#why would you want your FRIDGE to connect to the internet

[schrodingersgirlboss]

i honestly don't understand tech enthusiasts like why on earth would you want your front door lock linked to your phone. it doesn't even save time like having to get your phone and open an app and press a button would take basically the same time as manually unlocking the door with a key, so what's the point??? looking cool?? getting locked outside when the internet doesn't work or the app crashes?????

[mememanufactorum]

Badger’s Best of 2023 sentence starters

* FEEL FREE TO SHARE AS YOU PLEASE, NO CREDIT NEEDED. CHANGE PRONOUNS OR ANYTHING ELSE AS DESIRED

All lines are from this video created by TheRussianBadger.

"I ACTUALLY EARNED ONE, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

"Those noises that were coming out of you were inhuman."

"You ever had a hotdog burger before?"

"You did NOT just come up with that word."

"I need to know if this was a riff or if this was an actual meal."

"I heard the word 'hotdurger' unprovoked."

"Dudes with nut allergies when I hit them in the head with a brick."

"YOU DIDN'T JUJU ON THE FUCKIN' BEAT."

"I don't misinform. I just lie."

"Did you just punch someone for all their coins?"

"I don't know, just blow 'em all up, I don't care."

"I just fucken hate you."

"STOP BLINDING ME, YOU ASSHOLE! I CAN'T SEE, YOU GOBLIN!"

"To the charge of wire fraud, you are pleading 'nuh-uh'?"

"Your honor, shut the fuck up. You wasn't even there."

"This conversation sounds like four raccoons with internet access."

"You wanna know how I got these GAINS?"

"I was driving through upstate New York and I saw a Tesla with the license plate 'I'M HIM'."

"That license plate made me laugh so hard that I walked up to his window and put a 12-gauge slug in his chest."

"You got me fucked up bro, I can't believe you would question if I'm real."

"Here's a picture of my nuts."

"Those are gonna be my dying words to my wife: I just want you to know… PS3 has no games."

"Chimichangas are a CIA psyop."

"If you put me in the cockpit of an apache I will Kevin Gates, put my hand on the dashboard, and start it."

"Boy I love having something with none of the same consistency as anything else in my sandwich in my sandwich."

"Dude I definitely love biting into my sandwich and then leaving with an entire pickle slice in my mouth."

"Own a musket for home defense since that's what the founding fathers intended."

"I have to resort to the cannon mounted at the top of the stairs loaded with grapeshot. Tally ho, lads!"

"Well it's just straight up racism, and it's not even like an occasional racism, it's like, this is full blast firehose racism."

"It's the floodgate of racism! The Big Gulp of racism!"

"This shit will turn your pacemaker off."

"I point blanked that shit with a panzerfaust."

"Me going to Arby's after losing a $50,000 Marvel vs Capcom tournament."

"Me walking to the fridge to get my five day old caesar salad."

"Fresh caesar salad, already not a good start. Five days, dog."

"How does that predator missile work? Oh, you just go NYOOOOOOM."

"This Nyquil beatin' my ass, that is not THAT funny but, like, I can't stop laughing!"

"Y'all just verbally buzzered that man."

"I stole your girl, I stole your whip, I stole your shoes."

"You cannot land a KC-135 in a Kroger parking lot."

"As someone who lives in Tennessee, you can land a KC-135 in a Kroger parking lot."

"That's how I'm going to describe the size of our parking lots to Europeans without internet connections. We can land that in our parking lots."

"I call that my main menu tax."

"Bro, I can't hail a cab in Detroit for shit, bro."

"First bullet, Toyota Tacoma be like 'I ain't hear NOTHING. Y'all hear something?' Second bullet? Legalize nuclear bombs."

"Your voice literally has to wait in line to be heard."

"I'm gonna bomb your trailer park."

"Don't take advice from the dead guys."

"Smoking on that diabolical arch-necromancer pack. Those who don't ball would do well to steer clear."

"Do you know the word 'whermst'?"

"It's like where and for what purpose and why. Location, reason, background context in one word: Whermst."

"Did he just prefire me? Bro, go to jail."

"That's your first option for recourse?"

"Alcatraz, we ain't talking county jail. You're getting in there with the dementors."

"Stop calling the 3D avatar mommy."

"How do they fit this many flares in an airplane? It makes no sense. It's like a clown car but for fireworks."

"I'M SCREAMING ABOUT IT MOTHERFUCKER, STOP!"

"Hey what's up guys? I just bought a 1911 at a Red Lobster parking lot, AMA."

"Just kill me. Just take me to heaven. Just… Take me out of this reality."

"Heaven? BITCH, YOU GOING TO HELL!"

"Hey, fuckin' imagine getting friendly fired by a .50 BMG. Imagine."

"My client pleads oopsie-daisy."

"I'm sorry that your dog is not going to college now."

"Ay you ain't on your grind, son. You ain't on your bag."

"No one's Batman impression is bad."

"You sound like you're in an alley with a trench coat, what the fuck?"

"Oh my God, his Scooby-Doo villain is coming out again."

"Are you repairing our conversation?"

"Why is 'slime' such a funny yet affectionate nickname?"

"Get the fuck out of our shower."

"Why can't we just share the shower?"

"Enemy. Man. 300 meters. North. Fast. Fast. Fast."

"Fun fact: The TSA allows you to bring a live lobster through security."

"I myself have brought 432 lobsters through security."

"THAT'S THE FOURTH TIME YOU'VE SHOT ME!"

"SHUT UP! YOU JUST HAPPEN TO BE WHERE MY BULLETS ARE!"

"All units, be advised: My stummy hurt."

"Homie got the dog in him with that one."

"Pulled pork? Yeah I cranked my hog today too."

"How blessed are we that I can just log on to YouTube and the first video I see is 'Master Chief teaches you how to change the oil on your 2006 Nissan Murano'?"

"That went from 'funny' to 'demonitized'."

"If your state has 90 degree corners, you probably eat corn syrup on your pancakes."

"Why do you always say 'theoretically' and it's not at all theoretical?"

"You have the world's WORST EVERYTHING."

"My boy got the object permanence of a frog."

"That boy cooked the most rare steak."

"I gotta use the bathroom or something, bro. I gotta go to college or something. I can't be with these motherfuckers."

"He went behind the tree and my brain was like 'WHERE'D HE GO?'"

"Somebody buy me a stat reset, PLEASE!"

"You should not be legally allowed to commit crimes if you're listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd."

"I'm on my Super Mario Sunshine shit."

"Are you barking at me?"

"You might wanna be a LITTLE shidded right now."

"I'd trust Gengar with my kid."

"I didn't know he was chill like that."

"No. We are not putting a controller around somebody's neck and twisting it. It's a wireless controller, you can't even do that."

"And 45 is just a caliber."

"Ranch was made by California to keep the Midwest fat because they're scared of our power."

"I refuse to believe that Kranch is real."

"Alignment charts are for the governable. I grow corn in my yard."

"Tell me the name of God you fungal piece of shit."

"I'm pretty sure that was the most sacrilegious shit I've heard in my life."

"I will pass that to the higher ups – parentheses: I do not give a shit."

"This is getting a little too fast for my brain."

"You fuckers are at a pie eating contest and I'm just like, nah son. Free pie."

"I'm about to hit 'em with the Glock-no-jutsu, on God, bro."

"Regretting a free purchase is crazy."

"THEY'RE JUST POLYGONS!"

"I've had people call me things that I wouldn't even dare say to myself."

"Take five 5-Hour Energies and enter the forbidden hour of the day."

"Those responses do not surprise me at all. I definitely expected that kind of language."

"Bro, it's goof-a-clock right now."

"The moon already isn't real."

"You think I can't kill a fuckin' banana?"

"That was a little too much rage for a potassium transportation device. I didn't mean it. You full of electrolytes."

"I'm gonna eat pizza because I like the sauce on the pizza with the cheese on the pizza."

"I could not have killed him any harder."

"Don't make me make you say some out of pocket shit."

"I've been saying out of pocket shit all day."

"By sheer artillery alone, we should have tunneled our way to Atlantis by now."

"Yo, I don't know the Tom & Jerry lore, fuck you!"

"What if you wanted to go to heaven but God said to you, 'WE'RE GONNA TRY THIS WEEK'S CRUMBL COOKIE MENU'?"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE TINNITUS, WHAT?"

"Is this like punching someone in the dark? Is it like a legal loophole?"

"There's only one of me in all the world. I am one in a krillion."

"If you're a chest sleeper, you're just a fuckin' psychopath, alright?"

[scapegrace74-blog]

Artificial Nocturne, a Metric Universe Story

A/N This is an idea I’ve had banging around in my head for quite a while, and I’ve finally got it down on paper.  It’s about Metric Jamie and Claire facing a huge test in their relationship, and how they react to it.

When I first wrote Lazy Dancer and Calculation Theme, the two ficlets that eventually became the multi-ficlet Metric Universe, I had no idea at what time they were set, beyond being modern. Since then, the Metric Universe has grown into a twenty-four (and counting!) installment beast with actual hooks into a particular point in history, so I've gone back and assigned Metric-canon-compliant timeframes to those first two stories. That's important, because this installment takes place a full three years after Jamie and Claire get together officially as a couple in No Light, No Light, and nine months after Calculation Theme, which up until now was the latest in the series, chronologically. This is a seasoned couple with a lot of water under the bridge. I have other ideas for ficlets that take place in the intervening years, but it felt important to get to this installment first.

With that said, this story is for all the readers who patiently waited for me to come back to this universe. I'm glad I didn't let you down, and I hope that you're satisfied with the result!

The entire Metric Universe, in chronological order, can be found here. 

November 6, 2021, Spittalfields, London, England

The fact that the voice on the phone wasn’t Jenny was a harbinger of disaster arriving at their door.  Claire knew the tone; had used it herself in countless conversations with loved ones.  Measured.  Clinical.  At one remove from emotional connection.  Being the recipient of such a call made her want to track down every family member she’d ever spoken to in such a way and beg their forgiveness.

Jamie slept, blissfully unaware of the anguish that awaited him on waking.  Nearing midnight, it was far too late to catch a flight or train to Scotland.  She briefly considered waiting until his alarm woke him for his early morning shift but dismissed the notion as selfish.  If their situations were reversed, she would want to know.  Pain did not lessen by being deferred, but the numbing of raw nerves took time.

He was asleep on his side, one arm curled on his pillow as though fending off a blow.  She ached for his oft-fractured innocence, longed to take him inside her flesh where nothing more could hurt him.

“Jamie, wake up,” the night’s peacefulness shattered with her words.  “There’s been an accident.”

***

Phone calls.  Internet searches for last minute flights.  Packing an overnight bag for an indeterminate trip.  She understood why Jamie rushed into burning buildings.  There was purpose in action, a conduit through which to siphon the poison of fear, the viscousness of futility.

“I’ll take an Uber tae Gatwick.  There’s no need fer ye tae miss yer shift.”

They were standing in the kitchen, both staring vacantly at the fridge as though willing it to provide further imperatives to guide their shipwrecked purpose.

