#may this economy not kick my ass = me losing it
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#got a new job!!! I prayed for times like this!!!#I just wanna thank me … for not giving up 😭😭😭#may this economy not kick my ass = me losing it
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If you think yesterday was a win sign up for foster parenting now.
If you think yesterday was a win you're going to want a strong stomach in the coming months because there will be an uptick and news reports in protests and related injuries and d3@th, su!c!d3s, r@pes, reports of body mut!lat0rs, medical malpractice, and maybe even m¿rd3rs of mothers and babies. If you think yesterday was a win you need to tell your daughters, grandaughters, sisters and cousins under the age of 4 that the youngest ever recorded pregnancy was to a little girl who was 5 years 7 months and 21 days old. You need to watch every man and boy who comes in their lives and never leave them alone becauae either they won't know better or they will and they might do it anyway. You need to understand that if your loved one is disabled they may not survive the pregnancy and that if they do the baby might not and they'll still lose their life because they'll be going to jail for m¿rd3r.
You need to be aware that, before long, the laws will criminalize birth control which doesn't just prevent babies. I use mine to stop a crippling and overflowing period that would prevent me from working and even still it doesn't stop it completely which tells me it may not be effective at stopping a pregnancy either.
You need to learn what goes in and out of your loved one's and your own, if you are a woman, reproductive health. The fact they pierce and yank at our cervixes to place an IUD, which may become illegal soon, without pain medication because they think we are dramatic and don't feel pain like some Marvel comic mutant just being one of them.
If you think yesterday was a win you owe it to us to be responsible for your urges and advances. You OWE it to us to take no for a fucking answer without asking questions, without bartering, without whining or pushing yourselves on us or trying to get us drunk to change our minds or k!lling us.
You owe it to us to reevaluate medical procedures we endure for improvement and at the very least to recognize pain is universal not just a reserved thing for the rich or male. Reevaluate who is responsible for pregnancy because it is not just that woman who likes sex, or just that little girl who was at the wrong place but the man that decided not to wear protection because he wanted it to "feel better", has a breeding kink, or whatever lame ass fuck all excuse that is given. Also if you lie about putting protection on the only reason I don't hope she cuts your d!ck off when she finds out is because she'd go to jail for it. Reevaluate what men are allowed to walk away from, get away with, shirk responsibility for. You owe it to us to take your 50% all the way to the end for these kids who will be sources of hate and fear for their mothers, who will get teenagers kicked out of their homes.
Women are scared, mothers and daughers are scared, I AM SCARED by the precedent this set. Your pets and corpses have more right to their bodies than me and my sister and my two beautiful nieces do right now. And it terrifies me. I was willing to fight for this country. I was willing to lay down my life for this country. Now I'm afraid to leave my apartment. I'm afraid to let my sister send my nieces to school or daycare. I have never once regretted being who I am until today and even then I know I still have it easier than some women because I can live happily without sex. Barring anyone assaulting me I can control that. So if THIS was a win for you enjoy it and watch it closely without ever turning your eyes away.
I hope God is watching too. I hope he sees every second of the things that have happened in the last 2 years alone from politicians who said death to the weak populace who would catch covid is a better alternative than death to the American economy, pastors starting new witch hunts and taking counsel from "demons" in their head and still calling themselves godly men, to the ones saying that we should round all the gay people up and put bullets in the back of their brains like we are N@zis and this is the Holocaust, the "good" Christian folk willing to send bombs and anthrax into buildings serving mother's of unborn babies that "needed protecting" so much that this happened in the first place, to "good" Christian parents who will be throwing kids out on the street or beating babies out of them and turning them in for reward money in Texas. I hope God is watching and I hope when judgement day comes there is a silence so deafening that the almighty can hear a pin drop and not a protest to be voiced as the fall comes for those people who cause suffering and pain for anyone.
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Steve/Tony AU thong for 5 head canons with coastal hallmark movie town?
Not gonna lie I read “thong” and didn’t realize it was a typo for “thing” until... halfway... through my ideas..............
Tony owns a lovely bed and breakfast on the coast. His mother left it to him, and he takes great pride in keeping it up, because it’s been a local treasure and tourist spot for the last fifty years. The decorations are immaculate, the beds comfortable, and the food scrumptious. He keeps his personal number on the phones in case any of his guests need anything, and happily employs local teens from the town to do laundry or escort the tourists around to help stimulate the local economy. He tells his clients not to hesitate to ask for anything, and is an all around charming host and excellent boss. He’s happy to say he even has regulars!
Natasha Romanova, a prima ballerina, comes in every May and will bed-and-breakfast-hop up and down the coast, staying at each place a week at a time (except, Tony thinks proudly, fixing the photo of them together on the wall, for his bed and breakfast, which she hits three times).
Bruce Banner and his friend(?) Thor come in August, and Bruce spends basically the entire time in his room getting his research and teaching materials for the year straight while Thor goes out and explores the local spots the kids suggest to him. Tony had worried about him for a bit, but Bruce had told him that his bed and breakfast was a very relaxing place to keep his mind at ease, with plenty local spots that Thor didn’t get bored, and even though he worked through the majority of it, he always left feeling refreshed.
There’s also Steve (and Bucky). Steve (and Bucky) are former army, current storytellers--Steve is a wonderful artist for his comic book (and Bucky is a wonderful author). Tony is in love with Steve and he’s pretty sure Bucky knows it, if the way Bucky rolls his eyes and scowls at him are any indication. Tony knows that they’re dating, though, so he carefully keeps his hands to himself, even if he can’t keep himself from flirting a little. He has no intention of poaching, so it should be okay, especially when Bucky starts looking amused, right?
Tony does not know that part of the draw is that, once the weather warms up, he takes an afternoon siesta on the beach, complete with his beach outfit--that is, a towel in case the mood strikes him to dip his toes in the ocean, a bright red thong, and sandals. (Although, to be fair, the locals also enjoy the... ahem... view.)
“One of these days, you’re going to realize Tony is flirting with you, and I’m going to gloat,” Bucky declares.
“He’s not flirting with me. He’s just nice,” Steve answers immediately. “Hurry up. We’re late.”
Bucky gives him a sour look. “It’s check-in, Steve. We can’t be late to check-in. Remember the one time we passed check-in time and he called us, all worried, because we hadn’t shown up yet, and asked if we need a tow or directions? He literally doesn’t give people a chance to--”
“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” Steve says, nearly panicking. “Bucky you know I like to watch him walk down to the beach when he’s in his thong and that’s when he takes his afternoon break and if I miss it that’s one day lost of his glorious a--”
“I’M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS,” Bucky thunders, and Steve yelps and runs up to the door of the bed and breakfast so fast that he loses both his flip-flops and would have crashed through the door if the girl tending the desk hadn’t stepped around to open it for him.
“Has Tony gone down the beach yet?” Steve asks her quickly.
The girl stares at him, silent, judgmental.
Steve stares back at her, unrepentant.
“You just wait, Rogers,” Bucky growls, stomping up behind him. “One of these days, when you least expect it, I’m gonna strangle you. I’m going to watch the life fade from your eyes and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”
“Rest assured, I know I deserve it,” Steve tells him, then turns back to the girl, prepared to make the puppy face that even Sharon had folded for.
“Oh, you guys are here!” Tony says cheerily as he finishes coming down the stairs. “I do apologize--I was just about to go to the beach, but if you give me a moment--”
Bucky notices Steve gaping at Tony wordlessly, and he really can’t blame him, because lord, that thong cups him in all the right places. Then he realizes what he’s staring at and kicks Steve, then rolls his eyes when he still says nothing. “Oh, you don’t have to go out of your way to--”
Tony plucks up a robe from behind the counter and puts it on, cinching it around his waist, then circles the counter again to come take their bags. “Let me just show you to your room, and--”
“We know where it is,” Bucky cuts in bluntly, because Steve looks like he’s about to have a stroke.
Tony’s smile falters, and he offers a hesitant, “Oh, well, okay...” before he sets the bags back down.
“What I mean is, we know how much your afternoon break means to you,” Bucky continues, placating. “We’d hate to take up any of your time when we know the way to our room. Maybe after your break, we can all have a drink together.”
“Oh, well, if you’re sure,” Tony says hopefully, and when Steve finally responds to a kick long enough to nod, he takes the robe back off, picks up his towel, and happily trots outside.
“I can’t believe I have another person for my sketchbook,” the girl says, going back to her post at the desk.
“What,” Bucky asks, squinting at her.
She hands him their keys. “I sketch people in crisis,” she says, and very obviously nods at Steve.
Tony is still in the thong when they come down from freshening up, towel wrapped around his shoulders to keep the water dripping from his hair from hitting his back. He smiles brightly when he sees them and stands to greet them, wet fabric clinging to his skin. Steve whimpers.
“How’s the water?” Bucky asks, accepting a slightly damp hug before sitting down across from him. “Looks like you had a good swim.”
“Cold, but refreshing,” Tony informs him. “Good for the immune system though. Are you ready for your relaxing stay?”
“Well, to be honest, Tony, I think I might need to go home early,” Bucky admits, making both Tony and Steve look at him in confusion. “Mama called and it looks like Grandpa Joe isn’t doing very well.”
“Oh, well,” Tony begins, unsure. “I suppose I could refund you the money, but it is quite short notice--”
“Oh, no, Steve is staying,” Bucky answers. “Grandpa Joe hates him. If he’s not doing very well, Steve might just push him over into the grave.”
Steve gasps, offended. “Hey!”
“Besides, if it’s just a scare--which Grandpa Joe has been known to do--I’ll just come right back! Take care of Steve while I’m gone, okay?” Bucky adds, clapping Tony on the shoulder as he stands to leave.
“I’ll see you off,” Steve says hastily. “Tony, keep my drink cold.”
“What,” Tony says, bewildered, but Steve is already chasing Bucky out.
“You don’t even have a Grandpa Joe,” he hisses as he follows Bucky to the car.
“I will literally vomit all over you if I have to watch you pine for another minute,” Bucky tells him flatly. “Either grow some balls and ask Tony out by the time I get back or find a different friend to come with you on your thirst vacations, Steve.”
“Bucky Bucky Bucky nooooooo,” Steve whisper-screams as he watches the car pull away.
“I, uh. Kept your drink cold. I think,” Tony offers as Steve comes trudging back in. “Is everything okay? I suppose I really can eat the bookings on the rooms, if it’s an emergency, and--”
Steve picks up his glass, throws his drink back, then darkly mutters, “I hope both Grandpa Joe and Bucky choke.”
“Okay!” Tony squeaks frantically. “You look like you could use something to eat! I’ll just go get you something!”
Maybe it’s a good thing Bucky left, Steve decides, because Tony is very attentive to him during the next two days. It’s probably worry mixed with pity because Bucky just fucked off without him, but Steve grasps the time they spend together with both hands. They eat all their meals together, and Steve learns even more about Tony than he’d thought possible--how he’d gone to school for robotics and engineering, how he’d taken his degrees and worked in the business industry for a while, but the daily grind had been irritating for his free spirit. He has enough patents to live comfortably, and the bed and breakfast is just something he does a hobby that typically just breaks even, and whenever there is a profit (which he admits are most years), he uses it as bonuses for the kids working for him. It mostly makes Steve fall more deeply in love with him.
And! Tony has taken pity on him and invited him out to the beach with him both days! So Steve gets to see him in his thong up close and personal! Tony teases him about the board shorts he wears, but Steve doesn’t even care, because he gets to see alllll of Tony. Tony goes swimming on the second day. He’s beautiful, water sluicing down the planes of muscle and glittering in his hair. Steve ends up getting in the water too, but only so he doesn’t get a hard-on in the middle of the public beach.
“Are you sure you don’t need to leave and check on Grandpa Joe?” Tony asks over dinner, frowning.
“Bucky was just being nice when he said we didn’t get along,” Steve fibs. “We hate each other’s guts. He thinks I made Bucky gay.”
“Oh, one of those,” Tony says sympathetically.
“Besides, I like spending time with you,” Steve adds earnestly, and can’t help a sappy smile when Tony’s cheeks go rosy with a pleased blush.
Bucky looks thunderous when he comes upon them on the beach on the third day. “You mean to tell me that you aren’t boning yet?!”
“Yet?” Tony squeaks, terrified.
“Steven,” Bucky says ominously, reaching out for his throat.
“YOU CAN’T KILL ME BECAUSE I PAY RENT,” Steve bellows.
Tony is horrified that this actually makes Bucky pause. “What is going on?!”
“I gave Steve a choice: Grow some balls and ask you out, or die by my hand.”
“No, you said grow some balls and ask Tony out or find another friend to come with me while I ogle Tony in his thong!” Steve exclaims stubbornly.
“What?” Tony squeaks.
Steve gapes at him, stunned, then jerks his head to look at Bucky, who is grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “YOU,” he snarls, and lunges at him.
Tony wraps his towel around himself and scurries back up the beach as Steve and Bucky start rolling around on the sand, yelling and throwing punches at each other. “Michelle! Call the police!”
“Isn’t this just a guy thing?” MJ asks, unperturbed.
“I never tried to punch any of my...” Tony drifts off, remembering that time at MIT when he and Rhodey got in a fist fight over a chemistry equation and then cried all over each other when Carol pointed out the book had been printed wrong. “...Hmm.”
“Besides, this is giving me practice for dynamic poses,” she adds, holding up her sketchbook.
“Oh, that’s very good, MJ,” Tony says before he can stop himself, and then squawks and runs to Natasha’s room to ask for her help.
Natasha looks out at the beach, where Bucky and Steve are still fighting, then grabs Tony’s shoulders and tells him, “Tony, believe me when I say this: This is the best day ever for me.”
“MJ’s practicing sketching dynamic poses,” Tony blurts out like an idiot.
“MJ, you might want to take reference pictures, because this is going to be fast,” she tells MJ pleasantly.
MJ grabs her phone to use its camera, and then she and Tony watch in awe as she wraps her thighs around Bucky’s neck, twists, and flings him across the sand before elbow-dropping directly onto Steve’s left kidney.
“Oh this was a mistake,” Tony gasps, hands coming up to his cheeks. “Oh I hope they don’t sue.”
“I’m seriously considering ballet classes,” MJ replies.
Bonus: “Steve, you could have just asked me out,” Tony says earnestly as Peter carefully places a bag of frozen peas against his side. “I don’t just wear a thong as a bathing suit.”
“Tony please I’m in too much pain to think about what you wear under your pants,” Steve wheezes. “Buck? You okay?”
“I’m coming to terms with how sexy it was to get thrown across the sand by a ballerina,” Bucky moans, arm over his eyes.
“We are going on a double date tonight in town,” Natasha tells all three of them ominously. “Bucky and Steve will pay for it. Tony, wear something sexy. Steve will be recovered by then.” She pauses, then adds, “You probably shouldn’t have any over the counter pain killers or alcohol for a few days though.”
“My fucking kidney,” Steve groans.
“We don’t have to go on the double date, Steve,” Tony assures him quickly.
