#plus there is not even discussion about the fact she went into freelancing because she missed her adventures WITH THE DOCTOR. like what the

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

Photoshoot - Vinnie Hacker

*Picture’s not mine*

My last Vinnie post got some love, so I figured I would write another one since I like the man so much. Hope you like it

Request are open

Word Count: 1.5k

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

Moving to LA was something you had been looking forward to for quite a while now and when the opportunity came to do what you loved, you couldn’t pass the offer. You were a talented freelance makeup artist and lately you had picked up a liking for photography.  Tati, being your cousin, invited you to stay with her while you were looking for apartment. Being well-known for shooting with famous influencers and content creators, she often dragged you with her so you could experiment the process of a shoot. You were like her assistant for the day, retouching people’s makeup and listening to her every tips and tricks. You woke up super early this morning due to the fact she had two photoshoots planed for the day. Because the timing was tight, you were in charge to go pick up lunch for the both of you after the first shoot was done.

Once you arrived back at the studio, you handed Tati her salad, seeing that the second group of people had arrived and were getting ready. You talked for a bit, eating your food, when it was finally time to get back to work. You were shooting with some TikTok creators from the Hype House today, so while some of them were getting their pictures taking, you were working on doing Mia’s and Kouvr’s makeup.The three of you were talking, when Mia chuckled lightly out of the blue, getting your attention.

“I think you got an admirer (Y/N)” she said as you turned your head to the side, seeing “The Vinnie Hacker” looking right back at you. You blushed, giving him a small smile, getting back to applying lip gloss on Kouvr’s lips. After you got done with their makeup, Tati called them up, being their turn to get photographed. You started to clean your brushes when a voice interrupted you.

“Hey, think you could do my makeup?” your gaze landing on the 6-foot-tall man standing next to you

“Uh sure, you can sit here” you said motioning to the chair in front of you “What would you like?”

“You decide” he answered “I mean, you’re the artist here, I’m sure you’ll do something that will look nice” he said smiling. You looked at the clothing rack that was identified with his name on it, noticing that most of the articles of clothing were somewhat simple, yet classy and trendy. You got your product ready, when his voice spoke again

“I’m Vinnie by the way” he looked into your eyes

“Oh I know, I mean it’s nice to meet you” you said avoiding his gaze, something about him intimidated you. Maybe it was the fact that he was popular and incredibly handsome, but you felt nervous around him, something you weren’t used to.

“So, I guess I don’t get a name than” he smirked as you applied some blurring primer on his face

“I’m (Y/N)” you chuckled lightly “Sorry about that”

He laughed as you finished his makeup. You handed him a mirror, as he examined the look you chose for him, smiling satisfied, thanking you

“The makeup is perfect, thank you” he said a grin on his face as he stood up hovering over you

“My pleasure, I tried picturing something that would fit with every outfit you brought with you.” You said cleaning up your stuff while looking at him shyly. You had done something simple, eyeliner on his waterline, contour to define his jaw and cheekbones even more and a little bit of highlight to accentuate the highest points of his face

“Well, you pictured perfectly, it’s totally my style” soon after, Vinnie’s turn came and he had to go, thanking you again. After you finished putting away all your stuff, you went to stand next to Tati, looking at the pictures on the monitor and listening to the directions she gave Vinnie. After a while, he came closer to look at the photos, exchanging ideas with Tati before changing outfits. He shot a little, before coming back to look at the results again.

“I feel like something is missing” he said, Tati having an excellent idea explained it to Vinnie who agreed

“(Y/N) will do it! Right (Y/N)?” she exclaimed looking at you

“Uh?” you said not having paid attention to their previous discussion

“You’ll pose with him” she stated

“What? I don’t even have other clothes and plus I don’t get in front of the camera, I stay behind, I’m not a model, you know that” you tried explaining to her

“You sure look like one” you could’ve sworn you heard Vinnie mumble, before he cleared his throat

“We just need you for a couple of shot, and you already got the perfect outfit and makeup to go with Vinnie’s aesthetic” she explained amused by you two. Tati knew he was your type and she also saw the way he looked at you, so helping you interact was the least she could do.

You didn’t have much choice, so you followed Vinnie in front of the camera, while Tati explained to the both of you, her vision for the remaining of the shoot. After a while, you started to loosen up, Vinnie was really nice and he helped you, making you more comfortable and confident in front of the camera.

“Let’s do something a little bit more edgy, Vinnie remove your shirt, (Y/N) get rid of your jacket, you tank top is giving you a great silhouette” Your cousin said looking at the pictures she had previously taken while you both listened to her indications.

“Ok now, Vinnie, stand closer to her, look her deeply in the eyes, use your hand, anyways do something edgy and … I don’t care, do something hot”

“Are you ok with that?” he asked you, concerned

“Yeah! Do whatever feels right” you answered blushing

“Ok! If I do something that makes you uncomfortable just tell me” he said while you nodded. He moved closer to you, your body touching, feeling his breath fanning on your face. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting as you realized his stare was already on you. Your hands made their way around his neck, bringing him slightly closer and all you could think about was his lips. They looked so plump and soft, you wondered what it would feel like to kiss them. Being lost in the moment, only hearing the click of the camera, you didn’t realize that everyone had gathered around to look at the two of you.

“Ok, that’s it guy, it looks really good” Tati said snapping a couple of more pictures, before speaking again “Now try doing something a little hotter maybe” The moment the worlds left her mouth, Vinnie laced his hand around you throat, making you gasp, surprised by his action. He was hovering over you, your head slightly tilted to meet his gaze, his long finger wrapping perfectly around your neck. You could feel the heat radiating from your body, as his lips moved closer to yours, only a centimeter apart. You licked your lips, and his eyes followed the movement of your tongue, carefully. A boost of confidence came rushing through you and you did something that both surprised you instantly. The decision to bite his bottom lips caused the others to howl at the action, and a throaty groan to come from Vinnie mouth.

“Ok, that was just perfect, it’s a wrap guys” Tati said smiling widely as she clapped, thanking everyone. You detached yourself slowly from each other, your head going down, a blush creeping on your cheeks, finally realizing what you had just done. It was bold of you, but in the moment, it felt like the right thing to do. You looked back at him, meeting his gaze as you blushed even more while he smirked down at you. You soon were interrupted by your cousin, asking the both of you to come look at the results.

“Keep in mind that I still have to edit them, and work with the lighting, but you guys look so hot” she said, excited as she looked closely at the photos

“I agree” Vinnie nodded “These are definitely my favorite” he continued, pointing at two different pictures. One being a shot of the exact moment you gasped after he had gripped your throat, and the other one being the one when you bit his lip. From the moment he saw you, he couldn’t help but admit he found you attractive and after getting to shoot with you, his desire to get to know you more had gotten stronger.

“Yo Vinnie! What are you doing? Ask her out already” Michael shouted from across the room making you blush as Vinnie smiled looking down at you

“We’re going out to eat, would you like to join us” he asked seeing you look at your cousin for a second “Of course, Tati is invited to join us also, but I would really like it if you would come” he continued smiling softly, scratching the back of his head, waiting for your response. You were screaming on the inside, nervous but excited by his offer. You were stocked to have the opportunity to spend a nice evening with him, and maybe get to know him more.  You looked at Tati with pleading eyes, understanding that she was okay with this when she winked at you, and giving you a thumbs up

“I would love too”

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

Thank you for reading

Hope you like it, let me know what you think

-K

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie #tiktok boys

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

So, It’s been awhile. There’s a reason. The last week or so has been... a week. jesus christ. I shall regale you of my tale, not in chronological order necessarily because that’s how I roll. BUT if you suffer through it, you shall be rewarded with an outdoor plant update post after. Bribery. 

So. Early last week, The Spawn sat down with me and presented a proposal, a well researched proposal, advocating for her starting her own residential cleaning business because she finds it incredibly satisfying and relaxing to clean stuff and she does quite well. So we sat and brainstormed, researched, and talked about how she planned to advertise. She needed a business gmail (and all the tools that come with that), logo, business social media, website, and flyers. 

Being her age, she doesn’t have the skill or knowledge to do these things. So, I volunteered to help with these things so that she didn’t have to spend money hiring someone. I created the email account, put all the brainstorm stuff into a google doc that saved to the biz drive, which included a to do list and the basic info needed. I created a logo. (At which point, she called me a wizard while watching me do so.) I helped her try to create a biz facebook account, but facebook immediately flagged it as breaking the rules. like literally as soon as I created it. So I appealed it & The Spawn wanted to wait to see what came of that before I went further. So she took me with her to shop for the things on her supply list, and we decided to go grab some of the smaller stuff still needed for J’s appt at the same time. This was Friday. 

Saturday, I got a text from J in the early afternoon saying that he needed me. I quickly packed a ‘just in case’ bag, since I didn’t know what to expect or how long I would be there. Now, you have to understand that in the 7 years we’ve been friends, while he has discussed things with me via phone or text, in person he is like me, incredibly stoic. Hell even via text or phone, he always insists that he’s fine and responds to my reminders that i’m here if he needs someone, and to just let me know, he responds “I appreciate it, but I won’t”. So him reaching out like that is a MASSIVE thing. I showed up, let myself in, and he just walked up to me, wrapped his arms around me and started sobbing. I stayed the night, alternating between being comforting and being distracting. It was extremely disarming to see such raw emotion from him repeatedly over the course of the night and to hear him say the things that he is usually uncomfortable articulating. 

The next morning he seemed better, thanked me for coming (to which I responded “Of course I came. I’ve not ever been lying when I’ve said that I’d come if you needed me, day or night, but you have to let me know.”) and apologized for ‘being a mess’. I told him every time he apologized (which happened quite a bit over the course of the night) that there was no need for an apology because this wasn’t something to be sorry for. He was struggling, as people do, and rather than embrace the darkness or fight it alone, he asked for help from someone he trusts and loves that he knows reciprocates. That i know how hard it is for him to do that and that I am proud of him. 

Sunday afternoon the kids (The Spawn and The Bf) picked me up because she needed to take him home but didn’t want to leave the dogs alone. I got in the car after The Bf got into the back, insisting I take the front seat. We hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot of the apartment complex when The Spawn casually asked “So are ya’ll fucking?” 

that’s how I learned that I was the subject of a bet. Apparently, The Bf asked where I was when he came over and out of convenience, not wanting to really explain the relationship, The Spawn said I was at my boyfriend’s. I guess he went on about how how come I’m never hanging out with him, etc, so The Spawn explained the actual nature of our relationship. At the end The Bf said “Nah, they fuckin’ but your mom isn’t telling you.” The Spawn said, “No, she’d tell me because when I started high school I asked her about her past encounters and asked about what stuff was, if she’d done it, and if she enjoyed it, and she was always honest with me. That’s how I know she likes it up the butt.” He insisted that J and I were banging so The Spawn, knowing the truth, took advantage of this and made a bet. It was an easy win for her. SO...

I get asked this question & I look at her, eyebrows raised because she knows how our relationship is (granted if I were physically able and he was willing, I would definitely jump back up on that horse) and said, “No. Mom is no longer physically capable of fucking without risk of severe injury. Plus, despite having ridden that horse previously, I’m not into endangering our besties status. I would go into further detail and commentary but I don’t want to make The Bf uncomfortable. These are things you know, so why do you ask?” She told me of the bet, Then i promptly text J about it because I knew he’d get a laugh out of it. And I was right. 

By the end of Sunday, she recieved an email stating that facebook was upholding the ban, so she and I talked and decided to make a webpage via WIX and after getting a few clients, she could upgrade her account with them to get extras that are offered, including her own domain (rather than the name.wix address) and a lack of wix ads on her page.  And then it all went downhill from there.

Monday through Wednesday (yesterday) had The Spawn breathing down my neck more than any boss I’ve ever fucking had about when her business shit would be done. On top of what I’d already done, between Monday and Wednesday I:   set up her google voice account for a business number, wrote her a “first time client” script, created a google sheets quick reference client database, created a google forms for detailed client records (all in a folder together that is searchable by client name, which would be the title of the form), set up the calendar, downloaded and edited/collaged her before and after photos she took via cleaning some of our spaces, and built her a 7 page website including the photos, facts, and little blurbs that go along with it. It went live at the end of yesterday. 

Throughout this process, rather than just checking in and thanking me for doing it all to save her money, she asked me every couple hours what still needed to be done. When I was not as far along as she felt I should be, she got progressively more hostile. Yesterday morning she had the balls to text me “What all do we still need to do before I can get rolling?” I responded with “ ‘We’? hahahahaha *I* still need to [list].” 

I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “Am I missing something? Did you forget to list something in the list of stuff you did between Monday and Wednesday? You mentioned flyers....” You are correct. But yesterday while I was being driven to my 2nd vax appointment by my father, I basically told him that I’m fried. If a flyer just included facts, I’d be fine, but the part where I need the potential customers to be drawn in and want to learn more is not happening. The creative well has run dry to the point that it is reminiscent of the dust bowl. And I reminded him that there is a reason I no longer do this type of shit for a living. I mentioned that thinking about The Spawn’s company is making me stress puke and that any time The Spawn approaches me to talk about anything, I immediately feel incredibly nauseated. 