“Alright,” Claire replied without truly hearing him.  “Did you remember to pack the Atkinson novel?  I promised Jenny I’d return it the next time I saw her.”

This was skirting the borders of absurdity.  Jenny’s spouse lay in an Inverness hospital, the victim of a farming accident that saw an over-turned tractor crush his body into Lallybroch’s fertile dirt.  The literal last thing on her mind was a borrowed book.

“Aye.”  Jamie opened the fridge door, peered inside, then let it swing closed again.

“Let’s go to bed,” she suggested.  “There’s nothing to be done for a few hours yet.”

“I canna sleep, Claire,” Jamie protested, following her dutifully towards their room all the same.

“I know.  Just rest your eyes.”

She slipped, fully dressed, beneath the covers.  Beside her, Jamie lay still like the effigy of some noble lord, the sharp angles of his profile limned in silver-blue streetlight.

“I am a coward,” he confessed to the ceiling, “for I dinna want tomorrow tae come.

She took his chilled hand in her own and held on tight.

***

“What are you thinking about?” she asked as shadow continents drifted along their wall.

She knew he was awake from the measured cadence of his breathing, from the tight grip he maintained on her hand.  She hadn’t expected prompt candour, however.

“How Ian helped me after the explosion.  Jenny was flailing about wi’ all the subtlety of a jack-hammer, sticking her stubborn wee heid inta everything.  I was in a terrible state, hooped up on morphine an’ feeling right sorry fer myself.  Ian jes sat by my side, night after night.  When I woke screamin’, he would use his voice tae calm me down.  When I refused tae get outta bed, he dragged me up wi’ his own two hands.  He stood in the middle of the path tae despair, and he wouldna let me get past.  Ian Murray an’ the memory of ye: those were the two ropes I used tae pull myself back onto my feet.”

Considering Jamie’s memory of her at that point consisted of a drunken encounter and half an hour keeping him from flat-lining in her emergency room, she couldn’t imagine how she’d earned equal standing with his life-long best friend.  It was a conversation best saved for another day.

“We have to believe that he’ll be okay,” she said, despising the hollowness of the words but unwilling to make empty promises.

Rather than responding, Jamie rolled into her side, burying his nose in the concavity of her neck.  She half-expected tears, but he lay still, breath ratcheting like a xylophone on each exhale.  After a time, his mouth began to move, pressing urgent moist kisses to her clavicle, nosing her shirt away so that he could reach the uppermost swell of her breast.

“It feels as though there’s a fist tight about my throat,” he muttered into her sternum.  “I canna draw a decent breath.”

“Come closer and let me breath for you, then,” she offered, raising up to peel the uppermost layer of her clothing away.

In their three or so years together, they had made love a hundred different ways: shyly, tenderly, teasing or passionate as a raging storm.  This was something new.  A desperation that hurt to witness. An unfailingly considerate lover under normal circumstances, Jamie seemed driven purely by his own base needs.  With impatient fingers, he shoved her underwear to the side, burying himself a hundred absolutions deep inside her body.  This wasn’t about sex, she understood.  He was seeking solace and succour from her at the most primitive level, chasing the tabula rasa of release.

With nerves raw as copper wire, Jamie finished within minutes.  A rough expulsion of heated breath and he crumpled towards the mattress, his weight pressing her down like lead.  She prayed he would drift to sleep and gain the temporary reprieve of oblivion, even if it meant laying crushed beneath him.   Instead he rose silently to use the washroom, coming back with a warm cloth to clean between her legs.

“I love ye, Claire,” he whispered once they were again lying side by side, waiting for the muster call of dawn.

In the days and weeks that followed, she would revisit those words and remember how they had the finality of a farewell.

***

Their flat rang with the sepulchral expectancy of an empty train station.  An independent loner since her youth, Claire nonetheless found herself filling the silence left by Jamie’s absence with inane chatter.

She spoke of her penultimate clinical rotation, and of her absolute certainty that gerontology was not the specialty for her.  She narrated her list of chores, assuring him she wasn’t over-watering their spider plant and that his mobile phone was in no danger of being cut off for late payment.  She debated the merits of various residency programs and confessed her doubts that she would be accepted to any of her top choices.

By contrast, their actual communication was brief and infrequent.  Ian’s condition was no longer life-threatening, but the doctors had to amputate his left leg above the knee where the tractor had crushed the bones beyond repair.  The surgery and post-operative rehabilitation took place in Edinburgh, forcing Jenny to chose between abandoning her husband or leaving her children and the estate in her brother's care.  Jamie’s emotional state shifted from blind terror to a weary aloofness as the long road to recovery stretched before them.  His grim mood added metaphorical distance to the physical divide already in place.

“I sure wish you were here to talk to,” she whispered to his pillow after a particularly grueling twenty-four hours.  “My life only makes sense when I see it reflected in your eyes.”

***

Upon due consideration, Jamie determined that he would sooner run into a burning building than be solely responsible for putting two children under the age of six to bed every night.  It wasn’t yet eight o’clock and his neck ached with the accumulated strain of holding his head upright.

Since arriving at Lallybroch three weeks earlier, his days had taken on a relentless sort of routine.  Mornings revolved around dressing, feeding and transporting his niece and nephew to their primary school.  Midday was reserved for the countless tasks and duties that went into the running of the estate: finishing the harvest, caring for the livestock, making minor repairs and keeping the house at least a step above squalor.  By afternoon, he was mentally and physically exhausted but there were still five hours of child-minding, meal preparation, bathing and story reading before he could collapse, nerves brittle and eyes tacky, onto the sofa where he more-often-than-not fell asleep listening to the fire crackle, a half-finished dram of whisky teetering precariously in his hand.

It was from that sofa that he leapt, realizing he had failed to pack the children’s lunches for the next day.  A cursory glance in the fridge confirmed that he had not shopped for groceries in several days.  With few nutritious options to hand, he settled for toasting sliced bread with two dabs and a smear of butter.  Despite his exhaustion, he smiled when he pictured Wee Jamie and Maggie discovering their bologna sandwiches decorated with happy faces the following day.

For the thousandth time, he considered at what juncture he would need to capitulate and accept the kindly offers of neighbours and more distant relatives to pitch in and carry part of the load.  Jenny was insistent that the bairns’ routine be upset as little as possible, considering the many inevitable adjustments they would need to make once Ian came home.  In principle, Jamie agreed.  In practice, he was holding things together with only the most tenuous of grips.

Seen through the haze of fatigue and apprehension, his life in London took on the quality of a fevered dream.  He yearned for Claire with a burning ache that migrated from his wame to the back of his throat.  Not unlike Ian’s amputated limb, he diagnosed himself with phantom pains. A vital part of his life was missing.  With time, he would adjust.  His heart would learn to beat despite its missing half.

That’s not how the cardiovascular system works, my lad.  He drifted to sleep with Claire’s voice correcting him, rounded vowels rolling about in her haughty mouth.

Insistent rapping infused his dream, translated as musket fire that startled him awake.  The mantle clock read half eleven. He briefly considered leaving whatever maniac was beating down his door at that hour to the tender mercies of the night.

Upon unbolting the door, he was greeted by a sight so inexplicably astonishing that he wondered if he was still dreaming.  Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, face pale in the moonlight and curls as dark as peat, stood on his front step, a suitcase braced against her calf.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asked when he showed no outward reaction.  On the inside, his heart was bellowing away like a concertina.

“Aye,” he shook himself.  “Aye, I’m jes startled tae see ye, Sassenach.”

He left her heavy suitcase at the base of the stairs and turned to find her looking around the great room as though she hadn’t visited a dozen times before.  His own gaze took in the mess of toys on the floor and the half-finished glass of whisky on the table.  The fire had burned low while he’d dozed.  Hopefully the dim lighting at least hid the lines of strain on his face.

“Can I offer ye some tea?  I’m afraid there isna much tae eat, unless ye favour bologna sandwiches.”

“Tea would be nice.  I always forget how cold it gets up here at night.”

Such a statement would normally serve as the perfect opening to suggest they keep each other warm in the laird’s bed.  Instead, he fled to the kitchen, tongue thick and dry in his mouth.

It shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was to find his girlfriend at his doorstep: Claire wasn’t a woman who sat back and let change happen to her.  In all the scenarios he’d drawn of his near and distant future, however, this particular one hadn’t factored.  He wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

The perfect geisha bow of her lips crimped as she blew across the steaming mug of tea.  Across the narrow bridge of her nose were tiny nutmeg freckles that only became visible when she was tired.  It had only been three weeks.  How had he forgotten how completely and utterly besotted he was with her?  It made what he had to say that much harder.

“No’ tae sound unwelcoming, but what are ye doin’ here, Claire?”  he asked.

***

Claire saw the way Jamie was watching her like an oasis in the desert, as though she might vanish like mist as suddenly as she’d arrived.  In trying to tamp down that very evident longing, he’d overcompensated towards surliness.  It reminded her of their recent phone calls: Jamie valiantly trying not to sound overwhelmed while she listened to him grow more and more distant.  It was obvious he felt obliged to face Ian’s accident and the upheaval it brought to his family alone.  She’d given him time to come around, and when she’d grown impatient with that approach, she’d bought a one-way plane ticket to Scotland.

“I’ve come to help out,” she answered his question plainly.  “However and wherever I can.”

Jamie bristled, his face an amalgam of relief and shame.  Despite the fact he was surrounded by the evidence of his very thin hold on any semblance of control, he wasn’t going to make this easy.  Fortunately, she was more than his match when it came to stubbornness.

“What about yer studies?” he countered.  “Ye’ve jes the one clinical rotation left, and yer applications for a residency are…”

“I deferred them,” she interjected.

“…due anytime now and then the interviews and… what did ye jes say?”  Russet eyebrows raised in dual arcs of shock.

“I said I deferred them.  Hell, if Cat McInnis can miss a rotation to get a Brazilian butt lift, I can certainly take time off to support my boyfriend during a family emergency.”

“Nae, Sassenach," he shook his head adamantly.  "Ye’ve worked sae hard tae become a doctor, and I willna be the one standin’ in yer way…”

“Well, it’s a good thing it isn’t your decision, then, isn’t it?” she sniped, growing exasperated with his near monastic insistence on self-sacrifice.  Jamie was many things, but he wasn’t a monk.

“I may ne’er return to London, Claire,” Jamie confessed with the air of a man playing the last card in a very bad hand.  “Even once his rehabilitation is complete, Ian will ne’er be able tae work the farm as he once did.  I owe it tae the memory of my parents tae stay here and help Jenny any way that I can.”

“I know all those things, Jamie.  It’s why I’m here.”

“I canna ask ye tae give up yer dreams tae become a farmer’s wife!”

The words echoed through the large room, seeming to increase in volume the longer neither of them acknowledged them.  Claire waited for Jamie to recant his Freudian slip, to explain away the word’s significance by referencing his obvious exhaustion and agitation.  Instead, he sat a foot away from her, his breath soughing in great gusts, eyes shiny with anguish.