Steve sits up to glare at him. “No. Fuck you. We’re going. And then we’re coming back and I’m peeling your clothes off your body.” Then he drops back down, groaning. “Oh fuck did you have to elbow drop me so hard.”
“I never do anything by halves,” Natasha tells him firmly. “We will be getting dessert as well.”
“Do I get to peel the clothes off of your body?” Bucky asks her hopefully.
Natasha frowns at him severely. “You don’t have a choice.”
“Why is that sexy, why the fuck is that sexy,” Bucky whispers, covering his eyes again.
“You’re welcome,” Natasha tells Tony, who still looks absolutely befuddled by the entire turn of events, but he’s not complaining.
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BTS Caretaker Ch1
Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?
- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC, Jikook~)
- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au
- Word Count: 2,161
-Author Note: I crosspost this story from my Asianfanfic/Wattpadd account. Mind you, clicheness OVERLOADS.
Next
Chapter 1
“Ahjumma’s food. I can smell it from miles away. Yums..” the maknae line hollered excitedly as they made their way inside without even taking off their socks properly. Stood behind them in line were the hyung lines which only shook their head in amusement. They just got back from a 11-hour practice yet those boys still had some energy stored in them.
Age aint just a number for sure.
Taehyung and Jimin voice were so loud which could shake the whole building “AS EXPECTED AHJUMMA COOKED THE BEST FOOD” Jin smacked their back head lightly accompanied with soft grunt.
“Clean yourself first, this food need to be reheat first” as usual Jin would take charge when it came to kitchen issues. Taehyung puckered his lips in protest and shot the older boy a stern look sending there-is-no-way-im-listening-to-you message which only being ignored by him.
Jimin cracked a grin as his eyes sunk into his signature eyes smile “I will be here in 10 minutes” he paraded to his room happily. Jin watched his figure disappeared with a soft sigh “And, how about you?” turning to face hungry Jungkook, the younger guy only rolled his eyes earning a smack on his forearm.
“HYUNG WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” bewildered, he half-yelled.
“Manners Jeon Gukkie” said the leader. Jungkook pursed his lips looking awfully sulky as he made his way to his room to get changed before his hyungs goofed around making fun of him again. Like a routine, every time they reached their place, meals would already lay flat on the table for them to savour. Even though it was weird to eat something without knowing the caretaker lady’s face, they were aware the lady was like a mother to them.
Every single day without failed, the caretaker lady or they preferably called as “Ahjumma” would prepare a simple meal for the seven boys. However, due to the nature of her contract with Bighit the ahjumma is not allowed to perform her task when the boys were around. She would only be there early in the morning daily except in certain occasion whereby the boy had no schedule ahead then she would come as per requested by BTS manager.
Therefore, none of the boys had ever met the caretaker lady face to face. Entering to her third year working with the boys, the caretaker lady knew almost everything about them just by cleaning their dorm. Yes, the dorm would not be in a good shape if it weren’t for the caretaker lady. The place was big enough for everyone to stay in comparison to their old dorm back then.
Make it big or not, they are still guys. Some may take time to clean after their mess but the nature of their career restricts them to perform even a simplest task like doing their own laundry. Now and then Jungkook would be in charge doing their laundry however nowadays they were so cramped with awards shows and tours ahead.
There were lots of things to be prepared at once, and the guys barely got time to even shut their eyes properly in a day. Poor boys.
Like a flash, Jungkook and Jimin came running to the kitchen taking their seat looking all ready to gobble down the food. At time like this, they really missed homecooked food. They are grateful for caretaker Ahjumma’s food that kept them fit and healthy all these years. Unlike before their debut days, the company could only afford them simple snacks which were not enough for grown up boys like them.
“I wonder when will we ever get to meet this caretaker Ahjumma” the youngest one mumbled between his bite.
Jimin shrugged “According to Sejin hyung, she is not allowed to work when we are around. The nature of the contract I guess” he felt someone sank in a seat beside him lazily. Lazy but hungry Min Yoongi.
Yoongi picked up his chopsticks and shoved kimchi in his mouth hastily “The contract is made to protect us”
“The ahjumma is not a sasaeng. It has been 3 years, plus she has been nothing but awfully kind to us. She prepares food for us even though it is not in her job description. Aint that enough to prove she won’t cause any harm?” Jungkook argued with a slight pout.
Sprawled lazily on the couch, Hoseok nodded in agreement as he started to mumble incoherently most likely how it was unfair for not be able to meet the kind lady personally. It was all talk and they couldn’t stop wondering how kind the Ahjumma was in person.
The eldest in the group appeared looking squeaky clean with a gleeful smile plastered on his face “Jungkook, are you falling for this Ahjumma’s charms” he teased. The younger guy flustered in his seat sending a death glare to his hyung’s way.
Jin didn’t stop right there, he heard him continue “Maybe she is not that Ahjumma after all. What if Bang Pd is protecting us from a beautiful caretaker lady?” he hummed as he sat across Jungkook still with that playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Mmm.. I don’t think her notes sound so young after all. She used a lot of old words in her writing” Jimin scratched the back of his neck in confusion. How could a person be so clueless and oblivious? It supposed to be a mere tease but he indeed took things quite seriously. Judging by his expression, Jimin was racking his brain to find answer to the relevancy of this matter as per mentioned by Jin.
A soft sigh escaped from Yoongi’s lips in response to his friends’ irrelevant conversation “I am going to sleep. Clean up after eating, don’t put more loads on the ahjumma’s shoulder” he warned before leaving the group.
“Tch, how can he be full by eating kimchi!” Jin cringed in annoyance.
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Ji Seul, 22 years old, a college dropout.
Alright, cut that college dropout thing. She’s diligently working in a bubble tea shop and sometimes she would work at 7-eleven just to kill time. Another reason was that, to make more money. Due to financial constraints a year ago, she had to give up her college in exchange to her little brother school fees. The fees on the other hand had hiked up crazily leaving her with no choice but to give up her future.
It was not easy for her mother to raise the siblings alone without external support. The condition of the economy nowadays was not favourable to family with low disposable income like them. Ji Seul worked when she was in college however it came to no avail. For some reason, she performed badly in her first semester. To add to that sappy story of hers, she almost got kicked out due to her poor performance.
If she were to work, she would perform so badly in her tests and projects.
However, if she decided to give up on having a part time job, she could not afford the college fees. And vice versa.
Some might think there was another way to resolve her so called issues. Scholarship? She tried it all, guess the competition was surprisingly high lately. Ji Seul had a decent result to apply for one, but there would always be another person who’s above you after all. That’s life.
She spent her youth time working hard like there is no tomorrow for the sake of her family. As much as she wanted to chase her dreams, she would rather work her ass off for her mother at least. The failure of her mother’s marriage literally messed up everything. Let’s not talk about her typical shitty life, Ji Seul preferred to let it buried deep in her brain. It was not worth talking anyways.
All she knew, her father was a real jerk for abandoning them.
Ji Seul loathed her father to the core. She would never forgive him for all misery that he had caused to their life.
Placing the last ingredient in her stew, she smiled to herself feeling a little proud of her little accomplishment. Cooking was not easy, and if it weren’t for her annoying little brother, which was not that little, demanded a decent dinner tonight, she did not need to struggle with the recipe. He was old enough to cook a freaking ramen yet he chose to order her around just to piss her off.
“Where is my food?” Ji Hoon blinked with a sly smirk.
Ji Seul scoffed in disbelief “Here..” she kicked his calf as her eyes rolled in annoyance.
“OWW NUNA! THAT IS RUDE!”
“So, your nuna is being rude now? Don’t call me nuna, I am disowning you Hoon” she snickered. Bantering was a usual thing between the Ji’s, the world would be a better place without their existence for sure. The sound of front door being opened averted Ji Seul attention from her brother.
“Im back kids. No one is losing their teeth today, right? I hope” her mother closed the door behind her with a sarcastic remark. Pursing her lips, she took the bag from the older woman’s hand “Don’t worry, our teeth are still intact. But seems like Hoon will be losing his soon” Hoon puffed his cheeks.
“Can both of you behave for one day” she shook her head utterly speechless of her children’s childish behaviour. She went straight to check the food on the stove “Oh you cooked Seul-ah?” Seul broke a wide grin with a nod.
“If it weren’t for me, nuna would not be cooking that stew right now. Amazing, isn’t it?” Hoon replied chirpily.
Snorting under her breath, Seul retorted “For your information, the world does not revolve around you Ji Hoon. So, mother how’s work?” she watched the older woman taking a seat with a fatigue smile. Over years, she could see how older she got. It must not be easy for her to work as a caretaker lady. Her mother cherished her job as BTS’s caretaker because they paid her handsomely and the company really looked after her like a family.
She grew fond of the boys even though they did not have the chance to meet each other just yet. However, it was satisfying to look after the boys just like her own child. She loved her job. If she were given a chance to meet them in the future, she would shower them with lots of good food.
“The boys really made a huge mess. I think they were pretty busy” she chuckled.
She took a sip of the cold drinks as she continued “Jungkook piled up the laundry in his room again. He must have forgotten it while tending other important works like-“ Seul cut her off with a cringe.
“Like his games?” her mother nodded in response, ‘” Lazy bum” she claimed.
“Jungkook is just a kid Seul, let him be” her mother defended.
Seul crossed her arms disliking the fact that this Jungkook person made her mother worked extremely hard today “He is 20 and a grown-up man. He should have cleaned his own mess” Hoon pretended he did not listen to his sister complaints. It had always been like that. Ji Seul appeared to have a personal vendetta against Bangtan Sonyeondan. She knew they were pretty hot nowadays but sadly BTS did not meet her par.
Now and then, she would listen to their songs. Some of the songs are decent enough which gave colour to her already sorrowful life. Nevertheless, that was it. She had no idea who was who, all she knew there were 7 members.
If Ji Seul were like those fangirls, she would be the happiest human being alive for having a connection with BTS. Too bad, she was not into them. She had something better to do, like making money and keeping their stomach full.
“Do you like Jungkook hyung?” Hoon’s voice brought her out of her trance.
Ji Seul facepalmed upon listening to his absurd questions. She let out a low grunt “Jungkook hyung? Are you that friendly with him? Ew that is gross Hoon” she shot him a judgemental look.
“He is older by a year, and I am being polite. You seem to have lots of shitty complaints in your brain when it comes to BTS members. Especially Jungkook hyung” he purposely pressed the hyung part staring at the small girl in front of him.
“Because for some reason mother only talk about him and that other guy Chin?” she blurted out of annoyance.
“It is Jin..” her mother leaned back in her seat with a teasing smile. Now she’s teaming up with Ji Hoon to bring Seul down for good. She added before Seul could continue “He is a good cook..unlike someone” earning a low scowl from Ji Seul.
She had made up her mind to ignore them both.
Her stew needs her attention.
This work belongs to Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved.
#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts series#jeon jungkook x reader#Yoongi x reader#bts fluff#Bts x oc#btscaretaker#bts idol au
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Okay update on my life since it seems talking about it doesn’t trigger another panic attack/breakdown:
So i graduated in july right
And with the end of uni, my student funding ends too
So i look for a job bc i cannot sustain myself otherwise
Except the economy is shit, because the UK is handling the pandemic almost worse than any other country in the world (we love that)
Knowing i’ll need some financial support to tie me over, i apply to universal credit
I also know my roommate, who i’ve lived with for 5 years, is moving out in october, and i will need to find someone to replace her or i end up paying £1000/month for living in this flat, which i don’t have of course
Job search becomes more frantic and exhausting and stressful
Also my dad started throwing up at some point and is eating less and is very specific about not upsetting his stomach. This is strange because he is known for his iron stomach and has not thrown up in years. I know my family history, i have my suspicions, but the doctor says it could be an ulcer. It could be fine, but my brain jumps to the worst-case scenario, because why wouldn’t it? More stress
Universal credit gets back to me - application denied
I think, hey, the category they filed me under seems wrong, i should be a habitual resident, not an EEA jobseeker, because i’ve lived here 6 years now. So i apply for an appeal, explaining the situation
Few weeks later, i receive a letter. Appeal rejected. It goes into detail how some rule that was set up in 2016 (Brexit year) lists all the reasons why just living here for 6 years, building up contacts, creating a future, feeling at home, being allowed to vote for Scottish parliament elections, is not good enough. Every sentence is like a punch in the gut. The letter boils down to fancy government words that translate to “you’re a freeloading immigrant who, according to our records, might as well be living in Fiji, and we’re giving you fuck all. Good luck surviving”
Full-blown breakdown ensues, because I’ve been fearing this ever since i arrived but was told by EVERYONE that that fear is ridiculous. I fit in, i belong, i sound English, i’m fluent, i’m passionate and well-educated about local politics, etc. I knew it wouldn’t be good enough. Race doesn’t matter; I’m European, and for the UK government, that’s good enough.
Anyway, cue the next day, and my mum phones me with news
My dad is in hospital. Turns out i was right - bowel cancer. He’s going into emergency surgery the very next day to get a tumour removed
I don’t sleep that night, for obvious reasons
Dad comes out of surgery fine, they got the whole thing, took some extra tests to see if it spread but it’s looking good so far. Meanwhile i have images of my dad, skinny as hell and with a tube up his nose seared into my brain
I fly home two days later to be with my family, who obviously need me
My dad is cleared of cancer, which is AWESOME, but we do learn that if the doctors had waited a couple days longer he could have had a perforated bowel. My mum is furious with the GP who underestimated the case
I get in touch with my landlady, saying “hey, this is my life right now, i am not in a position to search for a roommate replacement. Here’s the pics we took of the flat, can you look yourself? Also, if i don’t find a job by the end of the month, I may have to move out as well due to financial struggles, so keep in mind there’s a chance you’re going to have to look for two new tenants”
Landlady’s reply: “oh i can’t afford for the flat to be empty so i’m gonna sell it now”
So now i don’t even have an option of keeping the flat. I’ll have to move out, job or not. I can’t afford a new flat, and i can’t look for one bc a) pandemic and b) im in another country looking after my recovering dad (who is still losing weight btw, 15kg or 30-something lbs or 2.5 stone in a month, it’s horrible to see but at least he’s feeling a little better each day)
If i lose my flat, i may not be able to get a UK job. If i don’t get a UK job, chances are, i can not return to Scotland
6 years of living here, of building friendships, contacts and connections, skills for a career (which is also down the drain - theatre, an industry that is currently being killed by a lovely combo of the UK govt and the pandemic), a home, a love for the county, an intimate knowledge of the workings here, the language, the system, the stories, the history, i almost know the system here better than the Dutch one - my entire adult life. I may lose.
There is a chance i’ll be able to cling on, and god im fighting for it with the few spoons i have after all this stress, but the chance of me losing everything is equally plausible.
