#well maybe bc environmental rights are a thing too

[spacenintendogs]

OUGH OKAY uhm!!! @rowanthefierce

all of the gang works for valka's dragon sanctuary!! valka in my au is more like valhallarama from the books in that she's moreso absent for long periods of time & when she's there she's relatively detached but!! hiccup takes over the sanctuary (at like. age 15 but shhhh. valka & stoick still pay for everything but hiccup runs it rlly)

so from like, 15 to 17 the gang are learning abt dragons & begin education programs to help ppl understand dragons better!!! the dragon academy does become a thing!!!! after they graduate high school tho (yes this is all while they're juggling high school!!!) they all start kinda going separate ways (and obv eventually come back together full time but!!! it's uncertain for a while!!)

more under the cut bc this is gonna be LONG!!

hiccup, astrid, fishlegs, & the twins get into the same university.

snotlout doesn't, he gets denied (it's a whole Thing™️ for the gang)

however they all pursue different things

hiccup, as like, predictable as this is, pursues engineering & tries to get as many certifications as possible. he's doing AS MUCH as he can, as hands on as he can. he wants to learn to be able to help make the world a better place for toothless (and all dragons!!) once he graduates he's back at the santuary full time & helps design new parts as they expand & get bigger! also new stuff for dragon care & just!! yeah!!!

in his free time, hiccup has a motorcycle he rebuilt from the ground up, loves zipping around town, he also draws, & ofc spending as much time with toothless as he can (maybe sneaking toothless out of the sanctuary.... a lot)

fishlegs goes into environmental science with minors in plant pathology & geology!!! this also ties back into dragons & their care through their environments best suited for them as well as dealing with climate change & stuff!!!! he applies what he learns to the berk sanctuary!!! he also goes back to the academy but he also works at the berk public library part time!!

fishlegs also collects so so much music, so many records, tapes, cds, 8tracks, u name it!!! he also has a rock collection ofc!!! he also spends as much time with meatlug as possible (maybe sneaks her out)!! he also gardens!! & does yoga on saturdays with astrid!!!!

astrid gets a double major of kinesiology & nutrition!!! this is more human oriented obv HOWEVER she's constantly trying to remind everyone around her to take better care of themselves for the love of everything!!! although she still is able to apply what she learns to dragon training!! u can not move the ways dragons do but motor skills are still important as well as eating right!!!! either way, dragons gotta learn this stuff to but in their own way!! she graduates & goes back to the sanctuary & helps with that!!

astrid does axe throwing in my modern au. she goes & practices often to blow off steam. also a track & field person FOR SURE!! like, discus throwing, hammer throwing, the godt damn works!! she's a weight lifter too!! i need astrid to be buff so bad!!! also yoga with fishlegs on saturdays!! she wouldn't call it "sneaking" but she does like to take stormfly out & about :)

ruffnut is pre-med and does go into veterinary school. she stays in school the longest out of the gang which shocks EVERYONE but it's what sounded interesting & it gave her a challenge. plus working at the sanctuary, u end up caring for a lot of sick & injured dragons. fishlegs helps her BUT she becomes The Medical Expert™️ & even uses the sanctuary for her dissertation & specializes in dragon veterinary medicine!!!

as for hobbies, ruff is still a chaotic being who loves destruction & explosions. she & tuff do mythbuster type shit!! she also is very much into theater!! she sometimes participates in local theater & did a performance or two in college!! i also think she longboards!! loves sneaking barf and belch out of the sanctuary!!

tuffnut gets his degree in theatre with a minor in chemistry!! the minor was more of an accident. he took the classes bc he thought they were interesting & ended up getting enough credit for the minor!! after he graduates he works at a few local theaters part time to help with either cast or crew (he acts but also sometimes he will do costuming, stage production, etc!!) but he also goes back to the sanctuary after he graduates!!

tuff's hobbies overlap with ruff's in that they do mythbuster type shit LOL!! but also he's in a little sewing club with snotlout!! he also longboards with ruff!! AND ofc, he raises chickens on the side :) loooves getting barf and belch out of the sanctuary.

snotlout. snotlout, snotlout, snotlout. this boy's got it kinda rough. he gets denied from the university everyone else goes to & it hits him hard, so he keeps working at the sanctuary full time while going to community college & trying out classes that interest him, but he feels lost. he finds himself doing a lot of music oriented classes & just gets a two year degree in music. later he'll go on to be a high school band & choir director of all things but that's down the line :) before then while working at the sanctuary he works part time at a local biker bar (once he's old enough)

snotlout's hobbies are a bit of a mish mash. he plays guitar, has a harley davidson motorcycle (goes riding with hiccup!!), is in the sewing club with tuff (has an etsy store on the side shhh), & loves sneaking hookfang out of the sanctuary!! also loves american football & sometimes does hammer throwing with astrid.

do they all have one big mutual thing they all share & do besides sneaking their dragons out of the sanctuary? yes. yes they do. they have a long running dungeons & dragons game & they also love multiplayer video games in ANY capacity. any way to be competitive!!!!!!! minecraft, smash brothers, mariokart, marioparty, runescape, call of duty, halo, ANYTHING they can get their hands on, old and new.

[theflavorofmyautismisspicy]

lmao @ your most recent post. Made me wonder what the bunch's political values would be tbh (bc of "tax evader" and "Communist"). Marlon deffo is the most politically involved, he probably also cares a lot about climate change n stuff. I could see jojo being very environmentally conscious as well, it's the animal lover in him. all the german letterboxd reviews for the first dwk movie call leon a fascist (he is WORSE in the movies) which feels pretty harsh, but he honestly seems like somebody who doesn't vote. He hates cops tho n might be one of those leftists who is a bit too focused on the idea of a violent revolution. he also believes in conspiracy theories. Markus and deniz are super rich so there's that. Herr von Theumer is a fiscally conservative right winger for sure. vanessa has to grow out of her girl hating phase to be a proper feminist. raban is just vibing, but i could see him being pretty educated on and interested in the political machinery so to speak.

Yooo very interesting points !! Also agreed, Marlon and Jojo definitely care for the environment and Herr Von Theumer is looking at his sons friends like “of course you’re a soccer player and have pronouns”. Raban is well educated, Vanessa has her feminist awakening and Leon is convinced the government is out there to get him. I see that.

I also honestly really like to think that the bunch all grew to really dislike both capitalism and the government because of the events in season 2. You know with the whole capitalism and corrupted politicians being the main villains. Anarchy for the win. Then again, like you said, Markus and Deniz came from very rich backgrounds so maybe they’re a bit more ignorant about certain things

Also WHAT IS GOING ON IN THOSE MOVIES😭

[sharpth1ng]

hey again!! thank you for answering my ask, and for the clarification! i figured you probably had it all sorted out because you're a grown adult and seem to know your stuff but i still said something anyways just in case haha

i should have been more clear with my original ask but i myself still find all this stuff quite confusing so thats my bad sorry �� basically it has nothing to do with the labour of printing or if the company publishes it or not, it’s because fan fiction is already grey area, it’s ok when no one is making money off it. as soon as at any point someone makes any money off it, like these printing companies, or commissioning someone on etsy, or even just going somewhere local to get the pages printed, it now becomes illegal - fanworks infringe on the creator's intellectual property and you need a licencing agreement if it's not public domain etc blah blah blah you get it lol

as soon as the word "pay" comes in, it's illegal - you can't pay for anything, even if you are the one that wrote the fanfic (which fucking sucks). but your merch and stuff is completely fine because the references are based on your original writing, like theyre not gonna be like "how dare you sell this tshirt with a bloody B on it thats illegal!!" bcs that whole thing is entirely unique to your work and has no ties to the original property 👍

but thats just my understanding of it, and the specifications of it can get really confusing!! same thing happens with fanart too, technically you aren't allowed to sell fanart - that's why people often only sell it irl at cons to avoid copyright strikes. but then again there is people selling fanart on redbubble and in fanzines etc so like, i honestly don't know how that side of it works as well?? i think its under a different law since it’s a transformative work maybe...??

its all very confusing i wish clarification was more clear 😭 but you sound like you've looked into it and know what you're doing so thats fantastic, and i'm glad to hear. thank you again for answering so quickly i dont mean to be a bother. ur a talented writer and i loved debaser, keep it up 😊

Yeah no problem! I do appreciate the effort to give a heads up. And like to be fair I’ve done my research but I’m not a copyright lawyer or a legal scholar and the law on this stuff is very confusing to me.