“I need to ask,” Claire spoke slowly, “which aspect of that statement you find the more impossible.  Is it the part where I don an apron and a wooden spoon?  Or the bit where we would be joined in holy matrimony?”

Beside her, Jamie let out a disbelieving huff.

“Surely ye ken I want tae marry ye,” he said, not looking directly at her.

“Given that you’ve not once, in all the time we’ve been together, mentioned that fact?  No, no I don’t ken that, Jamie.”

“I was waitin’ fer ye to finish yer schooling,” he explained as though this should have been self-evident.  “Which is what we were discussin’ before we got sidetracked…”

“Sidetracked,” Claire scoffed.  Admitting the intention to ask for her hand in less than a year’s time was a trunk line issue, as far as she was concerned.

“Aye, sidetracked,” Jamie persisted.  “Tae be sae close tae becoming a doctor, only to walk away jes because my plans have gone tae shite...” he petered off, shaking his head where it rested between his palms.

“First of all, your plans are my plans.  That’s the way this commitment thing works, as far as I can tell.  And more importantly, the last I checked, Scotland was still participating in the British medical system.  I can make arrangements to finish my last clinical rotation and complete my residency up here, when the time is right.”

Finally making eye contact, Jamie’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.  Generally logical above reproach, there had to be a reason that particular solution to their dilemma hadn’t occurred to him.

“What’s this really about?” she whispered, taking his hand in her own.  It was the first time they’d touched since she’d arrived, and a current of warmth flowed from his body to hers.

“I dinna want tae be a burden,” he whispered back. “T’would kill me if I ever felt ye resented me.”

Foolish man.  Foolish, obstinate, noble and flawed man.

“That’s the brutal joy and utter calamity of love, Jamie.  That we want to spare the ones we hold most dear.  But what feels like a burden to the asker, the recipient wears like a mantle of honour.  You taught me that.”

Crystal blue eyes filled with tears as he regarded her with such tender hope that she felt the back of her own throat grow tight.  Seeing the storm before it arrived, she opened her arms and allowed him to collapse into her, his sobs soaking through her cotton shirt.  She drew her hands through his hair, stroking him like a fretful child.

“Shhhh, shhhhh, it’s alright.  I’m here.  You’re okay.  I’m here.”

Over and over again until he finally calmed.  They lay curled together on the sofa, silent save the occasional sniffle from Jamie and pop of sap from the fire.

“Did you really mean it?” she asked, trusting him to know what she meant.

Instead of answering, Jamie rose and went to the mantle, where a small box sat amongst other family keepsakes.  When he returned, he was holding a small object.

“I’ve been holding onto this since that first time ye came here, when ye asked if ye were my Lady Lallybroch.”

A delicate and intricate silver ring, warm from the heat of Jamie’s hand, was pressed into her palm.  It was her turn to weep, apparently.

“You knew you wanted to marry me way back then?” she choked out.

“Nay, Sassenach.  I kent I wanted ye tae be mine the first time I saw ye, drunk and imperious, in my local pub.”

She handed the ring back to him, her grip shaking and weak.  For a second, Jamie looked defeated, thinking she was rejecting his proposal.  Then he noticed her extended left hand.  With a long exhale he carefully placed the ring on her finger.  Something intangible and abiding slid home in her soul as well.  Looking into Jamie’s eyes, she could tell he felt the same way.  There was the two of them now, autonomous yet intertwined as surely as twin planets.

Healing kisses, breathless laughter, rapturous tears.  Sometimes all three at once.  Until Jamie interrupted their celebration with an enormous yawn.

“Sassenach, dinna think I’ve forgotten that I owe ye an orgasm,” Jamie began.

“You’ve been gone for three weeks, Fraser.  I’d say you owe me quite a few more than that,” she retorted from her spot nestled against his chest which rumbled as he chuckled.

“Fair enough.  But that only makes what I’m about tae ask all the more shocking.  Would ye mind terribly if we simply went tae sleep?  I’m ded on my feet, and I willna make love tae my fiancée fer the first time when I canna serve her properly.”

Claire rose and extended her ring-adorned hand.

“What time do Jamie and Maggie wake up in the morning?” she asked as they ascended the staircase towards the laird’s room.

“Wi’ the lark, the wee heathens.  They’re usually bangin’ on my door by six thirty.”

“I’m setting my alarm for five o’clock,” she advised as they slid into the four-poster bed, meeting with a sigh in the middle.

“I admire yer strategic thinkin’, Sassenach.  Wi’ preparedness like that, ye’ll make a braw doctor.”

Their bodies banished the air between them, two elements that yearned for each other at some molecular level.

“Sassenach?” Jamie mumbled when she thought he had already dozed off.

“Mmmm?”

“Waz’a Brazilian butt lift?”

A half-hearted kick to his shins was her answer.

“Ne’er mind,” he sighed as both hands drifted down to grasp her arse.  “Canna improve on perfection.”

And with that, he fell asleep.

[thefrogdalorian]

Hi, Spud!! Firstly, I would like to thank you for your amazing stories, they really help me get through tough times and always brighten my day!! 🥰 I love the way you write, every time I read your stories featuring Din I can literally feel his comforting presence through words and through the way that you describe everything in small details that make up a beautiful and heartwarming story. I think you’re very talented and such an interesting person to get to know better!! I’d really love to 🥺

If you don’t mind, can you answer 4, 13, 11, 22 (What’s your favorite drink??), 27, 28 (What’s your favorite music genre? Perhaps you have a favorite artist?) (it was really hard to choose, I wanted to ask you every one of these questions and more!). How did you get into writing??

Thank you for answering them and absolutely no pressure at all, you can choose the most comfortable ones!!!

Hello friend! Wow, what a lovely message to receive, thanks so much for taking the time to write and send this to me. You made my entire day 🥺

I'm SO happy that you enjoy my writing and my version of Din brings you comfort aaah. That means the world to me and messages like yours are why I love writing so much. To know that something you create means something to another person means the world.

Anyway, gonna answer your questions underneath the cut since you sent quite a few! It means a lot to know that you'd like to get to know me better. I am just a Din Djarin loving loser with an internet connection and far too much time on my hands but it's really nice to hear that you'd like to get to know me better!

4. mythical creature you think/believe is real?

I've got to go with Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster. I believe in my heart she is. I remember seeing a film when I was a kid about her being real and idk she seems friend-shaped even if she'd probably rip my head off without a second thought.

11. anything from your childhood you've held onto?

Trauma Nooo seriously: physically I think a lot of books and a fridge magnet collection I started back then. But intangibly: my love for Star Wars, playing musical instruments and a passion for writing and reading that have never truly left, even if they were dormant for a few years while I was at University.

13. first thing you're doing in the purge?

Too much of a coward to do anything really bad or violent, so I'd drive myself (well I don't have my license yet so that would already be one crime... but I think I could manage it hahah) to the nearest toy shop and clean it out of Lego. It's so expensive and there are so many nice sets I'll never own so that would solve that problem.

22. do you have an emotional support water bottle? (and my fave drink)

I do! It's actually a Mando one hahah it's this one I got from Primark and I love it. As for fave drink: it is 100% iced coffee. I don't drink alcohol anymore but tbh I haven't saved that much money since I gave up because of my slight iced coffee addiction.

27. what's your favorite or go-to outfit?

I definitely chose comfort over style. Usually just dress in jeans and a nerdy t-shirt with a comfortable sweater or hoodie on top. And always a pair of Dr. Martens! Comfiest shoes ever when you get past the blisters. I've never been one for fashion really but as long as colours don't clash, I don't care!

28. last meal on earth?

Ooh good question! So, so many foods I love but if I had to pick the last thing i could ever eat, I'd definitely go for a Korean barbecue. Such a good meal and the whole experience with a group of friends is the best.

What’s your favorite music genre? Perhaps you have a favorite artist?

Honestly the basic answer but I'll listen to pretty much anything. My top genres according to spotify wrapped last year were: pop, rock, modern rock, pov: indie (what) and soft rock so make of that what you will! My top artist was Taylor Swift last year and I love her but I have so many other artists I adore too! The other top 5 were blink-182, Lana Del Rey, Coldplay and The 1975 so that gives you some idea of what I'm into hehe. I'm so bad at describing my own music taste but it's sort of middle-aged dad core (also love Arcade Fire, The Stone Roses, Fleetwood Mac and Queen) plus Taylor Swift and Lana. AND 80s CHEESE LIKE ABBA!! Can't forget the cheese.

How did you get into writing??

I've always loved writing and done little bits here and there, but never had much confidence in myself until I did NaNoWriMo for the first time in 2020. I've completed it three times since then but it was really a combination of watching Mando s3 again and reading a book called Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell which I picked up for cheap in a charity shop last summer that made me think.... hey I could write fanfiction! And here we are! I love doing it. It's done so much good for my mental health and allowed me to chat to so many lovely people like you! I'm very grateful to have discovered writing when I did. Not sure where I'd be without it tbh!

Thanks again for all your questions, hope that helped you to get to know me a little better! If you feel like you want to, I'm more than happy for you to message me privately and chat too. But equally no pressure, thanks for your message and I hope we'll speak again!

Ask game

[fangirl-of-way-too-many-fandoms]

Alright. So.

My today's agenda is:

bring some justice to Wen's actions.

I'm talking about the speculations abt him cheating on Alan that I see on my timeline/dashboard.

Let's goooooo.

Almost every post I see abt this topic mentions that Wen is actually-basically-as-it-turns-out cheating on Alan. And I'm here, at your service, to argue with that. I even have a few facts that will (hopefully) prove my point. Some are more solid, some are not so much, but anyhow.

Fact #1:

the overall feel of the condo/apartment when Wen comes back.

What I mean is that it feels empty, lonely and cold. Of course the colour palette chosen for this scene plays a huge, dare I say gigantic, role in our perception of this place and the vibe of Wen's "home". It highlights calm and cold tones of blue that are generally associated w/ loneliness and sadness.

Look at the tones and colors of that scene. They are pale, dark, kinda hostile and unwelcoming. It doesn't feel like "home", it doesn't have that signature warmth to it that every "Home" has.

And to highlight that feeling of emptiness, we're shown a few shots of a previous night. Which, despite all the 'no complications and deeper connections' thing, still feels warm and full of emotions and feelings. The contrast is literally palpable.

AND. If we can see it and feel it - all of those hints at the atmosphere at Wen's 'home' - than it was probably the intention of the creators. They purposefully created such an atmosphere so that we can get the gist of the state in which Wen's private life is at the moment. And this gist would be that he is lonely. His loneliness is actually appears to be so intense, like you can almost feel it yourself.

Side note: the more I think abt it, the more it seems like he didn't even want to come back. Like he was really reluctant to leave Jim and this little corner of comfort he unintentionally found

This leads us up to fact #2:

the feel of Wen's relationship with Alan.

It seem cold. Again. It seems to be void of affection that is usually more or less palpable in romantic relationships. The main tell-tale of that fact would be the note Alan left. It looked really office-ish. Like the note that you usually leave for your co-worker whom you're not really close with. It's 'strictly business', straight and plain.

