#i already have trouble with these kinds of questions when its a poll and i just gotta pick one imagine thinking the options myself lol

[aroaceofthesea]

People out there making the hardest ask games ever and then tagging me no i dont know what ur blog tastes like😭😭

#no hate i love it when u guys tag meee💛💛💛💛💛 #its just super hard to do im uncapable of doing that? #i genuinely dont understand how people can say something without saying whatever random thing they are thinking about atm #so yeah srry for not responding when u tag me lol (its been like 3 ppl already today??? what is it with the what does prev taste like lol) #it means the world to me that you think of me when choosing who to tag really 💛💛 #its just too hard for me to do #i already have trouble with these kinds of questions when its a poll and i just gotta pick one imagine thinking the options myself lol #so yeah love youu💛 #mine

[ailinu]

why would you decline something offered to you if you want it?? if I offered someone a drink and they said no then I wouldn't bother asking again that's so dumb

hi anon! it sounds like we come from different hospitality cultures!

as you can see from the poll results that you presumably saw based on this question, the idea that you should decline something on the first offer isn't actually that uncommon of a stance---as of the current standing, it's one I share with around 25% of people who have voted (people who believe you should decline at least once, if not more), so even accounting for sampling bias, it's probably fair to assume that this is not entirely unusual.

so now that we've established that it isn't just me: why would I do this? the fastest version is that it's how I was raised, but on its own, that's not necessarily satisfying.

the bigger answer is that stuff like this is part of a sort of hospitality culture, as it were. there are whole unspoken rituals around what constitutes polite behavior, particularly in interactions happening in one person's home, and they vary from place to place. some examples may include:

if you're stopping by someone's house for a quick visit, is taking your shoes off polite, or does it assume (potentially rudely) that you'll be asked to come in and sit down?

is showing up unannounced rude?

should you say goodbye and then immediately leave, or should it be preceded by several statements about how you should be getting on your way soon?

if you're eating someone else's food, is clearing your plate good, because it implies you enjoyed their cooking, or does it imply that you weren't fed enough?

oftentimes, these kinds of things aren't stated directly; you're expected to pick up on what's polite and what isn't by watching how the people around you behave. and you often carry it with you even without consciously realizing! the region i'm from has a long goodbye culture; even though i'm living somewhere else now, it still feels kinda rude to me when people announce that they're going and then just leave.

so with a kind of broader context established, why decline the first offer?

it's polite!

while i can't guarantee that this is how everyone who declines the first time thinks of it, and this is dependent on my own ability to read social cues, the ask/decline/ask/accept script may in some cases function something like this:

host asks if the guest would like something, such as food or drink. (this is good hosting: you are making sure your guests are provided for.)

guest politely declines. (this is good guesting! you understand that your host is asking because it is polite. as a guest, you are already imposing on their hospitality, and in return are making it clear that you don't want to be a bother.)

host double-checks, or reiterates question. (this can be an 'are you sure?' or fully asking again a little bit later. implications (if not outright stated) are that this isn't a bother; getting a drink or a cookie or what have you is easy to fulfill, and the host is happy to do it.)

guest politely accepts. (you have been assured that this is no trouble, and if you want what's being offered, you can accept. depending on where you are it might be rude to decline at this point (implication: you're too good for the host's hospitality) but that's situational and beside the point.)

this can also be more casual and with the initial decline step replaced by a neutral/querying step; a favor between friends may go something like:

friend 1 broaches the idea of doing favor X for friend 2. (this is probably a genuine offer, rather than just politeness, but even so:)

friend 2 double-checks that they are not being burdensome. (this can be an 'are you sure?' or like, 'are you sure? i should be able to handle X myself'. implications are that you don't want your friend to feel obligated to do this for you; you would appreciate it if they did favor X, but they don't have to.)

friend 1 reiterates. ('yeah dude, it's no problem.' i want to do this. this isn't placing undue stress or burden upon me, or if it is, it's one that i'm happy to carry because i care about you.)

friend 2 may now accept with appropriate expression of gratitude. ('that would actually be really great; thanks', and so forth.)

This doesn't necessarily apply to every social situation, or even every hosting situation, because there are varying levels of formality, but it does show up!

It sounds like you're familiar with a more direct hospitality culture, so genuinely: thanks for asking! I hope this is helpful! We may not do things the same way, but understanding why people do things differently helps us treat one another with grace and kindness. :)

#asked and answered #sorry about the. uh. miniature essay; i wanted to make sure i was clear!

[baeddel]

Parson’s position on ‘free love’ and ‘variety’ (now we say ‘polyamory’) is a bit hard to swallow. She said that if society adopted polyamory it would rot away, that monogamy is the natural state of humanity, that women have special obligations towards their children, that promiscuous sex leads to venereal disease, and so forth. She said all this in the context of arguing that “marriage slavery” (as she called it) was the product of economic conditions, such that women had a financial need to assent to coercive marriages, and that if women were not financially dependent on men marriage would no longer be coercive.

This is not a bad case but it is the kind of leftist feminism that I don’t like very much, reducing the women’s question to the economic question; a simple objection is that it fails to explain the institution of forced marriages in pre-history, or in present day hunter-gatherer societies (note that these two things are very different) where the means of subsistence are already held in common. The oppression of these women are obviously related to the means of subsistence, ie. in some hunter-gatherer societies a woman’s only alternative to a coerced marriage is to run away and either find another society or starve; but there is nothing about this means of subsistence itself which should lead us to expect an institution of coerced marriages. Why is women’s access to subsistence alienated in such a society? So the means of subsistence is a necessary, but not sufficient, cause of the oppression of women.

Parsons argued that if society practiced free love, then it would be difficult to ascertain who the father of a child was, and that the father would have no special obligations to care for the child; mothers would be left to raise their children on their own. This argument is very similar to the line taken by contemporary reactionary ‘radical’ feminists who say that the sexual revolution failed women because it increased men’s sexual access to women while liberating them of their spousal responsibilities. We do indeed find that today, for example, in the UK, about 25% of mothers are single and raise their children alone. That free love is responsible for this seems difficult to argue, though. It actually seems more likely that, ironically, it is due to the very solution that Parsons proposed. If most women were forced to assent to coercive marriages, and could not divorce their husbands, then we would expect to see fewer single mothers. To the extent that women in the UK today are more likely to be financially independent, they are able to escape coerced marriages, and they are able to support children without a spouse.

The statistics give us a bit of trouble with this argument, though. 42% of single parent families in England live in poverty (according to Trust For London). This could be explained by the fact that raising a child on your own is more expensive than with a partner, as is merely living alone without a partner; 30% of single people without children live in poverty (ibid.). We might seek some amount of reassurance in the fact that in India, a country with a lower median income than the UK (thanks largely to the UK), we find that only 4% of mothers are single; in the Phillipines, 12%. But then we find that in Ghana this figure is 26%, narrowly beating the UK, and in fact sub-Saharan Africa as a whole has the highest number of single mothers worldwide, reaching a staggering 32%, with Latin America a close second at 30% (Gallup World Poll).

Now the wealth of nations appears a poor guide. But the sexual revolution doesn’t appear to be much better of a guide; was the sexual revolution most successful in sub-Saharan Africa? There are, unsurprisingly, really a number of factors at work, including access to abortion and contraceptives. Parson’s opponents, the advocates of free love and ‘variety’, were also generally advocates of abortion and contraceptives, and in any case, tended to also argue for the abolition of the family and the development of new means of caring for and educating children. As it appears in the Communist Manifesto (as dialectrician pointed out to me), “[d]o you charge us with wanting to stop the exploitation of children by their parents? To this crime we plead guilty” (and they already note a “practical absence of the family among the proletarians”).

People who have written about her stance on free love tend to apologize for it quite a bit in a way that is frustruating to read. I understand that we like her, and her principle opponent in the argument was Emma Goldman who’s treatment of her is deservedly infamous, so it is tempting to defend her, but what she said is really bad, and the defenses are embarassing. Links, for example, write that:

The obsession of her anarchist detractors with making an individual’s sexual lifestyle the central-most important question in the social revolution, merely showed the extent to which they were indeed obsessed with the individual pursuit of freedom (and on a “middle-class” basis), to the exclusion of fighting for the freedom of the entire working class from the social, economic, and political systems of oppression endemic to capitalism.

Which is absurd to me, I mean, no matter what you think of Emma Goldman, do you really believe that she made free love the center of her platform, to the exclusion of the freedom of the working class? Come on... I personally am not sure to what extent the argument Parsons makes here even reflects what she actually believed. She only expressed these sentiments (against ‘variety’ and so on) twice; once in a letter to the Free Society newspaper, and once at a meeting held by the Free Society, which Goldman also attended. The meeting was over the censorship of the newspaper under the Comstock laws, which made charges against its editor for publishing obscenities, leading to his arrest. Parsons was the only speaker who did not denounce the arrest, saying that “there has been some dirty reading in the [Free Society]...” This is something very embarassing for an anarchist to say, but we might come to understand it more if we remember that she was presently feuding with not only the editors of the magazine but also at least one other speaker at the meeting. We have a good deal of personal experience with how rivalries between friend-groups and milieus find their expression in political differences which neither side really believes in. Their political disagreements were not, in principle, that serious, but we do know separately that at least some persons involved treated Parsons badly...

In any case, it’s interesting to me to see how this discourse has evolved. There was a time when the abolition of monogamy was once such a significant part of the anarchist and communist conversation that a difference of opinion over it would become a major incident (Parsons felt alienated from the anarchist scene after her remarks). These days, despite many anarchists practicing polyamory, virtually no one would dare criticize monogamy or argue for its abolition. We tend to regard it as a personal choice with no political consequences. I wonder how much of that had to do with the considered rejection of a political principle and how much had to do with the need to set aside disputes in the course of organizing?

[greaterspawnislands]

lead me into the light | emerald duo platonic soulmates

For all the years he has lived, Phil has lived without a soulmate, and as a result, without color. And he's perfectly fine with that.

Then he touches down on a battlefield for fun, and meets the eyes of a total stranger.

And as the world goes from monochromatic to full of color and more beauty than he had ever imagined, Phil knows that everything is going to change.

(But a mortal's life is only so short, after all.)

|||

My twitter account voted a series of polls to decide what fic I was gonna write, and they decided on an emerald duo platonic soulmates au fic that was angst with a happy ending ! Link will be in the notes, but here’s a bit of the start to get you into it!

|||

There are a few constants that Phil holds in his life, has always held, and will always hold.

The first, the most glaring, is the centuries that stretch far back in his past and the ones that he approaches in the present. It is the fact that he cannot die from old age or from hunger or from thirst, that it is only by injury that he could possibly be taken down for good.

The second is his lifestyle. Always a traveler, never with a permanent home. For fear of being targeted, or not wanting to cause that kind of disturbance, and because Phil truly desires to wander the world on his own terms, he travels. Visits every city and explores every nook and cranny of it as it changes over the months and years and decades. He visits fields where he spilled blood and watches others spill blood in that very spot a few years later. He carves out temporary places, favored nooks to fish in and well-loved corners of libraries or especially nice inns, but he never lingers around others who might question his unaging face.

And the third is the grayscale in which he sees the world, shades of black and white and everything in between, the only hues he’ll ever lay eyes upon.

(Soulmates are rare. They are not a common thing, they are often considered blessings by the gods to live your life devoid of color, the trials and tribulations to find your other half.)

(Phil has met quite a few gods, in his time of wandering. That’s just straight bullshit.)

He’s lived decades upon decades without a soulmate, and is perfectly content to keep living without one. Where others find agony in not being able to separate the color of the leaves in autumn, Phil has long since made his peace in seeking out the beauty of the world in other ways. The speckled patterns of a newborn fawn in spring. Waves darkening the shade of the sand upon an ocean. The way his lover’s hair seemed to melt into the endless night sky.

(Gods are exempt from the concept of soulmates, and Death had no answers for Phil when he asked her why he had been cursed to live like this, nor could she bring his sight into full color, even with all her otherworldly abilities.)

(“Maybe there is someone out there,” she said to him one night as he rested against her shoulder, looking up at the star-studded sky from where they sat within the earth. “And you just haven’t found them yet.”)

(“I don’t think I need to find anyone else, honestly,” he replied, turning to look at her. She was a thousand times more dazzling than any sky could behold on its own. “You’re all I need, I’m not letting this kind of stuff stop me from living my life any longer.”)

Their visits were infrequent, but time means nothing to a god and a human whose chances of death are slim as long as he keeps himself out of trouble.

Phil’s wings flare out as he touches down on a battlefield stained with darker shades of gray, determined to find go and find some trouble, if only because this past year has been incredibly boring otherwise.

“My name is Philza,” he introduces himself to the general of the army, hand raising in a salute that had definitely been appropriate last time he was on a battlefield, and he doesn’t really care much whether it still holds up. He takes his hat off as well, holding the striped material against his chest. “And I’m here to help, if you’ll have me.”

His reputation, that of the Angel of Death, precedes him. For all his intentions to keep away from sticking around civilians as they aged, wars and skirmishes would always be an exception.

It was a secret sort of thrill, to throw himself into the fray of a conflict he would hardly remember by the next one. To release the fearlity that he kept tightly wound up inside him, to splatter blood on a blade and sink arrow after arrow through the eyes of assailants. Nevertheless, the legends of his help follow him wherever he goes, and the look of relief on the general’s face says enough on that matter.

A night’s rest later, he’s led across the loosely set up encampment to one of the larger tents. As he walks, Phil tips his head up to gaze at the sky. There was no smooth texture, instead fuzzy clouds crowd the sky, and Phil tilts his head, noting the approaching rain.

Once inside the tent, the general nods at him, speaking before Phil can even courteously extend a greeting.

“We’re going to have you take command of the Red Snakes force, over here.” The general indicates to the map spread out on the table between them, pointing to a marker that Phil notices has a small symbol carved into it. It’s a small squiggle, barely noticeable, but it stands out against the other symbols carved into the various markers that Phil gathers to represent the different sub-forces that this general is commanding.

It’s helpful primarily, though no one knows of his own color-absence, he does appreciate the carved symbols. As an afterthought, it’s interesting. He wonders who else is color-absent this high up in the commanding forces. A rare thing, to be sure, not that he’ll bother to interact with them for that reason. He’s here to help spill some blood, not hear some poor sap moan about how they feel they’ll die on the battlefield before meeting their soulmate.

Phil’s eyes snap from the squiggly symbol back to the general’s words, tuning in mid-sentence. He’s definitely missed some information that was probably crucial, but he’ll get somebody else to relay it to him later. For now—

“Your co-commander already knows this, of course, but I figured I would inform you separately so you were up to date on our intel before you began discussing the best course of action.”

“Sorry, my who?” Phil blurts, brow furrowing, heart sinking a little.

“You’ll be co-leading this group, at least for now.”

Phil lightly bites the inside of his cheek to keep his face schooled appropriately. He knows what this is. It’s a nicely phrased term to cover up the fact that he’s being babysat because they don’t trust him with their armies, so they’ve appointed another commander to watch over him.

On one hand, it’s fucking annoying to be watched like that. On the other hand, that does mean Phil can totally push all the actual commanding duties off to the other guy while he buggers off to do what he pleases. Maybe this won’t be too bad after all, honestly, it depends whether he gets some kind of suck up as a co-commander or not.

“Commander Technoblade has shown great leadership prowess in recent skirmishes, so it was determined that he could take up control of a new force until your support and guidance,” the general continues, and Phil’s heart sinks further.

Oh, gods, they think he’s some kind of trainer, some kind of mentor to a kid who’s been handed too much responsibility for his age and will die in a week. Not this shit again. “Sounds great,” he lies through his teeth. “When do I meet him?”

There’s a soft knocking against the flap of the tent, and the general lifts a hand. “That’ll be him. You can come in, Technoblade.”

“Yes sir,” a deep voice intones. There a shuffling of fabric just as Phil turns to greet whoever this guy is, and—

And his vision explodes with—

Everything is so bright, even brighter than the white gleam of the sun in his eyes. Phil blinks furiously as what he’s certain is color blooms across his vision, spreading outward until there’s nowhere he can look to escape from the blinding, unfamiliar hues. Gone is the subtle change of shade between the grass at his feet and the canvas walls of the tent. They’re two entirely different colors now, unrecognizable in this state.

#technoblade #philza #emerald duo #dream smp #technoblade fanfic #philza fanfiction #emerald duo fanfiction #antarctic empire #hhh.writing #my writing

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

How Charlie F*cked Up her Own Project Promotion

As a marketing copywriter, I can say Charlie’s promotion of her hotel is professionally lacking. 

(Note: I first started this as a fun post but ended up taking it seriously)

In the Hazbin Hotel pilot, Charlie presented her passion project. Unfortunately, it didn’t go well as she was laughed at and mocked on live TV.

While the viewers and the anchorwoman, Katie Killjoy, had been unnecessarily mean, their rejection is pretty much understandable in a marketing perspective. 

A copywriter writes persuasive marketing and promotional materials to persuade readers to buy, subscribe, etc. When Charlie promoted her hotel, she was trying to persuade the demons to go to the hotel. 

While copywriting is generally the art of selling through writing (video script, landing page, etc.), its structure is similar more or less to the art of verbal promotion. 

Before we begin, I’ll be referring to her hotel as a project and the demons that she wanted to go to the hotel as prospects. 

So here are the mistakes she made in her promotion. 

Lack of Research about Her Prospects

Getting to know the prospect is important. It helps create a persuasive promotion for them to take action. 

This can be done by interviews, polls, surveys, etc. Facebook insights allows you to know how many people of gender, age, occupation follow certain topics. 

From all this information, we can build a Prospect Profile.

YOUTUBE SUBSCRIBER PROFILE EXAMPLE

If you're a Youtuber selling knee braces through exercise videos and you want people to subscribe, who are your videos for? 

Knee braces are often used by athletes or the elderly. If your target is the athletes, you’ll need to build a Prospect Profile around them.

According to most buyer information, athletes who buy knee braces are mostly male (gender) athletes (occupation/hobbies) aged 20-40s. 

Now it’s time to delve deeper on what makes them tick: their desires, needs and worries. 

We can do this by giving surveys or taking note of video comments, etc. But from this buyer information data alone, we can have a better understanding of the prospects. 

These are active men who want to be at the top of their game. (desire)

Athletes will want to play their sport while keeping their healing knee in check. (need) 

Emotionally, athletes will also have pride in their performance. (desire). 

Athletes may also have the fear of not being able to play anymore, professionally or hobby-wise. (worries) 

With this Prospect Profile, we can persuade them to subscribe by showing how your exercise videos can help them with their desires, needs and worries about their sports performance. 

The same goes for Charlie’s approach to the sinners of hell.

THE DEMONS’ PROSPECT PROFILE

As a privileged Disney-princess-like character, Charlie is disconnected from her prospects who live a harsh afterlife. 

She believed in them that they deserve a chance to be redeemed. Which is a nice thought. 

But what she didn’t seem to know or understand is the perspective of the demons that she was trying to help.

For these demons, they are already conditioned to believe they are already the worst of the worst. They have demonic forms that remind them of their sins. They live in poverty and violence with the logic that they deserve to because of their sins. 

For them, redemption is already too late and impossible.   

What does Charlie know of them? What will motivate them to redeem? What psychological resistances will she have to take down in her persuasion? 

Surveys, polls and interviews are doable in order to answer these questions. 

By gathering information of her prospects and understanding them, she would’ve made a more persuasive pitch that is designed to their outlook. 

Weak Credibility, Zero Proof

As a copywriting professional who has to persuade people to take the desired action, this is my biggest pet peeve in Charlie’s approach.

