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jeonjk0504 · 3 years

Note

why didn’t you say anything about the racism bts have faced these past days :(

Hey anon!

I actually haven‘t been online here because of the racism debate. I was on twitter and was supporting it there on two accounts nonstop! if you want to follow me, my @ is also jeonjk0504 :)

You are completely right though, i should have spoken up on my platform here sooner, to educate my followers on this really important matter!

If i make mistakes or should word things differently, please let me know, as you can tell i‘m not native.

The short version:

Credits to @ squishykosmos (twt)!

What happened?

3 days ago, the german radio host Matthias Mattuschik from the station Bayern3 spew racist remarks about BTS because of their MTV Unplugged cover of coldplay. He is a fanboy of coldplay and only wanted to introduce their song ‚Fix you‘ but somehow it was necessary to explain to his listeners why it was an utter insult that BTS had an MTV unplugged concert (he called it paradox, because it‘s a boyband) where they were allowed to cover his favorite song. Coldplay allowed the cover by the way and even commented on it positively.

Here are two links from his original rant, translated in english:

https://twitter.com/bts_updates_ger/status/1365211269133971458?s=21 (Part 1)

https://twitter.com/atinystrawbery/status/1365052883771785219?s=21 (Part 2)

As a german i know that to other people our language sounds quite agressive in general, but this is a whole different level. This isn‘t said in a jokingly way, it‘s pure hatred.

He called BTS a virus against which hopefully there will be a vaccine soon, that their cover of coldplay is blasphemy and that they are little pisser who should get a 20-year vacation in North Korea. Considering the rising violence against Asians all over the world because of Covid, his speech is extremely harmful and normalizes hate against Asians apart from the fact that it was racism in it’s purest form. Why the wish for a South Korean Group to have vacation in the North Korean dictatorship is inhumane and racist, i hopefully don‘t have to explain further. He even said, he can‘t be xenophobic, because he drives a korean brand car (which turned out to be japanese). The new ‚i can‘t be racist, i have a black friend‘.

This also hasn‘t been the first time, in 2018 he made an antisemetic comparison between smoker and jews for which he got a little attention, but no consequences.

Furthermore ARMY dug up a picture on his instagram from 2020 with the caption ‚ Is more evidence needed?!?,‘

A short note:

What makes this even more infuriating is that the radio station is regulated by public-law and german citizens are OBLIGATED to pay for it. We literally are forced to pay money to a radio station that broadcasts openly racist slurs! And no, it‘s not allowed. They have policies that explicitly say they are not allowed to discriminate, they have to support diversity and have to be politically and economically independant.

Do they give a fuck? Apparently not really.

Did Bayern3 answer the hashtags and the pressure?

They did, first came a short nonpology where they said that the show, which Matthias Matuschik is broadcasting, is known for his direct and honest opinions and that he could have worded it better. They are sorry if anyone felt insulted, which is excusing the feeling of the fans, but not the act in itself.

After Army answered with the hashtag ‚Racism is not an opinion‘ and various media coverage surfaced, they posted a second ‚apology‘, where they -again- said that they are distancing themselves from what was said and Matthias has always been an avid supporter of refugees so he is very far away from being a racist. (Supporting refugees doesn’t excuse you from saying racist things though.) Matthias stated that he is shocked from the reactions, that he is ‚sorry if people felt what he said was racist‘ and that his family is getting death threats. (which is in no way acceptable of course.) They would review what was said so it doesn‘t happen again.

Here you can read the statements in german and translated in english:

First statement: https://twitter.com/bts_updates_ger/status/1365087239756259330?s=21

Second statement: https://twitter.com/bts_updates_ger/status/1365305564050382849?s=21

This would have probably been the beginning of a conversation, if Matthias wouldn‘t have went to facebook after his second apology to like a supporting post that basically stated that the topic is way overhyped and in the 80s you were allowed to say your opinion without people getting butthurt (this is a short form.) He completely revised his remorse literally the same day after the updated apology and supported a statement that was gaslighting the people who critized him. You can read the facebook post here:

https://twitter.com/traveltomyrm/status/1365321397342461957?s=21

Since then: Nothing. My mom told me yesterday they‘re playing dynamite a lot, i told her to switch the channel.

News Coverage

Thankfully, we got a lot of support from I-ARMY and K-ARMY, otherwise we wouldn‘t have been able to trend the hashtags day and night and kept them in the top categories in germany and worldwide. We also got a lot of support from international media who called out the racism and put them into context in really amazing articles. (Also K-Media and J-Media but i only have screenshots, no links) Here are a few of them:

https://rollingstoneindia.com/xenophobic-german-presenters-comments-about-bts-are-just-the-tip-of-the-racist-iceberg/

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bryanrolli/2021/02/26/bts-were-once-again-the-subject-of-racist-on-air-remarks-and-received-a-pathetic-non-apology/

We even got celebrities like halsey, max, lauv, steve aoki, JJ Ryan, DJ Swivel, Liam McEwan, Zara Larsson, MTV UK, Columbia Records and some more bring attention to the issue and show their support for BTS in the face of racism.

This support was probably the reason why we even got a second ‚apology‘, because guess what? German media ain‘t having it. Since the beginning of our protest, i think i saw 2 articles in total which actually called it racism, various newspapers and online magazines were downplaying it by talking about ‚insults‘ and concentrating on Matthias calling BTS pisser instead of quoting the actual racist remarks he made. We got no TV news whatsoever. So naturally, german locals looking at this protest think that Fans are going on a rampage because their favorite boygroup got insulted.

It has been maddening. The radio station and host have been trying to sit this whole thing out for days, in hope we lose energy over the weekend and it‘s draining to not be heard or taken seriously. For me it‘s still a priviledged perspective, because i don‘t have to bear consequences when this thing is over, one way or another. But for Asians in our country, also some of my friends, this horror in times of covid will continue. The lack of serious German Media coverage has been frustrating and embarrasing to say the least, but also shown again, that the topic gets overshadowed by prejudices against KPop, the fanbase and Asians as part of satirical fun (which it isn‘t).

Why is that?

This is my personal take and not a deep analysis, just my personal observations: Germany might be progressive in a lot of aspects, but they still have deeply ingrained every day racism against asians and they have a huge problem realizing and admitting to that. We don‘t have a lot of asian representation and there is a huge alieniation from asians for a lot of german 50+ (also less, but those are the ones in power mostly). Racism against Asians is not seen enough and people don‘t empathize, partly because they‘re white privileged people who don‘t have to live with certain stigma, partly because they simply don‘t care to educate themselves about minorities in their own country. This ignorance is widespread, if it doesn‘t happen in front of your doorstep, it‘s probably nonexistant. It‘s also not only reserved for Asians, january 2021 we had a talkshow where 5 white german people talked happily about what minorities such as Romani people think as insulting or racist. They did get a lot of backleash because obviously they talk about matters, without letting minorities be part of the discussion, but real consequences? Nope.

I doubt that this protest will get Matthias Matuschik fired (which it should if you are openly racist on a public platform), because the pressure is too low and the radio station has shown with their first statement that they thought it‘s rather funny than problematic. But i don’t know what‘s going to happen. Apart from being an ARMY, i am an adult who condemns racism in any way or form. Why german media chooses to overlook the essence of the debate and makes it a hystercial fanbase issue is beyond me.

If you want to have a look yourself, you can follow German Fanbase accounts, such as @ BTS_UPDATES_GER for updates in german and english.

And at last, here is a thread on how german media reproduces Anti Asian Racism : https://twitter.com/storiesbythuy/status/1366073706817196046?s=21

German Armys are trying to come up with a plan to gain more attention for the topic at the moment, so we‘ll see how things turn out! Please support us if possible!

#bts #bts germany #army against racism

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satoruvt · 4 years

Text

the color of you - gray (1)

HI IT TOOK ME 3 HOURS TO WRITE THIS AND I KNOW THATS LONG BUT I’M SOSOSOSO PROUD OF THIS AND THE ENTIRE SERIES SO PLEASE LIKE IT!!!!

pairing → hawks (keigo takami) x bakery owner!reader

word count → 1608

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → poser by grace vanderwaal and the lights cover of hold on we’re going home by drake!!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

It’s been a rough day already.

You’re late, your pants are still damp even after throwing them in the dryer twice, and there wasn’t even enough cereal for you to have a decent breakfast. The sky is clouded over in gray and normally you like the rain but given that you have to walk to work and because you’re late and your pants are damp and you’re hungry you didn’t even think about getting an umbrella and it’s too late now to go back. Your pace is fast, but you’re not sure you can outrun the darkening clouds.

You reach into your pocket in hopes to at least pass the commute with some music, but all you find is your phone. You remember picking them up as you walked out the door, where the hell are they? You run a hand over both of your back pockets to feel for wires but there’s nothing - could they be in your jacket pocket? They’ve gotta be -

Your train of thought is interrupted when you collide with something head-on.

Dull pain blooms in your nose as it squishes against something - warm, you note - and you feel your body start to lose balance, but a pair of hands steadies you. The realization that you ran into another person hits you and you back up, putting as much distance between you and the person as you can.

“God, wow, I’m so sorry,” you start, but the gloves look familiar. You look up at the person and blink once, twice. “Oh. You’re Hawks.”

You’re fucking mortified.

Hawks offers you an amused smile, taking his hands away from you. “Yeah,” is all he says, and your brain will not shut up, because of course you had to literally run into the Number Two hero on a day that’s already heading downhill. It doesn’t help that you consider yourself a fan, either - nervousness pits in your stomach at the fact.

“Hey, you okay?” Hawks asks, putting a hand on your shoulder. You snap back into reality and nod, vigorous.

“Yeah, um -” oh, you sound stupid, “sorry. You’ve got enough on your plate as a hero, I bet you don’t need random people bumping into you everywhere.”

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “Worse has happened.”

“Yeah?”

You’re expecting some villain horror-story, since you’re sure he has plenty of those. “Yeah. You know how many times KFC’s gotten my order wrong?”

You laugh and it’s genuine, not the unfortunate-small-talk laugh. “Sounds a bit like cannibalism,” you tease, motioning to his wings, and Hawks scoffs playfully.

“You seemed rushed earlier, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

His tone is sarcastic, lighthearted, but he’s right. You nod once, walking past him in a few steps. You turn around, facing him again as you walk backwards.

“See you on TV, hero!”

He turns to wave back at you, smirk on his lips. By the time you get to your bakery you’re twenty minutes late, but you figure you don’t really mind since your mood is better than before. When the rain falls, well after you’ve gotten to work, the sounds of it pattering against the concrete help you dream in monochrome between batches of cookies and cakes.

You sigh when you close the door to your apartment, letting all of your things drop to the floor. You don’t bother to pick them up - minus your phone - as you trudge to your room. Low daylight seeps in through the window, coating your room in pale light.

It doesn’t take long for you to change out of your outfit and into a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable hoodie, and after you do you flop onto your bed with a gentle thump. You turn on your phone, scrolling through social media, letting yourself enjoy a relaxing comedown from a busy day.

You show up on your own timeline on Twitter, and it first you brush it off as something you posted, but then you realize that you definitely didn’t take those pictures.

It’s you, this morning, standing outside with Hawks. The pictures look like they’re taken from across the street, but it’s definitely you. The first one is of Hawks holding onto you after you bumped into each other, and the next few are of each of you laughing and why the hell is this on Twitter? Who took these?

The account that posted them is just an update account, you find - the caption reads “Hawks and an unknown woman in Tokyo today!”; unbiased, simple. The comments are mean, though, a bunch of angry fangirls screaming about how you’re probably a slut and a total bitch. It doesn’t bother you - there’s nothing between you and Hawks to be jeopardized by fifteen-year-olds - so you place a short, direct comment among them: “that’s me lol.”

Within a short time - fifteen minutes while you leave your phone to make yourself a simple dinner - your notifications are blowing up, likes and replies showing up everywhere. The situation itself is minor, it doesn’t affect you, so you simply turn on do not disturb as you shove a forkful of food into your mouth.

That should do it.

The next day is basic - few customers, few employees, it’s no different than any other day. You’re in the kitchen most of the day, making donuts and bread and anything else that a bakery needs. It’s not until closing, when one of your employees tells you they’ve finished cleaning up and they’re about to leave, that you really step outside of the kitchen and into the front of house for more than a few minutes.

You’re throwing away the items in the display window when you hear the bell by the door ring.

You turn to tell whoever’s come in that you’re closed now - though it might be your fault since you forgot to switch the sign over from open to closed - but when you turn around you’re speechless for a moment.

“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” you manage to get out to Hawks. “Much less when I’m perfectly fine and not being terrorized by a villain.”

Hawks chuckles, and you notice another man beside him. He introduces him as his publicist, and you nod, but you can’t help from furrowing your eyebrows because why are the two of them here?

You’re at least ninety percent sure you didn’t ask that out loud, but Hawks’ publicist answers your question without any prompt.

“I’d like you and Hawks to establish a fake relationship.”

The bakery is eerily silent as you try to process what’s just been said, and you blink a few times before licking your lips and speaking. “I’m sorry, um - what?”

You cast a gaze towards Hawks and he sends you a sympathetic look, shrugging as he stands behind his publicist. I can’t help you, his eyes say, and what the hell is going on?

“I really don’t think I’m the right person for this -” you start to say, voice quick, but the publicist cuts you off quickly.

“I disagree, I think you’re the perfect candidate.”

Hawks steps into the conversation as he hoists himself up onto a table, not bothering to sit on one of the chairs. “It’d be easier,” he says, “there are already a bunch of pictures of us all over social media. I know you’ve seen ‘em.”

Ah, right, your brain says. “And you’re okay with this?”

Hawks smiles, unashamed, and you know firsthand now why everyone says he never takes things seriously enough. “Public image is the most important asset a hero can have.”

They’ve got a point about you being a good candidate, and you can’t deny that. The pictures are already on the internet, everyone already knows who you are by now, and it’d be a shock for someone else to suddenly come into the picture after rumors are already floating around. And Hawks is right about public image - whether you’re aiming for the top spot or not, you have to rely on the population to support you.

“If it makes any difference,” the publicist starts, “the publicity would help your business. You started it on your own, right?”

How the hell is he getting this information?

“Yeah,” you say, and you mean to say something more, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. He’s right, you realize, and then, and I need the publicity. Running your own business is no easy feat, and with how little customers you have… “Can I - can I have some time to think about it?”

The publicist hands you a business card with a prompt “please let me know your decision by tonight” before walking out of your bakery like nothing happened. You look at the card, flip it between your fingers gingerly. Hawks gets up from the table.

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I won’t make you do anything,” he says. “But this could help both of us, so I hope you do think about it.”

You nod at him, muttering a “yeah, I will,” before he too walks out of the bakery. The room is silent again, and you put the card in your back pocket as you finish cleaning out the display case. The walk home is quiet, calm, and it’s not until you get there, sitting on the couch, that you look at the card again.

You stare at the number on it, flipping and bending it through your fingers. He said to call him by the end of the night, you still have a few hours before you really have to decide…

You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone to dial the number.

#HAHAHA #IM SO EXCITED!! SO EXCITED!!!#bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #hawks x reader #bnha hawks x reader #hawks bnha x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #x reader #reader insert #imagine

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mcwriting · 4 years

Text

Starstruck (7)

I’m back again and so quickly! Ha! I’m getting soooo close to finishing this but now I’m distracted writing my other series lol.

While writing this I thought a lot about how much Tom actually curses vs. how little I put in andddd it’s pretty disproportional. I mostly just don’t speak like that so it carries over into my writing, but whatever. I’ll stick with it.

Anyways pls enjoy

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: Mostly LA, a little bit of South Korea in this one, but it doesn’t really talk about it

Word Count: 2146

Warnings: Mild language as per usual

Rating: K+

__________________________________

You tore apart your room looking for your favorite swimsuit, an olive green bikini top that accentuated your chest and a pair of black high cut bottoms that lengthened your legs nicely.

It had been a few days since you went and stayed with b/f/n and she now wanted to go to the beach with you. You hadn’t gone out much since due to the paparazzi, who still hung around your house sometimes.

The suit was nowhere to be found, every drawer and cabinet searched high and low.

And then you spotted something in the corner of your eye.

A beach bag slumped over the chair by your desk.

Could it be?

Unless…?

You stepped carefully towards it, dreading opening up the bag and the subsequent memories attached to it. The hurt of what Tom did was still fresh, but better than before.

Neither of you had had contact since his final message to you, which was something you weren’t sure if you were happy, sad, or mad about.

You’d thought about what Caroline had said in the past few nights, losing sleep over her words.

There’s no way I’ve caught feelings for the guy, right?

I mean, sure. He’s handsome, nice accent, great muscles, smells good, dancer, good sense of humor. The list could go on, I guess.

Oh wait. Shit.

Those thoughts flooded your mind as you dumped the contents of the bag onto the carpet, something landing with a heavy thud underneath the swimsuit you’d been searching for.

You peeled away the clothes and things to find a yellow glass bottle, Tom’s stupid unopened cologne now rested on the floor of your room. You stared at it for a few seconds, not knowing what to think.

You’d pretty much forgotten about it since the incident, pushed far from every other thought you’d had since that day.

A buzz suddenly sounded from your phone on the bed, revealing a text from b/f/n saying she was on her way.

Not wanting to run late, you sat the bottle on the desk and ran to the bathroom to change before she arrived.

__________________________________

Photographers followed you and b/f/n at the beach, probably wanting to write a gossip piece about how you were “moving on.” Neither of you cared.

Instead, you both actively posed for the cameras for a little bit, laughing at the men’s persistence. Eventually, however, another of many celebrities in the area caught their eyes and they left, giving you much needed peace.

After a couple hours spent swimming, taking selfies, and tanning, the two of you gathered your things and headed for lunch at a nearby cafe.

As you sat and ate under an umbrella, you found an article that had already been written containing photos from the beach earlier. It was titled “Moving on? Y/l/n spotted in spicy bikini with pal,” something that made you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we reposted some of these pictures?” you joked to b/f/n.

“Yes oh my gosh! That would be hilarious! Send me the article,” she agreed.

You both screenshotted some pictures, picking your favorite to be the cover of your next Instagram post and intermixing some of the day’s selfies, too. Each of you hit post, tagging one another, and went back to your food.

__________________________________

The day had been long but perfect.

B/f/n dropped you at your house late that afternoon, both of you tired from sitting in the sun most of the day. Since then, you’d spent the evening with your family and now prepared for bed.

You hadn’t checked your phone much since posting the photos, but you opened instagram to find that tons of Tom’s fangirls had liked and commented on your picture, most of them pretty supportive.

Your caption had read “Apparently this is a spicy swimsuit and somehow it’s helping me move on from drama. Either way, today was a much needed beach day with my fav!”

Other of your friends commented inside jokes, adding fire and pepper emojis, and called you spicy.

You spent a few minutes replying to comments when you decided to look at the likes. You searched “Holland” in the bar, wanting to see how many fans were liking it, but the first name caused your stomach to drop.

Tomholland2013

There was a blue checkmark signifying it was him, too.

There was no way he’d done it earlier, so you went back to the comments, where you found a new comment from only a minute before that read “OMG TOM LIKED!”

You were shocked to say the least. Was this some kind of a joke to him? Or was this his way of reaching out from a distance? Your thoughts became frequent and jumbled, and finally you decided to put up the phone and truly get ready for bed.