When you leave a note for someone close to you, you usually draw some little cute doodles on it or maybe a smiley face or use a pet name/nickname of a person or write some small 'addition' to it like: "The leftovers from dinner are in the fridge. Microwave them and eat"/"I'll be back by 7. Lets have chinese takeout today"/etc. You get the idea. You do it to make the note more personal, to make a person smile, to give the note a warm feel and fill it with emotion. There was none of it.

So. Summarizing these two thoughts leads us to the conclusion that the relationship between Wen and Alan is at the VERY LEAST became cold and devoid of affection and any romantic feels. OR, maybe it even ended for good. And they live with each other for God knows for what reason, the main point of said reason being the lack of another/better option at the moment.

Now. With the speculations and ambiguous vibes of that scene - which everyone may interpret however they want - out of the way we can move on to more solid fact #3:

TAGS at MyDramaList

I'm talking about "Ex-boyfriend comes back" one specifically. Now, I know that we can't trust everything that's written and that we see on the Internet.. BUT mdl so far has been pretty accurate (at least in my experience of using it) with the info it provides. So I don't see why we can't trust this tag.

And by using some logic we can deduct that this mysterious 'ex-boyfriend' will probably be Wen's. And as such, it'll probably be Alan. Since it's mini-series that tend to be not really complicated, so we probably won't be getting any new characters who theoretically speaking can turn out to be someone's ex.

Summing this monstrosity of a post (which was supposed to be a short 3-point list of facts) up I'd like to justify my precious boy Wen's actions and state that he is not cheating per say. Like, personally I'm convinced that he and Alan broke up, so there is no cheating when there is no relationship. But if they haven't like 'officially' broke up - like haven't said it out loud that they are no longer in a relationship - but still there are no more feelings between them anymore, then I still don't really consider it cheating. 'Cus, like, you have no feelings anymore towards this person. Should you talk and break up? Yes. Are you a dummy for not addressing this issue first and jumping into some strangers' bed? Also yes. Can you be blamed and called 'cheater' if you have no feelings anymore? No. And I stand by it.

This turned out to be way longer than I anticipated lol. Sorry not sorry.

If someone will make it through all my ramblings and find them somewhat coherent - thank you. If you also have some thoughts on this, quite controversial, topic - I'm open to a discussion.

[pacificgasandelectric]

one thing i really like about dreamwidth over tumblr is that it’s so much easier to socially interact with other people without feeling like i’m being invasive

on tumblr, it’s pretty much taken for granted that adding a comment to someone’s post is the internet equivalent of walking into their house and shouting “here’s what i think!”. it’s not inherently an annoying behavior, but if you’re gonna do it to someone you don’t already know well, you’d better have something really funny (or useful, or important) to say

replies are less invasive (but only by a Little) because they’re not As public, but they’re still very much “hello let me Share My Thoughts on Your Post” and also have a Very Small character limit, so they’re not the best place to discuss anything complicated or get to know people

tags don’t count as “social” interaction imo because they’re pretty much unidirectional (from tagger > person they reblogged from and tagger > op, and never the other way around, bc of How Tags Work) and also bc there’s a General Social Understanding that tags are for “private” commentary, inasmuch as you don’t typically respond to someone else’s tags in replies or comments unless they ask a specific question to which you have the answer, and if you reply to their tags in your tags then they’ll probably Notice and Feel Appreciated but there’s not exactly a convenient way for them to respond to you about it, and imo this one-sided quality of tags-as-interaction influences the way tags are typically written

and DMs are fine; they don’t technically have a low character limit but in practice, the size of the messages that people send is limited by the size of the messaging interface; it’s just not designed to be a good place to have long, discursive conversations. (it’s designed for sending memes. a noble cause, but again, not the most effective way to form meaningful social relationships, in my experience.) also they’re limited to 2 participants, and Also also my personal read on the “invasiveness” of DMs is that they’re kind of like walking into someone’s house and like, sticking a note on the fridge, which isn’t super annoying in and of itself but could definitely start to feel weird if someone you don’t know well does it a lot.

anyways, so this is my List Of Reasons Why I Don’t Feel Particularly Comfortable Socially Interacting In-Depth With People I Don’t Know Well On Tumblr

COMAPARATIVELY, on dreamwidth, the culture is much more permissive (& even inviting!) of people showing up on a random post that a relative stranger made and being like “hey i have Thoughts on this too”, and the formatting of comments allows for in-depth discussions to occur (if people want to do that) with Multiple Participants even, and Without anyone feeling like they’ve barged into someone else’s bedroom uninvited, because if the poster didn’t want comments, they have Several privacy tools available to make sure that only the people they feel comfortable doing so can see or comment on the post

basically i wish more people would get on dreamwidth because it’s so much more of a community-oriented space than tumblr is, simply due to differences in the architecture.

and this isn’t to say that I don’t like tumblr, (i do, i’m here all the time, lol), just that it’s difficult to form genuine connections and friendships in fandom on this website for me, and therefore i’m marching for my cause of “everybody get on dreamwidth” sharing some thoughts on Why this is and also noting the ways that dreamwidth makes those “issues” a non-issue on their platform, which is why Everybody Should Consider Getting On Dreamwidth.

[super-lad]

i'm reading a wired article about how in 2016 three teens sometimes running shitty DSL connections got so good at hacking they knocked several big sites (amazon, twitter, facebook, etc.) off the internet for a few hours and were subsequently hired by the fbi. article highlights include:

the apparently high stakes world of amateur hackers where kids and teens take down random sites and each other's routers for skill improvement, petty revenge, or by typical internet fashion: for the shits and giggles. sometimes, they'll SWAT each other if they're mad enough. it's like lord of the flies in there.

these teens having personal problems IRL and sublimating their feelings of powerlessness into an almost god complex with deciding when servers gets to live or die

one guy bombarded his school's router with so much data that it fried from overheating

one target's router had a dynamic IP that would constantly change so they instead targeted the town they lived in and took down all the networks feeding data to that area. collective punishment y'all, they were monsters

exhibit a for why you don't need an app for your fridge. someone can infect it with zombie scripts to send DDOS attacks with 650,000+ other dumb IoT devices ad hoc to throw a terabit (1 TRILLION BITS) per second at whatever they wanted. do you know what your average computer's bandwidth is? maybe 10~ megabits if ur connection is really good.

starting a business to protect Minecraft servers from DDOS attacks and running DDOS attacks on their own prospective customers to unknowingly convince them to use their protection services. that is like a twisted form of vertical integration

there's so much more with how big and uncontrollable their hacking program got

oh and they didn't even get prison time for unleashing the biggest DDOS tool ever that brought multiple big-name websites down over years because they *checks notes* helped the fbi arrest other cybercriminals they knew and taught them their cool hacking tricks over the span of five years to deal with derivative programs of their original hacking tool! they were like in their early twenties at this point come sentencing time. ummmmm. wtf. white privilege is truly fucking real lmao.

recommend reading this. it's really a cautionary tale as to why you don't need IoT devices. your lightbulb doesn't need to be connected to the internet lol. and the reason they even caught the guys was because they received user metadata from google on a burner email address and matched IPs with their business email. that's why you should seriously consider how much of your personal data goes into service provider's blackboxes.

[techminds256]

How to Create a New Post in WordPress

Ever thought about diving into the blogging world or perhaps managing a website? Chances are, you've heard of WordPress. But how exactly does one go about creating a new post in WordPress? Let's dive in!

Create a New Post in WordPress: Image By Christopher Kidobi What is WordPress? WordPress is a popular content management system (CMS) that allows users to build and manage their websites with ease. It's like the Swiss army knife of the web world - versatile, efficient, and user-friendly. Originally built for bloggers, WordPress now powers nearly 40% of all websites globally. Why use WordPress? If you're asking this question, here's a quick analogy. Imagine building a house. WordPress is like the foundation and the basic structure, and from there, you get to design and decorate it any way you wish. It's user-friendly, flexible, and with its vast array of plugins and themes, there's almost nothing you can't do.

The WordPress Dashboard

The WordPress Dashboard: Image By Christopher Kidobi Exploring the Dashboard Once you're logged into your WordPress site, you'll be greeted by the Dashboard. Think of it as the control center of your website. From here, you can navigate to different sections, manage content, and customize your site. Key Features of the Dashboard - Posts: This is where the magic happens! You can create, edit, or delete articles here. - Media: Store images, videos, and audio clips. - Pages: Manage static pages like 'About Us' or 'Contact.' - Comments: Engage with your audience by managing and replying to comments.

Step-by-Step Guide: Creating a Post

Step 1: Accessing the Editor On the left side panel of the Dashboard, click on 'Posts' and then 'Add New'. Ready to pour out those thoughts? Step 2: Writing the Post At the top, you'll see a space for your post title. Below that, a larger area awaits the body of your content. Write as you speak – isn't that the most genuine way to communicate? Step 3: Adding Media Want to add some flair? Click on the 'Add Media' button to insert images or videos. A picture's worth a thousand words, right?

Step 4: Categorizing & Tagging Group your post into a category or add tags. Think of categories as the table of contents and tags as the index in a book.

Step 5: Preview & Publish Always preview before publishing. When satisfied, hit that 'Publish' button. Congrats, you've just added a new post!

Tips for Optimizing Your Post

SEO Best Practices Make your post search-engine friendly by using keywords naturally, adding meta descriptions, and using quality links. Engaging Content Creation Remember the golden rule: content is king. Write for your audience. Ask yourself, would I read this? Using Plugins There are numerous plugins to enhance your post's functionality. From SEO to social sharing, there's a plugin for almost everything. Using Themes Themes dictate how your post looks. Choose one that aligns with your brand and message. Why It Matters Being able to create a post on WordPress is more than just putting words online; it's about sharing, connecting, and engaging. By mastering this, you open doors to vast opportunities in the digital world. Also Read: How to Customize your WordPress site’s appearance?

Futures:

- Artificial Intelligence Integration: We're heading towards a future where artificial intelligence (AI) will be seamlessly integrated into our daily tasks. Whether it's through chatbots in customer service or AI-driven diagnostic tools in healthcare, the applications are vast. - Virtual Reality (VR) & Augmented Reality (AR): Immersive experiences will become commonplace. Virtual tours, AR-based education, and interactive gaming are just the tip of the iceberg. - Internet of Things (IoT): The day isn't far when your fridge might notify you about low milk supplies or your car schedules its own service appointment. - Quantum Computing: As we approach the limits of classical computing, quantum computing will redefine problem-solving capacities, making previously impossible tasks achievable. - Green Technologies: As the world grapples with climate change, the future will see a surge in clean and sustainable technologies. Also Read: How to install Plugins in your WordPress site?

