Eliminated Part 2 (NSFW)

FanFic Friday Week 4 (Slightly Late) @rebelwrites​

Clay Spenser x Reader (Reader is Full Metal’s sister)

Let me know if you wanna be tagged when I post.

You stare at the invitation with mild contempt. It was overly shiny and sparkly, and covered in glitter. It was just plain gaudy. The amount of pink included should be outlawed. You hated this time of your 20’s. Everyone you knew was either getting married, buying houses, or having babies. Yet, you were still single. You chose your career, over a relationship. Well, according to your ex, that’s what happened.

In reality, you grew apart and lived different lives while struggling to make things work. In the end, they hadn’t worked out, and the problem had to be eliminated.

That had been a year ago. Now you were thirty years old, single, and too focused on your career to even meet a guy outside the office. And the dating world had gone digital in the last decade, leaving you completely out of the loop on where to even begin. The idea of meeting a guy from the internet left you unsettled and turned off.

You sigh and toss the envelope on the bar in front of you and reach for your drink.

Your phone chirps and you reach for it as someone sits in the seat next to you at the bar. Annoyed, you look up from your phone to give whoever it was that decided they needed to sit so close to you in an empty bar, a piece of your mind, only to find the blond haired and blue-eyed charmer known as Clay Spenser.

“Spenser,” you acknowledge.

He leans forward on the bar and motions for the bartender. He orders a beer and then snatches up the invitation. “Holy pinkness,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes as you skim over the email you just received from a client.

“Always working?” Clay asks.

You glance up from your phone and realize you’re being rude. Sighing, you turn off the screen and set your phone down. “Usually,” you grumble in response.

Clay’s smile is easy, but you can see the way he’s watching you, like he’s reading your mood. “Bad day?” he asks.

“Yes… no… I don’t know.” You sigh and take a pull off your glass.

Clay chuckles again. “I’ve never known you to not have an answer.”

You shake your head and look down at your phone as a text message chirps through. You can feel Clay’s eyes on you, like they usually are, but you ignore him, like you usually do. Ever since that night at your brother’s house, when your ex had been eliminated, things had gotten interesting between the two of you.

The flirting was fun. But that’s all it was. Fun, right? He worked with you brother, he was younger than you, if only by a couple years, but he felt… wholesome. He wasn’t tainted like you were.

Before you can answer the string of text messages that came thru, your phone rings. When Harvey’s face pops up the screen you frown and debate answering it. You were done with him for the day. You groan and answer the facetime call. “Hey.”

Harvey’s smirk is annoying as he looks you over.

You rolled your eyes, knowing what he saw. White pinstripe halter stop that buttoned down the middle and showed ample cleavage but stayed professional. The black matching suit coat was off and draped around the back of the bar stool, so your vibrant black and watercolor tattoos that covered both arms were on display and contrasted against your professional attire.

“You need something?” you raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for his sardonic comments to start rolling in.

“Yeah, for you to get your head out of your ass. Let me guess, you’re at some dive bar, drink in hand, wallowing self-pity,” Harvey shoots at you as he levels you with a typical Specter head tilt.

You narrow your eyes at him as Clay chuckles.

“Boo hoo, your last college sorority sister is getting married. What do you care? You haven’t talked to the chick in two years. Put your big girl panties on and man up. I need you to meet a client.”

You pick up your drink and stare Harvey down as you toss back the remnants of the straight whiskey.

Harvey smirks, “We both know you can handle your liquor. So why don’t you take that SEAL team hot shot you got eating out of the palm of your hand and go meet the client. I’ll text you the address. It’s in Rochester.”

“Harvey, that’s an hour away and it’s a shitty neighborhood,” you shoot back him.

Harvey smirks. “Good thing you’ll have a bodyguard. Oh, and another thing. Get laid.” He hangs up the phone.

You let out a frustrated growl and slam the phone on the bar top.

Clay turns his big body towards you and smirks. “Need a bodyguard?”

You glare at him and grab your keys off the bar. You slide off the barstool and grab your black pinstripe jacket off the back. You take your time pulling it on. Clay’s eyes are on you. Once things are buttoned in place, your black jacket matching your black pants, you look up to meet Clay’s gaze and raise an eyebrow at him.

He smirks and lets his gaze wander over your body. He no longer hides his blatant attraction for you, and while he’s yet to act on it, he’s stared in many of your fantasy’s. How’d he get you off with those deft fingers. That scruffy beard adding pleasure as he ran kisses down your body.

His smirk widens, as if he can read your dirty thoughts. You keep your face indifferent though. You play it off with a roll of your eyes.

“I’ll drive,” he comments and holds out his hand.

You stare at those fingers before you think fuck it and hand over the keys to your Range Rover. You ignore him and turn toward the exist.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.

Confused you glance at him over your shoulder and groan when he’s holding up the pink wedding invitation. He laughs and looks at it. “It’s pretty horrible.”

“She an old sorority sister,” you sigh with a shrug. “She’s…bubbly.”

“I can’t believe you were ever in a sorority,” Clay sniggers. “Not Miss tattooed, ‘Punk Rock Princess over here.’ Miss, ‘I’ll eliminate any threats to my person.’”

You roll again and turn toward the door. “Bitch please,” you shook back at him. “I’m a God Damn Queen.”

~*~

“That was not what I was expecting,” Clay murmured when he pulled in your brother’s driveway, several hours later.

You glance over at him. He’d been quiet the entire drive back from the client’s house. “My job isn’t always mergers and acquisitions,” you state, knowing where his head was at. “Sure, they pay the bills and I’m damn good at it. But this, is why I became a lawyer. People like Carl Terron. People who were taken advantage of and used and degraded, and in the end lost everything. This case could be the case that changes laws and sets precedents, so that something like what happed to Terron, doesn’t happen to anyone else again. This case could help save lives.”

Clay turned to you during your passionate speech and watched you. When you stopped speaking, he reached out with his large hand and cupped the side of your face.

You freeze. For as much the two of you had been flirting for the past year, he’d never made a move before. His blazing blue eyes bore into yours. His intensity stirs something deep inside you. You wait, watching him, like a deer in the headlights.

His fingers curl around the back of your head as his calloused thumb caresses your cheek.

“Clay,” you say, not really sure why you’re stopping this.

He drops his hand almost instantly and you immediately miss the warmth of his palm. Pain flashes across his eyes, or regret maybe? “I’m sorry,” he sighs, and looks out the front window. “I know you’re still dealing with last year. I shouldn’t have come on so strong.”

“It’s not that,” you sigh, playing with the several rings on your fingers.

“Then what is it?” Clay asks, looking over at you, hurt still evident in his eyes.

His pain strikes you and you reach out and take his hand in yours. “I’m being stupid.” You play with those deft fingers in yours, and a blush tints your cheeks as you think of all your fantasies that those fingers played a staring role in.

“That’s a lie. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” Clay says and squeezes your fingers between his. “What’s going on with you today?”

You look up, startled, and find yourself staring into his endless baby blues. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused.

“I mean, you’re not yourself. Yeah, at client’s house you put on a good show, but before that, at the bar… now? What’s going on with you?” His gaze is piercing, and you find yourself at a loss for words.

You open your mouth, trying to find the words, when a knock on the window behind Clay startles you. “Shit!” you shriek and jump a mile out of your seat.

Clay turns, and you see your brother looming through the driver’s side window, flashlight shining in on you. You reach across the center console and lean over Clay’s big body and press the button for the window. “What the fuck?” you yell at Scott.

“What the fuck you doin out here?” Metal’s voice is deep and commanding.

“Sitting in the fuckin car, what’s it look like we’re doing? Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck you out here for?” Your anger kicks up.

“It’s my house. I’m allowed to wonder why my baby sister is sitting in the dark in her car late at night. Where the fuck ya been? It’s past midnight,” Metal demands.

Pissed, you climb over the center console and get right into Clay’s lap. “Shit,” he groans and holds his arms out in surrender as you climb fully into his lap.

You ignore him as you settle onto his powerful thighs and get in your brother’s face through the window. “Why the fuck is it any of your business where the fuck I’ve been? Cut the shit Scott. I’m thirty fucking years old. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, and you can fuck off,” you shout at him.

Scott laughs and you roll your eyes. “Spenser though, really?”

“Fuck yeah, and fuck you,” you shout back him, a smirk on your face.

“Fuck you,” Scott grumbles and heads for the house.

When Scott was gone, you let out a chuckle and lean into Clay. You find yourself tucked against him, your head on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. “Hold me,” you murmur into his ear.

His arms come around you in a tight embrace and cradles you against his warm body. You’re curled against his chest and for the first time in who knew how many years, you finally felt safe. He is solid and broad and strong, and you relish the feeling of being in his arms.

You take a deep breath, breathing in his scent and close your eyes. He smells like home.

“Y/n, what was that about?” Clay asks softly.

You shake your head, not wanting to break the moment. He’s so warm, so safe.

Clay’s large hand slides up your back and his fingers card through your hair.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” you ask, before he can say anything.

Clay stills, his hand fisted in your hair. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Before… you had asked me what was going on with me today,” you murmur into his neck, finding it easier to speak without looking at him.

His hand not fisted into your chignon, rubs idle circles on your back. Calming… soothing. “Does this have to do with your ex?” he asks.

You nod slowly. “He was friends with all my friends in college. We met our freshman year. We had all the same friends. So that Wedding invitation just brought up a bunch of old memories, both good and bad,” you sigh.

Clay’s fingers massage your scalp as he holds you tight against him. “No, I don’t think you’re a bad person,” he finally answers. “I think you’re strong and fierce and aren’t afraid to stand up for yourself. You can take care of yourself and others and eliminate any problems that comes your way.”

You find yourself smiling against his neck. You pull back to look him in the eyes. There’s a seriousness in his blazing blue eyes that you hadn’t seen before. It makes you pause and take him in, really take him in. For all the flirting and banter the two of you had thrown back and forth for the past year, you hadn’t really stopped to consider how fucking real he was.

There was a raw honesty in those baby blues that grasped at your heartstrings and pulled. What you had mistaken as wholesome, was in actuality, genuine and real. You were surrounded by fake people on the daily, but Clay Spenser, was as real as they came.

You reach up and run your fingers through his scruffy beard. It was softer than you expect. His eyes are on your face, watching your every move. It’s clear by his cautious gaze, he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

So, you do. You lean forward, lacing your fingers through his beard and pull his mouth down to yours at the same time. His fingers tighten in your hair, and you gasp as he pulls your hair so deliciously. He takes advantage of your gasp and his tongue sweeps in. Your eyes drift close as the kiss turns more passionate.

You shift against him and realize your pencil skirt is ridiculous and not cooperating. You groan when he nibbles on your bottom lip. You try to pull away, but he’s got a firm grip in your hair, so you whimper against his lips.

His chuckle has your eyes opening. His eyes are watching you while he bites down just a bit harder. His hand slides up your thigh and under your pencil skirt with ease. You whimper again and let your eyes fall close. He releases your lip, so you use his beard to pull his mouth back to yours. “Uh uh, baby,” he murmurs against your lips.

You snap open your eyes again, and he’s smirking down at you. “Bu-”

“Shh,” he whispers. “Trust me?”

You gasp slightly and your eyes go wide. The earnestness in his gaze has you nodding though. It’s reluctant and slow, and Clay seems to get that. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he whispers, “Close your eyes.”

And you do. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and let him take care of you.

His hands work magic on your body. One slides down and manages to undo the clasp and zipper at the back of your pencil skirt while his other hand slides up your thigh to your core and he chuckles when he finds the lack of panties. “Naughty, naughty,” he murmurs.

You smirk and place an open-mouthed kiss to the column of his neck.

The sharp pinch to your inner thigh has you jumping and groaning. “None of that,” he orders, his voice deep.

You let out a pathetic whimper and give into him. His deft finger’s part your folds and he chuckles again, “So wet for me, baby.”

He takes his time sliding one long and thick finger all the way to the knuckle and you part your thighs as much as the now unzipped pencil skirt will allow. He slides in a second finger, and you groan. God his fingers are thick. God damn, do they feel good.

His thumb circles your clit almost teasingly and you thrust your hips up to try and get some friction from it. The pinch to your nipple comes as a surprise and you let out a low groan. “Be good.” Clay commands, softly.

You run your hand through his beard and slide it to the back of his head, curling your fingers in his curls.

His pace is brutal and you’re barely holding on when his mouth covers yours and he says, “Come for me,” against your lips.

You shatter into a million pieces in the front seat of your Range Rover. “Good girl,” Clay’s voice is rough and deep and has you opening your eyes. He watching you with a reverent smile on his lips.

You grin and use his beard to pull his mouth to yours again. His fingers in your cunt swirl again and let out a low groan. “Wanna come inside?” you ask.

He chuckles and swirls his fingers again. “I thought I already was.”

You close your eyes and let out a little whimper. “The house Clay.”

“Your brother gonna kill me?”

“Nah, I’ll deal with Scott.”

“Gonna eliminate him?”

“I’m gonna eliminate you if you don’t finish what you started.” His rich laugh puts a smile on your face, and you have a thought. “Hey, you wanna go to a wedding with me?”

“Do I have to wear a tie?”

Your eyes snap open to take in his goofy face and grin. “Only if you wanna use it to tie me up later,” you smirk at him.

He grins wickedly and curls his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge again.

Good Omens AU Part Four

It’s back. Original is here

Wilbur didn't expect to care about Tommy, but he accepted it pretty quickly.

---------

There wasn't much to bring with him the day he moved to town. After all, it wasn't like he'd actually need to renovate the house. 

He stood on the curb in front of the remnants of the house that burned down a decade ago, suitcase in hand. A bit of a fixer-upper, but I can work with this. 

After checking to make sure there weren't any nosy neighbors watching, he reached out to the debris. 

The charred wood and scattered bricks twitched for a few seconds, before assuming the appearance of a lovely home. 

A doorbell, a porch, windows in a shade of cobalt blue, and above all else the distinct feeling that Wilbur's house (and by extension, Wilbur) had been around on the block for ages.

Even if the neighbors didn't know who he was or what he did, they would have to struggle to think of him as a stranger. 

And they had their own petty human lives, which didn't contain the time or energy to waste worrying about a charming new addition to the neighborhood.

Wilbur strolled into his perfectly average house, plans whirring in his head.

Showtime.

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

There were quite a few houses on the block, but Wilbur was only focusing on a group of three.

House #1: Tommy's home, three houses away. A simple house that contained the most important person in the world and his intimidating dad.

House #2: That Weird Guy's house, two houses away. Wilbur had no idea who That Weird Guy was, but he was apparently close friends with Tommy's dad, and even more intimidating. Wilbur wasn't sure why the kid was surrounded by people that made him worry for his life despite being immortal.

House #3: Schlatt's house, sadly next door. He didn't need additional proof that god hated him, but apparently they'd wanted to make it even clearer.

A week or so after he'd gotten settled into his new home, Wilbur decided to go outside to get a better look at the streetlamps and the night sky while trying to find his plan. 

He was feeling surprisingly positive about the whole thing. Soon, he'd be changing the fate of the world.

If this didn't get him remembered after it all, nothing else would.

A hacking cough came from the porch next door, reminding him that he wasn't the only supernatural being on the block. Wilbur took a breath, trying to be civil. 

Don't get distracted from the most important mission of your life because you want to murder a goat. Just walk on by. Just keep walking, and don't acknowledge his existence. You don't know him. 

However, his unwanted neighbor had no qualms about acknowledging Wilbur's existence, and he'd only taken a couple of steps onto the street before Schlatt called out to him. 

"Well, would you look at that: You’re finally out of the house! This is more of a miracle than anything I’ve done.". 

Wilbur turned around, counting down the seconds until he could not be where he was, having this conversation.

"Schlatt, we're supposed to be undercover."

"Oh, my bad. Guess these random humans will never get to know our big secrets.". Schlatt raised his voice slightly, yelling to the deserted cul-de-sac.

"Would be a shame if someone found out that guy over there is a demon! Yeah, the jerk with the beanie's from Hell, and I'm an angel, and we're only pretending to be human because (get this) one of the little tykes on your block is actually the antichrist!". 

Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose. Was it possible to get headaches when his mind was only semi-corporeal?

"Could you kindly shut the fuck up?"

"Nope.". I mean, that's kind of on me for phrasing it as a question.

Schlatt took a break from the Annoying Wilbur Show (airs all times that he has the poor idea to go outside) to dig into more of his tomato sauce and meat wraps. 

He raised the snack like it was a holy relic. Wilbur supposed that if Schlatt really wanted to, he could make it into one.

"These are Hot Pockets. I was actually planning on taking a few over to you-know-who's family as a housewarming gift, build up good favor, you know?". Suddenly, the plan clicked in Wilbur's head. He tried to keep his face neutral and concerned, with no hint of a smirk.

"Hot Pockets? I mean, are you sure?"

"What's wrong with Hot Pockets? And choose your next words carefully.". Wilbur leaned against a streetlamp, sighing in assumed pity.

"There's nothing wrong with Hot Pockets per se. They're fine, I guess.". Schlatt sputtered, offended beyond belief.

"Fine? Fine? You see before you the one thing that has made me reconsider starting the apocalypse, and you're like "eh. fine". Fuck you and your family and whatever you call taste buds. Fine? I'd tell you to go to hell, but that doesn't work, so go to New Jersey you son of a-". 

This continued on for a while.

Wilbur nodded along to the tirade, maintaining a poker face. All the while, he telekinetically inched the tray of wrapped (?) Hot Pockets towards him. 

The tray crept ever closer, past Schlatt's lawn chair, past Schlatt's nightmarish garden gnomes, past the freshly dug earth that definitely had a body buried under it, until it was finally within reach.

Without listening to another word, Wilbur grabbed the Hot Pockets and ran for the hills, easily outrunning the outraged angel. 

Sorry, Schlatt, but you're going to have to try harder to win this game.

He sprinted to House #1 and rang the doorbell, trying to look non-suspicious. After about a minute, he got an answer from the selected father (Phil, his name was Phil). 

Wilbur smiled brightly and walked into the house.

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

The initial meeting went great, putting the whole "getting threatened with a knife" thing aside. 

Phil seemed to appreciate the Hot Pockets and company, and Wilbur could confidently guess that he'd managed to secure a place in helping him out in the future. 

Besides being good for the plan in general, he'd liked spending time around Phil and Tommy. Wilbur didn't get to talk to people a lot, and when he did it was normally trying to scam them out of their soul. 

So, this was a welcome break. 

And his heart definitely hadn't been warmed when Tommy had fallen asleep to the sound of his guitar. Nope. Absolutely none of that.

Phil evidently didn't see child raising as his first priority, and Wilbur found more chances to volunteer to watch his kid than he expected. 

At times, he felt like he was just as much of a parent to Tommy as Phil, if not more. 

Which wasn't to say that he felt any bitterness about that. Quite the contrary. Watching after Tommy was one of the best parts of his day. 

Despite being a baby, the kid already had so much personality, and his little face would light up whenever Wilbur went home to House #1.

When Wilbur held the baby in his arms, he really did feel like a guardian. 

The phrase "guardian angel" had stung, but he did want to shield Tommy from harm or becoming anything like him when he grew up.

Still, it's not like his heart was at all warmed when he held Tommy in his arms-Oh, screw it. His heart was warmed. He happened to care about the adorable baby that he spent a lot of time with. Go figure. 

Caring wasn't interfering with his job as a protector, informant for Hell, and general influencer of evil. So, there was no purpose in denying it.

Besides the unexpected emotional attachment, nothing really changed about the general routine.

His days consisted of maintaining the glamours around his house, reading his books, writing (it turns out that an approaching Armageddon worked wonders for deadline motivation), staring at the ceiling and wondering why God had forsaken him, looking after Tommy, talking with Phil (and on occasion, That Weird Guy), giving the Lords of Hell their required project updates, and, occasionally, almost getting murdered.

One key example of the "almost getting murdered" thing happened when Tommy was around two years old.

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

He'd just gotten back from another meeting with the Lords (yes, Tommy is still alive. no, he isn't evil yet, seeing as he's two years old. no, that wasn't sarcasm. no, I'd actually prefer for you to not kill me for my insolence. Same old stuff.). 

It was a cold yet sunny winter afternoon when Wilbur stepped out of the office building and back into the mortal world. As he made his way towards the bus station, his phone rang.

The call was from Phil, and he moved away from the middle of the sidewalk to take it, leaning against the brick wall of a building next to an alleyway.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Will, a job came up tonight without much notice. Would you be able to watch Tommy around 7-ish?"

"Sure, I can do that."