On the back of your desk chair was draped your favorite sleep shirt. As you went to grab it, the cologne bottle caught your eye once again.

You stared at it for a minute, then did something you’d probably regret later.

You ripped off the plastic wrap off top and uncapped it. You took a heavy breath, and then spritzed the scent a few times over the sheets.

It wafted up around you, filling your nose with the musky sweetness you were familiar with.

After changing, you crawled into bed, the smell overcoming you, relaxing you. Surprisingly, butterflies filled your stomach as warm memories of yours and Tom’s night together came to mind once again.

Ah shit. Caroline was right was the last thought to cross your mind as sleep overtook you.

__________________________________

Stan Twitter and Insta had blown up overnight as Tom’s fans speculated about him liking your post (and of course it just had to be one in a swimsuit). You tried not to think about it too much as you once again went to dance and tried to let off steam.

After class came and went, a parent came to let you know that once again there were dozens of people outside waiting for you with cameras and whatnot.

Your friends offered to help walk you to the car, but you were honestly angry. Enough was enough.

“I knew things would get crazy but this has gone on for too long. Celebrities might have to put up with this, but I don’t,” you spat, shouldering your dance bag and heading for the door.

A few people tried to stop you but you just shrugged them off.

“Y/n, y/n!” the people began yelling, fighting to see who would get to your first. One woman beat out the rest and shoved a microphone in your face, the cameraman blocking your way.

“Tell us about your time with Tom Holland! We only want the truth!” she exclaimed with her feigned enthusiasm.

”You don’t want the truth, you want a story,” you began. Seeing the way people already looked uncomfortable with that statement, you continued.

“You take a good, normal person and turn him into your own little reality show. You build him up into a big celebrity just so you can tear him down in public.”

You were beginning to feel your face heat up and eyes threaten tears, but still you continued, looking out at the rest of the crowd.

“Just so you can sell magazines and TV shows? That’s really sick. And Tom Holland’s just one example. He’s talented and successful. He’s all the stuff lots of kids dream of having.”

Nothing you said had a hint of sarcasm or disdain, but rather it was a defendant tone. Now you took on an accusatory one directed at the reporters.

“But thanks to you, he’s had to give up some of the best things in life. Freedom. Privacy. Honesty. So congratulations, you’ve created a celebrity. But you have wrecked the human being inside. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

You finished the tirade, a tear slipping onto your cheek as you remembered the night he spent at your house telling you about how he often missed normal life. There was a heavy pause but cameras continued to flash. The reporter turned to her cameraman.

“Did you get that?” she asked. He nodded, so she turned back to you.

“Y/n, y/n just one more question. In your opinion, who is Tom Holland really?”

You looked at her, taken aback. Your blood boiled.

“Who is he? I don’t know. The Tom Holland you’re all so obsessed with…” you took a moment to collect your thoughts. “I promise you I never met him. And I wouldn’t want to.”

With that, you pushed through the crowd and to your car, hoping they were satisfied.

__________________________________

On the other side of the world, Tom was becoming stir crazy. By the time Tom had awoken, videos and transcripts of your speech were already circulating the internet and he was overwhelmed and frankly angry.

He was supposed to be getting ready for another press day, but how could he do interviews when everyone would just want to hound on him about you?

“Tom, we need to talk,” Harrison said sternly as Tom paced his hotel living room. Harry and Sam stood behind him in the entryway..

“Alright what on?” he asked as though nothing was wrong.

“Tom. Tell us what’s got you acting like this, saying what you did, and her making that speech through tears. You obviously liked that girl and something happened with her,” Harry stated.

Tom paused and turned to the group.

“What are you talking about? There was nothing going on between us.”

They all looked at each other and then Tom like he was an idiot.

“Look mate, you have no reason to lie to us. We always have your back and we’ll probably understand,” Sam added. The group took a few steps forward.

Tom was becoming more agitated and avoided eye contact with all of them. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“First off, I’m not lying. And secondly, if I were, you all wouldn’t understand anyways because you aren’t me! None of you get what it’s like living my life and you never will!” Tom exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

The group was taken aback at Tom’s explosive statement and now Harrison was mad too.

“You know what, man? We came here to talk because we care about you. You’ve been a real dick the past few days and it’s getting old. All we wanted to do was help you out but instead you decided to go all movie star on us,” Harrison blurted. He turned to the twins, “Let’s go guys. He’s obviously beyond us.”

The three boys turned to walk out the door and Tom felt a weight drop in his stomach. Harry was just starting to open the door when Tom stopped them.

“Wait!” he paused and took a deep breath, “I’ll tell you all what’s really going on, but you have to let me tell the whole story first.”

They reluctantly turned back, eventually making themselves comfortable around the living room and letting Tom vent out the whole story, including how his management had made him cut ties with you.

“She was so honest and kind and I blew it. The more distant from her I can make myself, the better. I couldn’t let myself bring you in on this secret and feel bad too. She deserves to just hate me.”

The boys were all shocked and angered at what was going on.

“Tom, I love you, you’re my brother. But you are such a div! And I mean that in the most extreme manner possible,” said Harry.

“Yeah, come on mate. Just fire them! Why are you letting them control your life?” asked Sam.

“You guys don’t get it! Singleness sells! I can’t jeopardize my career just because I found y/n to be the most beautiful and incredible and real person I’ve ever met. I mean, right?”

Harrison piped up at that.

“You really are more stupid than you look. Tom I’m gonna tell you straight. They’re living in some figmented reality where your relationship status determines whether or not you get hired. I mean, you’re Spider-Man for God’s sake. That has to count for something, right?”

Tom bounced his head back and forth in contemplation.

“I mean I guess-” he started when Harrison cut him off again.

“You guess!” he stood up in disbelief. “You guess? Come on! Directors don’t care who the hell you’re dating if you’re giving them Oscar worthy performances and box office hits! And even then, who cares about your career when you’re putting your heart on the cutting board for it. Just go after the damn girl, Tom. And fire those assholes while you’re at it.”

__________________________________

A/N: Still can’t believe I got this out so quickly. Anyways, thanks for reading and as always, send me a message or ask if you wanna talk since I can’t respond to comments! (And keep an eye out for “the best revenge,” my new series)

TAG LIST: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @dreamyvans, @lisannehus, @honeymoonpeter, @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven, @chenellearose, @photoshopart15, @parkeret, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @racewife2004

#starstruck #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland dancing #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #Harry Holland #harrison osterfield #sam holland #spider-man #spiderman #spider man

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jackdawyt · 4 years

Video

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Since my last news update in March, today I’m dissecting everything that has come out of the woodwork in April and May regarding Dragon Age 4. So, get some tea and let’s get this show on the road, because we’ve got over 4,000 words of news to delve into!

Reveal? (game shows/new hire/remaster):

Following the cancellation of E3, EA Play 2020 Live has been officially confirmed as a digital show, taking place on June 11th, at 4:00 pm PST / 7:00 pm EST.

Before the outbreak cancelled E3 2020, we knew Mike Gamble, the Project Lead on the next Mass Effect game had plans to make a physical appearance at E3/EA Play. So, the question remains, will BioWare still have a presence at EA Play this year?

Mike Gamble is one of the key members of the Mass Effect team, I highly doubt he’s talking about revealing the next Mass Effect game which is currently in very early stages of development, and won’t release until after Dragon Age 4. Perhaps, Mike back in 2019 was hinting at revealing the heavily rumoured Mass Effect Remaster this EA Play?

Earlier in May, EA had a quarterly conference call and it revealed some fascinating information regarding future unannounced titles. Currently, EA have “one more EA HD title, Four EA Partner titles and two mobiles games still unannounced”. Also, EA said "multiple titles" are set to launch on Nintendo Switch this year.

The EA HD title refers to a remaster of an EA game, hence why most people are speculating at the Mass Effect Trilogy. Venturebeat went on to officially state that this title was indeed the Mass Effect Trilogy.

So, there’s one rumoured possibility for the Mass Effect Trilogy Remaster to be revealed this EA Play, which is cool! BioWare may have a presence this year after all! But I know you all didn’t come for Mass Effect; you came for Dragon Age. So, what do we know about that franchise and a potential reveal?

Jo Berry, a Writer at EA retweeted EA Play Live’s announcement with a party emoji! 👀

This could be absolutely nothing, but at a whim, perhaps a reference to a Dragon Age 4 teaser, or EA Motive’s new I.P since she has worked within both teams....

On top of that, Brianne Battye, Writer at BioWare tweeted about her 8-year journey at BioWare. She’s very grateful for sharing her work, and the awesome people she’s worked with along the way.

Patrick Weekes replied saying they: “Cannot wait for everyone else to see what you've been working on recently. :)”

Then, Brianne said: “Right back at you :)”

Two HUGE witters on the Dragon Age team are excited for everyone else to see what they’ve all been working on recently! 👀 When I saw this tweet, I was trying to stay calm and keep my expectations low, but come on when you see a tweet like this, you just get so excited! The question is, when will we see what they’ve been working on, and is it anytime soon? Please?

Well, there is something else we need to talk about that may relate to a potential tease.

Hilary Heskett, who used to be EA’s Global Product Manager has returned to work at EA and BioWare. Put simply, she’s a Digital Marketer for BioWare.

Hilary; particularly, was heavily involved in Dragon Age: Inquisition’s marketing! In fact, the majority of her work at EA involved representing BioWare as a brand online creating trailers, key art, screenshots, packaging, and advertisements. So, it’s a fair assumption that she’ll be fulfilling the exact same role for future BioWare titles like Dragon Age 4.

With Hilary joining the team at this point in development, could the marketing stages of Dragon Age 4 soon begin, perhaps at EA Play? Or later on in 2020? Or is she going to be marketing the Mass Effect Remaster?

I sound impatient, but, in the past BioWare have a habit of starting the marketing stages of their products at least two years before an initial release.

With that, we’ve got to ask ourselves, is hiring a marketer at this point in time a mere coincidence? or is it preparation for when marketing does start? Are we on the verge of seeing Dragon Age 4 official content soon?

Not to waffle on, because we’ve got a lot to talk about in this video, but I was hired as a Digital Marketer for an app company in the UK. As I understand it, you normally enter projects, mid-to-end of production, because what would a marketer do in the early stages logically? Your role is to be there for the advertising of the product.

So, in BioWare’s case, it's my understanding that Hilary has joined the team with one year full-swing production, is she about to begin the marketing stages of the next Dragon Age game? Is the game ready for that stage? If anything, I think with Hilary’s background, she’s the perfect person to market Dragon Age 4.

On top of EA Play, Geoff Keighley announced Summer Game Fest, a new industry-wide celebration of video games. Showcasing digital news, In-game events, & playable content. EA are headlining the event with EA Play, but there are many other world premieres spread throughout the summer. So, there’s a potential for other trailer reveals later on in the year, not to mention The Game Awards.

And, there’s also this leak that shows Dragon Age 4 on a list of PS5 games from the newest issue of PlayStation magazine UK. PlayStation are having an event on June 4th, so we’ll find out if this leak is true soon enough.

If we’re going to see anything Dragon Age 4 related this year, EA Play is the biggest contender for a reveal. I know the whole world could do with that right now! At this current moment, there is no schedule for the show. However, Saria, myself, Fusselkorn and maybe other content creators will be streaming EA Play, no matter what, so turn those reminders on and come join us in our clown suits.

Development (teases/production):

Moving on to teases and development updates. Currently, BioWare are hiring a ‘Senior Outsource Producer.’

This is a pretty big deal, to those who don’t know what a ‘Senior Outsource Producer’ would do...

“Outsourcing development means to hire out any process of a business to third party. The process helps your company or organization to grow.”

To grant more perspective, during Mass Effect: Andromeda’s development, major aspects of the game's animations were outsourced to other EA studios.

However, this isn’t going to be the same for Dragon Age 4, this role is for one Producer to help the outsourcing team into a robust and comprehensive department that supports BioWare projects in all aspects of development.

I have friend in triple AAA games, and they had something to say about outsourcing regarding Dragon Age 4: “To be honest, I'd say (outsourcing is) different per studio due to scope. But with something big like Dragon Age I'd probably say outsourcing would start early to mid-production as they have a hell of a lot to do. Some studios outsource from the get go though so that's also possible. And It's rare that outsourcing starts in the final leg of development.”

What I understand from the job posting is that BioWare are looking to hire a producer who will be dedicated to outsourcing so they can establish a pipeline and maintain proper standards for outsourcing. This hiring was posted in May, so the studio might be a few months early from when they actually have to outsource. However, this process will be coming up soon in major development.

Moving on. In early April, Mark Darrah went on a twitter rampage sharing many tweets relating to Dragon Age 4. One tweet stated: “Is tweeting more going to make you all speculate more or less?”. Followed by a poll with the answers “more”, “less” & “Dragon Age 4!?”

The following week, Mark Darrah teased his three Wolf-Rook books he has placed on a shelf at home.

Later on, in the month, he decided to stack each of them, prompted with the caption: “Spoiler: these are a terrible building material…”

Just last week, Mark tweeted the Wolf-Rook book once more, with the following meme: “Dear men, what is preventing you from looking like this?”

This cheeky tease encouraged Melissa Janowicz (Gameplay Designer) to join the fun and share her own Wolf-Rook book! She said: “It's an absolutely gorgeous book. I'll treasure it for life.”

Ahhh. The secrets these books could hold about Dragon Age 4’s core concepts.... And Mark Darrah is just staking them together, making book forts out of them, as you do! 😂 Maybe one day, we’ll uncover the secrets held within every page, but that day is not yet upon on.

On the same memey day, Chris Anderson, (Application Development/Publishing Support at BioWare) tweeted: “Other people are teasing things, so what the hell, here's an image that I used in something I was working on today.” With a pink image shown.

Chris and Melissa followed a Twitter conversation about pink being the “perfect colour for when you need something that screams temp.”

Basically, this pink actually has some context for the development of Dragon Age 4. ‘Temp’ means temporary textures, the first blocked out layer of a texture before actual detailed textures are added.

This can refer to many scenes or models in the early texturing phases, as art assets are still in the approval stages. On a wild, out-there whim, perhaps the team are wrapping up a trailer for a reveal? Maybe?... please?

John Epler (Narrative Director) shared his most controversial opinion of all time:

I loved the Hinterlands, but as a fan of the previous Dragon Age game’s ‘linear with freedom' approach, I appreciate John’s take on open world’s since Dragon Age: Inquisition, perhaps this will shape the way forward for future BioWare titles?

Alix Wilton Regan, voice actress of the Female British Inquisitor retweeted Autumn Witch’s poll asking if people believe the Inquisitor will return as a voiced appearance in Dragon Age 4. Alix tweeted: “C’mon #DAI Fans, you know what to do ;)”

Patrick Weekes replied to Alix’s post with an eye's emoji 👀.... I think I speak for everyone when I say, in some capacity, the Inquisitor has got to return in the next game!

In another tweet, Patrick Weekes teased potential new companions when a Twitter trend placed 5 Dragon Age characters in 6 different camps went around the platform.

When choosing their preferred camp, Patrick Weekes tweeted: “Finally, in Camp 7, it's turned into a bit of a mess, with coffee grounds spilled everywhere and the couch inexplicably on fire after a drinking game gone wrong. But that's another story.”

Of course, there’s not much to tear apart here, but we have acknowledgement of the next party members! It sounds like they’re a wild bunch already!

In early April, Mark Darrah answered a few current development tweets:

So, that’s...Splendid.

Karin Weekes (Editor) tweeted that they “got to sort/catalog/document updates to made-up languages at work today.”

Following that tweet, @ladyiolanthe asked Karin: “Do you think BioWare might ever be able to release Qunari, Dwarvish, and Elvhen lexicons in a World of Thedas Volume 3 sort of book? Or is that unlikely since they're ciphers and maybe there isn't a standardized grammatical structure, etc?”

Karin replied with: “That’s an interesting idea - I, for one, would find it a hoot! I might send out some feelers…” Any books of made-up languages I can get my hands on would be greatly appreciated!

Alain Baxter, (‘Production guy’) tweeted: “BioWare review of content today. All I can say is “Scriplet”. 😎

Apparently a ‘Scriptlet’ is an action verb. Alain is teasing premature scripts as they ‘perform their function’ So, something exciting is going down in the scripts, to be worked on in-engine. Or maybe it’s just an inside joke?

John Epler tweeted a great design message about “how 90% of ‘bad’ decisions are, in fact, the best decision at the time. For John, that will always be the camera zoomed conversations in DA: I. People didn’t like it, and asked why not just make them full scenes. But that’s not the decision they make in-house. It was 'make them simple conversations or else cut them'. Game dev is all about making the best decision you can at the time, with the resources you have .A lot of stuff you thought was weird or awkward came down to a gut call of 'this is the best I can make this and I trust it's good enough'. Sometimes we're right, sometimes not.”

Awesome words to think on, Dragon Age 4 will be amazing, I’m sure, but just remember to set your expectations right and realise everything design-wise, happens for a reason.

Shifting to other design aspects. Jos Hendricks (Senior Level Designer) tweeted:

Mike Jungbluth (Animation Director) tweeted: “Just reviewed something in game that hit THIS LEVEL! Hot damn, moments like this are what I live for.”

Both tweets are incredibly excited and telling of development for Dragon Age 4, it sounds like they’re building and prototyping an epic scene equivalent in scale to the attack at Haven scene? Perhaps, Solas destroying the Veil? Who knows, but it sounds epic, and I’m living for both dev.'s enthusiasm!

For the final tweet regarding the development side is from Åsa Roos (Principle UX Designer)

A UX designer writing about Solas? That must be for codex entries? Right? More lore on our Rebel God!

Unannounced Dragon Age Game:

In my previous March news update, I discussed brashly about the developers on Dragon Age 4 still claiming that this project has not officially been announced yet, however, The Dread Wolf Rises teaser in 2018 certainly alluded to an announcement regarding the next Dragon Age title. Following this story, we have many sources providing clarity on Dragon Age 4’s current ‘unannounced’ situation.

Patrick Weekes confirmed that they are “working on an unannounced game in the Dragon Age universe.”

Patrick said: “We would LOVE to be able to say more. We are really excited about what we’re working on. But we can’t share anything right now. Sorry!”

In April 2019, I painted this unannounced situation rather conspiratorial, I said that perhaps the Dragon Age dev’s can’t share anymore on the next game because Anthem was the next project, and EA are forcing them to not speak on Dragon Age. In an attempt to maintain the crowd by not letting BioWare developers regard Dragon Age 4 as the next working project in the works.

However, I don’t think it’s that deep. I think the developers are just under an NDA, and literally can’t speak about the game.

In Episode 121 of the Anthem-based ‘Freelancer Codex’ Podcast - as a guest, Melissa Janowicz shared that the developers on the secret Dragon Age team cannot talk about the next game, in fact, they can barely talk about the contents of The Dread Wolf Rises teaser trailer.

Chris Anderson also emphasised this same point in a tweet:

As a side not, someone asked Chris why not lie and come up with fake answers to fool the fans, and Chris said: “That can, unfortunately, get me in nearly as much trouble!”

Which shows the validity and value in BioWare developer tweets. The developers can’t just lie about the project either. Which honestly helps someone like me out.