Benefits:

- Efficiency & Productivity: Automation and AI-driven tools will enhance productivity in various sectors, reducing manual labor and errors. - Personalized Experiences: Technologies like AI and machine learning will offer personalized user experiences, be it in shopping, entertainment, or education. - Global Connectivity: Advanced communication tools will bring the world closer, making it easier to connect, collaborate, and share knowledge. - Empowering Creativity: With tools like AR and VR, artists, educators, and creators will have new mediums to express their ideas and stories. - Sustainable Living: With the rise of green technologies, we will move towards a more sustainable and eco-friendly lifestyle. Also Read: What Are WordPress Plugins? FAQs - Is WordPress free? - Yes, the basic version of WordPress is free. However, there are premium themes and plugins that may come at a cost. - How often should I update my posts? - Regularly! Search engines love fresh content. Plus, keeping your posts up-to-date ensures accuracy for your readers. - Can I schedule posts in WordPress? - Absolutely. Instead of 'Publish', click 'Schedule' and choose a date and time. - How can I improve the speed of my WordPress site? - Optimize images, use caching plugins, and consider a reliable hosting provider. - Is WordPress mobile-friendly? - WordPress themes are typically responsive, meaning they adjust to different screen sizes, including mobiles. Read the full article

[hebescustea]

My Ghost Roomie AU

An SVSSS Modern AU where a young aspiring writer with a pen name called Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky acquired a new apartment that has been warned to be haunted. He does not care for this since it's a big enough apartment with a strong internet connection and within budget from his small earnings as a writer. At first, he heeds the warnings and might have noticed a moving chair or a chill down his spine, but ultimately he's too broke to care. Until one day,

when he gets up from his seat to get himself some snacks from the fridge, he returns to a person with their eyes glued to his desktop's screen. 'I should really fix my sleep schedule. I'm starting to see things,' he thought.

He tried to blink it away - still there, even stepping out of the room for a second only to come back with the same picture. A dude with glasses, a plain shirt, pajamas, arms, and legs crossed with a scowl seemed fixated on the screen.

Besides the fact that there's just a whole dude in his apartment, he also appears to be… floating?

He thought to call the police or shout for help, but he's half sleep-deprived to think logically and half thinking is this real? Is this all real?

"Hello?" he asks. The ghost finally broke his stance with the screen and looked at Airplane, "Why is it just porn? Where is the plot?" He remarks.

"What?" he asks again,

"The first chapters were exceptional and promising, but we are almost ending the story, and there are still plot holes?"

Taken aback by this sudden criticism of his work, Airplane has always thought that critics are just people that have the power to cower behind their screens, therefore brave enough to post their arguments online. He never thought someone would actually say these words to his face. He thought people wanted to save their smug faces from consequences --- well, given that this 'person' is -

"A ghost," he finally exclaimed, "You're dead right and not just some fan or anti that just doxxed me to say these things to my face?"

"Dude, look at me," the ghost gestured, "I'm literally floating."

"I see that," he mumbles, "so you're the ghost that haunts this apartm - " 

"Before you interrogate me, can you explain why you haven't filled the plot holes yet," the ghost pointed at the screen. 

"Well, not that I need to explain to you about my writing process," he furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms in defense, "but ultimately, no one really cares about the plot, bro, I tried making one, but it made people bored," Airplane explained. 

"So you threw out your integrity as a writer and just wrote papapa scenes?" 

Airplane gasped, 'The audacity of a dead man!'

"Oi, it's still good! At least the main story is wrapped, and the 'plot holes,'" he air quoted, "Can just be something the audience can ponder. Give them a sense of freedom on how things will go," he smugly replied.

The ghost raised his eyebrow, unconvinced by this guy that seemed to be the type that squeaks like a hamster, "Sure, let's say that." The ghost looked back at the screen.

An awkward pause on the apparent sarcasm of this ghost, Airplane cleared his throat and asked again. "So you're the ghost that haunts this apartment, right? Did you die here?" he asked.

"I did"

"And?"

The ghost looked at Airplane again. "And? I died here and then became a ghost. What more do you want?"

"Like how did you die, did you become a ghost because of unfinished business, was this your home, what's your name, why did you kick out the previous tenants, how long have you been reading my work, why haven't you tried to possess or kill me, why did you show yourself to me, how old are you, when did you die –" 

"Fucking hell shut up," he rudely interrupted. "I'll only answer what I know." 

"Okay, go on." 

The ghost sighs, "Yes, this was my home. I didn't like how people stayed here when I'm still living here." 

'Living lol' 

"I did bother you for the first few days, but you didn't seem to care and only focused on the screen, so I was curious to see. I don't know how you can see me, but I guess that's that."

"Huh," Airplane remarked, "that's all you know? Not even your name?"

"Ah, my name's Shen Yuan."

"Airplane," he reciprocated.

"Airplane? You want me to call you by your pen name?"

"Yeah, I mean, no offense, bro, but you're a ghost, and I don't know," he starts waving his arms around as he explains, "You might need my name to do ghost things like possessing me and stealing my body or something."

He stared at the man with a confused look, "Your story has rotten your judgment of ghosts," Shen Yuan noted.

Airplane laughs, "But anyway, does that mean you're my roomie? I never had a ghost for a roommate." 

"There's a first for everyone,” he shrugged.

So it seems, a first of many.

[inkskinned]

When the honey showed up, we all just took it inside. That was one of the things about it - it was always a little warm, always in the same simple jar and the nice plaid bow. Handmade-like. Most of us put it in our pantries or in the back of our cabinets, some put it in the fridge. we just thought to ourselves: gee, what a wonderful present.

I don’t know how long it took before we all had one. For a while, the most that would happen was two-minute feel-good op ed pieces in local newspapers. People would run little letters to the editor to find out the “culprit”. Sometimes there were faux-serious “investigations” when that parent freaked out about the possibility of drugs in honey. Most of the time, it ended quickly. After all, it was a nice gift from a neighbor, and it was yours. that was another thing. A house could be 122 people, and we’d all find our own jar on the doorstep, one at a time. we would know when it was ours and when it wasn’t, no matter how alike they looked. nobody ate it, at first. It was yours, and you wouldn’t eat it, and you couldn’t eat another person’s. it just wasn’t done. and the thing is - in that imaginary house, of 122 people? we’d all buy other honey. it was both there and took up space - but none of us thought of it as actually existing. we’d put down our storebought honey right next to it and think - why did i buy another? i’ve wanted to try this one for a while. and then the thought would simply be out of our head, because this is our third bag of baby carrots we have bought to let spoil again.

it was that one person who mentioned it on youtube. actually i think it was a vimeo “urban legends” series. some person with 6 followers who deleted like instantly. but then 6 people said something similar: everyone they knew had this one specific honey story. and then 12. and then all of a sudden we all woke up to “#honeyonthedoorstep” globally trending. we all posted our pictures of our honey and called each other liars and got into discourse fights with vegans and people without a sweet tooth. In 24 hours, it was running the media. 9-at-night serious news anchors leaned over to each other and said “now john, did you hear about this?” and despite their disbelief, they’d admit: i got the honey too. I think somewhere in march. maybe around the 5th. but i never ate it or thought anything of it. i just thought - what a nice gift. 

By the end of the week, there were YouTube challenges and instagram memes and a netflix miniseries in the works. Lots of people tried to eat their honey, and most who “succeeded” were deemed a hoax - but truth be told? it’s not good tv to watch someone pick up honey and say “actually it’s not ready” or something similar and just decide to go do something else. i tried once, winedrunk and thinking i could be famous because it’s just honey. and i remember thinking that exact thing - it’s not ready. i realized i needed to go do dishes, this was stupid and kind of cringey. 

and people freaked out, of course. outside of the jokes were parents who were asking if their children would get a jar one day, if this was a one-time thing. there were so many conspiracy theories the government finally had to say something (not that any of us were actually listening), there were massive hunts to find “the team of honey dispatchers”, there were plenty of false confessions, there were rallies to destroy the things. i don’t know if anyone actually did, because in the end? it was just a jar of honey, and it was yours, and it would be a shame to throw it at the floor just because the internet told you so. I moved three times that year - grad school, job, other better job. i always took mine with me. it wasn’t a real choice, it was just... like taking a plate that belonged to your grandmother, or carrying a song stuck in your head. it was just something that was going to come with, but it bore no special attention. and then back into the pantry it went.

two weeks later? we all just... moved on from talking about honey. it was in some memes, it was in BuzzFeed’s “top 5 weirdest stories (that are actually true)”, it was going to be the central plot of books and horror movies. but it wasn’t interesting, not really, anymore. it was like saying “all people need food”. it was just true, and not really changing. every consecutive conspiracy video got less likes, and by the end of the year, it was old enough to be a staple in bad stand-up comedy and in coming-of-age children’s shows.

nobody believed the first ones who ate it. the most traction that those posts got were from friends and family who barely remembered the whole fad. we all just figured it was a weird annual resurgence kind of thing. 

but then people were definitely, absolutely, 100% eating their honey. i think i heard about one of my coworkers first. i didn’t know her; she was in another department. she told everyone it was very similar to “normal” honey. just a little tarter than she’d expected.

twitter was in an uproar. the honey was sweet to some. spicy to others. horrible, bitter, like a thousand stingers. it was perfect, it tasted like summer. most people said: it’s just honey, and absolutely regular.

those of us who weren’t ready were biting our fingernails for a while, going to our pantries, wondering - what the fuck do i mean it’s not ready? but it wasn’t ready.  

like i said, it’s warm, always. But you just... know. one day you realize you really want honey on toast. or honey on tea, honey on a banana, just... honey. i remember opening it, but it didn’t feel like any more interesting than going to the cabinet for honey ever feels. i pour mine, usually, skipping a spoon because i’m usually too lazy. i was already in the middle of my meal before i realized - this is the honey. it’s not just a normal breakfast, it’s the breakfast, holy shit. 

mine is just, you know. honey. it has a little hint of spice and sweet to it, which i actually quite like. it reminds me of this red pepper jelly my family used to get, and it makes me happy. but in the end? it’s honey. i don’t feel like i’m connected to a seventh realm. it’s good on oatmeal and bad in coffee no matter what some of you will tell me.

it’s just, you know. once you get your jar, and it’s ready, you have a little honey roughly every 24ish hours. it’s nothing absurd. it’s just honey, i mean - it’s like saying “you’re alive, so at some point, you should probably eat.” Most of us, it hasn’t really changed our schedules. it doesn’t seem to ever run out, which is good, because we’re always forgetting to check to see if we need more before we go shopping. for most of us? you don’t die if you miss a few days, even a few weeks, you don’t go crazy trying to get it back. sure, there’s weirdass cultists who worship it, but most of us just seem to think - it’s nice to have, and it’s okay to want this thing.

now, there’s some stuff out there, you know, about what it all “means”. and honestly, we all notice things. i’m not the only one who has seen that good people tend to think their honey tastes good and eat it normally. bad people tend to eat their honey frequently but hate every second of the eating. there are plenty who will snort and say “i’m a good person and i think it tastes like dirt” and plenty who will say “i’m a shit person and i think it tastes like the summer i finally kissed her”. and i don’t know, not the way i knew if it was ready, but it feels like a simple thing amidst all the messy. and it’s probably helpful that i think mine is, like most people’s, just a nice in-the-middle. i mean, the other day i heard it asked like a star sign - what’s your honey like?

there’s this one thing, though, you know. i choose to believe, because it might make me secretly happy. it’s like believing in nessie. i know realistically it’s probably just hearsay. but there’s this underground rumbling that, over time, the honey changes. just a little, every day, unnoticeable to most of us who go to work and do our best by others but still sometimes steal toilet paper. there’s these stories of people who made it rich by selling out their friends, who stole patents, who argue that others should charge for insulin - that they liked the honey, at first, but over time, it’s gone rotten. and similarly, every so often, there’s these stories of people who were normal “regular” honey people, who helped someone out of the bottom. who chose to be just a little bit better than they were the day before. who had moments of decisive kindness that changed them. they all say the same thing: since then, the honey has been amazing, and they work to keep it that way. 

my grandmother and my mother were never surprised. they have this saying about bees and their secrets. my mother said to me: we have always had these tiny angels. they’re just giving us each a taste of the world we are making.

my grandmother later tells me, while watering the flowers, almost the exact same thing: they will haunt us when they go, because they keep books in their combs. and they see us giants, and no matter who we lie to? the world of bees will know.