"Great, you're a lifesaver. One last thing: If Techno decides to question you about your motives and backstory, don't take it personally, he's just in one of those suspicious phases lately. Okay?". 

Wilbur would have loved to agree, nonchalantly laugh it off, and quickly go over his backstory in his head again. 

Unfortunately for him, there was a weapon aimed at him from the alleyway.

It would be a funny sight to the passerby to see a normal-seeming person cower in the face of a spray bottle. 

Of course, the average passerby wasn't a demon. 

9 times out of 10, when a spray bottle was pointed at a demon, the spray bottle was full of holy water and the demon was in for a bad time.

Wilbur stood there, frozen. The alleyway was shady, and he couldn't quite make out who was aiming the bottle at him. 

Phil's voice echoed out of his phone.

"Will? Are you still there?". Wilbur tried to keep his voice steady, and he quickly responded.

"I'm here. I got it. I'll be ho-I'll be back soon. There is no need to call me back. Goodbye."

"What's that supposed to mean?". He tapped the screen, ending the call. Please, don't have me die right now. It would be annoying, not to mention narratively unsatisfying.

He looked into the alleyway, addressing whoever had seen fit to threaten him today.

"Hi there. I'm guessing that spray bottle isn't full of Sprite.". 

A man in a blue onesie (Sonic the Hedgehog cosplay?) emerged from the shadows.

"Yep. I mean, it technically was Sprite until it went through the blessing process, but it's a lot holier now.". Wilbur blinked a few times in confusion.

"Connor?"

"Hey."

"What's with the outfit? Why are you threatening me in an alley? What's with the outfit?"

"Don't mock the outfit, I have it on good faith that this is the height of human fashion."

"Let me guess. Schlatt told you that.". 

The onesie-clad angel stood there, realizing that taking the advice of that particular coworker probably wasn't the smartest decision he'd ever made. Eventually, he shrugged it off.

"Well, I feel resplendent, so this is a win in my book.". Wilbur tapped the bricks on the wall, almost playing a rhythm.

"Listen, Connor, if you were just going to kill me with that thing you would have already pulled the trigger. Why are you here?". Connor looked a little sheepish about the whole thing.

"The higher-ups thought that I should make you an offer you can't refuse. Basically, some intern had the bright idea that we should have Hell's guardian either agree to spy for us or die."

"You're suggesting that I become a double agent?"

"Yeah. Or die, whichever is your preference."

"I think your higher-ups underestimate my importance here. Killing me won't slow our side down by much. They'll just send another guy, and you'll have to spend more time in unpleasant alleyways."

"And someday they'll send a guy who takes our offer. Trust me, we've been planning this ever since we realized Schlatt was going to be useless down there.". Wilbur thought about it. 

Killing god obviously matters more than prolonging my life. And I'm a good actor, but I don't have enough time in my life to be a triple agent.

"Come on, Connor. I thought you were one of the decent ones.". Connor half-heartedly kicked at a puddle. 

His face was reluctant, but he still aimed the spray bottle with precision.

"Please tell me you're going to accept the offer?"

"You've known me for years. What do you think?"

"From what Schlatt has told me, you're too stubborn for your own good.". Wilbur laughed at that.

"Yeah. So the real question is: Can you murder me, Connor?". Connor shuffled, and the spray bottle wavered. Wilbur continued talking.

"I'm actually interested to see what you do next. You've got my full attention.". The two of them stood there, completely still. Finally, Connor pointed the spray bottle away from Wilbur and aimed for the sky.

"You've kind of made this whole thing weird, man. So, I'll give you a 15-second head start.".

Wilbur didn't waste time thanking him, and he sprinted away. 

He fled through shadows and smoke, barely remembering to keep some trace of a physical body. He scrambled his way towards the bus station, reaching the glass doors. 

However, that was where his luck ran out.

"Sorry, Wilbur. That's the power of the Sonic onesie: I'm really fast.". 

I'm going to need to invest in a Sonic onesie. Except I can't, because I'm about to be shot. Fuck, those are terrible last thoughts. 

Out of desperation, he grabbed the lid of the spray bottle and twisted it off, before punching Connor in the gut. The angel doubled over, and the holy water spilled out of the bottle. 

Wilbur scrambled away from the spill, trying to keep from making contact.

He ran through the doors and into the bus station. 

Some of the holy water had gotten on his coat, and he awkwardly shrugged it off in a corner, which was a shame. He'd really liked the aesthetic of having a trench coat. Sure, he could glamour another one in a few seconds, but it wouldn't feel the same. 

Connor walked towards him, and Wilbur glared.

"You made me lose my trench coat!"

"Again, sorry about all of this, it was just business.". Connor held out his arm in an almost peaceful gesture. 

And Wilbur, tired and overconfident, made the first stupid decision for the day. He took the peace offering and took Connor's hand.

The white-hot pain nearly knocked him to the ground. 

There had been less than a drop of holy water on his hand, but it was more than enough to stop Wilbur from breathing for a few minutes. 

In and of itself, that was fine. He didn't need to breathe to stay alive. All that he had to do was stay away from holy things, what had he done. 

In the background, Connor was frantically apologizing and claiming that he "didn't mean to do that". Wilbur wondered distantly why he'd still be lying to him.

And here I was thinking that there were one or two decent angels. How laughable. 

No one's decent 14 years from Armageddon. Not humans, not angels, and not me.

Wilbur shoved Connor away and walked up to the ticket counter. 

His hands were shaking and his words all over the place, but somehow he managed to convey that he wanted to take a bus back to town and pay for it. 

If I can get back to my house, I should be okay. Or, at the very least, not dead.

The bus ride was tricky. For one, part of the route was along Fundy's cursed highway (one of the demon’s more useless inventions), so things were significantly slowed down. 

Also, everything felt far away and cold, and it was a bit difficult to keep focus on which stop was his.

It took far too much time to reach town, and even more to make his way back to his street.

On auto-pilot, he ended up at House #1 first, panicking slightly when neither Tommy nor Phil was inside.

Trying to keep calm, he checked House #2, and thankfully That Weird Guy (he knew his name was Technoblade, but that was a ridiculous name, and he'd been thinking of him as That Weird Guy for so long that it was hard to stop) was keeping watch over Tommy. Relief washed over him.

I don't know what I'd do if he got hurt. 

That Weird Guy seemed fine with taking care of Tommy for a little longer, which Wilbur was secretly grateful for. 

He also seemed convinced that Wilbur was going to pass out, which was hilarious, seeing as Wilbur didn't need to sleep or breathe unless he wanted to. 

After a brief moment of rest in a bush, he made his way to his house.

He tried to unlock the door, but his hands were trembling too much to use the key, and he was seeing two locks instead of one, and he slowly slid to the ground.

Is this actually how it's happening? 

I know I'm not long for this world, but I always expected a better exit. Something with fanfare and sacrifice and meaning. 

Our so-called "immortality" is a conditional one. The instant we dare to touch something holy, it all goes, and there's no soul or afterlife for us castaways.

I wish I was human.

Wilbur struggled to look up at the sky. 

It was still daytime, and the stars weren't out yet. That was a shame, he'd worked hard on those. He shivered.

I know we're doomed to fail come Doomsday. I know that there's no way out of Your ineffable plan. But I'm trying to make directorial choices with your script, trying to make a good story. This is a terrible ending.

It was quiet. That was probably for the best.

Do I deserve it?

Of course I do.

But I didn't always, and you're not blameless either.

I hope that Tommy's too young to remember me.

The world was cold, but peacefully quiet, and the pain was mostly beyond his reach. This wasn't bad, all things considered. Wilbur's eyes closed.

A few minutes later, he was rudely awakened by Phil shaking him.

"Are you okay? I mean, obviously you’re not, but can you stand?". He opened one eye.

"I'm fine.". Phil laughed at that. Part of Wilbur considered laughing along, while what was left of his common sense informed him that Phil sounded like he was laughing out of shock.

"Fine? Will, there were a few seconds where I thought you were dead!"

"Well, as you can see, I'm not. If you could just unlock the door, that would be great.". The door unlocked behind him. 

He struggled to rise to his feet, and Phil caught his arm, supporting him.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Minor business conflict."

"There is a hole in your hand.”

"That happens at my job sometimes. I'm in the mafia."

"Have you considered other career options?"

"The insurance benefits are too good.". Phil set Wilbur down on a couch and left the room. As was to be expected.

Wilbur reached under the couch cushions to grab a hidden cigarette lighter. 

He had no intention of smoking while bleeding out, obviously. 

The cigarette lighter had been modified slightly, another one of Fundy's inventions. 

The fire of the lighter was no regular thing, but rather hellfire. Hopefully, that would be enough of a cure.

The warmth of the hellfire slowly and painfully chipped away at the ice and purity, and he took a few seconds to internally mock god. 

Maybe a bit of a hubris-related thing to do, but Wilbur was glad to live another day, and that meant spite.

For whatever reason, Phil stuck around to make sure he was okay. 

Wilbur hadn't quite expected that. 

He wasn't in the best state, but Phil seemed to believe that it was better for him to be talking than unconscious. 

So, in a half-delirious state, he rambled about mercy, and free will, and falling.

And when he whispered that he missed flying, he could have sworn that Phil agreed.

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

Anyway, aside from dramatic moments like those, life was okay.

Wilbur was there for every milestone in Tommy's life, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He was there for his first few words when Tommy was a baby (the first word was "kaboom", but the second was "Wilby").

He was there for his first steps, and once Tommy learned to walk there was no stopping him from running everywhere.

He was there for preschool graduations and first days of kindergarten and beyond.

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

Of course, Wilbur's job was to teach the kid to want to kill god, and he tried to do that too. 

From the moment Tommy learned how to read, Wilbur kept trying to get him to read Paradise Lost. Sadly, he was six and Milton wasn't to his taste at the moment. 

Wilbur wasn't sure how well he did on that front, but he tried. 

Either way, he wasn't sure if he raised a suitably evil kid, but he raised a good one. 

Not good as in morally, obviously. Tommy was still a rascal at times, but he was the rascal that Wilbur cared about.

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

Wilbur was the one to teach him how to ride a bike. 

Tommy was so determined to learn how to do it, and he kept getting up even when his knees were scratched up from crashing. 

When putting on band-aids, sometimes Wilbur would slightly heal him. Not so much that he wouldn't know to be careful, but just enough to ease the pain a bit.

Wilbur also taught him other valuable life skills like lock picking, lying, good taste in music, and how to pick pockets. The stuff every kid needed to know!

His reports to the Lords of Hell became less clinical, and more chatting about Tommy finally figured out how to ride a bike, and he's getting good grades in language arts, and he likes musicals too, and he's such a wonderful kid.

They'd mostly stare in confusion, and awkwardly ask him how that was helping Satan.

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

And he knew that every birthday meant that the two of them were one year closer to Doomsday. 

And he knew that he wasn't going to survive Doomsday.

Wilbur had a feeling since the moment he first fell that he'd have to redeem himself or go out in a blaze of glory. And, frankly, he felt too bitter towards his creator to aim for a redemption arc.

So, when Tommy turned eight, he knew that he had eight years left to live. 

And when he was ten, he knew he had six, and so on. 

That didn't stop Wilbur from baking a cake for him and singing.

He cared about Tommy quickly, and he later grew to care for Phil, and maybe even he would be vaguely upset if That Weird Guy died. 

Wilbur couldn't call this place a home, and he couldn't say they were his family, but it was the closest he'd ever gotten to that sort of thing. 

And sometimes, he could fool himself into thinking it could stay like this.

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

Once, he'd made the mistake of trying to taunt Schlatt about it.

They'd been talking, and Schlatt made one too many jabs about how he spent his days babysitting. 

He'd mocked the patch that Tommy had clumsily sewed into his new trenchcoat, and Wilbur got a bit annoyed.

"At least I've been doing my job and spending time with the antichrist! You've been completely useless down here, just sitting around in that lawn chair and drinking. I mean, it makes everything easier for me, but the fact still remains that I've been getting stuff done while you've been treating this like a paid vacation.".

Schlatt looked him dead in the eyes, setting down his glass.

"You think that you were smart, getting close to their family? Turning up the charm, making friends, stealing my goddamn Hot Pockets (which I'm still mad about)?". He laughed in his face.

"Wilbur, you're a fucking moron. You say that I haven't spent enough time around the family? You've spent way too much, and it's given you a bleeding heart."

"I don't have a-"

"Tommy's going to die in six years, you know. Kid's cute, but he's not going to survive the end of the world. He's a child, and God is God, and he's going to get smote like burnt chicken. It's just the facts.". Wilbur recoiled from him, hissing his next words through his teeth.

"Shut up."

"Did you even think about anything besides your own stupid martyrdom? Or were you too busy playing house and getting attachments? Face it, Wilbur: It's lunchboxes today, graves tomorrow.". 

For once, Wilbur had nothing to say. No clever response, nothing. Just pure panic. 

He touched the patch on his trench coat covering his heart, looking to the sky.

Please. I know you're a bastard. I know you hate me, and I hate you, and that can't change. But if you gave me some sign, some promise that you wouldn't hurt Tommy, I'd do anything. 

As always, there was no response.

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

Wilbur cared about Tommy, and he knew, and even if it was a weakness he couldn't stop. 

All of Tommy's family cared about him, wanting him protected and alive.

But Schlatt?

Schlatt didn't give a damn about Tommy, and he never would.

There was no care weighing him down. And that meant that he had infinitely more options than everyone else.

𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘝𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Hi, so I wrote a story. Well, the first chapter of a story. I hope that you guys enjoy. And thanks to Admin Ko and Brando for helping with the production~~and for future help~~

Tags/warnings: nothing as of right now, but that will change once more chapters come out, but for now- MATURE AS FUCK.

Next~

Enjoy!

>Admin 𝕋

꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙

The sound of bass boomed through the club, bodies of all sizes grinding against each other, sweat coming off them in waves. But none of them paid it much mind, too immersed in the music to care. A typical Saturday night, where crowds of people came together from all kinds of backgrounds to forget about their daily hardships and just have fun. But, this wasn’t any old club with just music and booze. No, this was a mix of burlesque, stripping, and clubbing. Audiences will come and enjoy themselves, but in the back of their heads, if known, they’ll be waiting for the real show to begin. 

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and those who are neither! This is the place for dreams to come true and where your wishes become realized! For the regulars, I hope you appreciate another wonderful show by our amazing dancers, and for anyone who’s new here--” a pause of anticipation rang out into the crowd, “welcome to Silent Voices.” 

꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙

Chapter 1: Meetings and Regulations

⸻

The apartment was quiet and serene, perfect for getting that extra five minutes of sleep. The young woman didn’t care about that however, and she pulled open the curtains, letting the morning sun pour in. Hands on her hips, she turned around to face the lump on her couch.

“You know,” the brunette scolded, pulling the blanket off of (y/n) in one quick motion, “you are going to be late if you don’t get going now. And look, you aren’t dressed or anything.” The sudden brightness startled (y/n), making her groan into the couch. 

“Please let me just, not go to work for once. Maybe a tornado will come and sweep me off to a place where magic exists.” (y/n) begged, unmoving from her face down position.

“Okay, this isn’t Kansas, and there is no magic, so you better get up and go. To work. Before you get fired.” (y/n) groaned again, louder this time, and kicked her feet onto the floor. She stood slowly, stretching and offering her friend a confident smirk. 

“You and I both know that they wouldn’t fire me. I am the best they have.”

“Uhuh, sure, whatever you say. Just hurry it up already.” Exhaling a defeated sigh, (y/n) walked to the front door, grabbing her shoes. As she put them on, her beloved friend tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to turn around and come face to face with a blueberry muffin.

“Oh, how nutritious, a blueberry muffin. With blueberries. And muffin.”

“I swear to god if you don’t take this muffin, I will make you eat it right here and now. Also, you didn’t get dressed--”

“I am already dressed.”

“In your pajamas!”

“Yeah, well, I am going to get dressed again when I get there so there really is no point in wearing actual clothes.” (y/n) argued, smirking in victory when she saw the look of exasperation on her friend’s face.

“You-- I-- ugh-- I hate the fact that you aren’t wrong. Whatever, do what you want. Take your muffin and get out of my house.” Her friend shouted, pushing her through the front door of the apartment, (y/n)’s shoes not even fully tied. “And you better have a fantastic day!” She added with an affection yet oddly strong door slam.

“Thanks Uraraka, you too.” She responded, giggling at her best friend's aggressive affection. Biting the top of her muffin, (y/n) set out of the apartment complex. She looked up at the sky, clear and blue and beautiful, a perfect day for a walk. She had a car she could take, but the bus stop was right there and her job was just a few stops away. Also it would be much better to save the gas money for more important things, she thought. After the moment of silent contemplation, (y/n) walked to the bus stop. She sat at the small bench, but she didn’t have much time to relax. Like clockwork, the vehicle came driving up the street and came to a slow stop, opening its doors to let her in. (y/n) stepped into the familiar, slightly too air conditioned vehicle and surveyed the scene. There weren’t many people on board today, save for: a couple of old people sitting next to each other, seemingly to be together, a mother and her child who was sleeping in her arms, a middle aged man who looked like he just wanted to go into a coma (relatable), and a man about her age sitting where she usually sat, staring out the window with the hardest glare she had ever seen.

Not to exaggerate, but he had to be the world’s angriest looking man. Even his hair looked angry, the blonde spiky updo adding to his already fearsome physique. And the worst part was, he was sitting in her favorite spot on the bus, where the sun hit the window just right to give her some warmth in the cold winters. As much as she wanted to stomp over to him and tell him to move, he would probably murder her without regret, and (y/n) really didn’t need death today. So, as any sane person would do, she sat down in the very back, far away from the scary looking man. She shot a subtle glare to the man, still grumbling about her spot. He turned his head just in time to lock eyes with her for a brief second, (y/n) jumped slightly, turning her head as fast as possible the opposite direction to avoid his gaze. She sighed, already exhausted.

(y/n) gently rested her head against the wall of the bus. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. She was supposed to have a career that paid her six figures. She was supposed to be a CEO of a renowned company and shoving it in the faces of those that thought she wouldn’t make it big in the world. But, as life would have it, here she was. Living on her best friend’s couch, thousands of dollars in debt, and nowhere near where she wants to be.

Well, at least I am making a decent amount of money and looking good doing it, she thought, stepping out of the bus. (y/n) shook the tension out of her shoulders and set forth to her destination. Like the walk from the apartment to the bus, this one wasn’t very far either, just a couple blocks away and she would be where she needed to be. She playfully inspected the scenery of the neighborhood, being so familiar with the area that she could walk there in her sleep. Most of the time, however, nobody was in this part of town at this time of day, but this time, someone was going in the same direction as her. 

Trying her best to remain calm and collected, (y/n) took a quick peek behind her to see who was following her. To her surprise, it was the same angry guy from the bus, his hands in his pockets and the same scowl on his face. It seemed that he was going in the same direction as her. It even seemed like he was...Staring at her. Probably her imagination. But those red eyes of his felt like they were glaring daggers into her back.

What if he wanted to kill her? Or worse, try to have a light conversation with her? She shuddered from the thought of it. Picking up her pace, (y/n) shoved her hands in her pockets and gripped the little can of pepper spray that was latched on her keychain and kept an eye on the man behind her.

He was even more suspicious, the blond man now speed walking, getting closer and closer to her. She knew these streets weren’t the best, but seriously? He couldn't kill her in a more clean place, but whatever, right? Since when did murderers have standards? Never. 

But instead of giving in to her fate, she saw the doors to her workplace. Looking back, (y/n) stopped in her tracks, almost colliding with the stranger-- who was surprised she stopped and couldn’t stop himself from his fast pace-- and promptly kicked him in the crotch area, effectively ceasing his chase. “Hey fuckface, learn some decorum and method before trying to kill someone or you’ll never be a good murderer!” she yelled before opening the doors to Silent Voices and quickly walking in.

Shutting the large doors before her, (y/n) let out an anxious breath, proud of herself for standing up to a stalker or murder. “Didn’t think I had it in me…”

“Didn’t think you had what in you?” 

“Gah! Kirishima! Where did you come from!?” the girl shouted. The man, Kirishima, chuckled and shook his head. 

“I came from the break room. I was actually just about to call you. Nemuri is pissed, and I really think you should go pray.” Kirishima told her, to which (y/n) grunted and hit her head against the door she was leaning on.

“Of course she is. I’m like, five minutes late, and she hates when people are late.”

“Yeah, so why were you late?” Her friend asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“I woke up late and had to eat a muffin.” that was all she was going to disclose. As much as she would love to tell him about the crazy stalker that was following her, Kirishima was a bit too protective, so she decided not to say anything. Hopefully, it doesn’t bite her in the ass. 