I have now flown back to Scotland where I put myself in self-isolation
In a week, my roommate will have moved out and i have 10 or so days left stuck in this place all by myself
I will spend this time packing up all my belongings, choosing what to take back to my parents’ place with me and what to put into storage, which i will pay for with my remaining savings and some financial support from the parents (they can’t afford much tho, my mum is unemployed and on benefits and my dad is a freelancer recovering from fucking surgery. I have no idea what their financial situation is right now, but apparently they’re okay-ish with their savings. Still, stress, and i don’t wanna burden them even more)
Then there’s the hope that the lockdown won’t have regressed back to that point where every plane is cancelled, and i’m stuck in this country without a place to call my home. (Don’t worry, i won’t end up on the street if this happens, I have friends willing to shelter me until i can fly home if they have to)
And once i’ve left, it’s only a question of when, and more promenently if, I’ll be able to return here, to Scotland.
I have never been this stressed, and i have never been this terrified. I am angry all the time (yes you can read that in Zuko’s voice lmao), I’m exhausted, and i’m fuelled by spite against prime minister Blow-Job and sheer stubbornness in refusing to feel like shit, because i just can’t be bothered with that. I just about manage to get through the day, to get up at a reasonable time, to feed myself, to shower, to exercise (because if i don’t, my wonky hip will give me hell and i’ll be in agony on top of my depression and anxiety. We love functioning bodies). But I’ll be okay. I’m trying to find solutions for everything, one step at a time. I’m taking care of myself the best i can. And if you wonder where my writing updates are, or my shitposts, or my ridiculously excited tags, then firstly, thank you for noticing ohmygod i love you, and secondly, know that i’ll be back. If God exists, know im kicking their ass. Fuck all this bullshit, my life is a mess but i REFUSE to let it stop me in my tracks. I’m too powerful, i am Brian David Gilbert’s interpretation of Sonic (either a god or can kill god and it doesn’t matter which). I’m gonna keep on truckin.
#anne speaks#long post#tw cancer#tw weight mention#tw anxiety#tw depression#ya know#all the good stuff
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lily watches fma:b, eps. 42-47
In which the Briggs arc goes out with a bang, and I have flashbacks to the “Day of Black Sun” from Avatar: the Last Airbender.
Okay, Al is basically still May's age on the inside, lol. i love those two.
hawkeye reduced to serving tea for Bradley makes me so damn mad.
but bradley is in love with his (human) wife so there’s that.
kimblee double-crossed the drachma dudes? how completely in character.
one of the chimeras betrays Scar's group and brings in Envy. I was hoping he'd be relevant again!! turns out it was a trap and the chimera isn't actually evil again.
so envy uses the philosopher's stone to power his shapeshifting?? sure looks like it.
apparently marcoh has been mixing alkahestry into his work and it's awesome. the ice sculpture in a middle finger is a nice touch.
oh, no, may's hiding out doing action at a distance and envy has no clue. GO TEAM.
okay, marcoh denatures envy down to a little bug form which is simultaneously cute and disturbing. Yoki messes with it at his peril. I love how envy accidentally takes the wrong hostage if he wants people to care about his victim's fate.
Scar is inspired by Miles to change Amestris from the inside instead of just killing people, so... that's good, I guess?
scar gives may envy in a jar and tells her go home, which seems LIKE SUCH A BAD IDEA ON SO MANY LEVELS
(like, I get that they did this so May could save her clan--which clearly hit of Scar's buttons--does no one even bother to think this through...?)
(the last time an emperor tried to get immortality was Xerxes and THAT worked out so well, so... *cue 'The Genocide Song' from Trigun*)
Anyway, I predict this will not end well.
Meanwhile, one of Greed's chimera buddies, Bido, survived, and learns that the military is searching for Izumi and Sig, but they're on the lam. He follows them back to base when he realizes they're from Bradley; he wants revenge for Wrath killing his boss.
(i love u bido you adorable little rat.)
(also, the fact that the original!Greed was like, "fuck u, I make my own rules" and ran away from Father's schemes with his misfit friends just warms my heart.)
There are only three rules for state alchemists: "don't interfere with the military,""don't make people," and "don't make gold",LOL.
It's so funny to me that the gold thing is included, even though I don't understand how you can MAKE gold with alchemy if gold is a single independent element and you are bound by the laws of equivalent exchange. but whatever, it's still really freakin' funny to me that they don't want State Alchemists fucking up the economy with their magic chemistry powers.
anyway, turns out they don't also want people growing their own armies in the basement - that's what THEY'RE DOING. quoth olivier: fuck.
(fun fact: an RPG character of mine playing a necromancer in a urban fantasy setting did EXACTLY THIS and it was awesome)
somehow, al and winry get to liore (again, DISTANCE? Time??) and "Mr. Ho" is working for Rose's food stand.
And he's all, "oh, I heard about how you lost your body, lol" and then...literally walks off.
(the sad thing is that Hohenheim is literally NOT the worst father in this show - that award goes to Shou Tucker.)
Bido discovers the Zombie Meat Locker, then runs into Greedling... who doesn't remember him until AFTER he stabs him, sob. rip bido.
Winry takes a bath, because fanservice, and she and Rose talk... and it does not pass the Bechdel test, sigh.
there's a "Banks Bank" in Briggs, lol
I wish I could get my glasses to do the opacity thing on command.
Ling yells at Greed for being a jerk and Greed decides to try and kill Wrath because that worked SO WELL last time...(at least he managed to shield from Bradley's signature move this time)
The Armstrong patriarch makes Olivier and Alex fight over who gets to be head of the family, lol. Then he just walks out and starts acting like Olivier won the fight, which she does.
turns out it's to keep the military from taking them all hostage for Olivier's good behavior. She's really good at this.
Envy tricks May into going back to Central, sigh.
Ling regains control of his body long enough to run into Ed and explain before Greed takes over again
they're really laying out the whole "Seven deadly sins as a personal flaw" thing on thick, aren't they?
Greed just wants to be left alone, but agrees to team up if Ed works for him, lol.
Izumi proudly declaring herself to be a housewife as she kicks ass gives me life
the phone chain here is pretty impressive, although grumman loses major points for sexually harassing Rebecca
apparently, Father has to wait for the stars/planets/sun to align in order to do his Evil Alchemy - it's referred to as "the Promised Day" and I'm having flashbacks to the "Day of Black Sun" from Avatar: The Last Airbender (though I think it's supposed to be more like Sozin's comet?).
TIME SKIP! It's spring in Resembool for the sheep festival. Winry is smuggled home and finds Ed in her bedroom - right as she's about to undress. Hijinks ensue.
anyway, Ed and Greed are hanging with Pinako. Ed gets his automail serviced and Winry ups the stakes by refusing to run away in case things go wrong.
she is specifically ordered to stay at home and bake a pie while the men go out to battle, sigh.
meanwhile, greed approves of winry's desire to "have it all" (i.e, victory against Father AND Ed and Al getting their bodies back on the Promised Day) and Ed is Not Amused.
(i love greed so much, he is definitely the #BestHomunculus in this version.)
Scar has been gathering the Ishvalans to help save Amestris and thereby win acceptance back
Grumman calling the Fuhrer "Bradley-chan" is hilarious, full stop.
Al's body keeps calling his spirit back but I'm not sure why it's only been a problem recently, given the gap between its loss and the present day.
we're now up to the "day before the promised day" which means that from now until the end (ep. 64) is likely to take place in 48 hours (plus whatever resolution awaits at the end in 64). yowza.
unfortunately, bradley appears to be on to Team Good's elaborate plan, but it's unclear if Team Good wants it that way or not.
okay, it’s intentional, they blew up the train, but I'm pretty sure Bradley's not dead
(why is grumman narrating the "previously on" intro, tho)
The first thing Ed does when he sees Hohenheim is punch him in the face, #bless.
Hohenheim offers to use his stone to bring back his sons' bodies... which means he COULD have fixed Izumi earlier, but didn't. fuck you, hohenheim.
okay, so it really is "the Day of Black Sun after all" - WHY DOES AN ECLIPSE MAKE ALCHEMY WORK BETTER, PLEASE EXPLAIN.
(he does not explain)
hohenheim asks if ed will help with the plan, lol, what exactly is the plan here, very cryptic of u
I can't believe Pinako asked Ed to tell Hohenheim Trisha's last words. Like, that was her job. She TALKED TO HIM HERSELF EARLIER IN THE SHOW. WHy the fuck did she make ED do it?
hohenheim cries when he learns that trisha said "sorry, I couldn't keep my promise. I'm dying first." AS WELL HE SHOULD, THE FUCKER.
ed buys red cloth and uses it to make his flamel jacket again I'M HOWLING
Al pops out of the bushes unexpectedly and Ling takes over Greed shouting about how his homunculus sense is tingling... I hope Greed doesn't die, but I'm not holding my breath
ed wins by knocking out all the lights, extinguishing the shadows... because pride can only exist in with some light, not full dark? I don't get why shadows work but not dark, despite greed specifically saying “you can’t have shadows without light”. DARK IS DARK, isn’t it?
grumman goes to look for bradley's body,but it's unclear if he's using his allies as a means to take over the country later or if that’s miles’ paranoia
GREED AND LING WORK TOGETHER TO FIGHT GLUTTONY AWWW YEAH
AND THEN LAN FAN SHOWS UP WITH HER BADASS NEW ARM AND SAVES THEM BOTH
(way to level up, Lan Fan!!)
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Recently there’s been a lot of talk about whether or not the media has our best interests at heart, and with more and more men awakening from the feminist matrix, it seems that the mainstream media is going the way of the dinosaur.
Donald Trump has been urging the public not to trust the mainstream media, but I’m sure that if you’re a reader of Return Of Kings, you don’t need him to tell you that. The modern mainstream media is basically the same thing as the Church was in the 1200’s—they control the flow of information, and they don’t like it when people disagree with them. In fact, if someone who disagrees with them gets popular enough, they often times resort to smear campaigns (see: smearing Roosh as a manipulative pickup artist, and Milo as a pedophile apologist).
Now, I know what you’re thinking—“I know the media doesn’t report on things, Jon, but fake news? That’s, like, intentionally lying and manipulating information, isn’t it?” Yes, sir, it is—and this is what the mainstream media, particularly CNN, has been doing ever since television became popular.
Here’s 5 examples of how CNN is, in fact, “fake news”:
1. Kicking Bernie Sanders Off-Air
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWQcxUIYUcQ
Bernie Sanders, the unofficial leader of the socialist movement in America, recently called CNN “fake news,” before being kicked off the air. CNN tried to play this off as a “connection issue,” but anyone with a grain of common sense knows better.
Bernie: “…who is the head of Russia, and now we’re learning that there may have been discussions between Flynn and the Russians, about sanctions, before this administration took power. So this is very, very troubling, and I think the president is going to have to tell us what he’s gonna do about it.”
CNN Anchor: “So far he hasn’t said much…he was asked about Flynn on his flight to Mar-a-Lago late today…here’s how he responded:
[plays clip of Donald Trump denying obvious lie directed towards him]
CNN Anchor: “He says he hasn’t seen any of these reports. Is that a problem?”
Bernie: “Well, I don’t know, maybe he was watching CNN Fake News, what do you think?”
Bernie: [sees her offended look] “It was a joke.”
CNN Anchor: “You don’t buy what he said, obviously?”
Bernie: “Erin?”
Bernie: “Kevin, I’m not—are we on?”
CNN Anchor: “Umm, it looks like we’ve lost connection with Senator Sanders…”
Right, of course. You just happened to “lose connection,” with Senator Sanders conveniently right after he called you fake news.
2. “Racism” Is Why Adele Won Grammy
After Adele won the song of the year, record of the year, and best solo pop performance awards, it wasn’t long before CNN charged in to proclaim that “racism,” was the cause. CNN “reports”:
…”but with its racial themes and imagery, some are questioning if the project was “just too black” for Grammy voters. Kevin Powell, author of the memoir “The Education of Kevin Powell” and a forthcoming biography on rapper Tupac Shakur, thinks so. He told CNN “Beyonce’s ‘Lemonade’ made a lot of people uncomfortable, because it is so political, so spiritual, so unapologetically black, and so brutally honest about love, self-love, trust, betrayal.”
Right, because apparently Beyonce, despite being nominated for 62 Grammy awards, and winning a whopping 22 Grammy awards, is being discriminated against. In the Leftist’s delusional reality, any time a white person succeeds, it’s due to “racism,” yet any time a black person succeeds, it’s due to “overcoming insurmountable odds.”
Give me a break. Adele won the Grammy, because the panel thought her songs were better, period. This has nothing to do with racism, but apparently CNN still thinks it’s a good idea to race-bait the hell out of current events in 2017. I don’t see this changing anytime soon, either.
3. Venezuela Bans CNN For Lies
According to Fox News World, the president of Venezuela actually asked CNN to leave:
“CNN, do not get into the affairs of Venezuelans. I want CNN well away from here—outside of Venezuela. Do not put your nose in Venezuela.” -Nicolas Maduro
…and can you blame him? CNN has repeatedly shown how ridiculously biased they are, and they’ve shown how willing to lie they are, for the past year after running a gigantic smear campaign against Donald Trump.
Didn’t CNN claim that The Donald had a 3% chance of being elected president? What did they do, just poll the gender studies department at UC Berkeley? I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, because nobody in their right mind would ever accidentally come to the conclusion that our current president had a 3% chance of winning.
In fact, other independent journalists such as Mike Cernovich actually predicted that Donald would win months before the election day in November—how? Because they saw the trends. They saw that men were tired of being emasculated and having their lives ruined, they saw that we’re tired of being shamed for our whiteness, and they saw that the people of America were starting to wake up from their NWO conditioning.
4. “Our Job Is To Control Exactly What People Think.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoXGV4Vw-VA
Yeah, yeah—I know this one isn’t CNN, but they’re all the same to me. MSNBC, NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN, and even Fox News to an extent…they’re all just different heads on the same globalist-controlled hydra. Buckle in though, boys, because this one’s pretty bad…and it just happened days ago.
Mika Brzezinski, whose name should automatically create suspicion in the wary citizen, recently stated on MSNBC that it’s “our job,” to “control exactly what people think.” I honestly couldn’t even make this stuff up, but if you don’t believe me, you can watch it in the video above.
Mika Brzezinski: “Well, I think the dangerous edges here are that he’s trying to undermine the media, trying to make up his own facts, and it could be that while unemployment and the economy worsens, he could have undermined the messaging so much that he could control exactly what people think…and that is our job.”
No, Mika, that isn’t your job. Your job is to report the facts and let THE PEOPLE decide what to think, but if you can’t get that through your thick skull I guess we’ll just stop watching your crappy network.
5. Donald Trump Calls CNN “Fake News”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZI0Q3LQZmo
Ah, I saved the best for last—I do love me some Donald burns. After a CNN “news reporter” tried to aggressively ask Donald a question for some odd 20 seconds, repeatedly interrupting him and interjecting his way into the conversation, Donald lost it and called him “fake news.”
And who could blame him? They spent the last 8 months doing absolutely everything within their power to completely ruin Donald Trump’s chances at winning…and yet, by the grace of God, and by the memes of Pepe, lord of Keks, the Trump train smashed its way through the entire god damn establishment…and won.
Trump: [to other reporter] “Go ahead.”
CNN Fake News: “MR. PRESIDENT SINCE YOU’RE ATTACKING US CAN YOU GIVE US A QUESTION!”
Trump: [to CNN] “No.”
