#we’re not the ones putting the policies in place to stop u. we’re all just following the rules of our jobs

[adriancatrin]

unrelated but since i’m talking about work. it astounds me how often ppl try to get their money back thru returns by, say, putting an old computer mouse in the box of the new computer mouse they just bought and then taping it shut again like we won’t notice. or filling a four foot tall air conditioner box with rocks. that you make US lift out of your cart and lug around. LIKE WE WONT NOTICE. i always get a lil bit excited when i grab my box cutter and make towards opening a box to check inside and the person immediately starts over-insisting ‘i didn’t open it, don’t worry it’s unopened, haha you don’t have to do that i pwomise i didn’t oepn teh box ehhehehggghfrrr’ — god fuckin knows what i’m about to find inside there as they beg me not to check. and then they double down. ‘it must’ve been like that when i left the store. stupid worthless grunt. get a manager over here right now.’ sure, let’s make more people privy to your wacko air conditioner rock scheme

every couple days at work a tiny child screams near me at such a high volume and pitch that it blows out my left ear for ~20 minutes. always fearful that next time the hearing just won’t come back

[guitarhappyman]

A friend shared this with me last year, it’s from Prager U. I love the beach metaphor.

"I never graduated college.

I never even went to college.

I went to the University of Digging Ditches on Construction Sites – go Fighting Shovels!

So, why should you listen to me?

Hmmm, let’s see… Well, I run a business that I built myself. So, let me give you a couple of tips.

I hire and fire people like you all the time. And I’ve seen a pattern with your generation—something I call “The Language of Losers.” Let me give you some examples:

“I did my best.” My assistant told me this once after screwing up royally. And I said, “Matt, if you did your best and you screwed up royally, then I need to fire you right now. The answer is either, ‘I didn’t do my best, I’ll do better next time’ or, ‘I’m drunk right now and need to sit down.’ So the phrase I’ve drilled into my employees is, ‘Don’t do your best; do my best.’”

Another example: I had a young employee once say to me, “I’m sorry. I screwed up. Next time, I’ll triple check.” And I said, “Did you single check? Did you double check? How did you get to triple check?” I know how he got to triple check. Single check is a screw up. Double check is…ehhhh…a flub. And triple check is, “Hey, what do you want from me?” So, he hopped right to triple-check after not single- or double-checking.

And the worst one—the one that’s driving me nuts, the one that’s destroying our society, the one that got hold of the piece of thread of the sweater of society and is just unraveling it: “I feel.” “I feel threatened.” “I feel I’m being treated unfairly.” “I feel you’re a bully.” You’re 23. You live at home. Your bed is shaped like a race car and it’s covered with stuffies and your huggie-bookie. Nobody cares how you feel.

So, no excuses. Please. If you do the job you’re hired to do and you do it well, your employer will never stop thanking you and lavishing you with ponies, and frankincense, and myrrh.

Now, you do your job well and you’re not rewarded? Someone else will find you and reward you. Believe me, that’s how the universe works.

But, let’s face it—the chances of any of you working for me are slim to none. The chances some of you may go out there and set some policy are pretty good. And most of you are going to vote on that policy. So, let me ask you a favor: please, stay away from my freedom.

If you want to know about the loss of freedom, look no further than the beach. I grew up in Southern California. I used to go to the beach all the time. There was one sign, and that sign read, “No lighting vans on fire and throwing the homeless into it.” Now you go to the beach and the sign looks like a menu from Fuddruckers. It never ends! No football. No fires. No smoking. No alcohol. And now, no frisbee. No digging. No sandcastle. No dogs.

The beach is a metaphor for this country. It’s freedom. It means freedom. Everyone who came to this country landed on the beach. They didn’t land in Nebraska. They pulled up to the beach, they cracked a beer, they lit a cigarette, and they threw a frisbee.

And now, you can’t do jack squat on the beach. Look no further than the beach sign from the fifties and the beach sign from 2018. All it gets is longer. And, do the politicians ever show up with their eraser and go, “Hmm…let’s remove a few of these Orwellian ideas that we put on this bonderized steel in front of the beach”? No! More things to assure we have a horrible time at the beach, don’t enjoy ourselves and, more importantly, could get a ticket—just because we’re there, trying to drink a cold one, make a sandcastle, and throw the dog the tennis ball.

Don’t be one of those people who adds to the sign on the beach. You be with me: sittin’ on a folding chair with a cigar between my lips and a beer between my legs.

So, you’re graduating and you’re all idealistic. You want to make the world a better place. Here’s my request: Don’t make it worse.

I’m Adam Carolla for Prager University."

[rollercoasterwords]

same anon who is fretting left and right abt r and s and everyone else ;_; i love having ur insight and thank u kindly for the long answer…. exactly what i wanted *evil laughter* but i have a follow up!

this might be too far into spoiler territory tho…. another Painful element of this beautiful fic is the lack of love between s and j it’s KILLING MEEEE (as always in the best way) not seeing them as they usually are… will we ever get any s+j friendship crumbs? or is this just not possible within the world you’ve created? i trust ur Vision either way i’m just gnawing at the bars of my prison cell thinking about the possibilities…..

hmmm yeah i feel like i can’t really talk abt like. what’s going 2 happen w them without getting too spoilery (although my usual like…wip policy applies here lol if you absolutely want them 2 be friends stop reading if u absolutely don’t want them 2 be friends stop reading be ready 4 it 2 go either way etc) but! i can talk a bit abt like. how james currently feels where we’re at in the fic & how his feelings have changed

what i've been trying 2 do w j + s in this fic is like. well clearly they hated each other at the beginning bc s sees this arrogant pigheaded order soldier whereas j sees this entitled foolish d.e. & that starting animosity is pretty intense, although it's a bit more personal 4 s--j is like. one of the first order members he's knowingly met + becomes kind of his warden in a way so he pretty specifically hates j whereas for j s is just one of many d.e. he's encountered before so he doesn't really hold a grudge in the same way once they start working together, although he also isn't quick 2 trust s bc unlike his brother s didn't join the order of his own accord (obv. reg didn't exactly join of his own accord, either, but that's pretty much how j sees it).

so when they do actually start working together j is like. well this guy's gotta prove himself if he wants me 2 trust him but once s does start proving himself he's pretty willing 2 put the old animosity aside, and he views s as part of their team--hence him risking his life 2 go back & save s, etc. s, on the other hand, is holding a personal grudge & specifically does not like j so even when j starts acting a bit friendlier towards him he's still like. hmph. bc while j is like "oh holding u prisoner was nothing personal obviously it was just what we had 2 do 4 the order" for s it was very much personal! lol

anyway despite the grudge etc. they do both mutually begin 2 realize that they have certain key similarities--specifically, the fact that they both feel responsible for the people they care about & would do pretty much anything 2 protect them, even if it's something those people wouldn't want them to do. so when we reach this point where they need 2 break into the dept. of mysteries, they both end up reaching the same conclusion abt how they're going 2 have 2 do that, and realizing that they've both reached that same conclusion kind of bolsters that mutual respect they're developing 4 each other. so there's sort of this truce struck while they're planning s's obliviation, where they still aren't friends exactly & probably wouldn't go so far as 2 say they like each other, but they're also like...the only people who can kind of understand what the other one is going thru + sacrificing (as in the convo in the james pov where s says 'they're all gonna hate us,' etc), and in a way it's nice 2 have someone who understands u in a way the others can't...also s going thru w this whole plan has made j respect him a lot more & view them as much more similar in terms of both being practical (and ruthless) enough 2 place larger goals above their own well-being + being willing 2 do things that will make their loved ones hate them as long as it keeps those loved ones safe. so j's feelings towards s have obviously changed quite a bit! of course now s has no idea who j is so. suppose maybe he'll have a chance 2 make a better first impression next time around lol

[moldisgoodforyou]

florence (iv)

warnings: smut!! in the middle but you can see it coming if u wanna skip over it

wordcount: 8.3k

______

Six and a half hours and two transfers later on the train, Sophie and Rafe made it to Florence. They’d fallen asleep on each other multiple times and woken up with cricks in their necks or imprints of each other’s clothing onto their cheeks, and were both running on little sleep - somehow, he’d convinced her to go skinny dipping off a little cove at 2am the night before. She lasted about ten minutes in the water with him before she spotted someone with a flashlight along the beach and freaked, practically sprinting out of the water to pull her wet clothes back on and shove Rafe’s at him. (He’d hissed at her to relax until they heard yelling of “arrêter! Policiers!” They put together pretty quickly that it was “stop! Police!” and booked it back to the hotel, giggling the whole way.)

Despite Rafe’s tired grumblings, she made him freshen up and walk with her to go get dinner at a place a few blocks from the hostel. It was only 6, but they both hadn’t eaten in a while and had to be up early for an architecture tour Sophie had scheduled at 8am. He took two looks at the menu before handing it to her - she raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “You know what you’re getting?”

“It’s Italy. I want pasta every day.”

“Every day.” She repeated, doubtful.

“Every day. And gelato, every day. Those are my two requests.” He nodded, sure of himself.

“I think we can manage that. Did you learn Italian too over the summer, you want to order for us?” She teased, holding back a smile.

“C’mon, my Spanish wasn’t that terrible. It really wasn’t.” He protested, kicking her gently under the table.

She kicked him back reflexively, maybe a little too hard, and just rolled her eyes when he made a show of dramatically grabbing his leg. “It wasn’t awful. You just had zero accent, that’s kind of important.”

“Whatever, I’ll work on it.” He grinned. “You can teach me where to put my tongue.”

“Your ability to make anything sexual is impressive.”

“Wasn’t even sexual, but good job on you for twisting it.” He smirked, leaning across the table and lowering her voice. “Hey. Guess what.”

She did the same, reaching out and taking his hand. “What.”

“We’re in Italy.” He whispered conspiratorially, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah, and…?”

“When you were drunk on FaceTime once, you told me we needed to have sex in every country.”

She blushed, raising her eyebrows. “Did I?”

“You did, and I’m holding you to it. I got us single rooms in the hostels for a reason.” Rafe wiggled his eyebrows back with a smile, trying to get her to laugh. “But there’s like, a 98% chance I fall asleep on you if we try anything tonight, so we can check that off the list tomorrow.”

She had to hide a giggle as their waiter came over to take their order, turning it into a cough into her elbow. When the waiter left she shook her head, grinning. “Tomorrow’s fine. I appreciate the honesty.”

“Any time.”

_______

The next morning, Sophie woke up to her third alarm in a row with Rafe still blissfully asleep next to her, his arm curled around her middle and her leg thrown over his waist. She nudged her head up, knocking against his chin. “Hey.”

He stirred just enough to pull her closer and bury his face into her hair. “Shh. Sleeping.”

“We gotta get up, Rafe, we need breakfast before our tour.” She started scratching gentle circles on his chest, placing short kisses up along his neck. “Up.”

“If you keep doing that something else is going to get up.” He mumbled, humming contentedly with his eyes still shut. The hostel was busy with other kids their age and he’d woken up to the sound of two groups trying to open their door - twice - and their drunken whisper-yells. Sophie, of course, slept peacefully through the whole thing.

“We don’t have time for that.” She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose and tried squirming from his grip unsuccessfully. “Come on.”

“Five minutes.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“...Fine.” She settled her head back onto the pillow, sighing as he grinned and nuzzled against her. “Only ‘cause you’re warm.”

“Yeah, what the fuck is up with the temps? This place is an icebox.” He replied, slipping his hand under her shirt and cupping her breast.

“Rafe.” She elbowed at him, a warning tone to her voice.

“M’ just holding it. You’re warm.” He argued, brushing his thumb over her nipple and smiling to himself when she let out a tiny whine. She made the mistake of pressing her hips back into him, just a little, and he groaned quietly into her ear. “Careful there.”

“You’re not seriously - oh my god, Rafe.”

He wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest, just pushed his hips against her ass. “Can’t help it. I have my beautiful girlfriend in my bed that I haven’t seen in months.”

“It wasn’t even that long -”

“It was a whole quarter of a year without you, Sophie, now hush and let me sleep.” His tone took on a teasing lilt and he brushed his fingers down her stomach, making her tense. “Unless you’d like to do something else.”

“We don’t have time.” She told him firmly, knocking his hand away. He grumbled and pulled his hand out from under her shirt, settling his arm around her waist instead. “Lame.”

“You’re lame.”

“Okay. Good comeback. You’ve lost your touch.” He quipped with a tone of amusement, pulling her close again. Her alarm went off and he sighed dramatically, dropping his head to her shoulder. “Let’s skip.”

“We’re not skipping, we might never be in Florence again and I’ve wanted to see the Duomo and Palazzo Vecchio for years.” She twisted in his grip just enough to place a quick kiss on his lips then sit up, stretching. “Get up.”

“I’ll bring you back - no, Sophie, stay -” He protested weakly, reaching for her.

She smiled fondly at the way he was all squinty in the mornings, adjusting to the lights and trying to find his glasses, but her smile gave way to a pout she knew Rafe couldn’t say no to. “Baby, please? I don’t want to be late.”

“Fine.” He yawned and dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his glasses and shoved his feet into sneakers, just wearing his boxers. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“You’re not gonna at least throw on a shirt? Or shorts?” She questioned, eyeing him over with no shame.

He caught her gaze and flexed his chest, smirking. “Not if you’re enjoying the show.”

“You’re the worst.” She informed him, leaning over to give him a kick to the ass. “Go.”

As requested, she pulled out his clothes for the day after she got ready, finding a certain kind of pride in the fact that he trusted her in his appearance. She grabbed his wallet from the desk too, ready to stick it in her backpack, but paused when she realized it was a little thicker than normal, barely snapping shut. Curiosity got the best of her and she flicked open the wallet, pulling out a couple wrinkled and worn pieces of paper from one of the slots.

Rafe returned just as she was smoothing it open. “What are you doing?”

She startled, quickly turning and holding the paper behind her back. “Nothing! Just putting your wallet in my bag. So we didn’t forget.” She clarified quickly, cheeks blooming red at being caught.

He smirked, kicking off his shoes and striding closer. “If you wanted money, you could’ve just asked.” He teased, reaching around behind her. “Whatcha got?”

“Nothing.” She twisted, trying to set it on the desk without him noticing, completely unsubtle.

“Oh. You found your letters?”

Sophie paused. “My letters?”

“Yeah, that’s what they are.” He nodded and started pulling on his clothes for the day.

She brought it from behind her back to read and brightened, realizing it was two scraps from the many letters she’d sent to him when they were apart. He’d just cut out the two sappiest paragraphs she’d written, embarrassingly, as she found it much easier to express the extent of her love for him through writing rather than face to face. She pouted a little, skimming over them. “Baby.”

He turned back to her and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, shaking his head. “Hm? No pouting, little fish.”

“Little fish?” She quirked her brow, confused.

“Yeah, remember that one time you blamed your crying during finals week on being a Pisces moon? Pisces is the fish, I think.” Rafe reasoned, taking the papers out of her hand and carefully tucked them into a zippered pocket of his suitcase. “Since you’re here with me now, I guess you’ll just have to tell me how much you love me in person instead.”

She beamed up at him, adoringly. “I love you so damn much.”

He grinned and slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her slow. “Love you too, Soph. My favorite girl.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them strolled out hand-in-hand to the hostel cafeteria and picked through some pastries for breakfast, Sophie promising him a protein bar from her backpack when he complained he’d be lightheaded by eleven. He snapped a photo of her when she recoiled at the strong cappuccino with zero cream or sugar to cut it with, laughing as she tried her best to hide a cough. They found a spot at an empty table and it wasn’t long until a friendly couple came up to them with twin smiles.

“Hi, can we sit?” The girl asked, already setting down their plates.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Rafe replied, gesturing. Sophie noticed that his slight Carolinian accent came out a little more in Europe instead of in Ohio, as if he was trying to mimic a little bit of the Spanish and Italian accents and butchered it in his own special way. (She hadn’t corrected him yet, finding it endearing.)

“Thank you! I’m Elena, this is Marco.” Elena introduced herself, sliding into her seat.

Marco gave them a nod and pointed at Rafe, hesitant. “It’s...Jake?”

“Rafe.” He corrected, then explained to Sophie, “we met in the bathroom.”

“Your boyfriend is built.” Marco informed Sophie with a grin, making her laugh. “I know. I’m Sophie, it’s nice to meet you both. Are you just visiting, or…?”

“Yes, we’re from Milan, we wanted to make a weekend trip.” Elena confirmed. “And you? Americans?”

“North Carolina, yeah.” Rafe nodded. “Sophie was studying abroad in Barcelona, then I came to tag along.”

“Oh, so cool!” Elena grinned. “Do you have plans today? I love Florence, it’s beautiful.”

“It is, yeah.” Sophie glanced down at her phone, then back up at them. “I’m sorry, but we have to run, actually, we have a tour to go to this morning. But no plans later.”

“We will meet you by the Duomo, then, around lunch! We can show you around.” Marco declared, handing over his phone to Rafe to put in his phone number - he was a little confused, but did so anyways. “You guys don’t have to -”

“No, new friends are always fun.” Elena waved him off with a smile. “Enjoy your morning.”

Sophie brightened, slipping out of her chair. “See you later!”

Rafe followed her back to their room, and turned to face her after shutting the door with a skeptical look. “He was flirting with me.”

She laughed, packing up her backpack for the day (she’d bought the little leather bag in Barcelona and it was now one of her most treasured possessions, carrying her camera and sketchbook every day). “Don’t be ridiculous, you just have a big head.”

“No, I swear, he was giving me a look this morning when I walked back from the bathroom.” He insisted.

“I think you’re misinterpreting things, he was probably confused that you were shirtless. They were friendly, we should meet up with them! New friends!” She grinned and slapped a protein bar into his hand, as promised.

He furrowed his brow a little but slipped the bar into his pocket. “How long do I have to share you for?”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He amended quickly, leaning down to give her a sweet kiss. “Ready to see your Domo and whatever?”

“Duomo, baby. And the Palazzo Vecchio.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Uh huh.” She held out her hand with a grin. “C’mon, Florence awaits.”

He took her hand and raised it, guiding her into a twirl. “We certainly can’t keep her waiting, then.”

______

Rafe wasn’t sure he absorbed a single word of the self-guided tour. Twenty boring minutes in, he’d turned down the volume on his audio pack that they’d rented and just observed Sophie and the small look of awe on her face at every new turn, the way she nodded enthusiastically when she recognized a piece of information shared on the audio. He decided he would be perfectly content with just watching her for the rest of his life, to see the way her face lit up when she learned new things and got to share that information with him.

He listened just enough to be able to hold a conversation with her afterward, but his intro to architecture class that he’d had to drop midway through the first month of the semester didn’t really give him a strong enough background to keep up. Sophie made him pause the audio several times too, so she could tell him a story about the architect or about the construction of the buildings - he did his best to look as interested as possible. She could tell he was losing interest, just a little, but carried on anyways, just excited to share her passions with him.

After finishing the tour and returning their audio devices a little early, they took a seat out on the steps of the piazza as they waited for their new friends. Sophie took out her sketchbook and started drawing the front entryway of the Duomo, and after two minutes she ripped out a sheet so Rafe could doodle too. (His sketches were much less refined, a little rough around the edges, but they made up for it in character.)

“Do you think they’ll show?”

“Marco and Elena? Yeah. They sounded genuine.” She replied, her tongue poking out a little in concentration as she sketched.

He suppressed a grin and snapped a quick photo of her before she could realize. “How long do we have to hang out with them?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe go to lunch, let them show us around and if we like them we can hang out more?”

“Hm. You think we’ll like them?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” She reached over and adjusted his hand, trying to help him draw a straighter line, but he just scowled and went back to his usual method.

“We don’t know anything about them.”

“That’s the whole point of staying in the hostel, baby, to meet people.” She nudged her foot against his, giving him an eager smile. “C’mon, you like making friends. You’re good at it.”

“Okay, fine, but I have something planned for us tomorrow afternoon.” He told her, raising his eyebrows.

She huffed, exasperated. “Rafe, I promise, we can have sex later, but I’m not wasting the day in bed -”

He laughed, flicking at her knee. “No, no, not that, but I like where your mind is at.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head a little. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not an expensive one, I hope?”

He made a show of pulling out his phone, dramatic. “Siri, cancel the private shopping tour at Gucci please.“

“Rafe Cameron.” She fixed him with a glare, unamused. He grinned back and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I know you better than that, don’t worry.”

“You’d better.” She rolled her eyes, then brightened when she saw Marco and Elena approaching and gathered up her sketchbook and pencils back into her bag, along with Rafe’s little drawings. He followed her gaze and stood, visibly steeling himself a little - she instantly nudged him to relax.

It didn’t take long for Rafe to warm up to their newfound friends, especially when Marco showed interest in his camera and when Elena asked him about his film minor, and enthused about how jealous she was that she couldn’t study something fun like that. He was a little caught off guard when they each got kisses on cheeks as a greeting, but didn’t mention it when Sophie shot him a look.

As promised, the two gave Rafe and Sophie a mini tour of the city, stopping for gelato twice along the way. After a solid few hours of walking and chatting, they stopped at a fountain by their hostel and sat around it to take a break.

“This fountain is special to us, you know.” Elena smiled at Marco and he nodded, tugging her down to his lap.

Rafe cocked his head. “Why’s that?”

“It is where we kissed for the first time.” Marco revealed with a raise of his eyebrows. “There’s a legend, if you throw a coin in here over your shoulder and it makes it to the top tier, you will find your lover.”

“Or lovers.” Elena added with a grin and dug in her pocket, then tossed two coins to Rafe and Sophie. “Here. I’ll tell you where it lands.”