“I see. Well, that isn’t going to work for her, so might as well count your blessings while you still have them!” Kirishima exclaimed, “Now if you could move from the doors, I have to go out and set up before we open.”

Moving from the mentioned entrance, (y/n) gave Kirishima a goodbye high five and started towards the break room, where she knew she was going to get eaten alive. Going to the very back of the club, where only employees are allowed, (y/n) pushed the bead curtain out of the way and saw Nemuri--or Midnight, as she likes to be called-- standing in the middle of the room, with the other dancers already getting ready for the opening. The gorgeous choreographer was obviously angry at (y/n), her arms crossed over her chest and her brows furrowed in irritation. “Hey. I know I’m late and I’m sorry I--”

“Nope! I don’t want to hear excuses! Do you know how important this night is, (y/n)?!” Nemuri exclaimed, glaring harshly. “Tonight is the night you finally get to do your solo! The one I choreographed specifically for you! And it’s great!”

“It is, and I am so appreciative that you did that--”

“You better be!” There was a moment of silence between them before the older woman huffed out a breath and uncrossed her arms, adjusting her uniform. “I’m glad you made it, just in time. But next time, do. Not. Be. Late.” she warned before walking off to talk to the stage manager. (y/n) sighed, guilt weighing on her shoulders as she walked to her personal vanity. She set down her belongings on the chair and groaned. 

“You doing okay?” one of the other dancers asked-- Mina-- asked. She was clad in a skintight black dress, showing off her assets beautifully, her hair in curls and her makeup was dark and seductive. It seemed she was all ready to go. Probably since she is the first act. 

“Yeah I’m. Fine. Just late, overslept and all that.” (y/n) explained, pushing her bag to the floor and sitting down. She then opened her makeup box, taking the needed appliances that would compliment tonight’s costume. 

“That happens to all of us! So, don’t look so down! Here, let me do your makeup for you, so you can just rest for a bit.” Mina said, taking the foundation away from (y/n) started to apply it for her. 

“Thanks, Mina. I have been a bit more tired lately.”

“Don’t mention it. We gotta stick together, keep each other happy! Isn’t that right?”

“You got that right.” (y/n) laughed, closing her to let Mina do some of her makeup magic. It didn’t take very long, seeing as Mina was one of the best with makeup, and soon enough she was done.

“Okay, look in the mirror and tell me what you think!” blinking her eyes open and shifting her weight to look into the mirror, amazed at how well Mina did her makeup. She didn’t look like a different person, but the makeup did enhance her features for the better, and it felt great. 

“Wow, it looks great. Thanks so much, I would’ve messed up so bad.” she said to Mina, who giggled and patted her shoulder.

“Anytime. I’m gonna go up to the stage and get some practice in before we open.”

“Don’t slip on the pole!”

“Like hell I will!” 

(y/n) chuckled and got up from her vanity to put her costume on. It was a sparkling blue bikini that only covered the important bits. What one would expect from a strip club. At least there was a long silky robe with a fake fur lining, so it wasn’t that bad to walk around in it. Putting on the bikini like attire, (y/n) decided to just put her hair in a ponytail and spritzed some perfume on to complete the image. “Welp, I hope this is good enough because I am not in the mood to do anything extra.” she told herself, moving to the exit to leave the break room and headed toward the bar. “Todoroki, do me a favor and get me a shot of tequila. Maybe four. I don’t want to remember tonight.”

“I’ll give you one, and a glass of water.” the bartender responded, making (y/n) groan in indignation. 

“Fine, whatever.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Ugh, why does everyone keep asking me that!” she shouted, hitting her head against the table of the bar. “Sorry for yelling.”

“It’s all good.” Todoroki muttered, amused by her exasperation, though his face didn’t show it. 

“It’s just--I woke up on time for work, but I didn’t want to come, but I need the money. So I got my happy ass up and walked to the bus stop, which was all fine and dandy, the sun was out and it was bright and warm; great for a walk--” she inhaled to continue-- “but I saw a really weird guy with really spiky blond hair and big fucking muscles and a glare that could practically kill someone. He got off the same stop as me and started to follow me and it was really creepy--”

“By creepy guy, do you mean that one?” 

“Oh yeah, him! Anyways--” she stopped mid sentence, and turned back again to look at the man Kirishima had brought into the club. “Oh my god, it’s the creepy murder guy.” she whispered, to which Todoroki heard.

“The what?”

“That’s the creepy murder guy that I kicked in the crotch before I got here.”

“You did what?!” Todoroki’s shout of astonishment caught the attention of Kirishima and the blond man, and the way the stranger went from “What the hell was that,” to “Oh, it’s the person the kicked me in the balls,” was astounding for (y/n) to see. And (y/n) did nothing as she watched him move straight from the entrance to the club, dodging all the tables, until he was right in her personal bubble, taking her by the robe and scrunching it up. His eyes held murder and his fist was way too close to her throat.

With a low, menacing-- albeit kind of attractive-- voice, he muttered, “You.” 

Yeah.

It bit her in the ass.

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN PROBABILITY

The remarkable thing about this project was that he wanted his own computer. All programmers know it's good to write readable code. Imagine walking around for years with five pound ankle weights, then suddenly having them removed. I told the audience that this happened every year, so if they saw a startup they liked, they should make them an offer. What made the Dutch rich in 1600 was the discovery of shipbuilding and navigation techniques that enabled them to dominate the seas of the Far East. The place to look is where the spread of smallness began: in the world of startups. Universities seem the place to attack them. 94 you hold is worth. It's hard to distinguish spending too much from raising too little.

There is a danger in designing a language based on one's own experience of programming. And the first planes, and the right mood. Most people overestimate its role, but it has been experimentally verified, in the unlikely absence of any other evidence, have a 99. PB made a point in a talk once that I now mention to every startup we fund: that it's better, but that it breaks the time on either side in half. 99. Certainly not the authors. No energy is wasted on defense. Socially, a company looks much like college, but the most I've ever been able to manage is about 18, and I hope to fix the world behind the statistics, we have to do more than get good grades. It's not a deal till the money's in the bank so far. On the other hand, enter is a genuine miss. After standing there gaping for a few seconds I realized this was kind of a trick question.

You just can't expend any attention on it so you can get away with zero self-discipline. Would a basketball team trade one of their aims. This is not too high a price for big companies, the interminable meetings, the water-cooler conversations, the clueless middle managers, and athletes all live with the sword hanging over their heads; the moment they say no. To do good work, what you need to get the most done. This term was invented after Tom Bradley, the black mayor of Los Angeles, lost an election for governor of California despite a comfortable lead in the polls. So it's winner take all. Whereas if you're writing code to make it a much more common one. Hardware does well on crowdfunding sites. It seems like it should be straightforward. And unless you're extremely organized, a house full of stuff. It can take years to zero in on a productive question, because it implies you're supposed to have. Historically metals have been the most common.

They have so far, at least in the hands of good programmers, how would you do it? You haven't made anyone else poorer. Intelligent design is a legitimate scientific theory. A great programmer, on a roll, could create a situation indistinguishable from you being that manufacturer, at least for a handful of other US cities, but they're still an anomaly in most of the time, writing about economic inequality combines all three. Startup is a pole, not a point, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. If someone in my neighborhood heard that I was looking for an old friend especially if he is a hacker to suddenly send you an email talking about sex, but someone sending you mail for the first time in history they're no longer getting the best people. The reason this got stale in middle school and high school kids and adults, I'd have said it was that adults had to earn a living. One Canadian startup we funded spent about 6 months working on moving to the US. A good metaphor here. If you start out with some initial plan and modify it as necessary to keep hitting, say, Altria is not. Rewriting a program often yields a cleaner design. I see it there on the page and quickly move on to the next step is.

Maybe mostly in one hub, and it will be a good thing: if your society has no variation in productivity is far from the only source of economic inequality, but because you want the kind of determination it takes to talk to investors, you have to move bits over a network, by all means use TCP/IP. If people were scanned all the time, writing about economic inequality is the inevitable fate of countries that don't choose something worse. Joel Spolsky recently spoke at Y Combinator said, Once you take several million dollars of my money, the best defense is a good idea to spend some time thinking about that future. And if, as nearly everyone who knows agrees, startups are an all-or-nothing game. If you start from the other end, and offer programmers more parallelizable Lego blocks to build programs out of the way to get rich, how would you do it right, you only have to interrupt someone a couple times a day before they're unable to work on a Java project. Louis Brandeis said We may have democracy, or we may have wealth concentrated in the hands of good programmers, how would you do it? For example, suppose Y Combinator offers to fund you if you stay where you are, and this consumes less energy. Together these three phases produce an S-curve. Obviously there is a fixed pie. Assuming they could solve the problem by partitioning the company.

It's equivalent to asking how to make money. They all knew their work like a piano player knows the keys. They gradually congeal in your head. Whatever you build, make it fast. They lived in houses full of servants, wore elaborately uncomfortable clothes, and travelled about in carriages drawn by teams of horses which themselves required their own houses and servants. Money is a side effect of specialization. 99. It's never just a straight trade of money for them, and this is one of the things that get discovered this way incidentalomas, and they have to decide quickly because you're running out of room. They just represent a point at the far end of the middle class. Empirically, the way they wait. I was trying to make money as a freelance programmer. Nearly all failure funnels through that.

But the problem the patent pledge requires no change in behavior. But this year there may have been. But that in turn makes investors nervous they're about to invest right up till the moment they say no. And then there is the question of what probability to assign to words that occur more than five times in total actually, because of the doubling, occurring three times in nonspam mail would be enough. But this meant a Google was now setting Microsoft's agenda, and b their growth potential makes it easy to reload into your head. The most ambitious is to try to identify a precise point in the future, just that you think may be due to a crime well enough executed that it had been forgotten. Likewise, it doesn't tell you what we all wish someone had told us.

Now that's what I call a startup idea. Why else would this idea occur in this odd context? One piece of evidence is what happened to countries that tried to return to the old model, like the foundation of a house. Y Combinator are from young founders making things they think other people will want. Flying a glider is a good one if it makes sense. Optimizing code means taking an existing program and changing it to use less of something, usually time or memory. Two things keep the speed of the boat. Society as a whole started to get richer very rapidly. The solution societies find, as they get more specialized, is to find good books. When watches had mechanical movements, expensive watches kept better time. For example, in my current database, the word offers has a probability of.

POPISM: THE WARHOL 60′s by Andy Warhol and Pat Hackett o-o-o-o-o

In most of his interviews, Andy Warhol wasn't very talkative and came off as hella awkward while simultaneously being kinda snarky, often dicking interviewers around. So it's quite refreshing to be getting his take on things in his own voice. 300 pages of it, no less. Sure, you can bet the actual writing was done by Pat Hacket, but you can be equally sure that the voice behind the writing belongs to no one but Andy Warhol.

"Very few people on the [West] Coast knew or cared about contemporary art, and the press for my show wasn't too good. I always have a laugh, though, when I think of how Hollywood called Pop Art a put-on! Hollywood?? I mean, when you look at the kind of movies they were making then--those were supposed to be real??"

It's also nice to see him recount his transition from his commercial art practice to his early beginning within the gallery circuit-- when he was still not quite sure of himself-- before he became a superstar and way before his studio became the go-to place for every major counter-cultural figure in America.

"By the time Ivan [Karp] (who worked at Leo Castelli Gallery) introduced me to Henry [Geldzahler] (who at the time was a new young 'curatorial-assistant-with-no-specific-duties' at the Met) I was keeping my commercial drawings absolutely buried in another part of the house because one of the people Ivan had brought by before had remembered me from my commercial art days and asked to see some drawings. As soon as I showed them to him, his whole attitude toward me changed. I could actually see him changing his mind about my paintings, so from then on I decided to have a firm no-show policy about the drawings. Even with Henry, it was a couple of months before I was secure enough about his mentality to show them to him."

But if it's the explosive Factory years you're interested in, rest assured there's plenty of that as well. One of the best things about this book though is Warhol's observations about the times.  Because that is very much what the book is: a window onto the 1960's through they eyes and words of Andy Warhol. It starts off in 1960 and ends in 1969. By all accounts the 60's was a very special decade in America, and Warhol's retelling definitely drives the point home

"Everything went young in '64. The kids were throwing out all the preppy outfits and the dress-up clothes that made them look like their mothers and fathers, and suddenly everything was reversed--the mothers and fathers were trying to look like their kids."

It gets better:

"Generally speaking, girls were still pretty chubby, but with the new slim clothes coming in, they all went on diets. This was the first year I can remember seeing loads of people drink low-calorie sodas."

And then later:

"Since diet pills are made out of amphetamine, that was one reason speed was as popular with Society as it was with street people. And these Society women would pass out the pills to the whole family, too--to their sons and daughters to help them lose weight, and to their husbands to help them work harder and stay out later. There were so many people from every level on amphetamine, and although it sounds strange, I think a lot of it was because of the new fashions."

So you get interesting anecdotes like that, with associations and theories only someone like Warhol would come up with; Fashion made Speed popular.

He does go on tangents throughout the book, recounting other people's stories instead of his own--which I s'pose you can say is a very Warholian thing to do, isn't it? I can imagine some people getting tired of these long tangents, but I find them to be wonderful additions to Warhol's montage of the decade.

"'I gave Bob Dylan a book of my poems a couple of years ago,' Taylor [Mead] said, 'right after the first time I saw him perform. I thought he was a great poet and I told him so... And now', Taylor started to laugh, 'now when he's a big sensation and everything, he asked me for a free copy of my second book. I said 'but you're rich now--you can afford to buy it!' And he said, 'But I only get paid quarterly.'"

These asides cover a huge roster of characters, from Dylan to Jackson Pollock to Robert Rauschenberg to Jonas Mekas to Dennis Hopper to Edie Sedgwick to Jim Morrison to Lou Reed to Nico to Mick Jagger and on and on. The tone is very conversational and often gosspiy, but it isn't all mere gossip. You learn, for example, how Warhol introduced Henry Geldzahler to a young British painter by the name of David Hockney. This was before Geldzahler became curator of American Art at the Met and way before he became Commissioner of Cultural Affairs for New York City. And it was really before Andy Warhol himself became anything close to a cult figure, which he would start to become only 1-2 years later.

Hard to imagine the transition when you take into account the initial reception towards his work:

"When Ivan brought Leo Castelli up to my studio, the place was a mass, with the big canvases strewn around the living room--painting was a lot messier than drawing. Leo looked my stuff over, the Dick Tracys and the Nose Jobs in particular, and then said, 'Well, it's unfortunate, the timing, because I just took on Roy Lichtenstein, and the two of you in the same gallery would collide."

And then later:

"Henry Geldzahler was also pounding the pavements for me. He offered me to Sidney Janis, who refused. He begged Robert Elkon. He approached Eleanor Ward, who seemed interested but said she didn't have room. Nobody, but nobody, would take me."

Amidst the stories, the gossip, and observations, there's also the occasional tip.

"To be successful as an artist, you have to have your work shown in a good gallery for the same reason that, say, Dior never sold his originals from a counter in Woolworth's. It's a matter of marketing, among other things. If a guy has, say, a few thousand dollars to spend on a painting, he doesn't wander along the street till he sees something lying around that 'amuses' him. He wants to buy something that's going to go up and up in value, and the only way that can happen is with a good gallery, one that looks out for the artist, promotes him, and sees to it that his work is shown in the right way to the right people."

He finally got his first New York show in the fall of '62 at Eleanor Ward's Stable Gallery (only 3 years before announcing his retirement from painting). By early '63 he'd moved his work studio from his home to an old firehouse on East 87th st, and soon thereafter he hired Gerard Malanga as his assistant, who was also instrumental in keeping Andy plugged into all the cultural happenings.

"Gerard kept up with every arty event and movement in the city--all the things that sent out fliers or advertised in the Voice. He took me to a lot of dank, musty basements where plays were put on, movies screened, poetry read--he was an influence on me in that way."

The more things Warhol was exposed to, the more he soaked up stuff like a sponge, not just for his art, but for his very persona.

"In those days I didn't have a real fashion look yet... Eventually I picked up some style from Wynn [Chamberlain] , who was one of the first to go in for the S & M leather look."

Perhaps some of the most interesting parts in the book is when Warhol recounts some of his efforts in film, which indeed took up the majority of the 60's despite not "bringing home the bacon" in the same way the paintings did. Even today Andy's films have yet to occupy the same place his paintings have, but in reading his retelling it's hard to think that even the most skeptical of skeptics wouldn't be able to see that there's at least a bit of genius in them. In one bit, Warhol even talks about "slow cinema" something that seems to be regaining popularity in recent years.

"That had always fascinated me, the way people could sit by a window or on a porch all day and look out and never be bored, but then if they went to a movie or a play, they suddenly objected to being bored. I always felt that a very slow film could be just as interesting as a porch-sit if you thought about it the same way."

But all in all the greatest thing about the book is that it's such a perceptive account of some of the most interesting aspects of 60's New York. There's lots on Jonas Mekas' Cinematheque, plenty on the changing neighborhoods, how the East Village was becoming all Bohemian, when the Beatles became all the rage and the Stones were having publicity issues, how fashions were quickly evolving year after year ("The masses wanted to look non-conformist, so that meant the non-conformity had to be mass-manufactured").

I find it quite odd that in the wide array of art-related books recommended to me over the years, Andy Warhol's Popism was never mentioned once. In fact, I never even knew of the book's existence, and just happened upon it by sheer coincidence. It strikes me as essential reading to anyone interested in not just Andy Warhol, but New York's art scene in the 60's more generally, arguably the most important decade in American art and culture at large. And actually, art aside, it's an incredible telling account of the decade more generally, with Warhol's keen observations on things like fashion, music, and media. Even with Warhol's shortcomings--his obsessions with things like glamour, fame, and money, all things that come across in this here book--he still manages to do what he's always done best: hold up a mirror right in America's face.

Highly recommended.

[Available on Amazon]

My G, why does the floridian hurricane in porg’s shitshow of a fic upset you so much?

@sui-senka just pinging ya bc you replied and I figured you wouldn’t want to miss my response.

OKAY so the very short answer is she doesn’t know shit (unsurprising, but still) and clearly didn’t do any research about hurricanes, hurricane procedures, hurricane safety, or… literally anything, considering that a lot of her self-written Vergil backstory hinges on a hurricane separating him and his “lover,” making him unaware of Nero’s existence.

Her ignorance about hurricanes and the damage they can cause is practically inexcusable, considering most anything can be googled nowadays, so this had no reason to be as shit as Porg made it. This absolutely infuriates me, considering that I have lived through hurricanes, specifically, one of the worst hurricanes to hit the northeastern US.

The LONG ANSWER will be under the cut because, i’mma be real with you anon, I’m gonna tear apart Porg’s shit, and I get real mad.

Alright, so, in Porg’s fic, this bullshit comes at the end of her segment about her OC and Vergil, and why Vergil knows that he had sex with someone, but was unaware his child was alive. About seven months into OC’s pregnancy Hurricane Hugo (or, at the very least, a hurricane with matching strength TO Hugo) hits wherever she and Vergil are, they got separated during the storm, and then never reconnected. Her OC then gave birth to Nero and died during a demon attack, but Nero was not killed, and was taken off the mainland to Fortuna.

Before continuing, here are some important things to remember!

Porg has stated in her fic she placed Fortuna around the Florida Keys

She specifically cites Hurricane Hugo as the hurricane that hits and separates Vergil and her OC. She also cites this happening in the year 1989 (the same year Hugo happened). Remember this setting.

Nero’s mother is SEVEN MONTHS PREGNANT when this hurricane hits.

Nero has to be young enough to have no memories of his mother. At most, I’d say he would be a year old, and at the youngest I’d say 2 months, because he’d have to survive for at least a few hours after his mother died before people found him.

Okay? Okay.

So, for the first point of stupidity, there is absolutely no reason why Vergil and her OC should have become separated. I’m not reading off her fic directly, but I’m pretty sure that she never cited a specific reason as to why, just that they did.

During hurricanes, you get the fuck away from the coastline if you can because flooding can and absolutely will happen, and then you stay indoors. You do not go outside unless you absolutely have to, especially at night when you can’t see. The windspeed for a Category 1 hurricane, the lowest you can go before it’s classified as a tropical/severe storm, is 74 mph (119 kmph) and can cause damage to houses and cause branches or poorly rooted trees to fall. You can lose power, but it’d only be for a couple days at most.

