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stela20 · 3 months

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I'm sorry if my English is not good, I use Google Translate

This is my story from the Quotev website, so I wanted to write it and publish it here and enjoy ❤

Author: Hayana I am very sorry for the delay in publishing this story, but I do not follow the Naruto anime and I do not know who Shisui is, so I had to know information about him, and after I knew who he was, I wanted to say frankly, his story is sad 😭 The important thing is that the story will be outside the anime story, I mean. The story will be about the time of princes and knights and things like this. The important thing is that I leave you with the story and I hope you like it. If there is anything wrong with what I wrote about Shisui’s character, tell me in the comments and I will leave you with the story ❤

Y/n's pov

I am Princess Y/N, and this kingdom is ruled by my father, F/N. He is a just king and loves justice, and all the inhabitants of the kingdom love him. He has saved many people. My father is very afraid for me because I am his only daughter, and he used to send me many guards to defend me, but I love a guard. Only one person who caught my attention the most was called Shisui. He was 20 years old, older than me. I am 18 years old, and I always loved being by his side. I even always asked my father to let Shisui be my bodyguard always, and he agreed. I was very happy. One day I was… I read a book about nature, rivers, seas and things like this. I wanted to go there and discover these things. I went to my father and he took a look and found my father on his personal throne reading a book.

y/n happy: hello dad

F/n Saeed: Hello my beautiful daughter, how are you?

y/n: Fine…Can I say something?

f/n: yeah what's up?

I told my father that I wanted to go and explore nature and things like that, and I also told him that I would be abroad for 10 days, and he agreed ❤

f/n: Okay, my daughter, but I don’t want you to go alone. I will send the guard, Shisui, to be with you.

My father called the guard, Shisui, to come with me on this trip, and the guard, Shisui, agreed and also went to get his things.

y/n Saeeda: Thank you, father, I will go get my things too ❤

I hugged my father and I was feeling happy and I went to get my supplies. Also, I am going to discover nature. I do not want to go while wearing a princess dress. I must wear something comfortable that makes me move a lot, and I found the right outfit ✌🏻👍🏻

Your clothes :

Shisui's pov

While I was preparing my things, I could not believe these words that were coming from my lord’s mouth. Am I really going to be with Princess Y/n alone for 10 days? Just me and her alone. How happy I am about this because I love Princess Y/n so much. I prepared my things and I. I waited impatiently for Princess Y/n for her and I to be alone. After 10 minutes, Princess Y/n came and she was very beautiful. Princess Y/n hugged her father and we rode our horses and went to explore nature. After two hours, we arrived at a very beautiful forest. And Princess Y/N said to me, “This is the place, and frankly, this is a very beautiful, quiet forest with a stunning view.”

the forest :

And now I understand why Princess Y/N wanted to go to this forest and explore nature. How nice and beautiful it is like her. After half an hour, we greened everything in our camp and lit a fire to grill food, and she and I sat down and ate our food ❤

y/n Saeeda: Mmm, this food is very delicious. Thank you, Shisui

Shisui Saeed: Thank you, Princess Y/N, for this beautiful and kind trip, like you, this place is beautiful ❤

I saw y/n blushing when I was complimenting her and she looked so beautiful. 5 days passed and y/n and I were together and we explored new and unique types of flowers and more picturesque places and precious stones and everything that was beautiful and unique and we were reading books. We eat together and I was with Y/n and I always notice that Y/n is shy when I'm close to her. Does she like me? I have to find out tonight ❤

Y/n's pov

I was in my tent and I couldn't sleep. I was going to go out and watch the stars for a little while, but before I went out, I took a blanket with me and wrapped it around me. I got out of my tent. It was cold. I went to the campfire that Shisui and I had lit, and I noticed that Shisui… He was still awake and sitting on the floor, shirtless and wearing only his pants. I blushed and went to Shisui and sat next to him.

y/n: Shisui ❔

Shisui Saeed: Hello princess, what are you doing here?

y/n: I couldn't sleep and I went to see the stars and what are you doing❔?

Shisui Saeed: The same thing, and I also keep an eye on the place so that nothing comes and harms you

y/n: I am strong and I can defend myself and I also know how to use a sword

Shisui Saeed: Hahaha, I know, but I must protect you, princess

Shisui and I were watching the stars, and after 10 minutes I saw Shisui shivering a little. Is he cold?

y/n: Shisui, are you cold? Should I get you a blanket?

Shisui: No, I'm fine, and I can handle it, and I also like to feel the cold air on my chest

I don't know, but I think Shisui is lying to me. I took off the blanket and put it on Shisui and wrapped it around him so that he wouldn't feel cold. He looked very cute, like a cute little child and not a guard 🤭

Saeeda Y/N: Haha, it's okay, Shisui, to feel cold. We're all human in the end. I also brought 2 extra blankets. You can take these. I'll go and get another one for myself.

I was going to go but Shisui grabbed my hand. I looked towards him and saw Shisui looking at me

y/n: What's wrong, Shisui?

Shisui Saeed: Let's share this blanket together, princess ❤

I was ashamed by Shisui's words. He took me tightly and put me in his arms and wrapped the blanket around us both. I felt warmth. I felt tenderness. I felt Shisui's breath on my face. He was looking at me and smiling at me. I blushed even more.

Shisui Saeed: Do you love me, Princess Y/N ❤

Shy y/n: Mm what ❕

Shisui is happy: Every time I see you, I wish to always be with you. I wish to always protect you. You are like a little kitten that I must defend, protect, and give her all the love she needs. I love you so much, princess. Do you agree to be my lover?

Shy y/n: Shisui I… I love you too. I love you because you are a brave and kind man and you defend the innocent. How nice you are. I love you very much and I want to be your girlfriend ❤

Shisui's pov

After I heard these words from her, I took her in for a deep kiss. The texture and taste of her lips were like honey. How beautiful she is, and she also joins me in kisses. I broke off this kiss because we needed air. I took her in a warm and beautiful hug, and she continued to say that she loved me. 10 minutes passed and we were still together. In each other's arms ❤

y/n: Shisui, can I tell you something?

Shisui: Yes

y/n: How long have you loved me?

Shisui: This is a long story. Will you listen to it until the end?

Y/n : Yes

Shisui: Well, before I saw you and got to know you, I was 5 years old. I was a poor child, and my father and mother died and left me alone. At that time, I felt hungry and I was always stealing food and bread so that I could live, and King F/n asked the guards to catch me. And after he caught me, he said to me why I am doing this, and I told him everything, and King F/n was kind to me and also took care of me and trained me to be a brave knight who defends the poor. After I became 18 years old, I saw you for the first time and I was impressed by you and asked The king asked me to be your bodyguard and he agreed and he was very supportive of me and here we are with you and I give you hugs and kisses ❤

y/n Saeeda: Wow Shisui, I don't know what to tell you ❤

Shisui Saeed: Nothing, just having you by my side is enough for me ❤

I gave a kiss to my beautiful girlfriend while she and I were in each other’s arms and watching the stars until we fell asleep and fell asleep together ❤

Y/n's pov

Since then, Shisui and I have been together and have never been apart. After my father found out, he was very happy and decided to marry me to Shisui. He always said that he could not find anyone better than Shisui to take care of me. Shisui and I were very happy, and after a month We got married and now we live in love and happiness ❤

❤ The end ❤

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thinkingaboutmusics · 1 year

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A Display of White Privilege and Ignorance in Pop Music

In the midst of a search for something to write about this week, I decided to Google, “culturally insensitive music”. I expected nothing more than articles about older songs that simply aged poorly in today's world of progressivity. I found a number of articles of this nature; “11 Popular Songs You Didn’t Realize Are Actually Racist” or “16 songs that haven’t aged well”. I wasn’t surprised to find these lists contained songs with titles that pretty much wrote the articles in and of themselves (i.e. “Brown Sugar”, by the Rolling Stones or “Island Girl” by Elton John). While these songs deserve the criticism they’re getting in today’s social climate, I was looking for something a little fresher…

The second strain of articles were directed more toward modern pop music. After reading, there is a clear trend of white pop artists whose lyrical commentary pertains to every culture except for their own… Frankly, discussion of the artist's own whiteness might be a difficult topic to discuss because there isn’t much to discuss- or rather- there’s so much to discuss, especially in the context of their vital errors in content creation.

Meghan Trainor is known for her hit song “All About That Bass”, and it’s been promoted as a song promoting body positivity. When you take a closer look at the lyrics, it becomes pretty shaky. The music video encompasses the full spectrum of content-creation error. Jenny Trout wrote a fantastic analysis of Meghan Trainor’s song, highlighting every contradiction between what the song was meant to be and what it is. The article that Trout wrote truly covers every detail that is needed to understand what's wrong with “All About That Bass,” so if you want a more full dissection, I invite you to visit her website. In summary, Trainor perpetuates a female desire to fit the male gaze, her song attempts to shift the body standard from barbie-slim to “all the right junk in all the right places” (thus, eliminating a feeling of all-encompassing body positivity), and perpetuates stereotypes surrounding “thickness” and “booty” placed on black women’s bodies. One of the standout issues, however, is that Trainor is the center of it all when she is “not fat or ‘plus-size’ by any means” (Trout, 2014). The sexualization and objectification around having “booty” isn’t one applied to white women of Trainor’s size, but to black women. ALSO, the sexualization of bodies in general (but specifically the bodies of black women) throughout the song and music video is cringe-worthy to say the least.

Avril Lavigne’s “Hello Kitty” music video is another example of blatant cultural appropriation. Might I add, first that this song is as annoying as any of the appropriation going on in it. She made the trip to Japan to shoot the video and is surrounded by asian backup dancers, though she’s the only white girl shown throughout the video. Her response to the backlash around the video is equally as naive as the video itself. According to Vulture.com, Lavigne tweeted, “RACIST??? LOLOLOL!!! I love Japanese culture and I spend half of my time in Japan” in response to the outrage. This is on-par with the overused defense of racist actions or statements, “Wait- no- but I have black friends!”. I don’t doubt that Lavigne thought she really was paying homage to Japan and its culture- but that means it had to have been ignorance and naivety that drove the creation of the song and its accompanying video… that makes it worse if you ask me.

“Birthday” by Katy Perry is another song (and music video) that sparked uproar as she plays a number of characters who show up to different birthday parties. She creates a spoof “Bar Mitzvah'' scene in which she plays a B-Mitzvah entertainer, dressed in a suit, wig, and facial prosthetics. It’s implied that she's attempting to fulfill the Jewish Man stereotype; thick, black mustache and eyebrows, larger nose, curly black hair, etc. It’s crass to say the least. When I discovered Perry’s devout Christianity, it didn’t require much thinking to determine the problem with the song, video, and source. The songs lyrics, which contain numerous sexual inuendos and references, are increasingly problematic when paired with the mockery of Jewish culture in the video. The song lyrics are essentially a booty call wrapped in cultural mockery found in the video. Yet again, it seems like ignorance was seated in the driver's seat on this one…

Reviewing these videos, I asked myself, “what gave these white, pop icons the license to comment and use cultures, estranged to their own, in their music?”. The trend around the source of the music is “white artists,” which doesn’t surprise me; the root of cultural insensitivity seems to be privilege. Why would one think twice about their song lyrics when they don't know what it feels like for someone to use and profit off of their own culture? Meghan Trainor gained a lot of popularity from “All About That Bass” using black stereotypes and forcing an image onto herself as plus-size. Avril Lavigne’s “Hello Kitty” is simply childish, and crass, using Japanese culture and people as props. Katy Perry, a devout Christian, you’d think would catch her own mistake of religious mockery before dropping “Birthday”. Beyond the horrid musicality of each of the songs lies an age-old, dark theme of cultural appropriation and white-ignorance. While white ignorance can be used to excuse the individual artists that are the face of these songs, it avoids accountability on the part of music production companies. It’s important to consider the larger scene of the music industry and capitalism in the context of these flawed musics. The pop music scene is run, not so much by the artists, but by teams of writers and boardroom-busies whose job is to help write and review these works. It’s not as if it was written, recorded, and released in one solid effort. The review process takes up a huge amount of the overall “creation process” and it’s inexcusable that every part of the song was reviewed and deemed acceptable for public consumption. If we can’t trust the industry to monetize the contents of different musics, it falls in our hands to monetize our own consumption of content (not just music). Let’s just be a little more careful before we let pop-anthems with such harmful themes like these plague our playlists.

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nicetrynicetry · 10 days

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187

Sore throat, smoking anyway. Absurd behaviour for one’s 30s. But I am in Sloane Square, visiting my psychiatrist, and am just one of many smoking women. They fall cleanly into two categories - the rich and lost teenagers who haven’t yet learned to hold a cigarette without affectation, and the older Margaret Thatcher doppelgängers with gravity-defying hair. C and I discussed recently how good Thatcher’s Wikipedia photo is in a sea of unflattering celebrity thumbnails on that site. She seemed to know someone who knew someone at Wikipedia, the photo is that stately. It’s still funny to me that she proudly told the public she needed no more than 4 hours of sleep a night, only to develop life-altering dementia. “She did die in the Ritz, though”, C added, “chic as hell”

There is no good time to take a further step down in SSRI dosage and inflict withdrawal symptoms on loved ones. All I know is that I’d rather it not happen during a trip abroad, because I’d like to be able to paint my feelings, which rules out the tail end of every month til July. There is also no real fool-proof strategy, and visiting a psychiatrist is almost totally useless in this regard. But sometimes it’s nice just to be witnessed by a pro, ready with the scales and a prescription pad if I show sudden signs of emaciation or psychosis. She tells me my whole former eating disorder team has retired except for her, and that they’re all owners of multiple dogs. I hope for everybody’s sake that a new set of specialists comes to take their place. But hopefully this is no longer any of my business. I tell the psychiatrist I’m going knife shopping, and that she shouldn’t worry, which makes it sound like she should worry. I wonder if I stabbed a bunch of people as a result of the next decrease in milligrams, whether my psychiatrist would fight my corner in court. I also make a mental note to ask V or someone else to confiscate my bank cards for a few key days. Who knows what I might buy to score some off-label serotonin. Perhaps it’s a conservatorship I want, after all

There are no knives I like in the end, and instead I buy a knife sharpener to make the most of what I have. I ride the high of how sensible this was all the way home. By the time I’m back it’s both too late to go to the studio and too earth to unwind for the evening. I plug in and learn how to use the TV in my bedroom, mainly checking that Curb Your Enthusiasm is watchable at the click of a button. I read, I update computers, I practice playing my own songs on guitar. A is in a session with an electronic musician so I go without a call, and instead search for the exact address of a childhood friend’s house using her father’s name and Companies House records. I remember every inch of the home’s interior and grounds since it was the biggest and fanciest house I’d ever been in at the time. I threw up there due to food poisoning, and I drove a small motorbike into a hedge that scratched me up very badly. In the end I find the house, predictably on a street that Google street view refuses to cover. It was sold in 2007, shortly after my friend’s mother died of cancer. It hasn’t been sold since, and the only picture online is a grainy one from the English historical buildings website. It is 2am when I am through, but I have no regrets, only a vague urge to move to Hampshire because that mansion is valued at half what I paid for my current home

By Friday I still feel like garbage and I sleep til noon. I cold plunge and drag myself to the studio, paint for an hour, and gratefully welcome V over. She tells me the Venice Biennale headlines, relays the hellish nature of what she calls “art flights”, where everybody from our industry books the same itinerary to and from a big event, and so the plane cabin is full of people you do your best to avoid at sea level. She found herself on the dance floor with two professional enemies at two separate parties, and this prompts a bit in which we pretend to be dancing seductively while loudly chastising someone for their shady art dealing behaviour. “YOU RESOLD YOUR MURILLO IN 2012”, V yells while doing the Macarena. “THE CONSIGNMENT DIDN’T REFLECT YOUR BEST WORK”, I scream while twisting my body around with my arms in the air. We collapse in laughter. V leaves to go to a collector’s house and I walk to the tube between rain showers. I still do not feel good, and I wish whichever virus plans to develop would take hold before New York

Later at night, the police are at my door investigating an “incident” that took place in the square an hour prior. Did I hear any screaming? the police officer asks. I tell him no more than usual, and that the one time I did hear real screams it was an independent film being shot. He takes my name and date of birth, and I forget how strangely good it feels to talk to a policeman when you haven’t committed a crime. I suddenly want him to ask me more questions, as many questions as he can. I also notice that he is younger than me, and I can’t recall when I became older than law enforcement. I guess I could find someone in every branch of the public sector that I was born before. But then again these jobs are so legitimate compared to mine, they will probably always feel like the grown ups

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gendernewtral · 1 year

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my bathroom sink isn't working again so it's time for a story about the plumbing in my apartment.

first things first: my shower does not have a door. or a curtain. no, it has an extremely small glass panel, a "physical barrier, that no matter how small, eliminates the need for a shower curtain," you might say (source: article my dad sent me when he saw the bathroom, that my roommate and i used to quote constantly). of course, it does absolutely nothing to keep water from getting on the floor past its reach, which is the toilet and nothing else. this isn't actually relevant to the plumbing issue, but i want you to know my pain.