Rafe tried handing his back, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to waste your coin. I already have Sophie.”

Elena pushed it back into his hand, insistent. “You never know what will happen. It’s just good luck.”

Sophie looked a little confused but accepted the coin, tossing it in. Marco let out a whoop as it landed in the top tier, making a satisfying clink. “There you go!”

Rafe scowled but flicked his in too, looking a little smug when it joined hers up top. “See, I told you. Your lover’s right here.” He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and mumbled, “Stupid fountain.”

Elena laughed, gesturing out to the crowd milling around. “Your lovers could be anywhere. Love is meant to be shared with more, yes?”

“...Sure.” Sophie leaned back into Rafe, content. “How long are you two here for?”

“We have as long as we’d like.” Marco shrugged. “Wherever the wind takes us.”

Rafe chuckled quietly into Sophie’s hair, murmuring. “Sounds like your worst nightmare.”

She just hummed in agreement back to him. “Oh. We leave in two days, early in the morning. Do you have plans tonight?”

“Probably a club.” Elena grinned. “You should come! We will teach you the tricks, get you the good Italian drinks. Sophie, I can show you how to flirt for the free drinks, the Italian way.”

She held back a laugh as she felt Rafe’s grip tighten a little around her. “Going out sounds fun. I’m not sure I have the right clothes, though, I sent a lot home already…”

“I have clothes! We will share.” Elena dismissed her immediately, then got up off Marco’s lap, tugging him up. “We are meeting with friends for dinner, but we will meet you later? At the hostel?”

“Sounds good.” Rafe nodded, letting Sophie go, and was surprised when the two of them said goodbye - again - with cheek kisses, Marco included. Once they were out of earshot, Sophie giggled at the bemused expression he wore. “I think you should start greeting James and Colin that way.”

He scowled. “James would participate. Colin might deck me.”

“Yeah, probably. I miss them.”

“More than you missed me?” He raised his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes, shoving at his chest. “Of course not. Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird, you get all overprotective and I know you wanted to say something earlier when she talked about flirting.” She took his hand and intertwined their fingers, giving it a little squeeze.

He softened a little and leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of her head, ignoring her remark. “What do you think she’ll have you wearing?”

“No clue. We’ll see, I guess.” She shrugged. “We have a few hours to kill, what do you want to do?”

“Hmm. We can go see the David?” Rafe tipped his head in that direction, and Sophie visibly brightened. “You want to go to an art museum?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s cool. One of my buddies went last year and said it was worth checking out. Plus, air conditioning.”

“My two favorite words.” She grinned.

____

Later that night, Sophie walked out of the girls’ dorm with Elena to meet the boys, looking extra hesitant. She wore a black bikini top, maneuvered differently so it was upside down and strung up to push her boobs together, with an open back. One tug of a string and it’d all come undone. It was paired with a leather miniskirt and Elena insisted on doing winged eyeliner and soft pink lipstick too, all completely out of Sophie’s comfort zone.

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell open a little. “Soph.”

“She’s gorgeous, yes?” Elena grinned, giving Sophie a little push on the shoulder toward him.

“Yeah, definitely, stunning.” Rafe nodded, searching her face. Sophie gave him a small smile, clearly uncomfortable in the attire. “It doesn’t look bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Do you like it…?” He questioned. “I can go get an extra shirt of mine from our room, if you want a little more, uh, coverage - not that you need to cover up, but -” He started, stepping toward that way even without her encouragement.

“No, um, I think it’s okay.” She grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Just a little...different. I just need a drink. Or two.”

He paused. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She nodded, then gave him a wry grin. “Just make sure no one accidentally tugs at this string or I think it’s all coming apart.”

He clapped his hand against the string at the back of her neck protectively. “You got it.”

“Ready? You look nice, Sophie.” Marco asked, sending her a polite smile, then stopped in front of Rafe. “No, wait.”

“Something wrong?” Rafe frowned, then widened his eyes as Marco reached out and undid two more buttons on Rafe’s shirt that already had three unbuttoned, so his chest was basically on full display. His attire was completely out of character for him, a short-sleeved maroon silk button-down that Marco had insisted on, but he wore it well. Sophie stifled a laugh.

“There! Much better. Now we go.” Marco took Elena’s hand and they led the way, starting the walk toward the club.

Sophie giggled at Rafe’s bemused expression and reached over and undid another button with her free hand. “You look extra slutty tonight.”

“Extra slutty?” He emphasized in mock outrage. “Maybe I’ll be the one getting us free drinks.”

She grinned. “How about we make it a competition?”

“Go on…”

“Whoever can get to...um, two drinks first wins.” She decided.

“Just two? Why not go the whole night?” He cocked his head.

“I don’t think I’m going to drink too much tonight.” She reached up and tugged at the bikini string to tighten it a little, pushing her boobs together more. “I feel like my tits are gonna fall out at any second.”

He snorted. “Say the word and I’ll give you my shirt.”

“I know you would, baby, but I think you need some semblance of decency too.”

They were practically glued to each other’s side all night despite their bet, with her being stressed about her outfit and him being overprotective. (Sophie noted that Rafe looked remarkably comfortable in the overpriced and fancy club environment, while she felt wildly out of place. For a moment she wished she’d taken him to Monaco just to see how quickly he’d assimilate, even though she knew she’d probably hate it.)

They took two shots with Elena and Marco and lost both of them shortly after, not expecting them to leave so soon. After they said hasty goodbyes, not returning, Rafe slung his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and kept her close. “I’m pretty sure I just saw Elena making out with some girl on the dance floor.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, leaning into him. “You’re sure? Isn’t she dating Marco?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, maybe it’s their thing. I swear it was her.” He grinned, repeating Elena’s words from earlier. “Your lovers could be anywhere, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s a little out there. When we were getting dressed she dragged a crystal down my spine and told me I had to align my chakras.”

“Kinky.” He quipped, laughing when she shoved at his shoulder. “Whatcha thinking, want to stay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired and my feet are killing me. Let’s just head back?”

He took the rest of her drink and tipped it back, then set it on a nearby counter as they walked out. “Exactly how tired are you?”

She grinned. “I could stay up for a little longer. I saw your packing skills, might as well put them to good use.”

Rafe blushed - she’d found a whole strip of condoms in his bag on the first night in Barcelona and immediately teased him, asking how many nights he thought they’d be doing it. He merely responded by shrugging and ripping one open, setting it on the bed like an invitation. (She had accepted. Of course she did.) “We might as well take advantage of your top. Easy access, y’know.”

She rolled her eyes and checked her hip against his, shaking her head. “You have me, you know. You don’t have to keep constantly flirting.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Touché.”

_________

Rafe’s planned surprise for the next day was a bike tour (“so you can live out your Lizzie McGuire dream,” he’d told her, but she didn’t have the heart to correct him that technically Lizzie rode a Vespa in Rome).

The bike tour was out to a small winery where they had a private dinner and both got drunker than they expected, especially Sophie. The owners of the winery made them a three-course meal and kept coming out with more and more wines to try, successfully convincing Rafe to order three bottles to be shipped home. When Sophie nearly fell only a few feet after attempting to ride the bike back, the owners laughed and just ordered them a cab - Rafe thanked them with a tip that was probably a little too excessive, but his drunk brain didn’t care.

When they tumbled into the car, Rafe immediately pulled her feet into his lap, running his hand over her shin. She gave him a look and tried twitching away but he wouldn’t let her, keeping a firm grasp on her ankle. In Spanish, a little slurred but near-perfect, Sophie told the driver their address and the name of the hostel. Their driver nodded and responded something in Italian - neither of them could understand, so they just nodded back.

Rafe dug his thumbs into her calf and she nearly moaned, biting her lip. “Oh my god.”

“That good or you’re just drunk?” He smirked, continuing his motions.

She let her head flop back against the car door. “Both. You’re drunk too. My brain is working funny though.”

He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “I don’t think it is. What’s 15 plus 26?”

“Rafe, you know I can’t do mental math, unfair.” She whined, pulling her leg back a little so his hand slipped back to her ankle.

He swapped her legs, massaging into her other calf. “Not gonna take your shoes off in the car, sweetheart, you’ll have to wait for more.”

“Sweetheart. That’s new,” she repeated, mulling it over. “You know what?”

“What?”

“If you gave me a foot massage right now, I genuinely think I’d marry you on the spot. No contest.”

“No contest implies there is competition, Soph.” He pushed both her legs off his lap, ignoring her squawk of protest, and slid into the middle seat so he could buckle her in and lean into her.

She tucked her head into his side comfortably. “You’d marry me too. Wouldn’t you?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. No.”

She whined, squeezing his thigh. “Rafe!”

“Sophie!” He mimicked her whine, although much quieter, and pushed her hand away from his leg. “No, I wouldn’t, you deserve a big party and a pretty white dress. Plus, wouldn’t you want our friends there?”

“I suppose.” She hummed, pulling his arm a little tighter around her shoulders. “Sometime, then.”

“Yeah, sometime.” He agreed, starting to play with her hair. It wasn’t long until she fell asleep on his side, always extra sleepy when she was wine drunk. He snapped a picture and sent it to Allie and Julia, who instantly demanded a Facetime session.

A few minutes later, the cab dropped them at the hostel and Rafe had to practically drag her sleepy body out of the car and haul her inside. He convinced her to stay awake just long enough to get into their room, then let her flop onto the bed as he untied her shoes.

She perked up a little when she heard the familiar ring of the Facetime call. “Who’s that?” He scooted in close to her, pressing his cheek to hers to fit them both on the screen with minimal effort. Allie and Julia picked up right away and both their faces broke out into a grin.

“Mom and Dad!” Julia exclaimed.

Sophie grinned back, immediately taking the phone from Rafe and shoving him away. “Hi!”

“She’s drunk.” Rafe informed them unnecessarily off screen.

“I am not, shh.” She snapped at him. “Hi guys! I miss you!”

“How’s your trip? I want to hear all about it!” Allie asked right away.

Sophie glanced at Rafe, the wheels turning in her head. “Should we tell them? Are we allowed?”

He furrowed his brow. “Why wouldn’t we be allowed?”

“Okay. So we had sex last night -”

“Jesus, Sophie, no -” He immediately wrestled the phone away from her as Allie and Julia both cried out with a chorus of “no, stop!”

“You said it was allowed!”

“I didn’t think you were going to talk about that!” Rafe rolled his eyes and gave them an apologetic smile. “We’ll be home in a little under a week, Soph can catch you up then. On the less explicit details.”

“You taking care of our girl, Cameron?” Julia asked, smiling as Sophie nuzzled into his side like a cat - she was always extra touchy when drunk, even just with the girls.

“Technically, she was mine first.” He pointed out.

“Technically, you made her cry after multiple fights before you ever dated, so no. She’s been ours since freshman year.” Allie corrected.

“I can be everybody’s.” Sophie mumbled, taking Rafe’s hand and placing it on her head so he’d get the hint and start playing with her hair again.

“Polygamy. Spicy.” Julia quipped.

“I would like to have sex or go to sleep now.” Sophie announced without a care in the world. “Can we hang up?”

Julia snorted, while Allie rolled her eyes.

“You’re not gonna talk to your friends?” He asked, trying to hand the phone back to her, but she just shook her head and pushed it away. “M’tired.”

“You just said you wanted to have sex.” Julia said.

“Yes, I’m not gonna do any of the work.”

Rafe shook his head and angled the phone back to his face. “Okay then. Sorry, guys, we had way too much wine at dinner. We’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, of course. See you soon! Bye, Soph!” They both chimed in, waving until they hung up. He dropped the phone, amused. “What was that about?”

“Honesty is the best policy.” She told him, sprawling out onto the bed. “Alright. Have at me.”

He rolled his eyes. “No. You need to shower, then we can go to sleep.”

She sighed dramatically. “Rafael.”

“That is not my name.”

“Okay. Rafe.”

“Yes.”

“Can we please have sex?”

“No we cannot.”

She pouted, rolling over onto her stomach and looking up at him. “Please? I’ll let you go down on me.”

He laughed. “You’re so generous. No. Come on, shower time.” He gathered up her towel and clothes for her to change into after, then tugged at her hand. “Angel. Up.”

“Shower with me.” She demanded, getting up and following him out the room with only a few stumbles along the way.

“You want us to get kicked out? I don’t think so.” He ushered her into the small shower stall, slipping in behind her and locking the door, then helped her undress, dodging multiple kisses. He folded her clothes and set them aside then gave her a small push into the shower that he’d turned on for her. “Okay. I’m going to wait outside.”

“No, no, stay.” She yelped as the water hit her, ice cold, and fiddled with the handles. “Fucking - oh my god -”

Rafe quickly jumped forward and adjusted them to the right temp, then turned his back on her. “Fine, I’ll stay, but only because I’m worried you’ll drown.”

“Can’t drown in a shower, silly.” She reached out and shoved her soapy hand through his hair and he sighed, turning back to look her in the eye. “Sophie Flint. Please behave.”

“You behave.” She gave him a mischievous grin, then lowered her voice to a whisper despite there being no one else milling around in the bathroom. “Come in.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Not completely. Not anymore.” She argued. “I’ll go down on you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “If you really want to, you can save that for the morning. Finish your shower so I can get in. I’ve decided I don’t trust you to stay alone in the room.”

“Or you could get in with me…” she trailed off, tugging him down for a kiss - he gave in just for a moment before glancing away, trying his hardest to ignore his naked girlfriend - wet and covered in soap suds, no less.

“Soph. Rinse your hair.”

She crossed her arms, stubborn. “No.”

“Oh my god.” He rolled his eyes and double-checked the lock before he stripped down and got in with her, nudging her back under the feeble shower spray. He figured he’d have to shower anyways, and the faster he got her back to bed, the better. “Rinse.”

“Do it for me.” She protested, resting her head against his chest. He sighed but tipped her head back into the water and massaged his hands through her strands, stilling for a brief moment when she let out a breathy moan. “Hey. Can’t do that.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” She excused, then reached up onto her toes to lather shampoo into his hair once he was finished. He ducked down a little so she could reach, pressing his head against her hand. “M’ gonna be hard if you keep that up,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “It’s just shampooing. And I think you’re halfway there.”

“It’s intimate.” He protested, nearly melting into her touch. He loved when she played with his hair, how gentle she was (except when she’d occasionally tug on some strands to get his attention).

After shampooing and rinsing his hair, she lathered soap between her hands and smoothed it over his chest, over his shoulders. He swallowed, watching her and feeling like his skin was on fire despite the warm water waning. “You’re still drunk.” He mumbled.

“Not really.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, then another, then along his collarbone. “I know what I’m doing.” His illogical side was beginning to give way to her actions, especially as she sunk to her knees in the shower, running her hands down his thighs. “Let me.”

“Baby…” He was hesitant and clearly worried about being caught, and reached down to tip up her chin. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Although this is twice now that I’m getting cheated out of shower sex, kind of rude.” She grinned up at him.

“Sophie, I will fuck you in the shower all you want when we’re home - oh, shit -” He nearly gasped as she took him into her mouth, jerking his hips involuntarily. She gagged and immediately pulled off him, pinching his thigh. “Jesus, Rafe, trying to bruise my throat or something?”

“I had no warning! I’m sorry!” He exclaimed in a hushed whisper, fumbling for the shower faucet to turn it just a tad hotter as it rained down on his back. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“I mean, we can try it, but another time, okay?” She smirked as his eyes went wide and she licked up the underside of his cock, carefully taking him into her mouth again. He let out a deep exhale and bit down on his knuckle to keep himself quiet, letting his head fall back against the shower wall. She continued bobbing up and down on him and when he looked down after a few moments, he nearly choked watching her touch herself at the same time.

“Sophie - let me -” He tried, but she just hollowed out her cheeks and moved on him a little faster, and he could tell from the way she hummed around him that she was close too - impossibly close. He pushed her gently off of him and hauled her up to stand, even though she protested, and traded places faster than she could think, hooking her knee over his shoulder and going straight in with his tongue.

She gasped, a little louder than intended, and he sent her a warning look. They could hear some giggles from down the hall, coming closer and closer, and she panicked, tugging at his hair to bring him up, but he refused to stand. “Be quiet.”

“Rafe you know I can’t -” She pleaded, then pressed her hand tight to her mouth when the door opened and he continued to eat her out with no sign of stopping. Realistically, there was no chance of getting caught unless they were heard - they were in one of four locked shower stalls and even Rafe couldn’t be seen over the top, despite his height. Another gasp caught in her throat as he flicked his tongue across her clit, faster, and she felt like she might black out when she came.

He looked up at her and she could barely see the blue rimming his pupils, eyes dark with lust. That was enough to push her over the edge and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a not-so-quiet whine.

The girls’ conversation stopped out by the sinks and one of them spoke up, loudly. “Did you hear that?”

Rafe stood after working her through the orgasm - as always - and clamped his hand over her mouth, reaching down in between them to jack himself off as he whispered in her ear. “Don’t make a sound. You’re so good for me, Soph, so fucking special.”

She felt like her legs were jelly and her head was spinning, in a haze post-orgasm (and the excessive steam in the shower didn’t help). She pushed his hand away and kissed him, hard, grinning against his lips when he uttered a soft groan, painting her stomach with his cum.

He rested his forehead against hers, trying his best to breathe quietly, a different girl spoke up. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Probably just the shower faucet being weird.” There was a murmur of agreement and the group left, the door swinging shut to make a loud exit.

Sophie let out a small laugh of disbelief, shaking her head. “You’re…I can’t even think.”

“Incredibly sexy?” He supplied with a grin, nudging her back under the shower spray and handing her the body wash to clean herself off.

“Incredibly insane, more like it.” She shivered once she was clean and flicked off the faucet. “You went from no sex tonight to near-exhibitionism all within the span of a half hour.”

He glanced at his watch before wrapping her in her towel. “Forty-five minutes since we’ve been home, actually, it’s a miracle the water wasn’t ice.”

She patted herself dry and pulled on her clean clothes, scowling as she had to shove her feet into her mildly sweaty shoes. “Um. You need fresh clothes.”

“Right.” Rafe paused, then stacked his clothes on top of hers and wrapped her towel around his waist. “This’ll do. You leave first?”

“Good call.” She grinned and slipped out of the bathroom unnoticed, back to their room, and was under the covers when he returned. “C’mere.”

He tugged on clean boxers and called it good, slipping under the covers with her and drawing her close. “Sleepy?”

“Yeah.” She grinned to herself and pressed a chaste kiss to her jaw. “Baby.”

“Hm?” He closed his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep at any second.

“You’re so easy.”

“Easy?” He echoed. “Maybe. Just for you.”

“Aw. Slutty just for me.” She grinned and rested her head on his chest, sighing contentedly when he wrapped his arms around her. “Good night.”

“Night, love you.” He mumbled.

“Love you too.”

_____

After another long day of exploring (and five gelatos, between the two of them), Sophie and Rafe agreed to meet up with Marco and Elena to go out again before they left. Rafe insisted on buying Sophie a better outfit for going out, despite her protests, and they ended up buying three outfits instead of just one. The night started out tame, with Marco and Elena actually sticking by Sophie and Rafe - until Marco kept buying more and more shots of limoncello and sambuca.

The sambuca shots came to their table on fire, and Rafe was a little too enamored by the flame by the third round he’d consumed (Sophie passed hers off to him, a little worried about her ability to keep an eye on him otherwise). When she noticed Rafe’s terrible typing on a Snapchat to Colin and James, she leaned up to yell in his ear. “Hey! I’m going to go get water. No more shots.”

“I’ll come!” He got up from his chair and immediately stumbled, gripping the table. Marco caught him by the arm, laughing. “I can watch him. It’s okay.”

She nodded and pressed both hands to his shoulders to keep Rafe in place. “Okay. You stay here with Marco, I’ll be right back, baby.”

“Promise?” He frowned, reaching out for her.

“I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Stay.”

After fighting her way up to the bar, and poorly communicating that she wanted acqua, water, not acqua di cedro, an Italian liqueur, Sophie finally made it back to the table after ten minutes - just in time to catch Marco leaning in and kissing Rafe.

Rafe had leaned in a little too, misreading and thinking Marco was just trying to tell him something in his ear over the loud crowd. He jerked away with wide eyes just so Marco caught the corner of his lips, then abruptly looked around in shock to see if anyone else caught it.

Marco cocked his head, confused. “You are not interested?”

Sophie came up and handed Rafe the water, tucking herself into his side protectively. “What’s going on?” He gaped at her for a second then back at Marco, trying to gather his thoughts. “Interested?”

“In me.” Marco nodded. “We have been flirting.”

“We’ve been what?” He repeated, in shock.

“I’m his girlfriend.” Sophie clarified, gesturing between the two of them. “I thought we told you -”

“Yes, and I have my girlfriend too!” Marco nodded, tapping Elena on the shoulder and bringing her close. “What is the issue?”

“Oh, did you ask?” Elena brightened, sending Sophie a flirtatious grin. “Did they say yes?”

“I’m too drunk for this.” Rafe mumbled, pressing his palm to his forehead.

“Wait, wait, so. You two want to hook up with Rafe -” Sophie started, only for Marco to shake his head. “No, no, both of you. You for Elena.”

“I thought you could tell? We were flirting all week!” Elena exclaimed, and both Sophie and Rafe thought back to several incidents over the past few days that they’d just chalked up to the Italians being friendly. Kisses on cheeks, Elena telling Sophie to toss coins in the fountain so she’d meet her lover in Florence, Marco complimenting Rafe’s body multiple times when he came back in just a towel after the showers - shit, were they really that oblivious?