In terms of the fanart stuff my understanding is that it is illegal to sell but for the most part fan Artist are too small for copyright holders to go after, it’s just not really a thing that’s done for the most part. There’s even a number of situations where selling fanart led to those artists being directly employed by the copyright holders. I think it’s very rare for fan artists to get sued for copy right and the only examples I know of are from Disney.

For the most part fanart sold is illegal, but it’s similar to torrenting content where its not really enforced so people do it anyways, and often at a pretty large scale. The stuff on red bubble and in fanzines is also illegal as far as I know, it doesn’t count as transformative.

Honestly I think it’s very unlikely that anyone printing my work would get targeted like that, mostly because this fandom is small and I’m even smaller. I only have a little over 1000 followers here and while that’s more followers than I’ve ever had before in my life it’s pretty much microscopic on the internet. Beyond that there’s less than a handful of printed copies as far as I’m aware.

Honeslty I have a lot of issues with copyright law- obviously it needs to apply to things like generative AI which is essentially a very environmentally damaging collage machine, but in terms of fanart and fanfiction I really don’t see how it could be construed as taking away profit from copyright holders.

People for the most part only read my work because they were already into scream, and a number of people have even told me my work got them to watch scream so if anything I’ve created profit for them. Fandom is the reason these original works have the legacy they do, and fanworks are a massive part of that because you can only consume the original content so many times before you get bored.

Beyond that we wouldn’t have some of our most highly acclaimed cultural works if copyright law had existed hundreds of years ago. Like, Shakespeare would have been fucked.

Alright lmao rant over. Tl;dr I’m doing my best to do this all in a legal way, but it’s good for folks to be aware that there may be an issue with the legality of printing my work even if they aren’t paying me. I think it’s unlikely any of you will face repercussions because this fandom is miniscule but if you’re worried maybe don’t post on Tumblr- but feel free to dm me or post in my discord 👍

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

(@riftwalker-limbro here hi hello!!)

you recently mentioned that in your world, the forge cannot be used to create warframes. apart from the fact that this idea has now also taken root quite stubbornly in my own head, i'm wondering - the original warframes were originally created through Severe Human Rights Violations, right. is this still possible in current times? (could we like. bring the helminth a corpus and. yknow) or not at all anymore due to some Lost Arts type deal? what are the Conditions? (you mentioned warframes were unique, too - you can't just bring the helminth a um. Suitable Host & tell it 'excalibur pls'?)

I love the polite anoning like I don't know what your main is :D Hi!

I'm gonna answer this in reverse bc it sits better with my logic somehow, here we go! Many many words up ahead

Yeah, there is no Excalibur Button. Or recipe. Or anything. Well, there kind of is, there is a list of parametres, from the host's genome, to drugs used to "prepare" the host, to environmental factors, and a million other things, but that'll only give you something…Excalibur-esque. Maybe you get an Excal wearing the proto skin. Maybe you get an Excal with abilities that work differently. All this is simplifying it A Lot but the gist is that no two frames are the same bc no two hosts are the same

Just like how two humans can come down with the same sickness in the same place on the same day and have completely different sympthoms (ranging from "oh you have a headache but I don't!" through "chickenpox spots are in different places on everyone" and far beyond), the Helminth will not make the same exact thing twice (neither will the infestation as a whole technically. Ignore the million copy pasted enemies as a game mechanic)

(And hey, maybe with time, they could've gotten it down to an art, to produce an army of Almost Perfectly The Same Excaliburs. But warframes proved to be ridiculously powerful, entire squadrons in one human-shaped body, so exploring options and building a varied arsenal proved to be a more efficient use of resources than copy-pasting one design that happened to work out. Plus the orokin were self-obsessed dipshits, they all wanted to be the one to come up with and/or sponsor and/or command The Best Warframe Design)

But of course there's a lot that can be controlled, and the Orokin figured out a fair bit of it! Warframe creation isn't just random, there is a lot of specific engineering and carefully tuned variables behind the whole thing. When i said that it was Vilcor's project that he made a frame with no energy troubles and elemental powers, I meant it - that was a design, which was then executed. But if he tried the same exact formula on a different host, the result wouldn't have been the exact same, even if it probably would've also hit the "no energy issues" and "elements" checkboxes

The "Art" of making warframes isn't all that lost tbh. It's still out there, a large part of it anyway. An absolute fuckton of data. A bunch more could probably be reverse engineered and extrapolated from existing warframes

But the Helminths that still exist are guarded by their tenno and frames, and a lot of the orokin knowledge on the topic is scattered across derelicts and places like the iso vaults. But technically, someone with enough dedication to hunt those fragments down (or enough money to make other ppl dedicated enough for that) (looking at Alad V and his dozen pet projects here) and access to a Helminth could technically create something that might be called a warframe*

(Now other technology that can interface with somatics and transference without being made of HR Violation Brand Meat is a whole other topic entirely!)

The way this connects with primes is a bit of everywhere? Since some primes were made as primes, some got upgraded into being primes, and some kinda just…evolved on their own. Making a prime frame or priming a frame tho is just another whole bunch of extra paramentres and resources and Hoping It Works (don't tell the orokin that last bit, they probably glassed ppl for it). In either case the "base" frame is considered a prototype of sorts, with its specs being matched as closely as possible in order to create something very similar, just this time with bits of gold on it

*There is a semantic issue here about whether a "warframe" is exclusively an Old War person-weapon of orokin construction or if a new one would still count, but eh, as i said, semantics

[charmixpower]

More rambling about "Twinning with the Witches" and "In the Heart of Cloudtower"

Can I just say, I'm like, so upset about how Winx being annoying about witches competely careen this episode off of cliff

The episode is called twinning (with the) witches and YET there is no twinning with the witches!! Crimes!!! Crimes!!

"Oh welcome to Cloud Tower we're all evil witches who use negative emotions for our magic and constantly back stab eachother" shut up shut up shut up this is the lamest shit I've ever heard in my entire life

I'm obessed with these episodes, and I am literally unable to shut up about them, but they suck. They suck so much ass. I need them to be better. That will justify my obessesion

Anyway I wish that the Winx and the Witches didn't just draw a line in the sand and decide to stand on their sides glaring at eachother, constantly fighting like it's so lame

Side stepping the Codex and Darkar for now, bc I love season 2 but God they sucked, it would of been amazing to see each of the Winx actually team up with a witch

Why are they teaming up with Witches? Well maybe there's some external force of magic that needs to be controlled/subdued/fixed in some way, and Witch magic is about interacting with external magic sources, while all fairy magic is personal

While Faries can connect to external manifestations of their cores, it's not as stable or direct. Flora has to send her own personal magic to a plant to start controlling it by integrating her own magic with the present magic, while a witch would just be able to control the magic present in the plant outright. So I'm thinking what ever the things are they're so unstable and volitle that it won't let any external magic interact or integrate with it, ergo the Winx need to hangout with some witches

This is actually more likely in s3 over s2 because of Valtor breaking shit. The things he's stealing the powers from, like the second Sun of Solaria and the Heart of All Oceans, and planets magical cores. Being the most powerful magical cores in the dimension because they're connected to all forms of whatever they represent. They're the core of most environmental magic

Personally would really enjoy a more low key and more low stakes thing where the Winx just hang out with some Cloud Tower witches. Maybe they need help making a very specific potion only a witch can make, but I also offer the more high stakes version because it's more in line with how high stakes the episode originally was

A day in the life of a witch. We don't have any Witch protagonists or anything of the sort because the writers were annoying about Mirta

I want to see witch girlies!!!!

Witches I want to see hanging out with the Winx:

1) Shilly. Girl has A LOT going on in the comics and it would be cool to see her in the show doing stuff. Shilly in twinning witches accidentally makes light enegry instead of dark energy, so I'm taking this to mean she's a incredibly positive person. She gives me anxious extrovert enegry. I've never read the comics about her. I think she'd be better at more support magic

2) Karen. The cheerleader!! I wanna see more of her. I think she'd be a lot like Ty-lee from alta. She'd probably cartwheel places. Does CT have a cheer squad?? She's apart of it. She probably holds some kind of student body position. I think she'd be good at more offensive magic and take a more active role over support. I've always headcanoned she was from Eraklyon too lol

3) Endora. That girl is a noble of some kind. Look at her hair. It has all the prestige she would ever need in her entire life. She looks confident and fiercely intelligent. I think she'd be a fun character to follow around. She seems like she'd be able to do combat magic

4) Hecate. Named after the goddess of witchcraft. This is a bitch with some power right here. I wanna see her get to show off. Plus she styles her hair the exact same way that I do and I'm eternally biased

5) Yakobetta. For the punk girlie energy

6) Pulisatilla. Not much is known about her except that she's flirtatious, like most witches bc they're easy to use for love triangles, but she was the one making the potion (along with Ivey) to help escape Cloud Tower in season 1 so I think she'd be a good witch to call on for help

If we're talking Witches with similar powers to match the twin part:

Lunilla for Stella. For the sake of this she's the witch of more than just the moon, but concentrates on her Moon powers being the opposite of Stella.