As we know, a game is coming, yet it’s still is very much unannounced, probably because as Jason Schreier reported in 2018, Dragon Age 4 is going to change at least 5 times in the next two years, perhaps BioWare don’t want to show us anything because they don’t want to set anything in stone, or show gameplay that is not representative of the final game.

But that doesn’t extend to a CGI trailer, or a full title drop, Maker knows that would be amazing, and is within the realm of possibility.

New Lore/Fun:

We have some new lore, and other fun things I wanted to share.

Dragon Age Comic Writer, Nunzio DeFillipis talked HUGELY about the red lyrium idol and what was originally planned for their comics.

Nunzio recently mentioned in the Unofficial Bioware Forums that the comic characters from Deception were originally chasing the red lyrium idol.

Nunzio stated that the original plan for the comics would've had the characters retrieve the red lyrium idol. Only to have Solas take it back. Eluding to the idol's planned whereabouts before the plot changed since Joplin's cancellation and BioWare's shift regarding this idol in the comics.

Does this still mean that the location of the red lyrium idol is most likely in the hands of Solas and might only be discovered in Dragon Age 4? Or does the next protagonist have a shot at retrieving the idol before Solas finds it?

It seems like a bummer that the original comic idea was scrapped and the writers were forced to change narrative direction regarding this particular idol.

As a funny tweet I saw. Emily (Domino) Talyor tweeted using her overheard in the office hashtag:

BioWare dev’s can’t even tell their kids, folks.

And, regarding the Fuzzy Freaks livestream. Patrick Weekes’s response to my question, asking how does Solas kill dwarves in their sleep if they have no connection to the Fade, was “very effectively.” This will be a mystery I will personally be investigating when we have our hands on the game.

Considering it was really fun for those who watched the Fuzzy Freaks livestream, I’m going to share other silly takeaways:

Patrick Weekes doing a New York accent for the Carta Dwarf is amazing!

“DREAD DUMBASS” - is a jokey dialogue option that Karen Weekes scribbled notes for future reference.

Patrick likes soft romances and happy endings! IRONICALLY.

Patrick’s style of writing is less high fantasy and more modern.

@DrunkDalish, Co-founder of Dragon Age Day interviewed both Karen and Patrick Weekes. As a lover of Dragon Age lore, these interviews reveal so many loving tidbits that you should read for yourself. However, something I noted that was very significant regarding the future is based on Masked Empire’s ending. So, spoilers for that, but Felassan’s fate isn’t what it seems. Perhaps this elf could come back in the future if needed.

Wellbeing:

And, we come to the last topic, this one is centred on the BioWare staff’s wellbeing. Last year, there was a Kotaku article revealing the crunch and working conditions at BW, there was a lot of worry and confusion in the air that the people working on these games were struggling mentally because of senior management and many other reasons. With that in mind, I’m dedicating a section in these news updates to the wellbeing of the developers, any signs/tweets of positivity and hope will be shared in an effort to see if there has been any change in the BioWare offices since Anthem’s release.

It seems like things are going pretty well and people seem happy and optimistic about the next Dragon Age.

If there are any major updates to a Dragon Age 4 tease at EA Play, I'll be sure to make an update video, but otherwise, be sure to join our livestream as see for ourselves what waits us this EA Play.

Let me know your thoughts down below, what do you think about a potential EA Play teaser, where are your expectations at?

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emilyplaysotome · 3 years

Text

The Game of Love - Chapter 1

Since I have a bad tendency to obsess over what I write until I give up on it, I’m posting the first chapter of something new I’ve been dabbling with. Think of it like an original Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole, without the characters you know.

Meeting someone special is hard for anyone, but more so when you’re famous.

I can’t tell you when it was that I went from being Hana to being Hana on a billboard, but it happened slowly enough that I went from eating virtually unnoticed at a restaurant to being bombarded with selfie requests during the short time I picked up my food. I suppose that being one of the youngest women to ever win a Grand Slam will force you into the spotlight, but I’ve never thought of myself as a superstar.

The goal had always been to win gold at the Olympics.

Maybe Roland Garros.

And Wimbledon.

The U.S. and Australian Open if I was lucky.

They never told me that if you win the Australian Open and then manage to win the others in the same year, the world goes mad. They never told me that Nike, Adidas, and Reebok fall all over themselves trying to get you to agree to let them put out the “Hana shoe” and you go from being a struggling journeywoman on the tour to being richer than you ever could have imagined, thanks mostly to your team who milks you for every free moment when you’re not on the court.

You learn how to wear dresses and talk on camera and carry the weight of what it means to be a champion, constantly looking over your shoulder at the younger, hungrier crowd behind you that works twice as hard and trains harder because they don’t need to be on Good Morning America when you do. Your identity becomes “Hana the Tennis Champion” and you forget who you were when you were just “Hana, the girl who loves tennis” – hitting balls after dinner with dad on the courts by your house or joking around with the girls on the junior tour.

Those girls become competition, and your friendship is forced to change despite wanting it to be the way it was when things were simpler. They are nice and you love them, but the feelings are complicated and you forget what it means to have friends who see you as you are. There is always a commitment, a show, a movie, a project, a product – even during the off season, and of course, there’s the training.

You’re grateful to be successful doing what you love, but you know it can’t last forever and one day you decide you want to go out on top and announce that you’re done with the game that up until this point has been your entire life.

And you’re only 32.

I’m only 32.

The day after I retired I woke up as Hana, for the first time in 20 years. I suppose it’s out of habit that I still wake up at 7 A.M. and go for a run, but it’s been a few months and not much has changed.

My mom suggested I get a therapist.

That this major transition would be hard on anyone, but even harder on a prodigy who has been used to a regimented training schedule since she was 11.

I laughed it off, but after a couple of weeks I could feel the unease nagging at me, mocking me, asking me, “Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

My therapist says a lot of high achieving people struggle with their self-worth outside of their profession. She challenged me to reconnect with friends I’d made at all stages of my life and I learned that being great at one thing left little time for love, creativity, music, and hobbies.

I also learned that I didn’t make many friends in my 32 years since I was too focused, too dialed in to waste time on anything outside of the goal. To be the best in the world I had taken on the mentality that everything outside of my goal was superfluous, but now I struggle to make it through the day.

“Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

“I am…I am…”

“What are you feeling Hana?” my therapist asks.

“Scared. Confused. Angry. Lost.”

I’d had this rosy image of retirement, where I’d leisurely wake up next to a partner and make breakfast for us. Not just any partner if I’m being honest…him.

“I wake up at 7 A.M. and run 5 miles,” I find myself saying. “Then I make a breakfast smoothie. And then I remember that I don’t have anywhere to be and the depression takes over.”

“Have you been doing interviews?”

I shrug, “Not as many. They asked me to do commentary for the U.S. Open this year and I said I’d think about it.”

“What is your hesitation?”

I pause, thinking about what it would be like to live a tournament without participating in it. To see and comment on someone’s legacy that wasn’t my own. To one day have to announce that I’d been dethroned in my achievements and smile as if it didn’t bother me, when I’d probably just wonder if I’d retired too early.

“I never wanted to be on television. And I want to be able to answer the question who Hana is if there is no tennis.”

“It sounds like this time is providing you with a beautiful gift – to explore that question and your interests without limitations.”

She’s right, and I feel guilty for pitying myself when I have the freedom to do and go wherever I want. I let out a caustic chuckle and say, “I want to live in my games.”

“The ones you used to play on the road?”

I nod, wondering how serious she thinks I am and wondering if the statement is a joke at all.

“Why do you think you like them so much?”

“It’s fun to be someone who isn’t Hana. And it’s fun to fall in love.”

“Has Hana ever been in love?”

I think for a minute and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” I ask.

She shrugs and pushes her glasses up.

“I’m asking Hana the person, not Hana the superstar.”

“But our breakup was all over the tabloids…”

“Our time together is about you, not what’s in a tabloid.”

“Superstars have to date superstars. It’s like a law,” I say laughing. “What would Instagram think if I gave them anything other than aspirational?”

I’m lying but I can’t help myself, even in therapy my pride gets in the way of being honest. Dating him was never about appearances, at least, it wasn’t for me.

“Tell me about him.”

Eight years of memories flash in my mind, 22 to 30.

“We met after I won my first major. His movie premiere had him in Australia and he got tickets to the final. We ended up at an after party together and he gave me his number. It was good until it wasn’t and then he broke up with me.”

“That’s a very condensed version.”

I shrug again, feeling bitter that he seems to have moved on just fine and I haven’t dated anyone despite the rumors that pop up from time to time. I don’t feel like talking about how I kept pushing for us to move forward, with a vision for my retirement and life with him as he kept pushing for me to stay on the road. I don’t feel like talking about how much of our time was spent apart and how I suspected he preferred things that way.

That it was better to have a girlfriend too busy to take up more than an hour of his day on a regular basis than a girlfriend who could be present the way she wanted to be when we were together.

A pleasant chime goes off and she silences the alarm, noting we’re out of time and asking if next week works.

“My schedule is free,” I joke, but I feel annoyed that there’s nothing but endless free time and nothing to do with it.

When I’m home I open the games I referenced in therapy – the ones I jokingly call “choose your anime romance adventure games” with my mom versus their proper designation of “otome” games, as they’re known with the fandom online that I’m a part of. It’s only when I’m online that I feel like I can momentarily answer the question that nags at me, and that’s because no one know I’m me.

HanaLovesOtome the tumblr user is popular because of the screenshots she posts, not because she’s one of the most celebrated athletes of a generation.

She participates in every event and has spent an ungodly amount of money on special date stories and lottery gatcha items that put her consistently in the top ten featured users of Ikemen Inc.

She’s popular because people will ask her to purchase stories and games they can’t afford, and she’ll video record herself playing or twitch live stream the sessions so everyone can get a sense of what it’s like to fall in love with Ikemen Inc.’s most exclusive bachelors.

Even when I was on tour, I loved playing otome games because for a couple of hours I could stop thinking about my life and instead lose myself in a world overseas where I get to make choices for a protagonist whose name I’ve made my own as I decide what eligible bachelor she’ll fall in love with.

I’d found the games a year before we’d broken up, mostly by chance after seeing an ad on twitter that boasted, “The Perfect Boyfriend is in your phone - meet him now!” While normally I would have continued to scroll past, something about the caption had stopped me in my tracks. Looking back it was probably because the idea of the “perfect boyfriend” being in my phone was ironic having had such a drawn out long distance relationship in which it often felt that he only existed in my life virtually.

After entering my name for the main character I would be controlling, “Decoding His Affections” thrust me into a world that consisted of a simple illustrated background, paired with a cartoon character sprite whose various expressions matched the dialogue being said in the text box where the story played out.

While the prologue of “Decoding His Affections” was free, it ended with a prompt asking me who out of the five characters I’d just met, I wanted to get to know as my Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department partner and future perfect boyfriend. For the low price of $3.99, I could purchase one of five options and determine how my protagonist would fall in love. Depending on my dialogue selections, I was either granted a “Love Ending!” or a less desired “Happy Ending!”

Throughout the course of 13 interactive chapters, Sebastian went from being my underling, to my partner, and finally, to my boyfriend. As the protagonist with my name started to fall for Sebastian, I found myself enjoying the escape from my reality with a game “self” who always met with a positive response in love.

I soon found myself lost in a world where I could be transparent with my intentions without any fear of rejection. Sebastian clearly liked my main character back, but was conflicted about falling for a woman whose time in Tokyo had an expiration date. Even though their relationship was in a grey zone for the majority of the game, he was always warm, always loving, and most importantly, had responses that gave me butterflies as I read his poetic musings from a cold hotel room after a long day of training.

Seeing as how these games were a product of Japan, in addition to the subdued romance I also found myself getting a kick out of the cultural differences that were peppered throughout the story. Simple gestures such as the time that Sebastian grabbed her hand in order to protect her from an impending explosion, resulted in a shook inner monologue where my heroine wondered if her heart was racing from the danger, or because of the physical contact. There was something sweet about this world in which men and women shared a shyness around physical touching that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced as a Western woman. Handshakes, hugs, and even kisses on the cheek were something that happened in my life on a daily basis, yet I was suddenly living in a world via my phone where every gesture was laced with romantic subtext.

It was clear that the only thing Ikemen Inc. changed in their games was the names of their clearly Japanese love interests, in order to better appeal to a western audience. Other than that, their games remained true to their point of origin.

Looking back, our relationship was already strained with me hinting towards my expiration date and him pushing me to stay on the tour. The day I’d played my first otome game we were bickering over text about it, him convinced it would be better for both of us if I refocused on my career instead of settling down with him in his Calabasas home. As I achieved Sebastian’s coveted “Love Ending!” thanks to my carefully selected dialogue choices, I surprised myself by tearing up in which I read an ending where Sebastian confessed to me, or moreover the woman I whose life I was intermittently controlling, his undying love.

I’d felt a bit foolish at the time, having fallen prey to simple plot devices and romantic tropes, however Sebastian had done something for me that my relationship could not.

He’d managed to touch that part deep in my heart that still wanted to believe that romance was possible in this world, and more importantly, was possible for me.

In the weeks to come I found myself leaning on these games more and more as it became clear that my vision for the future did not align with his, it felt like every free second I was pouring myself into my fantasy life. By the time he ended things, I’d made way through the entire Ikemen Inc. catalogue of premium games and started to make my way into the exclusives with a higher price point, more beautifully illustrated scenes (CGs), and the Ikemen Inc. community leaderboard.

I play them a lot lately.

Maybe too much.

When I log in to my tumblr I see a message from my friend KittyGirl.

OMG Hana! Did you see they released Tyler Holland?

I saw and I played and I’m posting the full vid on twitch later ;)

…

I wonder who KittyGirl is as she types, and I wonder if she ever wonders who I am. I wonder if she would care if I was Hana the superstar or if she even follows tennis.

A lot of the girls on here don’t.

A lot of the girls on here are much younger than I am.

I wonder if it’s weird I don’t have many friends my age and that the people I feel closest to at the moment are all usernames in my feed.

STOP HANA YOURE THE BEST!

I smile because it gives me a sense of purpose and I haven’t felt that for some time.

It’s really good. He might be in my top 5 boyfriends.

NO. Really!?

Really.

Sometimes I wish that the men in my phone would come to life. That one day I would wake up and Sebastian would be there in human form, not his two-dimensional anime character form. I’ve thought about what he would look like if he were real.

Not just him.

Him and all the others I’ve dated over the years.

I wonder what it’d be like to date someone you know would never leave you.

Who could be that perfect boyfriend, or husband, or father.

It’s just as I’m thinking about this again that my phone chimes, letting me know I’ve received an email. I’m surprised to see it’s from Ikemen Inc. and that HanaLovesOtome has been invited along with the four other top Ikemen community users for an all-expenses paid, one month vacation to Ikemen’s Dream Resort.

My gut reaction is to scream, “Yes!” but then I remember I’m Hana the superstar.

What would people think if they found out?

What would the tabloids write if they saw me?

I pause.

Who is Hana if there is no tennis?

Hana is HanaLovesOtome.

And so I write an email back, deciding not to loop in my management team, and let the team at Ikemen Inc. know that I would be delighted to experience the resort. The response back is immediate and includes additional details and an NDA.

I skim the details of the agreement, relieved that I am not allowed to talk about the experience as that means no one else will and my identity as Hana the superstar will most likely be off limits to the press and send it back.

It all happens quickly and before the hour is up I’ve managed to secure my spot in the Ikemen Fan 5.

In the two weeks leading up to my departure, I no longer feel depressed or as if time stretches out in a way that makes me feel small and insignificant. I have an event to look forward to and arrangements to be made.

My therapist thinks a solo trip will be good for me and encourages me to journal and continue with the homework she’s given me outside of our sessions. My mom agrees that it will be good for me to have a real vacation which is something I haven’t had in years.

I’ve seen the world through touring but I’ve never really had time for tourism.

To that point, when I get on the plane it strikes me that this is my first time on a plane without the purpose of coming from or going to a tournament. I check two large suitcases and still bring a racquet in case I need the release of losing myself in a training session or two, despite the fact my performance no longer matters.

I wear the sunglasses I always wear to obscure my identity in first class and a wig and baseball hat and n95 mask, which always does the trip. At Narita airport, I see a man holding a sign that says “HanaLovesOtome” and I follow him to a town car that takes me two hours outside of Tokyo proper. It’s only when we pull off the main road, down a long skinny isolated one that I take off my disguise and breathe a sigh of relief that I managed not to attract the attention of any photographers or fans.

In my head I always saw Ikemen Inc. as a small developer, tucked away on a floor in a nondescript office building somewhere in Toyko.

The reality of their facilities surprised me, and we drove 15 minutes through dense woodland, past another small road with a sign indicating guest and employee parking - up to a manicured property where at the center was a sleek looking high rise. My driver stopped under the porte-cochere and helped me with my suitcases, triggering the mechanism for the large glass double doors to open which caught the attention of a man inside.

“Please, allow me to be of assistance,” he said, quickly grabbing the roller’s handles and helping me in to a spacious reception area. “I’m Roman and I run the resort division of Ikemen Inc.”

“Hana.”

There was something familiar about the way that Roman talked and the way he dressed that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as he introduced me to the woman at reception and made small talk about my trip. I engaged in the idle banter until the persistent feeling that I knew him from somewhere became so overwhelming that I finally found myself asking, “Have we met before?”

“Yes,” a female voice called out behind me.

I turned to see a girl, no older than 20 approaching us with a suitcase of her own. She wore the same expression that countless fans wore upon recognizing me as they rushed up to me and asked for a selfie except she was not looking at me, but at Roman.

“He’s Roman Hinton, from Ikemen’s Paradise Palace.”

“Ah, you’ve stayed with us in Paradise I assume?” Roman asked the girl smiling.

“Oh you have no idea,” she said dreamily, and it was then that I realized my wish of dating one of the men in my phone might come true.

That’s the end of my rough first chapter. Let me know if you want to know where we go from here and I might post more. Tagging @nitelotus since she asked to see it

#down the voltage rabbit hole #voltage fanfic #voltage games #voltage romance sims #voltage inc #mlqc #ikemen #ikemen sengoku

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the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Name Calling (17)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION - In which the ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on how much you would enjoy it.

MASTERLIST

Chapter Seventeen - Puzzle Pieces

There was a steady drumbeat that woke you, you tried to open your eyes to tell whoever it was to knock it off but it was too bright and you quickly squeezed your eyes closed, hissing in annoyance at the stupid sun. The drumbeat carried on and you belatedly realised it was inside your head, sending a fresh wave of throbbing pain through your skull every few seconds.

You moaned lowly and shifted slowly, trying to manoeuvre you head under the pillow but you were trapped. You gradually became aware of an arm slung over your waist, trapping you in place and your eyes shot open in alarm. Wincing at the brightness you waited for your eyes to adjust. When they did you looked around, this wasn’t your bed, this wasn’t your room. Where the hell were you?

You twisted your head around to look behind you at the person who was holding you tightly and blinked in surprise. Darcy was spooning you, her eyes screwed tightly shut and soft rhythmic snores falling from her open mouth. You grimaced and tried to sit up, accidentally knocking Wanda’s head off your lap. Wait, Wanda was in the bed?