Hurricane Hugo (or her imaginary hurricane, which would have the same strength and occur at the same time) was a Category 3. Category 3 hurricanes have the lowest wind speed at 111 mph (178 kmph). Whereas Category 1 hurricanes can do some damage, mostly through negligence or very rare circumstances, Category 3′s can rip trees out of the ground, cause serious flooding, can damage most well-built houses. It’s not fun, and picture of areas devastated by hurricanes are brutal.

So Vergil, who is a decently smart sentient being, and her OC should have NEVER gone outside, let alone be away from each other. A seven month pregnant woman would ABSOLUTELY NOT BE OUTSIDE IN A CATEGORY 3 HURRICANE. I can understand them not wanting to move away from a coastline, or abandoning their house, as they possibly would’ve had nothing to come back to, but there is NO reason why they would get separated in 1989 after a category 3. If anything, this should’ve brought them closer together.

And yet, somehow they do! And they never reconnect? How??? Porg states that this is all happening in southeastern US–there is no way any seven month woman would be able to travel far enough on her own, more than likely without a car, and be able to care for herself. Granted, Porg made her OC a full devil, but even a full devil would definitely struggle at 7 months pregnant with a baby coming in the future.

Now, I’m going to be honest, this was all the minor stuff. Now here’s where I get mad.

When people find Nero, Porg states in her fic that instead of taking an infant to the hospital, they instead take him to an orphanage on Fortuna. Remember, this is at the very least four months after a Category 3 Hurricane hit, and at most, 16 months.

Now, I live on Long Island. For those unaware, back in 2012, we had a hurricane hit us. That was Hurricane Sandy, which was a Category 1 when it hit. People here acted with confidence–it’s only a Category 1, it’s not that strong, we’ll all be fine!–and didn’t prepare properly for it.

This was one of the deadliest hurricanes of 2012. It was a Category 1.

I lived through that, and it wasn’t pleasant to say the least. I was one of the lucky folks that lived far enough away from the coast that there wasn’t any serious flooding, but even then it was rough. I was sitting on my couch looking out the window when a giant portion of a tree that had been eaten away by bugs broke off from the trunk and smashed into our front yard, only about fifteen feet away from where I was sitting. If the tree had been leaning more towards us, or the wind was blowing just strong enough, it could’ve crashed into the room and crushed me. When my dad went out to walk our dogs that night (and at this point, we’d lost power) one of those poorly-rooted trees fell over. It was pitch black outside, with heavy rain and wind making it impossible to see more than five feet in front of you. We didn’t know if he was alive, because we also didn’t know which tree fell or where he was, and we couldn’t hear each other over the wind.

And I know plenty of people that lived in worse places that didn’t leave, and they got even more fucked over in that first week. The only reason why my neighborhood got power back within a week was because we were right by two schools (my elementary and high school, ironically enough). I know people that had to go twice as long without. Some had to wait a full month because of downed trees and severe damage to the breakers in their neighborhoods.

And again–my street, my neighborhood, most of the people in my school? We were lucky, because a majority of the school body and staff lived inland. People got fucked over for YEARS after Sandy, especially those that lived on the coastline and straight up couldn’t leave, even if they wanted. Their homes were flooded, they lost thousand of dollars having to repair the damages, lost countless memories following the damages in the aftermath. This was happening more than a year after a Category 1 hurricane hit an island.

So the fact that Porg, in her godly wisdom, could go “yeah, baby Nero wasn’t taken to any place that could give him substantial care, but was instead given to an orphanage on a tiny island that was hit by a Category 3 hurricane” completely infuriates me. She did zero research, other than finding a natural disaster that happened somewhere she was familiar with, around the time when she oh-so grandly puts Devil May Cry 3, to “pull at the audience’s heart strings” is not only moronic, but completely ignorant to real people who have suffered in the aftermath of hurricanes.

There is a sentence–just as barebones as the rest of her shit writing–that describes the aftermath. That’s it. And as an added kick, Vergil doesn’t care about it, or how his lover is missing in the aftermath, even though Porg wrote him as someone who cared about her OC very, very much.

(This is arguably the most in character she gets with Vergil, by the way.)

It is entirely possible that, after a Category 3 like Hugo, that Fortuna would be fucking wrecked in the aftermath, especially if it was in the direct path, and especially where Porg put it. Fortuna is an isolated island with no obvious connection to a mainland (at least, established in the games, i haven’t read the novels). Put that next to Florida, which is well-known for getting hurricanes and tropical storms pretty regularly, and I don’t know how the fuck it would be standing, let alone in a state where it could accept an infant.

I think that stupid section was the part where I really, really hated what I was reading. In an age where the internet, where google, where there’s plenty of resources and first-hand accounts talking about hurricanes, the damage they can cause, and the aftermath of said natural disasters, Porg did nothing more than look up a Hurricane that happened around 1989 and slapped into her fic with nothing more behind it than a plot point that made zero fucking sense.

Oh, by the way? All that information I looked up about hurricane windspeed, about when Sandy and Hugo hit? It took me less than a minute to look up and fact-check myself. Porg, learn how to fucking google simple shit before you puke up your regurgitated bullshit.

Goatman

The Goatman. A 7 foot tall hybrid of man and goat spotted in Louisiana, Maryland and Texas. The urban legends of the Goatman describes it killing young couples in parked cars or scouring neighborhoods, killing family pets. There are also tales of them breaking into peoples’ houses and raping its victims. That’s out of nowhere, I know. Sometimes this Goatman even carries an ax, because that’s what a discount satyr needs.

Some say the Goatman was a scientist who worked in the Beltsville Agricultural Research Center, a sprawling USDA facility. The tale holds that he was experimenting on goats until one experiment backfired, and he was mutated, becoming goat-like himself, like a low-budget version of Jeff Goldbloom in The Fly. He then began attacking cars with an axe, roaming the back roads of Beltsville, Maryland. Another variation of the legend tells of the Goat-man as an old hermit who lives in the woods, seen walking alone at night along Fletchertown Road. Some still claim he was the mistake of an early DNA experiment conducted by a scientist named Stephen Fletcher. Others claim he was a man who kept goats, who went mad after teenagers killed his flock, driven to seek revenge against any youngster.

The “first” Goatman sighting was in 520 BCE, in Ancient Greece, and the last was in the 1970s.

Waterford Sheepman

Spotted in Waterford Pennsylvania in the early 1970s. It lurked in farm fields, stalking the animals with a desire to tear them apart and feed on the flesh and blood. Hundreds of people witnessed this creature at the time.

Marilyn, a teenager in the 1970’s, knew of the Goatman legend, but unlike other teenagers at the time, she had seen it on multiple occasions. “I lived on Baghdad Road and I saw this figure running across the dirt road at one point near the old sawmill.” She had a second encounter with the monster when she was 17, “He was there that one night I drove home and right before I turned into my driveway, there he was, running across the road and into the woods.”

This one... is a sheep?

Maryland Goatman

The Maryland Goatman is an axe-wielding, half-man, half-goat creature that was once a scientist who worked in the Beltsville Agricultural Research Center. The tale holds that he was experimenting on goats, the experiment went awry, and he began attacking cars with an axe, roaming the back roads of Beltsville, Maryland.

A variation of the legend tells of Goatman as an old hermit who lives in the woods, seen walking alone at night along Fletchertown Road. This is the most widely know Goatman sighting.

Pope Lick Monster

This one is my personal favorite, because it has the absolute Worst name.

The Pope Lick Monster lives beneath a Norfolk Southern Railroad trestle over Floyd’s Fork Creek, in the Fisherville area of Louisville, Kentucky. In most accounts, the Pope Lick Monster (named after the Pope Lick Creek below the Pope Lick Train Trestle) has powerful, fur-covered goat legs, an alabaster-skinned face with an aquiline nose and wide set eyes. Short, sharp horns protrude from the forehead, nestled in long greasy hair that matched the color of the fur on the legs.

Proctor Valley Monster

Said to be seven feet tall and a “deranged cow”; the Proctor Valley Monster provides numerous points of evidence for Goatman’s existence, including a footprint. The legend of the Proctor Valley Monster grew, and it is described as a 7-foot tall hairy humanoid like a Bigfoot, or sometimes a cow-like animal with its body parts in the wrong place. The Proctor Valley Monster is assumed to be responsible for the livestock mutilations that occur every now and then. The Bonita Museum in Chula Vista has a casting of a strange footprint alleged to be that of the monster.

A teenage couple go parking in the woods off Proctor Valley Road, in the South-east corner of San Diego County in California. The car won’t start, or maybe they had a flat tire, and the boy gets out to investigate- but he doesn’t come back. The girl stays inside, terrified because she hears scratching on the outside of the car. Police find her the next day, still hiding in the car. The boyfriend? He’s dead, torn and bloody, dangling from a tree, while his hands brush the car, producing scratching noises. The story sometimes has mysterious huge footprints found nearby. A local psychiatrist who once lived in Alpine quite seriously claims to have seen a Bigfoot-type creature in the hills near his house. The doctor has shied from publicity, saying he wants to write his own book on the events; but third-hand accounts say he described a 6- or 7-foot-tall, hairy creature accompanied by two similar critters. He made a plaster cast of a footprint 16 inches long and 8 inches wide. He also related many strange happenings and sounds around his home. Park rangers and other investigators could never confirm the sightings, but plenty of campers, area residents, and even a sheriff’s deputy claim to have seen some large, hairy thing (not a bear, obviously) tromping the hills of Alpine. One investigator into Bigfoot phenomena notes that the nearby Viejas Indians have a legend of a similar creature that guards its burial grounds.

Most of the art for this absolutely excellent boy is very clearly drawn by furries, which is not a jab at furries, I just mean please don’t make the Goatman sexy

Survey #215

i’m not dead yet, just not into surveys very much lately.

