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iampikachuhearmeroar · 16 days

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y'know i watch a lot of dave ramsey on my fb feed, ever since my parent sent me the video where a young couple had $750,000 worth of student loan and other debt. but like. although most of their advice is relatively okay/good for saving up and getting out of debt, the one piece of advice i take issue with today, mostly bc i feel like being pissed about something is "just get any job before you get THE job! you need work and money TODAY and also a side hustle if you have free time to watch netflix between 3 other jobs!"

like. i have been TRYING to just get ANY job for a year now, ever since i left my shitty and toxic asf traineeship/cadetship..... that made me so fucking anxious and stressed that i crashed my car so bad that i bashed in my back windscreen, my boot/trunk and knocked off my back wheels and exhaust pipe (and i also destroyed their multilevel parking.... and i refused to follow up on their building insurance to fix. ALSO my car is actually fine. my insurance fixed it lmao. it took like 3 whole months).

i've been trying for the past year ever since my shitty overly critical, controlling and micromanaging boss completely ruined my chance of a good stable job where i got BUMPED UP from trainee to a full admin assistant during the interview process..... all because i REFUSED to listen SPECIFICALLY to her and hr to be a disability/community support worker bc "tHeY'rE sOoOoOo DeSpErAtE fOr WoRkErS wHy DoN't YoU cArE!!!!????" and "SHE HAS THE WRONG PERSONALITY FOR ADMIN!!!!!" et al.... that she called me to demand to know EXACTLY what jobs i was applying for directly after she gave that bullshit reference report so she could guilt me to "use your (my) giving heart." *enter every tag rant i've made about this sitch on this hellsite here*

where people, performance and culture told me to get assessed and medicated for anxiety and depression. where one of the course coordinator ladies of the cert IV in housing course i did as part of this program told me to "hurry up and get assessed and medicated for ADHD bc it's ruining your KPIs and business performance!" bc i went too fast through my assessments for her to help me..... and "YoU'rE NoT fIgHtInG fOr YoUr CaReEr HaRd EnOuGH!!!!" whenever i got told both by my manager and my mentor that any chance for me to move up or do anything for my assessments was "not relevant to you" (even in TEAM MEETINGS!) and "just accept it's not in YOUR journey with us!!!". and finally where another coworker kept asking me if i had some undiagnosed disability that i hadnt told them about.... on the way to one of the very seldom inspections that i was SUPPOSED to be doing by myself, by the end of the program. but they continually barred me from doing. how the fuck was i meant to stay here and do anything successfully and healthily in this toxic ass workplace???

i've tried for a fucking year to get "just any job". be it from kmart to fucking heavy labouring shift work at the local steelworks.... bc i am fucking desperate.... to even a support worker in the last couple of months. that i didnt have good ref reports for (and quite understandably so this time bc this job is basically like rudimentary nursing which i've NEVER been interested in). but again i was desperate. and i wanted to test shit boss's/shit HR's hypothesis that it was "an instant job! it'll be so easy for you! bc you're so nice, and giving, and down to earth, and friendly!!! all it is, is making friends all day with your interests!! what the perfect job for you!!' ma'am i am NOT 18 like your son that you keep referencing whenever we talk about this. i am 27/28 (at the time). why the fuck are you SO condescending, belittling and supercilious?

i have been trying for a fucking year to get any fucking job possible.... when it's literally impossible.... when even rudimentary/entry level jobs like working at kmart or woolies or even as a door greeter/customer service person at a local bank; come with test after test after test after test...... that give you results like "you have big dreams and we can't help you achieve them!" or "you have NO emotional regulation and intelligence, and resilience skills whatsoever. why did you even apply to work for social services?! goodbye." or "you don't know what INNOVATION means bc you're too scared to try or come up with new ways to do things." shitbot.AI for social services. you're a government agency. you're the LEAST innovative fucking business in the ENTIRE country.... for personality readings. batshit insane multi-tasking tests like this one:

i NEVER pass these tests, whether they're the standard personality test or the psychometric tests like the one pictured, or the system thinking ones... fictional staff IM chat ones; etc etc etc. FOR A FUCKING SEWING/ARTS/HABERDASHERY SHOP. the list goes on and on. where you only have 30 seconds to get every little bit of it right in 20 questions. i failed that screenshot test big time for the local bank. bc i can't math and i felt way too rushed.

there's so many job descriptions you have to dodge bc they don't list salary properly (eg monthly figures i've seen for writing jobs or one for working for influencers i saw last week) OR even AT ALL..... instead sometimes they just "profile salary match" bc they don't want to pay jack fucking shit. overly presumptuous and fucking patronizing as all fuck small business owners who are SO FUCKING sanctimonious about the supposed importance of working in a FAMILY OWNED small business as opposed to a MuLtInAtIoNaL where apparently "you can just go home and forget about work! not HERE!" that's such a massive red flag. since they think that, from the outset, they have the RIGHT to treat APPLICANTS like they have shit-for-brains for 85k a year...... and begging for this specific attribute in the JD from applicants:

that hey. maybe it's not fucking worth applying for that and losing my sanity over ANOTHER god-awful boss and a 2hr commute to work (ie it was in southwestern sydney which is a 2hr commute for me where i live). also, as a caveat. who the fuck has had stable employment since 2020???? since the worldwide fucking pandemic??? where so many industries have laid off droves and droves of employeess??? and it's still happening?? like ok given this was as a HR admin support position and i assume a lot of HR people had career stability during the last 4 years. but also. what the ACTUAL fuck.

i am TRYING to get any fucking job possible. but it's hard to take some jobs seriously. these are the attributes of some influencer advertising/marketing firm and one of their "KPI's/company values was "honor" and was like "honor the vibes and the company" or whatever the fuck i found on indeed last week:

it's also hard to take some admin jobs seriously. for example, a local wealth management firm DOESN'T list the salary of a customer service/admin/whatever the fuck else they called it "rockstar/superstar"position..... that DEMANDS the desired candidate does the job of the equivalent of 6 other people in their branch whilst ALSO doing the admin work of their two other regional offices. what the fuck is the pay for this position??? why won't you list it??? is just THAT GOOD AND HIGH???? or just THAT LOW AND AWFUL???? fucking list it, you dumb cowardly bastards.

again, i've been trying to get any job for the past fucking year, that i've finally started to slightly dumb down my resume by finally deleting my advanced diploma of marketing. it's a daily fucking struggle to not go feral and start bitch-posting on my linkedin about how fucked up the job market is. but obvs i can't do that when have Shit HR and other people from my first job lurking on my LI feed. or start a tiktok parodying the goddamned motherfucking mindfuck tactics of the useless fucking job market before throwing my 12 year old laptop out the fucking window. "just get any job" is NOT possible anymore when that "just any job" in retail or call centres (although rip me for leaving after barely a month bc a shitty call centre i worked for in feb/march this year REFUSED to fix a backend issue on THEIR END but kept blaming it on me and it ruined my training period).... are just so mind fucky and tiring that it's straight up NOT even worth applying.

it's straight up not worth applying to a job that some local social service org sends you directly on seek (or maybe another job site) bc they think you fit the profile for a traineeship in business admin. only then, when you apply you're marked "unlikely to progress" bc you decided to list your desired salary at the higher end (apparently) of the trainee pay grade in australia (50k) bc you believe you shouldn't be expected to stay at 45k for TWO MORE FULL YEARS during that traineeship (with a vain hope that hopefully, HOPEFULLY, they'll keep you on at the end of it)... bc you NEED to start paying off your student loans automatically through your pay. BUT. oh no. that was too high of an ask for your quals/experience apparently. they WANTED you to low ball at 45k (or even lower) and be happy about it. so they reject you. when THEY sent YOU the job.

it's not worth trying to get "just any job", when famously even food chains in the US, like i think it's panera bread (and also walmart) are using 2 hour avatar-esque personality tests to screen ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE out of the pool except for like 2 people. every second job i get suggested on linkedin is just applicant pooling websites (or straight up scams where the pay is ONLY listed in US $$) where businesses just straight up ignore your applications bc they forgot they even made an account on it (imo) so you HAVE to make an account on THEIR actual site..... when some dumb-ass career-advice-fluencer on my fb feed (and the tik of the tok) tells you that's exactly how you get your application ignored, while flogging THEIR applicant pooling and job searching/resume writing AI advice software website.

"just any job before you get THE job", my fucking ass. this no longer fucking possible. and also cut the shit about overworking yourself to death with 10,000 different side hustles. bc that's exactly how i i nearly fucking died in 2020 at 20 fucking 5 in hospital with a stomach tumour..... after TOO MANY years of uni where the supposed importance of "innovative systematic entrepreneurial flair go-getter thinking of the future" was being espoused to me on the fucking daily. like dgmw, i know people are doing side hustles in these fucked up high cost of living times (and also im actively thinking about doing door dash since NO ONE is bothering to hire me)... but god the "if you have time to have down time with netflix why arent you filling your time with 15 side hustles to get your net worth to 1 million bucks??????" is fucked up. let people NOT work themselves to death outside of the mandatory 2 full time and 1 part time or casual or any other mix of jobs that people just need to fucking SURVIVE today.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona's jobhunting thoughts and woes #ilona's work thoughts #ilona's work dilemmas #probs a tl;dr for everyone who HATES long-form posting

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byskovkenny78 · 11 months

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Klientboost Org Chart, Teams, Tradition & Jobs

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Fourth Coming

Fandom: The Wilds Rating: T Word Count: 2157

Summary: And on the twenty-third day, Nora ate goat and thought about love.

Nora sees the experiment through two lenses, like the red and blue acetate in those cheap 3D glasses. One lens is the scientific, the other is the brutal. When she puts these metaphorical glasses on, she’s just there, in the middle of it, but when she’s feeling particularly tired (understandably often) or just relaxed (inexplicably often—a fact to be concealed from the others), she shifts between the two views. Each is sharper alone than they are combined.

Scientific: counting the days; subtly taking her own inventory of the rations; monitoring Fatin’s dehydration, the commensurate level of distrust the rest of the group have for her.

Brutal: cold fingers in wet, black sand, disinterring Jeanette’s grave; Dot’s tumbling, shivering recount of spearing and battering a snake; ralphing, ralphing, ralphing bad mussels.

It isn’t until the goat that these contrary perspectives finally attain a kind of beautiful balance in Nora’s brain. And it isn’t her thoughts, or rereading one of her journal entries, that has her mental clouds clearing. Actually, it’s what Leah says. About barbecues and normalcy and the Fourth of July. Leah’s remark—possibly offhand, certainly poisonous, even if Nora can’t see how yet—gracelessly and unselfconsciously reveals the barbarism of order. A social gathering on the same day each year, centered around fire (fireworks, sure, but Nora is amazed by how dazzled people are by something not so very far advanced from what had the cavepeople oohing and awwing) and the cooking of meat. Ritual is the summit at which the scientific and the brutal join hands.

The day doesn’t matter. (Every day could have been June 29th and what difference would that have made for them on this island?) The conditions of their environment haven’t changed. (No major shift in the seasons or significant weather patterns, just the single freakish high tide.) The slaughter of the goat and the subsequent cookout should be put down to chance, Nora knows. Toni, Martha, and Shelby decided to look for food. Martha happened to find the goat. She happened to lay her hands on a tool that could do the job. She happened to be successful. And now, miraculous barbecue in honour of… what?

Nora’s sure that most of the girls would say the feast is in honour of themselves, their power, their survival. All of that would really put a spit-shine on Gretchen’s mission statement, but Nora’s not just an agent, a plant, a spy, a wolf in castaway’s clothing. She seeks to understand as much as she always has. She wonders if Shelby thanks god for the goat, or eats it as a form of praise. Nora constantly spots her toying with the cross on her necklace, frequently in a way that holds it far from her throat, almost like she’s thinking about ripping the necklace off and hurling it into the ocean. That would be going a bit far, but then, so is hacking your hair off because a brush got stuck.

Their ritual could be the sacrifice of another creature in the hopes of sparing themselves—a kind of desperate, gasping celebration. Privately, Nora decides they’re celebrating love. Leah’s persistent aura of tragic romance is part of the inspiration for that, but she isn’t part of either of the two developing relationships Nora’s been observing.

Martha’s picking at her goat meat glumly, so Nora rises and goes over to her. Her gait is unsteady on this sand and on these legs, weakened over the past two days of starvation, but it’s enough to carry her until she can slump down next to Martha. Sweet and strong, vulnerable and clearly capable (judging by the sizzle of fat dripping from the roasting goat leg and hitting the fire), Martha smiles when Nora joins her. Nora smiles back and that’s enough between them for a few minutes.

Nora watches the browned meat, nearly allowing herself to be hypnotized by the texture that urges her to sink her teeth in, the crispy spots she knows would taste incredible. But she can’t gorge herself; her stomach needs to be cool about what she’s already eaten or the chewed up goat goes the way of the slurped mussels Rachel found.

Carefully, Nora turns her head to study Martha. She decides that what this girl needs is the same thing Leah needed on Day 12 when she was sitting alone on the beach: some kind of dirty joke. Since she’s fresh out of filthy material of the Christmas variety, Nora tells Martha, “One second,” and heaves herself up again. She comes back dragging Marcus. He’ll be her muse, but it’s also a reunion of lovers.

“You two could get married,” Nora tells Martha. “Shelby said she was an ordained youth minister, remember?”

They laugh and it’s softer than the crackle of the fire. Nora likes that. The steady, rolling sound of their laughs together. How they taper off, unlike the ceaseless noise of breaking waves that drives Nora insane whenever she surfaces from her numbness to the sound. Like becoming conscious of your breathing and working like hell to stop noticing it, because having to purposefully regulate every breath is exhausting and terrifying.

Martha frowns a little in consideration, then half-smiles.

“Nah. I don’t know if I’m ready to commit like that. I think this could just be a fling. All those abs and he didn’t come help me haul that goat.”

“That’s true.” When Martha gazes at the mannequin, Nora assesses Marcus as well. “And it’s not like you’d want to keep him around because he gives great head.”

“He might’ve once,” Martha defends, brushing hair out of her face when a breeze kicks up, “but he gave so much head that there’s none left for me.”

They catch each other staring at the clean line where Marcus’s neck ends and nothing rests above it and trip into laughter again. Though Nora feels like she accomplished her dirty joke, Martha made it even better. People have underestimated her. Nora’s noted it from the start. It’s probably because Martha was injured. Group dynamics were established quickly and have formed and reformed in the days and weeks since, but Day 1 showed them the rawest version of who they are together and, before they knew about Jeanette, Martha was the weak one. Have the others seen her role evolve like Nora has? Are Nora’s observations anything special, really?

“This is totally not a judgement thing or anything,” Nora says, meaning it. “I was just wondering if you were maybe going to wash your clothes. Or change them.”

“Oh.”

Martha looks down at herself and now Nora’s glad she said something; it doesn’t seem like Martha was really aware that she’s been sitting here crusted in drying blood. Nora weighs the acceptability of a period joke and decides against it.

“You don’t have to,” she assures Martha, raising a gentle hand. “It just seemed like maybe the, uh, the slaughtering process? Was kind of a mindfuck?”

“Yeah.” Martha stares straight ahead and lets out a short laugh that Nora doesn’t join her in. “I’m glad Marcus wasn’t there to see. He might not’ve come back the same.”

Nora peers at her a moment, then resolves to just say what she’s thinking.