now, onto my landlord. he is, to say the least, completely incompetent. the man took eight months to order closet doors for the bedrooms, and when he finally did he ordered the wrong size for my roommate's closet. honestly, we shouldn't have been surprised that he gave us the number for a plumber who had declared bankruptcy and no longer worked in the plumbing business.

the world's least functional landlord gave me two numbers when i moved in, one for "small" plumbing issues and one for "emergency" issues. you'd think the second would be generally unnecessary, but the pipes in this apartment complex (actually a converted shitty motel) are so fucking bad there's some kind of problem in someone's apartment at least once a month. as was apparently to be expected, sometime after my roommate and i moved in, our shower drain stopped draining. we attempted to fix it on our own but were unsuccessful. okay, time to call the" small issues" plumber, a task that will be simple and quick. oh, how foolish we were.

the number my landlord gave us went to an automated message saying the line had been disconnected. we checked the number again several times, and then decided to search for the company website since our landlord had obviously given us an incorrect number.

that innocent search started an evening long investigation involving insurance documents, court records, and some light stalking. unfortunately, nothing that happened that night fixed our drain, which continued to somehow worsen the already bad showering experience for about half a week.

that initial search told us that the recommended company was, in fact, not a company, but some guy with a dog. the glaringly bright red website listed an address in the city we lived in as well as the disconnected phone number.

i tried looking up his "company" on google maps to see if there was a phone number there. this search did bring up a phone number! however, it was the phone number for the "emergency" plumbing company my landlord had recommended. this is where the chaos truly begins.

one of the google reviews for this company was posted several years ago by a woman i will now call cheryl; this is an ode to the office desk decoration someone, presumably named cheryl, left at a thrift store that now lives on my living room coffee table. it is a simple yet beautiful wood block thing that spells out cheryl. it’s very important to me.

cheryl is a serial google reviewer, having left many, mostly negative reviews for a variety of companies. the negative reviews tended to be far longer than the positive ones, and frequently included personal attacks.

cheryl's review of this company was decidedly negative, personally vicious to the point of malice. she claimed she was a contractor, and as such recognized they had done a piss poor job fixing her septic tank pipes. she specifically cited the plumber my landlord had recommended, who will now be referred to deferentially as The Plumber, as the offender. The Plumber was apparently not just a piss poor plumber, but an extremely shitty person who had recently filed for personal bankruptcy. my roommate and i were stunned at her ferocious condemnation of this guy who, judging by the other reviews, seemed to be pretty okay.

these decent reviews, however, were much older than cheryl's comment, some by five or so years. it seemed there was a significant gap where The Plumber's plumbing was either too mediocre to warrant review, or he was AWOL. proof that it was the latter arose in an immediate response to cheryl from the business owner, saying that The Plumber did not work for them, and like other commenters she was confusing their company with someone else.

i've presented you with quite a tale so far, so to sum up the facts:

1 .my shower sucks 2. my landlord sucks 3. The Plumber is apparently not a plumber anymore, and bankrupt 4. cheryl has met The Plumber, apparently, and has some sort of personal vendetta 5. there's a poor local company here who has to deal with some mistaken identity bullshit constantly. they are but bystanders in this chaos, regularly fucked over because The Plumber's initials happen to be the same as their (completely unrelated) company name by now my roommate and i were far too deep into this conspiracy to stop, and because we still needed a fucking plumber, i began tracking down both cheryl and The Plumber. the footprints individuals inevitably leave on the world wide web made it somewhat easy, especially since court records are generally public. yes, this is where the court records begin.

the first thing i found was a police report that included insurance information. as it turned out, cheryl and The Plumber were involved in a motor accident. The Plumber hit cheryl with his car while she was riding her motorcycle on a very busy freeway, and she received several major injuries. one included a broken arm that kept her from working as a contractor. so far, the story lined up chronologically- this report was filed about a year before her review, and a number of years after the last review of The Plumber (perhaps when the real company began to notice the mistaken identity?).

even though the responding police officer thought that the insurance remediation was enough to settle this, and no further charges needed to be brought forward, cheryl pushed ahead. she began working with an attorney to bring a case against The Plumber, saying he hit her on purpose, and she deserved more money than his insurance company was willing to pay. initial court proceedings show that the courts agreed with the officer, and her case was tossed out. soon after, new court documents appeared, under a new attorney's name. it seems she switched attorneys in order to have her case heard at trial. once again, it was thrown out. third time's the charm, and she filed one more time with a third attorney. she was, confusingly, successful. i think the civil court here simply wanted to resolve her bullshit so they could deal with more important things, like losing my name change paperwork for a month.

throughout this whole thing, The Plumber was unrepresented. this isn't the sort of situation that would involve the public defender, so he's attorney-less. this was clear in the way he wrote his own documents and responses. somewhere around here, things started to go south for The Plumber. i wonder if an attorney could have saved him from cheryl's wrath.

i went through about eight months of court documents learning shit about this case, but long story short: cheryl won, and the amount of money The Plumber now owed was far more than he could pay on his Plumber's Salary. he ended up declaring bankruptcy, and cheryl didn't receive any money as a result. she was furious.

as of the last time i looked, The Plumber is being sued by a major bank for debt collection related civil charges.

cheryl did eventually go back to her contracting job, as i saw on her (honestly neat and effective) website. she's done several large, successful projects since bankrupting The Plumber, and has left more ridiculously mean google reviews, including more personal attacks. it seems she finds google reviews a forum for rebuking the scum of the world, like an ice cream shop that didn't have lactose free milkshakes.

by the end of it all (about four hours later) i've found more of the personal history of these two people than i could have imagined possible, and was still plumberless.

the next day, my roommate called the plumbing company that is not at all affiliated with The Plumber; the poor company that must bear the burden of cheryl's review, tarnishing their google business page indefinitely as companies cannot remove google reviews. not The Plumber plumbing fixed our shower for a decent, but painful fee. we asked them to bill our landlord since they agreed we were not fully responsible for the problem. they said they had no idea who he is. we accepted defeat and paid them.

i haven't checked on The Plumber's court status in awhile, and as i type the court filing website isn't working, so i cannot share any resolution, despite the dissatisfaction you must feel.

with that, this story has concluded. i'm going to go fix my goddamned bathroom sink now.

#this is nearly 1500 words #more than any essay ive written recently #i need to go get draino now so i dont have to brush my teeth in the fucking kitchen sink #sterling speaks

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 3 years

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the procedural gap between how boomers do things, versus how everyone else does them, continues to blow my mind. And by that, I mean the way we perform and teach ourselves to perform basic tasks.

take my mom. the lady is a force of nature. has been single-handedly managing a demanding household for years. i cannot imagine the number of bills she’s paid, repairs she arranged for, the number of realtors and lawyers and the mountain of paperwork she’s encountered in her life. i am not tough enough to deal with half of what this lady deals with. i do not have that level of executive function.

but, and this is a big but: she rarely uses google. it is not in my mother’s instinct to use online research to find new or improved ways to do things. this blows my minds.

it turns out, a lot of older people operate like this, because their instinct is to do things by the book. That is: it’s the boomer instinct to do things the way they were taught. Whereas younger people tend to prefer an adaptable approach, wherein they teach themselves.

Our refrigerator is leaking. My mother goes to the manufacturer’s website and contacts customer service. At great cost and time, a repair person is sent. They cannot repair the machine. It transpires this is a major design flaw. After 3 months of haggling with customer service, my mother is left with a (generous) refund, and a leaking refrigerator.

Our refrigerator is leaking. I google the brand and model number, adding in a few search terms specific to the issue at hand. It requires a more in depth search than usual: within 10 minutes, I find multiple videos and diy articles with inventive repairs to the design issue. Other people have encountered these same issues, issues the manufacturer is being sued for, and have come up with third-party solutions. These repairs require buying a few cheap parts online, and are relatively simple to install alone. The repairs aren’t perfect, but our fridge is no longer leaking.

that’s not an uncommon story. Everyone below a certain age has a story like that--using google to find nontraditional solutions to traditional problems. And to be clear: my mother’s approach, the by-the-book approach, is not an incorrect approach, particularly for an item under warranty. But when that doesn’t work, and it often won’t, new improvised steps are required. Properly using an internet search engine is a basic problem-solving step that way too many boomers overlook. Boomers have a lot of knowledge, but they always have an unwillingness to learn that I find concerning. We need to value both skill sets and learn how to combine them.

#not a shitpost #serious post #boomers

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animecreator3000 · 3 years

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About the Boueibu iceberg

@delphoxqueen asked me to explain about my list for the iceberg so here it is. I might update this from time to time with links and stuff if I stumble across the original posts. This is all from what I know so feel free to add new info. Also, spoiler warning for RobiHachi and the Boueibu manga and novels. (This is like a masterpost it’s very long)

1. There’s a theory in tumblr about which decade the series is set in, using data like the friday the 13th calendar in s2 ep11. In HK we got a second number for when the next monthly Pretty Boy Contest was happening and using the one from Love it was theorized that around a decade had passed since then, which ended up being true.

2. The stage play had a few original songs and characters exclusive to it so unless you watched the full performance, you probably weren’t able to witness all of them. One of the characters is called “Robato Deniro”, as romanized in the stage play booklet I own.

3. The nurse and the cafeteria staff from the s1 mobile game appear in the background in around the first half of s2 ep3.

4. S2 had an unfinished manga that was only available online and was never released on physical format; it was centered around the defense club and sometimes the conquest club and Beppu brothers. All that’s left from what I know are the scans linked on magicalgirlsandcerulean’s blog.

5. This isn’t that obscure because it’s talked about in the anime, but I’m mentioning it because I think many people dropped it before the ova, where right at the beginning it is revealed that the alien that resucitated Mr. Tawarayama twice was, as described by Io, a “mulberry-colored naked mole rat-looking thing”, and was nicknamed “Moley-san” by Yumoto. At least in the anime, we had never heard before of who this was and it never appeared on screen nor was mentioned again.

6. In HK ep8, Karurusu promises the knights to grant a wish if they show him how earthlings spend summer. Kyoutarou reveals at the end of the episode that he wished that summer lasted one more day so he could spend it doing nothing, which prompts Ichiro to theorize that it’s the 32nd of august, and the next day is the second 1st of september.

7. The stage play was was held from march 10th to 13rd, of which the latter is Ryuu’s birthday. There’s an additional recording of a small celebration with cake focused on Ryuu and Io.

8. Atsushi mentions his older sister in the flashback at the beginning of s1 ep4, but she never appears or is mentioned again.

9. There’s a few posts on tumblr theorizing about what happened to the Hakone parents since Yumoto only says in s2 ep3 that according to Gora, “they are busy with their hot springs tour”. En mentions that it’s a bit suspicious, but it’s all the information we have from the anime. Posts talk about the parents perhaps passing away from an accident or an illness, thus the reason why Gora was so worried about Yumoto’s cold in s1 ep10, but from another post I think it’s implied in the second novel that they actually left their home when Yumoto was still a toddler.

10. It’s no secret that the surnames of the characters are all real onsens in Japan that even the seiyuus have visited, but apparently the Arima onsen has two different kinds of water, “kinsen (gold hot spring)” and “ginsen (silver hot spring)”, with different properties each, and the Kusatsu onsen water also has certain properties, both that were used to build the characters. Additionally, Ryuu’s favorite food are Sato Nishiki cherries, which are grown in the same prefecture, Yamagata, as his onsen, Zaou.

11. The press club lose relevance after s1, with only Kinosaki and Tazawa reappearing briefly in s2 ep2 to interview the Beppu twins after they arrive at the school. Tazawa doesn’t even have lines. Hireashi is mentioned by Zundar in ep11.

12. What the heck

13. Exclusively in the manga we see that Arima met Kinshiro and Atsushi when they were little and they were good friends, but when they met again as adults, Kinshiro seemingly didn’t remember Arima. Atsushi, however, stated that Kinshiro’s talent is remembering people’s faces and names, so Arima wonders if he’s just trying to distance himself from him. He also explains to Akoya that he follows Kinshiro and obeys him because as a child, he was fascinated by his radiant smile. This is never talked about in the anime.

14. Like the previous point, the anime never shows Akoya being bullied, at most just a slight dislike of his full name, but the manga shows that he was made fun of for it and how he actually hates his surname, to the point of introducing himself formally to the president and vicepresident of the student council as “Holy Angel Akoya”.

15, 16, 17, 19. Batonama lives were the livestreams done through the franchise by the defense club seiyuus on youtube and niconico. They’re all on youtube, without any kind of translation.

Love-ko is a girl with a shell bikini drawn on a piece of cardboard that was used as a girlfriend in the Batonama Love! lives, acted by the seiyuus themselves.

RobiHachi has one episode full of official Boueibu artwork and a parody of the series too, a Love-ko doll appears, and Wombat appears as well, named “The Don”. It received an english dub, so for a bit, people were excited that Wombat was going to speak in english too. Also, various mechas appear in both Boueibu and RobiHachi.

18. The director of Fairy Ranmaru (Masakazu Hishida if I’m not wrong) revealed in an interview that he was inspired by Boueibu and aimed to make a show like that.

20, 21. The website super-groupies.com has results for defense and conquest club lingerie sets, dc and VEPPer tote bags, the Beppus’ scarf rings, dc bath sets and the pumps magicalgirlsandcerulean mentioned. I’ve found the s1 Loveracelets and Caerula Adamas’ ring on different sites, the True Loveracelets on TheChara’s twitter and the Happybraces (apparently called “Hapibure”) on broccoli.co.jp but I’m not sure where exactly they were all announced and sold, so I’ll just drop that.

22, 33. Boueibu was originally pretty much a copy of Sailor Moon, I think they were all going to be called “Lackluster Moon” and that stuff and be literally Sailor Moon genderbent. They were all different from color palettes to physical features (except Yumoto’s), and Ryuu was a shota, even smaller than Yumoto. Their names were also very reminiscent of the five Sailor Senshis’. Even if they made it more original, the show is still clearly inspired by Sailor Moon (just look at Caerula Adamas lol) and Pretty Cure. It has also referenced, very blatantly, animes like Doraemon, Detective Conan, Aikatsu and even Vocaloid, when Kyoutarou tries to guess what Karurusu is saying with ““Just Google It, Asshole”?” in ep1.

23. Wombat’s real name and the name of his planet sound like gibberish to the earthlings and ends up being named after the Earth animal, but Zundar, Dadacha, Karurusu and Furanui all have original names. And I think Hireashi means “goldfish”?

24. If you google “zundar technology”, it’s actually a company in Shanghai, China. Aren’t Wombat and Zundar always talking about “advanced alien technology”?

25. Zundar and Dadacha are siblings, so are Karurusu and Furanui, and so are their father King Kamopapa and their uncle minister Wao, but neither are the same species and, except the first two, not even the same color. But they are supposedly related because they share birthmarks or something like that...

26. Everyone who’s in this fandom knows about the pixel blur and voice pitch censor from s1, but I’ve added it anyway because it’s so rare for mahou shoujo and shounen animes to explain why the heroes aren’t recognized when transformed.

27. A good while of s2 ep11 is spent discussing Zundar’s ex-wife and his problems to give child support. Naturally, he gets mad at this.

28. “Money doesn’t betray” (s1 ep6) and “The despair hidden behind your smile that comes from not being understood” (s3 ep11) are sentences that came out of nowhere and implied that the people they were said by (Io) or about (Taiju) respectively had some kind of angst going on but were never explained at all. They’re famous for just that.

29. The Beppu twins’ house in Andromeda shown in flashbacks had strange green circles that apparently are from another anime I don’t know but honestly I didn’t get it very well... It was revealed on a tweet from Takamatsu.

30. Alien language mostly appeared in s2 due to the many flashbacks of Aki and Haru in Andromeda, but in Boueibu s1, it appears on the Zundar Needle before it is shot on the human. It appears a lot through RobiHachi as well, due to being a story about travelling through space. There might be an alphabetical chart somewhere, but I can’t assure it exists, I might even have dreamed it.

31. Hikaru Midorikawa as the melon monster, Kousuke Toriumi as the bishounen monster, Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as the kotatsu and panda monsters and Takuya Eguchi as the remote controller monster in s1 and 2, before going on to voice the main cast in HK. Keisuke Koumoto voiced Hatchi Kita in RobiHachi as well as Akihiko in Boueibu, and the characters look similar.

A new addition is that so far Boueibu is the only anime I’ve seen where children weren’t voiced by female seiyuus, but by actual children. Personally, it’s charming and makes it so much more realistic, specifically since no women appear in the franchise at all either (not counting Protag-chan in the game).

32. Speaking of seiyuus, Can I Destroy The Earth? had a dub shown in ep11/12 (?) that made Gora the villain that wanted Earth to stay the same and not progress, against the monsters that supposedly wanted to bring good things to earthlings. Aki and Haru quickly dismissed this dub as fake. (I made a mistake in the title in the previous post btw)

34. As seen in the glossary in the Boueibu Mook (I think, but might not be the mook), Caerula Adamas’ speeches are based on an old japanese detergent commercial that went “Gold, silver, pearl, gift”.