Trump: [to other reporter]: “Go ahead.”
CNN Fake News: “MR. PRESIDENT ELECT! MR. PRESIDENT ELECT! SINCE YOU ARE ATTACKING OUR NEWS ORGANIZATION,”
Trump: [to CNN] “No, not you.”
Trump: [to other reporter] “Go ahead.”
CNN Fake News: “CAN YOU GIVE US A QUESTION,”
Trump: [to CNN] “Not you.”
CNN Fake News: “GIVE US A CHANCE! MR PRESIDENT”
Trump: [to CNN] “Your organization’s terrible.”
CNN Fake News: “CAN YOU GIVE US A CHANCE, JUST LET US ASK…”
Trump: [to CNN] “Your organization’s terrible.”
CNN Fake News: “LET US ASK A QUESTION, SIR! SIR!”
Trump: [to CNN] “Quiet.”
This goes on for literally 25 seconds, before Trump finally becomes visibly angry and proclaims:
Trump: [to CNN] “You are fake news.”
If the President of the United States of America thinks that CNN is fake news, I think they’re probably fake news.
Summary
In conclusion, if you still watch the mainstream media, don’t. Get your news from real news sites, like Return Of Kings, Info Wars, Gateway Pundit, Drudge Report, and Cernovich. The MSM has shown us multiple times in the past that they’re globalist whores, selling out the American public to fatten their own pockets.
I recently bought an Info Wars shirt to start wearing around in public, and the results have restored my faith in America. Everywhere I wear it, I’ve gotten complements—it’s not that often, but you’d be surprised how many men are awake, but just don’t broadcast it.
The MSM would have you believe that 99% of the American public hates Trump, but it’s really only something like 10% who hate him, and maybe 25% more who dislike him.
I usually wear Info Wars, Breitbart, and Trump apparel to the gym, because most guys who have a shredded six pack from lifting heavy ass weights are strong and masculine, and are therefore not subject to stupid social pressures that the media uses to influence you.
Do your part in spreading the good gospel of the manosphere, the alt-news, and the resurgence of America, and we’ll reclaim our country for sure. Let’s all make America great again.
https://www.returnofkings.com/165920/how-journalists-became-whores
Journalists are supposed to follow a set of rules and values called deontology. These rules say journalists should strive to be impartial, objective, and to inform their readers. We know well this is not the true nature of their activity.
Most MSM journalists today if not all are spinsters. They cherry-pick their facts and craft narratives around to steer people towards an untold yet ever-present agenda. They make up stereotypes while attacking other stereotypes, they make up ideas while attacking other ideas, as it suits the editorial line of their employer.
In the name of information, journalists create and fulfill an artificially constructed consciousness. They are paid to do so. They believe what they’re doing is normal or cool, just like the Ministry of Truth in Orwell’s 1984, where officers burn archives then forget they just destroyed records (soon to be rewritten); your average leftist journalist spins all the time, follows all the time, yet doesn’t even know he spins and follows.
A little bit of history
If you lend an ear to leftist historians, up to perhaps to age of discoveries, the West didn’t know much. Everybody were locked into their own towns and fields. Well, this is not true. Europeans had known about the Silk Road from time immemorial. Kings and the clergy had their messengers, their events, their gatherings. Individuals like Saint Bernard or Saint Thomas of Aquino were quite familiar with communicating at a distance.
It was just much slower than today—and quite of a luxury as well. Common folk had to rely on minstrels, travelers, and on their own travels. Most communication was done orally. Academics today love to point out how unreliable the bush telegraph is, but at least this communication is done naturally between common people rather than top-down from a shadowy agenda.
Also, as slow as this word-to-mouth communication was, people then did not need more: they could make a living on their own, with the insurance that they could consume it themselves or sell it. Markets tended to be stable, and whether you were a field-tiller or a craftsman, you didn’t need to know about the latest fad not to be left behind. People were also much less bored and in need of diversions. Didn’t have newspapers, didn’t need them.
Then came the printing press. What had been done by scribes secluded in monasteries became partly automatized and multiplied. Bibles were printed. Then pamphlets. By the time, Protestantism had well developed, clever princes tried to use it to their advantage, and the Catholic church counter-attacked by launching one of the most manipulative orders ever created.
More power to independent people meant chaos. Printing outside of the rigid hierarchy of the Church meant a never-ending contest of ideas, systems, tastes, experiences, and egos. The hypocritical journalists of now who chide “trolls” while sniffing their own written farts should remember that trolling appeared as a side-effect of the printing press, as it became possible to say anything remotely instead of being necessarily confrontable. Plus, trolling helps to think of things to talk about with a girl.
Nevertheless, printing what you wanted was not that simple. First, literacy was still the hallmark of a comfortable upbringing, and second, you had to be able to print. You had to know a printer, had to make a deal with him and pay him. Not to mention the dissemination of your lovely printed book. It was always possible to print in a country with virtually no censorship, then smuggle books, but who was to receive them and share them?
No matter what you had to say, you always needed to address a noble-bourgeois audience, which meant catering to fashionable topics or debates. Otherwise, your material would be simply ignored. Authors who weren’t too well-known had to rely on booksellers who conspired to arrange a discrete monopoly on over-the-counter books. Yep, the world of “culture” has always been murky, and its members believe this is a sign of their superior intelligence.
As “culture” developed, with its train of noise, untold rivalries and social parasitism, periodic journals were printed at an ever-faster pace. Eighteenth century bi-annuals were replaced by daily or weekly newspapers. Which meant a great need, not for amateur gentlemen, but for people who could write constantly. Such people would be called journalists.
The modern journalist plant
If you believe journalism is about informing the public, forget it immediately. There is no such thing as an automatic progress which just makes happen what seems desirable. If an unbiased, all-objective information seems desirable, that does not mean someone will pay for it or even manage to get it. Even the CIA Factbook was made in the first place because objective information would benefit the CIA itself, not “enlighten the masses” or whatever a leftist salesman would say.
A journalist is basically someone who is paid to write on particular issues, in a well-defined format, as his boss sees fit. A journal belongs to someone—no matter if the owner is public or private—who usually has its own aims. Whether the newspaper has to simply sell or shape the opinion, it always aims at something else than merely informing.
(Even ROK has an agenda, and I’m fine with it, because I believe it is sound and fair, but I’d never pretend I write for the sole love of truth or as if I was a disembodied soul with no consciousness of its own. Any writer having such pretenses is a hypocrite or a liar.)
Back to the nineteenth century. Newspapers were just like factories. As plant workers had to churn tangible products, journalists had to churn out impressions. They were like paid artists for the ephemeral, creating appearances that would sell, or satisfy, or infuriate—anything as long as it suited the editorial line of their employer. Journalists did not become whores. They were paid employees, to put it politely, from day one. But at least the blue collar workers had to pretense to say the truth or illuminate or whatever BS that sells.
Let’s say you were born with a high verbal IQ, a knack for writing, and some ideas. What could you do? You may consider writing books, become an intellectual, but book writing takes time and often doesn’t pay. If you can’t live like an annuitant, you must be an employee.
If you choose the written words, you have to conform to a preexisting editorial line, to a particular milieu that already existed before you did, in hope of being granted a job. Creating a journal demanded not only experience but capital as well. Can you pay a printer? Would a banker trust you if you asked him for a loan so you can start a journal?
As the nineteenth century was an epoch of exceptional growth, some people had this capital or trust, and many independent journals were formed. Many, though, were bought off, or chased away, or censored. The elite does not want you to become an influencer, unless, of course, you remain a perpetual servant of their agenda.
This is why mild conservatives are accepted as a stooge opposition, along with the alt lite, whereas those who really want to save civilization and its creators are reviled. The elites want to destroy civilization, so, their journalists, who all depend on them socially and financially, foster their agenda while lying to themselves on the nature of what they do.
So-called investigators are paid by Darth Soros to “investigate” on convenient targets while turning a blind eye on other things, like mass immigration, or upholding a mandatory narrative which rests not on truth but on pure social conformism—muh minorities r always good, muh white males r always wrong.
Perhaps the “fake news” offensive has been crafted, not only to maintain the masses into the blue pill matrix, but also to reassure the frail employees that they are serving truth and progress. Which is already dubious, as worshiping an arbitrary strand of “progress” has nothing to do with objectivity, just as the contemporary humanities are rather a Hollywood for nerds than a place of real knowledge, but you can’t ask vapid girls to get to this level.
No one writes for the sake of truth alone. Independent writers or journalists also speak of what they think relevant. They will mention XYZ facts because these are important, or, at least, ensure a modicum of success. Just like men tend to read Miyamoto Musashi quotes, not merely because he existed, but because he’s interesting.
Mainstream journalists are courtiers. They are paid by global elites to do their bidding. They work in cities just like filmmakers work in grand obscure studios—because their activity lies in creating perceptions, in shaping fashions, ideas, mottos, norms. The difference between a marketer, a journalist and a filmmaker is only of scale and means. The aim, and the bottom, is the same.
We are different, because we are bottom-up. When mainstream journalists sold their souls, we are upholding ours. The problem with this is that we’re ill-paid. The globalists and the boomers tend to concentrate all the money, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to witness that the non-mainstream outlets tend to all lack money. Such is the price of independence.
We ought to have our own money elsewhere, and have a lot of independent journalists around, so that autonomous individuals from our side can work or investigate and help masculine men to shape their own consciousness.
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So I am royally pissed.
RANTING FOLLOWS...
Yes, major shit is happening in the world. But real life is still happening. My doctor has been changing from one hospital affiliation to another. I had an appointment that I scheduled three months ago. No one called and told me anything with regards to time, location or new phone numbers. I drove up to an empty office with a sign. Not all the doctors are going with the person listed as my primary and my appointment was with one that was in a different office. The primary's (that is listed in my records) office kicked me out and said I didn't have an appointment without checking my name and they didn't know shit about what was going on, so they basically they kicked me out of the office because they could and they were utterly useless. No information, jack squat. I think they were done for the day and wanted to go home. The other office was closed. Neither phone number given worked and I'm out of my medication. I also have a sinus infection and need antibiotics and maybe some prednisone. My immune system is not doing well because I'm not getting my IVIG(which is another whole mess). My back is still messed up from where I sprained it before Christmas. I also have been having stomach issues and it's the reverse of my usual stomach issues. I also have a virtual visit scheduled with my Endocrinologist, after which she will need to know where to send my information. And I have two more specialists that I need to reschedule because I've been putting them off between Covid and me being sick. Did I mention my scripts need refills? I get appointments later in the day because of my issues.
I am not happy with this. I would have understood rescheduling my appointment. I would have understood a new office situation. But the girls in the one office were extremely rude and unhelpful. Also neither of the new phone numbers were working nor the old number which tells you to schedule an appointment with a different doctor. I used the old app(Epic) to request at the very least my refill and left a note on that system that I didn't get to the appointment and why.
The other thing that is pissing me off is that they knew this change was coming and they STILL SCHEDULED the appointment. Nowhere in the intervening THREE MONTHS did anyone try to get me to reschedule or tell me where I needed to go. And I was scheduled for a night appointment when they knew the hours of the new office could NOT accommodate this. (I am deducing this as my working theory. It appears to be the truth, although I won't know until I talk to someone, if I can find someone who knows their butt from a hole in the ground.)
The last time I had troubles like this, was my previous primary. In addition to screwing up messages from me to the doctor and vice versa, the little shit in the office stole a prescription of mine. They caught her red-handed. They should have called the cops. They did fire her ass.
I just didn't feel up to the paperwork involved.
I seem to attract people stealing pills. My last muscle relaxer script was short 4 pills. Since I didn't pick up the pills myself, the pharmacy basically said too bad, you lose. They were very generous*(this is sarcasm btw) in letting me refill my next script a few days early. I told them the next time I will go to the cops again. Mostly, they just go to the store quietly and examine the video tapes that the store makes, if they haven't gone to the server yet, then ask me and the store employees our side of the story, we write a statement and sign it. They don't really investigate it too much unless there is a superfluity of thefts.
Yes I am aware that I am speaking from a position of privilege. I have a doctor, insurance and enough money(most of the time) to pay co-pays and bills. I simply need to get the rant out now so I don't scream on the phone tomorrow. Catharsis is what I'm going for right now. Unfortunately, not a lot of these things have simple fixes. Or in some cases, they don't have any fix, forgoing a miracle.
These people that don't keep up with what is going on around them and are useless and are at the very least incompetent employees. If I was a boss and these people were my employees, they would be canned the minute I heard about them being rude to a customer/client and practically throwing them out the door/locking it behind them. Also neighborhood is not the best, even if they were clueless they should have made sure I had a way home or a way to get to a way home, i.e. offer to let me use the phone to call a ride/cab/uber/whatever.
I am aware I sound like a "Karen". I was taught that the first rule in any business is the customer is always right. I understand that they were at the end of a long day. I do get that. But also the employment marketplace and economy being as it, people should be eager to keep a job, because they are at least 20 people that need a job more then you at any moment. Never assume you have the worse problem in the world. There is ALWAYS someone in more dire straits then you. (Sometimes that helps. Although it can be hard to imagine, but trying is at least a distraction.)
Did I mention(no pills) I also had a dentist appointment this morning(well early afternoon) where I got two fillings fixed? Luckily, it wasn't too painful. The extended period of prolonged mandible contortions caused more pain than the dentistry.
The window in our car also broke. The cord that runs it snapped, as well as the electronic button panel went kaput. This is after we just put on two new tires and had various other repairs. The window panel costs about 400$ to repair. That's more than the car is worth almost.(Funny, not funny.) It's ten years old and beat to hell. Most likely we are going to need a new car. When I say car, I mean SUV/light truck.
In addition we have a few holes in the roof(including over the bathroom) that leak buckets of water when it rains. If it rains, we have to check the buckets so they don't overfill. We also just had to reseal the toliet(another $400) and replace the ceiling tiles below the bathroom. When we get the roof fixed eventually, the bathroom ceiling needs fixed($$$) plus the downstairs ceiling where the other leaks are. One is a popcorn ceiling.($$$)
I also was going to ask about the vaccine. Most likely I can't get it. I can't get flu shots because I'm allergic. I've also read that one of the vaccine is counterindicated for those with weak immune systems. The other possible problem is the thyroid cancer. Because of how the vaccine works, and the type of thyroid cancer I had, there may be issues. I've tried to find answers online but because my type of thyroid cancer is rare(well, both types) I don't think any studies were done on it.
When the imp of the perverse gets your number or Lady Luck(Luck be a Lady!) deserts you, you are SO SCREWED. Either that or the person who has the voodoo doll🔮 of me is getting creative(or bored) because they are in lockdown because of Covid. I wish who ever it is would stop. Or learn about karma...
Okay, rant out of my system. (Not really, but I can chill enough to try to get rid of the hiccups I just got. Did I mention I have blood pressure problems and stress induced asthma?)
Okay, now I really do think it's a little better.
Catharsis achieved.
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Today the California State University system officially announced that we will be remaining virtual until Fall 2021.