Now it should be noted that when I mentioned this in a multi paragraph text earlier, he responded with “Just take a step back from it for awhile, then go back to it.”    

and everyone wonders why on earth I don’t speak up when I hit my limits and why I just push onward despite the damage it does to me. THIS. THIS IS WHY. Everyone is all for me not pushing myself too hard... until it is inconvenient for them. So I basically screamed in the car. On the way back he said he’d help. Ok. cool. 

Except that every fucking idea he had legit just tripled the amount of work I was going to have to do. I mentioned being burned enough that I was considering just paying a freelancer to do it. This motherfucker chimes in with “Oh! [Cool Ex Employee Who Left to be a Stay at Home Mom with her First Baby] does stuff like that. Let me reach out to see if she’d be willing to.” BRUH. That should have been the first thing out of your mouth after my original texts! Jesus Christ. I agreed but with the caveat that HE had to tell The Spawn and say it was his idea because he sees me getting overly stressed and has put his foot down. And he had to do it that night because I knew that if he didn’t, the first thing I’d hear today was “So when are my flyers going to be done?” and I am absolutely not dealing with that shit. The only thing I am doing from this point forward is showing her how to use her database/client files/calendar and I will be happy to answer questions or give advice, but that’s it. This isn’t my company and I’m not employed by her, so I’ve already put in far more work than should have been expected of me, with very little thanks outside of after I finished her logo and a couple times she came down and watched, then told me I’m a fucking wizard. 

Really It was good in a way because I had been doing that thing lately where I wonder if I’m just being dramatic because admin type stuff isn’t that hard and if I could do it from home, I should be able to manage... but this put me back down on earth, where I absolutely am not being dramatic and I cannot fucking do that shit 40 hrs a week for some random asshole. Shit, this was for my own child and I was ready to give up, stab her, then tell her to go fuck herself.

so...that’s been my last week and a half for so. Also, my only side effects from Vax 2 (pfizer) is feeling more tired/run down than usual and a bit of extra joint pain... but those might actually be related to the stress and hell I just went through. who knows. 

as always, don’t steal my shitshow. get your own shitshow. suffer through your own crap. 

[spyder-m]

Cloti Fall Festival, Day Three: Liquid Confidence

Summary: College AU. Zack wants Cloud to loosen up and forget studying for just one night. He coerces him into a night of drinking, hoping it'll give him the courage to talk to his long-time crush, Tifa. Things go about as well as you might expect. 

A/N:  I struggled to finish this, even with the extra time I took. It isn't beta'd, so I'm sorry if there are any glaring errors. Still, I hope you enjoy it! I have a couple more stories in the works for the Cloti Fall Festival. Hopefully, I'll be able to get those done without as many issues.

Ao3 / FF.net

.

The Avalanche bar at Midgar University wasn’t typically the place students went when they were planning to study.

Most tended to favour the library, or one of the many cafes on Campus; somewhere quiet, where they wouldn’t have trouble concentrating.

Cloud, however, liked the atmosphere of the bar on weeknights. It was a small, hole-in-the-wall place often overlooked for the fancier clubs in the city. The few patrons there were looking for nothing more than to unwind after a full day of classes.

Their murmured conversation, the steady, trickle of liquid into pint glasses, the low static of the television all built a comforting white noise, easy enough for him to drown out, but not all-consuming and uncomfortable like the deathly silence of the library.

Cloud wasn't fond of the silence. It made him feel alone, reminded him of the harsh isolation he had endured in his childhood.

The fact that the bar wasn't used by many others for studying, was also a plus. As it was free from the palpable stress radiating off of over students, frantically cramming over their notes as they prepped for exams, trying to savour the last-minute knowledge.

Cloud found a relaxed atmosphere much more conducive to learning.

At least, that was the reason Cloud would give anyone who asked.

In truth, there was something else that swayed heavily in the bar's favour.

Nursing a beer, Cloud scrolled through the Gallery on his laptop. Having recently travelled to Midgar’s coastline over the weekend, he was hoping to build up his portfolio some more with some of the photographs he'd taken of the sea, the Western Continent lingering over the horizon.

His gaze flickered from the screen momentarily at the sound of a light, familiar voice, waking pleasant tingles up his spine.

His childhood crush, Tifa Lockhart.

She was laughing behind the bar with her co-workers and friends, Jessie, Biggs and Wedge, the lull in customers affording her a moment's break. The bright smile crossing her features shone, carrying over the room's dim lighting like a beacon.

Cloud couldn't help but want to be a part of that conversation, to be the one drawing laughter from her, to have that intimate place in her life. Yet, much like the child who had admired from afar; he was frozen, rooted in place by hesitation.

It was strange how little things between them had changed, even after the years that had passed.

Cloud had joined Soldier at a young age, leaving school in order to pursue a dream, a better life as part of their elite First Class. Overlooking the town blanketed by starlight, his parting words to Tifa; at her insistence; had been a vow to rescue her should she ever find herself in a bind.

Much to his dismay, Cloud had fallen far from the mark of 1st Class, instead having to settle for grinding among their lower ranks, hoping that something would come of his hard work, not wanting to return home a failure. Yet, he found himself discharged shortly after the Wutai War had ended, worried about the direction his life would take now.

His entire plan had been hinged upon him making First Class, his young, optimistic mind had never devised a plan B, never considering the possibility that he might fail.

Cloud couldn’t return to Nibelheim, he knew that much. As much as he cherished his mother and Tifa, he had always been isolated in that village. It had never been a home.

Besides, he didn’t want to be a burden to his mother, who had struggled to raise him alone. He wanted to provide for her now. To work and eventually earn enough money to find a home for her outside of Nibelheim, somewhere she would be appreciated.

Yet, being thrust abruptly back into society, after having only after known life as a Soldier infantryman, made that difficult.

Cloud suddenly couldn’t help but feel underqualified compared to others his age. Those that had left for Midgar in pursuit of jobs or apprenticeships.

The prospect of finding stable work seemed dim to Cloud. The skills he had gained working for Shinra didn’t exactly translate to many other industries. What business would want to hire someone inexperienced like him, when they could likely pay less to someone younger and equally as qualified?

Cloud supposed he could always collect bounties fighting monsters, but it lacked the security of a regular job. Much of his earnings would likely end up going towards potions and weapon maintenance, anyway.

Fortunately, it was around this time, that Cloud discovered that, in recognition of their services, ex-Solider members could apply for a scholarship through Midgar U.

Cloud had leapt at the opportunity, an idea already in mind for what his major could be.

Throughout his time working under Shinra, Cloud had developed an interest in photography. As a young man travelling the world for the first time, Cloud had excitedly taken pictures of the different places he saw.

Knowing that they might not be stationed for long and weren't there as tourists; he wanted to at least commemorate the moment, taking photographs to send home to his mother.

Over time, Cloud came to develop a fondness for the hobby. He found tinkering with the camera kept him sane through the hours spent travelling or patrolling. After years of blind trial and error, the idea of taking classes and receiving the proper guidance from experts in the field excited him.

He had never considered the hobby something a career could branch from.

When he signed up for Midgar U, the last he expected was to find Tifa working at the University's bar, Avalanche.

Yet when he had stopped by one day, in the hope of getting directions around the Campus, he had been met by familiar, amber eyes of the bartender.

Tifa, the one who had been a significant motivation behind his joining Soldier.

The revelation had struck him in a mess of emotion. His heart warmed to see her again, yet dread churned in his stomach as he remembered his promise to her, and how, because of his shortcomings, it would remain unfulfilled.

He couldn't tell if their chance reunion had been the best, or worst, thing to happen.

The thought of avoiding the bar, and her, altogether flashed briefly through his mind, lingering long enough to elicit a stabbing sensation through his chest.

He knew he didn't have the strength to actively push away someone he cared about. His heart was drawn back to the building, a pleasant flutter coming over him each time he entered and she called his name.

There was no way he would be able to stomach lying to her. His resolve would shatter beneath those warm, ruby eyes.

Instead, he endeavoured to steer clear of the subject, keeping their conversations as brief as possible.

She would wave to him with a warm smile as he took out his laptop and camera. He sat in the corner booth, just out of her line of sight as she would busy herself with preparing drinks. That way, he could look up from his work every so often, and quickly steal a glance without her noticing.

For Cloud, it was a perfect arrangement.

He could be in her company, without having to stomach any of the awkward conversations he knew would inevitably come up. Where had he been all those years? Why hadn’t he ever come back to Nibelheim? Had he made Soldier?

She couldn’t know that he had failed to make 1st Class. That, in spite of his training and the lengths he went to, his only success had been as a lowly infantryman. She couldn’t know that everything her father had said about him had been right.

Even when he had been stationed in Nibelheim alongside Zack and Sephiroth, Cloud had kept his helmet on and spent most of his time hidden inside the Inn. It wouldn't have helped his ego to stand alongside two, for all their famed accomplishments.

In the rare instances that he and Tifa shared any kind of lasting conversation, Cloud was always careful to keep the discussion around her; reasoning that as a bartender, she spent enough time listening to others.

To his surprise, Tifa had seemed touched by the gesture.

He learned that outside of bartending, she was making extra cash babysitting her boss’ daughter and teaching self-defence classes at the nearby gym. Cloud had recalled her mentioning in passing wanting to study under Zangan, a martial arts master who had lived in their village.

From the way he’d seen her arms flex carrying trays laden with drinks, it shouldn’t have surprised him.

She was studying a combined degree of business and health science and expressed ambitions of one day opening a place of her own. Perhaps a bar, or maybe a dojo where she could pass Zangan’s teachings onto a new generation. She hadn’t decided yet.

The details Cloud revealed about himself were curt. He was a photography major. He picked up freelance mechanical and courier work to cover his expenses and was hoping to one day save enough money to buy himself a motorcycle.

No mention of Soldier.

No reference to the promise they had once made.

To his surprise, Tifa seemed to respect the distance he placed between them, only delving as deep as he would comfortably allow.

Things were probably for the best that way.

From what he could gather, Tifa didn't need a hero anymore. She was more than capable of handling herself.

Cloud stretched his arms over his head, sighing amidst the satisfying crack of his joints. Leaning back over his keyboard, Cloud suddenly felt his body slump forward under an unexpected pressure against his neck and shoulders. Reflexively, his hands rose to brace against the table, almost knocking over his drink.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

"Argh!" Cloud grunted. "Damnit, Zack! Get off me."

Having a good six inches of height over Cloud, he often served a makeshift armrest for his friend; much to his frustration. His considerably bulk didn't make fighting him off any easier. Eventually, Cloud managed to find purchase against the man's solid chest, pushing him aside. He levelled Zack with a cold glare as they separated.

"Aw, I'm happy to see you too, Cloud."

Cloud had been assigned to Zack’s battalion in Soldier, and Zack had taken him under his wing, seeing much of himself in the young, fresh-faced recruit.

On the surface, the comparison might have seemed puzzling. Zack was proud and confident, easy-going, and got along with most people he met, while Cloud kept to himself, tending to focus his efforts more on training and studying.

Still, having grown up as only children in backwater towns, they had long sought the companionship they found in one another; becoming something more akin to brothers than a mentor and protege.

"What are you doing here?"

“What?" Zack feigned innocence. "I was just in the neighbourhood, so I figured I’d see what my best bud was up to.”

“Aerith’s busy, huh?”

“Study night.” Zack groaned, collapsing in the booth besides Cloud. “Her mid-terms are coming up soon and she said I was too much of a distraction.”

“Really?” Cloud scoffed, hands gesturing over the pages of notes strewn about his table. “I can’t possibly imagine.”

“I know, right?”

Expression blank, Cloud held Zack's gaze in silence.

“You’re too serious, Cloud,” Zack whined. “Come on man, when’s the last time you hung out with someone?”

“I hang out with Vincent all the time.”

“Vincent doesn’t count! You guys barely say two words to each other.”

“Hmm, you’re right. No wonder I prefer his company.”

“Ouch, Cloud. That’s cold.” Zack held a hand over in chest in mock hurt. Yet, his lips quickly twisted into a smirk, one that sparked dread in Cloud.

Zack's voice lowered as he nudged his elbow against his friend's ribs.

“Though, speaking of company you prefer.”

Brow pinching together, Cloud glanced to his right at the sound of approaching footsteps. Heat flared in his cheeks as he noticed Tifa approaching their table.

“Here you are Cloud!” Tifa announced, setting a brightly coloured cocktail before him.

“Oh, I uh- I didn’t-”

“It’s on the house." She beamed. "Barrett’s letting me come up with new drinks for the menu. I wanted to get a second opinion I could trust.”

Her head dipped towards his beer, lukewarm and untouched.

“You’ve been sitting on that one for a while, so I get the feeling you aren’t a fan of bitter stuff.”

Cloud flushed. In all honesty, he hadn't intended on drinking anything, yet felt it would have been rude if used their space and didn’t order anything. So, he always opted to ask for the first thing he saw on the menu.

Tifa; in a gesture so selfless and innately her; mistook this for him lacking a taste for, or knowledge of alcohol, and had freely made him a drink she thought he would prefer.

It was no wonder he’d been in love with her since he was fourteen.