You nervously peered around, thankfully there was nobody else on the bed but Natasha was curled up on an armchair in the corner of the room, fast asleep. It took you a few minutes but you managed to piece together the scene. This was Wanda’s room, Natasha and Darcy were still wearing their party dresses from last night, Wanda was wearing red pyjamas and you were wearing…. A tuxedo?

You crawled off the bed, stopping in fright when you accidental kicked Wanda in the face but she only rolled over and carried on sleeping and you breathed a sigh of relief and continued to make your escape. As soon as you were standing upright you seriously considered just getting back into the bed. You felt weak, like you hadn’t had food or water in days and yet as soon as the thought of food crossed your mind your stomach started turning and nausea had you running/stumbling for the bathroom.

Ten minutes later and after sticking your head under the tap you tiptoed out of Wanda’s bedroom, leaning on the walls for support as you very very slowly made your way towards the kitchen. You needed to find someone who knew what had happened because you had absolutely no idea whatsoever. The last clear memory you had was of kissing Bucky.

You stopped in the hall and nearly toppled over. Bucky. Kissing. You and Bucky had kissed. Resisting the urge to slap some sense into yourself you tried to remember what had happened after that. You had flashes of Blonde hair and muscles and the taste of something sweet and honeyed. Oh God. God of Thunder to be precise. You must have gotten to try Thor’s mead.

You were hungover. You had gotten blackout drunk.

You desperately resumed your quest for the kitchen, needing more than ever to find somebody who could tell you what had happened. Your alcohol soaked brain finally remembered the way and after only one wrong turn and a detour past the gym you made it into the kitchen. Sam was sat at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Sam! Oh thank god, you have to help me.” You whisper shouted and threw yourself dramitically into his arms.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“I’m hungover.” You lamented, a little teary eyed.

The heartless bastard snorted in amusement.

“It’s not funny, I think somethings really wrong with me. Maybe my Super Soldier Serum reacts badly with alcohol, I think I’m dying.” You sniffled.

“Oh baby, you’re not dying. It just feels like you are. The first hangover is always the worst.” He assured you, trying and failing to hide the smirk on his face.

“But I can’t remember anything about what happened, it’s all blank. My head feels like somebody is scooping my brain out with a blunt knife and my stomach feels all wrong. I can’t stop shaking.” You told him, holding out your trembling hand to illustrate.

“Trust me, that’s normal. I don’t feel so hot myself. Of course I’m a little more used to it and I didn’t get one taste of Thor’s mead and drink the entire flask.” He snorted.

“I did what?”

“Don’t worry, Thor thought it was hilarious.”

“Least of my worries Sam, least of my worries. What else did I do?” You asked with trepidation.

“I’m not sure, check your twitter account. Most of the highlights are on that.” He said with a shrug.

“My… My what?”

“You don’t remember that either? Darcy and that Parker kid convinced you to sign up for social media.” Sam explained, patting your pockets and pulling out your phone.

He unlocked it and after a few clicks turned the screen round to show you. Sure enough you were logged into ‘Twitter’ as…

“Baby-Stark-Do-Do-Do-Do-Do-Do?” You questioned.

“That was Parkers idea. Don’t ask, you don’t want to know the answer.”

You scrolled down the posts with a growing sense of shame. There were pictures and videos galore. You pressed play on one of the videos to see yourself being dancing to Mr Roboto with Iron Man. That video was especially popular. There was a picture of you mid arm wrestling match with Steve, thankfully there wasn’t a video of that, you’d be fucked if you’d revealed to the world you could hold your own with Captain America in strength.

“The Falcon is my favourite Avenger for anyone who was wondering, he’s the best looking and coolest!” You read out loud.

“They do say drunk people are honest.” Sam shrugged and tried to look innocent.

“Sam this is so bad, my dad is probably going to kill me.” You whined.

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Sam said, taking your phone and clicking on Tony’s twitter profile.

Tony had retweeted a photo of you Dj’ing with an Iron Man helmet on your head with the caption ‘She parties like a Stark! So proud!’.

“None of this explains why I’m wearing a tuxedo or why I woke up in bed with Wanda and Darcy.” You pointed out, stealing Sam’s coffee.

“Can’t help you there but I have so many questions.” Sam said.

You didn’t answer, as soon as you’d tasted the coffee you moaned loudly and drained it like a vampire tasting blood for the first time. Maybe Clint was on to something when he drank it straight from the pot. Sam rolled his eyes and got up to make more.

“Where is everyone else?” You questioned, really wondering if he knew where Bucky was.

“Still sleeping probably. Steve and Buckinator are gone.” He said casually.

“Gone? What do you mean gone? Gone where, gone why?” You yelped.

“They left in the middle of the night. Steve said something about supporting Bucky.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly sober myself.”

“Did Bucky say anything?” You pressed.

“No, last time I saw Bucky you two were screaming at each other in the corridor.” He told you.

Oh no. This was bad. This was very very very bad. What had you done?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After sneaking back into Wanda’s room to leave bottles of water and painkillers on the bedside unit for them and lamenting that aspirin couldn’t do a damn thing for you, you decided you needed to retrace your steps from last night to try and figure out what had happened. Bucky’s phone was switched off, as was Steve’s and you were growing more frightened by the second.

Still clad in the ill fitting tux you made the arduous trek downstairs to the floor where the party had been held, hoping to trigger some memories. There were cleaners milling about, bagging up all the evidence and you smiled politely at them as you made your way through the large room.

Nothing in your memories was shaking loose as you teetered around the room shakily and you sighed heavily, ready to give up and try something else when you spotted somebody on the bouncy castle. There was a dark haired man lying on it with his back to you. You crept over and leaned in curiously.

“Hello?” You called.

He sat up rapidly and groaned, holding his head in his hands. He glanced over his shoulder at you and did a double take.

“Oh hey! It’s you!” He exclaimed.

“Scott? What are you doing?” You enquired.

“I was at your party, I’m Scott Lang. You know, Ant Man?”

“Scott we’ve met like twice before.” You reminded him, holding out your hand to help him climb off the bouncy castle.

“Yeah but I wasn’t sure if you remembered me, you were really busy.” He said, accepting your hand and clambering down to stand beside you.

“Trust me, you make an impression.” You laughed.

“Sorry.”

“No, a good one.” You assured him.

“You look as bad as I feel, only with more shame and regret.” He noted.

You sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of the castle and he perched next to you with a patient and open expression.

“I think I fucked up, badly.” You admitted.

“Wanna talk about it? I know a lot about shame and regret.” He offered.

“I don’t know if I can explain it. Ok, there’s somebody here, on the team. We don’t get along and I kind of betrayed them a teeny bit but last night we made progress, really good progress. Great progress actually. But I think I got drunk and messed it up and now he’s gone and I don’t know if I can fix it because I don’t know what I did.” You rambled.

Scott looked a little overwhelmed.

“Wow. Ok, that is a lot more information that I was expecting.”

“Yeah.”

“Well if we can figure out what you did, you think you can try and fix things? That doesn’t sound too complicated. I bet we can do this, you just need to try and remember what happened.”

“I’ve been trying. That’s why I’m down here.” You explained.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He asked.

“Um, Thor I think? Sam said I drank all the Asgardian mead.” You admitted ruefully.

Scott blinked at you in awe.

“Well that’s a start. Hey lets ask around, the more you can piece together about what happened the better your chances of remembering.” He suggested.

“We? You wanna help?” You asked.

“Sure, it’ll be fun. Probably.” He smiled goofily.

“Besides, every great detective needs a sidekick. Sherlock and Watson, Inspector Gadget and penny… That’s all the examples I have. Come on.” He said, walking off with a spring in his step.

You sighed and shrugged. You didn’t have any better ideas so you got up and followed him.

“Wait, which one of us is the sidekick in this scenario?” You asked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Well that doesn’t look good...” You remarked.

There was a fist sized hole in the corridor wall. You placed your fist into it but it was clearly made by someone with much bigger hands. Sam had said you and Bucky were arguing in the corridor last night and whatever you had said to him, it looked like it was bad enough he’d punched the wall.

“Hey, there’s another one over here.” Scott called to you from further down the corridor.

You went over to him and saw what he was pointing at. There was a large crack in the plaster, much much bigger than a fist. In fact, it was similar in size to you. You looked behind you and saw that the hole was parallel to the stairs. A fuzzy memory began to play in your head and you pulled your shirt up. Sure enough there were fading bruises along your side.

��Uh, I think I may have tried to use Caps shield as a sledge to go down the stairs.” You admitted with a blush.

“Cool!” Scott exclaimed and then looked at the hole in the wall again.

“Or maybe not so cool.” He decided.

“Very not cool.” You agreed with a wince as you remembered hurtling down the steps and into the wall.

“But hey, at least you remembered something. This is working! Let’s keep going!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next piece of the puzzle to be solved was in the lab where Banner was working. As soon as he saw you he backed away.

“Are you sober?” The doctor asked you nervously.

“Yes? Why?” You asked.

“Because last night you asked me if you could fight the Hulk and film it. You said Vernichtung Vs The Incredible Hulk would be the greatest death match in history.” Bruce explained.

“I mean, it kind of would.” Scott said while the colour drained from your face.

“I am so sorry Bruce! I would never do that, I swear.” You protested.

“It’s ok, I think you were joking. Besides, I’m pretty sure Darcy put the idea in your head.” He said placatingly.

You were still horrified as you remembered asking Thor if he wanted to referee the fight. You hurriedly apologised to Bruce and fled the lab, your face burning. Scott waved bye to Banner cheerily and ran after you.

“Where to next?” He asked.

“Far away from Bruce.” You said as your feet led you back to the kitchen.

Sam had left and now Clint was perched on the counter drinking coffee. You snatched to pot from his hands and started chugging it.

“Whoa, rude.” Clint snapped.

“Did I do anything last night you wanna tell me about? Steal your bow and pretend I was Merida or something equally stupid?” You groaned.

“No, nothing like that. Well you did ask if I kept animals on the farm and cried for ten minutes when I said I had chickens and phoned my wife to ask her to let you say hi to them.” Clint told you with a snort.

Now that he mentioned it you did sort of remember Laura Barton inviting you to come and see the chickens for yourself and meet the children.

“Oh yeah. Wanda and I are coming to your farm for the weekend.” You admitted.

“I know, the kids are excited.”

“Well, that’s not so bad.” Scott remarked.

“Yeah, at least I didn’t bodily injure myself or challenge him to a fight.” You agreed.

“I don’t want to know, yet I kind of do.” Clint said and Scott hurriedly filled him in while you smooshed your head into your arms on the counter.

“WANDA!” You shrieked, startling both the men.

You wish you had thought of this sooner, you could have saved yourself some time. You rushed away at a faster pace than your body could handle and had to stop in the hall to lean against the wall and rest.

“Wanda I want my memories back.” You yelled, storming into her room.

She was sat on the edge of the bed and you noticed Darcy and Natasha were gone as the witch looked up at you in fear and alarm.

“Your memories? You can’t!” She protested.

“What? Why? I need to figure out what happened last night. Can’t you just… you know?” You asked, imitating the hand gestures she used.

“Last night? Oh, uh I can’t do that. It doesn’t work like that I am afraid.” She informed you, colour returning to her face.

“Ugh. Can you at least remember anything that happened? Any arguments I may have gotten into or something I might have to apologise for?” You asked hopefully.

“I remember very little after karaoke I’m afraid Sestra.” She told you apologetically.

“After what now?”

“You mean you don’t have any recollection of singing?” She said with an evil smirk.

“Oh no. Just tell me.” You whined, throwing yourself onto the bed face down.

“You gave a very emotional performance of Bad Romance.” She sniggered.

“Please just kill me.” You begged.

“If it makes you feel any better, Darcy sang ‘I Touch Myself’ to The captain.”

“You know what, that does make me feel better.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You tracked down Scott who was still in the kitchen, his head in the fridge.

“Wanda can’t help, though she did give me the rundown of my short lived pop career.” You informed him with a sigh.

“Don’t look so down, we’re making great progress.” He told you through a mouthful of cold take out.

“No, we’re finding out all the embarrassing things I did. I’m no closer to finding out what I did to Bucky.” You said mournfully.

“So that’s what this is about? You and The Winter Soldier? You know what, I can kind of see it.” Scott said, squinting at you.

“See what?”

“You and Barnes. You’d make a good couple.”

“What? That’s not what… I didn’t… No.” You spluttered.

Scott grinned at you and you knew you’d given yourself away.

“If you tell anyone I will hunt you down and introduce you to my bloodthirsty alter ego.” You vowed and he went pale.

“No, I wouldn’t. I was just saying, I’m on your side.” He hurriedly assured you.

“I know. Thanks Scott, I appreciate you trying to help but I don’t think this is working.”

You dragged yourself to the couch, accepting that you had messed things up with Bucky again and you didn’t know how.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It wasn’t until you got back to your own room that everything fell into place. In hindsight, you really should have gone there first. Especially since you were still wandering around in Tony’s Tuxedo. Yeah, Darcy had finally relented and informed you that she had dared you to steal one of Tony’s suits and wear it back down to the party. She hadn’t specified she had meant the Iron Suits and you had raided your dads closet for the expensive Italian tux.

You had pulled it off and taken a shower, padding over to your bed in a funk you tried once again to call Bucky and yet again it went straight to voicemail. You didn’t bother leaving a message, you wouldn’t know what to say. You sighed heavily and threw yourself onto the mattress, landing on something hard and pointy. You grumbled and pulled it out from under your stomach. It was a book, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. You frowned and flipped the front cover open. There was a note on the inside.

My dear Vernichtung,

I was sorry to hear about your mothers untimely demise, such a tragedy. Still, I am heartened to hear you are able to celebrate and decided to send you this gift. I believe you will find this book to your liking.

I will see you very soon.

Your Creator.

Your chest tightened and everything snapped back into place, all your memories of last night. Finding the book in a pile of gifts and running out of the party. Bucky had followed you into the corridor, worried about you. Through shaky breaths you had tried to explain, showing the book to him. He had been incandescent with rage, putting his fist through the wall. Your own fury had ignited and you had screamed until your throat was raw, wanting to know how he got the book into the compound, wanting to kill him.

You knew you should feel afraid right now but you were too relieved. You hadn’t fucked things up with Bucky. He had tracked down the caterer who had slipped the book into your pile of gifts. A young woman who had been paid an obscene amount of money to sneak the book into the compound, she had thought it was harmless since it was only a book and she needed the money to pay her college fee’s. She had told Bucky everything, about how a man had approached her during one of her breaks at the Catering Company in LA. Bucky had dragged Steve out of the party after begging you to try and put it out of your mind and go back to the celebrations and promised he would call you when he tracked down the mysterious man who had given the girl the book.

Docherty was doing all he could to torment you and proving he could get to you anywhere. Bucky was doing everything he could to help you feel safer, leaving your party and flying to LA for you. You really hadn’t fucked this up at all Docherty be damned, you were happy.

You threw your head back onto the pillow and laughed, jumping up when your phone rang. The screen was completley blank, no caller registered at all. With apprehensiveness you picked up.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stark, this Is Nicholas J Fury. I need your assistance with something. In precisely ten minutes the security systems in the compound will be down for exactly sixty seconds. If you agree to help us you will need to use that time to get out of the compound unnoticed.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because there is a very rich and powerful man who has managed to create a deadly virus he plans to unleash on an unsuspecting population in a war torn country. We can’t call The Avengers, they are too public and this man is to powerful. We need somebody unknown, somebody highly skilled. I am asking you to climb out of your ivory tower to save lives, a lot of lives.”

“And I can’t tell anybody why?” You demanded suspiciously.

“Plausible deniability. The man in possession of this virus has contacts within the UN. This mission is not sanctioned by the accords and neither are you. Millions of lives are at stake and you have eight minutes and sixteen seconds left. Are you in or do I need to find myself another hero, one who cares more about doing the right thing than getting their daddy’s permission?”

Your mind whirled as you tried to decide what to do. What was the right answer here? Did you betray Tony again and sneak away again or did you hang up the phone and let somebody else take care of this? Millions of innocent lives VS Tony’s trust, what were you supposed to do? Did you even trust Fury? Would Tony forgive you if you did it? Would somebody else stand as high a chance as you of doing this?

You took a deep breath and gave your answer.

“I’ll do it.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I can’t believe that I have just hit over 50k words with this chapter. Thank you to each and every person who is reading, I’m so freaking grateful!

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@chook007@thejourneyneverendsx@thelostallycat@inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher@kendrawr-kitkat@phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat@buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz

@dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty@memanda17@krystallynx@theonelittleone

@piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes@tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard

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geewithluv · 4 years

Text

◁ comforting each other ▷

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Maknae Line X Fem!OC

Ｇｅｎｒｅ： angst and fluff

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ：crying, anxiety, mention of parental death (takes place in the past), hate comments, references the Jungkook tattoo and tattoo shop incident.

Ｒａｔｉｎｇ：PG

ＷｏｒｄＣｏｕｎｔ：1.7

Ａ／Ｎ： «this belongs in my headcanon universe and you can read the other parts in the masterlist, the description of the characters is [here] so you get a summary of who they are. (hyung line version here) also Jimin’s is short compared to the other’s, sorry! »

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

ｊｉｍｉｎ

Everyone knew Jimin was head over heels in love with Harlow. It was pretty obvious and it was only a matter of time that it got a little too obvious and the public found out.

It was a no-brainer that Jimin and Harlow were going to be together for a very long time.

At least it seemed like a no-brainer. Harlow didn’t mean to overhear a conversation between a couple of the makeup artists and she definitely didn’t mean to freeze in her spot long enough to hear them say everything they thought about her and Jimin. And most of all, she didn’t mean to spend so much time in a bathroom crying that Jimin busted in looking for her.

So now, they were in the bathroom right after Jimin’s performance, holding each other as Harlow cried. She wasn’t quite ready to talk and Jimin, though understanding, was becoming a bit impatient due to his worry. “You’ve gotta tell me what happened so I can fix it, baby.” He tried to coax her into talking. One more loud sob made Jimin think it was a hopeless attempt but soon she started explaining.

“Some of the girls were talking.” She said. Jimin knew who she meant immediately, it wasn’t like there were many women on the staff and Harlow didn’t know many well enough to refer to them outside honorifics. “They were saying we shouldn’t be together.”

“Why would they say such a stupid thing!” Jimin’s eyes widened. He had known quite a few of the makeup and hair crew for a while and wouldn’t think they’d doubt his relationship like that.

“They said you don’t love me.” She muttered, trying not to start crying again.

“You know that’s not true right.” His body stiffened. Harlow doesn’t respond. “Look at me.” He demanded. Her gaze quickly found his. “I love you so much.” He said as seriously as he could without becoming angered. “Anyone who thinks otherwise isn’t worth the energy it takes to hear their opinion.” Harlow nodded, rubbing her nose. “Now, let’s go where those dumbasses aren’t anywhere in sight. We can order some food and cuddle, how does that sound?” He asked.

“Sounds great.” Harlow smiled. Jimin pulled her into a tight hug.

“I’ll take care of them later, alright? For now, just know that I love you more than anything, baby.”

ｔａｅｈｙｕｎｇ

Taehyung had wondered, on more than one occasion, if he could shut twitter down. Of course he knew it’d take a lot of planning and money. But he’d do it if he could. Maybe just the trending page. That’d be a good start.