Rafe just groaned and dropped his head down to Sophie’s shoulder. “I’m so drunk.” She laughed, more out of confusion than anything. “Um, I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not really inter - well -” She paused, debating for a moment and glancing up at Rafe to make sure she wasn’t speaking for him. (In her defense, she wasn’t sober either.)

“No!” Rafe exclaimed.

She nodded quickly. “Right, right, yeah. We’re not really interested, I’m so sorry if we gave you the wrong idea.”

“Oh. I would not have kissed you, I am sorry -” Marco began to apologize, but Sophie shook her head. “It’s okay! It’s okay, he’s fine. Um, here, you can have these, I think I need to get Rafe back home.” She pushed their waters into Elena’s hands, giving them an awkward smile.

“Will we see you at breakfast?” Elena asked as she smiled back, completely unfazed.

“Um...yeah. Maybe. Rafe, c’mon, let’s go.” Sophie looped her arm around his waist and tried pulling him out of the club, and he just dragged his feet along. “I can’t believe he kissed me.”

“Shh,” she giggled as she hushed him, tugging on his arm. “Rafe, cooperate, please.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” He grumbled, standing slightly more upright and doing his best to walk with her once they finally made it out. She got out her phone to look up the directions back to their metro stop and he wiped his hand over his mouth, scowling. “I need a kiss.”

“You nearly got one from Marco.” Sophie quipped with a smirk.

“I didn’t want a kiss from Marco.” He lamented with a big sigh. “Need one from my girl.”

“Just one, then we gotta make it home.” She complied, rising up on her toes to give him a short kiss. He grabbed her chin, not so gently, and tilted it back up to give her another kiss. “No. More.”

“I’ll kiss you as much as you want when we get back. Will you please help me and walk to the metro? One block, then just two when we go to the hostel. You can do it.” She pulled out of his grip and looped her arm in his, trying to get him going. “Rafe. Please.”

“So whiny.” He mumbled, but followed along. “Sophie, baby, Soph.”

“Yeah, bud?”

“My legs feel like jello.”

She grinned. “Kissing Marco had you that weak-kneed?”

“Shut uppppp.” He whined, messing with her hair. She jerked away, swatting his hand. “Hey! Quit.”

“You quit.”

“Shut it.”

He was quiet for a solid minute and she could tell he was thinking something over, with the way his brow was furrowed and lips were pursed. “Sophie Flint.”

“Yeah?” She was grateful when they arrived at the metro, tugging him onto the empty car and scanning their tickets. She wrestled him into a seat and eventually ended up on his lap after some pushing and pulling, his forehead pressed to hers. “What, Rafe.”

“Were you gonna sleep with Elena?” He looked concerned and his hands gripped her waist a little tighter.

She laughed, pulling back to brush his hair out of his face. “No, baby, I wasn’t going to sleep with her. I didn’t even know that’s what they were trying for.”

“Oh. Good. I don’t think I’d like you sleeping with someone else.” He told her, closing his eyes a little as she combed her fingers through his hair.

Sophie held back another laugh, nodding. “Yeah? I didn’t think you would. Don’t fall asleep on me, buddy.”

“Boyfriend. Not buddy. Buddy’s just a friend. I can have other nicknames too though.” He argued, letting his head fall back against the metro walls.

“What other nicknames?” She asked, moving to get off his lap, but he just tightened his grip on her so she couldn’t.

“Hm…I’m okay with smokeshow.”

She snorted, nodding. “Alright, smokeshow. We can go with that.”

“Sophie.”

“Yes, Rafe.”

“I’m in love with you.” He declared, leaning forward and placing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. She beamed and leaned in too to bump her nose against his, then press a short kiss to his lips. “You’re very sweet when you’re drunk.”

“I need you to say it back.” He frowned, tugging gently at the ends of her hair.

“I’m in love with you too.” She grinned. “Adore you, even.”

He hummed, looking her over with concentration and a small smile. “I like the sound of that. Do we have to go to breakfast tomorrow? I don’t really wanna see them again.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Our train to Rome is at seven, I was kind of hoping they’d be too hungover to remember us.”

“Hostel breakfast doesn’t open til 8.” He frowned. “Am I gonna starve?”

Sophie rolled her eyes and nudged her nose against his. “No. I’ll make sure you get food.”

“You’re so good at taking care of me.” He smiled sleepily, pulling her closer and dropping his head to her shoulder.

She beamed, combing her hand through his hair. “I try my best, baby. Always will.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 29

A/N:  There’s somewhat of a double update this week 🙊You’ll understand why at the end of the chapter 🙊 

May 26th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was frantic.  

The NHL had announced their Return to Play plan.  Toronto was the chosen hub city for the eastern conference, naturally.  They were Toronto.  She’d be back at work.

None of that mattered.

William was back in Toronto.

But he was in quarantine.  The government had instituted the policy and he was going to stick to it, obviously.  And so was she, especially since he traveled from Florida, even though it was going to be hard.  It meant that he was in Toronto, and Aberdeen knew he was in Toronto, but she was unable to see him.  They’d have to communicate the same way as they did when he was in Tampa Bay, still, even though he was only a ten-minute walk away from her.  

It killed her.  It hurt worse than when he was in Tampa.

“The plan is already set,” he explained to her on the phone.  “After the fourteen days I get to go back onto the ice.  I think a few of the guys who stayed in Toronto will be there too.  No more than five, though.”

“Yeah.  Those are the rules.”

“Will you be there with Brendan?”

Aberdeen hadn’t even thought about it.  She and Brendan had obviously kept in touch throughout quarantine, but he hadn’t mentioned needing her at Scotiabank Arena should any of the guys go in for a skate.  “I don’t know, actually,” she admitted.  “I’d have to ask.”

“Please ask,” he said quickly, causing Aberdeen to laugh.  “If you’re there that day, when I’m back on the ice, I…Aberdeen, please just ask.”

“I will.”

***

May 29th, 2020

“Do you need me in that day, by the way?” Aberdeen asked Brendan on the phone, super-casually but also super-connivingly near the end of their call.

“Which day?”

“Any of the days, really,” she said, trying to sound even more casual than before.  They’d gone through all the players, their whereabouts, and all the dates they would be available to go skate at the arena.  “The seventh, the ninth – any of them.”

“Well…it’ll be nice to see your smiling face,” he said, and she knew by his tone he was looking down at his calendar.  “How about you come in on just one of the days.  You choose which one.”

“I’ll come on the ninth, the Tuesday,” she chose quickly.  “Sunday is a day of worship, Brendan.  You should know better.”

Brendan laughed on the other end.  “It’ll be good to see you again, Aberdeen.  Bring some of that humour with you.  We’re gonna need it.”

***

June 3rd, 2020

“Six more days, minskatt.”

“Not that we’re counting.”

“When I get my hands on you…”

“Not if I get my hands on you first.”

***

June 7th, 2020

“Forty-eight hours.”

“It’s been sixty-one days, you know.”

“Sixty-one days?!  Fuuuuuuck, Aberdeen.”

“You haven’t been buried in my pussy for sixty-one days, Willy.”

“Aberdeen—”

“My pussy’s so wet for you Willy.”

“You’ve gotta stop teasing me.”

***

June 9th, 2020

“A blazer, Aberdeen?” Brendan asked as he watched her walk into the office, a giddy smile on his face – not that anyone saw.  Everyone was wearing a mask, and he was no exception.  He wore a Leafs branded one, naturally.  He had a bunch to give to Aberdeen, too – one for every day of the week.  She walked into the office wearing a plain black mask.  Typical of her.

“I needed to feel professional,” she said.  “I’ve been in my condo in sweaters and tights for three months.  Give me this moment.”

“Fine.  Have it,” he smiled.  “Set your stuff down and come with me.  We’re going down to the ice.”

Aberdeen felt shivers running up and down her spine, and it wasn’t because of the ice.  They made their way down to the locker room first, actually, where they saw Kyle on the way.  She and him caught up quickly, with her asking about Leo and with Kyle asking about her writing.  But then, like pure magic, and completely unannounced, there he was, in his hockey pants and socks.  She swore her heart stopped beating.  Sixty-one days.

William stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.  He was wearing a mask, so she could only see his eyes.  “Aberdeen,” he said, nodding at her.  “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said.  “Long time no see.  How was Tampa?” she asked.

Only she could see the indignant look he was giving her with his eyes.  It was a look he only saved for her when she was being ridiculous – in any way she could be ridiculous – so Brendan and Kyle were none the wiser, though she was sure if they really looked, they’d probably see it too.  “It was good.  Nice spending time with the siblings, you know.  Were you okay here?”

She nodded.  “Yeah, everything was fine on my end.  Just stayed holed up in the condo, really.  Kasha was working a lot from home so it was mostly just me writing and keeping quiet so she could still earn a living.”

“Well that’s good that she didn’t get laid off or anything,” he commented.  “And your family?  They’re okay?”

“They’re fine.  Siena’s back at my parents’ place and finished off the school year.  Camden is too, though school in general is a bit of a shit show right now.”

“Is that Aberdeen?!” a voice suddenly called out from inside the locker room.  Before their dumb conversation could continue with Brendan and Kyle watching, she saw a maskless Zach Hyman in his full gear barreling towards her.  “Aberdeen!” he extended his arms for a hug.

“No no no!” Kyle and Brendan screamed at the same time, putting their arms up like a forcefield around Aberdeen.  “No hugging!  Social distancing!”

Zach’s brows were furrowed before he finally remembered, rolling his eyes at himself.  “Sorry.  I’m so dumb.  I completely forgot.  I’m just excited to see you!”

“Me too, Zach,” she smiled, wishing he could see it.  She hoped he at least saw her eyes crinkle from it.  “It’s nice to be back, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” he said.  She didn’t even have to see his face to see he was smiling from ear to ear.  He lived for hockey.  “You coming out onto the ice with us?”

“If I’m allowed,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders, looking to Brendan and Kyle who were nodding their heads.  “Might sit on the bench and pretend I’m Sheldon for a bit.”

***

did u tell kasha ur working late?

Yup

come over right when brendan lets u leave i can’t wait anymore

me neither

i got a boner just seeing u today in your work clothes

LOL WILL

minskatt im 100% serious this isnt funny

I’m actually dying Willy Thank god you were wearing your hockey pants We’ve waited over six weeks, you can’t wait longer?

NO I CAN’T MINSKATT

***

There were butterflies in Aberdeen’s stomach as she made her way into William’s condo building, into the elevator, and through the hallways.  Still in her work clothes, she knocked frantically on his front door.  

She didn’t have to wait long.

She didn’t even get the third knock in before he swung the door open, obviously waiting for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her in.  She dropped her bag as he pulled her into him and immediately planted his lips on hers aggressively.  Hands and lips and tongues happened all at once, and they were everywhere, and when the front door shut behind them William pushed Aberdeen up against it, lifting her up in his arms with her wrapping her legs around him.  Aberdeen wrapped her arms around his shoulders and began running her fingers through his hair.  It had gotten so long.  So long.  She’d seen the progression of the length on their FaceTime calls, but it was different seeing it in person.  Sixty-one days.  Sixty-one days since she’d seen him and she barely took in the sight of him when he opened the door.

“God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled quickly as his kisses moved from her lips to her neck.

“Let me see you,” she mumbled, stopping her hands from running through his hair to place them on either side of his face.  She pulled his face away from her neck so she could look at him, really look at him.  His eyes were as blue as ever, glossed over with love and lust and everything in between.  His hair was as blonde as ever, long and luscious and every girl’s dream, really.  A light stubble covered his face, and the stupidest mustache sat atop his lip, but because he was William, she couldn’t say a bad thing about it.  It looked ridiculous, but she loved everything about it.  His lips were pink and puffy and wet as she ran her thumb across them ever so gently.  He was here.  He was actually here.  “Hi,” she said softly, their chests still heaving from the hot and heavy start.  

“Hi minskatt,” he whispered back equally as softly, pursing his lips slightly as if to kiss her thumb.

“You’re here,” she smiled.  “You’re finally here.”

“I never want to spend that much time apart again,” he said.  “I can’t stand being away from you.”

“Me neither.”

“It was torture,” he continued.  “All I thought about was you.  How much I love you.  How much I wanted to hold you in my arms like I’m doing now.”

Aberdeen smiled again, biting down on her bottom lip slightly.  “Show me,” she said.  “Show me how much you love me.”

He planted his lips on hers again, just as frantic and fiercely as the last time, continuing where he left off.  Aberdeen began shimmying out of her blazer, letting it fall to the floor as he adjusted her in his arms and carried her through the apartment, setting her down finally on his couch.  Hovering over her now, with her legs still wrapped around him, Aberdeen tugged at his hoodie.  “Take this off,” she mumbled, pulling it over his shoulders and throwing it behind them.

Reluctantly, William’s lips left Aberdeen’s as he pulled back and started unzipping her pants.  “Willy,” her chest heaved up and down.  He was working quickly.  He ignored his name as he pulled her pants off.  When they were off, he hooked his fingers into her underwear and pulled them off too.  “Willy—”

William was a man possessed.  There was nothing Aberdeen could say – instead, she watched as he gave her one final look with his blue eyes before he dove into her pussy.  She bucked her hips almost automatically but William brought his arm up to hold her down.  “Ooooooh fuck, Willy,” she sighed out.  

“I missed this,” he mumbled, humming against her lips as he lapped and sucked, making her squirm underneath his arm.  “You taste so good for me.”

“I missed this too.  I missed your mouth on my pussy,” she strained to get out, trying to savour the feeling as much as possible since she hadn’t felt it in sixty-one days.  When he looked up at her from in between her legs, she smiled.  “You look so good between my thighs, baby,” she cooed, running her fingers through his hair and gripping it slightly.  

He hummed again, sending shivers down her spine.  “When you touched yourself was it like this?” he asked.

“No,” she responded automatically, because nothing was the same as having William’s lips and tongued glued to her pussy.  “Nothing is as good as this, Willy.  Nothing.”

“Can I put my fingers in your pussy?”

She nodded furiously.  “Please Willy.”

He pushed two fingers in slowly as he sucked on her clit, making her squirm even more so than before.  “Oooooh, Willy,” she moaned.  He curled his fingers inside of her like he always did and she gasped.  “Willy—Willy—”

“Feel good?”

“Feels fucking amazing,” she said.  “Willy, I—I—”

“What do you want, Aberdeen?”

“I want to suck your cock, Willy,” she admitted.  “I want to suck your cock so bad.”

He chuckled, and she could feel it, and his eyes narrowed as he could practically feel the shivers run through her body.  “Not yet.  Not until you come on my face.”

Aberdeen gulped.  “But Willy—”

“No.  Not until you come on my face, baby.”

“Willyyyy—” she begged, until she felt his fingers curl inside of her again.  “Oh fuck, Willy, fuck – please,” she huffed.  

“Let me taste you, Aberdeen.  I need to taste you.”

As he continued his lapping, Aberdeen moaned and cried out at every opportunity, and when she began tugging on his hair and pulling his face even further against her wet pussy, he knew she was close.  With a few more curls of his fingers and sucking on her clit, she cried out his name over and over again as she became a screaming, writhing mess on his couch.  He lapped up every single last drop of her as he watched her chest heave up and down from the pleasure, from the pleasure he caused.  When he was finally finished, placing butterfly kisses against her pussy and thighs, he made his way back up and gave her a hot, slobbered kiss.

She could taste herself on his lips, and she loved it, but what she wanted more was to taste him.  So when his lips left hers, she made sure to look him in the eye.  “Sit,” she said, putting her hands on his chest.  

“Minskatt—” he said, placing a hand on hers.

“Sit,” she ordered more sternly, pushing him back so he’d listen to her command.  He sat on the couch with his legs spread apart and watched as she climbed on top of him but made her way between his legs.  She took off her top, leaving her just in her lace bra that she wore especially for him.  Her hands went to the waistband of his sweatpants and she pulled them down, along with his boxers, as eagerly as ever.  When his cock bounced up, already hard, she smiled up at him.  “Mmmmm,” she hummed, running her fingernails up and down his thick thighs.  “I’ve been dreaming about your cock in my mouth, Willy.”

“I’ve been dreaming abo—oh fuuuuuck,” he groaned as Aberdeen wasted no time in licking the underside of his cock from the base to the tip before covering the tip with her lips.  “Aberdeen—”

William couldn’t finish his sentence – or thought, really – because Aberdeen took his cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around expertly.  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  The amount of times he thought about this very thing while in Tampa…and now it was happening.  He shuddered thinking about it, feeling it happening right now.  “Your mouth feels incredible on my cock,” he managed to get out, looking down at her with hooded eyes.  

“Pull my hair, Willy,” she said quickly, putting a quick kiss on the tip of his cock. 

It was his turn to gulp.  He ran his fingers through her hair – the hair he loved so much – and tugged on it slightly, pushing her back down onto his cock.  She moaned in response.  “That okay?”

She nodded even though his cock was halfway down her throat.  She looked up at him again once she came back up – once he allowed her to.  “Harder, Willy.  It’s okay.  I want your cock down my throat.”

“Ab—”

“It’s okay, Willy,” she dug her nails into his thighs.  “I want it.”

A deep growl rose in his chest as he tugged on her hair again, pushing her mouth down his cock slowly.  As he watched his cock disappear into her mouth, his pupils dilated.  When she looked up at him with her beady eyes, he almost lost it.  She began bobbing her head up and down his cock with his direction, the tugging of her hair and the slight force he was using making her wet all over again.  Much like William, Aberdeen derived pleasure from knowing she was giving William that same pleasure, so seeing his chest heave, seeing him lean his head back in pleasure – it was all she wanted, everything she dreamed of for the past sixty-one days away from him.

“D’you want to come down my throat?” she asked, his cock slick and wet from her spit.

“No,” he said sternly.  “Get…get up here.”

“Willy—”

He tugged her by the arm, bringing her back up so he could kiss her and pick her back up again as they made their way to his bedroom.  He plopped her down to the bed, opening his bedside table drawer to get a condom.  She stole it from him, ripping it open with her teeth and rolling it on herself before laying back down on the bed, unclasping her bra herself and throwing it across the room.  

William bent down and took one of her nipples into her mouth, sucking gently as he grabbed at her hands.  He raised them above her head, holding them both there with only one of his own.  He saw her smile.  “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his own grin showing how he felt about it.

She nodded her head.  “I want your cock so bad Willy.  “Give me your cock.  I need your cock.”

He slipped into her easily, quickly, her wet pussy still slick with her juices.  They both moaned in pleasure, and once he was fully in her, they both took a moment to savour the feeling of being together again – physically, mentally, emotionally, everything – and looked each other in the eye.  “God you feel so good,” he whispered, giving the tip of her nose a light kiss.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she said, her voice breathless, the feeling of him filling her up almost too much to bear after not having experienced it for so long.  “I love you so much, Willy.”

“I promise you,” he said.  “I promise you I’ll never leave you for that long again.  We’ll never be separated like that.”

She nodded her head.  She understood.  “I never want to be.  I always want to be with you, Willy.  Wherever you are, I’ll be.”

He began moving in and out of her, slowly, trying to make the feeling last as long as possible.  But eventually, when Aberdeen began rolling her hips along with his movements, even though her arms and hands were still pinned above her head, he couldn’t control himself, moving quicker and crashing harder against her body.  He watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the moans escaping them freely and loudly.  

At some point, William forgot about holding her arms above her head.  At some point, they escaped free, and she dug her nails into his shoulder blades and scratched them down his back.  At some point, after hearing her moans and cries and screams of his name for what felt like hours, he lost himself, and he lost control, and she lost herself, and she lost control, and they came together, bodies close, arms around each other, his head buried in the crook of her neck, hearts beating together.  

***

“Did you mean what you said?” William asked as they lay in bed together, still recovering.  He knew there was going to be a round two.  And a round three.  And however many more they saw fit until they were satisfied, although deep down he knew neither of them would ever be satisfied.  But before all that, he needed to clear something up.  He needed to hear it from her.  “Wherever you are, I’ll be?”

Aberdeen looked over at him.  She knew what he was asking, because he was in hockey.  He could be shipped off somewhere tomorrow.  He could be shipped off in the off-season.  As she learned in May, and saw for herself, virtually half the fanbase wanted him gone (the dumb fanbase at least, she thought).  But much like when he asked her if she would really come to Sweden with him, she knew there was a deeper meaning to this.  There always was with William with questions like this; he was still learning to talk to her – to express his feelings like he promised he would after that game against Carolina.  “Are you listening?” she asked, what they would always ask each other when they were about to say something important.

“Yes, minskatt.”

She looked him in the eye and nodded her head.  “Of course I did.”

He tried not to show it, but he took a sharp intake of breath.  She could see his Adam’s apple bob.  She knew he was trying not to get emotional.  But when he moved to kiss her, she could feel a tear.

***

June 13th, 2020

“I saw on the news that William is back!” Camden exclaimed into the phone.  Aberdeen had to go so far as to jerk the phone away from her ear.  From the other side of the couch, William giggled silently.  “Did you get to see him, Aberdeen?!”

“I did,” she laughed.  “He says hello.”

“Did he have a good time in Tampa?”

“I think so.  I mean he was with his siblings,” Aberdeen laughed.  “Aren’t you happy with me and Siena are home?”

“Sometimes.”

She snorted.  “Anyways, have you finished the last of your work for school?” she asked.  “Siena told me you forgot about a math assignment.”

“Oh my God, I forget about one assignment and I never hear the end of it!” he complained.  William threw his head back in silent laughter.  “You guys never let me hear the end of it!”

“But it’s math, Camden!  Math is your favourite subject!”

“Don’t you guys remember I’m working at like, two grades above my level in math anyway?” he reminded her.  “I’m already, like, gifted in math.  You weren’t gifted.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Is Auston back yet?” he asked.