Michael Masterson is renowned for inventing the Four-Legged Stool which is used to build a rock solid promotion. 

Here are the legs of the four-legged stool:

Credibility is proving beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the project will do what you claim. This can be done by being “scientifically proven” or by certifications, personal profile of the founder behind the project, etc. 

Track Record is proof that the project works on others. Track record can be in the form of testimonials or numbers. This can be stock performance, number of satisfied customers or even percentages such as “99.99% germs killed”.

Benefit or Promise paints a picture of what the project can do for them. Example is selling a sleek car with a unique fast engine (practical benefit) that also makes the buyer feel like an exciting individual (core emotional benefit).

An Idea must be huge enough to appeal to the prospect and simple enough to be communicated to someone else. This adds a unique and new dimension to the promotion. For example is Acorn, an app where you can invest spare change.

If the promotion only has three legs of the stool, it's liable to fall over. 

Now let’s look at Charlie’s promotion:

WEAK CREDIBILITY

Charlie is able to use her status as the Princess of Hell to add credibility to her project. Other than that, she has no proof that her project works as pointed out by Katie Killjoy. 

To prove that redemption can be possible, Charlie could’ve referred to studies showing the success rate of maladaptive behavior rehabilitation. Even expert opinions in religion could help support that a demon soul can still be redeemed.

Not Scientifically Proven. The rehabilitation system she has shown in her song “In Every Demon is a Rainbow” also has poor scientific proof. To the point that she is going to harm her prospects more than help them.

a. Abrupt Cutting Off of Vices. Throwing away their vices isn't preferable or effective to people who are reluctant to do so as compared to Gradual Reduction Treatment (DrugRehab.US).

b. Toxic Positivity. In another scene of her song, her patient was simply injected with positivity so that they'll be happy and full of kindness without reflection of themselves. 

As someone privileged enough to get the best education in hell, she should at least have a better knowledge in mental health.

NO TRACK RECORD

This is another leg of the four-legged stool that is missing.

Their proof of successful redemption is when a demon soul to goes to heaven by rehabilitating them. 

Angel Dust, as their first and only "patron”, is too premature to be part of the track record. Staying “clean, behaved and out of trouble” for two weeks is not yet proof of a successful redemption.  

 At best, what Charlie said is a naively hopeful but weak proof.

Even if Angel Dust didn’t get involved in a turf war, the demons have every right to remain skeptical when she couldn’t even give a successful track record of even one demon soul that had redeemed themself to go to heaven. 

Her heart is in the right place of wanting to help everyone. But she’s just wasting everyone’s time if it wouldn’t even work in the first place. There’s a time and place for the saying “Go big” and a time and place for “Start small”.

PROSPECTS DIDN’T BELIEVE THE BENEFIT/PROMISE

Her prospects would benefit going to heaven instead of being in hell.

Charlie did a great job painting a picture of a happy afterlife in heaven with her song “Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow”. Unfortunately, the benefits “Just puppy dog kisses and cotton candy dreams And puffy-wuffy clouds, you're gonna be like, wow! ” may not be well received by demons who had become jaded and cynical of living life in hell.

Aside from her lack of proof, Charlie doesn’t know her prospects enough to effectively reach them and dismantle their skepticism.

POORLY COMMUNICATED IDEA

The idea of her project is to go to heaven through redemption. 

While it’s easy to understand, the idea could’ve appealed to the demons with a more convincing approach if Charlie understood her prospects well. And if her idea is well-supported by facts. 

Her promotion only has two legs of the stool: Benefit and Idea. Her promo fell because she lacked research of her prospects. She lacked actual proof. She lacked credible information.

Because of all of these, she lacked the means to effectively promote.

The Art of Persuasion 

Persuading people to take the desired action is often difficult. This is why marketing professionals and companies exist. 

And this is where Alastor comes in with his charismatic seedy salesman mass communication skills and overlord status, making him the hope and solution to Charlie’s dilemma. Even if he did outright say that he was only interested in watching demons fail.

But other than that, Charlie, as one of the most privileged demons in hell, should have greater access to quality information and services on things such as marketing. And mental health science.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #charlie magne #hazbin hotel charlie

[ohshcscenerios]

Neighbors

Chapter Twenty Nine

Poll Result: Yoshio is convinced Poll Result: Ring #6

The rest of the day continued on as normal. Haruhi was able to squeeze in an hour of homework before attending her classes. The twins made sure to accompany her when they could, bothering her with ridiculous nonsense but still making her laugh. In the afternoon she enjoyed a homemade bento at the common gardens with the twins and their gourmet lunches provided by their personal chef. After the last class ended they walked Haruhi back to their apartments and said their goodbyes in the hallway.

She had taken a shower, prepared curry for dinner, and settled down at her table when someone knocked at her door.

“Come in!” she called out, squinting to make sure her door was unlocked.

Takashi walked inside and quietly closed the door behind him.

“Hey Mori-senpai, I just made dinner. Would you like some?” She asked cheerfully, already getting up. She knew he wouldn’t refuse her cooking, not when she hadn’t cooked for them in so long. She prepared him a bowl of curry and rice and invited him to join her at the table.

Haruhi settled back on the floor and said, “You said you’d be back but you didn’t say why.”

Takashi nodded and reached into his jacket’s pocket, pulling out a small box. He opened the top and offered it across the table. Haruhi’s eyes grew wide at seeing the ring nestled inside its white plush. Its gold band peaked with five small diamonds delicately placed in a v-shape. It was simple and small yet brilliantly stunning. It was the kind of ring Haruhi would have wanted as a real engagement ring.

“Senpai…” She lost her breath in her shock, unable to continue her sentence.

She didn’t have to. Takashi saw everything she was hoping to say written in her dazzled eyes. It was a rare sight to see Haruhi blush at something so expensive considering she never fancied the finer things in life but with this, she was completely awestruck.

“When you need to, you can wear this ring,” Takshi explained.

Haruhi, still speechless, could only nod as she accepted the ring box and stared at the jewels inside. It felt so light in her hand and yet she knew it must have cost a small fortune. Although she knew he could afford it, she still felt guilty for letting him feel so obligated.

As if he could read her mind, he added, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t expensive.”

Haruhi finally found her words, “Our definition of expensive greatly differs, Mori-senpai, no offense.”

He smiled, “It was my mother’s.”

Haruhi nearly dropped the box in her surprise, letting it fumble in her palm while she found her balance.

Takashi dared a small chuckle, “She has many rings. My father buys her a new ring every few years as a gift. She has plenty she no longer wears.”

Haruhi looked back at the ring with a new appreciation, now noticing the worn metal underlining the band.

“Are you sure you want to give this to me?” Haruhi asked. She wondered if this was a good idea, now that she held a priceless ring in her palm. Were they taking this too far?

Takashi waved her question off, “Please, accept it. It might come in handy.”

Haruhi smiled wearily but accepted it, closing the box and moving to place it on her nightstand. She would have to find a safer place for it later.

“I’m glad to see you two taking this ploy so seriously.”

They both turned to see Kyoya standing in her doorway.

“Kyoya, what brings you here?” Haruhi asked, returning to the table.

Kyoya invited himself in and sat at the table with them, “Mm, curry, very nice.”

“How was your meeting?” Takashi asked, watching his friend’s expression turn more relaxed.

Kyoya smiled, “It went well. My father is disappointed in hearing Haruhi’s engagement but he reasoned it’s difficult to control the lower class, outside of money of course.”

Haruhi frowned, “That was uncalled for.”

Kyoya laughed and waved her off, “Don’t take it personally, he speaks like a true astricorat. What matters is he’s given up on you.”

“So that’s it?” Haruhi didn’t think it could be that easy, not with Yoshio. After all the trouble he caused them in high school she wasn’t sure he could be convinced with word of mouth.

Kyoya shrugged, “We’ll see if he continues to believe it.”

Her mind went to the ring box in her nightstand and wondered if Takashi was right, if it would come in handy later. She wasn’t sure if she should wear it around campus or only when she left campus, if she should let Takashi accompany her when he can or if they can continue their own separate routines.

Takashi scraped the last of the curry from his bowl and thanked Haruhi for the food before standing to wash his dish. Kyoya gave her a smirk to which she ignored with an annoyed eye roll, lest she remind him they’re doing this for him.

Both men said their goodbyes and left her for the night. When ten o’clock struck she wrapped up her studies and crawled into bed for a well-deserved sleep. She just wanted the day to be over and could really use some sleep to relax her mind. She’ll have plenty to think about in the morning.

Just as she turned off her lamp and rolled over under the sheets a familiar jingle sounded next to her. She groaned as she reached for her cellphone.

Haruhi really wanted to ignore it but with how her father has treated her moving away she couldn’t risk missing a phone call or text. She checked her screen and saw Hikaru’s message ID flashing at the top.

Hikaru Hitachiin - 11:07am

Hey Haruhi, Kaoru and I are going to a house party this Friday. Do you want to come? Before you say no, remember to have a little fun once in a while. Oh, and you still owe us so there’s that.

Should she go to the party? - Vote Here (poll will close by 11:00amETS)

Neighbors is officially the longest Choose Your Own Adventure story we've done so far. Thirty chapters, dang... I wonder how long this will get before we reach the end this weekend. What do you think will happen next?

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #choose your own adventure #fanfic #fanfiction #neighbors

[satoshi-mochida]

The second interview in the Final Fantasy Portal Site’s three-volume series of Final Fantasy IX interviews in celebration of the game’s 20th anniversary features character designer and game artist Toshiyuki Itahana.

The first interview featured event design and scenario writer Kazuhiko Aoki. The third interview will feature director Hiroyuki Ito.

Get the full interview with Itahana below.

―Final Fantasy IX is often known as a title that’s about “returning to roots” of Final Fantasy series games. Are there any scenes from the game that ring true to that theme in your mind?

Itahana: “The parts of Final Fantasy IX that feel like a return to the roots of Final Fantasy… I think the scene when the airship docks into the castle backed by the evening sky of the opening scene might be a quintessential portrait of Final Fantasy.”

―Each main character of Final Fantasy IX carries their own background story into the battles they face. Do you have a favorite? Please tell us why as well.

Itahana: “I’m quite fond of Vivi, but I have to say that Zidane might be my favorite. Strong yet with a kind compassion for others—he’s a true hero in my mind. The fact that he’s a joker who doesn’t conduct himself like such a hero makes him all that much more wonderful of a character.”

―Of course the main characters are well-established, but there are some truly unforgettable NPCs filling out Final Fantasy IX’s world as well.

Itahana: “There’s lots of characters in Final Fantasy IX whose backgrounds I’m curious about. Like, how Baku managed to bring the Tantalus theater troupe together from such a diverse group of characters, or why Cid was so trusted by everyone. And Vivi, for example—how did he get the play ticket and make his way to Alexandria? That’s just one of the things I’d still like to know. As for NPCs, I really like Marcus from Tantalus. He’s the type of guy who works behind the scenes supporting his comrades, but isn’t afraid to take action when the situation calls for it. I’d love to know how he came to join Tantalus.”

―On top of Baku and Marcus, Tantalus had a lot of unusual members such as Zenero and his siblings too.

Itahana: “The Tantalus theater troupe was primarily designed by the art director, Mr. Minaba. At first, during development there was talk of Ruby being an oyama [traditional Japanese Kabuki theater term, referring to a male actor who plays female roles], although I’m not sure how the official lore on that ended up. The other Tantalus members’ backgrounds were always a mystery, even during the character planning stages. Someday I’d like to hear about their origins in depth.”

―The characters in Final Fantasy IX were a little shorter in stature than those in FF titles released shortly before Final Fantasy IX. Was there a reason for that?

Itahana: “I wasn’t part of the development team when it was decided that Final Fantasy IX’s characters would be shorter than before, so I don’t know the reason. However, I think the way the characters are almost overly expressive with big exaggerated body language looks great because of their shorter statures, and I feel that matches very well with the motifs of “theater” and “stage” that permeate Final Fantasy IX.”

―The CG screenshots overlaid with character lines that play when the game loads are another memorable way that Final Fantasy IX showed its characters.

Itahana: “The character poses in that art ended up primarily used for promotional and UI purposes. Art director Mr. Minaba and I made the art by giving the CG team pose ideas and then painting over the CG they got back to us.”

―We think that Mr. Uematsu’s music played a large part in expressing Final Fantasy IX’s unique characters and world. Are there any songs from the soundtrack that are particularly memorable to you?

Itahana: “There are a lot of well-known songs from Final Fantasy IX so I’d like to talk about one that doesn’t get much attention. I love “Quina’s Theme.” The banging rhythm of the drums when the song starts—that strong, steady sound gives me a lot of courage. When I’m super overloaded or really feeling the pressure of an approaching deadline, in the middle of the night I’ll often listen to ‘Quina’s Theme’ while working.”

―We heard that you did some Final Fantasy IX illustration commissions for Coca-Cola [commercial and figures exclusive to Japan]. Is there anything you were especially careful about because it was a collaboration?

Itahana: “The request for the Coca-Cola collaboration characters came when the design work for Final Fantasy IX’s development was almost finished, so I had very little trouble designing them. If Tantalus were the official royal family band, I imagined that they would be a wandering troupe that comes to Alexandria once a year – that’s the image I used when designing for the collaboration.”

―Final Fantasy IX has a lot of mini games, many of which are quite difficult. Are there any that you remember in particular?

Itahana: “The one I played the most was Tetra Master, which I took part in the design of. But the mini game that stands out most in my mind is probably Ragtime Mouse’s quiz. He asked a lot of tough questions! My favorite mini game music is from the sword fight mini game—‘Vamo’Alla Flamenco’!”

―Speaking of the quiz mini game, Final Fantasy IX has a lot of monsters with unusual gimmicks. Do you have a favorite monster?

Itahana: “I’ve already mentioned Ragtime Mouse, so aside from that… I suppose Armstrong. You can see the little legs sticking out the bottom and it’s always wobbling back and forth. It’s just too cute.”

―Were there any other interesting happenings or things you struggled with that you particularly remember from development?

Itahana: “In the credits I’m categorized as a character designer, but during the later stages of development I did overpainting of large prerendered background images. That included adjusting colors in areas of the background that we wanted users to look at to stand out more, or lowering the color saturation in areas that didn’t need to be looked at so much. You’ll notice if you check the map of Alexandria’s pub, but the color saturation is adjusted in such a way that places where the player can move or where characters will be placed are well lit, and places other than that have their color saturation adjusted so dark that they’re almost gray. The stairs are also broken so as to keep the player from trying to go upstairs – that’s hand-drawn as well. It was tedious work that took a lot of patience, but I learned a lot about drawing from it.”

―For our last question, we’d love for you to share some of your feelings about working on Final Fantasy IX, and a message for the many fans who still love it.

Itahana: “Now that its 20th anniversary is here, I’ve been hearing a lot about how Final Fantasy IX is always highly praised in polls about FF games both in Japan and the west. I feel that it is a game with a timeless story, a strongly established theme and lovable, truly unique characters. On the 20th anniversary of Final Fantasy IX it would make me very happy if people who have yet to experience this game gave it a shot, or those who played it 20 years ago tried it again. I hope each player finds a character that resonates with them.”

―Thank you for your time today!

#Final Fantasy IX #Final Fantasy 9 #Final Fantasy #Toshiyuki Itahana #Square Enix #Gematsu

[bellakitse]

Cause all of me, loves all of you

For @malex-i-never-look-away on her birthday. Toby, I hope you had a wonderful birthday, my dear!! Hope you like your gift!

Isobel hosts a single's mixer at Maria's bar, as Michael watches guy after guy hit on Alex, it forces him to confront his feelings.

Rated M

Michael gets three messages from Isobel in quick succession, telling him to get his ass over to the Wild Pony and to bring his tools or else. He gets two from Maria telling him that if he stresses Isobel out any more by taking his sweet time, she’s going to go after his balls and not in the fun way she used to. He lets out a tired sigh as he reads the texts before getting up from his bed and exiting his airstream, resigned to the fact that he has to deal with his sister and her girlfriend’s issues, he puts his car in gear and heads for the bar.

He doesn’t know what he did in a past life that he now has to deal with IsobelandMaria as he thinks of them these days, but he can’t imagine it was good.

Arriving at the Wild Pony a little after six, he groans as he takes in the sign hanging over the entrance.

‘Singles Mixer.’

Vaguely he recalls Isobel mentioning that she was planning the event the last time he had dinner with her and Maria. It’s not Maria’s usual style for the bar, and he doesn’t want to think for long what Isobel did to convince her girlfriend. He’s tempted to turn around, the whole thing starting to feel suspiciously like a trap, but curiosity has always been his downfall, so he gets out with his tools as requested and heads for the door.

The place is closed to the public, which makes sense if Isobel is making an event out of this. He sees Maria at the bar ready to set up for the night, her clothes colorful just like her, and he feels a wave of affection the way he always does when he sees her. They dated for three months (if you can call him being drunk half the time and miserable the rest, dating. More like her taking care of his sorry ass when he let her). And he’s grateful that he didn’t fuck up their friendship beyond repair. For a while, after they ended things, he was doubtful that she would ever allow him near her again. Especially after she found out the secret they were all keeping from her. But Maria is nothing if not kind-hearted and forgave him for being a shitty boyfriend and an even shittier friend. He thinks though, her starting something up with Isobel five months after they broke up probably helped the situation. A year later and the two are madly in love and going strong, while he and Maria are friends in a way they never were when they were together.

“I’m here, Deluca,” he calls out. “And if this is a trick to get me to do your sad little single’s night, I’m going to turn around right now.”

Maria gives him an unimpressed look but doesn’t bother to answer. Instead, she smirks as they hear the clicky-clack of Isobel’s heels.

“You’re in for it now, Guerin.”

“First of all,” Isobel starts as she rounds the bar, going behind it with Maria. He watches as she leans into Maria, her arm going around Maria’s slim waist, and Maria curves her body towards her. “Watch what you are calling sad, I’m the one planning this thing, so it’s going to be amazing. People will be talking about its success for weeks, as a matter of fact, the people who find love tonight will mention it at their weddings.”

Isobel looks pleased with Maria when she nods in agreement, an amused smile on her face. It seems to be the way Maria deals with Isobel, with loving amusement.

“Second,” Isobel continues, turning to face him, a fine shape brow arched. “Because I want it to be a success, you will not be participating, so don’t you worry. The people coming tonight are looking for love, not anonymous sex.”

Michael smirks at that, doubtful of the truth behind her words, but whatever. Instead, he just gives Isobel a shrug. “So I like to get right to the point. Sue me.”

Isobel makes a face at him, wrinkling her nose. “There’s a word for guys like you, Michael.”

“Charming?” Michael questions innocently, shooting Maria a glare when she snorts.

“Manwhore,” Isobel answers back sweetly.

Michael nods sarcastically, pushing his bottom lip out. “Hmm, well, this manwhore is going to leave if you don’t tell me why I’m here.”

“To help, obviously,” Isobel answers, rolling her eyes. “I need you to fix one of the taps, it’s leaking, the speakers on the left are making a static noise, and Maria is one bartender down, so you’re also going to stay and help, we open in an hour.”

The first two he can get done in under 30 minutes, but he stops short at the third, having no desire to stick around and watch the singles of Roswell try their awkward mating dance. “Since when am I a bartender, Iz?”

“You spend so much time here, I’m sure you can handle pouring beer and Whiskey, Michael,” Isobel answers, already ignoring him as her phone rings, and she moves to answer it. She gives the side of Maria’s face a distracted kiss as she heads to the back.