“Did you?”

Turning her head, Martha looks at Nora and her smile’s the same, but her eyes are different. No, Nora would write in the journal. The answer is plain. Maybe she’ll record it on paper later and maybe she won’t. Looking into Martha’s eyes, Nora knows she won’t need help remembering this.

“I’m just living my best life,” Martha tells her, batting the ends of her hair with her hand.

It sounds like something Fatin would say in this moment, or at least have printed on a t-shirt or something—it’s flip and glib—and for the very reason that it reminds Nora of Fatin, she’s certain that Martha not only means the silly words sincerely but that she feels the kind of truth in the trope, the mindfulness in the meme, that Fatin fights so hard to experience herself. Fatin is deeper than that ocean over there and Martha is a girl scooping out the sand in front of her mannequin boyfriend, digging him a sturdy trench to rest in so she can lean back against his factory-sculpted physique, painted in the blood of her first kill.

For whatever reason, Marcus is the man Martha wants. Nora can’t imagine him becoming anyone else’s property after all this is over.

“Do you want a lychee instead?” she offers. Martha’s flat-out ignoring her leaf-plate of meat now.

“Maybe in a minute.”

She turns her dreamy eyes away from where she’s rubbing a streak of dirt off Marcus’s bicep. Nora follows her gaze to Shelby, who seems to be counting out and partitioning the lychee haul, looking to Dot from time to time. Dot isn’t interfering, just giving encouraging nods when Shelby seeks them out. And of course Toni’s watching too.

“You think they’re telling the truth?” Nora inquires bluntly. “That whole ‘wrong turn in the woods’ story?”

Martha shrugs and says, “Yeah,” but Fatin scootches towards them, evidently drawn by the hum of gossip in the air.

“Are you talking about Toni and Shelby?” she asks, but it’s more of a demand. Her eyes are bright and excited, her mouth grinning, and Nora knows that a lot of that effect is thanks to their first meal in days, but it astounds her how socializing lights Fatin up as much as it used to shut Nora down.

“No,” Martha says quickly, but no faster than Nora’s flat, “Yes.”

“Dope. Yeah, those two are a hundred percent lying.”

“Are you sure?” Nora asks.

She’s not, but the cameras will be. Seeing the footage afterwards isn’t something she negotiated on when Gretchen made her part of the team. Speculation, though less scientific, is much more fun.

Fatin rolls her eyes like Nora’s questioning the laws of gravity. (She blinks and sees the poster of Newton. Sees Newton seeing the apple. Her throat closes up until she softly coughs it clear.)

“Definitely,” Fatin says. “Even if they were just out there all day picking fruit, it’s still the most sapphic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s, like, biblically sapphic.”

Martha laughs.

“Uhhh, sorry, which version of the Bible did you read?”

Nora smiles broadly and looks from Martha’s expression of brimming joy to Fatin’s concentrated delight. Like she’s on to something and whether or not she’s right is beside the point. That kind of approach makes Nora pleasantly dizzy. She remembers being little, standing at a department store perfume counter she couldn’t see over while her mom spritzed scents on her wrists that floated down to Nora’s nose. Fruit and flowers and anything and everything that could make the air beautiful when a woman walked into a room.

“None, but come on, there’s the garden, right? I know some shit. The marketing for this retreat was super Christian-centric anyway. We’re out here representing the fucking Dawn of Eve!” Fatin gestures triumphantly around at their dismal (except for the goat) camp. “If those two bitches weren’t getting their freak on under a fruit tree last night, I’ll eat my gold watch.”

Nora scrutinizes the girls in question.

“Shelby does look especially glowy today.”

“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s chronic sun damage,” Martha singsongs.

“Maybe it’s what Toni did to those mussels with her tongue,” Fatin acknowledges frankly, “because Shelby sure as hell didn’t borrow my hundred-dollar highlighter. That shit got swept out to sea.”

Fatin trains her eyes on Shelby while Martha watches Toni, and Nora watches both of them watch the others. When they switch subjects in a moment of unvoiced agreement, Toni jerks her head up and spots Fatin staring at her. The tender gazes she’s been throwing Shelby’s way over the low mound of red fruit tighten into suspicion.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Toni barks, and a laugh sputters from Fatin as she raises her hands to show she means no harm.

“Ok,” Martha says to Fatin and Nora, giggling. “I see it now. Something happened between Shelby and Toni yesterday. Some kind of hunter-gatherer romance.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve taken the ‘hunter’ title away from Shelby,” Nora points out.

“Well, whatever. Gatherer-gatherer then.”

“With an island colony of all women, it was only a matter of time,” is Fatin’s pragmatic take. “Another couple weeks without an orgasm and I would’ve fucked Toni myself.”

“It wasn’t just time,” Martha scoffs, tipping her head to the side. “It’s love.”

“It’s both,” Nora says. She could prove it to them, flourish the statistics she’s been tracking in her journal. How those bald numbers lie there next to the drawings that spill to the edge of the page. She’s made bedfellows of data and emotions. She just sits there and grins at them. “It’s the aphrodisiacal influence of the Fourth of July.”

#my writing #The Wilds #Nora Reid #Martha Blackburn #Fatin Jadmani #Toni x Shelby #The Wilds fanfiction #The Wilds spoilers

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your-lips-are-very-red · 3 years

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St. Vincent x Emma Madden Interview

This is the text from the St. Vincent interview that Emma Madden was asked to not use. Since Miss Madden has decided to take it down, I wanted it to be available somewhere online - in case she manages to get all the cached versions taken down, too.

SOURCE: https://archive.is/wFkLN

About a fortnight ago I was commissioned to interview St. Vincent, an artist I have been inspired by, impressed by, turned on by, compelled by, curious of, in awe of, occasionally suspicious of—for the better half of a decade. I try not to think about other journalists too much, but St. Vincent has developed a reputation for intimidating us. For her last press cycle, she made her interviewers crawl into a pink box; she would play a pre-recorded message on a tape recorder if a question bored or irked her. I found that quite funny—irresistibly imperious—but I considered it an act of degradation rather than an interesting switch of power. I love famous people but I also find them quite silly, like a Schnauzer wearing a bowtie.

I didn’t know why, but for around two hours after our call ended, I was reeling with nervous energy. I was vocalising it and trying to get to the other side of it, the way I sing songs when I’m walking through a haunted house. I woke up the next morning with a voice message from the editor who assigned this piece. I am fond of this person and I will not name them. MBC, the team in charge of St. Vincent’s publicity (which is helmed by Barbara Charone, who also works for Madonna, and is considered one of the more powerful and intimidating publicists in the industry) had been on the phone to this editor, demanding the piece be pulled. My editor’s words: “They said she’s terrified of this interview coming out.” The publication didn’t have a leg to stand on.

"Terrified"? That word didn't seem to square. I thought I had done a not-so-good job the night before. I ended the call thinking I hadn’t asked the right questions. St. Vincent and I didn’t feel like a good match in conversation (or at least not in this conversational setup set-up, for which I was given thirty minutes, and continual reminders from the person on St. Vincent’s team, who remained on the call with us, that we’d need to wrap up well in time for St. Vincent’s Instagram Live session with Paul McCartney, which directly followed our interview.) St. Vincent tended to interpret my questions in bad faith. I assumed she believed me to be a Bad Reader; presumptuous, judgemental, simple, anti-curious—all qualities that her latest album ‘Daddy’s Home’, which I’ve interpreted as a counter to the folly, inadequacy and meretriciousness of moral purity—counters. Anyway, she read me wrong. I love Lana Del Rey.

I got a call from MBC later that morning by a man who sounded quite nervous. I told him I was confused, I asked him what the matter seemed to be. He wasn't totally sure, he said, "she found the interview aggressive." Aggressive? I complimented her and cowed to her and laughed at her jokes. "Well, the message has been passed down a line of many messengers, she might not have actually said that." The man on the phone said that this—one of his artists demanding an interview to be pulled—had never happened to him before. It hadn't happened to me either. I felt annoyed by how easy it was for St. Vincent to kill something I had researched and expected money for. But the interview started to seem valuable to me after I was told that she didn't want it out in the world. "Can we draw a line under this and just kill the piece here?" said the man on the phone.

Below is the full transcript of my interview with St. Vincent (save for a short and-forth about Tool which didn’t make sense when turned into text). My questions are in bold, her responses are in italics.

**for the sake of this post, Madden’s questions are bold and Annie’s answers are not** Hi, how are you? Good how’s it going?

Not too bad. What’s your mood for today? My mood for today, well it’s good, I’m getting on an Instagram Live chat with Paul McCartney in a couple minutes so my mood is a little bit nervous but good.

I’m excited to talk about this album, I think it has a sick sense of humor that I appreciate a lot. I’ve had a really fun time listening to it.

Oh I’m glad, thank you.

I’m sensing there’s kind of a 70s trend at the moment in terms of fashion and the ways some other bands are presenting themselves. Is that something you were anticipating, is that something you feel you belong to, or was it just kind of accidental?

Accidental.

Do you feel bummed about that? No I don’t, I always just kind of do my own thing.

Do you think there’s a reason why people might be inspired by the 70s today? Do you see an analog with our world today and with the 70s? I guess this album is based in 1973, right?

Between ‘71 and ‘76, so post flower children idealism, post the Summer of Love hangover, but pre escapism of gay disco and pre nihilism of punk. Life was bad but music was good, kind of vibe.

Kind of when the trash aesthetic was taking hold, especially by Andy Warhol. Does trash inspire you? Um like literal rubbish?

No like the trash aesthetic, I guess in the PR you call it sleazy, grimy. Yeah but the difference with sleazy is that sleazy tries to present as glamorous but there’s something off, trash is just trash. I don’t know if trash pretends to be anything other.

Can you have glamour without sleaze? Sure, absolutely. I mean, like the 20s Greta Garbo way, I would say Golden Era Hollywood, I mean behind the scenes it was probably a nightmare but you look at it and it is very genuinely shiny and beautiful.

I love the sitar on this album especially on ‘Down’, the riff is so sick. How did you get to the sitar? Well it’s not a sitar per se, it’s a choral electric sitar guitar and so it was I think George Harrison made them kind of popular in the ‘60s, I think the one I have is from ’67 and it plays like a guitar but it has a resonating body on it so it sounds sitar-esque. It was made very famous in the Steely Dan Do it Again solo.

I guess the main PR bulletin point of this album is about your dad coming out of jail. Why did you want that to be the main way that people might read this album? More like an entry point, the title Daddy’s Home to me I mean one, it is literal but also it’s funny and cringy and pervy and also I think more than anything kind of refers to my own transformation into Daddy as it were. Yeah it’s probably not anything I would’ve really thrown out there except that it was made public without my consent but I didn’t really get to tell that side of the story and I don’t bring it up for sympathy. It simply is my story, it’s not intended to be indicative of necessarily anything, it’s just my story and I was gonna tell it with humor and compassion, all of that.

Did you anticipate a lack of sympathy for your dad’s crimes and the subject matter of this album and did that factor into how you shaped this record? That’s the tail wagging the dog my dear. No, no. A lack of sympathy, well, which crime would be the most sympathetic? I didn’t do anything, I’m simply writing about something that I think on some level everyone who’s ever had a parent can understand in the sense of you’re often going “How much of you am I?” and we kind of do identity projection through all these things so no, it’s again, it’s not really there for anything other than my own anecdotal story.

At what point did you transform into this daddy character? For how much of your adult life have you been the daddy? Oh I would just say over the past few years, I’ve just been quite a bit more leaned back and shoulder shrug and say let’s just sit down in the old beat up leather armchair and have a tequila and chat it out you know. Life is complicated, human beings are complicated and I wanted to just write stories about flawed people. There’s a whole lot of judgement going around and not a whole lot of understanding. And judgement is anti-curious. There are some people, perhaps the more sanctimonious and morally pure, who might not be interested in an artist’s reflection on their father’s white collar crimes. Do you have much sympathy for those kinds of people? I mean I think I can get sympathy for all people. If that is the reason why they decide not to spend 46 minutes with my work then I’m sure there’s plenty of other work out there for them that they can enjoy that is morally pure. They should find pure work from pure people and enjoy it.

I guess last year’s riots brought abolition towards the mainstream, during the time you were making this record, which is partially about your father’s time in prison. How did that square with your thoughts on prison and the US carceral system? Well I have plenty of thoughts on it, I’m not totally sure how it’s relevant to this.

Well I was wondering if you have a standpoint on it or if you’d rather just be ambiguous? I have so many thoughts and opinions, I don’t presume that my thoughts and opinions are relevant on every subject though. I don’t have that much hubris.

I understand. I was wondering about the Candy Darling inspiration, how does she come into the fold? Oh I just, Candy Darling to me is such a beautiful heroine in that she came from Queens and went not geographically far but worlds away to Manhattan and became her true self and in that particular kind of combination of glamour and toughness, where you feel like her name should be on the marquee and yet she could stick you with a shiv if you said the wrong thing. And I just find her inspiring and really beautiful, and I didn’t know but I found out a friend of mine was close with her and was at her bedside when she died so I was just picturing Candy Darling’s ascent to heaven as taking the final uptown train.

Wow. Did you feel like you were embodying her on this album or presenting as her? No not as such, but definitely taking inspiration from some of her energy for sure. I do hear a bit of her voice on the title track, I was wondering if you were kind of modeling your voice after her? On Daddy’s Home? Oh, no.

I love the sultriness of that song, even though it’s just about signing autographs in prison. I found it really funny. Yeah it’s definitely again, I’m writing about my own story with humor and compassion and self-effacement, all that.

Do you see this album as a movement, does it have a narrative? Yeah. It’s a full story, it’s a full collection of short stories. It has a shape and everything.

That’s just how I listened to this album, as a series of short stories. I was wondering how they interlink in your mind? I guess you have the person on Broadway, you have your dad, you have the person who’s maybe thinking of having a baby or not having a baby. I just could write stories of flawed people doing their best to get by because I’ve been most of the people on this album at one point of my life or another. And again I could write about them without condemnation and judgement just, here we are.

Are you a nostalgic person? No not generally.

Not even during the creation of this album? I’m thinking of the humming tracks, your mum cooking in the kitchen. Not exactly, I think that this particular kind of music with its sophistication and some of the jazz language in the harmony and its sense of time, it was a kind of music that I’d loved for so long but never really dipped into myself, and I think we kind of learn things a lot of times when we’re ready to, and I think I was kind of ready to learn some of the lessons that this kind of music had to teach me.

Do you think about shame a lot? Um, I think that shame is the reason why most people do the violence that they do. I think violence is an expression of impotence.

What was it about the post-idealist era in particular that you were drawn to, why not go through the flower power utopia sort of 60s route? I think that there’s an intellectual orthodoxy that is involved in utopian thinking and a lot of times it doesn’t allow for either a complex set of incentives or it doesn’t allow for the totality of human nature in its equation, and then it fails and because the structure of any kind of power is really complicated so I think in general the desire… and I understand that we’re living in, in some ways, I think just with the internet part of it, in some ways unprecedented times. And I understand people’s desire for certainty in times economic strife, cultural upheaval, all this stuff. I completely understand the desire for certainty. But I don’t think it’s as simple as demanding moral purity and punishing anyone who doesn’t fix the orthodox criteria. I understand the desire but I’m not sure it’s gonna get to where I think we want to be, which is just general more equality, whether it’s wealth equality, wealth disparity, all that kind of stuff I just think the matrices of power are really complicated.