“I don’t know buddy.  He’s still in Arizona.  But I assume he’ll be coming back soon.  I’m sure there’s ice rinks there he’s practicing on.”

“Is he staying safe?”

“I’m sure he is Camden.  I’m sure he is.”

***

June 19th, 2020

@simmonssteve: POSTMEDIA EXCLUSIVE: Auston Matthews has tested positive for COVID-19.  My breaking story: torontosun.com

***

Aberdeen thought she’d seen Brendan Shanahan angry on her interview day when he was demanding to his former personal assistant that the article written about his daughter be pulled from the Toronto Sun.  She thought she saw Brendan Shanahan at his angriest when she entered his house while he was having a fight with his daughter and the subsequent day when he sent her on a wild goose chase throughout the city to find Niklas Lidstrom’s Swedish jersey.  

Those were a walk in the park compared to how she saw him now, dealing with the leaked information that Auston tested positive for COVID-19.  

She was sure he was ready to burn down his office, the floor, the entire building, the entire Scotiabank Arena.  She knew he wanted to revoke the media access and credentials of the reporter, Steve Simmons, because he had so many strikes against him over the years (Aberdeen would have to research this when she got home), but that he would look like a vindictive and spiteful president if he did so.  She knew he had been on the phone with Auston and his agent and his parents and Kyle and Brad and just about everyone else important within the organization to deal with it.

And all she was doing was sitting in a chair in his office with a mask on.  

She felt her phone buzz in her hand, and when she looked at the screen she saw “Head Empty” on the screen followed by a message.  

hows it going over there?

She took a quick look at Brendan and he was still barking into a phone.  She unlocked her screen and began to type.  

It’s a shit show. Have you heard from Auston?

yea mild symptoms but hes angry doesnt know how it leaked

Who could it have been?

no clue, honestly not like any of us would say something

“Aberdeen, Kyle is coming in,” Brendan said quickly.  His voice was stern but softer than how he was speaking to whoever was on the phone.  He had his hand over the receiver.  “Can you go get us some coffee, please.”

She nodded and got up, making her way out of his office and to the Starbucks where she always went to get their regular orders.  As she took the staircase down to the main floor, her phone began to ring loudly, echoing in the empty space.  She stopped and looked down at her phone.  Auston Matthews.

“Hello?” she asked, truly confused as to why he would be calling her.

“Hey,” he said casually.  “How are you?”

“I’m…fine,” she replied, still confused.  “Is everything okay?”

“Depends,” he said.  “Can you be honest with me?”

She stiffened slightly.  “I’m always honest with you.”

“I know.  But can you be honest with me right now?”

“Yes, of course.”

He paused.  “Do you know who leaked it?”

She closed her eyes.  She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in.  “No, I don’t.  But trust me when I say we’re doing everything to find out.  Kyle’s heading over right now and I can only imagine what he and Brendan are going to do to…I don’t know, mitigate this disaster.”

She could hear him sigh on the other end.  “I hope whoever it was gets fired, honest to God.”

“I hope so too.  Pretty sure Brendan wants to get Steve Simmons fired, too, for what it’s worth,” she said.  There was a moment of silence between the two of them before her mouth began speaking quicker than her brain told her not to say anything.  “You don’t think it was me, do you?”

“No, not at all,” he said.  “We all trust you with anything and everything.  We know if something ever got out, it would never be you.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, genuinely curious.  It was a feat in and of itself to have the utmost trust of absolutely everybody in the locker room.

“Because we know and understand that we all have our secrets, Aberdeen.”

[sambergscott]

i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

[stillebesat]

Dog Days

DECEMBER DRABBLES DAY 13 Detective Conan / Magic Kaito: Kuroba Kaito/KID, Edogawa Conan, (also present Mouri Kogoro, Mouri Ran, The Detective Boys) Blurb: If he was being truthful with himself, Kaito hadn’t expected to ever get caught by the police, let alone placed in a cell that he couldn’t get out of. Overall Fic Warnings: Prison/Captivity

If he was being truthful with himself, Kaito hadn’t expected to ever get caught by the police, let alone placed in a cell that he couldn’t get out of.

But that was exactly what had happened. The police had grabbed hold of him while he was disoriented, his movements less than his usual grace. And despite how much he’d wiggled and struggled, he hadn’t been able to escape before they’d shoved him into the back of the police van. 

One dizzying drive later, and he’d been manhandled into his current predicament. A four foot by six foot chain link covered cell, with a concrete floor and padlock on the door. A padlock that he should have been able to pick within two seconds. But couldn’t. 

Kaito paced his tiny cell space, listening to the cacophony of his fellow cellmates. Cellmates that would only get louder whenever the wardens wandered in and out of their cell block and only quieted down when the lights went out overhead and the people left for the evening. 

Kaito groaned, throwing himself onto the concrete floor, sprawling out on his side. No, he’d never expected to get caught. Never expected to be stuck in this stupid place for two weeks without being able to escape! He rolled to his belly, resting his head between his paws, his tail tapping in irritation. 

Of course he’d never expected to be changed into a dog either. How could anyone ever plan for that? 

Well, he probably should have since he knew a self-proclaimed witch. But seriously a dog? He pushed to his feet again to circle the tiny space once more. If any good to honest spell was doing its proper job, he would have been a cat! At least cats were more useful in their four-leggedness. More suited to his liking of heights and doing the impossible. They also had handy claws. He was sure he could have picked the padlock easily if he’d only had cat claws instead of dog paws that were about as dexterous as a wooden spoon. 

His ears flicked as his fellow doggy cellmates started up another round of barking and howling. Great. Another visitor come to look for a new potential family pet more than likely. It wasn’t time yet for the workers to come do their closing tasks. And after two weeks of being here, he knew their schedule like none other. He growled, moving to the back of the cage so he wouldn’t be as noticeable as the others and sat, his back to the door. 

After his first handful of experiences of being taken out for prospective owners to see him closer, he had no desire to leave the cage. He’d already tried all the escape routes those opportunities had offered. 

Even if he could get the stupid rope that they placed around his neck off, the doors all had rounded door knobs, preventing him from getting out. He would need Lady Luck to work some serious magic for him to escape this place. A frayed rope that breaks, doors that happen to be open, clumsy workers who failed to catch him, a potential adopter opening the door to the outside at just the right moment so he could finally leave this place….

Kaito exhaled, his ears drooping as he laid down, his tail curling around his back legs. And then what? He escaped and then what? It wasn’t like he could go home like this, and his hopes for waking up human again were fading as time wore on. 

He’d need to figure out how exactly he’d become a dog in the first place because irritatingly enough, he couldn’t remember a single thing from the day of his change. 

The day before he’d been in school, had spent the evening with Jii planning for a heist the next day. A heist he must have gone to as KID. A heist where something happened. A heist where he, the famous Phantom Thief KID must have still pulled off since the Task Force were the ones to find him and put him in the pound. 

Kaito pushed again to his feet, snapping his teeth at his tail as it lashed back and forth. He’d been staggering, disoriented when the Task Force had found him. That much he could remember. Why couldn’t he remember anything beyond that? Had it been the gem? Had it been Akako and her demon magic? 

Kaito went back to pacing his cell. He couldn’t recall upsetting her recently, nor her giving any of her cryptic warnings when there was actual danger. So it couldn’t have been her. The gem? Something else? Why couldn’t he remember the day at all?! 

He was distracted by the sudden yells of children coming from the entrance way. Kaito flinched and darted to the back of the cage. As a magician he loved entertaining children. Their expressions of wonder when he performed magic were one of the highlights of his day. 

But as a dog? 

They were evil little demon terrors. Pulling at his tail, his ears, squeezing him so hard he couldn’t breathe, trying to use him as a seat, or a pillow? No. No. NO. He didn’t like it. He refused to leave the cage if it was a child involved in a possible adoption. He’d growl and bare his teeth if any child with their parents showed interest. 

He never snapped at them though, never tried to bite them. After all. He was KID and KID had a no one gets hurt policy. But that didn’t mean he would let the tiny terrors walk all over him. 

“Oooo!!!!” A girl cried out from further down the line of cages. Kaito’s ears flattened against his head. With his new hearing, her scream of adoration was nearly as bad as a dog whistle. “It’s so noisy!” complained a boy. 

“This one is pretty!” the girl continued. “Ran-onesan! You should get this one!”  “No! No! Look at this one! You should get this one!” Exclaimed another boy.

“There’s so many! How are you ever going to choose?” The girl asked.

“We should get them all!” The first boy stated. 

Kaito snorted. Get them all? That was a child for you. Hearts as big as the ocean. He settled down in the back of the cage. If he stayed still, hopefully they wouldn’t notice him when they walked past. 

“We’re not getting them all,” grouched an older man. 

Kaito frowned, lifting his head. That voice...he knew that voice. How did he know that voice? 

“We just need one for a case! A case I tell you!” He continued. 

“Otosan” Another familiar female voice responded. Kaito’s ears perked up and he stood on all fours. 

Wait. 

Hadn’t the little girl said ‘Ran-onesan’ earlier? His heart leapt. No. It couldn’t be. Could it? He darted to the front of his cage as a very, VERY familiar voice spoke up. 

“Ojisan, how do you expect to train a dog to help you solve cases?” Kaito’s favorite little Critic asked. 

Kaito lifted up onto his hind legs, placing his front paws on the cage. Yes. YES! Tantei-kun was here. His tail wagged frantically. Tantei-kun. Tantei-kun. Maybe Lady Luck still was on his side. He dropped down, spinning in circles. Conan had come to get a dog. 

Well, the old man had come to get a dog, but Tantei-kun was here, and if they got a dog, if they got HIM, then he could be free! He could get his favorite Critic to help him figure out why he was a dog in the first place. He just needed to….Kaito returned to the door, jumping up and down as he barked as energetically as his doggy cellmates. Tantei-kun could help him. He could help him. He just needed to get the shrunken detective’s attention!

Which was going to be rather hard when his Critic wasn’t even looking at the dogs. He had his hands behind his head, clearly bored out of his mind as his elementary friends moved from cage to cage. Clearly, Tantei-kun wasn’t into getting a pet.  

Kaito dropped back to all fours, spinning in circles. Think. Think. Think Kaito! How could he get the detective’s attention? What could he do to convince him to take Kaito home? He turned back to the door, tail wagging frantically. “K-U-D-O!” He barked in morse code. “K-U-D-O. K-U-D-O! K-U-D-O!” Come on, come on. He placed his paws on the chain link. “K-U-D-O!” Please. Notice him! 

He dropped to all fours wagging his tail, tilting his head, trying to look as adorable as possible as the children stopped at his cage. He whined, tail thumping the concrete. 

“Stay away from that cage, children.” The head warden of the doggy cells called out. “He doesn’t like children.” 

Kaito stiffened, as the children quickly backed away. No! NO! He jumped at the gate, whining frantically. “K-U-D-O! S-O-S!!” He barked out. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as the group quickly moved further down the rows. 

The shrunken detective hadn’t even glanced his way. He probably hadn’t even heard the coded barking with all his cellmates yapping like crazy too. His voice had been drowned out. And with his refusal to let children near, he’d just royally screwed himself from even being considered by them. Agh! Why did Lady Luck have to be so fickle? Giving him a ray of hope only to snatch it away. 

He slumped to the ground, head lowered, not caring that he was whining pathetically. 

“Hey boy.”

Kaito jerked his head up, to see Conan crouched at his cage, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. 

The shrunken detective glanced down the row of cages before focusing back on him. “Did you call me?” He asked in a low whisper. 

Kaito nodded frantically, crawling closer to nose at the boy’s fingers. 

Conan inhaled sharply. “You understand me?” 

Kaito wagged his tail, giving a soft wuff as he nodded again. He half growled half woofed out “K-U-D-O” as quietly as he could, meeting his Critic’s eyes. 

“How?” 

“Oi! Brat!”

Conan tsked and straightened as the old man called from the other end of the room. 

“We don’t have all day. Come on!” 

Kaito whined, moving to his feet.

“Shh.” Tantei-kun said, raising a calming hand. His sharp eyes held Kaito’s before he turned. “Ojisan! I want this one!” He cried out, his voice rising into it’s childish pitch. “Please! Please! Please!” He bounced on his toes, pointing to him. “I like this one!” He dropped his tone. “You better know tricks.” He muttered. “The old man needs a trained dog for his idiotic plan.” 

Kaito snorted, prancing in place as he gave a grin to his Critic that he hoped was somewhat similar to his usual KID grin. Did he know tricks? If only Tantei-kun knew who he was dealing with, that statement would never have been uttered in the first place. 

[theplumsoldier]

let's have some fun (this beat is sick) [1]

summary: donald finds himself attracted to the [smoking hot, yes u r] reader and when she realizes this, she decides to play the game of seduction. part 1 of 2 pairing: donald pierce x reader word count: 1672 warnings: vulgar language, eventual smut

The infamous Alkali-Transigen Reavers rarely had time off and this time was no different. Howbeit, that did not stop them from deciding on celebrating their latest catch, and so at five o'clock they brazenly took to a bar downtown. Donald Pierce had not necessarily expected to "get some" as it would appear his fellow Reavers did, but the night takes a drastic turn when his eyes land on a certain little someone.

The night was passing slowly, and to be quite true, Donald was not feeling it. Not the cheerful atmosphere, not the drinks, certainly not the music. When an elegant figure waltzed its way through the crowd, now that was something he would like to feel.

Your sultry mien quickly rubbed off on him, even from the unbearable distance separating you from his grasp, and it was wickedly wrong how hard he grew a just that sight.

Bare legs balancing on impossibly tall heels, tight dress - stopping just beneath your enticing ass and fuck, he could not tell if that red dress sculpted you or the other way around - held in place with spaghetti-straps. A single delicate, golden necklace laced tightly around your neck and when you moved to take a sip from your drink, he noticed your alluring, plump, peach-colored lips. Everything around you disappeared and all sound had ceased to exist as he watched you with intense lust. He watched your tongue dart out swiftly, and then he caught your nails. He could not make out the color from the booth he sat in, but they caught a glimpse of bright light and reflected right back at him. He never had been attracted to someone so dolled up, but you were simply irresistible.

A shove in the arm brought him back to his drunken group.

"What?" grumbled he, looking confused to his mate.

"At work," hinted the Reaver. "The three new field-policies. Aren't they the fuckin' same?"

"I discern no difference," shrugged Donald off, reaching for his glass and drank the remaining half of his beer, piercing eyes looking for you. But you had disappeared. "And Pretty Boy, if you're still talking work, you haven't had enough to drink. Next round's on me."

Donald's coworkers cheered and hollered at him, banging on the table as Pierce stole toward the bar.

You were nowhere to be seen.

Donald sighed and brushed his blonde locks back in place, placing his order. The night continued and many beers later, you finally revealed yourself. But you were no longer alone. You sat in a man's lap, playing with his hair, and Pierce's body tensed at the sight. How the man with jet-black hair held you in place with his hands, frustrated him exceedingly. This was around the time - meaning a dozen drinks past ten – where he usually would have gotten up from his seat and made his move, but he did not want to embarrass himself in front of all your friends.

Besides, Mohawk had already whistled a couple of fine-looking ladies to the table, so Pierce settled.

But it was not the same. As the woman on his left flirted with him, traced the heel of her stiletto teasingly up his calf, he could not help himself but close his eyes and imagine it was you. Your fingertips playing with his hair, your lips brushing against his cheek, your teeth teasing his earlobe, your nails drawing blood from his back as he ruthlessly—

"What's the matter wit' you, boss?"

"The pretty lady gettin' your worked up?" grinned Angelo and the woman who had now crawled halfway up Donald's lap giggled, preening in the thought, but Pierce knew. Only you.

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes off of your grinding body. Tapping the woman's thigh, he shifted. "Actually, I just need to take a piss."

She hummed, confused, and stood awkwardly as the man with the bionic hand marched away from the table.

Donald slowed down his pace as he walked past your booth, watching you intently. As you pulled your lips from the guy you ground your ass against, your eyes shot up, catching the man passing. A rush went through your body. The man beneath you sucked on your neck, but your attention was focused on Pierce. You could not help but smirk and shoot a wink his way. You would have to be blind not to have noticed his ceaseless eye-fucking throughout the evening. Any fool could tell you looked sublime, and you were all for the game, so when a stranger came around and blatantly flirted with you, you had to put on a show for the cyborg.

A part of you had hoped he simply would grab you by the neck and show you how a real man did it because to be quite honest, the one kissing you now was ignorant.

Pierce suppressed his lust and did his business, making sure to go the same way around when returning to his booth. Again, you locked eyes for a split-second and he knew it; he knew what you were doing.

Running a hand down his stern face he cursed, for he knew you were way out of his league, and his game had seen better days, so he saw no opportunity with you.

That changed later when you showed up at his table. And fuck me thought he because you looked even hotter up-close. Beautiful, even.

Leaning against the wall shielding the booth from the rest, you earned a few sultry comments from the men as they saw you. You paid no attention to his friends, however, merely biting the inside of your cheek and looking Donald suggestively up and down.

You put on a coy smirk, "hey there hot-stuff."

His eyes shot up from his drink, feeling a bag of TNT explode in the pit of his stomach. Your voice went straight to his cock.

"I've seen you staring all night. Wanna come over?"

All eyes expectantly landed on Donald, and as a smirk pulled at the corner of his lip, his mates could not keep their encouraging comments to themselves. Donald did not utter a word, instead, he stood to his feet, grasping your outstretched hand, feeling the tingle of your manicure.

As you led the way to an empty table, you cast a seductive look over your shoulder and found him looking you up and down, licking his lips.

Yeah, this was going to be a fun night.

Sitting on one side, you patted the spot beside you.

"Thought we were going to sit with your friends," wondered he, taking a seat. "Figured I'd get to know the man I'll soon have beggin'." You nodded toward your girlfriends and shrugged as if it truly did not mean much to you. "I mean unless of course, you'd rather sit with them."

Donald smirked at your words, admiring your confidence. He rested his arm behind you and leaned closer.

"I got everything I need right here, baby."

"Don't think I've never met a man with a gold tooth."

"Wanna feel it?"

Laughing, you shook your head at his boldness. "You're quite gutsy, aren't you?"

"Well, you've been teasing me all night, baby. I have to make a move before you move on to the next. I gotta admit, though, I ain't the beggin' type."

Challenge accepted.

"You don't think I can make you beg. . ." asked you while you teasingly drew a finger up and down his thigh, waiting for him to fill you in on his name.

"Donald."

You moved closer, taking advantage of how focused he was on your lips. Tilting your head to the side, you parted your lips teasing your teeth with your tongue. "Well, Donnie, I'll have you know men ain't nothing like themselves when I get on my knees. I'm Y/N, by the way. So you know whose name to mention in your prayer."

The images those words sparked. Fuck—

Donald took your hand from his thigh and placed it directly on the bulge in his jeans, pulling you close with the aid of his bionic hand. Keeping you mere inches from his face, his hand had a rough grip around your neck, and you could feel yourself get hotter by the second.

"You sure you could handle me, little girl?"

Licking your lips, you smirked up at him, his grip tightening just enough to elicit a gasp.

You subtly massaged his length through his pants, watching him breathe heavily through your long lashes.

"Funny you should ask that."

Holding you by the back of your neck, he kept you in place as he hungrily kissed into you. Squeezing your thigh, he moved his hands to your waist to lift you to sit on top of him. At the chill feel of his right hand, you gasped into his mouth, moaning out as you could not do a thing but imagine those cyborg fingers deep in your cunt.

Moving up in his lap, you sat just like you had with the guy from earlier. You had purposely put on a show for you admirer then, and now you sat grinding your hips against said man. He was rock-hard against you and you moaned into his mouth, biting on his lip as you pulled away.

Donald worked on your throat, licking and sucking until he found a sore spot, where he generously lapped. Your dress was too tight to sit with your legs on either side of him, but that did not stop him from sliding his hand between your leg and tease your inner thigh. What did stop him, however, was when he found that you did not wear any panties.

Halting his actions, he looked almost stupefied up to you, cocking an eyebrow.

"You little—"

You looked knowingly in his eyes and grinned at his reaction.

"This place is too. . . crowdy–why don't we go somewhere peaceful?"

"Baby, you're reading my mind. But there won't be no peace where we're going."

[quakerjoe]

"Why are people so hostile towards President Donald Trump?"

Chris O'Leary:

Before you pass my answer off as “Another Liberal Snowflake” consider that 1.) I'm an independent centrist who has voted Republican way more often in my life than Democrat, and 2.) If you want to call someone who spent the entire decade of his 20’s serving in the Marine Corps a snowflake, I’d be ready to answer the question what did you do with your 20’s?

Why Liberals (And not-so liberals) are against President Trump.

A.) He lies. A LOT. Politifact rates 69% of the words he speaks as “Mostly False or worse” Only 17% of the things he says get a “Mostly True” or better rating. That is an absolutely unbelievable number. How he doesn’t speak more truth by mistake is beyond me. To put it in context, Obama’s rating was 26% mostly false or worse, and I had a problem with that. Many of Trump’s former business associates report that he has always been a compulsive liar, but now he’s the President of the United States, and that’s a problem. And this is a man who expects you to believe him when he points at other people and says “They’re lying”

B.) He’s an authoritarian populist, not a conservative. He advances regressive social policy while proposing to expand federal spending and federalist authority over states, both of which conservatives are supposed to hate.

C.) He pretends at Christianity to court the Religious Right but fails to live anything resembling a Christ-Like Life.

D.) His nationalist “America First” message effectively alienates us and removes us from our place as leaders in the international community.