Michael sighs, annoyed but resigned and moves towards the bar, ready to start on his list. “Can’t you control your girlfriend, Deluca?”

“She’s your sister, Guerin,” Maria shoots back. “Nobody controls her.”

“Whatever,” Michael mutters, knowing it’s a lost cause to argue and starts to tighten the tap.

“You can help out for a night, Michael,” Maria says, giving him a look. “It’s important to her, and it’s good business for me, so try not to be a dick, okay?”

Michael stops and looks at her; he knows things have been tough. Mimi isn’t getting better, their powers haven’t helped her, even Max’s. And he knows it weighs on Isobel that they can’t help Maria and her mom.

“Okay,” he says finally, feeling like an ass when she lets out a relieved breath. “Sorry.”

Maria gives him a small smile, rolling her eyes at him playfully. “See you can be, what’s that word you used? Charming when you want to be.”

Michael narrows his eyes at her. “Your words say charming, but your tone says dick.”

Maria gives him an amused look as she pats his shoulder, walking by him. “Guess you’re a genius after all, now fix the tap.”

Michael nods as he gets to work. “Yes, ma’am.”

Michael makes a quick fix of the tap, it will hold for a while, but he needs to talk to Maria about getting some new equipment. Next, he works on the speakers, as Isobel asked. Taking his time until the music that comes out is smooth. The bar is opening by the time he’s done with his projects, and he’s behind the bar setting up a station for himself when the lonely hearts of their dusty town start trickling in. Maria is at the other end of the bar, already pouring the first whiskeys of the night.

“What are the chances this thing is actually successful?” he questions her as he hands over a Bud Light to a man in a plaid shirt.

“It’s Isobel’s event,” Maria looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. “When has anything Isobel planned not worked out perfectly by her sheer force of will?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Are you about to start waxing poetic about Iz, right now?” he questions. “Hasn’t the honeymoon stage fade after a year of being together? Who would have thought that you two would be worse than Max and Liz,” he says, practically whining. It’s truly sickening how in love his siblings are with their humans and vice versa.

Maria shoots him a look. “What’s the matter, Guerin, jealous?”

Michael scoffs, rolling his eyes at her once more. “Hey, I dated you first, no reason to be jealous.”

Maria nods easily, with a smirk on her face that just spells trouble for him. “And then we broke up, and I got together with your sister, who is far more talented with her tongue,” she says sweetly.

Michael stares at her with wide eyes at the blow at his ego she just delivered, not knowing if he should take offense or applaud her absolute savageness. In the end, a laugh stops him from doing either, and he turns from Maria to find Alex standing in front of him, his hands resting on the bar.

Alex's face is perfectly blank, except for the way his eyes twinkle with amusement.

“Alex,” he breathes, blushing slightly. “Hey, how much did you just hear?”

Alex shrugs. “Not much,” he starts, there is a grin playing at his lips the longer he looks at Michael. “Though if we’re holding some kind of poll, just know that I never had any complaints about your tongue, Guerin, at least when you used it for something other then talking.”

Maria lets out a snort from where she stands, flashing Alex a wicked grin, which he returns easily, his dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners attractively.

“You actually came,” Maria comments, pleased, raising an eyebrow when Alex rolls his eyes at her, though his lips twitch at the double meaning of her words.

Michael glares at her as she burns him a second time.

“Tell me if I hadn’t shown up, your girlfriend would have left it alone and not shown up at my place to drag me here.”

Maria laughs loudly, shaking her head. “I would be lying if I told you that.”

“Exactly,” Alex says with a resigned sigh. “So here I am; hopefully, this gets her off my back.”

“Wait,” Michael starts and looks at Alex, taking in his appearance.

He looks good, but then again, when doesn’t he look good, especially to Michael. Alex is beautiful, he’s always been, and Michael knows that has nothing to do with the fact that he is still madly in love with him. He can be objective about that if nothing else when it comes to Alex.

He looks at him, taking in his black leather jacket, the fitted navy-colored dress shirt peeking underneath. He leans into the bar a little to discreetly check out the rest. Alex has on slim dark jeans that wrap his thighs nicely and a pair of black boots. His hair that he has been wearing longer is artfully messy, and Michael spots a five o’clock shadow that tells him Alex hasn’t shaved in a day or two, making Michael itch with the desire to press his cheek against Alex’s and feel the roughness.

Correction, good doesn’t even begin to describe how Alex looks. Michael’s walking wet dream would be a better descriptor. His heart starts to beat a little harder, both from want but also longing. These days he’s pretty good at keeping his feelings in check. Alex and he have been to hell and back, and they’ve come out the other side as friends, great friends even.

Alex had been nothing but understanding when he told him he needed to move on from them. Respectful, when he tried to have a relationship with Maria, and there every step of the way in any way, Michael needed him.

Michael had asked for a friend, and Alex had given him that tenfold. It’s his own fault that on the road to friendship, he didn’t get over being in love with him, and if anything, being friends with Alex has just made him love him more.

“Guerin?” Alex questions, the hand he has resting on the bar, reaching out to touch Michael’s forearm. “Are you okay?”

Michael snaps out of his thoughts; he looks at Alex, who is giving him a concerned look and then at Maria, who looks at him knowingly. He tells himself that she might be psychic, but she can’t actually read minds, and therefore can’t hear all his lovesick thoughts. A blonde girl in a sparkly top at the other end of the bar signals her, and she moves away from them with one last pointed look at him.

“Sorry,” he flashes Alex a smile, trying hard not to move. Alex’s hand is still on his arm, and he wants to enjoy it as long as he can. “Guess I spaced.”

Alex looks at him a moment longer, and Michael holds his breath, wondering if his face is showing everything he’s hiding.

He gives Alex another grin, this one teasing, hoping it distracts Alex. “I was going to ask if you are actually here for this mixer thing.”

Alex rolls his eyes, taking his hand off Michael, and Michael clenches his hand to keep from reaching out and interlocking their fingers. They never held hands when they were together, and Michael mourns it even though he’s never had it.

“Maria is a meddler,” Alex starts, saying it loudly enough for her to overhear him, smirking when she shoots him a narrow-eyed look. “And she decided to date your sister, who is also a meddler, so together they are meddlers squared.”

Michael laughs, nodding in agreement. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.”

Alex huffs, taking a seat and settling in. Michael puts a glass in front of him and pours him some Jim Beam.

Alex thanks him lifting the glass to his mouth, and Michael has to hold onto the bar as he watches Alex lick his lips after a sip. "They have been nagging me about dating every time I've had dinner with them the last few weeks. They've decided my mourning period from Forest is done and have been threatening me with blind dates."

Michael makes a face at the mention of Alex's last boyfriend. If you could even call him that when they only went out for the six most miserable weeks of Michael's life. The guy had left a little over a month ago for a new job.

"Do you regret not taking him up on his offer?" he can't help but ask, the question has been nagging at him since he heard that Forest asked Alex to leave with him, and Alex had turned him down.

"I liked Forest, he was nice," Alex says honestly, and as much as Michael hates it, he knows it's true. Just because he hated the guy on sight doesn't mean he wasn't a good guy who made Alex smile and laugh in a way that Michael hadn't seen in a long time. "But nice isn't enough, especially after only a few weeks of dating, to leave my life here or leave the people I love again," Alex watches him with those dark eyes of his, something unfathomable in them that makes Michael's pulse spike. "People that need me and that I need in return to be happy."

Michael doesn’t know what to say, not when all he wants to ask if he’s still one of the people Alex loves, one of the people that he needs to be happy. He hopes he still is, every part of him hopes that more than anything, but they haven’t been together in almost two years, and in all that time Alex hasn’t once hinted at more than friendship. There are times when he thinks he sees the longing in Alex’s eyes, but for all he knows, that’s just his own wishful thinking playing tricks on him.

Alex clears his throat and flashes him a crooked smile that is slightly embarrassed. “Anyway, I figured I might as well cave and do their little mixer and get them off my back for a while,” he shrugs. “It’s not like Roswell is a buzzing LBGT hub, how many guys can I possibly meet anyway?”

***

How many guys?

The answer is too fucking many if you ask Michael. He has watched four guys in the last hour go up to Alex, chatting him up, touching his arm when they can, lighting up when they get him to smile or laugh and given the looks Alex has been getting from every corner of the room, it isn’t going to stop at just those four.

“What the fuck did you guys do?” he questions from his corner of the bar. Isobel sits across from him, looking out at the crowd of single people flirting, exchanging numbers, and pressed closely in dark corners, with a smug, satisfied look on her face. “Did you two bus in every gay guy from neighboring cities? I haven’t seen half these guys in town before.”

Isobel turns in her stool with a smirk on her face. “Not just gay, but bisexual, and sexually undecided too.”

Maria, who has come over to them, coughs to cover a laugh. “With Alex’s face and ass, they won’t be sexually undecided for long.”

“Why?” Michael asks with a frown at the annoyance he hears in his own voice; he pours himself a shot, he’s been forced to watch the love of his life be hit on by objectively hot guys with no end in sight, sober. Obviously, it’s time for alcohol. He tips the shot back, letting it burn down his throat, but not before catching the looks that Maria and Isobel give each other.

“What?” he questions, the word coming out harsher than he wants. They share yet another look like his outburst proves whatever silent conversation they are having, and he sighs. He’s not stupid, and he knows what they’re thinking. Alex called them meddlers, and they are, not just with Alex but with Michael too. Except where they seemed hellbent on getting Alex at the very least laid. They seem determined to get him to finally admit his feelings for Alex. “Don’t start,” he warns them even though he already knows it's pointless with them.

“Why ask then?” Maria questions, tilting her head with a curious expression on her face.

“Michael,” Isobel starts softly, making him sigh again but now tiredly. He knows that tone. It’s her sisterly ‘I just want you to be as happy as I am’ voice.

“How long are you going to wait?” she questions quietly. “You hated when he was with Forest. You hate that guys are talking to him right now.”

“You love him,” Maria points out bluntly. “You’ve never stopped loving him.”

“You guys are friends now,” Isobel takes over. “You’ve built a relationship, a good one, but you’re in love with him, we can all see it.”

“Except him,” Maria mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Well, they’re both smart idiots,” Isobel says to her, flashing Maria a wicked smile, which Maria returns, reaching out to brush back a wisp of blonde hair out of Isobel’s face. Isobel’s smile softens at the gesture, and Michael aches because he wants what they have. He wants to reach out and touch Alex like that; he wants Alex to smile at him with love in his eyes the way Maria looks at Isobel.

“We’re friends,” Michael says quietly, getting their attention back on him. “What if I fuck that up?” he asks, feeling himself go hot when they both look at him with painfully gentle expressions on their face.

“You’re scared,” Maria tells him, and she looks back at Isobel. “Being in love is scary, especially given the history you guys have, we get that.”

Isobel nods, but she tilts her head in the direction of Alex, who is now talking to a different guy with brown hair and a wide smile on his face as Alex speaks.

“That’s Jacob,” Isobel starts, and Michael looks at the man better, recognizing him as Max’s latest partner. “He’s had a crush on Alex for a while; he’s just been waiting because Alex was with Forest. He’s good looking and charming, and he lives here, we didn’t ‘bus’ him in, and he came specifically for Alex.”

“Isobel,” Maria warns softly, but Isobel continues, her expression has gone from loving sister to ‘I’m about to lay some hard truths on you.’

“He’s not going anywhere,” Isobel continues. “You hated Forest and got lucky that he left. What happens if Jacob gets a date out of Alex, or a second date or a tenth, and they get serious,” she raises an eyebrow at him, and he scowls at her because he knows what she’s getting at. “They end up falling in love,” she twists in deeper, and he can’t help but flinch. “And you have to stand there and watch because you were scared.”

Maria shakes her head with a sigh. “Thank god I don’t have siblings,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her beer.

“You’ve made your point, Isobel,” Michael says quietly, his hands clenched into fists, and he feels the energy around him ripple, making the bottles behind him shake faintly. Maria, who is standing close to him, shoots him a look.

“Guerin, if you break anything in here, I will make you sorry,” she hisses, flashing a smile to a regular who looks at the bottles weirdly. “The music is making everything vibrate in here,” she jokes to him.

“I need some air,” Michael declares, grabbing his hat, already heading for the door before either woman can stop him. He crosses the bar as quickly as he can, given all the people inside. He catches Alex’s eye as he tries to leave, there is a frown on his face as he watches Michael, but all Michael can see is the way that Jacob guy is standing inches away from Alex, his body curved towards him intimately, Isobel’s words echoing in his head, ‘they end up falling in love’ and his chest hurts.

He stops and heads for Alex and his new friend instead, his pulse racing as he realizes what he’s about to do.

“Hey,” Alex greets him gently as he comes to stand before them, his brow pinched together, he nods towards the bar, and it doesn’t surprise Michael at all that Alex spotted his small use of power. “Is everything all right?”

Michael looks at him and then at Jacob. “Sorry,” he tells the man, getting a confused look back, but Michael doesn’t have time for him anymore and looks back at Alex.

“I’m still in love with you,” he blurts out, his words steady when his heart is anything but, he feels it thumping hard against his chest. “I never stopped.”

Alex’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops, but nothing comes out. Michael stands there, his skin crawling and starting to feel hot as the seconds tick by, and Alex continues to stare at him.

“I-I should go,” Jacob says awkwardly, flashing him a sympathetic look, and Michael feels a wave of humiliation wash over him.

“No,” he gets out, the word choking him. “I think that’s my line,” he looks at Alex, who still seems frozen. “Sorry.”

He turns on his heel and exits the bar like his ass is on fire, calling himself a hundred times an idiot. His eyes sting as he gets into his truck, but he reels it in, the tears will have to wait for when he’s in the privacy of his home, where he has a bottle of whiskey and acetone under his bed.

***

Michael makes it back to the junkyard in record time, and he’s grateful that no one pulled him over for speeding, given just how fast he was driving. He’s barely out of his truck and a few steps away from his airstream when an SUV comes roaring in, slamming on the breaks the driver stops inches away from his truck. Michael stands there, shocked as he takes in Alex jumping out of his car, his face a thunderstorm as he walks towards him.

“How fucking dare you!” Alex shouts, and Michael can’t say anything in the face of his anger. “You tell me you love me and then you just leave?”

Michael doesn't have an answer that won’t cause him to break down, so he focuses on something else. “How fast were you going that you got here so fast?”

Alex’s eyes bug out at his question, “Are you serious right now, Guerin?” Alex asks incredulously. “As fast as you were going, obviously.”

“You shouldn’t speed, it’s dangerous,” he states stupidly, wincing at his own words and the way Alex looks up at the sky like he’s asking some higher power for patience.

“You. Were. Speeding,” Alex clips out each word.

Michael digs in, determined to keep the focus on this and not on his humiliating declaration. “I have powers.”

“Now I know you’re an alien, your logic is not our earth logic,” Alex looks at him with a dry unamused expression. “And don’t think you’re going to distract me with this ridiculous conversation, Guerin.”

Michael breathes in deep and gives Alex a fake bold smirk. “What do you want to talk about?”

Alex gives him an unimpressed look, calling Michael’s bluff. “You told me you loved me and then you left before I could say anything about it.”

Michael clenches his jaw, feeling the lingering humiliation course through him as he thinks of just who might have overheard him, he tries to work up some anger as a defense, but all he feels is heartsick.

"Your silence was answer enough,” Michael answers, coming to grips with what it means.

Alex doesn’t love him anymore, he realizes, and he looks down at his feet as his eyes flood with tears. He thinks he deserves this. He knows he broke Alex’s heart when he dated Maria, no matter how gracious Alex was about it. It’s his turn now.

"Excuse me for being caught off guard!” Alex shouts, raising his arms up in the air, exasperated. “You were saying everything I have wanted you to say for the last two years! For a moment, I thought I was dreaming again, Michael.”

Michael looks up at Alex, his words not making sense. “You dream about me telling you I still love you?”

Alex gives him a dirty look that is so Alex, Michael falls in love just a little bit more if possible. “Don’t act dumb, Michael, you’re a literal genius, it doesn’t suit you.”

Hope is a dangerous thing, Michael has always known this, but right now he can’t help the hope that is bubbling up in his chest. “Do you still love me, Alex?”

Alex lets out a noise that is half-amused, half-annoyed, and crosses the distance between them until he’s standing in front of Michael, within touching distance. “There you go, asking dumb questions you should already know the answer too,” Alex shakes his head, but there is a smile on his face that robs Michael of air. “But since apparently, you're slow right now, fine. I still love you, Michael, I have never, not for one single second since the age of 17, stopped loving you. It's as constant as the sun rising every morning.”

“Alex,” is all he gets out, a lump in his throat.

Alex looks at him so softly, and Michael can’t stop the sob that escapes his mouth, it’s so much like the ones he’s seen Maria and Isobel give each other. Alex reaches out, his hand pulling at Michael’s shirt, and Michael goes more than willingly, pressing his face into Alex’s neck as Alex wraps his arms around him.

“I love you, Michael,” Alex whispers into the side of his face. “I love you, I love you, I love you. God, I love you so fucking much.”

Michael pulls back to look at those brown eyes he loves so much. “You love me, and I love you, why aren’t we together?”

Alex shrugs but doesn’t stop holding him. “You said you wanted to be friends.”

“You said it first!” Michael argues because it’s true, he remembers before everything went to shit, Alex standing right where they stand now, telling him that.

Alex shrugs again, with no answer, and Michael rolls his eyes at just how stupid they’ve both been.

“Okay, we’ve both been ridiculous, but I have a solution,” Michael starts.

Alex raises an eyebrow at him. “We stop being stupid right now; we decide to be together because that’s what you do when you’re in love, and you fucking kiss me already.”

Alex lets out a laugh that turns into a groan when Michael gets tired of waiting and covers his mouth with his. Michael doesn’t waste any time. He licks at Alex's plump bottom lip, sucking it between his lips as Alex parts his mouth. Alex groans again and pulls him tighter to his hard body, his hands cradling his neck and lower back. Michael presses his hips flushed against Alex’s, feeling him hardening in his jeans, he rolls his body, and Alex lets out a sound that vibrates between them, sending all the blood rushing to Michael’s dick.

He breaks the kiss and looks at Alex, his skin is a pretty shade of pink, and his eyes are hazy, and his mouth is bruised from their kissing.

He’s never looked more beautiful to Michael.

“I know we still have a lot to talk about,” he starts, holding on to Alex; he takes a step closer to his airstream. Alex looks over to it and then back at him, there is so much want on his face for Michael to see, and it just makes Michael’s body tighten even more. “I swear we can talk until we’re hoarse,” he trails off, he knows Alex gets his meaning by the way his eyes darken even more. “But can we do that later?”

Alex doesn’t answer him with words. Instead, he breaks away from him and heads for the airstream, pulling off his leather jacket as he goes and throwing it over the chair closest to Michael’s home before he starts to climb the small set of steps, leaving Michael to follow.

Michael takes a steadying breath as he feels his hands shake at the realization of what’s about to happen. What he gets to finally have again.

He follows Alex’s path and enters his airstream, shutting the door behind him. Alex has turned on the light above his bed and gotten rid of his shirt already. He turns to face Michael, lifting a hand out to him.

“Come here,” he says softly to him, his tone feeling like a touch to Michael.

Michael pulls his own shirt over his head as he walks towards Alex, letting it drop behind him, earning a smile from Alex when he takes his hand.

Alex pulls him towards him until their chests are pressed against each other, and Michael has to close his eyes at the sensation. It’s been so long since he’s felt Alex’s skin against his. They haven’t even started, and Michael already feels on a ragged edge.