Vera for Musa. Vera wears headphones, which is enough for me to headcanon her as the witch of silence, as opposed to Musa being the fairy of sound.

Ivey probably has plant powers much like Flora, and I would love to see Flora hang out with a witch. Flora's love of science is basically her being the closest to a classical witch than the other Winx so they'd vibe

Lucrezia for Aisha. The girl looks like she has liquid powers, probably water tbh

Bloom and Tecna don't have easy analog tho. I'd used Rubis for Bloom and Zulema for Tecna bc they look like they could have similar powers

I wanna see them hang out with some witches!!!

I don't really have anything solid here except for a wish list, but twinning witches being about actually hanging with some witches instead of fighting with them would be fun

Plus. Fairy magic can apparently solve any problem???? That's lame. Give me a problem that faries just aren't equiped to handle at all, give me a reason witches are equally important as faries

Come on, come on, there has to be SOMETHING that the witches can do that Fairies can't that help keep the dimension stable and safe. Some sort of skill set that makes witches a better choice than faries in certain situations

Just, I wanna see them be useful, I wanna see them do something helpful for the plot. Screaming, crying, and begging

DAPHNE SHOULD BE A WITCH!!!!! Hehehehe it would explain how she was able to do fuckery with Domino's magic core??? Would that fuck?? I think it fucks

[thegeminisage]

i've decided to start in central hyrule & work my way outward re: shrines & seeds. reason: i am weak af and if i do this i will collect materials along the way which will help me upgrade my armor, or at least give me something i can cook and/or sell, and seeds and shrines will help me with weapons/health/stamina. win/win/win if collecting korok seeds doesnt make you wanna end it all

obviously i am gonna have to do this in Small Doses. i'm thinking every x number of seeds/every area i stop and do one of the sidequests in my backlog to keep it interesting

i'm on the other island next to hyrule castle looking for the chasm the map swears is here. i'm starting to wonder if i cant sneak into hyrule castle via these, even though there's a wall, because there's a deep spot on the other one. i am not <3 going to find out

so it is Not here. i can't find any sort of cave entrance or anything it could be in, like the other one...does it unlock later...? is this too part of the fifth sage quest

eigh the hyrule castle music coming it. stop i know i know im too close!!!! such different vibes from the deceptively peaceful central hyrule of botw...

IF OUND THE CAVE!!! ANOTHER FROX!!!!!!! i'm scared!!!!!!!!!!

OH EWWWW WHEN YOU'RE IN THE AIR IT TRIES TO CATCH YOU IN ITS MOUTH THAT IS SO GROSSSSS

i used. almost literally. every weapon i had left. i have like a fire wand a mining stick and two shitty swords. what the fuck what the fuuuck

luckily there's a lightroot like right here. i saw it when i got in but i was Uh. busy.

well there is fuck all else down here so now my new priority is finding weapons. i know lookout landing has some...hinoxes usually carry good ones...AUGHGHGH

god the ones here SUUUCK i am in such trouble.

i cant fight a hinox with no weapons...so thats out

maybe a construct camp...? i could start in the great sky islands. literally back 2 basics

luckily i still have lots of arrows and many good strong bows, so i can use that to my advantage

took out a construct camp. got one (1) Pretty Good sword

okay, with some fusing i now have 2 pretty good swords, one pretty decent sword, and two shitty ones, plus a fire rod, mining stick, and...an actual stick, that i picked up off the ground, just in case. i think i can work with this

landed in the deya village ruins! i've been wanting to poke around here actually...then i'll get back to central hyrule lol

very nostalgic...this is where i got my first blood moon in botw...since it was already night, the ruins were creeping me out, they remind me of a spooky location in okami. and i had no idea what was happening when the sky went red and the music changed because i hadn't seen the red moon rise, i was looking at the ground!! it really freaked me out lol, i'll always remember it

yooo there's a shrine in this well!!!!!

there's a talus down here KICKING my ass. his little thingy is on his back and i never know how to defeat those 😭

I MISS STASIS >:(

got him. jesus fuck

on the bright side this is another cool thing to add to my weapons. my supply is refilling itself rather nicely

back in central hyrule and i found a little island absolutely COVERED in flint and arrows. environmental storytelling.........not sure WHAT story they're telling but i see them telling it

OHHH my god. when i was flying over. some gloom hands just. SPAWNED BENEATH ME. TOTALLY SOUNDLESSLY. AND NOW I'M STUCK UP HERE BC IF I GET DOOOWWWWWN

this is the thing. this is the thing. when i said "guardians are scarier" i'm not implying these motherfuckers are not scary. bc they are. but u have to understand my first encounter w guardians was a complete and total surprise. just, bam, piano, YOU'VE BEEN SPOTTED, the sheer terror of fleeing for cover

but the hands. everyone talked about the hands before i got there. i saw them spawn down at the bottom of the labyrinth at a good distance away. i had time to absorb what was coming and it was not remotely a surprise

and then they spawned in the dark, without a single sound

and then they spawned UNDERNEATH ME, without a single sound

THERE IS NOT EVEN MUSIC PLAYING RIGHT NOW. EVERYTHING JUST WENT SILENT.

these are the antithesis of guardians. a guardian will scream its presence at you and the scream makes you wanna duck and cover. the hands will be killing you before you even know they're there. anytime anywhere no warning whatsoever. it's apples and oranges. they're both fucking scary

anyway i can't get down from here.

i can't get down and i do not want to fight them I Do Not Want To I Do Not Want To I DO NOT WANT TO

if i wait long enough, will they despawn...?

ok no. i gotta go for it. im so scared

went for it, made it, barely. the music didn't start but they looked up with their horrible eyes and they were on their way to me. i went over a hill and i stopped hearing the sound effects and now i hear normal music again but i sort of have to go that way a teensy bit to get ym korok seed and i'm too scared. what if they're still there! when do they despawn!

ok. i'm gonna go for it and if i see even a hint of them i'll fast travel away >:(

absolutely zero signs of them of COURSE it's way too far away but some chuchus jumped out at me and scared me shitless

at least guardians don't keep scaring you AFTER THEYRE GONE. theyre def cooler tho

okay i have to quit now bc it's bedtime and also for my own mental wellbeing. EUGH those hands!!!!!

[loregoddess]

Hm, maybe my memory is poor but I swear that I've seen you reblog Tolkien stuff (or maybe I'm mistaking it and it's all Legend of Zelda posts?)

But there I was talking as if you'd read the books or watched the movies!

I watched the movies so long ago that I forgot a great deal of them and I'm determined to finish the books before I re-watch them so that I can experience the whole original story of LotR without the film giving away the parts I'm still reading.

You'll find out more about Boromir in the first book and the very beginning of the second book. As for Denethor, he appears in the first chapter of the third book (and he had me just a little bit salty, to put it mildly.) You'll also see the Fellowship in all three books!

I'll be honest and say the only reason I have time to read at all is downtime at work and really long wait times for public transit. And I've only just recently began branching out from reading only Discworld to other books that I either read in high school or heard about but didn't get a chance to read yet. I'm keeping track of my reading on an app called StoryGraph, which lets you record start and finish dates and get recommendations based on what you've already read!

I mostly just use it as a reading diary of sorts. But if I ever get through my to-read pile (good luck, it's long) I might see what it recommends me. But even still, I usually go by friends and family's suggestions for any books that I might be interested in.

Haha, no you're right, I have reblogged LotR stuff. I have basically no fear of spoilers, if only bc I have been spoiled on stuff in the past only to not realize it was a spoiler and still get surprised when I reach it in the story anyhow (and also I think the weird culture of "no spoilers" is silly anyhow, bc like, sometimes the fastest way to convince me to look into something is to show me major spoilers that baffle me so much I need to figure out how a story could function to accommodate what I know out of context with the new knowledge).

But no worries, I totally get where the confusion came from. I know just enough LotR from osmosis that I can kinda hold a conversation about it. Your excitement for the stories does get me excited as well, and I really am looking forward to reading them when I can make the time.