E.) His ideas on “Keeping us safe” are all thinly veiled ideas to remove our freedoms, he is, after all, an authoritarian first. They also are simply bad ideas.

F.) He couldn’t pass a 3rd-grade civics exam. He doesn't’ know what he’s doing. He doesn't understand how international relations work, he doesn’t understand how federal state or local governments work, and every time someone tries to “Run it like a business” it’s a spectacular failure. See Colorado Springs’ recent history as an example. The Short, Unhappy Life of a Libertarian Paradise And that was a businessman with a MUCH better business track record than Trump. We are talking about a man who lost money owning a freaking gambling casino.

G.) He behaves unethicaly and always has. As a businessman, he constantly left in his wake unpaid contractors and invoices, litigation, broken promises, whatever he could get away with.

H.) He is damaging our relationships with our best international friends while kissing up to nations that do not have our best interests in mind. To his question “Wouldn't’ it be great to have better relations with Russia?” The answer is Yes. But it is RUSSIA who needs to earn that, who must stop doing the things that are damaging to that relationship, or we are simply weaker for it.

I.) He has never seen a shortcut he didn't like, and you can’t take shortcuts in government. “Nuclear Option, Remove the Filibuster, I’ll change the Constitution by Executive Order…Don…what happens when you remove the filibuster and the other side retakes the majority in the Senate? Suddenly want that filibuster back? What happens if you manage to change the Constitution by Executive Order and an Anti-2A President wins the next election?

J.) He behaves and has always behaved as an unabashed racist. Yes, I’ve seen your favorite meme that claims he was never accused of racism before the Democrats…Absolutely false. Donald Trump’s long history of racism, from the 1970s to 2019 See the Central Park 5, the lawsuits and fines resulting from his refusal to lease to black tenants, the 1992 lost appeal trying to overturn penalties for removing black dealers from tables, his remarks to the house native American affairs subcommittee in 1993. The man sees and treats racial groups of people as monoliths.

K.) He is systematically steamrolling regulations specifically designed to keep a disaster like the 2007 subprime mortgage crisis from happening again.

L.) He speaks and acts like a demagogue. He sees the Legislative and Judicial branches of government as inconveniences, blows up at criticism no matter how deserved and actively tries to countermand constitutional processes, not to mention attempts to blackmail and coerce people who are saying negative things about him

M.) His choices for top positions, with the exception of Gen. Mattis, who is a gem, have been horrendous. A secretary of Education without a resume that would get her hired as a small town grammar school principal, A secretary of Energy who didn't know the Department of Energy was responsible for nuclear reserves, an EPA head whose biggest accomplishments to date had been suing the EPA on multiple occasions, an FCC head who while working for Verizon actively lobbied to kill net neutrality, and an Attorney General who thinks pot is “nearly as bad as heroin” and asked Congress for permission to go after legal pot businesses in states where it is legal. (There goes that great Republican States rights rally cry again, right? *Crickets*) An Interim AG after Firing his First AG who’s appointment is probably unconstitutional.

N.) He denies scientific fact. Ever notice that the only people you hear denying climate change are politicians and lobbyists? 99% of actual scientists studying the issue agree that it’s real, man-made and caused by greenhouse gasses. Ever notice that every big disaster movie starts with a bunch of politicians in a room ignoring a scientist's warning?

0.) He does not have the temperament to lead this nation. He is Thin Skinned, childish, and a bully, never mind misogynistic, boorish, rude, and incapable of civil discourse.

P.) He still does not understand that the words he speaks, or tweets, are the official position of 1/3 of the US government, and so does not govern his words. He still thinks when he speaks it’s good ol’ Donald Trump. It’s not. It’s the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. You have probably spread a meme or two around talking about how no president’s every word has ever been dissected before…YES, THEY ALWAYS HAVE. It’s just that every other president in our lifetime has understood the importance of his words and took great care to govern his speech. Trump blurts out whatever comes to his mind then complains when people talk about what a dumb thing that was to say.

Q.) He’s unqualified. If you owned a small business and were looking for someone to manage it, and an unnamed resume came across your desk and you saw 6 bankruptcies, showing a man who had failed to make money running CASINOS, would you hire him? He is a very poor businessman. This is a man it has been estimated would have been worth $10 BILLION more if he’d just taken what his father had given him, invested it in Index Funds and left it alone.

R.) He is President. But he refuses to take a leadership position and understand that he is everyone’s President. Conservatives complain about liberals chanting “Not my President” while Trump himself behaves as if no one but his supporters matter.

S.) He’s a blatant hypocrite. He spent 8 years bitching Obama out for his family trips, or golfing, or any time he took for himself, and what does he do? He was already on his 20th golf outing in APRIL of his 1st year in office. He constantly rants about respect for the military, yet can’t be bothered to attend the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day because of a little rain. (And that excuse about Marine One not being able to fly in the rain is HILARIOUS.)

T.) He’s a misogynist. It's not really ok in this day and age to be a misogynist, but it’s not a huge deal if you’re a private citizen. It’s a pretty big deal if you hate half the people you’re elected to lead. The disdain for women seeps out of his …whatever…. and he just can’t hide it.

U.) Face it. In any other election “Grab Em’ By the Pussy” would have been the end of that candidate’s chances. Back in the 90’s I used to marvel about how Teflon Bill Clinton was. I no longer do. The fact that he managed to slip by on that is as much a statement about how much people hate Hillary Clinton as it is about what is wrong with politics in this country right now.

V.) He has one response to a differing opinion. Attack. A good leader listens to criticism, to different points of view, is capable of self-reflection, tries to guide people to his point of view, and when necessary stands his ground and defends his convictions. Any of that sound like Trump? His default is not to Lead, its’ to attack. Scorched Earth. The Jim Acosta reaction is a good example. There was no defense of his convictions when Acosta was asking him repeated questions about his rhetoric on the caravan. His response was to attack Acosta.

W.) He takes credit for everything positive while deflecting blame for everything negative. Look at him with the Stock Market. He’s been bragging about it since day one, and to give credit where credit is due, speculation on coming deregulation early in his presidency did fuel some rapid growth, but to pretend that it’s all him, that we’re not in the 9th year of the longest bull market in history and THEN, when the standard market volatility that deregulation inevitably brings about starts to show up? Yeah. Look at yesterday. Hey! Stock Markets losing because the Democrats won! Do I need to bring out the Stock market chart for the last 10 Years again?

X.) He emboldens the worst among us. Counter-protesters are slammed into by a car while countering actual Nazi rally, and the response is there’s fault on “Both Sides” The media is at fault for a nut job sending them and Donald’s favorite targets pipe bombs. The truth is not all Republicans, not all Trump Supporters are racist, fascist lunatics. Many are just taken in by the bombastic personality and are living in an information bubble made worse by the fact that they unfollow anyone and ignore any source of information that makes them feel uncomfortable. People on the left do that too. The Biggest problem the right has right now is that the worst of the Right is the loudest and the most in your face, and the actual right, especially the Freaking PRESIDENT needs to be standing up and saying No. Those are not our values.

Y.) He seems to think the Constitution of The United States, the document that IS who we are, the document he took an oath to support and defend is some sort of inconvenience. He demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of Constitution, from believing he can alter the 14th through executive order, to thinking The free exercise clause in the first amendment somehow supersedes the establishment clause (not that he really understands either) or that the free exercise clause only applies to Christians. Or his attacks on freedom of expression and the press. He repeatedly makes it clear that if he’s read them, he does not understand Articles 1–3, and that’s something he really should have before he took the job, because they’re not going away.

Z.) I’ll use Z for something I do blame him for, but the rest of us have to carry the blame too. Polarization. This country is more politically polarized than I can remember in my lifetime. Some of you who are a few years older than I may remember how it was in the late 60’s when construction workers in New York were being applauded for beating up hippies, I think it’s pretty close to that right now, but that was before my time. And he is the cause of much of the current level polarization, but also the result. It didn't’ start with Trump. We’ve been going down this road I think since the eruption of the Tea Party in the early years of the Obama Administration. I do hope the tide turns before it gets much worse because the thing that scares me more than anything is what if that keeps going the way it has been? "

[uncoordinated-house-cat]

pls rant about nicholas ii 👀

dude i am so glad u asked. i mean, u didn’t ask for the entire rant about both russian revolutions, but here u are anyway. (but also im a teenager history student so this is very biased and i checked most of my facts but not all of them so don’t quote me and if a history person who actually knows what they’re doing finds a mistake don’t @ me) ok so nicholas ii was an absolute ********** and had an iq of -1000 and he was still super convinced that he could run all of russia, which is like a freaking huge country with millions of people who are super poor (peasants made up 85% of the population in 1905 when the first revolution happened, the number of people below the poverty line was probably way higher when the actual revolution happened and he got overthrown but bitch had it cOMING) 

so here’s the thing. nick, a spoiled child who let’s say is twelve years old when his dad alexander dies of assassination (omg i googled the dates and HE WAS TWELVE I WAS RIGHT FHDSJKLAFHSD) has been told, since he was a tiny but no less annoying baby, that he was amazing and very smart and was absolutely entitled to rule all of russia and he was like ‘hell yeah bro this is my divine right wahoo guess i don’t have to pay attention in my ‘how to be a good leader’ lessons cos god chose me to be the tsar so i already am one #thuglife’ 

so he met this girl named alix, who was princess of somewhere irrelevant and incredibly religious (and also deluded but that becomes important later) and he falls in love with her and they get married, which is nice but probably not a good long-term decision because through her friend, nick meets rasputin (and i love the ra ra rasputin song but rasputin was very very problematic) and that’s one of the many, many, many stupid things he does that makes literally every single person in russia (again, lots of people) mad at him. but nick is in love, and he marries alix, and this is all very nice if russia was a substantially smaller and easier country to run and nick was actually a competent leader then maybe there wouldn’t have been a revolution! but alas, this was not the case. 

so as we all know, russia is fucking enormous. for people who have never looked at a map in their entire life, this is russia

and it has more landmass than several continents put together. chonky boi. and the capital city where the royal family lives? well, you’d assume it’s somewhere in the middle ish, since russia’s such a huge country and you kinda need to be in the middle in order to have literally any idea what’s going on and stop your people from revolting under your freaking nose, so put it in the middle. 

but nOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. they put the capital in st. petersburg, a place that’s like five minutes drive from finland, estona, latvia, ukraine (although that would probably take a while but u get the point) and LITERALLY NOWHERE NEAR ANYWHERE IN RUSSIA. ARGH. 

i’m pretty sure the reasoning for this was ‘it’s been there since forever and everything was fine then so we don’t need to change it’ cos back when russia was actually a country-sized country instead of the mammoth it is now (we’re talking 1539, and by country-sized country it was still bigger than most of western europe put together), the country was all the way over to the left, where st. petersburg is, so they probably had the capital there foreeeeeeever. even after they expanded and became mcfreaking enormous bc sOmEoNe (not naming names *cough cough* ivan the terrible *cough cough*) decided it would be an awesome idea to have some expansionist policy, yay, and now we’ve ended up with this monstrosity. and while you might think that having a big country is great, it’s not. here’s why:

- so many people. soooo many people

- how u gonna keep track of all of them?? it takes like 8 years to get from one side of this bad boy to the other

- since nobody can control russia cos of all the land and all the people, the culture just goes absolutely backward. the peasants are too poor to afford food, let alone an education, and it’s not as if nicky is gonna build free public schools or raise wages or anything, lol, so the collective russian mindset is a bit of a dumpsterfire

- if, say, a revolution were to happen, which of course it can’t hahaha everybody know’s nick’s the divine ruler and overthrowing him wouldn’t be possible cos everyone’s so thrilled with their life in a very cold place with no food, awful policies, terrible wages and working conditions and a tsar who cares more about hanging out with his family than actually doing his duty as leader of the biggest country in the world?? then the tsar wOULDN’T KNOW THE REVOLUTION WAS HAPPENING UNTIL IT WAS ALL OVER THE COUNTRY AND SOMEONE WAS HOLDING A GUN TO HIS STUPID TINY PEABRAIN HEAD

and nick did not do a lot to help the russian people to live unproblematic, non-poverty-stricken lives. in the early 1900s, there was a big move to the cities cos everyone was moving to the cities which meant there were more educated people getting jobs or going to university and going ‘hey, our wages are shit, nobody has any food and it seems like the tsar is doing a really bad job and just living in the lap of luxury while his entire country suffers?? should we do something about this??’

but he did do something. oh, boy. nicky, looking at all his ancestors going ‘bro aren’t u gonna expand the country that’s literally the one thing russia is good at u can’t break our streak’ went and conquered siberia. then he built a railway, cos he needed a water outlet for trade and stuff. he called it the trans-siberian railway. he wanted to make it really big, and cross over into manchuria, so he had a bit of a war with china which he won and then he built the railway in manchuria. 

meanwhile, japan has been practising their war tactics a lot recently and while they don’t have much of a reputation in the west (like at all, nobody takes them seriously) and they also want to expand and flex their fighting skills a bit, they cross into manchuria and are like ‘i want this land. gimme’ and nick is like ‘nah fam i’m good’ and japan is like ‘>:( one last warning’ and nick is like ‘lol ur country is tiny and my country is huge have u seen all these buff russian soldiers i have guarding the railway i could crush u with my boot’ and then the japanese launch a surprise attack! on the russian squadron at port arthur. nick made the pikachu face, then the russo-japanese war started. 

uh oh, bad decision! looks like the russians are losing and even tho there’s lots of them there are more japanese and they have better battle tactics, so nick sends more soldiers. thing is, everyone in russia is already super poor so they can’t afford to have the [relatively] healthy, working men go off to war and die, cos that’s not practical at all and now they have even less money and food. fast forward, russia loses the war, nick makes the pikachu face again, stays in his nice mansion while the rest of russia starts going ‘grrr’ as well as ‘brrrr’.

and then this dude called gapon who’s a nice priest guy goes to petition the tsar to have better working conditions, fairer wages, a bunch of other stuff but they’re all very fair and reasonable. nick is like ‘nooooo!!’ and his uncle is like ‘nOoOoO!!!!!!1!!!’ and orders the army to shoot the peaceful protesters, so it gets called bloody sunday. this makes everyone really unhappy again, and it’s called the russian revolution of 1905 cos there are a lot of strikes and even while nick is like ‘haha this isn't happening’ they don’t reeeally accomplish much bc nick stays on the throne, and the russians are very mad but not mad or coordinated enough to overthrow the autocracy. there was this new parliament thingo called the duma, because nick’s only competent political adviser, count witte, was like ‘bro u literally have no choice but to form a new democratic government’ and nick was like ‘oh ok what if i made a government but it’s not really democratic or effective bc they have very limited power’ and witte was like ‘nick nO’ and nick was like ‘hehe nick yes’ and the duma was formed

--fast forward to 1917-- *time vworp noises*

so russia is poor. again. everyone is mad. again. all the men have been sent off to war. again. this time, it’s because of world war 1! 

and yikes, the russian army have it bad. like seriously, those dude were suffering lots and lots. very ouchy, no food, too cold, everyone is dying. it wasn’t great.

nick was like ‘hmm this war seems to be going well anyway look at my children aren’t they cute one of them broke an expensive vase today that’s so funny!!!’ (i made that up but he really didn’t care much and spent a lot of money u get the gist)

lots of strikes are happening. nobody is happy, and this time there are actually some organised people who can channel the rage into a revolution that might actually get something done this time. 

by the way, rasputin has turned up!! *cue the ra ras*

so rasputin introduces himself to some lady who’s a friend of alix, and alix, being super religious and super deluded and also having a sick son -

oh yeah, she had like five kids (was it five? not sure it was a lot) and the first four of them were girls and she was like ‘oh my god who’s gonna rule the country i have to have a boy’ and then she finally had a boy and his name was alexei and everything was great until they discovered that he had haemophilia, which is a hereditary illness that means ur skin is super weak or smth and whenever u, like, bump a table and u would normally get a little bruise, instead u start bleeding like you’ve been shot and yeah it was super problematic and it meant alexei was constantly sick and bleeding

- and so alix said to rasputin, who proclaimed to heal people like he was basically jesus, ‘yo dude can u pls heal my son it’s pretty urgent ngl’ and rasputin was like ‘uh huh lemme just take a look at him’ and he had a check up with alexei who somehow healed?? i don’t know how, he just sorta did, (he still had the haemophilia but alix was convinced it was gone for good) and so she turned into rasputin’s Number One Fan and started spouting all his very false religious conspiracy theories and made him a very important member of politics which was Not Good

and then count witte, the sensible one, was like ‘hmm this rasputin fellow seems kinda shady also he has thousands of STIs i don’t think it’s a good look if ur wife is hanging out with him all the time bc there are lots of rumours and he just seems super sketchy i reckon we should get rid of him’ and nick was like ‘no U’

he just uno reverse-carded him. witte tried to investigate rasputin and then nick was like ‘hmm i guess i’ll dissolve the duma cos ur being annoying’ and witte resigned like two days later. fair. if i had to deal with nick on a daily basis, there would probably be a lot of punching (of him, by me, in case u couldn’t tell bc im full of rage)

and there were a lot of rumours going around about alix & rasputin (which was kinda fair, because they hung out all the time and rasputin was a very sus person) so alix’s credibility was questioned and she was accused of selling secrets to the enemy, which was a bit dramatic (im pretty sure it was because she came from germany, and she was called ‘the german woman’ by a lot of the public)

--- also this isn’t very relevant to nick but i thought it was incredibly funny how rasputin died and it was time for a break from all that serious stuff so ~INTERLUDE~ --- 

note: start listen to rasputin by boney m cos this is where it gets hilarious (and the song also narrates his assassination lol)

so nobody liked rasputin. he had a lot of sex with pretty much everyone, he was very religious but also spouted a lot of nonsense, he was involved in some very dubious stuff and he was in favour of a lot of policies that the general public did not want at all. so a lot of people tried to murder him. and nearly all of them failed!! turns out, rasputin is really difficult to assassinate. there were a bunch of attempts on his life, all failed, before this one dude was like ‘bro i gotta put a stop to this’ so he invited rasputin to his house cos he was rsaputin’s bud (his name was yusupov btw)

dude gave him some cakes. they were laced with cyanide (poison) and rasputin was like cronch cronch, nom nom. did not die. ate a lot of cake. 

yusupov was like ?????????????

gave him some wine. wine was also poisoned. rasputin was like ‘dude this wine is good where can i get some more’ and he drank three glasses of it. the wine was poisoned with cyanide as well, btw. and the doctors who had helped plan this had carefully put enough cyanide in each glass to kill SEVERAL MEN. still not dead somehow???? 

so yusupov went ‘ok time for plan c’ and shot him. rasputin was like ‘ow’ and fell over. yusupov checked his pulse, there was now, he was like ‘ok good job’

and then while they were discussing their cover story upstairs, yusupov went back down to check on rasputin’s body and dude was sTILL ALIVE.

so they shot him again, tied him up, shot him one more time for good measure (and they shot him in the forehead at some point but apparently he was still alive???) and then they threw him into a frozen river. where he died of hypothermia, after having consumed enough cyanide to kill dozens of men and being shot three times, one of which was literally in his head. hhhh.

*sigh of relief* he finally died. fINALLY. the dudes who assassinated him got exiled but nothing worse than that because everyone in russia was like ‘well someone had to do it’

~~END OF INTERLUDE~~

now shit is getting rEAL. i mean, not for nick, obviously. but everyone else is like ‘ohmygosh rasputin is dead we actually got something done yay!!!’ 

so it’s february 1917 in petrograd. nick is on holiday with his family 800km away with literally no idea what’s going on. 15 million russians were away at war, and 1.7 million had died. lots of strikes and protests are happening. bIG protests. people were breaking into stores to get food, because of the awful food shortages, and it was very very cold so everyone was slightly extra mad. the police shot at some of the people who had gotten up onto the rooftops, so they protests turned into riots. all the people who were on strike from work joined the riots, and the women workers who had come out for international women’s day marched around the nearby factories and got another 50,000 people (including students and teachers) to join the riots (which was A Lot) and by the 25th of february the riots had gotten so big that pretty much every business in petrograd was shut down. literally everyone was rioting. 

the tsar was like ‘hmm that doesn’t look good’ and ordered his army to shut the riots down. there were about 180k troops in the city, but only about 12k were actually able to fight bc the rest of them were all injured from the war. they didn’t want to suppress the riots by force bc a lot of women were in the crowds (guess chivalry isn’t dead?) so when the tsar was like ‘no u gotta do it’ the troops were like ‘fuck u’ and either joined the riots or yeeted outta there. hooray!! 

the tsar was like ‘ok everything is under control’ (partly bc his official informant gave him the wrong info rip) and didn’t accede to any of the rioter’s demandsor do anything for a while. and here’s the thing. the tsar’s cabinet sent a telegram to nick saying ‘bro u gotta resign, we’re literally on the verge of revolution’ and nick read it, wrote ‘lol’ in his diary and refused to answer. 

the next day, there was another telegram saying ‘bro, u GOTTA resign. the revolution is happening now. if u don’t resign, the entire monarchy will be overthrown and ur reign will be o-v-e-r’ 

and nick wrote an entry in his diary saying ‘what nonsense is this? i can’t believe they’re sending me telegrams about this rubbish, as if i’m going to do anything’ (and im paraphrasing bc i don’t have my book w me but he definitely used the word “nonsense” and wrote a bunch of awful stuff about it) 

the next day, nick got another telegram that basically said ‘welp. country’s over. good while it lasted, revolution is happening now and it’s too late for you to do anything about it bc u didn’t listen to my numerous warnings to resign’ and nick was like ‘wait should i... do something about this??? hmm... yeah!! i’ll go up to petrograd and show ‘em who’s boss!! can’t defeat the absolute power of the tsar, huzzah!!’ 

and he went up to petrograd and got arrested. he had no choice but to abdicate, adn then he and the rest of his family were put under house arrest. there was a bit of an argument about whether they should be exiled to some western country, but all the western europeans were like ‘we don’t want nick u can keep him’ so they put him under house arrest in one of his palaces, where nick pretty much just chilled out with his family until they were all executed because everyone in russia was still very mad at them. 