35. In the manga there’s a short parody of the first chapter of Sailor Moon with “Pretty Boy Guardian Gakuran Akoya”. The conquest club manga was released before the anime, so I remember reading somewhere that a fake website appeared for the Gakuran Akoya manga, before turning into the conquest club manga website in the day of its release.

36. Cgi was used a few times in the anime: s2 ep10 for a short sequence of the defense club on a rollercoaster and the carousel monster, ep11 for a cenital shot of the Battle Lovers singing, and HK ep12 for the Honyalaland soldiers and the Wao mecha.

37. The toothbrush incident in s1 ep7. (It’s definitely well-known but it’s so weird lol)

38. “We hope we can see each other again someday!” Something along those lines was the last text to appear in the last episode of HK, implying a s2. We all know how that went.

#boueibu #new post bc i didn't put a readmore in the other one and it was getting too long #msorry #long post #speaking of the robihachi eng dub... sarazanmai has one too...#so many animes like those get dubs but not boueibu?! HOW UNFAIR #at least we got the funimation subs #is the game even canon??#i mean with stuff like how everyone is apparently straight in there #even yumoto who pretty much came out as gay in the anime #that's very inconsistent #i mean. it is canon but maybe it's like an au? idk #also we need gakuran akoya to be real lmao #also no prequel with gora or hk s2. WHYYYY #i think this took me four hours

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miraclespin · 2 years

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Okay so I remember you usually mentioning redesigns for Joker's parents and I'm pretty curious about what other headcanons you have on this version of them besides the whole white hair gene thing from his mom

I'm surprised you remembered that detail; it's been a long time since I brought that up in the server, hue! I'm also reconsidering that detail, since apparently he has an ancestor that looks almost exactly like him, named Jane Jones. (It was in a special manga chapter that was released to promote the 3DS game, I think; Lupin is also in it, and it is lowkey implied that he could also be Jack's ancestor, by way of him flirting with Jane when we first see them. I'd love to know more about it- I think Jack the Ripper is involved? But the odds of a proper translation happening now are... very low indeed...)

That said, his parents! Yes, before learning about Jane, I'd had him having the same hair as his mother, as well as the same eye color- but his father's general eye shape, as well as his fluffy hair... multiplied by a few degrees, heh. (Think of Jack's hair when he was younger, more so than when he gets a little older, and you'd have the right idea.)

Now that I know that his resemblance should come from his father's side instead, I've had to rethink about his mother a little bit. I still want her to have pale hair, but maybe not necessarily the exact same shade, because that'd be a bit weird. She's still at least half-Japanese, in order to make sense of a lot of Joker's favorite things being common amongst Japanese children, even when he's clearly implied to be from a Western country, that primarily speaks English. In canon, these details are surely just negligence on the part of the author and the people in charge of the anime (if you look at the official website, and translate Joker's profile page, you can see the list of his favorite foods: curry, hamburger steak, cola, potato chips, ramen, and I think sushi- Google Translate has them described as being "childish", if I recall correctly, which makes sense for a Japanese children's series protagonist, but less so for one that is apparently implied to be a Western foreigner).

Something I thought about changing was making her have vitiligo, instead, which means only a partial change in hair color; I changed the base color to a sort of warm pinkish shade, as well, so that she gives off a bit of a strawberries and cream sort of vibe- something that a young Jack would have found delightful. Desserts incorporating as much now remind him of her.

In regards to his father... I think I once had him being blonde, when I was considering early designs; his mother might've had dark hair at that time- but when I decided she had light hair, I eventually scrapped that idea and went with brown, for Reasons. Since I've acquired that new information, though, I've changed it to a dark, maybe purplish blue- once again for Reasons, that I mentioned earlier in this now-essay, hue. He has something of an angular eye-shape, though they're a bit more narrow than Jack's oversized puppy eyes- think something closer to Silver Heart's. They're also blue, but once again, more like Silver Heart's, down to even the strange pattern of the irises. (Can you see where I'm going with this?)

As for anything else... aside from ascribing a little bit of backstory for his mother (raised by a single mother; the result of a post-divorce relationship; has an older half-sister I sometimes use in AUs who basically hated her and is [usually] horrible to Jack in some way, even if it's not entirely intentional; the grandmother died when Jack was still young- well, younger), and even less so for his father (to put it bluntly, Silver Heart's own illegitimate son, raised by his mother and maybe a step-father, but with his biological father still involved in his life; probably also a thief [inspired by the many Wild Card AUs that y'all love so much], but mostly steals dangerous magical artifacts to either destroy them, or keep them out of evil hands), I didn't change much else about them. What little can be gleaned about their general personalities remains mostly the same; their voices and manner of dress are also mostly the same. Basically it is their faces- and maybe their builds- that are different. (Jack's dad is Tol, for Reasons.)

I have vague ideas about how they met and how they might've spent their lives (met in college in a country that was foreign to the both of them- Jack's dad is at least part Welsh, usually- worked together, started a business and got married, and of course had a kid), but nothing is really concrete. This malleability can be convenient, however, for a good AU jumping off point. Y'all know I got AUs of my AUs.

#Kaitou Joker #Mysterious Joker #Joker/Jack #HC: Jack/Joker #Headcanons #AUs #Jack's Parents #I am. So Sorry about the length of this sajhfadslkhfdsa

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thepoodlepack · 3 years

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What's wrong with goldenpoodles? I'm genuinely curious because almost all of my dogs are mixed breeds and behave fine. So I'm curious if there's something else I'm missing

jeez this feels like bait but u kno what, you got me

alright, so it goes like this. the doodle really began with a guy in australia being like i need the temperament of a lab for a guide dog but these ppl are allergic to dogs, so i need a poodle bc they have hair, not fur. so he bred em together. years later he’s like damn that was a mistake.

now, why, exactly? alright so first of all he only needed that mix bc labs on average tend to adapt better to situations that are largely exclusive to service dog work than poodles do. i can go into what this means at a later date, but that’s basically how it is. but either way, people jumped on this creation and it kinda spiraled out of control. soon, poodles were being bred by everyone and every breed. suddenly, they were a marketing scam more then they were a dog breed.

oh theyre hypoallergenic! all of them, all the time cause zero allergies! look theyre so much better than poodles! theyre friendly and easy to train, not like poodles of course, just like labs! they’re better than labs bc none of them shed, ever! they’re super healthy bc breeding labs and poodles together wipes out all their health problems, of course!

lies, lies lies. the aussie guy, whose name i’m not going to look up bc i’m lazy but who you can find if you google creator of doodles, straight up says that even the first litter(s) of labradoodles he bred had puppies that the people he bred them for were allergic to. he very carefully tested the litter and the reaction the person had before placing a puppy that was not going to hurt them.

think of the punnet squares we all learned about in 5th grade science class. you draw the squares and one parent has two fur genes and the other parent has two hair genes and what do you get? well if you have four puppies, one might have hairhair and the next one might have hairfur and the next one might have furhair and the next one might have furfur. and so guess what? only hairhair pup is going to be the best choice for allergic people. additionally, you can see why the non-shedding thing can be bullshit, and that in particular is also a guessing game. you may be able to test allergy sufferers against the pups, but that does not necessarily mean they won’t shed. hairfur, for example, may be a good choice for some allergic people, but perhaps they’ve got just enough fur to shed anyway. also, lets look at salukis (and frankly, most long-haired sighthounds). salukis are still considered dogs with fur, not hair. they also still shed, even though it’s just a little. and yet they’re still considered good for allergy sufferers.

(ps poodles do actually shed. but they shed like humans shed. your hair comes out, doesn’t it? like, esp folks with long hair, aren’t people always complaining how you clog the shower drain? yeah, like that. ALSO obviously the situation is more complicated then super simple punnet squares and as an ex-groomer i have something to say about doodle coats but i’m going to save that for later, put a pin in it.)

oh and wait a hot minute there. i said best choice, didn’t i, not hypoallergenic. well, that’s because no dog is hypoallergenic. poodles, and a few other dog breeds, they have hair, like we do. but the thing is both humans and breeds with hair still produce the dander, though they’re different kinds. breeds with hair happen to produce the least amount possible that dogs can produce, which is why they’re a better choice for allergy sufferers, but that’s still not a guarantee. my roommate Dakota is allergic to dogs. if i don’t wash my dogs for an extended period of time (which has never happened, ever, in my life, idk what ur talking about), thus giving the chance for the dander my dogs still produce, he will have a very, very mild reaction when touching them. it can be countered by him washing his hands after touching them and also me just giving them a fucking bath, i need to stop forgetting, but still, there you go. ALSO people might not be allergic to dogs bc of their dander. they might be allergic to the saliva of dogs, which poodles or any other breed with hair still produces about the same as other dogs. so, yeah, not hypoallergenic, not at all.

the people who taut their hypoallergenic dogs for sale largely don’t do the testing required to check if they’re actually providing a dog to someone who won’t react to it. not acceptable at all.

so, labs are friendly and easy to train right? not at all like poodles, right? no. absolutely incorrect. some labs are friendly and easy to train. some labs, a lot of them when they’re puppies, are nightmare fuel. personally, i have a theory that everyone’s vision of labs in their heads are either a) service dogs or b) those old labs who are slightly pudgy (or morbidly obsess, which is a different topic) and who are graying in the face and just want to lounge around because they’re seniors now. alright, so here’s why thats bad. labs are a working breed. a retrieving breed. they’re supposed to be bulky and strong and driven. service dogs are highly trained, to a point that most pet dogs will never see, and if you see them with their actual disabled handler, they’ll probably be around 2.5 yrs of age and out of their most wild days. old labs are well. old. sleepy. maybe a bit achey. and well out of their most wild days. oh, and it’s the same type of thing with goldens by the way, the other most popular doodle type. poodles are also easy to train, especially if their parents have a decent temperament. they’re all about equal if you actually start training them when they’re puppies and just pay for some training classes, like everyone should. in the puppy classes i’m in right now, Euphoria is leaps and bounds ahead of doodles, goldens, and labs that are her age or older. I train her properly and she’s got amazing parents. that’s it, that’s the trick. not breed, not necessarily, and def not in this case.

I am once again going to say that labs and goldens are more often used as service dogs than poodles because of their adaptability, but it’s the ability to adapt to situations that most pet dogs will never have to worry about.

jeez this is a long post. i’ve still got more to cover too. alright, on to super healthy, or “hybrid vigor” as the nerds call it. uhh, it’s bullshit. thank u for ur time.

okay, but actually why on gods green earth would breeding two completely different breeds with little to no research make them super healthy? now i want to preface this with i’m (generally) pro-outcross projects. Euphoria’s dad is half mini poodle and half standard poodle, which isn’t technically an outcross bc all the variations are of the same breed, but if we’re going by genetic diversity alone minis and standards are different enough to actually be different breeds.

so, to be clear, outcrosses, given the proper thought and planning: good, results in healthier dogs (see: lua dals). randomly breeding two very different breeds together with no planning other than to sell the puppies to randos who won’t continue the outcross: bad. especially when you’re doing it to cash in and don’t health test at all, or don’t health test the major health problems with both breeds (if you’re doing an f2 breeding or anything like that). no the poodle’s health problems don’t get canceled out by the goldens or labs or whatever the other party’s health problems are, and vice versa. and yeah, i’ve looked at a lot of doodle breeder’s websites and yeah, most of them don’t health test at all, or at least don’t health test properly. do you know i own one doodle and currently live with another? yeah, i got them both from breeders and do you know how much health testing their parents got? if your answer is none, good job, you’ve been paying attention. in my defense, i was like 13, i didn’t know what i was doing.

alright, so those are the big points. this is kinda gonna be just... a mix of my other complaints. here we go, hope you’re ready for more. argument the first: i feel like it’s pretty disrespectful to reputable breeders. now, i actually have two reasons why that is. reason one: most reputable poodle breeders don’t want their breeding stock bred with other breeds, for various reasons. i’ve even met a few who used to be okay with it and then as the doodle scam got bigger and more out of control, they stopped being okay with it, even to the breeders who they had been fine with it in the past. that means a lot of doodle breeders out there have their breeding stock because they scammed poodle breeders into giving them pet quality, not breeding quality, dogs or because they’re getting their stock from non-reputable breeders. i also feel it’s disrespectful to breeders who are actually trying to create new breeds. quite frankly, a breed with the size, strength, and adaptability of a lab or golden that doesn’t shed and that has the train-ability of a poodle, lab, or golden sounds pretty interesting to me. did you know you can actually make that breed? and it wouldn’t be a cross with unpredictable... well, everything. it would actually be a true dog breed.

Look at Silken Windhounds and Biewer Terriers who began both development in the 1980s. Biewer Terriers were recognized by the AKC this year, and Silken Windhounds still haven’t been. And yeah, that’s the problem isn’t it? Making a real new breed takes a lot of time, planning, and care. People would rather just cash in. I think it’s sad and I think it’s disrespectful to the breeders who do work so hard to make actual new breeds.

and finally, unpin being an ex-groomer goddamnit. guess what? doodles are awful to groom! they’re terrible on the grooming tables because people want to have in both ways: they want a dog that doesnt shed at all and they want a dog who doesn’t need to be groomed. well guess what, that dog doesn’t exist and you can have it only one way. and also, bring back the goddamn punnet squares because a lot of doodles have awful coats. if you have hairfur and furhair over there, guess what, their coat fucking sucks bc it’s not meant to be like that. it wants to mat bc hair but also it wants the mats to slide out bc short-ish fur but its too thick for the mats to slide out bc thick hair. and yes its more complicated then this and that means its often more awful then this. its awful, it makes me want to cry. and maybe it’s slightly easier to get away with it with a shorthaired dog like a lab, or, you know what, even a golden, okay, even a slightly long haired dog like a golden but people are doodling akitas? border collies? bernese fucking mountain dogs? i am crying. i am crying right now as i type this.

lets do a sum up to this disaster of a post. look, i don’t go out there attacking or yelling at every doodle or every doodle owner i see, alright? or any of them really. i might engage in conversation to one that’s interested, but that’s it. i love my doodly Isis, okay? shes tiny and she’s adorable and I love her more than life and i will never, ever get another doodle. i don’t like the way they’ve gotten so prolific, i don’t like the reasons they’re now widespread, and i don’t like almost all of the people that create them, including the ones i’ve literally given my (parents) money to in the past. i wish they were better but i just cannot approve of them, especially not in the environment they exist in now. that said, i do support them in their original use case as assistance dogs, and i do not care about them if they’re shelter dogs.

#long post #anti doodle #text #my post #yes this took me like an hour #yes i do hate myself for it #Anonymous #oh anon im being grumpy mostly for comedy thats only funny to me #you're fine as long as you werent trying to bait me

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sheerfreesia007 · 3 years

Text

Finding Love In Legacy Oaks pt. 11

Title: Finding Love In Legacy Oaks pt. 11

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x OFC

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 7,484

Warnings: Mention of injury

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo

Author Notes: So Bunny’s life isn’t all rainbow and sunshine, I’m just trying to write relatable things into this story and loved the idea of this happening to Bunny. There’s a method to madness for putting Bunny through a little bit of pain. Jack opens up a little bit about his family finally! We get a bit of family history from both Bunny and Jack. I can’t wait to show you how I draw these two idiots closer together! Hope you enjoy!

Gif Credit: Google

Blinking her eyes rapidly Bunny sighed softly and rubbed at them feeling how strained and tired they were. Quickly saving her work on her laptop she closes down the web design program and powers down her laptop closing the lid. She turns in her desk chair and spots Butter sleeping in the plush dog bed that she keeps in her office, his tongue as always hanging out of his mouth as he lays on his back with his feet in the air. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she heard him snore loudly from his comfortable spot. Just then her cellphone began ringing and she saw that Jack was calling her. Furrowing her eyebrows she answered the call and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hey Jack, everything alright?” she greeted him and heard his soft warm chuckle on the other side of the phone.

“Hey Bunny, everything’s good. Just got a few moments to kill, you got time to just chat?” he asks warmly and Bunny can feel a warmth start to develop in her chest at the idea that he just wanted to call her to talk. Brining one foot up to rest on the desk chair she leans back and gets comfortable in the chair.

“Of course, you’ve got impeccable timing Jack.” Bunny replied with a soft chuckle.

“Work dragging you down?” he asked curiously and Bunny could hear shifting in the background on his end of the call, he was probably getting comfortable himself.

“Not dragging me down, but I’ve been staring at my laptop screen for the last few hours and it’s starting to do a number on my eyes. Thankfully I was able to get a good chunk of this project planned and mapped out.” She explained easily as she snuggled further into her desk feeling the cushions sink and surround her.

“Does that normally take a long time to get done?” Jack asks and Bunny is was pleasantly surprised at his questions, normally people didn’t really care to learn about the process of designing a website.

“Depending on what the client actually wants it could take a few hours to code the links and pages to open the right way. But normally it takes about half a day to plan and map out the website.” Bunny explained in layman terms so that she wouldn’t confuse him.

“And what’s the next step after that?” Jack asked curiously. Bunny smiled as she thought about the next part of the project that she would have to work on, it was her favorite part.

