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harriet13lovely · 7 months

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Lola- HS

Part 1- 6-7k words

Lola's whole purpose in life was to be the wife of the Don of the biggest Mafia in the world. Ever since she was a little girl she was told about Harry and how they would make the perfect couple when they got married later on life. Lola didn't know much about Harry himself, she had only heard story's about him and had had dinners with him and his family ever since she turned 15 four years ago. They were never allowed to talk outside of these dinners though, Lola was still too young and Harry was already too busy for anything apart from work.

Since she was to be Harry's wife, his family had always provided for her. They made sure she was placed in the best schools and had all the best pieces of clothing and makeup. Harry's mom would take her shopping once a month for anything she could want. Once she turned 16 she was given a credit card that was funded by Harry, it had no limit so she could spend as much money as she wanted. Lola rarely ever used it, her parents gave her money too so she found no interest in spending Harry's money.

Lola was as of three hours ago officially 19. She had been awoken by knock on the door at around 8:30. It was her mother and father, they had breakfast and a boquete of flowers with them. After congratulating her they talked for a while as she ate breakfast. At 9 her parents left her to begin getting ready, Lola took a shower and did her skincare. Once she was done she walked out of her room and took a look out her window. Her party was being set up outside in the garden of her house. She could see her mother talking with the party organizers and one of the contractors that had provide all the utilities.

"Come in." She said after hearing a knock on the door. She turned around as the door opened and found her little brother standing there. He was still in his pjs and looked like he had just woken.

"What's up?" Lola asks him but gets no response, instead he walks over to her and wraps his arms around her waist. He was only 8 and was incredibly affectionate. Still too innocent to the world they lived in.

"Happy Birthday." He says and looks up at her.

"Thank you." She bends down and picks him up. Even though he was getting bigger and taller by the day, to Lola he was still a baby. She was 11 when he was born and she very much saw him as her own kid. He wrapped his arms around her neck and legs around her waist.

"I heard that you're leaving." He whispers.

"Who told you that?"

"Dad was talking about it over the phone. I don't want you to leave." He hugs her tighter and it makes Lola want to cry, the last thing she wants to do is to leave him alone. But she truly has no choice, Harry would most likely propose to her at the party and she would have to say yes. After that she would have to move in with Harry and plan the wedding with him.

"I won't lie and say that I'm not leaving because I am. But I will be here every weekend with you, mom, and dad. You won't even notice I'm gone." She walks over to her bed and sits the both of them down.

"It won't be the same." James says and begins crying.

"James, I will always be your big sister and you will always be my baby brother. I'm always gonna be here for you Jamsie." Lola wipes the tears that where falling from James's eyes.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Lola played him a movie on her TV while she got ready for the day. She had changed right after her shower into cream shorts and a navy blue jumper. She let James "do" her makeup in hopes it would cheer him up. And it did, he became a giggling mess after smudging a lot of blush all over her nose.

"Lo, Emma is here." Her mom said as she opened the door to her bedroom. Emma was Harry's mom, she had been involved in Lola's life since she was a baby. She cleaned off the blush from her nose and put on her shoes.

Lola walked downstairs to the living room and found Emma sitting there talking with the organizer of her party who looked rather stressed. She felt bad for the man, the pressure he must feel from her mom and Emma must be getting to him.

"There's the birthday girl!" Emma stands up and wraps her arms around the girl. "Happy birthday, Lola."

"Thank you."

"We need to get some last minute confirmation on the music you would like to be played." The organizer said and pointed to her notebook. Lola took a seat next to him and begin to list off some songs she would for sure want to be played. They spent half an hour doing that, after that she was directed outside to personally inspect the decorations in the tables and the food that would be served later on.

"Harry is coming, right?" She asked Emma as they where watching people put the flower arrangements together.

"Of course, he wouldn't miss it for the world." Emma gives her an encouraging smile and wraps her arm around her shoulder.

Lola continues to supervise the whole set up with Emma until she is sent off for lunch at 12. She eats some pasta and chicken and watches some TV with James and her dad. At 1:30 the crew that was doing her makeup and hair arrived to begin to get her ready for the evening. She would be having two different outfit changes, a pale yellow minie dress and a baby pink long flowy dress. The shorter dress would be used during the cocktail/ day side of her party, the longer dress would be used during the night time of the party. Both of these dresses had been chosen in between Lola, Emma, and Lola's mother.

The party would officially start at 5 but they wanted Lola to be ready by 4 so she could take pictures with her family before the party. Her hair was curled into beach waves and her makeup was mostly glittery and with soft pastel tones in the corner of her eyes. Her heels are plain white and had some pearls on the straps.

"You look perfect." Emma says as he looks at her. Emma was now changed and ready to go for the party too. Her blonde hair was put into a half up half down style and her sage green dress looked absolutely stunning on her.

"Thank you, you look amazing too."

"There is someone for you downstairs."

Emma had a cheeky smile on her face so that could only mean one thing, Harry. Lola walks down the stairs and in fact finds Harry in the living room talking to her father. He was wearing a dark blue, almost black, suit with a loose white shirt underneath. He had his usual cross necklace dangling around his neck and a pair of black sunglasses pulling back his curls. He stands up from his seat and walks towards her.

"Happy Birthday." He says to her and gives her a quick hug. Even with heels she was still shorter than him so she had to look up at him a bit to meet his eyes.

"Thank you."

"You two look so cute together." Anna, one of Lola's younger cousin's, said. This earned her a slap on the arm by her mother but that didn't take the smile off of her face. Harry's and Lola's "love" was something that people in the mafia looked up to. They were meant to be the perfect match, this was at least what they showed to the others. In reality, Lola didn't even know Harry's favorite color or ice cream flavor.

"Can I take some pictures of you two outside?" A man with a camera asked them. Harry nods and leads Lola to the garden.

Lola stands beside Harry as they take pictures. His right arm wrapped around her waist. They had never been this close before, the most they ever got to was sitting next to each other during dinner. They take a couple more pictures before Harry leaves to take a business call. Lola took some solo pictures and with her family before heading back inside so she can welcome the guests as they come in.

Lola doesn't see Harry again until dinner is served at 7. Harry took a seat next to her in the head table where only close family was sitting at.

"I like this dress more." He whispers into her ear, she was now wearing her pink dress. The dress made her look like one of those fairytale princess and Harry really liked that. Lola smiles up at him, she was hoping he would like her dresses.

"I'm glad." Harry shifted on his seat and that's when she saw it. Inside his pocket was a small white box, he really was going to do it that night. Lola felt her heart stop for a minute, she had been expecting it but now that it was really happening it scared her quite a bit. Once they got engaged the wedding would be close to come and as soon as that happens they would begin to try for children. Her duty was to provide Harry and the mafia with an heir. Same way that Emma provided Harry as heir she would too. It was all dawning on her too quickly to the point she begin to feel like she was suffocating. Her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear and the room felt too warm for her comfort.

"I'm going to use the restroom." She stands up and walks towards the house quickly. She manages to get to her room before she fully starts to hyperventilate. She sits on the edge of her bed and holds onto her mattress. She hadn't even noticed she was crying until a knock on the door took her out of her trance.

"I'll be out in a sec." She says to whoever was outside.

"It's Harry." He doesn't wait for any sort of response before opening the door and walking into the room. He had never been in her room before so this was a completely new environment for him. She had a lot of posters and vinyls all over her walls. He also noticed that the dominating colors where white and pink.

"Oh, hey." Lola says as she wipes her tears.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, I'm just being stupid."

"You're not, and I can tell that there is something wrong."

"I saw it, the... the box."

"Oh." Harry doesn't really know how to respond, he thought it was to be expected for him propose that day.

"Can I see it?" She asks, Harry hums and takes the box out of pocket. He opens it before passing it Lola. The stone on the ring was large and shiny, something that would definitely make Lola stand out.

"It's beautiful." Lola says to Harry.

"If you don't want to get engaged today I can switch the date." Harry tells her but Lola immediately shakes her head and gives him the ring back.

"No, it's okay. We should head back down." Lola tells him and stands up. Harry follows after her as they walk downstairs. Right as they are about to walk to the garden Harry grabs Lola by the arm and pulls her back.

"You sure you want to do this?" Harry asks her.

"Yeah."

They walk back into the party, Lola putting on a big smile and Harry going back to his usual stoic face. They eat dinner and chat with the people around them, Lola stands up and begins to walk around the tables making sure that everyone is having a good time. At around 8:30 everyone was finished with their dinners. Lola was talking with one of her cousins back at her original table when Harry stood up to make a toast and called her over to the dance floor. It was go time.

"I would like to make this toast to congratulate my girlfriend on her birthday. You deserve the world and more Lola. I hope we have many more birthdays like this together. Because of that I would like to ask you something." Harry got on one knee and pulled out the box from his jacket. "Would you like to marry me?"

"Yes!" Lola almost yelled before jumping up and down. She was told by her mother to overreact if she had to but to look as happy as possible. Harry stood up and put the ring on her finger before pulling her into a hug. The guests all clapped and cheered for them.

Lola and Harry walked around the party together and accepted all the good wishes they received from members of the Mafia. They decided on cutting the cake after that so they could really party for the rest of the night. Her cake was of multiple layers and pink with gold stars all over them. The candles where pink with gold swirls and there was a candle in the number 19 in the middle. They all sang happy birthday for her and Lola was told to make her wish. She wished for her future marriage to go well, if it did, by her next birthday she should be pregnant or with her baby already.

Once everyone ate their cake they all took to the dance floor. Harry of course refused Lola's attempts at pulling him to the dance floor, saying that he didn't know how to dance as the main excuse. Lola however knew that was a lie, she had seen him years ago at parties when he was in his late teens/early twenties and he was always dancing with someone. Harry watched Lola and the rest of the members dancing for the next couple hours. Enjoying a few drinks here and there as a form of distraction.

"You sure you don't want to dance?" Lola asks Harry as she takes a seat next to him. Harry looked bored and she was just trying to make him feel more welcomed into the party.

"No, I think I'm gonna head out. Have a couple meetings early tomorrow." He says and stands up.

"Already? It's barely midnight." Lola tells him, was he really that bored?

"Work's my priority and like I said I have early meetings tomorrow."

"By meetings you mean drug deals or gun trafficking? I'm glad to know my birthday means that little to you." Lola says with a scoff.

"I would have expected you to have better manners considering how much money I have spent on your education." He says and begins to walk away. Lola is now feeling the bravery of the alcohol and decides to go after him.

"I would have expected you to care more about me since I'm your future wife after all."

"I do care." They where farther out in the garden and right outside her house.

"Whatever makes you sleep better at night."

"Lola I'm not going to argue with you right now."

"I wish you would."

"Why would you? Do you want to be on my bad side, is that it? Or are you just that much of an attention seeking whore that any sort of attention makes you feel good?" Harry says and gets up close to Lola's face. Lola however stands her ground, keeping eye contact the whole time.

"I just want to get to know you."

"We can do that some other time, I really gotta go now." He walks away once again, this time Lola doesn't follow him.

….

Lola and Harry had managed to avoid each other for a week before they where forced back together. Emma had suggested they visited Harry after having lunch together so they could begin talking about some details of the wedding. Lola had tried to convince Emma of not going but after some insisting on Emma's part, Lola gave in.

"Good evening." Collin, Harry's assistant, said as the elevator opened. Harry had a whole floor to himself and his close people. The building had over 50 floors, each directing a different branch of Harry's "business".

"Mr Styles will be with you in a second. Is there anything I could get you to drink?"

"Can I get some tea?" Emma asks him politely.

"I'll just do some water." Lola tells him and he nods before walking inside a different room. Lola watches him leave and come back with the two drinks. She grabs her water and thanks him. Collin walks back to his desk but stands back up after a beeping sound is heard.

"Mr Styles is ready to see you." He opens the big black door that leads to Harry's office. Emma walks ahead of her and sets her drink down before hugging Harry.

"Good evening, darling." Emma tells her son softly.

"Good evening, mum." Harry hugs her back slightly. Harry looks up and finds Lola standing just a couple feet from where he was. She was wearing a black turtleneck, white miniskirt and black platform boots. A black leather purse hanging from her right arm. Her hair was down and mostly straight. She looked stunning even in a simple outfit. The ring was however the most noticeable thing in the outfit, it was shiny and large.

"Lola." He said with a nod of his head.

"Hey." She takes a seat on the couch area in Harry's office. Emma walks over, pulling Harry along, and sits down in front of her.

"We are here to talk about the wedding." Emma says excitedly, Harry looks at Lola and they make eye contact. They keep it for a couple seconds before Lola looks away.

"You guys can choose the stuff, my only request would be that it's held in my house." Harry tells them.

"That's it?" Lola asks him.

"Yeah, it can all be to your choosing. It's supposed to be your day after all."

"It's not just mine, it's our day. Our wedding day at that." Lola was questioning if he even wanted to slightly get married at all.

"I know that, but the decorations can be of your choosing. If there is any input to be given from my side my mother or sister can choose it."

"So you really don't care about anything?"

"I'm gonna leave you two for a minute." Emma stands up and walks out the office.

"It's not that I don't care, I just think it's better if you take care of it." Harry says as soon as his mom closes the door to his office. Lola rolls her eyes and looks as far away from him as she could.

"No, you just don't care." She stares blankly.

"Okay, Lola. You can think whatever you would like. If that's all you were here for you may leave."

"Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?!" Lola yelled.

"I'm not, this is just the way our marriage will work. I'm sorry if this is not what you wanted, trust me it's not what I wanted either." At that Lola felt tears brim her eyes, she never really thought he would outright state his dismay against the arrangement.

"Then choose another wife." She tells him and walks out of the room. Purposefully slamming his door in the process. Lola feels Emma following after her to the elevator. Once they got in and the door close Emma spoke up,

"I'm so sorry, darling." Emma hugged her side. "Know that I will be talking to him very seriously later tonight."

"Please don't, If he wants to move on with our marriage he can talk to me on his own. I don't want you to have to be a mediator between us."

"It's truly no bother but I respect your wishes. Just know that I will always have your back no matter what, I was once in your position after all."

"Thank you, it truly means a lot." Lola told the woman and hugged her tight. She doesn't know what she would do without Emma.

"Of course, darling. Let's get you home now, I think you've had enough for today."

Emma dropped Lola off at her house and they said their goodbyes.

"I'm home!" She yelled as she walked through the door and dropped her bag in the couch.

"Lo!" James yelled and ran towards her. Lola bend down and picked him up spinning him around the air.

"I missed you."

"I missed you more, Jamesie. How was football?" Lola asked him and placed him back down on the ground.

"Good! My coach said I am improving so much. I might be getting moved up with the older boys." James explained as they walked towards the kitchen together.

"That's amazing, I'm so proud of you. Do you want a snack?" Lola asked him and he hummed.

"Strawberries and Nutella?" He asked with puppy eyes.

"Sure, but don't tell mom."

"My lips are sealed." He 'zipped' his mouth and threw away the 'key'.

Once she made him his snack she guided him through a bit of his homework before going upstairs to get changed. Her outfit was getting quite uncomfortable and there was not point in wearing it anymore since she wasn't going out. She changed into a pajama bodysuit with long sleeves. It was one of her personal favorites, mainly because the patter was of little pink flowers. She washed of her makeup and brushed her hair. Once she was done she put on her Ugg boots and walked down to the living room.

"Almost done?" She asked James who hummed.

"Just have math left, it's what I'm working on."

"Confused or doing good?"

"I'm good."

Once James was done with his homework they went upstairs to the family room and watched some movies together as they played UNO. At around 7 their parents came back home and they all ate dinner together. Lola helped the maids wash some of the dishes and clean up the table after being dismissed from dinner. It was a bit of a normal occurrence for her to do so. She enjoyed talking to the girls who worked at her house, they where all quite a bit older than her but they where still pretty close. She was talking with Brooke, who was 25 and the youngest of the maids, when another one of the maids interrupted them.

"Mrs Lola, there is someone here for you."

"Who is it?" She asked as she dried her hands off and took off the apron she had been wearing.

"Mr Styles, he was quite persistent on seeing you." The maid responded her in a dreamy voice, it seemed that everyone was in love with Harry.

"Wish me luck." Lola told Brooke who gave her a thumbs up. She walked out to the living room and was shocked at what she was seeing. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a large orange sweater, and off white tennis shoes. She had never seen him look so normal in all the time she had known him. If she saw him on the street she would have never guessed he was the don of a mafia. To add more to the strangeness he had a bouquet of pink roses with white baby breath and a couple other kinds of pink flowers.

"Harry?"

"Hey." He felt his breath be knocked out when he looked up at her. She looked adorable and comfortable in her pjs.

"These are for you." He walked over to her and handed her the flowers.

"Thank you. Sophia?" The maid came out of the kitchen and waited for what she was going to be asked to do. "Could you do me the favor of putting this in water, please?"

"Of course, Mrs Lola." Lola handed her the flowers.

"Thank you." Lola waited until Sophia was back in the kitchen before turning back to Harry.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping we could talk, in private." Harry told her and motioned towards the kitchen. He was sure the maids where overhearing the whole conversation.

"I trust them, but we can go to the library if you'd like."

"I was hoping we could go to your bedroom, it's a more familiar environment to you." Harry explained and Lola gave him a strange look.

"Uhm, sure. It's this way." She led him upstairs and to her room. She walked in, Harry behind her, and took a seat on her bed.

"I'm gonna close the door if that's okay."

"Sure." She begin to fiddle with one of her pillows as she watched Harry close the door and take a seat in-front of her.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"About what you said earlier, about me getting another wife." He explained and Lola felt even more confused then she was before.

"I'm not doing an open marriage if that's what you want." Lola said sternly causing Harry to immediately shake his head.

"No, it's just- if you weren't to be my wife, what would you want to do? Like a career or something."

"I'm not sure, perhaps study fashion design. In Milan or Paris, it was my childhood dream." She continued to pick on her pillow and avoid as much eye contact with Harry as she could.

"I can make that happen for you." Harry stated simply.

"How? I'm supposed to marry you in a few months and give you a kid."

"I would call off the engagement." Lola looked at him like he was a ghost.

"As great as that sounds, we can't do that. I can't do that to my family."

"I can, I am the don. I can change the rules if I want to, and don't worry about your family. They will still be under my protection for as long as they live. Including you too of course."

"But-"

"I can and will find a way around anything. But I will only break it off if you want to. I won't ruin your life like that, Lo."

"I- I don't know. I guess Paris sounds nice but I'm not sure I want that."

"I know it's hard but I don't want you to be miserable with me. And from what I can tell we aren't very compatible. Perhaps it would be for the best, you deserve a husband that lives up to your dreams, that will treat you like the princess you are." Harry places a hand on her leg and pats it. Lola felt a couple tears fall from her eyes.

"Okay." She simply says.

"Okay what?"

"We can break off the engagement." She wipes her tears and looks outside through her windows.

"Are you sure?" He asks her and Lola hums before removing his hand from her leg and standing up.

"Lola, don't leave please." He said as he watched her walk towards her bathroom.

"I just need a minute." Harry stands up and follows behind her. He watched her rest her hands on the sink and look at her face in the mirror. More tears where falling from her eyes every passing second. Harry couldn't just stand there and watch so he did the next best thing. He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her. This just cause Lola to cry more, in all honesty she didn't know why she was crying. She didn't love him but a part of her wanted for him to love her. She had this image in her head where once they where married they would both fall in love with each other, and just like that their fairytale would begin.

"Shhh, it's okay." He held her up and rubbed his arm up and down softly.

"I just- I- I don't know what I'm supposed to say or do."

"Sit down." He sat her down on the toilet and bended down in front of her.

"It's okay, just breath. In and out, in and out. You're doing so good." He held her hand until she started to breath more normally.

"Why don't you want to marry me?" She asked with a little sob at the end.

"It's for the best, Lola. Like I said, we are not compatible."

"So it's my personality?"

"It's not just you, it's me too. We clash all the time, you won't be happy with me darling." He ran his fingers through her hair softly.

"And you won't be happy with me either."

"I won't." It breaks Harry's heart to say it and Lola's heart to hear it.

"I'm sorry." She said and looked at him in the eyes for the first time.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I do, my duty was to be everything you would want and I failed. I failed you and everyone else."

"You didn't fail me or anyone. You are a lovely girl, Lola. And I'm sure you will be a lovely bride one day but it just can't happen with me." He explained to her in the softest voice he could muster. He hadn't realized how fucked up this whole thing must be for her. He was taking away her whole birth purpose without any warning.

"Can I ask you something?" Lola asked him.

"Anything."

"Is there someone else that you are interested in? I totally understand if you are, I would rather know now."

"There's no one Lola, you've been the closest I've gotten to any sort of formal relationship."

"That's a bit weird, don't you think? I mean we barely know each other, I don't even know your favorite color."

"Orange and blue, those are my favorites. Thats why I'm wearing them right now."

"Pink and gold are mine."

"I sort of guessed that one by looking at your room." Harry laughed and Lola rolled her eyes playfully at him.

"It is kind of obvious." She admitted and Harry nodded. They didn't say anything for a couple seconds, the atmosphere felt warm and comfortable to the both of them.

"I should go now." Harry stood up and extended his hand for Lola to take.

"Okay."

"Come on, I'm not leaving you in the toilet." Lola took his hand and stood up. Harry lead her to her bed and lifted up the comforter so she could get underneath the covers.

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, go to bed soon."

"I will."

"And I will let my parents and your parents know that we are not getting married anymore."

"No, can we tell them together? Your parents have been in my life for so long, I love them so much too. I want to be able to tell them too."

"Okay, I'll organize a dinner for Friday. Invite our families and a couple close friends."

"Yeah, that works."

"I'll call you tomorrow for some other details. Take care of yourself, Lola. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Harry walked out of her room and closed the door behind him. As soon as he made it to the stairs he felt his legs give out on him a little. He took a seat on the top step and rests his head on his hands. He felt so oddly empty, even though he didn't feel much for Lola, apart of a small attachment, letting her go stung his heart. She had been a comfort to him his whole life even though they had never had talked at all. When life got bad he always knew he would have her at the end, they where meant for one another. Now that was done and over with. No more Harry and Lola, the best match the mafia had ever seen, everything had been perfect. Until now.

"Are you a robber?" He heard the voice of a little boy behind him.

"No, do I look like one?" He asked the young boy.

"No, you look more like a pumpkin." The boy giggled and Harry chuckled

"You are James, right? Lola's little brother?"

"Yeah." He took a seat on the stairs next to Harry.

"Are you her boyfriend?"

"Yeah." He decided it would be better to not confuse the little boy on all the small details.

"Can I have a room in your house once you get married?"

"Sure, but why do you want a room?"

"So I can stay there all the time, have sleepovers like I do all the time with Lola now." James explained to Harry.

"I will make sure you have a room all for yourself then."

"Thank you, that works as great bribery to me so I officially like you now. I hate you for taking Lola away but I like you for getting me a room. I will like you even more if you get me a new LEGO."

"New LEGO, got it. Have a good night James."

"Good night, Lola's boyfriend." James stood up and went back to his room.

Once walking down the stairs he made his way outside. His car was waiting for him in the front of the house. His car was red Ferrari and one of his personal favorites of his collection. The drive back to his house was of about 20 minutes, he used to be closer when he lived in his parent's house. His mom had advices him he bought a house close to Lola in case of an emergency but he had refused. At the time he was still incredibly against the idea of marrying Lola. He was only 24 and felt disgusted by the idea of marrying someone. Now that he was older he hoped he had listened to his mom, it would have been easier to keep and eye on Lola and his family. They where under his protection after all, he would rather die than have any of them be hurt because of him.

He drove up the long driveway, saying hi to his guards in the process. He walked inside the house and headed to his room right away. He wasn't in the mood to eat dinner or do any work. He took off his shoes and pants before laying down on his bed. He rolled around a bit before finding a comfortable position. Somehow he ended up with a pillow hugged to his chest. Harry buried his head deep into the pillow and closed his eyes. He would never admit it to anyone but he thought of Lola, the way she would feel as they cuddled during the night. She would play with his hair and he would hold her so close to him he would be able to feel every inch of her on him. If she was pregnant he would be rubbing at her tummy all night making sure that their baby was safe. That thought on its own sent him down a spiral. But now that can't happen, he had pushed her away too far this time. Their future was simply nonexistent.

