermont?" He looked at Fliss and she grinned, giving a nod. "3 nights, next Thursday to Sunday, just the 2 of us"  She informed him as Frank quickly scanned the details, his eyes flicking back to hers as he registered the fact they were going to be alone "Nice little cabin in the Moscow area of Stowe and I booked us a few things to do..." "Please tell me one of those things is the Ben and Jerry's tour!" Frank groaned as and Fliss gave a chuckle.

“Well you know what they say…” she looked at Frank whose eyes flicked back to the printed itinerary before they raised once more to hers, questioningly. She grinned and licked her lips “Everyone loves a BJ.”

Frank gave a snort, followed by a little sigh of delight looking back at the piece of paper in his hand, his eyes shining with happiness as he took it all in. “Lissy, this is amazing." He beamed "Thank you." "Wait..." Mary suddenly piped up "You're going to Ben and Jerry's?" "Yeah." Fliss nodded.

"So not fair." She rolled her eyes "I wanna go."

“Tough.” Frank shot back “It’s my birthday not yours.”

“Well can we go for my birthday?” Mary asked.

“No.”

“That’s so mean Frank.” She whined.

“Go call someone who cares.” He looked at her. She narrowed her eyes and then held her hand out.

“Give me your phone then.” She demanded and Fliss laughed.

“Yeah? And who you gonna call?” Frank eyed her “Ghostbusters?”

Marry grinned “Nope. Poppa Bill. He’ll kick your ass.”

“Oh please!” Frank snorted “I’m not scared of Bill.” He shrugged “I could take him down.”

Mary pondered for a second before she looked at him, a positively wicked smirk crossing her face “Fine, I’ll call Uncle Steeby then. I know you’re scared of him.”

“No I’m not.” Frank scoffed and Mary snorted

“Whatever Frank, you’re only lying to yourself.” She said, standing up “Imma go get dressed. When we going for breakfast?”

“Soon as we’re ready.” Fliss smiled and Mary skipped out of the room, humming something to herself, Fred and Thor both following her as she went.

“You’re a liar.” Fliss looked at Frank.

“What?” he asked, picking Alex up and settling him on his knee.

“Saying you’re not scared of Steeby.”

“I’m not.” Frank shook his head, before his face rearranged into a little smile “I’m petrified of him.”

****

Just over an hour or so later they were settled in a booth at Keke's Breakfast cafe on Gulfport. Mary announced loudly that she didn’t need to see the menu, telling their server that she wanted her favourite, the apple and cinnamon waffles with a side of bacon. Frank rolled his eyes at her hyper nature, a soft smile on his face as she chatted away to the teenager who entertained her ramblings with the patience of a saint whilst he and Fliss gave the menu a cursory glance before they too opted for their standard order. Frank took the large French toast combo with his eggs over easy as always, whereas Fliss chose the raspberry stuffed French toast. They also ordered a side of plain pancakes for Alex, the baby now at the stage of holding various food items in his little hand and gumming them half to death with his few teeth. It kept him quiet and entertained whilst they ate, even if more of it did end up round his face and in his hair than his mouth.

Their food didn’t take long, Frank filling the 15 minute or so wait gently teasing Mary about a boy she had mentioned from school, causing her to narrow her eyes at him, protesting that they were just friends. When Fliss then pointed out that was how her and Frank started off she paused, pulled a face and then informed them that their accusations were both baseless and gross, causing Frank to laugh and lean back in his seat, taking a large drink of his coffee.

Their food arrived and Fliss cut up the pancakes, handing a large piece of one to Alex as they all tucked in, eating with gusto, a happy silence falling over the table which Mary broke a few moments later.

“Can we grill tonight?” she asked, her mouthful of food. Frank looked at her, where she was sat on the bench opposite him, next to Fliss. He shook his head “What?” she asked.

“Seriously, it’s breakfast time and you’re asking about what we’re eating tonight?”

Mary shrugged “You need to be more organised, Frank.”

Fliss gave a snort as Frank looked from Mary to her “Seriously, I’m 39 getting sassed by a soon to be 10 year old.”

“39…” Fliss sniggered and Frank nudged her under the table with his foot.

“So can we or not?” Mary demanded.

“Jeeez.” Frank rolled his eyes, picking up his coffee “It’s my birthday, don’t I get a say in what we do?”

“I’ve actually booked us a table somewhere.” Fliss spoke, cutting across the argument. “Thought it might be nice for us all to go out.”

“Where?” Mary turned to her.

“1200 Chophouse.”

Frank let out a groan of delight at the same time Mary punched the air “Seriously?”

Fliss nodded “It was going to be a surprise. Mum, Dad, Steve, Sian and the kids are coming. Oh, and Roberta.” She turned to Mary “So when we get back you need to ride then bath Monty and load the wagon ready for tomorrow. The table is booked for 6:30 so we can feed Alex before we go. He should be happy enough in the chair.”

Mary nodded “Am I on the 1pm class?”

Fliss shook her head “No, I told Joanne to take you off. I’ll teach you later once the class is done ok?”

Mary grinned “I like it best when we do that.”

Fliss smiled at her and then turned to Alex who had enthusiastically banged his fist on the little plastic tray of the high-chair. “You ok baby?” he grinned at her then let out a loud shriek. “Ok, hang on…” She tore another pancake in half and then handed it to him where he shoved it in his mouth straight away. She watched him for a second then looked at Frank “He’s got your appetite.”

“He’s a growing boy.” Frank shrugged.

“What’s your excuse?” Fliss teased and Frank swallowed the last of his breakfast and leaned back against the bench, arm resting along the back of it as he drank his coffee.

“I burn a lot of energy.” He said after little deliberation, shooting her a wink.  

 About half an hour later they finished their breakfast and headed home, Mary and Fliss both changing into their riding gear and heading over to the yard for the afternoon. Fliss was apologising to Frank about not spending the full day with him but he chuckled, assuring her that he some peace and quiet and one-to-one time with his boy was celebration enough, earning him a soft nip on his arm in retaliation. He spent the afternoon in between making sure Alex was happy and settled enough flicking through trash TV, drinking beer and scouting the internet for a couple of boat parts some of which were needed and others, like a surround sound digital entertainment system complete with satellite TV, were not. Nevertheless, he marked the catalogue number down along with the stuff he actually did need so he could see how much cheaper it would be when he ran it all through the system at work.

At just gone 5 Fliss and Mary came back through the door, Thor hot on their heels, Fliss face bright red and Mary’s streaked with tears.

“What…” Frank stood up and Fliss held her hand up, telling him to stop. He did as he was told, observing with a frown as Mary kicked off her boots and gave a sniff.

“Fliss, I didn’t…”

“I’ve nothing more to say on the issue.” Fliss cut her off.

“But…”

“No buts Mary.” Fliss shook her head “What you said was really mean and I won’t tolerate it ok?”

“Kay…” She sniffed again.

“The horse world is full of nasty bitches.” Fliss looked at her. “I don’t want you becoming one. You know, you’ve done spectacularly well for your first ever season and now and you’ve pretty much just ruined it for yourself because frankly I’m not sure letting you go tomorrow is appropriate given your behaviour.”

“I’m sorry…please, Fliss. I can’t miss the last show!”

“Enough!” Fliss voice rose and Mary shut her mouth hastily. “No more. Now go get showered and changed, we’re late, we need to leave in an hour.” Fliss spoke with a finality to her voice which Mary clearly picked up on as she didn’t argue or plead anymore. Instead she simply wiped her face and headed through the room to the hall, eyes focussed on the floor as she walked. When she shut the door behind her to the hallway, Frank turned to Fliss, his expression puzzled.

“Ok, what’s going on?”

Fliss groaned, heading to the fridge “She was practicing over a few jumps and couldn’t quite get Monty to make the turn on the last one right, he kept tripping or knocking the pole down so she started to get frustrated. And it didn’t help that Sally was stood watching. Mary carried on getting really annoyed and distracted, and basically screamed at Sally saying that she was putting her off and then called her an asshole and told her to leave because no one on the yard liked her.”

Frank arched an eyebrow “She said that?” Fliss nodded and he groaned “Jesus.”

“And then Sally’s mother started.” Fliss sighed heavily, shutting the fridge door and cracking open the bottle of water she’d retrieved. “She was accusing Mary of being a spoilt brat and a spiteful little witch so then I ended up arguing with her, you know, pointing out that they’re kids and they say stuff, and that Sally is no angel as she has an acid tongue too…not that that excuses what Mary said.” She took a long drink of water “The upshot is her mother served her notice and they’re leaving next weekend.”

“So you lost clients?” Frank folded his arms, shaking his head in frustration, “Because of Mary’s mouth?”

“2 boarders.” Fliss shrugged “I’m not too bothered about that side of it, I have a waiting list so I can fill them straight away, I just don’t want Sandybrook getting a reputation, you know? Livery Yards can be horrible places and I work so hard to nip any bitching and bad feelings in the bud before they can spiral.”

“Did Mary apologise?”

“Oh yeah.” Fliss swallowed some more water. “I tore strips off her. As soon as she said it I told her to get straight off Monty, put him away and we were done. I made her apologise in front of everyone who’d been watching and then told her I’m not sure if I’m gonna take her tomorrow. I also told her if it wasn’t for the fact it was your birthday and we had no one to babysit, she wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight either.” She paused and bit the inside of her lip and looked at Frank “Was that too much? I mean…”

“No, absolutely not.” Frank shook his head “And besides, even if I thought it was harsh, which I don’t, I’d never undermine you anyway.”

 “Thing is Frank, I really want her to go tomorrow.” Fliss rolled her eyes, “She’s worked so hard and she’s not a bad kid. It feels such a shame to let all her hard work and practice go to waste.”

“Well you didn’t say she couldn’t go for sure, just that you were debating whether or not to allow it.”  Frank shrugged “So, let’s see how she goes tonight when we’re out. Then we can decide.”

Fliss nodded “Okay.” 

“Honey, don’t think on it.” Frank cocked his head to one side, the look on Fliss’ face betraying the internal conflict she was feeling “You did the right thing.”

“I know, I know but doesn’t stop me feeling shitty about it Frank.” Fliss sighed as Frank walked towards her “I hate having to tell her off. She’s a good kid most of the time and I know deep down she didn’t mean to be so cruel.”

“Well, we all say things at times we don’t mean. I’ve told her that a few times myself.” Frank smiled, wrapping his arms around Fliss.

“It was frustration more than anything.” Fliss melted into his arms and Frank gave a hum of agreement. “Frustration at not being perfect at something.” He said wisely “Monty isn’t an equation or a problem she can work out with maths or logic.” He shrugged “Maybe it will do her some good to learn a little humility.” He dropped a kiss to her head. “Now, no offence but you stink of horses and we have 50 minutes until we need to leave. Go grab your shower, I’ll feed Alex and then get ready. Won’t take me long.”

Fliss chuckled and pulled back, looking up at him, narrowing her eyes “You’re not wearing one of those shirts are you?”

“It’s my birthday.” Frank shrugged “Surely I can wear what I want?”

Fliss rolled her eyes “Whatever.”

“I thought you liked them?”

“They’re hideous”

“But endearing.”  He dropped another kiss to her lips “At least that’s what you say.”

She chuckled “I’m only teasing, I kinda like you in them.” She kissed him again and then pulled away, giving a little jump as Frank slapped her ass as she turned around to walk away. She tossed him a look over her shoulder which he met with an innocent one of his own before she walked into the hall, heading up the stairs.

20 minutes or so later, complete with Alex who had enthusiastically wolfed down a generous helping of Fliss’ home-made cauliflower, broccoli and cheese puree, whilst simultaneously smearing it all over his face, he headed up the stairs and into their bedroom. Fliss was wrapped in a robe, finishing off straightening her once hair and she gave a smile as Alex grinned at her.

“He really likes that stuff you made him.” Frank smiled and looked down at his son as he gabbled away in his arms. “I’ll get him cleaned and dressed before I take a shower.”

“I got his outfit ready.” Fliss smiled “It’s on the changing mat.”

“Don’t you trust my fashion sense?” Frank teased and she grinned.

“Your fashion sense is exactly why I picked it.”

“Rude.”

“Trust me, when you see it…you’ll understand.” She smirked.

“Okay…” Frank pulled a confused face before he dropped a kiss to her cheek and turned to head across the hall to the bathroom. 5 minutes later he’d managed to give Alex a quick bath to clean him up and after a little wrestle as the baby really was becoming a wriggle worm, he finally got him wrapped him in his little bear towel with the hood pulled over his light brown hair.  Emerging from the family bathroom he made his way towards the nursery, pausing as he heard a little sniffle coming from Mary’s room. Taking a deep breath he moved towards that door instead and gently knocked.

“Stack?” he asked, and when she didn’t tell him to either ‘go away’ or ‘wait a second’ he reached with one hand to open the door and pushed it gently inwards. Mary was sat on the huge bean bag which was situated underneath her raised cabin bed, a book on her lap, her hair damp from the shower. She was dressed in a smart denim skirt which was printed with little white stars and a red plaid top with lace trim down either side of the column of buttons and round the collar.  “That new?” he asked having not seen the top before.

“Fliss bought it me last week in Target” she said quietly, wiping her eyes. “I liked it so she said I could have it as I’d done well with Monty”

“Well, you got good taste.” he smiled “Take after me.”

At that she gave him a scathing look and he chuckled a little as Alex let out a little gurgle, his arms outstretched. Mary held her arms out for him so Frank crossed the spacious room and handed the baby over.  Alex grinned and made a grab for Mary’s hair, making her smile as Frank sat on the floor in front of them both, his back leaning against the ladders that led up to her bunk.

“You gonna shout at me as well?” she asked after a little pause and Frank inhaled deeply.

“No.” he shook his head, letting his breath out slowly “I think Fliss said everything that needed to be said. I’ve nothing more to add really.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, just disappointed Mary.” he said honestly “I thought I’d taught you better than that.”

Mary looked down, her shoulders slumped “I didn’t mean it. I was just angry. Sally makes me mad.”

“You make me mad sometimes but I don’t say nasty things.” Frank sighed, “Well, I hope I don’t.”

As he spoke those words his mind strayed back a few years to the incident in his apartment when he’d stood on the lego bricks. It seemed like a life time ago, Mary had been so little compared to the girl that sat before him now.

“Hey, look at me.” he said gently and she raised her eyes to his. “Did you mean it when you said sorry?”

Mary nodded “Yeah, I did. But her mom started calling me names and she was so mad at Fliss. Fliss told her to shut up in the end but then she told me off too.”

“Well, that’s because Fliss…” Frank paused, swallowing a little as the words formed in his mind “Well, Fliss is your mom and she loves you, so she’s gonna defend you. That doesn’t mean she agrees with what you did or that what you did was justifiable.”

“I know.” Mary’s voice was quiet “Is she mad? Sally’s mom said they were leaving.”

“Yes they are but…” Frank shook his head “No, she’s not mad. Perhaps a little disappointed in you too, but you know the rules, no one stays mad in this house. We say our piece, we apologise, we move on. And we try to be better in future.”

It wasn’t quite a flat out lie, whilst he and Fliss could argue and stay pissed at each other for days, where Mary (and in the future no doubt Alex) was concerned it was a different story.

“Do you think she’ll let me go tomorrow?”

“Depends on how you behave tonight.” Frank shrugged, moving his legs as he made to stand “I honestly don’t know.”

Mary took a deep breath and Frank pushed himself to his feet with a slight groan as his knees clicked. Fuck this getting older shit.

“Will she dry my hair for me?” Mary looked at Frank.

“Go and ask.” Frank replied simply, taking Alex off her. She followed him out of her room and made her way over to their room, knocking on the door. He paused in the doorway of the nursery, watching as she pushed it open timidly and he saw Fliss look up from where she’d been doing her make up.

“Lissy…” she said quietly “Please could you do my hair for me?”

“Course I will.” Liss smiled, beckoning her in. “Come on.” As she stood up so Mary could sit at the stool she caught Frank’s eye and he gave her a wink before he turned into their son’s room and made his way over to the changing unit at the right hand side. As soon as he saw the outfit he gave a loud laugh and shook his head taking in the tiny little yellow palm printed Hawaiian shirt, almost identical to the one he owned, and jeans.

“You’re momma thinks she’s so funny.” he snorted, dropping a kiss to Alex’s head as he lay him back on the mat. “And to be fair, as far as jokes go, that one’s pretty good.”

*****

The managed to depart just 10 minutes after their aimed for time and arrived at the restaurant 5 minutes or so late, but all things considered that wasn’t a huge issue. They walked in, Frank pushing Alex’s buggy as Fliss gave them the reservation name.

“Ah, yes, Mrs Adler, the rest of your party are in the bar area. If you head through I’ll let your server know you’re all here and she’ll come show you to the table.”

“Thanks.” Fliss smiled, and the 4 of them headed to the left. Mary spotted Steve and the twins first and gave a little yell, running over towards them, Frank, Fliss and Alex following.

“Mrs Adler, huh?” Frank teased, his voice low as he leaned down to speak into Fliss’ ear, the warmth that had flooded his chest at hearing the guy essentially calling Fliss his wife evident in his eyes which were bright with love.

Fliss gave a shrug, grinning as she turned her head to look at him. “I just gave Adler as the name for the table, he just assumed.”

“Well, you will be soon enough.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

He expected some sarcastic response about how there was still time for her to change her mind but none came. Instead she merely beamed at him, her hand gently reaching up to cup his cheek “Can’t wait Sailor.” She bit her lip and Frank could do nothing but smile back like a complete love struck idiot, his forehead pressing to hers as he kissed the tip of her nose.