I knew it was going to happen. I’ve known since like May. I’ve been telling other people to be prepared. I knew we weren’t going to go back in Spring, I knew that we shouldn’t. That it would be the best for the health and safety of everyone if we didn’t.
And yet the official announcement today that we wouldn’t just caused the dam to break. The breakdown I’ve been staving off since March. This announcement fucking broke me and I don’t know why because I knew it was coming. I agree with it! I hate it, but I fucking agree!
I jumped in my car to drive somewhere to park and cry, because I can’t do that in my house for reasons, I’m flipping through radio stations and the song “The Scientist” comes on right at the lyrics “Nobody said it was easy//No one ever said it would be this hard” and I did that hysterical laugh crying thing. Perfect fucking movie breakdown with perfect background music!
It was actually really hilarious in a hysterically laughing as ash falls from the sky kind of way.
Anyways I have like five missing assignments already. Because virtual learning is kicking my adhd ass, I’m in a house I didn’t plan to return to at all, but I’ve ended up moving back in. I can’t get a job, i don’t qualify for unemployment, I lose my health insurance in January, the sky is orange and ash is falling from the sky. I’m paying money I don’t have for an education I’m getting on fucking zoom. My internet keeps cutting out when I’m trying to attend “class” and the internet provider said there’s nothing they can do about it.
I worked my fucking ass off to transfer from community college to a four year only to not fucking go!! Because I got one fucking semester on campus. ONE. If (IF!!!) I can manage to pass what i need I’ll be graduating (virtually probably!) in Spring 2021. I had to borrow money from my mom to pay for this semester because of aforementioned joblessness, I’m going to get (another!!!) loan that I can’t pay so I can watch half a lecture over zoom with wifi that keeps cutting out next semester. And the world economy is fucked, so no job even with a degree and I can’t pay for it!!
I’ve lost like 15 pounds in a month because I’m a broken human being who can’t fucking function under the stress, even when I’m lucky!! My family is healthy! I have shelter and food! A whole ass twenty-fucking-five year old woman who can’t even eat right even when I have shit to complain about compared to other people.
190,000+ Americans are dead, and counting. My state is on fire.
I’m so fucking tired.
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Okay, we’re gonna see how much liveblogging I can get done today. We’re still in full Kevin mode, and we’re starting the day with Heads of the Family. I have minimal idea what to expect, but I love Kevin and I love the Bugg Brothers, so it can’t be bad.
Right?
My love for this show’s music selection continues.
Oh good lords, these people take family reunions seriously. There’s a fucking banner. You can see more people in this frame then there was at my last family reunion in it’s entirety. And that was everybody from this farming family that still lived in the northeast within six generations of relation. Not kidding.I know nix and I play with there being too many fucking Joneses but goddamn there are canonically too many fucking Tennysons!
Just, goddamn.
...Last year Ben and Gwen had a burping contest where Ben won by so much a fucking gazebo collapsed on them and several relatives. I’m not surprised, just concerned
And Aunt Kathy damn near banned them from future reunions. Honestly I can’t blame her. Made Max give her a month’s worth of foot massages to re-earn the right to attend.
They’re bringing the deviled eggs.
That is, a sad amount of deviled eggs for the number of people here.
Nobody is happy to see Ben, which, given last year, not surprising.
...yep, that’s a level of offhand rudeness you only get from relatives.
Honestly I gotta write a fic involving family reunions, that’s shit’s gotta be confusing for an Erinaen like Argit.
(probably Great) Aunt Kathy likes bacon in her deviled eggs. The presence of them was likely planned ahead.
There’s a Sweden branch of the Tennyson family. The representatives shown are Sven and Len. I’m horribly amused. Also Max apparently can’t tell which is which.
...Somebody just showed up given a headcount of nearly 600. What is wrong with these people?!
The headcounter’s name is Alfred. He has pumpkin pie. This earns him a point.
He’s Max’s second cousin. This is a relation I can accept as a family reunion.
Somebody is showing off Max’s baby pictures. Making him out to have been a worse-looking teen than he was though. Doesn’t look good, but I was expecting worse from the characters’ reactions.
Also this is apparently Grandma Rita, which given it’s Max saying that I have to assume she’s either his mother or his grandmother, so Ben & Gwen’s great-grandma or great-great-grandma. Probably great-grandma. Either that, or she’s aged real well, or she and Max’s mom had kids real young.
“I’m gonna get some deviled eggs“ Ben says before being stopped by the realization that there, by the food, is his archest of nemesises, Kevin. Who, given there’s nearly 600 people here, may actually belong. I mean statistically, with this many people just attending the reunion, nonetheless in the family, there’s acceptable odds he’s a cousin of some bent.
Also my son, dual-wielding fried chicken
Gwen, concerned Kevin might be related to them. Max, concerned Ben’s going to do something that gets them banned from the family reunion.
“Don’t do anything rash“ like Ben has ever done something not-rash ever in his life
Boys please. I know you’re both disasters but, for five minutes pretend to have something resembling chill.
Ben: *totally down to kick Kevin’s ass for daring to eat a food*
Kevin: *certain he won’t because they’re surrounded by innocent relatives*
Ben: *does not care one iota*
Gwen: *about to have an aneurysm because holy shit is her cousin trying to get them disowned*
I have to admit, I do enjoy the addition of episodes where Kevin is just existing and it’s Ben who’s starting shit? Having a wide range of hows with regards to the boys getting into fights makes sure that we get some real character depth out of both of them, as well as making sure the episodes don’t get samey and that they can always do something new. They aren’t pigeon-holing themselves.
The boys have left to a less target-rich environment and are now fighting because, again, how dare Kevin come to a Tennyson family reunion and eat the food. And we still don’t have any real evidence he doesn’t belong. I mean he makes that ‘where you got all your weird’ comment, but it’s Kevin, if they were twins he’d say that just to rile Ben up.
Me thinks these boys should’ve gone out a little further. Attract less attention.
...Ben knocks Kevin clear across the fairgrounds, jumps into a dumpster to stay out of sight until he comes back for round 2, finds the Bugg Brothers. Of course.
Ben is just having A Day.
A particle decimator. Okay, cool, but why you guys hiding in a dumpster?
It’s a shrinking ray. The plan is to use it to destabilize the national economy, undermine the government, disrupt social order, and wreak havoc among the entire world population. I feel like Maurice needs to start thinking smaller.
And lo, they were using the wrong device and accidentally switched Heatblast and Maurice’s heads. I’m shocked.
This is gonna be a weird episode from here out isn’t it
Kevin, gonna kick somebody’s ass even if he’s not sure what the fuck is going on
Kevin, rolling with the head swapping thing. Though honestly with some of the shit he’s been through this probably don’t seem too bad
I do like how Maurice made a head-swapping helmet and yet he and Sidney have not swapped heads, despite, well, everything.
Ah, this is presumably the device that swapped their heads in the first place. Cool cool.
My son
So clarify, he’s outnumbered, his head in on the wrong body, and the Maurice and Sidney are looming. He shows no signs of concern, or lack of confidence he can handle the situation. He still gets divetackled, but hey
And he’s not doing bad, given he’s wrestling against two guys his size.
And Ben has the helmet
“You need to fix us!“ And how, pray tell, do you expect your cousin to do that, Benjamin?
Welp, Gwen and Max got their heads swapped now.
And the watches timed out, meaning how Maurice and Sidney are basically helpless until shit times back in.
Welp, Maurice and Kevin swapped. So now Kevin’s head is on Ben’s body and Maurice is on Sidney’s. Meanwhile Ben’s head is still on Maurice’s body, Max’s on Gwen’s, and Gwen’s on Max’s.
This play-by-play brought to you by Fanta. Thirsty? Get a fanta.
And now Ben’s head is on a squirrel body. And a squirrel head on Maurice’s.
“Gotta fix this before I get infected with this dork’s genes“ Kevin pls.
Okay, Maurice is whole again, but now there’s a squirrel using Sidney’s body
Wow, Maurice, maybe you should’ve hedged your bets on whether you wanted to leave the helmet in the care of an 11-yo or a fucking squirrel.
And lo, now Maurice is back on Ben’s body and Kevin is on Maurice’s.
And I’m not even gonna give a play-by-play of these last several switches, just assume everything happened including the rise and fall of the roman empire
Kevin is fucking done. Also he and Ben are on each other’s bodies now.
Oooo, I was wondering if this episode came before or after Kev joined up with the Forever Nerd, turns out it’s after. Also this phone doesn’t have the spikes.
Oh gods and Ben is answering the damn phone.
FN: Kevin where are you?
Me: Kevin is dead. Yeah, horrible accident involving a sprinkler system, a can of soda, and a mountain lion. Just awful. So, ya know, you may as well just lose this number-
Oh
Oh fuck
Oh gods damn
Okay so Ben imitates Kevin and claims he’s hanging out with his family (which, kudos Ben for trying to cover for him, your sweet child) and the Forever Nerd fucking- The quote-
“Family? *scoffs* That’s a laugh. You have noone. Without me, you’re all alone, remember? Now stop playing around and report back here at once.”
I’m gonna kill him, y’all. I’m gonna kill him and then wrap Kevin in a blanket and feed him cookies and cocoa until he pops.
Even Ben’s like ‘wait, no family?’ Which, given this clearly takes place after Introducing Kevin 11, what is going on in Kev’s life and what did Ben think was going on in Kev’s life?
Also Ben theorizing that maybe that’s why Kev crashed his family reunion, just to be part of one, and gods preserve me that’s a painful thought.
Kevin, critiquing the Bugg Brother’s evil plot.
Ben: If you want your body back you just need to blast me-
Kevin: *blasts him*
Maurice and Sidney have been getting on so well this episode, it warms the heart. And makes sense in an episode involving a family reunion and the official reveal that Kevin has jackshit in the way of familial relations. Now to find if this is because he dropped them for being shit, because he’s actually an orphan, or he’s been taken from his family because they were shit.
Rath trying to be friendly and welcoming towards Kevin.
Kevin, just walking away from that shit.
And Max and the squirrel are still mixed up, and continue to be as the family flees the event.
9/11 solely due to Kevin things. My son deserves better.
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Blurred Lines (Ethan x MC)
A/N: This is my take on Miami with our man. From Ethan’s perspective and there’s a few references from my previous fics but its not necessary to read those before this. I was originally wanting to post this before the chapter aired but life happened and a week later here it is. I took some dialogue from the chapter and placed it in here but not much. This also uses Ella Mai’s close near the end. I wasn’t originally gonna use a song in this but the story kept shifting but it’s a great song that reminds me of these two. But overall I hope you all enjoy my version of Ch. 10. This fic grew way longer than originally thought but oh well lol.
Summary: Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Michaels start to crossover into new territory during the Miami conference.
All Rights to PB and Ella Mai for her song “Close”
Sidenote: Song Lyrics are italicized
Word Count: 3,996 words.
Tagged: @sharrybh20 @ifyouseekheart @perriewinklenerdie @radlovedreamer @siegrrun @flyawayboo @gabbisaur
Sorry if I forgot anyone else, but iIf anyone else wants to be tagged just let me know!
Ethan Ramsey stood in a secluded corner of the atrium as he watched the interns scrambled to the leaderboards. He’d learn his lesson over the last few weeks of attempting to post the rankings in their sights. The amount of times he was almost ran over or harassed by the young doctors was wearing down his already thin patience. This time he decided to post it earlier to avoid the savages.
Usually he would carry on with his patients after each week’s posting or spend some time checking on his mentor and looking over his case, but on this occasion he couldn’t help but stay just to catch a glimpse of Katrina when she looks at the ranks. Out of the sea of interns he could make out a young doctor flinging her arms around Katrina in excitement and hear brief exclaims of congratulations. He notices the young African-American woman taken aback by the news but quickly a fierce look of pride washes over her as she talks amongst the few lingering colleagues who wish to extend kind pleasantries.
He smiles to himself as he watches Katrina’s grin. Despite growing closer the last few weeks Ethan was unsure how he felt about Dr. Michaels. It was clear to himself he trusted, admired, and respected her even though more times than others she’s a pain in his ass. And on the other hand, residing deep inside was his raw attraction for the young resident. He catches himself staring at her when she’s unaware or if talking to her how his eyes tend drift to her round, pouty lips. Ever since his daydream about Dr. Michaels, to their conversation in his home, and the last weeks of closely working together on his secret case he’s noticed there’s a difference.
Ethan would never willingly admit to himself that he may have became enamored with the young doctor. No, he keeps those dangerous thoughts regarding Katrina in the forgotten depths of his mind. He has far to many other important things to focus on. He soon notices that he’s no longer alone in his little corner. A familiar perfumed scent hits his nose and without turning he addresses the figure.
“Chief Emery, what can I do for you?”
“Now Ethan, must you always be so formal. ”
Ethan rolls his eyes and turns to face Chief Emery. He can tell by the way she said his name she wanted something. Before, he always folded but as of late her attempts of being his emotional puppeteer has had no effects.
“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood Harper nor do I have the time so let’s keep this short, yes?”
She’s momentarily taken aback but brushes off her initial surprise.
“Yes, you definitely seemed...” Her eyes move to land on Katrina.
“...preoccupied at the moment.
Ethan follows her gaze and his eyebrows furrowed as he sees where it lands, annoyed at the subtle insinuations.
“Ahem, what exactly did you need?”
She turns back to look at Ethan and hands him papers and continues to speak as he looks over what she’s handed him.
“This actually. You’re going to Florida. Well, Miami specifically and accompanied by Dr. Michaels to a medical conference. You both will be surrounded by other accomplished doctors from the best hospitals all over the country, so make sure to mingle and represent Edenbrook well.”
She turns to walk away from him but he cuts her path off.
“Wait, why must I go and bring along an intern for that matter. Isn’t the schmoozing apart of your job description?”
“Actual my job description is to assign who I want to schmooze, if not myself. Second, as a way to mix things up in the competition I decided to throw in an exclusive reward. Thus, attending a prestigious medical conference with the accomplished Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”
“You enjoy torturing me, don’t you Harper?”
“No, no of course not.”
Ethan takes a step back as he realizes Harper attempting to cup his cheek. Her hand falls back to her side.
“But at least your company is someone you’ve taken a ...liking too, from my understanding.” her tone was polite but Ethan noticed a small hint of hidden meaning in between her words and an unfamiliar glint in her eyes.
“Now Harper, I-”
Ethan was interrupted by the buzzing of Harper’s pager.
“Duty calls. Dr. Ramsey, this is final.”
She walks away without another word down the west corridor. Ethan shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Unable to argue anymore he makes his way to the center of the atrium towards Dr. Michaels who’s still surrounded by her roommates and a few straggling interns.
“Rookie. I see you saw the news.”
He sees her turn toward him as a hush fell amongst the other young doctors as he finds himself standing a few spaces of chest to chest with Dr. Michaels.
“Yes I did Dr. Ramsey. Are you here to congratulate me?”
“For not killing your patients? No.”
He noticed a flicker of sadness in her eyes and the way her smile fell. He mentally kicks himself.
“However…”
Katrina eyes grow more hopeful.