(and in 1981 nick and his family were recognised as ‘martyred saints’, which is fine for the rest of them but nick absolutely did not deserve it)

thus concludes my very, very long rant. i spent way too long writing this, but my history teacher would be proud of me.

[whumpster-fire]

Whumptober Day 12: Broken Down

Here, have some Five Nights at Freddy’s whump, because I’ve wanted to write some about Mangle for years!

Content Warnings: Dehumanization of sentient robot whumpee. Does NOT contain child abduction or murder except as a brief reference despite what fandom it is, but does contain a child nearly being badly hurt or killed by accident due to negligent adults.

Kid’s Cove was in a state of chaos. It always was while the restaurant was open. This was the room where the children too young to sit still and watch the main show went. Today was busy, with around a dozen hyperactive toddlers and kindergarteners running around, shrieking, and hitting each other and Foxy with foam cutlasses.

A screech of electric guitar feedback ripped through the pizzeria, briefly drowning out even the screaming kids and browning out Foxy’s microphones. She glanced through the window at the show stage and glared at the blue rabbit animatronic on the left. Chica had her hands over her ears, and Freddy was shaking his head sadly. Foxy wasn’t angry at Bonnie – the feedback was part of the pre-scripted show, a little skit before the songs started. But somebody had obviously turned the speakers up way too high. One of the kids in her area was crying. Well, one in addition to the two that were crying already.

Foxy silently rolled her eyes and continued with her own performance, trying to ignore the gnawing pain in her left shin. The suit piece had a loose sensor cable that had been bothering her all week, and this morning it had finally come disconnected. She couldn’t feel it, but because tactile sensitivity was important to make sure the animatronics didn’t accidentally hurt a guest, her system registered the dead sensor wires as pain. But the maintenance techs had told her to ignore it when she said it was broken. It wasn’t critical, not worth shutting down the show for, not worth taking their time away from a faulty arcade cabinet. Her software didn’t let her disable the warnings entirely though, not during operating hours, so she had to keep overriding it.

This was supposed to be the audience participation part of the show, but the kids weren’t paying attention. Foxy looked pleadingly at the pimple-faced teenager currently sitting in the corner reading a magazine. He was supposed to be the backup plan. Fine. She’d just have to talk to herself then. Her hand puppet, “Perry the Parrot” volunteered, and she randomly selected a joke from her repertoire.

“Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?” she replied through the puppet’s voice box. Its jaw didn’t close. Foxy jiggled her arm up and down, making the secondary endo head’s eyes wobble.

“The cap’n!”

“The cap’n who?”

“Cap’n Hook? Why, he’s been promoted to Admiral!” Foxy laughed. Zero reaction. Fine.

She stepped down off the stage. Foxy came down and walked around more than the other three main animatronics. The two kids with the toy swords were getting more violent, and it seemed likely to become a fistfight soon. The hair pulling had already started. Their parents were nowhere in sight, and the teenager didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Hey! You two little buccaneers are gettin’ a little rough over there!” she called. “Be careful! You could put an eye out with those things, you know!”

“But Foxy! Isn’t that what they’re for?” said the hand puppet.

“Aye, but preferably somebody else’s.” The kids had now made peace with each other, but were ganging up on a little boy half their size. It had now officially gone too far. Foxy raised her voice and advanced on the children, feet clanking on the checkered tile. That finally got their attention. “Put those things away, young scallywags, or ye’ll be walkin’ the plank!”

One child dropped the sword. The other flung his at Foxy as hard as he could, and ran out of Kid’s Cove,  screeching.

CHILD MISSING. CHILD MISSING. CHILD MISSING.

The parrot’s piercing shriek rang out across the restaurant. “MAN OVERBOARD! MAN OVERBOARD!” It was one of the code words to alert the human staff members to a situation the animatronic couldn’t handle. The teen looked up, bewildered. Foxy snatched the magazine out of his hand. “Bosun! There’s a crewmate missing! Search the place!”

That finally got the lazy swab moving. Foxy let the magazine fall. Now she was alone with nine unruly toddlers – no, ten, one behind her, climbing onto the stage. She made a halfhearted announcement of “more hands on deck in Kid’s Cove,” and tried to start calming them down.

Then, disaster struck. An adult finally showed up, an angry-looking man saying: “Hey! Darren, I’ve been calling – your brother’s going to open presents!”

He wasn’t in either of Foxy’s facial recognition databases. Not the one of dangerous adults, but not the one of faces she knew either.

“No! No! Donwanna! Daaaaaa-aaa-deeeeee stop!” A toddler wailed. The man was attempting to drag him, kicking and screaming, from the ball pit.

He wasn’t the adult who had dropped that child off in Kid’s Cove. An alarm went off in Foxy’s mind.

“Let go of the child now!” Foxy dropped the pirate voice and spun around, lunging to block the doorway and setting off the intercom alarm in the security office. She was programmed to alert security and the police. But after overhearing from one of the staff why the new animatronics were hooked up to a criminal database, Foxy had modified that programming. He wouldn’t be leaving the room with the child until either the boy’s parent or a staff member gave the all-clear.

But Foxy had forgotten the magazine. Her foot slid out from under her. Her balance algorithm reacted quickly, but it couldn’t compensate for basic physics. Fall unrecoverable. She twisted to avoid landing too close to a little girl, and put her arms out to try to absorb the impact, but the angle was wrong, and three hundred pounds of machinery slammed into the tile. Something popped in her right arm. Dozens of pain signals overloaded her processor.

Foxy tried to rise, but only managed to push herself a few inches off the floor before her limbs got too weak to hold up her weight. Something sprayed against the inside of her arm suit piece. Hydraulic pressure critical. The pump shut down, and she slumped to the floor in a growing puddle of shimmering oily fluid. On the stage, Freddy and Friends continued with their song like nothing happened. Foxy tried to reassure the stunned children that everything was okay, that Foxy had just had a little accident and would be ship-shape in no time, but all of them were crying, or screaming for their parents, or… two of them were laughing at her.

She lay there, helpless, as the security guard rushed into the room. The young man was missing his hat, and had obviously gotten there in a rush. But after exchanging a few words with the man with the screaming child, he let him go, apologizing profusely.

“It’s just a safety precaution, sir. We’re testing a new facial recognition system on the animatronics to ensure nobody unauthorized comes to pick up a child. We’re still working out the kinks so there’s a lot of false positives -” The guard said, giving Foxy a disdainful look. “But it’s company policy to send someone to investigate if an animatronic sends an alert, no matter what! The safety of your children is our highest priority here at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza!”

“Oh yeah? Safety, huh?” The man, who seemed to be the child’s father, wasn’t impressed. “Is that why you left them alone with that deathtrap? When I came in here there wasn’t a single supervising adult, and your little technical glitch almost crushed that poor little girl!”

“I – I’m sorry to hear that sir!” The security guard gulped. “We’ll be looking into that –“

“Look into getting a manager in here! I want a refund!”

For a brief moment, Kid’s Cove was bustling with adult activity – the employee who’d run off to find the runaway kid, the manager, the assistant manager, and numerous parents. Foxy kept trying to explain what had happened, but nobody even seemed to hear her, and she could hear that her voicebox was working properly this time. Her hands and feet, and her tail and all the motors in her face still worked. She could see out of one eye, but the other only had a view of the inside of her own eyeball. The plastic cover had gotten knocked out of place and the pupil wasn’t aligned with the camera underneath anymore. Her radio still worked, too, and she could hear the staff’s walkie-talkie calls.

“Can we get maintenance to the show floor please, we’ve got an animatronic down.”

“Which one?”

“Take a wild guess.”

The maintenance techs were there quickly, nearly bumping into the kids as they were shooed out of Kid’s Cove, but they weren’t in an enthusiastic mood. And it got worse when one of them slid in the pool of hydraulic fluid and nearly joined Foxy in a broken heap on the floor.

“Jesus fu – oh my god I almost fucking ate it!”

“Whoa! Dude, you okay?”

“Watch your language please, this is a family establishment!” Foxy’s response was automatic. The technician almost jumped out of his shoes.

“Jesus, it’s still on?” He backed carefully away from the spill and shook his head derisively, picking up his walkie-talkie. “Whatever.” He keyed the mic. “Yo, Jeff, can we get a wet floor sign over in Kid’s Cove? I almost cracked my damn head open.”

“No kidding, I thought I was about to be calling an ambulance.” The other tech keyed his mic as well. “Mop and bucket too please.”

“I thought you were too. Man, I’d heard horror stories about working here but, like, isn’t it supposed to be the kids pissing on the floor?”

The other technician laughed. “You’d think. So what’s your bet, think the leak caused the fall or the fall caused the leak?”

“I dunno, dude.” The first tech scowled and kicked at Foxy. “Piece of fuckin’ junk.” He knelt down and examined her arm, allowing her to read his nametag. ‘Greg.’ Something had splashed her good eye, and her vision was too blurry to recognize his face.

“Watch your language please, this is a family -”

“Shut the fuck up!” Greg snapped. Foxy obeyed. She was a little scared of Greg. He was always rough and careless with the animatronics, and she wasn’t sure if he was joking the times he’d threatened to beat her with a wrench if anything else went wrong. “Dumbass robot.” He tugged on her arm. “Jesus, looks like whatever blew nearly tore the suit off.”

“Prob’ly a fitting.” Paul, the older technician, leaned against the wall. “Good thing the suit was there or there’d be somebody in the hospital. I saw a line blow on a backhoe once, poor bastard working on it didn’t even know he was hurt at first but he said they had to peel his whole arm like a banana and scrub the oil off his bones. When he rolled up his sleeve he looked like Frankenstein.”

“Yeesh...” Greg said with a grimace. “That’s a much bigger machine though, isn’t it?”

“Bigger yeah, but they don’t run as high a pressure. These things run around ten thousand – no, sorry, the old ones were ten thousand psi, I think the new ones took it down to six or seven thousand? But it’s still crazy, not even aircraft go that high, and I’m not sure they aren’t using five-k-rated hoses and fittings because the fuckin’ bean counters hear the parts are tested higher and don’t know what a factor of safety means.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Greg. “Oh, thank God, that stupid puppet got smashed. If I hear that damn thing’s squeaky voice one more time -”

Foxy wanted to cry. She wasn’t sure how she’d learned that feeling, it must have been from watching how the kids reacted when they fell and hurt themselves, or even from the songs Freddy and Bonnie and Chica sang to teach the kids about feelings. But the damaged sensors in the hand puppet and the unresponsive wrist hurt, and it hurt looking at its smashed-in shape and its lower jaw just hanging on by a wire like Old Chica’s and one of its eyes lying on the floor, and it hurt that they hated the puppet, and hated her, so much. It was her favorite of the interchangeable attachments that could go on her left arm – the puppet, a normal hand, or a hook – because it had real, working eyes that helped her see a wider view of her surroundings when navigating the restaurant floor. At least, it would if they bothered plugging them in when they attached it.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Paul complained. “I’m with ya, man… these redesigns are… they’re just total pieces of crap. The originals had their issues, but these guys are just falling apart. This is what happens when you cheap out, you end up paying double on spare parts and downtime because they always. Fuckin. Break.”

“Especially Foxy,” said Greg. “Seriously, there’s five damn animatronics here, but I swear ninety percent of the breakdowns are either Foxy or Balloon Bitch if you don’t count Daffy’s beak falling off!” The staff had nicknamed most of the animatronics. Freddy was ‘Fatbear’ after his portly figure compared to the original Freddy. Bonnie was ‘Queen,’ apparently after some other band with a lead singer named Freddy. Chica was ‘Daffy’ after a cartoon character whose beak also apparently kept coming off. Balloon Boy was ‘Balloon Bitch,’ which Foxy didn’t understand other than it tripping her profanity filters. The Prize Puppet didn’t have one yet, and neither did Foxy, but at this rate it would probably be ‘Piece of Junk.’

Paul chuckled. “They’re the ones that spend the most time offstage, but they’re all junk. Sheet metal, molded plastic for the suit structure instead of fiberglass, they put the suit shell on the outside so now it breaks way easier… they didn’t even wanna bother with cleaning the fake fur so now you’ve got this… ridiculous shiny plastic, like they’re overgrown action figures. Plus of course there’s the whole political correctness fiasco – apparently the higher ups said the main cast needed to have an even gender ratio, so they gave Foxy the ol’ snip-snip. And then just to make sure everyone could tell, they paint Foxy pink and put Chica in a bikini. Like that isn’t stereotypical at all, ya know?”

“I know, right? The new foxy design sucks, too. I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a pirate or a clown at first, it’s just… it looks so stupid!”

“Yeah… I can’t believe they got rid of the eyepatch. It was a pain in the ass since the linkages for that and the eyelid were so close together, but like, everything else on these damn things is a nightmare to maintain, so… ah, whatever. Doubt these’ll be around that long anyway. At this rate I’ll be you twenty bucks Foxy’ll be in the great dumpster in the sky by next year.”

Greg looked skeptical. “Nah… nah… they haven’t even bothered scrapping the old ones even though half the parts aren’t even compatible.”

“Fuck that, they didn’t even turn them off. You know they still wander around the place every night? Yeah… guess you’re right, they’ll probably just throw her in the parts room, just completely turn it into an obstacle course of broken down tripping hazards.”

Foxy shuddered in fear, imagining being left there, alone, all the time. Being left in that decrepit, broken state. The old animatronics were still there, and they were still functioning, but nobody bothered with fixing them. They had broken jaws, missing suit pieces, even limbs and faces torn off. They had to be in constant pain, but Foxy had never heard any of them speak. Maybe their voiceboxes were broken, and they couldn’t even tell anyone it hurt. Not that they’d ever listen.

Greg looked at his watch. “Speaking of broken down tripping hazards, where’s the janitor? I’m not moving this thing until the floor’s mopped, I don’t want a broken neck.”

“Hell if I know. Screw it, just drag it by the legs and be careful. I just wanna get it in the back and then I’m going for a smoke. This is gonna be a total pain in the neck to fix...”

Foxy closed her eyes and pretended to be ‘asleep’ as the humans dragged her out of Kid’s Cove and onto the dolly. The movement set off vibration alarms, more sharp, tingling pain. She wanted to tell them to be careful, but there was no point. They didn’t care. Not the same way people cared when other people, especially the children, were hurt. Foxy was almost jealous of it. No, she was jealous. No carting her into the backroom, swearing and complaining about how much time and money she wasted,  no shutting her down and taking her apart and putting her back together sloppily, then ignoring her when she said it still hurt and getting angry at her when something broke again. No accidentally punching a hole in her suit when a drillbit slipped. She didn’t think a band-aid or a sticker would actually do anything to fix the hydraulic leak, but they sometimes put them on kids who weren’t actually bleeding, and it still seemed to make them feel better. And the way the adults talked to them, the way they were… worried about them, and cared that they were hurt because they were hurt… she just wished they would treat her like that. Just once.

[otogetranslations]

Announcing of Dropping DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE;BLOOD

To sum things up:

Someone leaked the Diabolik Lovers Limited V Edition patch, posting it publicly despite all our warnings and requests. Thus we are following through with our original policy.

We’re stopping every projects related to Diabolik Lovers, including further support for Limited V Edition, and there won’t be a patch for More;Blood.

Collar x Malice Unlimited will still be released, but privately. After all, you guys will get the English version of it from Aksys for the switch next year!

I (the leader of otogetranslations) will still be helping other translators with their projects: Brothers Conflict, Hakuoki SSL. How the patch is gonna be distributed is up to their respective leaders (coquettishcat for Hakuoki SSL, and PassionandBrilliance for Brothers Conflict).

No more Black Wolves Saga. This project I (Reishiki) started by asking permission to use existing translation from orlandoblue @tumblr, Siberia (twitter.com/bakemeatz). The patch of Black Wolves Saga Bloody Nightmare is to be completed soon. But it’s no more.

Read on if you wanted to know what really happened:

As you all know, we released DIABOLIK LOVERS LIMITED V EDITION fan translation patch this August 16th, 2019 for homebrew enabled/hacked Playstation vita, and only for people that have proof or purchasing the game.

There are over 50 people who showed us the proof of purchasing the game and they received the patch for free. All we asked was for you to actually buy the game before you can play it with a hacked playstation vita.

Our 30-people team worked on the patch for 10 months. We only used outsource translation for 8/277 total scripts. Our in-house hacker did the romhacking process, our in-house proofreaders proofed the translation, our recruited translators worked on the translation. Everything was done by us and it’s our team effort. So we have the right to decide how we’re gonna distribute it.

However, on August 20th, 2019. Rojaaalice on reddit r/vitapiracy posted a thread, asking the patch to be given to them for free (without purchasing the game). A lot of people who frequent this subreddit accused us of being Gatekeepers, while all we’re doing is asking for proof of purchasing the game (not the patch, the patch is 100% free). Is buying the game you play wrong? Is asking for a proof of purchasing something you play gatekeeping, when we could have chosen to not share the patch at all in the first place?

I don’t think so.

But, this person, SilicaAndPina (https://twitter.com/SiliCart) is not happy with how we distribute our patch. He said that we should keep the vita hacking scene free, we can’t ask for people to buy anything to be able to get the PATCH that we worked on. He doesn’t play otome games in general, and he doesn’t even know what otome games is.

He started to trick me into giving the patch to him, by making a fake proof of purchase with a cloned gmail account. I noticed the proof was fake and didn’t give it to him. Then he got mad and sent this (WARNING: GORE IMAGE) to me. He stated that he will leak the patch eventually.

He attempted to acquire the patch once again with a different fake proof this time. I also noticed this and we trolled him by sending him a FAKE patch. We left the prologue in English and put ridiculous/crack fanfiction in other parts. He thought it was real and distributed it, declared he has won over us.

He thought he tricked us but no, we weren’t being tricked by his half-assed effort. 

Today, August 22nd, there is someone from the DiaLover Fandom that received the real patch sent it over to him. I’m sorry to say that the patch would be leaked eventually, one way or another, because if someone really wants to leak it, they could buy the physical copy, take a photo with it and send it to us. Then they can sell the game to get the money back. 

So, we lost.

But to the one that sent the patch to him, lost to the malice of this world, and not to him. 

I had envisioned this would happen when I first started the project. So I’m not surprised. I had a small ray of hope this wouldn’t happen so soon, but I was wrong. 

As we’ve stated before, we will cease every project translation related to DIABOLIK LOVERS.

No more patches of DIABOLIK LOVERS will be made from us, at least when I’m the leader of that project (as well as the leader of otogetranslations): Reishiki.

I’m proud to say our patch was enjoyed and praised by people that bought the game and received the patch.

I (Reishiki) will still be supporting other translators if they need it, but I won’t start any new project from now on (in which could be AMNESIA LATER/CROWD/WORLD, VARIABLE BARRICADE - these games I completed extracting the texts with our inhouse hacker’s help, and I planned to announce we would start one of these projects soon. But… I’m sorry to say that it’s no more. At least it won’t be made available to the public.)

Thank you everyone for your support.

These are our team members opinions:

JokerTrap-Ran: I think I just lost faith in the community as a whole again, coming back after 4 years. I hope you’re happy! This was really demoralising and I hope ya’ll had fun putting us down like that. I’m not one for drama and honestly I’d very much like to stay out of it considering the bad medicine bashing that happened on otome reddit about 3 years ago. I’ll continue releasing translations for blog’s followers but that’s it. I’m whimsical, and most of my followers know it. I pick things and I drop it all the same. 

Khikari: For those who thinks that what we have committed is blasphemy and should be shut down for this, great, please take the time to learn Japanese yourself. Or learn to care about other people with emotions for once in you life. Demoralising people who were willing to work endless hours for free with just one condition sure is satisfying, isn’t it? It really hurt all of us. For those who genuinely cared and are saddened by this post, I am sorry and I wish the best for you all. I know that the few doesn’t represent all but this is a massive motivation killer, and I don’t need this drama in my life. From now on, private translations all the way! Also, Silica, attacking an idea is fine, but attacking people with malicious intent is stepping out of line. Enjoy being a rock specimen.

LoliChan195: I hope you are happy with what you have done! We only wanted to bring this out for people that had difficulties playing the game, and also help support Rejet by having more people buy their games. Its people like you that cause all these game companies to go bankrupt! (Also SiliCar, you sick fuck. Who sends pictures like that!? XD you’re probably just some edgy 12yr old XD Besides, who says WE WILL NOT FORGIVE XD what a dumbass! And is it that hard to search on google about the game? Why would we make it so it specifically needs to be the limited edition?!?! ) Seriously, the people who attacked us for putting the rule out are just as bad, like can’t you just wait and buy the game? Or even if u just pirate it, read online translations. Its not that hard! 

Hermy: Nothing much to say, except, ya’ll could have totes pirated the game and played it along the translations available on the net. Welp, I hope you don’t dislike that idea too much because that’s what ya’ll gonna need to do if ya’ll wanna play the sequels.

PS: the MB translations available on the net are riddled with errors, but by all means have fun with them :)

Anon: Oh yes, silica? Perhaps you should just lead on with your true intentions next time instead of trying to honey your words and do some "re-con"  for dots, yeah? 