“Designing the face of the website. See the planning and mapping of the website is the background work, it’s how the website is coded to work. If you click on a link and it brings you to another page that’s the mapping part of it. The design is how it looks to the client. I can make it look a certain way based on what the client has requested.” Bunny explained passionately as she started getting even more comfortable in the conversation about her work.

“What was the most outlandish website you’ve been asked to design?” Jack asks with a soft chuckle and Bunny sits for a minute to think.

“I had a client come to me and request a website be made for his young daughter. Apparently she wanted a place to be able to post all about her latest obsessions. But there was no rhyme or reason to the website, random music played on different pages and the mouse would be different shapes for different pages. And it would randomly have sparkles falling like snow on the pages. Think of that Myspace era and dial it up to thousand percent. That project gave me so many headaches I think I invested in the aspirin companies.” Bunny explained with a groan and Jack laughed loudly on the other end of the phone call.

“Oh goodness, I remember those fads. They were horrible now that we’re well past them. I’m lucky that Es wasn’t old enough for that back then otherwise I’d be tortured by all of that. What was your favorite website design?” he said as he still chuckled.

“Oh yeah she’d have loved all of that stuff. What with her love of sparkle I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten you just let her glitter her whole room.” Bunny laughed happily and Jack scoffed softly.

“Don’t you dare give her that idea! She’s already tried to convince me to let her get more sparkly items for her room. I think my eyes are constantly blinded whenever I have to walk into or even past it. Bunny, too much sparkle.” Jack bemoaned to her and Bunny burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright I won’t mention glitter to her.” Bunny conceded as she laughed delightedly. She grinned as a lull in the conversation happened naturally and they both calmed a little.

“So favorite project?” Jack asked again. And Bunny grinned as she remembered her favorite project that she worked on.

“I have an annual client who comes to me to design her family reunion website. Nice elderly lady with a very large family, I’m talking like the last reunion two years ago had I think twenty grandkids. She normally contacts me in the beginning of spring to start designing the website so that it’s ready for early summer and their reunion is towards the end of the summer. It’s a week-long event for them where they go to the family lake cabin and just spend the week doing boating activities, there’s competitions between each branch of the family and there’s nightly outdoor movies and bonfires. It’s a lovely affair and all their pictures are so funny to see when she sends them to me to place on the website. It’s my favorite project because she’s such a sweet woman and I love listening to all her stories she tells me.” Bunny said warmly as she leaned further into her desk fondly remembering all the conversations she’s had with the woman.

“Have you ever met her in person?” Jack asks curiously and Bunny’s smile falters a little bit. “I only ask because you sound like she’s gotten close to you after being a client for a while.”

“Yes, I’ve worked with her for about five years now and have met with her in person every year while working with her on the websites. We usually go out to a long lunch and just spend the day talking about life and how we’ve been and also about the project. She’s truly a wonderful woman and she’s become kind of like a surrogate mom to me since mine lives so far away. But her family reunions are always fun to hear about and all the crazy adventures they get into.” Bunny says wistfully.

“You like the outdoors Bunny?” Jack asked warmly and Bunny grins widely at the question.

“I do, my family was always big on camping when I was growing up and while I don’t get to go as much now I still love to go camping and hiking. Butter and I have done a few mountain hiking trails together.” Bunny said fondly as she remembers her adventures with Butter.

“No way! Butter can hike? I’m surprised that little sausage roll can make it up your steps every day.” Jack teases and Bunny laughs into the phone.

“It’s all fur, don't let that fiend fool you.” Bunny said in a quiet confession and Jack laughed happily.

“Do you like outdoor activities?” Bunny asked curiously and Jack’s laughter faded in her ear.

“I do but it’s a little different than your idea of outdoors. My family back in Kentucky owns a large farm and I grew up there. Worked on the farm until I went to college and whenever I had a break I would come back home and help out when I could. Unfortunately when I started my career in security I wasn’t able to come home as often and help out. But the family still has the farm and it’s prospering so they’re all doing well for themselves.” Jack explained easily and Bunny nodded her head loving that he was actually sharing some information about himself with her. “We used to go out into the pasture a lot during the summers and sleep under the stars with a small campfire. It’s one of my favorite memories about the farm and my siblings.” Jack confessed warmly and Bunny felt that warmth that had started to grow in her chest began to spread and consume her body as she listened to Jack talk about his family’s farm.

“Do you have a lot of siblings?” Bunny asked, wanting to keep the conversation going and gather as much information about Jack as she was able to. He was still a mystery to her and while she knew he was a good man and cared greatly for his daughter she still didn’t know much about him. She wanted to begin a friendship that could hopefully turn into something so much more. And while they had begun flirting and teasing each other Bunny was ready to wait to see how this relationship blossomed. After the hell that she had been put through by her ex-husband Bunny was more than happy to wait and see how a relationship now panned out.

“I’ve got two sisters, one older that’s Rebecca or Becca. She's I think a year or two older than me. Then there’s Amelia, she’s the younger one, she’s five years younger. And finally there’s the baby of the family Will, he’s the youngest but don’t tell him that sometimes he acts like the oldest out of the four of us.” Jack replied easily and Bunny could hear the affection full in his tone over the phone. She could easily tell that he loved and cared deeply for his siblings. She smiled softly as she nodded her head. “What about you? Is it just you and your sister?” Jack asked.

“Actually I’ve got three siblings. There’s Sasha that you know about, she was adopted when I was eight and she’s two years younger than me, she’s the only one of us who’s got kids. Then there’s Jake, he was adopted when I was eleven he’s three years younger. And Freddie is five years younger than me and he was adopted when I was sixteen.” Bunny said smiling as she thought back to when her siblings were adopted and the parties that were thrown.

“So you’ve been through the adoption process?” Jack asks curiously and Bunny has to stomp down the urge and desire to be Esme’s mom that she had the other night at the sleepover.

“Yeah it was a bit hectic as a kid because my parents fostered a lot of kids while growing up and it was both good and bad. The kids that we were fostering, some had some serious mental health issues, like Sasha she has horrendous panic attacks and anxiety attacks all throughout her foster life with us. She still gets it sometimes but they’re not as severe she’s told me. And Freddie has bipolar disorder that he’s managing with a team of doctors, he’s got his good days and then he’s got some really bad days. I check up on him a couple times a month just to see how he’s doing and if he needs anything.” Bunny explained feeling a dull achy pain in her chest as she talked about her siblings’ mental issues. She hated seeing them troubled and if she could take away their pain she would in a heartbeat, Sasha and Freddie were the best type of people and the fact that they had to deal with these issues pained Bunny. She knew they were dealt a hard life but she hoped that by joining her family they had found some sort of peace, and while they had told her this before she hoped it was true.

“Wow, I didn’t realize that the foster kids your parents helped were dealing with those types of issues.” Jack said solemnly.

“Yeah there were others who needed more help than my parents could offer or give and those were the ones that were either placed with another foster family or the state government eventually took custody of them. They became a ward of the state.” Bunny explained softly.

“Well I’m hoping they got the necessary care they needed wherever they ended up.” Jack said in a calm, easing voice.

“I do too.” Bunny replied easily before her mind turned back to Esme once more and the sleepover fiasco was in the forefront of her brain again. “Hey while we’re talking about this stuff. I-uh wanted to let you know that Es had a run in with Cynthia and it wasn’t pretty.” Bunny began to explain. She took a breath in and heard absolute silence on the other end of the call and for a moment she thought the call had dropped. She began to move the phone away from her ear to check when she heard Jack’s deadly calm voice speak up.

“What did Cynthia do to Esme?” he asked in such a harsh cold tone that Bunny physically shivered in her seat.

“Es got caught up in all the excitement with the other girls at the sleepover and called me Mom in front of everyone. Cynthia heard and was a bit of a nasty witch to her and to be honest I can’t remember the exact words because I only saw red and ripped her a new one for her shit talking, but anyway she said something about needing to talk to you about her hanging out with me too much that she was thinking I was her mom.” Bunny explained in a rush as she felt the white hot blind rage she felt after Cynthia snapped at Esme.

“Easy Bunny, easy.” Jack said softly and Bunny took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Es called you mom?” Jack asked quietly and Bunny felt her heart clench suddenly at his question.

“She did. And Jack I don’t mind one bit. She just got caught up in the chaotic energy the girls were causing and it was just a slip of the tongue. Honest.” Bunny said quickly to try and ease him if he was having second thoughts of her being around Esme so much. “And I talked to Es about it. Told her it’s no big deal and that I’d be lucky to have her as a kid. But I told her what Cynthia said was uncalled for and that she didn’t have to listen to her since she was mean to Es.”

Bunny felt uneasy as if she was rambling as she tried to explain to Jack what had happened the other night and as the silence fell over the phone conversation she felt her anxiety skyrocket inside her. She tried to wait patiently for Jack to say something but when he didn’t say anything after a while she sighed softly, figuring that he’d want to put a stop to them spending so much time together.

“I understand if you don’t want me watching her anymore or taking her to yoga.” Bunny said softly and dejectedly.

“Now hang on.” Jack said suddenly and confidently. “That’s not at all what I want.” Bunny heard his firm words and she felt hope unfurl in her chest making her breath catch silently. “You have been the best thing that has happened to both Esme and myself. You’ve helped me out so much with watching her for me. And Esme has had a rough time making friends in her new neighborhood and school but you’ve done wonders for her confidence that she now has a few friends. Bunny you not being in our lives is the last thing I would want.” Jack stated vehemently and Bunny felt tears prick at her eyes. “I’m more upset that Cynthia had the nerve to say something to Es about calling you mom. I can’t believe that woman.” He said honestly and Bunny sighed softly as she nodded her head.

“Yeah Cynthia I think has it in her head that the two of you are becoming a hot item.” Bunny said thoughtfully and Jack scoffed over the phone.

“She’s married Bunny.” Jack lamented softly to her and Bunny nodded her head at his words.

“I know that, but I don’t think she cares. Ever since I’ve met her she’s always been looking for the next best thing for herself.” Bunny said truthfully.

“She’s always been like this? It’s not just because of me?” Jack asked seriously and Bunny smirked softly, seeing an opportunity for her.

“You’re handsome Jack but you’re no Mark Strong.” Bunny teased him as she grinned widely.

“Oh ho! So you dig the older men huh Bunny?” Jack teased right back and Bunny blushed deeply.

“What can I say, he's dreamy.” Bunny said dismissively and Jack laughed softly.

“Well now I know who my competition is then.” Jack said sultrily and Bunny felt desire jolt down her spine making her gasp softly.

“C-competition?” she stuttered out softly before she heard muffled talking in the background on Jack’s end of the phone call. She could hear Jack responding to whoever was with him distantly as her mind began to race with the thought that Jack was competing for her affection.

“Hey listen Bunny I’ve got to get goin’. Thanks for taking my call and chattin’ with me. Tell Es I’ll give her a call at dinner time alright?” Jack said and Bunny let out her breath slowly through her nose.

“Yeah of course. I’ll let her know. I’ve gotta start getting ready to go get her from the bus stop anyway. We’ll talk to you then.” Bunny began to quickly ramble and she cringed softly as she heard his soft chuckle.

“And yes competition. Can’t let a Brit git one over the good ol’ American boy. Talk to you later Bunny.” Jack said in a low gravelly tone that made Bunny suddenly tense with arousal as she heard his tone and words. And then the line was hung up.

Huffing softly she slouched in her chair and pulled the phone from her ear slowly. Setting it down on the desk gently she turned and saw Butter was still passed out in his bed. Running a hand through her hair Bunny sighed softly.

“That man’s got a seductive tongue.” She said softly to the quiet office and Butter huffed in his sleep making her chuckle softly. “You said it Butter.”

*-*-*-*

As soon as Esme walked down the bus steps Bunny could tell that she was feeling down. Tilting her head to the side she watched as Esme walked down the sidewalk towards. The two older girls from the last bullying instance were walking behind her giggling and whispering to each other and Bunny felt rage rush her body with red hot anger. The girls looked up from Esme’s back and both instantly stopped talking as they spotted Bunny glaring at them.

“Girls.” Bunny said stiffly as Esme came to a stop next to her and the girls both gulped silently before one hesitantly let out a smile before the two made a dash for their houses. Bunny sighed softly and looked down at Esme who was dejectedly scuffing her sneakers on the sidewalk. “Bad day at school?” Bunny asked softly.

Esme shrugged her shoulders and continued to scuff her sneakers on the sidewalk. Butter looked up at Esme curiously before head-butting her calf with his head. Esme moved a little bit before stepping to the side to avoid Butter doing that again.

“Yep, bad day at school. Why don’t we go for a walk and if you wanna talk I’m all ears. If not, it's no big deal.” Bunny said softly as she looked down at Esme. Esme shrugged her shoulders once more and Bunny nodded her head before gently holding out her hand for Esme. The little girl took a hold of it after a moment's pause and Bunny began leading her and Butter towards the main park area of the community.

The three of them walked in silence and Bunny kept her head held high not wanting to constantly look down at Esme. She was worried it’d upset the little girl more if she constantly tried to check in with her. As the three of them finish crossing the street to the park area Esme starts to slowly perk up.

“Hey Bunny?” she asks suddenly and Bunny hides her smile as much as she possibly can and looks down at the little girl at her side.

“What’s up Es?” Bunny answers in a question and Esme smiles softly at her.

“Have you ever called someone Mom who wasn’t your mom?” Esme asks softly and Bunny nods her head adamantly.

“Oh yeah! So many women.” Bunny said with wide eyes and Esme giggled softly. “I’ve called a bunch of my teachers in school Mom. Let’s see who else, oh! I called Molly’s mom that once and she wouldn’t let me live it down. Wouldn’t stop insisting she was my mom now. And then there was that time that I accidentally called Mr. Quinten dad and it was a whole big thing with him.” Bunny confessed as she sighed and rolled her eyes. Esme giggled brightly as she walked next to Bunny as she began to skip alongside her. “Look Es, there’s nothing wrong with calling someone Mom. It happens all the time.” Bunny stressed earnestly as she stopped walking and bent down to Esme’s level.

“Really?” asked the little girl as she looked at Bunny with a lost expression on her face.

“Yep. Sometimes we just forget where we are and the name just comes out. Other times we see the person we called Mom as a mother figure. It just means that you see that person as someone who you can trust and go to for anything. And I’ll let you in on a secret, come here.” Bunny said surreptitiously as she gestured Esme closer to her. “It means so much to me that you could think of me like that. And I will do my best to be there for you no matter what, understand? You’re stuck with me kiddo.” She said fondly as she nudged Esme under her chin making her giggle. Just then Esme launched herself against Bunny and Bunny caught her easily in her arms holding her close to her.

“Thanks Bunny.” Esme whispered softly.

“Any time kiddo. Any time.” Bunny said softly into the little girl’s hair. “Now what do you say to go for a walk and just hang out before we crack down on homework and then dinner?” Bunny asked hopefully that the little girl was feeling a little bit better.

“Yeah! Oh can we roll down that hill over there?” Esme asked, suddenly excited as she pointed to the medium sized hill that obscured the soccer field from view. Bunny shrugged her shoulders before grinning at Esme and taking off with Butter running besides her.

“Beat you to the top!” Bunny called and Esme shrieked with indignation as she began running as quickly as her little legs could carry her after Bunny.

“You cheated!” Esme cried as she began chasing after Bunny.

“Only if I win!” Bunny called over her shoulder laughing heartily before she began huffing dramatically as Esme caught up to her. Esme giggled as Butter barked chaotically at Bunny’s side as if he was trying to get her to pick up her pace. Once Bunny saw Esme pass her she began to overtly huff and puff as she chased the little girl up the hill.

“I win!” called Esme and began to dance in celebration as she reached the top before Bunny. Bunny made a show of bending over and gasping for breath which made Esme laugh harder. Butter hopped around Bunny barking at her and Bunny laughed softly at the dog as he did his best impression of an angry coach. “Ok, ok. Let’s do this!” cried Esme happily as she threw her back pack to the ground and began to lower herself down to the ground at the top of the hill.

“Alright you go first and then when you come up I’ll go.” Bunny instructed and Esme looked up at her gleefully. “What? You thought I wouldn’t roll down a hill? I’ll have you know I’m an expert roller.” Bunny said self-importantly and Esme burst into happy laughter before she shook her head.

“Bunny!” The little girl drew out the name in an exasperated tone and Bunny laughed softly before gesturing for Esme to go. Butter began to bark excitedly and was jumping around Bunny’s legs as Esme prepped herself to roll down the hill.

“Alright I’m gonna time ya. On your mark!” Bunny called happily and Butter began to jump more furiously around her. “Get set!” was the next call out and Esme prepared to begin rolling as Butter began barking like crazy. “Go!” called Bunny and instantly realized her mistake as Esme began rolling down the hill at a moderate speed.

Suddenly Bunny’s legs were knocked out from underneath herself as Butter took off down the hill dragging Bunny along after him. Shrieking in surprise Bunny heard a distinct crack and felt the back of her head bounce on the ground when she met the ground. Groaning in pain she raised her hand to her head before feeling her arm being jerked after Butter as he dashed down the hill after Esme. Bunny felt every hit with the ground as Butter dragged her down the hill and she moaned softly as he finally came to a stop at the base of the hill.