“...you’ve yet to let me down, Rookie.” he let his eyes soften as he finished speaking. Ethan felt his heart skip a beat as Katrina’s annoying yet radiant smile grew wide.
“And I don’t plan to anytime soon, sir.”
“Good.”
The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before a cough from others interrupted the moment.
“Ahem, anyway Rookie. Pack your bags tonight. You’re accompanying me to Florida this weekend for a conference as reward for ranking first this week.”
“What?! Really?!” she said in disbelief.
Ethan ignores the many audible gasps, groans of disappointment, and bitter mumbles.
“I’m not repeating myself, Rookie. Send me your address so I can pick you up, our flight leaves at 7:00 am tomorrow morning.”
And with that Ethan walked away and head towards his office.
Time seemed to fly for the next morning arrived and Ethan found himself immensely irritated. He rubs his face in exhaustion and frustration. He hopes that their flight would end soon because he was unsure how much longer he could take before he might lose it. First, the flight was delayed by two hours, then he realized the tickets were economy not first class, so himself and Dr. Michaels were huddled with the other passengers like cattle, and thirdly a infant seems to have been crying non-stop since the departure.
He knows how little of an impatient man he is so at the moment all he could do was suffer in his seat and try not to succumb to his building temper as his companion managed to sleep during the entire trainwreck of a flight. As he was steaming in his seat he felt a pressure land on his shoulder. He turned and looking down on his right shoulder he saw a messy clump of afro hair and soft snoring from Katrina. Seeing Dr. Michaels sleep so soundlessly and how peaceful her features were made most of his bitterness melt at the sight. He didn’t know why but just one look at her and he felt calm. Just for a minute he thought maybe this flight isn’t all bad.
Soon enough the overhead speakers came alive to alert the passengers that in a few minutes they will arrive at their destination soon. The sound of the seat belt sign chiming cause Katrina stir from her slumber and she slowly open her eyes as she adjusted to her surrounding. Her eyes land on Ethan and she immediately bolts upright, bumping her elbow in her neighbor who shoots Katrina a nasty glare.
“Sorry sir.”
The man beside her let out a grunt and continued to read his newspaper. Concern at the lack of warmth from his shoulder and for the way Katrina woke up he gently laid his hand on her shoulder.
“Everything okay Rookie?”
“Oh, umm yes Dr. Ramsey. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was-”
“Relax Dr. Michaels. I’ve had worse things happen to me on economy flight. Being your pillow is not one of them.”
She smirks towards him.
“Is that so? So you’re saying I can specifically request you as my pillow?”
“No.”
“Hmm. I don’t believe you.”
“Do I look like the type to lie.”
“Of course not sir but I feel like you’ll give in.”
“And what makes you think that I’ll cater to your wishes, Dr. Michaels?”
She lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Ethan as a smirk that rivals the cheshire cat graced her face.
“I can be very persuasive.” Ethan feels goosebumps form as he feels the ghostly trace of her fingertips brush his hand reaching to the seat pocket in front of her. In his head he’s trying to decipher if that was a coincidence or something orchestrated by the young doctor.
Reeling from the simplest of touch, Ethan stayed quiet for the moment before he readied himself with a retort but interrupted by the woman beside him.
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
He couldn’t help but smile at her and shake his head.
“I agree that your growing ego is unbecoming, Rookie.”
She giggles at him and then turns to look out the window hoping to not disturb the man beside her while Ethan kept his gaze fixed on her. Trying to process how he’ll survive this weekend.
A hour passes after landing in Miami and Ethan and Katrina arrive at the hotel and make their way to the front desk.
“Yes how may I help you?”
“We have a reservation for two double rooms under Ramsey.”
“Alrighty let’s take a look.”
The woman behind the desk types on her keyboard before her face scrunches up.
“I’m sorry sir, but it seems there was a mix up and all the double rooms are booked for the weekend.”
Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and lets out a gruff sigh a Katrina tries to reason with the concierge.
“I’m sorry but that’s unacceptable. What other rooms are available?”
“Well ma’am, once more I’m terribly sorry for the mix up. We have one room available, the honeymoon suite, which we’re willing to give to you and your husband for free as condolences for the booking conflict.”
Ethan looked up from his previous position and noticed the faint blush that graced Dr. Michaels face at the woman’s assumption. He saw Katrina about to correct the employee but his mouth spoke without warning.
“We’ll accept it, Thank you.” he nods curtly as he collects the key cards and heads to the elevator, leaving behind a stunned Katrina.
She manages to catch up to his long strides as he enters the elevator and presses the bottom to the penthouse level. The door closes and there’s a small silence between the two. Ethan can tell she’s dying to question him so he speaks first.
“You’re allowed to talk, rookie.”
“Umm are you sure you’re comfortable with sharing a room, Dr. Ramsey?”
“They are no other rooms and we’re probably unable to get double rooms at any other hotel in the ten mile radius, I gathered we might as well enjoy an unexpected upgrade even if it’s due to moronic behavior.”
The elevator halts and the doors open and Ethan steps out and strides down the long hallway followed by Katrina and arriving in front of the last door of the corridor.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He opens the door and holds it open for her to enter.
“Are you uncomfortable sharing close quarters?”
Katrina enters and was about to respond but was distracted by the glamour of the suite. He follows behind her and watches as her eyes lit up with astonishment at the room. Ethan’s relieved that she’s preoccupied by their room to question him any further. His rational, safe-playing side is chastising him for accepting this arrangement but his other side took the lead at that moment. He didn't have a true reason for saying yes other than wanting another occasion to be close to Dr. Michaels
“Okay, one. This room is gorgeous. I mean, this view of the beach is breathtaking! Two, I may be distracted currently but that doesn’t mean I didn’t noticed that you answered my question with a question.”
Katrina done inspecting the suite moves to gently set her suitcase down as Ethan stands a few feet beside her placing his own down.
“If I didn’t know any better rookie, I’d say you’re scared to be alone with me.”
Ethan can feel Katrina’s hot gaze look him up and down and hear her sly grin as she spoke.
“Oh, I’m not the one that should be afraid.”
He feels a flush grow in his neck at her words.
“And I noticed you didn’t correct the concierge when she assumed we were husband and wife.”
“People are always going to assume. Why waste my breath to change what they others think?”
He hopes she doesn’t see through his thin excuse.
“Wise words Dr. Ramsey. So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” she smiles as sits on the edge of the king size bed.”
Ethan pulls out a folder filled with documents from his bag and sits at on the loveseat in the room and places it on the coffee table in front of him.
“The conference doesn’t start til tomorrow so for the rest of the day-
“I can soak up some Miami sun!” Katrina interrupts.
“Yes, I suppose so while I stay in to look over some files.
“Dr. Ramsey you’re going to work when…” Katrina hops off the bed and saunters to the glass door of the balcony and gestures to the scenic view of the beach below them.
“...this is out our window.”
He moves to take out his glasses from his pocket and places over his eyes and doesn’t bother glancing out the balcony.
“My job never ceases, Katrina.”
Ethan begins to read the documents when the papers are pushed away from. He looks up at Katrina with an annoyed expression on his face.
“You work so hard as it is back home. You need to relax, Dr. Ramsey. Come along with me. I promise I’m loads of fun.” She said as she threw him a wink.
Ethan reaches to center his work in front of him once more.
“Tempting, but I have to decline.”
“Suit yourself.”
Katrina turns away from him to dig into her suitcase and grabs a few items before she heads to the bathroom
Ethan soon becomes engross for a few minutes and doesn’t tear his attention away even as the door of the bathroom opens and Katrina’s light footsteps approach.
“So is their a curfew I should be aware of?”
“Well-” Ethan’s words die at his lips as he looks away from his work and takes in the sight before him. Katrina stands in front of him wearing a scandalous yellow triangle bikini that makes her coffee-hue skin glisten and shows off curvy figure. The revealing fabric hugged in all the right places, her thick hips, thighs, and shows off her double D sized breasts. He realizes he’s been staring for too long and finally speaks, his voice slightly cracked.
“Ahem, urm...you’re not confined to a time frame but keep in mind we have a long and early day ahead of us so I advise not too late.”
“Gotcha.” she turns to a nearby chair and slips on her see-through yellow wrap skirt. She walks over to the body length mirror to check herself out and fluffs out her frizzy fro and heads to exit the room. She pauses and calls out to him over her shoulder
“You sure don’t want to tag along, Dr. Ramsey?” she asks one more time. Ethan can tell her tone is innocent enough but in her hazel eyes he sees hope and a tiny bit of mischief in. He tries to focus on her face and not her perfectly round ass that’s barely covered in the cloth she calls a swimsuit.
“Well, we are in Miami. I suppose these documents can wait” he flashes a rare smile.
“That’s more like it sir!”
“Please Katrina, Ethan outside of work?
“Sorry Ethan.”
He smiles small and heads to his bag then the bathroom to change. He steps out in just his swim trunks and slips on some sandals. He notices Katrina’s eyes roam his bare chest before landing back to his eyes. He smirks at her and then walks to open the door to start their afternoon.
They spent the rest of the day and early evening basking the Miami sun. Walking on the shore, smiling and laughing discussing their lives before Edenbrook. Soon night fell and they found themselves back at the hotel outside bar nursing several scotches on rocks, sitting elbow length from another.
“So that’s really all there is to know about me. I switched from the west coast to the east coast. I haven’t visited in a while but I have an older brother and niece who live in LA. It’s difficult to visit sometimes because he’s a busy detective and my niece Chelsea is heavily involve in school especially now she’s entering her senior year.”
Katrina says as she sips from her drink.
“Do you miss it?” He asks.
“Sometimes. I miss craziness of LA or just driving to the beach and surfing in the hot summer days. But being here at Edenbrook, I have a new love, helping my patients.”
Ethan couldn’t help but stare as she said this. It was rare to find another doctor who truly wanted make a difference. More and more he got to know Katrina he couldn’t help but fall more.
He nods and finishes his drink. As he sets his glass down music begins to play and the other people outside begin to grab their partners and dance. He sees Katrina’s face light up in recognition and downs the rest of her drink and excitedly hops of her stool and fumbles slightly. From the alcohol or just the sudden movement, Ethan was unsure but had inkling it was both.
“I love this song! Ethan, dance with me.”
He looks around nervously. Looking for any doctors that could be in range.
“I don’t think so. I’m not one for dancing.”
A pouty look forms on Katrina’s face and in that moment Ethan just wanted to kiss her then and there.
“Please, for me.” She reaches to pull him off his seat.
He decide to throw caution in the wind and followed Katrina to the makeshift dance floor.
They find themselves in the center surrounded by other couples dancing to the sensual music. Katrina wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself closely to Ethan’s body. He places his hands on her hips and his eyes bore to hers as the sway to the music. He feels intoxicated by her citrus perfume.
I don't even really care who knows it
Just keep me there, keep me in the moment
Seen a lot of things, but I never seen my spirit glowin'
The way you do me got me outta body
Cause you the only out of everybody
Who gon' go out of the way to show me all the ways
Come control the flame
I just wanna stay right here with you
Katrina then turns so her ass is pressed against Ethan’s groin and grabs his arms so that they wrap around her as they continue to sway to the music. Ethan groans quietly to himself and tries hard not to become too excited. Being so close to her felt so good but he can’t help but question this. He knows he’s a little tipsy and he’s sure she is after the amount of rounds they had.
“Katrina…”
“Kat. Call me Kat.”
Ethan moves on of his hands to trail up her arm to her neck and push some of her fro out the way and his hot breath lingers on her neck as he whispers in her ear
“What are you doing to me.”
Let the water flow
Just let it fall out from my face
Cause I never thought I'd ever hear me say
I just can't breathe without my baby
Ooh, you my baby
Ethan can feel her shiver at his words and she turns back around and place her hands over his exposed chest. Her fingers tracing his skin. She stands on her tip toes and leans up as her hands bring his face closer to hers and whispers
“Only whatever it is you do to me.”
So come and kiss up on me
As we dance close
Come and kiss up on me slow
Ethan tightens his hold on Kat and stops their movements all the while others around them keep dancing.
“Kat.” His hand tangles in her hair and his eyes roam her face and he sees desire and longing.
“Ethan.”
Ethan closes his eyes as he feels her plump lips graze over his. He moves his mouth to respond briefly as he savors the moment but the fading sound of the music sobers him up and reminds him on where he is.
He reluctantly untangles himself from Katrina and holds her hands.
“Kat...Katrina. We can’t do this.”
She looks up at him, her eyes filled with confusion.
“Why? Do you not feel…”
“No of course not. I want this so bad, but not enough to jeopardize your career and reputation. ”
“No one has to know. It’ll be our secret.”
“We’d know. Plus I can’t push you to be the best doctor you can be if I…”
He pauses and lets go of her hands and adds space between themselves.
“If you…”
He shakes his head at her.
“Let’s call it a night. We’re both tipsy and have an early morning.”
He stalks toward their room feeling he disappointed gaze on him. They make it back to their suite and both quickly change into night clothes, Ethan in his pajama pants and no shirt and Katrina pops out of the bathroom in an over-sized T-shirt that covers her torso but shows off her legs and her hair wrapped in her silk bonnet. Even in the simplest clothing he finds her so beautiful and he’s kicking himself for cutting off what could’ve happen but he reminds himself its for the best. He speaks first.
“I can take the couch and you can have the bed, Rookie.”
“Ethan, we’re both adults we can share a bed. I promise no funny business.”
“Rookie…”
Katrina cuts him off
“No. Right now I’m Kat and your Ethan. No Rookie, no Dr. anything. We have all day tomorrow for that. Let’s give ourselves this moment right now before going back to reality. Please, Ethan.”
He sighs and gets inside the left side of the bed and gestures for Katrina to get in as well. She turns off the lights and gets in on the right side. They lay down facing each other, eye to eye. Their breathing grows soft and faint. Katrina closes her eyes first and flips so her back faces Ethan.
“Good night, Ethan.” She whispers.
He’s still facing her and longs to hold her but ultimately shuts his eyes.
“Goodnight Kat.”
It’s quiet for a few minutes when he feels rustling in the bed and warmth closer to him. He opens his eyes and notices Kat moved in her sleep. He would scoot over more but he’d be in the edge of the bed and he didn’t want to risk waking her up to move her over so he just pressed closer toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist and lay his face near the crook of her neck. He knew he was well over the boundaries he attempting to draw but Ethan decided give not only himself but both of them this moment.
#choices fanfiction#choices stories you play#ethan ramsey x mc#ethan x mc#Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC#dr ethan ramsey#open heart choices
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How about a little background. I'm from the wrong side of the tracks. My siblings would have stolen railroad tracks and sold them for scrap. When we left the farm, we went to the trailer park. The trailer park was, naturally, on the wrong side of the tracks. I wore hand-me-downs and Goodwill clothing. I was a high school dropout who moved out at 15.
So I'd seen the bad side of living in the US.
I remember my dad sending me in to buy 10 cent candy with a $1 foodstamp so I could give him the change. We did that till he had enough gas in the car to take me to school and he could get to whatever job he had at the time.
Or to buy booze.
Whatever.
So, I'd seen the bad part. It wasn't fun.