Also I feel you on having free time to read things. I think that's part of my issue, is a lack of free time (or energy), but at some point I also developed this weird environmental thing where I couldn't focus on reading if I could hear human voices or if there was too much background noise of a certain type? Which, given that I still live with my family and they are all very noisy (and also assume that they can just start talking to me whenever if I'm sitting in plain sight, which is more or less everywhere where I like to sit to read), makes it hard to actually find the sort of quiet I need to read when I do have the energy for reading.

I used to be a voracious reader too, I was basically always reading a book from middle school through high school, sometimes multiple books. And I used to be able to read in the middle of a school's worth of noise, so I have no idea why all the academic reading I had to do in college messed with my reading habits so much. It's not that I haven't read anything--I made it through Dracula all on my own a year before Dracula Daily happened, just because I was interested in it and wanted to read more classics. And I've made my way through about a third of the complete works of Lovecraft, which are easier for me bc they're all short stories more or less (though I keep stalling reading the next story bc I know it's one of the "almost a novella" length stories). And of course, The Hobbit.

A lot of my free time is limited though, especially since I'm very particular about how things need to be if I'm to do something (which is partly the house situation, partly my brain is my own worst enemy sometimes). I often have to choose between art, video games, writing, general decompressing (i.e. interwebs), or watching something, and usually video games or art/writing win out if I don't need to decompress, because I can deal with being interrupted or ignoring outside noise when playing a game better than I can reading, and no one bugs me when I'm working at my computer generally.

Which hmmm. Actually, I think that might actually have more to do with it than anything, because now that I'm thinking on it I have read a metric ton of manga over the past several years, which I usually use various websites for (and am therefore at my computer). Granted, that's a slightly different storytelling medium than a text-based book, but considering I can finish a completed manga series in roughly a two-week span, I don't think my issue is with focusing on reading so much as it is getting interrupted or having too much background noise...hmmm.....

Well this was an excellent conversation actually, I think I might have figured out part of the reason my brain wants to strike when I do try to read, and if I can get to the root then I can maybe figure out some sort of workaround to trick myself back into reading text-based books again. Which is great, because I have so many books in my to-read pile, and I do want to check out the Discworld books at some point (which I've never read, but they are also books that I just know from out-of-context things that I will love), and I really do miss reading as a leisure activity. So, thank you for prompting this discussion!

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Carbon offsets - karma or indulgence?

Carbon offsets are a bit of a joke to most people who are involved in environmental organization and activism. They tend to be lumped into the same category as medieval Catholic indulgences - “buy this special ticket to wipe away your environmental sins” - and are widely regarded as ineffective virtue-signalling. Especially considering the news about how carbon offset money goes to planting monocultures, or non-native trees, or to nothing at all and instead is just swallowed up by human greed. Or something. Yet another in the long list of greenwashing scams that disaster capitalists have cooked up to make a buck off of society’s collective doom. Companies can purchase carbon offsets, then turn around and wave them in front of investors/shareholders/clients/customers as proof that they are, in fact, “green”, and then go back to business as usual, producing the same (or even more) amount of emissions as they did before.

Yet, carbon offsets were set up initially with the best of intentions. And it is still possible, today, to purchase carbon offsets that do actually contribute to combating climate change, along with supporting Indigenous sovereignty and encouraging biodiversity. All it takes is a bit of discernment.

I’m gonna pause here to say that it shouldn’t take a bit of discernment. There absolutely should not be any carbon offsets that aren’t doing the utmost good with your hard-earned cash. But that is the reality of the dystopia that we live in, and it makes me sad and angry, because it doesn’t have to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this hard, but it is, and that’s awful. And thus the need for me to write this article and get this off my chest. Maybe I am too hopeful. Or maybe this is a situation that calls for hope, specifically, as the best way to beat back my cynical doomerism on the topic.

So, the magical carbon offsets that are meant to do all sorts of good things and leave you with fuzzy feelings and the satisfaction that your carbon footprint has been reduced (or at least mitigated for now): the Great Bear Forest Carbon Project, managed by the Coastal First Nations. Despite my sarcasm leading into this paragraph, I do seriously consider this to be one of the best if not the premier example of how to do a carbon offset program correctly.

You can go here or here to read more about the program, but in a nutshell, logging in the Great Bear Rainforest has been slowed significantly and an Indigenous Guardian Watchmen program (similar to forest ranger) set up and it is funded wholly through a carbon offset program managed by the Coastal First Nations, an alliance of nine coastal BC First Nation groups.

The territory is unceded and the Great Bear Rainforest is acknowledged as one of the most important carbon sinks on the planet, but the condition for Indigenous control over their own lands and the conservation of a significant old-growth forest is the funding from the carbon offsets that they sell.

This program, by the way, is a trial run that the Canadian government agreed to in hopes that, if it is successful, it could be implemented elsewhere. But it’s not working very well, because the skepticism for carbon offsets is so high that even this project isn’t being funded to the point of sustainability. Representatives of the project are pretty confident that its values and moral rightness will speak for itself and so the project will not fail, but we live in an age of what Winona LaDuke and Deborah Cowen call “wiindigo infrastructure” - where the very infrastructure we rely on to survive is at the same time sucking the life from our land… which in turn affects our own survival. The infrastructure required for conservation and Indigenous rights is the faulty and sus program of carbon offsets. No wonder projects like this get lost in the shuffle.

Purchasing carbon offsets for some is an exercise in increasing their good karma. For others, it’s just the price of participating in our fossil-fueled society. For others, it’s a scam perpetuated by Big Business and unethical entrepreneurs looking to prey on ecologically-minded folk.

But I think that, for solarpunks at least, carbon offsets should be seen neither as wholly good, nor wholly bad. The ability to hold two conflicting concepts in one’s mind is extremely necessary in this case, in order to walk the tension that is life in late capitalism: understanding that the program can be used for good or for evil and is currently being used for both, necessitating a deeper, more thorough look through what exactly constitutes a particular carbon offset program.

Having the financial capital to be able to purchase carbon offsets, by the way, is a privilege. The cost of living is soaring, and only set to get higher, as the chickens of the 19th century’s imperialism and mid-late 20th century’s offshoring to purchase products at a fraction of their actual cost come home to roost. Downloading the responsibility of mitigating one’s “carbon footprint” on to individuals is absolutely morally bankrupt and a sick consequence of fossil fuel companies’ greedy disinformation campaigns (exacerbated by the neoliberal bootheel we’re being ground down under today) … but it is also the reality of the world the way that it is. Some of us were born into it and know nothing else, and this is the language we must speak to be understood.

And so, I would love it if individuals take this knowledge of The Great Bear Forest Carbon Program back to the companies they work for, so that their organization can be empowered to do right by the planet and their people in offsetting their business’ emissions.

I would be equally pleased if individuals who have the financial capacity to do so offset the emissions generated by their lifestyle (perhaps they travel quite a bit for business, or eat a lot of meat), and encouraged their financially well-off friends and family members to do so as well.

If readers of this article aren’t in a financial position to support TGBFCP (lol) and have met a dead-end when it comes to communicating with corporate about buying in to the program, but find it a worthy cause, I’d encourage those folks to pick one of the brands that they love, and email them with a polite suggestion. An avalanche is composed of millions of individual snowflakes, as the saying goes. We might live within the constraints of a terrible dystopian system built on colonial violence but that doesn’t mean we can’t subvert it in even small ways.

Here are a few places to go to read more, purchase carbon offsets, and links to send about this program:

For UK folk, iOffset is a good place to start

In North America, Ostrom Climate or Carbonzero.ca is where you’ll want to go

What’s your opinion of carbon offsets? Have you ever purchased them? Let me know in the comments.

[pb-loves-owls]

speaking of school au’s though. hb school au below cut

blitz would totally be more of a kinetic learner. Needs to move and touch things and see them all splayed out kind of deal. Needs to be able to say his thoughts out loud in order fully immerse himself into the assignment. Maybe also use special interests to keep him hooked? he’d do great in biology and physics if he focused on how horses move and work, also picking up other bits of knowledge about other stuff. bc sometimes when someone is super into something and hyperfixates on it, the things around it also get soaked in.

It is 100% how I managed to pass my math classes. Just focused on numbers divisible by three and five.

He’d also love history class but struggle in his grades with them.