What is your favorite dinosaur? Spinosaurus. <3 Would you rather live with wolves or tigers? Hypothetically, if I wouldn't be harmed, wolves. I love social species. Have you ever forgotten what a certain kind of pain felt like? Getting my nose re-pierced like fuck man. What do you remember the most about your childhood? I think the strongest memory is my parents not getting along. Or the stories I made playing with my favorite toys. Would you rather have a pet dinosaur or have mythical creatures be real? Have mythical creatures exist. I want a tame, little dragon. Do you have a favorite toy from childhood still? Astonishingly, no. I was incredibly surprised to find out I got rid of them at some point when I wanted to add the crocodile to my room as a cute decoration and memory. What are your thoughts on the end of the world? *shrug* Not like we can do anything about it, unless you count our own carelessness as a selfish species, but that won't actually end the "world," just mankind. Which sports do you enjoy watching? Dance. Would you ever have a breed of dog that is considered aggressive? I don't want another dog, but hypothetically, yes, because no species is inherently mean. It all depends on how the owner raises it. Have you ever made bread? No. Would your childhood self be disappointed? FUCK YES SHE WOULD BE. God, the thought is depressing. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Animals and my niece. Would you like to live in a realm where the zombie apocalypse is possible? Is it too far into imagination to say it's possible in the one we're already in? You have zombie viruses in things like bugs, so in time, something developing that can affect humans isn't out of the question. But anyway, anyone who answers "yes" to this, as in they'd like it, are full of shit. Most of us would die in a heartbeat. You'd witness others that you love die. Every day you question if you'll see the next. The zombie apocalypse has been so romanticized in many forms of media, but please, tell me you'll still be having fun when you watch your mother be eaten or some shit. Have you ever gotten into an accident with you parents’ car? No. What’s the wallpaper on your computer? A meerkat pup looking close up to the camera. What was the most difficult decision you’ve ever had to make? Deciding Jason couldn't be my entire world anymore and I had to let go. Name a band/artist you like that isn’t that popular. There's a YouTube artist named Jonathan Young that I MARVEL over the fact he's not signed with someone. My mom didn't even believe he wasn't professional the first time I played some songs in the car. Can you lift your significant other (your best friend if you’re single)? I'm certain I could. What is the first vehicle you recall your parents/guardians owning? A greenish-blue van. What was the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? I don't know. I'm not really that rebellious. Pick one: Laundry, Dishes, or Vacuuming? I actually don't mind vacuuming. Have you ever moved and had to change schools growing up? No. Name the most meaningful thing a non-relative has done for you. When my former best friend let me live with her while we were homeless. Memories like that sometimes make me question my decision to cut her off permanently... though I remind myself the bad outweighed the good and our relationship was just never going to be stable. The highway and back roads take you to the same place; Choose your route. Depends on what's quicker to save gas. Are you more likely to give up or persist when you’re having trouble? It depends on the situation. Tbh I think I give up more often. Do you resemble one parent more than the other? I don't think so. Your best friend needs a kidney to survive; Do you give them one of yours? That's my girlfriend. So duh. Name a big life event that has taken place for you within the last 2 years. I physically met Sara. Do you end up regretting things you say often? I don't know about often. Name one thing you look forward to as you get older. Hopefully being financially stable. Do you use your hands when you talk to emphasize what you are saying? Yeah. You own a huge business; what is it? I can't even imagine myself owning a "huge" business. Are you afraid to ask for help when you know that you need it? Sometimes. Depends on who I'm asking. Name somebody you think died before their time. A LOT OF PEOPLE. I think above all of my options, Steve Irwin. Fucking saint, teacher, and pilot of conservation and loving our fellow animals. Name the possession you’ve had the longest. I have a lot of infancy stuffed animals up in the attic. You’re writing a novel; Is it horror, mystery, romance, etc.? Fantasy. Would you consider yourself an interesting person in general? I guess. I know I'm at least different. Have you ever gotten in trouble for running up your phone bill? No. When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I don't plan on changing the style any time soon. Hopefully at some point soon I can get to the damn hair salon and get it dyed lilac, though. But it'll be expensive for a pro to do it (I'm very much so done with anyone less trying to do so, as it always fails), so that's something I don't think will come soon. It's not high on my priorities. Who was the last person to see you cry? Is this person special? I'm sure it was my mom. Probably. Of course she is. What season would you like the world to experience year-round? Autumn. When was the last time you took a picture of something? Was it yourself? Lmao it was of something funny on Facebook that I texted to Sara a few days ago. Are you currently drifting away from anyone? Who is it? No. Would you say you are really close to the members of your family? Most, no. I barely see anyone outside my immediate fam. Is there anyone who lives in the same house as you, that you can’t stand? The stupid dog. Do you remember the first conversation you had with the person you have feelings for? No, but it was likely RP-related. Think of the last person you kissed, when was the first time you talked to them on the phone? She knows I hate talking over the phone, so we use Skype to talk. I think the first time I called her via phone though was when I was having an emotional breakdown. What does your phone do when you get a new message? It makes the sound from Spyro when you pick up gems if it's not on vibrate, and when the screen goes black, a green light blinks. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Who was the last person you were in a car with? Mom. Do you party too much? I never did. Who were you last on the phone with? I answered a number I didn't recognize, and it wound up being some bullshit about my car warranty or something when I don't even have a car. I just hung up the moment I knew what it was. Last movie you watched? The Lion King live action remake. Incredible. If you had to get a piercing (not ears), what would you get? Fuck, I want collarbone dermals so badly. Do you like holding hands? With Sara. Have you ever seen the last person you texted naked? Yes. What are you listening to? "Third Day of a Seven Day Binge" by Manson is on rn. Do your parents allow you to date? I'm 23. They never really restricted me from it. Then again, I started dating in the 7th grade, so I was older than most first couples. Have you ever had a serious conversation with your dad? Yes. Would you rather have long or short hair? I could not be happier than I have short hair now. It's so much easier to manage, and it really did me well chopping it all off considering my bad self-care episodes. I recommend it soooo much to anyone struggling with that. Do you want to have children? Big No. Do you think you’ll have the same boyfriend/girlfriend a year from now? Realistically, yes. How old were you when you stopped sleeping with a nightlight? I don't know. What topic did you write your last essay about? This awful book "Masters of Doom" or whatever I had to read in game design in college, I think. Whose car did you ride in last other than yours? Dad's. What was the last clothing article you purchased? Some pants. Who was the last person that made you cry [accidentally or on purpose]? Probably myself. Is there construction going on in/near your neighborhood? No. Who did you go/plan on going with to prom? I went to Jason's senior prom and he came to mine. What language[s] did you study in school? Latin for one awful semester, then German for four. I miss German, honestly. Have you ever been to a debate and speech tournament? Hell no, that sounds so boring. Choose two dead celebs who could be your biological parents - explain why? Steve Irwin for my incredible love of animals and uh... I'm not sure about a mom? I thought about this for like two minutes and really don't know lmao. If you were living in the past, which job that doesn’t exist anymore would you like to have? No idea. Which animal are you afraid of? Most afraid of, probably some spiders, like huntsmen spiders. I'm afraid of most spiders in general (if they're near me or in my house, anyway), I cannot stand maggots and larvae of that sort, and whale sharks freak me out. AND WASPS. FUCK WASPS. How would your wedding bouquet look like? *shrugs* It would probably depend on the wedding theme. What kind of game would you like to play that doesn’t exist yet? I can't even swallow how unbelievable Shadow of the Colossus would be in VR. What is one thing you would never ever eat? Escargot. Is there a music video that you would like to see turned into a movie or a TV show? Which one? *shrugs* Which character in your favorite movie do you hate the most? It's impossible to hate any from TLK. How do you think the world will end? A meteor striking, or a deadly volcano going boom. Either way, it's gonna be smoke shrouding the sun. Do you own anything clown related? No. If you were a celebrity - which celebs you would befriend? Y'all done know one, but I think the celeb I would connect to most and most easily befriend would be Shane Dawson. He is such a goddamn sweetheart, chill as fuck, and #relatable. There's really a lot... All YT-related lmao. Except Bindi Irwin. Damn, would I love to meet her. If you were going to make a horror movie that you would be scared of yourself, what would it be about/how would it look like? I can't handle those movies about women being raped and impregnated by a demon and shit. I can't. Fuck The Rite. If you could take a pill that would cure something in you that isn’t an illness - what would you be cured off? How ungodly shy and awkward I am. Ew. Do you like Rihanna? I don't know most of her music, but I don't enjoy most pop, so. Have you ever experienced hydroplaning? Not severely, anyway, and not while I was driving. What’s your opinion on the legalization of weed? Legalize it medicinally. What’s your current favorite song? Man idk. Have you ever hit a girl? I hit my sister once as a kid. What was your New Year's resolution? I don't make them. Do you find Eminem attractive? Not particularly. Are you wearing nail polish? I never do. Have you ever been/considered being vegetarian? I was for a couple months and definitely plan on going back to it once I get to the weight I want... if that ever fucking happens. What’s the last concert you went to? Alice Cooper. Do you own a cat? Yes. :') He's my best buddy. Do you like cats? I love cats. Do you like watching music videos? No. How are your grades? I'm not back in school yet. But SOON. Do you listen to Aerosmith? YO "Love In An Elevator" just finished on my iTunes. I love them. Have you climbed a tree in the past month? I never have. Were you ugly in middle school? Jfc save that child. What’s your type? CHARISMATIC. Stand out, man, and be proud of it. Having a smart head isimportant, too. Having a loving heart. Have a good sense of humor. Don't judge. Do you sleep with one of those mask things on your face? No. Have you ever straightened your hair? Yes. What kind of calculator do you use? The one on my phone or laptop. Have you ever seriously tried to count the stars? Lol no. Did you see the lunar eclipse? I'm guessing you're talking about the biggie from early this year? Yes. It was incredible. Do you have a bank account? No. Did you go on vacation last summer? What's a "vacation?" Where to? N/A Have you ever been in a choir? At church as a kid as well as elementary school. Are you happy with your looks? No. Have you ever gone streaking? You couldn't have paid me to do so even when I was in great shape. Are any of your siblings married? Yes. Were you in the wedding party? Yes. Have you ever seen a ghost? I've sure as hell seen something. Do you even believe in ghosts? I absolutely do. Have you ever had an eating disorder? Thank God no. What big corporation(s) do you support, particularly because you like what they stand for (many vegan items, donate large amount of money to charities, pay their workers a living wage, etc)? I'm really not educated on the morals behind most businesses. Oh, I do know Jeffree Star's products are entirely vegan and cruelty-free though, so his company definitely is one. If you wear foundation or have in the past, what type of applicator do you use (beauty sponge, foundation brush, fingers, etc)? Is there a type of applicator that doesn’t work for you? I've always just used my hands because we don't have anything else for foundation, I think. For those of you that do listen/watch ASMR videos, what are your favorite “triggers”? If you don’t watch ASMR, what are your thoughts on the whole phenomenon that seemed to happen the past couple years over it? I don't listen to it, but I don't care if others do. It doesn't do anything for me. I personally find the talking ones super uncomfortable, but if someone likes that, whatever. Are there any true crime cases that bother you immensely because of the story or verdict of the court case (ex. OJ Simpson)? I know there're some I've seen on Facebook and such. Do you use store loyalty programs? If you don’t use them, what is your reasoning behind that? What store loyalty programs do you feel offer the best incentives, regardless if you aren’t a member of them? I think I am for Hot Topic? I know I have a card for there. I think Sam's Club is a great place to have membership; that place has some damn deals. Mom used to be one, as well as an employee, and that shit was great. When it comes to skincare, what product could you not go without over the other ones? Where are you most likely to shop for your skincare needs? I could go without any, save of course for a wet washcloth. If I get something for skincare, it's just gonna be at Wal-Mart. Regardless if you aren’t someone who hoards or keeps stuff for a long time, what is one (type of) item that you have a hard time getting rid of? STUFFED ANIMALS. FUCKING CHRIST. If you eat meat, what is at least one vegan item (not necessarily a banana) that you like or would like trying (such as trying a soy ham substitute)? If you don’t eat meat, what is one meat item that you like and understand why people eat it? I have no idea. Being vegan just sounds... gah. I couldn't imagine. Major respect for vegans, man. What is a food that is always better homemade? How about a food that is always better at a restaurant? I don't know about the homemade one. Maybe like... cobblers? Meanwhile, steaks tend to be better at restaurants, I've found. If you watched teen dramas growing up (such as 90210 or One Tree Hill), which one was your favorite or you liked the best? If you watched family sitcoms growing up (such as Full House or The Fresh Prince), which one was your favorite or liked the best? I'm not sure if I watched teen dramas. For family sitcoms, ummm... I loooooooooooved/still love The Nanny. I like the two mentioned as well. What is a tradition either within your country or family that you feel is not needed or could in fact even be bad (ex. using paper plates for every party, eating hot dogs every weekend during the summer, etc)? Getting drunk as a motherfucker on New Year's Eve. Is there something you said you wouldn’t do, but in the end you did it? Yeah, a few things. Are you originally an American, or are you some other kind of nationality? I'm just American, save for like, if ancestry is involved. Then I originate from Europe. Do you sometimes pretend to do things you don't know how to do? No? What was the last compliment you remember someone gave to you? Who was it? Hm, I don't know. Have you ever had one of those pregnancy scares? When did this take place? Two completely unrealistic ones in high school. Are you someone who puts ranch dressing on everything you eat? No. Have you ever personally been friends with a stripper or prostitute? Not to my knowledge. What, to you, is the best way a guy can smell? Give examples? I personally like gentle colognes. How many times a day, on average, do you think critically about something? Twice or so. Are you someone who speaks their mind, or do you hold it all in? It depends. Where do you work at this moment in time? Does this place have insurance? I don't currently work bc I can't be a functioning adult in a work environment without collapsing into panic attacks. :^) If you have tattoos, which one that you have was the most painful? The inside of my forearm. Are you currently in the process of ‘bettering’ yourself as a person? I'm trying to grow more independent. What is something you tend to not be able to stand in the least bit at all? Anti-LGBT bullshit. OH BOY, or anti-vax insanity. Do not even interact with me if you're a "vaccines cause autism" imbecile. Does it make you angry when people complain an excessive amount around you? If it's over stupid shit or an issue you brought about yourself, then yes. At what age did you actually hit puberty? Was it hard for you to handle? I don't remember, and yes, it was. I remember crying outside the day I got my first period because I realized I wasn't a kid anymore. Are you considered a graceful person or are you more clumsy? I'm the clumsiest fuck you'll meet in your entire life. Have you ever sucked in helium? Did your voice change at all? No. Do you know any girls who have an overly manly voice and features? Girls can't be "overly manly," just as men can't be "overly feminine." Do you play any sports? If so, did you meet new friends that way? I did, and yes. Do people ever make fun of you for something you really can't help? No. Do you have any pets who will bite anyone else out there, besides you? No. Have you ever tried chocolate chip waffles? Are they now your favorite? Yes; no. What company are you signed up for car insurance, if any at all? N/A Are you someone who really likes to cook? What’s your favorite meal? No. Are you the candle lighting type? I prefer incense. Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? If he looks anything like he did, yeah. But I haven't even seen a picture of him in forever. Coffee in the morning, yay or nay? Don't like coffee. Do you ever drink your coffee black? N/A Body waxing, yay or nay? Ow, I would never do it. Honeymoon, where? I'd love the pink beaches of the Bahamas... but fuck Bermuda's Triangle, my conspiracy theory ass ain't going near that shit lmao. The black beach in I think... Scotland or whatever will do. Anal sex, yay or nay? Never tried, never will. The concept just really grosses me out. Has anyone ever written on you? Probably. Have you ever dated a fat person? I'd prefer the term "overweight," but w/e, once or twice depending on if you count one relationship as "dating." How many foreign friends do you have? In which countries do they live? Quite a few, having been on the Internet so long... I've got some in Europe and one in Australia. How long have you known the oldest friend you have? "Old" as in who I've had the longest? Since I was ten, I think. If you include my "real" friends. What’s the most interesting story you’ve never told anybody? Good question. When’s the last time you went to a bookstore? What did you buy? Last year when we were threatened by a really bad hurricane. I got The Fault In Our Stars and only read like... ten pages lmao. It wasn't because the book was bad, I just don't read anymore. What’s the most complicated meal you’ve cooked? Hunty I can't cook. I've cooked scrambled eggs and spaghetti like once lmao. What is truly attractive to you? Wisdom, for one. Have you ever come up with your own game? As a kid, yeah. What is something you value a lot in your life? The fact I have my mom in my life hit me first. I. Don't know where the fuck I'd be in life right now if my mom wasn't here with me. Whose hand did you hold last? Sara's. What was the last thing you planted? Oh boy, I have no idea. Oh wait, years ago I grew habaneros only to find out non-pickled ones are fucking gross. What or who was the last thing you gossiped about? I have no clue. I don't really do that. Did anything exciting happen just before you went to sleep last night? Well, my cat literally peed on Mom. That was "exciting." When’s the last time you helped a senior citizen somehow? I don't know. What’s the most selfless act you have done? Man, a lot of "I don't know" in this one. You see a spider web in the corner of your room. What do you do? I'm finding that guy or moving. Have you ever intentionally fed a house spider? No. How do you like your favorite beverage? Cold. What’s your big family secret? We don't have one. Do you answer the phones at your work? I don't have a job. Have you ever given up on someone and then went back to them? Many, many times with my former best friend. Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? I do every single night, and it sucks ass. What shows do you watch? None. Have you ever broken someone’s heart? I don't know. Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes? Yeah. When’s the last time you had a headache? I think I had a mild one a few days ago? I don't remember. My days are sooo blurred together. Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes. Think back to the last person you kissed, how many times have you laughed with them? A whole lot. Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating of on you? Yeah, because of his ex and a believable lie. It was ultimately a good thing that that was what immediately turned me away though, as I don't want to imagine how a long-term relationship with him would've gone, honestly. Who was the last person you kissed? Sara. Do you still talk to the person who hurt you the most in life? No. Who’s the last person you sent a friend request to? I've no clue. I don't really send requests because I don't know more friends on there. Is anyone in your family a criminal? Not by blood. Who was the last person you told to shut up? I don't recall; I don't tell people to shut up, generally. I haven't had a confrontation in a long time, besides the occasional arguments with my mom, and I wouldn't tell her to shut up. What was the last thing you lied to your mother about? I don't remember. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No. Name a song that reminds you of a past relationship: I could name 50 that remind me of Jason and myself if I cared enough to. Do you think anyone hates you? One person probably does, at least. What do you think your last ex would say about you? I don't know, but probably something nice. He's my closest friend irl. Do you still talk to the first person you fell in love with? No. Do you still want the last person that hurt you to have a happy life? Yeah. Have you ever had a crush on any of your teachers? No. I, along with like every girl in class, found a former band teacher attractive, but I definitely didn't have an actual crush on the dude. Thank God considering he was eventually fired for relations with a student. Why did your last relationship end? I learned I didn't like him romantically, and also because I discovered I liked Sara instead. How long did it take you to get over your last heartbreak? A year and a half. And that's just when I started moving on. Do you know anyone that looks up to you? I doubt it. Which one of your friends is always serious? I don't think any qualify for that. Are there any people in your life that you wish you never met? Yeah. Do people think you’re a bad person? Probably someone. Do they also think that you’re a slut? I don't see how a single person could think that. Are you with the last person you kissed? Yes. Have you ever been punched? No. How many people do you know that have been to jail? Multiple. Three off the very top of my head. Do you know anyone that sells drugs? I don't think so? Do you know anyone that does drugs? Yes. Do you care about what’s happening in other countries? Well yeah. I care about the world being a good, safe place. Do you think you have a pretty good reputation? I guess, at least as far as being a decent person goes. Meanwhile, I'm sure my rep as being a proper adult and such is shit. Where do you see yourself in 25 years? I don't want to think of that. You’re at a bar, you witness a man drugging some girls drink. What do you do? I'm not even REMOTELY kidding, I'm knocking the fucker OUT, calling the cops, and of course telling the girl. Fuck that guy getting out of that without a black eye. Who is more attractive, someone who is edgy or preppy? I could never, ever be attracted to a preppy person, so guess. I wouldn't want an excessively edgy person either, but I'm NOT into the preppy jazz. Short term dating, or long relationship? I've always been about long-term relationships. Kids? How many? Why? Names? Boy or girl? *Bugs Bunny "no" meme* Ever play that game MASHO?? "I’ve played MASH. I don’t know if MASHO is similar or something different entirely." <<< Same. A sad child, skinny and underfed, approaches you. What do you do? Obviously ask them what's up if they approach me, and from there, it would depend on what they tell me. I'd most likely call the cops first about a child like that because I wouldn't know the appropriate place to actually call; if the kid is underfed to an obvious degree, odds are I shouldn't find their parents first. I'd think it wiser to get some kind of officer to do so and determine if that child should even be with those people for their own good. What happens after death? I hope some kind of peace, but who really knows. Would you cheat on your BF/GF if you knew they would never know? No??????? Because I would know?????????????? And I have a conscience???????????????????????? Do you think there will ever be peace on earth? Why or why not? No. People as a whole can't get along and too many find violence to be the ultimate solution to big problems. Favorite childhood story growing up? I remember I particularly liked Stellaluna because of the drawings, and I enjoyed the actual story of Chrysanthemum. Worst way to die? Why? Some form of slow torture, I'm sure. Because if you've gotta die, make it quick. And humane. What were you in school? Jock, nerd, prep etc… I was recognized as an emo/metalhead thing. Did you ever eat playdoh at a child? I don't think so. Your dreams tend to be? As of the late, violent, at least those that I remember... I wake up attacking the air a lot. Describe your aesthetic? A quiet pastel bunny and a furious but awkward gothic demon are aggressively fucking 24/7 while trying to decide who's top and who's bottom. Do you believe in the afterlife? I believe in something. What book have you re-read so many times that the cover is completely worn? None. Are you a morning person or a night person? I'm in a brighter mood in the morning. Who do you most admire? There're multiple people I look up to for different things. But as for most, yeah, probably Mark. What is your favorite thrift/antique shop find? I love this shipwreck lamp that I have. What is the most incredible place in nature you’ve visited? The mountains. What is your greatest achievement? Still being alive lmao. Is something expensive better than something made with love? Almost never. What do you think of stealing? Uh, don't do it??????? If you could be told when you were going to die, would you want to know? NO. What would you do in case of the zombie apocalypse? Die very early on lmao. Okay but realistically, I'd want to climb somewhere. I'm going to assume a zombie can't figure out ladders 'n shit. What have you learned from pain? You yourself play a big part in making things better. Are you more worried about doing things right or doing the right thing? Doing the right thing. What’s something you know you do differently than most people? Eat biscuits like a fucking caveman by separating parts and eating each individually lol. Would you ever adopt a child? If I actually wanted a kid, yeah. If you could make anything glow in the dark, what would it be? *shrugs* Could you ever picture someone writing a biography about you? Hell no, my life's uneventful as could be.

You ever watch a really good movie and when it’s over and the silence swallows the room, you can feel everyone slowly adjusting to reality again?

You hear popcorn start to shake and drinks rattling around as one by one, the audience leaves the theater. 

Except you look up and you’re the only one in the theater?

I feel so many emotions all at once and they even completely negate each other, sometimes. 

I wanted to make a space for myself to vent because I think it’s taking a toll on my friendships and that’s the last thing I want to do. I sound like a broken record, probably. I also feel like I don’t really know who I am or what people’s intensions are towards me. I feel like nothing is real, lately. I feel like it’s easy to accept this when you have someone- a lover, because everyone else is at arms length in some way because no one is closer to you than the person you love. But when that person doesn’t exist anymore, it’s easy to see things either for what they really are or to take things too seriously/personally. I haven’t figured out the answer to that yet.

But, I wanted to make an honest space for myself. I feel like the past 2 years of my life have been completely unraveling everything I knew, or didn’t know would be a better description. I tried to make a new account, and couldn’t because my most recent email was already used. I don’t even remember making this account, but after reading the 5 posts that were on here- I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or just sit here and shake my head back in forth in silence staring at my tv with that 70′s show on unable to even have a next thought. 

I feel like this post should be a summary to fill in the gap.

One day I was at school, having a hotel party with my classmates. I wanted to sleep early and Bernie said he did too. We went to bed. I woke up to him a little close behind me, but it was nice and it was familiar, in the way that at home was the first man I’ve ever loved for so long and always slept next to like that. We were having problems, I felt like he didn’t love me anymore for my present self- just the old past memories we had. And in the moment, being with this man that only knew me as present me and sleeping next to me- it was almost nice. I clicked my phone alarm off to sleep for a few more minutes, and I felt Bernie move closer to me. He kissed the back of my neck. My eyes could not have opened wider, I clicked my phone to look at the time because I felt frozen emotionally, mentally, physically, really- in every way. My heart was pounding out of my chest!! What the fuck??? And also why the fuck did I not punch him right in his face? I got up and went to the bathroom. I went through my normal routine, washed my face- brushed my teeth. Christina came in the bathroom. I started doing my makeup and kept looking over at her every few seconds to stare at her face while she brushed her teeth. Finally I said Christina listen and I turned on the faucet as loud as it could as we usually did to drown out our voices so the guys couldn’t hear us. 

I told her what happened and her face froze with disbelief? surprise? and then she laughed so hard, mostly in disbelief. She made kissy noises at me after that to make fun of it. & We laughed about it. But that really was the start of a fucking insane roller coster of MENTAL FUCKARY THAT IS CURRENTLY RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE ON A DAILY BASIS FOR THE PAST ???? IDK WHAT EVEN HAS IT BEEN? 2 YEARS? IS THAT REAL?

I should of told Tom. I should of told Bernie that was unacceptable. I should of told Christina it wasn’t funny. I should of done a lot of things. For the next 2-3 weeks, he was just more flirty around me. I ignored it, but I didn’t confront it. I felt overwhelming insane crazy guilt for his actions for about a month because of Tom. Tom & I’s relationship was coming to an end and I didn’t want to tell Tom about any of this because then it would have seemed like, to Tom, that Bernie or another person or whatever was the reason for it’s end. When in reality and to this day, it was never about that. He’s not stupid and he probably knew things that I don’t even know now that he knows from then. But, we broke up. It went to a place in my mind and my heart where I felt completely numb. It was literally locked away so deep into my mind that even still now, it feels like when I try to access that part of my memory- that there’s someone on the other end physically tugging it back until I get distracted by something else and stop thinking about it. After Tom & I broke up, Bernie & I started meeting after school on Sundays one on one in the car to talk, sometimes go to the mall. I remember once we kissed and it was a complete lust-ful horny kiss coming from him and this should of been my first sign but at the time- I wanted a quick rebound hook up and this was just easy. I didn’t want to do anything sexual, so I didn’t. He would just sit there and bitch that he has blue balls, “come onnnn” he would say!!  What the fuck is wrong with me? 

I remember the first time I agreed to come over his house. He said he would take me apple picking. Way after that, I asked him once about what went through his mind when I said okay I’ll come over. He said that he re-read it two or three times in disbelief and quickly cleaned up his room and was nervous and excited. I drove myself 1.5 hours to Jersey City NJ, a new place I’ve never been before. The neighborhood looked kinda run down. I pulled up and parallel parked. I texted him, I’m here! & He came downstairs and met me at my car to walk me inside. I walked into the house and walked up the creeky stairs, he turned on the light that would flicker on for a few seconds before actually being on. I walked in the room, and went to put my bag down on the ground and he took me and threw me on the bed. He started kissing me and I mumbled through the kiss woahhh already?! and I’m glad that I don’t remember what his response was. We had sex and it wasn’t really good. It was fun? I guess? As much fun as you could have when your emotionally crippled in reality but denying legit every aspect of that? Eventually he came and he got one of his shirts out of the laundry bin so I could clean myself off. I put my clothes back on and I don’t even remember the rest of the night at all. That night was Thursday. The next day we went and got breakfast, hung out. <- repeat till Saturday morning. I was awake basically all night and I told him I needed to leave Sat morning. He said okay and walked me to the car. I wanted to go home but as I started to drive, I just started to cry. After about 10 minutes, I was sobbing and couldn’t see the road. I pulled over into this industrial type of street and couldn’t stop crying. I felt broken inside. I called Bernie and apologized but explained the situation. He said to come back and I did. He told me to move to the passenger seat and he got into the drivers seat and my sobbing turned to regular crying. I told him I was crying because I was picturing going home and dealing with Tom not being there, and that I was scared to finally be alone and face that. He told me he would bring me where he likes to go when he’s upset, to get Ramen. He drove me to this place called Mitsua marketplace in Edgewater NJ. We sat and ate ramen and he said a bunch of shit that made me feel better. I stayed over another night. The next morning, he was getting dressed and was going apple picking with his friends. I wasn’t invited. I got dressed and finally drove back home to Long Island and we never went apple picking together. 

Again, what the fuck is wrong with me?

The next month was spent getting really close to each other really quickly, but never getting that type of intimate closeness/security. I felt like he was hiding something, or maybe even everything from me- all the time. I felt like when I would leave, he would go back to a completely different life than what he lived while I was there. Yet, I had nothing- no physical proof- to feel this way. I made sure to never say anything out loud that would make it seem like I wanted a relationship. One weekend, I told him I got asked out on a date. (By a guy named Liam) and he looked and sounded like he could not care less. He said something like, if that’s what you want to do- do it! I said okay, I’m going to go on the date, I just felt like you should know. (at this point in time, I was trying to keep emotional distance- obv failing a bit, and also unsure of what his intensions were). I told Liam yea and we were suppose to go out eventually, but shit kept coming up. The next time I was at Bernie’s for the weekend was New Years Weekend of 2018. He took me to lunch with his mother and he took me to his friends house for a NYE party. I was so fucking confused, but I felt stupid for feeling confused. In my head, I was thinking idk this is probably normal- we’re just friends with benefits he said? but why am i here with his mom and best friends? whats going on? maybe i do want this? 

At his friends house, I had a lot of fun with his friends Tony, Chris, Julia, and Jen. Julia and I split a bottle of wine and Jen took a bunch of pictures- always being warm and welcoming to me as apparently the new member of this group. I remember him taking a pic of us together on the couch on snapchat and then deleting it. I had a few drinks, and so I asked him why he didn’t send it anywhere. He said where would I send it to. I said why not to our school snap? He ignored that. Now in my head I felt so confused and stupid, ashamed a little even or embarrassed because obviously if he doesn't want to send a snap of us together to our school snapchat group- then we aren’t anything more than friends with benefits, as I sit next to him wrapped in his arm on his friends couch on my 2/3rd night spent with him????? Again, what the fuck is wrong with me!!!!!

