#i literally live in north america but i live in the middle of nowhere

[reztruck]

Idc if you are watching Love Lies Bleeding this weekend!!!! It should be me !!!!

#i literally live in north america but i live in the middle of nowhere #the next cinema is 800kms bro. and they aren’t playing that. they are playing french dubs of madame web

[ladywaffles]

6 + benthan for the writing prompts

thank you for the ask!

things you said under the stars and in the grass

Field work is much dirtier than tech work, as a general rule.

Benji didn't think that meant literal dirt, but when Ethan Hunt is involved...

They're staked out on a night watch in a field in the middle of nowhere, for some reason that he's forgotten because it really doesn’t matter in the end why they’re babysitting a bunch of equipment in the middle of nowhere with no reception to speak of, waiting for the sensors to get all the telemetry they need, and Benji is realizing that he forgot to bring his allergy meds along with him, so he’ll be sneezing up a storm tomorrow.

Ethan, on the other hand, prime specimen of human ability that he is, is laying back with his hand behind his head, staring up at the stars.

“Did you learn the constellations when you were a kid?” Ethan asks him.

Benji lays down beside him, setting his tablet down on his chest. “No,” he says. “I mean, a little bit. There was too much light where I grew up, you could hardly see the stars.”

Ethan hums. “That’s too bad. I had this book when I was a kid on celestial navigation—”

“Bit boring for a kid, don’t you think?”

“Not when you wanted to be a pirate,” Ethan grins.

“Little Ethan Hunt wanted to be a pirate? How’d he end up like this?” Benji turns to look at Ethan. He’s so relaxed and open, so unlike the man, the agent, that Benji knows.

“He pulled the most perfect prank in the history of the world, and the rest is history.”

Benji laughs. “No, come on, that can’t be it.” Ethan stares up at the stars, but his smile is telling.

“No shit? A prank got you recruited by the IMF?”

“What can I say? Playing Frederic in Pirates of Penzance was a great way to hone my craft. It was the closest I ever got to being a pirate, too.

“What did you want to be when you grew up, Benji?” Ethan asks. His voice is low, but in the way a person speaks quietly when the world has shrunk to just the conversation they are sharing.

“I didn’t really know,” he admits. “I was good at maths, and computers came along with that. I liked Alan Turing when I was a kid. Cryptography seemed interesting, but I wasn’t good enough at developing ciphers for that line of work. Still, I ended up a spy after all, huh?”

“So Benji Dunn is living out his childhood dreams,” Ethan muses. “That’s nice.”

“What about you Ethan? Did you get your dreams?”

Ethan tilts his head. “Give me your hand, Benji.” Ethan takes his right hand and curls his fingers just so, until it’s just Benji’s pointer finger left out. He guides his hand and points it north.

“Do you see that bright one there? That’s Polaris, the North Star. It’s the tail of Ursa Minor, but we call it the Little Dipper in America. Sailors used to navigate by it.” Ethan traces out the shape of the constellation, like he’s painting a picture in the sky just for Benji. In the Greek myths, Ursa Minor and Ursa Major,” and Ethan guides him just below the North Star, tracing out another constellation, “were the lover and son of Zeus. He changed them into bears and placed them in the sky to protect them from Hera’s jealousy.”

“Which one is your favorite?” Benji asks, his voice no more than a whisper.

“What? You wanna hear me talk about stars for the rest of the night?” Ethan jokes.

“Yeah,” Benji says. “That’d be nice.”

Ethan grins, that full-teeth smile he hardly ever uses, the one that Benji loves the most. “Okay. This one is Andromeda, the Chained Lady. Her mother is Cassiopeia, over here, and Cassiopeia looks like stair-steps, that’s how I remembered it when I was a kid…”

send me a pairing and a number!