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

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A Memory Lives On

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Sad...?

Author's Note: I kinda forgot Simon's entire family was murked on Christmas Eve so...here's sad and kind of happy -Thorne

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Spades always has a ridiculous amount of money. Everyone is at an understanding that it’s from her job as an international assassin, but they still can’t help but wonder how there just seems to be a never-ending flow of funds. That being said, they’ve never exactly questioned the extra supplies and protype weapons that mysteriously appear in the base for their whims. And the gifts she gives are stellar too.

Last year on Gaz’s birthday she bought two thousand dollars’ worth of Lego sets of the Death Star and the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars. Gaz cried. He literally opened the wrapping paper and cried for a solid five minutes because he had been so happy.

Another year she gave Soap a week’s vacation for his birthday, a full week rented at Blair Castle in Highland Perthshire. The entire castle to himself, full service from the best cooks and servants’ money could buy. Soap came back more Scot than he’d ever been.

One birthday, she’d given Price six boxes of rare cigars, three boxes for each brand of Royal Danish Cigars and Arturo Fuentes Opus X. Everyone had to admit that they’d never seen the Old Man so damned relaxed while smoking a cigar whilst reclining in a velvet chair with a bourbon in his hand.

And yet, for Ghost, she never gave him gifts. But then again, he never celebrated his birthdays to begin with, so there wasn’t ever a need. Ghost didn’t do parties like the others did. Didn’t want cake and beer and junk food and to relax. Ghost worked on his birthdays. It wasn’t a special day to him. It was just another Tuesday or Friday. Still though, he respected Spades for not spending lavish amounts of money on him like she did the others. It wasn’t worth it; he wasn’t worth it.

It does surprise him however, to see her at his door when he opens it at six, already awake before then, but he’d finished paperwork in the meantime.

She smiles calmly, eyes a telling tale she has something planned. “Good morning, Simon,” she greets. “I do believe a Happy Birthday is in order for our resident phantom.”

He grunts in response and waits for her to move—she doesn’t.

“Price has already cleared us for leave today and I’ve something for you. Would you mind accompanying me?”

Now he’s curious, suspicious, but more so curious. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always do, Simon,” she replies with a tut. “But I would enjoy your presence if you came along. It is a gift for you.”

Ghost lets out a sigh, but motions for her to lead and she does, to the garage where he climbs in the SUV with her and allows her to take him. “Where are we going?” he asks, but the signs on the road are familiar enough that he already knows.

“Manchester. There’s something waiting for us.”

It’s all she says, and the rest of the ride is filled with silence until they pull into the parking lot of The University of Manchester and begin walking across campus.

“Please don’t tell me I’m attending a college class,” he mutters, and she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, indeed we are. A course on morals and how ambiguous they can be during war.” She gives him a look and gestures for him to follow.

There’s a woman standing there outside the doors, and she smiles as the two approach. “Miss Christensen it’s so wonderful to see you.”

Christensen, Spades fake surname she uses, he recognizes.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Mary.” She introduces Ghost. “This is a friend of mine, he’s accompanying me today. His name is Michael.”

Ghost’s lip curls in disgust at the name but he shakes her hand and allows them to lead, wondering what on earth is at the university for him.

Mary leads them into an office, and they sit across from one another; he feels awkward in the confined room, but relaxes as Spades’ hand rests on his forearm. “So,” she starts, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Miss Christensen?”

Spades smiles. “Michael and I were both intrigued on perhaps obtaining more degrees. We came to check out the potential majors and more importantly, the scholarships we could apply for.”

“Oh yes!” Mary chirps and pulls out a folder that Ghost wonders if she has pre-made for visits like these. “We have quite a few. Old ones that have been around for years, and our newest ones that have been in circulation for the last few years.”

“I heard you had a particular new one that showed up. Would you explain that one?”

“Ah, yes, our newer scholarship started by a rather mysterious sponsor.” She pulls out a packet. “The Joseph Riley Foundation.”

Ghost all but freezes at the mention of a name he hasn’t heard in years.

“Our sponsor created the foundation in memory of a young boy who was sadly killed many years ago. His name was Joseph Riley. Grew up right here in Manchester. From what our sponsor told us, he loved jets and wanted to fly one in the army.” She smiles, but it’s full of sadness. “It’s unfortunate he never got to experience it. Still though, his memory lives on here.” She hands the packet to them, and Spades simply gives it to Ghost to look over. “This scholarship works hand in hand with the British Special Air Services, or SAS, and gives students the opportunity to have a job in the SAS when they graduate. As long as they meet the required terms, they join as an officer with a bonus if they graduate above a three grade point average.”

“Specifically, what does the scholarship provide? Is it entitled to specific degree?”

“Indeed. Aviation degrees, specifically those in aviation engineering and maintenance, aeronautical science, and physics.” She seems rather pleased with herself that she knows so much. “Our sponsor supplies endless funds and expertise along with it for this scholarship, it’s perhaps become one of our most coveted scholarships simply because it’s extremely beneficial to the education. Most of our students in those majors have this.”

Spades is content to listen as she rattles on about it, but Ghost is still stuck on the pages of the history of the scholarship, and a photo of a small boy with a face that looks too familiar.

***

By the time the entire tour is done, Ghost is as mentally drained as Spades looks and she bids farewell to Mary as she escorts the two to their vehicle and waves them goodbye as they pull out of the parking lot.

Spades says nothing, content to stay in silence, but Ghost feels like he has to say something, even if he isn’t even sure what to say.

“Why.”

A snort escapes her. “Because typical birthday gifts aren’t your cup of tea.”

“I haven’t thought about Joey in years,” he murmurs, staring out the window. “I can’t bear to.”

“Yes, I imagine it’s not a pleasant memory…the end, at least. He was just a babe, wasn’t he?”

“Five,” Ghost says quietly. “He…had just turned five.”

She sighs deeply but doesn’t offer Ghost the pitied, “Such a horrid shame,” he’s heard before.

“You come here every year on my birthday?”

“Mhm,” she responds. “I visit the science building and interview the students who’ve obtained the scholarship. Make sure it’s being put to good use. And then I cash a very generous multi-million-dollar check to the school for the foundation. Keeps it thriving and sought after.”

Ghost has never kept the memory of his family alive. It died with him that Christmas Eve as the only surviving Riley. But something aches deep in his chest as he imagines his nephew fresh out of basic, ready to travel and be a pilot for the jets he so loved playing with as a babe. He swallows thickly and looks out the window as Manchester fades away. “Thank you, Spades.”

“Happy Birthday, Simon,” she replies instead and turns on the radio, a catchy pop song drowning out the ache in his chest. “I do have one more gift, if you’ll let me spoil you a little.”

Ghost lets out a groan, already drained far too emotionally to do this again. “You know I don’t do gifts.”

“Hush,” she tuts with a disapproving click of her tongue and commands, “Reach behind your seat.”

He does as she says and reaches back and down, grasping what feels like a box; Ghost pulls it to his lap and stares at it. “What is it?”

“Well, perhaps if you open it?”

He ignores the sarcastic jab and carefully removes the tape around the box and opens it. Inside is a smaller box, about twelve inches and he pulls it out, tosses the first box into the backseat, and opens the second. His eyes widen as he stares at the blade resting in the velvet.

“…Wow…” he manages to mutter, and she smirks at the wheel.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, she’s lovely,” he says, taking the knife out to admire it.

“She’s one of a kind too. Made by an old Blackfeet man in the mountains of Montana. One of the best blades men for diamond knives there is.” She reaches over and touches the hilt. “It’s made from a buffalo and carved with protection symbols.”

Ghost twists the knife in his grip, handling it like any other. “It’s just for show, isn’t it?”

“Oh no, sweetheart,” she says. “That knife is one hundred percent battle ready.” Her expression changes. “I had thought about an obsidian blade. Wanted to make a joke about having a knife as black as your heart, but then I figured why waste it when I can get you a knife I know you’ll use. Hence, the diamond knife.”

“It’s really made of diamonds?”

“Indeed. One of the strongest knives you’ll ever find on the face of this earth. It’ll make for quick work of jugulars and aortas.”

Ghost is seemingly satisfied as he stows the knife in the hide sheath and tucks it into his jacket; and she can feel the smirk he has on his face, knowing he’s itching to use it.

“Happy Birthday, Ghost.”

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helly-watermelonsmellinfellon · 2 months

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hi. alot is happening. bumming off wifi rn. i'm copy/pasting someone from a doc i started in libra office with no internet.

A LOT IS HAPPENING BEHIND THE SCENES AND I’M KEEPING TRACK.

The landlady has made excuses to not give us back the security deposit. She keeps having Dave’s boss call him in a foul mood will all kind of threats and accusations of things we supposedly broke/ruined.

1.) On our first night out of there she has already threatened to call the cops on us by claiming that we filled the house with perfume before we left so it’ll hurt her. What happened was we cleaned it because she demanded that it was clean like it supposedly was when we moved in(it wasn’t clean when we moved in). We used that Meyers shit, which has a pretty muted scent and is supposed to be safe for the environment. And it was just basic sweeping, dusting, and then doing up the ktichen and bathroom just to be safe.

2.) Today she has claimed that we filled the washing machine with motor oil to ruin it as punishment before we left. She swears the whole house smells of oil, after screaming about it smelling like too much perfume that was supposedly used to hurt her breathing. Mind you, mom is an asthmatic so we can’t use things with strong scents because it will fuck her up. If we bought oil, it would be for the van cuz that shit is expensive and we wouldn’t be wasting it on HER of all people.

By now, Dave’s boss is aware that she cannot legally withold the deposit and that she’s trying to use the fact that Dave is a dumbass, against him. Mom however, knows the laws, and the lease said nothing about not using scented cleaners OR perfumes, and she does not have a legit reason to not give us the $1600 back. If she took it to court it would not hold. She has to make an itemized list of her claims, Dave has to acknowledge whether or not they are true, and then it goes to court.

fyi I took videos of everything in the house. Bethy’s Room, Mom’s Room, Bathroom, Living Room, Dining Room, Kitchen. All items that were hers, such as the Oven, Fridge, Washer, Dryer, Toilet, Sinks,Tub/Shower, random Recycle Bin, and Wall Hangings. Inside and Out. All details were recorded before we left. I even recorded us leaving at exactly 11:23 PM Feb 15th 2024, and recorded turning the light off.

Let’s see if she comes up with something else tomorrow. ~5:22 PM Feb, 17th 2024

3.)

Feb, 21st 2024:

I’ve just been informed by Bethy that Dave has gone on to further embarrass us. He insists that he’s got all these racing friends(and tbf they promised to help fund a big event to raise money for us 2 years ago, and then ghosted him AND Bethy when they asked what they had to do to help) who will help and has been harassing them for money.

One of them, an active dirt racer, posted a screenshot with Dave’s full name in a text convo begging for cash. And then half a dozen other dirt racers, active and retired, shared that he’s been hitting them up for money too. How he was in people’s posts about random shit beggn for money and then how he got swindled under his own comment by someone mocking him and posting the same thing he did with a small wording change about leaving an abusive house and Dave not only fell for it but then said he’d try to help them.

And now the greater dirt racing community is aware of this and are mocking him and us and some are making inquiries about Bethy’s well-being in connection to Dave. And their wives are having things to say about how he’s a bad parent and she should be taken away from him.

And I need to remind everyone that this is to pay off a blackmailer who is demanding $300 a week now. Bethy got a bit more info out of him on that and it apparently involves a photo. And there are only 2 types of photos that can get him in legal trouble(since he believes he CAN go to jail over this). So either he sent an unsolicited dick pic, which won’t receive much punishment cuz he’s a man who LOOKS white enough. OR it’s child p0rn, and he’s never given that vibe out of everything fucked up with him so I’m not exactly sure.

But he walks around demanding to know ‘did anyone give us money yet’ and people have donated to the GFM and Mealtrain, and I’ve earned about $100 on Ko-Fi recently, and we haven’t told him cuz he won’t use it for anything good.

He’s been bumming extra money off his boss despite knowing that the van need fixing, we need hot water and heat, and several other problems that need fixing ASAP. And his boss is asking questions and is getting nastier and nastier cuz he doesn’t trust Dave’s intentions and shitty lying.

There is no lease. The owner of this house knows Dave's boss and they supposedly came to an agreement that so long as Dave fixes up this house, we can stay here in the mean time for free. They supposedly made an agreement that Dave's boss will buy everything we need to fix the house up and then send all the receipts to the friend who will then pay him back.

And now Dave's boss is getting so fed up with Dave and his wishy-washy behavior and begging for all this money all the time that he does not earn, that he is now saying he never made any such promises. And he refuses to contact the owner of this house at all. There is no recording. No contract. No signatures. No proof that such a discussion went down at all. It is Dave’s word(unreliable) against the boss’(the one with money and power here) word.

Dave has no way to contact the owner either. Cuz he didn’t think that was necessary apparently. He was perfectly fine making his boss the go-between until his boss got angry.

So our ability to even stay here is hanging in the balance.

Can’t wait to see what other bad news I’m gonna find out.

#poverty

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runwayrunway · 10 months

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No. 7 - A jetBlue FaMintly ReBluenion - The Quest for the Bluest Plane

And now, for something completely different.

We're done with jetBlue. I said that and I meant it. But we're not done with this train of thought. This post might not be what you expect. This is a very long post (and I do mean very long), a journey through the history of the US low-cost airline, the cognitive dissonance of the everyman millionaire, the thinly-veiled cynicism of the start-up airline, human kindness squeezed through cracks of a soulless machine which can never stop churning, and above all one man's quest to make the bluest planes he can, and my quest to tell you all if they look bad or not.

Let's begin here: have you ever wondered how new airlines are started? Well, when a wealthy individual or group of individuals love making money very much, they get together and incorporate a publicly traded company, lease a few airplanes, buy some airport slots...

I'll get to the point. Readers, there's somebody I'd like you to meet.

"Never speak to me or my daughter ever again." image: Rick Maiman

This is David G. Neeleman. He's jetBlue's dad. And jetBlue...has siblings.

David Neeleman is a Brazilian-American-Cypriot businessman I would best describe as a serial airline founder. Normally the description 'serial entrepreneur', to me at least, implies flakiness and perpetual failure to get anything properly off the ground, but that's not the case for Neeleman. He's very successful. He's probably some sort of pioneer. I've seen him compared to Howard Hughes. There's really only one stain on his record, one failure to speak of, and it's been over ten years. He has a net worth of 400 million dollars.

image: bloomberg

He's an...interesting person. Very interesting. He was born in Brazil and raised in Utah by a wealthy Mormon family. There are many very funny images of him available through Google. He has ten children, an ADHD diagnosis, no university degree, a whole lot of money, and a weird, weird, weird personal philosophy.

This interview is hard to sum up, but there's clearly a lot going on here. This is a guy who wants so desperately to be down to earth and kind and generous, who thinks he is down to earth and kind and generous, but who just can't take the extra step to realize the implications of the truly obscene wealth involved in venture capital and the inherent contradiction of that with his own ostensible charity and drive towards a fair and comfortable experience for passengers. In a way he seems like he's just too wealthy to really understand what being wealthy means. (It's also an older interview, and I imagine any scrap of genuine convictions he held through cognitive dissonance are now long-gone, given the CoViD thing.) He's also clearly got a chip on his shoulder about being fired from jetBlue. To be fair, having seen what they've done with their livery...I get it.

What else...he's also been CEO of airline booking program Open Skies, was involved with bizjet charter airline Superior Air Charter (then known as JetSuite), is founder and chairman of security company Vizgul for some reason, and is a minority owner of TAP Air Portugal. His nephew Zach Wilson is quarterback for the New York Jets. Oh, and he funded a study to underestimate the prevalence of CoViD. Classy, David. Real classy.

This isn't about David Neeleman. Not really. Not yet, at least. At some point it becomes about him, about his journey, but even then it isn't. When you have 400 million dollars you cease to become a meaningful subject as a person and become a meaningful subject as a distilled effigy of the things which the money came from. I dislike the Tony-Starkification of real people and I refuse to approach him in a way that supports that view of him. His life only matters to me in the context of the airlines he makes, and in what the way he changed over time represents. There's at least one biography out there for anyone particularly interested in the lives of Mormon multimillionaires who take issue with making people die less because they want the line to go up more. He is worth 400 million dollars, which is roughly a million dollars times what I make in one paycheck, delivered every two weeks. He's a creature in a suit who owns an absurd amount of wristwatches, each of which could pay for some sort of surgery for someone out there. There's a bunch of those in the world and this one happens to have made something which eclipses him, and that something is what's been occupying me since Wednesday.

If you're a book-reader - and I recommend being one - I think you're probably better off reading Barbara S. Peterson's "Blue Streak: Inside jetBlue, the Upstart That Rocked an Industry", which talks specifically about jetBlue and the way it pioneered what we now consider normal for aviation in the US. Reading it brought back memories for me of seeing adverts for jetBlue's planes on television, guaranteed to have a TV screen on every seat, and having my little mind which was still scarred by hours upon hours of complete boredom flying all the way from Tokyo to the American Northeast completely blown. Air travel really is unrecognizable from what it was when I was a child, although 20 years feels a lot shorter than it really is when you've lived it. There was no one factor that changed aviation so much in my lifetime, but there were a lot that contributed. ETOPS, 9/11, the recession, geopolitics, gas prices, the internet, legacy airline mega-mergers, privatization...and the jetBlue way of doing things.

It's easy to forget from our current vantage point but low-cost air travel wasn't always like this. Southwest did a lot to pioneer the modern low-cost model but jetBlue is probably the second-biggest player in the airline industry's shift to a culture which tries less to be glamorous and tries more to be fun and approachable (they by no means invented the Fun Airline, but PSA had been gone for 20 years at that point and the market had a gaping hole). They were a huge player in the rise of in-flight entertainment as standard even on low-cost flights. They helped keep aviation going after 9/11, when it was one of the few airlines to actually make money. And jetBlue's story isn't Neeleman's story, even though he founded it. I literally just listed four other major involvements of his, and he hasn't been involved in the business side of jetBlue since 2008. His story involves the founding of four - count em! - other airlines. Let's take a look through them and see if we can spot any patterns.

Morris Air (1992-1994)

sources and further reading: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Never heard of Morris Air? Can't blame you. jetBlue's oldest sibling existed for two years in the 90s. Two years. That's pretty miserable. ValuJet was around for twice that. That said, you're actually probably more familiar with them under a different name: Southwest.

No, Morris Air did not become Southwest. Southwest existed at the time, and it was in fact Southwest which gave birth to Morris Air.

Morris Air was named for its founder, June Morris, who operated one of Utah's largest travel agencies. In 1984 she partnered with a then 25-year-old David Neeleman to launch Morris Air Service. The two had realized something that was about to shake the airline industry: plane tickets were really expensive, and you could charge even less than major budget carriers like Southwest by just buying all the seats on a charter flight and selling them on to customers at an attractively low price. If you did this, even regular working-class people trying to book a trip to Hawai'i or Disneyland could actually afford a plane ticket. This worked successfully, enough that Morris sold off her travel agency, until they incurred a large fine from the DoT for pushing too far and fraudulently passing themselves off as a scheduled airline (which mattered because commercial charters are operated under Part 135 regulations while scheduled services are governed by the much more restrictive Part 121). In response, girlboss queen June Morris and her investie David Neeleman went and started up Morris Air as an actual, genuine, fully certified part 121 carrier, making June Morris the only female jet airline CEO in the US. They operated a fleet of 21 737-300s around the west coast on both scheduled and charter flights, pioneering such cost-cutting measures as e-tickets (wrongly attributed to Southwest, they were actually first used by Morris). This fleet included N75356/N764MA/N697SW, the airframe involved in the TACA 110 incident, which was successfully landed on a levee after losing power in both engines.

image: Richard Silagi

Now, I don't know about you, but these planes don't scream 'vacation' to me. In fact, they don't scream anything. They barely whisper. They breathe lightly on my ear. There are a couple planes in their fleet with weird features, like multicolor painted noses or cheatlines, but these seem to be one-offs and I wouldn't even be surprised if they were just leftovers from previous paintjobs (the one with the cheatline does look suspiciously like the one used on Sierra Pacific planes, one of the operators Morris chartered from). So they don't count. What counts is this.

Maybe if Morris Air didn't want to be instantly forgotten they shouldn't have made their planes completely generic. I'm not sure they cared, though. They wanted to make money and they made money.

A D- for Morris Air.

In 1992, less than two years after gaining its air operator's certificate, Morris Air merged with Southwest and the brand was retired. Despite having posed a legitimate threat to the titan that was Southwest at the peak of its relevance, it's since largely been forgotten. June Morris and David Neeleman both worked in Southwest's upper management for some time, but it was only five months before Neeleman left Southwest for other ventures. Soon, something more familiar would spring up, fed by the dying rays of Morris Air's gargantuan profits.

WestJet (est. 1994, began operation 1996)

Not exactly a deep cut, is it? WestJet is actually the second largest carrier in Canada and the ninth-largest in North America. They carry over 25 million passengers a year. I've never been one of them, but David Neeleman probably has, because he was one of the group of absurdly wealthy individuals who founded this incredibly successful airline in 1994.

WestJet operates a primary fleet of over 100 Boeing 737s of various models and seven Boeing 787s; in the past they also operated the 757 and 767. They operate both scheduled passenger and charter flights, as well as having a cargo division, a fully-owned regional subsidiary, and a Delta Connection/United Express-style brand name under which Pacific Coastal Airlines operates.

These all use more or less the same livery, which has only slightly changed since the beginning of operations in 1996. Pictured above is the original livery. I like the colors, I like the angularity on the tail, but I despise the style of livery with just the isolated tail colored in. This said, they introduced a new, updated livery in 2018.

I am a very predictable person. Given a livery mostly seen on 737MAXes and Dreamliners, I will always pick the Dreamliner to use as a visual example. This is not a slight to the MAX. They are nice looking planes, but the Dreamliner's planform is just on another level. Look at that wing sweep. Immaculate.

I like this color scheme a lot. I just happen to really like sea-green-adjacent colors, this is not the first time I've mentioned this. The font is nice, big, legible. I like the all-caps, I like the descender on the J. I think removing the logo mark on the wordmark and making it solid color was fine as a choice, makes the whole plane feel more balanced between the turquoise and the dark blue. The 'l'esprit du Canada' feels utterly pointless and is blocked by the wing and too small to be clearly read anyway. Tail design not limited to the tail, but mostly white fuselage regardless. Boring, but there's nothing here I can really call...bad? It's what they don't do that feels like the issue here, not what they do. Like, some sort of design on the nose and directly above or below, maybe? I didn't even realize there's any paint on the engines until I was editing my first draft and from most angles you just can't see it. Come on.

Grade: D+

Before I move on, there is something I have to mention. And that is WestJet's sub-brands. WestJet Encore is a fully-owned subsidiary which operates a respectable fleet of Bombardier Dash 8 Q400s, and WestJet Link is a brand name under which Pacific Coastal Airlines operates a couple Saab 340s. And that is...fine, normal, even, but...

Is this a joke to you?!

Change your name to WestProp. Now.

...

Hey. Wait a minute.

David! The large blue plane is coming! It has no engine power because it ran out of fuel and is about to hit you on the racetrack during family day! Oh no, he has airpods in! He can't hear us! image: Cean W Orrett

This guy. David Neeleman. Yeah, him. We were talking about him. I mean, it's been a minute since he came up because as far as I can tell after founding WestJet he did nothing of note related to it again, but...what's he been doing? Wait...wait a minute. This is becoming a habit, David. All your airlines are...well...they share a certain trait, in a very specific area.

David knows what I'm talking about. After all, his next move, in 1998, was to found NewAir, which would shortly become jetBlue.

I have not stopped to count how many words I have written about jetBlue this week. It is a lot. I already delivered a verdict. We are moving on.

Because David didn't stop here. Why would he? It's 2008 and he just got fired from his own company because a winter storm went Southwest-holiday-scheduling levels of horrendous for the airline he raised from infancy. He's got time to kill and money to burn and he wants the line to go up, damn it! Well, maybe he can be in the right place at the right time again. Make a second jetBlue, win back what he's lost. After all, he's got something else up his sleeve - dual citizenship.