You were saying earlier about Daddy and how you were thinking about your dad and the overlap between you two and how we all possibly become our parents. I was wondering how you consolidate the influences of your parents? I don’t know anything about them obviously but I know that your mum was a social worker, your dad was an entrepreneur, and those seem like two totally opposing worlds. Yes, my mother is a social worker and she instilled in all of us I think the idea that the work we do should be meaningful and she’s definitely really humanistic and that kind of thinking I think, that had an impression on me. My dad wasn’t an entrepreneur, my dad was a stock broker I think? But I grew up with my mom and my stepdad and my stepdad was a very different kind of guy, just was an army brat and grew up really poor, and was just coming from a different mindset and they’re just very different kinds of people. Not a judgement thing, just very different. Yeah my mom definitely errs on the very humble side. And yeah, my dad is a complicated, charismatic person who’s also very intelligent, and who went down a path that was full of consequence. Yeah they’re really, really different people so it’s funny to kind of square who was who.

What does your dad think of this album? Oh he loves it!

Yay, that’s good to know. Did you ever rebel against your dad’s lifestyle growing up as a teenager? I didn’t grow up with him, and he was in Tulsa Oklahoma. I don’t know what lifestyle you’re necessarily presuming but..

No I’m not presuming, just wanted a little background on your relationship with him I guess. So he wasn’t in your life that much where you were younger? I would go and we would spend summers there and Christmas, but I grew up in Dallas for the most part with my mom and my stepdad.

Was this album in any way an opportunity to get closer to your dad? Not in any way consciously, no.

But are you finding with age and with time you’re getting closer to him? Well him being out of prison helps in terms of just proximity. Yeah, here’s what I’m finding. I’m finding that we live by the stories that we tell ourselves and that sometimes we realize that the story we’ve been telling ourselves for a long time was either wrong or lacked a certain amount of information, and then we have the choice of whether to reject the new information because it’s too painful to rethink the story that we’ve been telling ourselves, or assimilate the new information and go, wow life is complicated, this is an interesting wrinkle. I choose to do the latter.

Yeah, it’s very easy to bullshit yourself, right? Yeah, it's true in all kind of ways you know?

This story, the story of your dad, it almost seems redemptive. I mean I would say so, and that’s not in any way what I intended and you know, a lot of times when you’re making something, I mean you’re a writer you know, you have the compulsion to make it but you’re not necessarily sure where it’s coming from or why or any of those kind of questions, but I think there is the possibility of redemption, I do, I think there is the possibility of people to change and I think there is a possibility of things like forgiveness and growth. And if I didn’t think that there was a possibility for human beings to change, to grow, to take in new information and then continue to write their story, then I don’t know what we’d really be doing, you know? And that’s not really the world I want to live in, we’re a moving picture we’re not a still photograph.

Do you want to try and change the world, do you feel like you have that power, do you feel hopeful that there can be a better future? Sorry for the cheesy language. No, I mean I don’t think that many people would accuse me of being an optimist in a lot of ways, and I don’t think in terms of my “power to change the world” I mean I think all I can do is try to study the human condition and write about the human condition in some way that resonates and then maybe people will hear that and that will resonate with them and I think that ultimately the best case scenario for music is empathy because it’s like psychologically this is why we like to listen to stories or this is why we like to watch movies is so we can go down the empathy exercise and you can see yourself as that person in the film, see someone who isn’t like you in any way, shape or form from a just box ticking kind of way, but then realize oh, we’re very similar in some ways or what would I do if I was in that situation, we do all these things and we live by these stories and I think those stories well-told can encourage empathy and empathy can go out into the world and have a kind of transformative experience. I don’t really think about, I mean I think once I make a thing and then it’s out in the world and it’s for other people to assimilate or enjoy or not, whatever, however they take it, is absolutely fine by me. But it’s for them, it’s not my place in any way to say how people should or should not enjoy it or assimilate it.

Yeah the reason I brought up prison abolition earlier is because that might be how some people contextualize this album. I would say that that’s one lens. That to me would not be the main lens.

[I’m told to wrap it up]

Yeah let’s wrap up. So Tool cover album next? No, I wish.

Someday I’m hoping. I love Tool.

I feel your Paul McCartney nerves Yeah, I’m gonna go shower.

That’s always a good idea. Okay take care, thank you again for you time Thanks, bye.

#st vincent #emma madden #interview #daddys home

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bettsfic · 4 years

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1/ hi betts. i have kind of a specific resume question that i'm struggling with and was hoping if you have any extra time i could hear your thoughts on? right after i graduated undergrad, a lot of Things happened and then i ended up having a good old bona fide Mental Breakdown™ and spent the next two years just living at my mother's house just straight up doing nothing. like, crawling out of bed at 7 pm to get water from the kitchen and then going back to bed for 2 years straight type nothing

2/ now, a little over 2 years later, i'm finally approaching the place mentally realizing i can start partially digging myself out of this via employment and my own income, and am starting the whole job application process. my undergrad degree was a combo of history + media studies, i had gotten in to do my history phd at yale, Things Happened before i could get there, all combined with the realization that a phd is not something i can commit to right now given the dismal career opportunities

3/ thereafter, so now i'm floundering and ready to apply to anything across the board, just ANY type of position to hire me so i can at least get on my feet after a couple of years and figure out what the fuck to do. except now, my problem and query, is that i have an over 2 year gap in my resume, with absolutely nothing to show for it, other than just straight up going batshit insane. i have no idea how to go about explaining that gap in future interviews, other than lying, and i don't even

4/ really know how to go about doing that either. i would really really appreciate any of your input on the situation, or any general advice? thank you either way. btw, your writing and multi-chaptered fics were one of the only consistent and good things about those two years and gave me something to look forward to and think about, and i can't even put into words how much that Helped.

first of all, thank you, and i’m glad my fics could help a little. second, congratulations for beginning to get out of what seems to be a very dark place. i’m sorry you’ve had such a hard time these past couple years, and i hope things continue to get better for you.

keep in mind, i’ve never been on a hiring committee before, so i’ve never seen this situation from the other side. i’ve only applied to a lot of jobs, and i had the opposite experience -- how to explain juggling so many jobs at once, and why i felt i had to do that? it felt the same though in some ways, two years of my life where i couldn’t grow as a person or feel any emotion, because i was working every minute of every day.

so, you can only really do 3 things: tell the truth, lie, or don’t mention it.

if you tell the truth, you put yourself in a difficult position. even though it’s horribly ableist, hiring managers may hold a 2-year gap in your resume against you. i imagine they’re looking for any reason to deny your application. that said, you could also indicate that you took a long-term health leave and not say anything more. they’re not allowed to inquire further, and you never have to give more information than you’re willing to. i think sometimes there’s this assumption you have to explain the why of things in the working world, but you really don’t. you may have a manager that demands to know things, but if you work for a corporation, even if a manager demands information, you very likely will never have to give it. at work, you are a veneer of yourself. you do not have to be vulnerable or open. you only have to do a job. in the hiring process, all you have to do is prove that you can do a job. so, focus on that.

i don’t like lying, but it might not be a terrible idea to indicate in a cover letter that you’ve spent two years as, say, the primary caretaker for a sick/dying relative. it’s noble, sympathetic, sadly very common, and nobody would interrogate it because it’s such a sensitive topic. the trick is how you would sell it in an interview, i think -- you wouldn’t bring it up on your own, and if asked about it, you would have to put on a professional facade over grief, in other words a non-reaction, and politely side-step the question to indicate it’s too painful to talk about, and you understand why they have to ask but you’d really rather not get into it. while i don’t think anyone would catch onto the lie, i personally would be nervous about the karma that would invoke. (to this day i still feel guilty lying to my professors about skipping class and late work by telling them i had to take my dad to chemo appointments. my dad was actually dying but i only ever took him to one appointment. on one hand, i forgive myself because i was clearly suffering in ways i didn’t yet understand. on the other hand, i feel bad for using my dad’s cancer to my benefit [but less bad knowing my dad, a serial work-skipper himself, probably wouldn’t have cared]). also, you’d have to keep up that lie for the duration of your employment, especially if the fake relative passed away, and that’s your reason for seeking employment. the good news is, in my experience, when my dad actually did die on my first day of work, nobody brought it up, because it was a very uncomfortable situation.

lastly, you could just not mention it. especially if you’re applying for entry-level work, it’s very possible your interviewers or hiring managers just aren’t going to care. depending on the type of job, they may just be looking for a body and it doesn’t matter where you’ve come from or what you plan to do. in the grand scheme of things, two years isn’t a long time. it’s possible, if the hiring manager is older, “2018″ and “2020″ are not far enough apart to put up any red flags. especially having just graduated, there are lots of easy assumptions that can go there. looking for jobs, pandemic, applying to grad school, etc. but, you know, that’s a risk. you might default to this option and see what happens. if you’re not getting any calls for interviews, then try a different option.

personally, my belief when it comes to work is always, “it’s nobody’s fucking business.” i’m one of those people who only ever shows a very specific, narrow piece of myself to others that i think is most relevant to them, even in relationships.

(an aside -- one time i was complaining to my bff about money troubles, and keep in mind, we talk every day, and he was like, “well you could always get a job?” and that was when i realized, my best friend didn’t know i had a job. because i never told him i had a job. so he thought i just didn’t have a job. it’s definitely a consistent pattern, that i’ll say something about myself, and someone who thinks they’re close to me will go, “you WHAT” and i’ll shrug and be like, “i don’t know it just never seemed relevant.”)

which is all to say, in workplaces i’m even more of a closed book. whether or not that’s a good thing is debatable, considering how i’ve hated pretty much every job i’ve ever had (besides teaching). but the point is, professionalism is a performance, and the cover letter/resume is just a script. it’s a picture of you, not you, and you can choose how to portray yourself.

sorry this is such a long answer for what amounts to “i’m not sure.” any followers who have experience on the other side of the hiring process, do you have any advice for anon?

#writing advice #job advice #Anonymous

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years

Text

Chaos in Coccham

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom) Pairing: Finan/Reader Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: My entry for @geekandbooknerd 1K CELEBRATION! - Whoo! Congrats! My prompt was “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

thank you @gearhead66 for the header

The Last Kingdom Master List

Chaos.

Absolute and pure chaos!

The house was upside down and barely hanging on. Toys scattered all over the living room, a sock in the dishwasher, and was that a bucket of sand in the fridge? Uhtred had been gone for the weekend, Friday to Sunday.

Looking at the clock, you rub your hands over your face and sigh. Uhtred would be home before dinner, surely. When he'd left he had made it clear – behave!

Perhaps that had been a warning to the babysitter. Finan loved his surrogate nephews and niece, in return they loved him. What child wouldn't? Uncle Finan was a giant, bearded, kid himself. Your last straw was finding the sticky note on the fridge, claiming that one of the children had thrown up. Finan had insisted he cleaned the kid, the mess, and thanked his time in college for the help.

Had he been drunk?

Through the window in the kitchen, you hear the commotion. Yelling, laughter, and what sounds like something being hit. A brief glance from the window gives you a view of Finan, surrounded by children. A ball of some sort in his hand, he is gearing up to throw it at Osbert, the youngest of Uhtred's children.

Swinging with all his might, the boy closes his eyes, and the others cheer when the make shift ball hits the bat. A loud splat sends bits of obliterated apple soaring through the air. Apple lands everywhere. On the side of the house, the ground, even Osbert. Who, despite the mess he is in, cheers loudly and does a victory lap around the others.

“I told you.” Finan shouts with glee. “I told you that you could do it. See!”

A chorus of “great job!” and “Way to go Os!” follows Finan.

“Alright, little man, are you ready?” Finan shouts and points at a forth child.

Before any more apples can be thrown, you step through the screen door. Everybody wrapped up in their game, nobody took the time to notice you looming.

“Finan.” Your voice rings through the yard.

Heads snap and Osbert even gasps. As if they had saw a ghost or another sort of daunting monster, the gang freezes.

“My love, my heart. What a lovely surprise.” Finan is grinning like a mad man. A bushel of rotting apples by his feet. His beard covered in bits of apple, his shirt muddy, and his jeans grass stained. He looks as rough as the children around him.

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. “You're in trouble, Mister.”

“Oohh!” the children mocked, giggling and laughing at their babysitter.

“My love, my heart. Trouble? We're only having a bit of fun.” He tries his best to woo you with his cheeky grin and those big brown eyes.

Ignoring him, you set your sights on his accomplices. “Kids, you all know better than to let Finan run wild.”

“Run wild? I did no such thing.” The Irishman defends his actions.

Ignoring his plight the best you can, you try your best to steady your mood. This was a disaster. Finan meant well, he adored the kids, but sometimes he got a little out of hand. Taking the drunk favourite uncle to a whole new level. When Uhtred had asked his best friend to watch his children, he knew what he was getting into.

“Athelstan, what are you doing here?” Your gaze falls upon the dark haired boy, mud and apple all over him.

“I wanted to come play.”

“Do his parents know he's here?” You look at Finan, hoping he had at least mentioned taking the boy to somebody in his family.

“No clue, but his grandmother knows. She brought him over.” Finan's smile is wide, as he ruffles his little shadow's hair.

“Do you want to play?” Uhtred, the younger version, asks holding out the bat.

Scowling at the teenager, you huff. “No, I don't want to play. What I want is everybody inside and cleaning. Your father is going to be murderous, when he comes home to this.”

Sulking and grumbling, Finan's miniature terror brigade slowly move to your will. Had you made it a game, like Finan, they would have gladly got on board doing whatever you asked. Unfortunate for them, this was business that needed dealt with. If you'd left it to Finan, it would never be completed and Uhtred would never speak to either of you again.

Inside the mood was somber, children filing in, and Finan following you like a lost puppy. He would have gotten around to cleaning, eventually. In his defense, Uhtred had lived in worse. Most of their college years were spent living in absolute chaos and disarray. To think of it, Finan couldn't remember either of them ever cleaning. Perhaps that was the reason Sihtric had always kept his door locked and refused to grant them entrance to his room.

“Uhtred is going to kill you,” Hands on your hips, shaking your head at the destruction. At home, Finan would never allow this to happen. If he did you would be gone and he would be left to pick up more than a mess.

“We'll have it all cleaned up before then.” Finan winks and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Come on gang, time to get dirty.”

“But we were having fun,” Stiorra whines pouting and using her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. It was her no fail, fool proof way of getting whatever she wanted.

“Oh, well, I suppose...” Finan smiled softly at his favourite – not that he would tell the others.

“Finan.” You gently cuff the back of his head. “No wonder this place it a wreck. Did you let them play you like that all weekend?”

Finan gently rubbed the back of his head, frowning. “Not all weekend.”

Unbelievable!

Finan was useless when it came to authority with children.

He was kind with a good heart, fun, and trusting. However he had no control over the younger beings, when they wanted something, he was easily played and every kid who met him somehow sensed that. Fun Uncle Finan was his claim and he adored the title, it meant more to him than anything else. Yes, he could allow the children to get unruly. Yes, he could do better with being the boss. He could even feed them a vegetable or two now and then, but what did any of that matter?

At the end of the day they were alive. Happy. Fed. And couldn't wait to start all over again in the morning. These were the things that made memories. Memories of a happy home and childhood were the things that dictated success. Providing a happy childhood, with their favourite drunk uncle, was worth more than gold to Finan.