#ask #mission impossible #benthan

[female-malice]

I’ve been seeing a lot of your eco-post and thought I’d share some of my anger. I used to live in Nevada and my dad and I explored the deserts, mountains and forest often. We would drive for hours in the desert until we’d find a sufficient place to park. Then we would get out and hike for hours, until we were literally in the middle of nowhere, no trails, no roads, nothing. And even then, way out in the middle of this you would find so. Much. Trash. Everywhere. I would pick up what I could, but my god. It always angered me that even the most remote parts of this planet we leave such a nasty mark. The way this earth has no escape from us, it is sickening.

Human beings are not the virus.

Capitalist values and settler colonial values are the virus.

Most people who live in North America are the descendants of settlers. There are some European-descendant communities that have naturalized to their environment like Appalachian communities. You won't find litter in a traditional Appalachian community. That's a naturalized culture. And then of course there are hundreds of indigenous cultures.

But most of us do not have that naturalized or indigenous mindset. We were raised with a settler mindset. We either litter and destroy the environment because we see ourselves as separate from ecology. Or we grieve and grow angry at humanity because we see ourselves as separate from ecology. Either way, we're thinking and behaving like settlers because we're maintaining our separation from the land.

We are not the virus but our culture is. The goal should be to dismantle settler colonial institutions, industries, and cultures and become naturalized to the land. And the most effective way to do that is through a vast cultural movement spanning the entire continent. Picking up litter is one thing. But the next step should be turning that act into a cultural festival bringing thousands of people together.

#cc

[abeltownshipslittlebitch]

Spoilers for S9M22

It’s kind of long because I have a lot to say, but it’s not all negative. There’s just one thing that’s mentioned in particular I feel the need to elaborate on

@dorkylittleweirdo I’m tagging you because I always like telling you my opinion on everything

While I was wanting to punch Maryam in the face for dismissing Sam’s VERY VALID worry for Peter, I’m happy to know Peter is safe and unharmed.

But if Maryam says shit like that again idk if she secretly knows he’s safe my Five is punching her on sight. Like the amount of times Peter’s safety has been dismissed this season is insane and I’m not here for it.

Also Maryam being a spy 😱. Who would have guessed? It’s not like we’d been all theorizing it since she was introduced or anything. True she’s not a RSB spy but still.

But I don’t trust her bc there is one thing thats very sus. RSB had cameras of places all around the world and yet they somehow have no idea what’s going on in United States? Like you’re telling me they have connections to countries they aren’t even a part of, but being an outpost to America they haven’t been able to contact one (1) military base in the US? Like do you know how many bases there are in the US?

Also like Maryam saying “no one knows what happened in the US”. Like if any place could survive the apocalypse it’s America bc the southern regions have guns and as a born and raised Arkansan I know motherfuckers down here blow shit up for fun. Also hunting is huge here. You’d never find these ppl hiding in camo. Also some 90 year old hillbilly could give you some homemade Moonshine and if that doesn’t make you immune to the zom virus, you can throw it at a zom and it would probably melt it.

And here I am just talking about the south. The Midwest lives in buttfuck middle of nowhere and knows how to can good and grow their own food, the north is cold as fuck and can survive it. New Yorkers would see zoms, shrug and then probably make their way to the subway bc they have to get to work. Also in places like Florida and New Jersey and specially Chicago Illinois, the zombies would be more afraid of the humans than humans afraid of zombies bc it takes a special type of person to live in those areas. I don’t know much about the west coast besides the fact that California is always on fire or having an earthquake so tbh I feel like zombies are like the secondary problem for them.

My point is there is no way that America has fell in the apocalypse. Not to mention even tho I’m only talking about regional point, we’ve had conspiracy theorists across the country WAITING FOR THIS DAY. Like no. This ain’t tracking.

Also there’s like a military base in almost every state I think. Sometimes multiple in a state. And we’re well defended, and we, ya know, have the biggest military in the world. The fact that Maryam is saying that RSB has no clue what’s happened in America when they were able to secure Van Ark goo from the black market (meaning a base in Tunisia had connections to England in order to get ahold of it), and literally had cameras looking at other countries in Europe (the Eiffel Tower toppled over in Paris France) AND the big boss knew who we are means that they had connections to know about ABEL TOWNSHIP which canonically probably has maybe 1,000 bc we did talk about in S7 how we kept bringing people in and we’re getting a bit overpopulated for us. It’s just…

There is no way they haven’t been able to make contact with America. Janine was able to contact Canada via Rofflenet in S2 on a unstable network, so to say this highly secure base with great tech that has been making some very horrifying experiments can’t contact the country their base is meant to be an outpost for is bs.