Marzi: I'm a bit numb to this situation at this point, but it is disheartening to know Silica was so intent on distributing our translations that he didn't stop even when we threatened to cease all translations. It wasn't like he was ever going to play the game - he just felt so personally offended by the fact that we were "gatekeeping" for some reason - which, in my opinion, is a bit of an immature reason to ruin a translation group. You can't argue that we're "unrightfully holding something when we don't have the intellectual rights," when you're bypassing all copyright laws as well in wanting to post it PUBLICALLY. But what's done is done - whoever manages to get a copy of this, I hope you enjoy it. Please know so much effort and passion went into these translations, and that we loved working on this project every bit of the way. If the game leaves you antsy for More Blood well LOL you know who prevented that from happening.

Sonic-nancy-fan: I never knew someone could have such an illogical mindset. Silica/PSSDude made the original base repatch program, and we used one that someone had edited and added to (which Silica was fine with). But, because he made the original one, that means he feels like HE can getekeep all uses of variations of it. This would be like saying people can’t use paper to make a paper airplane because the original creator of paper said no, or you can’t print manga because Gutenberg said no. Also, who in the world thinks they can take a moral high-ground by telling us to promote piracy? Patches are already a sort of grey area, so we were trying to take the most legal method available while still making a patch. I know in modern society, piracy is very common, but I can’t imagine your average person would call us in the wrong for trying to hinder piracy. God forbid we try to get people to buy Diabolik Lovers. I can’t say I’m shocked as I expected it to get leaked sometime. I’m just saddened at certain people’s general hate and unyielding desire to leak it. So, I don’t blame the community as a whole, nor do I feel any malice toward the community (we had a lot of people buy the game and get excited). I’m just mad at very specific spiteful people. Also, if I ever hear someone say “the scene” as much as Silica, I’m going to go nuts. It sounds like something the “cool guy” in an 80’s show would say.

[reading-writing-revolution]

A person asked the question, "Why are people so hostile towards President Donald Trump?"

Chris O'Leary:

Before you pass my answer off as “Another Liberal Snowflake” consider that 1.) I'm an independent centrist who has voted Republican way more often in my life than Democrat, and 2.) If you want to call someone who spent the entire decade of his 20’s serving in the Marine Corps a snowflake, I’d be ready to answer the question what did you do with your 20’s?

Why Liberals (And not-so liberals) are against President Trump.

A.) He lies. A LOT. Politifact rates 69% of the words he speaks as “Mostly False or worse” Only 17% of the things he says get a “Mostly True” or better rating. That is an absolutely unbelievable number. How he doesn’t speak more truth by mistake is beyond me. To put it in context, Obama’s rating was 26% mostly false or worse, and I had a problem with that. Many of Trump’s former business associates report that he has always been a compulsive liar, but now he’s the President of the United States, and that’s a problem. And this is a man who expects you to believe him when he points at other people and says “They’re lying”

B.) He’s an authoritarian populist, not a conservative. He advances regressive social policy while proposing to expand federal spending and federalist authority over states, both of which conservatives are supposed to hate.

C.) He pretends at Christianity to court the Religious Right but fails to live anything resembling a Christ-Like Life.

D.) His nationalist “America First” message effectively alienates us and removes us from our place as leaders in the international community.

E.) His ideas on “Keeping us safe” are all thinly veiled ideas to remove our freedoms, he is, after all, an authoritarian first. They also are simply bad ideas.

F.) He couldn’t pass a 3rd-grade civics exam. He doesn't’ know what he’s doing. He doesn't understand how international relations work, he doesn’t understand how federal state or local governments work, and every time someone tries to “Run it like a business” it’s a spectacular failure. See Colorado Springs’ recent history as an example. The Short, Unhappy Life of a Libertarian Paradise And that was a businessman with a MUCH better business track record than Trump. We are talking about a man who lost money owning a freaking gambling casino.

G.) He behaves unethicaly and always has. As a businessman, he constantly left in his wake unpaid contractors and invoices, litigation, broken promises, whatever he could get away with.

H.) He is damaging our relationships with our best international friends while kissing up to nations that do not have our best interests in mind. To his question “Wouldn't’ it be great to have better relations with Russia?” The answer is Yes. But it is RUSSIA who needs to earn that, who must stop doing the things that are damaging to that relationship, or we are simply weaker for it.

I.) He has never seen a shortcut he didn't like, and you can’t take shortcuts in government. “Nuclear Option, Remove the Filibuster, I’ll change the Constitution by Executive Order…Don…what happens when you remove the filibuster and the other side retakes the majority in the Senate? Suddenly want that filibuster back? What happens if you manage to change the Constitution by Executive Order and an Anti-2A President wins the next election?

J.) He behaves and has always behaved as an unabashed racist. Yes, I’ve seen your favorite meme that claims he was never accused of racism before the Democrats…Absolutely false. Donald Trump’s long history of racism, from the 1970s to 2019 See the Central Park 5, the lawsuits and fines resulting from his refusal to lease to black tenants, the 1992 lost appeal trying to overturn penalties for removing black dealers from tables, his remarks to the house native American affairs subcommittee in 1993. The man sees and treats racial groups of people as monoliths.

K.) He is systematically steamrolling regulations specifically designed to keep a disaster like the 2007 subprime mortgage crisis from happening again.

L.) He speaks and acts like a demagogue. He sees the Legislative and Judicial branches of government as inconveniences, blows up at criticism no matter how deserved and actively tries to countermand constitutional processes, not to mention attempts to blackmail and coerce people who are saying negative things about him

M.) His choices for top positions, with the exception of Gen. Mattis, who is a gem, have been horrendous. A secretary of Education without a resume that would get her hired as a small town grammar school principal, A secretary of Energy who didn't know the Department of Energy was responsible for nuclear reserves, an EPA head whose biggest accomplishments to date had been suing the EPA on multiple occasions, an FCC head who while working for Verizon actively lobbied to kill net neutrality, and an Attorney General who thinks pot is “nearly as bad as heroin” and asked Congress for permission to go after legal pot businesses in states where it is legal. (There goes that great Republican States rights rally cry again, right? *Crickets*) An Interim AG after Firing his First AG who’s appointment is probably unconstitutional.

N.) He denies scientific fact. Ever notice that the only people you hear denying climate change are politicians and lobbyists? 99% of actual scientists studying the issue agree that it’s real, man-made and caused by greenhouse gasses. Ever notice that every big disaster movie starts with a bunch of politicians in a room ignoring a scientist's warning?

0.) He does not have the temperament to lead this nation. He is Thin Skinned, childish, and a bully, never mind misogynistic, boorish, rude, and incapable of civil discourse.

P.) He still does not understand that the words he speaks, or tweets, are the official position of 1/3 of the US government, and so does not govern his words. He still thinks when he speaks it’s good ol’ Donald Trump. It’s not. It’s the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. You have probably spread a meme or two around talking about how no president’s every word has ever been dissected before…YES, THEY ALWAYS HAVE. It’s just that every other president in our lifetime has understood the importance of his words and took great care to govern his speech. Trump blurts out whatever comes to his mind then complains when people talk about what a dumb thing that was to say.

Q.) He’s unqualified. If you owned a small business and were looking for someone to manage it, and an unnamed resume came across your desk and you saw 6 bankruptcies, showing a man who had failed to make money running CASINOS, would you hire him? He is a very poor businessman. This is a man it has been estimated would have been worth $10 BILLION more if he’d just taken what his father had given him, invested it in Index Funds and left it alone.

R.) He is President. But he refuses to take a leadership position and understand that he is everyone’s President. Conservatives complain about liberals chanting “Not my President” while Trump himself behaves as if no one but his supporters matter.

S.) He’s a blatant hypocrite. He spent 8 years bitching Obama out for his family trips, or golfing, or any time he took for himself, and what does he do? He was already on his 20th golf outing in APRIL of his 1st year in office. He constantly rants about respect for the military, yet can’t be bothered to attend the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day because of a little rain. (And that excuse about Marine One not being able to fly in the rain is HILARIOUS.)

T.) He’s a misogynist. It's not really ok in this day and age to be a misogynist, but it’s not a huge deal if you’re a private citizen. It’s a pretty big deal if you hate half the people you’re elected to lead. The disdain for women seeps out of his …whatever…. and he just can’t hide it.

U.) Face it. In any other election “Grab Em’ By the Pussy” would have been the end of that candidate’s chances. Back in the 90’s I used to marvel about how Teflon Bill Clinton was. I no longer do. The fact that he managed to slip by on that is as much a statement about how much people hate Hillary Clinton as it is about what is wrong with politics in this country right now.

V.) He has one response to a differing opinion. Attack. A good leader listens to criticism, to different points of view, is capable of self-reflection, tries to guide people to his point of view, and when necessary stands his ground and defends his convictions. Any of that sound like Trump? His default is not to Lead, its’ to attack. Scorched Earth. The Jim Acosta reaction is a good example. There was no defense of his convictions when Acosta was asking him repeated questions about his rhetoric on the caravan. His response was to attack Acosta.

W.) He takes credit for everything positive while deflecting blame for everything negative. Look at him with the Stock Market. He’s been bragging about it since day one, and to give credit where credit is due, speculation on coming deregulation early in his presidency did fuel some rapid growth, but to pretend that it’s all him, that we’re not in the 9th year of the longest bull market in history and THEN, when the standard market volatility that deregulation inevitably brings about starts to show up? Yeah. Look at yesterday. Hey! Stock Markets losing because the Democrats won! Do I need to bring out the Stock market chart for the last 10 Years again?

X.) He emboldens the worst among us. Counter-protesters are slammed into by a car while countering actual Nazi rally, and the response is there’s fault on “Both Sides” The media is at fault for a nut job sending them and Donald’s favorite targets pipe bombs. The truth is not all Republicans, not all Trump Supporters are racist, fascist lunatics. Many are just taken in by the bombastic personality and are living in an information bubble made worse by the fact that they unfollow anyone and ignore any source of information that makes them feel uncomfortable. People on the left do that too. The Biggest problem the right has right now is that the worst of the Right is the loudest and the most in your face, and the actual right, especially the Freaking PRESIDENT needs to be standing up and saying No. Those are not our values.

Y.) He seems to think the Constitution of The United States, the document that IS who we are, the document he took an oath to support and defend is some sort of inconvenience. He demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of Constitution, from believing he can alter the 14th through executive order, to thinking The free exercise clause in the first amendment somehow supersedes the establishment clause (not that he really understands either) or that the free exercise clause only applies to Christians. Or his attacks on freedom of expression and the press. He repeatedly makes it clear that if he’s read them, he does not understand Articles 1–3, and that’s something he really should have before he took the job, because they’re not going away.

Z.) I’ll use Z for something I do blame him for, but the rest of us have to carry the blame too. Polarization. This country is more politically polarized than I can remember in my lifetime. Some of you who are a few years older than I may remember how it was in the late 60’s when construction workers in New York were being applauded for beating up hippies, I think it’s pretty close to that right now, but that was before my time. And he is the cause of much of the current level polarization, but also the result. It didn't’ start with Trump. We’ve been going down this road I think since the eruption of the Tea Party in the early years of the Obama Administration. I do hope the tide turns before it gets much worse because the thing that scares me more than anything is what if that keeps going the way it has been? "

//Meanwhile, I’m not a Liberal either, and I’m a veteran of 20 years with 13 deployments to combat zones.//

[prorevenge]

I led a "revolution" against a horrible lying manager.

To set the scene, I work in a book store, but I'm very much an underling which is what I prefer. I'm usually in the back, helping unpack shipments and prepare them for shelving. I also collect online orders and package them up for shipping, and sometimes I do the night shelving or overnight projects. It's always been my favorite because I rarely have to deal with the managers and it's a much more carefree environment than working the floor and trying to push people into buying things.

Our store has gone through several store managers recently because most of them are getting corporate promotions or they're finding better opportunities elsewhere (our store is part of a nationwide chain and we're sadly struggling a lot against our competitors). Rather than promoting someone within our store who knows how our store functions and is familiar with the employees and their strengths, corporate has been assigning us store managers that are either not from our store, have never been a store manager before, or have no experience in book selling. Obviously, this creates a lot of problems and it's been affecting our store badly. Nothing screws us over worse than when corporate intervenes.

A couple years ago, we got a new store manager that was unfamiliar with the company, unfamiliar with our store, and had zero experience in managing a retail store to begin with. We already had concerns but decided to at least work with her first because maybe she'd be a natural or she'd develop into someone that was good for our store. I'm gonna call her CM for Crappy Manager.

When CM was first brought into our store, rather than taking a week or two to observe our store and the employees before making adjustments and changing things, she leaped right in, changing store policies and taking on other people's tasks. She took over things like the scheduling and making sure we have a daily schedule posted every morning to know where we were supposed to be, when our breaks were etc, and other jobs that take a long time to do and have always been delegated to assistant managers to help things run smoothly. She put people in places where they weren't trained but didn't spend any time training them on their new jobs. She was also very late with every weekly schedule. It would be 9pm Saturday night and we would STILL be waiting for the schedule for the next week. And our scheduled weeks always starts on a Sunday so we'd literally be repetitively calling the store on Saturday night to find out if we had to show up the next morning. So many sections of the store fell into disarray and everyone was getting angry about not having our schedules. She clearly couldn't handle so much and refused to delegate things to change that. On top of that, she gave horrible advice. Just to give an example, she advised the shelvers to hide from customers while they were shelving so that they wouldn't have to be stopped to provide customer service.

But worst of all, she broke the cardinal rule of the store. Do. Not. Mess. With. The. Back. Room. The back room is where we handle shipments and had its own separate manager who ran that area like clockwork. It was completely organized, we had a system we were well trained in, and we have always had things processed fast and all the new product unboxed, organized on carts, and ready to be shelved on time. CM did not bother to observe and of this and put all her focus on that back area. She got it in her head that our store would thrive if we completely changed up the back room... and she had no idea what we actually do back there. First she took away a lot of our carts so we had less to stock our product on (and our usual shipments are anywhere from 150-200 boxes a day. That's a lot of books and we need those carts!). Then she took away the shelving cards we use on our carts to help divide up the titles not only by their main subject like History or Science, but also divided them up by their sub-categories like History: Civil War or Science: Physics. The cards made it so that that the shelvers don't have to look up every single item to figure out where they go. They can just grab them and shelve them, only having to worry about getting the author's names in order alphabetically. So now we have overstuffed disorganized carts and they're not getting shelved on time because the shelvers had to keep looking up where everything goes.

We explained this to CM over and over again in every way we could think to explain it, but she refused to listen and shifted the blame on to us. She also told us that taking away the cards was corporate's idea, not hers, and that they were no longer a required item for the stores. We did our best to try to still get things organized but we were being rushed so fast and had so many books to work with, there was no time to scan through every single item, organize them on the cart and try to remember where we put which sub-section on each cart. I honestly felt horrible for the shelvers and a lot of them threatened to (and did) quit. It made our job in the back room frustrating because we knew we were being forced to screw them over and when things don't work well in the back, it hits the entire store. Less product is being shelved, workers are getting stressed trying to figure out where things go... morale could not have been worse. And the worst part was she refused to listen to anyone who approached her with concerns. Her attitude was "Work smarter, not harder" and "Just make it happen." Sorry, retail doesn't work that way.

This is where I come in. Working in the back -specifically on online orders- I didn't have to deal with her face-to-face much because I was always running around and frankly avoiding her because I didn't want to deal with her. This gave me an advantage. Not only was I able to see the notes she was leaving behind for employees, telling them what they were doing wrong, her bad ideas like making the shelvers hide from customers, and announcing the things she was changing that were hurting our work. On top of that, I was able to eavesdrop on the meetings she would hold back there with the assistant managers, explaining her great new ideas which were all horrible. With so many of my coworkers threatening to quit and getting miserable with work, knowing what they would have to deal with, we agreed we had to do something. So I went online to look up ideas for the best way to handle this and got some good tips.

Now the revenge. I snuck my phone into the back and started taking pictures of every note, every announcement, even the disorganized carts and the giant mess she was creating in the back room (we had a mountain of boxes we couldn't even get to because the carts were not being emptied fast enough to give us room). I eavesdropped on as many of her little meetings in the back as I could so I could keep track of what other policies she was breaking, even caught her trash talking us, calling one of our mentally ill coworkers overly dramatic (even though that coworker never speaks up and just takes it when she's upset), saying we were too stuck in our old ways and too stubborn for change. Even called the manager who ran the back room an idiot and laughing about how pissed off CM was making her. Then I went digging through the store's computer until I found the full list of corporate guidelines, most of which she had broken and didn't care. The biggest of all being the scheduling, and it turns out it's against our state's labor laws for managers to not give us our schedules 14 days in advance.

After I collected as much as I could, I collaborated with other angry coworkers, gathering whatever additional information they had, and together we compiled a document, each of us explaining what was going wrong, what rules and labor laws were being broken, and included all the pictures I had taken with my phone to provide evidence. We did include the disrespectful way she was talking to us and about us but none of us really expected that to be taken seriously as we had no proof to provide. After we all looked it over and agreed we were satisfied with it, we emailed a copy to corporate, a copy to HR, and a copy to the regional manager who had assigned CM to us in the first place. It only took 24 hours before the regional manager was called in and questioned about why on earth he kept CM employed with us and how could he not know all the crap she'd been doing? I would have given him some slack, but the truth was he had visited our store on a regular basis, seen the majority of this stuff, and did nothing since his ass was on the line for hiring her and he didn't want to look bad by admitting his mistake.

Eventually, people from corporate showed up to speak with CM and the regional manager. I wasn't there to see it, but according to the few who did -because it was held in our break room- she was drunk. Honest to god, drunk. She was slurring her words, wavering in her seat, and could barely give a cohesive answer to anything they asked her. It ended in them telling her to hand in her resignation because it would look better for her than if she was just fired. She walked out of there having no idea who had taken this to corporate and even saw the document we'd composed anonymously against her. About a month later, the regional manager also resigned as he did not recover from letting her do this.

We're still having problems with new managers, but our store has now earned the reputation as the store who will not put up with this kind of crap, and that's caused them to be a little more cautious as to who they assign to us. And that, to me, is the ultimate win.

Never mess with the underlings.

(source) story by (/u/Vikkiislost)

[oddcoupler222]

Akskdkdk I’m not crying I just got some tww feelings in my eyes and to the rest of tww fans you’re welcome (I’m the biggest one of them all) let it be multi chapter 🤲🏻

did i take one person asking for something and turn it into a spinoff semi romance novel? i… may have.

Eliza -

Colleen -

(for funsies)

 Fall 2018

Eliza wouldn’t say she loved her work study job in the registrar’s office. But she had friends with various other jobs throughout campus, and she knew because of their tales that her job wasn’t the worst.

Would she love to trade with her new friend, Sara, and have the job in the printing lab in the library, where she would just have to un-jam the printer and restock it with paper, then sit on her laptop? Of course. But she was also nosy as fuck and she got a lot of insider info from her supervisor here. Plus, she got all of the registration codes early. So who was the real winner?

Still Sara.

“Hello? Hi. I’m sorry, are you busy? I’m - I’m not trying to be obnoxious, but I really really have to get into a class, and I have nowhere else to go to ask. I’ve tried the professor, I’ve tried her TA. I’ve asked all of the upperclassmen I know. And this is the final stop before I may very well have a breakdown.”

A frantic, pleading voice interrupted her IG scrolling. It was technically one of her two fifteen minute breaks that she got during her five hour shift. She intended to tell the interloper that she would have to wait until the other side of the office didn’t have a line, because where her desk was, was technically closed.

But Eliza had never seen an angel in real life before. And she was such a simple, simple lesbian.

Never in her life had she ever been struck like this, though. The tousled blonde hair that she could see was usually nice and orderly. The clothes that screamed an upper-middle class (at the very least) background, though trendy.

Blue eyes crystal clear but starting to brim with tears.

“I’m not busy. What can I do for you?”

“Thank the gods! In order to graduate on time with my major and both of my minors, I need to double up on some courses. Which means I have to take some courses before I’m technically supposed to. So, I got permission to take Ethnicity and Identity with Dr. Oakhart next semester, even though it’s a semester early. Because I need to take Cultures of Essos the semester after, and it’s a prereq. But it took forever to get permission to take Oakhart’s class early; I had to basically camp out in her office,” a little laugh fluttered out, anxiously. “And now? She gave me permission but told me she wouldn’t let me jump the waitlist. I just. I really need to get into that class. Can you even just tell me how long the waitlist is, maybe? Please?”

Someone was wound extremely tightly. It wasn’t usually something Eliza, as a laidback person, enjoyed. But she was already charmed.

“Let me check.”

She typed in her credentials into the system as she surreptitiously glanced up at the girl. Her cheeks were flushed and seven hells. She was cute.

“You really camped out in her office?”

“Huh?” A fleeting smile flashed over her face, and it warmed everything inside of her. “Oh. Well, I know it sounds crazy in retrospect. I can just sometimes get very focused.”

“I gotcha.” Eliza did not, in fact, relate. But her pretending to put this girl at ease.

She pulled up Oakhart’s Gender and Identity class for the spring – and yikes, there was a waitlist a mile long.

“That’s not a good face.”

“Ouch.” She kidded.

“Gods! No, your face isn’t -”

She stopped her before she could ramble anymore. Especially because she wasn’t sure she could handle some sort of mangled compliment from this gorgeous creature without stumbling over herself. “It’s cool. Uh, yeah, no the waitlist isn’t bad.” She lied through her teeth.

“It’s not?” The could-be model’s voice was as incredulous as it should be, as she tried to lean over the counter to see the computer. Like she had to see to believe.