“Bunny!” cried Esme worriedly and Bunny peeked one eye open to stare over at the little girl as she got up and rushed over to her. Bunny could feel the aches in her body from when she had collided with the ground. Gritting her teeth and hissing softly as she shifted on the ground trying to sit up.

“I’m okay Es. Butter just got a little too excited.” Bunny began to reassure Esme as she saw the little girl’s face filled with worry and concern. Bunny set her hand down on the ground and moved to sit up on the grass. Hissing in pain Bunny quickly pulled her wrist up to her chest and clutched it there for a moment feeling the sharp pain coursing through her wrist. She laid there for a moment with her eyes shut clutching her aching wrist to her chest trying to breathe through the pain.

“Bunny?” Esme asked softly and Bunny opened her eyes to see Esme now kneeling next to her body as Butter crawled along the ground towards the two of them.

“I should be okay just banged up.” Bunny reassured her and sat up completely still keeping her wrist close to her body to limit the chance of irritating it further. Shifting on the ground to get into a better sitting position she felt a sharp twinge coming from her right ankle. Moaning softly her right hand fell to her ankle to try and steady it as pain jolted quickly up her leg making her muscles seize. “Nope, nope. Not okay. Let me just see if I can stand up for a second. Hey Es, can you come hold Butter’s leash for me?”

Es stood quickly from her kneeling spot and gently unwound Butter’s leash that was wrapped around Bunny’s left wrist and arm. She led Butter a step or two away from Bunny as she stood there watching silently with worried eyes.

Bunny rolled onto her knees and gritted her teeth as she felt the pain in her ankle begin to throb. Slowly blowing out a breath through her mouth Bunny used her left leg to push up from the ground. Taking in a few quick breaths Bunny stood on her left leg and tentatively placed her right foot down flush with the ground. Placing a little more weight on it she felt it suddenly give out and she collapsed to the ground on her knees groaning in pain at the impact.

“Definitely not okay.” she said softly and felt tears prick her eyes as the pain consumed her suddenly. Quickly blinking the tears away she looked over and saw Esme shifting on her feet with watery eyes. “Hey it’s okay. We just need to go to the hospital. I'm pretty sure I broke my ankle.”

“Oh Bunny!” Esme cried softly and Bunny shook her head as she settled back onto the ground.

“Es do you see my phone anywhere? I need to call an ambulance, I can’t stand on my right leg.” Bunny said as she began patting down her pockets not feeling her phone. Esme looked around the ground in the area that they had landed before darting over to the side where the phone laid in the grass. Bunny grimaced as she shifted on the ground and grunted softly in pain as her ankle was jostled before turning to see Esme already holding her phone to her ear. Bunny watched in surprise as Esme effortlessly called 911 for her.

“Hi, I need an ambulance to Legacy Oaks community. My babysitter fell down a hill and she can’t stand on her right leg and her left hand hurts.” Esme explained easily and Bunny tilted her head slightly at how calm Esme was as she talked to the 911 operator. “Yes she’s breathing and sitting up. We are at the main field area by the soccer field. Closest intersection is Main Street and West Legacy Boulevard. Ok hold on.” Esme relayed easily before moving closer to Bunny and holding out her phone to her. “They want to ask you some medical questions.” Esme said hurriedly as she came to Bunny’s side and handed over her phone.

“Hello?” Bunny asked, still in shock at Esme’s behavior as she watched the little girl take a seat next to her and began to coo at Butter.

“Yes ma’am, we have an ambulance on their way to you and I just need to ask a few more questions.” Said the operator and Bunny nodded her head slightly.

“Of course.” She replied as her eyes stayed glued to Esme who was sitting there rubbing Butter’s back letting her fingers drag through his fur.

“So it’s your right ankle that is injured?” asked the operator and Bunny could hear keyboard keys clacking in the background and other voices relaying information about other calls.

“I can’t put any pressure on my right ankle, my leg gives out when I try to. And my left wrist is throbbing with pain whenever I move it.” Bunny relayed to the operator and heard the clicking of the keyboard as she talked.

“Ok, I’ve already let the ambulance crew know and they are on their way. Is there any special directions for them on how to find you?” asked the operator.

“No, we’re the only ones here in the main park area. They’ll be able to see us.” Bunny said and watched as Esme looked over at her silently.

“Ok, if anything changes, call us back but the ambulance should be there shortly.” Said the operator and Bunny thanked him before hanging up the phone.

“I have to call Jeremy and see if he could come grab Butter before the ambulance gets here. Are you okay?” Bunny explained as she looked down to her cracked phone screen and pulled up Jeremy’s contact info with a little difficulty before she looked up at Esme. Placing the phone at her ear she watched Esme look at her with slightly teary eyes and a worried face.

“Hey Bun-Bun!” cheered Jeremy happily as he answered the phone after two rings.

“Hey Jer, I have to go to the hospital. I’m okay but I think I broke or sprained my ankle and wrist really badly. Es and I are at the main park with Butter, would you be able to come get Butter before the ambulance gets here?” she quickly relayed to him hoping he’d be able to help her out.

“Of course, I’m just getting ready for work so I can swing by now and grab him. No problem. Are you sure you’re okay? Is Esme okay?” he responded easily before asking about the well-being of her and Esme.

“We’re okay, I think just a little shaken up is all.” Bunny said softly as she watched Esme sniffle softly and swipe her hand under her nose.

“Okay, I’m on my way. I'll be there in two minutes.” Jeremy said quickly and Bunny said goodbye before hanging up the phone.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” Bunny asked softly as she focused fully on Esme. The little girl looked at her with such saddened eyes that Bunny felt such a severe urge to pull her close and reassure her, but when her body shifted to move closer to Esme she gritted her teeth as pain shot up her leg and arm. “C’mere.” She cooed softly to Esme and the little girl moved closer to her side and pressed gently into it resting her head on Bunny’s right shoulder. “I promise I’m okay. Just probably broken bones. No big deal, okay?” she reassured the little girl as she gently wrapped her right arm low around Esme’s lower back.

“It’s my fault.” Esme said sorrowfully in a low tone and Bunny immediately shook her head at the girl’s words.

“No it’s not sweetheart. Accidents happen and it’s more my fault.” Bunny said easily as she kept shaking her head. Esme turned to look up at her confused. “I said ready, set, go and Butter knows those are play words. So I should have known better. It’s not your fault Es. Don’t think that it is because that’s the farthest from the truth.” Bunny said adamantly as she watched Esme closely.

“But if I didn’t want to roll down the hill then this wouldn’t have happened.” Esme said softly in such a heartbroken tone that Bunny felt her heart clench in response.

“Uh if you recall I also wanted to roll down the hill missy.” Bunny teased softly and Esme scoffed softly as her shoulders slumped forward. “Hey, I’m serious. It’s not your fault that I got hurt. It was just something that happened, it’s really no one’s fault.”

“But Bunny!” Esme cried indignantly as she tried to convince Bunny once more that it was her fault.

“Look, you couldn’t have predicted that this would have happened. And it’s not like you wanted me to get hurt when we decided to roll down the hill, right? And you didn’t push me. So it is not your fault. Accidents happen, we just have to deal with them and move on. Okay?” Bunny said firmly as she stared down at Esme. “Trust me I’m not mad or upset. My bones will heal and maybe if it’s broken I’ll get a cool cast and you can draw and sign it for me.”

“But-“ Esme began again and Bunny quickly shook her head as interrupted the little girl.

“Nope. No buts. It’s no one’s fault. I won’t hear anything else about it.” Bunny insisted as she shook her head at the little girl.

“Fine, but I still feel bad.” Esme huffed out softly and Bunny smiled warmly at her.

“You can feel bad for me all you want. It’ll help me lay it on thick to Jeremy and your Dad to help me out if it’s broken.” Bunny said, nodding her head eagerly and Esme giggled softly.

“I can help you too.” Esme said cheerily and Bunny nodded exaggeratedly making Esme giggle again.

“Uh duh. You’re definitely gonna be my number one helper.” Bunny said fondly and Esme nodded her head confidently as she watched Bunny determinedly. “Oh reminds me I should call your Dad and let him know what’s going on.” She said absentmindedly when suddenly Jeremy’s bright yellow jeep pulled up to the curb and Butter started barking excitedly as he recognized the car.

Bunny sat next to Esme as the two of them watched as Jeremy hopped out of the jeep in his security guard uniform and rushed over to them. He had a concerned expression on his face as he walked over to them and his eyes were darting first around Esme and then landed on Bunny.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly and Bunny nodded her head as she gritted her teeth when her wrist protested with her shifting movement on the ground.

“Yeah, just banged up. Took a tumble down the hill that’s all.” Bunny said as Jeremy came to a stop standing in front of her splayed legs. He looked down at her with a soft fond look in his eyes after he heard her explanation.

“You’re always getting up to something aren’t you?” he teased softly and Bunny stuck her tongue out at him making Esme giggle softly.

“First time it’s because I wanted to roll down a hill.” Bunny retorted and Jeremy scoffed softly.

“First time for everything trouble maker.” He quipped back and Bunny laughed as she shook her head at him.

“Whatever man.” She bemoaned to him as she shifted again on the ground and gritted her teeth as pain coursed through her again.

“So what hurts and how can I help?” he asked kindly and Bunny smiled in thanks to him.

“My right ankle and leg are in a lot of pain whenever I move it and I can’t put pressure on it. And my left wrist is in a lot of pain too. Not sure but I might have a concussion too, banged my head a few times on the ground as I came down.” Bunny relayed to him and Jeremy whistled low, Bunny nodded her head in response to his whistle and gritted her teeth as a dull ache began to form in her brain.

“Man you know how to fall hard when you do huh?” Jeremy asked teasingly and Bunny chuckled at him.

“What can I say? Gotta do it right the first time right?” she asked and Jeremy shook his head at her. Just as Jeremy was moving closer to her and Esme they all spotted the ambulance driving down the street. Jeremy turned and waved them down as Bunny shifted again and felt Esme lean slightly closer to her. “I’m okay. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” Bunny reassured her softly as the paramedics parked the ambulance and hopped out.

“Hey guys, she’s over here.” Jeremy said easily as he directed the paramedics to Bunny.

“Are you her husband?” asked the male paramedic as he looked from Jeremy over to Bunny and Bunny grinned as she fluttered her eyelashes at Jeremy who laughed at Bunny’s antics.

“No, just my best friend.” Jeremy said fondly as he walked over with the paramedic.

“So what happened miss?” asked the younger female paramedic who was now kneeling down at Bunny’s other side with the medical bag set on the ground next to her. Bunny watched as she looked across Bunny to Esme and smiled softly at her. “Don’t worry honey, we're going to take good care of your babysitter.”

“Got knocked down the hill by my overly excited dog.” Bunny said as she gestured with her chin to Butter who was now rolling in the grass on his back trying to get the paramedics’ attention. Both paramedics laughed at Butter and Jeremy just shook his head as Esme giggled softly. “Banged my head a couple of times on the ground, did something to my left wrist, it's throbbing in pain, and my right ankle is in a lot of pain too. Can’t put any weight on the right leg either, tried to stand up and my leg gave out.” She explained as they all looked at her and Esme who was still cuddled into her side.

“Ok, well I suggest we take you to the hospital to get your wrist and ankle checked out to see if you just sprained them or broke them. Also if you choose to let us take you we’ll check for concussion in the ambulance. We can’t force you but that’s what I suggest.” Said the female and male nodded as he stood next to Jeremy.

“Yeah, let's go to the hospital.” Bunny said, nodding her head.

“Okay, Chase, can you grab the stretcher while I start her paperwork?” the female asked as picked up her metal clipboard and began filling out the paperwork with Bunny right there. “Do you want us to take her in the ambulance as well or will your friend be taking her?” the woman asked as she nodded her head at Esme. Bunny felt Esme’s hands come up to clutch at her bicep and she leaned closer to her silently.

“She’s gonna go with me if that’s alright with you guys.” She replied and felt Esme relax against her a little bit. The woman nodded her head and winked at Esme who smiled softly and relaxed further against Bunny.

“No problem with us.” She answered with a smile and finished filling out the paperwork. Bunny’s eyes darted over to Jeremy who was walking with Chase as he wheeled the stretcher over towards them. Once it was lowered to the ground Bunny looked over at Jeremy for some help which he gladly stepped over.

“I’m gonna just lift her up onto the stretcher. It’ll be easier.” Jeremy explained as he squatted down next to Bunny and Esme. “Hey Es, do me a favor and just hold onto Butter for me while I put Bunny on the stretcher okay. Once I’m done and they load her up in the ambulance you’ll be able to get in with her.” Jeremy said softly and kindly to the little girl who was still pressed up against Bunny’s side. Bunny could see the worry flash across Esme’s face and Bunny nodded her head at her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let them leave without you. You’re coming with me.” Bunny reassured her and Esme looked up at her with concern. “Here take my phone that way you know for sure you’re coming with me since we still gotta call your Dad and let him know what’s up.” Bunny said as she handed over her phone to Esme who quickly took it and Butter’s leash leading him a few steps away from the stretcher.

“Alright c’mon lady let’s get you up on that stretcher.” Jeremy said as he slid his arms underneath Bunny’s knees and behind her back before standing up with her cradled in his arms. Bunny gritted her teeth lightly when her ankle fell with gravity as Jeremy lifted her. “I got you sorry.” Jeremy apologized and Bunny shook her head at him.

“No worries, it's okay.” Bunny said softly as he set her down on the stretcher and Chase lifted it up gently.

“Hey call me if you guys need anything and when you get done with everything and I’ll come pick you two up. That way you won’t have to worry about anything okay?” Jeremy said as Chase began to wheel you towards the ambulance.

“Okay. You sure? I’m sure I could call a taxi or something.” Bunny said as they all began walking towards the ambulance behind her.

“Yeah, call me and I’ll come pick you up. You’re already gonna have a lot going on so just call me.” Jeremy insisted and Bunny nodded her head as she watched him turn to Esme and held his hand out for the leash. “C’mon sweetheart let’s let them get her loaded up and then I’ll help you up there.”

“Thanks Jeremy.” Esme said softly as she hung back with Jeremy as the paramedics loaded Bunny into the back of the ambulance. Once they were done Bunny looked out at Esme and gestured her up once the female paramedic got situated in the back with her.

“Alright honey you’re gonna come sit on the bench over here okay?” she said as pointed to the bench seat next to Bunny’s stretcher on her left side. Bunny watched quietly as Esme climbed into the back with Jeremy’s help and came to sit down on the bench. When she was finally settled in her seat she gripped onto the stretcher railing and watched anxiously as the woman began to get a blood pressure cuff secured on Bunny.

“Alright we’re good to go. We’ll be heading to Three Sisters’ Hospital.” Chase said easily to everyone as he began to close the back of the ambulance. Bunny smiled at Jeremy as he nodded at her and then turned to Esme trying to ease her as they began their trek to the hospital.

#kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey x ofc #agent whiskey #FLILO #my writing

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nikki-writes-stuff · 4 years

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Beauty in the Blood - Part One

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined...

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

Warning: This chapter contains hints of smut and GRAPHIC descriptions of death and murder. Later on, this fic will also include rape/non con, dub con, kidnapping, yandere/obsessive elements, and even MORE graphic descriptions of death and murder. Please read at your own risk, and as usual, this is only for the eyes of those 18 and older. Thank you, and enjoy!

It was hard to find a decent guy these days. New York was the city of dreamers, artists, and absolute weirdos, and out of the three, you only seemed to attract the latter. You’d been to speed dating events and Singles Night at your local bar, but there was never a connection, never a spark, and every guy seemed to have something fundamentally wrong with him. It wasn’t that you were looking for the perfect guy, it was just that you’d met too many who were demanding, controlling, or misogynistic.

You’d given up on finding your special someone a year after you’d moved to the city. After all, being single wasn’t too bad. You could do what you want whenever you wanted without having to think about someone else. So what if you didn’t have anyone to kiss on New Years? So what if you cried a little every now and then from feeling so alone? It was fine. It was absolutely fine, you told yourself. Fine, fine, fine…

“I’m absolutely fine, Wanda. I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy.”

You were sat across from your good friend, who was stirring her coffee with one hand while she tapped her fingers against the table with the other. She arched a skeptical eyebrow at you before taking a sip of her drink.

“You’re right; you don’t. But you’re lonely,” she pointed out. “A boyfriend would help with that.”

There was no denying that she was right. Wanda was perceptive, and she was also one of your closest friends. You’d met her during your first week of living in New York, and she’d helped you adjust to living in such a busy, fast-paced place. She probably knew you better than you knew yourself, and that was why you slumped in defeat and threw back the last gulp left of your mimosa.

“God, you’re right,” you bemoaned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” she grinned. “But don’t worry; I can help.”

“Wanda, not that I don’t appreciate your effort, but the last guy you sent me out on a date with got mad that I didn’t put out after he paid for my dinner. I don’t want to go on any more blind dates.”

She winced, reaching over to pat the back of your hand.

“I had no idea Kyle was like that,” she promised you. “If I’d known he would be such an asshole you know I wouldn’t have set you up. But I wasn’t going to suggest another blind date.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“What did you have in mind, then?”