“Get a room!” Steve bellowed over the bar area and Fliss merely turned her head to look at him, raising her middle finger.

“Felicity Rose Gallagher!” Verity scalded “Stop being so uncouth. I brought you up better than that.”

Fliss rolled her eyes “Dad didn’t”

Bill scrunched his face up and shrugged “Touche Titch.”  He chuckled as he reached out for Frank, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a manly hug “Happy birthday, Son.”

“Thanks Bill.” Frank smiled, turning to Steve next who did the same before he then greeted Sian, Verity and Roberta with hugs and kisses to the cheek before he ruffled Charlie and Joel’s hair as they came over and hugged him round his waist. “You two grown since last week?” he asked, looking at the 2 boys whose heads were both now almost level with his ribcage.

“Feels like it.” Sian mumbled “Mind you, not like their father is a small man is it?”

Steve opened his mouth, grinning to make a dirty comment no doubt about his size so to speak but instead he gave a yelp as Verity reached up and slapped the back of his head “Don’t even think about it Steven.” She pointed at him.

“Mum…” he wailed as Frank chuckled, moving to the bar after checking if anyone else needed a drink.

“This is on us tonight.” Bill pushed up next to him, waving his hand at the bar tender “Yeah, on the tab for table 20, thanks…”

“Bill, there’s no need.” Frank began the usual protest whenever either of his future in-laws insisted on paying but as normal Bill shook his head.

“I know but we want to.” He shrugged “I mean what’s the world coming to when I can’t treat my kids to dinner huh?”

Frank sighed a little and smiled “Thanks.”

Bill nodded as Frank placed his order- a pilsner for him, lemonade for Mary and a tonic water for Fliss who had said she would drive home. They’d debated getting a cab but as she had assumed she would be up early in the morning to drive to the Competition and said she’d prefer to drive. Now that was all hanging in the balance due to Mary’s earlier behaviour, or lack of more to the point.

Shortly after they were shown to their table, Mary taking a seat next to the twins in between Verity and Bill. When both Steve and Frank began to tell them to sit where they could keep an eye on them, Verity scoffed and waved them away, her arm dropping round Mary.

“My pudding can sit next to me if she wants.” She pouted and Frank rolled his eyes before shooting Mary a look.

“First sign of any nonsense…”

“I know.” She cast her eyes down before she looked at him. “Please can I have my Tablet?”

Frank looked at Fliss and she nodded, reaching into the bag under the stroller for it and handing it over.

“Volume down.” Frank instructed as he passed it round and she took it with a thanks. The three kids huddled round it as Mary turned it on, no doubt looking at their latest Minecraft game or whatever the hell it was the three of them seemed to spend half their lives connected to one another over the internet for. Whilst Frank was conscious most people might consider this lazy parenting, he saw it as being no different to them having a toy or colouring book at the table and so left them to it, as they began to chatter amongst themselves, only being interrupted when they were asked to pick what they wanted to eat. Once the orders were placed and another round of drinks appeared, Frank was handed 3 gift bags over the table, blushing slightly as he took them with thanks. Bill and Verity had bought him a bottle of 15 year Barrell Craft Spirits Bourbon and a new pair of Ray Bans after his had met a sticky end when Alex had pulled them off his face and then dropped them onto the floor where Fliss had accidentally stood on them, cracking the lens. Fully aware of how expensive both those items were he thanks them, whilst reprimanding them once more for spending too much money on them to which Verity hushed him and Bill merely rolled his eyes giving a shrug. Roberta had gotten him a new tool belt for him to use when working on the boat which he was really pleased with. As he showed it to Fliss she cheekily quipped in a quiet voice that he could finally get rid of the spanner in his pocket which had made Sian choke on her drink when she overheard. Steve pat her on her back as she sorted herself out, and then Frank reached into the final bag from Steve, Sian and the boys. He thanked them for the 6 pack of Sam Adams, which could sometimes be hard to find in the stores in Florida, nodded in appreciation at the new Patriots Jersey they’d gotten him with ADLER arched over the back, and reached in to pull the last item out, which was a blue baseball cap.

“What the…” he scoffed and looked at Steve who had broken into a huge guffaw of laughter at the look of disgust on Franks face. Bill and Verity also started to chuckle and as Fliss reached out to turn it towards her she snorted as Roberta slapped the top of the table in utter hysterics as the white letters MAGA stood out clear against the dark navy.

“That was his idea, not mine.” Sian protested as Frank looked down, shaking his head at the joke before he spotted the small writing under the larger letters. “Make the Asshole Gone Again.” He read, and at that he gave a loud laugh. “Wonder if I’ll get away with wearing it for work?”

"I thought you said you were voting Trump?" Roberta’s voice was serious and Frank shook his head, taking a swig from his beer, as she gave him a cheeky grin.

"Don't start him off again, please Roberta!" Fliss groaned "I had to stop him putting his foot through the TV last night when they showed that Jordan Klepper vs Trump Supporters section on the Daily Show."

"He’s an ass clown." Frank replied and Steve laughed.

“Suppose being a Democrat is part and parcel of coming from Mass, huh Frank?”

“What, like being Anti-Tory is part and parcel of being from Merseyside?” Frank shot back and Steve gave a grin, raising his glass in his direction.

“Correct!” Steve nodded enthusiastically.

“Damned Tories…” Bill shook his head. “Johnson doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.”

“You know, I seriously think you should be IQ tested before you're allowed to vote.” Fliss shrugged and Roberta leaned forward.

“Yeah but, how can you test what ain’t there?"

Everyone at the table laughed as Frank reached for his beer. "Actually, if you think about it, it’s pretty simple." he swallowed a mouthful of his drink and looked at Roberta "One question- are you voting Trump? If they answer yes then they clearly have the IQ of a goldfish, right to vote denied."

The table laughed again and it wasn’t long then until their starters arrived and the chatter slowed as everyone tucked in, Fliss taking a minute or so to settle Alex who had woken up with perfect timing as ever.

“You want me to sort him?” Frank lay a hand on her thigh and she shook her head, handing the baby a teething ring.

“No, I got it.” She smiled, “Besides he’s good now.”

Frank gave her knee a squeeze and then glanced across the table where Bill was looking at Mary.

“So, you all set for your last competition tomorrow?” he asked and Frank let out a little groan.

“I err…” Mary’s eyes fell down towards her food “I don’t know if I’m going.”

“Why not?” Verity asked.

Frank looked at Fliss, who had been about to open her mouth and gently shook his head. He wanted Mary to be the one to explain, she was the one that had misbehaved after all.

“Because I was naughty.” She shrugged “So Fliss and Frank said they don’t know if I can go.”

Verity and Bill looked at one another before they both glanced over the table at Frank and Fliss. Fliss raised her eyebrows a little as Frank reached for his drink.

“Oh, well, I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.” Verity looked at Mary and she nodded again, her eyes still on her plate, brimming with tears.

“It all depends on tonight.” Frank spoke softly “Good behaviour over dinner and we’ll think about it.”

“Really?” Mary asked, looking up and he nodded.

“Really.”

“What did you do?” Charlie asked.

“Never you mind.” Sian cut him off, looking at him.

“It doesn’t matter what Mary did.” Fliss stated simply “It was dealt with and that’s that. No need to talk about it anymore.”

“But…”

“Charlie, stop.” Steve said sternly. Charlie narrowed his eyes at his dad and Steve pointed his fork at him “Carry on mate, see where that attitude gets you.”

Threat received and understood, Charlie went back to eating and the talk struck up once more about Frank and Fliss’ trip to Vermont the weekend after. The more they talked about it, the more Frank found himself getting excited. 3 nights alone with Fliss in a cabin in the middle of what he was hoping would be a decent covering of snow sounded like his idea of heaven.

Dinner passed with no more talk of misbehaving children and at just gone 9pm they finished desert and Frank sat back, the waistband of his jeans feeling a hell of a lot tighter than they had when he arrived.

“Think I’m having a food baby.” Fliss groaned besides him and he turned to her, raising his eyebrows.

“As long as it’s not a real one.”

She snorted into her lemonade, shaking her head “Oh no…”

“You not fancy another?” Sian, who had heard the exchanged asked and Fliss looked at her, hesitating a little.

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Well that’s a step up from the ‘Oh,Christ no’ you spluttered last time the subject was raised” Frank teased and she nudged him with her elbow as Steve sniggered.

“You can shut up as well!” Fliss glared at him

“Ah come on Titch, another baby in the family would be great.”

“Well you have another, if you want one so bad!”

“We are.” Sian spoke and at that the table fell silent. All eyes turned to her, Verity and Bill exchanging a glance with one another as Fliss looked from Sian, to Steve who leaned back in his chair, arm falling round his wife’s shoulder, a smug smirk on his handsome face.

“No, are you…really?” Verity’s hand fell to the hollow of her throat as Sian blushed a little, nodding.

“We found out last week.”  Sian smiled, looking at Steve “We wanted to get you all together and…”

The table fell silent before there was a sudden flurry of excited voices and the scraping of chairs as everyone stood up to hug one another and offer congratulations.

“What’s going on?” Joel piped up and Steve smiled as he sat back down having just received a huge bro hug from Frank.

“We just told everyone about the baby.” He smiled and the twin’s faces fell into identical expressions of understanding.

“What baby?” Mary asked.

“The one Aunty Sian’s gonna have.” Frank looked at her.

“You having a baby?” Mary looked across the table.

“We sure are.” Steve beamed.

“That’s so cool!” Mary grinned.

“So, when are you due?” Fliss asked and Sian smiled.

“Middle of October.” She said “So I’m gonna  be huge at your wedding.”

“Especially if its twins again.” Mary chipped in and Frank turned to look at her, before he bit his lip and glanced back up at Steve who’d paled a little.

“You know it is a possibility…” Roberta grinned “Happened to a friend o’ma sister’s. Two sets of twins.”

“Oh, just think Bill!” Verity beamed “Another two grandkids…”

“Mum, shut up!” Steve groaned as the table laughed.

Not long after the happy news, everyone agreed that it was time to be heading home. After another mini argument between Bill, Steve, Roberta and Frank about the check, which Steve and Frank both lost, the party all gathered their things and headed out to the parking lot.

“Roberta, you need a lift?” Fran asked but before she could answer Verity shook her head.

“She’s coming back to ours. We have a bottle of Rioja to crack open.”

Bill let out a dramatic sigh “Can I come sleep in your guest place-ow!” he yelled as Roberta reached up and slapped him round the back of the head.

With a snort Frank clipped Alex into the baby seat and after another goodbye to everyone they headed home arriving just before 10.

“Did you have a nice night?” Fliss asked Frank as they walked up towards the door and Frank nodded, dropping a kiss to her head.

“It was fantastic, the whole day has been great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Shame your mom couldn’t make it.”

“Well she’s still getting over that virus but I was thinking. Maybe near Mary’s birthday we could head up to Mass? We haven’t been since…” he trailed off and Fliss instantly understood why, the last time they’d been in Boston had been when Mary had been taken ill and John had attacked Fliss.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Fliss said as Frank unlocked the door. “It’s a short enough flight for Alex and it would be nice to go.”

Frank smiled as they all stepped inside and Thor came charging out of the kitchen to greet them all.

“Do I have to go to bed or can I watch TV?” Mary asked, looking up “It is Saturday…”

“Well, I would say yes but we have an early start tomorrow.” Fliss looked at Frank and he instantly understood.He rolled his eye softly before giving a concessive nod and Fliss continued “I mean that is if we wanna get to the show on time.”

“I can go?” Mary’s head whipped to look at them both and Fliss nodded.

“Yes, you can go.”

“Oh my god thank you, thank you!” Mary shot over to hug her, her arms wrapping round Fliss’ waist “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“I know.” Fliss dropped a kiss to her head. “Now skoot, we’re gonna be up at 6.”

Mary hugged her again, then turned to Frank who swung her up with a groan “Stop growing will ya?”

“I’ll try!” she giggled, squishing his cheeks between her hands. “Love you dad.”

Dad.

Frank felt his stomach twist, and he glanced at Fliss whose hand had flown to her mouth, her eyes wide. She hastily swallowed, recovering herself, her eyes glassing over as she shifted Alex’s car seat in her arms before she turned to place it on the coffee table.

“I love you too.” Frank cleared his throat, as he dropped Mary to the floor “Go on, I’ll come tuck you in in five.”

She skipped off up the stairs, Fred hot on her heels and as soon as her door shut Frank turned to Fliss.

“You ok?” she asked and he nodded, his eyes full of unshed tears as he sank down onto the arm of the couch. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” He replied softly, and he truly didn’t. “Shocked, a little. I guess, that even despite the adoption I never…well, I never anticipated that because she’s not actually mine and…”

His face screwed up a little, and Fliss stepped in between his legs her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. He pressed his face into her chest, his arms curling around her waist as she gently stroked one hand through his hair and down his neck.

“Of course she’s yours.” She whispered, dropping a kiss to his head. “I keep telling you this. In every single way possible bar biologically, she’s your daughter Frank. We got the paper work to prove it.” At that he spluttered a little laugh and Fliss pulled back to look at him, her hands cupping his face as she wiped away a single tear that had fallen down his cheek.

“We just never talked about it.” He shrugged a little lamely and Fliss smiled.

“Somethings you just can’t prepare for, no matter how much philosophy or logic you try and apply.”  Her brown eyes locked onto his “This was just, well, it was a natural thing. I can’t explain it any better than that. The question is, did it feel uncomfortable?”

“No.” Frank answered honestly as he shook his head, taking a deep breath, his lip quivering. “And that’s what shocked me the most. I always thought I’d hate it but…”

“But you didn’t?”

“No.”

“And are you gonna be okay if she keeps calling you dad?”

He nodded and Fliss gently bent down to kiss him softly, before pulling away “Then roll with it. Like Dad did with me. You know, if you wanted to you speak to him then I’m sure he’d-“

“I already did.” Frank shrugged a little. “Months ago, just after we’d moved in here and we’d decided to adopt her. He told me about how you’d made that wish at your birthday and…” Frank took a deep breath “And I know Mary’s always said she wishes I was her dad and I guess, well if I’m honest there’s always been this part of me that wishes I was, despite Diane.”

“Diane would be happy, I’m sure.” Fliss looked at him “Frankie, I know this is probably gonna sound so shit, but, well there’s a reason she came to you to…well to do what she did, because she trusted you with her daughter. And you’ve done her proud baby, so proud.”

Frank felt the burning in his nose as he scrunched his face up in an attempt to stem the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him and once more Fliss wrapped her arms around him, gently rubbing between his shoulder blades. “What do I do now?” he whispered “How do I react?”

“You don’t “Fliss replied, kissing his head “You take a minute, then you go upstairs and tuck her in as usual. Don’t make a big thing about it or she’ll start to worry. Chances are she hasn’t even realised she’s said it.”

“And if she has?”

“Well then be honest. Tell her its okay.” She felt Frank nod and then she stepped back, her hands on his shoulders. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” He stood up, wiping his face. He took a deep breath and glanced down at Fliss and smiled, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She smiled “Now go on, I’ll check the doors and be up with you in a second.”

Frank climbed the stairs, taking a deep breath before he knocked gently and walked into Mary’s room. She was already in bed, Fred curled by her feet and as Frank crossed the room he almost tripped over her discarded clothes.

“Seriously?” Frank pointed them as they lay on the bedroom floor. “Wardrobe, not floordrobe Stack!”

“Oops.” Mary grimaced and Frank rolled his eyes, picking the items up, tossing them onto the bean bag under the bed.

“If they’re clean put them away, if not put them in your laundry hamper.” He instructed, leaning against the rails of her bed.

“Sorry, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Mary shuffled onto her side to look at him. “Did you have a good birthday?”

“The best.” Frank smiled honestly “Got to spend it with all my favourite people. And you.” Mary shoved him gently and he laughed, “Joking, joking!” he smiled, brushing her hair back off her face “You know you’re my best girl.”

“What about Fliss?” Mary narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“She’s my best woman.” Frank answered easily. Mary looked at him before she smiled, accepting his explanation. “You excited about tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Mary nodded “And nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about.” Frank shook his head “Just go out there and enjoy it. You’ve done so well for a first season, Fliss was saying that earlier. We’re proud of you sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” She grinned “Hey, Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“You know what I said before...downstairs?”

Frank took a deep breath “I do.”

“Did it bother you?”

“Not one bit.” He smiled and Mary grinned.

“Good, because I think I’d like to say it more going forward.” She reached out, her fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Unless you annoy me. And then you can be Frank again.”

Frank chuckled “Sounds like a deal, Stack”

“Okay, you can go now. I need to sleep.” Mary snuggled down into the covers and Frank smiled, pulling them up round her chin, dropping a kiss to her head.

“Night”

“Night.”

He turned to leave the room, throwing a last glance over his shoulder before he closed the door behind him.

***** “Mary, are you paying attention?” Fliss looked at her as she sat astride Monty, grinning ear to ear.

“Yeah, sorry.” She turned her head, “I’m just so happy!”

“I know honey!” Fliss chuckled, “And you did so well in your other two classes and yes we’re gonna celebrate that later but focus on this one now, yeah? You’ve gone clear so all you need to do is get round the jump off. You remember the order?”

“Erm…” Mary spun in the saddle looking round “Yeah its two, six, nine, double back to twelve, across to five and then you send him quickly down the line to finish at eight.”