“Michael, look at me,” Alex whispers, his hands touching his face, running over his curls, holding him in place as Michael opens his eyes to look at him. “What do you want?”

“You,” Michael answers instantly. “You, I want you, all around me, Alex, I need-“

Alex waits for him to continue, but Michael can’t say anything else. Love and lust, want, is coursing through him in a way that only happens with Alex, and he can’t get anything else out over the need he feels inside him, so instead he turns and sits on his bed, Alex’s bellybutton at eye level. He leans in and presses a kiss against it, his tongue tracing around it as Alex lets out a gasp.

Michael continues to lay wet kisses on Alex’s skin as his hands undo Alex’s belt and pulls down on the zipper of his jeans. He presses another kiss over Alex’s cloth-covered cock, feeling it harden even further under his mouth as he starts pulling down his pants past his ass. Alex’s hands jerk at his sides, but he doesn’t stop Michael.

He rests his chin on Alex’s washboard abs and stares up at him as he pushes down Alex’s boxer-briefs to his thighs. Alex sucks in a breath, his mouth parted as he looks down at Michael.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael murmurs, still looking up at him.

Alex caresses the side of his face with his fingertips. “Me too, baby.”

Michael sighs, feeling warm all over at the endearment. He pulls back enough to bring his mouth to Alex’s cock, licking up the small pearl of precum at the slit. Alex makes a strangled noise, and Michael grins up at him before taking him into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Alex curses, his hands going straight for Michael’s hair as Michael starts to suck him in deeper, pressing his tongue at the underside the way Alex always liked. Alex’s fingers tighten around his curls, and Michael lets out a sound of approval, he’s always liked when Alex grips his hair.

He loves the way Alex tries to stay in control despite knowing that Michael will do everything in his power to get him to unravel. He sucks on Alex some more, reveling in his tastes for a minute longer before Alex starts to tug him away, Michael pops off him and looks back up at him. Alex swears softly, his thumb brushing over Michael's bottom lip.

"If you keep doing that, this is going to end so damn quick," Alex admits, laughing quietly when Michael gives him a proud look. "Yeah, you already know what you do to me, no need to be smug."

"I finally have you back, and I'm going to keep you forever," Michael tells him, a wide smile on his face as Alex lets out a shuddering breath. "I'm going to be smug until the end of time."

Alex looks at him and shakes his head, amused. "Do you have to be smug right now, or will you stop long enough for me to make love to you?"

Michael stands up, quickly undoing his belt. "You know I can do both, Alex, come on."

Alex laughs happily, pulling him in for a wet, lingering kiss. "I love you, Michael."

Michael sighs into the kiss, his heart tripping all over itself at the words.

They work quickly to get rid of their clothes and climb into bed. Michael sits next to Alex, reaching out to help Alex remove his prosthetic. He leans down and presses a soft kiss on Alex's knee, right above where his leg ends. He looks up when Alex lets out a small gasp, his eyes glassy as he looks at Michael.

"I'm never letting go of you again," Alex tells him, the promise on his face clear, and Michael feels any last lingering doubts disappear.

He lays back on his small bed, a pillow under his hips, and his legs spread for Alex, exposed and vulnerable for him as he sits between his knees.

"You're so beautiful, Michael," Alex whispers, his hands on Michael's thighs, spreading him even further. Michael feels on display under Alex's gaze, his dick hard against his belly.

Alex starts to move. "I need-"

Michael doesn't let him finish his sentence, and with the little brain function he still has, floats a condom and a bottle of lube towards Alex, who plucks them out of the air.

“We are so using your powers for sex from now on,” Alex says with a grin as he coats his fingers with lube, letting it warm up before he touches Michael. “They’re convenient.”

Michael lets out a laugh that turns into a moan as Alex presses his fingers to his rim.

“Alex,” Michael gets out, his voice rough as Alex teases him with small circles of his fingers, he tilts his hips up as Alex starts to slide one finger in him, giving him shallow thrusts, curling his finger to seek out the small bundle of nerves that makes Michael see stars.

“You’re so tight,” Alex murmurs as he adds a second finger, while his other hand strokes Michael’s cock in a hold tight enough to make Michael moan. It’s so much and not enough. No, Michael needs more, he needs Alex inside him, now.

“Alex, baby, please,” Michael begs, pushing himself into Alex’s hands. “I need you.”

“I’m making sure you’re ready,” Alex admonishes him gently. “You’re too tight around my fingers.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” he breathes, staring at Alex intently. He keeps staring at him when Alex's eyes widen.

“You mean since the last time we?“

Michael nods.

Alex closes his eyes. “You’re trying to kill me,” he says as he takes his fingers out of Michael and rolls him on his side, sliding in behind him. He makes a quick work of the condom before lining himself up with Michael’s hole. He lifts Michael’s leg, placing it back over his own.

“I feel like such a possessive asshole for being pleased with the fact that no one else has been like this with you, since me,” Alex whispers into his throat as he wraps his arms around Michael’s torso and starts to breach him. Michael lets out a whine, holding on to the edge of the bed as Alex starts to fill him up. He enjoys the exquisite burn of being full and lets out a gasp when Alex’s hips touch his ass. “It means you’re mine.”

Michael tightens at Alex’s words, the way Alex says them hot against the shell of his ear, but he hears a question in there, and he nods frantically as Alex starts to move, pulling back until just the tip is in, before pushing back into Michael, making every nerve-ending in Michael light up.

“Yes,” Michael gasps, his whole body feeling on fire from Alex’s body behind him. His hands touch his chest, pinching his nipples the way Michael likes, making his spine bend, and he fucks himself back into Alex’s cock mindlessly as his orgasm starts to build.

“Yours, always,” he gets out, letting out a sob as Alex runs his fingers down his stomach and wraps his hand around Michael's painfully hard cock and starts to stroke it in tempo with his thrusts.

Michael turns his head, pressing his face into his pillow, biting down on it to muffle his screams of pleasure as Alex fucks him over the edge. He lets out a long moan as Alex’s cock nails his prostate over and over, and he comes in hot spurts in Alex’s hand. His body tightens like a coil and then releases, leaving him boneless and breathless.

He hears Alex curse again, and he feels Alex pull him flush against his chest, his face in the crook of Michael’s neck, his teeth on the meat of his shoulder as he also comes. His hips thrusting a few more times as he rides it out.

They lay like that, Alex’s arms wrapped around him, petting him as he holds him while he softens inside Micheal.

Eventually, Alex pulls out of Michael, and Michael makes a sad noise at the loss. Alex leans down and presses a kiss on his bare shoulder. He rids himself of the condom, eyes the wastebasket by the door, and chucks it.

Michael turns over to face Alex, pushing Alex on his back and lays back down, half on top of him, his leg thrown over Alex’s.

Alex chuckles as Michael cuddles into his side. “We’re going to have to get up to clean ourselves up, or we’ll fall asleep like this and wake up all sticky.”

Michael makes a noise of agreement but doesn’t bother to move, and Alex laughs again, his arm resting across Michael’s back, his fingers drawing shapes into Michael’s skin.

“I guess sticky isn’t so bad,” Alex concedes, and Michael hums agreeing again.

They lay there quietly, basking in the afterglow. It’s only after a while, and when Michael is on the road to a good night's sleep that he feels Alex shake. He lifts his head from Alex’s chest to look at him, and he’s greeted with a wide grin and amused brown eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his lips curving up in the face of a happy Alex.

“Isobel and Maria,” Alex starts, laughter taking over. “They are going to be so smug that their mixer worked.”

Michael rolls his eyes, realizing how right Alex is, they’re going to be insufferable. He remembers what Isobel told him earlier about people mentioning the mixer at their future weddings and grins.

“Alex, no matter what happens, you have to promise me one thing,” he says seriously even as his heart races.

Alex frowns, taking in his serious tone. “Anything.”

“When we get married,” he starts, grinning when Alex’s eyes widen. “No matter what, we don’t mention the mixer, we can’t give Isobel the satisfaction.”

Alex stares at him, and Michael feels his cheeks ache from his grin, and his chest feels like it will burst from just how happy he is. Alex narrows his eyes at him, but the corners of his lip curve upward.

“Okay, when we get married,” Alex answers, a small challenge in his tone, but also a promise. “We won’t mention it at all.”

Satisfied, Michael kisses him softly, before placing his head on Alex’s chest once more, smiling when he hears the racing thump-thump of Alex’s heart and how it matches his own.

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #maribel #maria x isobel #my writing #first time writing maribel and i'm in love with them now

[greekgeek21]

The Codependency Competition Ch. 10

Ok, so I just realized that I'm way over 1M readers if I add all of the websites I have this story on together. And I'm in shock. You guys are so great, and I love the support I always get. It's really reassuring to have people say that they like my story because, to be honest, I was really nervous about posting this story. And now that we're on the last chapter, it's a little surreal to have so much recognition. But enough of the sappy stuff. I can do that after the actual chapter. So be ready for the spillage of my heart. Oh and the pic at the top does not mean anything, just in case anyone is hyperventilating right now.  

Also, I just got a new keyboard for my monitor and I'm not quite used to it yet, so if I make a mistake, please don't point it out. I appreciate it. That's also why this chapter took longer than usual to finish BTW.

Oh and if you still reading these, good for you! Not like you wanted to know or anything, but I'm eating a whole lot of Sour Punches right now. It's extremely unhealthy, but do I care in the slightest? No. Not at all.

Stay safe and happy reading!

– your author

P.S. go to FF and answer my poll there. My name is Ocean.breezzq cuz for some reason they don't allow underscores on FF.

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How did he end up in this position? Honestly, Percy could not for the life of him figure out how he got himself into this one.

He is currently standing in front of a full-length mirror, with his mother trying to figure out which tie he should wear. They had narrowed it down to two: a deep blue or a thin black one. He didn't see how it mattered, but apparently it does because his mom had been fussing over it for the past ten minutes. He was about ready to just not wear one. It was already bad enough to have to wear a dress shirt and pants (he had adamantly refused to wear anything but his converse).

But of course he was standing around and taking it because it was what Annabeth wanted, and what Annabeth wants, she usually gets.

"Mom! Just choose already! At this rate, we're gonna miss the dance altogether!" he exclaimed.

Sally sighed, "Oh, Percy. I can guarantee that you're going to be a little bit late. Annabeth still has a lot to do before you kids can leave!

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly, his mom did NOT know Annabeth. She's the farthest thing from a girly-girl, only Clarisse could beat her. There's no way that she's fussing about getting ready as much as his mom is. If anything, she's already done and is just sitting in their room watching Youtube. Yeah, that's what she's doing...

That was NOT what she was doing.

In fact, Sally wasn't far off. Annabeth was on a FaceTime call with Piper, Thalia, and Hazel trying to figure out which lipgloss she should wear. She already had her hair and dress done. Her hair was styled in just a simple French braid, and her dress was nothing special. She was sure it cost a lot, but Sally hadn't let her see the price tag.

As soon as her and Percy had agreed to going to the dance, Sally had dragged to the mall to find a dress. She seemed so excited, so Annabeth had just let her shove dress after dress onto her until they found "the perfect match." Whatever that meant.

Anyway, Annabeth had only called her friends because she wanted to get their opinion on how she looked. However, she had ended up getting into an argument about when the appropriate time for makeup was. In her opinion, it wasn't required for school dances. Piper and Thalia thought differently. Hazel didn't want to voice her opinion because she was still getting used to common modern practices.

And that's how she ended up here, fretting over what lipgloss she should use. Sally had let her borrow her makeup bag because Annabeth's consisted of a single tube of mascara and an unused clear lip gloss.

Piper thought that she should use the pink lip gloss that Sally gave her, but Annabeth didn't want to be too flashy, so she wanted the clear one.

"You NEED to use the pink one, Annabeth!" Piper said.

"You already forced me into putting on mascara and blush, so I don't think you have the right to make me use the pink one," Annabeth stated factually.

"Oh my gods, 'Beth! Can't you just use the pink and get it over with? This conversation is exhausting," Thalia sighed.

Annabeth resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a child and responded with, "No! I can't! It's my body, so my decision!"

Piper was almost literally pulling her own hair out, but she told Annabeth in a deadly calm voice to "Put on the dam pink lip gloss before I charmspeak you into doing it."

Figuring it was an endless cycle, Annabeth just sighed and applied the pink lipgloss. When she finished, she stood back from the mirror, and gave herself a once-over. She would never admit it, but the pink kinda looked good.

"Happy?" she asked Piper.

"Extremely," was the deadpan reply.

"Ok, guys. I've gotta go. Talk to you later," Annabeth said, moving to sign-off.

Before she could, Thalia screeched, "Don't forget to tell me what Percy's reaction is! I want details!"

"Yeah, sure, Thals," she said and finally ended the call.

That was exhausting. And she still had a long night ahead of her. Great. Why did she want to do this again?

Back with Percy, his mom had chosen the deep blue tie. She said it brought out his eyes, or something like that. He honestly started tuning out what she was saying after she mentioned hair gel.

They had thirty minutes until the dance started, so he wasn't exactly joyous. In his ADHD brain, he was wondering if there was some way that he could skip the dance without being in trouble. Probably not.

And that's when he saw her.

She looked more than beautiful in her grey and gold dress and silver heels. Percy was pretty sure that his mouth was hanging open, but he physically could not close it. Sure, he'd seen Annabeth a little dressed up before, but never like this. For one thing, she'd never worn heels before.

He was speechless.

"You're drooling, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth stated, walking up to him.

That shocked him out of his reverie, "Huh? Oh! You look amazing, Wise Girl."

Annabeth laughed. It sounded so carefree, but on the inside, she was a nervous wreck. Just as she was about to walk out to meet Percy, butterflies swarmed her stomach. There were so many ways this could go wrong, and she hadn't even thought past seeing Percy yet!

"Thanks, Perce," she said, a little tersely.

Percy picked up on her mood, "Relax, 'Beth. Everything'll be fine. This was your plan, remember?"

"Yeah, you're right. Athena always has a plan. We're going to be fine," thought she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

They both turned to leave, but was abruptly stopped by a yell of protest from Sally, "Just where do you two think you're going? We still have to do pictures!"

Percy groaned, and Annabeth looked like she was trying to suppress one. Sally is great and loving, and kind, but she could be really embarrassing sometimes (especially when it came to Percy).

"Really, Mom?" Percy asked, turning back around to face his mother.

Sally sighed, 'Teenagers', she thought.

"Yes, really. This is one of the few times you get to act like a normal teenager, and I want to capture the moment ," she responded, "Plus, this'll be useful when you get married!"

Both Percy and Annabeth blushed bright red. Leave it to Sally Jackson to make a perfectly casual dance into a conversation about marriage.

Even so, they stood through the seemingly endless amount of photos. Once they were finished, Percy was practically dragging Annabeth away from his mother. The faster they got out of there, the least likely they would be ambushed for pictures again.

In the car, Paul's Prius, they were discussing their plan for the night.

"Ok, so what's the game plan?" Percy asked Annabeth, keeping his eyes on the road. (safety first kids!)

Annabeth sighed at her boyfriend's immaturity, but answered nonetheless, "We act like everything is normal. Well, our usual normal. We show up together, and stay together. Got it?"

"Yeah, I think so," he answered.

"Good, because I made it foolproof for your sake, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth teased, taking one of Percy's hands in hers.

Percy grinned that dopey grin that always made her heart melt, and then her mind clouded over, as per usual. How can he have this effect on me?, Annabeth wondered as she struggled to come back to herself.

Unbeknownst to her, Percy knew exactly what he was doing. It was all part of his charm, as Leo so tactfully put it once. Slowly, Percy was coming to realize what little action he could do to break through that rough shell that surrounded Annabeth. Not many people could claim to have that ability, so he was grateful he was one of the chosen few. Then again, they had been best friends for almost six years. He had some experience to put it lightly.

Anyway, they were almost at school. Time seemed to slow down as they pulled into Goode High's parking lot. Every step towards the gym–which was where the dance was being held–seemed to last an hour. The anticipation was rising in both of the demigods.

Percy and Annabeth both looked over at each other for comfort at the exact same time, as if their thoughts were one and the same. They didn't even have to speak for them to understand what was going through the other's head. They were both nervous beyond belief.

As they approached the double doors with colorful lights pouring out from under it, Percy squeezed Annabeth's hand, glancing at her and asking, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she muttered, reaching to open the doors.

Annabeth wasn't sure what she was expecting...maybe a movie moment where the music stops and everyone moves to stare at them? Or for everyone to start bombarding them with questions as soon as they stepped through the door? Whatever its as, she was sure it couldn't have been what happened.

Nobody noticed them.

The dance just continued as if nothing had happened. Maybe one person here or there would do a double-take at seeing Percy Jackson with his arm wrapped securely around Annabeth Chase's waist, but nothing more than that.

It was all very disconcerting. Or maybe the proper word would be anticlimactic? Yeah, that sounded better in Annabeth's head...

Oh! There she goes again, letting her control slip from her ADHD brain! Get a grip, Annabeth!, she practically screamed in her head.

She hadn't even realized that Percy was pulling her by the hand somewhere until they had already got there. He had spotted their friends talking to each other at one of the tables. That brought another question to mind: When did that happen?

"Hey, guys!" Percy greeted, high-fiving one of his friends (Annabeth was pretty sure it was the one named Jack), "What's up?"

All of their friends gave Percy incredulous looks. Percy was just trying to act normal, like Annabeth said, but apparently they hadn't gotten the memo.

"What's up? What's up?! You too are dating, and you're just acting like it's no big deal!" Nora exclaimed.

Oh, that's right. Most of Annabeth's friends hadn't been briefed completely. They must still be stuck in the shock of the reveal. Annabeth wasn't sure why they were making such a big out of it. It wasn't like they had announced they were getting married, or anything. They were just dating. What's so surprising about that?

And Annabeth asked exactly that, in her best accusatory tone.

Nora looked a little shocked before stuttering out a response, "Well-I mean-um...he's him and you're you!"

Not the best answer, Nora, Percy thought before grabbing Annabeth before she decided to gut her friend. He made it look like he had just casually given her a hug, but if you looked closely you could see how Annabeth's nails were digging into his wrists.

"Easy there, 'Beth. She didn't know what she was saying," Percy whispered in his murderous girlfriend's ear.

With one deep breath, Annabeth relaxed her rigid posture, finally letting it go.

"I apologize for keeping something as big as a relationship from you. I hope you can forgive me," she forced out in a robotic voice, clearly rehearsed beforehand.

Percy smirked, but didn't comment on it. He just went over to talk to his friends while Annabeth caught her group up on everything.

The rest of the dance went pretty smoothly. There was SOME dancing, but not much. Annabeth and Percy may have improved on their dancing skills slightly since Westover Hall, but it was still a little awkward. Even after almost 2 years of dating...

Just as they were about to retire for the night, the casual mood changed. Well, more like the entire gym's atmosphere darkened.

Kelsey Evans was blocking Percy and Annabeth's path.

Annabeth outwardly groaned when Kelsey started to advance toward them. Just as things were seeming like they would work out fine, the devil incarnate had to show up.

"Hey, Percy!" Kelsey chirped with her too-high voice.

"Hi, Kelsey. We were just on our way out, so can you move please? Or is there something you wanted to say first?" Percy asked, strangely diplomatic.

"Well, you see. I've been hearing about some CRAZY rumor going around that says that YOU are dating HER," she answered, saying 'her' with an expression of disgust.

Annabeth internally seethed. She was having to dig her nails into her palms just to keep herself at bay. She was so close to snapping, it's a wonder Kelsey was still breathing.

"It isn't a rumor. We are dating, and have been for almost two years. Can you move out of our way now?" Annabeth said, forcing herself to not call Kelsey some nasty words in Greek.