Just your regular average Mormon, lurking in forests with a model plane. Nothing sinister about that. image: conde nast traveler

I did mention earlier he was born in Brazil, right? That's always been part of his life. When he was in charge, jetBlue was actually the launch customer for the Embraer E190, an incredibly popular mid-sized regional jet made by Brazilian manufacturer Embraer.

Is it just me, or do the men in this picture somehow look like cardboard cutouts holding a real airplane? There is something very strange about this image. I would go so far as to call it unsettling. image: The Gainesville Sun

So, figuring he'd bled the US dry, I suppose, he moseyed on down to his birthplace with his millions of dollars and presumably a couple little blank model planes waiting to be painted and shown off at a press conference. If you've seen a pattern emerging, prepare to see it continue.

Azul Linhas Aéreas Brasileiras (est. 2008)

Mmm. Helvetica Neue Heavy. Not impressed.

Okay, sure. Technically there was a 'naming contest' and this name 'was the most popular'. But I think at this point I would believe that David Neeleman botted his own vote years before I would believe that Blue Airlines of Brazil just happened to be the winning name.

Okay, all else aside, I would really love to gently hold a plane like this. There's a certain caressing nature to the way he's holding this plane's snout which I crave to someday replicate with a similarly sized model aircraft. image: Paulo Whitaker

Much like jetBlue, Azul began operating Embraer 190 and Embraer 195 aircraft before expanding its fleet to include Airbus models, a handful of ATR 72 tubroprops, and two Boeing 747s for cargo. They started with just five aircraft but grew rapidly, absorbing a bunch of other airlines and securing large investments from the likes of United and Hainan Airlines. Today they operate a fleet of over 150 planes to 161 destinations and are the third largest airline in Brazil. They have a set of crossover liveries with freaking Disney. (I might review those sometime.) They also have a crossover livery with John Deere for some reason. You know, the tractor company. In 2020 TripAdvisor named them the world's best airline.

In addition to the name of the company, they also name their airplanes. I do not speak Portuguese, but thankfully a close friend, @ametri-e, does. I asked him if the names were silly puns like jetBlue's are, and I got this response:

some of these are puns but not particularly funny, some of them just have the word blue in them, and one was funny

So there you have it!

Unlike Morris, which no longer exists; WestJet, which he seems to have minimally contributed to past its founding; and jetBlue, which tossed him unceremoniously on the tarmac with his bags, he remains the chairman of Azul at time of writing.

I find myself briefly wondering if this is all an attempt to recapture his lost glory. Is jetBlue, larger even than the impressive heights Azul has reached, the one that got away? Is he now forced to go forward modeling his work in the image of that which he was robbed of, that which he can never go back to?

I don't know and I don't care. I care about if the livery looks good or not.

Well, I wasn't just going to leave the John Deere plane out. It's a bit underwhelming, though, isn't it?.

So Azul is pretty different from jetBlue at first glance. Mainly, it uses a much darker blue and has a logo to go with the wordmark - a cute little pixel Brazil that looks a bit like a heart to me because of the specific way it's drawn. Everything is scaled nicely so it looks pleasing on the turboprop and I think the dark underside and the way it curves around the ventral fairing actually looks really good with the ATR's airframe, which has a very pronounced ventral fairing relative to similarly-sized props. But, okay, let's look at a jet.

This...is not terrible. I really like the highlights on the trailing edges of the winglets and the end of the rudder, and bordering the deep blue belly. Not crazy about the Helvetica Neue still. Why doesn't the 'u' being cyan carry over to the actual livery? Also, Detached Tail Syndrome. In fact, although it has features beyond this which make a further discussion worth having, the basic layout is what I call the 'Deltalike' because that's the airline I associate with it despite them certainly not being the first to use it - detached tail, painted engines, painted underside that's large enough to see from the sides. It avoids a lot of pitfalls of the other popular archetype, that of the very tail-heavy (which WestJet fell into), but has its own loathesome features. All said, though, I do think Azul is one of the better takes on the Deltalike.

In the first picture the highlights look green, but in reality they're one line of green and one of yellow, for the Brazilian flag. I think they look really nice with this particular blue color, but I am exhausted of this man naming his airlines blue and then having the planes be majority white. They have such a nice shade of blue here, couldn't they make that the primary color of the body?

That aside, the way that the line curves up towards the middle of the plane combined with the tailing-edge highlights creates a sort of aerodynamic feeling. You even see them in other colors sometimes, like the pink ones on the E190s and blue ones on the E195.

It also comes in pink! Were this not a one-off I would ask them to change their name to Rosa Linhas Aéreas Brasileiras, but it is a promotion.

It seems like reconnecting with his origin has given David Neeleman the creative push he needed to beat jetBlue in at least one way - livery. All said, Azul Linhas Aéreas Brasileiras clocks in at a final grade of...

C+

Aww, not quite a B for Brazil. Better luck next time! Though I'll admit I considered putting it there for a bit. This is a very high C+. Still, no cigar. Next time try putting less white on the plane. If you're all about blue, why are all your planes still so white? Come on, David. You are spreading blue paint on every airline you've ever touched but never letting it get past the tailfin. Who are you kidding? You know you're holding yourself back. There's a desire deep in you. You know it's there. I know you want to. It's just a matter of when. You are going to give in to your most animal urges. This isn't enough for you.

You need a bluer plane.

You can feel the thirst for a plane blue enough that you might as well own a piece of the sky straining against the bonds you've tried so hard to impose on it all these years. When will you finally unleash it?

Breeze Airways (commenced operations 2021)

image: inc. usa

Here we are, David. Time has almost caught up to us. It's just you, me narrating, and a very, very blue plane indeed. We have finally reached jetBlue's youngest baby sibling.

"Together, we created Breeze as a new airline merging technology with kindness," David Neeleman said. "If you can just be nice, the people will be nice to you in return and your job will be more fun.”

This is an interesting pitch. When Cape Air, with its fleet of tiny airplanes and its founder who started the airline with himself as pilot just to fly one route that he found himself needing to travel regularly, makes their motto Make Our Customers Happy And Have A Good Time Doing It (Mocha Hagodti), it feels...well, it feels like the person who said that didn't understand yet what a company was. Cape Air is its own story with its own contradictions and the vicious cognitive dissonance of capital on stark display but you can sense the desire in its inception to provide a service before running a company. It is the opposite of cynical - it is naïve. It is hopeful and human and starry-eyed.

When a man on his fifth airline makes a pitch like that it's like trying to cloud-watch looking at the ceiling.

That's not the only pitch for Breeze. I mean, even if you've started four successful airlines already and it seems like everything you touch goes on to revolutionize some part of the industry I think that would be a hard sell to investors in 2021. There's a bit more going on here. I'm going to start with the bit that's boring and makes me roll my eyes.

Ever since JetBlue, Neeleman has, like the kid peering into the circus tent, longed to get back into the U.S. airline industry.

Bill Saporito writes for Inc. USA. I let out one tepid physical laugh. Yeah, David. You've got something great going in Brazil right now, but you want more. You want jetBlue and you can't have it. So instead...you give us an app.

The Breeze app is designed to eliminate chokepoints between passengers and planes. That means fewer people on the ground and lower cost.

Is this revolutionary? Is this destined to end in a Southwest-tier scheduling catastrophe? I'm not sure. I think David Neeleman's history suggests he could make this work, and I think the history of apps being used for things that didn't have apps before suggests that this could horribly blow up in his face. It seems to have gone fine so far, as I haven't heard anything else about it. To be fair, I wasn't exactly invested in the idea, so I haven't been looking. There's always time for some situation to happen nobody had foreseen and it all to go belly-up. Saying you never cancel flights works fine until a blizzard hits and then you have to start all over again, but he didn't build jetBlue by being afraid to take risks.

More interesting is the service they offer. Breeze has a bit of an identity crisis. Breeze wants to be an ultra low cost carrier with a first class cabin. That sounds contradictory because it is. The ULCC model as used by airlines like Ryanair and Spirit fundamentally relies on charging a low fare upfront with the expectation that customers will not receive a crumb extra without paying for it. Everything from seat reservations to snacks to anything else you can think of, you can pay extra for or you can do without. Breeze also follows other trends common with ULCCs, like a lack of seatback screens (the very thing jetBlue pioneered!) and flying point-to-point to smaller airports located outside of major metropolitan areas rather than routing through hubs. Yet Breeze insists it wants to have a first class cabin!

It does have a first class cabin, apparently. The classes are called Nice, Nicer, and Nicest. I wish airlines wouldn't do this. Air travel is the floorboards of stand-up comedy. Everyone already hates flying except weirdoes like me who spend enough time looking at pictures of airplanes to write reviews of their paint jobs, and even I get pretty tired of it if I go too long sitting there without the plane doing some sort of plane thing. You can be honest. You can call the classes Bearable, Unpleasant, and Painful. We all understand. It's okay. I would rather buy a ticket for Miserable But Cheap class than Nice. It probably won't actually be that bad, since Breeze doesn't do long-haul, which makes the presence of first-class even more bizarre. If you want first-class short-haul and have that sort of money just charter a private jet! And David Neeleman has been involved with at least two private jet charter companies too, so...what is he doing?

In 2011, almost exactly 10 years before Breeze began operation, Neeleman was interviewed for Business Jet Traveler. I linked the interview above. It's a powerful display of the cognitive dissonance of a man who considers himself a regular everyday Mormon dad, who donates his salary to his employees, who insists on calling his employees crewmembers, even as the line goes up, and up, and up. I've heard anecdotes about him sitting in the backs of his own planes at jetBlue, observing what he could change to make the experience better for the cabin crew and passengers, noticing a lot of those things could even save money, and I have no reason to disbelieve them.

As the head of a company he is by necessity exploiting those under him, as a businessman he is providing a service not from altruism but because he knows that people need it enough they'll give him money, and the more comfortable the experience for both the less likely he'll lose their labor and their money. Conscious or not, altruism is a means to an end, but it is still startling surrounded by airlines which don't even go that far. 'Nice' as a name for economy class is a pretty good summary of the man David Neeleman was, and the one he still tries to present himself as. But there's a specific question, and a specific answer, which I feel the need to place here.

The airlines have been cutting back on frills and first class, which is driving more people to business aviation. Do they need to find ways to treat their high-end customers better? Well, JetBlue doesn't have first class. We treated everyone the same. Maybe it's funny I'm in the JetSuite market because it's so weird to me that on a plane with 150 seats, you give 12 people a great ride and you stick it to 138-squish them all back there because of 12 people. There's something about that that just feels wrong.

Does it still feel wrong, David? Did something change about you between the first million and the 400th? When did this transformation happen? Was it the Ship of Theseus effect? Or...was this what you inevitably were working towards all along? Was it a fool's errand to pretend that there is a difference between what you do and what you are? Aviation is not immune to the society which it is built to serve - it is shaped by it. It feels wrong for 12 people to have a nice ride while 138 are squished in the back, but if you think about the life that 5 million Americans live and the life the other 326 million have to live, all squished back there so the lucky few can have a nice ride, doesn't it feel a little less wrong? After all, you've got the reclining bed. You can just pull the curtain closed. You've probably known what you were all along.

The airlines are a tough business. Why start another after JetBlue? Well, I've done this three times. It's what I know. I've always made money at it, always been successful. I figured out a formula that works and Brazil really needed it. And I had this idealistic view of trying to make a difference. I've got 3,000 people in Brazil that work for us and love their jobs and we flew four million people this year and a lot of those people had never flown before.

Air travel is life-changing. It's not just for those of us who stand outside airports and take a picture of every airplane we see. It is a faster, safer, easier way of getting people and things from one place to another. There are people who live in the remotest places in the world, who deal with mountains and oceans and even just being so far away from anywhere else. They can travel now, and they can do more than that. They can visit their family. They can get places even if they're somewhere railroads don't run to. Cargo planes bring these remote communities necessities. They take their children to university and its sick to lifesaving treatment. It's a lifeline and a fundamental part of infrastructure. Once we invented it we stopped being able to go back.

It isn't an inherently cynical thing to start an airline - not more cynical than starting any other company, anyway. At least, it shouldn't be. But I think it's an inherently cynical thing to start five. To have your position at Azul, which is both massively successful and your own brainchild, which you think is doing good...and to say to yourself "I need more. I need America. I need what I was robbed of when I lost jetBlue."

Very few people have ever started one airline successfully. David Neeleman started four and sat at the helm of Brazil's third-largest airline and decided it wasn't enough for him. He's always made low-cost airlines. To a not-insignificant degree he made the low-cost airline what it is today. But he needs a first-class cabin.

The Inc. piece on Breeze continues to discuss the airline's planned operations. In 2011 Neeleman's employees were crewmembers.

Breeze is also introducing a program in which it will hire college interns from Utah Valley University and mold them into customer-service machines. In exchange for salary, free tuition, and housing, the students will undergo training and then work 15 or so days a month while taking their college courses online. "The big thing is we are going to provide a great service with kind people on a beautiful airplane with a fun atmosphere," says DePastino.

In 2021 they are customer-service machines. They will spend not just their days but their nights in Breeze's living spaces at one of the most vulnerable times in a person's life, learning how to be cogs in a machine right when they're transitioning from being students to entering the turbulent world of trying to find a job. And all of us want a job that makes us feel like we're still us, doing something that makes the world better and that helps us touch the tip of Maslow's pyramid. Almost none of us get it. Most of us slog through something utterly pointless that is entirely separate from our own self-identity to just keep our heads above water. Breeze turns this into a machine and it starts its cogs young.

Would I take this deal if it was offered to me? I'm a university student with barely enough money to keep myself afloat in a very expensive city while paying for university and for medicine and for anything else that may suddenly come up. I love aviation. I have customer service experience. I work in customer service right now and will probably continue to for a long time. I would hypothetically be an ideal candidate for this sort of program. Would I take this offer knowing that nobody, myself included, says to themself as a child that they want to be an airline customer service representative when they grow up? College is supposed to be the place you lay the groundwork for trying to start a career. Nobody wants their career to be 'customer service representative'. Nobody wants their obituary to say 'beloved son, husband, middle management at an airline's call center'. Sure, lots of people end up there, and plenty of them are happy and fulfilled and they have nothing to be ashamed of, but nobody's 18, going into college, and thinks that's what they want to live and breathe for years. They want to intern in the accounting departments, to shadow engineers, to see the sleek jets and peer in on the lifestyles of the people who built this. They want to be David Neeleman. But that's not an option for most of us.

So what would I do? Live this concession to the inevitability of automation which overtakes much more than the flight deck? I might, because at least it's a guarantee of shelter and stability that I don't have trying to stumble my way through an utterly shambolic job market caught between the price of school and the need to earn that money and the costs inherent to autoimmune disease and the number of hours there are in a week. I want to write, or even just to do something that involves words, because even a data entry job might let me pretend I'm still the person I thought I would grow up to be, and even that seems off the table. But it's one thing to know your dreams are never going to be realistic and another to say it out loud and yet another to commit to it in a place that even refers to you outright as a machine as if they don't understand the weight of that word when you provide someone's lodging and pay and everything else they rely on. This is a few steps short of being a company town populated exclusively by the young and vulnerable who think they're going to be entrepreneurs one day.

"When I started JetBlue, it was a customer service company that just happened to fly airplanes," Neeleman says. "Breeze is a technology company that just happens to fly airplanes."

He was talking about the app when he said this, but I think it comes through in a broader sense. jetBlue was a customer service company. Humans interfaced with humans. The idea was in nature lively, giving names to inanimate flying machines. It was a corporation, it made money, it did not actually care about people and it could not because it was not itself human, but it did not wear this fact proudly. It was a regrettable necessity of running an airline, and the CEO donated his salary to the employees. jetBlue under Neeleman and beyond clung to the human element, and to kindness and to making low-cost flight fun and comfortable even though there was nobody on the plane with a first-class ticket. You might be part of a fundamentally unethical system known for cutting corners and lying and sweetheart deals and never suffering consequences when something as simple as a jackscrew nobody lubricated kills 88 people, but you're going to at least try to dampen that impact. It might kill you just as dead but it can hurt less, maybe so much you never realize jetBlue occupies the same slice of the world as Pan Am and as ValuJet.

Breeze Airways lodges young individuals and molds them into machines. It is an ultra-low-cost carrier with a first class cabin. It presents a scenario where people are optimally herded by an app, served by employees who go home at night to the same place they work, and all of it can be reduced down to numbers so easily. It takes the human and it makes it technology. It makes it profit. The human element is gone. It doesn't matter how much it hurts you because if you aren't a person there's nothing to kill. It says the quiet parts out loud and makes you get on the phone and tell your family you're happy here with a gun to your head. It is a machine built of anonymized mannequins who, irrelevant to their role in it, happen to be alive, and it calmly tells you that this is a good thing, and that is a threat. The lowest category of experience you can have is 'nice'. Breeze Airways does not name their planes.

When I was a child I thought airlines were people and airplanes. I've flown many times in my life. There aren't many other ways to get from Japan to the East Coast these days. The world is huge but we can see it all so easily, assuming taking us there can make someone money. I remember being eight and having the pilot standing by the door to greet passengers, having him hand me a little pair of plastic pilot wings I still have now. I remember the stormy night I flew alone for the first time and the stewardess who let me sit next to her for a little bit and answered all my questions about the noises the plane was making. I remember the first time I flew on a propeller plane and the pilot who explained to me what all the gauges meant, and who insisted there was nothing to be afraid of and pointed out all the landmarks we flew past, who clearly knew this route by heart.

That's not what aviation always is. That's not what it usually is. People don't usually start airlines because they wish they could fly everyone around in their little single-engine plane on a commuter route from Boston to Provincetown, from Hyannis to Nantucket, provide that service to the people who don't have a plane and a license of their own, but they just can't do it all themselves. People who start airlines aren't usually intrepid pilots searching for new heights to push themselves to or flight instructors looking to fly people around in a single rented DC-3. They're businessmen. They want money. Juan Trippe was a businessman. Howard Hughes was a businessman.

The corporation is where passion goes to die if it existed to begin with. They build machines to suck the life out of pilots, exhaust them, put them in planes that are falling apart and let them take the blame when they fail to do things they failed to teach them. These people aren't your friends and they don't care about aviation, and if they do it's in the way an American child plays soldiers at the same time a school in Syria is being bombed. They're usually not even pilots. They're people with a lot of money who want even more money. jetBlue isn't unique in that sense and neither is Breeze. One just says it a lot louder.

Sometimes an airline is a technology company that happens to fly airplanes. That's true. Every single positive experience you have is with people, not airlines. I've never once spoken to jetBlue, just a matrix of pilots and flight attendants and customer service representatives who make up its many limbs. Maybe it should come as a relief, a sort of coming clean, that Breeze is tearing back the curtain and reminding you that the time a stewardess calmed you down during turbulence isn't really any different from the time a drugstore cashier let you off even though you were a few cents short of your total and said they'd take care of it. It's not CVS doing that. It's always people.

So many businessmen say they're here to do good, to make the world a better place, to reconcile kindness with venture capital. Any of them could build a tower that reaches all the way to the edge of the solar system and let us all know how many beautiful things there are that we can reach if they can find a profitable way to get us out there, and yet it's still the people who see your transit card is out of money and scan you in using theirs that make me remember that we are capable of kindness despite our surroundings. It is up to all of us whether we wish to be kind or not and it's not something anyone else can build for us.

Companies can't build a kinder, softer, funner, more human place. They can make money. They can provide a service. A service you need, at a cost you can afford, predicated on the fundamental question: whether they think you can make them money. Desperation, need, giving people a non-choice, that's how you make money and kill criticism. That isn't kindness. That's finding a gap in the market. Always has been.

I read that at JetBlue, you also didn't have your own parking spot and you donated your entire salary to a crewmember crisis fund, saying, "It seemed hoggish of me to have all this stuff when others didn't because every time I would get something someone else would have less." Yet then I read about your $14 million mansion in Connecticut. It's my wife's mansion. I never would have built that, ever. I think she's repentant. It was a project for her and it kind of got out of hand. But we all felt funny moving in. That's why we want to sell it.

I'd wondered how you reconciled the mansion with your philosophy. I don't.

image: Bill Bernstein

Okay, Marx or Megatron or whoever you think you are, that's enough of that depressing schlock. You are a tumblr.com airline livery review blog. We're here to answer if the plane looks good or not.

It's not like Neeleman's only goals are money and vapid personal satisfaction. We've been with him from the start. It was just an unacknowledged bit of the tail. He probably didn't notice it at first, but we did, with the gift of hindsight. It germinated. It took root. It grew. It became identity. It became his white whale. Are the planes blue, though?

Well, everyone, meet N206BZ. She's an Airbus A220-300. She's just a year and a half old and was delivered brand-new to Breeze Airways. She doesn't have a name, just a registration, but that's sure one blue plane if I've ever seen one!

The color scheme is visually pleasing. It's all over but it keeps visual interest with the darker tail and rear fuselage, the darker engines, the big white check-mark that serves as an instantly recognizable emblem for the airline. The repetition of it on the winglets is a nice touch.

I hate the wordmark, honestly. The text feels like it's located too low, the lightest blue blends in with the main fuselage until it borders on illegible. As far as I can tell, the typeface is custom. I hate it. It's ugly. The text is bad and it weighs down the rest of the plane.

A lot of how a livery looks depends on the lighting. So let's look at another example. I'd like to introduce you to N140BZ. She's an Embraer E195-200 and she's coming up on 15 but she hasn't slowed down any. She flew for Air Europa for a long time, but from 2016 on she was in limbo, all sorts of holding groups leasing her to each other but nobody putting her into service. Now she's with Breeze. They'll retire their E190s somewhat soon, but for the moment they like to have them. It allows them to operate shorter routes and free up time for charters on other days, just to maximize productivity. She doesn't have a name either. I'd say she still looks pretty blue. A lot of the concept art has a very metallic and reflective feel which I'm glad isn't as present in the actual planes, because it looked a bit sci-fi movie and not in a campy way. It was very blue chalk marker.

I like these colors just as much in this sort of washed-out environment as I do in direct sunlight gleaming at full intensity. Maybe more, even, since the text of the wordmark is so much more legible now and you can even see that the checkmark itself is blue. There's almost nothing on this plane that isn't blue. The only thing not blue about this airplane is that she doesn't have a name to revel in it.

The Breeze livery gets a B-.

It is a competently executed version of the thing it wants to be. There's visual interest. There are choices made. It's more than a logo slapped on a tail and sent off to sit on the tarmac with hundreds of other primarily white airplanes. I like it, I think this is the best Neeleman livery. It's also the bluest.

I find myself thinking the checkmark is an apt logo. Azul wore the shape of Brazil - a country full of people. Azul Linhas Aéreas Brasileiras S/A is a company. It cannot have a soul. But its founder says it does. He wants to make something better for people. Breeze Airways is a checkmark. It satisfies a need. It is 'nice' but there is no pretense that it is people.

The pilots will be kind all the same, and the stewardesses. People will agree to swap seats so families aren't separated. People will compliment strangers' outfits and help the person in line in front of them who's fifty cents short for a bottle of water. We will hold the door for elderly men with canes and exhausted women with strollers. We will take every little chance we can to be kind. We do this because we are people, and not because of where we work, and it's definitely not the people with 400 million dollars to put down on a shiny new airline making that happen. Everything is scheduled through an app, minimizing contact with humans even as the ones we do talk to are 'molded into customer-service machines' over the course of years. N140BZ wears her blue colors well, and not having a name doesn't make her any uglier. So what is it that's changed?

David Neeleman can't make jetBlue a second time. But he doesn't know that. To a man with so much, maybe it makes sense how he could fail to realize that. When you're high enough in the air a thriving uptown and an area of condemned slums look more or less the same, just little blocks of color all the way down there. He doesn't even realize he's given up the ghost. This is only a tragedy if your definition of a happy ending was us believing someone is better than they are instead of being left no room to continue failing to recognize what money is and what money does. The corporation wears two masks - the mask that it wears when it is a corporation wearing a mask, and the mask it wears when it is so close to human that you mistake it for your friend. The businessman wears these masks too. To be sad they've taken them off is to invest more in the virtue of these men than they ever do in the life or death of the 138 people squeezed in the back.

There it is. Two decades, five attempts, the bluest plane. If you've kept reading all the way to the end let me know in the replies what your favorite Neeleman-proximate livery is. I'll see you all tomorrow for our regularly scheduled Runway Runway livery review, and I hope you all have a wonderful night.