“Good.” Fliss smiled “Remember, let Monty find his way. Don’t mess too much and if you think you can make that sharp turn after nine and cut through instead of round four then do it. If not, take the safe route and aim for clear.”

“Ok, yeah, got it.”

“Glad you did.” Frank mumbled, gently pushing Alex’s buggy to and fro as the baby dozed “’Coz that all sounded like a different language to me.”

“That’s because you don’t get it, Dad.” Mary turned to look at him.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Frank agreed

“You would do if you spent more time watching me instead of faffing with the boat in the garage.” Mary shrugged. At her words Frank narrowed his eyes and turned to Fliss who was biting her lip, a faint flush on her cheeks.

“Don’t look at me!”

“Oh, I’m lookin’ at you Cowgirl, because no one else I know uses the word faff.” He arched an eyebrow. “Well apart from your mom, dad, Steve and Sian…damned British slang!”

Fliss snorted “Ok, busted. But that’s not exactly what I said.”

“Well what was?” he dropped his voice a little and Fliss started to laugh.

“I just said to Jo when she commented she hadn’t seen you in a while that you were busy with the other woman in your life aka the boat.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Hey, that engine was giving me trouble.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“And you weren’t complaining about me faffing too much when you were up there with me a few weeks back.” Frank dropped his head as he spoke into her ear and smirked as Fliss shivered at the feel of his bearded cheek scratching slightly at her neck.

“Well that situation benefitted me.” She muttered back, her eyes hidden behind her shades as she kept her face turned towards the ring, watching the first of the ten kids through to the jump off go.

“Very selfish of you Miss Gallagher.”

“Well when it comes to you I don’t like sharing.”

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed a kiss to her cheek “No worries on that count, I’m all yours baby.”

She smiled, and then winced as the competitor in the ring misjudged the turn between two jumps and the pony slammed on, sending her flying over its neck. Frank swallowed as Mary turned to look at Fliss her eyes wide.

“Why did she undercut that turn then?”

Fliss shook her head “If she’d have hugged tighter to the corner she might have made it but as it was she only got a two stride run up.” She bit her lip then frowned “Don’t you do that!”

“I wasn’t gonna!” Mary snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Good.” Fliss nodded “Like I said, you can make your time up between nine and twelve and then five and eight, if you need to.”

Frank groaned “Why couldn’t you pick a nice safe hobby…like swimming or something?”

Mary looked at him reproachfully “Frank, I could already swim.”

“Yeah but…”

“And Swimming can be dangerous, people drown.”

“Not if they’re supervised.”

“And besides, if I hadn’t wanted to go horse riding, you’d have never met Fliss.” Mary looked at him, fixing him with a maddening smug look because she knew that was the absolute ace card.

“Okay, you got me there.” Frank grumbled “Smart ass.”

Fliss chuckled as the three of them turned their attention to the ring and eventually after the other nine riders had finished, Mary’s name and number was called having been pulled last in the random order draw.

“Good luck.” Fliss smiled as she walked Mary to the gate of the arena before she set off, trotting Monty around the outside of the arena before the buzzer sounded. And then she was off. Frank hated this bit, and always found himself torn between desperately wanting to watch and also wanting to look the other way. He normally settled for a combination of the two, watching for a second, looking away, glancing back…but this time he found himself watching Fliss. Her face was set in utter concentration as she watched Mary’s round, her head tilting left to right, her hand making a pulling motion as she was willing Mary to slow Monty down and then suddenly she perked up completely, her lips curling upwards.

“She’s cut the corner, she’s gone for it.” She whispered and Frank’s eyes snapped back to the arena to see Mary clear the second to last jump and Monty picked up the pace. “Not too fast.” Fliss muttered “Pull him up, just take a check, a little one. Oh, shit!”

At Fliss’ last words Monty took off, clipping the pole with his front feet. It rolled in the cups and Frank held his breath before it rocked a little too far and fell to the floor. There was a collective sigh of disappointment around the ring from the spectators and then applause rang out as Mary crossed the finish line and turned to see the pole on the floor. She hung her head a little, shaking it before she trotted out and stopped by Fliss and Frank.

“Hey…” Fliss beamed at her “That was really unlucky. He only just clipped it.”

“It rolled?” Mary grimaced and Fliss wrinkled her nose as they set off back to the wagon.

“Fraid so.”

“Bummer.” Mary shook her head.

“What?” Frank asked, utterly puzzled.

“It means that the pole simply rolled off, it wasn’t taken straight down with the knock.” Fliss explained “Believe me, It’s the most annoying thing in the world.”

“But it’s the same result.” Frank looked at them both and Mary groaned exasperatedly.

“Don’t talk about stuff you don’t understand!”

“That’s me told.” Frank scoffed as she jumped off Monty and proceeded to remove her hat.

“Can we go see who won?” She turned to Fliss who had just taken Monty’s saddle off.

“Sure, let’s get him loaded up and then we’ll go.”

Once Monty was back on board, the ramp shut they headed back down to the Arena, Fliss pushing Alex’s buggy as Mary slipped her hand into Frank’s. They arrived back just in time to see the placings.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Mary shrugged “Saffy won the class.”

“You know her?” Fliss frowned.

“Only from when we were waiting in line before.” Mary shrugged “She seemed nice. I wonder who’s won it overall.”

“We’ll check online later.” Fliss said, before she grinned “You know, I’d kinda like to know who won the Junior Rider class for the season. Any idea Frank?”

“Oh, some blonde kid with an attitude problem.” He shrugged as Mary looked up at him, her eyebrows arched, hands on her hips.

“Well everyone says I act like you so any attitude I do have…” she drew a circle in the air with her index finger of the hand that wasn’t holding his before pointing at him “…is one hundred percent your fault.”

Fliss spluttered out a laugh as Frank blinked, looking at Mary then to Fliss. “I…wow.” was all he could bring himself to say.

The three of them politely applauded as the top six riders took a lap of honour before the winner took her own and as she emerged from the ring Mary let go of Frank’s hand and stepped forward.

“Well done.” She smiled at the girl who sat atop a chestnut pony and Frank watched, the pride in his chest almost stopping his breathing. He felt Fliss slide an arm round his waist and he moved, dropping his own over her shoulders as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks Mary!” the girl grinned “You were so unlucky with your last pole.”

“I did my best.” Mary shrugged “That’s what my mom and dad say matters the most.”

Frank felt Fliss stiffen a little besides him “Did she…”

“Yeah…”he whispered, dropping a kiss to her head.

Fliss took a shaky breath and hastily blinked back the tears as Mary turned back towards them “Hey, can I go get a drink with Saffy from their van? I’ll be like 10 minutes?”

“Erm…” Fliss wiped her face and looked at the woman next to Saffy who smiled and nodded.

“It’s fine.” She beamed “Fliss isn’t it? You run Sandybrook?”

“Yeah.” Fliss smiled.

“I’m Jenny, Saf’s mom. And we’re just parked right there.” The woman spoke “I wouldn’t mind a chat with you actually about a horse I have. He needs backing and you came recommended.”

“Sure, just…” Fliss looked at Frank and he gave a grin

“I’ll set off back with him.” he nodded to Alex who was fast asleep. “See you at home, take as long as you need.”

“You sure?”

“Course.” Frank gave her a kiss before he called to Mary “Hey Stack, I’m gonna go.” She turned and ran towards him, hugging him tight as his hand dropped to the back of her head. “I’m proud of you.” He said softly and she beamed.

“Thanks Dad.”

He gave her another hug before he turned and took the brake off the stroller, turning it round. As he made his way back towards where his truck was park he tossed a glance over his shoulder to see Fliss now in a full on laugh at something the woman called Jenny had said, head tipped back, shoulders shaking, her pretty profile simply radiating happiness.

And right there, Frank knew there couldn’t possibly be ANY man in the world who felt the sheer contentment and love that he did right then.

***** Chapter 20

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

smptwt as of 04/07/2020

Right. You asked for it, so you shall recieve. Below the cut is probably one of the most thought-out, in-depth, hopefully unbiased (but probably not) and above all helpful accounts of what the fuck is happening in the smplive and lunch club fandoms right now. I will be covering everything I can- but in the case that I’ve forgotten something, please let me know so I can have a crack at making an update.

Before the cut, I’d just like to link my first three posts about this same topic, covering my thoughts and the events of the last couple of months of drama. It feels so strange that I’ve made so many of these, but as long as they help people, I’ll keep making them.

Part 1: https://crunchy-corvid.tumblr.com/post/619547090403622912/the-cscoopsmptwt-drama

Part 2: https://crunchy-corvid.tumblr.com/post/619746266158661633/more-on-smptwt-long-post

Part 3: https://crunchy-corvid.tumblr.com/post/619886809143476225/smptwt-part-3-030620

I’d like to preface this with a huge thank you to everyone who helped me collect and compile information for this post- and those who helped censor twitter handles and edit screenshots. Without you, this post would have never been made. 

Thank you to everyone on the Cancelled Heaven discord server:  https://discord.gg/emrh2u

Now, onto the thing.

So we’ll start at the beginning with the easiest ‘drama’ (I hate calling it that) to cover. Charlie (slimecicle) tweeted on his second account and it caused a little upset. It’s not much but it feeds into a greater conversation that I think is relevant here: 

We’ll start with Charlie’s original point, then move on to the reply. Obviously, this post was poorly timed, because everyone thought it was about the Cooper (cscoop) drama, when in reality it was just a general comment. I saw a lot of replies along the lines of ‘it’s okay you can @ cscoop’ and similar things. If you’ve read my previous posts you’ll know how I feel about the Cooper situation, but regardless, there are a few reasons why this is a Bad Take/poor interpretation of what Charlie said.

Charlie and Cooper are friends. They haven’t fallen out as far as we know. Charlie is left-wing, and definately doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be friends with someone who is racist/transphobic/sexist etc. So why would he be talking about Cooper in this post? 

Also, Charlie is clearly talking about people who still say slurs, not people who have said slurs in the past. This is how I read it, a jab at streamers and gamers who use ‘dark humour’ to justifty their actions. A lot of people seemed to relate this to Cooper, despite him never trying to justify his use of slurs. The people who did try to justify his actions this way were fans, not the man himself. So again, this post doesn’t relate to Cooper.

On to the reply, which sparks a different conversation all together. While I see where the commenter is coming from, and agree with them to an extent, Charlie is allowed to have his own opinion on the matter. And he is right. Using insulting language against heterosexual people does create a larger divide and doesn’t get anyone on our ‘side’. It just makes us look immature and causes a lot of straight cis people to assume that we hate them. 

On the other hand, I do think that saying things like ‘disgusting hets’ can be a funny joke if you are saying it to your friends who don’t have any issue with it. You probably shouldn’t get into the habit of saying things like that though, just in case you actually hurt someone with your words. Both sides of the argument have pros and cons, so anyone angry at Charlie for his opinion really have no reason to be.

Charlie’s reponse to this comment was reasonable, responsible, and mature, and he is clearly showing that he understands the concerns of his audience. This is all I’ll say about Charlie in this post. Honestly, he’s generally unproblematic and ‘safe’ to keep watching, if you enjoy a very drama-free environment. Have fun!

Now I’ll move on to Ted. He’s made some great points recently about cancel culture which I strongly agree with. Here’s his first tweets:

I don’t have much to add here, this is perfectly valid in my opinion- though I feel like sometimes you can tell a lot about a person by the people they follow. For example, if someone follows Trump, Ben Shapiro, and a bunch of right-wing youtubers, they probably agree with a lot of the things they say. But I think the point Ted is trying to make is that he shouldn’t be harassed about drama his friends fall into. If he isn’t involved, leave him out of it. 

Next we’ll take a look at his tweets on stans, probably sparked by the drama with Carson, which I will be talking about later. 

Again, I have no issue with what Ted is saying here. His idea is a good one, and a fun way to distinguish casual fans from people who create art, content, and (appropriate) fanfiction for the ‘flandom’! 

Basically, how I see it, is that a ‘fan’ is a casual viewer who doesn’t really get involved in the flandom, maybe posting about smplive and/or lunch club occasionally, but not being too involved. A ‘flan’ is someone who interracts a lot, creates art and fiction that respects boundaries, and posts more about the boys than a casual fan does. A ‘stan’ is a stalker-fan, creepy and obsessive, too invested, maybe creates art and fiction that crosses boundaries, and obsessively posts about the boys.

I think this new terminology is really cool and Ted is smart for coming up with it (also, probably hungry when coming up with it too). I think that the term ‘stan’ should be thrown out and used to describe the ‘bad’ side of fandoms. There is a risk that people will hide behind the term ‘flan’ to disguise the fact that they are a stan, but this is still a good step foward. 

But you’re not here to listen to me ramble about Ted or Charlie. You’re here for Carson. So let’s get on with it.

Carson made a series of tweets talking about stans, much like Ted did later. He seemed tired of stans harassing him about his friends, a sentiment shared by Ted (who faced very minimal backlash over his tweets). Here’s what he said:

Which is something I fully agree with. For big content creators like Carson and his friends, stan culture is absolutely insane. Recently they’ve been trying to ‘catch out’ many people who are part of smplive and/or lunch club, most obviously with Cooper and Schlatt but I’ve seen the others getting ‘called out’ too. Carson’s anti-stan stance is well-known in the flandom (yes I am using that word get used to it) so these tweets didn’t surprise me. 

For some reason stans seem to think that if one creator is okay with their behaviour, every other creator is too. This is not the case. Carson was within his full right to say these things about stans.

Obviously the replies got out of hand. People became horribly angry very quickly, and clearly Carson had already had enough because pretty soon he started blocking stan accounts- which only made them more mad.

Of course, there were supporters and anti-stan comments out there too, such as this fun exchange:

But a whole lot of people got angry. Carson was trending for a while, too, after he started blocking stans. Unfortunately some people did get wrongfully blocked, which sucks, sure, but use of an alt account or logging off of twitter can solve that problem (this can also be said for stan accounts. Carson didn’t stop any of them from viewing his content, just blocked them so that he didn’t have to see their tweets).

Carson did this for his own mental health. After a long conversation with older people who have been in fandoms for decades, I can tell you that being at the top is always hell. New threads created about you every day, friends you can’t trust, and people giving you shit for things other people said. I can’t imagine how someone as popular as Carson has dealt with this for so long.

People who were blocked started to claim that they were having panic attacks, that they hyperfixate so they can’t help being obsessive, and that Carson doesn’t care about mental health for these reasons. They said some pretty toxic and manipulative things and a lot of people clearly didn’t know what they were talking about:

First of all, these comments on the Katerino and Fitz situation are honestly disgusting. These people are only proving Carson’s point that stans will be super supportive one second and turn around to hate you the next. To bring up something like this, something completely unrelated and highly personal- knowing Carson will see- is disgraceful. To speculate about a relationship that Carson has explicitly stated he doesn’t want people to speculate about just to try and make a point? Horrible.

A lot of stans seem to have this ‘we made you famous so we dictate how you feel’ mentality, which I hate. Exactly as the reply says, they sound like toxic parents with these words. To think you deserve ‘respect’ from someone after accusing their friends of horrible things and harassing them to the point that they block you is so manipulative and quite frankly cruel.

Again, Carson has the right to block anyone he wants. Creators are not your friends, they are entertainment. If you are making them upset and harassing them, you shouldn’t get mad when they block you. 

Listen. It can be tough, finding out that someone you look up to has blocked you. Yes, I’m sure people had a not-so-nice time with their mental health when it happened to them. But in most cases, they were blocked for a reason. Some people were even literally asking to get blocked and then got mad when they did. But again, no one has been barred from viewing Carson’s content. He simply blocked people who he didn’t want to see in his comments section.

You have freedom of speech, but you don’t have freedom from consequence. If you say something that hurts someone else, you’re not always going to be free from their judgement. 

Carson has been very open about his own struggles with depression and imposter syndrome recently, and people are viewing his actions as... hypocritical? This is flawed logic. Carson blocked stans because they were bad for his mental health, the fact that some claim to have had ‘panic attacks’ as a result is not on him. He has the autonomy to block who he wants to block. 

Wilbur Soot made some comments about the situation, which can be found in this video from 7 minutes 30 seconds in, and goes until 10 minutes and 11 seconds in:

https://www.twitch.tv/videos/667971714

What Wilbur says here is completely understandable. He doesn’t have a problem with stans, but doesn’t speak for anyone but himself. Just because one person is okay with something doesn’t mean someone else is, too. 

Also, a lot of people think that it’s okay to hate on someone like Carson or Schlatt, then turn around and stan Wilbur, which is kind of fucked up, because they’re friends in real life. How would you feel if someone was super nice to you, then turned around and harassed your friends?

A lot of people claimed to have ‘hyperfixations’ on Carson or lunch club, which they used as an excuse to be obsessive and creepy. This is bullshit, but someone else explained it a lot better than I could:

And I absolutely agree with this. You cannot use neurodivergence to explain away your creepiness. That’s just offensive to people who do hyperfixate, and leads to even more problems and misunderstandings.

Carson did a stream much later where he talked about all of these things, and boy did that go well (not). Here is a clip of him talking about hyperfixations:

https://m.twitch.tv/clip/SuaveBlushingDotterelBCWarrior

Now, here’s where my support for Carson falters. He should have done more research on what hyperfixations really are before he said things about them. He hurt some people with what he said, and just saying he’s uneducated on the topic isn’t really an excuse.