She pushed the glass toward him.

“Here. This has pomegranate juice in it. I hear that’s good for brain power.”

“O- oh, right." Cloud said, opening his hand to take the drink. "Thanks, Tifa.”

Their fingers touched briefly as she passed the drink over, the fleeting contact sparking through his body.

Zack smiled knowingly as the two held each other in silence.

“You know, Tifa,” Zack’s voice broke Cloud from his reverie. From the gleam in his eyes and distinct lilt in his voice, Cloud knew that he was turning up the charm. “I’m quite thirsty myself. Are there any other drinks that you would like to test out?”

Tifa folded the tray under her arms, hand stroking against her chin. Zack's suave wiles having seemingly little effect on her.

"Y'know, I probably shouldn't. I can't imagine Aerith would be happy to hear you were charming other women into getting free drinks, Zack."

Zack swallowed, the smile that crossed his features a little forced, nervous.

"Well, I should be heading back. Don't work too hard, okay Cloud?" Tifa said, voice and air morphing with genuine concern, as she lightly touched his shoulder.

Cloud nodded, fingers tracing the pattern of the coaster before him with sudden, avid interest.

Once Tifa had begun tending to another table, a safe distance away, Zack chuckled, watching his friend practically shrink back into the booth. The fleeting, affection gesture having left him tongue-tied and visibly flustered.

“You know, if it’s so hard for you to talk to her, a little liquid courage goes a long way,” Zack said, tapping the glass still resting between Cloud's fingers.

“I’m trying to keep a clear head,” Cloud answered, turning his attention back to the screen in front of him.

“Then why order anything? It’s a bar!”

“I can’t just… Not order anything.” Cloud flushed, his voice gradually trailing off. “That’d be weird.”

“But coming here under the flimsy pretence of studying just so you can look at the girl you like; yeah, totally normal.”

Cloud winced. “Don’t… phrase it like that.”

"Hey, Jessie!" Zack's voice abruptly rose, calling one of the other bartenders with a snap of his fingers. "Bring us something hard, yeah?"

"Z- Zack! What are you doing?!"

“Trust me Cloud, I’m just looking out for you.”

"I somehow doubt that."

"C'mon man, live a little!" Zack's exclaimed. "You were with Soldier for six years! You've already lost your teenage years to drills and missions. Now you gonna spend your twenties studying? You’re wasting your youth!”

“I'm on a scholarship, I need to keep my grades up. You know this Zack.”

“Aren’t you in the top percent for most of your classes? Come on, Cloud! Your grades aren’t going to suffer because you took one night off. Don't be such a Chocobo."

Cloud glared, his hand subconsciously running through messy, blond spikes; hoping they would for once rest in a way that didn't invite such comparisons.

“I’m not scared of anything, Zack. I just don’t want to, I-”

"Kweh."

Cloud trailed off, his mouth hanging open, indignant. Zack watched him, stare mischievous and challenging as he continued to wark. Like a Chocobo.

“Real mature, Zack.” Cloud sighed, reaching to clasp one of the shot glasses. “How old are you again?”

“23,” Zack winked, clinking his glass against Cloud’s own. “Now drink up.”

.

Closing time was soon approaching.

The night had been slow and Tifa had retreated momentarily to the break room, wanting a chance to catch up on some of the readings for her next class.

Though Jessie, Biggs and Wedge were still learning the ropes of the job, she was confident they could run the bar smoothly in her absence. Beyond their usual regulars, the only one there was Zack, and he had been ordering shots; easy enough to handle.

On nights like this, when it wasn't particularly busy, Barrett would sometimes let them do coursework; reasoning it was better than just standing around to nothing.

It was one of the perks of working here.

Though, admittedly, Tifa had been having difficulty concentrating; her focus drifting away from the pages before her book to thoughts of Cloud.

It made sense, she supposed. Seeing him working so hard each night had motivated her not to slack off on her own studies, in the first place. His determination was something she admired and had always driven her to improve herself.

It had helped give her the confidence to start training under Zangan, to travel to Midgar and go to University, to aspire to start her own business.

She’d found it odd, initially, that he chose a bar, of all places, to study, but... it did suit him in a way.

Even as a child, Cloud had always done things his own way. Much of his time had been spent alone, not playing with the other boys. Even when they all left for Midgar to take on jobs and apprenticeships, Cloud had aimed to join Soldier.

Tifa paused, the memory stirring something within her; the root of what was troubling her.

Soldier.

Whenever they spoke, Cloud seemed to avoid speaking about what he'd between now and his leaving for Midgar. Namely, of whether or not he'd managed to join Soldier.

It was strange that he would gloss over such an important detail. Cloud had never really bee one for gloating, but Soldier had been a goal he was determined to achieve, a dream he'd invested so much in. If he'd been accepted by Shinra, he surely would have been proud to share the news.

Yet, he'd never even written. Leading her to wonder if perhaps he hadn't made it, after all.

Still, Tifa wasn't quite so sure.

For one, Cloud was friends with Zack Fair, the 1st Class who had patrolled their hometown years ago. Good friends, it seemed. That was reason enough for her to think he must have some connection to Soldier.

Unless she was overthinking things? He'd mention working courier jobs before. Was it possible he just had a regular delivery route above the plate?

At times, Tifa couldn't help but succumb to that small, insidious part of herself, taunting that Cloud never cared to share the news with her, because he had moved on. No longer concerned with her or the promise they had made.

Tifa sighed, lounging back in her seat, silently conceding that her attempts to study weren't going anywhere.

She'd just have to be patient.

She didn’t want to pry, after all.

Stretching her arms above her head and closing up her textbook, Tifa fished through her pockets for the bar's keys, ready to start closing up.

She was interrupted by the door swinging wildly open as Biggs slipped through, not quite managing to mask the frantic look in his eyes.

His expression alone told Tifa all she needed, even before Biggs could settle on the right words with which to explain himself. There was a problem, and he had been the one to draw the short straw, to have to break the news to her.

Tifa folded her arms, weighing Biggs down with a sharp glance. Swallowing, Biggs' hand flicked through his hair.

“Yo, Tifa," he stumbled. "You, uh... you might want to check on your friends.”

“Huh?"

Dipping his head towards the bar, Tifa followed him out, curious. Immediately her eyes were drawn to the slumped heaps of Cloud and Zack, surrounded by empty shot glasses.

Cloud must have passed out; his eyes closed and steady breaths rising from his chest; while Zack struggled to his feet, grasping onto the table for support.

"I thought I told you guys to cut them off.”

“Yeah, that’s what we did. But... Well, apparently Jessie is quite fond of Blondie. His friend’s a real charmer too. He's been talking her into giving them extra drinks all night."

Tifa frowned. She had only been teasing, but apparently, Zack had taken exception to her words. She sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose.

"We're going to have to get them out of here. Barrett won't be happy if he finds out about this."

"Yeah, you're right." Tifa nodded, approaching the booth.

"Alright, buddy," Biggs said, grabbing Zack's arm and throwing it over his shoulder. "Time for you to get going."

"S'alright. I-" Zack hiccupped, holding up his PHS. "I knew you were closin' soon."

Aerith slipped through the entrance to the bar not long after, her head bowed apologetically as she met Tifa's gaze. Smirking, Tifa's head dipped towards Zack's crumpled form, and Aerith rolled her eyes, fondly.

Noticing her approach, Zack's face lit up, ecstatic finally managed to pry his girlfriend away from her study session.

"Aer!" He exclaimed. "You came!"

Aerith stumbled as Zack collapsed against her waist, dragging Biggs with him as his arms surrounded her. Straining beneath her boyfriend’s body weight, Aerith offered a sheepish smile.

"I hope these two weren't giving you too much trouble."

"I’ll help you get them home." Biggs said, standing back upright and helping to support Zack, leaving Tifa to deal with Cloud.

Compared to some of the other patrons Tifa had to help escort out, in his drunken state, Cloud actually looked rather endearing. The soft flush colouring his pale cheeks, his hair looking even more tousled than normal, falling into his eyes.

Shaking her head, Tifa slipped partway into the booth, her arms wrapping around Cloud’s waist as she slowly extracted him.

Years of training under Zangan and regularly lugging around crates filled with alcohol had helped Tifa build her strength, and she was able to support his weight with less difficulty than Aerith and Biggs were having with Zack.

Though, Cloud's slighter build and height made it easier, his chin resting comfortably against the top of her head.

“Alright, Cloud. Let’s get you home.”

“Teef. ‘M sorry,” Cloud slurred, her voice apparently stirring him.

“It’s alright, Cloud. I have a feeling this wasn’t your fault.”

"No, not that." Cloud's head lulled to the side. Intrigued, Tifa's eyes scanned to the side, wordlessly, pressing him to continue.

"I always end up on relying on you... Couldn't keep my promise."

Though his words were vague, Tifa couldn't suppress the flash of hope they sparked in her; the want to know that he still remembered, that he still cared about that pledge they had made together.

"W- what do you mean?" Tifa asked, trying to contain the urgency in her voice.

She flinched through the tense, passing seconds that followed, her question hanging unanswered.

The alcohol had loosened Cloud up, to the extent that he was revealing more than he would normally be comfortable with. Something she could only hope to uncover through gentle coaxing.

Tifa realised, with a pang of guilt, that she may have been pushing too far. It wasn't fair for her to take advantage of Cloud's inebriated state like that.

In a flash of clarity, Cloud must have realised his mistake, as he had fallen into embarrassed silence.

Glancing through her periphery, she tried to catch of glimpse of Cloud's face; trying to discern something, anything from his expression.

His head slumped against her shoulder, dead weight.

“Cloud? Cloud?!”

.

Cloud was relieved to find himself in his bedroom when he woke the following morning. Woozy, and head weighing down the rest of his body like an anchor, but otherwise fine.

Pushing the shirts aside, he realised he was still wearing his clothes from last night, though his boots were resting at the edge of the bed. He cringed noticing the dark, sticky patches staining his shirt. Hopefully, those were just beer.

Sitting up, Cloud rummaged through his jean pockets, relieved to find his keys, wallet and PHS. His laptop and notes were piled neatly on his desk.

Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, it was shortly before noon, though Cloud's schedule was, fortunately, empty for the day. He wasn't sure how eager he would have been to turn up to class today, looking like he'd fallen out of a tree.

Still, for as much as he had dreaded what may have come of him given in to Zack's pressure, Cloud supposed things could have turned out worse.

Nothing particularly egregious, from the night before, stuck out to him. He just hoped they hadn't made things difficult for Tifa.

Rolling from his bed and, unsteadily, onto his feet. Cloud shuffled out of his bedroom in search of Zack.

Despite begrudging him for putting them in the situation to begin with, he wanted to make sure his friend had returned home safely.

“Zack?” Cloud called as he padded blindly into the kitchen.

“Oh, good morning, Cloud!” An all too cheery, feminine voice answered.

The blinds were closed, only the thinnest stream of light breaking through the gaps in the shutters. Aerith stood over their kitchen table, a vision of immaculately tied hair and bright pastel colours, as she tended to a bleary-eyed, dishevelled Zack.

His hands were clasped firmly around a glass filled with a questionable looking green substance; a herbal concoction of Aerith's, perhaps?

“Aerith, please.” Zack moaned pitifully; voice muffled against the tabletop. “Not so loud.”

“Don’t mind him, Cloud.” Aerith said as she massaged her boyfriend's shoulders. “Someone’s just cranky because they have a headache.”

"Oh, I don't mind. At all." Cloud replied, making sure to scrap his chair legs as loudly as possible against the floor as he sat down. "It's not often Zack's the one asking for quiet. I like it."

Zack's gaze lifted, his face twisting angrily at Cloud.

It was rare for Zack to be in a sour mood, so much so that Cloud sometimes forgot he even was capable of it.

“How come you aren’t in as bad shape as I am?” Zack accused.

“Because I actually took precautions. Drinking water, eating. If I had to suffer through this, the least I could do was make sure you ended up worse than I did.”

“That’s it. None of Aerith’s Miracle Hangover Cure for you." Zack pouted, cradling the glass protectively against his chest. "Not until you show some sympathy."

"Why don't I get us started on some breakfast, hm? Fried food's good for a hangover, right?"

Aerith moved into the kitchen, rummaging through their cabinets for a pan; a racket of clatters that left Zack wincing. Her search was halted by a knock at the door, so light and tentative it was almost drowned out by the ensuing noise.

"Huh. I wonder who that could be?" Aerith asked, eyes meeting Cloud's.

With a shrug, Cloud rose to his feet. Despite not feeling in the slightest bit presentable for visitors, his hand clenched around the doorknob. The lash of cool air from the open door was refreshing, but the relief it brought was short-lived, as Cloud noticed who was standing on the other side.

"Tifa?"

"Cloud."

Cloud's hand brushed over his mess of hair, suddenly conscious of how haggard he, likely, looked.

It was startling how Tifa awoke these insecurities in him.

Still, he supposed anyone would have felt self-conscious, watching her standing radiantly before in the sunlight.

Behind them, Aerith clasped her hands together, watching on with apparent rapt fascination. Even Zack had found the strength to lift his head. Cloud turned with a glare.