I have no memory on specifics of how we eventually were a couple outwardly. I remember hiding it in school, taking separate cars for a while, and then eventually- we didn’t hide it. I spend so much time slowly drifting farther and farther away from all my friends in the class. Bernie didn’t want to eat with them because his skin was bad, the sun would bother him, the bugs were outside, it was too warm out, too cold out, new medicine, new lotion, didn't shower yet, showered already. Whatever the fuck reason. So I would feel bad, and go eat with him away from everyone else. We wouldn't even have fun. He would be mad at me for something and we would silently watch Netflix eating lunch. Once he flipped the fuck out because his sandwich was made with cheese and he threw it against the wall in the classroom downstairs (no one else was there yet). & I would feel like all this behavior was my fault. I would write notes in my phone reminding me to “be easy on him, be his peace, he works hard”. I’d be so mad at myself for asking “who’s that” when I saw a girls name on his snap friends or texts that I didn’t recognize the name, and he would get so fucking pissed. “A friend” Example of my note from my phone:

“It makes you upset because you’re scared to loose him to anything. But the reality is you won’t. It’s just 1% of the time. It’s temporary- in the future, you’ll prob always be around him. Eventually you’ll live together. It’s something that makes him happy, look past the worrying. It’s possible new friends you can have too, who have their own lives, too. He gives you no reason to distrust. He loves you. You’re better than those girls (ha!!!). So just wait it out, reset, & repeat. Be happy, live YOUR life, stop thinking about what he might be doing when he hangs out with those girls and be happy you’ll get to see him again.”

Again, what the fuckkkkkkkk was or is wrong with me?!?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK!!!

So Capstone 1 rolls around and we both fail it. 3 people in the class failed and we (both top of our class) failed it. (wow wonder fuckin why) I studied my ass off to re-take this exam and was up near school most of the time. I stayed by my classmates houses, Sammie & Anisha. Bernie had family over visiting and he was driving to DC with them and was busy, so during this time he was mostly MIA and I wasn’t allowed to stay there. He met up with us one day to study in this one room on the floor at school. I remember that feeling hitting me- somethings different, hes going to break up with you. He complimented that my hair looked soft. I asked him if he wanted to go get food before he had to leave, he said no he really had to go- and left. My panic set in like fucking crazy and I just tried to shove it down as far as I could so that I could concentrate on retaking my capstone exam. When I got to his house- I stayed over his house the night before capstone since he offered, he showed me that he had made me my own drawer. He put some things I accidently left there in it. He said now I can have my own space there to feel comfortable. That made me so happy, but inside I was so confused and axious because he was so different I could sense it but couldnt put it into words why. So I would try to explain to him, and he would deny it- everythings fine etc you have no examples what are you even saying. I laid there sobbing and got up and collected my things to go anywhere else- maybe Christinas maybe Anishas, all I knew was I needed to get the fuck away and concentrate to pass my retake exam the next day. He looked over and saw me doing that and finally gave me physical touch and grabbed me, pulled me close, and said come on you need sleep and played with my hair and that was one of the very few times of sincere feelings of connecting on a deeper level of intimacy that I can remember from my whole relationship with Bernie. We woke up next morning and took our test and I remember saying good luck to him and whatnot and he treated it extremely weird and formal . and I assumed it was because it was a serious situation- this retake. We both passed. I was so relieved. I got in his car (he drove me there) and we discussed our retakes. I asked him what he wanted to do with the rest of the day and if I could buy him a celebratory drink. He said uhhhh idk. I was like oh are you busy? He was like yea sorry. & I tried so hard to accept that and leave it. After about 20 min of silence, I asked... what are you busy with? And he said something like idk yet and I was like why dont you want to hangout with me? and he said welp I guess this is ganna be talked about then since you wont just let it be. & He stone cold, facing forward the whole time, zero eye contact at all, broke up with me. “This just isn’t what I want anymore. I just don’t love you anymore. It’s nothing you did or didn’t do, I just don’t love you.” I asked him 500 million thousand questions, considering it was still about a half hour drive to his house, where my car and belongings were. I asked him since when? But you never told me you were unhappy? Can you just tell me specifics so I can work on myself? He didn’t provide answers. He just said he didn’t love me anymore. We got to his house and I put my backpack in my trunk. I went upstairs and collected my things, including everything from the drawer he just gave me that same weekend. He stood there and (finally) switched from cold to looked upset as he watched me get my shit. I walked downstairs and he walked behind me. I put all my things in my car, and I grabbed this stuffed animal from my backseat that he gave me and handed it back to him as I choked on my own tears and snot. He looked shocked that I gave it to him. He said “But i got this for you!” and i said why would you think I would want to keep this? He said if you’re sure alright and looked really upset. I shut the door to my car and he walked back inside. I drove to Staten Island and sobbed to Mike and eventually Christina when she was done with work.

We had about a month’s break until school again. I felt so so so so so so so down. I could not stop crying. My head was beating from crying. I couldn’t eat. I lost so much weight because I legit had 0 appetite. I couldn’t sleep. I laid in my bed desperately trying to sleep, would fall asleep for just enough time to have a dream about him and wake up sobbing. I would re-read old messages over and over to convince myself that it happened, he was real, I wasn’t crazy. I felt like the relationship was made up in my mind and that I was the only one who endured it. At work one day I asked for closure and I sat in the car after my shift and read to him my note I typed out asking what I did or what happened. He provided no answers yet again and said I just dont love you. I felt like a fuckin zombie. I remember asking him one day if we could still snowboard or still play overwatch together and him saying he would think about it. Eventually he happened to invite me into a game on overwatch the same night Liam asked me to get Ralphs ices. I played some games with him then said I had to go and logged off to get Ralphs. Soon, we had school. We were still in the same hotel room. We tried to act normal, and would talk here or there. OR he would talk, I would ignore. He made comments to me like “An amazing girl got me these” and it was boxers I had bought him. He bought my favorite wine one night to the hotel and brought it to where it was in my site and poured a glass then asked if I wanted some. I said no. We went and got taco bell with classmates for lunch and he sent me a text asking if I wanted to be friends with benefits. I said no I couldnt emotionally handle that. He said okay and that he understood that. At some other point, we walked me christina & him to get chinese food. Christina went inside to go get it and while she was inside, bernie kicked the wall a little bit softly and turned and looked at me and was like so I wanted to tell you something. And said he wanted to get back together and that he fucked up. I dont even know what i responded, maybe I said something like are you kidding. As all of that was happening, him making these comments and shit-  I was just so relieved to know that it was real. That he was real and those weeks I spent feeling fucking crazy- I wasn’t crazy. I remember one night we slept in the same bed and I just laid there and cried and said I didnt want him to touch me or to touch him, even though inside it was the only thing I wanted. He wanted to kiss me and low key kept trying to, brought his face closer to mine and opened his mouth in that slight way. Eventually I think I did kiss him- and it made me sob. I knew he wanted to fuck & it made me cry more to think about it. & I told him it would take a really long time for me to ever adjust or be okay with that in any way and he just kept saying I know. 

We would talk on the phone for hours at a time when I was driving home from school or staten island or work or whatever- and i called him out on everything. I told him hes so fucked up and needs to address shit that his dad left him and he never accepted it and all this bullshit. He was silent most of the time, and listened. He told me I was “100% right” and that he could never take back damage that was done. He asked me eventually to go meet with him and his friends in the city, not to be together- just to hang out. I stupidly said yes.  

That was the weekend we “reconnected”, I guess. Being with his friends again and we went on a hike together and just being back into the swing of it, was so comfortable and better than the fucking misery I was in at home for weeks not eating or sleeping. It was so nice to sleep and eat and live and laugh. 

We were back together! Things were great! The same shit went on in the background, same problems as before. He would talk to girls behind my back- I would either ignore it because I didn’t want to fight, or I would mention it and we would fight. I would find things out and have to wait to confront him until in person so he would accept blame and apologize- otherwise, when I was away at home and he was home- he would flip it onto me. 

I remember driving to go snowboarding, he fell and got hurt so we went home early. I bought him some water and snacks and helped him into the car- took his boots off so he didn’t have to bend down. He fell asleep and I wanted to stay awake while driving and stopped at a rest stop. He woke up and wanted food. We got food and while we were sitting inside, this guy was STARING at me making me feel really uncomfortable so I asked if we could eat in the car. Bernie immediately was super grumpy and I was just like oh fuck here we go.. we walked to the car and I felt so guilty that he was angry about going to the car. I said I was sorry and asked if he wanted to go back in and he turned around and SCREAMMMMMED at me in this fucking parking lot. he threw his food and tears were rolling down his face out of anger. I wanted to die. I told him that I was sorry I didnt have two separate cars so that I could leave, and he said oh so you just want to leave when I’m at my worst? And that genuinely made me feel like a terrible person- I felt like I was in the wrong. (Ill say it again- what the fuck was wrong with me?) We drove home and once we got home this time, I was so used to this shit that I knew better than to try to talk about it or resolve any issue. I just let him sleep and I sat up on the couch, and put on greys anatomy to distract myself from what the fuck just happened and what was beginning to become normal to me. (!!!!!!!)

I have FLASHBACKSSSSS to times spent with this person that I can’t even fill in gaps for. Him slapping me in the face!!!!  him screaming at me in his house waking his mom and sister up which I felt embarrassed about even though it was HIM!!!!! I can’t believe anyone- nevermind my own fucking self- ever experienced any of this. He just knew what to say to twist my mind into thinking it was my fault. I would get up collect my things to leave when he would yell and he would say if I cant handle him at his worst I cant have him at all, or say okay Im leaving just like everyone always leaves him. & Then I would feel horrible. How could I leave someone saying that? (I should of)

Yet still, why does my mind wander to the Filipino restaurant where the staff knew me as “his partner” because I would leave while he was sleeping and get his favorites. I legit learned another fuckin language for this MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!!! Who did not deserve it for one single second! Master manipulator! I cant believe the memories that I am typing here and I cant believe it was my life. 

This relationship was fucking horrible and I do not understand why or how or EVEN WHO I WAS during this time. I really wanted to write this because it is so easy to loose yourself in periods of vulnerability. I really do feel like everything happens for a reason. However, there’s someone that just always comes to my mind that has sort of always been in the background since I met him at school and I feel like there was just so much time wasted in every capacity on Bernie that it may have fucked it all up for this other person/opportunity. But if it did, it must have happened for a reason. I needed to find myself in this drastic way and I know I’m better for it. I feel returned to my body after 2 years of being lost. 

Anyway, one night I went out to eat with Emily and he was pissed the fuck offfffff about it, although he would never admit that was the reason. I felt guilty that he was upset- I sent him a pic of the menu and said I would bring him there next time he came to LI. The next day, after a 10 hour shift of clinical- I get a CALL from him. All day, I kinda knew it. I remember thinking to myself “why would he break up with you? theres no reason for that- get it out of your mind”. He said bullshit intro- hey how was your day (not genuinely), I said fine, whats up and he said “well...” and I immediately laughed. I said “are you breaking up with me right now” and he said well I was thinking a lot last night and I think we need to stop seeing each other. And I laughed and said okay just to clarify- you thought about it for literally one night? 12 hours? he said yes. I said okay, and before that- did you have any thought in your mind about wanting to break up? he said no but jackie stop. I said okay, when you collect my things- make sure you get everything. & we hung up. Prob a 5 minute phone call. He had such a cold angry tone that sounded exactly like the first time- he blamed me and made me feel like I betrayed him in some way that he was breaking up with me for. 

This time, I could sleep and eat. Although I was upset, it was 500 million times easier than the first time. In fact, it was a RELIEF to not have the responsibility anymore to sit up wondering who he’s with or what he’s lying about. 

It was much easier to cope with (since I was expecting) him to crawl his way (or try to) back into my life after this time- months of being MIA. He tried so much shit and I am very very relieved to know that I’m back in my right fucking mind.

I accept what happened, and the hardest part is stopping blaming myself. I was in a vulnerable spot, and someone manipulative swooped in. As much as I might want to forget, or take it back- I can’t. So I will remember it, learn, and be better for it. 

This past week, after I got a “are you awake” text, 2 missed calls, and a voicemail asking to get coffee at 6AM followed by him liking old DM messages on instagram- I went off. & It felt so fucking gooooooooooood. Fuck Y O U R S E L FFFFFFFFFFFF.

Paint by numbers of vintage age compliment

Request a unit. Typical size for most painting packs is 40X50 Cm or 16X20 In. You will get paints, brushes, canvas, screws, snares and guide card. It is prescribed to arrange a casing with canvas.Stretch the canvas. Prepare your devices. Have a bowl of water close by for washing brushes. Match the number from the canvas with the  paint and begin painting. Beginning from the highest point of canvas is recommended  vintage paint by numbers Step by step and number by number when you have finished it, you will be shocked by its magnificence. Edge it, hang it, see it and grin :) goodness no doubt, remember to send us a photograph review.Put your provided canvas on a table. Take out the provided paint, brushes and present yourself with some coffee Take your time and paint inside the numbered fields on the canvas. Unwind and see your creation come to lifeDecorate your lounge room with your depiction or blessing it to a companion. Great work!Paint by number or painting by numbers depicts units having a board on which light blue or dark lines demonstrate regions to paint, and every territory has a number and a relating numbered paint to utilize. The units were designed, created and promoted in 1950 by Max S. Klein, a specialist and proprietor of the Palmer Paint Company of Detroit, Michigan, and Dan Robbins, a business artist.

 In youngsters' movement books, some straightforward exercises are regularly introduced to kids that are called shading by numbers. At the point when Palmer Paint acquainted pastels with buyers, they likewise posted pictures online for a "Colored pencil by Number" variant.

 Paint by Numbers treatment has numerous advantages. Just as expanded fearlessness, it can fundamentally enhance engine aptitudes, the capacity to control hand and arm developments and the whole body and help individuals with slight tremors. It's likewise demonstrated to build concentrationIn the 1960s, representatives from the Voyager Telecommunications Section, too restless to even consider waiting for the primary authority handled picture from Mars, appended strips one next to the other to a showcase board and hand shaded the numbers like a paint by numbers picture.

 Following the passing of Max Klein in 1993, his little girl, Jacquelyn Schiffman, gave the Palmer Paint Co. documents to the Smithsonian Museum of American History.[6] The chronicled materials have been set in the gallery's Archives Center where they have been assigned gathering #544, the "Paint by Number Collection", and are accessible to both general society and historical center staff for research and presentation purposes. Ancient rarities which set up Max Klein as the designer and primary merchandiser of these things are a piece of the gathering.

 In 1992, Michael O'Donoghue and Trey Speegle sorted out and mounted a show of O'Donoghue's paint by number accumulation in New York City at the Bridgewater/Lustberg Gallery. After O'Donoghue's demise in 1994, the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History showed many key pieces from O'Donoghue's gathering, presently possessed by Speegle, alongside works from different authorities in 2001.[7] Since at that point, the vintage units and artworks have encountered a resurgence through yard deals and eBay auctions.[citation needed]

 In 2008, a private collector[who?] in Massachusetts gathered more than 6,000 paint by number works going back to the 1950s from eBay and other American authorities to make the Paint By Number Museum, the world's biggest online file of paint by number works.[In May 2011, Dan Robbins and Palmer Paint Products, Inc., together created and conveyed to showcase another 60th-commemoration paint by number set.[9] This authorities' set was made in memory of the survivors and the individuals who had lost their lives on September 11, 2001, and portrays the Twin Towers remaining in soul over the Manhattan horizon. A portion[clarification needed] of the returns from this set is being given to the beneficent association Voices of September 11thBrowse through your neighborhood old fashioned shopping center and I'll wager you'll locate any number of vintage paint by numbers (PBN). When they were presented as a side interest for grown-ups during the 1950s, individuals from the compelling artwork network sneered. "Each man a Rembrandt?" Indeed!

 Today, contemporary paint by numbers are acknowledged for their pastime esteem, while vintage pieces are looked for after for their kitsch and decorator appeal.Uma Anderson, owner at the online shop Dairyland Vintage on Etsy.com, is an eager purchaser, dealer, and gatherer of vintage paint by numbers. She discloses her appreciation for the "craftsmanship": "The magnificence of paint by numbers is, given the wide scope of topic, there is a counterpart for most any gathering or stylistic theme. Forest scenes and deer fit a provincial lodge stylistic layout, steeds for the farm look, flamingos for the mid century kitschers, ranch and peaceful scenes for the pitiful house society, etc… Dog and feline individuals can even gather depictions of their particular breed."

 At the point when questioned about what topics are more prevalent than others (i.e., what moves and what doesn't), Uma says, "long story short, everything sells."She unveils one of the more dark (and higher evaluated) PBN subjects: "However not every's some tea, the paint by number bare is very looked for after.

 "Dissimilar to the mass delivered canine, cat, and scene units which were painted by a whole age of maturing youthful specialists," she clarifies, "the bare canvases were made for the much smaller grown-up market. I need to envision that these naked packs were not presented with the standard paint by number charge at the nearby Woolworths, yet in increasingly concentrated pastime shops. From what I comprehend these units had no spread craftsmanship making advertising all the more a test.

 Anderson proceeds, "At any rate, because of their irregularity, paint by number nudes get a high cost. As an authority, I claim three: two obtained on eBay quite a while back from venders who didn't have an inkling what they had, and a small scale found in a garbage shop here in Wisconsin. I as of late sold a copy of one in my gathering. It was an unframed canvas and I initially thought to ask $100, however ultimately chose to try the impossible and recorded it for $225. It sold in a week."Anderson says other famous topics that move well for her are deer, steeds and pooches. She says, by and large, scenes are slower dealers, however religious works of art are mainstream. In particular, the Virgin Mary moves best, and "Jesus is a nearby second."However," Anderson says, "The Last Supper is evidently a failure. The one in my Etsy shop has been sitting for a couple of years and has even sold once and was returned. I have two all the more simply like it that I haven't yet tried posting."

 With regards to showing PBNs, Anderson says, "My own pieces are shown all through my home instead of a paint by number proclamation divider (however I cherish this look in different homes). I'd like to think they mix in by shading and subject in each room and don't overpower."

 "As both an authority and a dealer, I never leave behind a paint by number while thrifting [except for muddled works of art clearly done by youthful children]." Vintage Paint By Number canvases are an amusing — and famous — midcentury current fine art. They are truly "tasteless" — anybody can complete one… But, they likewise interest us — there is something "basic" about their excellence and "vote based" about the reality they even exist. Basic, realistic — and rendered by a typical individual, similar to us!, some time ago when mass thriving was developing crosswise over America. They were… affectionately created… and therefore, they are anything but difficult to cherish, after 50 years. In the course of recent years, I've seen vintage PBNs turned out to be increasingly collectible. What's more, every so often, we see people get epic with the work of art and make their own Paint By Number wall paintings, which are pretty darn sweet. For this story, I found a few incredible assets itemizing the historical backdrop of Paint By Number artistic creations — including imperative social history… and we'll discuss how best to show paint by number workmanship. As a matter of fact, show tip #1 and just, IMHO: As Troy has finished with PBN hound gathering (above) — aggregate your PBNs for greatest impactThe history of Paint By Number Kits:

Supernatural!NDRV3 Boys and human S/O

I ran out of ideas by the time I got to Gonta.

- Mod Teruteru

Shuichi Saihara

- Dating someone you can’t touch is a bit weird.

- As a ghost, Shuichi is intangible and your not able to do normal things normal couples would do like hugging, holding hands, kissing, things like that.

- It came to the point where Shuichi had started blaming himself for you not being able to love you properly.

- But you told him not to worry about it.

- “You shouldn’t have to worry about not being able to touch me. I still love you, and you still love me. As long as we can express that in anyway to each other nothing changes. We’re just like every other couple, okay?”

- Shuichi’s face started turning red, contrasting to his normal pale white.

- “T-thank you S/O.”

- “Hm? I didn’t know ghosts could blush.”

- “N-no I was just-”

- “I love you Shuichi!”

- “S-stop!”

- You ended up teasing him all day after that, and then apologizing because you love him.

Kaito Momota

- Dating a werewolf has always been just the slightest bit strange.

- At least once a month you have to chain him to the old steel heater in your basement that's attached to the floor.

- Then when he turns full wolf it's your job to keep him satisfied and under control until morning.

- But otherwise, he's a nice guy.

- Hiding his wolfness has proven to be difficult though.

- When he gets excited his wolf ears pop from his head and he starts panting.

- It's cute, but it's very compromising for someone trying to hide their species.

- So you have to be the one to pull him into a private room and remind him to calm down and take it easy.

- Then you would hug him, bringing him back to his more human like state.

- What would the poor wolf boy do without you?

Rantaro Amami

- He's a Incubus.

- A pretty chill Incubus at that.

- Normally Incubus use their powers to seduce humans and feed off their lust energy.

- But Rantaro seems to have adapted to feeding off the energy humans give off when they feel embarrassed or particularly affectionate.

- Making your relationship a symbiotic one as well as a romantic one.

- When you notice Rantaro is feeling a bit down or tired, you give him a hug or two and suddenly he's back in the race.

- Your first kiss with him was probably the greatest thing you've ever seen.

- Whenever he had asked you for a kiss in the past, it was him legitimately asking for energy.

- He respected your decision to wait, but his energy was depleting rather quickly and he needed affection to survive.