[superhero--imagines]

A/N: I don’t know man, we got a smart fridge and it went to my head, might make this a series idk

Also- if you like my writing please fill out the interest form here, I want to make an x reader zine for haikyuu and want to see if there is any interest for it!

“Ah don’t like it,” Osamu clicks his tongue, his dark eyes creased into a glare. “Ah don’t like it at all.”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter as you get a good look at the object of Osamu’s disdain.

In front of you, it all it’s glory, stands the french style, four door, customizable bottom right compartment, craft ice, Samsung smart fridge. The glossy surface of the led screen, still covered in the protective plastic, stares back at both of you.

“If you didn’t like it you should have said something.” You shrug.

“Ah did say something” His gaze softens when it sweeps to you, but his mouth remains in the firm straight line. You would tell him to be careful, his face could get stuck like that after all, and then who would greet customers at Onigiri Miya? But you get the feeling Osamu doesn’t want to hear that right now.

“You should have said something louder” Your fingers twitch to the corner of the screen, fidgeting with the plastic, and Osamu sighs.

“How much did this thing set ya back?” His thick index and forefinger rub at his temple, eyes warily watching you set up the fridge and connect it to your wireless Internet.

“A little more than ‘not much’” you admit. Even without the smart appliance upgrade, it was a pretty pricy purchase, since the total for the upgrade was only slightly more, you didn’t see the harm in treating yourself to a nice piece of technology.

Well, not until now at least.

“Is it too late to return it?” Osamu asks, and you feel the skin on your forebears stretch as your eyebrow quirks up.

“Why? Are you in the mood to destroy our credit and end our financial lives before they even really begin?” Osamu cracks a smile at your sarcastic comment and you feel the tightness in your chest relax a little.

So he’s not completely beside himself with rage.

“I thought you of all people would appreciate this.” And it’s true, you did think he’d be beside himself needing out about what a culinary advancement this fridge would be. You should have known better considering the quality of the appliances at Onigiri Miya you suppose.

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise into his hairline, the corner of his mouth lilting into a smirk. “Why’s that?”

He’s only humoring you, you know that. But despite it, you can’t seem to let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

“Well, the fridge does everything, it makes three different kinds of ice, including the big spheres you get at bars, you can turn the bottom right compartment into a freezer, and best of all the fridge takes care of everything, see-“ you point to the led screen which has a recipe for inari onigiri on it. “It can even tell what’s in your fridge and recommend what to make for meals”

Really, it’s pretty incredible, it even connects to your doorbell so you can see if someone’s there with a package, or just another telemarketer that you can avoid. You’re starting to think your refrigerator might be even smarter than you.

Osamu should love this thing. But he doesn’t. Over the course of your speech, his mouth slowly curled down, until it resumed its previous frown.

“That’s the problem” His eyes are averted, refusing to meet yours as you silently prod for more information. It takes three long seconds for him to realize you’re waiting for him to elaborate, and another three seconds for him to find the courage to admit it out loud.

“It’s just…. If this thing does everything, than what am ah supposed to do” his voice is soft, only slightly louder than a whisper, but you hear him loud and clear. As the silence stretches between you too, so does the color on Osamu’s face. First a light pink, no darker than the palest pink rose, blooming into a deep scarlet.

“Well at least say somethin’” he mumbles, his face hidden behind his hand and bite your lips to keep from laughing.

“I’m sorry, I’m still processing the fact that you’re jealous of a refrigerator”

His gaze swings to you, hand falling away from his face and hanging limply by his side. His mouth opening and closing, only to open again, unable to find the right words.

At the sight, you can’t contain yourself any longer, and laughter bubbles out of you. Softly at first, and then in a rush of gasps and wheezes.

“Oh my god!” You manage between fits of laughter. “Who would have- who would have guessed-“ you pause as another roll of giggles pass your lips, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. “Who would have guessed my six foot tall, Adonis-like, boyfriend is jealous of a household appliance!” You howl with laughter, and Osamu’s blush only darkens, teeth digging into his lip.

“W-well how am ah supposed to feel when ya- when ya bring this machine to come in and steal mah job!” He points an accusatory finger towards the fridge and you laugh even harder.

“Your job?” You screech, slapping the counter with one hand and wiping away the tears from your eyes with the other.

“Yes! I consider taking care of you my job!” He’s still bright red when the words fall past his lips, and when you stop laughing and look at him, finally understanding that this is more than just petty ego, he looks away.

“Oh ‘Samu” you murmur, and he sighs when he feels his hand tugged into both of yours.

“Jus’ wanna be good for ya” he mumbles, burying his face into your hair.

“You are ‘Samu, if you want we don’t have to use the smart features, I can just turn it off” it wasn’t exactly that simple, the panel controlled the temperature after all, but before you can worry too much you feel Osamu shake his head.

“Nah, it’s fine, you’re right it is pretty handy.”

You feel your mouth arch into a grin as you look up at him, his eyes are warm as they gaze at you, those soft pink lips curled into a smile.

“I knew you’d like it”

[iwishicanbeagoodpianist]

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

[sandundersun]

Everyone has a Downside, He isn't Excused

vernon x reader || romance || 1.3K words 

warning: mention of blood

tbh this is not really romance, it’s a short description of hansol’s life

He was probably the weirdest and the toughest man you passed by in life.

He wasn't afraid of any extreme entertainment; haunted house ride, skydiving, any kind of spice, putting water in extremely hot oil, walking as if he owned the hall when he was ten minutes late to class. He gave a little to no fuck about challenges in life. If his parent put him in a sports club on his younger day and he chose to be a long jump athlete, he probably would be good; or you could send him as a shepherd with no internet connection for two months and he would come back with no scratch; it was some strong kind of endurance partnered with adaptivity, or witchcraft.

So, maybe, maybe that's why God gave him a little downside—that could kill him in a colossal amount but on a usual day it was only mildly annoying.

The boy was allergic to mundane things you stumbled upon in everyday life. He was hardly enjoying springtime when the grass became less green and more colorful, as flowers blossom here and there, because the pollen made his eyes itchy; he couldn't eat peanuts, where it came in so many delicious snacks and foods; he loved cat to death, he probably would have a dozen if it wasn't for his busy life, but he was kinda allergic to them. It was comedy.

Plus, this stupid reckless boy, who was brave enough to punch someone in the face for messing up with his sister or friend, constantly had a wound on his lips; not because of chapped lips and sun combo, nor because of the fighting he had once in a while. This boy just felt like, eh, it's a good day to bite my lips until there was blood on it, and he needed to put an ointment, stay calm for a while and, oh hello another good day; a fridging vicious and addictive cycle.

Though—at first—you didn't understand in the littlest bit of why it became a "cycle".

"It's a reflex," he said. "I don't know, I just bite it when I find something cringe or funnily dangerous."

Except, anything his peer group said or did was cringe or funnily dangerous; from talking with a lovey-dovey tone in public like a romance classic novel to coloring someone's eyebrows with red chili paste—his mates was, suffice to say, insane.

The first time his lips got sore after you dated him, he sent you a chat with a crying emoji and an "aw" , followed by a picture of a drop of blood—as a proof because he was like some kind of an indestructible god until now. It was alarming. You saw blood, meaning pain, and you hurriedly jumped out of your bed, going to a store, and knocking on his door.

The sight in front of you was not what you foresaw.

Well, there was someone who was tired and in—a bit of—pain, and the other was the happy healthy one, but he was the fine one. Standing while hugging his orange cat Leo, with a small scar, yet super red; a little lost.

"Oh, hi!" He welcomed you and ushered you to sit on the couch. "I didn't know you'd come."

"Well, I brought you a compress for the scar," you said, "you sent me a pic and I thought it was painful?"

"Yeah, for five seconds, it's fine by now."

That was one of the oddest and funniest excuses you heard in a whole year, and just like that, your effort went to waste—in your defense though, that was also the first time he sent you a crying emoji.

You sighed out loud, meanwhile, in a flash, he gave you a kiss and a hug and the damn cat was trying to keep it civil with you.

"Thank you for the ointment, by the way. I'll keep it for the next one."

"The next?"

"I get this once in a while."

Glad you bought two because once in a while meant 24/7/365.

Dear God, sometimes you wondered, why were you worried for a man that should barely survive the world, but was actually thriving in life? Seriously, if someone hated him, they could just lock him in a greenhouse or sneak up peanut on his meal, and get done—well, he was an awesome person, so perhaps no one disliked him that much, but—you believed some super force magic must be circling around Hansol.

You should just stay put and enjoy the day—like him.

It wasn't easy.

It took time for you to not get panicked every time his lips bled. For the first fifth time, you bought him a new ointment and compressor; by the eleventh, you tried to breathe and mumbled it's fine, it's just a scratch. It was annoying for you too though, worrying for a grown-up man who made biting lips his habit. But after the twentieth, you had let it go. For someone as pretty and as magnificent as him, this one addiction simply served as a reminder that no one is perfect except God.

Well, another downside, you could go with no kissing for days, sometimes a full week if his scar kept reopening.

Not that it mattered that much though.

You can still kiss him on his eyes and nose and cheeks, and he would press his lips in return, on your knuckles and arms and stomach—though not as strong as you. And his love surging through his hands on your arms, whisper in your ear, and everything in him that was all around you.

Anyway, the third time it happened, you slept in his apartment. It was half-healed at the time you arrived and instantly got better.

His olive-colored sofa was soft and fluffy and comfortable, you probably had been there for almost three hours, devouring the melancholic novel in front of you, with five minutes breaks two or three times to get another drink or go to the bathroom. The sun was barely seen on the west when he snuggled up on you, made you—forcefully—put down your book and wrapped your hands around him instead.

"What?"

"Nothing." He buried his head deeper on your chest, voice muffled. "I just miss you."

"I've been sleeping in this apartment for two days," you ruffled his dark brown hair, "what kind of missing?"

He sat up and let out a witty smile, then he brushed your lips with his. "Missing to kiss you."