"Oh, uh... Don't mind us."

Rolling his eyes, Cloud stepped out through the front door, closing it behind the prying eyes of his friends. With his head swimming and a swirl of nerves tickling in his belly, it was already difficult enough for him to form a coherent sentence; he didn't need an audience.

"Sorry about... them."

"It's fine," Tifa chuckled, the soft peals plucking delicately at Cloud's heart. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess. Zack got off way worse, but Aerith's taking of him."

"Really? That's a relief. You both looked like you were in a bad way last night. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

Sheepish, Cloud hand wrung at his neck, his eyes tracing over the doorframe. Tifa dealt with drunk patrons on a regular basis. For her to be concerned, they must have been in especially rough shape.

Still, he couldn't help but relish in the hearing that she had worried about him. Perhaps it was that flash of familiar comfort that kept him speaking.

"I guess in the end you were the one to help me out a bind, huh?" Cloud answered, the words slipping easily from his tongue.

"W- what did you say?"

Tensing, Cloud realised he'd caught himself a moment too late. As Tifa looked to him, those same captivating eyes seemed younger; wide and hopeful.

"I thought you had forgotten."

Honestly, nothing could have been further from the truth. The memory was something that hung over Cloud, a constant reminder of how he had failed, how he would never be good enough for her.

Yet at the same time, it was something he cherished; a connection between them that had not been severed by even time or distance. A thread that had pulled them back together.

Unsure of exactly how to express those thoughts spiralling through his head; of what she meant to him; Cloud simply shook his head.

"You don't need anyone to rescue you, Tifa. You don’t need me anymore."

Frowning, Tifa folded her arms.

"That doesn’t mean I don't want you to be part of my life."

Cloud glanced up, disbelief flashing across his features.

"Really?"

Tifa’s expression softened, offering a silent, reassuring nod.

Cloud exhaled, his hand sliding over his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm an idiot."

"So, I'll see you at the bar then?"

Cloud grimaced, hands wiping unconsciously over the stains in his jeans.

“Tifa, don’t take this wrong way, but I’m not sure I can stomach going back to Avalanche for a while.”

“Oh,” Tifa answered, her voice faint as her gaze lowered. Cloud's eyes widened, conscious suddenly of his word choice.

“No!" His hands rose, waving back and forth desperately. "S- sorry. What I mean is, why don’t we meet somewhere else? Without Zack. Just you and I.”

"Oh." Tifa replied, her own cheeks tinging pink. "I- I think I'd like that."

"Really? I mean, that’s great!"

Tifa's head dipped slightly at the enthusiasm taking over his voice. The thick, dark locks of her hair, obscuring the flush that spread across her face. They watched one another, her smile bashful, apprehensive, as if weighing over something in her mind.

"W- well, I guess I'll see you around." She said, eventually, her arms opening as she stepped towards him.

Any worries Cloud may have still held dissipated at the soft pressure of Tifa’s body leaning into him, warm and solid and strong. The fragrant scent carrying from her was homely, clearing the haze that still clouded his consciousness. His hand cradled her head, tentatively, his fingers tracing through her hair. He exhaled, content.

Though Cloud wasn’t exactly pleased with how he’d gone about it, he couldn’t deny that Zack had really helped him out.

Somehow, he had managed to bridge the gap between him and Tifa. Something that Cloud, with his apprehension, would have likely never achieved on his own.

As much as he hated to admit it, Zack had been right. Perhaps he should go out more often.

#cloti fall festival 2019 #thank you cloti #cloti #zerith #zeris #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #ffvii #final fantasy vii #fanfiction

[calliecat93]

RvB17 Episode 8 Review: Finally

Well guys, after so many years, Donut finally gave the Reds and Blues a piece of his mind. While I felt that last week had the weakest episode so far, I can forgive it because it gave us Donut telling everyone off. It’s a week later and I still get so much satisfaction from that scene alone. With Wash sending everyone to apologize, and Huggins in Season 1 with Caboose, what’s going to happen now? Well, lets lake a looksie shall we?

The Reds and Blues have caught up to Donut and apologize, but he's not willing to accept it since... well saying your sorry and showing it are two different things. Considering that Donut went through all of time and space to fix what he did and make it right... yeah, point. Carolina asks if they can prove it by fixing the timeline, which he agrees with. So... that was resolved quickly. Everyone naturally has questions about the time travel, Doc's being about what's going on with Caboose right now. Donut explains that while their Caboose is somewhere else, the one with them is a different timeline Caboose, aka Season 5 Caboose. When Simmons questions how reliving their history is going to correct anything, Donut decides to jump them all ahead ten minutes. Since they'll lose Wash and Carolina, he instructs them to meet up and for Wash to give Carolina the explanation.

Donut jumps them all back ten minutes, where he's still crushed by Sister's ship and Tucker is recovering from childbirth. Church is understandably confused, but at this point, Caboose has returned and he sends Church to take a nap. But Caboose did not come alone. Huggins arrives, much to Grif's glee. Like... he sounds happier than I think he ever has. He's so happy and missed Huggins so much that her still being angry at him, to the point that she goes red, doesn't even phase him. Donut proceeds to explain about how they have to stop Genkins from creating paradoxes... but since they don't know where he's going to be, they have to relive their lives and make sure it goes exactly as it happens.

Huggins, however, points out that there's another way... just as Lopez has already jumped. Whoops. Anyways, since Huggins is made of light, she can go forward on her own, find alternate timelines, report back, and the guys can jump ahead to that point and make the event go as it's meant to. Sarge things that's too convoluted and will take too long... but Huggins proves it by going to and from the moon in a blink, plus she already did it with meeting with Caboose and it sounds like they already did it once. Grif is outright tearful that this means less bullshit before apologizing to her for fucking time up. Huggins... doesn't forgive him, but she can't stay mad at him right now due to time being fucked up. She therefore just tells him to fix reality before going off to get her scouting underway. Ouch.

Simmons repeats his question about exactly why they need to relive their lives to begin with. Caboose, therefore, proposes this analogy to explain it. You know how you can sometimes get a gap in your zipper? Apparently, it happened to Simmons in 6th Grade during Debate Class, but to the point. To fix the gap, the zipper has to go all the way down and then zipped back up to fix it. So that's what they have to do, go back through their lives to undo the gap and fix it again. Even Donut admits that the analogy makes things clearer. Yeah, the two former rookies are the ones figuring out how to fix shit. Who knew? Tucker is questioning if this will even work, to which Donut replies that the only way that they'll be able to find out all depends on them.

From there, we get a montage of the guys going back to events where Genkins is trying to strike. Sarge ends up at the day that they deleted the Blues, aka the best day of his life. When Genkins tries to interfere by hacking the computer, Simmons simply reboots it to get rid of him. Which keep in mind that isn't present!Simmons, that's Season Six Simmons doing it nonchalantly. Anyways, Sarge proceeds to relive the moment several times to make sure that ti worked... aka to relive the moment cause he can. We also get to see the end of Season 5, where Andy blows up the ship, which is where Grif ends up. Genkins tries to prevent the explosion and reveal the truth to Church, so Grif simply goes off, gets a rocket launcher, and does the job himself. He also makes it clear that this is him getting payback on Tex for the beatdown his balls got in Season 8. Hopefully, he jumped out after, since Church is understandably angry and ready to give Grif a beatdown.  

Our episode ends at one more moment. Tucker arrives at Crash Site Bravo in Season 11, the day where they lost and half their forces were captured... and when Felix was still faking being an ally. Well, shit.

Review

This was better than last week, but still not the best. Not to say I didn't like it though. As I kinda said in the overview, it felt like Donut... kinda forgave them all far too easily. I mean I guess something can come up later, but after how much last week's moment was built up and the payoff being amazing, this kinda felt like we were sweeping it back under the rug. Though to their credit, they listen to him... kinda hard when he's under a Pelican, but hey they're listening. And to his credit, Donut's not letting the emotions control his decision making, which really displays a lot of emotional maturity on his part. I really like that about him. I feel it's always been there, but now we can actually let it be on display. Bless Jason Weight for making Donut a character. Bless him so much.

So... let's do something a little different. We're gonna talk about Grif, and consequently how he's... kinda gotten the shaft, sadly. So last season and even S15, Grif got a lot of character development and focus. He realized he needed his friends, began to commit himself more, confronted his issues with the constant adventures, started to focus more to the point that he confronted Genkins and gave up on wanting the pizza he wanted the whole time to try and prevent the paradox. He failed, but the fact that he tried and that he became a more focused, more mature person was great... and that has been ignored so far. Mind you he spent half the season with his memory wiped and so far not a lot of time to show that development and I'll give them credit when I get to the positive side, but it still really feels like all the build-up and development that Grif got last time is just... gone. I mean you'd think he'd be more angry about Genkins considering, especially since Genkins outright told him everything right to his face just because he could, and that hasn't come up at all. It's just frustrating to a huge Grif fan like me. Is this how Tucker fans felt last season?

But with that said... I'm gonna be fair here. I think the reason why we can't do a lot with Grif, and probably others who could use development, is the 12 episode count. While the count is good for advancing the plot at a good pace and has a main focus to work on (in this case Donut, Wash, and the time travel) it sadly means a LOT of character opportunities get wasted or shafted as a result. Since those things need the focus for this story, those have to gain the focus and everything else falls by the wayside. Kinda like how in S12, Tucker got the majority of focus while others aside from the Freelancers and Church didn't get much. And that season had the standard 19 episodes, but the plot needed to advance so there just wasn't really time to do other things that I myself would have liked, like more focus on Grif, Simmons, and Caboose as Captains and not just Tucker. But that's a discussion for another day, but the point is the plot, as it is now, sadly means that Grif doesn't get the focus that I feel he should be getting. Which Simmons, Tucker, and even kinda Carolina are getting the short end of the stick too. Lopez is getting it really bad in comparison so... yeah. Production can suck sometimes.

Even with me feeling that Grif's focus is lacking after the build-up, I don't at all feel like his development is being outright forgotten though. Sure he's confused about what's going on and the time travel... but honestly I am too because GDI I don't understand time travel. So I can't get mad at something I don't get either and have kinda just resigned myself to. His reaction to seeing Huggins again was really, really cute. I don't think he's ever sounded that happy at any other point in the show. Sure Huggins is still angry at him, and it's not hard to fault her, but the fact that Grif was so happy that he wasn't even phased by it until near the end... it was really sweet especially compared to how volatile he was to her at first last season. And then once Grif understood, he committed to it, figured out rather quickly how to take Genkins down in S5, and blew them up with a rocket launcher with zero hesitation. The fact that after nine seasons he finally got payback on Tex for the brutal beat down was also satisfying as Hell. Sorry Tex, but Grif earned this moment. And even during the mindwipe, he was the only one who even considered believing DOnut and was weirdly motivated, even in places he normally wouldn't have been like during S13. So yeah, I wish that more was done after all the build-up prior, and I hope the next story arc will allow it, but I'm still enjoying Grif. I just wish we had more.

I'm not sure what else I can say really. Some funny moments, like Sarge's utter glee at reliving deleting the Blues. Part of me feels like he should be past this by now... but hey, it was still funny. Also, the link that appears on the Delete Blues screen? Type it in. Trust me, you will NOT regret it... or you will and cry, but do it anyways. The fact that Donut could give a coherent explanation while being crushed under a ship is impressive... although shouldn't he have landed in the cavers by then? Meh, maybe he's just really good at throwing his voice. Simmons just rebooting the computer to get rid of Genkins, which again it wasn't present!Simmons who did it was an underrated badass moment imo. And of course, the ending. Tucker is with Felix again, back when he was still pretending to be an ally. And Tucker has to let the event go as it's supposed to, so not only does he have to deal with Genkins... but he's got to keep his own feelings in check. Because if he can't and tries to kill Felix here... that may very well be the kick that Chrovos needs to be set free.

Final Thoughts

Good episode. Nothing major happened, and I'm starting to see some cracks in the structure, but I still enjoyed it. We have a clear directive for now and we have a pretty damn promising lead-in for next week. With four episodes left, there's a lot to still do and not a lot of time left. How will it play out? Not sure, but it's gonna leave one Hell of an impression. In that, I have little doubt.

#rvb #rvb17 #rvb spoilers #rvb reviews #callie reviews

[ssromanogers]

The Best Things Happen in the Dark

To: @theshieldass From: Terri ( @mylifeisloki )

Merry Christmas! I hope you like it! <33

Christmas Eve.

Natasha inwardly congratulated herself that she’d made it through the holiday in one piece. It wasn’t the music or the lights or the general cheer that got to her; it was the people. God, the holiday shoppers who were too focused on getting their grubby hands on as many gifts as possible to mind their manners and act like decent human beings got on her nerves long before she started groaning when Christmas carols started to play on the radio at work. People who insisted upon being unendingly happy every second of the day were right under that first group and closely followed by the ones who couldn’t find any joy in the season at all. Yeah, life sucks, but… chill out and cheer up a little bit.