HOWEVER. Carson was given very little time to research (about 24 hours between his original tweets and his stream) and, more importantly, it is very obvious that the use of the term ‘hyperfixation’ has been warped and manipulated by stans who are misusing the term to excuse their behaviour. Carson probably saw stans using it and assumed it was something synonomous with ‘obsessions’.

What he said was poorly worded, but the point he was making is the same as the (much more researched and informative) tweet above. Anyone getting mad that he is somehow ‘invalidating mental health or autism’ with his comments clearly don’t understand the point he was trying to make in the first place.

And here’s a clip of Connor talking about it, too, as well as defending Carson’s right to block people as he wishes:

https://www.twitch.tv/connoreatspants/clip/YummySlickPlumageSpicyBoy

https://www.twitch.tv/connoreatspants/clip/JazzySpotlessMelonMoreCowbell

What he said here is completely valid, a little poorly worded in the same way as Carson’s statement, but overall something I stand behind.

Some people are claiming that Carson is being manipulative or ‘gaslighting’ fans and stans:

Carson is not against fans who create cool stuff for him and his friends. He is against the people who harass him, accuse his friends of horrible things, and try to look for every little thing they’ve said and done wrong. This is what he said, and people got mad at him for it, and so he blocked them. That is it. There is no gaslighting. There is no manipulation. I’ve seen much more manipulative things coming from the stans’ side of things.

Now we move on to Noah’s reply to Carson’s tweet. Which, yes, caused a whole new can of worms to be opened.

Now, for those like me who have trouble figuring out Noah’s way of speaking, let me translate: ‘stans are insecure people who start to feel entitled because they’ve started to view a streamer they like as a friend/someone who shares their pain.’ 

For those of you who don’t know, this is what ‘don’t negotiate with terrorists’ means:

However, almost predictably, stans saw the word ‘terrorist’ and lost their goddamn minds. That, coupled with the complicated phrasing of Noah’s words, caused a lot of stans to freak out.

This conversation is full of Bad Takes, but my main issue is that they are trying to diagnose Noah with an actual mental illness. That is not only offensive to people who have that illness (especially calling him ‘insane’ in the same sentence, as well as implying that having said illness makes you a bad person) but is also highly hypocritical since so many stans claimed to all be neurodivergent themselves. 

Also, 90% of his fans aren’t stans. They’re mostly fans or flans. You are a loud minority. You aren’t as powerful as you think you are. Noah even started to retweet hate comments, that’s how few shits he gave. He also shows that he is concerned about people making things up about him, which is understandable.

Plus he outright said that stans are not fans of him, which in most cases, they’re not. Noah’s content isn’t as widely watched as some of his friends’ stuff, and a lot of stans don’t watch his streams.

But anyway, here’s one good take I saw floating around:

After this, before his stream, Carson deleted his original tweets and spent some time with his family, which was a sensible and mature thing to do at this point. 

During Carson’s stream, someone notified him that his ‘fans’ had started to doxx stans. Here is his reaction:

https://m.twitch.tv/callmecarsonlive/clip/SpicySassyGerbilArgieB8

A lot of people got mad that he didn’t do more to stop the doxxings, but I want to raise the question: what was he supposed to do? He can’t control his ‘fans’ (another breed of stans who don’t call themselves stans were doing the doxxings, to be honest) and he said not to do it. He was streaming, he didn’t know how serious it was or even if it was true, at that moment, what was he supposed to do?

It did get serious. People I know were doxxed. Anyone posting anything (positive or negative) about lunch club, smplive, and Carson were in danger. It was not fake like some people claimed. The twt handles in this post are blurred out because of the doxxing threats. I am making this post at my own risk, but I do feel that tumblr is safer than twitter at the moment.

This being said, it is in no way Carson’s fault how out of hand this has become. He has been against doxxing in the past and his sentiments haven’t changed. He has said more about the doxxings in replies to tweets such as this one:

Also, here’s what the mods on Carson’s discord server had to say about the situation. They’ve clearly talked about this with Carson, and are strongly against anyone who is doxxing these people (especially since a lot of the people being doxxed are minors).

A similar sentiment was shared on Ted’s discord server:

Here is what ItsAsaii had to say:

So that’s basically where everything stands right now. If you want an even fuller update on everything, check out Carson’s stream ‘afternoon fellas and fellettes’ where he talks about everything.

Here’s the last tweets I have from Carson regarding the whole situation:

And I agree fully with what he has said. And again, Carson doesn’t owe stans anything. Just like what was said here, he had subs and fans before he had stans, they did not ‘make’ him, and they cannot control him.

This is all I have to say, for now. If I have missed anything or you’d like me to cover anything else, please let me know. If I have hugely missed the mark and said something super wrong/offensive, let me know. If you’d like me to talk about a streamer or youtuber not related to lunch club, throw me a DM or an ask and I’ll try to compile some things, even if I don’t watch their content or know who they are.

If you’d like up-to-date information about drama in smptwt, streamers, and youtubers, join the Cancelled Heaven discord server- which I linked at the start of the post. 

I thank you all for reading, and suggest that you reblog this so that as many people as possible can see it. If you want to risk it, go ahead and link this post in a tweet or something, but please do be careful. 

For some ‘extra reading’ (watching) I highly recommend Contrapoints’ video on cancel culture: https://youtu.be/OjMPJVmXxV8

And Philosophy Tube’s video on artists and fandoms, there’s some really insightful things about parasocial relationships: https://youtu.be/3IG0Y63LkDM

Lots of love, and have a great day <3

[kayteewritessteve]

Beautifully Unfinished - 3/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 2,380 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

High School.

You stand off to the side of the large stairs, that lead up to the front doors of your new school. Unable to stand still, your whole body buzzing from both excitement and fear.

Today is a huge day in your life, it is not only the first day of grade 9, your first day of High School, but also the day you finally get Steve back. His parents had divorced long before you knew him, and every summer he’d have to go stay with his dad, for the entire break.

So you’ve just gone 2 full months without him, which is not okay, not even in the slightest. But you figure you’ll never be able to go long periods of time without him anymore. Not since he’d ran into your life like some damn knight in shining armour, and then continued to protect you ever since. Though Buck ended up also becoming your knight in shining armour in a roundabout way, as he always had to protect Steve when he’d foolishly step up to defend you.

It was a domino effect really. That whole first year of knowing them, all of grade 7, you’d get picked on for being the new kid. Which always meant Steve would step in, and then Bucky would have to do the same.

Then finally at the beginning of grade 8, everyone started to leave you alone, and therefore Steve and Bucky finally got a much needed break. Everyone either gave up on bullying you because you finally weren’t the ‘new kid’ anymore. Or they just learned that Bucky would always finish the fight, so there was just no point in even starting it to begin with. Either way, you were just happy for the outcome. For finally being left entirely alone.

Steve’s dad had ended up being deployed over the summer months between grade 7 and 8, so Steve hadn’t gone to visit him. And instead spent the break with you and Buck. And it was the best summer you’d ever had, the three of you had only grown more inseparable during that time.

So this summer was strange, it honestly would have been a complete write off had it not been for Bucky. He’d done everything in his power to keep you entertained and outside, enjoying the time off and the heat. It had started to feel a little like he was smothering you, actually. And you had this weird suspicion that he knew of your feelings for Steve, yet he never brought it up, not once. And you’d never voiced them aloud, as very last thing you ever wanted was for anyone to find out, but especially not Steve.

Oh God, that would just be mortifying if he ever learned the truth. If he ever figured out you were basically head over heels in love with him for the past 2 years. That is the exact reason why you are currently standing here, impatient and antsy, as you wait for Steve to meet you in this very spot. Bucky too, obviously, but you’d been around him all summer, you are sick of him at this point. Steve is the true reason for your fiddling and anxiety levels, at this moment.

A strong set of arms wraps around your waist, and scaring the Jesus out of you. You gasp as the arms lift you up and spin you around, and it only takes you a moment to realize who they belong to.

“Bucky! Put me down this instant!” You squeal as you continue to spin, having attempted a stern voice but obviously failing miserably. However, the moment the words leave your mouth, the spinning stops and you feel a rumble on your back. He is laughing at you, that little shi—wait a tick, that doesn’t sound like Bucky’s chuckle...

“Guess again, Doll,” a deep, amused voice rings in your ears. Their lips sounding just mere inches from your skin, and the breath fanning your neck confirms that thought.

Your mind blanks at the voice. You don’t recognize it so who the fuck is behind you right now?! Your feet hit the ground and you snap around, ready to give this weirdo a piece of your mind. How dare some stranger touch you! But the second your eyes land on the solid chest in front of you, your whole body freezes.

Your eyes slowly lift up to meet a piercing set of blues that you would recognize anywhere. Your throat goes dry, as your mind tries to come to terms with what you are currently looking at. It’s obviously Steve, but holy fuck, what the hell happened to him!?

You involuntarily step back and give him a full once over. Your eyes hungrily taking in every new detail. What the hell happened to your best friend?! It has only been two months! Yes, in that time you’ve changed a lot as well, you’ve grown an inch taller, your face matured just a little, and you’ve finally filled out in all the right places. You can thank puberty for that. But Jesus! Steve looks like he has had a full body swap. He is tall, stupidly tall, and he’s bulked up. And by that you mean he looks like a damn Greek God now.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck. What the hell are you supposed to do about your feelings for him now!? Shit. You’d loved him when he was small, sickly even, back when he was a large personality and heart trapped in a small package. But now, now his outside matched his insides, and that is entirely too much for your brain and heart to handle.

“Y/N?” He quietly says, sounding unsure. “It’s me, Steve,” he adds, as if you hadn’t already figured that much out on your own.

You shake your head, plastering the fake nonchalant smile on your lips, the one that you’ve become so good at doing. You’ve mastered this exact smile by now. Having to use it every time he’s done something thoughtful, or said something sweet. As you didn’t want him to know just how much those little moments, words and gestures all truly meant to you.

“Thanks Tips, I never would have figured that out without you telling me,” you joke a small chuckle bubbling out, causing that deep rumble in him, again. And your knees almost go weak at the sound, swallowing thickly as your eyes fully meet his. And now it takes everything in you to push your loud thoughts of attraction down, feigning friendly intrigue instead. You weakly gesture to his whole form, “So, ah, what the hell happened to you?”

He smirks and glances down at himself, your eyes doing the same. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction to give him another full once over, drinking in how he now looks. And fuck! How is it possibly for someone to be this attractive?! Why must the boy you love, now be even more appealing?! Someone upstairs must be fucking with you! This has to be a joke!

You’d loved him inside and out before, his large heart and immense kindness taking you completely by surprise, and causing you to basically melt into a puddle of admiration and disbelief. How someone could be as utterly amazing and completely awe inspiring as him, was insanely unfair before.

But now, now in this ridiculously attractive body, it was downright illegal. It shouldn’t be allowed for one person to be so damn perfect!

He chuckles, and the deep sound again messes with you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes flick up to his once more. Instantly seeing the amusement in his blue orbs, he clearly saw you fully checking him out. How utterly embarrassing.

He shrugs nonchalantly now, as if his change was nothing major, as if it had just happened over night and he hadn’t really even noticed it till this exact moment. “Dad is big on being healthy and exercising. He got me into it over the summer, and this was just the outcome.”

You go to reach out involuntarily to touch his chest, but halt the action and quickly drop your hand as you clue in to what your hazy mind was just about to have you do. You were just about to feel him up, just about to allow your fingertips to graze him as if to fully check he is real. That he is actually standing in front of you currently, and that this isn’t just some insane trick your mind is playing. Like you’d made this all up and he is just a figment of your imagination.

But wait, he’d picked you up, he’d already touched you, so you know this was all real. He is actually here, standing in front of you.

That last thought trumps all others and you jump towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Which proves to be way more difficult now with the height difference. “Holy shit, Stevie,” you happily squeal, your mind only focused on one thing now. The return of your best friend. “You’re finally home! I missed you so much!” You smile widely as you feel his now insanely large arms wrap around you again, his face tucking into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

“I missed you too, Y/N. So much,” he murmurs into your skin, his breath causing goosebumps to form instantly.

After a moment someone clearing their throat beside you forces you both to pull back and release from the embrace. Looking to the side you see Buck, standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and one brow raised as he glances between the two of you. He gives you a smug look, like he knows exactly what you are thinking currently. Giving you the distinct impression again that he knows about your true feelings for Steve.

You don’t even have a chance to give him a pleading look before he unfolds his arms and smiles at Steve, “welcome home, Punk!”

They move towards each other and share a bro hug—ya know, the type of hug guys share. The one where they each loudly clap a hand on the others back before promptly separating and taking a step back. Yeah, that kind of hug.

“Thanks, Jerk,” Steve chuckles again as Bucky gives him a full once over.

“Jesus, Stevie,” Buck shakes his head, widening his eyes slightly. “What the hell did your dad feed ya all summer, fucking steroids?”

Steve throws his head back, laughing loudly at your friends feigned shock and dismay. “Nah, just a bunch of protein, meat and veggies. Ya know, the good stuff.”

“Guess we can’t call you Stevie anymore,” Bucky jokes.

“No, screw that,” you quickly pipe up, your eyes meeting Steves as you smirk, “he’ll always be Stevie to us.”

He smirks right back, “that I will.”

You all spend a few more minutes catching up before you head into the school. It only takes a few weeks to get used to his new Steve. Which isn’t overly surprising as he is still entirely the same guy on the inside. So all you have to come to terms with is his new exterior.

But that isn’t really the hard part, no, you getting used to his new looks is nothing in comparison to having to get used to his new attention. Every girl, and some guys, in your school now notice him. Most of them damn near throwing themselves at his feet.

You spend most of grade 9 in a jealous rage that you have to try desperately to play off. Using the excuse of just being angry that no one paid any attention to him when he was small, but now they were all just being superficial, and he deserved better than that.

Bucky clearly saw right through your bullshit, but luckily Steve didn’t. He appreciated that you cared about him enough to glare at the stupid girls fawning over him. He laughed when you mumbled insults about them under your breath. He’d smirk when you’d say some of those insults to their faces. Yes, it was rude to insult these girls, but they didn’t deserve him. Not before, when he was small, and definitely not now, that he was big.

But then again, you clearly didn’t deserve him either. Or at least you never felt like you did. Which meant you never once told him of your feelings, and instead dated other guys during high school. Trying to get over your feelings for Steve, over this ridiculous love you had for the guy.

The day he came to you, finally telling you he’d started dating a girl, was the first time your heart truly cracked. But you’d plastered that same fake smile on your lips and congratulated him. You’d pushed your feelings down the second you’d heard the true excitement in his voice. He was happy, but just because you weren’t the one causing that happiness, didn’t mean you weren’t excited for him.

You’d managed to make it through the entire school day, and got home before you broke down and cried all night over a tub of ice cream. You’d eventually passed out, your eyes puffy and red.

Then the rest of the week had gone the same, faking that you were fine all day and then crying yourself to sleep. After a while, the pain numbed and you became used to seeing him with someone else. The years quickly flying passed and before you knew it, it was grade 12.

Steve had had a few girlfriends over the years, just as you’d had a few boyfriends. He’d never really liked any of your boyfriends though, just as you’d never really liked any of his girlfriends. So whenever you both hung out, it was always alone or with Buck, which was one small thing that you were thankful for. He never forced you to be around his girlfriends, and in return, you never forced him to be around your partners.

Because if they ever had, they’d probably all instantly notice your reactions to Steve’s presence. Something he, himself, never noticed, as you’d always been this way with him. But anyone else who witnessed it, usually could tell instantly about your true feelings for the guy.

Cause every time you’re with him, somehow you forget to breathe.

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@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt

[unsettledink]

Back in the days of LJ, I used to try and do a post at the end of each year, looking back primarily at fandom and fic. I fell out of the habit when everything moved to tumblr, and then it seemed like I didn’t have anything to say since I wasn’t writing or really participating any. 

But I always liked the idea of it, because I love to be overly reflective on stuff. And talk about my fic. Any excuse! I shuffled around some of the topics I used back then and added a few I’ve seen around that I liked. It got… long, because I TALK, so I split into two sections. 

*

Your main fandom of the year? 

    Marvel (MCU) for sure. Primarily with characters from Spider-Man and Iron Man movies.

Your favorite film watched this year?

    The Old Guard - I saw a couple trailers and everything about it looked like catnip. ‘It’s probably going to be so dumb, but I don’t even care,’ I thought. And then it was so good. It was so much fun and so much smarter than I expected and I loved each and every character and it just made me happy in so many ways.

Your favorite book read this year?

    Red, White, and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston - I read it twice this year actually. It’s so… cute isn’t the right world. Sweet and hopeful and soft and comforting and intense. I liked every single character which is pretty rare. I cried during the sad parts and then again at the happy ending, like straight up sobbed - both times. I already want to read it again.

Your favorite tv show watched this year?

    Schitt’s Creek - I started it on a whim and because a lot of people had said it was good. The episodes were short so it wasn’t a huge time investment. The first season was a little rough, but there were enough funny moments that I hung on, and then… I kept getting fonder and fonder of these idiots as they grew. And THEN… it kept not disappointing me? 

     You grow to expect certain scripts, twists, jokes, especially in queer story lines. To wait for the bad thing to happen, because it always does. Instead, Schitt’s Creek kept going, ‘hey, here’s the set up for that! Guess what? We’re not doing it. Here’s the happy version instead.’ The relief of having that happen again and again - the last season I’ve watched (I’m sort of saving 6) I cried a bunch but it was always because I was happy. 

Your favorite album or song to listen to this year?