She grinned and reached into her purse, fishing around until she found her phone.

“I heard of a new dating app that made me immediately think of you,” she explained excitedly, pulling up the website and passing her device over to you. “It matches you with people in your area based on your Google searches!”

“Pfffft.” You scoffed, taking a quick glance at the screen before looking back to your friend. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard of.”

“I know, I know, it’s a strange concept. But it has one of the highest success ratings out of all the dating websites! It’s only been around for six months, but over half of its users say that they’ve found someone they can see themselves spending the rest of their lives with!”

“Statistics can be made up, you know,” you groused. “Besides, one look at my browser history would send anyone running in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe not someone who has one similar to yours,” she pointed out. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Wanda, you know what I do for a living, right? I could match with some kind of serial killer!”

Your friend just waved you off and ordered another coffee, picking up her phone again and stuffing it into her pocket.

“Just try it? Please?” she begged. “Just give it a shot, and if it doesn’t work out, then that’s that, right? No harm done.”

Several hours later, and you found yourself sitting on your couch, staring at the same website homepage that Wanda had shown you. You bit your lip, letting your fingers skim over your laptop’s keys, not typing anything just yet but feeling their ridges as you considered the “Join Now” button.

There wouldn’t be any harm in it, right? Just like Wanda said, if you hated the kind of people you matched with, then you could always delete your profile. And you didn’t only search things for your research, after all; you also googled recipes and cute animal videos. What if you matched with a gorgeous guy who’d also googled “Try Not To Laugh – Kitten Edition”? Hell yeah.

After taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you clicked on the button, making quick work of filling out the ‘About You’ information. Five minutes later, you’d chosen a profile picture and linked your Google account to the website, and you were ready to sift through your matches. The wheel on the screen turned slowly as your computer processed the information, and you actually jolted when it dinged with the results.

Well. Result. There was only one person who’d shown up with a similar search history as you. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, and you almost closed your laptop and went to retreat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s from your fridge, calling it a day and forgetting the whole debacle. But then you saw his profile picture and… Holy shit.

He was lean and pale, and your eyes were immediately drawn to his long, black hair. He had it slicked back in the photo with just one strand hanging down over his left eye. In the photo, he was wearing an exquisitely tailored black suit with a black shirt and tie underneath it, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail along the lithe contours of his body. He looked as if he were carved from marble; you almost started drooling just from the sight of him.

You jumped again when your computer dinged for a second time, and your eyes widened when you saw that you had a new message in your inbox. With fingers that were just barely trembling, you opened it, skimming over the message from the man you’d paired with.

Good evening. I must admit, I was quite surprised when I got the notification that we’d matched with one another. I’ve had this profile for about four months, and I’d had yet to be paired with anyone.

So he was handsome and eloquent. You clicked on his profile and blinked when you saw his name. Loki Odinson. Wow. Even his name was refined, if not a little strange; it sounded like a name you’d give to one of the characters in your books.

Hello, Loki, you typed out. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was pretty surprised to find someone else who has such a twisted search history. I don’t know if I should be happy or concerned.

It only took him a few moments to reply.

The feeling is mutual; I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for the morbidity, though. Mine is that I happen to be a coroner for a living. And yours is…?

I’m a writer, you explained, your interest piqued by his profession. I write murder mysteries. So, yeah… Morbidity seems like a fitting way to describe it.

A writer, you say. I happen to be quite an avid reader; would I know any of your work?

I’m not sure; have you ever heard of The Bell Ringer? That’s probably my most well-known book.

You’re kidding.

He sent you a picture, and it was of a pale hand holding a copy of The Bell Ringer, your name glistening in bold font beneath the title.

I’m a great fan of your work, as you can see. I own several of your novels.

Another photo loaded beneath the newest text, and it was of a shelf full of your books. The Shrew Woman, A Night in New Hampshire, The Hanging Woman – nine books in total. The only one that you’d written that wasn’t there was the one you’d just sent out to your publisher, and you suspected that once it was out in stores, it would be joining the ranks of Loki’s shelf.

Wow! It’s always so nice to meet a reader. I’m so glad you like my stuff!

Oh, love, you’re a huge talent. I must say, I’ve found your work rather inspiring.

That’s so kind of you to say!

I know that this is rather forward, but are you doing anything tonight?

You glanced up at the clock you had hanging on the wall – 8:13 pm. It was already pretty late; typically you’d be putting on your pajamas and curling up in bed to do some late night reading here soon. But something inside of you whispered that you should do it; you weren’t spontaneous enough. What if this was an opportunity to meet the One? At the very least, it would be cool to meet such a loyal reader.

It depends on if this guy I’m talking to online asks me out. Do you think he will?

He would have to be a fool not to. I suspect he’ll ask you if you’d like to meet at a café.

Well, then, I suspect I’ll have to say yes.

An excited grin was plastered over your lips as you bantered back and forth, and when Loki sent you an address and a message saying ‘I’ll see you there in twenty minutes’, you jumped off of your sofa and rushed to put on your shoes. You were still dressed in the leggings and oversized sweater you’d worn to brunch with Wanda, and all you had to do was straighten your hair and pull on your boots before you were out the door. The address he’d sent you was within walking distance of your apartment; in fact, you’d been there before, but never on a date.

Your heart was pounding the entire way over, and you couldn’t get over how unlike you this was. You didn’t just get up and meet guys you’d met on the internet on such short notice, much less so late at night. And yet here you were, stepping into the café fifteen minutes after receiving Loki’s message. Your eyes scanned the room, but it appeared that he wasn’t there yet. As you got in line to order, you tried to calm yourself, not wanting to look too frazzled when your date finally showed up. You tried to even your breathing, twisting the fabric of your sleeves between your nervous fingers.

He’s just a person, you told yourself. You’ve been on dates before; everything was going to be fine. Nothing bad was going to-

“Hello, there.”

You gasped and turned around, eliciting a chuckle from the man now towering over you. He was dressed in a set of black trousers with a simple white button-down tucked into them, and his hair was loose and falling around his shoulders. His grin was wide and full of teeth, with just the slightest sinister edge to it. But his eyes were warm and twinkling with excitement and just a hint of mischief. Those clear blue irises brought a smile to your own lips, and you chuckled along with him at your initial fright.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you walk in,” you explained.

“It’s quite alright,” he assured you, offering his hand. “I know you already are aware, but I’m Loki.”

You grinned and introduced yourself, going to shake his hand, but he smoothly cradled your fingers and drew them up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,” he cooed, seemingly all too aware of how flustered you now were.

You opened your mouth to say something in return, but you couldn’t think of anything to say as silence lay heavily between the two of you. You were saved, though, when the barista called out to you, asking if she could take your order. You spun around on your heel and shot her a grateful glance before ordering your favorite menu item and reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“…And I’ll have a cup of Earl Grey,” Loki stepped in, handing her a card from his open wallet.

“Oh, I could have paid for mine,” you protested, but he waved you off.

“No, no, love. It’s my treat.”

He gave you a tight, close-lipped smile, and you didn’t protest further as he paid for your orders. He led you to a booth in the corner, sliding into the side opposite to yours gracefully. The leather squeaked against your thighs as you shuffled in, and when you were finally settled across from him you caught a flicker in his eye that sent chills up your spine.

It was gone in an instant, though, replaced by the same suave look he’d had while ordering his tea.

“So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “As I said before, I’m a fan of your work. Truly, I have been since your very first novel.”

“’Beauty in the Blood’?” you asked incredulously. “I’m surprised; no one seems to like that one. After reading it, my mom suggested that I start going to therapy.”

Loki chuckled, licking his lips, and your eyes followed his tongue of their own accord.

“Ah, well, whether or not that’s true, it’s still my favorite of your works by far,” he continued. “The parts told by the killer’s perspective were…beautiful. You captured his mind so artfully, it was as if…”

He paused, searching your face for a moment.

“It was as if…you understood him,” he finished.

You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking over his words. He’d skipped right over the small talk you’d come to suspect on first dates, but despite how strange of a direction the conversation was taking, you were…intrigued by it.

“Well,” you started, “I feel like I did understand him. I mean, sure, he took delight in the killing of others; he saw it as an art form. But as twisted and evil as he was, he was still a person – a person that had come from my mind. Cuz the thing is…”

You paused, gathering your thoughts and trying to find the right words to convey them.

“The thing is,” you spoke carefully, “that every storyteller uses bits and pieces of themselves to tell a story. A story is like a stained glass window – it’s made up of different pieces of an author’s mind and soul, and it comes together to create something greater than the sum of those pieces. So, yes, I think I can understand him; his darkness might be a reflection of my own – deep, deep down.”

You glanced up at him, blinking when you saw the transfixed look upon his face. His eyes were wider than they had been before, and his lips were parted as he listened.

“Sorry,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I, uh… I got a little carried away. You probably think I’m some kind of freak-“

“I think you’re beautiful.”

His words took your breath away, and when the barista set down your cups on the table, you jumped in surprise.

“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” she asked cheerfully, and a flash of annoyance crossed over Loki’s face at the interruption.

“We’re fine,” you assured her quickly, giving her a polite smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome!”

You gripped your mug tightly as she walked away, savoring its heat as it warmed up your cold hands.

“So,” you said, desperate to break the sudden silence that had fallen over the table, “you mentioned that you’re a coroner. What drew you to your profession?”

Loki sipped his tea, humming as he thought over the question.

“Well… The conversation has already veered towards the darker side of things,” he mused. “I might as well tell you the story.

“When I was twelve years old, my sister killed herself,” he began.

“Oh, Loki, I’m so sorry-“

“Oh, no, don’t be,” he interrupted. “We weren’t close at all. I was adopted at a young age, you see, and Hella never accepted me. She was cruel, and she took every opportunity she could to remind me of my inadequacies.

“But, as I said, one day she died. At first, we didn’t know how it happened; there were no marks on her body whatsoever. She just looked like she was sleeping as she lay there in bed. We called the hospital, and the police, and eventually the coroners discovered that she’d injected bleach into her arm. Later on, my mother found the syringe under her bed, and all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. We finally knew the how and the when, and I never really cared much about the why.

“…That probably makes me sound like a monster, doesn’t it?”

You sat back, swallowing a scalding-hot sip of your drink before answering.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “I don’t think that makes you a monster. She abused you; it’s only natural that you found some relief in her death. I would’ve probably felt the same way.”

He studied you for a moment, tracing the lip of his cup with his index finger.

“I wonder if you would have…” he murmured to himself, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it.

“Well,” he sighed, plastering a smile on once more and straightening up, “you probably aren’t going to be very keen on a second date if I keep dragging our conversation into subjects like this. Tell me, where are you from? What made you move to the city?”

“How do you know I’m not from here?”

“Love, neither of us have the New York accent, now do we?”

You laughed, and after that the two of you fell into an easy flow; it seemed that the heavy beginning of the date made it all the easier to talk to him. You discussed what you liked about the city and what you didn’t like; you learned that Loki was originally from a small town right outside of London, and that he has an adopted brother named Thor that he was close to.

“He’s an oaf,” he’d said when you’d asked what his brother was like. “Everything about him is literally the opposite of its coinciding part of me. But…he loves me; he never thought of me as the adopted child. I was always just his brother; despite his shortcomings, I think he does mean well. Besides, his IQ level is in the single digits, so I’m afraid I must look out for him for fear of what would happen if he were left to his own devices.”

From there, you shared stories about growing up, about life and ex partners and mistakes and successes. Before you knew it, the happy barista from before was approaching your table again, this time with a nervous smile.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted. “I’m so so sorry to bother you, but we’re closing up…”

Loki glanced down at his watch as you glanced at your phone – 10:30.

“Shit,” you laughed. “I had no idea. Time flies…”

Your date shot a glare at the barista before his eyes flickered to you. He gave you a wide, close-lipped smile and straightened his collar, raising his eyebrows.

“Then I suppose it’s time for us to head out,” he murmured. “May I escort you home?”

“Oh! Of course. If it’s not too far out of your way…”

“Even if it is,” he smiled, “I still want to walk you home.”

Your heart fluttered, and you set a five dollar bill on the table as a tip before standing up. The barista scurried away, and you almost turned to apologize to her for Loki’s cold shoulder. But you didn’t know him well yet; maybe that’s just how he was. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it.

“You guys have a good night!” she called out after you, and you smiled over your shoulder at her before reaching for the door. Loki’s hand darted out and grabbed the handle before you could, opening it for you with a slight bow.

“After you, my lady.”

“How chivalrous.”

The two of you walked side by side down the street, hands brushing as you strolled down the sidewalk. You glanced upwards, smiling at the scattering of stars overhead as your breath fogged in the chilly air. You shivered, rubbing your arms a little bit to ward off the chill. Loki evidently caught the movement, and you felt his arm drape around your shoulders. You leaned into the warmth of his body, tilting your head up to share a grin with him.

“Again – chivalrous.”

He chuckled, squeezing you for a beat.

“I try my best… It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as you, but…very pretty.”

You laughed and hid your face in his neck.

“Stop… You’re too charming.”

“Oh, really? I was under the impression there was no such thing.”

The two of you fell back into a companionable silence as you guided him towards your brownstone, until he spoke up once again.

“I must say… There’s a question that I’ve been meaning to ask you that I’m just…dying to know the answer to.”

“Go ahead, Loki. I’m an open book.”

He laughed softly again, hesitating before voicing his question.

“If you were to kill someone, how would you do it?”

You paused, thinking over your response.

“Well… Why am I killing them? Is it a crime of passion or a crime of necessity? Am I killing them just for the enjoyment of it, or out of revenge, or because the person needs to die for a bigger cause?”

“That… That is actually an excellent follow-up question,” Loki mused. “Let’s say… A crime of necessity. The person needs to die for a personal reason with no anger or revenge in mind. How do you do it?”

You bit your lip, calling to mind all of your morbid Google searches that might apply.

“Um… Air shot between the toes,” you finally said. “Fill a syringe with air and inject it between their toes while they sleep. It’ll look like a heart attack that way.”

Unbeknownst to you, warmth suddenly bloomed in Loki’s chest, and you glanced up just in time to catch the fond, almost…loving gleam in his eye. He quickly looked away, tilting his head up to look at the stars, but you’d caught it. And it wasn’t that it unsettled you; you weren’t uncomfortable because of the look. You were uncomfortable because you hadn’t been upset by it. You’d felt that same flutter once again as butterflies batted around your rib cage.

Nothing more was said as you turned the corner that led to your street, and you silently ascended your home’s steps with Loki’s arm still around your shoulders. You reluctantly slid your key into the lock, only turning to him once your door was opened a crack.

“I had… A really good time with you, Loki,” you told him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. “I know that this isn’t what you’re supposed to say to a guy after a first date; I know that it might scare you away. But I want you to know that I haven’t felt this way in a long… Actually, I’ve never felt this way. And it’s really scary, but I hope… I hope we can do this again sometime soon.”

Loki’s eyes softened, and he moved his arm from around your shoulders to your cheek.

“I haven’t felt his way, either,” he murmured. “But I know that I don’t want the feeling to go away.”

He was leaning forward, his eyes closing, and your heart leapt into your throat as you met him halfway. His lips were cold, and smooth, and soft as they pressed against yours, and you leaned into his touch when he pulled you closer by your hips. A sound escaped your throat as his tongue darted out, licking past the barrier of your mouth to glide itself against yours. His hands came up to cradle your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against your cheekbones as your lips moved against one another, and you hummed once again as your chests pressed together.

You don’t know who pulled away first, but you spent a moment just taking in one another’s essence, your foreheads pressed together as the fog of your breaths mingled. You heard Loki let out a chuckle, and you looked up curiously.

“What is it?”

“I’ve just…” He licked his lips and let out another soft laugh before pulling away.

“I’ve just never felt like this before,” he repeated.

You smiled and pressed a peck to his lips before walking towards your door again.

“Have a good night, love,” he called after you, and you paused in the doorway to blow him a kiss.

“You too, Loki.”

You shut your door, missing the way his gaze darkened as he stared at the façade of your building.

“Oh, I will, darling. I will.”

__________

Loki hummed to himself, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he clenched and unclenched his fists. The silver of the table gleamed under the fluorescent lights of his basement, and the air was musty, thick with the smell of iron…and decay. Instruments and tools were lined along the wall in front of him - knives, machetes, a hatchet… It was cliché; he knew that. But he just hadn’t been able to resist the temptation while designing this special room.

A muffled scream sounded from behind him, and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the perky little barista who was currently strapped down to another metal table he’d “borrowed” from the hospital morgue.

“Are you honestly still trying to scream for help?” he snarked, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’ve told you; you’re currently under about five feet of solid concrete. Who will hear you? Who will help you?”

The girl let out a sob, and he watched her big blue eyes flicker to the wall just over his shoulder before coming to rest on him again. They were red and swollen, and he let out a coo of false sympathy.

“Oh, don’t worry, little girl. None of these are for you.” He grinned, turning back to the table behind him. “You can thank my new lover for that. No, she inspired me to take a different direction this evening.”

A small, genuine smile came over his face as he picked up the large syringe, turning it over in his hands.