In any case, it wasn’t as though Natasha had any family with which to spend Christmas Eve. She’d been invited to Christmas dinner at Clint and Laura’s house the next day, but the nighttime was all her. Since this was hardly the first Christmas she’d spent on her own, Natasha had a nice little routine. After her half-shift at work, she’d stop by the grocery store for a bottle of wine and pick up Chinese food on her way home. There, she would change into leggings and bundle up for a night in front of the television.

It was a night for movies. Natasha thought she might even splurge and make some popcorn for later.

In hindsight, maybe she should have known that something would go wrong. The day had been a really smooth one; no crazy people at work, she left on time, no wait at her favorite Chinese place… The universe had a way of evening out. Too many good things in a row was cause for suspicion.

And so, really… When the lights flickered and went out just seventeen minutes into Love Actually, Natasha shouldn’t have been surprised. The universe had a way of balancing the scales one way or another.

Swearing under her breath, she carefully set her food down so she could pull open her drapes and flood the room in moonlight, at least. Then came the candles; Natasha had exactly eight candles and four of them let off contrasting scents that were giving her one hell of a headache. With that in mind, she decided that she’d rather be cold than cold and in pain and only lit half. She wound up with two tapered candles on either side of the television and two vanilla scented candles on the coffee table in front of her. She hauled her comforter from her bedroom into the living room, doubled up on her socks, and slipped her gloves on so she could sip her wine and eat in (relative) peace.

It was fucking cold, though. There was no denying that.

Sometimes she supposed it was better to live with someone if only because it would have been nice to cuddle right about now. She supposed there was always tinder, right? But she didn’t like bringing strangers to her house and now that it was dark… Okay, so it wasn’t a good idea.

Natasha muddled her way through her food and downed her first glass of wine while she wondered whether or not she’d be able to sleep being this cold. It was seeping into her bones even with all the layers she had on; her Russian ancestors were probably turning in their graves. Without TV and knowing that she shouldn’t waste her phone battery now, she sank back into the couch and huffed a little.

So much for a nice Christmas Eve. What was she supposed to do now? Read by candlelight?

She was contemplating splurging on a hotel room for the night when she heard someone curse outside her door, pause, and then knock. Well, whoever it was—it had to be better than sitting alone pondering the meaning of life and the futility of trying to enjoy herself.

Natasha opened the door to find herself staring at the admittedly dimly lit face of her very handsome neighbor. She didn’t know his name and she wasn’t actually sure what floor he lived on, but he definitely lived in the building. She knew that he lived in the building because, on more than one occasion, she’d seen him return from his morning run looking sweaty and utterly fuckable.

“Hey there, um… this is gonna sound pathetic, but I have literally no candles and it doesn’t seem like many people are home.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Any chance you have some extra?”

She did, as a matter of fact. There were four discarded candles sitting in a cabinet in her kitchen just waiting to be burned and Natasha could be a good neighbor and hand them over so Steve had a chance of staying warm that night—- or she could do something even better.

“Sorry, I’ve only got a couple,” she lied smoothly. “But you’re welcome to come in.”

Natasha figured she could use the company and since her neighbor happened to look like something out of a magazine, she could do a lot worse. He didn’t even seem to be that much of an ass and she considered that one massive bonus. If he had a brain, she’d throw a party because she would have clearly hit the trifecta.

“Yeah?” He blinked in confusion. “You’re not busy? I don’t want to interrupt…”

“My evening of sitting and staring into the darkness? Don’t worry, you’re not.” She paused. “Unless you’ve got someone waiting for you to come back…”

“No, there’s no one waiting.” There was some hesitation on his part and Natasha figured he’d either beg off politely or make his way in without further question. “That’d be really nice. I’m sorry to intrude, I really should have candles.”

Natasha shrugged and stepped aside to let him in. “The night will pass faster if we’re not alone anyway.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “I’m Steve, by the way. I’m up in 7D.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Natasha.”

With introductions out of the way, Natasha closed the door behind him and they settled on the sofa. She wasn’t even shy about throwing a thick blanket over their legs to keep them warm. It didn’t look like Steve was wearing nearly enough; jeans and a hoodie weren’t enough to even with the gloves and scarf he’d put on as well. And then… well, they didn’t have many options.

“So,” he started. “Plans fall through, or are you always home on Christmas Eve?”

“I’m usually home,” she admitted. “But this blackout is really ruining my wine-and-Christmas-movie plans.” Natasha smiled. “What about you? No girlfriend to spend the holidays with?”

Steve’s smile was actually a little rueful and Natasha immediately wanted to know why. Had he lost his girlfriend recently? Bad breakup? Unexpected death? “No girlfriend,” he said quietly. “And no family.  I’ve got a few friends, but it feels rude to just barge in on their holidays, you know?”

Natasha nodded along in understanding. “I know. I’ve got Christmas dinner with my best friend and his family tomorrow, but it always feels like an intrusion even though they’re like family.”

“So you get it,” he chuckled softly. “You get it.”

Natasha refilled her glass of wine and offered Steve a sip since there was no way she was getting up for another glass and leaving the warm cocoon she’d created on the couch. He accepted; she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“I guess we should be glad we’ve got each other tonight, then,” she suggested. “A little company.”

Steve smiled widely and handed the glass back to her. “Yeah, no doubt. I do feel like I oughta know you a little better if I’m gonna be sitting on your couch all night, though.”

If Natasha had her way, Steve would know her a whole lot better by the morning.

“There’s not much to know,” she shrugged. “Originally from Russia, came here when I was sixteen after my parents died, currently working as a secretary-slash-personal-slave for a guy with a massively huge ego who checks me out on the regular…” She trailed off and smirked a little. “Single.”

Steve chuckled. “That’s really cool, that you’re actually from Russia,” he mused. “And I’m sorry about your parents… and your job, I guess.”

“Don’t be. They died a long time ago and my job pays really well. Definitely worth the boss looking at my chest a few times a day. What about you?”

“Oh, right. So, born and raised in Brooklyn, went into the army right after high school, declared missing in action, coma for a couple of years, and now I do freelance illustration.” Steve paused for a moment and met her gaze. “Also single.”

Natasha pressed her lips together and nodded a few times. The cold was still seeping in regardless of the layers she was wearing, but she didn’t want to press her luck and ask for too much too fast. She had to feel him out first and make sure he would be cool with taking another step.

“So let’s see,” she said. “Handsome, nice to talk to, creative, fought for your country, and I haven’t caught you trying to look at my chest even once yet… What’s wrong with you?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I mean. How much time do you have?”

That answer actually intrigued her a little bit. Natasha had been teasing, but… well, what could be better than having a deep discussion with a total stranger in the middle of a blackout on Christmas Eve?

“All the time in the world.”

“Well, uh… You’ve heard of PTSD, right?”

Natasha nodded and Steve went on to explain that he’d basically been kept a prisoner behind enemy lines for some time. When he was finally recovered, he was in bad shape and they had to put him in a medically induced coma that they simply couldn’t risk taking him out of for some time. When all was said and done, he’d missed two full years of his life and had to start all over. He’d lost his men, his best friend, and the woman he’d fallen for during his basic training had gotten sick and passed away before he’d woken up. It was enough to leave anyone with nightmares.

“Plus I’m really stubborn. Sorry, I feel like I’ve been going on and on,” he huffed, shaking his head. “That’s probably enough for me.”

“You’re one hell of an interesting person.” Natasha hadn’t been expecting any of that and she pulled her legs up a little bit because, in the dark, she felt brave enough to tell him a secret of her own. “I have nightmares too,” she admitted. “Of the night my parents died. And a few things that happened afterward.” She glanced up at him. “How do you deal with them? What’s your deal?”

“I run,” he said. “What do you do?”

Natasha shrugged. “Dance, I guess. Or meditate. My ex was always real big on the meditation thing.”

“Doesn’t sound like my kind of guy.”

“He’s nice enough,” she said. “His heart was in the right place.”

“It’s kind of great that you’re on good terms. I feel like everyone hates all their exes these days.”

Natasha smiled. “It’s hard to hate a guy like him. If you knew him, you’d get it.” She shifted a little bit and unconsciously got closer. “Another one of my exes, though— he was a real asshole.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. He was always very controlling, felt like he wanted me to be a trophy wife or something. And I mean, look at me. Do I look like the trophy wife type to you?”

“I feel like this is a trick question, but no. You really don’t.”

Natasha grinned. “Good call, because I’m not. Anyway, he basically flipped out when I said I was leaving and broke my arm. But I got back at him by sending a bunch of abusive texts from him to his mother. It was definitely worth all the name calling afterward.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “So basically I shouldn’t be messing with you?”

“You got that right.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t talked before now,” he said. “I’m kicking myself for never really saying hello.”

“Well, I feel like you’re always coming in from a run when I see you.” Natasha knew, as a matter of fact, because Steve was the stuff of wet dreams. “So you’re tired and everything. No offense taken.”

“Still.” Steve gave her a shy, boyish smile and Natasha had to still her beating heart because she was in danger of falling in love with a smile like that. “I wanted to. I mean, I wanted to say hello.”

Natasha tipped her head to the side. “How come you didn’t? I don’t bite.”

“Maybe not, but you’re kind of intimidating. In a good way. I guess I just didn’t know what to say and I know a lot of women don’t really like men just coming up to them, so…”

That was kind of adorable. So he hadn’t come up to her because he didn’t want to wind up being a statistic, and because he was kind of intimidated—but in a good way. “Then I guess it’s a good thing the lights went out,” she offered. Turning a relatively innocent gaze up to him again, Natasha went in for what she figured was the kill. “Are you still too intimidated to maybe get a little closer? It’s cold.”

Steve blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. “I think I can do that,” he said eventually. She watched as he lifted the blanket and scooted over until Natasha could lean over and rest against his side. “Can I just…?”

He put his arm around her shoulders and Natasha shivered once as she curled up beside him, her legs drawn way up to her chest and her arms huddled together. “That’s so much better,” she sighed.

“It is, you’re right,” he chuckled. She could feel the vibrations in his chest.

Natasha smirked. “You know,” she mused as she passed her wine over again. “If you’d said hello to me earlier than tonight, we might have been doing something else to stay warm.”

Steve choked on his current mouthful of wine and Natasha looked up at him, clearly amused. “You mean—“ She tipped her head to the side and he let out another soft laugh as he leaned forward to set the wine down on the coffee table. “You do mean that,” he mumbled.

“Try not to be too shocked,” she teased. “I don’t know how delicate your sensibilities are.”

“Not that delicate.”  Steve paused for a moment and studied her. “I mean. We could still…”

Natasha arched an eyebrow. “Well, well. Another surprise.”

“It’s practically a method of survival,” he said seriously. “We could freeze to death otherwise. We’re just doing what we can to make it through the night.”

Leaning a little closer, Natasha slid her hand over his stomach and inwardly celebrated the hard little bumps she found there. “It’s the intelligent thing to do,” she echoed. “Clearly.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Clearly.”

With that, he leaned down and silently asked permission before sealing their lips together. Natasha had to admit that the initial response she had was to lean right back into him and deepen the kiss if only because the warmth coming off of him was intoxicating at worst and absolutely divine at best. Eventually, he gently urged her to lie down and put some of his weight on top of her like the best blanket she could possibly imagine. Natasha’s arms went around his waist to pull him closer and she shivered a little as Steve’s lips dipped down to trace along the side of her neck to her throat.

With all the heavy breathing between them, it wasn’t surprising that they were heating up fairly quickly. Steve’s knee settled between her legs and all of a sudden, Natasha’s cheeks flushed with the most delicious warmth as she bucked her hips up against him. And it was strange, but now that they were sloppily grinding against one another under the thick blanket Steve made sure to keep over them, Natasha was more than willing to take her clothes off. It would be a little chilly, but just a little.

Steve’s shirt went first. She tore it off as fast as she could and tossed it aside as he laughed and told her she was trying to kill him. Of course, his nipples pebbled immediately and Natasha was quick to brush her thumbs over them; she did it again when he let out a filthy little moan in response. The sweater she was wearing came off next and left her in a thin chemise Steve ultimately decided to leave on—regardless of the fact that he latched onto a nipple through the material, much to Natasha’s amusement and delight.

It was a bit of a clumsy shuffle to get their pants off; in the end, Steve just shoved his jeans down and Natasha flipped onto her stomach so he could pull her leggings and panties down at one time. He was inside her before either of them was truly ready for it and Natasha’s moan was very nearly drowned out by Steve’s. But they found a rhythm quickly and Natasha arched her back as Steve pounded into her from behind, inching them up until Natasha was bent over the arm of the sofa and their blanket had fallen to the wayside.

After some time, Steve flipped her over again and tugged her leggings out of the way in favor of falling between her legs to press right back into her. Natasha keened and grabbed onto his hair, sinking her nails into his scalp as he found leverage and resumed his rhythm. Of course, she was about to protest and complain when Steve pulled out just seconds before her climax, but he recovered in a way that she never would have expected.

Steve backed away and lifted her legs up over his shoulders, holding her up with both arms as he buried his face right between her thighs. Natasha had no choice but to cry out and hold on as he worked her right back up and far over the edge. She came with a shuddering cry and shivered as Steve let her back down, but she managed to rally in time to turn the tables and take a seat astride his hip so she could wrap her hand around his cock. He looked even better like this, she decided; by candlelight, she could see every movement of his chest and the way the shadows bounced off his solid jaw, not to mention the heavy weight of his length in her hand. Steve finally came with both arms raised to grab the arm of the couch behind him and Natasha grinned as she leaned down to kiss his chest as he came down from it.