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mariacallous · 2 months

Text

While the finer points of running a social media business can be debated, one basic truth is that they all run on attention. Tech leaders are incentivized to grow their user bases so there are more people looking at more ads for more time. It’s just good business.

As the owner of Twitter, Elon Musk presumably shared that goal. But he claimed he hadn’t bought Twitter to make money. This freed him up to focus on other passions: stopping rival tech companies from scraping Twitter’s data without permission—even if it meant losing eyeballs on ads.

Data-scraping was a known problem at Twitter. “Scraping was the open secret of Twitter data access. We knew about it. It was fine,” Yoel Roth wrote on the Twitter alternative Bluesky. AI firms in particular were notorious for gobbling up huge swaths of text to train large language models. Now that those firms were worth a lot of money, the situation was far from fine, in Musk’s opinion.

In November 2022, OpenAI debuted ChatGPT, a chatbot that could generate convincingly human text. By January 2023, the app had over 100 million users, making it the fastest growing consumer app of all time. Three months later, OpenAI secured another round of funding that closed at an astounding valuation of $29 billion, more than Twitter was worth, by Musk’s estimation.

OpenAI was a sore subject for Musk, who’d been one of the original founders and a major donor before stepping down in 2018 over disagreements with the other founders. After ChatGPT launched, Musk made no secret of the fact that he disagreed with the guardrails that OpenAI put on the chatbot to stop it from relaying dangerous or insensitive information. “The danger of training AI to be woke—in other words, lie—is deadly,” Musk said on December 16, 2022. He was toying with starting a competitor.

Near the end of June 2023, Musk launched a two-part offensive to stop data scrapers, first directing Twitter employees to temporarily block “logged out view.” The change would mean that only people with Twitter accounts could view tweets.

“Logged out view” had a complicated history at Twitter. It was rumored to have played a part in the Arab Spring, allowing dissidents to view tweets without having to create a Twitter account and risk compromising their anonymity. But it was also an easy access point for people who wanted to scrape Twitter data.

Once Twitter made the change, Google was temporarily blocked from crawling Twitter and serving up relevant tweets in search results—a move that could negatively impact Twitter’s traffic. “We’re aware that our ability to crawl Twitter.com has been limited, affecting our ability to display tweets and pages from the site in search results,” Google spokesperson Lara Levin told The Verge. “Websites have control over whether crawlers can access their content.” As engineers discussed possible workarounds on Slack, one wrote: “Surely this was expected when that decision was made?”

Then engineers detected an “explosion of logged in requests,” according to internal Slack messages, indicating that data scrapers had simply logged in to Twitter to continue scraping. Musk ordered the change to be reversed.

On July 1, 2023, Musk launched part two of the offensive. Suddenly, if a user scrolled for just a few minutes, an error message popped up. “Sorry, you are rate limited,” the message read. “Please wait a few moments then try again.”

Rate limiting is a strategy that tech companies use to constrain network traffic by putting a cap on the number of times a user can perform a specific action within a given time frame (a mouthful, I know). It’s often used to stop bad actors from trying to hack into people’s accounts. If a user tries an incorrect password too many times, they see an error message and are told to come back later. The cost of doing this to someone who has forgotten their password is low (most people stay logged in), while the benefit to users is very high (it prevents many people’s accounts from getting compromised).

Except, that wasn’t what Musk had done. The rate limit that he ordered Twitter to roll out on July 1 was an API limit, meaning Twitter had capped the number of times users could refresh Twitter to look for new tweets and see ads. Rather than constrain users from performing a specific action, Twitter had limited all user actions. “I realize these are draconian rules,” a Twitter engineer wrote on Slack. “They are temporary. We will reevaluate the situation tomorrow.”

At first, Blue subscribers could see 6,000 posts a day, while nonsubscribers could see 600 (enough for just a few minutes of scrolling), and new nonsubscriber accounts could see just 300. As people started hitting the limits, #TwitterDown started trending on, well, Twitter. “This sucks dude you gotta 10X each of these numbers,” wrote user @tszzl.

The impact quickly became obvious. Companies that used Twitter direct messages as a customer service tool were unable to communicate with clients. Major creators were blocked from promoting tweets, putting Musk’s wish to stop data scrapers at odds with his initiative to make Twitter more creator friendly. And Twitter’s own trust and safety team was suddenly stopped from seeing violative tweets.

Engineers posted frantic updates in Slack. “FYI some large creators complaining because rate limit affecting paid subscription posts,” one said.

Christopher Stanley, the head of information security, wrote with dismay that rate limits could apply to people refreshing the app to get news about a mass shooting or a major weather event. “The idea here is to stop scrapers, not prevent people from obtaining safety information,” he wrote. Twitter soon raised the limits to 10,000 (for Blue subscribers), 1,000 (for nonsubscribers), and 500 (for new nonsubscribers). Now, 13 percent of all unverified users were hitting the rate limit.

Users were outraged. If Musk wanted to stop scrapers, surely there were better ways than just cutting off access to the service for everyone on Twitter.

“Musk has destroyed Twitter’s value & worth,” wrote attorney Mark S. Zaid. “Hubris + no pushback—customer empathy—data = a great way to light billions on fire,” wrote former Twitter product manager Esther Crawford, her loyalties finally reversed.

Musk retweeted a joke from a parody account: “The reason I set a ‘View Limit’ is because we are all Twitter addicts and need to go outside.”

Aside from Musk, the one person who seemed genuinely excited about the changes was Evan Jones, a product manager on Twitter Blue. For months, he’d been sending executives updates regarding the anemic signup rates. Now, Blue subscriptions were skyrocketing. In May, Twitter had 535,000 Blue subscribers. At $8 per month, this was about $4.2 million a month in subscription revenue. By early July, there were 829,391 subscribers—a jump of about $2.4 million in revenue, not accounting for App Store fees.

“Blue signups still cookin,” he wrote on Slack above a screenshot of the signup dashboard.

Jones’s team capitalized on the moment, rolling out a prompt to upsell users who’d hit the rate limit and encouraging them to subscribe to Twitter Blue. In July, this prompt drove 1.7 percent of the Blue subscriptions from accounts that were more than 30 days old and 17 percent of the Blue subscriptions from accounts that were less than 30 days old.

Twitter CEO Linda Yaccarino was notably absent from the conversation until July 4, when she shared a Twitter blog post addressing the rate limiting fiasco, perhaps deliberately burying the news on a national holiday.

“To ensure the authenticity of our user base we must take extreme measures to remove spam and bots from our platform,” it read. “That’s why we temporarily limited usage so we could detect and eliminate bots and other bad actors that are harming the platform. Any advance notice on these actions would have allowed bad actors to alter their behavior to evade detection.” The company also claimed the “effects on advertising have been minimal.”

If Yaccarino’s role was to cover for Musk’s antics, she was doing an excellent job. Twitter rolled back the limits shortly after her announcement. On July 12, Musk debuted a generative AI company called xAI, which he promised would develop a language model that wouldn’t be politically correct. “I think our AI can give answers that people may find controversial even though they are actually true,” he said on Twitter Spaces.

Unlike the rival AI firms he was trying to block, Musk said xAI would likely train on Twitter’s data.

“The goal of xAI is to understand the true nature of the universe,” the company said grandly in its mission statement, echoing Musk’s first, disastrous town hall at Twitter. “We will share more information over the next couple of weeks and months.”

In November 2023, xAI launched a chatbot called Grok that lacked the guardrails of tools like ChatGPT. Musk hyped the release by posting a screenshot of the chatbot giving him a recipe for cocaine. The company didn’t appear close to understanding the nature of the universe, but per haps that’s coming.

Excerpt adapted from Extremely Hardcore:��Inside Elon Musk’s Twitter by Zoë Schiffer. Published by arrangement with Portfolio Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2024 by Zoë Schiffer.

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rustyelias · 22 days

Note

This ask/character dissection contains events from Red Valley, including major spoilers, blood and injury, and the fear of death.

*takes a breath*

Okay so I have become some what of a Clive Schill blog of late, and given that Red Valley in of itself isn’t wildly popular, and that Clive Schill is simultaneously the comic relief and antagonist of the show, there aren’t many people to talk about him with.

Initially, he comes off as just an arse. He’s mean to the protagonists, seems to have no remorse for his actions and is generally shown to also just be bad at his job? His main character traits are his “colourful” insults and his status as the Redval sugar daddy.

This doesn’t really change until near the end of season two, at which point he’s noticed Bryony’s treatment of the mc (Warren) and steps in. His concern is framed as a need for Warren to be in the best shape possible, for presenting to the world as a “solution to cryosleep”, but I do think he was also genuinely uncomfortable with the situation and wanted to get Warren out of there.

This all goes tits up when they return to Red Valley and the season finale happens. Won’t go into details but this winds up with Clive getting shot in the knees. Warren has simultaneously had a brain haemorrhage, and Gordon (mc no.2) has also just been shot. The focus is placed on getting the two mc’s inside of cryopods before they both bleed out. Clive is left forgotten on the floor of the lab.

He is eventually helped by someone else, and doesn’t die, but I think this is an incredibly important moment for his character. His entire story revolves around moving up the corporate ladder, and his desire to be the first to crack hypersleep is Always framed as a desire for recognition (and money).

Clive Schill is terrified of being forgotten. This also ties into his fear of death. He is terrified of dying and nobody remembering him. I think this fear translates into why he’s always so loud, so quick to argue and insult. He’s trying to be noticed.

So when he’s left on the floor bleeding out, with everyone else focusing on saving Warren + Gordon, it’s a huge fucking moment for him.

He goes on to form a business partnership with the person who saves him, they make Aloha Eternity, a cruise ship that utilises cryopreservation. He gets his recognition.

And then…

There’s growing unrest surrounding cryogenics. The world is rapidly going to shit thanks to climate change, partially due to big companies like Overhead (this is the one Clive, Bryony and the entire Red Valley team work for). The leaders and higher ups of said companies all plan to hypersleep (in cryopods) for 1000 years until the world’s unfucked itself. Clive helps this happen with the tech development he’s funded.

And when the time comes, he is not offered a place in the cryopods. Instead, he is made CEO of Overhead Industries. He got his fucking dream come true, because he was deemed expendable enough to let die in the real world. (Before this his cruise ship got blown up by terrorists, truly he has nothing)

So yeah uh there are some mildly coherent thoughts about Clive Schill. There is more where that came from but from here the thoughts get a Lot more incoherent.

Such as Bryony referring to Clive as “the shovel bit of the shovel”

She uses him for his status in Overhead and his money.

Also I think Clive is incredibly touch starved. Never comes up in the show because the only time people get close to him is when they’re hurting him (Warren’s headbutt)

Oh and he looks like Alexander J Newall. And Murph from D20. Just a mix of those two.

And he’s a musician. Like a really talented musician. I have no basis for this hc other than the fact I feel it in my soul.

Anyway if you’ve read this thanks so fucking much, and if not it was still great screaming into the pit

raaah!!! i love him! it's been a while since I last listened to red valley but omg! he is such a character to say he is treated like the comic relief or what I called him that prick™️ he has SO much going on!

Bro really gave his whole life to this business only for them to basically leave him to die in the fucked up world :( also the fucking cruise business bsjdjdjjdj

I love how I went from loving him because he was just the worst to loving him because he is a complex character. Gosh after he was shot man :(

jskskxkdkjd he is SO touch staved you get it! you get it!!

“Also he looks like Alexander J newall” oh god oh fuck its him:

Okay yeah after my relisten of rqg I am 100% going to listen to Red Valley

#infodump moment!!!!#I love when people talk at me /gen #also raaaah the red valley autism is coming back #uensjdjndhd #red valley #eli madness

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weird-bookworm · 11 months

Text

ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ!ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ

HYUNG LINE MAKNAE LINE

a/n: been wanting to do this for a long time now, hopefully y'all will like it <3 i don't really do reader x member stuff though, so this'll just either be member x member ships or no romance at all 😅

pairing: jihancheol, junhao, verkwan

genre: headcanons, fluff, crack, romance (kinda), angst (?), mafia

warnings: slight mentions of non-graphic violence, illegal stuff obviously

handles the covers

has a chain of legitimate businesses

the earnings make the employees' salaries

but also funds svt

adding in to the earnings from their shady businesses

belongs to a very rich family

just a successful young ceo to the world

the loud adorable member to svt

really good at singing

even better at acting

no one from his companies can tell that he is sunshine personified

because he's the cold hearted and kind but firm ceo to them

handles a few different tech firms

(including the one where wonwoo pretends he works)

recently acquired a restaurant franchise

svt had to hire more members to take care of it

because while he isn't anything less than a one man army sometimes

handling too many things is not his cup of tea

has paperwork for every member of svt

saying that they work under him

just in case the gang's compromised

they'll have actual jobs and enough money for a while

works closely with joshua

and vernon

has separate basement offices in every building he owns

for both of them to work in

sometimes wonwoo joins them

a lot of svt's recruits work under him

they work with wonwoo and vernon during missions

to get them info

so that joshua and vernon can get to work

said information is given to the rest of the group for further plan making

often works from home

helps mingyu with the cooking

and the house maintenance

questions why they don't have hired house help on a daily basis

especially since they practically live in the headquarters

which is no less than a mansion

often does weird shit unprompted

in charge of svt's money management along with jihoon

his family doesn't know about his real job either

Mingyu

the doctor

because he's pretty smart

(also pretty dumb)

and very very clumsy

says it is better that his job doesn't require him to go on field

or he'll get someone killed

the members also collectively agree

saying that he cooks good food while they're away on missions

he retaliates saying that he cooks food even when they aren't on missions

secretly pleased they like his cooking

even though he knew that already

his recruitment was completely accidental

prompted by him saving seungcheol's life

was planning to attend medical college when his foster parents threw him out

was struggling

how was a 16 year old supposed to take care of himself

they didn't even let him pack his bags

or notify his previous orphanage that they couldn't afford to take care of him anymore

was wandering a dark alleyway a week later

near the bins, searching for edible food

when he found a guy bleeding out quite aggressively

(the man was seungcheol, but he didn't know back then)

the stranger had apparently gotten into a scuffle and had been shot

but the bullet had just grazed him and left a deep gash instead

helped patch seungcheol up

and helped him get back to his apartment

where joshua offered him a place to stay for a while

he was supposed to move out within a few days

was afraid they'd kick him out after a week

but no one said anything so he didn't either

felt guilty after a month and brought it up with jeonghan

who just laughed and said that he's a part of the family now

jihoon was the one to bring up his education

they sent him to a medical college like he wanted to after 2 years

used to be constantly worried about the others in the start

but now knows their pain tolerance and level headedness is higher than he thinks

and trusts himself too

once cooked dinner for the thirteen of them (hygienically) while cleaning jun's wounds

a 6 ft soft giant

swoon worthy

a total dork though

The8

master poisoner

in charge of poisons and drugs

not only their trade

but also their production

runs a small neat production unit under svt

where he experiments with all sorts of chemicals and whatnot

has made drugs in all forms and disguises

for example, he has one which can be used as nail polish

dries and looks like actual nail polish

dip the finger in any liquid, except saliva, for exactly 7 seconds and it dissolves

has made small charms to be hung on bracelets or to be worn as pendants or rings

they contain tiny amounts of lethal poisons

has different "homemade" drugs for different purposes

made copies of the neat list which stated the dosage, use and method of administration

stuck them on all four fridges (yes, four, they eat like ogres) of the mansion

always makes sure that all his drugs and poisons have a cure, even lethal ones

but also makes sure that said cures are only with him

another chinese

trained in chinese wushu

has won over 40 contests since he was 6

fond of reading

a talented dancer

in love with teas and wines

sleight of hand

better than his boyfriend's

often accompanies jeonghan and jun on their missions

most of the times, even his members don't realise when he slips drugs in the target's glasses or plates

great sense of fashion

sassy as fuck

✨MaTeRiAl GwOrL✨

infamous for his prompt savage rebuttals

especially to soonyoung

even though he is one of the members who babies soonyoung the most

meditation is practically a lifestyle at this point

usually calm and serene

very wise and stable

knows how to have fun though

unexpectedly kinky

(jun is his bf though so not that surprising)

part of the '97 squad along with mingyu and seokmin, a group of same aged friends with people from different ally gangs such as bts and got7

him and jun are also close friends with other chinese people in different ally gangs, same aged or not

a soft little dumpling in reality

Seungkwan

deals with trade and arms

along with chan

but his job, predominantly, is to overlook dealings

and trade

svt ships arms and other stolen goods

also overlooks that entire department

one of the youngers

got the hyung vibe anyway

gets annoyed really easily

specially with chan

the drama queen of the gang

very entertaining

as long as it's not you he's roasting the shit out of

from jeju-do

how he ended up in a seoul gang is still very much unknown to him

especially because he comes from an adorable middle class family

can be unexpectedly shy

the members often tease him by calling him a tangerine

gets ready to murder in reply

unless hansol says it ofc

then he just blushes

very round

very squishy

do not fight if mingyu is not around

god knows he'e the only one who can physically hold him back

another sassy bitch

and another ✨MaTeRiAl GwOrL✨

very close with his sisters

won't admit it

but pouts a lot

is forever suffering from some kind of second hand embarrassment

has an ongoing feud with mingyu

and soonyoung

and specially chan

secretly loves them though

always has some sort of blackmail on everyone

unexpectedly stupid

whipped™ for hansol

has excellent memory

Vernon

scammer

almost as good wonwoo with computers

is always on field with joshua

usually out of sight though

very calm and collected

usually

half american

his family lives in america

so he never has to worry about them

originally worked as their fake bait

used to pretend like he is their prized boy toy

then sell him for something else

only to never let him leave at all

aka they killed the other party

they failed to do so once

he had to pretend to be shy

and sultry

while still also protecting his dignity

for a week straight

at least the bracelet he had was fitted with a microphone

and a tiny speaker

courtesy of wonwoo

so he was in contact with them the entire time

they decided to not play with another member's life after the incident

and hansol started working with wonwoo and joshua

to scam entire gangs

too good at his job

no one ever realises they even got scammed for the longest time

and when they do, it's practically impossible o trace it back to svt

very reliable

and stable

whipped for seungkwan

best friends with chan

almost more maknae then chan

one of the few people who's barely ever bullied by the members

too good at dad jokes

but they're also pretty rare

has a very strong personality

weirdly fond of hats

might be more whipped for cats than he is for seungkwan

which is saying something

svt has a cat in the headquarters

because of him

very easygoing

tends to take a long time doing everyday tasks

Dino

arms

except he makes and experiments with them

instead of trading

they call him their little iron man (💀)

has an insane stamina

in love with anything explosive

another hapkido back belt

in charge of training the new recruits

runs a gun shop as a side business

it's legitimate

used to train for the military

changed career courses when he found out about svt accidentally

was actually on the way to a relative's house

gave the wrong address to the taxi driver

svt, on the other hand, were waiting for a new recruit

jihoon had orchestrated a complicated surprise test for him

was very surprised when the taxi left him in front of a mansion instead of a rundown apartment building

was even more baffled when around ten men in suits who looked like they came straight from an action thriller jumped at him

fight or flight instinct was on

didn't know what was happening

but fought anyway

couldn't defeat them

but did manage to get a word in to jihoon

who was surprised to know chan wasn't the recruit

offered him a good price to join

chan accepted

never really did get around to visiting that relative though hmm

svt tends to have a upper hand in most situations

a major reason for which is their upgraded weaponry

very loved as the maknae

has to be the most bullied maknae in history though 💀

the group's punching bag (lovingly)

when i tell you they throw him around like a rag doll

(sometimes physically, he is pretty tiny)

emotionally wiser than you'd think

everyone would unanimously agree that he is the most passionate member

he is also jeonghan hyung's baby

one of the few members who didn't grow up with the group

a/n: yikes, this took a long time. anyway, reviews are always welcome!

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crystallizedkingdoms · 30 days

Text

The Lover

Johann had a lot of love, and it flowed through him like music. How did it take so long to notice?

wc: 3,663

The Birds in this fic: Ren & Brian (Twins), Johann (Lover), Avi (Protector), Hekuba (Lonely Journal-Keeper), Julia (Peacemaker), Sazed (Wordless One)

day 3 of @johann-appreciation-week! woohoo! its johavi time. you can also read this on ao3.

Johann was not known for his love. Not at first, at least. That’s the very first thing people could tell you if you asked about it. That’s certainly the first thing his coworkers would tell you during the first few cycles of their Century. Captain Sazed would say he’s far too cold to be known for his love, that’s for sure. All work and no play. You don’t want a guy who only has his eyes on his work. They get jealous easy. That’s why I’m single.

Ren and Brian would be kinder in their assessment, if only to be cordial to their acquaintance. He’s a good man, don’t get me wrong! But, well, I definitely wouldn’t say the first thing that stands out to me about him is… love, Ren would try her best to be sensitive. Just for Brian’s voice to then crash in, the first thing that comes to mind when you see him is drag. Since that’s all the poor boy seems to do!

I would bet money if Johann knew what love was outside of those old songs he studies, the chronicler Hekuba would write in her hefty journal one night, blunt and opinionated as she always is.

Julia Burnsides, oh how she would try her best. Johann is passionate. You can see it in his eyes, when he plays those wonderful songs he makes. He has a fire! I think the other guys are assholes who can’t recognize that. Not that Johann makes it easy to recognize, but, hey, that’s not his fault! she would laugh, vindicated in her findings. The word ‘love’ is never uttered and she would clam up if you pointed that out to her.

But Avi would never ask his fellow members that sort of question.

Even in the beginning years of the Century, Avi must admit that he held similar views to Johann. If he asked himself that question, he would certainly have given some nonsense answer. Hah. He’s fun, he really is. I’m sure someone like him knows love. But love? He’s not a lover. Not— not to say he’s a player or anything! Just, you know… right? You know. It was hard not to…

—

It was hard not to have that impression of Johann at first. Avi hardly knew him back when they worked at the IPRE. It was such a big institution after all. But Avi heard little snippets of information about him when he made a name for himself for his strange attitude and even stranger job. One of the top cosmologists in his division, that was rumoured to have been begged to join the planar research team once the Light of Creation had catapulted their research funding into the suns, Johann was also an avid bard and proud of it. He not only performed during work hours, but also after work. Busking in public without a care in the world, and with a permanent bitch face that didn’t match his colourful clothing to prove it.

He’s difficult to get along with, I heard, one of Avi’s coworkers would say. Always has some sarcasm to hurl at you. Good ol’ dash of condescension too. Have you heard him claim he’s the greatest violin player of all time? If that’s so, what the hell are you doing here, eh?

Avi wished that meeting him dispelled those nasty rumours, but that, unfortunately, did not happen. That first day, their first introduction, had been anything but loving. Avi, the newly appointed Head Security Officer, eagerly stuck out his hand after just finishing his conversation with Julia. “Hey! The name’s Avi. Nice to meet you, man,” he greeted, with that characteristic slip of unprofessional language making him blush in embarrassment.

Johann looked down at Avi’s hand and at that moment, Avi could not even guess what expression he was giving off. Johann slowly took Avi’s hand before he could attempt a guess anyway. “Johann. Nice meeting you, dude,” he said, and he sounded even less worried about his language than Avi. “You’re our guard for the mission, yeah?”

“Yep! That’s me all right,” Avi said with a pleased hum. “I think I’ve heard about your work before. You were in cosmology before this mission.”

Johann rolled his eyes. The sight of it knocks Avi out internally and he could only blink slowly as a reaction. “Yeah, cosmology. Awesome times in that stuffy place. Anyway, have you heard my music? When I’m down at the quad.”

“Ah, um, sorry. I haven’t yet.”

Johann blinked back at Avi. Then he shrugged and turned around to move on to the next person. “Well, see ya around then. Be sure to check me out before we send our asses to space.”

What could Avi do after that? He stood stiff as a board as he watched Johann abruptly leave the conversation and move towards the twins Brian and Ren. Even when the Captain swept him away into another introduction, not even that conversation got his mind off of Johann’s attitude (though, that might be partly because the Captain felt incredibly overbearing). By the time Avi had introduced himself to every single person in the mission, when he looked around to talk to Johann again, he was nowhere to be found.

“The guy walked right out after he was done talkin’ to me,” Hekuba grumbled when Avi asked. “Thought it was something I said. He said, verbatim, ‘nah, just got a performance down at the quad. The one in front of my cosmology department. Tell the others that you guys get dibs on the first row of my performances from now on.’” She released a deep exhale after she finished relaying Johann’s words to Avi, who noticed the other crew started to listen in.