I enlisted, and the Army was great. When you lived in a trailer with a leaky roof and shoddy electrical and drove a car that you epoxied the passenger door shut, and went to bed hungry on the four days before payday, well, the Army is the fucking life.
I went to Europe. Assigned to West Germany.
I liked it.
Then the Wall fell. Now, West Germany was a modern nation. Luxuries everywhere. Plenty of food. In accordance to the independent streak I still had, I had moved out onto the economy as soon as S2 gave me permission. I wasn't a barracks rat. There were places to see and people to fist fight. When I went into East Germany, I saw East Germany through my own biases and colored by my personal experiences.
And I was suddenly glad that I was born on the wrong side of the tracks in America.
That girl I mentioned? I knew she was only fucking me to get access to the PX and maybe hoping I'd take her back to the US with me. (Hah, those titties may have been like POW! and that ass may have been like BLAM! but I ain't taking you home) I didn't care.
Don't look down on her. Don't you fucking dare.
She was East German. Her father had been taken away when she was a kid and she never saw him again. She had grown up, many times, without heat, without food, without decent fucking clothing.
She sat on my couch in my little apartment looking at my photo album and asked me what my parents did that we were so rich.
My family. She knew what it was like to not have heat in the winter, or have the roof leak, or be evicted from her home. Only it was different. We were evicted because booze was more important than rent.
Her family was evicted for 'reasons' she didn't know. Just it was after her brother got arrested and vanished.
Like father, like son.
Touring East Germany was like touring one big trailer park.
The factory parking lots full of rusting junk? Yeah, seen that. I asked what was being made. She just shrugged. They weren't allowed to know. She worked there. I met her neighbors. I listened to them. They told me things about living in Communist East Germany.
Learned to hate the Stasi just like they did even though they had vanished into the dustbin of history. Well, were being swept away.
I knew about police brutality and excess from being poor white trash. Nobody will kick your ass in the interrogation room like a cop who knows your family can't afford a lawyer.
But they aren't allowed to kill you. Not so with the Stasi and the rest.
The apartments made me sad. Her apartment made me sad.
I had more room and better living conditions in a Cold War Era barracks on top of a frozen fucking mountain than she had grown up in.
If I didn't pay my power bill, they turned off the power.
Her power was turned off, apparently for shits and giggles. Just random fucking times. She told me, and her mother told me, that it was better now than it was before the Wall fell. The power was on more often than it wasn't.
The architecture was brutal, simplistic, dehumanizing, and above all, trailer trash cheap. The concrete was crumbly, the windows had gaps, all of it was shit condition.
The trailer I'd moved in to for $50/mo when I'd first left home was better than that block style apartment building.
My high school dropout in and out of juvie white trash ass had it better than everyone in her building.
Bags of potatoes at the Commisary were $2.50 a 50 lb bag. We're talking half of what I spent on a quad-151 and coke with 2 cherries for a 50 lb bag of fucking potatoes. Well, for her birthday I bought some groceries at the Commissary.
Nothing major. I wanted to make corn beef and cabbage stew for her. I spent like $30 at the Commissary. Nothing major. I mean, that's like 1 night of drinking cheap well whiskey. (Yes, I used to measure my expenditures by how much booze I could swill down for the same price. Like father like son)
The next internet commie who tells you that food was plentiful in the 1980's in Communist East Germany, feel free to beat with a sack of cheap potatoes.
Maybe in the city, but I liked my girls from the country. And it was a small town built to support a factory that everyone was forcibly relocated there in the 1960's. Ever been embarrassed by someone's reaction to something you take for granted.
See, in the US, corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, all of that is 'poor people food'. Shit you learn to make on the wrong side of the tracks because it makes a lot, cheaply, and keeps for a few days. THeir reactions still embarrass me to think about. I was a farm boy originally before we ended up in the trailer park.
"It's just basic food..." went through my head at one point. I'm Irish descent. Potato, butter, and beer, and I'm good.
Her grandmother accused me of trying to buy her. Yelled at me till I left. I sat on the curb, trying to figure out just what the fuck happened, when her mother came out, called me a good boy, and had me come back inside.
Grandma apparently had a flashback to when political officers would bribe families with food like that and then take the daughters.
And that was when things had gotten better and the Fabulous Stalin Rape Fest of 1945-1952 was over.
But sitting there, looking around, smoking a cigarette, I saw that while it was just as bad as the trailer park, I mean, it WAS a factory town, the people did their best to make it into home. They hadn't given up. There was faded colors here and there on that shitty cement. The curtains were bright and decorative. Little flower gardens here and there. There were some kids kicking a ball.
But it "felt" different. If you're from the bad side of the tracks, you'll understand this...
Sitting there, in the sunlight, smoking a cigarette, the Wall is down, the USSR is losing its grip, there had been a riot that took out the Stasi headquarters in Dresden, but there's a certain feeling. It felt like it did in the trailer park when a half dozen cop cars pull in, blocking off the way in & the way out. That few seconds before the cops get out of the cars looking for a "person of interest".
There was nothing to really cause it, not that day, but it was still there. And there was this "gray" feeling to things I guess, that went along with that subtle feeling of dread.
I got it, sitting there. Knowing that you're powerless against the State. That the powerful can do whatever the fuck they want to you and nobody will care. Hell, they'll be glad it isn't them if they don't snitch to avoid being looked at too close.
It was Communism that had pushed them this far. That had taken the German people, who only had 43 years of difference between their Western counterparts, and done that to them.
No beer fests. No fests no pay phone on the corner, no corner butcher, no store full of food, none of that.
It had all been robbed from them in the name of collectivism. All funneled toward Moscow and the powerful.
No checks and balances. No "equal before the law" that the US at least gave lip service to when someone might be looking.
The whole fucking country was the wrong side of the tracks.
That's Communism. Dividing a country in half * turning half of it into a goddamn trailer park.
Worse than a trailer park.
Compared to them, I was lucky.
And that makes me mad. /fin
https://twitter.com/TWillardAuthor/status/1074214723711889409
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Binge-Watching: Soul Eater, Episodes 34-36
In which I extol the virtues of big battle scenes, the status quo is put in jepoardy, and one particular scene kicks so much ass that my ass is still sore.
Battle for the Brew
There’s something about big battle arcs in anime that really gets under my skin in the best way possible. Throwing tons of characters together for a single battle tends to bring out all their best qualities; there are so many opportunities for so many different combinations to bounce off each other, it can’t help but conjure up all the giddiest possibilities you’ve ever wanted to see. It’s the giddiness of finally dumping the entire toybox out and getting to play with all the pieces at once. Two characters might meet for the first time and become inseparable friends or rivals! Another pair may finally put an end to their long-gestating conflict! Close calls and closer saves and the potential for moments of triumph on all sides, developing everybody’s personal journey in tandem! The Promised Day from FMA Brotherhood, the Chimera Ant war from Hunter x Hunter, pretty much any of the legendary Gintama smackdowns... at their best, these kinds of massive-scale conflicts are the kind of experiences that define an entire show, possibly an entire generation of anime fans. And while Soul Eater’s Battle for the Brew is by no means on that same level of paragon status, it’s still pretty much a perfect example of why these kinds of battles work so well.
It’s also remarkably short compared to those other examples I listed, clocking in at only three episodes of conflict on a snowblown battlefield. Yet for such a limited amount of time, it still accomplishes a hell of a lot. It gives you an opportunity to see a wide variety of different battles, ranging from curb-stomps to duels to Mob Boss smackdowns, all while never losing track of where all the pieces are in relation to each other. And most importantly, every single battle ends up being memorable and worthwhile in its own right, propelling its plot through action in a way that makes each clash of blades carry the weight of change and growth behind it. The adults especially benefit from this; watching Sid and Mifune engage in a respectful, yet intense, duel across the snow bluffs makes them both far more fascinating characters than they’ve ever been before. Forget all the dull exposition scenes we’ve slogged through with them before; it’s behind the clash of blades that their characters truly come out. Sid’s willingness to engage with his foe on frank terms gives him far more depth than he’s ever had, and Mifune’s willingness to match his honesty tells us a lot about how highly he values his personal sense of honor. Meanwhile, Ms. Marie manages to completely win me over with the intensity of her concern for his new charges. The moment where she orders Ox’s team not to head into the storm, only for them to do so anyway, was honestly kind of gut-wrenching. Marie is trying so hard to be a role model for these kids in such dark times, but she can never shake the sense that they’ve already surpassed her, leaving her a useless, hollowed-out shell of an adult. That’s damn good writing, and it just needed a single moment to sink in.
And speaking of Ox’s team, another thing these kinds of massive battles do well is allowing smaller characters a moment to shine and finally make an impression on the audience. We’ve only ever seen these kids in passing before, and I don’t think we’ve ever seen Kim until this moment. But their brief skirmish with the forces of Arachnophobia outside the magnetic storm instantly makes me want to see more of all of them. Seriously, that one guy’s dual fire and lightning gloves are too damn cool to not see more of. And that bro moment where he finally gives in and hands BlackStar a candy bar in a real bro move right before he enters the storm sells their camaraderie better than any flashback ever could. There’s a fantastic economy of storytelling at play here; Kim just has to flex her flamethrower lantern a little to instantly get me on her side (”I should’ve charged money”). It might just be three episodes, but there’s enough cool shit going on in those three episodes to make all of them super worth it.
Sing Me a Song, Oh Piano Man
But still, all of that takes backseat to a single, jaw-dropping sequence at the climax of this duel: Soul finally accepting the devil’s bargain and playing his mental piano to power of his team. This moment has been a long time coming; Soul’s been grappling with the potential cost/risk of giving in to the black blood ever since Crona first carved it into his flesh back in episode 7. And while his fantastic conversation with Maka in episode 20 was a great capstone to their arc, it was clear Soul was eventually going to take a second peek into that darkness. You don’t just leave that kind of juicy tidbit hanging without capitalizing on it. But man, it’s always such a fascinatingly powerful moment whenever Soul accepts the aid of Crona’s curse. You get the sense that he’s very good at looking at this question from an objective angle, considering any and all possibilities before finally concluding that this is the best option. He may be facing down darkness and madness, but he does so with about as clear a head as anyone could reasonably hope for. Not to mention how sweet it was when everyone throws their full support behind his decision; after all, they’ve wanted to hear him play the piano for them for so long. What better opportunity than as the background music for them to utterly shred the juggernaut that was giving them so much trouble before?
And once Soul finally slams his hands down on the keys, letting that first, chaotic chord rush out? Goddamn. God DAMN. The ensuing fight is less a fight than a ballet of sheer, apocalyptic glee. It’s perfectly timed, perfectly paced, every combatant landing their pumped-up blows with the crescendo of a searing en pointe. Underscored by nothing but Soul’s increasingly moody piano, it’s an utterly mesmerizing flurry of movement and sound, matching the triumph of our heroes’ victory perfectly with the panic of watching Soul press his spirit beyond its capabilities, slavering with increasing agony in the process. I didn’t pause to take notes for the entirety of that sequence; I was too spellbound to even consider it. I was too terrified that everything was about to spiral completely out of control and leave the entire world in ruins. But then, that final moment where he resonates with Maka, and the bond of their trust, propels them forward together with the force of a lightning-powered rocket, and all my fears are swept away in an overwhelming tidal wave of joy and hope and God! It’s the perfect capstone, the perfect clincher, the perfect, unexpected relief that snaps the tension of that entire dance of death closed with a furious thundercrack. Maka and Soul have each other. They’ll always have each other. And as long as that remains true, there’s no maze of darkness they can’t fight their way through together.
And then it’s over, with a single, stunningly animated swing of Maka’s Genie Reaper, and Soul’s exhausted sweat dripping down upon the keys, as the adrenaline finally wears off and we’re left with nothing but the ashes of the inferno that just blazed across the screen. It’s insane. It’s exhausting. It comes really damn close to topping Crona’s Shinji moment as the best scene in the entire show. It’s the very best of what Soul Eater is capable of, stunning and heartstopping and utterly electrifying. What a way to bit this arc goodbye.
Shadows of Past and Future
So, all things considered, where do those ashes leave us? Because on the surface, not too much has changed once the flames of battle finally fade. Our heroes and villains are both still pretty much on the same page. And yet, under the surface, everything’s changed. The portal to the past inside the maelstrom gave DK an up-close look at Eibon, the dark mage who was working with his father, and considering Death’s own image was hovering over the ziggurat as well, there’s no way he’s going to leave this mystery unsolved for long. The masted of DWMA has a lot he needs to account for. Soul’s officially embraced his black blood, meaning he’s probably staring down the barrel of even crueler emotional torment to come. Speaking of which, Stein may officially be going off the deep end; Medusa’s trap is finally breaking him down. And Medusa herself just proved why she’s by far a better villain than her sister, stealing the magical Brew right out from under her nose. She really did plan for everything, and her sinister cackle is all the proof I need that she’s only just getting started making life hell for our heroes.
So while not much may have changed yet, the status quo has been completely snapped off from its foundations, and it’s only a matter of time before the whole damn thing comes crashing down. Soul Eater’s still going strong, and something tells me it’s only going to get stronger. Bring on the pain, show. I’m ready for you.
Odds and Ends
-”But it’s so cold I don’t care anymore.” Mood.
-”Sorry! I was driving around at full volume and the shock made this happen!” akjsdhakjsd
-Was it really necessary to twirl your staff that much Ox you extra motherfucker
-God, that image effect is disturbing. It really looks like they’re about to TV fuzz out of existence.
-Swole Mosquito is... disturbing.
-”Evans?” Excuse you, his last name is Eater.
-”Shut up and help me stand.” DORKS
-Hey, not every day you get to stand in the middle of a nuke.
-”I’m calling your parents the moment we get back to school!” GOD I LOVE HER
-”Yes, just put Lord Death on.” Spirit can’t ever catch a break, can he?
Goddamn, this show is great. See you next time!
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Ladies, if he:
- Caused you pain and suffering from the age of 9, followed by trauma
- Caused an explosive to go off on the ship you were on
He’s not your man. He is Dr. X. Go kick his ass.
(Spoilers for Game of Dice Main Story Chap. 2)
First, I will like to discuss the visuals. In the second chapter, the visuals are amazing, as well as the mini animations that come along with it. So far, story mode is coming along to be a quality experience.
I do hope that when future chapters are released, that the amount of matches you have to play does not increase to any outrageous amounts. It would be far too difficult to do so many matches and the player could lose motivation, especially if so many matches resulted in losses. It should be a fair and considerable amount. Story mode is getting interesting, and I would hate for my enthusiasm to diminish because I have to worry about how many matches I have to play.
Now, on to the actual story. This is my own analysis and not everything I say may be correct or you may not agree with me. Keep in mind this is only meant to provide questions and theories for discussion and is in no way meant to cause negative discourse.
At first, I thought to myself, “Could Dr. X be Ion’s father?”
Then I realized that could not be the case, as it wouldn’t be a logical assumption. The existence of Ion having a father is known, and leads to the question why his mother is not mentioned, or why there isn’t even one glimpse of her. There is the possibility that something malevolent happened to her, but since there is no evidence, I will choose not to delve into that.