She decided very quickly that laying on Steve’s chest was preferable to just sit on top of him and she shivered again as he wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. He also grabbed the blanket off the floor and tossed it over them because he was full service, apparently.

“You think we can stay like this the whole night?”

Steve’s laugh could be felt in the non-existent space between them. “I mean, I think we should move to the bedroom to sleep, but otherwise… yeah. Body heat and all.”

Natasha sighed and buried her nose right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “And a Merry Christmas to me,” she mumbled. “What are the chances you’ll carry me there?”

“Pretty high, once I catch my breath.”

They relaxed for a few minutes until the cold was getting to them all over again and a nice, warm bed was calling. Natasha wrapped whatever blankets she could reach around her shoulders and Steve got up, hitching his jeans up with one hand before scooping her right into his arms for a bridal carry into the bedroom. There, he set her down in their nest of blankets and disrobed as quickly as he could before diving in there alongside her.

“Y’know, I don’t do this with every stranger that comes knocking on my door,” Natasha whispered to him as she snuggled in close– for warmth and definitely not because of she actually kind of liked Steve and might just want him to stick around. “Just the handsome ones.” She smiled and Steve laughed as he leaned down for another kiss. That one felt a lot more intimate than the ones before; it was almost like there was a real spark between them.

Steve smiled as he pulled back again. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know that.” Natasha tangled their legs together and let her arm rest around his waist. “I kind of think you like it.”

Raising his eyebrows, Steve let out a low chuckle. “Maybe I do.”

The next morning, snow was falling outside and the lights were back on. Natasha pushed two of the blankets off them before curling right back into Steve’s chest for the time being. Fuck it, right? They didn’t have anyone but each other right now and she was going to take advantage of that while she could, meaning before he woke up and put a stop to it–

“Hey, it’s Christmas.” Steve sounded even sexier with his voice thick and full of sleep, but the sight of him rubbing his eyes with his hair all messed was worryingly sweet. “And it’s snowing!”

Natasha gave him a look. “Sure is. Plus the power’s back,” she informed him. “Lucky us.”

“Does that mean you have to get dressed right away, or…?”

She didn’t have to get dressed right away. In fact, she didn’t have to do anything right away. With that in mind, she shifted to lay on top of him and straddled his hips to get comfortable. “I’m thinking we need to go for round two,” she suggested in a low murmur. “How does that sound?”

Steve smirked and slid his hands over her back until he could grab her ass and squeeze. “It sounds perfect,” he answered. “Round two– and maybe even three.”

#romanogers #captasha #capwidow #submission #fanfic

[johnboothus]

What Happens to Social Media Contest Winners Who Travel for Booze? Here Are Their Stories

When Paul Corgan, a 26-year-old from Portsmouth, N.H., sent his online application to become White Claw’s “best life ambassador” in March 2018, he completed a short blurb and shared a photo and link to his Instagram account. After clicking submit, he forgot about the competition almost immediately.

The contest would grant two winners $60,000 each to travel America for six months. Their only requirement was to document themselves “living their best life” by posting one photo per week to Instagram featuring the up-and-coming hard seltzer brand.

Articles detailing the competition went viral across social media platforms. So by the time Corgan received an email in June 2018 informing him he was one of five finalists being considered for the role, he still assumed his chances of winning were slim. Then, just over a week later, after a Skype interview with the brand’s marketing department, he awoke to an email.

“It just said ‘Congratulations’ as the subject line,” Corgan says. “It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in my life.”

Contest Marketing: Everyone’s a Winner

For active social media users, competitions like White Claw’s “Best Life Contest” will be a familiar concept. While their prizes often seem too good to be true, the bar for entry is remarkably low.

All that’s usually required is to follow the brand on a social media platform and share a post or photo tagging its account, often using a specific hashtag. In advertising lingo, the concept is known as contest marketing; it’s a savvy promotional strategy and one that an increasing number of alcohol brands are turning to.

Within the past year alone, Natural Light has run a range of social-media-driven competitions with prizes including free beer for a year, $10,000 for a Halloween costume contest, and $1 million to help 25 drinkers pay off their graduate school loans.

Guinness, meanwhile, offered drinkers the keys to their very own Irish pub for a weekend, while Keystone Light launched a “Free Rent” campaign that paid 13 lucky winners’ rents for a year. In May 2019, Busch Beer announced it would contribute $25,000 toward one couple’s wedding ceremony and would send its spokesman, Gerald Downy, better known as “Busch Guy,” as the officiant.

Credit: Megan O’Leary Photography

These contests present a win-win scenario: Contestants commit to a small social media interaction, and brands generate buzz at a fraction of the cost of traditional advertising. Plus, the headline-grabbing nature of the campaigns all but guarantees nationwide coverage from numerous media outlets. (VinePair was one of several drinks publications that picked up the White Claw campaign, and even national news outlets like CNBC covered the contest.)

But while the contests themselves gain widespread coverage, the actual winners often go almost unreported.

When Fox 32 Chicago covered the Busch wedding contest in May 2019, the story received close to 40,000 likes, over 11,000 shares, and upwards of 20,000 comments on Facebook, according to data from content marketing research platform BuzzSumo. Despite such a positive reaction, Fox didn’t bother announcing the winners — the now-wed Abbi and Andrew Roth of Janesville, Wis. — nor did it follow up on the contestants to find out how the big day went.

The only coverage of the Roths’ wedding day appears to be a July 2019 article in Janesville’s Gazette Xtra. “We’re just a couple of regular Joes,” Abbi Roth told the publication. “We never thought this would happen.”

The “Lucky” Winners

While the Roths may be a pair of Busch-Light-loving “regular Joes,” success in other competitions — those that call upon the winner to fulfill a specific role — rely on more than brand alignment or fandom.

Prior to working as a White Claw ambassador, Corgan ran his own company that handled the social media accounts for small restaurants and businesses. He points to luck as a huge factor in winning the Best Life Contest; but he also says his love of travel, which he emphasized in his online application and interview, as well as his photography skills and knowledge of social media, helped him stand out and eventually win the contest.

In August 2018, Mr Fogg’s, a London mini-chain of bars inspired by the novel “Around the World in Eighty Days,” announced it was looking for an adventurous individual to travel the world, drink gin, and collect botanicals to inspire a cocktail for the bar upon their return. The winner would also get to choose a travel companion to join them on their escapade.

Numerous publications (including, again, VinePair) covered the competition, which gained even more online traction after actor and Aviation gin owner Ryan Reynolds tweeted about it.

I’ll do it.

— Ryan Reynolds (@VancityReynolds) August 16, 2018

To enter the competition, candidates applied on Mr. Fogg’s website and had to prove they were social media savvy, over 21 years of age, and skilled at writing and photography. Previous travel experience was also imperative.

“We didn’t think there was any chance we were going to get it because you never do with these things,” Jessica Last, the winning contestant, says. “But at the same time, we did feel all the questions that they asked were really relevant to what we were already doing: We were adventure/travel photographers and bloggers on a very small scale.”

When Last, a 30-something London resident, won the competition, she selected her longtime travel companion Charlie Wild to join her on the trip. The pair had recently returned from an eight-month, around-the-world adventure that they documented together on their blog, The Travel Project, after previously quitting their jobs in advertising.

Mr. Fogg’s enlisted the help of British explorer, writer, and photographer Levison Wood to pick the winners from more than 10,000 applicants. Resumes arrived from across the globe, including New Zealand, the U.S., Argentina, and Bermuda. According to a 2018 interview in trade publication Hospitality & Catering News, Woods picked Last because of her “genuine” passion for travel, and her “beautifully shot” Instagram photos.

Winning the Contest: What Happens Next?

Within two months of finding out he’d won the White Claw contest, Corgan was in the brand’s Chicago headquarters learning about the company values, discussing travel plans, and tasting the difference between White Claw and rival hard seltzer brands.

The aim of the immersion course was to prepare him and the other contest winner for their new, temporary ambassadorial roles. The position, he soon learned, would be remarkably self-driven. “The team over at White Claw was amazing,” he says. “They were really open to our ideas of what we wanted to do and where I wanted to travel.” (Corgan and the other winner traveled independently, but they did cross paths briefly in Denver during the six-month excursion.)

 View this post on Instagram

 A post shared by Paul Corgan | Adventure Travel (@paulcorgan) on Aug 14, 2018 at 2:52pm PDT

As advertised, the winners were given the freedom to travel as they pleased, he says. “We just had to share one [Instagram] feed post a week about what we were doing, where we were going, and how we were living our best life with White Claw,” Corgan says.

Last and Wild, meanwhile, were whisked off on the worldwide gin trip in even quicker fashion. Though she doesn’t recall the exact time frame, Last estimates they set off within a few weeks of finding out she’d won in August 2018. The fact they were both working in freelance roles allowed them to drop everything and jet off at a moment’s notice. “It was all a bit of a whirlwind and continued that way till we got back,” she says.

Life on the Road

While Last and Wild’s journey was slightly more prescriptive than Corgan’s adventure (the pair followed in the footsteps of Phileas Fogg, the protagonist in “Around the World in Eighty Days” and the namesake of Mr. Fogg), Last says they were given free rein on what they did in each country they visited (seven in total over a 72-day period).

The highlights of their trip included a visit to an Indian tea plantation in Darjeeling, cycling across eight islands in Japan, learning about micro herbs in Singapore, and discovering the incredible cocktail scene in Mumbai. Perhaps the biggest “high” was taking to the skies in a hot air balloon in the U.S., Last says, adding, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Corgan set off from New Hampshire at the end of August 2018 and embarked on a 12,000 mile, three-month road trip across America to the Pacific Northwest, and then south to California. He toured various national parks and also ticked off a major bucket list item along the way.

“My grandfather was a senator in North Dakota back in the ‘30s and he helped establish Grand Teton National Park,” Corgan says.

After the road trip finished, Corgan planned his remaining experiences around the things in life he’s passionate about. He visited New Orleans because of his love of music (Corgan shares piano tutorials on YouTube), went camping in Hawaii, and piloted a plane in Miami. The latter forced him to get creative when it came to sharing the experience on Instagram — “you can’t fly a plane while drinking hard seltzer,” he says — while other unexpected obstacles presented their own challenges.

“There was a time driving through Wyoming where I couldn’t find a single can of White Claw because there was a national shortage,” he says. “A lot of my friends thought I was going around with a truck of White Claw and promoting it at fairs and stuff.”

In reality, Corgan purchased the cans for his photos on the road, so when the shortage hit, “I had to just travel until I found a liquor store that had some,” he says. “They were sold out for miles and miles, so I just postponed shooting that week.”

 View this post on Instagram

 A post shared by Paul Corgan | Adventure Travel (@paulcorgan) on Jan 24, 2019 at 6:04pm PST

Luck Favors the Experienced

When the first deposit for his White Claw adventure landed in his bank account, Corgan was on the shop floor of a men’s clothing store where he supplemented the income from his social media business as a part-time sales associate. “It was the craziest moment ‘cause I was there selling stuff, but I was smiling so much,” he recalls. “I was like, ‘O.K., I don’t have to be here at all.’”

After his six-month gig, Corgan started a new content creation company, Content Club Co., providing curated photos and videos for brands he feels strongly about, like Timberland, La Colombe, and Underwood.

“My life is completely different now than it would have been had I not won,” Corgan says.

So was it luck or skill? Probably a combination of the two. But if you find yourself procrastinating on social media and stumble across an alcohol-fueled opportunity of a lifetime, just remember: It could be you.

The article What Happens to Social Media Contest Winners Who Travel for Booze? Here Are Their Stories appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/viral-alcohol-travel-contest-winners/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/what-happens-to-social-media-contest-winners-who-travel-for-booze-here-are-their-stories

[isaiahrippinus]

What Happens to Social Media Contest Winners Who Travel for Booze? Here Are Their Stories

When Paul Corgan, a 26-year-old from Portsmouth, N.H., sent his online application to become White Claw’s “best life ambassador” in March 2018, he completed a short blurb and shared a photo and link to his Instagram account. After clicking submit, he forgot about the competition almost immediately.

The contest would grant two winners $60,000 each to travel America for six months. Their only requirement was to document themselves “living their best life” by posting one photo per week to Instagram featuring the up-and-coming hard seltzer brand.

Articles detailing the competition went viral across social media platforms. So by the time Corgan received an email in June 2018 informing him he was one of five finalists being considered for the role, he still assumed his chances of winning were slim. Then, just over a week later, after a Skype interview with the brand’s marketing department, he awoke to an email.

“It just said ‘Congratulations’ as the subject line,” Corgan says. “It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in my life.”

Contest Marketing: Everyone’s a Winner

For active social media users, competitions like White Claw’s “Best Life Contest” will be a familiar concept. While their prizes often seem too good to be true, the bar for entry is remarkably low.

All that’s usually required is to follow the brand on a social media platform and share a post or photo tagging its account, often using a specific hashtag. In advertising lingo, the concept is known as contest marketing; it’s a savvy promotional strategy and one that an increasing number of alcohol brands are turning to.