Between the hate tweets from those who couldn’t name a BTS song, the hate tweets from those who liked the other 6 members better, and the hate tweets from those who only liked him and resorted to being hateful to his best friends, Taehyung felt so surrounded by negativity.

As much as he knew, and told himself, that he was just going through a rough time and was having difficulty seeing anything but the positive, that didn’t make it easier. He knew that his life was good. He was safe and secure, loved by so many, good friends and family. He knew all was well. Which is why he hid the feeling for so long. He didn’t want to seem selfish.

The boys noticed, of course they did, how could they not. It was only a matter of time before Bang PD noticed or was informed. They didn’t say anything, not yet at least. They hoped he was working on it. He knew he had a couple days to get it together before they confronted him.

He didn’t need it though, because Claire noticed and confronted him immediately. “Tell me what’s wrong.” She said as they ate dinner. Taehyung looked up at her a little confused.

“What?”

“Something’s wrong. Don’t pretend everything is fine when I can tell it’s not. I don’t want to argue about it, so just tell me so we can work through it.” She set her fork down. To most people she might have seemed a little harsh, maybe pushy. But Taehyung admired her blunt “straight-to-the-point” nature.

“Social media is kinda getting to me.” Taehyng ran his fingers through his growing hair, a little annoyed as the longer length had recently become a target for the hate. “It’s just a weird moment. Maybe the planets are doing that thing again. Retrograde?” He suggested an explanation.

“Have you talked to the guys? They’ve all gone through something similar, right?”

“Yeah…” He sighed. “I haven’t talked to them, yet.” He felt kinda bad saying it outloud.

“You don’t want to worry them, I know.” She explained. “But you need to tell someone. You can’t keep it all inside, insisting it’ll be okay and blow over eventually.”

“I know,” Taehyung grabbed Claire’s hand from across the dinner table, “I’ll talk to someone. I promise.”

“My dad never recovered. It’s been almost 20 years and he’s never gotten over it. My mother’s parent’s hardly talk to me because I remind them of her. Everyone tried to help her, but in the end no one else’s help mattered but her own.” Her eyes watered as she held his hand tighter. “I know you think I’m overreacting. That I’m taking it too far. But I’m worried about what happens if I don’t.” She kissed his knuckles softly. “Do what my mother didn’t do for herself, Tae. Before the storm gets too loud.”

It was as open as she had been regarding her mother’s death. And in a weird way, Taehyung found a sense of comfort in her tears. Her tears and worry for him reminded him of how much love people feel for him. “I’ll call Bang first thing in the morning.”

“You should call him now an--”

“Stay the night.” He interrupted. “Stay the night and make sure I do. I won’t even leave the bed before calling.” He compromised. Claire nodded. “I love you, I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He reached over to kiss her lips.

ｊｕｎｇｋｏｏｋ

Finally, Jungkook did something for himself. He had spent nearly a decade having to worry about every decision he made and how fans and press would react. Finally he did something for him. On the month long break he got tattoos. Something he wanted for so long, he finally did it. He was expecting some backlash from it. He knew some people would be upset but he wasn’t quite expecting some other headlines. First, were the CCTV photos and people thinking he was dating the woman next to him.

Jungkook was upset, upset that his privacy had been invaded, upset that his friend had been dragged into it, and upset that his actual girlfriend couldn’t say anything about it. He apologized profusely to both women, more to Emmie of course.

Second, a woman he thought he was friends with, a woman he let tattoo him, decided to take to social media. BigHit said to let them take care of it. Jungkook trusted them of course but there’s only so much you can do to silence someone. And unfortunately, this woman was out for him.

“Jungkook does have a girlfriend, but it’s not me :)” was a caption on an instagram post. Jungkook felt his world collapse when he read it. He hoped, for a moment, that people wouldn’t believe it. He hoped that he could continue living a life with Emmie separate from the fame. But all hopes were crushed when she posted a photo of Emmie and Jungkook together. No way to say it was photoshopped, some people recognized Emmie since she designed for them a couple times. This was all wrong, everything was going wrong. He was supposed to reveal it on his own terms, or never. Never seemed like a better option after the initial reaction from fans.

Emmie turned comments off as soon as she found out, she would’ve gone private had she not been a verified account. She told her assistant to hold any calls for the next 48 hours as she would be turning her phone off. Her assistant understood but not Emmie had to worry if she would still have a showcase in a week. She wondered if her business would go under. She worried if Jungkook would leave her.

They sat in silence at the Bangtan dorms. Too stunned to talk to each other or anyone else. The guys gave them some space. Only getting updated that the news was confirmed by BigHit and now they wait till it blows over.

Emmie cried first. Both tried so hard to hold it together for the other. But she broke first. Jungkook shortly after. As soon as he heard the sob he lunged to wrap his arms around her. “Why can’t we just be a normal couple.” She cried into his chest, marinating his breaking heart with her tears.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating. Holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he didn’t.

“It’s not fair, Jungkook!” She yelled, not at him but the situation. She broke free from his grasp.

“Emmie, Emmie don’t--” He started worrying without her in his arms.

“Why won’t they let me love you! Let you love me! I’m just supposed to be the most hated woman in Korea, maybe even the world right now, cause I fell in love!”

“I’m sorry!” He yelled.

“Don’t you dare apologize!” She said, the guys debated on leaving their rooms to calm the situation. “It’s not your fault.” She softened. “You did nothing wrong.” She walked back over to him, taking his face in her hands. “You have done nothing wrong, Jungkook.”

“I’ll do anything to be with you, to keep you safe, to keep loving you. I’ll sue every single person who says something bad. I promise. I’ll make them open a whole department in BigHit dedicated to stopping the hate. I’ll do that. I need you.”

“We’ll figure it all out.” She told him, sniffling. “Right now, I just wanna be with you. In this way too silent apartment, holding you, pretending it’s not a warzone out there. That’s all I want right now.”

“I can do that. We can do that.” He said, and so they did. For two days they stayed in their happy place. Away from anyone with anything negative to say.

I know I said I’d finish soon, but a month slipped away from me because I moved, then moved back home because of some horrible stuff so I haven’t been writing or reblogging. I’ve been up-to-date thanks to twitter lol! Just not reblogging here. Hopefully I’ll be more available and stable (in terms of housing) to write lol. Thanks for reading, I don’t think Tumblr likes me anymore because I don’t show up in tags ;( if you see this give it a like! Or message me! I do take requests! This is getting long, sorry! Thanks again!

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bangtanhq #bts reaction #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #my writing

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vernonfielding · 5 years

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Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 8! (And on AO3, of course.)

I came back from my trip a day early, so here we go again. I should be back to posting a chapter every other day from now to the end.

Amy woke to a face full of sunshine.

She squinted her eyes closed and groaned, burying her face in her pillow. Several thoughts came to her, one right after another: Her pillow smelled weird, her pillow felt weird, and she had not once in the three years she’d lived in her apartment woken up with the sun in her face. Amy blinked her eyes open and rolled onto her back, and the night washed over her again, every lovely bit of it. She smiled up at the ceiling over Jake’s bed and then turned and smiled at the man himself.

He was asleep, curled up on his side facing her. His hair was a fluffy mess. One hand was tucked under his pillow, the other folded into a loose fist. Amy remembered falling asleep with his arm around her waist, holding her to him, but they must have separated in the night and now she was happy to indulge in watching over him.

She’d noticed from the moment they met that he was attractive, but over all of their shared meals and late-night outings, she’d never really taken stock of him: his full lips, his sharply defined cheekbones that were so often disguised by a smile or laugh, the dimple in his chin and the single, perfect curl that dipped over his forehead. His face, normally so expressive, was smooth in sleep and she thought about tracing the line of his brow, the ridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw. She thought about kissing his eyelids and waking him up.

When Jake had kissed her that first time a few days ago, she’d been momentarily overpowered by a physical attraction to him – and that was all she had thought it was, a gut-deep desire for a man who was undeniably hot. So she’d pushed him away, because kissing (that would likely to lead to much more than kissing) was absolutely not okay between reporters and their sources. Intimacy of any sort led to bias and poor decision making; it turned journalism into a trade industry.

Amy’s guilt and shame had been so profound that night that she swore she’d been marked in some way, as though even strangers would see her failure written on her face. It occurred to her that they had practically been dating for weeks -- that even before he kissed her, before she kissed him back, she had crossed a line. She felt awful for herself, for having betrayed her own moral code, and she felt awful for Jake, whom she had obviously misled.

So it was a gift that the next several days flew by in a crush of anxiety and exhilaration as she finally put her article to bed. She had no time to dwell on her personal mistakes when she was arguing over headlines with Terry and Charles and writing and rewriting every photo caption and fact-checking every detail, from the numbers in her bar charts to the hyperlinks and hashtags they would use on social media. On Saturday she convinced Charles to print out page proofs so she could do one last edit of the printed version of her story, and she suggested word choice and grammar revisions until finally, when they were on the verge of what was sure to be an embarrassing slap-fight over an Oxford comma, Charles shoved her out the front doors and told her she needed to relax and let someone wash her hair.

“I have just the person in mind,” he called after her, as Amy stomped down the block.

She’d slept fitfully that night, waking up just about every hour to check her phone. At daybreak, a post from the Bulletin Twitter account went out. Her favorite brother sent her a congratulatory email that Amy read over a breakfast of plain toast because she couldn’t stomach anything else. By noon, the story was viral (at least locally – it was never going to make The Daily Show, Amy kept reminding herself).

When the mayor announced on Twitter that he was personally looking into the jail situation and linked to Amy’s story, she was stunned and elated. And she was blindsided by a wave of sadness: She missed Jake.

She missed his smile and the way his eyes went soft when she was talking about something personal. She missed the way he tugged at his hair when he was looking over the documents she’d asked him to read for her. She missed his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves and the way his one eyebrow quirked when he laughed.

She even missed the gummy worms he consumed by the handful when they were meeting at a bar and he got snacky while translating penal codes, and she missed the ketchup and orange soda stains on her documents, and she missed having to rearrange all of her papers when she got home because he never paid attention to her tabs.

She just missed him. And she missed sharing this success with him.

Later in the day, when Gina had texted that the newsroom was getting drinks and it was definitely not because of her story but because they were all bored, Amy had been sitting at her laptop with a dozen tabs open on her browser for essays on journalism ethics and dating sources. She’d joined them for drinks because it seemed pathetic not to, and she’d been honestly touched by their support. But she’d also been miserable, because all she could think was that she’d messed up everything. Her life was amazing, and she’d screwed it all up.

Then Jake had texted. Just seeing his dumb code name appear on her screen had made her heart leap into her throat, and she’d known then that she couldn’t let him go. She had to at least see him, and try.

Now, she really did have it all. And lying in his bed, with the sun in her face and the smell of him in her (his) pillow, she felt content to just be. So she stared at him for a while, until the sun had shifted enough that it was blocked by the partly drawn curtains, and it dawned on her – so to speak – that she couldn’t remember if she’d set her alarm and she had no idea what time it was. She panicked for just a moment and quickly rolled over, hand slapping on the bedside table for her phone. She squinted at it – her contact lenses felt glued to her eyeballs – and sighed when she saw that she was only five minutes past her alarm.

Of course, she was going to need to go home and shower before going into work, and she’d wanted to go in early so she could check in with Terry and Holt before heading to Manhattan for the NPR interview, and she obviously hadn’t laid out her clothes the night before or set the timer on her coffeemaker.

Amy glanced at her phone again and did some quick math and decided that if she skipped coffee and didn’t wash her hair – it was just radio, it wasn’t like she had to look great – and planned her outfit on the way to her apartment then she could save six minutes, which still wasn’t ideal but she could make it work.

But then she glanced back at Jake, and the sudden pulse of affection for him pushed everything else aside. She could be a little late. She kissed his forehead, just beneath the curl, and each of his eyelids, and she covered his hand with her own as he blinked his eyes open and smiled back at her.

+++

Amy ended up texting Terry to tell him she was going straight into the city for her interview and he said that was fine. She didn’t get into the newsroom until noon, and by then she was famished and caffeine-deprived and still practically vibrating with joy. Her story had been a huge success and she had kissed the man she really, really liked and she’d had sex – three times! – the night before. The fact that they hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly 3 a.m. – because: three times – wasn’t a problem. Amy felt like she might never need to sleep again.

She spent the day working on a follow-up story around the mayor’s plan to investigate the jail recordings. She also fielded several unpleasant phone calls from the head of the corrections department and his deputies, until one of them demanded a full retraction and she finally had to pass them on to Terry and Holt to deal with, which was fine by her. They both had her back, and she’d never doubted they would, but it was still nice to be supported. So nice, actually, that by the end of the day, as Terry was editing her story, she started feeling guilty again.

“I have to tell you something,” Amy said, or rather blurted, when Terry had finished editing. It was 6 p.m. and it had been a pretty slow day so the newsroom was mostly cleared out; only Hitchcock was left, and he had his head pillowed on his arms at his desk and was snoring.

“Terry doesn’t love the sound of that,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Oh man, are you quitting? You’re going to the Times already? I thought we’d get at least another year out of you.”

“No!” Amy said, then, “Wait, what? You think I’ll be at the Times in a year?”

“Uh-”

“Wow.” Amy tried to think of a more appropriate response. “That’s- wow.”

She sort of spaced out for a moment, until Terry cleared his throat and said, “You had something to tell me?”

“Oh, right. I did.” Amy shook herself out of her Times fantasy and reminded herself of the task at hand. Immediately, nerves made her stomach flutter and her palms sweat.

She’d considered waiting a while to tell her bosses about Jake, just long enough for them to actually start dating and see where things were headed. But that was her fear speaking, and she knew she had to do what was right. She swallowed hard, working up the courage to tell Terry. She really liked her job, and she was pretty sure they weren’t going to fire her but they were almost definitely going to make her change beats, which was going to be disappointing. But she had to be up front with them.

“Santiago-”

“I’m boinking my source!”

It came out as a sort of squeak-yell and Amy was glad no one else was around to hear her.

“Um, I mean, I’m dating him. Well, I guess not technically dating yet, but sleeping with him. You know, like-” She mashed her hands together in a movement that definitely didn’t connote sex, unless it was really bad sex.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it,” Terry said, sounding both perplexed and slightly amused. “Well, this is...something that we need to talk to Holt about.”

Terry stood up and peered around her at Holt’s office.

“Now?” Amy felt suddenly like she might faint.

“It’s as good a time as any,” Terry said. He gently took Amy’s elbow and steered her across the newsroom. “He’s thrilled with your article and the response it’s gotten.”

“He is?” Amy said, pride pushing aside her nerves for a moment. “I mean, I knew he was pleased, but thrilled? Did he say that? Or are you just inferring? Because if he said that-”

“I can just tell,” Terry said. He paused outside Holt’s open office door. “Just be honest with him. And don’t say ‘boinking.’”

“Roger that.”

Terry tapped on the door before leading Amy inside. He asked if Holt was busy, and Holt said, “I’m always busy,” but he put down his pencil and invited them to sit.

Somehow, Amy pulled herself together. She explained, calmly, that she had developed feelings for someone who used to be a source, and that they had decided to start dating. She said that she had already informed him that she would no longer be able to use him as a source, and that if he told her anything newsworthy she would pass it on to one of her colleagues. She expressed that she wanted to keep covering the police beat, but she would understand if they didn’t trust her in that position anymore, and she would happily accept any new assignment they offered. When she was done, she folded her hands in her lap and squared her shoulders and forced herself not to think about what would happen if they fired her.

“I see,” Holt said, with no inflection that Amy could discern. “Well, it would seem as though you’ve taken the necessary precautions and insulated yourself from potential bias as well as possible. I see no reason you cannot remain on the police beat, for now. But note, I will be paying close attention, as will Terry, and if one of us believes you are compromised we will take action.”

Amy blinked, stunned that she was going to be allowed to keep covering cops. She smiled and nodded sharply, then stood up and stuck out her hand. Holt looked at her outstretched hand for a moment and then smiled a little and shook it. His grip was firm, and so was hers.

“I promise I won’t let you down, sir,” Amy said.

She turned and strode out of his office. She was just outside the door when she heard Holt say, “She knows she doesn’t have to call me ‘sir,’ right?”

“I don’t think so,” said Terry.

+++

Jake was pleased for Amy that her conversation about dating a cop had gone over so well with her bosses. It clearly helped ease her mind to have their blessing – or at least their not-firing – and that was great, he wanted her to be as relaxed and stress-free and not-guilty as possible when it came to being with him.

But there was no universe in which he was planning to similarly come out to the Vulture, or just about anyone else in the NYPD. He’d probably tell Rosa at some point – maybe, eventually; most likely after she figured it out on her own and forced it out of him – and it wasn’t like he expected to sneak around with Amy for the foreseeable future. He just would rather keep it between them (and Amy’s bosses) for the moment.

He was still in awe that there even was a them.

Jake knew he didn’t have much of a tolerance for wide-swinging emotions. In fact, his grasp on his own emotional health was at times staggeringly bad. He did a decent job keeping his feelings under control day to day – denial and compartmentalization were his go-to coping mechanisms and he excelled at both (thanks, Roger Peralta) – but when strong emotions hit, they hit hard.

Once, during a department-mandated therapy session after a lengthy undercover stint, a counselor had told Jake that he’d benefit from developing a toolbox of decompressing strategies for when things got rough. For some reason Jake had found the suggestion hilarious, imagining a literal toolbox filled with hammers and wrenches and pliers. When he’d mentioned it to Rosa, she’d said that bashing things with tools was exactly what she did when she was angry – that or glass-blowing – and Jake had actually bought a toolbox online that day. It was currently collecting dust in the back of his sneaker closet.

So yeah, he wasn’t great with emotions. And the past few days had involved a dizzying array of them. After the depressing lows that had followed their first kiss, the pure elation of their second kiss had been almost overwhelming. Jake had felt lighter and happier the next day than he could ever remember. He’d also felt exhausted, though it was a satisfied, dreamy, peaceful kind of fatigue.

They’d seen each other again that night, and every night after for the rest of the week, and though they’d had sex they hadn’t actually slept together again. They’d ordered takeout and turned on a movie and basically made out (and more) on his or her sofa until one of them yawned and they agreed it was late and they both had to get up early. It was kind of perfect.

Amy was kind of perfect.

But by Friday Jake had decided they needed a proper date, and so he chose a restaurant and made a reservation and texted Amy that he’d pick her up at 7. Then he and Rosa got called to a dead body, and a suspect in an unrelated robbery case they’d been working for two weeks had literally tripped over their crime scene, and by 6 Jake was covered in blood and subway muck and still had a report to finish. He texted Amy to tell her he’d meet her at the restaurant.

Which was how he arrived at their first official date almost half an hour late, hair still damp from the shower, fumbling the knot of his necktie as he pushed through the crowded foyer to the host station.

“What happened to your face?” Amy said, when he got to her side.

“What?”

Amy brushed her fingers over her own cheek and Jake did the same, wincing when he touched the small cut. “Oh, that.”

The host came then and glared a lot, but he took them to a table despite Jake’s tardiness. It was an intimate restaurant, quiet and dark with small tables clustered close together. The host handed them menus with a sneer that Jake had to believe was not in the employee handbook.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jake said, once they were seated.

Amy smiled back at him and shrugged. “I get the feeling it’s something I’m going to get used to.”