Kelsey faced Annabeth, her flirty look changing into a pitiful glare, "No. You don't deserve him! He belongs to me!"

Even Percy was having a hard time not punching the girl, and he's been taught not to hurt women that can't defend themselves. Well, that last part was added after he had first sparred with Annabeth.

"First of all, back off. Second of all, Percy isn't an object, he's a person. More specifically, he's my person, so you can go away now before I do something I can guarantee I won't regret," Annabeth walked up close to Kelsey, voice deadly calm.

Of course Annabeth was aware of the crowd around them forming, but that wasn't going to stop her. After 'that place' nothing could scare her up here, especially not a weak mortal girl.

Before Kelsey could respond, Annabeth shoved her out of the way and tugged Percy through the door.

Nobody spoke for a long time, but eventually Percy got up the courage to say something, "That was BA."

Annabeth smirked but didn't say anything. She was still coming down from her adrenaline/anger high, and she was afraid that what came out of her mouth would start a fight, even if it was with Percy.

Then Percy couldn't think of anything else to say, so he just shut up. At least, he did until they were changing out of their formal clothes into their pajamas. Annabeth was in their room, and Percy was in the bathroom.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"Yeah, come in," Annabeth responded.

Percy then walked in, threw his clothes somewhere near his overflowing hamper, and plopped down on the bed next to Annabeth. She was sitting up in bed reading some architecture book that he could never understand.

"Hi," he said, turning onto his side and looking up at her.

"Hello, Seaweed Brain," she said, not even glancing up from the words.

Percy sighed, So it's gonna be one of THOSE conversations, huh?

"You know I love you, right?" he asked, smirking his troublemaker smirk.

This tactic usually works the best when he's stuck in these situations.

A small smile played on Annabeth's lips, but she still refused to look up. However, she did respond with, "Yes, and I love you, too."

Percy pouted, stumped. What is so exciting about architecture? The only thing he likes about it is the way Annabeth's eyes light up as she rants about some random building he's never heard of before. That's the only reason he puts up with it. Or it's the only reason he'll admit to, anyway.

Just then, an idea popped into his head. And when ideas pop into Percy's head, everyone within a five-mile radius better clear out cuz' they can be destructive. However, this one was not that bad.

He gave Annabeth a light peck on her cheek, then slowly moved down to her jaw, then her earlobe, and then her neck. He could tell that it was starting to get to her because she hadn't turned the page for a while.

"Percy...," she warned.

He just smiled against her neck. Annabeth rolled her eyes, but relented. She set her book on the bedside table, and turned over to face Percy, giving him a deep, passionate kiss.

She pulled away for a second, "You're such a Seaweed Brain, you know that?"

She only saw a glimpse of his dopey smile before she went back to kissing the love of her life, stress nonexistent in her mind.

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Omg omg omg! It's over! I don't even know what to say! I just want to thank all of you guys, my wonderfully supportive readings, especially the ones who've been here since the beginning. You guys are amazing. I don't even know if I would've been able to make this story without the encouragement from you. So thanks.

Now, I think that's all the sappy stuff. I'm looking for a good beta, so if you are or know one who might be interested, please let me know. I'm also going to shamelessly promote my original series. Go check out "Secret Powers" and "Frozen Secrets"! They are the first two books in my three story series.

If you want to know this is Annabeth's dress and shoes from the dance:

Now for the good stuff. Somebody mentioned that they would be interested in a Percabeth proposal, so I'm going to give it to you. Here's a little BONUS SCENE set in their future, but I'm not giving it a specific date, so use your imaginations and decide for yourself. Hope you like it!

ΩΩΩ

Percy and Annabeth were visiting Camp Half-blood, and they were enjoying a nighttime walk along the beach. Annabeth was remembering all of the wonderful memories she had at this beach. Her underwater kiss with Percy, birthdays, all of her dates with Percy. Nothing but happiness came with being at the beach when you love a son of Poseidon.

Percy was in a completely different headspace. His mind was full of nervousness and worry. He was so distracted that he didn't even realize when Annabeth stopped and turned to look out at the water. When he bumped into her, she just gave him a weird look and went back to her previous position.

His hand was distractedly fidgeting with the small, velvet box in his pocket. It felt like it weighed more than the sky, and he should know! What if she says no? What if I mess up? What if the ring doesn't fit? Oh, gods, she's going to say no!

Those were the thoughts swirling around in his brain, making it a whirlpool of stress. He knows that Annabeth loves him, and that he loves her, but she could still say no!

"Seaweed Brain? Earth to Seaweed Brain! Percy?" Annabeth's concerned expression brought him back to reality.

"Huh? Oh, fine. Just-I'm fine!" he said quickly.

She gave him an unimpressed look, but didn't push it. Truthfully, Annabeth had noticed his odd behavior recently, but she still hadn't figured out what was bothering him. But, she knew that he would tell her eventually, so she was REALLY trying not to figure it out beforehand. The last time he'd been this nervous, he was asking her to move in with her!

Ten minutes passed before Percy worked up the courage to do it. His reasoning was that he just had to get it over with. Annabeth's told him she loves him so many times, why would she say no? There was nothing to worry about! Nothing!

"Hey, Wise Girl?" he asked, turning to face her fully.

"Hmm?" she hummed.

He was about to just ask the question, but his stupid Seaweed Brain got there first, "Wanna go for a swim?"

Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows, "Umm...it's 7:30 PM and I'm not wearing a bathing suit. What about this scenario makes you think that we should go swimming?"

Percy decided that he might as well work with what he's got so he went with the first backup plan that came to mind: the best underwater kiss of all time. Ok, not the ACTUAL one, but he could make another air bubble. It's not like he hadn't done it before.

"I'll keep it warm and dry, I promise. Come on! It'll be fun!" he started pulling her towards the water, himself already ankle-deep.

Annabeth started to protest, but he had already gotten her in enough for him to be able to pull her in with his powers. And just as promised, she was still completely dry. She could feel the water on her skin, but it wasn't wet. She had long-since gotten used to the feeling, after so many years of dating Percy, but it still shocked her for the first couple of seconds.

"Fine," she said, and Percy pulled them both all the way under, quickly forming a bubble of air around them.

"I love you," slipped out of his mouth.

It wasn't like it was a big deal, but the way he said it, with so much love, froze Annabeth. What is he planning?, she thought.

An idea began to form in her head, but she pushed it away instantly. Better not to get her hopes up. That way there's no chance of disappointment.

"I love you, too, Seaweed Brain," she said, trying to slip back into her casual tone of voice.

They sat in a silence for about a minute, just watching the scenery around them, before Percy finally ACTUALLY worked up the courage to do it.

"I've been thinking..." he started.

"Uh-oh," Annabeth teased with a smile.

"About us. And our future," Percy said.

Annabeth instantly sobered. He sounded serious, and a serious Percy was a SERIOUS Percy. There was no in-between.

"Yeah?"

Percy took a deep breath, "Yeah. And I know we're a little young, but we've been together for so long, and I just think that it's time. And you've always wanted something permanent, and I want to be that for you. I want us to be that for you. So, Annabeth Chase...will you make me the happiest demigod in the world and marry me?"

It might not seem like much, but to Annabeth, it meant the world. This was exactly what she had been dreaming of for her entire life. She was so full of emotions that she could barely speak, but she was able to get one word out...

"Yes."

ΩΩΩ

Ok, that's it! I'm officially done with this fanfic! I feel like I could've gone on in the bonus scene, but I think that you guys should get to come up with your own version of their happily-ever-after. Anyway, there's a poll on FF and you should go do. It's about my next story.

And you guys know I need to give special recognition to my amazing beta reader! JJ, you took me on when I refused to edit my own work, and you made everything WAY better! You should ALL go check out nightskywithrainbows on Ao3. They write, beta, AND are a student! So kudos to you, JJ! You're the best!

I hope you enjoyed this! Stay safe and happy reading!

- your author

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #high school #teen

[serrj215]

Raven, Beast boy, and Raven?

She rushed down the street, her dark blue cloak catching the wind behind her. The air was wet and cool for October in jump city it stung her face. Puddles splashed under her boots as she sprinted thought the night. She couldn’t be late, all the planning all the time she spent on this. Her friends would be waiting for her. She rounded the corner on 37th ave she was in the home stretch, just two more blocks. Then her boots lost traction on the wet pavement. Her legs were no longer under her. She fell hard, her momentum skidding her along the road a few feet. A rapid flash of pain ran up her left leg.

Tears were bit back as she sat up to assess the damage. Her knee was skinned and her ankle throbbed, a drop of blood hit the ground from a small cut on her face. But worse of all her cloak was ripped. That’s when she started to cry, sitting in the curb hiding her face in her crossed arms.    

"You okay?"

She took a breath looked up and a green hand was outstretched to her. The hand was attached to a very familiar looking young man.  He had pointed ears and a fang on one side of his kind but concerned smile.  He was on one knee to look her in the eye, and asked.  "That was a big tumble, can you get up?"

"Are you real, I mean really real?"  her voice squeaked

Beast Boy stood and stepped back a few feet and opened his arms in presentation. A moment later a green polar bear stood on its hind legs in front of her. Before she could react the to the bear it was replaced with a tiny screech owl, then a Yorkshire terrier all of them the same shade of emerald. Then Beast Boy reappeared with arms stretched out like she just stuck the landing at the Olympics.

"Ta da!" he shouted "Let's see someone in a Halloween costume do that!"

"YOU'RE BEAST BOY!"

"Last time I checked. " He said trying to hold back a laugh. The young girls excitement was infectious. She couldn't be more then 9 years old, she had dark hair and a cherub like face.

The young girls mouth exploded with questions and glee. She was talking so fast that she had forgotten about the fall she just took until she tried to stand up.  

"Ow!" she exclaimed she would have been on the ground again if Beast Boy hadn't caught her.

"What's your name?" he asked as he guided her back to her seat on the curb.  "Or do you just want me to call you Raven."

"Alex"

"Alex, is a nice name, I am just going to check your leg okay"

She nodded glumly being reminded that she was hurt.

She had a rough scrape across her left knee and some scratches on her face, ruining the pale makeup she was warring. Her shakrka, a red sequin that was scotch tapped to her forehead had come off hanging from the tape.  Alex was wearing dark blue rain boots and her cloak that was made from an old dark blue bath towel witch now had a long tear in it. Her Raven costume was obviously homemade but with care, most likely by someone that had more love than money.  

"I like your costume"

'I would have had purpble hair, but mom said it would make a mess of the bathro-  OUCH!" Alex jumped in pain as Beast Boy pulled off her boot to check her ankle witch had started to noticeably swell.

"Dude-et I am sorry, but I think your done trick or treating." He could tell that Alex was trying not to cry.  "Nothing is busted but your ankle is twisted and we need to take care of these scrapes before they get infected. "  

"But I need to get the party!" she said between sniffles.  "Matt is dressing up as Robin and Billy painted himself green and everything!"  

This was just yanking at Beast Boys heart.  He was tempted to bring her to the party himself, he was kind of curious about seeing the other 'Titans' at this party, maybe see if Billy was the right shade of green. But she was hurt and what was best for her was home.  

"Alex, I need to take you home so your parents can take care of you."  

Alex's face fell to the pavement.  "My mom is at work."

"And you dad?"  Beast boy asked.

Alex just shook her head no slowly.  Beast boy didn’t press anymore.  He needed a better option then the party hurt or an empty house. That's when Alex started sniffling again and he knew that tears were going to come any second.  

"I got and idea." he said pulling a yellow round device from his belt. "Just don't cry okay?" The com beeped as he opened a channel. "Hey are you still close?" he spoke into it.  

"Close enough, trouble?" came though the small speaker.

"I have a hurt civilian"

"Garfield, I am not a first aid kit. If it's not life threatening--"

"Mama trust me" Beast Boy turned the device to point the built in camera in Alex's direction. "She needs our help."

A few seconds passed

"Only you could stumble onto this." came from the com.  

"It's part of my charm. " He said quickly. "Sending my location, ah Mama?"

"What?"

Beast Boy took a few more steps away from the young girl, and whispered into com "Do you think you can make an entrance?"

"The things I do for you."

A sly smile came across his face. "Will be paid back by the things I will do too you later."  

"I will be right there" came with a sigh.

By the time Beast Boy had walked back to Alex a swirl a black energy had appeared on the ground in front of the young girl. Raven slowly rose from the black vortex to levitate a few inches off the ground. Alex did not scream or squeal like she did when she saw Beast Boy, she just stared her eyes as wide as saucers looking up at her hero.  

"Now what do we have here?"  Raven asked bending down as to examine her. Her face still obscured by her hood.  

Alex was in complete awe. She could barley squeak out her name when Raven asked.  

"I am just going to take a look at your leg, okay?" Raven gently wrapped one hand around the injured ankle and the other just about her scraped knee. "Azerath Metrion Zinthos, Azerath Metrion Zinthos, " she chanted softly and soon the skin of her knee closed and her ankle shrank down to normal size.  She helped the young girl back on her feet, letting Alex test the weight on her leg.  "It might be a little stiff and you should take it easy on it for a day but you will be fine"

"Does that mean I can go to the party?"  

"Uh I guess so." Raven looked over to Beast Boy for confirmation.  All she got was a smile that filled his whole face.  

Alex opened up with a new flood of questions as the two heroes did there best to reassemble her costume. Beast Boy helped put her boot back on while Raven cleaned the ruined makeup off her face and re-taped her 'shakra' to her forehead.

"Uh Rae you know any magic for this?"  Beast Boy asked holding up the shredded portion of Alex's cloak.  Magic would be the only thing that could fix the ruined fabric, even the most talented tailor would throw that on the rag pile.  

Raven shot a look to Beast Boy of mild annoyance. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do. Raven reached out and undid the safety pin that was holding the home made cloak together, and pulled the garment away.  Before Alex could protest Raven had pulled her own cloak off and It was around Alex's shoulders.  The extra fabric polled around her feet from the height difference.

"Hold still" Raven said as she took a step back.  "Azerath Metrion Zinthos!"  A bolt of black cut away the extra fabric leaving the cloak to hang just below Alex's ankles.

"Can I really keep this?"  The young girl asked.

"It's yours now,  I don’t think It will fit me anymore."  Raven was almost knocked off her heals with the joy Alex was feeling, also she tackle hugged her around the waist.    

"Oh we got to get a picture!" Beast Boy pulled out his com again.

"Beast Boy I don-"  Raven was frozen by two sets of puppy eyes.  "Okay one, and only one!"  She said as she knelled next to her small doppelganger.

Of course one picture turned into three.  Alex hugged them both thanking them again and again before forgetting about what Raven said about her ankle and bolting down the street.  Before they could tell the mini Raven to slow down she was already around the corner and out of sight.

"You are evil!" She said turning away from Beast Boy arms crossed.  "You knew that I couldn’t resist that!"  

"Who could?" He lifted his hands in mock surrender. "I just met a fun size version of the woman I love. Sides, Rob said that we need to do more for the community than putting bad guys in jail. That we can help people without something exploding."

"I don't think this is what he had in mind Gar." She ran her hands up and down her arms.  

Beast Boy closed the distance between them. "How can I make this up to you" he said as he hugged her from behind.  

Raven relaxed in Beast Boy's shared warmth. "Dinner, and you are taking me someplace nice."

"Of course" He agreed.

"I am picking the movie tonight."

"Anything you like" he said pressing a kiss into her neck.

Beast Boy took her hand and they started walking down the street. "Giving up that cloak, Alex is going to have some story to tell her friends."  

"Your buying me a new one."

"I can't wait for you to model if for me."

"Did you get her email address? To send her the pictures."

"I am sure she will find the pics on Facebook."  

"You are not posting those."  

"Um…" Beast Boy noticeably tensed.

"You already did didn’t you?"  

"Happy Halloween Raven"

_____________________________________________________________

So this has been sitting in my drafts since October 2017.  Every time I start to update it I was going to have it ready for Halloween. The only problem is that I usual stumble across it in December or July.  So September is the closest I was going to get, so have an early or especially late Halloween treat.  

Also yes purpble hair was done intentionally to be cute. 

Also I changed the name of the young girl. Someone I knew was having a rough time so hopefully this brightens the day.  

#bbrae #bbrae fanfiction #Serrj215 Original #halloween

[antoine-roquentin]

The US likes to hide the degree to which it has been Iran’s de facto partner, as well as its rival, in Iraq ever since Saddam Hussein (effectively a US ally during the Iran-Iraq war) invaded Kuwait in 1990. The Iranians, for their part, have been discreet about their co-operation with Washington. After the US invasion in 2003, the Americans often dealt with Soleimani, knowingly but at a distance. Both Washington and Tehran had to agree on all Iraqi presidents and prime ministers before they could be appointed. In 2006, the US ambassador proposed Nouri al-Maliki as prime minister: he was thought at first to be close to the Americans, but later shifted towards Iran. This system remained in operation until 2018. Both sides had an interest in maintaining a stable Shia-dominated government in Baghdad, even if they vied to bring it under their influence. Tehran and Washington were closer than they have ever been after Islamic State captured Mosul in 2014; both were determined to stop IS fighters advancing on Baghdad. As the Iraqis put it: ‘They shake their fists at each other over the table, but shake hands under it.’  

Soleimani was important in Iraqi and regional politics, but not quite as significant as he liked to pretend. Iraqi politicians in Baghdad were irritated by his grandstanding, especially his habit of having himself photographed with pro-Iranian paramilit­aries and implicitly claiming credit for victories over IS that leaders in Baghdad saw as their own. Iraqi leaders were not alone in their criticism. Last year the online mag­azine Intercept published secret cables from officers of the Iranian Ministry of Intel­ligence and Security (MOIS) stationed in Iraq between 2013 and 2015. Many of these documents concern Soleimani and one of them speculates that maintaining a high profile on the battlefield was a way of preparing his future bid for the Iranian presid­ency. Of course, feuding between rival intel­ligence agencies like Quds and MOIS is notorious in every country, but the portrait of Soleimani drawn by MOIS agents is convincing. They were particularly troubled by the degree to which Soleimani’s exploit­at­ion of Shia militias fighting in Iraq’s Sunni areas was fuelling sectarianism and leading Sunnis to blame Iran for atrocities. In one cable, an intelligence agent describes a successful attack on the strategically crucial IS-held town of Jurf al-Saqr close to the main road south of Baghdad. Among those taking part were fighters from Asaib Ahl al-Haq, a paramilitary group close to Iran. Victory had been followed by a massacre of Sunni inhabitants. ‘It is mandatory and nec­essary to put some limits ... on the vio­l­ence being inflicted [on] innocent Sunni people in Iraq and the things that Mr Soleimani is doing.’ He adds that whatever might happen to Sunnis, directly or indirectly, would be blamed on Iran.

Soleimani was undoubtedly a good tact­ician in the kinds of militarised politics and low-level guerrilla warfare in which Iran has always specialised. ‘They have a PhD in that type of war,’ one Iraqi politician said to me. But Soleimani was not the first or the only commander in the Middle East to attempt to engage a militarily superior enemy at their weakest point. In its confrontation with the US, Iran has been eager to maintain a sense of crisis, while stopping short of all-out military confrontation (includ­ing with Israel). Its limited ballistic mis­sile strikes on US bases in Iraq on 8 January show that this strategy remains in place. Iran may also want to halt, or at any rate reduce, its pinprick attacks on Saudi Arabia and the UAE, and concentrate instead on forcing the American military out of Iraq by exerting political pressure. But in the long run Iran has no choice but to resume low-level warfare, whatever the risks, as its only viable response to sanctions.