“We should probably join one, right?” Ren said.

Brian nodded in response to his sister’s words. He had a pleasant smile on his face. “I think we definitely should. I’ve heard he really is a spectacular musician. Why not treat it as a little get-to-know-each-other party?” he offered.

Hekuba rolled her eyes, not quite as hooked on the idea. “If that was what he wanted, he would’ve actually offered it to us.”

Avi spoke up, unnerved by the environment this conversation could easily lead to. “I’d really like to go, actually,” he interjected. All eyes on him. He’s always been fine with that. “I heard about his performances before. I’ve always wanted to go see one myself. Come on, guys, let’s go down now!”

“Now?” Ren asked. “I meant, like, in the future. Not the one he’s currently doing!”

Avi crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. That laid back posture he held was doing a lot of heavy lifting to keep himself from betraying the fact he really had no clue how this would go. “He probably had the front area reserved for us because this was our first time properly meeting each other. That’s kind of an invitation. It’s not rocket science, guys.”

“Yeah, let’s leave rocket science for another day,” Captain Sazed spoke up. He was unnervingly silent even during the introductions as he stated only what he needed to and what was pried out of him. “Let’s go see the guy. We’ve got two months all cooked up together in that spaceship, we can handle a performance or whatever.”

At the Captain’s direction, Julia hurried over to the door of the conference room they had been talking in. “Then let’s not wait. I wanna see if he brings drinks over or if it’s really just about him,” she said, amusement tucked in the back of her throat. Everyone followed suit, even Sazed, who didn’t seem to mind being the follower instead of the leader. Avi sucked in a deep breath and tried to steel himself— for the best or the worst to come.

—

The first time Avi saw Johann’s love was in Cycle 17.

Kind of a dickish amount of time to take to notice that sort of stuff, but hey, the multiple apocalypses got in the way. Sue him.

Avi saw love in Johann’s eyes at the top of a hill overlooking their landing site. That plane, with its hilly landscape and the perfect humidity levels for violin playing, as Johann explained, felt picturesque. His deep brown eyes watched as the other five members worked along to fix some scuff marks made on the Starblaster— Captain Sazed hounded all of them to get on with it.

Avi sat down next to Johann when he finally managed to climb up the hill. “Sazed wants you to join,” he said.

Johann sighed. It sounded airy and wistful, heightened by the pleasant breeze this planet consistently had. “I heard him,” he mumbled. “I’ll go down there when I’m ready.” Avi went to insist, in fear of getting in trouble with Sazed, but Johann did not give him the time of day. His eyes fixated on the crew below with a glaze of affection across his eyes.

Avi, clueless as he was sometimes, did not recognize that emotion at first. “I hope you don’t mind if I chill with you, then,” he said. There was an edge to his voice, as if this was a penance Johann was taking by avoiding doing work. “Since we can just chill here whenever we want.”

“That’s the spirit,” Johann mused. “It’s a nice plane. Better than that depressing mushroom world. So, enjoy it.”

Avi wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was right, but… Avi struggled to figure out his feelings on his nonchalance. He kept his lips sealed tight, and though he tried to watch their friends below alongside Johann, Avi’s gaze kept crawling back to the man himself. Stop it, Avi scolded himself when he noticed what he was doing without his own permission. Don’t be weird.

But that ship sailed far before the Starblaster did. Avi’s eyes scoured for something, anything really, to better understand Johann. Avi didn’t feel disconnected from Johann, he was definitely closer to him than he was to the Captain at least, but Avi would be lying if he said even 17 years was enough for him to truly get a pin on Johann. He felt it was stupid to be looking into that bard’s eyes as if some grand revelation that would unlock everything about Johann’s personality would suddenly hit him, but was he wrong for hoping that? No, he couldn’t be…

“They’re wonderful, Avi.”

Avi perked up. “Sorry, what?”

“Our group. They’re wonderful.” Johann didn’t look at Avi when he said those words. His eyes were still fixated on the little figures below. “I can’t believe I’m with you guys.”

“Kind of hard to be with anyone else.”

Johann chewed his lip. “Not like that,” he said. “I mean that I can’t believe I ever got onto the Starblaster with you six at all. And that you’re all such wonderful, wonderful people.”

Avi almost choked hearing those words. “Woah. What?” he asked. Confusion painted his face and he studied Johann’s face even more thoroughly for answers. “What do you mean by that?”

Johann’s brows knitted together in what Avi thinks is concentration. A looking-back into his memories of a world over seventeen years ago. “I wasn’t liked back in the IPRE,” he said. It sounded matter-of-fact, but… tired as well. His voice sounded more exhausted than it usually did. Almost frail. His eyes squinted down at someone Avi did not even discern, for that meant to look away from Johann’s face. “And don’t you play dumb, I know that’s how it was. I was kind of a shithead back then, but I still didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve the way I was treated.”

“How were you treated?” Avi asked. “And don’t say that I already know. I… I know people didn’t like you. I know that. But I honestly was not in your division before the mission and I didn’t start going to your performances after our formal meeting. I don’t know.”

Johann’s eyes strained down at the ground below the hill. Was he even focusing on the crew anymore? “I liked working in cosmology. Honestly. I loved my research, I loved figuring out what makes our universe tick, how the laws of science and magic keep our worlds matching on. If I could bury myself in just that, and my instruments, I would be fine. I would have loved it. It wasn’t me that sucked, it was… coworkers.

“…People can’t read me,” Johann heaved a sigh so dejected it sounded like a sob. Avi felt a wave of embarrassment hit him. “They never have. When I invite them out to a performance, not even my own, they think I’m showing off. Anything I mention outside of my direct line of work is superfluous. I’m bragging. When I use music to help me study, or I use it to help me document certain ideas I can’t get down with words, I’m making things too hard, I’m being difficult. Oh, man, I can fucking hear all their complaining even now.”

Avi swallowed thickly. He watched as Johann’s eyes shifted down, up, away, to the side. Never at him. Was Johann avoiding looking at him? “I’m sorry,” he said. What else was there to say?

“That’s all the shit they said when I wasn’t provoking them. That wasn’t the only reason I started doing those performances on site. It was why I did it right on the quad in front of our building,” Johann said and he almost laughed, Avi swore he could hear an almost-laugh! “But yeah. That shit spread. Obviously it’s a huge institute, I wasn’t famous or anything. But my business gets spread around and people I’ve never seen in my life look at me like I need to prove something to them. That I’m not just some stupid musician who got into that place through my ass.

“And then I’m on the most sought-after mission of a lifetime. And… I worried you guys were like them. I worried that they got to you,” Johann admitted. “They sorta did. I think. I am certain at least some of you have heard those things about me. I don’t fault you for that.”

Avi gritted his teeth when he heard those words. “You should. It was dumb of us to even entertain that,” he said. He hoped that just saying those words would engrave them in his soul.

“Hindsight, Avi, hindsight. I really don’t give a shit if you believed it, because you guys didn’t let it define me. After almost two decades you guys have let me exist the way I am, with my music and shit, and you have only gotten nicer around me. That’s…” Johann trailed off. He closed his eyes and bathed in the breeze that washed over him. “That’s pretty fucking wonderful of you guys.”

Without thinking, Avi reached over and placed his hand on Johann’s hand on the grass. Johann visibly tensed up at the contact, but he didn’t pull away or tell him to move, so Avi kept it there. “Of course we wouldn’t let that define you,” he assured with a gentle voice. “Johann, you… are invaluable to this team. From your scientific knowledge to your music, your conversations and your company— everything, man. Seriously, how lucky we are to have you onboard with us. And I want you to know that we’ll always want you here with us.”

Seconds passed on the warm wind and the humid environment, and Avi thought he had kept his hand on Johann for far too long when Johann shifted in his place. He closed his other hand on top of Avi’s, leaned in close, and opened his eyes, and he saw it. Avi saw love in Johann’s eyes. Avi read it as clear as day, like the brightest gemstone in the world. It felt so… real. How did he miss it? How did anyone miss it?

“I want to… be with you here, too,” Johann said.

And Avi blushed.

—

“I’m going to screw up.”

Johann brushed off some imaginary dust off of Avi’s shoulders. The suit he wore felt stuffier than it felt during their practices, the fabric taught against his sweating skin and weak knees. “You’ve had a year of practice. You can do it.”

“Johann, you’ve been the greatest musician of over forty different worlds, and I am some douchebag performing in front of the Light of Creation— in front of hundreds of people— right next to you. I think it’s going to be very obvious I learned how to be decent at piano over the course of a year,” Avi fretted. His heart pounded faster in his chest every second he spoke, and even more so when he heard the cheering of Julia’s performance ending.

Johann looked up into Avi’s eyes and it took all his strength to not buckle. He rested a hand on Avi’s chest, right above his heart, and a heat rushed between them that neither could stand to ignore much longer. “I asked you to join me on this project for a reason. You actually joined me for a reason. If you didn’t think you had what it took to go up on that stage, you wouldn’t have agreed to this,” he said.

“…You’re right,” Avi breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just scared. I’m worried what it might mean if I mess up. What if I mess up and we don’t get the Light?”

Johann laughed. What a sound, Avi thought. “If they accepted Brian’s little spider dance, I think you’ll get in no matter what.”

Avi laughed along with Johann, and he could see it, too. Avi could not deny it. Avi could not act like he was the only one who felt it. It was inevitable that this would reach a state of undeniability. Johann watched him laugh with love in his eyes.

Brilliant light flashed behind them. A crash of Julia’s beautifully carved wooden sculpture, with all its fine details and careful polish, invaded their mind so thoroughly, like it had always been there. They didn’t even notice it had left at all. They just kept staring at each other. They kept looking for their love in the other.

Someone called their names. The spell between them was broken, but only for a little bit. Just enough for them to get on stage.

And their love flowed through them.

—

Love is intrinsic to music. Avi hadn’t put the two together until he saw Johann perform right next to him.

Johann’s eyes were closed during the performance, as they often were when he played, and he poured his heart into the world through his violin. How his fingers danced across strings, sliding up and down the fingerboard, and even the gentle sway as he played all told the audience one thing: this is what I love.

Johann had to love his music. It was what kept him going. It was what pushed him through his department’s awful environment and made him thrive. It gave him purpose in life, some way for him to connect with anyone who would ever hear him and not fundamentally misinterpret him. It was his way of connecting and saying, Look at me, hear me, and let me show you what I love. Maybe you will love it too.

But that communication betrayed more than he ever wanted. The love for his music spilled, despite all that his efforts to keep it from doing so. It touched the hearts of all the Starblaster crew— the only people he had left. It was held and subsequently destroyed in the worlds he tried to desperately save.

And when he let his eyes crack open to look at Avi, and their gaze connected for just a moment before they continued their duet, it was Johann telling him, you are who I love. It was a different love’s song from the ones his heart sung to the audience and even the rest of the crew. It was a song that held longing in each note. This song, sprung on a grassy hill decades ago, flourished in sneaky escapades, vulnerable moments, and hands that grazed without thinking, blossomed right there on that stage,

Johann’s part in their duet was an offer, a question, a plea.

Avi was not near Johann’s match in terms of talent; but when he played, there was only one answer. An answer spoken only in Johann’s language of music. He smiled as he poured his heart onto the piano and swayed as Johann did. You are who I love.

And Johann knew. Avi realized when he saw Johann grin so openly, so brightly, as they reached the end of their performance. Such an expression he usually reserved for private moments, suddenly on display for everyone to see. He didn’t stop smiling even when the cheers erupted. He didn’t stop smiling when they bowed together, hand in hand. He didn’t stop smiling when they leaned in close. Even when they placed the sheet music of their piece in anxious silence, Avi could still see that grin on his lips.

The duet, and all the love embedded within, disappeared from their minds. Johann tensed up as he usually did during this part of the ceremony. Avi did not even have the time to sweat or doubt his performance before the second flash came, and a great blast of their song filled the planes of existence. The crowd cheers and the air is filled with applause. Avi swore he could hear the rest of the crew cheering the loudest.

Avi and Johann glanced at each other. They knew, without a word, what they needed. Johann gripped Avi’s hand hard and slipped them away from the crowd, their professors and friends alike.

In the quiet valley, away from the world, away from destruction or performance, Avi felt Johann’s love on his lips. And at that moment, it was the only thing he knew.

#taz #taz balance #johann appreciation week #taz johann #taz avi #johavi #my writing

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thrawns-babygirl · 1 year

Note

Here’s a Crosshair request for you if you’d like!

I’m a sucker for the undercover-at-a-gala trope so what if you’re a Jedi shadow (like Quinlan Vos) who works with the Bad Batch once and awhile, and you’re in an established relationship with Crosshair. There’s a separatist gala you need to infiltrate and Crosshair goes as your date. While you two are sneaking around the venue, you have to hide in the nearest room that turns out to be a bedroom and Crosshair has ideas 😏 thank you! Love your writing!!

ANON!!! I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!! I have literally no idea why i struggled with this ask for what? over a month??? I must have deleted a combined like 3k words for this over the time i was trying to write it. But i would not let it beat me, i had to finish this ask for u for waiting so patiently.

also its like, a bingo card of every trope for this trope so i apologies for how uninspired this is lmao

Side note, I am very sick at the moment and on a lot of painkillers, so like, I proof read this but please let me know of any glaring issues or mistakes because I'm not of this world currently.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Unprotected PiV, Creampie, Clothed Sex Word Count: 1700+

Masterlist

Walking through the elegant halls of a senator’s estate on Scipio you can’t help but gawk at the splendour of it all. The insane amount of money one must have to own a home like this simply baffles you as you walk arm in arm with your date for the night through the ornate halls.

Some leaked intel let the republic know that some unscrupulous things were to go down tonight within these halls, and you don’t doubt the accuracy of that information given the amount of high ranking members of the Banking Clan you have seen engaging in hushed conversations in hidden alcoves of the grandiose estate.

Your partner turns to look down at you and you can’t help but blush under his gaze. Crosshair was always a handsome man, but seeing him clad entirely in a fine, black suit was a whole new level of desirable. A service droid passes you, stopping long enough for the two of you to grab a flute of what appeared to be more bubbles than liquid before continuing on its way through the winding halls of the building.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight mesh’la” Crosshair whispers, breath fanning over your ear as you take a sip of your no doubt pricey beverage. You couldn’t find it in you to disagree with him, black silks hugged your frame, accentuating your figure in all the best ways, something your jedi robes were absolutely not designed for. While you did feel naked without your lightsaber, you understood the necessity of remaining entirely undetectable. You smile up at him, noting the make-up that has covered his trademark tattoo, his slicked back hair and absolutely dazzling smile.

When the moment called for it, Crosshair could reluctantly play the part of suave, chatty businessperson which honestly surprised you at first. He was absolutely the least talkative member of the squad by a mile, all short replies and clipped words, so when this mission was assigned to the Batch you were shocked that they had all immediately turned their attention to Crosshair.

“He’s the most arrogant, thus will fit in perfectly with the typical crowd at one of these types of functions” Tech had said, earning himself a smack on the back of the head from the Sniper, “among other reasons, Hunter looks too much like a regular clone, I am needed to extrapolate the data that you acquire and Wrecker is… Wrecker” Tech adjusts his goggles before continuing “It would also look out of place for one of us to go alone, and you two already have, um, chemistry, for lack of a better term”

He wasn’t wrong about that; you and Crosshair hadn’t exactly put a label on anything yet, but everyone knew there was something there.

Finally, after a few hours of simply wandering the halls you find your target, a simply unassuming Muun that has been implicated in embezzling funds and using it to pad separatist pockets. He was speaking in hushed whispers with a human male before the man passed him a small, innocuous looking data stick before parting ways with a polite nod.

Your time to shine.

You leave Crosshair’s side, giving his hand a quick squeeze as you go, before sauntering over to the target and ‘accidently’ spilling the contents of your flute, onto his silk robes. Stuttering and apologising you begin patting him down, slipping your hand into his pocket and retrieving the data stick as he shoved you away, telling you he was going to send you the bill for getting the stains out of his clothes. “This is pure shimmersilk you know!” he yelled at you as you made your hasty exit, apologising profusely as you retreat towards where Crosshair was waiting, arms crossed as he leaned against a marble pillar, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“You got it doll?” he whispers, wrapping a long arm around your waste as he begins leading your further into the throng of people and towards the exit. “Of course” you reply, sinking further into his side. Hopefully the two of you would make it out before he even noticed it was missing.

Your hopes were dashed as you heard a panicked “Hey! Wait!” coming from behind you.

Crosshair grabs your arm, pulling you into the nearest unlocked room before softly closing and locking the door. Both of you hold your breath, listening to the sound of approaching and then thankfully retreating footsteps. It doesn’t seem like anyone saw you, but you still wait together in silence before turning the light on to look at the room you have found yourselves in for the foreseeable future.

It's a luxurious bedroom, a four-poster bed draped in magnificent silks with more pillows than anyone could possibly need adorning it. Crosshair takes his comm and a small datapad out of his pocket, reaching his hand out to you for you to pass him the datastick before plugging it into the device and comming Tech to let him know he can begin starting the transfer and telling him of your less than ideal situation at the moment. He tells you that Hunter will be there within the next standard hour for extraction but until then you just need to hang tight.

You sit down on the bed, running your hands along the silken sheets before looking back up to Crosshair. His eyes are raking over your form as he placed the datapad down on one of the bedside tables before walking over to you.

“So doll, it seems we have the better part of an hour to keep ourselves occupied…” He trails off, sitting next to you on the bed, one hand finding your thigh while the other softly pushes you back onto the plush surface. “And no one knows we’re in here” his thumb begins soothing circles into your hip as he looms above you, one hand holding himself up as he stares down at you.

“So it seems…” you smile as you use the fact that your legs are still hanging off the bed to your advantage, kicking your heels off before you shimmy further up the bed, until you’re leaning back against the mountain of pillows. Crosshair crawls up the bed after you before his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

“Kark doll, you look so good in this dress, it’s been so kriffing hard keeping my hands off you all night” he mumbles against your lips, calloused hands already working their way underneath your dress towards your panties. You let out a small whimper, the feeling of his rough fingers digging into your flesh making heat pool low in your belly as Crosshair begins placing languid kisses against your neck, working his way down to your collarbone before sucking dark marks into your skin.

The chirping from his comm startles both of you, making you jump before Crosshair angrily grabs the device “What do you want Tech?” he growls out. “I just thought that you would want to know that Hunter will be arriving earlier than expected and to be ready for extraction in the next 30 standard minutes” Tech replies, obviously somewhat irate, not enjoying the tone that his brother is giving him. “Understood” Crosshair replies, turning off the device and throwing it onto the bed before returning his attention back to you.

“Looks like we will have to make this quicker than I wanted, but don’t worry princess, I’ll worship you like you deserve once we get back to base” his fingers begin toying with you over the fabric of your panties while his lips busy themselves against yours once again. His mouth swallows every sound that you make as his skilful fingers rub tight circles against your clit, already bringing you close to the edge with practiced ease.

Your panties are soaked at this point, his assault on your senses overwhelming you as you try to stifle your sounds as not to alert anyone who could potentially be loitering outside the door. His hand leaves you momentarily as he fumbles with the fastenings on his pants, opening them just far enough to free his weeping length.

Pulling your panties to the side, he sinks into you, letting out a breathy groan as he slides into your heat in a single motion. Resting his weight entirely on one hand he brings his other to cover your mouth as he begins an absolutely brutal pace, the layers of your clothing helping to muffle the sounds of him relentlessly driving into you.

You silently thank him for covering your mouth, the way he’s fucking into you would have you screaming for him. You wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you, trying to get him to go deeper and deeper with every thrust. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hits that spot inside you with the head of his cock with every thrust, turning you into a mess with every drag of his hard length through your slick folds.

Lowering his head you can feel his breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filth into your ear “so tight for me kriff… I can feel you choking my cock you’re so close aren’t you?” you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. He angles his hips, grinding down onto your clit with every thrust as he loses his rhythm, chasing his own release as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “cum for me doll” his whispers have an almost pleading nature to them, like he’s holding himself back from the edge waiting to tumble over the peak with you. A few more deep thrusts pull your orgasm from you, flooding your nerves as pleasure washes over you, causing your walls to clench around him. With a strangled groan against your neck he follows you over the edge, pumping ropes of hot cum inside of you, hips stuttering as his cock throbs.

You’re lying on the bed, Crosshair still sheathed inside you as his comm chirps again “Oh for the love of… Yes?” he slips out of you, tucking himself away as he talks, apparently Hunter is only five standard minutes away so you adjust your panties and swiftly put your heels back on.

Crosshair places a kiss to your temple before you make your escape.

@where-is-my-mind-tho @starborncyare @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot

#bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair smut #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader smut #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair smut #bad batch crosshair smut #bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader smut #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #tbb smut #bad batch smut #the bad batch smut #tbb x reader

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cogitoergofun · 2 months

Text

You may not think about Tim Dunn. Indeed, unless you’re a close observer of Texas politics, it’s likely you haven’t heard of him. But Dunn thinks a lot about you.

For two decades he has been quietly, methodically, and patiently building a political machine that has pushed Texas forcefully to the right, sending more and more members of the centrist wing of the Republican Party into exile. A 68-year-old oil billionaire, Dunn seeks to transform Texas into something resembling a theocracy. If you ever wonder why state laws and policies are more radical than most Texans would prefer, the answer has a lot to do with Dunn and his checkbook. If you question why Texas’s elected officials no longer represent the majority of Texans’ views, the reason can be traced to the tactics employed by Dunn and the many organizations and politicians he funds and influences. He has built his own caucus within the Legislature that is financially beholden to him. And despite his Sunday school pleas for comity, Dunn has deepened Texas’s political divisions: there are the Democrats and what remains of the mainstream conservative Republican Party. And then there are Dunn and his allies.

He grew up in Big Spring, about forty miles northeast of Midland, with three older brothers in a cramped house. He now lives in a mansion, hidden within a roughly twenty-acre walled compound on the northern edge of Midland. Nearby is the nondenominational church where he regularly delivers sermons as a lay minister. The Dunns are one of Texas’s wealthiest families, having acquired inexpensive leases in the Permian Basin years before fracking made it possible to extract oil and gas from fields previously thought to be in decline. As a political power broker, he mostly operates behind the scenes, routinely writing six- and seven-figure checks. This money is only the visible portion of a political operation that shapes the agenda in Austin and is feared by many Republican elected officials.

Throughout its history, Texas has seen plenty of influential men who have shared their message from the pulpit. And a steady march of rich men have opened their wallets to get politicians to do what they want. But we’ve never seen the two archetypes merge in quite this way. Dunn has said he believes we’re in the midst of a holy battle that pits Christians against those he refers to as Marxists, who he claims want to control all property and take away freedom. Marxists “are increasingly becoming bolder and more brazen in their quest for tyranny,” he has warned. “It is becoming clear they want to kill us.” The founder of Marxism, he argued, wasn’t Karl Marx. It was Satan.

For Dunn, politics, work, and religion all run together. “I have very deliberately unsegmented my life,” he said in 2022 on a podcast hosted by Ken Harrison, the chair of Promise Keepers, a national evangelical group for men. “I don’t have one approach in business and another approach in ministry and another approach in church . . . I work for God, and God has given me a bunch of jobs to do.”

Dunn directs that work from the center of a hive of his own creation, surrounded by politicians and pastors, fellow oil billionaires, and political consultants, all of whom are carrying out his vision. He still has a bee on a string—except these days, that bee is the state of Texas.

In the past two years Dunn has become the largest individual source of campaign money in the state by far. Until recently his main tool for exerting influence has been the Defend Texas Liberty PAC, to which he has given at least $9.85 million since the beginning of 2022. This is nearly all the money he contributed to Texas races over that span and the majority raised by the committee. The political action committee targets Republicans, many of them quite conservative, whom it deems insufficiently loyal to the organization’s right-wing agenda. Dunn is not a passive donor who will dole out a few thousand dollars after a phone call and some flattering chitchat. The funding machine he has built is designed to steer politics and control politicians.