“You look nice,” he said. “I like the dress.”

“It’s not a dress, it’s a skirt and blouse,” Amy said, and then grimaced. “But, thank you. You look nice too. I’ve never seen you in a tie before.”

Jake ducked his head and ran a hand self-consciously over the wrinkled necktie. He’d only had time for about a two-minute shower at the precinct before coming straight to the restaurant. He was just lucky he always kept a spare tie and a semi-clean shirt shoved in the back of his desk for emergency court dates.

“So what happened today?” Amy gestured again to his face.

“It’s actually an insane story.”

“Wait!” Amy said, holding up a hand. “Like, the kind of insane I’d want to write an article about? Or insane like, your job is disgusting and/or hilarious but not fit for print?”

“Definitely the latter,” Jake said.

“Go on, then.” Amy leaned toward him, resting her chin in her hand.

“So Rosa and I got called to a dead body on the subway tracks near Bergen. But when we get there, the dead body’s actually a dog, and it’s been turned inside-out. Like, nose to tail. And the smell-”

Jake paused because Amy was shooting him a wide-eyed warning glare and darting her eyes back and forth. He looked to either side and saw that their dining neighbors were staring at him with looks of utter horror. The woman to his left set her utensils on the table and shoved her plate away.

“Uh, I’ll tell you the rest later,” Jake said.

“I think that would be best.”

They exchanged embarrassed smiles, and Jake said, “Well, what about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Amy said. “It’s nice being back on the regular police beat after all that time on the jail story. Like today, I got to do this story on a severed head-”

“Oh! The one they found in the fish tank?”

“Yes!” Amy said. “You know about that case? It’s so crazy.”

“So crazy!” Jake said. “You should see the photos.”

Jake was reaching for his cell phone in his jacket pocket when he spotted the same lady on his left staring at him with murder in her eyes. He glanced back at Amy, who was getting the same death glare from a different diner.

“Maybe later,” Amy said weakly.

They turned to their menus then, each fairly mortified. After they’d ordered, Jake grasped for a more appropriate topic, and finally asked Amy to tell him more about some of her coworkers.

“I’m always going on about the Vulture,” he said. “What’s your boss like?”

“Oh god, nothing like Pembroke,” Amy said. “Terry, he’s my regular editor, he’s really gentle and supportive but he knows how to get the best out of you. And Holt is incredible. He’s so smart and ethical and detail-oriented, and he has impeccable news judgment. He’s the most impressive man I’ve ever met.”

“So, what you’re saying is I should be jealous of your editor.” Jake smirked at her.

Amy turned red and said, “No! He’s great but he’s not- I mean, I love Holt, but I’m not in love with him.”

Jake fully laughed, and it occurred to him that his maybe-girlfriend was not exactly suave and that he maybe found that adorable.

Amy waited out his laughter with only a mild look of annoyance, then asked Jake to tell her more about Rosa. “Police partnerships must be so intense. I bet you know everything about each other.”

“I know her first and last name and that she lives somewhere in Brooklyn,” Jake said. He hesitated and thought that over. “Probably.”

“Oh,” Amy said, face falling. The waiter arrived then with their dinner salads, and Amy leaned toward him and said, in a low voice, “Jake, are we bad at this?”

He didn’t respond right away. Things were undeniably weird. And he supposed some of that was to be expected, given that they’d always had a kind of invisible barrier between them when they’d met in public – a professional line they couldn’t cross. He snapped his fingers then, startling Amy into dropping her fork.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “I think things were easy before because we were always surrounded by all your notes and binders, and they were like, I don’t know, a fortress keeping out the weird.”

“Okay,” Amy said, slowly. “So you need me to bring binders next time? Because I can do that.”

“No,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Not binders – liquor.”

“What?”

“Conversation grease,” he said, lifting a hand to get their waiter’s attention. “Four shots of-” He glanced at Amy, who shrugged. “Your medium-est shelf whiskey.”

+++

They stumbled back to Amy’s place from the restaurant, both of them a pleasant sort of tipsy that was warm and giggly and affectionate, Jake’s arm slung around Amy’s shoulders, her fingers tucked into the back of his belt. When she let them inside, Jake backed her into the wall beside her front door and kissed her, clumsy and teasing. She fisted his tie in one hand to pull him closer and felt him smile against her lips.

“You,” she said, tipping her head back to speak, “are an amazing detective.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I know,” he said, “but maybe be more specific?”

“The way you figured out why things were weird and then fixed it,” Amy said, and she cupped a hand over the back of his neck and pulled him toward her again, lips brushing against his. “That was brilliant.”

“Dear lord, you are good at this,” Jake said.

Then they stopped talking for a while. Jake took her hand and led them back to her bedroom, where he gently pushed her onto the bed and sprawled out beside her, and they undressed each other slowly and had sex on top of the bedspread, their bodies illuminated by the light coming from the hallway and the streetlamps outside her windows. After, Jake pulled the quilt she kept folded at the end of the bed up over them, and they laid facing each other, arms tucked under their heads.

“You never told me where you got this,” Amy said, brushing her fingertips against the shallow cut on his cheek.

He wrapped his hand around hers and kissed her fingers, one at a time, before answering.

“This robbery suspect Rosa and I had been looking for, he showed up at the dog-body crime scene, like out of nowhere. I think he was just going to get the train. He freaked out when he saw us and took off down the subway tracks, we pursued, and when I took him down we sort of scuffled and I guess he got in a hit or two.” Jake shrugged. “I didn’t even know he’d hit me until we got back on the platform and Rosa said something. I was way more focused on the fact that I was covered in subway slime.”

Amy shuddered at the thought. “I hope you’re up to date on your vaccines. I bet you can get diseases you’ve never even heard of from subway slime.”

“Or, if you want to look on the bright side, maybe I could become a slime monster. Oh! Like the Swamp Thing, only the Subway Thing.” Jake paused, a faraway look in his eyes. “That’d be so dope.”

“Didn’t you ever think it was lame that the Swamp Thing was just a ‘thing,’” Amy said. “Like, they couldn’t come up with a better description?”

“I had never thought that before, but I love the way your mind works,” Jake said. Amy smiled, and he smiled back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

They grew quiet, and Jake traced patterns across her shoulder and down her arm with his fingers, whorls and lines that made her shiver. Amy studied his face and marveled at the closeness they seemed to have developed, despite knowing not a lot about one another.

Amy had been in relationships, two or three serious ones, but they’d always just fizzled out, whatever small spark that got them started snuffed at the smallest huff of irritation. What Amy felt for Jake, after only knowing him for a few weeks, already seemed more vibrant, more durable.

“Did I ever tell you my dad was a cop?” Amy said, soft in the darkness.

Jake’s fingers paused on her skin, and he laid his palm flat on her shoulder instead. “No, you’ve never mentioned him.”

“He retired a few years ago. Victor Santiago.”

Jake’s eyes went wide, and his hand squeezed around her bicep. “Captain Victor Santiago? He’s your dad?”

Amy beamed and nodded. “You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s a legend, Amy,” Jake said. “Oh wait, wow, so Manny and Jesus are your brothers?”

“They’re cops too, yes,” Amy said. “And Tony.”

“Yeah, Tony. He’s kind of a dick.” Jake grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. He is a dick.”

Jake chuckled, and shook his head slowly. “Wow, I can’t believe you’re one of those Santiagos. It never even occurred to me.”

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” Amy said.

Jake caught her eye, and he moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her toward him, his mouth close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

Amy kissed him, hard enough to leave him breathless. “Later,” she said, and rolled on top of him.

CHAPTER 9

#b99 fic #peraltiago #jake and amy au #newspaper au #life writes its own stories

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katblaque · 7 years

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Chris Ray Gun, White Hysteria and Dishonesty

For the past few weeks, we've seen a bit of a shift in white youtubers- especially on the gaming side of the platform. White gamers who generally only offer their (supposedly) funny hot takes on the latest games and the hottest gaming trends have taken the dive into political commentary. They’re inspired by this new presidency and conversations surrounding him and the so-called “SJWs” and “Main Stream Media”. While some are critical of Trump, plenty of them have come out to boldly state that they hold ideologies that are consistent with the leader of the free world. Bravely, they've taken to Twitch broadcasts and Google Hangouts to express their true feelings and one such gamer was JonTron, of the Game Grumps.

Jon Jafari, a man who self identifies as white despite being Iranian (more on that later), has taken to several broadcasts to express his sympathy with White Nationalism and White Supremacy. This has shocked a lot of his fans, who have now transformed his Reddit page into a mostly anti-JonTron roast fest. While they remain shocked by his out of touch comments like “Rich black commit more crime than poor whites” and “What about the crime rate in Africa?”- I’m actually not very surprised by this at all. Now, confession, I have a bit of a prejudice against the gaming community- if you haven’t been able to tell already. While I know and understand that not all gamers are racists and not all gamers cosign things like sexism and misogyny, I’ve been hardpressed to find a group of people who have the same visibility and influence as someone like PewDiPi or Game Grumps, call these things out. In fact, it seems like often times they side with and sympathize with the times when racism or sexism materialize in their circles. So, I have- what I’ll admit, is a pretty unfair bias against gamers and I’m not surprised when prominent gamers turn out to be racist and I’m even less surprised when they’re defending by other prominent gamers.

Because I’m a black woman who blogs about anti-racism and does so pretty openly, I get a lot of harassment and trolling. Now, I’ve been a blogger since I was 15- so honestly these things don’t really phase me, but I’ll be honest and say that sometimes I get trollish myself and at times it’s not always the best recourse. One thing I’ve learned (especially on this fucking website- still hate tumblr) is that often times when you’re in situations like this, it’s best to not respond.. .but hey-probably because I’m a child of the internet, it’s hard for me not to sometimes.

Racist trolls always dominate my mentions. Any time I make any point about racism, you’ll be sure to find some white troll in my comment section refuting what I’m saying. The other day, I was ranting about JonTron because, TBH, I really find the whole thing quite fascinating. White people have largely convinced themselves that being called out for racism can ruin someone’s career. And you know what- as someone who’s fans have tracked down racists who’ve attacked me and gotten them fired... I get it. That’s not totally untrue- but it definitely is on Youtube.

JonTron regurgitates white supremacist talking points almost perfectly and one of said talking points is “White Genocide”. If you've never heard of this term before, it sounds like it’s a discussion about the mass murder of white people. I completely understand why people would think that, but that isn't what it means. Here’s a definition from one of the leading White Genocide information websites:

White Genocide is:

Moving millions of non-White immigrants into traditionally White countries over a period of years

Legally chasing down and forcing White areas to accept “diversity“. This is known as “Forced Assimilation“.

White Genocide is being carried out by massive immigration of non-White people and forced assimilation. As a result we are turning into the minority in America, Australia, Canada, and Europe.

Now, if White Genocide were the mass killing of white people on the basis of them being white, I would obvious oppose that. Why? Because I don’t believe in any sort of genocide or violence on the basis of race. hell, I’m the same person who defended Trump supporters and Tumblr’s STILL mad about it.

White Genocide is a concept that’s been around forever. With the hysteria around immigration today, I think a lot of people can connect the dots and see why people like JonTron (The son of an Iranian Immigrant) would easily latch onto these ideologies. This is part of why it doesn’t shock me. Because if you know anything about American History, you know this conversation has come up decade after decade whenever a large group of non-white immigrants come into the country. A central aspect of this concept is a demonization of miscegenation. Miscegenation, if you don’t know is just an old-timey word used to describe interracial relationships. As a black woman with a white boyfriend (who BTW is Japanese and Italian- so pretty much already unpure), I personally find the hysteria to be quite funny. It’s honestly hard for me not to. I guess it’s because I’ve been a minority my entire life and I’ve had to listen to white people- even in this conversation, pretend as though things are completely fine when it comes to how the majority relates to the minority. Hearing all of these white people fear being breed out is funny to me on several levels, but the biggest one being that there’s something so disgustingly hypocritical about it all. White people literally colonized a land that wasn’t theirs, attempted to actually violently genocide an entire race (failed), raped them, forced them to assimilate and then over centuries imported non-white workers and slaves to build their country and now this particular group of white people are upset that.... in 2017, white women have the choice to sleep with men of color. And that’s really what this is all about, but I don’t want to get too deep into describing to you what white genocide is. In summary, many black men were lynched in post slavery America because they were accused of lusting for white women. This was seen as self defense of the white race and black men were often genitally mutilated after they were hung. So there’s a very long and extensive history there, but I digress.

In talking about White Genocide, I obviously made a lot of jokes about it because, at least to me, it’s a laughable concept. A very very laughable concept. After a full day of trolls in my mentions, did what I kinda tend to do after hours of trying to have reasonable conversations with these people- I flip their logic onto them. So when i got a tweet about how black people a “slave race” because they have “bad genes” this is what I said:

Now, to me, this is a joke and a very funny one. Why? Because the idea that genes are either “good” or “bad” or “dominant” is fucking laughable Scientific Racist bullshit. Bullshit utilized by white supremacists to argue that white people are just naturally more superior to all other races. There’s a longer conversation there, but if you care, here’s my video about Scientific Racism.

If you’ve ever followed me on twitter for an extended period of time, this side of me wouldn’t shock you. If you only follow me on Youtube, it might. I’m positive people on this fucking reactionary website are going to be hella pissed off (lol), but this is me. I sit through tons of fucked up shit that I find it HILARIOUS. I find it funny. It’s hard for me to not laugh a white supremacist tweets because, to me, it shows how insecure they are. I’m someone who speaks about race and racism- it’s my job. These people devote their entire days to sitting on twitter and regurgitating racist bullshit....as a hobby.

ChrisRGun, a Youtuber with almost 300k subscribers decided to share my tweet with this caption:

Chris deliberately removed the tweet I was responding to and presented this a declarative statement I made out of nowhere. Suggesting that it was somehow unprompted. Now, you can make the argument that I shouldn’t have stooped to their level and maybe there’s a part of me in the back of my mind where I agree with you. But do I regret that tweet? Absolutely not. It’s hard for me to feel bad about shitposting when people like Chris regularly defend shit posts all the time.

Chris was one of these gamers who bucked up to defend PewDiPie when he made his “Kill All The Jews”... “joke”. Now, i’m not Jewish and my understanding of antisemitism is still expanding- but it’s my understanding that jokes like “Kill All The Jews” being seen as normal or inoffensive somehow, is an aspect of antisemitism. But to people like Chris, these comments were taken “out of context”. It’s unfair for the Pewds lose his relationship with Maker and other gigs because “he was taken out of context”. Yet here Chris actually goes out of his way to remove the context from my post- which was that I was throwing back the flawed logic of a racist at him because, at least to me, it’s fucking funny.

But what I find funnier, actually, is that people like Chris Ray Gun are also the same people who whinge all day long about how “SJWs” are reactionaries who get offended by absolutely everything. Here you have a very clear joke tweet that he looked at in full, decided that the context didn’t matter and cropped it in a way to omit the context fully. He is, quite literally, no different than the strawman SJWs he’s always complaining about. The beginning and end of these’s people’s criticisms of “SJWs” is ‘hypocrisy” But he’s a massive, shameless hypocrite. How do you defend Pewdiepie with the whole “it’s been taken out of context” shit and then deliberately omit context from my post. You could make the argument that BOTH of our comments were wrong, jokes or not. However, if you believe Pewdipie’s comments are a joke, then you absolutely need to make space for the fact that mine was as well and equally deserves you defense.

But what’s the difference between JonTron and Pewdipie and myself? Well they’re two white men and I’m a black woman. Defending those two and harshly criticizing me doesn’t conceal racial bias. The truth is both Pewdiepie and JonTron are white men and we live in a society that grants white men the full and total access to their emotions. We see them as emotionally complex and nuances. They have multiple sides and have the ability to change and be well-rounded. JonTron’s just a silly fool parroting white nationalist talking points to millions of people. PewdiePie is just a Swedish sweetheart who’s sick of the establishment so he makes funny jokes about killing Jewish people because, you know, it’s funny. But me? I’m a black woman, so I’m angry and spiteful. I have an agenda against white people and this one tweet, sarcastic or not, is the complete and total sum of my work. I am not granted the right to redeeming qualities. I do not get to say or do even an inch of what white racists do to me and still get the benefit of the doubt. What Chris’ bias reveals here is that is isn’t quite the champion of free speech that he presents himself to be. The difference between JonTron and myself is that JonTron actually feels that way, I’m making a joke pointing out the flawed logic of racists.

He made a few more tweets:

What a lot of white people seem to constantly underestimate is the persistent racism that black people and people of color deal with their entire lives. When you’re used to being called a nigger and you’re used to white supremacists saying to you that you’re inferior, these things don’t actually phase you. What we’re seeing right now with white people like Chris is that they are reacting to something that most people of color in white dominant spaces reacted to when they were children- Othering. These are people who are not used to being see as white. They are not accustomed to people saying negative things about whiteness or white people. When I was a child, my otherness was very clear to me. I was a black kid in (at the time) a mostly white preschool. I had to learn fairly easy that not only was I different from the other kids, but that people saw these differences as inherently negative. So what did I do through my formative years? I learned to be comfortable, proud and content with myself. That my blackness isn’t a negative and my skin, hair texture and body are all beautiful as they are. When you’re accustomed to being seen as the default, being othered is scary. Interestingly enough, this ties directly into White Genocide, which is largely the fear that immigrants and miscegenation will displace white people and make them a minority. That idea requires one very real and central emotion: Fear. These groups have to prove to white people that they are at risk, that they are being attacked, that people are trying to suppress them. To use anti-sjw jargon, they need to sell them a victimhood narrative. They have to convince them of something so devastating and so hurtful that they have to mobilize. They have to stand up. They have to fight. And people like Chris Ray Gun serve it up to you on a platter. They willingly feed misinformation to their, generally young and impressionable audience and convince them that their ideas are not only unpopular, but being repressed. But this isn’t true.

Chris Ray Gun has 296,473 subscribers

JonTron has 3,117,693

Pewdiepie has 54,299,958

I have 118,125

My channel, my content and my platforms are all smaller than theirs, but they sell you the idea that my content is so successful and influential that it needs to be stopped. That my ideas are so damaging that they should be suppressed. Think about that for a moment. The fact that these people have platforms that cast a very very large shadow over mine and they have to sell you the idea that somehow someway, people like me are the real problem. That people like me are influencing culture in a way that’s damaging and divisive. We aren’t. We are small voices that are often drowned out by the status quo- but every good story needs an antagonist. Every good story has a challenge. And to rally their base, the need to frame me as that villain. And guess what, it’s successful because their ideas are the status quo. Most people agree with and cosign them. Because their ideas, in truth, aren’t actually unpopular or edgy or unique. They’re common. And this is why you’re seeing so many more of these gaming channels pander to this ideology. Because in a world where everyone wants to be the Next Pewdiepie, they have to get a new shtick and right now, this works.

Chris Ray Gun commented on a Kevin Logan video about him and claimed that his friend was the one who sent him that tweet (classic Machiavellian tactic) not him.