House somewhat cleaner than when you'd arrived, dinner on the table, and kids cleaned all in three hours – it was something short of a miracle. Finan finished sweeping up the living room, while you wrangled children to the table. This time there wasn't a piece of pizza, chip, or candy insight. No complaints, either, which greatly amused Finan.

If he'd tried to feed them salad, they would have revolted. Staged a coup and hung him by his underwear.

“Well done my love, my heart.” Finan praises, stashing the broom and dust pan.

“See what being a mindful leader gets you,” You wink and turn to give him a well deserved kiss on the cheek. “You can take control, the kids will still love you.”

“Tell me about it, I love you every day. Despite having my bal-” Wisely he shuts his mouth, when he receives your glare. “I will do better, next time.”

“When this is done, I am taking Athelstan home. Finan, please do the dishes and get the kids in bed before it's too late.”

Armed with your instructions, Finan salutes. “Yes ma'am.”

Dinner finished, it's up to the kids to load the dishwasher and get cleaned up. Allowing Finan to flex his authority skills. Gathering the grubby Athelstan, you listen to Finan as he tries to be demanding. The Irishman really doesn't have it in him to be tough, not with three of his favourite young humans at least.

He'll learn. In time.

You had been telling yourself that for a few years. It was never going to happen. Those children had him right where they wanted him, the only other person they could overpower and outwit that easily was Osferth and he was growing wise to their wicked ways.

Shouting goodbye, you usher Athelstan out the front door. His parents likely have no clue he is missing, his grandmother would have told Finan to let her know when he needed to come home, which would have been forgotten in the chaos and fun.

Chaos and Fun were only two of Finan's greatest qualities. Despite how they drove you mad.

“What do we have here?” Uhtred's voice startles you, the car door shutting with a thud. Taking a look over the messy child, he folds his arms and waits.

“Uhtred,” You greet him with a faint smile, speaking loudly in hopes Finan and the children will hear you through the window.

“How bad is it?” Uhtred sighs. He had no illusions about how big of a mess Finan and his children would make. Seeing you was the indication that there was some hope.

“Not as bad as it was.” You shrug, instructing Athelstan to get in the backseat of your car. “They're just finishing dinner.”

“Alright, well, I should go in and see them. Are you going to wait for Finan?”

“Actually, that is a great idea. Tell him to hurry, I won't wait long.”

Waiting for Finan, you smile at Athelstan in the back seat. He looks like he's been lost in the woods for a week, wandering through mud and muck, as if he'd never met a bath before. Thankful that you were the one who didn't have to clean him.

Looking through the windshield, you frown at the sight of Finan dragging himself from the house. Overnight bag in hand, he had a pout and his eyes are downcast as he walks. His upbeat, eager demeanor is dampened. No doubt Uhtred had given him a quick once over about the responsible adult – again.

“What's wrong?” Your immediate instinct is to ask when he opened the car door.

Finan's brow is creased and his eyes sad.

“I wasn't ready to say goodbye.” Finan let the door shut behind him, sighing heavily. “But that is fine, Uhtred asked if I can come over Wednesday, when he works late.”

@ceridwenofwales @pokeasleepingsmaug @tiyetiye @whenimaunicorn @sifshoney @goldentailedmermaids @joyofbebbanburg @laketaj24 @kawennote09 @medievalfangirl @tephi101 @fandomfic-galore @therealcalicali @carlya65 @inforapound @flowers-in-your-hayr @captstefanbrandt @naaladareia @nxrdist @wilddrabble @equalstrashflavoredtrash @ivarlothbroks @thewildbeauty @ivarinleatherpants

*If you wish to be added on to/taken off of The Last Kingdom tags, please let me know*

#hayleys1kcelebration #finan the agile #finan the agile imagine #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfiction #finan x reader #modern finan

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lettingmydreamsspeak · 4 years

Text

The Heart Knows Best: Part III

Summary: They still can’t get each other off their minds. Little do they know that even though distance plays a huge factor in ever knowing one another, something is bringing them together.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: approx. 2300

Author’s Note: If this is your first time reading this series, catch up with Part I and Part II here. Thanks to those who have read the series so far and have sent messages. It is great to hear from those who are reading it. It is my hope to have Part IV up shortly.

************************************************************************

You couldn’t be happier to be home. You already felt like you needed a vacation from your vacation, but the demands of work would quickly occupy your mind. As you turned on your phone upon arriving at the airport terminal, the number on your email app grew. It was your boss inquiring about the timelines for various projects. She must have tracked your flight and knew that once you arrived it would be hard for you to avoid all the emails that she would be sending. Since taking an entry level position as a junior illustrator for an international publishing firm, you had worked your way up the ranks to work directly with the lead art director, as the senior illustrator. Because of your talent and determination, this position allowed for you to gain some of the highest profile accounts that came through the firm, working with some of the most well-known authors. Who knew that all those years of drawing since you were a little girl, would lead to this dream job. Even though the demands of the job could be overwhelming at times, no amount of pressure would take away the love you had for it.

Your brother Ben offered to pick you up from the airport, knowing that you would like to see a familiar face at the other end of customs when you arrived. He wasn’t wrong. The two of you were only two years apart. He was older than you, and as a stereo typical older brother to a sister, he protected you. As you passed through the doors to find what seemed to be a sea of thousands of people, Ben’s smiling face greeted you.

“Welcome home sis!”

Ben gave you the biggest hug, as if he hadn’t seen you for months on end.

“Thank you for coming to get me. I would much rather sit in the front passenger seat and control the music for once!”

You both had a good laugh, because you both knew all too well that you were the one that would control the playlists while on road trips with your family and friends.

As you slowly made your way to Ben’s car, you were a lot more quiet than usual. Ben was used to you talking his ear off, telling him all the stories of your adventures you had while you were away.

“Is everything ok, Y/n?”

You knew that he would ask you that very question and debated on whether you would tell him the truth, or tell him the smallest of lies. You felt compelled to tell him the truth, but it would take some time to get there.

“I’m definitely tired. Do you think that maybe we can go for ice cream? I’m not quite ready to go home and just want to hang out with you Ben.”

“I’ll never say no to ice cream! You must want to talk about something though; we never just go for ice cream. Wait a sec……what is his name and do I need to beat him up?”

Not sure how to respond yet again, you stop and look at him before crawling into the car. Looking at Ben’s stature, with was tall and skinny, you weren’t sure that he had the muscles to withstand a fight with anyone.

“You might not want to pick a fight with him, Ben. And if you really want to know, you already know him. His name is Chris…...”

************************************************************************

Chris laid down on the grass, staring up at the clouds through a clearing the in the trees that towered above him. Dodger ran circles around him, stopping every once in a while to lick his face or nudge him in the arm so that he would play with him. He was grateful for the energy of this dog, keeping him on toes and distracting him from what was really going on in his life. He was avoiding his phone and emails for the rest of the day, knowing that he had some work to do.

“Dodge, what am I supposed to do?”

He stopped making circles around Chris and proceeded to lick his face again. It’s like he knew that Chris needed a little extra love and support that day.

“Alright, that wasn’t really the answer I was looking for, but I appreciate all the love you are giving me today, bud. I need it.”

Chris sat up and pulled Dodger in to give him a hug before getting up to make his way back into the house, where Scott just finished making supper for the two of them.

“Hey Dopey, are you ready to eat something?”

“Yeah.”

Chris quietly took a seat at the kitchen table as Scott dished out some food for him, one scoop at a time, seeing if he would tell him when to stop. Chris sat there just staring at the food piling up, as Scott captured it all on video, figuring that one day Chris will need a good laugh at his own expense.

“Do you know if the kids left any books around here last time they came to visit?”

“I’m pretty sure they did.”

“I need to pick out a children’s book to recommend and I would love it to be one that they like.”

“Why don’t you make it a little more personable and it be one that you always read to them. I’m pretty sure they left the books in your office on the bookshelf, thinking that Uncle Chris might need some easy reading material when they aren’t around. Also, you better eat entire pile of pasta…”

Chris looked down as he dropped his fork on the table, laughing at the sight before him, causing him to shake his head. He picked the fork back up, took a few bites and pushed his plate away.

“Thank you for supper Scott. Just leave the dishes and I will clean them up later.”

“You didn’t even really eat! I’m telling mom!”

“Go ahead!”

Chris left the table on a mission to let his mind escape. He entered his office and b-lined it to the bookshelf that lined the walls across the room from his desk. Starting at the middle of the bookcase, he scoured the shelves for the kids books. He stopped for a moment and realized he was looking in the wrong spot. He turned his eyes downward to the bottom shelf, where the kids could safely reach the shelves. There they were. Nicely placed, looking at if they were meant to be a part of the collection, standing upright thanks to the bookend. Chris sat on the floor against the shelf, looking through the books. There was something about those books that made Chris feel sentimental for a moment. He loved those kids and he loved those books. There was one in particular that stood out to him. It had a picture of a dog on the front that always reminded him of Dodger. The kids loved that book so much because of the dog in the story. You could see the love for that book with the bent corner and chocolate pudding stained pages. This had to be the book that he was going to use for his project.

Scott and Dodger snuck into the office and sat beside Chris, looking through the books with him, noticing the book that was in his hands.

“The kids really do love that book. I should record you reading this book and we should send it to them!”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. They would love it. Funny voices and all.”

Scott pulled out his phone and started to record the video. Sounding very stately as he started reading; he introduced the author of the book, then the illustrator.

“This book is illustrated by Y/N Y/L/N………I love how the dog in this book looks like Dodger!!! Here we go. Once Upon a Time…”

Without even noticing, he had said her name aloud. If only he knew…

************************************************************************

It was time for you to show your face at the office. You figured you could just sneak in without anyone noticing, as you were determined to have a productive day, without any distractions. You felt inspired and ready to create some images for the books that were coming across your desk prior to your vacation. Knowing that it would take a few hours to really get the ideas down on paper, you put your head phones on to help you focus. The hours passed without even taking a break. Your boss scared you out of focus as she reviewed your progress and was pleased with the results so far. She was always amazed with your work and your overall work ethic. As she left you to you continue with your work, you noticed that your phone screen was lighting up. It was best that you took a break for a late lunch and to catch up with the messages that were left for you. For the most part, it was your clients wanting to touch base and see how the illustrations were coming along. There were also a few messages from Haley. She usually sent you random jokes or quotes to help you get through your day, but it seemed as if there was something a little more urgent. 5 missed calls and one text stating that you should call her when you get the chance.

You were feeling a little selfish at that moment, but now was not the time for you to get into a serious conversation with her. You ignored her messages, placed the phone out of sight, and got back to work, knowing that all the drawings wouldn’t finish themselves.

************************************************************************

It was a new day, and it was certainly feeling like it for the first time in a few days. With an early start to the day, Chris was productive on answering a series of emails from producers and his agent. Taking a break from this work, he found a spot in the sun filled living room to do some recreational reading. His brother sat across the room from him, staring at his phone, as if he were in a deep text conversation with who knows who. With a lack of desire to spend his time catching up on social media, little did Chris know that Scott had made a little post that morning, captioning it: “Story Time with Uncle Chris”.

Just as Chris had suspected, Scott was reading through text from friends and a multitude of messages in response to the post. There was so much love for this video, but who wouldn’t fall in love with Chris reading yet another children’s book. Sorting through his direct messages, he saw one titled “I Need Your Help…”. Typically these kinds of messages were from people asking for some kind of hand out to help with their cause and would easily be passed by, but for some reason Scott felt compelled to read this message.

Hey Scott, I know we don’t know each other, but we might have an unexpected connection that I need your help with. My friend Y/n happened to be in Manhattan recently, and was helped out by your brother Chris on a rainy morning in Central Park a couple of days ago. I know she is forever grateful for what your brother did to help out. If you can pass on her thanks to him, I know she would appreciate it.

Thanks so much, Haley.

Ps. You know that book Chris is reading in your most recent post…Y/n illustrated it!

“Shut up.”

“I’m being quiet, why are you telling me to shut up?”

“Sorry! I was just reading texts from friends. I thought I said that in my head.”

In complete shock of the message he just read, Scott started to formulate a reply to Haley. With zero confidence in what to say back to her, his response was short and to the point.

Hi Haley, we should chat…

************************************************************************

“You have reached Haley! Sorry I can’t answer your call right now. Either I’m ignoring you, or I’m actually busy. Either way, just text me and I promise to get back to you!”

Her message always made you laugh, as her phone went right to voice mail. She was actually busy on the other line. You felt a little anxious about what she needed to tell you. It was a long day and it felt like you needed a glass of wine to calm your nerves. A nice spot on your balcony looking over the waterfront was the solution. The perks of your job found you living close to the office, in a condo looking over Coal Harbour. It was the dream and you were living it. As you sat down and put your feet up, taking a deep breath, you saw that Haley was now returning your call.

“Hales, I’m sorry that I didn’t return your call earlier. It was a busy first day back at the office.”

“Hi to you too, can you please look at the text I just sent you. But make sure you have me on speaker…please!”

A little puzzled by her request, you put her on speaker and loaded her message.

“What the heck are you sending me? Is this just another gif of a cat dressed up at an old lady?”

“Just watch it.”

The video came up. It was Chris. A smile came to your face. You see him sitting on the floor of what seemed to be a home library or office, with Dodger snuggled in against his leg. He was holding what appeared to be a book. Not really paying attention to what he is saying at the start of the video, you finally focus in on it.

“This book is illustrated by Y/N Y/L/N………I love how the dog in this book looks like Dodger!!! Here we go. Once Upon a Time…”

Your heart stopped. He said your name without even realizing it. You sat in shock as you closed the video, not needing to watch any more of it.

“So…..?”

“He said my name.”

Staring blankly at the phone, you aren’t too sure what to make of all of this. What were the chances that this would happen?

“Should I bring you more wine?”

“Yes please.”

To be continued in Part IV

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #agirlcandream #chris evans x y/n

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years

Text

Doing something for fun: RPGs about broken anuses.

As promised, after the abomination that was the Sam arc, I am now going to write random posts about more positive/fun things. However, I also decided to add a little twist to them and correlate them in some way thematically to Dobson. E.g. by reviewing a game/show that does all the things Dobson hates/obsesses about/or fails at right.

And my first entry in that regard is related to a videogame that came out a couple of years ago, based on a tv show Dobson claims to hate. South Park: The fractured but whole.

Seeing how the game is 3+ years old at this time and there have been tons of reviews & walkthroughs showing how good and fun the game is, I do not really want to cover the plot and all the things that make it great in detail. Lets just say you can really feel that Parker and Stone were heavily involved in the writing of the game, as it is filled to the brim with references to the show and the typical satirical humor of it, that in parts manages to cross the line even further for me than the show. Right from the start you get a very dark but smart social joke and commentary out of the way, when as you set up your characters looks and the difficulty of the game, it is the tone of your skin that decides how hard the game gets. Meaning if you play as a black person, you are having a very hard time. It is not too preachy, just an acknowledgment that yes, in American society, blacks can have it harder compared to white people. Especially when living in a town like South Park, where social standing is pretty low and the police force is inherently corrupt and racist, doing something so outrageously to black people, I do not want to spoil it. Let’s just say it ends in a better Lovecraft joke than any of the shit SJWs did in light of censoring Call of Cthulhu board rpgs.