    1896 - I’ve been waiting for the new Steam Powered Giraffe album so eagerly for aaaaaages. Finally getting recordings of Zero’s songs! Lying Awake remains my favorite off the album, with Eat Your Heart and Bad Days on the Horizon high up there as well. I’m loving what Zero brings to the band.

Your best new fandom discovery of the year?

    I don’t know if I really did discover that much? I stuck pretty closely to old fandoms and the ones I picked up in 2019. Maybe Zodiac? It was definitely inspiring, and I want to write and read more in it. 

    Maybe the couple discords I joined? I still really dislike discord and am not on there much, and mostly lurk when I am, but having somewhere vaguely like the comms I remember makes me feel a little less isolated. It’s the potential, that maybe if I said something I might make a friend, or someone might actually want to hear what I say. 

Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year?

    The Watch - I mean, I knew it was going to be a disaster with every word said during pre production. I wasn’t ever going to be happy with it. And then it came out and was even worse and uglier and … disrespectful not just of the source material but of actual people connected to Terry. I’m beyond disappointed that this is what we got, and it’s probably going to be a long time before we get anything else. 

    Devil All the Time was terrible, but I didn’t have especially high hopes. It still didn’t manage to meet them. Yikes.

The most missed of your old fandoms?

    Maybe MASH? Someone I follow started talking about it and I was reminded all over again of the wonderful fics in that fandom. I went looking and a lot are gone (still on my computer, lol, but not online), but rereading was such a trip. A slightly depressing trip, but still. 

The fandom you haven't tried yet, but want to?

    Hmm. I’ve kind of not had the energy to invest in other fandoms at the moment? When The Witcher was having it’s big moment back in January, I had a feeling I might enjoy it enough to fall headfirst into the fandom, so I avoided watching it. Ikr? I don’t have the time or the energy to actively seek anything out. 

Your biggest fan anticipations for the New Year?

    SO EXCITED about Winter’s Orbit. I mean, the third Spider-Man movie for sure, with worry. The second Venom movie, ugh yes. I have tentative hopes for Jungle Cruise? Jumanji was stellar and I always enjoy Dwayne. I have both hope and dread for the new Suicide Squad - I did love Birds of Prey, so if it’s along those lines, yay. The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard because it should be some fun garbage, my favorite kind. I don’t know how I feel about Dune, but, uh, I’m anticipating it. It seems highly unlikely it will actually happen, but The Wheel of Time TV series. 

I want to be excited about Black Widow but it’s hard. It’s not the story I’ve been wanting to see, and I’m angry about Natasha not getting a movie until she’s dead.

You know. If any of it is released for real.

The Good: 

I moved to a better place. I got a better paying, better benefits, better environment job that lets me work from home. The house acquired 3-7 more cats depending on the month. I was able to get some serious problems on my car fixed. I have insurance and was able to start on some health stuff. No one I know got sick or died. I wrote a LOT.

The Bad: 

Aside from the obvious? Depression hitting extra hard during the winter. Having to put two kittens to sleep. Have my car be hit three times in our parking lot. Being driven INSANE by one of the cats for months while the vets were all closed. Kidney stone. Dealing with several health problems. Stalling for months on Gotcha.

The Indifferent: 

Not leaving the house often or easily. Enjoying a new fandom but not doing great at making connections (still real awkward, bud). Raising kittens and saying goodbye. Need new tires. Reading a lot of fic but not a lot of books. Having more pay but more expenses as well (wth insurance??). 

*

2020 fic stats

Number of stories: 39

Number of fandoms: 6? Or 2, if you cluster the others under mcu

Total number of words: 152049

Average word count per story: 4kish

Longest fic: Causality (18k, P/Q)

Shortest fic: Can’t, Won’t (1k, P/Q)

Most comments received: Sieche (49, T/P)

Fandom you wrote the most of: MCU Spider-Man - I only wrote TWO fics that didn’t feature that fandom, wow. And one of those was still MCU.

Fandom you wrote the least of: Zodiac (1!)

Events you participated in: Marvel Trumps Hate, Kinktober, IornspidersGeorg Exchange, Starker Festivals Exchange, MCU Secret Santa, Spiderio Big Bang

*

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

    SO MUCH MORE OMG. I mean, even just counting posted stuff! (I probably wrote a solid 300k of Gotcha this year.) I did not expect or plan on doing Kinktober, so that’s a whole 31 fics right there. I also wasn’t planning on doing any exchanges - I have a History - but then I did three? And beyond that, I did not expect for everything to get so LONG.

Topic you wrote that you would never have predicted in January:

    Tony/Quentin. Goddammit @the-me09 They were like hey, they could be interesting! And while I agreed, I had no ideas for them. THEN they had to go and write Just Bodies That Collide and next thing I know, I’ve got ten fics featuring them and two-six series focused on them or Peter/Quentin/Tony. What the fuck. 

Leitmotif of the year:

    Vulnerability, I think. I had a bunch of things typed up and they all circle back to vulnerability in the end; sex, being seen, being wanted, sharing trauma, asking for help, trying something new. Offering a soft spot in the hopes it won’t be hurt. 

Favorite character to write about: 

    Tony Stark, for sure. There are just a bunch of slightly different takes, and a lot of canon to work with (kind of frustrating too though). And I’m a sucker for emotionally damaged snarky traumatized characters that are viewed poorly both in universe and out. 

Favorite kind of fic to write:

    This year? Fluff and smut combined. Maybe that’s not the right term really. I keep looking for and writing, even in the angstiest fics, for those soft moments. Sure, maybe it’s a super smutty kink scene, but I want the affection to be obvious. Maybe everyone is consumed by guilt, but I want it to be based in caring too much. Maybe there’s no real love, just sex and even that’s messed up, but I want to find that tiny bit of fondness. 

    And I want happy endings. Or endings that look like they’re going to be happy, at least, even if there’s all the angst first. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone this year? Who AM I? 

Biggest disappointment:

    Not finishing the rough draft of Gotcha. I was making such good progress in 2019, from August to December. Even after the move, I basically finished part 6 in January. I fumbled around and fussed with 1 a lot, but that had already been given one draft, really, and I got through half of 4 before I slowed to a stop. I’ve barely gotten anything accomplished on it since June. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing significant, not like I was doing. I can excuse October, due to 80k invested in Kinktober (yikes!), but aside from that… I’m sad. I’ll finish it eventually, but I really thought I could have the first draft done in a year. I’m sitting at about 480k out of what I’m almost certain will be 700k. 

Biggest surprise:

    Kinktober! It was kind of spur of the moment, decided just a week in advance. I’ve tried month long or even like, 20-25 day long challenges and I don’t think I’ve ever completed one. I thought there was a good chance I’d do so again, so I gave myself a little help and made my own list of prompts, things I knew I liked and hadn’t done much of yet. And it worked? I actually completed it, what the hell? Despite spending five days travelling near the end! Despite falling behind in getting ahead and writing a bunch of stories the day they were to be posted! Despite apparently forgetting how to do short form! 

    I, uh, could have done without the spawning of eleven series or sequels or continuations jfc WHY SELF.

Something you learned this year:

    Ideas breed ideas. I swear to god, the second I sit down to think through a current idea, I wake up the next morning with three more. 

    Words need to be restocked. I need to consume new - not rereads, not fic - content every so often to refresh my word bank. It is astonishing how quickly writing goes again after I’ve done so.

    I can write so much more than I thought I could. I can do so much more than I thought I could. Yes, I can complete challenges without dropping out early. Yes, I can do exchanges and not regret it. Yes, I can write more than 100k, more than 200k, more and more - and I can write 10k+ easily too. Though I wouldn’t mind if I could once again write less than 10k without feeling like I’ve cut off in the middle. 

    My time is shrinking, and if I want to write as much, I’m going to have to make the time. I can’t rely on three days off a week, on seven hours of uninterrupted overnight shifts, on hyper focused writing binges that leave everything else around me on fire. 

Most memorable comment: 

    So, so many! I can’t pick one. I’ve been really lucky to get a bunch of really detailed, enthusiastic, analyzing comments across all different fics. One of the types that always sticks with me are the ones like ‘I didn’t think/know I liked this ship/kink/twist, but fuck, apparently I do? You made me, what the hell?’. 

What, if anything, are you going to try to do differently in your writing in the new year?

So with writing Gotcha but not posting until it’s done, my view of what I’ve written vs anyone else’s is extremely skewed. I’m sitting here thinking, hey I’m 400k in and got another 10k done today, so much writing! While anyone looking at my AO3 account (for most of the year) is like, you’re averaging three months between fics :(

    All that to say I want to try and get something posted more frequently while I’m working on Gotcha.

    Also, writing for kinktober was really interesting - pushing myself to write every single day, often for that day’s post, forced me to get back into shorter form fic. Which used to be all I did? But it was surprisingly hard to just stop and not write more. So I’d like to challenge myself to write more fics under 10k at least. Maybe even under 5k though that might be asking a lot lol. I might get there with the many continuations of those fics I’d like to do. Does that count?

Goals:

   I want to hit 365 fics. :) I’m only 32 away!

    Aside from writing - 

    I’ve really enjoyed the reading record sideblog I started this year. I’ve let it lapse a little the past month or so, but I’d like to keep it going strong. 

    I’d like to leave a lot more comments. I want to get better about allowing imperfection - I want to write The Best Comment, but in the end? Probably 90% of fic writers are going to be happier with a comment expressing enjoyment in any way over no comment at all. 

And not just on fics, but on general posts as well. It’s hard not to feel… weird and stupid and invasive and rude leaving any sort of comment on someone’s post if I don’t know them at least a little. I have godawful rejection sensitive dysphoria and a lot of interactions that ended poorly; I’m really not good at people. But as dumb as it feels to say those things, I know I am thrilled and warmed and happier when there’s a reblog with tags or a note or a comment or an ask or just, any small interaction that shows someone out there notices and cares, at least a little. There’s no reason I can’t at least try to offer that to other people. 

    I’d like to make/run a couple challenges of my own, later in the year. I’m still figuring out what I want to do and what I could do. I’m really interested in doing something that’s not focused on creators, but the readers; some sort of comment or rec challenge maybe.

    I want to find a cheerleader for Gotcha. I’m struggling to keep up my motivation to write it when it’s already in my head, where I can ‘read’ it any time. There’s a line between depending too much on external validation and trying to generate all your validation yourself, and I’m getting to a point where I think I need to ask for help (gasp! The hardest thing EVER). 

*

(Part Two: Pick Some Fics)

[foxwatchesanime]

How I stopped caring about comments: A rambly post by me

This is rambly so hold onto your seats, I apologies. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about comment/review culture in the last few months, particularly after returning to a brand new fandom as a writer and regular content creator. Maybe this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while, maybe not, but I wanted to share my thoughts on the way I perceive comments, how it’s changed for me since I’ve been in fandom and I’d love to hear from other people what their opinion is and how they relate to comments on their work.

I’ve been creating content in fandom spaces for about eleven years now. I started out on YouTube when I joined my first fandom, Merlin, and I made my first fanvideos in 2009. In December of 2009, I published my first fanfiction, plus one sequel which remains unfinished as well as a few other smaller projects. In October of 2010, I published my first podfic and would go on to publish two more. My focus in fandom had always been YouTube, where I regularly created fanvideos. My schedule was never consistent, as with most vidders back in the day, but I’d be comfortable in saying I posted regularly discounting three unintentional hiatuses, one in 2013 following the Merlin finale, one in 2015 probably due to a lack of inspiration and one in 2017 after what I was sure was going to be my permanent comeback to YouTube, only for my hard drive to break and delete all my footage yeeeeeey. 

I’ve now made an actual, official return to my original platform, this time creating videos for my new passion and fandom: anime. Since February of 2020 I’ve also been regularly publishing fic and have no desire to stop doing so. I’m thoroughly invested in new fandom spaces again and am engaging with its fans and the content. 

But the one thing I have seen change drastically in my approach to things is commenting, following and general engagement. 

Let’s take a step back. 

When I first started posting content, comments were not something I even had in my consciousness. I think I knew YouTube comments existed, but I didn’t really pay attention to it. I didn’t even know what subscribers were until I started hearing other people talk about them and then I suddenly felt like it’s something I should be keeping an eye on myself. 

In a centuries old vlog of mine that is now private on my channel, I noticed that when I hit 100 subscribers, I made a video thanking everyone because I was so excited that with more subscribers, I was going to “make more friends.” Oh dear xD 

But the truth is, I have been consistently and chronically bad at keeping up with or caring about the analytics of my various platforms. It wasn’t till writing this post today that I went to check my FF.net account to see how many comments my first two Merlin fics ever got. I still couldn’t tell you my exact number of YouTube or Ao3 subscribers, how many hits or kudos my fic have and I don’t think I’ve ever checked my bookmarks for notes, or whatever you’re able to leave on there. 

Commenting culture on YouTube, for all my joking earlier, was primarily about connection, at least back then. Most of the old guard have moved on and those who have remained are now vidding in other fandoms. The social aspect of YouTube in my opinion has changed dramatically since I was at my peak output on there, but I remember how interactive the comments sections used to be. They literally were, where you made friends.  

A couple of years ago, me and a friend of mine started a Merlin podcast called Merlisten. We created it for fun and without many expectations of what might come out of it. And it was this that changed my relationship with commenting for good. 

Doing Merlisten felt, for the first time in a long time, like pure creativity and passion without anyone’s permission. We always encouraged people to leave feedback as one does, but I don’t think either of us expected to get much, if any. Even considering the incredible support we’ve received with feedback coming in almost every single episode now, there is still a clear and overwhelming gap between the amount of comments given to an episode of Merlisten, to one of my old fanvids or fics. It’s even more interesting when one considers how much more effort and time went into creating Merlisten compared to say, editing or writing, at least for me personally. The amount of man hours spent on creating one 2.5 hour episode from pre-production to final posting often outweighs any other video or chapter I’ve created. Not always, but often. 

What struck me as interesting, however, was that even though comments weren’t always consistent and I always love and continue to love reading them, it’s not what was fuelling me to work hard on this project. I was doing it because I adored it and I knew it was something I was proud to put into the world. 

And that literally changed everything.

I think for a long time, I was always trying to cater my art to what might get the most attention or please the widest demographic of people. It’s how you think when you’re young and you don’t know any better. But for the first time, I was creating something on my own terms that I had no idea if anyone would even listen to and the actual creative process of making said art was ten times more rewarding than any single comment I could ever read. Which really, what I realised, is what art is supposed to be. I can safely say that if Merlisten didn’t get a single comment from here on in, I would still want to see it to its conclusion for one very simple reason: Because I had something to share. 

This brings me to my recent return to writing fic in fandom and it’s not a decision I’ve regretted for a second. More than anything, I’ve realised how personal art can really be, especially when it’s in writing. I’ve found it revealing and cathartic and fascinating in a way that I didn’t ever imagine.

But more importantly, I’ve realised that the real beauty for me in engaging in art is the ability to get an emotional response from it or to relate to it. And that goes for both other people’s work and my own. I can feel just as invested in my own work as someone else’s and that’s not because I think my work is amazing, it’s because I know it’s come from something that was living in me. When I put something out there that I made with my own two hands, that feeling now trumps any sort of feedback I could possibly get and that’s the endorphin I live off. 

Don’t mistake this for me not liking comments, that’s obviously not true. My brain gets the same dopamine hit as anyone’s when I get a notification for something or other, but I’ve realised that I have a very specific relationship with comments that I definitely didn’t have before, if my requests for review on FF.net is anything to go by.

Now, what I find exciting and thrilling is the thought that, if writing this fic got this sort of emotional response out of me, the writer, I wonder if there are other people out there who think the same way I do? Who have a similar way of experiencing joy or suffering or humour or who like the same things as me? That, is an insanely invigorating feeling. And then when someone chooses to take time out of their day to tell you that what came from your head is the same sort of way they feel about life? That’s not a comment, that’s not feedback, that’s a connection you have with another person. And that’s where I start to get excited. And it’s taken me this fucking long to realise it. 

Honestly, I was really worried upon returning to writing and vidding this year that my experience working in digital marketing, where everything is about numbers and social media is all about engagement and nothing else, that I would be overwhelmed and not be able to switch off the part of my brain that’s been trained to think like that. I’m so relieved that that’s not the case. 

As previously mentioned, I suck at giving a shit about analytics and looking at my own stats. I couldn’t give a flying fuck. But I did just go and check my YouTube videos since returning back to vidding. Not a single one of them has views over 200 at this point. Most have less than 100. My most viewed video on YouTube has 57,000 views. And the thing is, there might have been a time when I looked at that and thought, well, this means I suck. This means I can’t make art. This means there’s no point to it.

But no, that's not true.

The point is not how many people see it, how many people like it, how many people comment on it. The point is that I made it. I’m going to continue making YouTube videos despite the fact that the algorithm will destroy any chances they have at getting engagement or views. Even if not one single person comments on them. Because when I’ve finally rendered a new video, or finished proof reading a new chapter, I feel so fucking happy that everything else is just window dressing to me now. 

Because not only is online engagement and following such a stab in the dark these days anyway with algorithms changing and trends moving constantly, but this is the real truth about comments, following and feedback:

The truth is, I don’t need a stranger on the internet to praise me so that I can feel good about my art. The day that I start doing that, I’ve already lost. I used to think that way on a regular basis. Guess what, it didn’t make me produce better art. It didn’t make my life better. Because being validated by others never does. It doesn’t matter how many keysmashes I might get or how many sonnets or kind words, because If I don’t like what I create, there isn’t a single human being on the planet who will make me like it, no matter what they say or how they say it. For others, this might not be the case. But this is my reality. 