How that might unfold remains unclear, but there is no question that Soleimani’s death has made it much easier for Iran to project its influence in Iraq. His viceregal airs and high visibil­ity, the arrogance of the pro-Iran Hashd and their unrestrained violence towards protest­ers, have seriously damaged Iran’s reputat­ion, particularly among Iraq’s Shia pop­ulation, which until recently had looked on Iran as its saviour from IS. Polls indicate that the proportion of Iraqis with a favourable view of Iran fell from 90 per cent in 2015 to less than 50 per cent in 2018. Those who said they saw Iran as a threat to Iraqi sovereignty rose from 25 per cent to 58 per cent over the same period. As the end of last year, one Iraqi analyst in Baghdad was quoted as saying that the Iranian leader, Ayatollah Khamenei, should put Soleimani in jail for the damage he had done to Iran’s reputation in Iraq.

Soleimani miscalculated the effect of his repression of the Iraqi protesters, who refused to leave the streets or respond in kind to gunfire. Since every Iraqi family owns a gun, this showed great restraint. He sim­ilarly underestimated the likelihood that Trump would eventually react strongly, and might even be prepared to go to war, if Iran kept up its needling attacks, including allowing pro-Iran protesters to penetrate the outer gates of the US embassy in Baghdad, as they did in December. The belief that Trump would avoid doing anything that might lead to war had become conventional wisdom among Iranian leaders and their Iraqi allies. When I interviewed Qais al-­Khazali, the leader of Asaib Ahl al-Haq, in September he said confidently that ‘Trump will not go to war’, adding that Iran knew how to keep any confrontation from becoming a full-scale conflict. But Trump is impulsive, ill-informed and keen not to appear weak. He is surrounded by neoconservative interventionists, equally ignor­ant, but instinctively aggressive. The result is that US policy in the Middle East – the on-off US withdrawal from Syria last year was typical – is a chaotic compromise between different factions in Washington.

Last summer Iraqis were predicting that a new crisis was on its way, even though the country was more peaceful than at any time since 2003. After Trump withdrew the US from the Iran nuclear deal in May 2018, they feared that Iraq was bound to become the arena for an Iran-US confrontation. Some friends in Baghdad were already making plans to buy houses or apartments in Turkey. Iraqis tend to take a pessimistic view of the future after forty years of crisis and war, but their forecasts rapidly turned out to be correct. They recognised that any quarrel fought out in Iraq is unlikely to produce a decisive victory because power in the country is divided between the government, the religious hierarchy, the paramilitary forces and the tribes. But even this is an oversimplification, since Iraq is split between Shia, Sunni and Kurds. The Sunni and Kurdish communities will try to exploit any breakdown of relations between the US and the Shia to increase their own power. But they will not want to be used as pawns to exert leverage against Baghdad and then abandoned, as they have good reason to suspect that they would be.

It does not take much to destabilise Iraq and the signs are that Trump wouldn’t care if he did. The US approach today is much like the mindless hubris shown by the Americans in Baghdad after the invasion of 2003, when they had no idea what they were doing or whom they were offending. In the face of Trump’s threat to target Iran­ian cultural monuments, some Iraqis recall­ed that the last people to do this in the reg­ion were IS, when they destroyed Assyrian statues in Mosul and blew up temples in Palmyra. Many cultural sites in this part of the Middle East are religious monuments and any threat to them is likely to have cal­amitous consequences. When the Golden Mosque in Samarra was bombed in 2006 it triggered a wave of sectarian violence in which tens of thousands were killed.

For Trump, one advantage of Soleimani’s assassination is that the Iranians will be more cautious about launching limited attacks on the US and its allies, though this isn’t to say that they will cease altogether. Iran cannot permanently de-escalate as long as sanctions continue. The intensity and length of the crisis means that accid­ents are likely to happen, as demonstrat­ed by what appears to have been the un­intentional shooting down of a Ukrain­ian passenger plane. At the same time, Trump and his administration are peculiarly ill-equipped to judge the likely outcome of any escalation of the conflict, or predict how the Iranians are likely to respond. This makes blundering into war a more than usually likely outcome. Iran has drawn the greater profit from the crisis so far, since Soleimani’s death goes some way to re-energising the nationalist and religious credentials of the regime: Trump’s policy of ‘maximum pressure’ and economic sanct­ions is now less likely to force Tehran to negotiate what would amount in effect to a capitulation. In Iraq, it is too early to say whether the demand for revolutionary reform expressed in mass street protests will be marginalised or capsized by the crisis, but it will certainly be weakened, perhaps permanently.

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 109 [Begin: Interlude]

The first quarter meeting had been delayed by unfortunate circumstances this year. What with its two CEOs mixed up in Avengers superhero business and the downfall of a huge government agency which was hiding a Hydra conspiracy inside of it… things had to understandably be put on the back burner until the end of January. So now that you and Tony were a little bit more free and clear, you decided to host a bigger conference than normal. You had your own presentation to give inside of it, for the Board more than anyone else, but at the same time you could run the project updates from the other departments and see where development were on several other key things. 

These sort of things were always nerve wracking, no matter if you were confident in the works you had started. Even if it ended up that the Board disagreed or didn’t like what was going on, they would never have the balls to start organizing another movement for removal. For either you or Tony. After what had happened last time… and now that the two of you were certifiable public darlings and heroes- they’d never do that again. It would be against their own interests. 

Yet, still, knowing this, you had a two hour long presentation about your projects and initiatives. Some that went years back. It was hard to hold a room for that long, you knew. But the information needed to be out and in the light of day so that Stark Industries could move forward into the new year. Tony helped you prepare… the best he could, anyway, and he sat front row for you while you took the stage. 

You went through each with power points that you and Pepper had put together late into the night the day before. Starting with the Clean Planet Initiative that had started the moment Tony had shut down the weapons division of Stark Industries and spanning the power up of the Tower everyone was currently sitting in. That was going all well and good. Of course. Running smoothly, the Tower was still sustaining itself, and Stark Industries had been able to credit itself with the reduction of air pollution, with plastic waste reduction, with fuel efficiency regulations, and new clean energy production. Stark Industries’ teams in that area had also begun their last phase of their Intellicrops project, which was something they’d present near the end of the conference. 

Then came the update on the Disaster Relief Funds for both the Expo and the Battle of New York. After the initial snafu of having terrible staff that had had to be replaced, things had been running a little bit more smoothly. Though the funds had not run dry, their usage had gone down- which was a great sign. It meant people were no longer relying on Stark Industries for help. Life was returning back to normal. Not particularly important to people like the Board, but the mentions of the oodles of tax credits the company could still claim and the boost to PR through all this was a little bit more substantial to their tastes.

A lengthy chunk of time was dedicated to Damage Control’s reports about the clean up portion of New York. You made sure to include that you’d broken off a portion of the team to go assess and clean up DC, and that the warehouses were scheduled to go under a revamp after you’d been forced to purchase more property for them to operate. Company bloat would always be a thing to be mindful of, but when that bloat consisted of deadly weapons… someone needed to go through every single shelf to make sure things were not only accounted for, but to determine whether or not those very same things were worth holding on to. 

After that you gave the update on the Hansen Foundation. Still up and running strong. Though it had mostly assisted and helped the veterans that had been hurt by AIM’s malicious intentions, you and Tony had expanded it to care for the nation’s veterans that were otherwise not getting the help they needed. Going well, smoothly, and in the light of mentioning the funds needed for the Foundation, you again brought up the tax breaks and stock boosts that came from having someone like Colonel Rhodes on advisory staff. It had been a huge face lift for Stark Industries. Putting its past behind it and moving forward to navigate the damage it may have taken part in. 

...especially after the SHIELD leaks had informed the public that Obadiah Stane had been selling weapons to America’s enemies for fun and profit… yes, this foundation out of all of them was probably the most important one to have as a full face right now. 

The last two points of business were two of your newest initiatives: M and OAT. It was a little early to be reporting on either of them in a financial capacity, but the public returns had already been great and, as you convinced everyone, very cost effective. The net gain would far outweigh whatever dollar amount ended up being on the end of this year’s reports. You were very sure of that. With OAT came the mention that you and Tony were looking to buy up another building- perhaps in DC, but not sure yet, to accommodate the expansion of Stark Industries and its brand new employees. Scouting would have to be done soon, something you said you were looking forward to. 

With that you opened the floor for questions, whether from the Board or the teams that had been invited to this big meeting. There had been… many. More than you would have liked. And more than you needed about topics not exactly pertinent to your presentations. Many of them having to do with the SHIELD leaks, of course, and your and Tony’s various… dealings. It wasn’t hard to put the voices to bed, and direct them to any of the multitude of reports that already existed. As for if any of them would negatively impact the company, you had personally already seen to that your and Tony’s motives would not be questioned. 

After that very public spat with Christine, the general consensus was that you were doing your job- as a superhero and businesswoman. Were someone to look up to. Were someone that people agreed with, in every poll that had come out about it. Stark Industries had remained untouched. So whether or not you should have blown up that way (you were kind of the mind that you maybe shouldn’t have and should have remained dignified about it) didn’t matter anymore. You had and the public was loving it. 

Christine had retreated into a hole. Calls had stopped. Her portion of the media that followed you and Tony around like hawks had disappeared. That spelled trouble, you were sure. She’d been smacked pretty hard for all to see. There was no way she was going to take that without repercussions. You just hoped… she wouldn’t do something drastic. Better not to think about it, for the moment. 

Once your portion of the conference was finished, you thanked everyone and as usual, made a small speech about looking forward to the year ahead. After that, you excused yourself off the presentation stage in the theater, wanting to take a moment just to breathe after speaking for so long. Even though you hadn’t seen him get up, it didn’t surprise you to see Tony waiting for you behind the curtain, bottle of chilled water in hand. 

The next presenter was already taking the stage as he smiled at you. “Great stuff. You really have a talent for getting people to eat out of your hand.” 

“You know, I think one of the members of the Board said that to me a long time ago.” Hard to remember it, now. Although the part of your brain that held on to all things painful reminded you that that moment had not been a good one. 

“They’re not wrong.” As you took the water from him and sipped at it gingerly, he put an arm around your waist. “What’d’you think? Time to cut and run?” 

“That would be very rude to the other presenters.” While this grand meeting would be summarized in reports that you would go over later anyway… it was better for appearance to sit through and smile. 

“Hm. Yeah. Well. Then we have a problem.” Humming sardonically. When you looked up at him he grinned. “It may also be very rude to the waitstaff at Ivy Lane if we bail on our reservation.” 

You settled a hand on his chest with a playfully light push. “You mean your reservation. I had no part in that.” 

“It was for two.” 

“Guess you’ll have to get Bruce to go.” 

“Busy.” 

“So am I.” 

The exchange left the two of you lightly smirking at one another, probably all too obvious you’d give in very soon. He helped speed matters along by lifting the hand you’d laid over his heart, pressing a kiss to the back. “Come on. Little celebration dinner never hurt anyone.” 

“Technically the conference isn’t over. Celebrating early might invite chaos…” Lilting lightly as you half leaned up. 

“I can handle chaos- especially restaurant chaos. What’s the worst they can do. Burn my chicken? Spill my wine?” 

“Let’s not tempt fate, darling.” Shifting completely forward to press a small kiss to his lips. 

It was interrupted all too soon by a clearing of someone’s throat. And when the two of you broke and turned, you saw Happy standing behind you. He hooked a thumb towards the exit door. “Car’s ready.” 

You feigned annoyance back up at Tony. “I didn’t even say I would go.” 

“But you will. Call me crazy, but, I’m pretty sure I know you by now.” 

That damnable boyish charm of his, with that beautiful wry smile… you wondered if Tony Stark was aware of just how much he had you wrapped around his finger. You only hoped the feeling was mutual, as the two of you made your quiet escape. And hoped that no one noticed. Or saw. Or cared. 

                                                     ---- 

As luck would have it, the night after that went perfectly fine. No one burned Tony’s food, no one spilled any drinks on you. Though he didn’t reserve the whole restaurant, the two of you had a back table all to yourselves. It was nice to just be together, to just spend some time together after everything. Really, it was starting to feel like falling into a bit of a routine that way. 

Something terrible and seemingly world-ending would come down upon you, Tony, and the team. You’d all figure it out. Clean up would start. And then eventually you and Tony would pretend you knew what normal life looked like for a little while. Enjoy each other’s company. And then… something else bad would happen. 

It made the moments you shared, like that, precious. But it also… served to fuel your anxiety. How many more times would big terrible things happen? How many more storms would you have to weather? 

While you had decided, coming into your realization, that you didn’t want to ruin the evening, he caught your eyes in the lowlights of flickering candles, and his smile disappeared. Settling his hand over yours, “You okay?” 

Your smile was somewhat bittersweet. “That obvious?” 

“Always.” Such a strong and resolute statement drove a stake of warmth through your churning worries. 

But it wasn’t enough to kill them. “I don’t wanna ruin the night. I just… for a second couldn’t help but think about how we always end up here. After something nasty. Like we’re caught in an endless cycle.” 

His eyes lowered, thinking. There was a soft silence before he started nodding lightly. “Yeah. ...I’m still in the planning phases, of this whole defense idea, but. I think I can get Banner in by June and start putting in the real work.” 

This was not where you wanted to put his mind right now, but now that you’d forced him there, you had no choice. “I know we’ve talked about it but could you just… as simple as possible give me what your “defense idea” is?” Before it had been assistance. Something to help the Avengers. But now… 

“It would be nice. Kinda far fetched, but. I work best on lofty ideals.” Smiling just a little. “-anyway, what I’m getting at… I’m willing to put in the time and effort- to something that… lets us go home.” 

“Is that an option?” 

“I’m still in the very rough draft phases, but-” 

You turned your hand over in his so that you could give him a squeeze. “I’m not asking if you could build something. I have no doubt in my mind that you could figure out something- even something that big. I’m asking… even if you did…” 

“Would we be able to stop?” A breath left him, and he slid his fingers between yours, just holding on. His eyes dropped again. “If you’re asking me that, you already know the answer. But. In terms of incremental steps. Monitoring a situation is better than being on the front lines.” 

Monitoring. You imagined, he meant this, from somewhere safe. Wasn’t that what this was all about? There were levels of this. To build something that would allow you to pretend you could lead normal lives. To build something that would protect the earth from the things he saw up in space, and the things he thought would eventually come to earth to wreak more havoc. But, on top of it all… 

Somewhere inside you, you heard the broken plea he’d made the night before your house in California had been blown up. 

Threat is imminent, and I have to protect the one thing that I can't live without. That's you.

Taking a breath, you tried to level the both of you out, and aimed a quieter smile his way. “When you say lets us go home, what is it you’re envisioning?” 

He blinked twice, having to shift gears to acquiesce that kind of question. But, once he was there, the quirk in the corner of his lips was considerably wry. “Are you asking me where I see us?” 

“In… five years.” 

“Am I being interviewed?” Grinning, then. 

You returned the expression. “If it helps to think of it that way, then sure.” 

“Alright. Five years…” Breathing out, eyes going up quickly in thought. As if he was looking at something- the picture he had in his mind. “New house. Something- comfortable. I think I’m aging out of my whole playboy billionaire estate vibe.” 

“Thank god for that.” 

For one reason or another this got a little laugh out of him, a drop of his head. When his eyes returned to yours, he lifted your joined hands, shifting forward so that he could rest the back of yours against his cheek. “Even though it seems like it’s not up to me- I’d hope by then you’ll settle for marriage.” 

“Settle, huh? That’s a terrible pitch. You’re doing a disservice to yourself, you know.” 

“If that’s how you feel, I’ll have them bring out a slice of cake with a ring in it right now.” 

While you didn’t think he had something like that set up, you also knew if you gave him even the barest notion that that was what you wanted, he’d absolutely make it happen in fifteen minutes. He was ready to jump for you, whenever you were ready. That’s what he was saying. It put a squeeze in your heart. “Tony…” 

“Oh that sounds bad.” Teasing, even knowing defeat was coming, smiling even still. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

“We’re off to a good start.” 

“Just- right now…” You sighed, and he mirrored it, looking the exact kind of crestfallen yet understanding that really broke your heart. “Right now is not the right time.” 

He nodded, and then pressed a little closer to your hand. “But. In five years?” 

Your brows went up. “Did you just turn the tables on me?” 

“I was sure you’d be used to that by now.” 

Untangling your fingers from his, you turned your hand, resting his cheek in your palm. Just holding him. Dearly. Lovingly. Eyes watching his. “In five years… yes. I’d like a home with you. I’d like to build a life with you. And… yes. Be married to you.” 

“Okay.” He murmured, looking at you. Adoration shone in his eyes, radiated between you, twined with that ever present and deep feeling of love. That he had only for you. “In five years.” 

Hearing him at that moment, make a promise. A promise to try and find a way to cull that self same chaos in your lives. The uncertainty. Not only for the world. But for the both of you. So that the two of you could have a life together. “I love you, Tony.” 

His smile was so beautiful. “I love you, too.” Reaching up to hold your hand there against his face, turning lightly, to press a kiss to your palm. “More than anything.” 

                                                    ----

A light rain had started to fall and it was terribly chilly outside, but after your meal you and Tony decided it might be nice to just take a little walk in the rain. Happy provided the both of you with an umbrella, and at your request set a moving security perimeter of twenty feet, him ten behind, just to keep cameras at bay. It sucked, that you were having to do that increasingly more, but this life came with that territory. 

Tony was holding the umbrella over the both of you, his other arm preoccupied, twined with yours as you laid your head against him. The city at least seemed quiet, not even in the superficial way that your security was creating. It was just… nice. Even the cold was refreshing, in a way. The two of you had slipped into slightly broken and soft conversation about nothing important. 

It was hard to sense the subtle shift, lulled into that false sense of things being alright. Someone had been following the two of you. And it wasn’t until you heard Happy arguing with whoever it was that the both of you turned. 

A little too late as a woman put him over her shoulder and onto his back in a hard thump. She was short, black hair and very pale skin- and she was angry. Tony immediately moved just in front of you, “Please don’t touch my Happy.” Calling out to her. 

While she looked at him for a few seconds, her gaze skewed to you. “I don’t want trouble.” And after saying so, continued to give you the exact opposite idea as she came stomping your way. 

You couldn’t help but make a face at her. “Then you’re making a mistake.” Whoever she was, she was now just short of charging two of the most powerful people in the city. How she’d broken through security was a bit of an upsetting question- but- the two of you could handle yourselves. 

Said security had gotten the message that something was going down on their watch, and two of your Stark Industries strongmen came to her side. A car pulled up on the sidewalk. Tony opened the door for you, and put his arm around you to usher you inside. But, with one leg up and a hand on the door, you heard her call. “Hey-!” Whoever she was, the police could sort her out. Your plan was to leave. At least until she yelled again. 

“Hey, puppy!” 

It shot a tremor through you so violent you thought for a second the sidewalk must be shaking. Going in the car was no longer an option. Your body seemed to be moving on its own as you turned back to look at her. Your security was scattered on the sidewalk. 

“That’s what I thought. That’s you. Right?” 

Tony’s voice was so very far away. Muffled, as he called out, with a hand on your shoulder, “Honey-” 

The next motions came in swift chops. The yank of your jacket zipper. The double press of the Heart Reactor. Tony was yelling something behind you- as you’d started moving. Running at full speed. This woman was dangerous. And not only that- 

She was with him. 

Moving to a half leap to put all your momentum forward, you charged at her with a powerful punch. One she caught, both of her hands holding you at bay, gritting her teeth at you as the two of you struggled. “Listen to me-” Growling at you. 