The overall plot is simple: While last time the kids played fantasy and things escalated quickly as they do in South Park, this time they play superheroes, with two fractions having formed: Coon and Friends vs the Freedom Pals and things escalating just as quickly. What starts off as the hunt for a missing cat to earn a 100$ reward Cartman wants to use to start a multi billion dollar movie franchise just like Marvel, turns soon into the player and his friends having to fight a real crime conspiracy thought up by one of South Park’s most nefarious characters, which also involves genetic mutations, time travel and eldritch horrors. Thankfully you, the “New Kid” from the last game, even after losing all your previous powers thanks to no one playing fantasy anymore, gain new superhero powers, make friends with the South Park kids again and even learn new fart techniques by none other than Morgan Freeman, that help you out along the way. All while also slowly revealing more about your backstory hinted on in the previous game and the tragedy of your dad having had intercourse with your mother.

Being a South Park and RPG fan for years, I wanted to play this game for quite some time, but only managed to do so recently. And even if I spoiled myself massively over time with cutscenes and major battles online, this game is still fun (thanks in part also to the fact I watched the cutscenes years ago and by now forgot a lot of them). The turn based battle system is way more interesting than last time by also depending on you positioning the characters on the field in a strategy based RPG style, there are lots of classes to choose and powers to combine (I myself going for elementalist, assassin, plantmancer and blaster currently) and you have a ton of allies in the game. The original cast of the four main boys, Jimmy and Butters has expanded significantly in this game with characters such as SUPER CRAIG, Clyde as the blood sucking MOSQUITO, Token as TUPPERWARE and Wendy as the social media huntress CALL GIRL (yes, that is her name) and they all are fun to interact and play with, with each one having their own unique sets of moves and finishers once again. Even outside of the battle, thanks to the writing, there are always great lines from them to get when interacting or taking missions from them. I especially came to love Tweek and Craig, who are not just decent fighters (Tweek in particular is a great elementalist) , but in this game are also now a couple ever since that yaoi episode from South Park. Helping them reconcile after a bad break up over the course of the game just feels surprisingly nice, mostly because unlike other LGBT celebrating media out there (Korra and She Ra e.g.) none of the characters crosses some sort of moral line where you question why they deserve to be together (Hello, Catra), it is not heavily handed garbage fishing for brownie points and it is obvious through dialogue and actions they care for each other, even if they are at first going through a bad break up as only South Park could ridiculously portray it.

Overall, the game is also surprisingly “inclusive” and socially relevant without being preachy about it, if you ask me. From the aforementioned skin color thing, to LGBT representation via Tweek and Craig, the police being involved in a plot that especially nowadays is sadly more relevant than ever (mind you, I do not believe that in real life all cops are bad, but in my opinion bad eggs on both sides certainly led to the current situation in the US and that is all I say) to the fact you can over the course of the game decide not just if you are playing as a boy or a girl, but even something in-between, a cis-/transgendered person and decide your race, religion as well as to whom you are sexually attracted to. Granted, I barely see how it has any bearing on the game’s plot, but I appreciate the following things: a) the inclusion of the possibility to decide on those factors itself, making creating your character even more fun (a basic right others demand for certain games nowadays in all the wrong ways) and b) that the game does not make the biggest of deals about it. See, I am under the impression that often times the most progressive and inclusive thing is to just let the story and personality of a character speak for itself, instead of the fact that it also identifies by a specific gender, sexuality, race or other allignment. In fact focusing on those things on a character only is something I consider ”positive stereotyping”, which for me is just racism in the opposite direction. And if you no think I am going off track here and need to be beaten up by someone who genuinely has some grip on pc culture, don’t worry. This game features PC Principal actually doing an ok job teaching you about microaggressions in his typical PC Principal manner, which in itself becomes a relevant move in future battles and is hilarious to watch. Speaking of the new kid, putting things like your chance to gender identify yourself with it in more detail (which you can also adjust again later on in game if you feel like it) aside, for a silent protagonist he/she/it can have a nice level of debt to it, if you look too much into it.

Not only does it have a funny backstory explaining its fart and social media powers, there are recurring scenes of the kid’s parents being on each others throat and the kid just silently eating dinner for the night that genuinely feel sad and create sympathy in our little FartLord to the point you just want the kid to go out there, have an adventure and hopefully find a way to change its parents for good, cause it is obvious they love the kiddo, but damn do they need to cut off the substance abuse.

Storywise you get something out of this game that is way more entertaining and hilarious than the last two seasons of the show combined (FUCK the season of 2019) and game content wise you are also rewarded with a lot of shit, just for exploring the town. Be it you finding hidden yaoi fanart that earns you money, your allies helping you solve puzzles that reward you with exp and new costumes to further customize your outfit, making new friends on Coonstagram by taking selfies with all the major and minor characters of the town, helping Big Gay Al finding his missing cats, stumbling upon Memberberries, forging new artifacts to increase your strength, finding summons… all stuff that helps you not just gain exp and become stronger, but also makes you enjoy going through South Park outside of the main story content. In fact I spend a majority of my first twelve hours in this game only wrapping up the prologue missions and first two chapter of the game, while otherwise talking with as many people in town as possible, exploring the stores and houses, doing side missions etc. just for the fun of interacting with the characters and the world they are part of.

Now, how does all of that relate to Dobson?

Well lets see…

Game based on something he hates that has however rightfully more success than he ever deserves, with lots of political commentary and satire for years in its humor? Check.

Game itself having more of that commentary done right then Dobson in his own comics and story attempts? Check

LGBT representation via Tweek and Craig as well as Big Gay Al that does not feel too stereotypical despite Al himself being extremely stereotypical in design? Check

Some pretty decent/hilarious female characters in the game once you know them? (again, Call Girl and Classi, who fucks the L out of the A-S-S) Check.

Being a style of game he hates for no apparent reason, but executed well (RPGs)? Check

Thematically focused on superheroes, a trend he is obsessed about, but here both appreciating while also poking good fun at common tropes of it and the marketing of the MCU, in doing so just highlighting how much of a mindless consumer Dobson is? Check

Being a game where you can also play as any gender and race and its not turned into a “groundbreaking” industry changing feature pandering to minorities that in the eyes of corporations are just a market to exploit, not people? Check

Heck, if Dobson was not a biased idiot, the game would be perfect for him. It even panders to his toilet fetish in videogames.

Kid you not: a mini game in the game itself features the possibility to go to every toilet in town and shit in it. The process of defecation itself being a rhythm game and you earning exp from it once you took enough dumps. And considering Dobson once spend hours in Skyrim looking for outhouses, that sounds right up Dobson’s back alley.

Bottom line, this game is fun. If you like South Park, superheroes and RPGs, this game is perfect for you. And seeing how it has been a few years since it came out, I think it should be possible to get a cheap copy of it somewhere. Go on, play it. But always remember: Never fart on another dude’s balls. It is just not the polite thing to do.

#so you are a cartoonist #Andrew Dobson #syac #south park #the fractured but whole #super heroes #rpg

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shaineybainey · 4 years

Text

“Noble Intentions”

Lab Rats [T]

The Lab Rats and Mighty Med teams face off with the greatest threat to humanity yet: The Incapacitator, a supervillain bent on becoming the most powerful in the planet. …Which makes things super awkward for Leo, considering that their newest nemesis is his father. AU. Lab Rats vs Mighty Med redux.

** DISCLAIMER: SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR DISCLAIMER **

tagging: @vcnting @clockradio93 @neshatriumphs @weareoutofmaplesyrupdave @aaaaahhhhh1234 @serpent-princess @verified-dumbass

II: On the Verge of a Storm

Leo punches in the last batch of information on the computer while a song from the newest Childish album thumps softly through his headphone. He double checks the record – approximately mid-September 1995 – just to make sure he got it right.

He huffs. All of these repetitive tasks are killing his brain cells. Day in and day out, he does the same things. He’d been an assistant for his stepfather for about three years now. He really thought they would give him a new job, especially since they have an actual school to run.

But no, of course not. All they did was stick him behind a bigger, fancier desk and change his title from Mission Specialist to Information Manager.

They’re not fooling anyone. It’s the same old job.

He sighs, leaning back on his swivel chair. He really should be out there helping them. He should be a mentor! There are some things he can teach the students.

Secretly, he finds it a little laughable that Bree really thinks she can handle the Modern Living classes. What’s worse still is that his stepfather and his brothers actually think it’s a good idea, too.

Modern Living? With a girl who’s only been out in the world for three years? What does she or any of them know about living in the world out there? They’re rich, they’re powerful, they’re good-looking. Not once in their lives had they ever had to adapt to the harsher realities of real living.

They’ve never known what it’s like to be followed in stores, to feel like people’s idea of welcoming them is by distrusting them. They don’t know what it’s like to avoid certain neighborhoods out of fear for their lives. They don’t know what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, to see things and have their hearts break when they realize they just don’t have any money to even want for those things.

They’ve never wanted - they’ve just always had.

Wait. What are you thinking? He shakes his head then pulls down his headphones to his neck. He can’t think like this. His father thinks like this, and…

No. That doesn’t mean he’s becoming like him. That doesn’t mean he would turn into him.

Desperate for a change of thought, he returns his attention back on his task. He double checks the entire record, making sure no blank is left unfilled. Once he’s done, he clicks on Update.

He takes a calming breath as it loads. It’s okay. It doesn’t make you a bad person, he tells himself as condemnatory feelings from earlier thoughts loom like a dark cloud at the back of his mind. It’s just not a good day. You’re just super irritated. It’s okay.

“Hey, Leo!” Chase greets as he and their father stroll into the quarters. “How’s data entry going?”

“Oh, you know. Peachy,” he tells them, grinning sardonically. “I feel like I am making such a difference in the world by making sure we know Donald the Third’s birthday is sometime mid-September.”

“You are making a difference in the world,” Donald says as he approaches the kitchenette. “You’re helping us have an accurate record on the students. Plus, we have to know when the students’ birthdays are!”

Right. As opposed to knowing when my graduation was and being there to support me, Leo thinks bitterly but doesn’t say. “How did the webcast go?” he asks his stepbrother.

Chase scoffs. “Mr. Davenport didn’t let me talk.”

“So it went great,” Donald says, grinning.

Chase rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s just find a company that will mass produce the energy transponder.”

“I…already did.”

“What?”

“As soon as the presentation was over, I made a phone call. That was it. After that, the deal was done.”

Chase frowns. “Why didn’t you consult me?”

“Yeah,” Leo chimes in. “I thought this would be your ‘big project’ together.”

“Well, if I did that, then I’d have to listen to him,” Donald says, pointing to Chase. “I don’t know if you know, but he tends to drone on and on about things that no one is ever interested in.”

“Hm. Wonder where he got that from,” Leo says, brows hitched as he stares at the tech mogul.

“Well, did you at least go with a company that’s environmentally conscious?” Chase demands.

“Well, I considered that – and many, many other things,” Donald says then grins, “but in the end I just went with the one that will make me more money. Ka-ching!”

Leo and Chase watch as their father walks out of the quarters, a bottle of water in hand, grinning from ear to ear.

Leo leans back on his chair and crosses his arms thoughtfully. “Sometimes I wonder about his fitness in being a father.”

Chase sighs. “Don’t remind me. I’ve got a feeling this won’t be the only time he’d do it.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“What is there to do? It’s not like companies would deal with me,” Chase says. “To them, I’m just a collaborator. I’m just his kid.”

“Don’t you have a copy of the blueprint?”

Chase looks at him thoughtfully, bordering suspicion. “Are you suggesting I make deals on my own?”

“I’m suggesting you’re the other half of this project. The company he’s chosen can’t do anything unless you both sign the agreement.”

A smirk of understanding slowly pulls at Chase’s lips.

“The ball is still in your court,” Leo confirms, smiling. “The buyers can look at you anyway they want, but the fact is that you’re 18. Chase, you’re not exactly a minor anymore. You’ve got a say in this.”

Chase grins. “You know, Mr. Davenport won’t be happy that you pointed that out to me.”

Leo slowly turns his swivel chair away from his brother. “Pointed what out to you?” he feigns cluelessness before turning his back completely on him.

Chase grins as his younger brother slips on his headphones back on.

After Chase exits the quarters, armed with a tank of newfound confidence, a text message comes in through Leo’s phone.

Monday, 12:16 PM

Hey. You with your mom?

Leo frowns at his phone.

No. She’s out in Bakersfield on an assignment. Why?

12:19 PM

You’re with your family?

Yeah? Why?

You didn’t tell me you’d be there.

It feels like he had been doused with cold water.

That doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t like the suspicions and theories rising in his head one bit.

Dad…

Please don’t tell me you’re trying to do something

You agreed they’re off limits

I agreed YOU’RE off-limits, and your mother.

Leo gets up, taps the phone icon on top of the text messages, then places the phone on his ear. He crosses the quarters as it rings, looking around to make sure there’s no one within earshot. He walks out as far as he can from the building and from the surveillance cameras that might hear.

The other line rings for a few more seconds. Then: “Leo?”

“Dad? Where are you, and what are you doing?”

He chuckles. “I’m used to this level of suspicion from superheroes, not my own kid.”

“Because it sounds like you’re planning something.” Leo glances behind him and sees no one. He whispers, “Why do you ask me if I’m with them? You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t think I could get hurt.”

“I just wanted to know where you are!” his dad says. It grates a little on Leo’s nerves to hear him laugh. How could he find this amusing? “What are you doing right now?”

“I’m helping out my stepdad with their student records. I just finished the last file.”

There’s a pause. “You know I don’t like you doing this,” his father finally says, and it’s not difficult to pick up on the inkling of disappointment. “You’re a smart young man. You finished high school earlier than your stepsiblings. You can create and do things no one else can! Why are you letting them do this to you?”

“What about you? You could have chosen to be a superhero.”

His father sighs. “Superheroes are fighting a lost cause, son. You know that,” he says. “And you know why I won’t be like them. They’re incompetent. Why would I willingly work alongside them?”

Leo closes his eyes in surrender. Of course. His father never liked heroes because of what happened to his family. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ve just been super irritated today. I don’t like this at all either,” he confesses wearily. “I’m wasting away behind a desk. I know that, too.”

“You know you can always join me.”

Leo smirks. “What, and get pummeled during our first fight? I barely survived the ones I’ve gone on with my stepsiblings.” He chuckles. “You know I’m not like you. I don’t have any abilities.”

“But you’re smart. You can just put together what you need.”

“I’ve told you about the attack orbs. It ended up in a disaster.”

“Ah, it’s been a year since. Plus, I can always help you.”

Leo grins. He would never admit it, but the thought does make him feel a lot better. “You said you’ll let me choose what I’m going to be.”

“If your stepdad doesn’t promote you any time soon, I’m gonna have to change my mind. The heroes are just wasting your talent.”

Leo laughs. “Seriously, Dad. Where are you? What are you doing?”

“Nothing important. I just finished lunch.” He pauses for a moment. “I’ve been working on something. It’s all for you.”

Leo smirks albeit with his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about your future. I’m not going to get any younger, Leo. My line of work is thrilling, and even though I think most superheroes aren’t bright enough to catch me, I know that one day someone will come along and end my career.” He chuckles. “I’m not exactly in a line of work where people can just retire. Others…make us retire.”

He knows his father is being realistic, and it’s good that he views the future with some humor. Still, he can’t look at it with the same level of apathy. “Please don’t say that. That’s not funny.”