Within the past year alone, Natural Light has run a range of social-media-driven competitions with prizes including free beer for a year, $10,000 for a Halloween costume contest, and $1 million to help 25 drinkers pay off their graduate school loans.

Guinness, meanwhile, offered drinkers the keys to their very own Irish pub for a weekend, while Keystone Light launched a “Free Rent” campaign that paid 13 lucky winners’ rents for a year. In May 2019, Busch Beer announced it would contribute $25,000 toward one couple’s wedding ceremony and would send its spokesman, Gerald Downy, better known as “Busch Guy,” as the officiant.

Credit: Megan O’Leary Photography

These contests present a win-win scenario: Contestants commit to a small social media interaction, and brands generate buzz at a fraction of the cost of traditional advertising. Plus, the headline-grabbing nature of the campaigns all but guarantees nationwide coverage from numerous media outlets. (VinePair was one of several drinks publications that picked up the White Claw campaign, and even national news outlets like CNBC covered the contest.)

But while the contests themselves gain widespread coverage, the actual winners often go almost unreported.

When Fox 32 Chicago covered the Busch wedding contest in May 2019, the story received close to 40,000 likes, over 11,000 shares, and upwards of 20,000 comments on Facebook, according to data from content marketing research platform BuzzSumo. Despite such a positive reaction, Fox didn’t bother announcing the winners — the now-wed Abbi and Andrew Roth of Janesville, Wis. — nor did it follow up on the contestants to find out how the big day went.

The only coverage of the Roths’ wedding day appears to be a July 2019 article in Janesville’s Gazette Xtra. “We’re just a couple of regular Joes,” Abbi Roth told the publication. “We never thought this would happen.”

The “Lucky” Winners

While the Roths may be a pair of Busch-Light-loving “regular Joes,” success in other competitions — those that call upon the winner to fulfill a specific role — rely on more than brand alignment or fandom.

Prior to working as a White Claw ambassador, Corgan ran his own company that handled the social media accounts for small restaurants and businesses. He points to luck as a huge factor in winning the Best Life Contest; but he also says his love of travel, which he emphasized in his online application and interview, as well as his photography skills and knowledge of social media, helped him stand out and eventually win the contest.

In August 2018, Mr Fogg’s, a London mini-chain of bars inspired by the novel “Around the World in Eighty Days,” announced it was looking for an adventurous individual to travel the world, drink gin, and collect botanicals to inspire a cocktail for the bar upon their return. The winner would also get to choose a travel companion to join them on their escapade.

Numerous publications (including, again, VinePair) covered the competition, which gained even more online traction after actor and Aviation gin owner Ryan Reynolds tweeted about it.

I’ll do it.

— Ryan Reynolds (@VancityReynolds) August 16, 2018

To enter the competition, candidates applied on Mr. Fogg’s website and had to prove they were social media savvy, over 21 years of age, and skilled at writing and photography. Previous travel experience was also imperative.

“We didn’t think there was any chance we were going to get it because you never do with these things,” Jessica Last, the winning contestant, says. “But at the same time, we did feel all the questions that they asked were really relevant to what we were already doing: We were adventure/travel photographers and bloggers on a very small scale.”

When Last, a 30-something London resident, won the competition, she selected her longtime travel companion Charlie Wild to join her on the trip. The pair had recently returned from an eight-month, around-the-world adventure that they documented together on their blog, The Travel Project, after previously quitting their jobs in advertising.

Mr. Fogg’s enlisted the help of British explorer, writer, and photographer Levison Wood to pick the winners from more than 10,000 applicants. Resumes arrived from across the globe, including New Zealand, the U.S., Argentina, and Bermuda. According to a 2018 interview in trade publication Hospitality & Catering News, Woods picked Last because of her “genuine” passion for travel, and her “beautifully shot” Instagram photos.

Winning the Contest: What Happens Next?

Within two months of finding out he’d won the White Claw contest, Corgan was in the brand’s Chicago headquarters learning about the company values, discussing travel plans, and tasting the difference between White Claw and rival hard seltzer brands.

The aim of the immersion course was to prepare him and the other contest winner for their new, temporary ambassadorial roles. The position, he soon learned, would be remarkably self-driven. “The team over at White Claw was amazing,” he says. “They were really open to our ideas of what we wanted to do and where I wanted to travel.” (Corgan and the other winner traveled independently, but they did cross paths briefly in Denver during the six-month excursion.)

View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Paul Corgan | Adventure Travel (@paulcorgan) on Aug 14, 2018 at 2:52pm PDT

As advertised, the winners were given the freedom to travel as they pleased, he says. “We just had to share one [Instagram] feed post a week about what we were doing, where we were going, and how we were living our best life with White Claw,” Corgan says.

Last and Wild, meanwhile, were whisked off on the worldwide gin trip in even quicker fashion. Though she doesn’t recall the exact time frame, Last estimates they set off within a few weeks of finding out she’d won in August 2018. The fact they were both working in freelance roles allowed them to drop everything and jet off at a moment’s notice. “It was all a bit of a whirlwind and continued that way till we got back,” she says.

Life on the Road

While Last and Wild’s journey was slightly more prescriptive than Corgan’s adventure (the pair followed in the footsteps of Phileas Fogg, the protagonist in “Around the World in Eighty Days” and the namesake of Mr. Fogg), Last says they were given free rein on what they did in each country they visited (seven in total over a 72-day period).

The highlights of their trip included a visit to an Indian tea plantation in Darjeeling, cycling across eight islands in Japan, learning about micro herbs in Singapore, and discovering the incredible cocktail scene in Mumbai. Perhaps the biggest “high” was taking to the skies in a hot air balloon in the U.S., Last says, adding, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Corgan set off from New Hampshire at the end of August 2018 and embarked on a 12,000 mile, three-month road trip across America to the Pacific Northwest, and then south to California. He toured various national parks and also ticked off a major bucket list item along the way.

“My grandfather was a senator in North Dakota back in the ‘30s and he helped establish Grand Teton National Park,” Corgan says.

After the road trip finished, Corgan planned his remaining experiences around the things in life he’s passionate about. He visited New Orleans because of his love of music (Corgan shares piano tutorials on YouTube), went camping in Hawaii, and piloted a plane in Miami. The latter forced him to get creative when it came to sharing the experience on Instagram — “you can’t fly a plane while drinking hard seltzer,” he says — while other unexpected obstacles presented their own challenges.

“There was a time driving through Wyoming where I couldn’t find a single can of White Claw because there was a national shortage,” he says. “A lot of my friends thought I was going around with a truck of White Claw and promoting it at fairs and stuff.”

In reality, Corgan purchased the cans for his photos on the road, so when the shortage hit, “I had to just travel until I found a liquor store that had some,” he says. “They were sold out for miles and miles, so I just postponed shooting that week.”

View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Paul Corgan | Adventure Travel (@paulcorgan) on Jan 24, 2019 at 6:04pm PST

Luck Favors the Experienced

When the first deposit for his White Claw adventure landed in his bank account, Corgan was on the shop floor of a men’s clothing store where he supplemented the income from his social media business as a part-time sales associate. “It was the craziest moment ‘cause I was there selling stuff, but I was smiling so much,” he recalls. “I was like, ‘O.K., I don’t have to be here at all.’”

After his six-month gig, Corgan started a new content creation company, Content Club Co., providing curated photos and videos for brands he feels strongly about, like Timberland, La Colombe, and Underwood.

“My life is completely different now than it would have been had I not won,” Corgan says.

So was it luck or skill? Probably a combination of the two. But if you find yourself procrastinating on social media and stumble across an alcohol-fueled opportunity of a lifetime, just remember: It could be you.

The article What Happens to Social Media Contest Winners Who Travel for Booze? Here Are Their Stories appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/viral-alcohol-travel-contest-winners/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/190645703179

[wineanddinosaur]

What Happens to Social Media Contest Winners Who Travel for Booze? Here Are Their Stories

When Paul Corgan, a 26-year-old from Portsmouth, N.H., sent his online application to become White Claw’s “best life ambassador” in March 2018, he completed a short blurb and shared a photo and link to his Instagram account. After clicking submit, he forgot about the competition almost immediately.

The contest would grant two winners $60,000 each to travel America for six months. Their only requirement was to document themselves “living their best life” by posting one photo per week to Instagram featuring the up-and-coming hard seltzer brand.

Articles detailing the competition went viral across social media platforms. So by the time Corgan received an email in June 2018 informing him he was one of five finalists being considered for the role, he still assumed his chances of winning were slim. Then, just over a week later, after a Skype interview with the brand’s marketing department, he awoke to an email.

“It just said ‘Congratulations’ as the subject line,” Corgan says. “It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in my life.”

Contest Marketing: Everyone’s a Winner

For active social media users, competitions like White Claw’s “Best Life Contest” will be a familiar concept. While their prizes often seem too good to be true, the bar for entry is remarkably low.

All that’s usually required is to follow the brand on a social media platform and share a post or photo tagging its account, often using a specific hashtag. In advertising lingo, the concept is known as contest marketing; it’s a savvy promotional strategy and one that an increasing number of alcohol brands are turning to.

Within the past year alone, Natural Light has run a range of social-media-driven competitions with prizes including free beer for a year, $10,000 for a Halloween costume contest, and $1 million to help 25 drinkers pay off their graduate school loans.

Guinness, meanwhile, offered drinkers the keys to their very own Irish pub for a weekend, while Keystone Light launched a “Free Rent” campaign that paid 13 lucky winners’ rents for a year. In May 2019, Busch Beer announced it would contribute $25,000 toward one couple’s wedding ceremony and would send its spokesman, Gerald Downy, better known as “Busch Guy,” as the officiant.

Credit: Megan O’Leary Photography

These contests present a win-win scenario: Contestants commit to a small social media interaction, and brands generate buzz at a fraction of the cost of traditional advertising. Plus, the headline-grabbing nature of the campaigns all but guarantees nationwide coverage from numerous media outlets. (VinePair was one of several drinks publications that picked up the White Claw campaign, and even national news outlets like CNBC covered the contest.)

But while the contests themselves gain widespread coverage, the actual winners often go almost unreported.

When Fox 32 Chicago covered the Busch wedding contest in May 2019, the story received close to 40,000 likes, over 11,000 shares, and upwards of 20,000 comments on Facebook, according to data from content marketing research platform BuzzSumo. Despite such a positive reaction, Fox didn’t bother announcing the winners — the now-wed Abbi and Andrew Roth of Janesville, Wis. — nor did it follow up on the contestants to find out how the big day went.

The only coverage of the Roths’ wedding day appears to be a July 2019 article in Janesville’s Gazette Xtra. “We’re just a couple of regular Joes,” Abbi Roth told the publication. “We never thought this would happen.”

The “Lucky” Winners

While the Roths may be a pair of Busch-Light-loving “regular Joes,” success in other competitions — those that call upon the winner to fulfill a specific role — rely on more than brand alignment or fandom.

Prior to working as a White Claw ambassador, Corgan ran his own company that handled the social media accounts for small restaurants and businesses. He points to luck as a huge factor in winning the Best Life Contest; but he also says his love of travel, which he emphasized in his online application and interview, as well as his photography skills and knowledge of social media, helped him stand out and eventually win the contest.

In August 2018, Mr Fogg’s, a London mini-chain of bars inspired by the novel “Around the World in Eighty Days,” announced it was looking for an adventurous individual to travel the world, drink gin, and collect botanicals to inspire a cocktail for the bar upon their return. The winner would also get to choose a travel companion to join them on their escapade.

Numerous publications (including, again, VinePair) covered the competition, which gained even more online traction after actor and Aviation gin owner Ryan Reynolds tweeted about it.

I’ll do it.

— Ryan Reynolds (@VancityReynolds) August 16, 2018

To enter the competition, candidates applied on Mr. Fogg’s website and had to prove they were social media savvy, over 21 years of age, and skilled at writing and photography. Previous travel experience was also imperative.

“We didn’t think there was any chance we were going to get it because you never do with these things,” Jessica Last, the winning contestant, says. “But at the same time, we did feel all the questions that they asked were really relevant to what we were already doing: We were adventure/travel photographers and bloggers on a very small scale.”

When Last, a 30-something London resident, won the competition, she selected her longtime travel companion Charlie Wild to join her on the trip. The pair had recently returned from an eight-month, around-the-world adventure that they documented together on their blog, The Travel Project, after previously quitting their jobs in advertising.

Mr. Fogg’s enlisted the help of British explorer, writer, and photographer Levison Wood to pick the winners from more than 10,000 applicants. Resumes arrived from across the globe, including New Zealand, the U.S., Argentina, and Bermuda. According to a 2018 interview in trade publication Hospitality & Catering News, Woods picked Last because of her “genuine” passion for travel, and her “beautifully shot” Instagram photos.

Winning the Contest: What Happens Next?

Within two months of finding out he’d won the White Claw contest, Corgan was in the brand’s Chicago headquarters learning about the company values, discussing travel plans, and tasting the difference between White Claw and rival hard seltzer brands.