“You work for him-” Growling right on back, zipping your eyes up along your HUD to get the helmet to release. You wanted to look into her eyes for this. To send a message to her- and him. You felt a snarl as you bore your teeth at her, “So you go back to him and tell him-” 

“I don’t work for that asshole. And he’s dead. No thanks to you.” 

That practically killed the fight in you almost immediately. The feeling of such raw and powerful guilt- of disgust and of wrath… you’d felt these things before. Easing up on your punch, even though she still held you in her palms, you narrowed your eyes at her. The heavy smell of liquor rolling off her was sickening. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s you, right? At least tell me I’ve got that part down.” There was a smaller air of satisfaction. She scoffed with a dead-eyed half grin. “Yeah. He’s dead. I thought you should know.” Her eyes moved sideways and then she let you go, putting her hands up. “I did what I came here to do.” 

You realized the sound of a heavy thunk behind you too late. Tony had pulled a suit- probably from the car- and while this woman was strong... she was also probably no idiot. “Are we talking about-” 

“Kilgrave. If you even got that far. If you even cared.” She spit at you. Like this was… your fault, somehow. “I thought he was lying, you know. Not that it matters, he’s dead now. But he hurt a lot of people. Because you let him.” 

“You’re sure he’s dead?” 

She hung her head, a sarcastic bark of laughter leaving her. “Saw him got hit by a bus. Yeah. He’s pretty dead.” Then she looked up at you, and for a moment you weren’t sure you’d ever seen so much boiling hate- or felt so much- directed at you before. “Superhero my ass. You could’ve stopped him-” 

It riled you straight to your core. Even as you held up your hand to keep Tony at bay- from firing on this woman- you stared her down. “If we’re talking about the same monster, then you know I had no say in what I did.” 

“But you got out. And you let him continue to roam around. Because you’re a coward. Live with that for the rest of your life. Knowing he hurt so many other people. Knowing you could have done more. People are dead because of you.” Then she turned away in a half stumble, shoving aside one of your other security guards who had gotten to his feet. “Don’t touch me.” Barking at him, half falling over, catching herself, and then walking off. 

Your men were staring at you, waiting for direction- because two of the Iron People of the world were standing there, letting her get away. So clearly that meant they shouldn’t get involved. Right? “...ma’am?” 

Tony put a hand on your shoulder. “Honey.” 

With a shaky hand, feeling the earth shift beneath you, you reached up to deactivate the suit, and felt the slice of pouring rain suddenly coming down over you. The man that had taken you… one you’d promised vengeance on- the one you’d promised you’d make regret doing that- regret hurting others… also the one you ran from- such a dangerous, powerful man. The man who could command people with a single word. 

...had gotten hit by a bus. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you turned to Tony, unable to meet his eyes. “I need to go home.” 

“Yeah-” Clearly stunned and confused, having no earthly idea what the hell was going on. But wanting to heed your needs. 

Once the two of you were in the car with Happy behind the wheel, promising he was okay- and apologizing for letting that happen- you tuned everything else out except the patter of rain on the windows. 

Fury had been right. You should have gotten out of bed. You should have made an effort. Maybe you could have caught that man- Kilgrave, apparently. That did make you a coward. The woman was right. 

Stuck in traffic, fifteen minutes out from the Tower, you found your voice. “She said he’s dead.” 

Tony had his arm around you, the both of you soaking wet still. “Who?” 

“The one who took me.” 

The air in the back of the car became suffocating and dark. “...she sure about that?” 

“She wasn’t lying.” You knew it, now. Sensed it, as she was coming down on you. Everything she’d said was true. “She blamed me-” This escaping out of you in a hiccup as you reached up to press a hand to your forehead. 

“She was also drunk. Which. Excusable. Given the circumstances. But. Also skews her judgment.” He was trying to defend you. And much as you wanted to give in… 

“She called me a coward.” 

“What more proof do you need that she’s wrong?” When you didn’t- couldn’t- answer, he let a breath out. “...we’re really sure. That he’s dead? Who even is she? ...you’re sure she’s sure?” Double and triple checking. Wordlessly you nodded. “...how did she know about you?” 

“He must have… told her. I don’t know. He was a sick person.” 

“And he’s dead now. According to her.” Tony’s skepticism was understandable. This was such a terrible mark on both your lives. To have it come to a quick and unforeseeable, maybe even unknowable end… it was hard to believe. “...either way. I had JARVIS grab a scan.” 

“Why?” Finding enough strength to finally look up at him. 

“Seems like enhanced people are popping up everywhere, these days. Seeing as how she laid out our security and held a swing from you like Cap, I’m thinking it’s not a bad idea to keep an eye on things.” 

You weren’t sure how you felt about this. If she were anything like you- and it seemed like you had an uncomfortable amount in common… “I don’t want to spy on her.” 

“Nobody said spy. I’m not spying.” Defending himself quickly. 

“I believe her.” What she had been saying was true. You… were pretty sure about it. 

“Alright. So I believe you when you believe her. Doesn’t change the fact that a woman that angry and that boozed up could punch a hole through a regular person.” 

Your eyes dropped, thinking about this. ...he was right. And you weren’t sure how to feel about that. The two of you weren’t responsible for every single newly enhanced individual that showed up on the street. Not until they started menacing the general public, at least. Then it was sort of your problem.

But this woman had been taken by that man. Probably abused by him. No telling for how long. She was now angry and had a new sense of freedom. ...she was also self medicating with alcohol. And she had some pretty heavy firepower in her muscles. This was a dangerous cocktail. ...it also wasn’t fair to pigeonhole her. 

“SHIELD kept tabs on people, remember? And we didn’t like it. ...I’m- I agree with you. This situation is a little dicey but… let’s leave her alone. Until she decides what side of the fence she’s coming out on.” 

“I’m not trying to menace her.” There was a sudden blossom of blue in the backseat as he looked away. Guilt was very close. “...I remember. How you came out of that. I’ve got nothing but sympathy, alright?” Leaning in closer, you practically hid your face against the round of his shoulder, hand over his heart. Just clinging to him. He took a breath to even himself out. “We’ll stay worried about us. And our current situation.” Making a very valiant effort, he touched a hand over your wet hair, directing your attention his way, and tried a smile for you. “...and that five years will be here before you know it.” 

Out of all the ways you’d expected this evening to go… this wasn’t exactly the chaos you’d thought you were inviting. It wasn’t exactly the worst, either. But it… definitely sucked. 

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Nine

[theorynexus]

This would seem to bring us to Post Number 60, the 62nd post of this series, if you count the decimalized ones.

LAST TIME ON MEAT EPILOGUE It would seem we are returning to John and Terezi, this time--- wooo!~   Apparently, he looks pretty bad. This is unfortunate. On the other hand:  YES, MEAT EPILOGUE CHAPTER/SECTION 6!!!

Hey, don’t try to shame John for being the sub in this situation. It’s not like he has experience with that kind of thing (not that it’s something generally to be ashamed of: I’m just saying that it is something he seems to be somewhat embarrassed about, and his inexperience meant that it wasn’t exactly by choice on his part--- which is not to suggest that Terezi molested him in any way).  Aaaannnd Trolls (especially highbloods) are supposed to be particularly vicious in nature, generally, right? It makes a whole lot of sense that that would extend to the bedroom, as well.

... But yeah, that doesn’t help with his health. He was already doing pretty badly, just after the surgery. He didn’t really need that sort of mess tacked on afterward.     Oh, and... why “mysteriously” sticky, you derp? XD

And I am glad you were kidding.   (That slapping was very interesting to hear. Hmmm.)      Yeah, him being confused and uncertain about it also feels just about right~ ~~~ On a random note, I am reading this just after going through the memo where Karkat, John, and Dave were talking about romance/the propagation of the species, and KK insisted that John and Dave stay away from troll women.    That makes this all wonderfully hilarious, in retrospect. 

Huh. I’ve never seen “cuckold” used in that sort of context before.  Indeed, this is quite the question, though.  Could John Egbert handle a blackrom? A caligionous one, at that?   A very hard question, that is.   I’m not sure he’s emotionally capable of giving himself into the kinds of hate and playful ribbing that would be constantly involved in that kind of relationship, if healthy.  I suspect it might have been just a particularly violent flushed thing, though.  We’ll see.

Pffft. Slithers.   That said:  Huh. I was not expecting that turn. Let’s see where this goes~

Oh my gosh, Dirk, would you stop being such a downer? XD I think this is indeed very, very cute~     Soul-shattering is a weird sort of term to use there, for a normal person. Seems right for Dirk, though. He understands the nuances of how shattering can be more or less than a whole break.

That is practically the definition of a subjective judgment.  I know you’re being ironic and all, but come on, man, that’s just base as heck. But yeah, I think he might have it bad, indeed. 

The question here is, “Does he mean to suggest that Andrew Hussie is God to him, or does he mistakenly [in the context of Homestuck, which has given no distinct evidence for it] believe that there was a God that he actually usurped?”   “replaced” is a very interesting and useful word, here, given the working interpretation that I have is indeed that he is interpreting AH as God and likely believes him to have abandoned Homestuck, thus removed himself from his directorial capacity over its narrative, until he managed to take over.

WHY ARE NEITHER OF YOU THINKING OF RETCON-PORTING IN TO RESCUE HER FROM HER DEMISE BEFORE IT HAPPENS?!?!?!? But yeah, you really should get home and recover first, if it is possible.

Whoops. Not a good sign. Noooot a good sign.

The Power of Three is a very strong thing.

Here we gooooooo!!!~    The first time (I think) that I’ve continued a post beyond one page!!!

No.  Also, probably Jake English. He has strange effects on people.

Wow, someone’s a bit miffed.  That said: Hooray, acknowledgement by the narrative! :’D

I do not appreciate your repeated suggestions that Jake is dumb! That said: No. No, I do not want to engage in wanton promiscuity with such a man.  I am, to put it quite simply, not interested in meaningless sexual encounters with people I am not deeply connected with. Even if I had such a bond with Jake English, I would not be inclined to engage in such activities. Quite frankly, I am not exactly partial to the type of equipment he sports. As for the political side of things... well, that’s complicated. Yeah, people can indeed become far too energized by the attractiveness of candidates and those associated with them, rather than their substance.  Maybe that’s the case, here.   I’d like to think that the actual results of the election will in fact prove people wrong. Maybe there will be exit polls that we can see excerpts of to judge things for certain.   I don’t know~

FINALLY, SOMEONE FRICKING ADMIRES THE SUFFERER!!!

Eh?  I mean, I guess even Dave and Karkat were acknowledging the possibility of a misstep. We’ll see what happens.

Heee’s probably gonna try to sabotage this, isn’t he?   Also, I wish I were more familiar with human muscle anatomy.

“The Kibosh” is a good phrase to use.  That said:  ***snerk***    It’s like Karkat has wedding day jitters. XD

Man, it is annoying how spiteful you are toward him, Dirk. Can you give him a break for just a second?   I mean, you probably caused the sweating to begin with.

Wow. Such dudebroism, which I just suddenly realized/-membered Dirk was supposed to slightly embody, somewhat.  (I blame Gamebro Magazine, and the sharp contrast between the diction there and Dirk’s writing style.) That is a funny description, though, the brain-tonguing.  Also, gosh, Jake is nervous.

Oh, hey, I think Dave’s going to finally get a feel for the Narrative, and maybe end up confronting Dirk.  That will be incredibly interesting.

Wow, this is getting to him.  It’s like he’s made of sugar, and someone’s just begun to drizzle water on him.  Or maybe made of witch.

***lip curls up in a snarl***    Dave better make this quick.  I am somehow edging on more angry at this Unreliable Narrator than I was before Alt!Calliope took over...!

Well, that’s, umm... interesting. Particularly, the cultivated Obfuscating Stupidity bit. But moreso the fact that Dirk will acknowledge he’s smarter than he seems.

Yes... I think I most definitely am more furious than ever at this piece of garbage, now.  After the sweet taste of freedom that Jake was finally able to feel, and the burst of confidence he’d found in it, you pour all of this blithering waste on him?   Jane was trying to use him!   I’m sure she hasn’t loved him for a long time, and even then, I Jake never toyed with her heart intentionally, I’m sure!   Grrrrr...!

Honestly, though, he brings up a complicated and intriguing question.  Jake has definitely been used and abused throughout his history, and at least part of his recent activity to exploit his Hope-y Assets must have been Dirk’s doing, but how much of his sexually promiscuous revelry has actually been something that he would not and did not choose, say, as a result of his drinking problem, rather than him reveling in his identity as a   

WORLD RENOWNED EXPLORER-NATURALIST-TREASURE HUNTER-ARCHEOLOGIST-SCIENTIST-ADVENTURER-BIG GAME HUNTER-BILLIONAIRE EXTRAORDINAIRE 

 just as your pre-Scratch self was?  Regardless of the level of culpability he actually has in the matters of his life, he is nowhere near deserving of this kind of shaming, and Dirk should be ashamed of himself for this kind of disgusting behavior which he is almost certainly engaging in specifically to throw Jake off.

Oh, also, victim blaming is BS, and the answer is an unequivocal, “You, you insincere, megalomaniacal, self-justifying dirtbag.”

***is so fricking ANGRY that it is taking a great deal of willpower not to release a roar of primal fury and break my hand on my computer screen*** THIS IS NOT HOW HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS WORK!!! THAT IS NOT HOW SOMEONE WHO IS ACTUALLY WILLING TO SUBMIT TO YOU LIKE THAT WILL BEHAVE, YOU FFF---     ***RRRRRGH!!!***

YOU HAD BETTER NOT FRICKING LISTEN TO THIS GARBAGE, JAKE!!! RESIST HIS INFLUENCE, AND---         Huh. The thought just occurred to me that both Dave and Jake could be interpreted as stand-ins for Simon, if Dirk were Kamina (despite how different Kamina’s personality is from Dirk’s), because Simon really seems like he could be interpreted as a Page of Hope too, for some reason (but curse my ADHD! XwX)   ---AND DEFEAT HIM WITH YOUR HOPE BUBBLE!!!

...  At least he apologized. For what that is worth.    This is going to seem so obvious to Dave, though.  Obviously, he isn’t going to kill his Bro, but... well, let’s see how things turn out. Hmm. Also, this is hilarious insofar as it derailed the press conference and probably took away much of the steam that could have been generated for the Karkat/Vantas ticket by Jake’s endorsement, but it doesn’t exactly do all that much for Jane Crocker’s side, either.  It was a very sickening and weird spectacle, but I am not sure how it will actually play out in their favor?   Seems like it might cause Jane’s side trouble, and might cause tensions between them.

I still can never consistently remember what “smh” means. But yes, “HICCUP???” is right.   STOP HIM, DAVE!!!  

TACKLE HIM AWAY INTO THE FUTURE!!!

Realistically, he should have no problem with speed at all. Time power shown a la cheating with Jade in games should let him get there instantly, and even his flash step that he has shown since before entering the Game should allow him to get there on time.      Man, Dirk is a prick about manipulating things. Especially since we are going to see things derailed and shift to another setting, right when Jake is supposedly going to make the biggest contribution he’ll ever make.  WHICH DOESN’T EVEN FRICKING MAKE SENSE!!!

#Homestuck Epilogue #Homestuck Spoilers #Homestuck Liveblog #Rage #Dirk Strider #Evil #Piece of Garbage

[chlobenet]

VIOLENT DELIGHTS ASK DROP 💀🖤

I’ve not been online for a hot minute and I’ve come back to 50+ Gennie asks so lets just get straight into another ask drop under the cut ♡

I need some inspiration on what to write next so I will definitely add this to the maybe list - open to more suggestions as well! 

Ooooh Polly 10000% has a soft spot for Gennie, and Gen looks up to Poll so so so much, honestly she lowkey idolises her. I do think some earlier season Gen could be fun to write so i’ll definitely keep these ideas in mind!

The only specific scene that comes to mind at the minute is the scene with the italian that tommy kills in the kitchen when the chef is like “my hands have blood” and tom says “so have mine.” I think gennie would be pretty shocked by this side of thomas that she has absolutely never seen before. For the most part though, I do think that the boys successfully keep gen away from the gory truth of the peaky blinders - but she does hear about it a lot of the time, and sometimes it makes them feel lowkey bad because they never want gen to be disappointed in them, or even worse...scared of them.

Gen and tom aren’t even a romantic coupling at this point but I can 100% get behind thomas standing up and even physically shielding her from the police with his own body - blocking them from getting to her. At the time gen wouldn’t even realise what he’s doing because she is just so shocked by the events that are unfolding infront of her. After a while they’re the only ones in the room and she would just be blinking at him, confused, upset, hurt. He’ll just stare back at her for a long time “dont look at me like that Gennie...” 

listen buddy, pal, my guy...i love her too sm and I love that you love her and that means that I love you! As for this scene, it’s definitely one i’ll hopefully be able to incorporate into a chapter of violent delights because the way gen and tom are together compared to tom and ada for example is extremely different and it would be a fun contrast to see.

same so much...gen is... baby🥺

now I’M crying at the thought of tommy introducing gen as his wife to people and oh GOSH.

Listen Gen mad or upset is the absolute worst because she doesn’t scream and shout at you, she doesn’t throw things around the room or show any kind of emotional at all really. When gen is mad, she gets real real quiet and she probably wont speak to you for a while and she’ll be damned if she looks at you because honestly looking at you when you’ve hurt gen physically hurts her heart. There’s no greater pain in gennie locks eyes than betrayal or someone doing something knowing that it is going to hurt you - so yeah she doesn’t get into a slanging match with tommy and in some ways he thinks it’s so much worse. She will talk things through though, after she’s had time to collect her thoughts and sort of...evaluate how she’s feeling about situations.

Tommy knows that gen wants kids and he knows with every fibre of his being that she would make the most amazing mother. I don’t think gen would ever really talk about it because she knows tommy already has children and she doesn’t ever want him to think she expects things of him but yes she wants kids more than anything on earth. It’s just sort of an unspoken thing between them, they know it’s going to happen - but they’re not rushing it, when it happens it happens and it will be magical.

Honestly I dont actually think gennie does realise just how much tom does love her, even though he does tell her. She just can’t fathom that someone could possibly love her, little gennie lock, that much. But he does.

Gennie, John and Archie are all the same age. A lot of people thought Gen and Arch were twins in school but nope, just cousins! 

Gen worries about Arthur, she really does. I think that she would maybe try and discuss it with tommy but he would explain that arthur is the kind of man that needs to have a purpose and sometimes arthurs only purpose in life is doing business for the peaky blinders. If he wasn’t given something like that to focus on then he would be left to his own devices and even gennie herself knows that has the potential to be so much more dangerous.

Oh my goodness I love this. I do love the idea that gennie is so gracious that she gives off this air of sort of...not importance but you understand what I’m trying to say. I love the idea of the line you’ve come up with for tom and lowkey might steal it. I think the only thing that would ever give gennie away is the fact that although she is well spoken, and extremely intelligent she does still have her birmingham accent - and that’s just a dead giveaway right there.

I think I’ve answered something similar to this previously but basically alfie and gen have this strange sort of ~respect~ for one another. Gennie appreciates that he’s a dangerous man, but she also feels fairly safe in his presence. He makes it very clear early on that she has absolutely nothing to fear from him and she believes him when he says it. That doesn’t necessarily mean she likes him (initially at least) nor does she really trust him, but...yeah she respects him.

Tom would definitely be the one out of the pair of them to admit his feelings first, but he’s also got a whole world of respect for both gennie and his brother so it would be a bit troubling for him when he realises that wow he’s in love with little gennie lock from down the lane. I think he would tell her, but not exactly openly it would be more of a “please, stay...” kind of moment, where he reaches out and takes her hand. They’d both look down and their hands, and then back up at one another and gennie would just nod “okay.”