You laughed at the rare sight of him being so soft and spoiled. Your fingers voyaged to his jaws, thumbs softly brushing the corner of his lips. The rashes weren't as bad as the first time, it had become flat and the color faded into soft pink.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Yep." And he leaned closer to give you another light peck.

"You said it hurts?"

Then another kiss, not quite a peck right now "It does, very faintly."

You pulled yourself and gave a look what are you doing. "Hansol ..."

"Oh, come on. The bit of pain dawns on me after I kiss you, I can't feel it when your lips are on mine. So maybe,"—two kisses, short and sweet—"maybe we can kiss all night long so I don't taste the pain."

And he was gone for the long endless kiss before you could deny any of it. Left hands wrapped your neck, fingers crawling on your back, chest going against each other. You wanted to let go yet wanted his desire too, and in the end, you succumbed.

Well, maybe the aftermath of his habit wasn't that bad.

note: this was supposed to be a short writing under 500 words after my friends talked about Hansol’s constant wounded lips, I thought it was from his allergy, but people said it’s his habit of biting lips lmao. So, I just kept typing and typing describing him and a bit of seventeen dynamic (ofc edited a bit), and end up with 1.3K rambling and a little romance

[digital-corruption]

Haunted by the Past Part 62

“How much longer are they going to be?” Jake asked.

“I don't know, they have a lot to catch up on,” I laughed.

“The internet connection is terrible out here,” Jake groaned.

“They don’t use the boat for the internet,” I rolled my eyes.

“This is so boring!” he whined.

“Yeah, maybe you’re not ready for any international flights just yet,” I smiled.

“But I've heard about the mile high club,” he smirked.

“Not as glamorous as it sounds!” I shook my head. “Those toilets don’t even fit one person!”

“Better than being trapped under your brother’s purview. If we were alone, I’d have no problem finding a way to pass the time,” he grinned, then leant over to whisper what he would be doing if it was just us into my ear.

I blushed and Jake caressed my cheek. He unhooked one side of his mask and leant over to kiss me gently. He pulled away leaving me with a goofy smile.

“Oh so he’s also a Casanova,” Aaron teased as he walked over for the fridge.

“Aaron!” I snapped. Jake slipped his mask back on.

“What, it’s not like you’re sixteen again, inviting what’s his face over as soon as Mom and Dad were out of town!” he rolled his eyes. “Dude, you can keep the mask off. We know who you are. I’ve been throwing darts into your wanted photo for the past few weeks!”

“Is that meant to make him feel better?” I asked snarkily.

“It’s my job as your older brother to give your boyfriend shit whenever possible, you know that. I don’t care how happy he makes you,” Aaron flipped a bottle cap at me and headed back out.

“Ugh, I need another drink,” I sighed and went for the fridge.

“I feel like he was waiting for that,” Jake commented.

“No, he just has a talent for walking in at awkward times,” I popped open my next bottle.

“I’m confused though. Was that meant to be a compliment?” Jake questioned.

“An observation?” I took a sip. “You sure you don’t want any to relax?”

“If I drink, I’ll just be more tempted to ignore our present company,” he smirked.

There was commotion above and the engine started back up. Jake groaned with relief. I couldn't help but giggle. I glanced out the porthole and saw the sun was already setting.

“Do we really need to go home right away?” I asked.

“I don’t care where we go as long as it has internet,” Jake scratched his head. “Although I should be able to reconnect at the docks and we will have to wait at least 30 minutes after Aaron leaves. Why?”

“It'll probably be dark by then,” I sighed. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to go back to the apartment right away,” I swirled my drink around.

“We passed an observatory about halfway here. We could go up and have a look if you wanted,” Jake offered.

“I'd like that,” I smiled.

Jake caressed my cheek then leant forwards to press his head against mine. There was an obnoxious slurping sound from Aaron as he finished his bottle, making his presence known. I rolled my eyes.

“You make it hard to miss you,” I turned to him annoyed.

“Hey, you need me, remember?” he grinned.

“You’re not driving back tonight, are you?” I questioned.

“No, I’m spending the night at Mom and Dad's, like the good child I am,” he teased.

“You can’t tell them,” I sighed.

“That’s not fair on them,” he frowned.

“We don’t know how much of the house has been tapped,” I pointed out.

“I can’t just turn the TV up?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No, that doesn’t work,” Jake interjected.

“It won’t be much longer, ok?” I sympathized.

“Ugh, fine. You know if Mom finds out that I saw you and I neglected to tell her, she’s going to skin me alive,” Aaron shivered with fear.

I laughed, “She would! Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us!”

The boat suddenly jolted as we came into contact with the pier.

“Still got it!” Walter yelled.

I burst out laughing while Aaron groaned and went above deck again.

“You couldn’t park your car in an empty lot without hitting something!” Aaron exclaimed.

“As if you could do better!” Walter jumped around the boat, tying it back up to the pier.

Jake put a hand on my shoulder. I turned to him and he put my mask on for me, then pulled up my hood. His eyes were sad, like he felt bad for making me cover myself again. He held his finger up to remind me that we had to be quiet again.

Aaron came back down the stairs and did a double take when he saw me masked again. His shoulders dropped as he sighed. I stood up and walked over to hug him. He gave me a big bear hug.

“I love you, sis,” he whispered.

I pulled away and nodded. Aaron took a deep breath and reluctantly left. Jake got up and took my hand, pulling me into him for a hug. He held me against his chest as a couple of drops fell. I heard Walter come down the stairs and stop.

“I'll wait above. Whenever you’re ready to go, MC,” Walter spoke quietly and went back above deck.

Jake twisted us a bit so he could turn his laptop and watch the CCTV while he idly rubbed my head through the hood. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him. I spent a while just taking in his calming warmth and scent. Once I felt settled, I turned my head to look at Jake’s laptop.

“We should be in the clear,” he whispered.

I nodded and he kissed my forehead. I looked up into his warm, loving eyes. His thumb brushed my upper cheek, just above the mask. I knew I had to pull away first, he wasn't going to let me go until I was ready. I took a deep breath and pushed away slightly to give Jake space to pack up. He quickly checked on a few things before packing his laptop back into his bag. I grabbed my bag and moved to the stairs. Jake did one last check around the table to make sure nothing was left behind before he followed me up.

Walter was sitting on the bench seat at the top, checking his phone when we emerged.

“Thank you, Wally,” I waved.

“Ah, we managed to make amends so don't worry about it. Look after yourself, MC,” he smiled sincerely. “And you, dark avenger, Aaron’s got me on his quick dial to back him up in kicking your ass should anything happen to her.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh my God, you too... I'll be fine!”

“Just a little reminder,” Walter grinned.

I hopped over onto the pier, shaking my head in disbelief. Jake followed after me. I gave one last look back to Walter as Jake took my hand to head back to the car.

“Everyone keeps threatening me if I don't keep you safe,” Jake sighed.

“Yeah, no pressure or anything,” I laughed.

“Such pointless threats,” he shook his head.

“Yes! Exactly! We're getting through this with a worry!” I cheered.

“That's not what I meant,” he pulled me aside. “If I fail to keep you safe, there won't be anything left for them to inflict punishment on.”

“Jake...,” I frowned. “Don't talk like that.”

“I could never live with myself, MC,” he said solemnly. “I'll do whatever it takes to guarantee your safety. No matter the cost.”

[kimberly-spirits13]

Batsis HC Compilation

1.     Being the Artist/ Sensitive Also Kinda Scary Wayne Daughter HC (lol):

Warnings: Depression and anxiety mentions

·      You were the first biological child of Bruce Wayne

·      Well as far as you knew lol

·      You were younger than Jason, but a few months older than Tim

·      I suspect that if you were in the family business as long as Dick or so you’d have some issues

·      Those would include but not be limited to depression and possible anxiety

·      There would be happy days but it would still go downhill after a few days

·      On the days where it was worst, everyone would pile in for family movie night

·      Secretive person and would probably be quite and sarcastic

·      Since you were living at the manor your entire life, you would’ve lived to see Jason’s death and it really hurt

·      If you were a musician, I suspect that Alfred or Bruce would have walked in on you at the piano or something playing a terribly sad song about it or just emotions and they’d cry

·      Something like the song “Beautiful Scar” by Alicia Moffet (sad one btw like omg)

·      If you were a writer or an artist, just pieces describing everything symbolically

·      Going back to the musician, there is a music room in the manor in my mind so I suspect that there are times where Bruce or one of your older brothers will carry you into your bedroom if they find you asleep

·      You find it hard being a Wayne and all seeing as it’s like everyone around you is fake

·      That led you to hanging alone a lot which concerned Bruce

·      “Y/N, why don’t you go to the party you were invited to? It’s a beautiful day for one.” He said one day finding you reading in your bedroom.

You looked at him solemnly, “All my friends are fake and want me for money and clout.” “I don’t try to go out with them much if I don’t have to.” *Que protective batdad*

·      The library is your home as well as the gardens

·      Now public and patrol is a whole new story

·      Riddler is your favorite villain because he starts good conversations

·      Sometimes the villains have in fact questioned your health to your older brothers

·      Riddler: So, does it concern you that Y/S/H/N seems to openly hate life or is it just me?

Nightwing: We all hate life, she just does a little bit more

Riddler: ...okkayyyyyyy

·      You sometimes make very violent threats on patrol which lead to some interesting conversations in the vans back to jail

·      The paps are literally scared of you

·      You have given the famous Wayne glare but on level 1000, billions of times

·      Very sarcastic answers to some questions

·      When people on the internet come for anyone you love you shut them down asap

_______________________________________________________________________

2.     Being the Business Woman

·      You showed interest in the business for a while but never really total want to take over WE

·      No, you wanted to leave that for Tim

·      The boy deserved it anyways

·      Instead you started taking extra courses in business and such in middle school and worked your way up

·      While you didn’t like galas, you did try and make connections

·      You went to either an Ivy Leauge or Oxford or something

·      Then Wharton

·      After that you were on your way

·      If you already had a business it was booming but now it’s “extra booming”? idk but you get the idea

·      HuGE

·      Bruce was very proud and made that clear in interviews

·      Your company works closely with WE

·      Asking B for advice

·      Paparazzi doubling down on coverage for you since now you’re bigger than ever

·      Hosting you own galas

·      You either have a big house and rooms for everyone or a penthouse with the same situation

_______________________________________________________________________

3.     Being Bruce’s Favorite

·      You have the best relationship with Bruce out of everyone

·      He takes you out on father/ daughter lunch or dinner dates which is pretty fun

·      He would never openly admit that you’re his favorite

·      Taught you to drive

·      If you ever need advice you go straight to him

·      Best birthdays ever

·      You go and visit him at WE and he lets you hang in the office

·      There’s a secret fridge stocked with snacks

·      Dad/ daughter patrol

·      Read you stories as a child

·      Legit might still if you ask

·      You sit in his office to do homework

·      Has come home to you spinning in his office chair

·      Shopping sprees

·      Interviews

·      Very protective on patrol when it comes down to being in a ton of danger

_______________________________________________________________________

4.     Being the Metahuman

·      I’m thinking that you would have gotten your powers from a mission gone wrong

·      It was probably involving magic or something and you were seriously injured

·      I think that it would be fitting to be able to control darkness and things like shadows

·      Everyone was freaked out including you

·      You begged not to be sent away knowing what he thought of metas

·      He promised that he wouldn’t and just had someone over that would help you

·      Lots of tests at first and you kinda just lived in the Batcave for some time just incase

·      After that you changed your costume a bit to fit to the power theme

·      The villains were straight confused

·      “Bats what happened to your kid? Why is she scarier now?” ...”it’s complicated”

·      You know how in Young Justice, Robin had that creepy laugh?