- It was when you witnessed him passing out in your living room that now was probably a good time to have your first kiss.

- Hugs weren't doing anything anyway.

- It took a few seconds of silent hesitation, but when you finally pressed your lips against his, his arms flew, grabbing you and pulling you in for an even deeper kiss then just a peck on the lips.

- When you parted, you both started giggling.

- “Couldn't help yourself, could you Amami?”

- “What? You were the one to make me wait so long.”

Kiibo

- You had met Kiibo almost entirely by accident.

- You were dared by some of your friends to go to the top of the neighborhood hill and go inside the creepy house sitting on top of it.

- Sounds cliche, doesn't it?

- Either way, they got you in there (they offered you like, fifty bucks for it) and told you to take a selfie in the living room as proof you went all the way in.

- You took notice to all the surprisingly new looking photos in shiny frames of some old man standing proudly next to what looks like an incredibly detailed sculpture of a boy about your age.

- As you listened to the floorboards creak under your weight, you tiptoed unconsciously through the hallways until you were met with what you believed to be to living room.

- You took your phone out and opened up the camera. When you switched it to the front camera, you could see a figure behind you.

- “AHH!”

- “AHHHH!”

- It wasn't very tall, and it wasn't very menacing, but it frightened you for sure.

- “W-who are you?!”

- “M-my name is Kiibo Idabashi! I'm a creation of certified evil scientist Professor Idabashi.”

- Evil scientist?

- “Then...what are you?”

- “I'm a clay golem. The best of the best!”

- You blinked. Clay golem? Like, Frankenstein or something?

- “Are you the kid who's in all the picture back there?”

- “Yes, I am. But unfortunately, the other man in the pictures has passed away. Professor Idabashi…”

- “Have you been here ever since?”

- His head dipped and his ahoge even drooped a bit.

- “Y...yes. I know that humans aren't as accepting as the professor and his peers. So I've been deactivating myself to avoid meeting any. I only just woke up because I heard you come in.”

- “Would you...like to come out of here with me? I could be some kind of ambassador or something.”

- If Kiibo's eyes were real, they'd be sparkling.

- “Really?!”

- “Uh, sure. You seem like a nice guy.”

- He jumped up and hugged you tight, almost yelling his thank you’s.

- “Oh thank you thank you thank you!! You're so nice! If all humans are as nice as you, then I'm sure we'll all be able to get along.”

- Your face turned red, and you laughed awkwardly.

- “O-oh, I mean, I'm not the nicest person in the world but, I have a bunch of friends waiting for me to come back out so, why don't we go now?”

- “Okay, let's go!”

Kokichi Ouma

- He's an imp who could have guessed.  

- Ever since he met you he dropped his normal imp form and went for a more “modern human” type look.

- Though he kept the tail and horns for asthetics sake.

- If he really needs to, he'll take his shirt off and let his wings out.

- By really needs to I mean whenever he wants to embarrass you.

- He finds humans like you really interesting.

- Rather than being scared of him when he first arrived, you were rather fascinated by him.

- How a being like an imp could actually exist in the first place.

- He probably likes humans more than he does his own kind.

- Every imp is fairly the same

- They lie, they cheat, they trick others for fun.

- You were the main reason for him to stay on Earth full time.

- Not that he would tell you that…

Korekiyo Shinguji

- You met him at a beach, assuming he was some kind of stranded seal or something.

- When you had gotten closer, you could clearly see the top half of a human attached to the stranded half.

- He had long black hair and had some kind of cloth mask on his face, reading a ripped piece of newspaper.

- When you approached him and asked him what he was doing, he looked at you and made a noise that you were pretty sure was a laugh.

- “KuKuKu, for once I didn't have to lure one in. This one seems to want to talk to me.”

- “What are you talking about?”

- He put a hand on his chest.

- “I am a siren. A Greek 'myth’ according to humans. I use my singing voice to lure humans on ships to their doom. In other stories my kind of known to eat the flesh of the humans we kill, but that is entirely untrue.” - He puts the newspaper clipping down. - “I should know.”

- You sat down, crossing your legs with your eyes sparkling and a huge grin on your face.

- “That sounds really cool. Do you think you can tell me more?” - “Hm? You’re interested in my stories?”

- You nodded.

- “Yeah! I’ve always been into greek mythology. My favorite is Cerberus, not just because they’re they guard the gateway to the underworld, but also all of the pottery that they’re displayed on. All of it is really impressive and beautiful.” - “Oh, then perhaps you would be interested in some of the stories of Hades?”

- “Yes, please tell me.” - It was strange to him, how you were actually interested in his stories.

- No one else had been.

- Perhaps he was he was already growing fond of you?

- How strange.

Gonta Gokuhara

- You can’t remember ever wanting to date a dryad.

- But then again, you never knew that they existed in the first place so, there’s that.

- Being a Dryad doesn’t make him any different from humans, besides the fact that he’s a literal tree person.

- But he’s fascinated by human culture.

- Especially about this whole gentlemen concept.

- When he had first learned about it, he made it his goal to become a gentleman, mainly so he could be more accepted by humans.

- So, you helped him out.

- You found tailors that could make suits his size, you learned alongside him on how to treat a lady, even how to properly make and serve tea.

- But one day, he approached you about it.

- “Hm? What is it Gonta?” - “Gonta have to tell you something. Gonta not become gentleman for other humans to accept him more.”

- He got down on one knee and showed you a bouquet of freshly picked flowers.

- “Gonta wanted to become gentleman, to become closer to S/O. G-Gonta hope,” - He blushed, scratching the back of his neck and looking to the side,

- “Gonta hope you don’t mind.” - You smiled, eyes sparkling.

- “Aw Gonta! Of course I don’t mind. That’s really very sweet of you.” - He smiled wide, glowing with happiness.

- “T-thank you for understanding S/O!”

Ryoma Hoshi

- Dwarfs can be pretty strange, to say the least.

- Hoshi, for example, doesn't really care whether or not humans see him.

- Unlike other dwarfs, he lives in an apartment with two cats and a fairly good rent price.

- You've asked him about it before, but the main reason seems to be that he doesn't really care for other dwarfs.

- Their religious to an annoying level, they force their beliefs onto their children, everything there can get pretty stressful if you aren't prepared for it.

- So instead, he stayed here to live the human life.

- No magic, no battles, just his S/O and his cats.

- Which you find very cute.

- “You mean, you stay here for me?”

- “I-I mean, partly for you...for the cats, and uhm, humanity as well I guess.”

- You hugged him.

- “Even so, that’s really sweet of you.”

- “Uh, sure.”

- He smiled. You were at least the main reason he stayed.

5 Native Enterprise Advertising Takeaways from MozCon Digital 2021

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5 Native Enterprise Advertising Takeaways from MozCon Digital 2021

The creator’s views are solely his or her personal (excluding the unlikely occasion of hypnosis) and should not all the time replicate the views of Moz.

What a deal with to expertise three days of deep studying at MozCon Digital 2021 with a number of the world’s most revered digital marketing professionals. Whereas solely one of many classes was particularly targeted on native enterprise technique, it’s my native web optimization bias to see every part by way of that lens. I took pages of notes of ideas that I do know can have super applicability for native enterprise homeowners and their marketing companions.

The MozCon 2021 video bundle is now on sale for anybody who couldn’t make it to the convention, and in the present day I’d like to provide you a style of what you stand to be taught from a number of the most related and thrilling shows, which you’ll put to work for the native companies you’re selling.

Get the MozCon Digital 2021 Video Bundle!

1. Research start to floor Google Posts methods

Google Posts have existed for about 5 years, nevertheless it’s solely just lately that we’ve began to see research performed that establish successful techniques using them. Joy Hawkins was our one strictly-local skilled at MozCon 2021, and she or he used her speaker spot to set out a smörgåsbord of Google Posts ideas for viewers primarily based on her agency’s testing. Right here have been a few of my favorites:

Supply and COVID-type Posts acquired probably the most clicks in 2020, and posts that includes specials are clear winners.

Don’t use inventory images, however do use textual content in your photos to extend engagement.

Have enjoyable with emojis in your posts — they enhance clicks!

These are only a few of the takeaways you’ll derive from Pleasure’s session, with the general understanding that, whereas posts don’t seem to have a direct impression on native pack rank, they will affect native justifications for 60 days at a clip, and, after all, enhance site visitors to your web site!

2. Native prospects want data, even amid disruption

I picked up a operating theme within the excellent shows by Shannon McGuirk, Cyrus Shepard, and Ross Simmonds: the COVID-19 pandemic has positively not decreased the general public’s want for data from the Web. Every speaker approaches this phenomenon from a unique angle:

Shannon’s firm misplaced 50% of its income within the first couple weeks of the pandemic and needed to transition from long-term content material planning to a extra reactive model of marketing that is ready to transfer shortly with the instances. Identical to digital companies, native ones are encountering a state of affairs by which it’s more durable to plan promotional actions, particularly when there are fewer accessible native journalists to outreach to. Shannon’s presentation gives up, in extraordinarily clear element, how her firm has realized to outlive amid disruption.

Cyrus explains how the patents Google is investing in surrounding person habits set objectives for companies to be the primary click on, the lengthy click on, and the final click on for searchers. With the fitting content material, your native enterprise ought to be the useful resource the general public chooses first from Google’s outcomes, stays on longest, after which doesn’t must navigate away from as a result of their wants have been met. As Cyrus explains, “User satisfaction is the #1 ranking factor!”

Ross explains why it’s worthwhile to consider your model as a media firm, and predict what might be vital to your neighborhood to be able to spend money on related content material. It is a tenet in Moz’s Important Native web optimization Technique Information by which we urge native enterprise homeowners to see themselves as publishers.

three. Sorry, however your native enterprise web site has content material decay

It might really feel a bit such as you’re sitting in a dentist’s chair listening to this, however fortunately, Kameron Jenkins from Shopify has a treatment for this state of affairs, by which site visitors to your web site’s older pages and posts naturally deteriorates over time. In case your native enterprise depends on content material publishing to generate site visitors and income, content material decay is an enormous drawback (and a steady one) as a result of your articles are all the time getting older. The answer to that is to have an ongoing content material refresh technique by which you establish and replace growing old articles to maintain them related.

However the bigger your content material library is, the more durable it may be to perform this process. The truth is, Kameron discovered that 25% or much less of content material entrepreneurs’ time is spent on content material refreshes. The excellent news is that a mixture of free instruments could make it a lot simpler so that you can begin reversing decay. To wit:

The free “landing pages” report in Google Analytics allows you to set a date vary to see which of your content material belongings are dropping site visitors over time.

Google Search Console can also be free and allows you to see which belongings are dropping search positions over time.

Again in Google Analytics, the Aim Conversion Charge and Completions columns present you which of them of your belongings have the very best conversion charges, serving to you prioritize refreshing older belongings which have the potential to ship probably the most conversions when you replace them.

If you are going to buy the MozCon 2021 video bundle, you’ll see all of the screenshots in Kameron’s tutorial, and she’s going to stroll you thru contemplating how you can refresh a web page to provide it a brand new aggressive benefit with unique analysis, recent quotes from specialists, improved inside hyperlinks and extra! Any native enterprise that has severely embraced publishing as core to their online marketing technique ought to see significant advantages from studying to refresh decaying content material as a substitute of letting it sit unmanaged.

four. A contact of experience could make a ton of distinction in an area context

Many audio system at MozCon seek the advice of with giant enterprise purchasers and are all the time having to look onerous for techniques that may set manufacturers aside in ultra-competitive markets. The nice information for native companies and their businesses is that our markets are, by nature, restricted to native geography, which means that nifty techniques can present monumental wins for us inside a set metropolis or area!

Take a look at Joyce Collardé’s side-by-side comparability of a consumer on the left utilizing video schema markup vs. a model on the fitting with out schema. Think about how your native enterprise can command extra display house, with only a contact of technical know-how:

She additionally has a ton of nice ideas for B2B fashions, a lot of that are, after all, native!

In the meantime, Lily Ray’s phenomenal presentation is a must-watch for any native enterprise in an trade that has a direct impression on folks’s lives and funds (suppose docs, dentists, monetary advisors, and many others.). Lily demonstrates the large adjustments which have taken place in natural search engine outcomes since Google’s 2018 “Medic” replace, favoring manufacturers that meet Google’s standards for experience, authoritativeness, and trustworthiness (E-A-T). If your small business is in a your-money-or-your-life (YMYL) class, studying to bake E-A-T into your content material and marketing methods may give you a major elevate in your native market.

Rob Ousbey mentions a favourite software of mine for locating native linktations: Hyperlink Intersect. Then he turns this concept on its head with a brand new Moz alpha experiment known as Topical Hyperlink Finder that can assist you discover topically-relevant hyperlink alternatives for key phrases your opponents are rating for. Moz Professional and Moz neighborhood members are invited to play with this software, and I feel it may very well be a terrific benefit for native companies in search of trade hyperlinks. Whilst you’re at it, take a look at the alpha of the On-page Key phrase Grouper that can assist you decide when to interrupt up a subject into a number of pages as a substitute of placing all of it on a single URL.

Lastly, Casie Gillette’s reference to Recordit that permits you to customized create GIFs instantly delivered to thoughts Darren Shaw’s recent discovery that you should utilize these as a substitute of static photos on Google My Enterprise Merchandise when you save them as a JPEG as a substitute of a GIF. Don’t go overboard, however delicate animation may actually assist your native enterprise’ merchandise stand out!

5. Buck native traits and dare to be totally different

A number of MozCon 2021 audio system warned towards operating a enterprise on assumptions. There are all the time information traits in marketing and glossy new issues in the best way of tech and technique, however what really issues is what works on your prospects. For instance:

Casie Gillette, talked about above, made a terrific level in reminding us that there’s a widespread narrative that “print is dead”. Inform that to Yankee Candles, whose print catalogues performed a key position of their 122.9 million gross sales in 2020. It wasn’t way back that nearly everybody assumed the milkman was a factor of the previous. Not so! Takeaway: don’t simply latch onto fads. You could learn that your native enterprise wants to speculate hours every week on social media marketing, but when your individual prospects are telling you that what they really need is dwelling supply, or better-trained employees, or a cleaner retailer…put your money there and provides it to them!

Moz’s personal Dr. Peter J. Meyers reminds us that our brick-and-mortar opponents is probably not the identical as our opponents within the natural SERPs. You’ve obtained to review the outcomes that come up for the searches that matter to your particular prospects to see whether or not you’re proper about who is definitely competing with you there for vital phrases.

Wil Reynolds advises bringing a small ego to the web optimization course of, and a willingness to be unsuitable and query every part. He urges manufacturers to make marketing choices on the idea of knowledge, summing it up deftly: The much less you perceive your buyer, the extra you spend to amass them.

It’s my take that native enterprise homeowners have a bonus over their digital counterparts, since you dwell the place your prospects do and should even have been absorbing the tradition of your city or metropolis your entire life. Within the native context, tech is there to make speak simpler, and your highest-level takeaways from the MozCon 2021 video bundle might be a brand new degree of confidence and experience to make you a extra considerate, geared up communicator.

Your online-only colleagues must take these expertise into an enormous area, competing with everybody on this planet to be heard. However for you, marketing an area enterprise, an academic funding in your self and your workforce may give you a unprecedented enhance alongside the worthy journey of changing into an area family identify.

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Tomorrow (Does not) always come

This came out one night when I thought about the possible scenarios for this couple in Infinity War, and although I have my opinion of why would hire twins for the 4th installment, I really hope that these two end with a happy ending instead of the one they had in the comics I take two iconic phrases in the comics of these two to write this, the first is from Vol # 1 of Avengers and the second if memory doesn't fail, it is from Vision # 7 both said by Wanda towards Vision.

I hope you enjoy it.

Vision writes a letter for Wanda on their last night together in an attempt to show how he feels about her and in case Thanos and his evil plans to conquer the Galaxy end up working:

To the love of my life, Wanda. 

Maybe at this moment while you read these lines, a series of events occurred that led you to know this through this letter and not in my person, I'm probably unable to do so, or I'm no longer here, but in essence, it's me.   

  You may ask why a letter if in all the time of knowing us I never made one, but in this moment, when you are lying  between my chest, I can feel the soft warm skin of your back increases my senses and I think it's the perfect time to write a letter with words I may never tell you, dreams that may never come to fruition, and that doesn't mean that I didn't want it, believe me, I do it and a lot. I'm a being born of logic, guided by it, but you, you beat my logic and now there is only what is in my synthetic chest, and that can't be quantified because there is simply nothing I can use to do justice for gauge my feelings for you, not even an exponential figure such as pi, or infinite could, and that is that from the moment your mind touched mine the day I was created, my love for you only started to growing.   

    You don't know how much I regret not telling you this before, I guess being new in such an old world made me think that someone as wonderful and beautiful as you wouldn't feel the same for a machine like me, I know that thought is not justification and you detest when I say these things, but I bring the subject afloat because without you. I wouldn't feel that I can be something beyond why I was created for, you make me feel like a complete man, your man.

    Still, thanks for emphasizing that I am different from anyone, I’m happy to be it, because I assure you that I love you more than any human heart would do. If I had known you felt the same, and I had been brave, tonight would not be our first night together, and I think it was just my fault, at some point between the Accords and the Raft, I made so many mistakes thinking that I was protecting you and then thinking that it was not the moment to tell you what should not be silenced; and wasted the few days we had until tonight, I guess we lost a lot of time.  

 But in spite of everything, I don't regret anything because you have given me the most beautiful moments of my life, my first kiss, my first sigh, my first in everything, and I need you do not forget it, you always be my first and only love, forever and ever and neither the Accords, nor Thanos can ever take that away from me. I also don't regret the worst moments we lived because the pain of your loss made me more human, you don't know how much hurt lose you in Leipzig, with the uncertainty of not knowing if I could hold you in my arms again, then I had to bear that you were not by my side and I missed you too much, cursing not being able to sleep every day to find some peace, I felt terribly miserable for not taking you away from everything when I had the opportunity and instead I put you in the middle and I lost you. The months you spent in the Raft were incredibly slow, and I being unable to do anything to get you out made me feel the most useless being of existence; The only thing I thank Steve Rogers for all that conflict is that without his help you wouldn't have been free and we would have missed all this time too.  

  I don't want look back on the past because that is not the purpose of this letter, I mentioned it because the only time we talked about the Accords and the breakdown of the team I told you my perspective of the conflict but I didn't tell you how I felt and you deserve to know that I was not indifferent. Not when I couldn't have you by my side. I don't know what will happen tomorrow when we all meet again as a team, I know that you had that vision of the end and you promised to protect me, but when the time comes I will not allow you to do it. I care too much for you to sacrifice yourself for someone who puts you in danger every second that passes since they attacked Earth. I hope that one day you can forgive my decision and understand why I did it, and that is that I cannot lose you again, even though physically could do it.   

 I don't know what you see when you look at me, but when I see you, I see only my home, in your eyes, I see happiness, through your eyes, I can find myself, I can return to you where I belong where I always have to belong. Your smile, always sincere and sometimes sarcastic. The way you frown when you focus, the way you laugh, the way you sing or dance and play the guitar, I've seen people doing all that and yet none of them compares to you and I like having I had the opportunity to be with someone as unique and irreplaceable as you are, Wanda Maximoff. 

   Last night I had a beautiful dream, one where the pain did not exist and you woke up in my arms, I held you strong, but I no longer had or felt the fear of losing you, there was nothing that could take you away from me as in this moment. I don't know if it was your dream, mine, or both that was created as one, but in that dream you woke up and you looked at me with your beautiful smile, you tenderly kissed my lips, and I wanted to show you that I was yours, but you stopped me and with a little laugh you said, "You will wake them up." At that moment I didn't understand anything, but it wasn't a confused feeling but rather happiness, and as the dream went on I understood why. 

Twins. 

Yes, twins, they were identical but not for their hair, one of them had your brother's hair and the other yours before you dyed, one had my smile and the other my chin, both were more than ready for a Picnic in what appeared to be our garden. You wore a long yellow dress that fluttered in the wind, then one of the twins lay asleep in your lap between your arms, I played with the other and we laughed at his frustration at not putting the correct figures in a box, he had the same face that puts a woman who fought against an army of evil robots but can't open the jar of pickles after an Asgardian closed it. At some point in the dream you looked at me and smiled, we were really happy.    

  Then I woke up and even though you were by my side, I had to accept the reality of the situation, I know we will win, although the recent breakdown of the team does not favor us and we do not have the best odds, we all still have hope and that's enough, although to win sometimes sacrifices are made and not all of us will be there to see it, but I know and I firmly believe that you will be there and I want you to have all this that I dreamed, even if is not with me.   