The aim of the immersion course was to prepare him and the other contest winner for their new, temporary ambassadorial roles. The position, he soon learned, would be remarkably self-driven. “The team over at White Claw was amazing,” he says. “They were really open to our ideas of what we wanted to do and where I wanted to travel.” (Corgan and the other winner traveled independently, but they did cross paths briefly in Denver during the six-month excursion.)

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Paul Corgan | Adventure Travel (@paulcorgan) on Aug 14, 2018 at 2:52pm PDT

As advertised, the winners were given the freedom to travel as they pleased, he says. “We just had to share one [Instagram] feed post a week about what we were doing, where we were going, and how we were living our best life with White Claw,” Corgan says.

Last and Wild, meanwhile, were whisked off on the worldwide gin trip in even quicker fashion. Though she doesn’t recall the exact time frame, Last estimates they set off within a few weeks of finding out she’d won in August 2018. The fact they were both working in freelance roles allowed them to drop everything and jet off at a moment’s notice. “It was all a bit of a whirlwind and continued that way till we got back,” she says.

Life on the Road

While Last and Wild’s journey was slightly more prescriptive than Corgan’s adventure (the pair followed in the footsteps of Phileas Fogg, the protagonist in “Around the World in Eighty Days” and the namesake of Mr. Fogg), Last says they were given free rein on what they did in each country they visited (seven in total over a 72-day period).

The highlights of their trip included a visit to an Indian tea plantation in Darjeeling, cycling across eight islands in Japan, learning about micro herbs in Singapore, and discovering the incredible cocktail scene in Mumbai. Perhaps the biggest “high” was taking to the skies in a hot air balloon in the U.S., Last says, adding, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Corgan set off from New Hampshire at the end of August 2018 and embarked on a 12,000 mile, three-month road trip across America to the Pacific Northwest, and then south to California. He toured various national parks and also ticked off a major bucket list item along the way.

“My grandfather was a senator in North Dakota back in the ‘30s and he helped establish Grand Teton National Park,” Corgan says.

After the road trip finished, Corgan planned his remaining experiences around the things in life he’s passionate about. He visited New Orleans because of his love of music (Corgan shares piano tutorials on YouTube), went camping in Hawaii, and piloted a plane in Miami. The latter forced him to get creative when it came to sharing the experience on Instagram — “you can’t fly a plane while drinking hard seltzer,” he says — while other unexpected obstacles presented their own challenges.

“There was a time driving through Wyoming where I couldn’t find a single can of White Claw because there was a national shortage,” he says. “A lot of my friends thought I was going around with a truck of White Claw and promoting it at fairs and stuff.”

In reality, Corgan purchased the cans for his photos on the road, so when the shortage hit, “I had to just travel until I found a liquor store that had some,” he says. “They were sold out for miles and miles, so I just postponed shooting that week.”

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Paul Corgan | Adventure Travel (@paulcorgan) on Jan 24, 2019 at 6:04pm PST

Luck Favors the Experienced

When the first deposit for his White Claw adventure landed in his bank account, Corgan was on the shop floor of a men’s clothing store where he supplemented the income from his social media business as a part-time sales associate. “It was the craziest moment ‘cause I was there selling stuff, but I was smiling so much,” he recalls. “I was like, ‘O.K., I don’t have to be here at all.’”

After his six-month gig, Corgan started a new content creation company, Content Club Co., providing curated photos and videos for brands he feels strongly about, like Timberland, La Colombe, and Underwood.

“My life is completely different now than it would have been had I not won,” Corgan says.

So was it luck or skill? Probably a combination of the two. But if you find yourself procrastinating on social media and stumble across an alcohol-fueled opportunity of a lifetime, just remember: It could be you.

The article What Happens to Social Media Contest Winners Who Travel for Booze? Here Are Their Stories appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/viral-alcohol-travel-contest-winners/

[wordcreatr]

You know, I wouldn’t say I have terrible luck, but it definitely trends toward being consistently on the poor side. I wouldn’t say it feels like the universe has it in for me, but it’s definitely trying to annoy me.

It’s like that time back in 1996 when a guy I knew, who had won an Emmy for post-production work on the hit show Northern Exposure, called me up out of the blue to move to L.A. to be his assistant. He and some investors were buying a family-owned state of the art post-production studio that was in bankruptcy. It was a huge break for me, so I left grad school, packed up my hamster car, and moved out there. Immediately upon arriving, he told me, “So let me get you up to speed. The financing fell through last week.” Turned out his wealthy main investor’s elderly mother controlled the company’s purse strings and she shot the deal down. It also turned out I no longer had a job.

Why had he not called me to let me know before I left Arizona I had asked in dismay.

“I decided you needed to be out here anyway,” he replied. And that was the start of my L.A. misadventure from hell. I’ll have to write about that period of my life sometime because it only got crazier.

Yeah, anyway, it’s just been one of those kinds of weeks as far as lost opportunity and general mayhem, just on a far smaller scale.

Welcome to hell

First, my house’s air conditioning was on the fritz and the temperature in Arizona is only slightly below hellish, though full-blown hell is arriving next week when we are supposed to hit 106°F (41°C for my international readers). The air conditioner was blowing warm air the day I called a recommended AC guy who does side work for cash. When he showed up after he got off work the next day, my unit was back to blowing cold air, but I figured he should take a look at it anyway because it was obviously not working right.

After inspecting it, the repair guy told me my AC unit was at least 30 years old (maybe older since the house was built in 1980), and he began to describe what kind of condition it was in. Have you ever seen a really wizened old man who is bent practically in half with osteoporosis? A man who is so frail and rickety it’s a miracle he’s still upright in a light breeze? The one with no teeth, who is practically blind, and who has to wear adult diapers? Yeah, apparently, that was the equivalent of my air conditioning unit.

The AC guy showed me photos — and it wasn’t pretty. In fact, with the exposed wiring due to the plastic having been baked off them by the relentless desert sun, it’s a wonder my house hadn’t burned down. He showed me pics of one battered part and said if it went out, the AC would either not turn on or it wouldn’t turn off, which would kill my electricity bill — both would suck.

He said he could get me a new unit for the discounted price of $4,600 cash or make repairs to get me through the summer. Since it’s been almost a year since I’ve had a proper job, I went with option B. My plan was to postpone replacement until I could afford a new AC. So he came back the next day and got to work. When he was done, he came into the house and turned on the air. The blower was working but the condenser wouldn’t kick on. He said it might take a bit. So we waited. And waited. Finally, he went back up on the roof and after ten minutes he came back in and we waited and waited, our hands periodically reaching up to the vent in the ceiling that stubbornly blew out warm air. Nada.

“Bad news,” he said. “I think your condenser has just died.”

Well, that was inconvenient.

We began talking about a new unit, and I said I’d have to think about it because $4,600 cash was kind of steep. After all, I was only working occasional freelance jobs and doing rideshare driving, which pays a pittance. As much as I hated to, I was probably going to have to go with a more expensive company so I could put it on a credit card and pay it off in installments. I hate doing that because while I use my cards all the time, I pay them off immediately. But I didn’t want to raid my bank account and leave myself low on available cash. After he left, the damn AC blower was in full zombie mode and wouldn’t shut off even when I turned it off. It just kept blowing warm air, so I eventually had to turn it off at the circuit breaker.

After speaking with a rep from Integrity Air Conditioning, it was going to cost me $5,400 (after rebates) to get a new unit, so I reluctantly agreed. This sucked. I also needed new tires for my car because the rideshare driving had accelerated the wear on them. And I needed an oil change. And I needed to get my BBQ grill fixed.

I had just been thinking that life was going okay and I’d be fine as long as I kept my spending low. Apparently, the universe had decided that now was the perfect time to put a whammy on my wallet.

Fuck.

I’m melting! Mellllllting!

Meanwhile, in the absence of modern AC, I’ve actually been doing okay with the heat. The older I get, the more I turn into my dad. As the temperature has climbed, when the AC was working, I hadn’t even had it on when the Houseguest wasn’t home. When my dad was alive, he kept the house so hot my brother would freak out when he came over to visit. “Oh, my God, it’s like hell in here. How does he live like this? It’s so damn hot!”

Unlike me, the Houseguest hasn’t been faring well with no AC, and she has been lying around listlessly. I feel bad and check on her occasionally to make sure I don’t need to summon an ambulance for heat prostration. To be honest, though, because I don’t want to dip into my cash reserves, if I lived here by myself, I would have been inclined to tough it out through the summer without AC, but I can’t bear the constant whinging.

To be fair, she’s also been battling insomnia, which has taken its toll. I see her emerge from her room, unrested, and the oppressive heat hasn’t made it any easier, and she’s at the snapping point. It doesn’t help her mood that the heat doesn’t seem to faze me. I see the barely subdued madness lurking in her eyes.

The kitchen is a no-cook zone

Because of the unrelenting heat, the Houseguest has been bugging me to get the grill seen to so we can cook outside under the shade of the patio. We’d been grilling a lot earlier in the year, but the never-ending propane tank finally ran out of gas, and I’d been meaning for a while to go up to Home Depot for a new tank. After I finally did,  I was unscrewing the old tank from the regulator, and I think I did something wrong and jacked up the regulator. When I connected the new tank, I heard hissing gas and could smell it. I thought I had a faulty tank and took it back, but the replacement tank made the same noise with the same smell. Using soapy water, I looked for bubbles to try and discover the leak, but no luck.

The Houseguest mentioned going up to get a new regulator for the grill and wanted to know when we could grill again, and I said I didn’t know. I began listing my expenses and mentioned the AC had to be taken care of, then my tires, and then a new regulator for the grill — which I wasn’t even sure was the problem.

She had wilted onto her bed and lay there languidly looking defeated.

“But we have to be able to grill,” she said weakly. “It’s too hot to use the oven.”

The oven might as well be the furnaces of hell as far as the Houseguest is concerned

I told her I wasn’t sure if I bought that argument. I mean, unless I was foolish enough to cook with the oven door open, I kind of figure it should be okay, right? How hot can it get? Turn the oven on. Put the food in. Set the timer. Walk out of the room. Come back when the timer goes off. I didn’t see the issue. She was just staring at me like I was a simpleton. She has a Ph.D. and tends to discuss things analytically. As I began calmly explaining why I thought the regulator was the lowest priority purchase item, her head suddenly snapped up and she shot me a look.

“We are grilling, motherfucker!”

Okay, I was slightly taken aback. The Houseguest is normally rather easy-going, cultured, and well-spoken. There was no anger, just the no-nonsense bark I’d associate with a drill instructor. However, I got the impression that if the heat had not sapped all of her energy, I might have ended up in a bloody heap on the floor.  I retreated to my Man Cave and chalked up the outburst to the heat. Plus, she’s got some fiery Persian blood in her.

Freelancing sucks

So, as these bills piled up this week, it reinforced that I’m not bringing in tons of money. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had a proper job. I traveled for a bit, and I’ve been slumming doing rideshare driving for Uber and Lyft part-time. I’ve also been picking up some freelance projects here and there. All with the goal of working (slowly and painfully) on my book.

I’ve done a fair bit, but there’s still a fair bit left to do. Purposefully, I’ve been holding off getting a real job and have been actively trying to get freelance gigs. One thing I’ve learned, I suck at chasing down freelance work. But I figured if I lived frugally, I could stretch out my underemployment out quite awhile, as long as I didn’t incur any real expenses. Like all the ones I racked up this week, which was a metaphorical kick in the balls.

But that was okay. I still had a freelance project I was supposed to start last month that would pay off a chunk of the AC cost.  However, everything is up in the air because the client has a new full-time copywriter.

Fuck.

But that was still okay because another agency had contacted me for a small project. Their content director liked my stuff. In fact, she had me come in to talk about working for them part-time, but as a proofreader. It’s kind of boring work, but it wouldn’t demand any of my limited creativity. And it would be a regular income so I could keep writing. I was stoked. And everyone I met was super nice. Things were looking up!

And then right after I put down a three grand deposit on my new AC unit, I got an email late Friday afternoon. It was from the new agency’s HR person informing me that the content director had departed the company that afternoon. She said I was still in their freelance pool and I might hear from some of the account managers. I asked about the proofreading gig. She had no idea, but it seemed to me my new part-time gig was probably dead in the water.

Just like L.A., I was so close.

Fuck my life.

The Universe is going to make me go out and get a real job, isn’t it?

If karma is a thing, I must have been a real asshole in another life. Oh well, as the old man used to say, ‘If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any at all.’  But if this keeps up, I may need to sacrifice a goat at the next full moon.

At least I’ll have a new air conditioning unit by tomorrow. I just hope they don’t drop it through my roof.

Update

The new AC is going in as I post this.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

  Photo attributes: Copyright: catalin205 / 123RF Stock Photo

Sometimes everything will work out as long as one thing doesn't happen. And of course, it's going to happen because the universe has it out for me. You know, I wouldn't say I have terrible luck, but it definitely trends toward being consistently on the poor side.

#agency life #air conditioning #air conditioning is out #Arizona heat #Arizona summer #bad karma #Emmy award #freelance work #freelancing sucks #grilling #hot #L.A. #new airconditioner #propane grill #propane leak #to hot to cook #welcome to hell