·      It was like that now but then shadows came out of the wall

·      Everyone is pretty sure you made a few street criminals and Black Mask’s goon pee their pants

·      Best Halloween fun on patrol now

·      You scared Joker once

·      The powers do sometimes take a darker turn and you had to learn to control that since it did come from a maliciously used magic

·      “I can smell the fear off of you, clown.” You smiled and walked around him, shadows in the room, darkening your presence.  “Uhhh Batsy, I don’t like this one anymore.”

·      Hanging out with more Metas

·      You and Duke are like best friends

·      Gotta figure it out with someone am I right?

_______________________________________________________________________

5.     Being the Author

·      Your father does have presence everywhere, but you don’t like to think that that is the reason for your success

·      I could imagine you being a true crime or just mystery writer

·      Maybe even fantasy/fiction

·      Jason helps you write them if you ever get stuck

·      All of them go to your book signings and sometimes it’s embarrassing but also funny

·      You love that they support you

·      Care packages from Alfred when you’re on book tours

·      There are typically also some more things tucked inside from everyone

·      Staying up with Timbers

·      Your room is probably really aesthetic just sayin

·      Gardens and library is the beesstttttt

·      Sometimes for books, you take your time on patrol and as a superhero even if you still do it as inspiration

·      Everyone is like HoW Do ThEY COmE uP WiTh ThIS

·      Hehe

·      If you’re moved out I can imagine you have a really cool apartment or house

·      Cozy and open

·      *aesthetic*

·      One time, Damian did a book cover for you and so since he actually wouldn’t let you pay him, you took him on tour with you

·      You helped him make that his side hustle lol

·      Alfred has all of your books in the library

_______________________________________________________________________

Okay so I could NOT sleep last night and was up till 6 doing this, I don’t mind adding onto it and I’ll totally take requests for this. I do hope that you guys liked this.

[killianmesmalls]

On your comments about Jack: ye-es, in the sense that Jack is a character who definitely deserved better than he was treated by the characters. The way Dean especially treats him reflects very badly on Dean, no question. But, speaking as a viewer, I think the perspective needs to shift a little bit.

To me, Jack is Dawn from Buffy, or Scrappy Doo. He’s an (in my opinion) irritating kid who is introduced out of nowhere to be both super vulnerable and super OP, and the jeopardy is centered around him in a way that has nothing to do with his actual character or relationships. He’s mostly around to be cute and to solve or create problems — he never has any firm character arcs or goals of his own, nor any deeper purpose in the meta narrative. In this way, he’s a miss for SPN, which focuses heavily on conflicts as metaphors for real life.

Mary fits so much better in that framework, and introducing her as a developed, flawed person works really well with the narrative. It is easy for us to care about Mary, both as the dead perfect mother on the pedestal and as the flawed, human woman who could not live up to her sons’ expectations. That connection is built into the core of SPN, and was developed over years, even before she was a character. When she was added, she was given depth and nuance organically, and treated as a flawed, complex character rather than as a plot device or a contrivance. She was given a voice and independence, and became a powerful metaphor for developing new understandings of our parents in adulthood, as well as an interesting and well-rounded character. You care that she’s dead, not just because Sam and Dean are sad, but for the loss of her development and the potential she offered. So, in that sense, I think a lot of people were frustrated that she died essentially fridged for a second time, and especially in service of the arc of a weaker character.

And like, you’re right, no one can figure out if Jack is a toddler or a teenager. He’s both and he’s neither, because he’s never anything consistently and his character arc is always “whatever the plot needs it to be.” Every episode is different. Is he Dean’s sunny opportunity to be a parent and make up for his dad’s shitty parenting? Yes! Is he also Dean’s worst failure and a reminder that he has done many horrible things, including to “innocent” children? Yes! Is he Cas’s child? Yes! Is he Dean’s child? Yes! But also, no! Is he Sam’s child? Yes! Is he a lonely teenager who does terrible things? Yes! Is he a totally innocent little lamb who doesn’t get why what he is doing is wrong? Yes! Is he the most powerful being in the universe? Yes! Does he need everyone to take care of him? Yes! Is he just along for the ride? Yes! Is he responsible for his actions? Kinda??? Sometimes??? What is he???

Mary as a character is narratively cohesive and fleshed-out. Jack is a mishmash of confusing whatever’s that all add up to a frustrating plot device with no consistent traits to latch on to. Everything that fans like about him (cute outfits, gender play, well-developed parental bonds with the characters) is fanon. So, yes, the narrative prioritizes Mary. Many fans prioritize Mary, at least enough that Dean’s most heinous acts barely register. To the narrative (not to Cas, which is a totally different situation), Jack is only barely more of a character than Emma Winchester, who Sam killed without uproar seasons earlier. He’s been around longer, but he’s equally not really real.

I debated on responding to this because, to tell the truth, I think we fundamentally disagree on a number of subjects and, as they say, true insanity is arguing with anyone on the internet. However, you spent a lot of time on the above and I feel it's only fair to say my thoughts, even if I don't believe it will sway you any more than what you said changed my opinions.

I'm assuming this was in response to this post regarding how Jack's accidental killing of Mary was treated so severely by the brothers, particularly Dean, because it was Mary and, had it been a random character like the security guard in 13x06, it would have been treated far differently. However, then the argument becomes less about the reaction of the Winchester brothers to this incident and more the value of Jack or Mary to the audience.

I believe we need to first admit that both characters are inherently archetypes—Mary as the Madonna character initially then, later, as a metaphor for how imperfect and truly human our parents are compared to the idol we have as children, and Jack as the overpowered child who is a Jesus allegory by the end. Both have a function within the story to serve the Winchester brothers, through whose lens and with whose biases we are meant to view the show's events. We also need to admit that the writers didn't think more than a season ahead for either character, especially since it wasn't initially supposed to be Mary that came back at the end of season 11 but John, and they only wrote enough for Jack in season 13 to gauge whether or not the audience would want him to continue on or if he needed to be killed off by the end of the season. Now, I know we curate our own experiences online which leads to us being in our own fandom echo chambers, however it is important to note that the character was immediately successful enough with the general audience that, after his first episode or two, he was basically guaranteed a longer future on the show.

I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure why the perspective of how his character is processed by some audience members versus others has any bearing on the argument that he deserved to be treated better overall by the other characters especially when taking their own previous actions in mind. I’m not going to tell you that your opinion is wrong regarding your feelings for Jack. It’s your opinion and you’re entitled to it, it harms no one to have it and express it. My feelings on Jack are clearly very different from your own, but this is really just two different people who processed a fictional person in different ways. I personally believe he has a purpose in the Winchesters’ story, including Castiel’s, as he reflects certain aspects of all of them, gives them a way to explore their own histories through a different perspective, and changes the overall dynamic of Team Free Will from “soldiers in arms” to a family (Misha’s words). In the beginning he allows Sam to work through his past as the “freak” and powerful, dangerous boy wonder destined to bring hell on earth. With Dean, his presence lets Dean work through his issues with John and asks whether he will let history repeat itself or if he’ll work to break the cycle. Regarding Cas, in my opinion he helps the angel reach his “final form” of a father, member of a family, lover and protector of humanity, rebellious son, and the true show of free will. 

From strictly the story, he has several arcs that work within themes explored in Supernatural, such as the argument of nature versus nurture, the question of what we’re willing to give up in order to protect something or someone else and how ends justify the means, and the struggle between feeling helpless and powerless versus the corruptive nature of having too much power and the dangerous lack of a moral compass. His goals are mentioned and on display throughout his stint on the show, ones that are truly relatable to some viewers: the strong desire to belong—the need for family and what you’ll do to find and keep it. 

With Mary, we first need to establish whether the two versions of her were a writing flaw due to the constant change in who was dictating her story and her relationship to the boys, which goes against the idea that her characterization was cohesive and fleshed-out but, rather, put together when needed for convenience, or if they both exist because, as stated above, we are seeing the show primarily through the biased lens of the Winchester brothers and come to face facts about the true Mary as they do. Like I said in my previous post, I don’t dislike Mary and I don’t blame her for her death (either one). However, I do have a hard time seeing her as a more nuanced, fleshed-out character than Jack. True, a lot of her problems are more adult in nature considering she has to struggle with losing her sons’ formative years and meeting them as whole adults she knows almost nothing about, all because of a choice she made before they were born. 

However, her personal struggles being more “mature” in nature (as they center primarily on parental battles) doesn’t necessarily mean her story has layers and Jack’s does not. They are entirely different but sometimes interconnected in a way that adds to both of their arcs, like Mary taking Jack on as an adoptive son which gives her the moments of parenting she lost with Sam and Dean, and Jack having Mary as a parental figure who understands and supports him gives him that sense of belonging he had just been struggling with to the point of running away while he is also given the chance to show “even monsters can do good”. 

I’d also argue that Jack being many ages at once isn’t poor writing so much as a metaphor for how, even if you’re forced to grow up fast, that doesn’t mean you’re a fully equipped adult. I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but I believe Jack simultaneously taking a lot of responsibility and constantly trying to prove to others he’s useful while having childish moments is relatable to some who were forced to play an adult role at a young age. He proves a number of times that he doesn’t need everyone to take care of him, but he also has limited life experience and, as such, will make some mistakes while he’s also being a valuable member of the group. Jack constantly exists on a fine line in multiple respects. Some may see that as a writing flaw but it is who the character was conceived to be: the balance between nature or nurture, between good and evil, between savior and devil. 

Now, I was also frustrated Mary was “fridged” for a second time. It really provided no other purpose than to give the brothers more man pain to further the plot along. However, this can exist while also acknowledging that the way it happened and the subsequent fallout for Jack was also unnecessary and a sign of blatant hypocrisy from Dean, primarily, and Sam. 

And, yes, Jack can be different things at once because, I mean, can’t we all? If Mary can be both the perfect mother and the flawed, independent, distant parent, can’t Jack be the sweet kid who helps his father-figures process their own feelings on fatherhood while also being a lost young-adult forcing them to face their failures? Both characters contain multitudes because, I mean, we all do. 

I can provide articles or posts on Jack’s characterization and popularity along with Mary’s if needed, but for now I think this is a long enough ramble on my thoughts and feelings. I’m happy to discuss more, my messenger is always open for (polite) discussion. Until then, I’m going to leave it at we maybe agree to disagree.