“I’m just being real. I won’t be a good father if I just filled your head with fantasies,” his father replies. “Hey. We should meet up soon. I want you to see this one place. When will you have some time off?”

Leo thinks about it. “It’s smack dead in the middle of summer. Since I’m not a student here, and I don’t really care to stick around to be their errand boy, I’d say sometime tonight.”

“Your stepdad won’t be suspicious?”

Leo scoffs in disgust. “He’s too busy conning my stepbrother and daydreaming about more money. I doubt he has any room to think about anything else.”

“Hm. Your mom really could have married anyone else. She could have married Tecton, and I would have preferred that a lot better.”

“Usually, I would say that it’s not a good idea, but you know what? Today, I agree.”

His father chuckles. “All right. I’ll call you soon.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, son.”

Leo hangs up but stares at his phone a while. I’ll call you soon, his father says. He chuckles. He really should ease up on the paranoia.

Urged with thoughts of hunger, he comes back into the main building then heads for the cafeteria. He thinks of the fact that he would get to spend time with his father soon. They didn’t get to hang out after his graduation, probably because his mother was there. He saw him in the crowd during the ceremony but he was gone right after.

The hopeful images of him being taken away from there bring a certain lightness to his steps. He likes the island, but he doesn’t like much what goes on between the people who live in it.

As he lists the things he’d like to do on his vacation, he neglects to notice the alert that the hydroloop is jetting inland at lightning speed, carrying with it the person he didn’t know was already coming.

#fanfiction #Lab Rats #chapter two #Noble Intentions #Leo Dooley #Chase Davenport #Donald Davenport #The Incapacitator

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orihara-infobroker · 4 years

Text

Seclusion Day Seven

This was the fourth of Mikiya’s daily conference calls and the executives had all given up on formality - some more than others. Izaya had curled up on Shiki’s lap as they sat on the couch, laptop resting on the coffee table. Aozaki appeared to be sitting in his hot tub and Izaya was theorizing on whether or not the laptop would end up in the hot tub with him at some point. Akabayashi looked like he just woke up and finger-combed his hair into place. A half-drunk glass of what Shiki suspected was whiskey sat just in view of the camera. No one knew what Kazamoto looked like since he continued to keep his camera off but Shiki felt it safe to assume the lizard was probably just as casual as the rest of them. And the leader of this conference call? Well, he was currently helping Akane with... something?

“Hey, Akabaka, it’s a bit unprofessional to be drinking at work, don’t you think?” Izaya teased, leaning forward a bit to stare pointedly at the glass. Akabayashi pushed it out of the frame, giving Izaya a one-eyed glare.

“I don’t think sitting on your boss’s lap is particularly professional, Izaya. Neither is taking a bloody bath.” He grumbled, gaze shifting to Aozaki. The larger man shrugged.

“Just imagine we’re having a friendly chat at the onsen,” Aozaki responded with a grin. “Oh wait… you don’t have a hot tub cause you live in a fucking shit apartment.”

Akabayashi just rolled his eye and took a sip of his drink. “Not like these friendly little chats actually serve a purpose.”

“On that, I can agree with you,” Shiki replied. “So why don’t we run the agenda before Mikiya gets back then we can just give him the details and get back to work?”

Izaya leaned back, glancing at his phone. “Well I got Akabayashi’s list and it seems most of the girls are fine to work from home if we can get them the equipment they need. I sourced for various levels, depending on whether they just want to do phone calls or full video. Just a matter of order and delivery. Most of the girls are young so they should be able to set things up without too much trouble on their own.”

“I’ll review the numbers and give Mikiya the options I think are the best match for each girl,” Aka replied with a nod.

“I’d like to discuss the suspension of lease payments,” Kazamoto spoke up. “I know Mikiya won’t like it but I think we need to consider some leniency in the matter. Not for any of our corporate tower holdings, mind you. Just for the smaller businesses, especially the buildings that have restaurants or small retail. We have the overhead to cover it and I think it’s a better choice than evicting those businesses right now.”

Shiki exchanged a glance with Izaya then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Evicting them at this point wouldn’t help us anyway. There are no businesses to take their places. Aozaki, how are your men handling their new jobs?”

“They’re just happy to be doing something and the people they’re helping have been really grateful. One of the older ladies has been hand sewing masks since there’s a shortage and she’s making sure all our boys get one since we’ve been taking them over to the medical centers for her. I sent a few guys down to the food bank to help them with making up and delivering boxes. Seems demand is up with so many layoffs.”

Shiki nodded thoughtfully. “Kaz, send me a list of restaurants we have leases with. I have an idea.”

Izaya glanced at Shiki with curiosity. “Are you-” He began but then Mikiya reappeared, giving everyone a good look at his flannel pyjama pants as he sat back down.

“Sorry about that. Akane’s gotta do her schoolwork from home now, over the computer or some shit so I gotta cut this short.”

“Mikiya! Language!” Mikiya’s wife could be heard in the background, drawing amused grins from Akabayashi and Izaya.

“It’s no problem, sir,” Shiki replied. “We’ve already discussed the current projects and everything is progressing as planned. We will forward you the reports to review.”

“Ah… very good. I’ll look them over and we can discuss them tomorrow.”

As the executives logged off, Izaya gave Shiki a considering look. “You’re thinking of trading that free rent for service.”

Shiki gave the very perceptive raven an approving smile. “They need a way to keep employing their people. If we subsidize their rent during this mess, they can continue to pay their staff. If their staff are also cooking meals for those in need, they can write it off as charity and those people will remember. They’ll come back when times are better. Benefits everyone in the long run.”

“But do you think they’ll agree? And more importantly, do you think Mikiya will agree?”

“Yes. I have no doubt the restaurants will agree because it keeps them in business when they might otherwise have to shut down. Mikiya… I’m confident I can sell it to him but if he does prove difficult, I know I can sell it to Dougen.”

Izaya chuckled. “If they gave out yakuza awards, you’d get Cleverest Executive.” He teased then grew serious. “I wouldn’t normally say this…” His gaze shifted back to the laptop. “I’m a bit worried about Akabaka.”

Shiki studied the raven quietly for a moment before answering. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. But yeah, I’m worried too. Invite him over, tell him you need help with something for work, whatever works to get him out of his house. I have a suspicion he’s been drinking himself stupid.”

“Because that’s what you’d be doing if I wasn’t here to keep you entertained?”

Shiki snorted. “Unlikely. Akabayashi’s an extrovert and he really doesn’t have anyone outside the clan as I understand it. This is probably hitting him a lot harder than the rest of us.”

“Make cookies.”

“What?”

“Remember that time I brought your cookies to the office?”

Shiki chuckled. “You’re suggesting we lure him over with the offer of cookies?”

“Well, maybe dinner and cookies? I doubt he’s had a decent meal since this whole thing started.”

“Fine, if you think that’ll work.”

Some hours later Akabayashi arrived bearing files Izaya had requested as an excuse, still looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. Izaya gazed at him critically.

“Have you even showered in the last week?” He asked as he let the redhead into the apartment. Akabayashi narrowed his eyes then pushed the files into Izaya’s hands.

“Of course I have.” He retorted and his words slurred a bit. Izaya arched a brow as he took the files.

“You know drinking alcohol won’t kill the virus, right?”

“I didn’t come here to listen to you criticize me, Orihara,” Akabayashi sneered.

“Sit down, Mizuki,” Shiki ordered. “Dinner is almost ready.” Akabayashi arched a brow at Shiki then discarded shoes and coat in the entry and made his way to the seldom-used kitchen table. Shiki had pulled it away from the wall since the breakfast bar only had two seats. Izaya followed behind, dropping the files on the coffee table beside his laptop before joining Shiki in the kitchen. “Have you been talking to the girls? How are they doing?”

Akabayashi gave Shiki a suspicious look. “They’ve been supporting each other. Most of them have roommates or family to stay with so they aren’t in a bad way.”

“That’s good. What about you?”

“What about me?” Akabayashi replied with irritation as Izaya placed a bowl of salad on the table. The raven sat down across from him, grinning.

“We’re going to watch the Marvel movies in order. Shiki’s never seen any of them.” Izaya informed Akabayashi, shaking his head in disappointment. “You should watch with us.”

Shiki brought over a hot casserole dish of lasagna. “He says this as if everyone watches comic book movies.”

Akabayashi looked between the two then sighed. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Feeding you dinner and inviting you to watch movies with us?” Izaya replied with an innocent smile. Akabayashi rolled his eyes and reached for the serving spoon, helping himself to a generous portion of lasagna.

“You promised me cookies, Izaya.” He pointed out with a smirk.

“After dinner.” Shiki went to the fridge for beers.

Akabayashi grinned. “He’s really never seen any of them?” Izaya nodded as he filled his own plate. “There’s what, twenty of them? That’s gonna take a while to get through.”

“Well, if we watch a couple of them every few days, we should be able to get through all of them by the time this quarantine passes.”

“Every few days, hm?” Akabayashi took a bite of the lasagna as Shiki joined them. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen all of them either.”

Izaya grinned. “You? The hippest of the executives? Unbelievable! You absolutely have to join us now. Your reputation depends on it.”

“Not like I have anything else to do, anyway.”

“And with you around, Shiki can stop using the excuse that there’s no one to eat his baking,” Izaya added, turning his grin on Shiki.

Shiki cracked a smile. “I do have a few dessert recipes I’ve been wanting to try out.”

#durarara #fanfiction #shikizaya #have a house guest #quarantine movie marathon #my wiriting

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goddessvicky · 4 years

Text

The Writer

Chapter Four

C H A P T E R F O U R

Summary: Darcy Lewis finds a temp job with S.H.I.E.L.D. until she can work with Jane again. Data entry and organizing aren’t her favorite things, but she sucks it up. When she finds out the Avengers have a Fan Club and an email account with hundreds of unread letters, she figures no one will care if she <i>pretends</i> to be the Avengers, right? <i>Right</i>?!

Characters: Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster

Warnings: Curse words. Obscene levels of cheese being consumed.

(Read it all here!)

*~*~*~*~*

Darcy’s toe tapped relentlessly against the concrete floor, eyes closed and face turned up toward the ceiling. She swiveled slightly from side to side, the office chair squeaking as she did so. She’d read the latest email over and over, unsure how to proceed. Since she’d started this little project, she’d tried to keep her answers light and universal. She didn’t want to put out a bad image of the superheroes she was impersonating channeling. This was made infinitely harder by the fact that the letters were a product of the time; the world seemed to be in perpetual free fall, chaos and anarchy in the government, protests in the streets, and the letters that’d begun to be sent to the Ask Avengers email reflected that hardness.

She knew that any response would be appreciated, but she didn’t want to just answer. She wanted to heal, to comfort, to say the words that someone so desperately needed to hear. She wanted to have an impact, wanted to put hope out into the world like the rest of the super friends. She couldn’t wrestle giant beasts or carry a nuke into space. She didn’t have the power to move things with her mind, and couldn't pull from the extensive spy training she’d practically been a part of since birth. She wasn’t a mutant, couldn’t bench press a semi truck, and the last time she’d checked, she couldn’t turn into a giant green rage monster (though it was a close thing, depending on the time of the month).

Words, though. Words were a weight she could carry.

Letting out a trumpet of air, and deciding that all she could do was her best, she pulled her chair back toward the desk and lowered her fingers to the keyboard.

Everything is horrible. It’s hard to drag myself out of bed in the morning. How do you keep going? – Norrine

Norrine,

Firstly, thank you for your letter. I know it isn’t hard to admit things are difficult, but you did it, and that makes you brave.

I have a friend. This friend took care of her mother in the late stages of Alzheimer's. She would tell me how tired she was, how emotionally crippling it was to see this entirely other person looking at her from behind of her mother’s blue eyes. Why did she continue to take care of her, someone has asked, when there were homes and hospitals for people suffering from the same disease? Why did she put herself through it?

She shook her head, a small smile on her lips. ‘It’s hard,’ she started, ‘and I get why other people might not be able to. I’m a nurse, so I’ve got more experience. And she’s my mother. She took care of me when I was little, gave me a home, and a life, and a family. Most of the time are bad days, days that we struggle, days that she slaps at me, and says she doesn’t’ know who I am, that I’m hurting her, that I’m torturing her. She’ll say things to me that are so utterly devastating that I sob myself to sleep at night. All of that pain, all of that hurt and agony? It’s worth it for those tiny, fleeting moments when I can see my mother refill her eyes, when her shoulders rock back and she becomes the strong, beautiful woman I’ve always seen her as. She pulls me to her, tells me how much she loves me, how proud she is of everything I’ve accomplished, and kisses me on the forehead like she did so many nights when I was growing up. Those minuscule seconds with my mom are worth everything else.’

People like Susan are what keep me going. People who see the darkness in the world and tell it ‘no’. And when the world doesn’t listen, they say ‘hell no’ and demand better. Who fight against pain, and hurt, and oppression. They stand up for the little guy, and aren’t afraid to yell when they see injustices. Teachers. Doctors. Nurses. Garbage Men. The ones who do the hard work with a smile on their face and a helpful hand up from the dirt when it’s needed. I have a cape. They have the real power.

And it’s in you, too. That power. The ability to create brightness and light. All it takes is one small spark, the tiniest of flames, and that compassion can grow into a fire that can’t be put out. Start a riot in that heart of yours, and you’ll be able to see that orange glow in others’ eyes, kindred spirits who are stumbling in the dark but don’t mind the skinned knees. Reach out your hand, and you’ll be surprised how quickly another grips it.

The world is dark right now, you’re absolutely right. But let me tell you a little secret:

You are the light it needs.

Shine brightly.

Your friend,

Carol Danvers A.K.A. Captain Marvel

Darcy knew Captain Marvel was, essentially, the new kid on the block, but from what she’d been able to read about Captain Danvers, she’d battled through the ranks of the air force, during a time when female fighter pilots were just a pipe dream. She’d gone missing, but made a miraculous reappearance (something that seemed to happen pretty frequently lately, for whatever reason. Darcy liked to think everyone knew a story like the one she’d told; she’d watched her mom work long hours at the hospital, only to come home and take care of grandma. She wasn’t sure where her mother had drawn all that strength from, but if her story (told through a pseudo-surrogate) could help someone else? It’d be worth it.

Like it always did, Darcy’s stomach jumped as her index finger hovered over the mouse. She let out a deep breath before she clicked the ‘send’ button.

#Darcy Lewis #The Writer #The Avengers #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Marvel #MCU #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #Carol Danvers #Captain Marvel #alzheimers

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reylo-trash-4ever · 4 years

Text

The Game Part 4

LOLOLOL so it’s been years and I bet everyone thinks I’ve fallen off the face of the earth but no bitch, I still live. Quarantine has given me time to write so whoo hoo!! Also, I will for sure be trying to set up an Ao3 account in the near future and that will most likely be my new main source to post this story, so look out for that!

In the mean time, please enjoy the newest installment, and sorry it’s so short. As always, shout outs go to my lovely and wonderful queen beans @scav-eng-er and @mojona1999. Y’all are the GREATEST! Happy Star Wars Day everyone and May the 4th be with you!

The Game: Chapter 4 Rating: PG

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to get my stolen laptop back.” Rey spoke matter-of-factly, her arms crossed over her chest and a defiant look in her eyes as she stared unblinkingly, and unwaveringly, up at Ben.

“I told you, you’d get it back tomorrow,” Ben responded, leaning on the left side of the doorway and blocking any possible entry.