Its methods are deceptively simple. A Dunn-affiliated organization lets lawmakers know how it wants them to vote on key issues of the legislative session. After the session, it assigns a number, from zero to one hundred, to each lawmaker based on these votes. Republicans who score high, in the eighties or nineties, are likely to remain in Dunn’s good graces. But those who see their scores drift down to the seventies or even sixties—who, in other words, legislate independently? Their fate is easy to predict.

They’ll likely face a primary opponent, often someone little known in the community, whose campaign bank account is filled by donations from Dunn and his allies. This cash provides access to political consultants and operations that can be used to spread false and misleading attacks on Dunn’s targets, via social media feeds, glossy mailers, and text messages. “They told you point blank: if you don’t vote the way we tell you, we’re going to score against you,” said Bennett Ratliff, a Republican former state representative from Dallas County. “And if you don’t make a good score, we’re going to run against you. It was not a thumb on the scale—it was flat extortion.” Ratliff lost in 2014 to a Dunn-backed right-wing candidate, Matt Rinaldi, who scored a perfect one hundred in the next two sessions and quickly amassed power: Rinaldi now serves as the combative and divisive chair of the state GOP.

According to several sources involved in Texas politics, what Dunn demands from his candidates, even more than electoral victory, is fealty. He tends to win, sooner or later, one way or another. Sometimes his preferred candidates win the primary and, given the gerrymandering that favors Republicans in most districts in Texas, waltz into office. But even when his candidates lose, the reelected incumbents have been battered by negative rhetoric and have begged and borrowed to raise funds to counter the attacks. Many are left wondering if it’s worth fighting back. Some have chosen to get out of politics entirely. Notable recent retirements include former state senator Kel Seliger and Representative Andrew Murr, both of whom were centrist Republicans who commanded respect from colleagues in both parties and acted as brakes on Dunn’s agenda.

Dunn’s influence goes well beyond campaigns and politics. His résumé is lengthy. He is vice chairman of the Texas Public Policy Foundation, a right-wing think tank located a couple of blocks south of the Capitol. TPPF generates policy proposals—from severe property tax cuts to bills that impede the growth of renewable energy—that are often taken up by the Texas Legislature and emulated in other red states. He has served for years on the board of the First Liberty Institute, a legal powerhouse that has won Supreme Court cases to advance Christianity’s role in public life.

As his wealth has grown, Dunn has used it to support private companies that align with his goals. Through his financial vehicle Hexagon Partners, he recently invested in Christian Halls, whose chief executive says his vision is to create Christian community colleges and trade schools “in every county of the nation in the next ten years.” Also through Hexagon Partners, Dunn invested $7.5 million in a company affiliated with Brad Parscale, who worked in San Antonio targeting swing voters with digital advertising before he became manager of Donald Trump’s failed 2020 presidential campaign. That firm plans to build a “Christian-based” advertising agency that will use artificial intelligence to precisely target consumers with commercial and political messages.

In the past several years Dunn has become involved with multiple online media operations. “You can’t trust the newspapers,” he wrote in a 2018 letter to voters. But apparently you can trust Texas Scorecard, a political website that is often critical of politicians who don’t support his agenda. Texas Scorecard was published by Empower Texans, a group largely funded by Dunn that then became a separate organization in 2020. It continues to publish articles that are generally critical of candidates Dunn opposes.

He has also been an officer with Chicago-based Pipeline Media, which maintains a network of websites designed to look like independent local media outlets but that churn out often-partisan articles that amplify stances taken by special interest groups. The Tow Center for Digital Journalism at Columbia University found that this network has attacked renewable energy and advocated for property tax cuts. Further, Dunn is a longtime board member of the Lucy Burns Institute, publisher of the website Ballotpedia, which provides information on federal, state, and local elections. It recently launched an “ultra-local” initiative, publishing updates on candidate positions and endorsements in areas that have become news deserts after the closures of local newspapers. The site reported more than a quarter billion page views in 2022.

[...]

Moreover, he is a major donor to some of the most prominent politicians in Texas. He was instrumental in helping Dan Patrick get elected lieutenant governor, arguably the most powerful office in the state. When Patrick first ran for that office, in 2014, he entered a runoff against incumbent David Dewhurst. In the final days before the election, Empower Texans gave Patrick $350,000 and secured for him a $300,000 loan from a Houston bank. The money helped pay for a last-minute blitz of advertising on television and on Facebook, Google, and Twitter.

Dunn is also a longtime backer of Texas attorney general Ken Paxton and helped him escape impeachment last year for abuse of public trust and other corruption-related charges. Prior to Paxton’s trial, Jonathan Stickland, the head of Defend Texas Liberty, made it clear he was ready to spend Dunn’s money to go after any official who voted to oust the attorney general. “There will be one helluva price to pay,” he warned in a tweet, and then added: “Wait till you see my PAC budget.”

That wasn’t the only step Dunn took to protect his ally. Before the impeachment trial in the Texas Senate, Defend Texas Liberty gave Patrick—who chose to preside as judge in the proceeding—$1 million in campaign donations and a $2 million forgivable loan. This is thirty times more than Defend Texas Liberty gave Patrick in 2022, when he was running for reelection. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a bribe—it was all perfectly legal under state law—and Patrick has denied any quid pro quo.

Still, as soon as the final votes to acquit the attorney general were cast, Patrick discarded his veil of impartiality and delivered a caustic rebuke to the House leadership for wasting everyone’s time. Despite abundant evidence of Paxton’s corruption, Patrick argued that the House should never have impeached the attorney general. Representative Ann Johnson, a Houston Democrat who served as an impeachment manager, told Texas Monthly that this tirade made it clear the fix had been in from the moment Patrick grabbed the gavel.

Later, the Texas Tribune reported on a meeting between infamous white supremacist Nick Fuentes and Stickland, who prior to leading Defend Texas Liberty was a state representative to whom Dunn had contributed handsomely. Patrick was quick to condemn Fuentes but slow to criticize Stickland and the PAC. He never returned the money he’d received from the group. Instead he invested it in Israeli bonds, which his campaign treasurer could presumably sell at a later date or simply collect interest payments on for years.

Increasingly, Dunn is active in politics outside Texas. In October 2022 he gave $250,000 to the new Stand for Freedom PAC, nearly all of the money it had raised since its inception earlier that year. The so-called super PAC, which is based in Georgia and can raise unlimited funds, spent $190,000 on congressional races across the country that fall. It supported nine right-wing candidates. A couple of days before the election, it spent $10,000 on text messages in suburban Atlanta, half of them in support of the Republican challenger and half attacking a Democratic incumbent.

Dunn also gave $1 million in the summer and fall of 2022 to the Conservation Action for America PAC (out of $1.05 million it raised). The PAC gave $500,000 to another PAC, which supported right-wing candidates in Senate races in Alabama and Missouri. But for now, most of Dunn’s time and fortune remain focused on Texas.

Dunn is up-front about his desire to use politics to pave the way for a “New Earth,” in which Jesus Christ and his believers will live together. (“When heaven comes to earth and God dwells with his people as the King,” Dunn has said.) Until then, he remains a key player in the growing Christian nationalism movement, which rejects the importance of pluralism to American identity. Instead it contends that only devout Christians are good Americans.

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houseofbrat · 1 year

Note

“King Charles is not a housing association for distant relatives”

https://www.standard.co.uk/news/uk/king-charles-plan-slimmed-down-monarchy-frogmore-cottage-harry-meghan-b1069700.html

And so it begins…the changes to course correct a bloated operation. Ready for the KC3 haters who were calling him weak the other day to start calling him cruel 🍿

The news came as the King’s visit to France was delayed after extensive rioting on Thursday night. Senior figures have told the Standard that after the period of transition following the coronation, the King, assisted by Queen Camilla, will move to tackle inefficiencies in what is being viewed as a largely overstaffed and outdated system.

Vice-Admiral Sir Tony Johnstone-Burt, Master of the Household, and the Keeper of the Privy Purse Sir Michael Stevens, responsible for finance, will execute the shake-up of what is described as a “top-heavy royal household”. Camilla has been overseeing the fine detail of the King’s plan to ensure that after the coronation the royal household will be run the “Clarence House way”.

One senior figure said: “It is not about cuts, it is about getting the best value for money from those on the payroll. Sometimes less is more.”

Another source added: “The King is not some sort of housing association for distant relatives.” Harry and Meghan were given use of Frogmore Cottage, a five-bedroom mansion on the Windsor estate in 2018, by the late Queen.

[...]

However, the couple’s loss of the cottage, their only British home, is said to be just the “tip of the iceberg”.

It is understood Charles is keen to reduce the number of royals with a financial dependence on the crown, especially if they do not have an active role to play. He wants funds from the Duchy of Lancaster, the portfolio of land, property and assets held in trust for the King, and the sovereign grant that covers the cost of royal travel on official engagements, to be spent more effectively. He also wants to pay his staff competitive salaries and pensions so that he gets the best people for the jobs.

“There will be staff cutbacks. That has already started. The buzz phrase is ‘value for money,’” said the source.

Several members of the extended royal family have enjoyed subsidised palace accommodation, with some having apartments that are being used by their children as “London pads”.

The source said: “Over time, that is going to change. Properties will be let at commercial rates going forward and to people outside the family. Where it is in a palace environment they will of course be security vetted.”

Privately, the King’s senior staff have made it clear to members of the extended family that if they cannot afford where they are living, they should “cut their cloth”. “A lot of practices that have evolved during the last reign will be changing. The King is not heartless or reckless, but if the family members are not part of the core family and not working for the crown, it is fair for them to house themselves and fund themselves,” a senior figure said.

[...]

One insider said: “The staffing has been on the top-heavy side. That has built up over time, with advisers to advisers and so on. That’s all going to stop. The boss wants effective people in effective positions doing effective jobs being paid appropriately.” The senior source added: “Much of what was in place doesn’t make economic sense and will be changed during the new reign.”

Yup. This is about what I expected.

People forget that Charles turned the Duchy of Cornwall into the behemoth it is now. It was struggling and in debt when he took it over from his mother.

#ask #Evening Standard #Robert Jobson #King Charles III #King Charles III in CHARGE!#Chuckie Trips FTW #real estate #frogmore cottage #duchy of lancaster #crown estate #the crown estate

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go-to-the-mirror · 1 year

Text

god i hate when the moral nuance podcast has moral nuance, smh

Anyway! Happy magiversary, first of all, I'm drawing some stuff for it :3, and secondly welcome to my ramble for episode 155. There were some words that were good, and some that was rambles. Enjoy.

@a-mag-a-day

BASIRA Hmm. London’s what, 600 square miles? ARCHIVIST 607. BASIRA (Sighs) Whatever.

I like to think that he just knew that without the Ceaseless Watcher. Know it all prick <3.

ARCHIVIST So I guess we’ll want to look out for a pair of homeless serial killers now. I’ll add it to the list.

I love him your honour <3. Like at a certain point you're going to start not taking All Of The Attempted Murders so seriously, and Jon Jarchivist Sims has hit that point about seven times already. He is going through it.

BASIRA I’m trying to convince her to go after them. To, uh… Hunt them. ARCHIVIST Why? BASIRA Because I’m not going to lose her. ARCHIVIST She goes hunting again, you might anyway. BASIRA And if she doesn’t, she might die. ARCHIVIST Something you’re fine with in certain other cases, and something she’s made peace with.

THANK YOU, JON. Bloody hypocrite. Murder's fine, but nightmares? Oh, that's not allowed. And yeah, Jon fucked up, and he hurt a lot of people, but Christ, so did Daisy, and they had the same bloody agency in it. Daisy killed people - people who didn't deserve to die, she's culpable in that, and Basira's not admitting it because it makes her culpable for enabling Daisy. Which she is, she knew Daisy killed people, only saved Jon because he was her friend, said that she should have let Daisy kill people.

ARCHIVIST (Sigh) Statement of Tova McHugh regarding their string of near-death experiences. Original statement given December 3rd, 2002. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.

(deadpan) Diversity win. The person who killed a bunch of people to extend their life canonically uses they/them pronouns.

And that’s not money from some trust fund. I mean sure my parents loaned me the money to start, but I built my business up from the ground, and we now provide jobs for almost 700 people.

(stares directly into the camera)

I'm not even going to comment on that. "not money from some trust fund" "my parents loaned me the money to start"

Ok, Tova, ok.

Sorry, I’m just… aware of how this story makes me look and I don’t want you to think I’m some selfish monster grinding people up just to extend my own ghoulish life. I’m trying to do good.

I can see the parallels and I do not like it.

If we shove my feelings towards Jon to the side for one moment, I can see the similarities between him and Tova, and how he would see himself in Tova. No matter how I try to spin it, Jon has been hurting people. He's been forcing innocent people - and even if they weren't innocent, it's still fucked - to relieve the worst moments of their life, not only once, but every night, with a new and spooky observer. That's horrifying, that's horrible.

Sure, it's not killing people, and he recognised that what he was doing was wrong, so it's not really on the same level as Tova, I feel, but still, I can understand why he'd see himself in Tova, and I can understand what I think we're meant to see in this.

It's one thing to hear a statement from a victim - an important part in realising that Jon has fucked up, but it's quite another to hear one from someone like him, justifying their awful actions under the guise of doing good. Maybe they (sing.) are doing good, maybe he is, but that does not erase all the people they've (pl.) hurt to get there.

I had to live, I couldn’t die, not then. We were on the verge of closing a deal that would provide fresh water to impoverished communities in a dozen developing countries. Without me, it would fall through.

Mate, killing is not the bloody answer. Sure, they might be doing good in the world, but they don't deserve to live more than anyone, they're killing people - actual living people. That's wrong. Sure, you're allowed to kill to protect your own life, but... it's wrong. They're not doing anything to hurt them, it's wrong. I just think it's wrong.

An old woman, frail and shivering, staring out of the ducks over the water, empty bread bag by her side. If only I could have explained it to her, I’m sure she would have understood. She might even have agreed. But I couldn’t talk to her, and I needed to live.

She needed to live. She deserved to live, everyone deserves to live, and it's wrong to make that choice for someone who you don't even know. It's understandable, what Tova did, but it's their responsibility to not value their life above everyone else's so much that they actually kill someone. That's wrong.

"I needed to live." The old woman was just a person and by saying your ("useful") life is better than someone else's ("useless") life is... bad. It's really bad. Like, uh, yeah content warning for

I thought I’d solved it. If anything else like that happened, I knew what I needed to do.

So, she was going to do it again. Good lord.

This time I sought out a homeless man. Young and strong, though his life was clearly over as he tried to destroy himself through drinking. I followed him into an alley, and his liver gave out, just at the moment the EpiPen was pushed into my leg.

Ah, that homeless initiative, huh. But, of course, their (sing.) life is worth more. /s

God, they (sing.) suck as a person, like what the hell. That's awful, that's horrible.

I do find myself hating them, quite a bit. Good lord.

I made a decision. One I am deeply ashamed of, but I honestly thought it was for the best. I couldn’t keep living like that in the shadow of death, of what I had to do to keep going. One sacrifice, I thought. Just one, from someone with their entire life ahead of them. I took a newborn.

I don't even know what to say. How the fuck are they able to lie to themself so much as to think that killing - what is it now - four people - is good? Is going to "help the world as a whole," god damn them. God damn them.

Like, how do you even do that? Egotistical piece of shit. Believing their life is of so much more value than the people they kill to keep on living.

It was a baby born to poverty, one whose life I thought would bring it pain, and I believed it would be the last I would ever need to do.

Oh, right, classism.

Also like, their language. "One whose life I thought would bring it pain," that's eugenics. That is literally eugenics.

Eventually I realized it had nothing to do with age or health. It was about connection. About joy. The more friends, family, loved ones the person has, the further out the terror of sudden death spreads from me. The longer it keeps me alive.

Fear soup, the fear of death is mixed in with a lot of other things. The Dark, the fear of that oblivion, absence of light, or warmth, of life. The Desolation, in this case, the fear of losing someone to the cruel hands of death or whatever. This is also a desolation statement. Nice hill to die on.

I’m 40 now, and I have taken the life of beloved mothers, respected professionals, pillars of the community. But I have done so much good with my life, I’ve reached further helped more people than they ever could have.

FUCK THEM. I don't even know what to say to that.

I’m not saying how I live is right, or good, but it is the position I have been put in, and a decision I have to make. I never wanted to weigh up the value of a life, to set it on the scales against my own, but that’s a choice that I am forced into. And it is one I will continue to make.

They suck as a person and I want to throw them with a rock.

What is the value of a life? Is it something that can be quantified, put down as numbers, good deeds, bad? And when your life your existence is at the cost of doing harm, what then? I’ve - (laughs) I’ve saved the world, the whole world. Does that give me the right to take what I need to survive?

Great question! I don't know. I don't have an answer? Maybe? No? It's not a definitive yes, I mean... No. No. That's not an option. He's gonna have to die, that's... the only good option, that's not a good option, that's the only option that isn't hurting people that could have been relatively uninvolved.

I don't think anyone should make that decision for you, but you have a responsibility as a person to not kill people for your own gain, that's important.

The needs of the many is greater than the needs of the few only can really work when you're not saving yourself under the guise of helping more people.

If I'm going to be consistent, I'm going to say that no. Jon should stick to old statements, and let himself die when he dies, because he doesn't deserve the trauma of other people. But... I like him a lot, okay.

This relisten is really making me pull away from being a Jon apologist, hate it for that. /hj

I find myself hating her, her callous self-deception. But am I so different? Daisy’s chosen to resist in her own way, knowing full well it might take her life in the end, Melanie too. I respect them for it, but I - I don’t know if I can follow their path. I suppose I have a way out now. One that wouldn’t even kill me, at least, I hope not. And yet here I am still. Am I a coward? I just… what if they need me? What if.

I DONT KNOW STOP PUTTING THESE COMPLEX SITUTIONS WIHT COMPLEX ANSWERS ON ME IM JUST A SILLY LITTLE GUY WHO'S STILL TRYING TO UNLEARN BLACK AND WHITE MORALITY

What would I do? Hell if I know! Probably the same as what Jon did, I'd hurt people, hate myself, hurt people, hate myself in a cycle, and I'm not sure at this moment if I'd do it, if I'd blind myself and possibly die, or not and live as something I hate? I mean, like, it's not even an impossible situation. Maybe he is a coward, maybe I'd be too. But... I don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I just don't know.

This is a situation where for most of the time the way out was dying. This is a situation where there is a way out that'll leave Jon vulnerable, both cause I don't think being newly blind is great for general survivability when things are literally out to get you and because he won't be an avatar anymore, he won't have those abilities that while he hates make him less helpless. Of fucking course he told Gerry he liked that he could compel people, it's some of the only control he's had in this whole situation. This is a situation where the two ways out are death, and maybe death, definitely helpless against the many many things that want him dead.

That's a difficult decision.

MELANIE Thanks for telling me, by the way. It didn’t look like it was easy for you.

WHAT IF I WANTED A JON AND MELANIE FRIENDSHIP? WHAT IF?

MELANIE You won’t need to. I’ve - I’ve made a few arrangements, and… (shaky breath) it’s going to be okay. Honestly. I think it is. I - I can’t be a part of this anymore and if this is the price, then I think I’m okay to pay it.

I'm so happy for her <3

MELANIE (Inhale) It’s - it’s the rest of you I’m worried about. ARCHIVIST We’ll be fine. Always have been. MELANIE (Scoffs lightly) Not always.

THEY COULD HAVE BEEN FRIEND, IN ANOTHER LIFE, IN ANOTHER WORLD, BUT IT'S NOT THAT LIFE AND IT'S NOT THAT WORLD, READ "MAYBE THIS IS IT" BY MMMMPH PLEASE

alexa play sense, sensibility by ajj

what if i wanted them to be ok, what if i wanted it to be okay, what then?

jonny why

ARCHIVIST We’ll miss you. MELANIE (Wryly) Wish I could say the same. ARCHIVIST (Quietly) Yeah.

MELANIE (Deep breath) No. I’ve got this. But if you, um… If you could… In five minutes, I would appreciate it if you could call me an ambulance.

LIKE ITS SO COOL LIKE OK LIKE SHE'S ACTUALLY DOING IT, SHE'S GETTING OUT. she's getting out.

I'm happy for her. I just wish she could get out forever, you know? Live all happy like with her girlfriend, not live through the apocolypse.

Well done Melanie, well done.

Well, um, yeah. That's it really. Shambles.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma meta #a mag a day #mag 155 #tova mchugh #jonathan sims #melanie king #black and white morality is easy ok. but tma has really helped me on the moral nuance side yk?#landscaping your mind chapter one

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inkyvendingmachine · 2 years

Photo

We’d Like Off TGBP’s Wild Ride, Thanks Season 3, Episodes 13

💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀 🎶 Call of Cthulhu Season Three Masterpost 🎶

Warning: This campaign is an edited version of Call of Cthulhu: Song and Dance scenario from the Tales of the Crescent City book. While a lot has been changed, there IS spoilers for it throughout these posts.

Another special shoutout to @bertrumstrousers for content in this episode!!! :3c

ART CHANGES THIS SEASON!! @inkdemonapologist and I are collabing on all the art for these summery posts!! Shazz does lines, and I compose and colour the pieces.

Approaching Coney island in two vehicles just as the park is closing, Joey (with Bendy), Henry, Prophet, Jack, Peter, Allison and Leon are ready to try and find the kidnapped Colette, their final missing angel. Most of the people at the park are clearing out as rides start to shut down, getting through the final lines of the evening and taking any funds that are left to take; Joey doesn’t hesitate in shelling out the money to officially buy everyone tickets into the park. It’s along the beach front so it makes a little sense to still want to view the evening sky or whatever…

Instead they beeline directly to Dragons Gorge, a ride that’s already in the process of closing up for the night. The latest prophecy said The Lost Harbor lies beneath the fiend's domain, and Coney Island aficionado Joey was reminded during TGBP's bragging at the contest that there used to be a different attraction under a certain monster themed ride: a 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea ride...and there's something else familiar about the place...

On the way over, Bendy remarks to Prophet that they really should come back here sometime!! And Prophet gives the place an… appraising look…. sure, we’ll call it that.

Outside of the entrance stand two very familiar statues for anyone who suffered the visions from the one day Prophet called for help… the 'fiends' he saw weren't any sort of earthy beast or even mythos monster, they're the 45 foot tall dragon statues flanking the Dragon's Gorge ride. which, maybe Joey would have pieced together sooner if he had been involved in those visions but noooooo he had to have a different special talk didn’t he. While they’re trying to look for a backdoor in, Prophet ends up getting a nosebleed from trying to push his mythos/ink sensing whatever farther than he should. Joey mouths a (what did you do???) at him not even expecting an answer, but also tries to poke Bendy and see if he remembers anything else from the vision that might let them know how to get in, but there’s been no supernatural enter here signs given.

So instead, Joey attempts the good ol’ shoe in the door when a crew member walks out. He manages to get his head in to see where this particular back entrance leads, and instead makes eye contact with an employee in a break room. Hm. this isn’t what we were looking for. Of course, Joey does his usual pretend-he-just-belongs-here-and-nothing-is-wrong and asks where they can go to get to the service area under the ride? This question doesn’t really work on the employee Joey first interacted with, but at least he manages to not tip them off that maybe he’s not supposed to be back here.

But… while this is happening, Joey notices another employee hanging around nearby, listening in with interest whenever a few hints at what they’re looking for is revealed. Also the kid’s shoes are leaving quite a lot to be desired. So Joey thanks the first employee, closes the door, and then without any hesitation walks up to this kid and asks him point blank what he knows. This shocks the kid, but he quickly spills what's in his thoughts: He was wondering if Joey was being pranked, actually, and was going to warn him against it. See, this kid’s been under the ride before, it’s all rusty and not a great place to be and he really felt he was going to die or something…. So yeah, if Joey’s being sent that way, it’s probably for a prank, like he was that day.

Prophet interjects to ask how he found himself there, which makes the kid jump again of course because YOUR EYES SIR,,,, but everyone else seems to be chill with this so uhhhhhhh.

ok.

The kid gets into more detail about the prank he was dragged into, tho hesitates on giving specifics until Joey spins his story right back at him, informing him they’re looking for a friend who might have been wrongfully sent down there, and they’re worried about her. That’s enough for the kid to lead them over to a different service door, where Joey assists in sneaking everyone in, and then eventually to a hatch in the floor in a corner.

Joey slips him a five and tells him to get new shoes. The group descends.