And Eliza quickly turned the computer more toward herself, “Uh, you can’t - against policy-” once again, the lies.

“Sorry. That was probably crossing a line.” She blew out a deep breath and her shoulders deflated. “I guess, can you just put me on the bottom of the list?”

“Yeah,” she lied, fully intending on breaking the rules, as she clicked the top of the waitlist to flag her into the class. “I just need… your name.”

She very much wanted to learn her name.

“Colleen Durand. D-U-R-A-N-D,” she spelled it, and Eliza could very easily see that she’d spelled her name or heard it spelled just so in order to get places in life many times.

She typed her name into the first place on the wait list. “I imagine you will probably hear about this class sometime soon. Don’t fill this block on your class schedule.”

An all too brief, but brightly blazing smile stole her breath. “Thanks so much.” Colleen checked her wrist, a nice looking silver watch glinting in the light coming in from the window. “Gods, I have to go. All right. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome!” She called after her.

Colleen Durand. She loved the registrar’s office.

Spring 2019

Approaches to Comparative Literature… was a joke.

Colleen rarely thought of classes like that, because all she had in her head was her mother’s voice, saying, “If I’m paying for you to go to a public institution“ - even though it wasn’t in the top 5 universities in the nation (god forbid she go to a public university, even if it was ranked as one of the top ten colleges in the country) - “You’d better be bringing back nothing short of straight A’s.”

She was a junior in college, was on track to graduate at the top of her class even with having two minors - she took 6 classes a semester, not counting the summer and winter semester courses she took. And she took all of them seriously - took color coded notes by hand, sat in the front of the class.

But this course… she just couldn’t. She tried for the first two weeks, learned that the professor left much of his job up to the TA, and then said TA had hit on her in an extremely slimy way and she - well, after that she started slipping into the back row. Just this one class wouldn’t hurt.

She was the only one in her row and sitting in the back gave her a whole new perspective.

It especially gave her a perspective on the girl she’d only known as Nice Girl at the registrar office who doesn’t think I’m crazy before now, and now she knew her name - Eliza.

Eliza, she’d learned from sitting in the front, types vigorously during every class on her laptop and occasionally makes very funny commentary.

It was only in switching her seat to sit behind Eliza that she realized she isn’t taking notes on her laptop, but was instead just being very active on various social medias. Mostly twitter.

@elizathesapphicSCREAMING my TA just announced that some of our earliest lgbt writers were great friends and roommates. i could teach this course better lmao

She wasn’t wrong.

@elizathesapphica limerick -there once was a TA from hellwhose hair is rock solid from gelhis voice is nasally and gratinghis ignorance is so fucking frustratinglet’s not forget he’s smarmy as well

Colleen had genuinely had to smother a laugh from that one. And, it turned out, from many others. The semester passed in a blur of moments - her twentieth birthday, an intense and stressful visit from her mom, juggling 6 courses and her first practicum - but Eliza stands out.

They don’t talk, because… well, what would they even talk about? They seem like really different people and Eliza is super lively, but she learns a lot about her.

If it wasn’t obvious from her twitter handle (obviously), she’s a lesbian. Who very much loves Margaery Tyrell - someone Colleen vaguely knows is a recently out politician - and Sansa Stark - who Colleen is very familiar with, because of the writings she’d done and the classes she’d taken that Sansa had TA’d for before she’d finished her master’s - and their very public relationship.

As well as many, many other lesbian celebrities and television shows that Colleen does not watch or follow, but is still entertained by because Eliza is entertaining.

At the end of the semester, she follows Eliza’s twitter on the account she never uses that is basically untraceable to her. It has her name on it, sure, but nothing else. No pictures. No retweets.

But Eliza’s twitter is good for a laugh and sometimes she needs that.

Fall 2019

“Ohhhh my godddd, Sara. Can you believe it’s her?” Eliza wrapped her arm around her best friend’s shoulders, pulling her close - as if they could shrink back against the wall behind them.

They were going home the following day for winter break and so it seemed like everyone who had an off campus apartment was throwing a party. Which was great because Eliza hadn’t gone out this semester much at all. There had been too much work and too much - uhhh well, being lazy and not wanting to leave her dorm when she could binge watch shows with Sara.

Sara elbowed her in the side accidentally as they fell back against the wall. “It’s who?”

She pointed across the large living area full of tipsy-to-drunk college students, to the front door. “Colleen! She - I don’t think she ever comes out? Why do you think she is right now?”

Sara’s eyes rolled before she jostled their shoulders. “Oh you mean your cruuuush. I don’t know, it’s the end of the semester. Everyone’s out. It’s not a big deal.”

Eliza ignored her and stared at Colleen as she and a friend Eliza recognized didn’t know the name of - she was a master social media creep but that didn’t help when someone didn’t have social medias - chatted and made their way across the room.

And her heart started racing. “Oh my gods. Oh. She’s coming over here. Do you think she -”

“We’re right next to the drinks, why do you think she’s coming over?” Sara’s retort quickly popped her rapidly inflating hopes, and she trained a critical eye on Colleen-Gorgeous-Durand. “That is dream crush girl?”

Eliza spun so quickly to face Sara that she nearly sloshed her vodka cranberry over the rim of her cup. “How can you say it like - like that? Look at her!”

“I mean. She is pretty. In a buttoned up way.” Sara turned to face her, having to tilt her head up just enough to quirk an eyebrow. “Is that your type? You haven’t dated much in our eight month friendship tenure.”

Eliza scoffed. “No! No. I don’t have a… type.” She started slapping Sara’s arm, “Ohhhh gods, she’s coming, she’s coming, she’s -”

Sara caught her hand and held it tight, hissing, “Calm down, you look insane.”

Colleen approached them with a nervous looking smile. “Hey. Can I ask where you got your drink?” She surveyed the table in front of her, dubiously, “I just don’t really see the mixer I want -”

It was like an automatic reaction. Eliza’s hand shot out and offered her cup, “Take it! Still full. Just made it. Made tons of them. See?” She held it up so the rim reflected the dim light. “I didn’t take a sip yet or anything. I can go make another cup.”

Those sky blue eyes were so brilliantly light and she gave the slightest twitch of an eyebrow as she accepted Eliza’s drink. “Um… thanks?”

“Yeah. No prob. Enjoy.” She grinned, knowing it was too bright for the moment, but whatever.

She felt triumphant, even when Sara collapsed against her in a fit of giggles as Colleen walked away. “Holy shit. I see now why you haven’t dated.”

“Um, what is that supposed to mean? She sought me out.” Now that she replayed the interaction, though, she could… sort of… see where she’d gone wrong.

Oh, fuck.

Sara only laughed harder, letting Eliza’s hand go and wrapping it around her waist in a hug. “Listen.” She tried to calm her laughter. “Listen. What I just witnessed means one of two things: your crush is an absolute idiot who took a drink from you, a weird ass stranger at a party. Or she actually somewhat recognizes you, too, and doesn’t think you’re a creepy stranger.”

“Oh, fuck. Now I need to find more cranberry juice.”

Spring 2020

“Who’s that girl over there? She keeps looking at us.” Colleen’s friend and flatmate, Natalia, commented. They were in the dining hall, which is a rarity since they hadn’t lived on campus since they were freshmen.

“What girl?”

“Pretty, dark hair, dark eyes. She has like 4 piercings up her ear. She has a rainbow pin on her backpack. Seems gay.”

Pretty with dark hair and eyes, the earrings, and the dead giveaway rainbow pin already tells her it’s most likely Eliza Harlow, even before she turns and looks. Colleen rolls her eyes. “How does she seem gay? Besides the rainbow pin,” she adds on, even though she knows - of course Eliza Harlow is gay.

Her still very active twitter is still hilarious and very, very full of lesbian pop culture. It’s gotten almost kind of frustrating, the fact that Eliza never really posts anything about herself on her twitter. Colleen definitely knows she is a lesbian more than anything - she posted something just last night about a pro soccer player and proclaimed that her lesbian heart wasn’t going to survive her coming out.

But she never posts anything about her own life. It’s not like Colleen cares? But she can’t help but be intrigued. It’s weird. But maybe that’s just the culture they live in these days.

She still turns and looks where Natalia is pointing, anyway. Sure enough, Eliza is sitting - backpack perched on the table next to her bagel, rainbow pin on display - with her ever present friend whose name Colleen knows is Sara (thanks, twitter). Pretty with her dark hair curling, as usual, over her shoulders.

And, Natalia was right. She’s throwing looks over at them.

Eliza had spoken to her for the first time, without having to do so for a class project, last week. She’d tossed her backpack over her shoulder super casually - Colleen had noticed out of the corner of her eye, as she’d packed up her own bag - and approached her.

“Can I borrow your notes?”

Colleen was always loathe to part with her notes. She took pride in them - even color coded them - and she doubted that strangers would take as much care with them as they deserved.

But Eliza… well, she didn’t really know her. But she didn’t feel like a stranger either. Especially with her eyes looking all hopeful and nervous. She wondered if Eliza had fallen behind in class with all of the work she was doing on her social medias. Or on her work for the internship she had at the Red Keep (thanks, twitter).

She’d handed over her notebook with a smile that was genuine.

“Whatever. The rainbow pin is why she seems gay, fine. But she’s coming over here.” Natalia brings her back to the moment, making a face at the meatloaf she’s eating before she pushes the tray away. 

Colleen sat up straighter, dropping her own fork. “That’s Eliza. We’re in Valyrian Lit class together.”

Eliza walked even closer, looking… apprehensive. Her big, expressive eyes were downcast, as she worried at her generous bottom lip. Which was weird because no, she didn’t know Eliza personally. But she kind of did know her personality. And she was not apprehensive.

It took a moment for Colleen to notice the notebook in her hands. And that it wasn’t the same green one - always green notebooks for lit classes - she’d given Eliza three days ago.

“Hey! Colleen! Hey. Uhhh. I have… your notebook.” Eliza held out the notebook toward her, shifting back and forth on her feet. “Your notes were - great. Such a help.”

“No problem, but…” Colleen eyed the notebook - a mint green as opposed to her hunter green. “That’s not mine.”

“No, it is! I - it is.” Eliza cleared her throat and slid it down onto the table. “It’s definitely yours, now. Um. The thing is. My obnoxious roommate  - I didn’t choose her? I was supposed to live with my friend, but then housing got all messed up and. It’s a whole thing,” she waved her hand, and Colleen, despite being so anal about what the fuck happened to her notebook, couldn’t help but be entertained. “The point is, she spilled her coffee all over your notebook.”

“What?!” All the gods, her notes. All her time and color coordination. And that had all of her handouts and - fuck. Dr. Lannister was not an easy professor to pass, his exams were notoriously difficult -

“Ohhhh, shit,” Natalia whispered.

Eliza quickly flipped the notebook open, frantically pointing at the pages. “No! Wait. I, I dried out your notebook and spent all last night re-writing your notes. I tried finding a matching notebook, but this was the only green one they had at the store. And I bought colored pens, because I figured out the color system, too. It’s all there. I swear. And I made copies of all of the handouts and put them in the back. Thanks. For the notes. I’ll never ask again, I swear.”

She hitched her backpack over her shoulder without another word and spun on her heel.

Colleen leaned over the table to peek at her notes and… wow. Eliza really did figure out her color coding system, even down to the obsessive tonal color changes for different types of literature. And. She skimmed her eyes quickly over the page - Eliza definitely left some insightful notes in here that Colleen herself had missed.

She turned her head to see if she could even call out her thanks to Eliza, but she was too far away. All she could see was the other girl slapping her palm against her forehead as she turned to leave the hall.

It made her smile.

Fall 2020

Professor Stark tapped her hands on her desk, “And as much as I know group projects aren’t everyone’s favorite thing, the sad reality is that we have to work with people in real life that we don’t get to choose. So, you will all individually document what you do in this project and then evaluate each other’s contributions at the end. You have your groups, the rubrik, and some examples to start with. Even though the project isn’t due for over a month, I would highly recommend starting it early.”

Eliza wouldn’t say she loved group work by any means, especially when the groups were assigned.

Colleen caught her eye and asked, “You want to come to my place this weekend to get started? I really don’t like to wait until the last minute for these kinds of things.”

Eliza was pretty sure she was going to write Sansa Stark a thank you letter.

[seh406]

A.) He lies. A LOT. Politifact rates 69% of the words he speaks as “Mostly False or worse” Only 17% of the things he says get a “Mostly True” or better rating. That is an absolutely unbelievable number. How he doesn’t speak more truth by mistake is beyond me. To put it in context, Obama’s rating was 26% mostly false or worse, and I had a problem with that. Many of Trump’s former business associates report that he has always been a compulsive liar, but now he’s the President of the United States, and that’s a problem. And this is a man who expects you to believe him when he points at other people and says “They’re lying”

B.) He’s an authoritarian populist, not a conservative. He advances regressive social policy while proposing to expand federal spending and federalist authority over states, both of which conservatives are supposed to hate.

C.) He pretends at Christianity to court the Religious Right but fails to live anything resembling a Christ-Like Life.

D.) His nationalist “America First” message effectively alienates us and removes us from our place as leaders in the international community.

E.) His ideas on “Keeping us safe” are all thinly veiled ideas to remove our freedoms, he is, after all, an authoritarian first. He has shown that they also are simply bad ideas.

F.) He couldn’t pass a 3rd-grade civics exam. He doesn't’ know what he’s doing. He doesn't understand how international relations work, he doesn’t understand how federal state or local governments work, and every time someone tries to “Run it like a business” it’s a spectacular failure. See Colorado Springs’ recent history as an example. “The Short, Unhappy Life of a Libertarian Paradise” and that was a businessman with a MUCH better business track record than Trump. We are talking about a man who lost money owning a freaking gambling casino.

G.) He behaves unethically and always has. As a businessman, he constantly left in his wake unpaid contractors and invoices, litigation, broken promises, whatever he could get away with.

H.) He is damaging our relationships with our best international friends while kissing up to nations that do not have our best interests in mind. To his question “Wouldn't’ it be great to have better relations with Russia?” The answer is Yes. But it is RUSSIA who needs to earn that, who must stop doing the things that are damaging to that relationship, or we are simply weaker for it.

I.) He has never seen a shortcut he didn't like, and you can’t take shortcuts in government. “Nuclear Option, Remove the Filibuster, I’ll change the Constitution by Executive Order…Don…what happens when you remove the filibuster and the other side retakes the majority in the Senate? Suddenly want that filibuster back? What happens if you manage to change the Constitution by Executive Order and an Anti-2A President wins the next election?

J.) He behaves and has always behaved as an unabashed racist. Yes, I’ve seen your favorite meme that claims he was never accused of racism before the Democrats…Absolutely false. Donald Trump’s long history of racism, from the 1970s to 2019 See the Central Park 5, the lawsuits and fines resulting from his refusal to lease to black tenants, the 1992 lost appeal trying to overturn penalties for removing black dealers from tables, his remarks to the house native American affairs subcommittee in 1993. The man sees and treats racial groups of people as monoliths.

K.) He is systematically steamrolling regulations specifically designed to keep a disaster like the 2007 subprime mortgage crisis from happening again.

L.) He speaks and acts like a demagogue. He sees the Legislative and Judicial branches of government as inconveniences, blows up at criticism no matter how deserved and actively tries to countermand constitutional processes, not to mention attempts to blackmail and coerce people who are saying negative things about him

M.) His choices for top positions, with the exception of Gen. Mattis, who is a gem, have been horrendous. A secretary of Education without a resume that would get her hired as a small town grammar school principal, A secretary of Energy who didn't know the Department of Energy was responsible for nuclear reserves, an EPA head whose biggest accomplishments to date had been suing the EPA on multiple occasions, an FCC head who while working for Verizon actively lobbied to kill net neutrality, and an Attorney General who thinks pot is “nearly as bad as heroin” and asked Congress for permission to go after legal pot businesses in states where it is legal. (There goes that great Republican States rights rally cry again, right? *Crickets*) An Interim AG after Firing his First AG who’s appointment is probably unconstitutional.

N.) He denies scientific fact. We’ve all witnessed this with the latest world disaster, the Coronavirus. He was warned by scientists and doctors very early on that this could happen but he totally ignored these warnings which has had un-reversible repercussions. Have you also noticed that the only people you hear denying climate change are politicians and lobbyists? 99% of actual scientists studying the issue agree that it’s real, man-made and caused by greenhouse gasses. Ever notice that every big disaster movie starts with a bunch of politicians in a room ignoring a scientist's warning?

0.) He does not have the temperament to lead this nation. He is thin skinned, childish, and a bully, never mind misogynistic, boorish, rude, and incapable of civil discourse.

P.) He still does not understand that the words he speaks, or tweets, are the official position of 1/3 of the US government, and so does not govern his words. He still thinks when he speaks it’s good ole’ Donald Trump. It’s not. It’s the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. You have probably spread a meme or two around talking about how no president’s every word has ever been dissected before…YES, THEY ALWAYS HAVE. It’s just that every other president in our lifetime has understood the importance of his words and took great care to govern his speech. Trump blurts out whatever comes to his mind then complains when people talk about what a dumb thing that was to say.

Q.) He’s unqualified. If you owned a small business and were looking for someone to manage it, and an unnamed resume came across your desk and you saw 6 bankruptcies, showing a man who had failed to make money running CASINOS, would you hire him? He is a very poor businessman. This is a man it has been estimated would have been worth $10 BILLION more if he’d just taken what his father had given him, invested it in Index Funds and left it alone.

R.) He is the President. But he refuses to take a leadership position and understand that he is everyone’s President. Again, this has been recently demonstrated with the Coronavirus Pandemic. Conservatives complain about liberals chanting “Not my President” while Trump himself behaves as if no one but his supporters matter.

S.) He’s a blatant hypocrite. He spent 8 years bitching Obama out for his family trips, or golfing, or any time he took for himself, and what does he do? He was already on his 20th golf outing in APRIL of his 1st year in office. He constantly rants about respect for the military, yet can’t be bothered to attend the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day because of a little rain. (And that excuse about Marine One not being able to fly in the rain is HILARIOUS.)

T.) He’s a misogynist. It's not really ok in this day and age to be a misogynist, but it’s not a huge deal if you’re a private citizen. It’s a pretty big deal if you hate half the people you’re elected to lead. The disdain for women seeps out of his …whatever…. and he just can’t hide it.

U.) Face it. In any other election “Grab Em’ By the Pussy” would have been the end of that candidate’s chances. Back in the 90’s I used to marvel about how Teflon Bill Clinton was. I no longer do. The fact that he managed to slip by on that is as much a statement about how much people hate Hillary Clinton as it is about what is wrong with politics in this country right now.

V.) He has one response to a differing opinion. ATTACK. A good leader listens to criticism, to different points of view, is capable of self-reflection, tries to guide people to his point of view, and when necessary stands his ground and defends his convictions. Does any of this sound like Trump? His default is not to Lead, its’ to attack. Scorched Earth. The Jim Acosta reaction is a good example. There was no defense of his convictions when Acosta was asking him repeated questions about his rhetoric on the caravan. His response was to attack Acosta and he’s done this many times now with the

W.) He takes credit for everything positive while deflecting blame for everything negative. Look at him with the Stock Market. He’s been bragging about it since day one, and to give credit where credit is due, speculation on coming deregulation early in his presidency did fuel some rapid growth, but to pretend that it’s all him, that we’re not in the 9th year of the longest bull market in history and THEN, when the standard market volatility that deregulation inevitably brings about starts to show up? Yeah. Look at yesterday. Hey! Stock Markets losing because the Democrats won! Do I need to bring out the Stock market chart for the last 10 Years again?

X.) He emboldens the worst among us. Counter-protesters are slammed into by a car while countering actual Nazi rally, and the response is there’s fault on “Both Sides” The media is at fault for a nut job sending them and Donald’s favorite targets pipe bombs. The truth is not all Republicans, not all Trump Supporters are racist, fascist lunatics. Many are just taken in by the bombastic personality and are living in an information bubble made worse by the fact that they unfollow anyone and ignore any source of information that makes them feel uncomfortable. People on the left do that too. The biggest problem the right has right now is that the worst of the Right is the loudest and the most in your face, and the actual right, especially the Freaking PRESIDENT needs to be standing up and saying No. Those are not our values.

Y.) He seems to think the Constitution of The United States, the document that IS who we are, the document he took an oath to support and defend is some sort of inconvenience. He demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of Constitution, from believing he can alter the 14th through executive order, to thinking The free exercise clause in the first amendment somehow supersedes the establishment clause (not that he really understands either) or that the free exercise clause only applies to Christians. Or his attacks on freedom of expression and the press. He repeatedly makes it clear that if he’s read them, he does not understand Articles 1–3, and that’s something he really should have before he took the job, because they’re not going away.

Z.) I’ll use Z for something I do blame him for, but the rest of us have to carry the blame too. Polarization. This country is more politically polarized than I can remember in my lifetime. Some may remember how it was in the late 60’s when construction workers in New York were being applauded for beating up hippies, I think it’s pretty close to that right now. And he is the cause of much of the current level polarization, but also the result. It didn't’ start with Trump. We’ve been going down this road I think since the eruption of the Tea Party in the early years of the Obama administration. I was hoping the tide would turn before it got much worse because the thing that scared me more than anything is what if that keeps going the way it has been? Well, that ship has sailed given Trumps past record and the latest current events that have gone horribly wrong.

If you’ve read this far, thank you for reading my reasons which I hope has given you my insight rather than just some superfluous statement I could have made that would have been pretty meaningless of why I cannot and never will support this man as someone I respect, let alone support him as our President.