Hmmm good question, I’m undecided. There may well be a “its you, little gennie lock it’s always been you.” sort of line, maybe on their wedding day but I’m not sure. I’m not even entirely sure thomas knows that’s how he’s always felt so WHO KNOWS - what do you think??

I don’t think so you know! Not through lack of suitors, because lets be honest gennie lock is an absolute catch. But she’s also extremely sentimental and loyal and she is pretty sure that john shelby is the love of her life and even though she’s resigned herself to the fact that they will never be together because of esme and her respect for their relationship - that doesn’t mean that she stops loving him, or that she can look at anyone else in that way. We love one (1) loyal princess.

Listen, tom and gennie talk. They talk a lot more than he talks to anyone else and he’s told her about the war and he’s told her about the dreams he has and sometimes he doesn’t even know why he’s telling her but she’s just so easy to tell and god is she an excellent listener. She doesn’t judge him. She understands that sometimes tommy needs to forget and he needs to sleep and she wants nothing more than for him to feel happy and safe and comfortable so if that’s what he needs then so be it.

I think if I wrote a scene where tom was having one of his grace moments and gennie entered then I’d write it as though grace sort of ... evaporated or disappeared the second gennie enters the room. Even if grace is midway through saying something, gennie is enough to push the thoughts or the hallucinations away and tom might stare dumbfounded at the wall for a hot minute in astonishment but then he’ll look at his wife and he’s just like #of course.

hahah i love this headcanon and I also think that gen would love to watch tom be around/talking about horses because he’s just so in his element and so...at peace?

I think after tommy refuses to go and see lizzie then polly would suggest to gennie that she go and see thomas. I think she’d consider sending lizzie, but then deep down polly knows that tom needs a sort of emotional support that lizzie isn’t capable of providing. You have to remember as well that gennie has lost archie who was the most important person in her life, she knows grief and she recognises that in thomas but there’s more to it than just grief. I think initially tom would try and push her away but..she’s not having any of that!

honestly idk if hair dye was actually a thing then?? so either gen darkens her hair as the seasons go on or...it’s more of a metaphorical thing. S1 gennie is brilliantly blonde, this wide eyes innocent little girl from birmingham who has absolutely no idea what she’s in for. By s5 gen has dark hair and it’s reflective of how her innocence has been tarnished by the peaky blinders as the years have gone on. She’s still an inherently good person, but s5 gen and s1 gen are two very different women. 

#gennie asks #violent delights #gennie lock #thomas shelby #john shelby #grace shelby #ok i didn't answer all 50 because i am TIRED but you get the idea #i will do another drop soon :)

[bountyofbeads]

A Pennsylvania County’s Election Day Nightmare Underscores Voting Machine Concerns https://nyti.ms/2rGZTkk

The Trump administration and Republicans have done nothing to protect our election infrastructure, except for Ivanka Trump getting a patent for election machines in China.

"The snafu in Northampton County did not just expose flaws in both the election machine testing and procurement process. It also highlighted the fears, frustrations and mistrust over election security that many voters are feeling ahead of the 2020 presidential contest, given how faith in American elections has never been more fragile. The problematic machines were also used in Philadelphia and its surrounding suburbs — areas of Pennsylvania that could prove decisive next year in one of the most critical presidential swing states in the country."

A Pennsylvania County’s Election Day Nightmare Underscores Voting Machine Concerns

How “everything went wrong” in Northampton County.

By Nick Corasaniti | Published Nov. 30, 2019, 5:00 AM ET | New York Times | Posted November 30, 2019 |

EASTON, Pa. — It was a few minutes after the polls closed here on Election Day when panic began to spread through the county election offices.

Vote totals in a Northampton County judge’s race showed one candidate, Abe Kassis, a Democrat, had just 164 votes out of 55,000 ballots across more than 100 precincts. Some machines reported zero votes for him. In a county with the ability to vote for a straight-party ticket, one candidate’s zero votes was a near statistical impossibility. Something had gone quite wrong.

Lee Snover, the chairwoman of the county Republicans, said her anxiety began to pick up at 9:30 p.m. on Nov. 5. She had trouble getting someone from the election office on the phone. When she eventually got through, she said: “I’m coming down there and you better let me in.”

With clearly faulty results in at least the judge’s election, officials began counting the paper backup ballots generated by the same machines. The paper ballots showed Mr. Kassis winning narrowly, 26,142 to 25,137, over his opponent, the Republican Victor Scomillio.

“People were questioning, and even I questioned, that if some of the numbers are wrong, how do we know that there aren’t mistakes with anything else?” said Matthew Munsey, the chairman of the Northampton County Democrats, who, along with Ms. Snover, was among the observers as county officials worked through the night to feed the paper ballots by hand through scanning machines.

The snafu in Northampton County did not just expose flaws in both the election machine testing and procurement process. It also highlighted the fears, frustrations and mistrust over election security that many voters are feeling ahead of the 2020 presidential contest, given how faith in American elections has never been more fragile. The problematic machines were also used in Philadelphia and its surrounding suburbs — areas of Pennsylvania that could prove decisive next year in one of the most critical presidential swing states in the country.

In an era where some candidates and incumbents try to challenge or discredit a close loss by questioning the system, either with unfounded allegations of voter fraud or claims of a “rigged” election, the proper functioning and security of election machines have never been more crucial.

“There are concerns for 2020,” Ms. Snover said, questioning whether the paper ballots generated by the same machine that had a digital error could be trusted. “Nothing went right on Election Day. Everything went wrong. That’s a problem.”

Election Day here had been marred by complaints of long lines, glitch-prone touch screens and frustrated poll workers. Voters across the county said the experience further eroded their already shaken confidence in the election process.

“It made me sad because with everything that’s going on, you kind of worry about: Was something tampered with, or was it just a mistake,” said Michelle Broadhecker, 48, of Easton, who said her anxiety about elections began after 2016. “There’s just too much going on that you worry about those things. And you don’t want the wrong people in the wrong places.”

Though there has been no conclusive study as to what caused the machines to malfunction, as the machines are locked away for 20 days after an election according to state law, the prevailing theory is that the touch screens were plagued by a bug in the software. A senior intelligence official who focuses on election security said there were no visible signs of outside meddling by any foreign actors.

County officials who led the purchase of the machines have argued that the system actually functioned as it should: The paper ballot backup process worked. The touch screens failed, but the backups had the correct vote, so while it was inconvenient, it proved the necessity of a paper backup.

“We also need to focus on the outcome, which is that voter-verified paper ballots provided fair, accurate and legal election results, as indicated by the county’s official results reporting and successful postelection risk-limiting audit,” said Katina Granger, a spokeswoman for Election Systems & Software, the manufacturer of the machines. “The election was legal and fair.”

But for others, it underscored the fractured system for selecting voting systems. Major decisions for testing, purchasing and operating complex machines are often left to county and city officials. Federal testing standards for election machines haven’t been updated since 2005, when a large percentage of the machines were not digital.

“Not only is that a decade before the current cybersecurity threats to our elections, it is two years before the first iPhone,” said Kevin Skoglund, a senior technical adviser for the National Election Defense Coalition, a nonpartisan group that focuses on election security issues. “There is a newer 2015 standard, but the Election Assistance Commission lets voting system vendors choose which one to use.”

The machines that broke in Northampton County are called the ExpressVoteXL and are made by Election Systems & Software, a major manufacturer of election machines used across the country. The ExpressVoteXL is among their newest and most high-end machines, a luxury “one-stop” voting system that combines a 32-inch touch screen and a paper ballot printer.

To initiate a vote, a voter places a blank ballot-shaped piece of paper in the machine, makes their selections on the screen, and then presses the word “vote.” The machine prints a ballot that is protected under a plate of glass for the voter to review. The voter then clicks “cast” on the screen, the digital votes are recorded on a USB and the backup ballot is transmitted to a sealed canister in the back of the machine.

The machines began arriving in the county in August, having gone through a federal and state certification process. The only remaining testing to be done was what officials called a “logic and accuracy test,” which is a quick dry run of roughly 20 dummy ballots. But the ExpressVoteXL has an auto-test function in which the machines can simulate a full digital test, a feature that election security experts say is ill-advised.

“It doesn’t test if the touch screen or the scanner work. It doesn’t even cast votes for everyone on the ballot,” Mr. Skoglund said. “It is especially concerning that it can send made-up votes to the vote counting software without needing a real ballot. Fake ballots are a feature no voting machine should have.”

The automatic tests in Northampton proved problematic, and did not even cast a test vote for every candidate, according to test receipts shown to The New York Times. But the machines were still rolled out on Election Day.

And instantly, there were problems.

“I walked into my booth, and I knew that I was going to vote straight Democratic and I’m voting that way until we get some balance back into the government, but when I hit straight Democratic, straight Republican is what registered,” said Angela Anderson, 55, of Forks Township, who said that many of her neighbors shared similar stories. “I kind of panicked for a second. But thankfully it easily reset, and I reset my system, and that time it registered Democratic.”

Deb Hunter, a member of the county election commission, said they were actually lucky that the county judge election went so poorly because that made the problem obvious.

“What would have happened if there was a glitch there that got at a 10 percent or 20 percent undercount?” she said. “That worries me. That worries me going forward.”

Ms. Granger noted that there are nearly 6,300 ExpressVoteXL voting machines in use across the country, and none had experienced similar counting problems to those in Northampton County.

It was the way the machines were selected by Philadelphia elected officials that drew the most scrutiny over the last year. Since 2013, E.S.&S. had been courting the two city commissioners who were responsible for choosing the next voting machine, according to a report from the city comptroller.

The lobbying firm for E.S.&S. had donated $1,000 in 2013 to the campaign of Al Schmidt, one of the city commissioners, and again to a group supporting his re-election effort in 2018. They also spent more than $27,000 in direct lobbying of Mr. Schmidt.

Mr. Schmidt made a visit to only one company’s headquarters: E.S.&S.

In total, E.S.&S. spent more than $425,000 in lobbying expenses related to the City of Philadelphia.

Emails obtained by the city comptroller also found that E.S.&S. had influenced the writing of the city commissioners’ $22 million budget request for new election machines, tilting the process in favor of its machine, the ExpressVoteXL. The city eventually purchased the machines for $29 million in February.

“It showed a very, very flawed process,” said Rebecca Rhynhart, the city controller in Philadelphia. “I want to make sure, and the country should want to make sure, that our voting machines are the best they can be.”

As for Northampton, some on the county council have a new goal: new, simpler paper-ballot machines ahead of the presidential election, as well as some money back.

______

Matthew Rosenberg contributed reporting from Washington.

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Mecklenburg voters to use new voting machines in 2020. Here’s why they’re changing.

BY ALISON KUZNITZ | Published NOVEMBER 20, 2019 06:01 PM ET | Charlotte Observer | Posted November 30, 2019 |

Mecklenburg County residents will likely vote starting next year on new touch-screen machines that also print out their marked ballots, part of an estimated $15 million technology reboot to ensure there’s a paper trail at the polls.

The ExpressVote universal voting system — which costs almost $3,400 apiece — is similar to the direct recording devices that have been used in the county since 2006. But voters will now be presented with a physical copy of their ballot, allowing them to verify their selections before submitting them.

If the ballot looks correct, voters will then insert the paper into a separate digital scanner and tabulator machine, called the DS200 that costs nearly $5,800. If changes are needed, voters can ask precinct workers to void the ballot and start fresh.

“Hopefully, voters can easily handle this and be able to use it,” said Michael Dickerson, the elections director for Mecklenburg County. “I think voters will be quite happy, especially the young voters.”

The Mecklenburg County Board of Elections unanimously approved the new voting technology Wednesday afternoon, deciding to purchase 350 scanners and 2,400 ExpressVote devices, said spokeswoman Kristin Mavromatis.

The next steps involve seeking approval for the purchase from the State Board of Elections and asking the county commissioners to provide the funding.

Mavromatis said the total contract price is unknown. The board still needs to consider the cost of other equipment, such as flash drives and voting booths, in addition to storage needs to accommodate the bulkier systems, she said.

The overhaul stems from a 2013 North Carolina voter law requiring paper ballots in an effort to maintain elections security and thwart potential hacking.

“We believe these are completely secure,” Dickerson said of the new voting system. “There’s no internet access to any of these things.”

Technically, the county’s old machines “always had the paper trail,” Dickerson said, in the form of a paper roll next to the electronic screen.

Yet various components on this outgoing system blurred what could be considered the ballot, including the real-time audit log and internal memory. ExpressVote clarifies the vote summary card constitutes the ballot, Mavromatis said.

The state “wanted an actual ballot,” she said. The machines were tested during the municipal election earlier this month.

Through ExpressVote, Mecklenburg residents will navigate a series of screens as they cast their ballots, receiving prompts along the way. The system, for example, will notify voters if they can select more candidates in a given race.

Voters can enlarge the text and change the color contrast on the machine. Among other accessibility features, ExpressVote comes with a headphone jack, privacy screen and detachable keypad.

Traditional pen-and-paper ballots, filled out like standardized school tests, will continue to be on hand at precincts — especially for those who vote curbside.

Dickerson said he expects the new technology will make the voting process faster in the 2020 primary and general elections.

“Instead of you sitting there filling in oval after oval, you’re touching a screen just like you do now,” Dickerson said. “It won’t let you mess up.”

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#president donald trump #trump administration #u.s. presidential elections #presidential elections #elections #cybersecurity #election security #2020 presidential election #2020 candidates #2020 election #politics and government #us politics #politics #ncpol #u.s. news #u.s. government #u.s. politics #nyt > top stories #top stories google news #top news

[tamashley4888-blog]

Extra Synthetic Bamboo! The Biggest Preset Sounds In Pop Music

Pop music, whereas a worldwide phenomenon, is regional in its definition. I like you Pam. I am solely 31 however I can't ever recall a time that I ever favored what was "cool." I believe the final time I did it was 1998; I was 12. My father raised me on 60s rock so for me, rock is dead. If it wasn't for Queens of the Stone Age and Primus placing out new CDs this 12 months, I would have no motive to enter a music shop. I feel pretty fortunate that they are even putting out new music. When folks laud 21 Pilots as Modern rock, it makes me want to puke. If their music helped you in any method, that is nice. However there isn't any guitar of their band. That is not rock!!!!! Please put them in the category that they're, pop. The bass guitar is a stringed instrument related in look and construction to an electrical guitar, however with an extended neck and scale length, and 4 to six strings. The bass guitar is a transposing instrument, performed primarily with the fingers or thumb, by plucking, slapping, popping, dylanhuggins0.wikidot.com strumming, tapping, thumping, or pilarstable4051.hatenadiary.com choosing with a plectrum. It's often a solo instrument in jazz, jazz fusion, Latin, funk, progressive rock and other rock and metallic kinds. Learning to play the bass each much as difficult as learning how you can play the six string guitar. In case you're not sure about your musical skills, the bass guitar is the right instrument to get began with. With an everyday guitar, players usually need to memorize lengthy chords. On a bass guitar, nonetheless, you possibly can play more songs with simply single notes. This makes it easier for new gamers.

One might argue that most present pop music is extra by-product than in earlier many years, and is created using familiar songwriting techniques, tried-and-true devices and sonic textures, and a wholesome amount of references to already current genres and songs. Due to this, I try to usually replace the Encyclopedia of Every Music I've Ever Listened To" that I keep stored in my head, by listening to as much new music as doable, even if I end up touring down a path that introduces me to some art that I personally don't ever grow to like. I'm a DJ (mostly weddings and company parties) and my motto is to play what my audience desires to hear. That moment, I cannot attempt to train or moderately drive my so-known as knowledgeable views on good music onto anybody. We are here to rejoice so I'll play all the hits everyone is aware of and loves (and I love as nicely !). But I need to confess I've a hard time with this decade's popular music, there may be so much great stuff out there at this time however it's so scattered and fragmented far and wide. Individuals only seem to know random stuff they picked up by way of spotify, youtube or different streaming websites. So to play new music everyone knows, offers a slightly restricted repertoire to choose from.

The previous few decades have seen hip-hop grow from underground phenomenon to niche market to omnipresent juggernaut, listened to across the globe and influencing music of each genre. The place once rap could have been too outré for Executives to tune in, it has now permeated culture to such a degree that, for all intents and functions, rap music is pop music. And while Executives might have little knowledge of or curiosity in previous-college rhymes, artists like Kanye West or Drake could also be simply too popular to disregard. So at what point on the timeline of human existence does music develop into pop"? Pop, in any case, originated as shorthand for well-liked music", the sounds that were being dug by whatever technology in whichever society. The broadside ballads in style in Tudor and Stuart occasions are typically referred to by historians as early pop music". These bawdy, comical and mawkish songs of the streets and taverns have been pedaled on sheet music by road distributors, and proved widespread with landed gentry as a lot as serfs in the fields. In Victorian occasions, audiences would take pleasure in concerts by the German-born composer Sir Julius Benedict, www.magicaudiotools.Com billed because the London Popular Live shows, while the time period pop music" was in use at the very least one hundred years in the past.When asked which decade has the worst music, their responses fanned out in broadly chronological order, with the 2010s getting forty two% of the vote, the 2000s getting 15%, and the 1990s, 1980s and Nineteen Seventies coming in pretty equally with thirteen%, 14% and 12%. This may lead an off-the-cuff reader to conclude that the people polled had been all of a certain age, nevertheless it appears to be an evenly held opinion. Of individuals aged 18-29, 39% voted for the 2010s, whereas the determine for the over 30s was 43%, which indicates most of the fun is in digging up previous songs, somewhat than keeping up with the new.Most bass players stand while playing, using a strap over the shoulder to carry the instrument, though sitting can also be accepted, notably in large ensemble settings, corresponding to jazz massive bands or in acoustic genres resembling people music Some bassists, reminiscent of Jah Wobble , alternate between standing or seated enjoying. It is a matter of the participant's preference as to which place provides the best ease of playing and what a bandleader expects. When sitting, proper-handed players can balance the instrument on the correct thigh or like classical guitar players, the left. When sitting, no strap is required. Balancing the bass on the left thigh usually positions it in such a method that it mimics the standing place, permitting for less distinction between the standing and sitting positions. Balancing the bass on the precise thigh offers higher entry to the neck and fretboard in its entirety, particularly the lower-pitched frets.These aren't questions that Taryn Southern is anxious with. Southern is an online character who you may know from her YouTube channel or when she was a contestant on American Idol. Lately, Southern is all in favour of emerging tech, which has led to her present project: recording a pop album. Those two issues do not sound like they might be associated, however her album has a twist: as a substitute of writing all the songs herself, Southern used artificial intelligence to assist generate percussion, melodies, and chords. This makes it one of many first albums of its kind, a collaboration of types between AI and human.Shock-pop bombshell Gloria Trevi went full Rebel Lady after her controversial televised debut of Dr. Psiquiatra" on Mexican variety present Siempre en Domingo. The track that made Ms. Treviño a famous person follows a girl who is taken to the asylum and put below the care of an older man who ogles at her legs. This risqué song, in addition to her headbanging single Pelo Suelto," heralded the arrival of a different kind of Mexican pop star, à la Madonna - wild, outspoken, however completely charming - during a time when feminine singers have been anticipated to be wholesome like Lucerito, or elegant like Daniela Romo. However more troubling than her songs was her relationship to then-manager Sergio Andrade, who was discovered to have led a teenage intercourse abuse cult disguised as a talent college for women. I.R.