The under ride is just as dilapidated and spooky as the kid insisted. Dragon's Gorge used to be a different ride -- but while that old contraption is shut down, the previous submarine-like experience in the water had never been removed, and now just had a bunch of rusty grating put over it. Off across the way is a single lit maintenance door, and around in the general area is just a lot of old, moldy decorations, port holes filled with melting dioramas left to time… and a sign.

WELL THAT’S,,, FAMILIAR TO A FEW OF THEM, PROBABLY SHOULD HEAD THAT WAY. SURE AM GLAD TWO MUSICIANS DIDN’T GET KIDNAPPED DOWN HERE WITH HOW LONG IT TOOK FOR US TO FIGURE OUT WE NEEDED TO HEAD IN THIS DIRECTION

Anyways.

So while the Prophet was pointing out the sign, and most of the group was busy being wary of the abandoned ride they found themselves in, a third thing was noticed… Something moving, reaching in the water…. WHICH SHOULD BE FINE.

THERE'S NO AQUATIC CREATURES AT ALL IN CTHULHU MYTHOS SURELY IT'S JUST

FISH……��………..

This is pointed out and Henry, who is still acting a little... off... is immediately ready with a stick to whack it. Bendy and Joey end up volunteering to go across first, since Bendy is probably the only one who can react quick enough here if whatever-it-is under them tries anything fishy (pun intended). But like… even so, uh, please be ready to beat it up???

Allison joins Henry by pulling out a machete from her hand bag.

Joey starts across, and indeed manages to find a fall-away grate piece, specifically hinged to drop someone into the water below. But Bendy assists with helping him leap across without issue, and after making sure the water creature isn’t planning on just crawling up to join them, the rest of the group warily makes their way across, being ready to find the same sort of traps along the way.

Prophet immediately activates another one of those holes he was just warned aout, and manages to catch himself on the edge and scramble out before whatever in the water manages to grab him. So of course Joey and Prophet get into an argument while Jack looks around to find an actual safe path for everyone to traverse. The rest of the group gets across without incident to the maintenance door, at which point Prophet points out that something’s lurking in the shadows over there.

Whatever it is, it seems to have a shine to it, and is actively crouching and moving backwards, not exactly wanting to engage with the group. But also it’s tall… little bigger than anyone here. Jack pulls out his flashlight from the bag of possibly needed supplies he’s been carrying this entire time, and hands it to Joey to use it, while Prophet tries to sneak closer to see it.

The light shows off a very nice suit, on a very large body, which is topped with not a human head, but some kind of steam making engine contraption thingy. How do they know it makes steam?? Well because it immediately makes a terrible shrieking sound and throws a bunch of hot steam at the two the moment light is shined on it!!!!! Prophet scrambles out of the way, shoving Joey into the wall, where he takes damage from both that and getting hit with the steam on his arm, causing both himself and Bendy to yelp in pain.

WELL.

THAT’S ON YOUR CONSCIOUS NOW, HUH PROPHET???

The weird head-replaced thing shoves itself deeper into the junk and tries to hide away, and the group takes the hint that neither of them feel like interacting with each other and move on. Henry helps Joey up while he attempts to recompose himself, since well, he’s not good with pain…

Prophet does end up asking if they’re feeling alright, in which Bendy admits while Joey stays silent assuming the question isn’t for him, that Joey is indeed now burnt because of that. Prophet says he’ll be more attentive next time… but still in a way that probably is only @ Bendy lmao. get wrecked joey. But Bendy is looking out for his friend, and tries to maybe put some ink over it and help protect the burns or… something while they press forwards. It’s not making them feel better though, especially as a new wave of dizziness washes over Joey, like his sense of balance is starting to drain from him…

Meanwhile, Jack’s having a few flashbacks to NOLA… and the last time he met people with metallic heads, the last time he befriended them… Peter is having similar flashbacks, but in more of a “hey lets maybe not get chased around again thanks” way.

But for now, they head in through the door to the next area. It actually looks like a sort of maintance room, but instead of just a few things for fixing stuff around the ride, it’s more like a working area for… building stuff? Including a desk near the front that happens to contain… an audio log?

Meanwhile, Leon is trying to get Joey to let him patch up his hands, but Joey is extremely insistent on them pushing forwards, not even taking time to listen through the entire tape. Jack however, has a pretty good idea of who that figure with the engine for a head was out in the hall, and wants to see if… maybe they can help him? He managed to get through to Norman before, after all… Peter stays with him as he starts to hang back, and Prophet soon enough also notices the missing sheep and heads back as well.

There’s the sound of groaning metal, and Joey has fully determined he’s not getting his hands checked out. Leon, Allison, and Henry trail after him, a little bit behind as they notice some yellow circles and markings on the ground that someone maybe chose to ignore for the sake of moving on.

Joey walks towards the door on the other side of the room, not paying attention to the piles of junk around him, and not noticing that the metal sound he was hearing… wasn’t from the ride above.

It was from the whipper ride right next to him, as it swung to life and knocked him off his feet, catching him in one of the ride cars and continuing to spin him around.

Henry jumps around the shelves as he notices this, grabs an ax that was attached to the wall, and prepares to, y’know, fIGHT AN AMUSEMENT PARK RIDE??? Somewhere in all this, familiar British ranting has started up.

There doesn’t seem to be any giant off switches or cords to pull to stop the ride from whirling, and the circles under it can be identified as similar to the same magic used to squish spirits into humans, from back at the apartment. But this one apparently squished Bertrum’s head into his own amusement park ride… At least we were already working on a way to undo that for other reasons.

Meanwhile, in the other area, Jack does hear all the yelling and ranting and mechanical sounds from the ride and yelps of pain happening, and also runs back in, staring with Prophet at at this whirling amusement park ride that… still has Joey in it. Unmoving. Not responding…

Well. Actually. Someone is responding. It’s Bendy, who is freaking out, and yelling that he’s lost Joey and he doesn’t know what to do and he’s just trying to hang on for dear life!! HELP!!!!

Henry starts chanting some other creepy spell. Prophet immediately recognizes this spell: it’s a compulsion spell! Something that, long ago in Haiti, had been turned on Henry, he’s now trying to use to get the ride to maybe slow down and stop?? Anything??? Nobody knows how to fight an amusement park ride actually, holding the ax just looks real cool. Allison tries to distract it, but it’s not caring about her in the slightest.

Okay well, Jack’s going to run back to the other room and try to … call out? To the figure they saw before?? Ask if… if any of Bertrum Piedmont is still in there?

There’s a puff of emphatic steam.

Jack mentions he wants to help… and gets another puff of steam, as it comes out of it’s hiding spot. Peter has joined Jack, staying back some but ready to help. Jack does manage to get some kind of half communication going, and finds out that this engine-headed Bertrum can see, and is willing to assist in helping with the other side…

Meanwhile, Prophet has taken out one of the weapons he was handed earlier, which was one of the gun that came from Timothee’s stash, and takes aim at the head inside the ride, waiting first to see if Henry’s spell works.

Well… it certainly pops off, but not in the right direction, and instead of getting the ride to ‘stop’, Henry locks up and falls over himself. The machine tries to throw Joey at them, but instead stutters itself and gets locked into place for a moment. Prophet sees this and tries to shoot it, but misses still, so he tries again and– Jams the gun!! COOL. Prophet drops the gun and decides to just run through while he has the chance and go fix what needs to be actually fixed while the rest of the group deals with this nuisance.

Jack, meanwhile, has entered the room with steam-engine head Bertrum, (everyone takes sanity damage from that ™) and introduces the two halves to each other. They both have kinda… slowed down and stopped to stare at each other… Unfortunately, the car that Joey’s in is up in the air, so Allison and Henry can only call to Bendy in concern.

But it seems the two Bertrums are having… what could resemble a conversation????? It sounds like the big machine one thinks these guys are all here to finish them off once and for all, at which point Jack steps forwards and makes sure it’s known that’s NOT true, they’re not here to do that, and actually they’ve seen this before and might be able to help… reverse it? But they will need cooperation for that to happen!

And he manages to actually get through! Turns out, Bertrum isn’t too thrilled to been shoved into his art, and he’d like off. Or out, i guess.

The machine lowers the car that Joey’s in, and Henry is able to go over and pull him out. He’s not dead, and Bendy can kinda confirm he’s not actively dying, but both his legs are broken and Joey still hasn’t gained consciousness from all of this yet… At least they have reason to pause and try to help him before dealing directly with the Bertrum issues, since Joey IS the one who knows the most about magic like this.

Meanwhile, Prophet has snuck off to the next room, and found a new gun to shoot.

[Next Episode]

[Previous Episode]

#call of cthulhu: haunted hijinx #joey drew #Henry Stein #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #peter sunstram #it's not a cthulhu season until one of the title cards looks completely different from the rest

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astartothemoon · 1 year

Text

Boys! Boys! Boys! II Steve II

Summary: Steve is given his dad’s auto repair shop after Mr. Harrington up and leaves Hawkins. Things go semi-great and soon enough Steve and his coworkers (Eddie and Billy) need to come up with a plan to earn some money on the side to keep the shop going. Good thing they are all hot and willing to put on a show. Stripper!AU

This is part 1 of 3 - Steve’s part

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female Reader (nicknamed reader, little use of Y/N)

Trigger Warning: Swearing. Mention of alcohol. Mention of food. Mention of sexual acts but no full on smut. This is a stripper AU. Billy Hargrove is mentioned in this part though he’s barely in it.

Wordcount: 8.8k

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Not a single soul in the small town of Hawkins was particularly surprised when Thomas Harrington finally had enough, sold his car dealership, and went off to go live with his second not-so-secret family somewhere in Oregon. Least of all his son Steve.

What came as quite a shock though, was the letter the Harrington patriarch left behind. The one that said sorry, to Steve not to his wife, and that came with the ownership papers of Harrington Auto repairs, the auto body shop that his dad had acquired a while back but never got around to opening. The one that was meant to go hand in hand with the dealership.

"I know you're good with cars and bad at selling things, so have the garage instead of the dealership. If you want to open it, that would make me proud and if you want to sell it, that's okay too. It's yours."

As much as Steve hated to admit it, his dad was right and he probably knew him better than Steve had ever realized. He was good with cars but an absolute failure when it comes to selling stuff to people. Ice cream, family video membership cards, himself. He'd never get anyone to buy a freaking car.

He could fix them though. And he knew people who do too. People who needed jobs. People he wants to strangle at the best of times but that he calls his friends anyway.

Eddie was easy to rope in, the boy was as excitable as a golden retriever. And while he wasn't super enthusiastic about working a full-time job, the pay and the fact that he got to work on cars all day made it worth it for him.

Billy was a bit harder of a case to crack. Him and Steve having a bit of a strained relationship was the first obstacle. The second was the fact that Billy was a bit of an asshole. Self-centered, with an ego the size of a small country, vain, and a little bit aggressive.

But Billy was good. He knew a shit ton about cars and how to fix even the worst of the worst.

It took a lot of groveling from Steve. A promise of good pay and the agreement to rent out the flat above the garage to him for Billy to come on board.

That was two years ago. Two years of hard work. Of sweat and (secret) tears and fighting and celebrating. Two hard but good years.

Things have changed - for better and worse.

Billy is less of an asshole now. He still has his moment but his anger doesn't cloud all of his judgment anymore. Now he's mostly just a smartass with a big ego. It's crazy what getting a kid out of a bad home can do.

At this point, Steve might even consider him a good friend, though he'll never admit it. Ever.

That's the change for the better.

The shop though, that's barely scraping by. Bills are at an all-time high. Customers come in but with the low prices and relying mostly on locals, funds are limited.

"Eddie, that looks great!" Steve's voice echoes through the room. His eyes are fixed on the shiny blue Mercedes, an intricate silver design painted onto its side.

Turns out Eddie is not just a great mechanic but an artist on top. What started as a fun way to pass the time and something that Eddie had expected to stay a fully self-indulgent hobby, has quickly turned into a somewhat lucrative extra income for the garage.

"Yeah? I got these new spray paints in. The silver really pops against the dark blue."

"Looks great, man" Steve exclaims and gives the man an appreciative pat on the back, earning him a grin in return. Eddie thrives on praise. Golden retriever that he is.

"Hey, have you seen Hargrove? I need to know if Mrs. Hackman's Escort will be done this week.

"Oh, it's done." There's a teasing edge in Eddie's voice that both amuses and terrifies Steve.

"He fixed it already? I thought he was aiming for the end of the week. Wow, that was quick."

"Mmh, " Eddie responds and nods his head in the direction of the front desk where Billy is happily talking to the aforementioned Mrs. Hackman. He's got that saccharine smile on display, all teeth and dimples. All fake.

If there is one thing undeniable about Billy Hargrove, it's the fact that he is disarmingly charming. With his blue eyes and golden locks, he turns everyone's head. Man or woman.

Especially women though. Middle-aged ones to be exact. Like Mrs. Hackman.

And when at first he kind of hated it. Felt used and dirty and uncomfortable with it, Billy has long ago realized that there's some money to make there. A smile means a tip, some flirting means an even bigger tip.

It's all pros and cons in life you just have to decide what outweighs the other.

Eddie lets out a huff, blowing a strand of curls away from his face. It's a terribly hot summer in Indiana this year. All, clothes sticking to your skin and air feeling heavy, kind of hot.

They're all struggling through the heat but while Steve's hair is still looking fairly reasonable, Eddie looks a bit like a wet poodle.

"The AC bring broken is killing me, Harrington."

"I know. I know, me too. I'll — I'll go see what Bunny says."

He finds himself glancing at the closed door to the office at the top of the stairs. He can just imagine Bunny, their secretary, and the smartest person in this workplace, sitting by her desk palming her face in frustration.

Sitting there looking absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous as ever, trying to get them out of this sinking ship, to keep the shop afloat.

She's way too good for them, he's always thought so and probably always will. Which makes him even more grateful that she chooses to stick by them no matter what.

Maybe it's because she's Steve's oldest friend, basically his second half since kindergarten. Maybe she's got masochistic tendencies.

Whatever it is, he doesn't mind as long as she doesn't abandon them.

"Well," Eddie's voice shakes Steve from his thoughts "go ask her now because I'm literally about to die."

"You're being dramatic."

"You won't be saying that when I'm dead and stinking up the place."

"Okay, okay.'' Enough with the theatrics. I'm going."

With an overdramatic roll of his eyes, Steve pushes away from the car and drags his feet up the stairs, entering the office after giving the wooden door a swift rapt of his knuckles.

"Close the door! I don't want the hot air to get in."

Bunny is leaning against her desk, hair clinging to sweaty skin as much as Eddie's does, as much as his own does. She's fanning herself with a piece of paper while a fan whirrs behind her, blowing lukewarm air at her.

"It's just as hot in here as it is downstairs. Actually, it might even be hotter in here, now that I think about it."

She throws a bunny-shaped eraser at him, just barely missing his head. But by ty smile tugging at her lips, he can tell she knows he's right.

It's funny, he thinks looking around the office, how one small moment can change so much about someone's life.

Had he not befriended her at 4 years old she wouldn't be here today, making sure the store is going and keeping the boys out of trouble.

Had she not worn a hoodie with bunny ears that day he might've never called her by the silly nickname that still sticks to this day. She's (Y/N) to her parents and Bunny to everyone else.

"We need to get the AC fixed. Eddie is about ready to die out there and Hargrove is from California but even he is reaching his boiling point … literally."

She laughs at the joke like he knew she would. Of all the good things about her, her sense of humor is not one of them. He loves it, means she laughs at his jokes even when they're really bad.

"I know, Steve but uh - it's not looking so good."

It's not a secret. Even though he's not too involved in dealing with the financial side of the business, as the owner Steve is well aware that they are just barely scraping by.

"Shit."

"Yeah. I'm sorry Steve. We're just able to pay the electricity bill this month, don't think we can splurge on anything else."

He nods in defeat. It feels like letting people down. Himself, the guys, his dad. Everyone.

“You think we can manage to buy a fan or two at least? You know, just to keep Munson alive.”

She looks at him with that expression in her eyes that says “we really can’t but I’ll find a way to do it”. He loves her for it, for everything she does.

“I’ll see what I can do. We really don’t want Eddie to overheat. —“ a big sigh leaves her lips before she continues. “ But Steve, it’s really not looking good. I’ve been twisting and turning and pushing around numbers for what feels like forever now. I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this.”

He knows this. No matter how much he’s trying to push it out of his mind. He is painfully aware of the shot show they’re currently in. Hearing her say it, outright and with no sugar to coat it, that’s like a dagger straight to the heart. Box cutter to the jugular.

“I’ll figure something out, I promise.”

“You always do.”

She puts an unwavering amount of faith in him. Steve is not sure he’s entirely deserving of it but he’s not gonna complain.

Thanks, Buns, you’re the best. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

When he places a soft kiss on the top of her head, the scene of her shampoo fills his nose and takes over all his senses for a moment. She always smells so good. Warm and comforting and like — well, like home.

"What in the world is going on here?"

Loud heavy metal music echoes through the garage, it’s the one thing Eddie and Billy really can agree on. The music choice. This leaves Steve outnumbered when it comes to choosing the music being played during working hours.

It's not the music though, that confuses him, it's the fact that the boys are both shirtless as they lean against the respective cars they're working on, sipping on - water?!

Billy doesn't go out of his way to drink water usually, that boy has a sweet tooth like no other and if there's no beer there (which there isn't during working hours) he always goes for the coke. Regular, none of that watered-down, nasty-tasting diet crap.

And Eddie? Eddie eats and drinks like a 10-year-old. Soda or Juice are just fine but water? That's new.

"It's crazy hot in here, Harrington. Be glad it's just the shirts, Munson was this close to taking off his pants too," Billy jokes, indicating a tiny space between his fingers.

"Yup but I didn't want to make you guys jealous of my great ass. I know it's hard enough measuring up to a shirtless me."

"Whatever you say chicken breast."

Laughter echoes through the hall as Billy twirls the dirty rag, he uses to wipe the grease off his hands, into a tight knot only to land it against Eddie's chest with a loud snap.

It's not always been like this. Fun and full of laughter. Their beginnings were awkward to say the least, neither of the boys was particularly fond of the others. But they've grown on Steve, even Billy. They're somewhat of a little family right now. Brotherly teasing and rivalries included.

"Wow, there are people out there who would pay a lot of money to watch this."

Robin's voice cuts through the boyish laughter and makes 3 heads turn in her direction.

"This," she continues and waves her hand between the boys " I mean. You guys, half-naked, dancing or playing or whatever it is you're doing. Some people would pay money to see this. Not me - but I'm sure there's someone out there. "

"Are you here for another free oil change? You know you're my best friend but at some point, I'm gonna have to start charging."

"Calm down Steve, what do you take me for? No, I'm here for Bunny actually. I gotta return some records she let me borrow. So don't let me interrupt your - whatever session. Keep going, gentleman".

With a mock salute, she pushes past the boys and continues her way up the stairs and into the office. All that's heard before the door falls back into place is a loud "close the door! The cool air is getting out!".

He loves that the girls are getting along. His girls. The two people he trusts with his life. The first time he brought Robin around was nerve-wracking and sent his anxiety through the roof. For no reason, really. The girls got on like a house on fire. Now it's like they've known each other their whole life.

"Steve?" Eddie shakes him from his daydream. There's an edge to his voice now, a seriousness and sincerity Steve hasn't heard before.

"Yeah?"

"I think I have an idea."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The shop needs extra funds, right? I think I have an idea of how we can make more money."

“Do you know why we’re here?” Bunny asks as she shuffles into the garage long after store closing, Robin and Nancy following behind her with quick steps.

By the expression on their faces, she doesn’t even need them to answer. The same confusion she’s feeling is looking back at her.

“Steve just said it’s important and that it’s about the shop.”

“Well, that’s more information than I got. Eddie just called me and said they needed my opinion on something then hung up before I could even reply,” Robin explains.

“They? As in Steve, Eddie, and — “

“ — and me! “

Billy grants the girls one of his million-dollar smiles. The one where his eyes twinkle and you wonder what kind of secrets are hidden in the corner of his lips. Not that it works on either of the girls. Especially now that they are all way too confused and focused on the huge elephant in the room.

“Why are you wearing a suit?”

“It’s all part of tonight’s entertainment. Would you ladies follow me to your seats?”

“Seats? Entertainment? “

Bunny isn’t sure he even takes notice of her questions, if he does he chooses to ignore them as he silently leads them further into the room to where 3 chairs are placed neatly in a row.

“Please take your seats, the show is about to start.”

A questioning glance passes between the girls. Nevertheless, they do as told and sit down just before Billy hands each of them what seems to be a leaflet of some kind. Though it’s hard to tell since he hands it to them with the print pointing down.

“ You can turn this around as soon as I leave you to it. Please just — just wait. “ His cool suave image slips for a second before his lips pull back into the familiar cocky smirk “now enjoy the show. “

He has the audacity to wink at them. What the hell is going on?

“What is this about?” Nancy asks as the girls turn the papers around, almost moving in sync.

In big bold letters, the flyer reads:

This one’s for the ladies!

Witness Hawkins’ Hottest:

King Steve

Billy the kid

& Mr. Hellfire.

“So wait, are they gonna put on a play or dance or what? “

Robin’s chuckles cut through the confusion and, between long wheezes of laughter, she forms the words: “Holy shit, I think they’re gonna strip.”

Before Bunny’s brain can even begin to comprehend the information that just tumbled from Robin’s lips, the lights dim, and the beginning guitar chords of Def Leppard’s “Pour some sugar on me” fill the room.

One after the other, the boys step onto a makeshift stage put together from old wooden palettes. All of them wearing suits, a sight the girls are far from used to. Sure Steve’s worn a suit before on several occasions but Billy and Eddie?

Though none of that really matters right then. All Bunny can focus on, is the rhythmic though out-of-sync rotation of the boy’s hips. There’s a lot of hip thrusting from all of them, suggestive winks from Billy, and what can only be described as borderline obscene tongue movements from Eddie.

Hands are tracing down their necks, their chests. The suit jackets go first, then the bowties, then their hands grab onto their respective buttons up and in the matter of a blink three naked chests are on full display.

Though if Bunny is being serious, neither Billy nor Eddie are at the receiving end of her attention.

Steve looks otherworldly in the shine of whatever cheap lights the guys have dragged out here for their little show. All perfectly shaped muscles. He must’ve shaved for this and though she doesn’t mind his usually hairy chest, this just makes it easier to see all of him. Every dip and every ridge.

There used to be a time when seeing Steve shirtless was just that. Seeing her friend shirtless, no biggie. That changed around the time she turned 15 and suddenly it wasn’t just Steve being shirtless anymore. Now it’s the subject of all her sleepless nights, all her inappropriate thoughts, and all those times she finds herself alone with her hands under the covers.

He is cut from marble. Made to represent the best a man can be.

When his hands move to the belt buckle, and he looks at her directly, Bunny thinks she might just die. Right then and there. A one-way ticket to heaven. Or maybe hell, she can’t be too sure about this. The thoughts running through her head right now, sure don’t seem appropriate to have when passing through the pearly gates.

“I'm hot, sticky sweet

From my head to my feet, yeah”

And then the pants are gone and she’s dying a slow and painful death.

He looks so good. Like she could eat him up right there and he’d taste like the sweetest poison.

Robin's laughter mixes with the music, a melody of chaos and joy. She's having the time of her life and Bunny is sure she'll never let the boys forget about this. This will be her "remember when" card for the rest of all their lives.

Nancy is just quiet, hand going to her face every once in a while, shielding her eyes from what she could potentially see. It's not like this is anything new. She's seen Steve this way before and though Bunny hates to admit it - Nancy is her friend after all - the thought does leave a bitter taste of jealousy in her mouth.

While the girls are caught between shock, amusement, and — whatever it is Bunny is feeling at the moment, the boys take this whole thing with a surprising amount of seriousness. There are teasing smirks on their faces, masks of pure confidence, and a banner of determination and courage that seems to wrap around them.

This is a serious strip show and they make it abundantly clear. If there was ever a doubt in the girls' minds, it is being wiped away completely when the underwear goes. Those shiny black bottoms that seemed entirely too tight for either of them. Bunny wonders if Steve bought them specifically for this or had them already stuffed into the back of his underwear drawer.