I know this, because I recently speed-wrote and published a fic for a fanweek. I wrote 13k in about 8hrs. So far, it’s received nothing but positive words. But it doesn’t matter. After I published it, I had a crisis about how it wasn’t good enough, that there should have been an extra arc, that it ended too quickly, that there wasn’t a climax. Even as the comments came in, it didn’t change my mind. Because other people’s comments will never really lead to fulfilment. 

I want you all to know that I get emotional over every single comment that is sent to me. Every personal story, ever keysmash and heartfelt thoughtful message that took the time to analyse my work. Connecting with you guys has been one of the biggest joys of entering this fandom. But it’s not going to be what fuels me to create and to carry on doing the best work I can. All I can do is treat it as the wonderful privilege that it is, and not any part of the reason I do it.  

In conclusion:

Finally, at age 27 and in the midst of enjoying fandom after a very long period of being either meh about it or lurking, I finally feel content with the fact that I want to create in order to put things out into the world that I worked hard on, that I’m passionate about and that hopefully, in whatever way it might be, it might have touched someone who feels the same things too. It makes me feel accomplished, it makes me feel like I might be contributing something small to the world and it makes me feel like maybe one other person was made happy by it. And even if they never tell me that and if no one else ever comments on what I create, or even if they comment on it in spaces that I never see; private servers, chats between friends or blogs that I don’t follow, that’s also fine. Because there’s always at least one person who is going to feel happy that she made something. And that’s me. 

The short version: I never used to care about comments, then I did, and now I no longer do. 

Sorry for the ramble, but I wanted this here for myself to look back upon in case my opinion ever changes on this or I ever start to lose my way again and feel overwhelmed. I’d love to hear your guys’ experiences with this sort of thing and whether you’ve ever felt bogged down by the need for feedback.

[wahbegan]

Golden Dawn Reading for Kristin

All right here you go, a reading for (heh) @maryreadings courtesy of Aleister Crowley and the book of Thoth. This is the Golden Dawn Reading, which is literally the biggest pain in the ass in the entire world, BUT also reveals the most helpful information. Now, lemme just start with a lil diagram of how the cards are read

As you can see from my incredible drawing, the first 15 cards drawn are read in a spiral configuration because symbol of infinity and life and blahblahblah point is. I won’t refer to them by the order in which I drew them, but instead their placement otherwise it gets fucking confusing

The middle three indicate the state of the querent (i.e. YOU), the three on the upper right are the path you’re currently on. The upper left, depending on whether they compliment or contradict the upper right, are either an extension of that path or an alternate path that you may take if certain decisions are made. The lower left gets into your head, the psychological/emotional reasons your shit the way it is, and the lower right are “karma” cards. Things which are, essentially, unavoidable. 

It’s my first time and Crowley’s Unified Theory of Everything as put forward in The Book of Thoth is insanely dense, convoluted, and frought with symbolism, i’m just going for the most basic divinatory meanings of the cards or I’ll dig deeper if I have to. Helpfully, for the minor arcana, they’re kinda spelled out. The trumps though hoo boy that’s...that’s some other shit. Anyway, point is, first time doing this for real, be gentle. This ain’t your granny’s Rider-Waite reading.

I’ll break down three at a time following the same spiral so you’ll get yeah Your shit, your possible future shit, a different or maybe the same possible future shit, the role your heart has in your shit, and finally your ABSOLUTELY DEFINITELY GOING TO HAPPEN future shit.

Let’s begin.

Cards 1-3: The 3 of Swords (Sorrow), The Queen of Disks, The 9 of Wands (Strength)

Your present state as indicated by the 3 of Swords is sorrow, melancholy, fear, abandonment, but frankly I don’t need any cards to tell me that. HOWEVER, The Queen of Disks indicates a sort of motherly, nurturing presence watching over you that can guide you. This can be internal of external, and the card may be telling you to stay grounded and to have compassion, to take care of yourself and of those around you. Your hard work is paying off. Also, the 9 of wands indicates the ability to overcome exhaustion and what you may think impossible if you can be introspective, if you can draw on your inner reserves of strength and find balance and harmony, you can achieve what your heart is set on. You’re in a state of sadness and fear, essentially, but you’re stronger than you know and need to draw on your inner strength and on your inner “motherly” in this case it just means nurturing calm down nature to take care of yourself.

Cards 4, 8, and 12: The Tower, The Three of Cups (Abundance), The Two of Disks (Change) 

Ahhh, ooh boy. Okay. The path you are currently on. So, one possible future starts out with The Tower. Destruction, ruin, turmoil, anger, grief, depression. The Tower basically signifies nothing good in Thoth. However...whatever experiences may come, you can grow from them. Out with the old, in with the new. The third card seems to imply that’s what will happen, but more on that in a second. The 3 of Cups is kinda weird, it doesn’t fit as neatly as the other two do. It represents the birth of something (good), a time of, well y’know abundance, all the captions on the minor arcana are basically one word super-simplified summaries of divination meanings, a time of joy and spreading your joy with others, it’s...unambiguously positive and it’s strange that it’s right next to The Tower. Except...Change. The Two of Disks means nothing’s set in stone, that your fortunes are in flux, that you need to keep your feet on the ground. That harmony will be found by following the currents of life. If I had to guess at all three together, I’d say that following some ruinous event, keeping your feet on the ground and accepting the change and adapting will lead to a state of happiness and abundance in this possible timeline.

Cards 5, 9, and 13: The Ace of Cups, The Hermit, The 7 of Cups (Debauch)

The Ace of Cups is a chance for your cup to be filled, emotionally speaking. It’s about opening your heart and letting love in. In this future you open yourself up, you become vulnerable, you let your love flow through you. The Hermit usually means withdrawing from people or a situation to get a better insight into it, but the main thing of it is illumination. Finding inner wisdom and realizing a truth. Then the 7 of cups...”indulging negative behaviors” feeding into things we know aren’t healthy for us. Addictions of any kind, self-destructive behavior...poisoning yourself. This future seems to be a different path than the first one, one that will happen if certain decisions are made, one you may have some level of choice over. Whereas your first path started with grief, anger, and ruin but led to change and abundance, this started with love and ended with indulging negative emotions, self-destruction. The Hermit seems to represent the turning point at which you realize what you’ve poured into your cup is poison.

Your paths therefore, are...what? A traumatic conflict that comes to make you grow as a person or a love you come to realize is poison? That seems to be it...seems to be.

Cards 6, 10, and 14: The Princess of Disks, The 3 of Disks (Works), The Moon

Now, onto your mind. The Princess of Disks is someone in touch with nature ha again didn’t need your cards Aleister buddy but thanks for the confirmation, someone peaceful by nature and therefore who deals poorly with conflict. Someone benevolent and empathetic in touch with what’s truly important to them, following and protecting that no matter what. Devoted, protective, nature-bound, conflict-averse, empathetic. You know what matters to you and what matters to you MATTERS to you. Works means, well, working hard and dedicated, and should be...in this position, since it’s not about the future per se, I think it speaks more to your belief that your work should be rewarded. That you work hard at what fulfills you, and you want to reap the rewards of your works. The Moon is a REALLY fun one to get in this position though because the Moon basically means you’re a lunatic. No, no, that’s wrong, but it does indicate deception, in this position I’d assume self-deception, traumatic memories, repressed problems from childhood, and deep problems with your shadow self. You are empathetic, protective, peaceful, and in touch with what matters to you. You work hard and want to be rewarded. But your shadow and your past lie unaddressed, and you deceive yourself.

Cards 7, 11, and 15: The Prince of Cups, The Emperor, and the 9 of Cups (Happiness)

These I feel are the only category that should all be interpreted one at a time, as they represent three distinct forces that are beyond your control, unlike the previous two future sets. Now, the Prince of Cups is creative, passionate, driven, and has a lot to give, but is not an integrated whole of a person and can be reckless and secretive...the court cards seem more used to describe people than the future, but for divinatory purposes, the Prince of Cups here seems to mean...here, from the Book of Thoth: such people good will, sincerity, and right mating are the essentials of success; their danger is overweening ambition.

That was the main thing I could find in terms of forces beyond your control...beware the power of your own passion and ambition. The volatile power of your drive for what you seek will always affect you.

The Emperor, however, is all about responsibility. Self-sacrifice, discipline, surrender to a greater cause. Both of these cards speak much more about the character of a person than the outside world, and you got both for forces beyond your control you need to adapt to. Very interesting. Although...although, The Emperor here could mean a drive in you to be self-sacrificing and/or a leader and/or responsible will always affect your fate...OR it could mean that the need for you to step into such characteristics will affect your fate. I think it may be that second one.

Now this, this is a lovely note to end on. The Nine of Cups is one of the most unambiguously positive cards in the Deck of Thoth. Fulfillment. Getting what you want. It was the very last card in the spiral, the end of your journey, so to speak, but...it did show up eventually. I believe you’ll always find happiness. Apparently, so do the Graeco-Roman and Egyptian Gods

[nomoreemails]

why aren’t we all talking about how bad it feels to be alive

Sometimes, when I’m on drugs, I have a great time and can watch a whole season of Planet Earth and be totally ecstatic about sloths, or lie on the ground in the dark joyfully listening to a really bad album on repeat. But recently, more often than not, I’ll think one single solitary thought about climate change or mass shootings or U.S. imperialism or the opioid crisis or the state-sanctioned obesity in the Pacific Islands and spiral until I’m thinking about all of those things at once and having a complete fucking meltdown. I’ve also developed pretty bad insomnia since moving to New York. You can probably guess why. 

I’ve finally come to accept that I mostly hate living here. There are a lot of reasons, chiefly among them that everyone here is obsessed with developing a brand and also that in most cases I would rather individually pull 30 hairs out of my head than try to get from point A to point B. But living here also forces you to face the reality of the United States, which is that economic and social mobility are a lie. Cities like this are sites of two class tiers, one for the “knowledge class,” college-educated people who work in fields like engineering, writing, business, policy, etc — for whom upwards mobility actually is attainable — and then the other sector that performs service work for them. 

Obviously there’s some overlap (if I hear one more Brooklynite who works in publishing and went to an Ivy League lament their second restaurant job they need to pay the bills, I’ll scream), but if you’ve ever lived in a major U.S. city you’ve probably observed this too. Every day I watch my Twitter feed (mostly white, liberal, college-educated folks who also work in journalism) wring their hands over Amazon warehouse conditions and taxi driver suicides and wage theft at the hands of the gig economy, and then we all go home and open packages delivered Amazon workers, take Ubers because they’re cheaper, get food delivered by some guy who almost died five times trying to bike to your place and then gets his tips stolen by his employer. I don’t think it makes you a bad person to use these services. But, personally, every time I think about how boundlessly I have exploited labor invisible to me for the sake of minor conveniences, I want to stab myself in the face. Does everyone else feel like that?

All this to say — I feel suffocated, on a daily basis, by all the ways that I’m complicit no matter what I do. I’m overwhelmed by everything all the time. It’s hard to respond to texts or be present in my relationships when so much of what’s on my mind is so abjectly wretched, especially when the source has little to do with me and my choices (which my friends can advise me upon) and everything to do with the external world (which they can’t). 

A few days ago I posted something to my Instagram story in the middle of the night, after hours of staring at my ceiling in the dark. Against a black background, it read: “Do u ever get super stoned and end up on the most depressing rabbit hole imaginable on wikipedia and cry and lie in bed awake thinking that all of human modernity was a mistake and that u wish we could all just die off immediately in a mass extinction? 🌟it’s great🌟”. This seemed to hit a nerve among my friends: within minutes, one responded with that laughing-but-also-crying emoji; another said “tbh yeah,” another said, with utmost sincerity, “every time, which is why I can’t get stoned anymore.” 

So, everyone else does feel like this? Is any of this normal? How is anyone expected to be functional under the system of exploitation designed hundreds of years ago by a bunch of megalomaniacal men who created the self-destructing dystopia we live in? Every day I trudge to work, sit at my desk, read the news, wonder why I bothered to get out of bed. Am I actually, I don’t know, clinically depressed and anxious, or am I just experiencing run-of-the-mill side effects of living under the circumstances we do? 

For many of my peers and me, it feels especially cursed to be in in our early twenties right now. On top of everything else….. our personal lives suck, by definition, and nothing we care about matters. Why try to improve your work situation (in which you’re likely getting underpaid in a position you’re overqualified for, or being treated like a weasel, or maybe both), pay off your student debt, learn anything about personal finances, figure out what you want to do with your life, have any long-term dreams at all when there’s a very real possibility you’ll die suddenly in a shooting or slowly, excruciatingly, with climate change? 

I used to despair over other things, like: whether to choose an easy, comfortable lifestyle by becoming an engineer, or going another route. If working any job at all would inevitably compromise my principles, one way or another. Whether I felt authenticity and fulfillment in my relationships. The yearning for community and belonging. The moral backing of my day-to-day actions, or lack thereof. (And also, obviously: whether to buy those shoes, what to do with my eyebrows, if I was gaining weight, if I was losing weight.)

I still think about most of those things, but now it feels luxurious to agonize over interior minutiae, to ignore the larger existential scarcity of participating in a society and a world in decline.

I find it frankly insane that in the span of one hour I can think such thoughts as “if Tobin Heath and Christen Press aren’t secretly married I’ll kill myself” and “I wonder how much money is in my 401(k)” and also, as I survey the absurd amount of trash my household has generated in two days, “what’s the point of existing if all I do is put permanent garbage on this planet?” I mean, I’m not even going to see whatever’s in my 401(k) until the year 2060 — what am I expecting, to have a totally normal and chill retirement because the world in 2060 will be totally normal and chill? I’m not even really expecting to be alive in 2060. What’s the point of plotting out my trajectory, financial and otherwise, for even the next ten years, much less 40, when pretty soon we’re all probably going to be living in bunkers eating cockroach jelly as we watch artificial projections of polar bears and sequoias? 

Being alive right now kind of feels like experiencing the churning annihilation of stability, of beauty, of moral purpose, of all the things I’ve believed since childhood I would live my life pursuing. 

On an ethical basis, I want to resist cynicism, keep myself from acclimating to the barrage of atrocities brought upon by the Trump era, stay despairing, stay angry. On a practical basis, I also want to remain functional. It’s an impossible psychological position to straddle, like giving myself a black eye every night to remind myself to feel pain while doing a job that fully depends on my having an unbruised face. When, for example, another mass shooting happens, I almost feel myself having an out-of-body experience, knowing that it never stops being sickening and astonishing but also that it has become common, unremarkable, and that to be able to get out of bed and go to work and blandly say good when someone blandly asks how are you and see my friends and talk about anything other than how awful everything is, I have to be able to raise my own misery bar. But that, of course, only adds to the cycle. It’s almost worse to know you’re capable of adjusting. 

Recently I logged back into Tumblr for the first time in years, just to see how things are over here. One post read, no context necessary, “looking for a group of 5 to 7 women who will sit on the floor and wail with me in grief.” Another: “why are we still here? just to suffer? every day i get emails.”

Why are we still here? Just to suffer, beg hot celebrities to dismember us, try our best to ignore the cognitive dissonance of our constant warring desires to live ethically and also to enjoy our lives, both impossible? Every day I get emails; every day I want to reply, just once, I am not going to uphold my responsibilities because we live in a ravaged world. I feel sick with anxiety pretty much all the time. Do you, too?

[drumpfwatch]

State of the Union 2019 Commentary

It’s been a week and some change. Let’s talk State of the Union.

First off, I’d like to make a comment on the overall speech theme. Trump spoke of unity and everyone coming together, but that very morning he went to yell at how obstructionist and obnoxious the Democrats were being for not giving him his baby bottle wall. This man, who speaks of himself as the best deal maker in the world, and bragged he’d be able to get everyone to get together and make friends, sort out their differences, when he has done nothing but make demand after demand and concede no ground.

A compromise, Mr. Trump, is two people coming together and agreeing on something they’re both willing to do while conceding parts of what they want. It’s called a surrender if someone gives you everything they want while getting nothing. Dummkopf.

So with that, let’s begin at the beginning. I warn you right now I don’t want to go over every single point he made, but I’ll cover as many of them as I can and comment as needed. There are other commentaries out there, some as soon as the day after, and those are more than cool to have hanging around. I’m sure between all of those you can come up with a total summary of what he said, based on every single word. With that, let’s begin.

As per his theme, he started the speech by calling for unity and cooperation. All well and good for anyone else. We should avoid revenge politics - which is fucking rich coming from him, but whatever. Specifically, he calls congress to concern themselves “with the agenda of the American people” but…

Well, we’ll get to that.

He thanks some WW2 vets and then talks about how he’s interested in “America First.” People have on more than one occasion pointed out that given his actions, he seems to mean “America Only” when he says that, and that should be a premise that is upsetting to everyone but I have no doubt there is a large portion of the population of the American population who are more than happy to ignore the rest of the world. They already do, after all.

He then introduces Buzz Aldrin, saying that we’ll be going to space on American rockets again. And he’s actually, sadly, right there. Back in 2011, the Space Shuttle program was retired, and we’ve been relying on the Russian Soyuz capsule to get us into the space ever since. The successor to the Space Shuttle Program, the Space Launch System, has been slow coming for numerous reasons. It is, however, finally going to be ready to go in 2019 and will perform its first mission in 2020 - sending a craft to Mars. They wanted a rocket that could get a crew to Mars eventually, and the Senate…

Well, let’s just say congress stuck it’s fingers into the Space Launch System so much that it has been derisively called the Senate Launch System, and a lot of astronauts and NASA Engineers are concerned that it is basically a horrible, efficient money sink. Still, as an avid space fanatic, I’m glad we’re making efforts, at least. Though I’d point out that those efforts have been in motion long before he ever got there to direct them. This is, after all, the man that believed we could go to Mars before his first term was out.