Stolas would benefit from standard academia in controlled classroom environments. Of course this never happened in the show But. If he had grown in a space surrounded by peers, some would Eventually Hopefully become his friends, and he would’ve strived and had more confidence. He’d also learn about boundaries, which could potentially protect him from Stella. or at least some of her abuse. He’d do great in all his classes except maybe history.

Moxxie would probably be the same as Stol with a bit of Blitz. I think he’d be best working with visuals and sounds. Like audiobooks! Either in place or alongside paperback. For Lit classes. He’d probably strive in language arts and stuff. He’d be too nervous to join a sports team but would actually be great in it. It would improve his ability to work in teams. I don’t think he works well with others. Not because he wouldn’t want to, but because of his general attitude. Snobbish but self conscious, gets pushed to his limits easily, argumentative in a not helpful way.

Example: saying to Loona “Can’t you do anything right” is freakin harsh my dude. I mean. I get having a coworker who’s difficult to work with. But back up a second and see her as a person first. Bc okay, you see someone who is acting out from stress. You know you can’t make that better, and you can’t change them. The only solution that will be good for both of you is to back off. Antagonizing them is just asking for them to push back.

Millie, without Mox, would be an awesome student. And competitive. Which can be friendly competition (probs against Stolas) or with the purpose of annihilation (Striker). I think she’s more emotionally intelligent, which would be great in team sports where you gotta understand one another enough to work together. which doesn’t involve liking each other one bit. Just makes you respect your teammate enough to help them when they get hurt on the field. Her morals are way stronger than her anger. I don’t think she’d actively hurt someone just to hurt them. She’d probably be great in group projects. Maaaybe decent in math? So-so in history and language arts, fucking baller in science class.

They’d all meet in an after-school program for environmentally challenged kids.

Stolas, despite having straight A’s, would still struggle making friends and speaking up.

Blitz would struggle with grades even though his hand is always the first one up and he gets all the questions right. It’s the homework that’s a problem. “So why give homework if he’s already good???” Because sometimes schools just make you. It’s not always up to the teacher. We don’t have as much power over what we give and teach as people think we do.

Moxxie would be much of the same but be resistant in participating. He acts out a lot after the loss of his mother, same with Blitz.

Millie is there for the free food, mostly. But she’s really supposed to be there for anger management. She gets grouped into shit she has nothing to do with easy. Fighting bullies who are on another kid and getting in trouble instead kind of a deal. “No Sir see, he was beating up little Timmy so I defended Tim by beating Chad with his own skateboard. Because if he gets his board broken then he can get a whoopin from his ma”. She’s a well meaning menace and we love her. Her family loves her too but they worry about her getting in serious trouble with the wrong people.

Loona is baby still we don’t see her yet.

The program is like group therapy. They talk, do homework, hang out, get to know each other. They build connections that they wouldn’t otherwise. It’s not a part of their respective schools, but the program itself is advertised widely in every school district in the Pride Ring.

Might think of an HH version later.

[wwarborday]

Biden’s administration has expanded environmental protections, allowed people who file for bankruptcy to get rid of student loan debt, decriminalized marijuana at the federal level, broadly funded infrastructure, made plans to reinstall net neutrality, and classify internet as a utility.

Please know that I’m not saying this bc I want you to vote for him, I’m saying it to answer “what has Biden done,” and, what I didn’t put on that list is, “assuages the fears of many US liberals.”

Republican states are actively banning trans healthcare, banning women from travel (Texas), criminalizing abortion, working to suppress votes, trying to ban clean energy, trying to ban/criminalize trans people in public. A lot of Americans look at that, and conclude that these things would happen nationally if a Republican was president, because these are the things the legislation has proved, over and over, that they want to do. They are also introducing bills to cut the department of education; to criminalize trans people; to deport Palestinians; to gut social security, Medicare, and Medicaid.

A lot of people are insisting to vote for Joe Biden, because the alternative, as far as Americans can tell, is that things get much, much worse.

Withholding your vote isn’t really something that works in the US as a strategy. If ten people are in a car, and one votes to go get gas, and two vote to drive off a cliff, and no one else votes, then by the US electoral system, we drive off a cliff.

The other problem, which is a deeper problem, is that the President—one guy—represents an entire third of the US federal legal system. If that one guy agrees with either branch of Congress, then whatever they agree on has a lot more federal weight. That’s fucked up. It’s a bad system. But it’s why a lot of people are very, very scared of a Republican president, and much more willing to throw their vote behind Biden.

Direct action is absolutely what’s needed, but I can tell you, as someone who’s active in a lot of anarchist and communist circles, no, there isn’t really a broad plan right now. I’m sorry. I wish there was. The anarchists want to burn everything down, but they despise structure too much to make a plan for it, and the communists think withholding a vote will somehow bend the system, and, genuinely, it will not. If it did, it would have done something by now. There is not going to be an election where so few people vote that they go, “Well, maybe we should fix this?” The Supreme Court is made of a bunch of constitutionalist, and since there’s nothing in the Constitution about fixing the electoral system, it won’t happen.

Right now, protests and social media sharing have actually been working. We have documents from US officials saying they don’t know how much longer we can keep this shit up. It’s important to keep that up. It’s important to keep donating, and sharing. I hope that none of this comes across as combative; I really just wanted to share some more information about where a lot of USAmericans are at.

I live in Michigan btw which is going to be a swing state next year so if you're a hardcore blue maga dem pervert and you want my vote and the vote of the large Muslim and Arab population here who correctly believe biden to be throwing them and potentially their family members or friends in palestine to the fucking wolves then you should stop whining and begging for everyone to vote blue no matter who and fight for the palestinian people because nothing less than liberation is going to get my ass out the door on November 8th next year

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 150

I think for the time being, I am going to quit calling myself ‘late’ posting as long as I get the chapter up on the right day of the week *facepalm*.  Bc I am barely keeping ahead, much less remembering to queue things up.

I am so, so sorry about that....

Fair warning before anyone @s me: The French is a joke, so if I got it super wrong I am equally sorry to the degree of which it’s wrong.

Unless it’s obscene. Then I want to know so that I can laugh with you, and I am LEAVING IT.

As always, shouts out to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog!

Heaving an enormous Dutch oven onto a burner, I turned on the heat low and started chopping vegetables. After the first celery stalk, I glanced up at Derek, who sat across from Maverick in our living room.  The quarters were shaped differently, which had distressed Derek initially, but the addition of his favorite blankets to the sofa had helped.  Currently, he was completely distracted from even Mac: staring off into space, his fingers flying and flicking with a feverish, almost convulsive movement.

Maverick glanced up at me with a smile before following my gaze. “Yep, the cyber siege continues.  He’s doing well, from what Zach told me.”

“I thought he was only supposed to attack human-managed systems,” I grumbled, thinking back to the cold shower I had been subjected to that morning. Turning back to the vegetables, I made short work of the celery before taking my frustration out on the carrots. Scooping the diced vegetables into a bowl, I started measuring out paprika, sugar, salt, pepper, basil, and oregano into another bowl.  “Where’s Sam, by the way?”

“On the way,” Maverick promised. “With Terran-style tomatoes, he swears.  And Derek is only attacking systems we manage.  When BioLab 2 was set up, we had to take over water management, to protect the lab from any sort of contamination.”

The knife in my hand, brandished at three cloves of garlic, clattered to the work surface. “Seriously?” I glared at the tap, suddenly suspicious.

“Probably get water from the console,” he winced, nodding briskly at Derek, who nodded in confirmation without stopping his tapping and flicking gestures.

Groaning, I shook my head and crushed the garlic, removed the skin, and started mincing. All that was left was to wait on the tomatoes from Sam.  The garlic was potent enough, and I wanted to avoid cutting any onion until absolutely necessary since Derek was clearly parked for the duration.

I was saved about fifteen minutes later when Conor and Sam stopped at the door.  Sam waved cheerfully and held up the requested vegetables while Conor removed his boots. A quick shuffle later for Sam to remove his own shoes, and both came to the food prep area - too small to be considered a proper kitchen - to greet me. 

First, Conor gave me a big, smelly hug and a kiss on my hair. “Did you already slice the bread?”

“Ew, you gorilla!” I laughed. “And I haven’t sliced any bread yet, I wasn’t sure how long I had and I didn’t want it to get too stale.”

“They’re toasties, love.” He shook his head with a grin before swatting me on the butt. “No one cares if the bread was a bit stale before you started.”

Over his shoulder, Derek’s head bobbed side to side. “I think someone disagrees.” I looked meaningfully past him.  To Conor’s credit, he looked sheepish.