I don’t believe him,but mostly because I perhaps give him too much credit. I would like to believe that people like him who make such bold statements and decided to redirect their fanbase to my page to explicitly attack me would do a bit of research and find the actual tweet to see if it were real. Imagine if someone photoshoped a tweet and put my name on it (something that’s happened) and sent it to him and he posted it. That would not only be dishonest, it would be unethical and he’d be a massive hypocrite. That aside though, if true, what this means, at its base is that he didn’t do his legwork and sheepishly posted something because he didn’t agree with me. I know, and I’m sure plenty of you know that i was making a joke and that these are not my beliefs, but he believed it. He fell for it. He wasn’t critical and didn’t try to see the full picture of what was said. That should still bother you. And to his point about “if a person of the opposite persuasion made the same tweet”- well they did. The one I was responding to. And all Chris’ posts did was invite more white supremacists to my page to talk to me about the natural inferiority of black people. But we know that both him and his buddy JonTron do carry that belief. They spend time defending that idea on their pages constantly. In conclusion, what this ultimately is, is them not quite holding white supremacists to the same standard. I went through Chris’ page. He isn’t making posts fighting against white supremacy. He isn’t countering it, he isn’t trying to. He’s coddling and pacifying it. And that, to me, says a lot.

#Chris Ray Gun #SJWs #Anti-SJWs

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littleminter · 7 years

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♛ just friends ♛

#imagines tag.#smut #zerkaa #zerkaahd #zerkaasmut #joshuabradley #sidemen #sidemenxix #sdmn #sdmnxix #sdmnff #sdmnfanfic #sdmnxreader #sidemenxreader #zerkaaxreader

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wishingfornever · 5 years

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12/25/17 – No Contact: Christmas

I hate Christmas. I feel very alone right now. I got back from work and I’ve been awake since. Current time is 1am. I wrote a bit of a rant on Facebook. It was more to address those who experience today in Solitude. I wrote this rant more for myself… but if asked about it, I’ll deny it. I wrote about how many people are alone and feel the burden of the holiday. So if I’m asked, I’ll say, “No, I’m with my cousin.”

Excuses. It’s a poison and I’m the only one drinking it. Tomorrow, Adela and I will try to find a place to get food. I guess I’ll get some McDonald’s. Fuck it, I’ll have meat. -,-

On Twitch, two people have added me. I’ve accepted. They don’t seem to be bots, at least not when I added them a week or so ago. I asked one why they added me. Rather, how they found me. He (assuming this person is male but he has a feminine name) said we have a mutual friend. Shane. I haven’t seen hide nor hair from him in a long while. Very peculiar.

It’d be funny if it were Esther and she were stalking me, but this person is playing World of Warcraft. She never heard of it when we met. Of course, she and Dennis could have gotten into it… I wonder.

Remember how I said “Dennis and I never go out so his stories are false.” Thing is, in World of Warcraft, we did A LOT of things together. That is far more likely. Again, doubt it’s Esther but if Dennis got her into WoW that’d be a place where a lot of his stories involving me would be true.

I suspect Shane told these people to add me. I think he’s busting my balls. Just sort of trying to upset me or something. I don’t know. It’s a very weird circumstance. I’m going to try to avoid these folks but if they message me, I’ll respond. I don’t even know how to check mutuals on Twitch, so it’s more than likely he told them to add me. Whether his intention is malicious or not has yet to be determined.

Anyways, time to ruin Christmas. As I said yesterday… or the day before? The transcript for me trolling. I probably won’t share anything like this again, so this will be for educational purposes only. Behold:

Original Post by Mutual Friend who ISN’T a Nazi (Was Posted on Twitter but Appeared on Facebook which he neglects): Journalists need to realise that the erosion of trust doesn't matter for their political antithetics. Trump supporters won't watch @CNN anyway.

It's their normal audience that'll tire of constant mistakes, of immature antics. Yelling about apples won't help with that.

Declan: Nope it won't help them, but there is a NEW NAZI BORN every MINUTE these evil and vile people exist! GOOD AND JUSTICE IS COMING! [At this point, he shares a video titled “88 Problems” which is a Nazi remake of “99 Problems” and is ABUNDANTLY Fascist]

Declan: [He shares a picture of Stalin furiously grabbing his head and looking down upon a series of pictures depicting Communism and Homosexuality with Hitler laughing in the corner]

Stephen: [Shares a picture of a Pencil with the words “This Machine Kills Fascists” on the side]

Declan: Hahahaha, gotta love the queer unnatural filth that rose up to exist because we chose the wrong side in World War Number 2. Thank the CREATOR for Generation ZYKLON which is rising in huge numbers. I guess the degenerates pushed too far too fast. Just a matter of time now, the days of the degenerate is numbered. THANK GOD!

Stephen: Lel, not sure if you're serious or not. Either you're telling a joke or you are the joke. ;)

Stephen: [Shares a picture of Che Guevara, on the top is written “I bet you won’t repost because you’re too ashamed to have a picture of Jesus on your feed.” The purpose of this was to target his blatant over-religiousness and was more to draw him out as the image will offend him ideologically as well as spiritually.]

Declan: [Tags Me] - HAHAHAHHAHAHA, [Includes picture of Che Guevara with the quote “’The Negro is indolent and lazy, and spends his money on frivolities, whereas the European is forward-looking, organized, and intelligent.’ - Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara” and is immediately followed by another quote saying, “THIS DUMMY NIGGER SAYS NIGGERS ARE LAZY AND LAZY… In his nigger mind while attempting to promote Europeans… IS NOT EUROPEAN!”]

Declan: Now run to facebook and cry to CUCKERBERG to ZUCK me

Stephen: Oh, you're serious. The thing is, Che isn't black. In fact, his ancestry is Spanish-Irish. It's alright for not knowing, however. Ignorance can be cured through education. Education is a machine that kills fascists. :D

Declan: [Tags Me; mind you, the hyphen is a part of his responses, this has all been copied and pasted directly with the exception of describing the text in images] - YOU SAID ONLY BLACKS CAN BE NIGGERS! You, YOU, are clearly anti-black.

Declan: [Tags Me, yet again] - you should be ashamed, BLACK LIVES MATTER!

Stephen: "Nigger" is a derogatory term for people of color. Much like how "Kike" is a derogatory term for Jews. If I were to call you a kike and then proceeded to insist that Kikes aren't specifically Jews, that'd be ignoring the original meaning of the word. The more you know. :D

Declan: People of color? You mean how "white" people are all the colors with various hair and eye colors, and brown people are just brown…

Stephen: More how in the US and other western nations determine someone's race by the color of their skin as opposed to standards in other nations. For example, in the Balkans, race is more nationalized and has more to do with culture. For example, Albanians and Serbs in Kosovo. They're different peoples and are considered a different race despite having the same skin color, but I digress.

Anyways, race is a boring topic and you're so very ignorant. Instead, let's talk politics. Since you're super into Black Lives Matters, then certainly you've heard of the glory that is Marxism, yes? :D

Declan: [Tags Me Again; please stahp] - I have heard of it, yes indeed. I figure cuckerberg is getting his minions ready to ban me as I type, so I better respond quickly… [Shares a picture depicting Romans carrying the fasces and is captioned, “In ancient ROME the fasces were carried by the lictors to assemble the court of the magistrate. They brought justice & light of ROME as they bore the fasces on their shoulders. The fasces remains a symbol of justice to this day because of it’s use in history. A bundle of sticks, in this case it was an axe bound around it with rods, held in place by leather strapping. The fasces served as a symbol of the people united together in the purpose of service to one another to build society under the law. It is this unity of purpose that is the basis for FASCISM. I am a FASCIST.”]

Declan: [Shares yet another picture with words, this depicting Joseph Goebbels with Adolf Hitler, quoting the former as saying, “THE JEW IS THE PLASTIC DEMON OF DECAY. WHERE HE SENSES FILTH AND DECAY, HE APPEARS FROM HIS HIDING PLACE AND BEGINS HIS CRIMINAL SLAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLES. HE PUTS ON A MASK OF FRIENDSHIP BEFORE THOSE HE WANTS TO BETRAY, WITHOUT THE INNOCENT VICTIM NOTICING THAT HIS NECK IS ALREADY BROKEN.

THAT IS WHY WE NATIONAL SOCIALISTS OPPOSE THE JEWS. THE JEW HAS CORRUPTED OUR RACE, SOILED OUR MORALS, UNDERMINED OUR VALUES, AND BROKEN OUR STRENGTH. WHEN WE FORGOT OUR GERMAN NATURE, HE TRIUMPHED OVER US AND OUR FUTURE. -Dr. Joseph Goebbels, July 30 1928.” Wall of text and is a dumb quote. Dumb.]

Stephen: Nonsense, nobody is listening to your banter besides me. You're making it clear that you like Fascism so I'd like to ask you more about your ideology. What do you like about Fascism?

Declan: I believe in natural order and seeking real truth. This leads to true justice.

Stephen: Right, but truth is subjective. Rather, let's talk about the political intrigue behind Fascism. For example, what are your views on economics? Do you think Fascism can work with Capitalism?

Declan: Economically, Hitler's policy on National Socialism was an amazing success. So much so, that he turned the ruins of his Republic into a shining war machine.

Stephen: That doesn't answer my question. At all. Do you think Fascism can work along side with Capitalism?

Declan: This is what sums up the ideals of that economic ideal. [Shares yet another picture with a wall of text, I honestly haven’t read any of this until now because fuck that shit. “HITLER’S DEFINITION OF SOCIALISM

‘A Socialist is the one who serves the common good without giving up his individuality or personality or the product of his personal efficiency. Our adopted term ‘Socialist’ has nothing to do with Marxian Socialism. Marxism is anti-property; true socialism is not. Marxism places no value on the individual, or individual effort, or efficiency; true Socialism values the individual and encourages him in individual efficiency, at the same time holding that his interests as an individual must be in consonance with those of the community. All great inventions, discoveries, achievements, were the first product of an individual brain. It is charged against me that I am against property, that I am an atheist. Both charges are false.’

- Adolf Hitler, December 28, 1938”

Bullshit propaganda, designed to sound good while kissing ass.]

Stephen: It’s a yes or no question, Declan. ;)

Declan: The simplest answer is yes.

Stephen: So yes? You believe Fascism could work with Capitalism? You do realize that much of Hitler's economic success was due to the state taking over control of industry in the nation? If Hitler ran today's world, Walmart and all those other businesses wouldn't exist in favor of a state-owned economic industry. That's the opposite of what capitalism and the free market stands for.

Stephen: Very peculiar thinking. Knowing what you know now, do you still believe capitalism is compatible with Fascism knowing that Hitler's success was largely in part thanks to state controlled industry?

Declan: I disagree totally, given I know what Hitler actually did and promoted. [lol, no you don’t]

Stephen: You disagree that capitalism will work with Fascism? But you just said the simplest answer is "Yes." Why the change of heart?

Declan: [Tags Me once more] - I disagree with you. Hitler's ideals of private property and personal industry was promoted in his work. National Socialism is NOT the same as the disease that is marx. [shares the most previous image again because if I read it once I really have to read it again]

Stephen: I'm not talking about private property as that has little to do with the free market. The thing is, in Nazi Germany you had to work through the Nazis in order to run ANY business. You needed to be a member of the Nazi party. The state controlled almost the entire industry of Germany. This was a requirement for the war effort, after all. Hitler was not one to support the free market as that was part of the Jewish agenda.

Stephen: "These capitalists create their own press and then speak of the 'freedom of the press.' In reality, every one of the newspapers has a master, and in every case this master is the capitalist, the owner." Addressed to the German workers of Berlin in 1940. Hitler said this. He was not a friend of Capitalism. [This is the comment he liked]

Stephen: Hrm, seems you've vanished. Was hoping you'd stick around longer. Perhaps a change of topic would encourage your return. Let's talk about the Fascist's strengths. How do you feel about Nationalism? :D

At this point, he stopped responding.

I was going to talk more about this and explain certain things, but I ended up spending an hour going back. Remember when the paragraphs were doublespacing? I mentioned it briefly and didn’t really talk about it again. I realized that if I have to rely on someone else to post these, I need to make them orderly. So… I did it. Just now.

I don’t suggest it. I was getting rid of the double spacing manually because this is SO long that the program I’m using is just… well, it can’t handle uniting all the edits and making the spacing universal. So, I pressed down on the arrow keys, hit enter, then clicked the mouse multiple times on the “Decrease Paragraph Spacing” button. This lasted a while and I reread a lot… not a healthy trip down memory lane.

Before Shane told me what he told me, I was super chill with Dennis and Esther. I REALLY turned against him. I trusted Shane so much. Trusted Daniel, too. I toyed with the idea that Daniel was untrustworthy… I think Shane too. But I never really confronted it. Of course, Dennis isn’t the ideal character. He still betrayed me. And Esther became a bit of a bitch.

Still, I wrote… a lot of sincere and heartfelt things. I toy with the idea that if Esther were to read this, the first part of the journal would scare her. Going through it again, not really. Like, you can see my opinion of Dennis change. I was honest about who I spoke with. I wasn’t as deceitful as I thought I was. And a lot of the dreams… ironically, I remembered the greatcoat burning dream the most. I remembered it because the design of the camp had a sort of similar appearance to a Call of Duty Black Ops map. The big snowy map in a factory. Not exact layout, just looked similar which is strange for a concentration camp. I can’t remember what I was, though. Probably for the best.

Haven’t seen Cynthia or little Stephen in a while. That’s good. I still have dreams of Esther, of course. Her spectre.

I had to change the name of a certain NationState to NationState Region Founder. He has a funny name but it’s a shame I can’t reveal it. To protect his identity. I sort of involved him in my drama. That was wrong of me.

I wish I could convince Esther to read this. I feel a lot of emotions that I felt back then. I had really hoped that Esther would change her mind. Shane built me up in a way. When he was saying that Dennis was basically Hitler, I was convinced she’d see reason. Of course, I attacked someone she had oxytocin for. Thus, she hated me for attempting to rid her of her oxytocin source.

He’s still a little bitch.

Yeah, maybe I’m salty. But Dennis wronged me. She refused to see that. I forgave him, but he doesn’t want to be forgiven because he doesn’t think he did anything wrong. I forgave her and same thing. She’s a good person… just fucking dumb. ><

She has a lot of potential and it’s being squandered on fucking pot. I hate marijuana. If you smoke it, you’re a fucking idiot. Yes, talking to you, Tumblr Reader. Don’t smoke pot. You need a sober mind. If you do smoke pot, smoke it socially. Don’t let it become a fucking crutch. Overindulgence in anything is a bad idea.

Of course, I’ve basically pigged out these last few days. Weirdly enough, whenever I do I tend to lose a lot of weight. Weird how that happens. I noticed that as I was reliving the journey so far.

I also noticed that I fell for something I told Esther not to fall for. Early in our relationship, before we became romantically involved and we were strictly platonic, I gave her a set of numbers. She asked what the numbers meant and I told her to figure it out herself. I ended up talking about hidden messages and the Enigma Machine from WWII. In an effort to learn the meaning of this set of numbers, she learned how to read the Enigma Machine. She had a big crush on me, you see, and really wanted to impress me.

As she was learning to decipher the Enigma Machine, I told her that it’s possible the numbers have no meaning. Immediately, she denied it and said that some of the numbers were making sense. I told her that she’d find a meaning but that meaning would be entirely her own. She was looking for answers and if she looked hard enough, she would find the answers. She’d find these answers even if there was never a question. She still defended the idea that the numbers I gave her had a meaning.

Eventually this idea of hers vanished as I managed to convince her that it was an analogy for religion. What’s the meaning of life? Certainly, there are answers and we’ve found it! Just don’t eat shellfish or pork! Because you’ll get sick and die if the pork isn’t cooked well enough or if you have shellfish allergies.

We try to find a meaning for everything. Everything must have an answer. And when we find even a glimmer of an answer, we’ll do whatever we can to defend it. That is why the most religious people are… well, religious. Because they are determined that they have an answer to a question they alone asked. A meaning to all of this.

The fact of the matter is, there is no meaning. There only is. We exist and we perhaps shouldn’t question why we exist. Life is temporary as an individual… but as a collective? Life is infinite.

Anyways, Esther tried to impress me by attempting to find an answer to a question that was implied. Instead, I impressed her through a bit of insight.

Esther was strange at first, but she was worth talking to. She was like a blank canvas and I was determined to take advantage of this. I wanted to expand her mind, her thought processes. She has so much potential that I know Dennis won’t see. I’m certain he oxytocins her as well, perhaps as much as I do. But his oxytocin for her? It’s a physical attraction.

To me, I oxytocin’d her because there were so many possibilities. The idea of Cynthia and mini Stephen? That’s recent. To me, I had hoped to share experiences with her. I wanted to do things I never have and have her do things she’s never done. I never ice skated before I met her, for example. A tip of the iceberg for me, the iceberg being adventures we may never do.

I mentioned that we had contracts. She and I set these contracts and they began because I recognized that she was naive and would agree to anything. Basically, I wrote contracts under duress to point out, “Hey, don’t fucking agree to everything just because you want one thing!” It was GROSSLY against her. However, we eventually rewrote the contract for other things. We weren’t in a romantic relationship at the time, but we were flirting quite heavily. It lead to the romantic relationship getting established.

My pride… it interfered. She screwed me over in the contract and rather than letting her get too proud, I decided to weasel my way out of it and have her rewrite it. Of course, it was a serious point so I weaseled for good intentions but I regretted doing it then. Still regret it now.

Before we broke up, right after the event happened where I discovered Dennis was a piece of shit and the oxytocin for me Esther had once felt had faded, I wrote a new contract in an effort to get her back. It heavily favored her. She came over to pick up her things the day after, and I showed her the contract as well as a letter detailing my remorse. I uninstalled all my games for the first time to prove my sincerity, showing her an empty steam library. The contract I had written the night before was VERY hard on me… Esther even pointed it out. It was a chance, but I was so scared of losing her that I lost my shit. Ended up cutting my arm. That was 9/3/17. The End.

Love is strange. Never have I… panicked like I had. Never have I hurt so badly. Losing Esther has hands down been the lowest point of my life. It was only made worse by those I thought were my friends. Shane, Dennis… even Daniel. Of course, Daniel is still a friend. But he’s not an ally. He actively worked against me. Admittedly, he worked against me on the behalf of his brother. He was loyal and chose a side. To him, blood was thicker than water.

The original quote, supposedly, is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” That is to imply that the bonds you have can be thicker than the bonds you’re born with. I told Daniel that Dennis never liked him, and it’s true. Dennis NEVER liked him. I’ve mentioned this multiple times. However, Esther was told this and only saw the Dennis of… recent years. Perhaps Daniel and him repaired their relationships, but I always remember Dennis just shitting on Daniel.

Dennis was not a good brother.

So, Esther thought I was lying. Me, being a narcissist, was turning Daniel against Dennis! Yeah, I guess I was. But it was still the truth.

Shane… he lied to me because he wanted to do what Dennis had done. Esther had told me that he was getting… creepy. I don’t want to see how deep that rabbit hole goes, but I trust it’s a dangerous one to enter. At least for her.

And Dennis… I don’t know. He’s a liar. He’s admitted this. She trusts him over me. It’s the oxytocin. Of course, I embraced Shane’s words wholeheartedly, so I proved he was more honest than me only in the sense that Dennis said nothing and I said everything. I panicked. I never stopped panicking.