He next goes on to talk about the economy, claiming that our middle class is bigger and more prosperous than ever before. This is untrue. While it seems to be complicated, the general consensus is that while the Middle Class has been stable in size, they tend to have less and less, especially in comparison to the upper class. That is where the real problem is, as well. The absolutely ridiculous wealth disparity. Though I get the feeling that removing taxes from private jets is totally gonna help with that. She says, sarcasm frothing in her mouth in a mixture of rage and bitterness.

He then claimed responsibility for the parts of the economic boom that have been happening. First of all, the economy is...not exactly booming. But there are good things happening in it. It’s sort of a whirlygig of insanity, if I’m honest. Now, you’ll hear me say this again a few other times, but I am not all that educated when it comes to economics. Economics is a chaos system and I much prefer stable ones with easy to predict results. Is a thing right or wrong, is this method an effective way of accomplishing the intended goal. Things like that.

That said, I do know a few things, and one of them is that a lot of people who do know a thing or two about economics point out that this economic boom began in 2016, which means it's entirely possible that this is a result of Obama’s policies were responsible, we don’t really know. Maybe Trump did have something to do with it, but it’s often not accurate to blame the problems or successes of an economy on a single thing. So this claim gets a big ol’ stamp of “UNVERIFIABLE” from me.

I can say that wages are not rising, or at least as much as he thinks. The Federal Minimum Wage was not changed since 2009, and lost about 9.6% of its purchasing power because of inflation. While some states have made major strides towards livable minimum wages have been made in places like New York and California, I’d be willing to bet dollars to donuts that if you removed the massive amount of wealth that people like Jeff Bezos make, you’d find that they are stagnant, or even lowering.

There’s a thought for a math rant sometime.

Anyway, he then praises the 5 million people who got off of food stamps. First of all, the number is 3.5 million. Second of all, it’s a bit more complicated than that. To summarize, while the decrease in unemployment is helping, there’s another little niggling thing. There was a provision in the law that basically said you could turn off some of the safety nets if employment rates rose, and a lot of states decided not to pay for those benefits. I won’t argue whether or not that was a right or wrong decision, but I will say you don’t get to wave around the number of people who are off a program as a victory when the reason they’re off it isn’t because they don’t need it, but because they were kicked off it.

We’re the hottest economy in the world, he says! And he’s wrong. I mentioned before that we’re in a weird sort of “Good Things, Bad Things” phase, but I don’t think I need to tell anyone that the stock market has been all over the place, falling and rising considerably at random. Meanwhile, S&P has downgraded America’s credit score. I think we’ve got a problem, and I know we’re not the hottest economy.

He then goes onto say that the unemployment rate for people of color is the lowest it’s ever been. And shockingly, he’s right on this one. Sort of. The Federal Bureau of Labor Statistics shows that the rate of unemployment for hispanic people and black people actually went down, and was at one point the lowest it’s ever been. Asian unemployment has sorta been all over the place. What makes it strange, however, is that each of these groups had a random and sudden spike since November/December of last year, while for whites it’s been pretty stagnant. Last hired, first fired, I guess.

He also talks about the same with disabled people and that is blatantly untrue. While it seems the number of people who qualify for disability also is going up, they’re not getting employed any faster.

I should also mention that even if we could point to one specific thing as responsible for these changes, I doubt it would be the fault of the man who himself wouldn’t house or hire black people.

He also celebrated getting rid of the estate tax. Which yes, he did. That is not necessarily a good thing. He acts like it applies to small businesses and farmers, but it doesn’t. One person said on the matter “If you don’t feel comfortable calling what you own an estate, then you probably aren’t affected by the estate tax.” You and your guilded crotch spawn and protected up to 10 million dollars. Only after that is your wealthy taxed on death, and only to prevent the the existence of a permanent landed gentry. The only people benefiting from the end of the estate tax are literal millionaires, who can afford to give some of that dosh to the community.

He then talks about Obamacare, and how he get rid of the Individual Mandate. He claims this was the most unpopular part of the law, and he’s right, but analysts point out that it’s more complicated then Thing Bad So Get Rid Of. Without the Individual Mandate to get people motivated to apply for coverage, a lot of people simply won’t get insured. Further, the whole point was that forcing the younger people to pay for insurance when they’re less likely to need it helped to add money to the pool that could be used to help cover the people with pre-existing conditions or complications. That said, it’s also a good thing not having people pay for coverage they can’t afford, so...it’s complicated.

Trump then bragged about cutting the most regulations of any President ever, and I won’t deny that he has. I will, however, point out that this is a horrible thing that should concern and frighten all of you. While some of those regulations may seem arbitrary, literally every one of them was written in the blood of some innocent person who died so a corporation could make an extra buck. We’ve already seen an increase in food poisoning and infections and the increase in food recalls since 2013 has been kind of horrifying. Trump has been eagerly cutting regulations to “Pre-1960s” levels. You know, before we had seatbelts. It’s very harmful to cut those regulations, and it needs to stop.

He then says that America has corporations coming back in record numbers. On this, he is also not wrong. The Jobs report was very good, and we should all be happy about that. That said, whether or not he is the one to thank for that is a bit more complicated, as usual. It turns out that some of these gears were set into motion when Obama was in office. Some of them are just the effects of a slow recovery process since the 2009 Recession. That said, they did take a sharp rise in 2017. So yay for him, I guess.

Except, again, if deregulation is how you’re doing this, then you’re doing it wrong. We should not be sacrificing the blood of American people so that a few already stupid wealthy people can get even more stupid wealthy. The reward is not worth the cost.

He then goes on about how we’re the number one producer of oil in the world. This claim is untrue. There has, however, been a boom in oil and natural gas production due to things like the invention of fracking and loosening of regulations that goes all the way back to the Bush Era. The rate is increasing such that by sometime into the 2020s, we will be the greatest producer of oil and natural gas, at least privately. Considering those materials are murdering our planet this is also not good news, but since Global Warming is, of course, a conspiracy cooked up by the Chinese to steal American Jobs, that doesn’t matter. We are also not a net exporter of energy, by the way, but are on are way to becoming one.

Then things get...weird. Everyone starts chanting “U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!” in this really low and creepy tone that I was frankly a bit creeped out by. It was like these people thought they were at a football game and not a session of Congress. Then again, this is my first time really sitting down and paying attention to the State of the Union, so this may be normal. I just didn’t like it.

What should, however, terrify everyone is his next babbling remark. He spends five minutes or so going on a rant about how “If there is going to be peace in legislation, there cannot be war and investigation.” Which, frankly, reminded me of a mafia frontman. “Lovely country you got here, shame if somethin’ were to happen to it. You noisy folks stink’ yah nose into my bosses business makes it real hard for him to keep wild guys like Big Jim ova deya under control. I can’t promise you won’t upset him wid all this.”

Sorry, trumby. You don’t get to talk about the need to stop our adversaries when you may well have been put in office by one.

Ughk, I hate using that word. Adversaries. It makes it sound like we have a boat load of enemies, when in reality we have like, 3 or 4, and otherwise a series of complex political relationships. Like we can’t work together with those people for a better future if we all just calmed the fuck down.

Like they’re not people.

Whatever. There are more important things to worry about.

Like how he goes on to mock the democrats for not approving his nominations. Even though a whole boatload of them are sketchy as fuck, should have never even been approved at all, or were just never filled by Trump in the first place.

Also can I just say that it’s fucking rich hearing aa man like Trump complain about not getting a nominee approved after what his party pulled with the Supreme Court? We call that hypocrisy.

He then goes on to talk about making life easier for prisoners and punishing people who abuse our veterans. Now, I could point out that prison reform was actually Barack Obama’s whole big thing and he passed a lot of laws in that regard, and Trump has not, and Former President Obama also passed VA reform in 2014 that allowed for people who mistreated veterans to be harshly punished. That said, Trump has been making further strides on those initiatives, and in fact his most approved and liked legislation is the First Step Act. These are the sorts of policies that really can make life better for people, and it’s nice to see everyone getting behind them. Ofcoursewecouldfurtherthesegreatstridesbyclosingdownforprofitprisons, andotherthingsthatimcertaindontappealtoarepublicanmindset, but that’s for another day. What I’m saying here is that as much as I don’t like it, I have to admit Trump has done a good. I don’t care who past them, how they developed, they were good things that happened. Yay! Good job Trump, you get a big shiny gold star.

We then move on to the Racist section of the speech. He starts by talking about the Migrant Caravan and I am shocked at how wrong and full of hatred this man is. He claims these refugees are an “onslaught” of illegal aliens when they’re all coming to America to seek asylum. You know, something that’s completely and totally legal. But no, this is an INVADING FORCE of ILLEGAL ALIENS that need to be stopped with 3,750 more Soldiers with GUNS. They managed to make it all the way to the American border with only one small kerfuffle with the Mexican border police, before arriving at the American border not to see Lady Liberty’s open arms welcoming the hopeless and downtrodden, the weary and poor, but instead heavily armed and barricaded troops who would then go on to use tear gas on them. Is that the America we want to show to the world?

Now, to his credit, Trump admits that Immigrants enrich our society - which is entirely true. Yes, there’s a bit of stress on lower-wage jobs when they first arrive, but that’s minimal in comparison to the benefits. Not that saying that to someone who got laid off and replaced with a migrant is no consolation, I fully understand, but there are ways to help these problems. Also, side note, if he believes immigrants are so awesome and enriching to our society, then he would be more than happy to have them enter the country. But the immigration system here is a convoluted mess of insanity that takes forever to get anything done and then occasionally does nothing, and Trump has just been making it worse. Just a thought.

Now I wrote an entire post about the wall, so I won’t go into it too much here. But the wall is an expensive, stupid, and ineffective idea. Drugs aren’t coming through skirmishers who are dodging around the border, they’re coming through ports of entry. The San Diego wall he was talking about isn’t nearly as effective as he pretends, and it didn’t really start working until the entry port in that area was spruced up. Smuggler still break through it all the time, as well, to the point where an area of it is called “Smuggler’s Gulch.” It also has trapped migrants into paying more to cross to the bad guys, taking riskier and more lethal routes, and actually trapping “illegal” migrants in who may want to leave. Most of the time, men would come up, do some work for cash, then go home once they felt they had enough, but now they’re coming, staying, and bringing their families.

Trump also points out that there were people in that room who voted for the wall, but I reckon the immense amount of insanity that came from that previous attempt are why a lot of people don’t want to do it again. Trump says that “No issue better illustrates the divide between America's working class and America's political class” but in truth, 60% of Americans are strongly opposed to the wall. The wall is a lost, stupid cause, and Trump needs to give it up before he hurts himself with his flailing about it.

OH, and just as one last cherry on the cake, it won’t stop sex trafficking either. Most traffickers bring there people in through on legal Visas, which they are then forced to overstay as those visas are held from them. In fact, over 80 anti-trafficking organizations got together to say that Trump's comments on the matter were actually harmful to efforts to stop this stuff.

He then goes on to tell the story of the Maddison family. I honestly don’t remember what it specifically was, because they are just a prop to garner sympathy for his position, and I’d actually be fine with that if the idiot didn’t use it to spread a lie. This family lost ones they love to MS13 members. That’s horrible and tragic and very sad, and I feel for them and wish it hadn’t happened. But acting like this is how every “illegal immigrant” operates is just a flat out lie. While the actual numbers are hard to tell, we know enough to say that if you strip away the illegal crime of coming here when not allowed, “illegal” immigrants commit 16% less crimes then the native-born population. Most of them are just people who want to escape an insane life and live the American Dream. But, see, they’re hispanic, so they can’t. You have to be white to be an American.

So with all of that said, let’s jump ahead to a cute moment where he talks about women taking 53% of the open jobs. Again, not his fault but go off I guess.

He then goes on to celebrate the women in Congress, of which there are more than ever before. Hurrah! I appreciate that little wink and nod, and in fact Donny, you get a gold star for this one too because this one is your fault.

By proxy.

Pretty much every one of those women ran for office because they hated you, your policies, and your stupid ugly face. They’re not there because they like you, they’re there because they want to stop you. So I think I’mma just take that shiny gold star away.

Next, he bounces back to talking about the economy, because Trump can’t focus on a single thing. Again, I won’t say much on this because economics is not my speciality, but people who DO know a thing or two about economics are pretty much in agreement that tariffs are a tool, and not a very good one. The analogy I like to use goes something like this. Imagine tariffs as a double edged knife you’re going to use to stab someone you don’t like. You’re already dealing with a weapon that’s not the safest, but guess what? This one also doesn't have a hilt, or a guard, or a pommel or anything. It’s literally just a long, serrated sheet of iron with a point on one end. So whenever you hit the other guy, you’re cutting yourself too. You can’t not.

Tariffs need to be used with the precision of a scalpel, and only if they’re determined to be the right tool for the job. And that’s without accounting for the unintended consequences like how rich people can probably find a way to avoid tariffs so they hurt the poorer people more, or you know, starting a trade war because the other people can just pass tariffs on you too?! And if any of you think this gigantic flatulating, tiny-handed orange with a racist stick coming out of its ass is capable of “precision” then I have a bridge I’d very much like to sell you.

He also goes on to talk about NAFTA again, and I’m gonna have to plead ignorance on this one. I don’t know if NAFTA is or is not a good deal, or if UMCA is a better one. I don’t know enough about economics and I don’t know enough about the laws themselves. I’m at least grateful the idiot didn’t cancel NAFTA before enstating UMCA, and those people who are smarter than me I keep talking about say that Mexico and Canada may not be in a mood to negotiate a new trade deal. So who knows. I’m not going to say much else on the matter.

So then we move on to infrastructure brieful. Trump talks about how it’s crumbling and needs repair, and he’s not wrong. The infrastructure report card for the US is, frankly, abysmal. But this begins a trend on a couple of topics.

He goes on to eagerly talk about how we need to improve health care, and lower drug prices! That we’re going to get rid of HIV in 10 years! That Childhood Cancer is going to be eradicated! Everyone gets paid family leave! All this wonderful pie-in-the-sky stuff that is super cool to hear him talk about, and I’d be totally behind him….

If he were actually doing anything on these matters. Trump talks a big game on these things, but hasn’t made any moves. Whenever he starts to, his business buddies step in and explain why they’re going to lose money and he stops.

So! He then moves on to talk about the legislation in New York that protects women’s rights to get an abortion anytime and how horrible it is that they’re murdering babies.

I think the response the white-clade congress women gave was the best.

I think the look on Angela Ocasio-Cortez’s face is the best, but the look on Angelia Ocasio-Cortez’s face and I think that’s Kathleen Rice giving the stink eye.

I don’t want to get into a debate about abortion, because that really is the best way to get everyone everywhere ever to hate you. I will say this, however. The law more or less only applies to pregnancies that would kill the mother or if the baby is already dead, and it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t.

Do you honestly think a person is going to go throw eight months of the most harrowing and obnoxious process the human body is capable of performing and then just suddenly decide “You know what? I don’t want this baby anymore.” If you’re that far along you either wanted the baby and were willing to suffer for it, or you never wanted the baby and were prevented from getting an abortion when it would’ve been kinder. The law isn’t about murdering babies, it's about letting women have control over themselves and their bodies. Acting like it’s some horrible evil that happened just makes you look dumb.

We then go onto nonsense about military bravado. Trump yammered about how he forced our allies to pay their fair share in NATO - which is honestly a kettle of fish I want to talk about in its own post, but suffice it to say it’s interesting everything he stresses and hates NATO for makes matters easier for Putin.

The real thing I want to talk about is the nuclear treaty he eventually meanders into like a toddler into a wall. Look, I’m not going to pretend that I understand the intricate diplomatics of nuclear negotiations, but even I know that YOU DO NOT ARBITRARILY CANCEL A TREATY THAT PREVENTS NUKES FROM BEING BUILT. You want an arms race?! This is how you get an arms race!

So what if Russia is “flaunting it” and ignoring it? I do not give one single solitary flying fuck. You negotiate a treaty that makes them suffer consequences - or better yet, stop not making them suffer the consequences they’re supposed to when they pull that shit - and you do it while the other treaty is still active. The last thing we need right now is a nuclear war and I don’t want to fucking hear that you’re taking Russia out of a treaty that at least somewhat contained them.

This man is going to get us all killed, I swear to Athena.

He then starts saying that “oh, the world would be in Nuclear war with South Korea if it weren’t for him, and he’s just wrong. I mean I know the nature of reality is such that there’s no real way to measure the tiny micro changes in the fabric of events that could lead to a given result, but I can say for damn sure that North Korea became more aggressive after Trump took office, and that their nuclear problem is largely for deterrent purposes because they are afraid of. Not that anyone should have nuclear weapons. Point is, this claim is bullshit, and I don’t need to source anything because it’s fantastical.

Next up is Venezuela, and his whole...spat against socialism. First of all, socialism is not responsible for the collapse of Venezuela because it wasn’t socialist. Those close to Maduro call his state a narco mafia government under the guise of socialism. It’s complicated - like everything else here is - but it can basically be summarized that instead of gathering material in the government and using it to support the people, it gave all that to big companies and then just kept taking and taking. Because that’s what unregulated big companies do. There was no market.