Sam squeezed around and handed me the tomatoes and gave me a hug. “Thank you for making soup.”

“I know it’s our favorite,” I winked before shooing him out of the area. “Not enough room for more than one in the kitchen. Y’all go unwind out there, and make sure you warn Derek that I’m about to start cutting onions.”

As he held up his hands and jokingly scurried away, I turned to the stove and started cursing myself. I’d forgotten to start boiling water. Snagging a small saucepan, I got a carafe of water from the console and started rectifying that, tossing in a generous pinch of salt.  Gently, I cut an X into the bottom of each tomato and set them aside before peeling and dicing the onion.  Immediately, the onion, carrots, and celery went into a food processor.  “Derek, I’m about to be loud,” I called softly before counting to ten to give him time to cover his ears or step into the corridor.  A quick blitz later, the vegetables were perfectly between a mince and a puree.

A quick swizzle of oil went into the already-hot dutch oven before adding the mirepoix and giving it a quick stir. As if on cue, Tyche and Antoine breezed through the door, noses twitching.

“I smell food,” she announced, stalking into the kitchen.  One look at the ingredients was all it took. “Ooooo you’re making the tomato soup.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I am, and you know I don’t have room in here for spectators, unfortunately.” Arching an eyebrow, I pointed the spoon in my hand at the table.

She wasn’t having it. “One of these days, you’re going to show me how to make that. May as well be today.”

“Nice try, but I need some secrets. Besides, the longer I argue with you, the more likely the vegetables are going to scorch. Scoot!”

She scrunched her face at me but acquiesced. As I scooped the garlic into the pot, I heard her change topics. “How much longer is the stress test? My music keeps getting mixed up with Antoine’s. I don’t mind it, but…”

Antoine smiled softly and shook his head. “But it is quite a shock to expect classical music and instead her rock starts playing.”

Personally, I liked both, but still shuddered at what he was talking about. Carefully lowering three of the tomatoes into the now-boiling water, I glanced at the sauteing vegetables and gave them a quick stir to check. “We have about six more days before the repairs start, maybe four more after that?”

Conor sighed. “I wish we could ask if anything important was being hacked, not just annoying environmental controls.”

“Plants aren’t dead yet,” Sam pointed out, tipping his bottle of water toward Conor in a practiced gesture.  Everyone laughed when, rather than being reassured, Conor leapt to his feet to check on his ‘babies’ in the room.

Cursing, I dipped the tomatoes out of the boiling water and dropped them immediately into an ice bath.  A couple pokes with my trusty spoon showed they weren’t overcooked, thankfully. “None of my information for work has been acting up,” I admitted as I started peeling them. “But Pranav advised that more critical data would either go completely missing or not show any signs of infiltration.  We won’t know until after the test is over.”

“Lovely,” Tyche drawled as she watched Conor fretting over the plants. “So it’s all or nothing.”

I shrugged and dumped the tomato paste - admittedly, from the console - into the pan of other vegetables.  When I stirred, I was satisfied that the carrots, onion, and celery had cooked down to where they were soft. “In a weird way, it makes sense. They’re testing for catastrophic data breaches, which would pull everything down, or for data theft, which you wouldn’t want to leave traces of.”

The corner of Antoine’s mouth quirked up as I dropped three more tomatoes into the pan of boiling water. “No hidden boba tea this time, that is reassuring.”

Hands still moving without hesitation, Derek whipped his head toward Antoine, paused, and turned back to where he had been staring. Derek’s version of a glare.

“That was Charly,” I responded in unexpected unison with Maverick and Conor.  I smirked while dumping the already-peeled tomatoes into the processor with another pinch of salt. “Seriously, Derek had nothing to do with that other than divine retribution.” I paused for a moment. “Although I do have to admit that the cold showers do seem to track with what Charly reported.”

That only got a shrug from Derek, which was as good as an admission.

The conversation shifted again - something Conor and Sam were working on in the aeroponics labs that I had already heard multiple details on, plus repetition.  Tuning it out, I pulled out the last three tomatoes, dropped them in the ice bath, and took a platter with a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, and butter out to the table. “Mav, can you start setting up the sandwiches?”

He went to stand, but Tyche shooed him back down. “I got it. She may not let me help make the soup on this one, but I can prep a grilled cheese with the best.” Staring me in the eye, she started cutting slices from the loaf defiantly.

I just laughed it off. This was the only tomato soup either of us liked, and she had been chasing me for the recipe for ages.  It had become a running joke at this point, so without hesitation, I moved back to the food prep area, peeled the remaining tomatoes, and gave another warning that I was going to be loud.  Some more blitzing later, the now-pureed tomatoes went into the pan of veggies along with the spices I had already measured out, the juice from one lemon, and enough water to fill the pan three-quarters full.  Leaving that to boil, I moved the boiling water off the stove and swapped it for a grill-pan.

“Sophie!” Conor cried from the armchair where he perched. “You’ve seen the plants we’re growing in the lab! Tell them we’ve managed a crop of roots!”

I winced. “Jury’s out… I’m not sure how aeroponic potatoes are going to turn out, but I can confirm they are in the process of finding out?”

Tyche’s knife fell to the table, and she moved her mouth silently in a very accurate imitation of a fish before managing to sputter. “Air-grown… potatoes?”

The confusion on Antoine’s face was painful to look at. He started to speak before stopping himself and instead pulling up his datapad, jotting a message, and flicking it out to the room.

When I read the message, the confusion was so clear that I hurt my sinuses snorting. Des pomme de terre en l’air? Pommes aeriennes? Talk about being lost in translation…. “Conor, Sam… I think Antoine has the perfect name for those if they work out. Just sayin’”

Tyche snorted and shook her head before handing me the platter, with a stack of perfectly buttered bread, two slices of cheese between every other slice of bread.  The soup had just come to a simmer, so I was stirring intently and just nodded for her to start grilling sandwiches.  Several appreciative sniffs and twenty minutes later, six bowls of soup and six matching sandwiches - three cut vertically and three cut diagonally, because it mattered and was not a battle I was willing to fight - hit the table.  Tyche politely placed the salt cellar and a pepper grinder on the table, although the glare she dished out to the collected group promised strong retaliation to anyone who touched them.

I held up half of my grilled cheese in a mock-toast. “To soup night!”

“To air potato soup, soon!” Maverick offered up with a grin, only for everyone to echo his sentiment with the exception of Derek - who just held up half of his sandwich with one hand and tapped away with the other, not even relenting to eat.

Frankly, as long as he spared a hand to eat, I couldn’t bring myself to care.  He took these tests very seriously, and generally only stopped when he was completely asleep.

Everyone dug in, but it was only after my first spoonful that I spoke up. “Considering how long it took to make sure the tomatoes wouldn’t be poisonous, I’m not sure the potatoes will be ready before we get to Von.”

Conor and Sam nodded, as did Tyche and Antoine, but Maverick stopped with his bowl halfway to his mouth.  Setting it down gently, he angled his head. “What do you mean, poisonous?”

“They’re nightshades,” Conor told him, as calmly as if he was telling us that water was wet. “Tomatoes are the only edible berries of that family, and potatoes are the only edible tubers, so we have to be extra careful.”

Maverick’s eyes grew wide and turned toward his soup. Tyche just reached out and patted his hand. “You’ve eaten this soup for years, and you love tomatoes. They’re safe, I swear.  And Sam won’t let Sophia near the new ones until he’s completely sure they’ll be okay to eat.”

Sam nodded, shoving a soup-covered wedge into his mouth. “We’re growing them in simulated Von-light, hoping that keeps the roots from creating chlorophyll.  If we’re wrong, there’s a forty-three-point-six percent chance they won’t grow at all, ten-point-five percent chance they will give you a stomach ache, eighteen-point-four percent they won’t taste good, and twenty-seven-point-five percent they will taste good and be safe to eat at the same time.”

“Meaning they won’t kill you, you might get a tummy ache, but most likely for this generation, they just won’t grow,” Conor translated.

“Hang on,” I held up my spoon. “What kind of stomachache are we talking here?”

The mad botanists looked at each other and made a few thoughtful faces. Finally, Conor nodded and Sam spoke. “Unripe apples,” he stated flatly. “But just unripe apples.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” I shrugged and crunched into my sandwich.

Derek finished his half-sandwich and blindly reached for another. He had it halfway to his mouth before he looked at it and dropped it back to the plate in alarm. You would have thought it tried to bite him rather than vice versa.

Antoine shook his head and reached past the vertically cut sandwich Derek had dropped and delicately handed him a diagonally cut one. “Here you go, friend.”