    Today, this night I choose to think that there are alternate universes, those of which you like so much and I read to you on nights when you have nightmares. I want to believe in them and maybe in some of those universes, we will continue dancing on the roof in the light of the moon as we once did in the complex, that you will eat your breakfasts I made you even if they are horrible and you only do it because you love me, that you will give me the best years of your life and I live only to ensure that you don't have any bad and make you happy as much as you make me with your simple existence. Wanda, thank you for teach me that love is for the soul and not for the body, thank you for being my love and my soul itself, thank you for loving me in the way no one else could.

 In case tomorrow doesn't come, I give you my last today.

 I love you 

Yours, Vision.

It was the hundredth time read it, and she was sure that she could never tire of reading, again and again, the same lines written neatly for her, all the love he could give her had been expressed in that letter.

 “Wanda, are you ready?” Tony asked as he peeked through the door of her temporary room in a complex that was being rebuilt for the remnants of the war.

 “Yes.” She answered wiping the tears from her cheeks.

 “You're fine?” 

“Yes, it's just the emotion of the moment.” 

“He will be fine, Helen, Banner and I did our homework.”

 “What will happen if he´s not the same again?”

 “We will find the way to him return to us. I promise.”

 “Okay.”

 In complete silence, they went to the improvised laboratory, Wanda walked with slow but firm steps with her hands on her chest trying not to let her face reflect her fear, Tony pointed to the entrance and inside she spotted the people who helped create the man of her life the first time,  surrounding him expectantly because Vision had just awakened and was sitting motioning insecurely, looking at his arms, hands, and legs with amazement, He seemed to be the same Vision that came out of the cradle three years ago. Suddenly, he stopped and looked towards the entrance where Wanda was. And he stared at her.

 “Vision?”

                                                   Epilogue

 The sun was beginning to show signs of hiding, the birds were still singing merrily, even if enough attention was paid, an owl could be heard, the smell of flowers, and a nearby forest was unique, toys are overflowing the garden grass, and a small indoor pool, Leonia was a really charming neighborhood, or maybe just the house, the house they could call home. She had Thomas curled up in her lap while caressing his white hair. He had William exhausting his last energies playing with wooden chips. Suddenly he noticed that while caressing their son she was staring at him.

 “Definitely Billy has your scowl, not mine, the one you use when you are slow to solve something” His wife spoke looking at the little baby who was playing settled between his dad.

 “And Tommy definitely has your smile, especially the smile you make when you sleep.” Vision answered. 

“I thought I was snoring, I don't think that counts as a smile.” Wanda answered with a small laugh. 

“After these years I learned that your sleep patterns change with certain situations, not regularly, but you only snore when you are tired and sick with the flu.” 

Wanda smiled.

 “Is that how your dream was?” Wanda asked in the hope that he will remember.

 “You remember? Did you read the letter?”  Vision asked with surprise in his voice.

 “Of course, is a very beautiful letter, in fact, I keep it.” 

“You never told me.” 

“You never asked” 

“I, I don't know what to say, I remembered that letter some time after you told me that we would have our children.” 

“I keep it very well after your reconstruction, you know, to try to recover your memories and show it to you when you were ready.” 

Vision recalled those moments, wake up after the war and without memories, for a time, the only thing he managed to preserve from his old self, was the love towards her.

 “If I had known that I just needed to tell you I was pregnant with your children for you come back to me and be your again, I would have confirmed my suspicions weeks before and not two months after it was obvious that they were coming.” 

“The memories came to my mind one after the other and suddenly they were so fuzzy that they could not stay. But the ones I had with you were different, yours were like following your voice home. And our children were the final piece to return.”

 “I'm glad you came back.” 

Vision smiled with the best smile in years. The one that was only for her and their children. 

“I love you.”

 “I love you too.”

 “And you were right...” Vision affirmed.

 Wanda tilted her head without understanding still looking at him.

 “Tomorrow always comes”.

 The End.

Well, according to the rumors and statements of Paul, our actor for Vision, is a possibility that at the end of one of the two films, Vision and Wanda end up being a family that sits in the suburbs and then have their twins, but what I know and investigate about Marvel movies, usually they hire twins when it comes to ONE child character, for example, Lila Barton's daughter the actress girl has a twin, but Cassie's actress Scott's daughter, she doesn't have it, so everything can happen, right? Another of my theories is that if there really is that of time travel or What if? in the movies, maybe the role for these twins is that of a Tony Stark child who has a Steve Rogers uncle who never ends frozen or that Tony himself travels to that time of his life to find the key or something that may be useful to stop Thanos, anyway, if you have another theory let me know

Hi I love all your penumbra metas. In the latest episode I'm still confused by what actually went wrong with the dome, was it the society or the dome that didn't work?

Is this gonna be a thing I do?

I am totally cool with this.

Again, major detailed spoilers for Promised Land under the cut.

And an anon asked:

Thanks for explaining the end of the episode! I’m a little confused about what happened with the dome in the first place. I mean, I know the free dome wasn’t real. And Erin tried to get her son(?) to get it to work and he was a giant dick trying to torture people looking for it. Did Erin set up the dome stuff prematurely? Did it ever exist? Marshall’s son felt really bad and wanted to warn everyone. Where did the hallucination gas fit in? Did Erin and company think they had it but didn’t?

One thing to keep in mind is that we’re deliberately not given the full story, so all we’re left with is bits and pieces that we can glue together to kind of get a vague impression of what happened, but the way I put them together won’t necessarily be the way you put them together. 

So let’s get to it, shall we?

Why was the Free Dome important?

Real estate on Mars is expensive, outside of super low-income neighborhoods like Oldtown, The Boiler, etc. 

This is because 90% of Mars’s surface is uninhabitable. If you want to live somewhere, you better be willing to fork over a ton of cash for a tiny place, or else you’re going to be buddying up with your immediate family/seven of your closest friends/etc. 

JUNO: Mars only has a couple cities and a few desertoutposts cuz the radiation will bake you like a potato if you stay out theremore than a few hours, and Domes can’t be built just anywhere. So if you want anew city, you’ve got to figure out how to build a place to build it. You haveto invent a better Dome.

Life cannot exist underground, because the ambient radiation is just too strong:

PILOT: A lot of space in this subway. I wonder why I neverbuilt anything down here. Some housing or something.

PIRANHA: People lose their marbles if they live under Martianground too long. Radiation burns, Brainswell…

STRONG: You know whatbeing under all this radioactive sand too long does to you? Drives you crazy.Makes you see things.

This is likely why the subway has been closed off everywhere except Oldtown– most likely it wasn’t safe for the people working there, or for the people using it for transit.

Oldtown was the only part of Hyperion City that still had a connection to the Old Subway, behind a boarded-up door in a nondescript office building. (Stolen City)

This is probably also why the only thing that lives in the sewer are giant mutant rabbits. 

Notably, though, both the subway and the sewer system are in fairly good repair because they’re both under Hyperion City and its protective dome. The same doesn’t hold true for structures built outside of that protection:

People hadbuilt things down here, signs and lights and tracks, but the radiation hadclearly done damage even this deep below the surface. Fixtures corroded. Trackslike time had taken a blowtorch to them.

Even the existing domes are fragile. We know that Hyperion City’s has some places that are protected better than others.

RITA: Well… sounds like a pretty bad sandstorm is gonna hit this afternoon. You’ll probably want to be out of Oldtown by then; the shield over there’s about as strong as used tissues. They went into lockdown three times just last month. (Day That Wouldn’t Die)

Our Man-Who-Wasn’t picked a good neighborhood to set up shop in: the Old Industrial District, a place blasted by sandstorms and cosmic rays so hard that not even the roaches would live there anymore. The shields protecting the rest of Hyperion didn’t reach this far, and so neither would most of its citizens. It was the perfect place to do bad business – so long as you didn’t mind a tumor or two. (Prince of Mars)

That’s important: You can’t build domes just anywhere, and the domes that do exist have to be heavily shielded from sandstorms and cosmic rays. 

If you can solve those two problems, then you can build a dome wherever you want, you can build as many of them as you want, and all the unclaimed land on Mars is effectively yours for the taking– and that means that you now have the power to decide who gets to live there and who doesn’t. Do you give affordable housing to anyone who wants it, like Erin Marshall D’Arc? Or do you do like Pilot wanted, and make the hyper-wealthy pay top dollar so they can have their own personal golf course? Either way, that’s an incredible amount of power.

The Family D’Arc

So we have three main characters in this story: Erin, the scientist; Marshall, her son; and his kid, Domer 3 (they’re never given a name, but that’s what the script calls them).

We started in a reception hall that didn’t lookprepared to receive anybody. There were portrait frames on the walls, but mostof them were empty, and the ones that weren’t just showed family photos. A momand her son –- the D’Arcs, probably. The kid all grown up, moody, wild-eyed.The only full portrait in the room had the face scratched out – and theydidn’t look like Erin or Marshall. 

Erin was a military scientist who thought she had a solid technology on her hands, and believed in it enough to run away with a group of other believers. Erin was an optimist who seemed to genuinely believe in her Utopian dream.

After her death, her son Marshall took over leadership of the dome.

MARSHALL: Cuz Ma might’ve had allthat crap about everyone being her neighbor or whatever, but guess what? She’sdead.

The character descriptions in the script talk about how Marshall was a believer who wanted desperately to be good enough, but neither he nor the Free Dome ever lived up to expectations, and that broke him.

But all of that is background information. From what we see in the episode itself, Marshall was… not a nice person. His tests were murderous, sadistic, and full of gaslighting and victim-blaming, and the way he addressed his prospective “neighbors” was nothing short of abusive. 

So you’reprobably wondering why I stopped you out in these irradiated badlands, with allthe oogidies and the boogidies waiting to getcha. I’ve got three answers forthat. Answer one: it’s none of your business. Two: my testing materials havegot to last a long time, forever probably, and it’ll help wear-and-tear if lessof you make it to them. Three: it’s still none of your goddamn business.

“Anyone whowishes to enter the Free Dome must be generous, and give more of themselvesthan they can afford. So sit upon this Chair of Charity and give to us… fromyour blood.”

Congratulations.You’re a very generous idiot. Here’s the Dome… and here’s your blood back,weirdo. Just do me afavor: if you feel like you’re gonna bite the big one, show yourself out,alright? We’re already behind schedule without cleaning up your carcass.Marshall out.

That’s it!Easy, right? Just hold the Dome and walk straight. No matter what. You hear me?No matter what. (AN UNDERCURRENTOF DARK, DARK ANGER) And if youknow what’s good for you, you’ll listen.

That’s way beyond unreasonable. But it wasn’t just toward the test-takers. His kid flat out tells us that this was regular behavior for him.

Dad was a good guy, too. I mean… well, no hewasn’t. 

I never met her, but Dad… Dad wasn’t good beforethe radiation either.

(Notably, this is the same kind of language that Juno uses to describe his own mother.)

We don’t know Domer 3′s name, but we know that they lived outside of the dome with Marshall long enough to know him (and his abuse) before the radiation made him worse; we also know that Erin didn’t live to meet her grandchild. 

After Marshall presumably died, Domer 3 seems to be the last person here. They recorded warning messages to keep everybody away, and encoded a kill switch into the final recording so that once it was activated, nobody could enter the Free Dome again.

There is a fourth character here, but we only know them incidentally. I don’t know whether they were Marshall’s ex-partner or his co-leader, but Marshall really did not like this person:

MARSHALL: … a test tosee how generous you are. You want in you gotta have a sense of charity. Notlike that weasel Malvin, I swear ifyou’re listening to this, Mal, I’m gonna tear your—

Alright, fine.Test of Faith. You’ve got to do whatever I say exactly, right? That’s how youprove you can be faithful. That you’re going to listen when I tell you to dosomething. That you’re not just going to run out. Malvin.

I suspect Malvin is not Domer 3, because otherwise Domer 3 would have been given a name in the script. Also because Malvin clearly left on their own terms, whereas Domer 3 was clearly the last one there.

So what went wrong?

As near as I can put it together, there were two main problems, one structural and one societal.

Structurally, the dome tech just didn’t work.

I’m sure it did in the short term– after all, the dome sample that Pilot received was powerful enough to protect them from most of the dangers of the third trial, and it was stated to be a much less powerful version of the real thing. 

I genuinely believe that Erin set up her city on the other side of those doors in the end. But what worked in a lab setting just couldn’t hold up to the brute force of sandstorms and constant cosmic radiation. As soon as the dome failed, everybody had to rush back into the relative safety of the underground areas on the other side of the door. The ruins of the city were likely warped by radiation and ground up by sandstorms until they were reduced to nothing at all.

Underground, Erin kept trying to fix the dome tech, and then brought in her son to give it a go. Both of them failed.

I wish they made it. I wish it was possible. Erin, I think she really thought, even if she couldn’t do it… maybe Dad could. She believed in him so much. And when he realized he couldn’t make it work, he just… (BIG SIGH) It was bad. He was… bad.

They were underground in the facility long enough that they started to hallucinate death millipedes, undercrows, and from the sound of it, the functioning dome itself:

I don’t know how it happened. The undergroundradiation, maybe, making them see things, or… maybe they just wanted to see it. 

What exactly happened to them isn’t elaborated upon, but the implication is that they assumed that the tech worked and walked into the desert unprotected, which killed them within a few hours.

(Just to clarify: there was never any hallucinatory gas; the hallucinations were a result of the brainswell, which was in turn a result of the underground radiation.)

But there were some societal issues at play, too.

I’m gonna step back for a second into the real world: historically, there have been a handful of experimental Utopian colonies over the years, with varying degrees of success. A common thread, though, is that a lot of them tend to fall apart when people stop dividing things evenly and start hoarding and hiding an unfair share of the goods for themselves (among other things). The test of charity suggests that this is one of the things that went down here. Once again:

MARSHALL: … a test to see how generous you are. You want in you gotta have a sense of charity. Not like that weasel Malvin, I swear if you’re listening to this, Mal, I’m gonna tear your—

But it’s not the only thing that went wrong. 

Erin’s answer to a galaxy-ending conflict wasn’t to address any of the existing problems that broke the world, but to just pack up and move somewhere else.  Which is not that great of a strategy.

Your wholething is that the world’s a train wreck, so you open up a new city and just letanybody who wants walk in? That’s not anew world. That’s not a utopia. That’s the old one all over again. Justsmaller.

Erin’s strategy was apparently to please everybody, which is also not a great leadership strategy, especially in a small place with limited resources. Marshall had a lot of things to say about that, but he wasn’t much better. Apart from being seriously abusive, Marshall wasn’t the kind of leader that could command respect, which he clearly resented. 

… what isthis, second? Uh, Test of Faith, how about that? Listen to whatever I say.Somebody’s got to. Somebody should.

Hey, you listened. Nice work. If you’re alive. Which you probably aren’t. Because you probably didn’t listen. Nobody does. Why would you? Why would anybody? 

On a societal level, the Free Dome was doomed to fail even before the brainswell started making people hallucinate and taking away their ability to think rationally.

From the sound of it, people stopped listening to the D’Arcs, they started hoarding things, and then they started leaving or dying, until the only ones left were Marshall and his kid. And then it was just Domer 3, who shut down the whole thing and walked away.

Pedro Infante and Ismael Rodriguez: Dos Maestros de Cinema

One of the great gifts of cinema (among its many gifts) is that there are always great moviemakers and actors all over the world yet to discover.

So one day, a friend, a family member, or in my case, a girlfriend (soon to be my wife!), introduces you to movies that blow your mind and that you never knew existed.

My amazing wife, Martha, introduced me to the movies of ridiculously talented director, Ismael Rodriguez, and his collaborations with equally ridiculously talented movie star, Pedro Infante.  

Discovering these movies (thank you Martha!) was like discovering the best ice cream bar in the world and realizing you will never get sick of its abundant flavors.

Whether you are just an avid movie watcher or a rabid movie maker (or both), your journey to find and watch these movies will be rewarded tenfold.

Often considered the director/actor pair that most exemplify Mexico’s golden age of Cinema (the 1940’s-1950’s), Ismael Rodriguez and Pedro Infante made a string of movies  that somehow manage to have everything: great musical numbers, hilarious comedy, great character acting, moving stories of family and romantic couples, tragic melodrama, inventive cinematic sequences.

One of their most (if not most) famous collaborations, Nosotros, Los Pobres (We, The Poor;  1948) is a perfect example. Infante plays a poor carpenter, Pepe El Toro (Pedro the Bull), who refuses to tell his daughter the truth about her mother.  Everyone in the neighborhood gossips that Pepe may have killed his wife.  Yet we can see that Pepe is a truly good man and so the movie, in essence, is the revealing of what really happened.

While Nosotros Los Pobres is not my favorite Rodriguez-Infante collaboration, it is possibly the one I most greatly admire. Somehow, Rodriguez and Infante shine a light on poverty, find mercy for characters many people judge, tell a riveting (if overly melodramatic) tale of the streets, AND throw in 2-3 classic musical numbers, as well as 4th wall breaking cinematic devices that would make Jean Luc Godard blush.

Here is a video clip of Infante singing Amorcito Corazon, my personal favorite song of all the movies:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ST0ceoPeV1Y

Pedro Infante IS one of the great international stars of cinema. He is like Toshiro Mifune, Frank Sinatra, and Jimmy Cagney all rolled into one.  He can sing, crack jokes, play intense drama, and damn, if he doesn’t get all the women too.

Ismael Rodriguez is a genius wunderkind kid giddy at the tools of cinema. That Rodriguez, here in the United States, is not spoken of more often in the same sentences that praise Steven Spielberg, Orson Welles, Federico Fellini, reflects poorly on those of us who make the omission.  Rodriguez is that good.

Here are just a few recommendations from their many collaborations. These just happen to be my personal favorites (and I still have a number to go!):

Los Tres Garcia (The Three Garcias, 1947): One of Rodriguez and Infante’s earlier collaborations, the movie centers on three competitive cousins, their cigar chomping grandmother (the hilarious Sara Garcia), and a visiting distant female relative the three cousins all fall for romantically.  It’s filled with hilarious cinematic bits (a scene involving three portraits of their fathers is particularly funny), dream sequences, and clever visual bits that keep you laughing with amazement. One of my favorite moments is when Infante dreams that the Female Relative truly loves him. As she embraces him, she asks who the distant women are crying in black (in a dream sequence Bergman would have been proud of). Infante looks at them and says, “Las abandonadas” (The abandoned).  Implying that they are all the women Infante has said no to so that he could be with her.  But what Rodrigues does in the subsequent scenes is really what gives this scene its genius.  The movie DOES not go where you think it’s going to go.

In Los Tres Huestecos  (The Three From Huesteco, 1948): Infante plays all three brothers: a gambler, a priest, and a soldier.  Rodriguez and Infante have tremendous fun playing both on Infante’s celebrity persona as a mujeriego (a ladies man) by having him play a celibate priest who lovingly disapproves of the activities of his two brothers.  

Huestecos also has one of my favorite scenes of all time.  Infante, as the gambler, goes home to his secret forest hideaway (complete with monkeys, exotic birds, etc.). There he has an extended scene of comedy with his wild, tough as nails, five year old daughter, Tucita (which means corn husk because she’s blonde), who loves guns, spiders, and snakes.  When Tucita holds up a tarantula and laughs at her father for not being macho, you’ll know you are seeing a very singular kind of scene.

Lastly, there is my own personal favorite, Dos Tipos De Cuidado (Two Careful Fellows, 1953) which may be the best written, best plotted, best paced of them all.  Pedro Malo (literally Pedro the Bad) and his friend, Jorge Bueno (Jorge the Good), have a falling out at the beginning of the movie over a misunderstanding involving Jorge’s girlfriend.  Without knowing what’s happened, we jump in time by a year, and see that Pedro is living with Jorge’s girlfriend and she’s having a baby.  As the movie unfolds, bit by bit, we learn what has really happened. And now the two Dudes of Caution find out nothing is as it seemed and to do right, they have to help the women in their lives and each other.  A truly Shakespearean comedy of errors ensues.

*** Cinema is filled with director-actor collaborations that are much more than the sum of their parts.  Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune.  Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro.  Federico Fellini and Giulietta Masina. And here Ismael Rodriguez and Pedro Infante.

So please, knock out that wall in your cinematic house, it shouldn’t be there! There are many more rooms, halls, wings of the movie mansion yet to explore.  Your love of movies will be rewarded and your sense of cinema made all the richer when you see the movies of these two masters, Ismael Rodriguez and Pedro Infante.