That said, even if Venezuela had been socialist in the truest sense, that doesn’t mean that socialist policies couldn’t work or shouldn’t be used. When applied properly (with a mix of capitalism, in my opinion), you can create a prosperous country that takes care of everyone by skimming off the top of those who have much and giving to those who have little. We’ve seen it work in different circumstances before, and even an entire country that made it work up until Stalin decided to take it over and twist its efficacy into bullshit.

He then talks a bit about Israel and Palestine, which is another basket of snakes I refuse to open other then to say that treating it as casually as he does is stupid. Israel and weird creepy end times Christians are the only people who actually don’t want a two-state solution. Sooo yeah.

Next, he speaks on how he’s done with the war against ISIS and that the troops are coming home, but fails to give a time frame and talks about not fighting an endless war - something I’d be more willing to believe if he wasn’t spewing money into the military like a sick man on laxatives does into the toilet. But whatever, I’m all for both of those things, so if he does them I’ll compliment him accordingly and apologize for not believing him.

The last thing I really want to talk about is how he brags about getting out of the Iran Nuclear Deal. That was actually working just fine and had finally squeezed Iran into cooperating and now they don’t have to while still giving them breathing room for their civilian population. But that is a complicated matter, that, again, is more difficult to ascertain than “Thing Good” or “Thing Bad.”

From there, the rest of the speech is just chest beating and bravado. Emotional appeals about how great America is and how free we are and blah blaah blaaah. I actually don’t have a problem with this - the swelling call to action at the end of the speech is a very effective tool and it’s not like I haven’t used emotional manipulation myself, even in this very article. But the point is that it’s not factual - it’s not meant to be criticized as a series of claims or even critiqued at all. It’s bravado, pure and simple. Trump is good at it, and he did a good job with it here.

Before I conclude though, I just want to quickly comment on one thing. Him derailing antisemitism is hilarious. You’re like 4 years too late on that bro.

Anyway, conclusions.

Most of the problems with this speech can be summed up with “It’s not that simple, idiot.” The world is a complicated place and Trump tried to simplify it. His ignorance to fully explain the complexities - or, as the case may be, even bother to understand them - has led him to misinform people live on TV. I’m not going to spend time talking about whether it was deliberate or not, I have long since given up and trying to determine where Trump’s evil ends and his stupid begins.  

I will say that I give him one or two points for doing the things right, but given how much else was disgusting and, frankly, hateful, it’s very much “even a broken clock is right twice a day” type thing. Trump’s state of the Union was a cavalcade of lies and misjudgements, interspaced with bravado and unnecessary calls to his god. This is a secular nation, people. I should not hear about God no less than 4 times in the most important speech the country makes.

Hopefully he’ll be out of office soon.

[trueishcolours]

My siblings and I accidentally write a Ron/Victor Krum 4th year fix it fic in the group chat

Isabel: guyS

Rewatching goblet of fire

And I have to say

How amazing would it have if

It was a LOT less gendered

And also

If Ron and Krum had got together instead of Krum and Hermione

Thomas: Oh yeah there's so much Gender  

Isabel Ron already basically has a crush on Krum

Would have been great  

Thomas: idk, he's more jealous of him in my opinion  

Isabel: Nah

He has the action figure

He says he's an artist

It's definitely there

Thomas: Tru 

Clare: I mean on a superficial level I liked the Hermione/Krum part because it made me relate that a girl who is usually uninterested in 'feminine' things might still have some anxieties and take some interest now and again, and 'this super hot guy will like You, the Nerd' is standard wish fulfilment, but honestly I could take it or leave it. A grumpy feminist could equally well read it as 'EVEN smort girls like Hermione want to be feminine REALLY uwu'

And that would be a boring analysis but the whole feminine versus not argument is boring and not what we're here for

Anyway

The Krum drama kicks off the Romione subplot and honestly I hate Romione as a ship, to me it feels forced from beginning to end

But Ron/Krum would tie in really nicely to the whole character arc for Ron that JKR started in the first book and then forgot about where he evolves into an amazing intelligent badass without noticing it

Picture: He is dooting along, vaguely bummed because he's nothing special compared to his older bros, then in book four he realises wait he DOES stand out from others because he's gay/bi/whatever but he's not sure he WANTS that because standing out for being a minority is a fucking hassle but by the seventh book he is war hero, chess master and gay icon and vaguely confused about it

Hell, you could even have Hermione go to the ball with Krum, get her girly character development in and have Ron freak out and both of them /assume/ it's about her when it's not

It would just

Be better Thomas: Queer theory saves the day once again

Clare: :D  

Isabel: JUST BASICALLY RON, ALL THE TIME, WITH A BETTER CHARACTER ARC

Thomas: I love this  

Isabel: Honestly decades later I am still just so salty about Ron's lack of development, hell, anti development. I just want everything for him

Clare: Like, not to make it automatically angsty just because it's gay but Ron being Not Straight ties in so well with his typical theme of qualities that he think make him less than Textbook Perfect actually being his great strengths (I read a great analysis that Ron actually achieves all his brothers' goals without trying or noticing)

Ron just utterly stalls as a character in the books

And Harry is a shitty friend to him by the end

She kind of pulled it back with his deathly hallows arc but it was bungled and could have come across as just bashing him

Isabel: HE IS. Ron is so taken for granted.

Clare: God, Ron is SO much less of a dick if his yelling at Hermione in book four is coming out of Sudden Repressed Realisation, not just 'woman I like is doing something I don't like'

Isabel: I watched film 4 last night and just everyone??? Is so horrible to each other??? All the time??? I swear in the books it's so much better handled

Other reasons why bi/gay Ron headcanon is important: - most masculine of the trio/ has a million big brothers so dealing with toxic masculinity/ bucking queer stereotypes in there too - an extra 'fuck you' to the whole pure blood thing which I reckon is really homophobic as it means your bloodline won't get continued or some shit - Krum coaching Ron on Keeping in bad English. Tell me it's not cute. - Ron's a linguist (he learnt parselmouth on like 2 listens)!! Tell me he wouldn't learn Bulgarian?! - just, chaotic bilingual Quidditch talk, all the time, forever?!

Clare: UM your pidgin Quiddich is now my new fave headcanon forever????? You're SO RIGHT Ron is smart, he's just not academic. He would DEFINITELY pick up a language fast if he was using it to talk to his boyfriend/about quiddich

Isabel: EXACTLY

Clare: Plus all the stuff you said about toxic masculinity and purebloodism.

MAKE THE SUBTEXT TEXTUAL, YOU COWARDS

Isabel: #giveRonaBoyfriend2k18

Also not around for the lowkey weirdness of Ron and Harry dating CANONICALLY IDENTICAL AND BORING non white girls to the Yule Ball

I know that you can overdo all this stuff but seriously the fuck

Clare: It is a bit odd and icky   

Isabel: Ok so this is what happens

Krum asks Hermione to the Yule Ball and it's like she gets her cute moment with him

But then instead of spending the whole evening being a whiny bish Ron shows un-JKR-characterisation-characteristic maturity and puts a brave face on it and talks to them both

He's upset but doesn't full on ruin their evenings

And then Hermione after the ball, (gradually realising with slight horror that she and Krum actually have literally nothing in common) kind of keeps... asking... Ron to hang out with them

And at first Ron's like lol no way am I third wheeling

But then the temptation to hang out with his literal idol becomes too strong

And he and Krum start hanging out independently of Hermione

(who's probably in the lib helping Harry study for the second task at this point anyway)

The weather is still too cold for Quidditch

Ron thinks

But somehow Ron ends up playing anyway

IN THE SNOW

WITH VICTOR

HE'S GETTING COACHED BY AN ACTUAL WORLD CUP FINAL SNITCH CATCHING PLAYER AND HE IS NOT CHILL

Clare: Hoooooly fuck this is perfect

(except he actually is because it's like -10 and snowing what the fuck Krum) Ron putting his big boy panties on and dealing during the ball, leading to him actually having an in with Krum via Hermione

I love the dynamic of Hermione just...awkwardly asking her friends to hang with them...just to break the silence...

Isabel: YEAH EXACTLY

And then them all actually having a nice evening

Clare: I mean the point of Krum with her was to get that 'YASSSS I'm dating a hot guy!' moment WHILE ALSO showing how easily it fizzles, so nothing needs to change there

Hermione could even do her 'ugh, quiddich and BOYS' routine

Isabel: Awkward because of course it is awkward what is a teenage party without angst but also, fun

yeah exactly! the slow dawning that fuuuuck, I've just brought another stupid quidditch boi into my life oh god why

Clare: Ron still knows more about the history of the game and all the technical terms than Harry so has more to talk to Krum about

Isabel: And then you know Ron and Krum stumble back into the castle with Ron wearing Krum's hat à la Chad and Ryan, and Skeeter doesn't bat an eyelid because it doesn't fit her trashy narrative

Clare: RIGHT I've got to sleep I'm getting a cold but I love this

Isabel: ok go sleep

OK ONE MORE POINT

we almost certainly get the insanely awkward 'think you're in luurve Ron' or 'lol if you love Krum so much you should date him not Hermione'! moment from either Fred or George or maybe Ginny

And there's just a kind of... missing step moment

Clare: I think all of them would do that

I mean they're pretty mean to Ron anyway, especially about love

Isabel: Exactly they're all horrible but MAYBE this would teach them!!

Clare: Exactly! It would rip the rug out from under them and they'd be like wait shit

Isabel: We are actually mean to Ron... a lot

Clare: Especially because in this timeline Ron still gets the hassle from his sibs but unlike in the main timeline where he is just butt monkey forever he has the trump card that he's got a boyfriend who's a world famous quiddich player

Like, if you're Fred, George, Ginny or even Molly you can't really come back from that reveal. Ron wins.

Isabel: Krum actually being a laser focussed guy who gives people he cares about 300% of his attention

And middle child syndrome attention starved Ron just soaks it up like a blooming Icelandic kid under a sunlamp

Ron win evertiem

Clare: Yeahhhhhh. Being a prodigy who's trained from such a young age he's got to nail that work life balance and it's like 90% work 10% life but that life is INTENSE, he's seen too many people lose their relationships because they won't switch off their metaphorical phones during dates, he gets one (1) month a year and about three (3) important people and when it is Person Time it is PERSON TIME

Right bed for eal I'm dying

Isabel: BED FOR EEL

UGH ALL I WANT IN MY LIFE IS THE 50K+ SLOW BURN QUEER 4TH YEAR REWRITE

BUT I LEGIT DON'T HAVE TIME TO WRITE IT AND I DON'T TRUST MYSELF TO GET RON POV RIGHT ANYWAY

Clare: Bebs I wish you could write it

The raw chemistry my goodness

I ship it now

Is there going to be 'you are treating me like an idol not a real person please stop' angst at any point?

Isabel: OF COURSE THERE IS

Clare: Also Krum is like 'I knew I could trust you because you are bffs with Harry Potter and you treat him like he's totally normal you must be so mature and cool he is so so lucky to have a friend like you

Or well, Krum insecurity that people only like him because of his celeb status anyway

Which is probably why he went for Hermione in the first place because she didn't give a shit

'WOULD WE EVEN BE TOGETHER IN THE FIRST PLACE IF IT WASN'T FOR QUODDICH?'

'... I love you.'

'Bro I wouldn't care if you were the worst player in the world as long as we both are fans of the sport together.'

'Bro.'

Isabel: BRUH

Also can I just ask...?

What happens in the second task??!!?

It's already messed up enough under that lake, love triangles all over the place

This would just be the final straw that resulted in everyone just shrugging and teaming up

Clare: Holy shit

Krum just doots along, takes Ron and goes

Harry's like...wait what...OK...um I guess Hermione and Ron are equally important to me so I'll just take her kk

Isabel: Krum and Ron appearing on the surface of the lake like 'fuck'

The most dramatic declaration of intent ever

Turning yourself into a shark and rescuing them from the bottom of a lake

Clare: Everybody in the stands is SHOOK

Dumbledore like dang I did not predict this

With their hair soaking wet they are both at maximum hot

Isabel: Rita Skeeter's quill combusts

Clare: Krum doesn't point her out as a beetle in Hermione’s hair he's too busy with Ron

Isabel: Yeah she's like where is my gossip at??? Nothing is happening over in Hermione's hair

But yeah I feel like Dumbledore would be like, oh darn, looks like I'm gonna have to show queer solidarity with Ronald Weasely or something

KRUM AT THE BURROW VERY SERIOUSLY COMPLIMENTING MOLLY ON HER FOOD AND ASKING FOR BRITISH RECIPES AND WINNING HER OVER IN A TRICE

Clare: Would Krum charm Molly straight away though? He's very surly and shy and, in the books, not very handsome. Wouldn't Molly start out yikes who is this quiddich yob my son has taken up with?

Ginny on the other hand. Comes out as bi a couple of years later, tells Ron she only started to realise thanks to his example, apologises for being a dick about his love life

Isabel: Yeah I guess actually

I think Molly can get fierce

Clare: She's probably got a bit of pure blood/homophobic anxiety that she cloaks as objections about THIS PARTICULAR boy

Isabel: Either she loves you and adopts you right away or she is like /pulling shotgun down from the shelf/

EXACTLY

She's like

Blaming herself, oh I should have paid more attention and NOW look what's happened

Poor Ronald, always neglected

And Ron's like... mum... this is great

I am happy

Is not problem

Clare: Ron is like I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR ATTENTION JESUS CHRIST

I mean he's probably enjoying having the attention of a quiddich super star and I bet he'd even enjoy the celebrity status of The Boyfriend a bit (best friends get sidelined but romantic partners are news) but he's not doing it FOR attention

Isabel: Yeah, and I think the suggestion that he is would just make him so mad

First confused and then mad

Oh the ANGST

Clare: Especially since that's Krums biggest anxiety

Isabel: Mr Weasely would be chill. I feel like in this whole equation he is the chillest

Clare: What would Percy say? Would social climbing or doing the done thing win out?

Also the attention thing is a way for parents to make their child's relationship all about them. Oh you want me to LOVE you more! No mum I'm growing away from you this is normal

I think Ron would get jealous around Bill and Charlie because they'd swing in all oh our brother is rebellious and has a cool boyfriend? Well we are cool rebels also welcome to the family Victor

Isabel: Yeah... I think Percy is probably pretending to be chill with it and being a bit smarmy to Krum then says something awkward and homophobic and it's worse than if he'd just said it straight up

Clare: I think a lot of Liberal but still pure blood families would take the line of, 'it's fine that you're gay...because you're the sixth son so your blood line isn't in danger and making a socially advantageous match is probably more important for you anyway! And Ron is like Y I K E S

Isabel: Yeah exactly, well I suppose you have enough sons Molly amirite

What do we think about the Krum family?

Are they just happy that their son is forming human relationships

Clare: Hmm. How do they feel about celebrity? Do they think Ron is Not Good Enough or are they actually quite a normal family and are glad Krum has an ordinary guy to keep him grounded?

Isabel: I kind of don't want Ron to have to deal with random Bulgarian disapproval

I think maybe a quite normal family who had a kid who was a genius and has been at boarding school/ travelling for years and years

Maybe Krum already came out to them so that drama is in the past

Clare: Yeah and when he brings Ron home for dinner they're just delighted that Krum is home at all and that he's happy

Yeah maybe he did

He's probably had a lot of time to introspect because of his image and maybe he's an only child?

Isabel: And Ron speaks accented but ok Bulgarian by this point and they're like !!!

Clare: I think one aspect of the large family thing that WOULD affect Ron is its just that much harder to have a private word with your parents so confiding about yourself, especially when you're not 100% sure, just isn't part of the family culture

And there's no time for introspection when you're jockeying for position with six siblings

So Krum is out to his parents while Ron isn't even out to himself

Plus Krums just that bit older

Isabel: No, when you ask for a word it's all 'yes Ron' a bit exasperated

Clare: Krum’s family are just delighted that Ron speaks Bulgarian and is a normal guy who likes their son for himself

Isabel: Maybe they have some kind of cool engineery job and Ron goes out the back and is like well my dad likes cars I will try and help

Uses his mathsy chessy knowledge

Clare: Re. Homophobia I think it is important that it's not all YOU'RE GOING TO HELL like the Muggle brand but instead is very focused on producing pure blood children. Also with the smallness of the pure blood community I bet there's a lot of, not official arranged marriage, but kind of assumed marriage, like in Pride and Prejudice or what may have happened with Prince William and Kate, like, there's three girls your age who your family's on speaking terms with who aren't your first cousins and it'll massively throw off everybody's plans if you don't marry one of them

Yes Ron helping with engineering

Isabel: Headcanon of the Krums as magical engineers with a side passion for quidditch

Clare: I bet he picks up arithmancy that way. Can't learn it in the classroom, can learn it in the garage. And he comes home from the holiday able to actually help his dad with the car and thenceforth Mr Weasley is on board

Isabel: Yeah exactly... they're a bit 'sigh ok this means you're not gonna marry bertha from the bakery but hell at least it's not a veela'

Clare: Also wizarding society is inherently conservative, they haven't even updated their writing system, so anybody doing anything different is looked askance at unless they can play themselves as a genius eccentric like Dumbledore

Isabel: So yeah then Ron turns out to be WHOLESOME af and Krum’s family are like... ok fine. this is fine. In fact yay!

Ok I have to go do some work but this has been almost as good as having the fic itself

Clare: Maybe I'll put a summary on my tumblr and see if anybody wants to adopt it