Glaring at the sandwich like it may betray him, he bit it viciously before going back to the screen he could only see in his mind, seemingly satisfied that the sandwich would not change into the offending shape.

I told you, it matters.

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[fatehbaz]

Ah man I'm so glad you made that post about ski resorts and racism, I never see content about the effects of ski resorts on the land. Keeping jumbo wild was a huge W and I was so glad to see it, and I hope it puts pressure on the people trying to push zincton through. I actually haven't heard much abt the zincton project lately, do you know of any updates? Thanks again for the content, so rarely hear other voices online from the inland temperate rainforest

Hey, thank you so much for the message. I know you’re also a fan of the region. Glad you saw that post and said something to me. :)

Yes, there has been some new media coverage of Zincton as of November 2020. And can I use this as an opportunity to say a couple of things about this rainforest? Sorry in advance for rambling and all of this text.

Right? The downfall of the Jumbo project was uplifting. Ski resorts obviously (like many “parks” in US and Canada) involve Indigenous dispossession and obscuring/erasure of histories and lives. (Details from that article: US sky resort visitors are 88% white, and half make over $100 thousand a year.)  As for voices from the inland temperate rainforest: Gotta mention that the province of BC goes to such great lengths to silence the voices of the Sinixt people, declared “extinct” by the Canadian government and whose traditional territory includes much of the inland temperate rainforest (between 2016 and 2020, BC has fought against the Sinixt and their request for recognition, appealing every ruling, culminating in an October 2020 Supreme Court hearing). BC institutions like to claim the inland temperate rainforest as a “treasure” or “prize”, a “globally-unqiue” ecosystem, as a sort of entitlement or patrimony; meanwhile, the province of BC legally fights the Sinixt in court, ignores the caribou extinction, and still issues dozens of logging/timber and clear-cut contracts in the inland temperate rainforest each year. That said, the end of Jumbo was good news.

For anyone unfamiliar: Jumbo was a ski resort mega-development project planned for the Purcell Wilderness on Ktunaxa traditional territory right in the heart of the inland temperate rainforest region of interior so-called British Columbia, in old-growth cedar-hemlock forest, on the edge of glaciers, and in the middle of key habitat of southern mountain caribou, grizzly, wolverine, mountain lion, lynx, wolf, elk, mountain goat, marten, fisher, etc. The Glacier Resorts-owned project would’ve been “the single largest ski resort in North America” including a “resort base” of at least 110 hectares, a hotel with over 5,500 beds, and an expectation of over 3,000 visitors a day. The Ktunaxa had opposed the project since 1991, and took a case to federal Supreme Court. In January 2020, the Ktunaxa were able to buy-out the project, and the Jumbo area will now be managed as a formal Indigenous Protected Area.

The new Zincton resort is also being built on Ktunaxa and Sinixt land, about 70 kilometers away from the former Jumbo resort site.

Traditional territories:

And yes, there are some updates on Zincton from November 2020.

@moss-effect -- I know that you already know this stuff. But for anyone unfamiliar:

The Zincton resort is being constructed only about 70-ish kilometers or so away from where the Jumbo resort was planned. Zincton is also on Ktunaxa territory, as well as traditional land of the Sinixt. Zincton (being built near Valhalla and Goat Range, between Naksup and Kaslo) expects a “grand opening” in December 2021. The project is run by the owner/founder of a local outfitter/recreation company. As of November 2020, BC’s Mountain Resorts Branch is still reviewing the owner’s formal proposal. Zincton sits closer to even more extensive old-growth forest and major protected areas.

Zincton also seems to be a manifestation of that now-classic category: “progressive” settler-colonial entrepreneurs from coastal BC, the Pacific Northwest, and/or Rocky Mountain West are familiar with local rhetoric and therefore elude criticism by rebranding their extractive and development projects as “eco-friendly”. According to The Narwhal (November 2020) the owner/project leader had this to say about the project: “There is a real story here of a proven disruptor facing down the mob to do one last project for the kids and grandkids. … Jobs for locals, a future for families, saving the hospital. Zincton is the Tesla of the ski village business.”

-------

Also, for context: Here’s a post I made about the inland temperate rainforest, its ecology/geography, and its endemic creatures. Here’s a post from June 2020 about the Zincton resort development. Here’s a compilation post with news/timeline/summary and maps describing the extinction of southern mountain caribou in 2019 (southern mountain caribou are a local icon, completely endemic to this region, and are highly endangered; caribou were declared extinct in the contiguous United States in 2019 when the last of the southern mountain caribou were relocated farther north to BC). Here’s a compilation post with news/timeline following the Sinixt case to receive formal recognition from BC/Canada in 2019 and 2020 (much of the rainforest, including the Zincton site, is within Sinixt traditional territory; the Canadian government declared the Sinixt “extinct” in the 1950s).

-------

Location of core cedar-hemlock forest of inland temperate rainforest region, compared with distribution range of the southern mountain caribou:

Photos I took of stream habitat in inland temperate rainforest:

-------

Coincidentally, just a couple of days ago, The Narwhal just released an “explainer” dedicated to the Zincton: Paul Fischer. “Why B.C.’s Zincton resort, the proposed ‘Tesla of ski villages,’ is worrying conservationists.” The Narwhal. 27 November 2020.

Zincton claims that it is a “radical departure from the status quo” and will be a “carbon-zero” resort. But local groups oppose the project, including Wildsight, West Kootenay Eco Society, and locally-famous Valhalla Wilderness Society. (The core of the inland temperate rainforest is sometimes referred to as “Valhalla” or “Caribou Rainforest”.) The project also claims that the resort’s focus on so-called “eco-tourism” is a good way to “grow and replace economic decline,” which you might perceive to be a settler-colonial interpretation of the “value” of the forest and also suggests that the concern here is, of course, making money. From Fischer’s article: ‘In a series of emails with The Narwhal, Harley [the project leader] dismissed environmental concerns. He said impacted grizzly habitats are low quality and categorized the criticism from certain environmental groups as a “copy and paste” campaign motivated by a desire to oppose everything rather than contribute constructively.’

These quotes can be found in the article:

-------

Here’s some other stuff:

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Headlines from the Jumbo resort news:

The Sinixt case:

Southern mountain caribou herd decline in the inland temperate rainforest between 1990 and 2018. The Zincton resort will directly affect Purcells South, Central Selkirks, and South Selkirks herd.

-------

And I want to say that both the Ktunaxa and Sinixt people have recently been undermined, insulted, and dispossessed by BC and development projects in similar ways. Media, educational material, and conservation groups in BC like to point out that the inland temperate rainforest is “globally-unique” (in that it’s really the planet’s only sizable “coastal-type temperate rainforest” existing inland and away from a coast). And you’ll see the inland temperate rainforest described with terms like: prized, treasure, gem, hidden/secret rainforest, etc. And the region is discussed in settler-colonial terms/concepts (”BC’s forgotten rainforest,��� “BC’s other rainforest”, “a magnificent carbon cache”, “unparalleled resource”) as if it is the patrimony of the province of BC or Canadian state. Which of course is problematic because it (1) associates the forest’s importance with bioprospecting/scientific extractivism, carbon sequestration, or other metrics of settler-colonial “value,” and also because (2) the province of BC continues to fight very hard against recognizing the land as part of Sinixt territory (after Sinixt people and allies were able to win cases against BC, the province continued to appeal, and this case has now culminated in the October 2020 hearing at the federal Supreme Court, which will soon make a final ruling on whether or not Sinixt people are legally allowed land rights to harvest, travel, etc. within BC).

-------

Here’s a map:

From 2018, there is this book:

In the US, too, parks, like ski resorts, are implicated in Indigenous dispossession.

Glacier National Park (at the border of BC, Alberta, and Montana) sits on the edge of the Kootenay and inland temperate rainforest regions. Conservation groups, universities, and other US institutions have taken to calling Glacier part of “the Crown of the Continent” (another possessive/patrimonial term maybe?), a portion of the heavily-glaciated Canadian Rockies that kinda includes Banff and Jasper, too. Glacier National Park is on Ktunaxa and Blackfeet territory. A recently published book that might be interesting: People Before the Park: The Kootenai and Blackfeet Before Glacier National Park. Sally Thompson, Kootenai Cultural Committee, and Piikuni Traditional Association. 2015

Described by Montana Public Radio in 2017: “Step [...] into the world of the Kootenai and Blackfeet peoples, whose traditional territories included the area that is now Glacier National Park. [...] In this book, the Kootenai and Blackfeet tribes share their traditions -- stories and legends, foodways and hunting techniques, games and spiritual beliefs.”