That’s the moment Nancy’s eyes go wide, almost threatening to pop right out of her head. The moment Robin covers her face, laughter turns into amused shrieks. And the moment Bunny thinks her heart might stop altogether.

It's not like they get to see — anything. The boys make sure to cover everything with both hands. Both hands. But still, it's hard to look at the man that owns half of your heart, the recipient of your undying affection, standing there completely naked, and not die a little.

The song comes to an end and Robin, still in a fit of giggles, starts applauding, Nancy following soon after. It's the first time that night that the guys let their act drop and a certain sense of insecurity fills them as they quickly scurry off to throw on some robes. Those ropes, Bunny is sure they bought specifically for today. They're all silky and shiny. Ridiculous if not a tiny bit endearing.

"What the everloving hell was that?" Robin questions as the boys make their way back toward the line of chairs.

"That, " Steve exclaims and clears his throat as if to fill his voice with determination, " is our chance to keep the garage going."

"You're going to strip for the customers?"

"We're going to strip for whoever books us."

This is all too much all at once for Bunny to properly process. Steve has had many crazy ideas over the years, a lot of delusional thoughts. More now that he's hanging out with Eddie and Billy who all have 0 impulse control.

None of those ideas ever came close to this. It's on a whole nother plane of existence really. And the worst part? Bunny thinks the boys might be onto something.

"Wait, let me get this straight. You guys want to start a stripping business?"

"Yes, Wheeler. That's exactly the plan. Everything we earn on group booking goes to the shop. Everything from individual jobs goes to the funds for our own special projects. Like paints for me, car radio stuff for Billy. In the end, it all ends up helping the shop."

Eddie talks about the plan with childlike enthusiasm. It’s quite amusing considering the topic of the discussion. Though his words make the gears in Bunny’s head turn. This might not be the worst of all ideas.

“So — Robin asks, swallowing another laugh, “ I hate to ask this but where do we come in? “

“Well, you — “ Billy replies and points and Nancy “are here because you’re part of our target audience. We wanna know if you think this is something that could be successful. You —” he continues now pointing at Robin “are just here because we knew you’d love making fun of us for this and you’d be pissed if we didn’t invite you.”

“What about me?”

It’s the first time Bunny speaks up since the show started. The words feel heavy on her tongue.

“ Oh, you —”

“We want you to be our manager.” Steve's voice cuts Billy off mid-sentence.

Manager? It’s then when it really settles in how serious the guys are. There’s a look on Steve’s face she’s only ever seen a handful of times. No joking around to be detected. He told her he’d figure out a way to keep the shop going and this is his solution. It’s maybe a bit unconventional and not at all anything she’d have ever expected but it’s a solution nonetheless.

“Your manager?”

Steve’s eyes connect with hers, full of hope and uncertainty all at once. He seems to be almost pleading — not with words just with looks. This means more to him than just a silly little idea with his friends. This is his last chance.

“We need someone to help us out here. You know how shit we are at keeping our appointments in order. How unorganized and messy we are. How much we suck at financials and numbers and all that. We need you. “

“And you think this might actually work?”

Nancy’s voice cuts through the tension. “This might actually not be the worst idea. A lot of girls that I went to High School with got married last year and they all wanted a stripper at their bachelorette parties. But — well the choice was limited.”

“You sure you want to end up stripping for people you went to Highschool with?”

Bunny raises an eyebrow in question.

“I mean yeah, that might happen. We want to advertise mostly around Hawkins so not directly here. Just to avoid any awkwardness. But that’s also a reason we wanted to try this out on you. If we can do this for our best friends without dying of embarrassment then —”

“You guys really want to do this?”

All of them answer with a determined nod of their heads. There is uncertainty there but not about trying. No one can know the outcome of this but neither of them is afraid of trying. For the one thing they all helped build. For their shop.

“Well, I guess I can’t let you do this by yourselves then, huh? You need someone to keep you in line.”

The smile Steve grants her as he realizes she’s in sends Bunny’s heart racing. It’s ridiculous to be so in love with your lifelong best friend. Ridiculous and hopeless and dumb. Agreeing to manage his business where he will get undressed in front of a bunch of ladies sounds like a surefire way to break your own heart. But isn’t that the fundamentals of the human experience? Isn’t that love? Putting your own heart on the line for someone else’s happiness?

“We really do need you.”

“Okay then, guess I’m in.”

Before the words even fully leave her lips, Bunny is already tackled into a hug. Steve is not a hugger, never was. It’s a side effect of growing up with emotionally absent parents who’d rather give you a new car than a hug. So Steve's hugs are always special. A perfect little cherry on top of every cake.

He’s so warm and he smells like sweat and too much body spray. It’s disgusting but she can’t fault him for it, that man just put on the performance of his life, danced his ass off, and stripped down both literally and emotionally.

It also reminds her of all the times hanging out with him after basketball training. The best times.

“Thank you, Buns.”

And maybe she pulls him a little bit tighter. No one has to know.

“So,” Eddie speaks up as they pull away from the hug. “What do you say, manager? How did we do?”

“Well, glad you asked. If you wanna do this, we’re doing it right. You guys came up with names, now we gotta make them a character. King Steve? I’m getting you a crown and maybe we can also make use of that little sailor uniform of yours. You — “ Bunny snaps her finger and points it at Billy “get out those tiny red shorts you used to flaunt around in at the pool, I know you still got those somewhere, don’t even try to deny it. Maybe some sunglasses too.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And you, Mr. Hellfire.”

“Mmmh?”

“ How do we feel about some devil horns?”

Word spreads fast in Hawkins, that’s not surprising. People are so damn curious about other people’s business and no one keeps their mouth shut — ever.

What is surprising, is that a small stack of flyers, just 50 of them, hung up in clubs and bars around Hawkins, leads to 5 bookings for Hawkins Hottest not even 3 weeks after the idea took seed.

The first one is a group performance. A group of girls books them to surprise their friend at her bachelorette party. It takes place in a small apartment just outside of Carmel and the stage is a living room barely big enough for all 3 men and the spectators. But they make it work. They have fun. It’s a good chance to gain confidence. To really settle into their roles.

And the pay is good. Good enough to buy 3 fans for the shop. A move that put Steve forever in Eddie’s good books.

The second one is a bit of a bigger performance. An all-female bowling team book them for their 25-year anniversary party held at a venue just an hour north of Hawkins.

Those ladies are scary in a way that Steve doesn’t even attempt to describe. Scary in a way that is fascinating and a little uncomfortable. But the job gets done and the pay is once again great.

Bunny is there with them, always. Steve wonders what he ever did to deserve her. Her unwavering support. The faith she puts in him, displaced but appreciated. Her kindness, patience, and trust.

She’s the one doing all the dirty work. Advertisement, bookings, financials. She makes sure the boys get to where they need to be on time. She books hotel rooms if needed. She provides snacks for the ride. She helps with costumes and makeup and sound and lighting. She does 12 jobs at once and she never complains. She just smiles and sometimes when Steve feels a little anxious on stage and looks for her in the crowd or backstage, she’s always there to offer him the encouragement he needs. She is everything.

“So … are you ever gonna tell Harrington how you feel or are we all taking it to the grave?”

Eddie has a big mouth and no filter. Sometimes that’s funny, hilarious even. It makes for great icebreakers and exciting conversations. Sometimes his big mouth plucks a secret straight from your brain that you didn’t even know was there in the first place. And he presents it to the world. Those times his big mouth is less funny. Those times it scares Bunny.

"Not sure what you're insinuating here, Munson."

Her eyes involuntarily search for Steve across the room. His chest is on display, a shirt hanging loosely from his shoulder, unbuttoned and almost teasing. The boys are about to go on stage in just a few minutes and while Eddie is all cool and collected, Steve always gets a little nervous. He's a bit of a perfectionist, Bunny has realized lately. Not always, but about the important things. Especially when his future and the future of his shop are at stake.

"Mmmh. Of course, you don't. Not like you're undressing him with your eyes right this second."

"Eddie," she lets out a mix between a scoff and a chuckle "I've seen you guys strip nearly every night lately. I don't need to undress him, he's doing it himself.”

“So do I and you never looked at me like that, or Billy. Just good old Steve over there. I’ve deducted —”

“You haven’t deducted anything.”

“Just saying, I’m picking up some vibes here.”

“Eddie —” Bunny says and fixes him with what she attempts to be a serious glare but probably ends up making her look as intimidating as a literal bunny rabbit “ — stop it. Go get some oil on that chest of yours, you guys are about to go on stage.”

Stage. A real actual stage this time.

The club they have been booked to perform at is small, smaller even than the hideout. It’s a bit grimy, with lots of mismatched furniture. Ripped concert posters line the wall and the dressing rooms smell like bleach and cheap air freshener. But it’s a stage! A real stage in front of an audience that paid an entry fee to see them specifically. It’s amazing to think that they’ve been given this chance only such a short time after starting this whole crazy idea. Sometimes it feels unreal. Like none of this is really happening. Maybe because it’s hard to explain to people. This insane whirlwind of an idea they’ve all willingly jumped into is not only working, it’s also fun. Most of them won't understand. Most of them will just judge.

It doesn’t matter though. It never did.

None of it really matters when she looks at the boys as they perform their stage show. An immeasurable amount of pride fills her heart. This is something that quickly becomes more than either of them thought it could be. A spark turning into a raging fire.

They’re all good, surprisingly. Stripped both figuratively and literally of everything. They are their characters and they’re putting on one hell of a show.

The room is filled with a sizzling static, a euphoric atmosphere. It’s sexy and fun and mesmerizing all at once.

Steve looks good enough to eat as he moves around on stage. Dipped in hues of pink and red and orange as the stage lights capture him, it’s quite the vision and not unlike some of the scenes from Bunny’s most intimate, most secret dreams.

The baby oil that the boys have lathered onto themselves earlier, leaves a shiny gleam on his pecks. He looks delectable. For a moment she wants to scold herself for these thoughts, this is Steve. HER Steve. But isn’t this the point of all of this? These feelings of desire and lust and passion? Isn’t this what they want to awaken in their audience?

So what if the audience is Bunny of all people.

He’s meant for greatness even if no one ever made him believe so. She knows it. Maybe that greatness is found on this stage. Or maybe it’s in whatever he chooses to do. Maybe it’s simply him.

A few weeks later

“Are you nervous?”

Her hand feels so warm as she rests it on his shoulder.

It’s his first solo performance. The first time someone booked just him. Not him — King Steve.

A 21st birthday. All the way in the big city of Indianapolis.

This time it’s all on him whether the show is a hit or a failure. If he fucks this up, he fucks it up for all of them. Himself and Eddie and Billy — and Bunny.

Bunny who is sweet enough to drive to Indianapolis with him. To stay in a hotel room with him for the night because it’ll be too late to drive all the way back to Hawkins after the show.

He can’t feed off of Eddie’s dramatic energy or Billy’s sense of seduction. Just himself and the character he is trying to create for his stripper self.

“A bit yeah.”

“You’ll do great, Steve. I just know it.”

He finds her eyes over his shoulder in the hotel mirror. There is no doubt in her. No one has ever believed in him like this. Not even his own goddamn parents.

“What if I fuck up?”

“You won’t!”

“But what if I do?”

This is his last chance. This needs to work. There is no room for error when every little mistake could mean having to close the shop. He loves that shop even though he never thought he would. Never saw himself as a mechanic. But this is so much more. This is his baby. His home away from home. His friends are there. Bunny is there.

And though it’s silly and dumb, he also wants to make his father proud. Even though his dad doesn’t deserve it. Even though he’s a huge asshole. Steve wants to make the shop work to make his dad proud.

“Steve, they booked you for a reason.”

“It’s because of the hair.”

“No, it’s not because of the hair, you dork. It’s because you’re good at this.”

He is. It’s not really something society allows you to take pride in but Steve can’t deny that he’s quite alright at stripping and putting on a show. He still wishes the boys were here too.

“You wanna go over the routine again? Would that help?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, let’s do it then!”

Before he knows it, ZZ Top’s “I need you tonight” comes from the boombox they brought, perched on the desk in the corner of the Hotel room.

Bunny sits down on the end of the bed, hands resting by her side and digging into the soft, blue comforter.

The encouraging smile she gives him makes him want to melt right then and there. He wonders if she knows just how much she means to him. When he said they couldn’t do this without her, he meant it. She is the beginning and the end of it all.

He goes through all the moves as if his body works on autopilot. A swing of the hip, a turn, a twist. His brain doesn’t have to work to recall the choreography, it comes naturally.

He doesn’t really register any of that. All he can see is her. Her eyes and her lips and her hands fisting the sheets. Her eyes. Her lips. Her hands. Her.

The show continues as it would in front of the actual audience. Only it’s not the birthday girl he’s getting close to, it’s Bunny.

It’s her body heat radiating he can feel as he stands before her and opens the buttons of his shirt leaving him bare. It’s her hand he takes to trail down his chest, to feel every dip and groove and ripple. It’s her perfume he smells.

Her eyes. Her lips. Her hands.

Her.

This is not in the performance. Being this close. Feeling her nose against his, her breath mingle with his. None of what he’s feeling right now is scripted. The tingles in his fingers. The racing of his heart.

“Bunny, I — “

If the universe wants to play tricks on him, Steve doesn’t think they’re very funny. A shrill ringing sounds from the alarm clock on the bedside table making the two snap away from each other, breaking the spell and dropping them back into reality.

Steve doesn’t feel like laughing at the universe right now.

“I um — I set the alarm to remind us when we have to leave for the gig.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah — good. Let’s uh — let’s get a move on. Chop chop.”

Chop chop? His inner voice is cringing at the words as they fall from his lips. Chop fucking chop?

She doesn’t meet his eyes while they grab their stuff, not on the way there and not as they meet up with the best friend of the birthday girl who made the booking.

It’s only when he’s about to go on stage that she grants him a smile, though it doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s missing its usual sparkle. “Break a leg.”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll break two.”

Steve, his inner voice scolds him again, sometimes it’s better to just keep your mouth shut.

But when he hears Bunny laugh. Like really actually laugh, he thinks he might just keep talking nonsense. Her laugh is his favorite sound in all the world.

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Go get them, King Steve.”

The man on stage, that’s not her childhood best friend. The man up there is King Steve, all suave and self-assured and seductive. All the dorky qualities her Steve holds are wiped away and replaced by confidence and courage.

It’s like he is two different people at once, both the best versions of him he can be at that moment.

There’s something enchanting about watching him perform. He looks so free and liberated from all the pressure to be a certain kind of way that has been resting on his shoulders from the moment he left his mother’s womb. He gets to be whoever he decides to be.

The girls are screaming and giggling as he moves his hips. When he loses the shirt then the pants — they lose their minds.

She thought she’d feel some jealousy, watching him on stage, entertaining all these other girls. But it’s different. Some part of her is holding on to the knowledge that the version of him off stage, those girls don’t get. They know King Steve but they will never know her goofy, dorky best friend Steve. That version of him is hers and hers alone.

Red and blue lights paint every ripple and every inch of his body. He looks like a painting. A masterpiece.

“Sorry if this is disrespectful but your boyfriend is so damn hot.”

The girl standing beside her isn’t even looking at Bunny, her eyes are fixed on Steve who at this point is only in a tight pair of shorts.

“He’s not. My boyfriend I mean. No doubt he’s hot. That’s undeniable.”

That gets the girl’s attention.

“Oh so, you guys are not …”

Things would be far easier if they were. And maybe the moment in the Hotel meant nothing but what if it did? Then again, was there even a moment to begin with? Or was this all just wishful thinking clouding her thoughts?

“No, we’re just best friends. And I’m his manager.”

“Okay cool.” Bunny hates the tone the girl’s voice takes on. Hates it with every fiber of her being. The girls staring at King Steve is one thing. Having one of them show interest in the off-stage him, that’s a terrifying thought to Bunny. She looks nice though, the girl. She looks like the kind of girl Steve would go for. Nice girls who let him know they’re interested and don’t hide their feelings for years until it’s too late and break their own hearts in the process.

A loud “ooooh” washes over the crowd as Steve loses the last of the fabric covering his body. Bunny doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of seeing him like this.

And when he looks across the group of girls and meets her eyes, he throws her a wink. That one, she knows for certain. That one is just for her from her Steve.

There’s something awfully nostalgic about sitting crisscross on the hotel bed, a can of beer in hand as Steve sits across from her with a big smile on his face, reminiscing about the show he just put on a few hours ago.

“ — and the pay? This one show is paying for the next two months' electricity.”

“You’re saving our shop, Steve.”

“Can you believe people are willing to pay that much money to see me? King fucking Steve.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised. You’re worth every penny.”

Steve scoffs at her words. He was never all that good at taking compliments, even when his ego was through the roof during their High School years.

“Wonder what my dad would think if he knew this is how I’m keeping the garage open.”

Mr. Harrington was always perfectly nice enough to Bunny. He was polite and attentive and a good host whenever she was around at the Harrington house. He asked her about her parents and made small talk about school and work and everyday life.

None of that mattered to her though. The way he treated his own son was all she needed to know to realize that he placed very low on her list of people. Steve didn’t deserve all of the weight put on him. All the degrading comments. The snarky remarks. The sour looks and scowls and scoffs.

He did the best he could, always. Steve is a good man and while he was a bit of a shithead during his teenage years, that can be chalked up to just that — being a teenager.

“Do you want me to be honest or nice?”

“Honest. Always.”

“How honest?”

“10 out of 10”

“Your dad would hate this. Because he doesn’t understand it, or the time we’re living in. And also because he hates seeing you succeed without him. It would make him have to face the fact that you are doing just fine without him. He can’t come by and say I told you so, and that would make him pissed.”

“Why does that make you smile?”

“‘cause I love pissing off your dad. He’s an asshole like no other.”

“Cheers to that”

Laughter echoes through the tiny hotel room as they clink their cans, weaving itself into a sweet harmony with the music coming from the boombox.

“Ooooh, I love this song!” Bunny announces as the opening chords of Joan Jett’s “I love Rock n Roll” fill the air.

“You know what I think?”

“What is that, Steve?”

There’s an intensity in his eyes, a sense of mischief on his lips. It’s both endearing and a bit unnerving all at once.

“You’ve seen me do my show a bunch of times now, I think it’s only fair if you dance for me this once.”

An unintentional scoff falls from her lips. For her to put on a show — to strip — for him? It’s a bizarre thought, truly absurd. He surely can’t be serious.

He is serious. It’s written on his face as unmistakable as a light-up billboard on main street.

“You kidding me, Steve?”

“Creative expression through passionate and erotic dance is not a laughing matter, Bunny.”

He laughs anyway. That full-on sunshine Steve Harrington laugh of his that makes you feel invincible and grand. Like for a second, all the bad in the world has vanished and there are good things to believe in. Like laughter and friendship and cute boys with great hair.

“Alright, you asked for it. I’m just telling you right now I can’t dance very well — oh and the underwear stays on.”

“Buzzkill!”

“Hey, hecklers will be removed from the premises!”

Steve does a zipping motion across his lips only to follow it up by throwing away an invisible key. It’s a very Steve move, no thoughts behind the action, just good intentions and unrelenting loyalty.

Bunny starts moving her body to the rhythm of the song. It’s easy enough to get lost in the music but there’s no way she can fully let go. Not with Steve watching her the way he is. She’s unable to shake the thought of making herself look laughable in front of him. Steve’s seen her in all the stages of her life, all the best and most definitely the worst, and never had Bunny felt like this. But it’s different right now. There has been a shift and this whole night feels like it could be a turning point. A crash and burn or happily ever after kind of situation.

It’s terrifying.

“Come oooon! I know you can do better than this. Go on, move those hips a little.”

Before she knows what’s happening, his hands find their place on the side of her hips, holding her tightly. His skin touching the sliver of her’s that revealed itself where her shirt rode up a little. He smells like body wash and deodorant and spearmint chewing gum. He radiates an all-consuming warmth.

Steve moves her hips in time with the music, rotating motions the way he does when he’s on stage. It feels like her body is moving on autopilot, vulnerable, and all his to do with as he pleases. His eyes lock on hers and like a magnetic pull, Bunny stares right back. Mesmerized and enchanted.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.”

He doesn’t let go, he just grabs on tighter, moves closer. There’s barely any room left between them and yet he’s not nearly close enough for Bunny’s liking.

As if he can hear her thoughts, he pulls her flush against his body, chest to chest, heart to heart. His hands stay on her sides as if they were never meant to be anywhere else.

“Tell me to stop.”

There’s a saying that the flapping of an itty-bitty butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane. Bunny always thought that was utter bullshit.

As Steve’s lips meet hers in a heated kiss, she thinks there might be a little bit of truth to the statement.

“Don’t stop!”

Two words. Two itty-bitty words and they cause a hurricane. Change everything.

It takes a blink of a moment for Bunny to forget where she ends and Steve begins, he’s all-consuming. Mind and body and soul.

She doesn’t even realize it as it happens when he picks her up and sits her down on the dresser as if she weighs nothing. Just a feather in his hand.

His kisses are hot and needy on her cheeks, her lips, her neck. Everywhere.

Bunny combs her fingers through his hair, hands trembling. It’s almost embarrassing how nervous all of this makes her. She’s touched his hair a million and one times. Not like this though, never like this.

“Hey, hey wait a second.”

She doesn’t want to wait. Doesn’t want to stop. What if they stop and he realizes this was a mistake? What if this is all an elaborate prank that life is playing on her? You think the boy you’ve loved since you knew what love was likes you back? Silly girl, so silly.

“Buns, come on look at me.”

He cradles her face in his hands so gently, so soft, as if he’s holding the whole world in his palms.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if I open my eyes and all of this isn’t real?”

A chuckle tumbles from his lips but it’s not mocking. It doesn’t make her feel stupid or ridiculous, even when she very well might be.

All it does is fill her with infinite affection.

“Buns, what do I have to do to make you believe it’s real? Pinch you? Give your cheek a lick? A bite maybe?”

“Do not lick my cheek. — the biting though.”

Steve’s laughter sounds so sweet. Like a song from a memory long forgotten and finally remembered. His chest shakes against hers making it impossible for her not to crack a smile. Secondhand laughter.

“Oh, biting gets you going? Alright, I’ll remember that for the future.”

“The future?”

It sounds like too good of a promise to be true.

“Bunny, look at me!”

He’s soft in all the ways a person can be but the softest of all is the way he looks at her when she opens her eyes.

“I’ve been in love with you for an embarrassingly long time. It just never felt like the right time to act on it. Either you were in a relationship or I was or — things were just a liiiiittle messed up.”

“So what changed?”

“I’m tired of waiting. I just wanted — no I needed you to know. Life moves surprisingly fast actually and I didn’t want to spend another minute pretending I don’t love you.”

Those girls in the crowds, cheering and hollering, they may get to see his abs, even his ass, but they will never have this. This is all hers.

“You serious?”

“As a doornail.”

“That’s — that’s not how the saying goes but I love you anyway.”

“Yeah?”

There’s no room for an answer, it gets swallowed somewhere in the ocean of kisses he places on her lips, one sweeter than the next.

Perhaps there doesn’t need to be an answer. Not one spoke with words at least. She hopes the kisses he receives in return are enough to silence his doubts forever. Quite honestly, she wouldn’t mind reminding him though.

“You feel that?” Eddie’s voice calls out, echoing through the shop as Steve and Bunny step inside. “The sweet sweet relief of a working air con!”

“Well, you guys have been working your asses off to get it for us.”

“More like showing our asses off.”

“Either way, “ Bunny says and gives Eddie a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It was all you guys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be upstairs in my office doing some paperwork and basking in the chilly air-con.”

Just before she takes a turn towards the steps leading to the office though, she wraps her arms around Steve’s shoulders and places a long, gentle kiss on his lips. There’s something exhilarating about being able to kiss someone you’ve wanted to kiss for so long but were never allowed to. It’s addicting. It’s magical.

“See you later, baby.”

“What the fuck?!”

Life comes with a lot of struggles. A lot of dark days and bad times. It asks for so much and often it feels like it gives nothing in return. But maybe that’s not all true. There is joy to be found. In the big things like kissing the one you love, like realizing the person you always wanted wants you back. And in the small ones like the taste of his lips, the feel of cool air on your skin, the knowledge that you can do great things and overcome struggles — and in the laughter of your friends sounding through the halls as they realize that love has finally found a way to settle where it was always meant to be.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington AU #BoysboysboysAU

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