“Yeah, that’s what you wanted, but I decided on something different, so… here I am.”

Rey started out strong, her voice fierce and determined, but she began to doubt herself and feel the weight of his amused gaze getting under her skin once again. She felt awkward standing there without moving, his tall frame towering over her in that intimidating way that she hated.

“And what exactly did you decide?” Ben challenged, raising an eyebrow incredulously at her.

“Let me in and I’ll tell you.” Rey knew it was a long shot, but she was banking on his curiosity to take over common sense and meet her demands. Or maybe she was playing towards the pride he obviously had too much of, either way, she knew she was taking a risk.

Ben’s amused smirk slowly fell from his lips and he didn’t try to hide the annoyed and inconvenienced look that followed. Rey held her breath, waiting for him to slam the door in her face or to yell at her for being so insubordinate, but instead, he let out the smallest of huffs and stepped aside. She took that as her cue to go in and nodded her thanks as she walked past him.

Rey didn’t know what she expected his place to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. She probably had some idea of a classic ‘rich boy penthouse’ apartment filled with luxuries that no one really needed, like game tables, a hot tub, racks on racks of expensive liquors, but she was wrong. A few steps down the small entryway hall led into a spacious living area with floor to ceiling, tinted glass windows that lined one side of the wall. Further to her left, Rey spotted an open kitchen with a small island in the middle. To her right was another hallway that most likely led to a master bedroom and bathroom. Another ajar door revealed what looked like a study, or some kind of office space. The decor was minimalistic, but definitely nice. Black leather sofas, a massive flat screen television, and marble countertops were just the most noticeable displays of wealth, although she could only assume there were plenty more not as easily seen.

Truth be told, the place had a bit of charm to it. If you could call that uneasy ‘bring one spec of dirt into my home and you’ll be punished’ feeling “charm”. It was more like a picture perfect apartment, something you might see in a magazine.

“So, are you ever going to stop ogling or are you finally going to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

Rey turned over her shoulder and looked back at Ben, who was pushing the door closed behind him. It shut with a click and Rey felt her breath hitching in her throat again. Her plan was shaky, and being alone with a stranger in his apartment was only the beginning of how dangerous this could get. She couldn’t believe she was putting her job, and the possible promotion, at such a risk as this, but there was something about the opportunity that she couldn’t resist.

“Well, Ben,” Rey began as she walked further into the room, pretending to keep her attention anywhere but on him and knowing that if she didn’t, he might see right through her ruse, “you obviously think I’m an idiot and incapable of keeping up with your ‘oh so wonderful’ self.”

Rey paused to wait for his reaction, but he only raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly to the right in defense. She took his silence as a cue to continue.

“Why else would you have given me your laptop after already taking mine? you could have easily just walked off with both and left me on my own, so what would you gain by giving me a key piece in learning more about you? Well, that’s when I realized that the answer was probably nothing, and I highly doubt you’re the kind of man who does anything if there isn’t something in it for him. So, then I thought that the laptop switch might be one big show to try and keep me off the trail of what you’re really planning.

“But then I came over here, and from the look of things,” Rey scanned around the room again, letting her watchful eyes linger in the direction of the bedroom and then the front door, “you were a little ‘preoccupied’ to be doing any real work at this point.”

“So, you two met after all?” Ben asked, taking the opportunity while she was in between thoughts to make his way closer to where she now stood. He moved past her and bent down, opening a drawer and pulling out the bottle of wine he intended on having by himself.

“We didn’t, and it’s really none of my business,” Rey said quickly, dismissing her interest and his curiosity on how she might have reacted to his personal life, “I just thought you’d be going through my laptop to get more information on me, since you went through all the trouble of taking it. Except, I can see that my bag lays untouched over on your end table, which means you haven’t even opened it. Why is that?”

While she spoke, Ben walked to some cabinets with see through glass doors above his sink and took a long stemmed glass from them. He returned to the counter and popped the bottle, pouring himself a healthy amount of the dark liquid. Finally, when Rey finished with her question, he returned his attention back to her and gave her a smirk.

“Because I already know everything there is to know about you, sweetheart,” Ben replied, tipping his glass towards her in a mocking salute before taking a sip.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Rey snapped, not missing a beat, “and there’s no way that could be true. You can’t learn every aspect about a person through just the internet and newspapers, that’s just ridiculous. Especially in our profession, genuine human interaction and connection makes all the difference in how a person will act or behave. And you, of all people, should know that as a lawyer, it’s our responsibility to find that out for ourselves. It’s why we have to have such personal relationships with our clients.”

“But I’m not your client, Rey, I’m your superior,” Ben said slowly. His voice dropped to an almost threatening level as he leaned both elbows on the counter across from her, making them finally at eye level. She stared defiantly back, refusing to be scared off.

“Except that you’re also supposed to be my partner,” Rey said, tilting her head and giving him a sickly sweet smile, “Partners don’t have anything to hide and don’t go behind each other’s backs. They put the client first and they get what they want by working together.”

Ben squinted at her reproachfully, and took another sip of his wine that he still refused to politely offer to his guest.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Total honestly. At least, while I’m here, you can ask me anything you want and I promise to answer it with the truth. But you have to do the same with me. It eliminates any reason to doubt each other or to think that one of us is working against the other. We’ll both get what we need to know, and we don’t have to go snooping around each other’s personal items to get there. It’s a win-win situation, and this way we save the most time and energy so we can get to working on the real case as soon as possible.”

Rey watched Ben listen to her, and she could tell that there were many points where he wanted to argue, but she must have kept his interest long enough, because he let her finish.

“And how will I know you’re telling me the actual truth?” Ben questioned, standing up to his full height and looking down on her once again.

“Because I’m a terrible liar, and you’ll see right through me if I do.” Rey shrugged her shoulders and looked away, trying to sell the ‘innocent’ look as best as she could. She really was telling the truth though, she may be as sneaky and stealthy as a Black Cat, but she wasn’t as clever as one.

“How can you be bad at lying if you want to be a lawyer?” Ben scoffed with a smirk.

“Because I win my cases by being right.”

It was Rey’s turn to lean in and she looked up at Ben through her long, dark lashes. He wanted to speak, to make some retort about how ridiculously childish her and her ideals sounded, but something about those intensely dark eyes made him want to play along. He couldn't explain it, but she intrigued him. He had to give her that.

“Fine, I’ll play your little game,” Ben said, and Rey let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding on to, “Except, if I’m going to do something so asinine, we’re going to need to make it a little more enjoyable.”

By the glint in his eye, Rey was hesitant to let anything be on his terms, but she knew that if her plan was to work, she’d have to keep playing into his arrogance a little. It wasn’t very hard seeing as he had a lot of it.

“How do you suppose we do that?” Rey asked.

“Alcohol,” Ben said simply. He turned his back to Rey and bent to retrieve another bottle from the cabinet.

“Too bad I’m not a big wine fan,” Rey muttered, mostly to herself, but Ben must have heard because he swung back around and placed the bottle rather loudly on the counter.

“Oh, it’s not wine,” he chuckled, “this is a particular brand of bourbon that happens to be my favorite. Care to join me for a drink?”

Rey could hear the sarcasm in his voice, and the joke of the situation wasn’t lost on her seeing as she was already in his home and already agreeing to have the drink. She simply widened her eyes, took a deep breath, and shrugged an ‘okay’ with the shake of her head. Ben nodded once and grabbed more glasses from the kitchen. When he came back he directed them towards the living area taking a seat on the longer of the two couches. Rey sat across from him on the very edge of a large arm chair, ready to bounce up and make a break for it if she had to.

Ben, on the other hand, leaned back comfortably. One of his impossibly long legs reached over the other, his calf resting on the opposite knee. Even sitting down, he couldn’t hide his body's sheer length. Rey noticed the bottle and glasses on the table between them and took his lounging as an indicator that she was supposed to pour the drinks.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn’t his maid and he was perfectly capable of getting his own, but she did as she was expected anyway. Let him think she was just another woman willing to do his bidding. Any and all “sucking up” she could fake in this moment would give her the upper hand.

“So, what are the ‘rules’ to this game, exactly?” Ben asked, as she passed him a glass with one shot full of the slight smokey smelling liquid. He took it, his hands wrapping around hers for an instant, and Rey felt a weird spark of energy pass between them. She recoiled, but not before seeing him tense up.

The moment was over in an instant and Ben acted like nothing had happened. He looked to the glass now in his hands and swirled the liquid, waiting for her to respond to his earlier question.

“Okay, it’s a simple drinking game mechanic, really,” Rey said, pouring herself the exact same amount, “you ask me a question, and I have to answer. If you think I’m lying, you can challenge it. If I am, I have to drink.”

“Ah, so you do lie.”

“I said if I lie, then I drink. If you’re wrong about the challenge, then you have to take the shot.”

Ben shifted in his seat and squinted at her again in the way she was beginning to recognize as trying to figure her out. She found herself loving the idea that he didn’t know as much about her as he thought, and her chest puffed out in pride. Ben huffed a short laugh and leaned further back.

“Well then, one for good measure?” He lifted his glass.

“And for poor judgement?” Rey teased, a smile on her own lips despite herself.

“Exactly,” Ben said, tilting his drink slightly towards her, “cheers.”

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blueskydreama · 4 years

Text

Uncharted is my favorite action adventure video game franchise of all time. I tried my absolute best to be as unbiased as possible when writing this review, but I have to admit that I did fall into the trap more than once. Coming from the talented developers at Naughty Dog, creators of the smash hit The Last of Us, Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End wraps up the story of Nathan Drake and his comrades in this last, massive and explosive adventure. The PS4 has long been aching for an exclusive killer app, and Naughty Dog has done everything in their power to make sure UC4 fits the bill. It does. Oh, sweet mother of God, it does.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD FOR UNCHARTED 4

Uncharted 4 picks up the story several years after the events of Uncharted 3: Drake’s Deception. Having retired from the life of a treasure hunting rogue, Drake has made a relatively normal life for himself, making a living as a salvager of cargo from underwater wrecks. However, his new life is quickly disrupted with the reappearance of his long-presumed dead brother Sam. Sam is in trouble. A Panamanian drug lord by the name of Hector Alcázar has demanded that Sam find the lost treasure of pirate Henry Avery in 3 months or he will be killed. Not an easy task, especially considering he and his brother tried once before 15 years ago and failed. Drake reluctantly accepts his brother’s pleas for help, and sets off an explosive chain of events that culminates in one of the best twists I have experienced in a long time.

Uncharted 4 will take players across the globe in a journey that puts some of the most epic adventures to shame. Players will visit Italy and pull off a high stakes heist at a black market auction, Scotland, visit Madagascar and explore the plateau, and the fabled pirate paradise of Libertalia. The story is larger than ever before, with betrayal, emotion and intensity the likes of which the previous games could only dream of. The pacing of the plot is near perfection, with an excellent balance of chaos, thrill and quiet moments, although the introduction sequence could have been better paced. However, after the (simply spectacular) opening credit scene, the pacing is far smoother, and really begins to feel like a summer blockbuster.

The voice acting is the greatest it’s ever been. Troy Baker is absolutely phenomenal as Drake’s brother, and Nolan North is at his finest portraying a worn out, tired Drake, while Emily Rose (Elena) and Richard McGonagle (Sully) also put on top acts. You truly feel that these actors have become their characters, and feel the emotional weight behind their performances.

The ending is controversial, I won’t deny that, and while it irked many people, I personally believe that it could not have been better handled. There is simply no better way to send off Naughty Dog’s flagship franchise.

Being an adventure game, it goes without saying that the locations will be exotic – and absolutely gorgeous. Naughty Dog has forced the absolute maximum potential of the PS4 for this game. The environments are huge and richly detailed, with lush foliage that bends and moves with the characters, and glistens and drips in the rain. Puddles splash when the player moves in them, and water refracts light. The animation is top notch, with characters having unique combat poses and idle stances. The level of detail and polish present in this game is beyond anything I have seen before, even on current generation games. While I can’t say anything for the authenticity in the locations, considering that Naughty Dog modelled Kathmandu in Uncharted 2 true to life, I can say it’s a safe bet they did the same here, although obvious liberties had to be taken for gameplay purposes.

Characters react realistically to the environment. When brawling in muddy locations, character react accordingly, flinging mud and becoming covered the gunk. They drip water and their clothing becomes heavy and darker colored when soaked. Skin shines and trails water, and hair becomes matted. I constantly found myself slack-jawed at the lengths the developers went for this game.

Graphics aside, the sound is unmatched. Gunfire is thunderous and jolting, and the environmental SFX are astounding. When in the jungle, you believe you are there, with howler monkeys screeching and birds calling. The wilds of Madagascar are populated with cicadas and typical wildlife. The hurricane in the opening level is terrifying. The music is astounding, with sweeping orchestral pieces during action and peaceful melodies that play during the more intimate moments.

The production values are through the roof. The game truly feels as if you are playing a summer blockbuster movie, and the near complete lack of bugs and glitches is the icing on the cake.

Not too much has changed since Drake’s Deception hit shelves in November of 2011. The gunplay is just as refined as ever, and feels smooth and very fluid, especially with the new lock on mechanic – although that can make getting headshots somewhat difficult; however, it can be disabled at any time. Many of the old weapons return, with some new additions such as the Aegis 9mm pistol and the HS39 assault rifle. Along with the new weapons comes the marking system, which allows players to tag enemies to follow their movements and plan routes of attack. In addition to this, players are given the option to completely avoid combat, a first for the series.

Another new entry to the series is the grappling hook and rope, which further enhances traversal and environmental interactivity. Drake can use it to cross otherwise impassable gaps, scale walls and even instantly KO enemies with a lethal dropdown attack. The rope enhances vertical gameplay to entire new levels, and truly feels like a useful tool. That aside, the rope can also be tethered to stationary objects and used as a pulley, or even attached to breakable things and used to create new pathways.

Hand to hand combat has been slightly upgraded as well, with new takedowns utilizing your partners and new combat moves, but otherwise stays the same. Environmental takedowns are still as flashy as ever and even seems to take queues from The Last of Us for some of them.

Stealth plays a much bigger role in this entry than previous games. As mentioned before, some combat sections can be completely avoided if you are stealthy enough. Sneaking up behind enemies and silently killing them is a lot more fun than it should be, but the terrified look on their buddy’s face when they discover the body is priceless. Enemy AI is intelligent and challenging. If they find you, they will continue searching the area even after you disappear. They flank you and use cooperative tactics to try and defeat you. It is a much welcome change from the brain dead AI of most shooters. The same goes for your partner AI as well – they actually kill enemies and do a spectacular job of aiding the player.

Treasures return, of course, only now there are 109 to find, and they are very cleverly hidden, which gives an excuse to meander around large wide open areas. Alongside these treasures are notes and journal pages to be found that flesh out the lore a bit more. By pressing the OPTIONS button, you can view these collectibles. Beating the game unlocks new bonuses such as skins and tweaks to make your next playthrough that much more fun and interesting.

Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune blew me away the first time I played it in 2008 on my uncle’s PS3. I felt like a true adventurer, off to solve the mysteries of the ancient world. A modern day Indiana Jones – stop the bad guys, get the treasure and get the girl. I walked away dumbstruck. The game was hard, yes, but the presentation and quality spoke to me on a deeper level. That gaming could be a hobby, but could also be a way for talented individuals to tell a story, to create ART, and that’s what Naughty Dog did, way back in 2007.