Just a special place.

Thank you for saying something.

[mizugucci]

🎵 if you'd like!

hi bee!!! sorry im so late getting to this, i hope you like it!

position: literally rapper is the only option to give you. i think youd be a good dancer too as well as a lyricist. you're not really the oldest, or the youngest, or the most popular or least popular you're just kind of normal in the middle. but you are known for speaking the truth which is nice. u dont let your fans be delulu over you

group name: your group name, and forgive me for being so obvious, is APIS which is the latin genus for most honey bees. yes it made after your name but ALSO apis are considered some of the more advanced genus/species of bees bc of their intelligence and division of labor in their communities (which reflects you bc of your giant brain) and your group consists of trainees that have all known each other for years, so your sociality is really advanced and are very cooperative just like the genus APIS. there are 8 species identified under the genus, so you have 8 members

concept: environmentalism!!!!!!!!! i had the idea originally bc of the color scheme of your blog and then w the addition of your name... obviously your group are all treehuggers and the point of your group is to raise awareness for climate change (your group was a HUGE risk to put into the industry, but your ceo is like. one of those rich environmentalists, and they had the idea of investing in a kpop group bc theyre so influential for younger generations) and thus u guys were born. the ceo bought the old company you were in, so the trainees stayed the same and is partly why your group works so well together

debut song: hmmm im not rly sure what sounds are considered environmentalist-y but perhaps lots of nature sounds? but like, electronicized dubstep nature sounds lmao idk bc you definitely do NOT debut with a soft ballad w the creek sounds in the bg... its def upbeat loud and noisy, and kind of gives the feeling of like 'omg i gotta do something' like you're running out of time (see: climate change) but the lyrics dont reflect that YET bc u try to get popular first before pushing the environmentalism agenda (which u do eventually)

fun fact: when NFTs started becoming a 'thing' in kpop, you wrote a diss track and released it on the groups latest album bc NFTs suck <3 and it actually got pretty popular so companies were like lol maybe we shouldnt.......... also this is so stupid BUT your fans names are honeys!!! i know honey10s exist but that should be a big enough difference right? ALSO!!! this is the funnest fact. but your maknae who is a VERY mischievous person, started posting links on social media but the only place they lead were to the bee movie script. your member started bee-rolling your fans and eventually the industry its rly funny

send me a 🎵 and ill create a kpop group with you in it, based on you and/or your blog!

[incorrect-dishonored-quotes]

Do you have a favorite level within each game or even one out of all games / is there a specific level that stuck in your mind since you first played it?

Mine would be the second to last I think in DH1. The one, where you walk over a bridge and it's all orange light on one side and deep shadows on the other. In daud's dlcs it would be the boyle mansion, because I love the flooded building. I've loved the edge of the world in DH2 because Karnaca's atmosphere is such a breath of fresh air and the trail of whale blood through the bright and sunny district reveals very much about the game's world. For DOTO it would either be the bank job or the royal conservatory. It may sound pretty weird but the atmosphere within the bank job gives me vacation vibes lol. Also the moment you take the twin bladed knife feels amazing every time. I also really like the hidden features in the royal conservatory.

Thank you for running this blog, it really means a lot to me. Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈

Honestly all the levels in the DH series has a lot of personality in them, and so much visual storytelling. Each one has a different feeling to it while all matching up to eachother perfectly. Never do I feel like one doesn't belong with the others, they all feel part of the same world, and they feel so lived in too.

Everyone has their favorites, and you picked some good ones. I think youre refering to Kaldwin's Bridge which is a very well done level and is certainly pretty to look at, but its rather big with a lot of loading points, and it's a bit choppy and tedious for me. I do like the area around Sokolov's house though. The test subjects imprisoned in the streets and the crumbling buildings around his perfect apartment is great environmental storytelling. Personally my favorite in Dh1 is The Flooded District. The reflection it paints for Corvo, that after everything, things can still get worse and there's still a light at the end and he can't give up. That even after hating Hiram Burrows and wishing death on him, Daud hides there, in the mass grave Burrows made, protected by the rats, flood waters, rivercrusts, and weepers. It's just *chef's kiss*.

I think the one in Daud's dlc's is actually Brigmore Manor, which is one hell of a level. We learn that Daud and Delilah have a lot in common just by the way they work. They both have large followings they share their power with, hidden under everyone's nose. Dispite this, the difference in atmosphere tells the player that Daud is trespassing here. He's met someone who can match him, maybe even best him, and he has to be careful not to lose what little he has left. Brigmore is probably my fave too, but The Surge comes very close. Being in Daud's base, cutting up Overseers, and freeing his Whaler kids is very satisfying.

Edge of the World is a great intro to Karnaca. You get a feel for the atmosphere, learn about smaller power struggles (Howlers vs Overseers), and get a feel for just how bad things are there. I love taking my time in this level, finding the runes and talking to Mindy Blanchard just because it is a very pretty level that's fun to explore. I also like how it ironically leads you to Addemire, which is dark and claustrophobic. My fave in DH2 though is Crack in the Slab. Going between timelines wasn't something I'd done in a videogame before, and it made learning about Aramis Stilton and the rest of Delilah's allies extremely interesting. I love the little details you can mess with in the past to convenience you in the present too. There's a lot to go though twice over in that level, and I always find something new each playthrough. Also, in the ambience music in the present, you can hear a rhythmic banging, and I theorize you can hear the miners being overworked from Aramis' home.

And then there's DOTO... DOTO, my beloved. This game really brought Billie Lurk's character to life and I enjoy every second of it. My fave here would be Follow the Ink, for reasons similar as to why I like Edge of the World. It's nice to explore and there's so much to do story-wise, and even more to just find or interact with. I do wish the story flowed from one point on the map to the other, like how Edge of the World slowly lead you to the black market, wall of light, overseer outpost, then to Addemire Station. I find I'm going back and forth a lot in Follow the Ink, but that's nit-picking. If anything, it gives me time to stumble across things more. I will say though, The Bank Job is probably the strongest level in the game, and the writing is the best there. Billie getting a hold of the knife, pointing a finger in The Outsider's face and telling him she's coiming, no matter what it takes, only for The Outsider to look her in the eyes and tell her that Daud, the closest Billie had ever come to family, is dead?... Heartbreaking. I'm racing back to the ship. I know he's lying, and he has to be, right? But nope, he wasn't. Billie burning her ship called Dreadful Wale, an anagram for Farewell Daud, as his pyre hurts so much. I love the very ending too and how Daud is low chaos option, and to be honest, I shouldn't have been surprised by that. Ironically, mercy and forgiveness were themes in the background of Daud's dlcs.

Some honorable mentions would be:

-Bottle Street/Holger Square: Learning about Overssers, Slackjaw, Granny Rags and you get to see my man Geoff Curnow! Please switch the poison btw.

-Lady Boyle's Last Party: You fuck around with guards and rich ppl bc they think you're one of them and that's quite the critique on the upperclass huh. Don't forget to sign the guestbook as The Empress' alleged assassin!

Return to The Tower: Hiram Burrows is finally his own undoing, and his worst nightmares have come true! What a satisfying downfall. How poetic. Bitch deserved everything he got.

-Light at the End: In high chaos, Martin shoots Pendleton after calling him inbred and that's hilarious to me. Also in low chaos. Emily will scold Havelock and tell him to "sit in the corner and think about what [he's] done!" In honesty, it's a good climax.

-Eminent Domain: Timpsh's downfall in low chaos is one of the most poetic and well written eliminations in the games. Seeing him faint in front of a General of the City Watch always makes me laugh.

-Coldridge Prison: Revisiting the place as Daud and seeing how it's changed since Corvo's escape was very interesting. There's a lot of details to interact with like other prisoners, executions, and doomed escape attempts.

-Addemire Institute: The Crown Killer was an interesting antagonist, and there's a lot of notes and clues to what Addemire was like before The Duke ruined it. The entire situation is very tragic, but not all is lost!

-The Dust District: It's just really fun to explore Karnaca ok? Also Corvo's old house is there.

-Hole in the World: I love how it hints that there's a low chaos option, but you don't realize it until you talk with Daud’s spirit and all the hints come together. I like wandering around the place too since we don't get to see The Void this much anywhere else.

Sorry this was so long, but I really love how well thought out these game are, and I really rambled! Happy pride to you too!