“She’s been inspiring me for a while, actually,” he mused, ignoring the screams as he sauntered over to his victim, syringe in hand. “She’s such a brilliant writer, my darling is. It truly was fate that brought us together; if I’d had known that my favorite author was a beautiful young woman who also lived in Manhattan, well… I’m sure I would have found her sooner. But I won’t dwell on lost time; I’ll just have to make up for it.”

He ran a hand over the girl’s knee, trailing it down her shin even as she struggled against the strong ropes twined around her wrists and ankles. As his hand gripped the arch of her foot in an iron-like hold, he let his eyes close. This was always his favorite part – the moments right before death. The anticipation was like foreplay; it got him just as hot and eager, and the payoff was very nearly comparable. If he were ever asked to describe the feeling of ending another person’s life, of ripping out the remaining chapters from their story before it could be written, the only thing he’d be able to compare it to was an orgasm. That white-hot pleasure that flooded his veins was addictive, as was the lead up he was experiencing right now.

“You know,” he mused, slowly drawing back the plunger of the syringe, “my girl is so smart… Not a lot of people would think to off someone like this. But it’s not as easy as you would think; you can’t just use any old syringe. It has to be big, has to be a lot of air. And you have to be careful; if you hit muscle, it won’t be fatal, and the whole endeavor would be for naught. But if you hit a vein, and if you get a big enough pocket of air…”

The duct tape on her mouth did little to quell her scream as he inserted the needle into her flesh. A novice might not be able to find a vein, especially not in a foot, but the years of medical school paid off, just as they did every day at his job. He injected the empty cartridge into her vein, groaning and letting his eyes drift shut. He was slow about removing the needle; the separation of steel from skin was slow, intimate… Gentle.

“Hush…” he whispered, drawing out the word with a hiss. “It’s done now, love. It’s done.”

He let his arm fall to the side, and he took a step back, watching the girl start to settle down as he put some distance between them. He gently set the syringe down onto the table before crossing the room to the armchair in the corner. Letting out a soft grunt, he lowered himself into the seat, crossing his legs and letting his head fall back.

“Fuck, what a day,” he sighed. “This isn’t what I was expecting when I woke up this morning.”

Loki lifted his head and gave the young girl a wry smile.

“As you may have guessed, this isn’t my first time doing something like this,” he began. “But I do try to limit myself. I may take…five victims a year. Maybe six or seven if I’m particularly stressed. My last one was on New Year’s, though. I’m not due for a killing for another few months, but… That girl really had me going.

“I was hoping that she’d invite me in tonight,” he confessed. “Though I wasn’t expecting it. It was our first date, after all. But a man can hope, can’t he? If she had invited me to stay the night, you wouldn’t be here right now. Alas, though… I had all of these pent up feelings that I had to do something with. And you were so…obnoxious back at the café. I couldn’t tell if you were being genuine with your disgusting, overbearing cheerfulness or if it was as fake as your blonde hair. But, god, did it get under my skin…”

The girl let out a sob, and he noticed that she was beginning to shake. He chuckled, feeling himself grow hard in his trousers as he thought of you. You’d come up with this idea, this beautiful, drawn-out murder. Such a sweet, innocent looking girl on the outside. But such delicious, pure wickedness within.

“Fuck,” he huffed, palming himself through his pants. “Despite the nuisance you made of yourself, today was so perfect… She’s the One, you know. The one and only girl who can ever complete me. I didn’t even believe in this sort of thing this morning, but for the first time in my life, I’m glad I was wrong.”

He forced himself to still his hand, moving it to his knee as his jaw clenched. In the past, he’d done this in front of a few of his victims; male or female, if they were pretty, young things, the act of killing them made him so hard that he had to touch himself as he watched them squirm on his table. But not tonight, not after you. That part of himself was only for you, now, and he was strong enough to resist the urge until his was the only heart beating under his roof.

And so he sat back and watched. At first, the girl only shivered, and after thirty minutes he was afraid that he hadn’t injected enough air into her. But then he noticed the way she was breathing; it was like she was a fish out of water, and the slope of her furrowed eyebrows betrayed the pain she was in.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice thick. At first she didn’t answer, but then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. He hummed in understanding, hiding his grin behind his hand as he scratched his chin.

“How marvelous.”

He knew she wouldn’t last long when her skin started to turn blue. After an hour, the seizures began, jolting and shaking her body as if she were a ragdoll. He watched in fascination, his cold, blue eyes never leaving her tied-up form. Soft, strained whimpers were leaving her throat, and he let out a purr as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

His joints popped as he stood up, and the heels of his shoes clicked against the concrete floor as he rounded the table, making his way to her pretty blonde head. He slowly, deliberately pulled the duct tape away from her mouth, and he chuckled at how blue her lips had become.

“This is a much better look on you,” he observed. “This is so much more real than those saccharine smiles.”

She finally went still 84 minutes after the injection. Even after her heart stopped beating, he stood over her, watching the unnatural stillness of her chest. Despite all of the corpses he’d created over the years, and despite the years he’d spent in his profession, it was still something that he’d never gotten used to. People weren’t supposed to be that still; people were supposed to blink, and smile, and talk, and breathe, but the things they became after death did none of those things. They didn’t move, and they didn’t feel, and there was always a moment of disgust when he first laid eyes on a fresh corpse.

But it passed quickly, even quicker than normal tonight. The disgust faded away and left behind pure, unadulterated lust as his thoughts strayed once more to you. Typically, he would stay behind, lingering in the basement to dispose of the body. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too tired, he would actually drive out and deposit them in whatever spot he’d predetermined to be the one the police were to find them in.

But tonight, he left the corpse there on the table. He flicked the lights off and climbed the first, then the second set of stairs, peeling off his gloves and petting his cat on the way to his bedroom. He showered, then combed his hair, then settled down between his silk sheets completely naked. Then, and only then, did his hand travel down to his cock, and his mind once again, indubitably, trekked back to you. Your face, your voice, your beautiful fucking mind…

The thought that finally made him cum was the picture of him fucking you in a pool of blood on his basement floor, of the bright crimson painting your skin as he let his hands worship your body. The thought followed him into his dreams, ruby red and throbbing to the beat of his heart as he slept deeply into the night.

_____________

Detective Romanoff stood side by side with her partner in front of the dead body, hands planted firmly on her hips as she chewed her lip.

“How old did you say she was?” she asked the coroner, her eyes flicking down to the rope burn on the woman’s – the girl’s – wrists and ankles.

“Twenty,” was Dr. Odinson’s accented reply. He turned around, glancing between the two detectives before taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to the body. “I’m afraid that there won’t be much investigating for the two of you to do here. The cause of death was a heart attack, pure and simple.”

“A twenty year old girl having a heart attack?” Detective Rogers scoffed. “I think you got your wires crossed, there, Loki.”

Natasha watched as a muscle in the coroner’s jaw twitched, and he let out a frustrated huff as he peeled off his medical gloves.

“Detective, this sort of thing happens all the time – freak accidents that can strike even the healthiest of people. They are…unfortunate, but they’re also a fact of life.” He tossed the balled up gloves into a trash can and whisked past them, bending over to type something into the laptop resting on his desk as he continued speaking to them.

“After reviewing her medical records, I found out that her father died two years ago from a heart attack; if I were a gambling man, I would say that a bad set of genes were the only culprit here.”

“What about the marks on her wrists?” Natasha asked. “They gotta mean something, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Loki smirked, cutting his eyes over at her before straightening up. “It probably means that little Miss…” He paused, glancing down at a paper resting beside his computer. “Miss Allison Berry was into bondage before her untimely demise.”

“A woman is lying dead, Odinson,” Rogers spat. “Show some respect.”

Loki raised his hands up in surrender as he sauntered towards them.

“I apologize if I offended you, Detective,” he replied coolly. “I meant no disrespect. But I’ve run all the tests in the book. There were no signs of sexual assault, no signs of foul play. I’ll type up a proper report for the two of you, but I’m telling you now – the girl died of a heart attack.”

Natasha and Steve shared a look before turning back to the doctor.

“Have the report ready for us before the end of the day,” she ordered, patting Steve on the shoulder and gesturing for him to follow her as she made her way out of the cold morgue.

“Whatever you say, Officer.”

Natasha froze mid-step, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck bristle as a thousand images flashed through her mind after hearing him say that word. She gulped, oblivious to the confused look Steve was giving her, and she kept walking without turning back around.

“It’s Detective, now, doctor.”

The door clicked shut behind them, cutting off Loki’s dark chuckle as he was once again was left alone with Allison Berry’s body. His smile didn’t fade as he pulled on another pair of gloves; if anything, it grew as he finished the young woman’s autopsy.

“I was being honest with them; you know that, don’t you?” He winked at the girl’s unseeing eyes, his hands moving of their own accord as he stitched up the clean line he’d cut through the skin, bone, and muscle of her chest.

“It was just a heart attack.”

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki imagine #serial killer au #serial killer!loki #dark!fic #dark!loki

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iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Of being a Ladybug

So this one will Hopefully be a little less angst and a little less salt buy still a good read. Hope you enjoy!

Cons of being a Ladybug

There are a lot of things about being Ladybug that made Marinette's life difficult. The fact she always got sleepy in winter, the fact that the cold affected her more strongly than before. The way she never got enough sleep because she had to patrol. Having to deal with Chat Noir and his tantrums and flirting. The way she sometimes had to ditch her other responsibilities in favour of fighting Akumas. Hawkmoth. But right now, the thing that got to Marinette the most was that she couldn't call Lila out. Being Ladybug, a hero, meant she couldn't use being Ladybug for selfish reasons. She'd learned her lesson the last time, and in the end it hadn't even been worth it. But as Marinette, she could at the very least gather some evidence, just in case she made good on her threat. Adrien may think taking the high road was best, but Marinette could see the damage she was subtly dealing to Alya, and also to the others, a toxic kind of take and never give mentality growing in the class in the week since her return. Little things, like Kim asking to copy Max's homework instead of simply getting help with his dyslexia, Alix getting annoyed at Nathaniel for paying more attention to the art than to her when they'd hung out last, Mylene getting frustrated and feeling neglected when Ivan took her to practices instead of dates. Things that had never bothered any of her classmates before were starting to cause rifts and fights. Lila wasn't the best liar, anyone could figure her out with half a brain cell and a smartphone. Her power really came in manipulating situations in her favour, her ability to cry on command and have people feel sorry for her. But her ability to read people was her only real genius. She always knew just which buttons to push to make people feel guilty, insecure or "righteous" fury. So it was subtle, but the classroom was becoming toxic to be in. Marinette, being so giving and kind, was the most taken advantage of.

But as it turned out, Marinette didn't really have to do anything at all. Alya did the work of outing Lila by posting an interview on "The Amazing Lila Rossi, the New Every Day Ladybug and Ladybug's best friend!"

Marinette felt bad for Alya, but also a bit vindicated, since maybe this might finally teach her to fact check. Marinette crossed her fingers in hope of Alya getting off with a slapped wrist and sent the video to Penny Rolling and the Italian embassy general e-mail. It was Sunday night, at least she wouldn't have to wait long to see the results.

Monday morning burned bright with hope, as Marinette saw a special interview announced from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali and several other names Marinette didn't recognize. Nadja Chamak was not going to be hosting though, as several people being interviewed had complained about "unprofessionalism" of the Parisian News anchor. Marinette shrugged, at least she wouldn't have to babysit. She went to school, hearing whispers of LadyBlog being shut down by Officials due to inaccurate information. Marinette sagged slightly, 'that sucks', she thought. She'd hoped Alya wouldn't be too badly affected. Suddenly a shadow fell over her and she looked up to the frowning face of Adrien Agreste.

"Adrien! Morning good! Good Morning! Hi!" Marinette stuttered.

"Did you have anything to do with the LadyBlog being shut down?" Adrien asked, his eyes spelling disappointment.

"What? It's being shut down? Why? And what do you mean me? What power do I have over anyone, let alone Alya to shut that down?" Marinette asked, a negative feeling travelling down her spine. What the hell was Adrien on about?

He smiled reassuringly suddenly," You're right. What was I thinking. You may be our everyday Ladybug, but it's not like you have the influence to get a free blog shut down."

Adrien smiled, patted her shoulder, and walked past her towards the classroom. Marinette stood frozen. Did… Did Adrien think… Did he think she was… Worth less? Because she wasn't rich? She stood there past the final ring of the bell, until Tikki popped her head out.

"Marinette, are you okay?" she asked quietly. She was highly dissatisfied with Adrien at the moment, but needed to focus on her own charge.

"Am I… Did Adrien… I thought he was better than that…. But… He actually thinks because… That because I'm not rich, that I have no power…?" sheshe frazed it like a question, but Tikki and Marinette both knew the truth.

"You should get to class, Marinette" Tikki said instead. Shaking herself, Marinette started walking, only for the alarms to start.

"Tikki, spots on!" Marinette shouted, and took off towards the sounds of crashes.

Alya woke up Monday morning excited to see the result of her post the night before. She'd worked with Lila all weekend to get it perfect and now the fruits of her labour would be sewn. She opened the blog and stopped. Yesterday, before posting the video, she'd had 675 followers. This morning, only 231 people were left. She scrolled to the comments.

"Oh yes, I saved Jagged's non-existent cat, from his non-existent private jet, on a tarmac which civilians aren't allowed onto. And I came to Paris months after Ladybug started saving Paris, but I was supposed to be the original and I just recommended my friend instead!... Yeah right! Who the hell believes this crap? "

" my favorite line in this video is where she claims to have grown up as jagged stones favorite person, but doesn't even get his home city right!"

" oh ladybug totally loves chat, she just wants to keep it on the dl. {attachment} this video taken a couple weeks ago while chat threw a tantrum cause she refused to go on a date with him"

"Clara Nightingale and I were ACTUALLY in the same dance class, and I don't remember a sausage with a mouth being in that class"

"if ladybug can heal her supposed tinnitus, why isn't she curing cancer?"

The comments continued along that line when suddenly a loading error came up. Alya scowled and reloaded the page, only for a [401: error. The page you are trying to load no longer exists]. Alya paled.

"No! No no no no no no no no!" she chanted as she tried to reload it, and then tried to go in to check the coding. Everything was shut down. Alya started to tear up. This couldn't be happening! She was sure Lila wasn't a liar. Marinette just didn't like not being the center of attention, just as Lila said. Marinette just, just this once, couldn't find the good in a person, but Laya could. Alya opened Google and looked up 'Jagged Stone pets', 'Jagged Stone cat', 'Clara Nightingale dance school', 'Prince Ali charity foundation', and finally 'Lila Rossi'. The only thing that came from the search was that Alya felt like a total idiot for not believing Marinette. And an Italian school site. She clicked it and had Google translate the page.

"STUDENT COMMITS SUICIDE AFTER SEVERE CASE OF BULLYING"

The name of the victim was never released, but schools in Italy were all warned about Lila Rossi. According to the article, this should be in her school files… Why did Mlle. Bustier not warn them? A knocking on the front door distracted Alya from her screen.

"EXCUSE ME?!" Alya's mother screamed, and Alya bolted to the door. Her mother rounded on her the second she opened the door.

"Alya! What is the meaning of this? You're being sued for misinformation and defamation and slander!" her mother continued, holding papers in the air and waving them about. Even still in her housecoat with messy hair, her mother struck a terrifying picture. Alya shrunk in on herself. There would be no sneaking out of this one.

Rose looked at her phone again, her eyes dim and her head bowed. Phrases like "I have never heard of this girl before", and "if this is the type of persons you surround yourself with", "Perhaps I was mistaken in trusting you", and most hurtful of all "This is the last time you will hear from me" jumped out of the email at her from Prince Ali. She had been so excited in her last message to him, telling him how Lila had told her of their adventure together, and Lila was giving her such good advice on her singing, dancing, songwriting and more. Her email had burst with praise from and for Lila, and wanting to hear Ali's version of events as well. Usually he emailed back within a few hours, but this time it had taken over a week to hear back from him. In the email he had sent, was an attachment to Alya's interview of Lila and a short message, saying only that he had never met Lila Rossi, and he'd thought Rose was smarter than to believe everything she heard, and if she kept that kind of company and believed such outrageous lies then perhaps he shouldn't have contact with her anymore, since she was seemingly too gullible and too naïve to take his friendship seriously. Tears dripped down her cheeks onto her phone. Why was Marinette always right about these things.

Jagged Stone watched the video that Marinette had sent to Penny on his big screen in his suite in Paris. He was not at all impressed with her obvious name dropping, made up stories of her greatness, and claiming he'd written a song about her. Marinette's short message of "HI Penny, I understand you and Jagged are crazy busy, but this interview ended up on my friend's website, and I just couldn't ever remember Jagged mentioning a pet other than Fang. I've even looked at some older interviews where he said he'd hatched and raised Fang when Jagged was only 15! I have no idea where this girl is getting her information, but I didn't want you to think that all of Paris had completely lost their minds and thought this heads up might put you in a better space to deal with weird questions if they ever come up. - Love, Marinette"

Jagged listened to the little chit on the screen claiming shevd received tinnitus from saving his cat. Geez! Did this girl have any idea the kind of implications this could have on his musical career?! The hell is wrong with kids today? And the girl interviewing her never even checked her sources? Poor Marinette, stuck with such complete idiots and liars. He really should try to talk Sabine into letting him take Marinette on tour with him again. This was getting ridiculous. He frowned even harder when Clara Nightingale was accused of "being jealous and stealing" sausage girls dance moves. He started feeling his blood boil slightly as he distantly heard Penny shouting into a phone for lawyers and interviews and "gosh darn it, anyone but some idiotic French Anchor". He honestly wasn't sure which of them was more pissed. Himself or his fiancée.