Nearly ten years have passed since then. Uncharted has become synonymous with high production values, venerated storytelling, exceptional character growth, and the PlayStation name itself. Naughty Dog’s flagship series permanently landed them in the spotlight of AAA game development, and they have continued to prove that they earned their spot, garnering universal praise and hundreds of awards since then.

Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End is the culmination of all of that hard work and dedication, passion and love. I cannot recommend this game enough. Tears have been shed, blood has been spilt and stories have been told. It saddens me to see Drake’s story end, but I would have it done no other way.

Uncharted 4 is a true masterpiece of modern storytelling. This is for all the Dogs out there.

#uncharted #uncharted 4 #naughty dog #playstation #ps4 #review

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macattackp · 5 years

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10 Crazy Things Gen X,Y, and Z Have Accomplished

1. Have made sites like Google and Wikipedia widely accepted They are not academically accepted, but considering in the 4th grade (2000-2001) the school librarian told our class “Google is useful but it will never replace a library for finding information!” I think we’ve come pretty far...

2. Have flipped retail on its head It was originally “They who had the most physical stores was the leader” but thanks to the rise of online shopping, physical store locations are now taught to be a unnecessary cost and has caused a number of franchise giants to tumble

3. Have Integrated Technology Into Daily Life In the fifth grade (2001-2002) I wrote a letter to my local MP explaining how computers could be used to save trees by saving paper, as well as give students less weight to carry with textbooks and such, and could raise accuracy in spelling and math. The response I got was that it was a nice idea, but computers were so complicated and expensive that we probably wouldn’t see this for another 30-40 years. Here we are less than 20 years later and look how far we’ve come! Side story: In the second grade (1997-1998) we were given basic calculators for $15 to learn how to use them and were told that while they were powerful, they were too expensive so we shouldn’t get used to them as the day would never come where we could just have a calculator on us at all times.

4. We Have Survived and Established Ourselves During The Great Recession The 2008 housing market crash has been bad.... We are STILL suffering from it... Companies over 100 years old have gone bankrupt... whole countries have gone bankrupt! The entire concepts of business that have been taught were flipped on its head. The great recession has been reported as being at least twice as severe as the 80′s recession and closer to the great depression from an economic standpoint. Yet here we are. If we can’t afford our own house, we’ll share one. If we can’t get a job we’ll make one. If we can’t afford things we’ll make our own. This generation is far from a comfortable one... I sometimes tear up thinking about how my “wild dream” is one day having a bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom all to myself... and how greedy I feel if I say a laundry room to myself would also be nice.... but we’re surviving! This economy is a mess with people clinging to what little they have until they die and we’re still moving forward. That is crazy.

5. We Are So Educated, We Have Made Degrees Commonplace Have you ever wondered why job requirements are so crazy? Like “Entry Level Job: Must have masters degree and 8 years experience!” It’s because of supply and demand.... So many people have university degrees, that the value of a degree on its own has bottomed out.... Yes this makes it a pain to get any kind of job.... and is INCREDIBLY rough on those without degrees... but think of how crazy that is!! How many times in history have so educated?? We may not have the value appreciated by other jobs, but think of how much we can do and understand that people before us never could! Information is power. Wisdom is steering. Understanding is direction. Just think of what we’re capable of?

6. We Have Changed Media Forever Think about how many areas of education has changed. Television has lost its monopoly due to streaming services, youtube, and livestream services. The concept of “Celebrity” has changed with social media celebrities. We’ve seen the rise of consoles with the fall of PC games, and the fall of consoles with the subsequent rise of PC games. Digital media, indie games, web comics, flash animations, deviantArt, Tumblr.... All of these things had never existed before. As a kid I used to spend hours trying to draw comics on dot matrix printer paper because I wanted to be a newspaper cartoonist when I grew up... Now with webcomics and online news, the whole industry has been flipped upsidedown. It is both incredibly accessible and incredibly difficult to stand out.

7. We Have Made The World More International I know people in Japan, Sweden, Norway, England, India, Africa, UAE, China, Australia, Holland, America, Mexico, and more places.... In fact I probably know these people more than I know the people who live on my street! The world has become incredibly international. Business has changed as you can work in real time with someone halfway around the world. Friendships have changed, as you can comfort and encourage people you’ve never met in real life. Science and History has changed, because countries that originally could only compare notes once every so often, now do so in real time, and we can see and talk about the variances between what we’ve grown up knowing.

8. We Have Changed Priorities From “The Most Stuff” to “The Most Experiences.” From “Financial Security” to “Mental Stability.” From “The Most Fame” to “The Most Impact.” The rise of arts. The rise of casual familiarity. The desire to learn. All of these priorities have changed as our generation has grown.

9. We Have Shaken Franchise Culture Franchises owned the world. The Ma and Pa shop had fallen to the names such as Walmart, Target, McDonalds, Wendy’s, etc. While franchises still exist, they seem to really be a shell of who they once were. Some franchises have even taken on the business strategy of “We will survive until I retire.” with no thoughts of what will be left afterwards. Meanwhile freelancers, entrepreneurs, startups, and online services have grown exponentially. They may not have the most money and power (yet) but there has been a change that has occured. One of which the results have yet to be fully seen.

10. We Continue to Grow Our generation puts up with a LOT. Our unemployment/underemployment rate is massive (though this is usually brushed over with statistics). The lives we’ve worked 20-some years for seems to crumble away from us. We’re forced to live 4-8 people per house due to the ridiculous prices of housing. We often work numerous jobs just to earn enough to get by. We get blamed for being entitled, lazy, and killing industries like fabric softener. (Wish I was kidding on that).... And yet we still live.... We adapt... We apply what we’ve learned.

We can’t afford hotels, so we go AirBnB. We can’t afford designer clothes so we go to Etsy or Amazon. We can’t get funding for medical conditions or emergencies so we help each other through GoFundMe, Patreon, or more... We are tenacious. We are adaptive. We don’t give up!

It’s easy to feel like we’re powerless in this world. We don’t have much money. The news stations rail on us all the time as the world’s biggest mistake. We’re forced to work jobs we don’t want for pay that barely keeps us going... It’s easy to feel powerless, weak, forgotten.... But look back on what we’ve done... this is just a small portion, I’m sure you can think of more! These are the things the history books will remember. These are the things our children and grandchildren will one day ask us about.

We Are World Shakers!

#Millennials #gen x #gen y #gen z #history #economy #technology #economics #millennial problems

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

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Humans are Space Aliens “Your Planet”

Some of you guys wanted to learn a little more about Krill and his planet. It was a difficult subject to write about, and I think I missed a lot, but this might as well be a start.

As always questions, comments critiques, ideas, messages, and prompts are all welcome. I try to write the stuff that is most requested, so if you want something written its best to request it :)

Descent into atmosphere was as smooth as ever, the atmosphere parted around them under the light of the constant sun-stream. The transport ship rattled maybe once or twice upon entry passing through the rare pockets of cloud that dotted an otherwise open sky. Krill sat buckled into his seat next to Captain Vir, who sat next to a large duffle bag reading a magazine.

All around the transport ship, eyes stared at the strange pair, wary of the towering human. This wouldn’t be the first time humans ventured onto his planet, in fact this would be the captain’s second time, but this would be the first time any outsider would be experiencing an extended stay. Shore leave had come sooner than expected, ad with human colonies cropping up further and further away from earth, it became only fair to let those members of the crew home for a holiday.

Since captain Vir had nowhere to stay, Krill had offered to show the man his planet in more detail. The man seemed pleased and had readily agreed to the idea. The captain had at first wondered if Krill wanted to go back after they had treated him so poorly the last time. Krill honestly did not understand the question, despite their treatment, they were still his species, and he had a duty to return, to be connected, and besides, next to the captain, he wouldn’t seem half so intimidating.

They exited the shuttle near the location of Krill’s hatching, he could see the distant incubation building from atop the landing pad. He ushered the captain follow him quickly, the man got distracted very easily, and he was notoriously hard to rein in. As they went they paused crowds and drew staring. Krill made his way up to the receiving window allowing them to run identification on him.

“Krill, will you be returning to your duties I the surgical suite during your stay.” Vrul asked.

“Yes, of course.”

The Vrul craned his neck upwards at Vir, “And will your friend be staying as well?

Krill nodded.

“Where would he like to apply his services?”

Krill looked up at Vir, and Vir looked down at Krill a confused expression on his human face. Krill wondered for a long moment about that. He knew the man was a pilot, but from what he understood about the human ideas of flying, no one would really appreciate his skill, “Um…. Demolition….. He’s very good at that.

The Vrul gave a curt gesture and sent them off.

Vir looked down, “What was that about?”

Krill looked up at him, “The nature of our species is communal, as long as we are here, we work together for the common good; everyone has their strengths and their abilities, and must apply them for the common good. While I am here I must provide my services, and as a guest you must too.”

Vir tapped a finger on his chin, “Sounds like communist propaganda but ok.”

“What?”

“What?” the human waved him off, “Never mind, I can destroy things, that’s cool.”

“I thought you might think that.” Krill muttered

They walked down the ramp and onto the city street krill pointing out things as they passed by, “That is the seat of the populous council, every seventh cycle we are expected to meet there to make decisions for the city, all of us, it’s mandatory.”

“You have mandatory democracy?”

“Yes? You may not like it, but our system of government is far more effective than yours.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my freedom.” The man grinned at Krill who just shook his head.

“Over there are the incubation chambers, ever year after mating season, all the eggs are housed there.”

The man paused, “Uh, Krill, I know that this is us a weird question to ask but….. I don’t think I ever asked if you were you know…. Male or female….. I suppose I probably should have.”

Krill waved it off, “My species doesn’t find those things as important as humans, mostly because we don’t have genders in your sense of the word. Under certain circumstances any member of my species can lay or fertilize an egg. However laying an egg takes much more time, so my work doesn’t allow for it.”

“Wow…. That’s…. that’s really weird…. So you don’t have…. Families?” The human seemed rather uncomfortable at that thought

“Traditionally we never did, but upon meeting other species we were introduced with new ways of doing things. Some of our number choose to raise their own offspring and many choose the traditional method. Either way children tend to be raised by the community.

“How many…. Children do you have?”

Krill gave a small shrug, “I don’t know, could be a hundred could be none, I’m not sure. Thousands of eggs are laid and thousands of them are fertilized, but it take the perfect conditions to hatch and even more perfect conditions to keep the young from dying. We lose hundreds every season, and that’s why many of us choose to do things the traditional way. It’s less painful if you don’t know which one was yours. However, after that you can petition to keep one of the grubs and raise them to maturity, generally everyone who has a job that allows for it must participate. Since my job is so demanding, I have never been asked, and have never asked.”

They stepped off the ramp into the street the human staring at him in wonder and confusion, “So I don’t get it, do you or do you not have families.”

“Depends on your definition. If you are talking about like your family, than you have to understand that my species does whatever makes sense and is logical for the survival of the species. Other species in the galaxy have families like yours, so it is logical to conclude that there is some benefit to doing it that way, so SOME of us follow that line. Others raise children by themselves with the help of the community, and sometimes you pare off with someone you like. Personally, I was raised by two such Vrul, and, as for you definition, I have a few other siblings.”

“So…. With all of that being said, does that mean you…. You could potentially have kids with any of these people.” He motioned around to the passing Vrul and their staring eyes.

Krill laughed heartily like the idea was absurd drawing a few eyes as they moved on, “No, no. As you know our species needs the perfect incubation to grow and thrive, however, there are subperfect incubation that allows for someone to be born, but allows some…. Deficits, most of these tend to be cognitive. Some are no more than children, others cannot understand abstract concepts and so on. Luckily for me, I remain a member of the class with four functioning cortical zones which makes me a member of a higher class. Due to the genetic likelihood of cortical malformation, they generally encourage members of my class to produce offspring together.”

Vir seemed to shuffle uncomfortably, “That seems kind of messed up, that seems like discrimination against the disabled, don’t you think.”

Krill shook his head, “to the contrary, each level is as important to society as the others. None can function without the duties performed by the others, however you need abstract concepts to build rocket ships. Though, unlike humans they are not treated less, and have the same pull in our council as anyone should.”

They passed by another set of staring eyes. Vir scratched the top of his head, “Wow, I never knew that about you guys…. Kind of makes me sound like a jerk doesn’t it?”

He paused, “Speaking of things that will make me sound like a jerk, is there anything I should avoid doing while I’m here.”

Krill snorted, “Probably avoid being human.”

The man snorted and nudged him playfully to the side, “You know what I mean, anything particularly rude or offensive I should avoid doing.”

Krill gave a sigh, “Captain, by virtue of being you, you are bound to scare someone absolutely sh*tless, but if they use logic like all of us do, than they will know that you can hardly help it. For me, on the other hand, it is quite rude to act against anything that is not species specified. The more human mannerisms that I pick up, the more I am forced to regulate my behavior.”

Captain Vir went silent just then, he felt bad for Krill, he didn’t mean to make him something that he wasn’t supposed to be, but what was he supposed to do? He took it as his only real option to watch and learn about this new planet. He had been here before, but now he was more fully able to drink the whole thing in. The sky was a soft pastel orange fading towards pink near the horizon. The ground around was awash strange white stone that glittered with crystal. Distantly he could hear the sound of rushing water, watching as a strange blue grey plant waved languidly from the distance. The distant mountains were a faded purple color.

In the sky two moons glittered.

It was a shocking and strange new world unlike earth in many ways. Compared to earth it was particularly vanilla for a habitable planet. Its weather conditions were downright affable 459 days out of its 461 day solar year. The creatures there were almost as affable as the weather. Due to the climate the idea of competition so rife on a planet like earth was almost nonexistent here. For every ecological niche there tended to be one primary filler of that category, or several who performed different variations of the same thing, never crossing paths.

As for the Vrul, they were also very affable. They had no definable religion as far as Vir could tell other than science and logic. Their society revolved about being a good citizen of the community. Everyone had their job and their place, and everyone was expected to contribute, anyone who could not follow those rules was quickly ostracized.

The buildings were made from the same crystalline stone that lined the streets, though they separated themselves form their surroundings with delicate architecture. The buildings didn’t tend to reach to high towards the sky usually one or two floors. As far as he could tell, transit consisted mainly of floating or walking, anything out of the city was completely public transit.

They didn’t have any form of currency mostly subsisting upon the idea that the most logical way to live involved everyone contributing equally to the societal good. It was a society that humans had been striving for, and failing for, for thousands of years always corrupted by greed. Communal ideations broke down in favor of greed, and the only way to survive in this world was by way of capitalistic ventures.

But there was an undertone to all of this, an ostracism towards the different, and the unknown or the unorthodox. It was subtle, but poignant. Krill may not have seen it, but he was a definite example. Perhaps that’s why Vir was here, because it made Krill stand out less in comparison. But it wasn’t just his human-ness that set him apart, there was something different, something that had already been there, something that had made him leave his planet to become a trauma surgeon and make the illogical decision to join a human ship.

It seemed interesting, that a curiosity, so common in humans, could be so rare in other species.

On this perfect planet, with its logical structure, communal goals, and perfect weather, they were missing something quite profound, love, companionship, joy?

Because you can only find light in the dark, so you can only see joy compared to pain.

Krill was different, Vir didn’t know how to put it into words, but Krill was surprisingly human in his inhumanity, and that made him special.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space australians #earth is space australia

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