Still, Dennis is a piece of shit. If I were in a position to help him, I would. Certainly, I would help him in a heartbeat. However, afterwards I’d spit right in his eye. I respect our history but the loyalty and trust he and I had… he profited off my misery. He did something I would never do. But, I’m holding him to my own standards. As you can see, I can’t uphold myself to my own standards at times.

Hrm… getting late. It’s almost 5 in the morning.

Something else I saw… I spoke about my witch friend a lot. A quick word search has revealed I haven’t revealed her name, so I’ll keep it that way. Witch I met about the time I met Ariel. A bit later. She had her birthday recently. Taught me a lot about magic.

I… asked her to cast spells on Dennis and Esther. Make Esther love me again, forgive me. Less than stellar things for Dennis. I didn’t actually think they’d work and they didn’t, obviously. But the idea would give me peace of mind. I needed… something. Something to keep me grounded. I omitted that information just in case the spells worked.

I found out maybe… a month ago? That the spells won’t work. That the target is a naturally born witch so the spells can’t… magic. Somehow. I’m not sure how it works, but I thought it was fitting. Esther’s a natural witch. If she ever came back to me, I’d have to get her spell books. See what she could do.

Ariel said I might be a natural Shaman because I attract so many witches. When I discovered Esther might be a witch, I couldn’t help but think maybe there was something to what Ariel had said. Thing is, I don’t believe in magic. Honestly, Witch might have just been lying to get me off her back.

Esther is a very spiritual person. I’m not. Ariel is a very spiritual person. I’m not. Witch is a very spiritual person. I’m not. That’s three witches whom I hold very dearly. My cousin is a witch, supposedly. A wiccan or whatever. Jeremiah is wiccan. Just… idk. I thought the wiccan thing was just a fashion trend.

Dumb to say, I know. But maybe there’s a reason for all that.

It’s late, of course. I’d believe any nonsense at this point. But if there is a grain of truth in a silo of lies, then I’ll be sure to give it a chance. I’ll randomly mail Esther some witchcraft books in the future. I think I can remember Dennis’s address.

Oh, I smell nice. I ran my fingers through my hair and I got hit by my cologne. I’m reminded by my work day, though… could have been better. I felt like I left and the job I had done was done… poorly. My work ethic isn’t the greatest, but I felt low. I was dazed. Just was a bad day. The day before was far better. Of course, there was a pretty girl I could flirt with there.

I don’t flirt on the job, of course. I try to stay professional.

Of course, she was shopping too. Thing is, I never had a chance to say hi because… professional. I don’t oxytocin this new girl. I like her as a person because she’s funny and I am definitely attracted to her, but oxytocining her is a bit early. As a cancer, I need to be aware of what I oxytocin.

Besides, playing hard to get is what brought Esther to me. I doubt it’d work here, though.

If Esther came back, I’d stop pursuing Diana immediately. I’d still intend to meet up with Ariel, though. Esther would have allowed it back then before the event. I try to be loyal and monogamous, with Ariel excluded of course. When I was talking about bumping nasties with several women I knew on the way from Susanville to Houston, I knew I wouldn’t sleep with them. Was it a joke? Yeah, a bit, but I actually did want to know if Esther would have cared. I think with the first one, who is single, she and I would have seen a movie. Had dinner. Have a date. Typical bullshit. We wouldn’t have slept together though. Even if I wanted to, she wouldn’t. She’s Christian and is even chaste.

The second girl, she has a boyfriend. I tried pursuing her in the past but the timing was wrong. Never had the chance to actually seal the deal. The third was a guy. Actually, I met him online. He’s very charming. Persian-American, or at least his dad is Persian. He’s in Iran right now, actually. He lives in Dallas. He’s a very handsome man, as well. That’s something I noticed, Iranians tend to be very attractive peoples. Would I have slept with him? If I were gay, I’d fucking fuck him so fucking hard. But, alas, I am not. He’s very handsome.

I don’t game anymore so I gave him my phone number recently. Saved it, too. I started saving numbers again. I did it because I didn’t want to forget Esther’s face and my phone… well, it automatically gave her number a face. Not sure where it came from. Adela has a face too, which is strange.

They’re the only two contacts on my phone with faces. And Esther… well, I only saved her number recently. I don’t really save numbers. It’s not my style. The only number I saved last year was this number of this guy who was basically harassing me. Like, he was crazy and I didn’t realize. That’s a long story. Haven’t heard from him in over a year.

Honestly, I hope he’s well. It can’t be easy for him. I think he was homeless. I’m not sure. He was mysterious and strange, yet he was so hopeful.

Oof. That’s a long journey for recounting memory lane. Anyways, it’s time for bed. I’m going to drink the rest of my 1500 ml of water because I didn’t earlier today at work. Then, I’ll brush my teeth. Then… I’ll stay up. I’ll think about Esther. And then I’ll dream about work.

Heh, that sucks. I have this inner fear that I fail at work before sleeping. Makes me restless, strangely enough. Last night, I had a dream that I was leaving this old, rustic manor in Spain with Esther and this other guy. We didn’t lock the house with a lock but this weird mechanism. He said that it was a lock for the stupid. He said this outloud, right as we left. A line formed as people tried to play with the lock.

I realize that one guy was going to get it and I started walking towards him to let him know, “No, fuck off.” The distance got further the closer I got, strangely enough, and when I got half-way he breaks open the mechanism and a bunch of people flood in. I say, “Fuck!” and start running.

I make it inside and I grab the first gun I can. A tank-gewehr from World War One. It’s basically an elephant rifle redesigned to pierce tank armor. Big gun. I take aim at one of the looters and squeeze the trigger.

Nothing. I rack the bolt back to see if it’s loaded and it is. So I push it forward and try to make sure that the bullet is actually chambered correctly. The dream ends before I can take the second shot. Or maybe it didn’t, but I can’t remember the rest. I just remembered I failed at protecting my household from looters.

Tonight will be different. It has to be. I’ll dream about failing to help my coworkers. See you again in a minute. ;)

Should have guessed. I had a dream about Esther. Was very emotional. Like… oof.

Dennis and her separated peacefully, unlike when me and her and I lost my shit and cut myself. I managed to convince her to not only come back in my life but continue dating again. She was hesitant the entire way, but we sat across from each other and I held her hand to my cheek and cried. Crying in front of someone is very hard for me, but I was just so happy that she came back into my life that I couldn’t stop myself.

She had to do something, so I drove into town to do something. It didn’t last long so I came back as soon as possible. I stopped by Dennis’s and he was showing me some things. Strangely enough, he had these snapchat messages with Esther that were saved from 2015. I thought that was very strange, so I made a mental note.

Anyways, I picked her up and she had been doing a pornographic photoshoot. Her boss was this woman who I never saw and Esther said her boss was something of a hard ass. From there, it was time to finally go home. I was very happy.

Then I woke up.

I was a bit grumpy when I did. I mean… really? Seriously? Again with this? In the dream, I was getting ready to prepare this journal to be read. I was making mental notes of what to tell her, mostly. Dennis was being nice to us, so I had to tell her, “Try to ignore me randomly shitting on him.” Just a bunch of warnings and disclaimers.

I don’t hate Dennis, mind you. He’s just pissed me off. I’m upset with him still. I guess it’s a chip on my shoulder but I did sincerely want him to be a part of my life. Shane too.

I had another dream (or maybe it was part of the same dream). A random guy left me a voice message saying Shane told a bunch of random people to add me and gave my information out to the world. This is where these two Twitch people came from. I was very concerned at first, but I laughed it off later. I stopped accepting friend requests, though.

I wonder if I’ve ever done that irl. I try to remember back in my propaganda days. I don’t think I ever encouraged a group of people to harass one person, but I have publicly shamed people. My niece, for example, who is a few years younger than me. She basically stole over 800 dollars from me. That’s a long story, though.

Adela gave me a card saying, “Merry Xmas from Max and I.

Yaya + [Quickly drawn picture of a mustache and a paw print]”

This card had a 50 dollar bill inside. That was nice of her. I love the representation of Max. He’s a little schnauzer so he always has a little mustache. Super cute dog. He doesn’t have a mustache now because the vet trimmed EVERYTHING but his eyebrows, but it’s basically a staple for him.

I didn’t get Adela a card. Rather, I got her a present that I left on her bed. It’s this short, faux fur coat. I got one for my mom and she loves it. I wanted to get one for Ariel. Hell, I might randomly send one to Esther. It’s a really cute coat. Ironically, it costs 50 dollars. If I get one for Ariel, it’ll be red with black trim. That’s the same style I got Yaya and my mom. If I get one for Esther, it’ll be blue or black. The trim doesn’t change color.

Probably a bad idea to gift women the same article of clothing as other women, but it’s still nice.

I know it’s weird that I’m thinking of getting Esther something but her birthday is coming up. If I send it, it’ll come from a “Mysterious Stranger” which will be a reference to Fallout. Or something, I don’t know yet. Honestly, I probably won’t even do it. It’s nice to think about though.

Still, backing up a minute it’s weird that I want to get her a gift! She has made it clear that she wants me out of her life and I know she’ll never come back. In fact, she thinks I’m a Narcissist. Surely, I’m doing this because I’m trying to convince her to come back! No. Again, it’s been a tough life for her. Last year, she was in a bad situation. Her birthday was not so good. Two days after, we met in person. It’s been a tough year in general, but especially for her. I think she’d like it. However, if she asks me about it then I’ll deny it. If she thinks it’s from me she’ll throw it away. It’s $50 and I don’t intend to just throw that money away if she doesn’t at least try it on. x.x

Whoops! I accidentally ordered it, just to see if I can change the Address and place a gift tag on it! Unfortunately, Amazon is SO FUCKING STREAMLINED, that it just ordered the fucking coat and it would have sent here. D’oh!

Fortunately, I was able to cancel it immediately. I don’t get charged until it ships so my bank won’t see anything from it. Phew. I can’t afford it right now. I can’t afford ANYTHING right now. At least, I can’t afford anything on my card. ><

Embarrassing.

I’ll look into sending mysterious packages when I can afford it. Of course, she’ll know it’s me. I’ll figure it out. Shouldn’t be hard. Just… whoops. I probably will wait until next Christmas, honestly. So, I guess this Tumblr won’t see the end result.

Oh, last night. Last night, I drank so much water at once I thought I was going to vomit. Very bad idea. Today, I woke up with slightly chapped lips and my urine didn’t show any signs of being overly hydrated. I guess I go through a lot of water naturally.

Just cooked some eggs with corn and seasoned with pepper, seasoned salt, and garlic powder. The top three. It wasn’t in a sandwich but it was covered in ketchup. It was a good Christmas dinner, even if it were more a breakfast meal. Esther cooks her eggs with shredded cheese mixed in before scrambling it, sort of like what I do with corn. I considered cooking my eggs like that but I don’t have shredded cheese. That and I usually through the end result onto a sandwich with sliced cheese, spinach, and onions (though the recent eggs have had the onion cooked in them). I don’t have ANY of that right now. But I have plenty of eggs. :D

I think I’ll cook an Esther breakfast for myself soon. Just to see if it’d work with corn, really. If it doesn’t, then I won’t cook like that again but I doubt it’d be totally significant.

I’ve been thinking of Esther a lot lately. It’s not a bad thing; I’m remembering her fondly. I couldn’t help to while cooking the eggs, though. I won’t cook for her again, so I’ll cherish when she cooked for me here. Before the event, I cooked for her a bit. Nothing spectacular, mac and cheese or mashed potatoes. Super easy stuff, nothing complicated.

I just tested to see if Tumblr has a character limit. It doesn’t. I posted the entire thing up until now to Tumblr on the blog I made for Esther a while back. I deleted it after so no one will be able to see it. The reason I tested it was to see how simple it’d be for my friend to post these things. I’ll tell her to use the find function to find “Contact” and because that’s attached to every post. Those are the titles of the entries, after all.

Basically, I’m trying to keep this as simple as possible for her. Will she read all these? Maybe. But I do think she’ll follow through. I’ll make two copies of this. One will be for posting to Tumblr. I think it’d be better for her to copy the daily posts and then IMMEDIATELY delete it. The second will be for back up. If she deletes too much or whatever, it can get mended easily.

Yesterday at work. I just remembered. I wasn’t supposed to be on a register but I was helping out as I could. The line was long so I got on the second register. My manager at the time, a short Mexican woman who is about my age, was on that register. I got on it and started ringing people up. Then she comes up and takes over.

Before she does, she grabs me by my sides, hands a bit higher than my waist to move me. It’s very gentle and I didn’t realize it at first. Then, I saw it. I threw my arms out and yelled, “I’m flying, Jack!” It was great. I was impressed by how quickly I assessed the situation and remembered the quote. Like, it was lightning fast considering my dumbed down reflexes.

I actually steal a lot of my jokes. Usually from Zero Punctuation, lately from Soviet Womble, but this? This was something that I had a chance to do and I took it. I forgot about it because the day was pretty rough, but it was… so good. I was fortunate to have a chance to do something like that. I didn’t have to go out of my way for a joke, it was just the right moment at the right time.

Anyways, watching a movie. Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. I won’t go into a full review like I did with the children’s movies. Thing is, this movie is supposed to be rather underrated. It’s very artsy. That’s something I’ve been wanting to see. My favorite quote thus far is when this Italian gentleman asked Bill Murray’s character what the scientific purpose of killing one of an endangered species of shark. He awkwardly sat there for a moment and said, “Revenge.” I’m reminded that tigers who were wronged would seek revenge. I read that somewhere on Facebook, probably inaccurate but it’s very likely considering tigers are big housecats. I feel animals are very human. I shared yesterday a picture talking about how ravens were trading money for bread. Or were they crows? Crows. Still, they are very intelligent creatures. They understand the value of currency and use it to make purchases. Very peculiar, no? And they’re making this trade with humans. I’m sure it’s not the first time there was an exchange of currency between two different species, but it’s certainly impressive. Animals can learn such brilliant things. And I think I mentioned how ants enslave other ant colonies and those slaves sometimes fight back and rebel.

The more we look at the behaviors of animals, the more we’ll see the behaviors of man. After all, the only thing separating us from the animal kingdom is that we wear pants. Even then, we always try to find a way to take them off again.

Anyways, the movie is paused right now. His entirely named crew all wear red hats (or a turban for one character), sort of like a uniform. The gentleman who died at the beginning, spoilers btw, was named Esteban. Esteban is basically Spanish for Steven (or Stephen, in my case). My mom calls me Esteban, for example.

The artsy style is very peculiar, it’s clear that it’s intentionally like that. The Crayon Ponyfish Seahorse doesn’t exist, mind you… so I wonder if this is in the head of a child named Steven. Or perhaps Mr Zissou went crazy and is personifying those around him. I like this film already because it’s making me think.

So, the creatures are all craft projects, at least from the ones we saw. CGI designed to look like it. And of course, this documentary is so renowned! It attracts nobility and one such of these renowned individuals was knighted in Portugal by the Presidente. I don’t think Portugal knights people, mostly because… well, Presidente. They knight people in the United Kingdom, but they still have an aristocracy.

The way the camera shots are presented, the earlier scene where the documentary’s part one began, it had a very steady shot showing Steve Zissou in the middle of the ocean with red eyes for… hydrogen poisoning or something? Not sure. But I feel it’s reminiscent of older movies that fixed their shots on characters crying, even when there is so much movement in the scene itself. That image would still be very still.

Not sure if that’s related to the theory that this is all in someone’s head. I mean, the character was splashing and struggling in the water moments prior but everything was calmed and I think even the equipment was removed to show that he had red eye. Very still. And with the idea that everyone has a signature red hat and uniform mostly as well as the character who died basically had the same name as the titular character… well, I just feel there is something to that. Maybe it’ll get revealed. I’m only like… 15 minutes in maybe? I can’t watch now because my cousin is vacuuming and cleaning. Honestly, I should clean as well. I have to clean the bathrooms and do the dishes which was one of the reasons I cooked myself eggs. May as well if I’ll do the dishes right after, amirite? But I have plenty of time. It’s only 6:48 at the time of writing.

I’ll stay up, tend to my chores. I’ll clean up my workspace down here. I’ll get it organized before tomorrow. I’ll set an alarm for 10 and wake up relatively early, regardless of how well I sleep. Which, last night, I didn’t sleep well. I kept coughing. And I thought of Esther a lot. But I coughed more.

When Adela is done vacuuming, I’ll continue the movie. After the movie, I’ll get to work.

Just finished… it was a good movie. It was funny yet it was also sad. It was blunt yet it was also sharp. It was a very surprising movie. Honestly, I don’t care for my theory. I was enthralled. It’s a shame the movie was so underrated. I felt that it was… art.

The Grand Budapest Hotel. I saw that movie as well, a long time ago. It was very good. I’m looking up Wes Anderson films and I was surprised he made that one. Isle of Dogs is a movie that Wes Anderson is making it seems. It’s a movie that I wanted to take Esther to, even during the event. Unfortunately, the fissure was grand enough to drive us apart. My doing, of course, but still. I will find the time to go to the theatres. I shall watch it along, carrying her image in my heart.

We watched… several movies after the event. Two, both were terrible but fun. We went to the theatre and everything. I tried to get her to watch Schindler’s List but… we fell asleep. We fucked first, but we slept afterwards. Weird to think about fucking during a holocaust movie.

I don’t remember how it happened. I was emotional and I was happy to hear she’d give me a second chance. She read the contract that punished me, of course. Maybe I was too happy. Weird, I know.

When I find the chance, I’ll watch the Grand Budapest Hotel again. Netflix doesn’t have it, unfortunately, but it might have a crap version on Youtube. I’ll give it a look soon. Adela is doing more chores, I need to go to the bathroom and then do the dishes, and there are fireworks which upsets the brat-dog.

Hrm… I wonder where the word “brat” comes from. I think it’s German for sausage. Thus, it’s possible that german parents would call their kids sausages because a lot of English speaking parents refer to their kids similarly. On my facebook, two sets of parents refer to their daughters as a “bean” and they’re on the other side of the globe from one another, Australia and the United Kingdom. Sausage is sorta similar to a bean, and I guess a baby wrapped up looks similar to a bean/sausage. Thus, calling someone a brat is just calling them a sausage. But it’s more calling them a child because the child is a sausage.

To me, of course, brat is a term of endearment. It’ll probably change to something else later on. Not necessarily to me but to society’s standards. The meanings of words tend to bend and evolve, like that. However, when you force a word to change, then the meaning is strengthened. It must be an accepted change, a natural change. Don’t try to force a word to mean something else. People will think you’re an idiot.

So, I suspect that in the future, instead of “Brat” people will call other immature people “Beans.” Interesting theory, eh?

Just spoke to Ariel. She went out with friends and ended up saving a dog. Not sure if adopted or what. Sent me a picture of her with this rather large dog. Hope it’s okay. Wonder what happened.

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adambstingus · 6 years

Text

We are getting exactly the presidential campaign we deserve

(CNN)Have you seen the signs?

They are starting to pop up in front yards all over America and they capture exactly what most of us are feeling right now about the presidential election: “EVERYBODY SUCKS 2016.”

I laughed out loud the first time I saw one on someone’s lawn in Natick, Massachusetts, on my way home from the airport last week. I noticed it because cars had pulled over and people were taking selfies with it.

Finally, someone had captured exactly how I feel about the presidential election.

JUST WATCHED

Couple gets a lot of attention for THIS sign?

Replay