Clara Nightingale broke her phone on the far wall of her apartment. Two decades of dance and singing lessons, of poetry and practice and some little chit half her age thinks she can tell people that she stole it? Tears at the corners of her eyes, she was grateful Jagged had sent it to her with the assurance that Penny was already setting up interviews and lawyers. Thank Ladybug and all that is good for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. If she hadn't had the foresight to send this video to them, then there would have been absolute hell at their next public appearance. She glared at her broken phone on the floor. Steal her moves, did she?

At 4am in Metropolis city, Lois rolled over and sleepily answered her phone.

"Yes?"

"I know it's early, Lois, but I have a job for you in Paris…" came from the other end. Louis bolted up in bed.

"I'm listening"...

To be Continued

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whitehotharlots · 3 years

Text

“Literal violence” and the death of the heterodox

I teach college students. This means I assign young people things to read. If the students don’t do the reading--if they consider it too boring or uninteresting or difficult--they don’t do well in the class. I update my reading lists every semester, because what was interesting to students a few years or even months ago might not click with the students of today. Sometimes students love what they’re assigned. Sometimes they hate it. And it’s very hard to tell if a piece is or isn’t going to work until I’ve assigned it and gotten feedback.

As I’ve gotten older it has become more difficult to relate to young people. This is a completely normal part of life--nothing to be ashamed of or panic about, and I think almost everyone agrees that it’s more dignified to age gracefully than to try too hard to seem hip or with it. And so, over the past few years, as I’ve found it nearly impossible to find good, engaging writing with a broad appeal, I figured it was just because I, naturally, don’t relate to young people as much as I used to.

But lately--certainly since Trump’s ascendance, but perhaps going back as far as the early twenty-teens--mainstream writing has become incredibly predictable. Name any event and I can tell you almost word-for-word how it will be discussed in Jezebel vs. Teen Vogue vs. The Root vs The Intercept. And, increasingly, there’s been very little analytical divergence even between different publications. Everyone to the left of Fox News seems to agree upon just about everything, and all analysis has been boiled down to the repetition of one of a half-dozen or so aphorisms about privilege or validity. There is, in short, a proper and improper way to describe and understand anything that happens, and a writer is simply not going to get published if they have an improper understanding of the world.

This, I think, is the result of our normalizing hyperbolic overstatements of harm and the danger posed by anything short of absolute fealty to orthodox liberalism. If it’s “literal violence” to express mild criticism and incredulity, people aren’t going to do so. Editors don’t want to risk accusations of “platforming fascists,” and so there’s been very little pushback against fascism being recently re-defined as “anything that displeases upper middle class Democrats.”

Not long ago, it was commonplace on the left to celebrate the internet’s ability to allow writers to bypass the gatekeeping functions of old media. With mainstream liberalism needing a scapegoat to explain away the failures of the post-2008 Democratic party, however, the tone has shifted.

Case in point, Clio Chang’s rather chilling piece from the Columbia Journalism Review that seeks to problematize an open platform called Substack.. Substack allows writers to publish almost whatever they want, outside of editorial control, and then charge a subscription to readers. As more and more websites and print media are being hollowed out and sacrificed to the gods of speculative capital, a large number of big-name writers have embraced this new platform. It has also allowed writers to report on stories that are objectively true but inconvenient to the Democratic establishment, such as Matt Taibbi’s admirable work debunking Russiagate bullshit.

Chang begins with a lengthy description of Substack’s creation. She stresses that no one—not even the site’s founders and most successful writers—consider it an ideal replacement for the well-funded journalism of old. Chang focuses on one particular Substack newsletter called “Coronavirus News For Black Folks” which appears to be moderately successful (the piece cites 2000+ subscribers, and its founder is earning enough to have hired an assistant editor). Even after describing how the platform has given large grants and stipends to other newsletter run by women and people of color, the fact that this one particular newsletter isn’t as successful as others is held up as proof of the platform’s malignancy.

“Coronavirus News For Black Folks” may be somewhat successful, but Chang implies that it rightfully should be even more successful, and that something evil must be afoot. Simple arithmetic tells us that a specialized newsletter—one pitched specifically to a minority audience and only covering one particular issue—is going to have a smaller readership than a more general interest piece. Rather than accept this simple explanation, Chang instead embraces the liberal tendency to blame a lack of desired outcomes upon the presence of evil forces.

While Chang provides a thorough overview of the current, fucked state of media and journalism, at no point does she grapple with the role that mainstream liberalism has played in abetting the industry’s collapse. This is surprising, as a quick google search suggests she generally has solid, left-wing politics. This omission reveals a problematic gap in left analysis, and bodes poorly for any hope of leftism accomplishing any material goals while the movement remains aligned with more mainstream identity politics. Even as she cogently explains the destruction of media and the hellish future that lay before writers, Chang still embraces the mystical fatalism that liberals have been leaning on since 2010 or so, when it became clear that Obama wasn’t going to make good on any promises of hope or change. She blames our nation’s horrors not elite leadership, but on the presence of people and ideas she doesn’t like. In this case, Substack is problematic because many of its writers are white and male, and some are even conservative:

When [Andrew] Sullivan joined Substack, over the summer, he put the company’s positioning to the test: infamous for publishing excerpts from The Bell Curve, a book that promotes bigoted race “science,” Sullivan would now produce the Weekly Dish, a political newsletter. (Substack’s content guidelines draw a line at hate speech.) Sullivan’s Substack quickly rose to become the fifth-most-read among paid subscriptions—he claimed that his income had risen from less than $200,000 at New York magazine to $500,000. When I asked the founders if they thought his presence might discourage other writers from joining, they gave me a pat reply. “We’re not a media company,” Best said. “If somebody joins the company and expects us to have an editorial position and be rigorously enforcing some ideological line, this is probably not the company they wanted to join in the first place.”

I’m no fan of Andrew Sullivan, but the man has spent decades building and maintaining his audience. Of course he’s going to have a larger readership than someone who is just starting out. This isn’t a sign of anything nefarious. It’s basic commonsense. But there’s no other conclusions that can be reached: things are bad because people haven’t done enough to root out badness. Things are bad because evil exists. The only way we can attempt reform is to make the evil people go away. Anyone who says anything I don’t like is evil and their words are evil and they shouldn’t be published.

Chang doesn’t make any direct suggestions for remediating Substack, but her implications are clear: equity requires censorship and ideological conformity. Providing any platform for people who are disliked by the liberal mainstream, be they too far left or too indelicate with their conservative cruelty, equates to harming vulnerable people—even when those vulnerable people freely admit to making money off the same platform. There is no room for dissent. There is no possibility of reform. The boundaries of acceptable discourse must grow narrower and narrower. Only when we free our world from the presence of the bad ones will change magically arrive.

NOTE: I wrote a follow-up to this piece that I think does a better job of articulating the points I was trying to make.

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starrybethany · 4 years

Text

Clayton Keller: Part 2

Word count: 2168

I look over in surprise as my front door opens, unsure of who it would be this early in the morning after a long night out. Betsy steps into my apartment, sending me a red-lipped smile as she closes the door behind her and steps out of her heels.

“Um, what time did you leave the club and why do you look like you’re going back at, uh,” I glance over at the clock, “Nine o’clock in the morning. Also, why the hell did you just barge into my apartment without knocking? I have so many questions.”

She rolls her eyes, tugging her pencil skirt down as she walks over to my pantry, opening it and pulling out the package of Oreos.

“If you eat any of those you have to buy me a new package. Don’t you dare mess with my Oreos,” I warn her.

“I have to go grocery shopping today anyways,” she waves me off, pulling herself up onto the stool next to me. “Roger called an emergency meeting this morning so guess who had to show up at the office at seven A.M., hungover as hell?”

“And you came over to my apartment after, why exactly?” I question, scrolling through the article of ‘seven easy ways to make money online.’

“I wanted us to suffer together,” she shrugs, laughing and pointing at number five. “I like this one, you’d for sure earn a lot of money if you sold your nudes.”

I click back to go to my Google search, mumbling to myself, “I don’t even know why I’m looking this up, I already found a good way to make money.”

“You did?” Betsy asks, making my head snap towards her in shock. I totally forgot that she’s here. “What is it?”

“Um, I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this,” I admit, turning my body towards her. “Because you always joke about it so I don’t really know what you think about it.”

“What is it?” She raises her eyebrows, plucking an Oreo out of the package. “Are you becoming a prostitute?”

“Close…”

“A sugar baby?”

I don’t respond so Betsy looks up from admiring her Oreo, mouth dropping in shock when she sees the look on my face.

“Oh my god, Y/N, what? You’re a sugar baby now?”

“I guess that’s the technical term,” I confess.

“Wait, for who? Let me see the picture of the guy. I didn’t know you were into older men, damn, is he at least cute? Or good in bed, hopefully? Do you know, have you met him yet? Did you sign up for one of those websites or-””Oh.”

“What? What’s ‘oh?’” Betsy questions, looming over my shoulder to stare at my laptop screen.

I pulled up Instagram while she was spewing questions at me to show her a picture of Clayton, and I guess I haven’t checked the app since last night because there’s now a notification that he requested to follow me.

“He’s the guy you were dancing with and talking to at the bar last night,” Betsy gasps dramatically, hitting my arm. “He’s young! And cute! And an athlete so you know he’s hella rich.”

“Seven million a year,” I murmur.

“What?” Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head. “Girl, hook me up with a teammate. How the hell did you become this guy’s sugar baby? No offense.”

“Well he asked me on a date, I said no, he found out that I need money and offered it,” I recap.

“How do you not want to date this man?” She screeches, clicking on a picture of him and another hockey player.

“Stop yelling, this is why Debbie hates me.”

She ignores my words. “I mean, look at his necklace chain peeking out from his shirt, Y/N, he’s hot as hell.”

“I’m not looking to date right now, Betsy, I’m young, I want to party and let loose.”

She rolls her eyes and grumbles about it but doesn’t make many other protests. She watches as I confirm his follow request and follow him back.

“Does Tyler know?” She inquires.

“No, Tyler told me not to bother him the rest of the weekend because he’s getting dicked down,” I answer.

“Are you getting dicked down this weekend?”

“I don’t know, he hasn’t texted me at all.” I look over at my phone, like it would make a noise now that I made that comment. “He said that he was going to make up the contract and get back to me sometime this weekend.”

“Who does he play for? The Arizona Coyotes?” She squints at the screen, typing something in on her phone. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them. Hannah fucked one of the married guys on this team while his wife was in the kitchen.”

“That’s fucked up,” I mumble, scrolling through his profile.

“Yeah. Okay, so they have a game against the Columbus Blue Jackets today, but that’s at seven so he should be getting back to you soon.” She picks my phone up, staring at my lock screen of us at a wild party a couple of weeks ago. “I’ll figure this out, Y/N, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried at all,” I raise my eyebrows at her, closing my laptop and grabbing my phone as I make my way to the couch. “In fact, I think I may take a little nap if you don’t mind.”

“Okay I added the team on snapchat,” she says, “And they’re in practice right now. So he should text you after practice.”

“Hey, can you shut up if you’re going to be here a while?”

“Actually, Brandon just send me a booty call. So I’m going to head out.”

“Close the door on your way out!” I holler after her.

Clayton: Hey Y/N, it’s Clayton

I can’t help but bite back a smile. I mean, obviously, we exchanged numbers and I have him saved in my contacts, who else would it be?

Y/N: Hi Clayton

Clayton: I had the time today to create the contract if you would like to come over and sign it

Y/N: Send me your address

He shares his location with me and I text him that I’ll be there in a half an hour. It’s all a part of my plan to make him wait. Since this is the first time that we’re hooking up I want to look somewhat presentable, so I check to make sure I’m wearing matching lingerie.

I pull a plain T-shirt and a nice pair of skinny jeans that shows off my ass, putting on minimal makeup and slipping my shoes on.

When I show up to the address Clayton sent me I’m just about on time.

Clayton opens the door with a slight smile on his lip, stepping to the side and wordlessly motioning me into his house.

“Nice place you got here,” I compliment, stepping in and looking around the large living area.

“Yeah, I share it with one of the guys on the team,” he tells me, closing the front door and making his way to what I assume is the kitchen.

I raise my eyebrows, following him. “So your teammate will hear us fucking?”

He laughs. “He’s barely home, it’s fine. So here’s the contract.”

I step forward to read over the rules.

Once a week Clayton will make a payment to Y/N of $500 cash.

The weekly payment is excluding the purchase of clothes, dinners, vacations, etc.

In return Y/N will do romantic things (such as have sex, go on dates, etc.) with Clayton.

Y/N will listen to Clayton’s demands.

The encounters will take place at both parties' places of living.

“I’m not listening to all of your demands,” I say aloud, giving him a look. “There are some things that I just will not do.”

He sighs but edits the rule to say ‘to a certain extent.’

“Also, I don’t want you sleeping over at my apartment. We can have sex there, yeah, but you can’t sleep over,” I command.

“Why not?”

“Because my friends tend to break into my apartment early in the morning and if you met them you would be scared away,” I respond. He laughs and I give him an offended look. “I’m serious!”

“Okay, fine,” he sighs but writes the new rule down.

We look over the contract together, confirming that it’s what both of us want.

“So are we doing this?” I question, looking over at him.

He gives me an expression of surprise. “Right now?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “What’s a better time to start than right now?”

He shrugs. “Alright.” And before I can even react, tugs his T-shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor.

“Clayton,” I giggle nervously, shy for probably the first time in my life. I can’t stop my eyes from staring at his abs. Wow, how is it fair for one man to be so perfect? He’s rich, he’s athletic, he’s hot- he’s probably smart, too.

I snap out of my thoughts, forcing my eyes to move up to his face. He’s already smirking by the time we make eye contact and I force the eye roll that’s begging to come out down.

“Come here,” he orders, his voice suddenly hushed.

I don’t even have to tell my feet to move, they push me forward until my chest is pressed against his. His large hands grip my hips and I feel the need to hold my breath, looking up into his shimmering green eyes.

His head moves down slowly and I hold back from pushing mine forward, instantly connecting our lips. Soon, our lips connect and the wait was worth it.

I feel like all of the oxygen is getting sucked out of my lungs- like I could kiss Clayton forever and it still wouldn’t be enough. Our lips glide slowly against one another as my hands place themselves on his chest, blatantly feeling him up.

He pushes me gently into the kitchen counter and I take the hint, jumping up on it without disconnecting our lips. My arms move to wind themselves around his neck, pulling him in as close as he can get between my legs as his hands slide to my ass, gripping it and squeezing it.

My lips move from his to place soft kisses down his cheek and jaw to his neck, sucking a hickey right below his ear. He moans at the action, lifting me up with ease.

“What are you doing?” I squeak out, not expecting to be picked up.

“Taking you to my bedroom so we can finally do this.”

I take deep breaths, trying to get my breathing back on pace after the adventure of a night I’ve just had. We spent two hours in between the sheets when Clayton, the most in shape boy I’ve ever slept with, finally decided to call it a night.

I wanted to whine and beg for more but at the same time I needed a break myself.

Once my breathing is back to normal I swing my feet over the side of the bed, wincing at the ache in my lower half, but force myself to stand up. I slowly search the room for my panties, pulling them on before Clayton’s voice causes me to jump in surprise.

“Where are you going?” He questions.

I look up to see him watching me from the entrance to his walk-in-closet. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and I stop myself from asking him to bang me against the doorframe.

“Back to my apartment,” I answer, hooking my bra on.

“No,” he shakes his head.

“No?”

“You’re staying the night. You have to stay the night.” His tone makes it sound like it’s a demand.

“No I don’t,” I disagree.

“Rule four,” he points out.

Rule four. Y/N will listen to Clayton’s demands.

I know I have a right to object, but I don’t think sleeping over counts as something that goes too far over the line. Plus, this encounter paid my rent for this month and it got me laid, so I feel obligated to stay and please him.

I give him a look but push past him to enter his closet, ignoring the sparks that shoot through my arm at the contact of our shoulders and the cute chuckle that he lets out.

I pull one of his T-shirts on as I head back to his king sized bed, climbing in and scrolling through Instagram on my phone.

I don’t know how long it takes but soon I feel another body climb into the bed behind me, arms winding around my torso and resting on my stomach as I’m pulled into another person.

Clayton watches me scroll through my feed for a while before I turn my phone off, setting it on the bedside table.

We don’t talk before we fall asleep.

#Clayton keller imagine #NHL imagines #nhl player x reader #Clayton keller one shot #Clayton keller fanfic

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