“Unfortunately, I never got to hear this answer...”
When we delve further into the chapter, we found out this happens:
An explosion happens on the ship. Seeing this and repeating “Unfortunately, I never got to hear this answer...” led me to one logical conclusion: that perhaps Ion’s father died after this explosion. If Ion’s father told him “all fires need a fuel” and Ion wondered “what the fuel was for the super-naturals appearing was” and he “never got to hear this answer” from his father, then to me, this is heavily implying that he is dead... because of the actions of Dr. X or an associate of his. But I’m not giving Dr. X the benefit of the doubt.
Keep in mind that Ion’s father is wealthy and having an exquisite business party on the ship. That is explicitly said by Ion himself-- and that in this setting is enough motive for foul play. (Could this event be taking place in 2025? This was 10 years ago and the time where the economy collapsed in Game of Dice was in 2035... However, I doubt this because this event could have taken place in 2035 and and 10 years could have passed from then to where Ion turned 19 in 2045, if I’m implying this correctly...)
Look back at what Ion is seeing [the device] before it explodes. Now look here:
Does it not look familiar to you? Ironic is it’s name.
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are you actually 56
No:-)
Theperson that’s been going around saying that about me isn’texactly the brightest LED in the jumbotron. They saw a post Ireblogged that asked people to put their age in the tags; what theyfailed to notice was that I reblogged that post almost two yearsago. Perhaps my anon questionercan figure out the implications of that, but this person doesn’tseem to do very well with abstractions. And I think if I had knownthere were this many haters on tumblr, I would have thought a littlemore about reblogging that.
(There’sa lot of hate ontumblr: someone else lied about me to a discord server owner in orderto get me banned almost a year ago; then again, this person also toldme that they were “glad to hear” that a good friend of mine hadprobably died, so their opinion is kind of of no interest to me.)
Thesame person that’s tellingpeople I’m 56 also once(publicly) accused me of “writing porn about little kids”, whichis something I have never done, and never would do. Iobject to that sort of thing at least as much as the averagenormally-thinking person does.I found out later that theywerereferring to a particular story of mine, and I pointed out that thethird paragraph of the story clearly states that the characters are19 in it, hence it isn’t “pornabout little kids.” This person either barely skimmed the story(and surely didn’t read it for comprehension) or more likely neverread it at all and simplytook the word of someone else, without bothering to fact-check beforemaking that slanderous public comment. SoI’m not in the least surprised that they also missed the veryobvious clue about my age.
Ifsomeone were to kick a person out of a discord server (andthat’s what this is about, isn’t it?)and ban them because that person was black or Muslim,peoplewould be all over them for being a bigot. Beingin a certain age group is simply another demographic; there’s goodand bad people inevery group.
Funnything about bigotry:There isn’t a bigot alive who doesn’t believe that theirparticular prejudice is completely justified. After all, in theirminds, the world would be a better place without “those people”in it. They don’teven realize they’re bigots;it’s amazing how that works!
(Foreseeinga possible objection here: “But you write smut!” Yeah, I do; sowhat? So do literally thousands of other fanfic writers. Do you evenvisit FFN or AO3? The latter site even has a (very popular)“underage” tag; yet you won’t find a single story of mine withthat, because despite what I’ve been accused of, I don’twrite porn involving underage characters.
Y’know,I have 24 South Park stories posted on FFN totalingnearly 300,000 words, and thevast majority of them aren’t smut. Whatthey are instead are better-than-average (yes, I said that myself)stories; but then again I’ve been writing fora very long time. Hell, foras long as I can remember Iwanted to be the next Stephen King :) Unfortunately the closest Iever came to professional success was when I worked for a small townnewspaper for about a year. So when I discovered fanfiction back in2012, I had finallyfound an outlet where I could indulge my passion and share it withothers. Anyone who judges mebased not on that but rather the two or three stories Ihave writtenthat are either outrightporn or have sex scenes inthem shouldperhaps take a look at theirown biases. No one is forcing anyone to read anything theydon’t want to!
Ifyou want to see what I write when the South Park kids actually are10 years old, you should read mystory Fahrenheit 203 sometime. Don’t worry! It’s not smut.
Foreseeinga couple other possible objections:
“Youshould have friends your own age!”(someone actually told me that here). Uh...I have plentyof friends my own age; heck, I have friends that are 20 years olderthan me. Ever smoke a joint with a 70 year old? It’s an eye-openingexperience ;) The problem is, none of those friends share my interest in South Park, or of writing fanfiction, soI have to go elsewhere to find like-minded people.The person that has beensaying I’m 56 once said (and I’m paraphrasing because it’s notworth my time to go get an exact quote): “I don’t seek out olderpeople to be friends with in real life, so why should I do thathere?”
Uh,I would suggest one possible answer might be “to broaden yourobviously very narrow worldview.” When I was 15-18, I wasa member of a local community orchestra (second violinist). I was thesecond or third youngest member there. We’d meet for rehearsal oncea week for two hours, and during the break halfway through, whilemost of the adults wentoutside to smoke, I’d go hang out with one of the cello players.The guy was pushing 70, was a great guy (and funny as hell) and letme play his cello. I got to where I could play a mean version of thefirst 30 seconds of the main theme to ‘Jaws’...butI digress.
“Whyis someone your age on this hellsite?” It’srather presumptuous to assume that someone would lose interest infandom-related things once they’ve passed a certain age. Beyondthat, this question is better addressed than I ever could in thispost:http://fallingvvstyle.tumblr.com/post/164637677546/redshoesnblueskies-knitmeapony
“Butyour generation ruined the economy/destroyed the environment!”Well, that may be true, but I personally had nothing whatsoever to dowith that. I’ve neverserved a single day in Congress, I’ve never been involved inpassing a single law; although I haveplanted close to 30 trees around my house in the last 15 years.Blaming me for what others inmy demographic did is no different thansaying all black people are violent thugs, or all Muslimsare terrorists. Again, theregood and bad folksin every group of people.
“But...I’mjust not comfortabletalking to you.” Ifso, then you probably shouldn’t interact with me; Butwhat kind of person prevents someone from interacting with otherpeople who dowant to interact with them, besides a petty, vindictivetyrant-wannabe who was probably bullied themselves and seizing theopportunity to tryto doit to someone else (whounfortunately for them doesn’t take crapfrom anyone anymore)?Believeit or not, I’m nothurting anyone (opinionsabout a couple of my stories notwithstanding),I’m not trying to hook up with anyone here (my wife wouldn’t letme anyway :-) ), and I don’t talk about sexual stuff with underagepeople. Asfar as my stories areconcerned,they are all properly tagged and rated, and there my responsibilityends. It’s not up to me to police what other people do on theinternet.
Butno matter; I won’t be joining any more discord servers;however a friend of mine and I are going to start our own, and whenwe do I’ll be posting a linktoit here. There’sa couple people here who goingto bepre-banned.
FinallyI’m going to tag a few people; some of these are people who haveknown me for severalyears, we’vediscussed myage, andthey continue to be my friends, a few are people thatI’m sure have seen this bullshit drama playout onmy dash before and still talk to me anywaywithoutactuallymentioning it,and the rest of them are people whosereactions havebeen less than favorable and rangeanywhere from not talking to me anymore and/or unfollowing me, allthe way upto extreme hostility (andthey’re in no particular order so don’t try to figure out whichuser name is in which category).
@creekycoffee @rensrenegade @whizz-in-my-ass @deusbex @therd101person @niceusernamekahl @rhirhidamiengurl666 @alli-potts @whazzor-bruwn @rinkuthefirst
Onerequest: If you’re going to try to argue with me about this post,make sure you’ve readit for comprehension first, becauseunlike the conversation I had with the personwho still thinks I’m 56,I’m not going to explain the same thing two or three times anymore.
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The Tale of Two Viruses: Part 11
“Open Sesame” says the Very Stable Genie Genius Don. “Your wish is my command,” reply Republican governors, as they open their states for business, even though none of them have met the administration’s own guidelines for phase one opening up. ( A few Democratic states have opened as well.)
In a move so outrageous and unconscionable, he has not allowed a CDC report to be released that details specifically step by step actions to enable states to open up safely.
The Don believes his only chance for re-election is to return to the economic glory days of his administration (Read that as: the rich got richer ,and the rest…meh?). The problem is he is doing it the wrong way; his delusional nature, coupled with his inability to listen to the facts, will backfire on him. Anyone worth their two cents has made it clear that the only way to steadily and securely bring the economy back is to effectively deal with the health crisis first: more testing, tracking, isolating those exposed, and repeat!
Let’s face the facts, Don.
Businesses opening doesn’t mean customers will patronize them.
The most recent polls show 65% of the country against opening up too soon.
Customer 1: Mr. President, I think I’ll take a pass at getting that ice cream cone or new pair of Levis, as from where I sit it ain’t worth dying for.
As soon as someone goes into a business and there is a Covid infection reported, that business will become a pariah.
Customer 2: Hey, you can’t drag me out my own home and force me to go to the mall.
Customers 3-100: Oh shit, see that store over there, we are never going in that place again no matter how much they clean it.
For businesses to make money, people need money. 33 million people are now unemployed and that probably isn’t the true number because millions have not been able to file, not to mention the workers who have had their pay and hours reduced.
Customers 101-1000: I spent 3 hours in my car waiting for food from a food bank so I don’t think I’ll be buying new tires for my pick-up, Mr. President. And why won’t you increase food stamp allowance? Are you trying to starve us to death?
Fintan O’Toole from the Irish Times wrote: “The country Trump promised to make great again has never in its history seemed so pitiful. Will American prestige ever recover from this shameful incident?”,
Say what about America the Great? Who ya callin pitiful? I am going to makes some calls and round up my posse and we are going to show Ireland what pitiful is. Them is fightin words and America will kick your ass for even thinking that.
But sadly, O’Toole is hauntingly correct.
Fact: In early March South Korea and the U.S. both had the same small amount of cases. As of a few days ago, South Korea had 250 deaths and we have over 70,000. Even if you multiply South Korea’s population by 7 (which would equal the U.S’s population) the total number of deaths would come to about 2,000. How did South Korea achieve this: testing, tracking and isolation of those exposed and repeat! (By the end of April, new cases in South Korea were down to less than 10 a day. In the United States at that time, the pandemic raged at a daily rate of more than 25,000 newly sick.)
So yes, The Don’s response has been pitiful, dreadful and “deadful.”
When asked about the impact of opening up too soon, The Don said:
“Will some people be affected? Yes. Will some people be affected badly? Yes, “but we have to get our country open and we have to get it open soon.
Wow, some will be affected badly. Is that bad like I got an F on a paper? Has it ever crossed your mind to equate bad and dead? Said like the true amoral creature (was going to use the word human) he is. It reminds me of the classic scene in Monty Python’s Holy Grail where the night is having his limbs dismembered one by one and nonchalantly saying: “It’s just a flesh wound”.
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Mr. Bone spurs encouraged Americans to be “warriors.”
How about this Mr. Wartime President: I’ll go in to the mall if you go? I’ll go to work at the meat plants if you go. So? Don’t think so, you pathetic pusillanimous pea-head!
And Mr. President, you would have to wear a mask. “Not for me”, you say.
“I didn’t even wear a mask when I went to the mask factory in Arizona. That’s what a warrior I am.”
That’s true. The Don and his feckless musketeers toured the factory without masks despite signs saying:
Please wear your mask at all times.
However, he did wear goggles, as he thought they were kind of cool. Made him feel like an Olympic swimmer.
Rumor has it that he had this conversation with an aide.
“Have I ever told you about how great a swimmer I was?
“But Mr. President, these are construction site goggles.”
“Nah, I saw Michael Phelps wearing them in the Olympics. How many medals did he win? He’s lucky I became a real estate billionaire or else the record would have been mine.”
“I don’t doubt it Mr. President. You were an amazing athlete. If I recall, the best baseball player in New York during the time of Mickey Mantle.”
“Very impressed you remember that. Come see me later I have a cabinet post for you.”
“Anyway, this mask thing is so silly. Maybe I would consider a Batman mask. Maybe this factory should be making those kind of masks. Make people feel more like warriors when they get out there and restore the economy. Batman is a hero. Maybe I’ll bring that up with the head of the plant. What a genius idea, don’t you think?”
“Like you, he is a man who saves people’s lives. But a couple problems with that kind of mask, sir.”
“What’s that?
“Well, the virus is thought to have come from bats, so wearing a Batman mask might not be the best look.”
“Um, and what’s the second problem?”
“The Batman mask doesn’t cover your nose or mouth.”
“And that’s important?”
“Mr. President, let’s keep this genius idea between you and me for now, as they are waiting for you to continue the tour.”
And to think the tour of the mask factory was accompanied by Paul McCartney’s “Live and Let Die.” Honestly, you can’t make this shit up.
Reigning in the pandemic is so old news and boring for The Don that he decided to disband the Coronavirus Task Force. After all, we are focused on the economy now, so who needs a bunch of people wasting their time trying to manage a pandemic that is now predicted to take 130,000 lives? We are witnessing what I am calling a genocide of neglect. There is no outrage that more will die; there are no tears. Instead we have a malignant narcissist akin to Hitler himself who is annoyed that people don’t want to go shopping at malls and forcing people to go to work where there is a chance they could die. Hannah Arendt called this The Banality of Evil.
After pronouncing the end of the task, The Don received feedback from some of his people that it might be bad optics to shut it down. Some were saying that people might get the impression that he really didn’t care about people dying, that the virus was just a bug he could just ignore without a plan to get rid of it. So he changed his mind.
“I thought we could wind it down sooner,” Mr. Trump told reporters as he hosted nurses in the Oval Office to sign a proclamation honoring National Nurses Day. “But I had no idea how popular the task force is until actually yesterday. When I started talking about winding it down, I got calls from very respected people saying, ‘I think it would be better to keep it going.’”
Once again, The Don is all about ratings. Like a terrible TV show with a cult following the producers convinced the network to create more episodes. The new iteration may have new characters. Perhaps they will kill off some current cast members. You know, the ones who try to tell the truth. (Watch your back Fauci, there may be poison in your club soda!)
And in a cruel twist in “Survivor,” The Don will continue trying to toss out all of the Affordable Care Act, even as some in his administration, including Attorney General William “Lower the Barr” have privately argued parts of the law should be preserved amid a pandemic.
“We want to terminate health care under Obamacare,” said The Don. Rumor has it that he whispered to an aide : “I don’t care how many people have to die because they lose their healthcare as long as I kill everything that is connected to that black president.”
And on a positive note, Joe Biden is leading The Don by 10% points among older voters. At this point, Hillary was down by 5%. If this disparity continues The Don can’t possibly win his re-election.
The Don didn’t take this news well. He was perplexed that the most vulnerable population might be concerned about his handling of the pandemic. So The Don’s people came up with a strategy.
Standing in the ornate East Room at the White House earlier this month, for instance, Mr. Trump surrounded himself with health officials as he signed a proclamation declaring May to be “Older Americans Month.”
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