This either means S2S did crappy with their writing, or Maryam is lying. I’m really hoping it’s the latter.

Also Ernie I love you. He and my Five are clone buddies, or they will be after some character development and Callista trying not to be a hypocrite bc she knows she’s not the same as the person she’s cloned after but it’s hard to have that logic against the clone of the guy who experimented on you and gave you lifelong trauma.

Also Sam “yeah we have no idea who it was that shot you down with a rocket launcher 😬.” That made me laugh ngl.

Also there was no Janine this ep so extra points for that. Also Maryam said Janine said it was unlikely that Peter would be hurt, and then it’s revealed that Maryam knew that Peter was picked up by one of her spy friends. This gives the implication that Janine may have known Maryam is a spy. If she did, and she knew Peter was safe and withheld that from us my Five is going feral on her. Like I’m already mad she had us leave him but IF it turns out she knew he was okay and said nothing im not gonna be happy.

Bc Janine knowing stuff and not saying Is why Peter unnecessary cut off his own nose (don’t think I’ve forgotten about that S2S). I haven’t.

Also no Mo and Peter this ep so it also loses points for that.

Okay. Now time for me to crawl back into my hole. I have to get ready for work soon any way. (I’m heading in early to get some LSAT studies done.)

But yeah. That’s it for today.

#zombies run #zr #runner five #runners five #zrs9 #zrs9 spoilers

[hussyknee]

just saw some americans get mad at a tweet saying "americans in general do not understand what it is like to live through horrific war" and claim the op was antiblack because the BLM protests and police in the USA are Just The Same as russian tanks going through the streets and buildings being bombed.... the op never mentioned the BLM protests or anything, they just said that americans in general do not understand war on that scale, which is true. i am so tired lol

I've been thinking about how to answer this. I really feel for how exhausted you are, anon, because the internet has been a special sort of hellpit the last several days. I've blocked more people this week than I have in the last six months, and I'm about one galaxy brain take away from hunting people for sport. I've just been fervently hoping that the people actually caught in the middle of this conflict somehow manage to miss the worst of it.

But, having sort of come out the other side of this hyperaroused state, I can also see this how unfocused anger and suspicion on both ends play out. Easterners are frustrated at how Americans of all races try to center themselves in every issue, and Black and Native Americans are eternally braced to have the violence of living as colonized people within North America erased by non-Black and non-Native people. All BIPOC the world over are currently dealing with a heightened state of grief at the stark difference in how the Ukranians are perceived and treated Vs the rhetoric around the Native and BLM protests, the wars and refugees from the Middle East, Africa and Latin Am etc. The "quiet part" is being screamed from the rooftops every five minutes of the news cycle.

The fact is that post-Soviet people and all colonial and post-colonial PoC have a lot in common with Black, Mexican and Native Americans in terms of ethnic persecution and generational violence. There's a lot of history especially between the 1960s and 1980s where neighborhoods have been terrorized by Ku Klux Klan campaigns, churches bombed and massacres of the Black Panthers and other resistance groups by the federal and state forces, some with the full might of the military behind them. Most people don't even know about them. So you get people unwittingly negating this history when trying to point out that war fought on their own homeland is something USAmericans haven't experienced for generations. The Ukrainians are literally just five days into being invaded and fleeing for their lives, and it's very unfair to expect them to grapple with all this nuance.

At the same time, that suspicion and resistance, while justified, also make some Black, Latin and Indigenous people avoidant of dealing with the fact that the same imperialism that oppresses them also affords them certain geo-political privileges, and conditions them into an exceptionalist mindset as well. This is an unfortunate side effect of being a minority; we circle the wagons around our own and become jealous guardians of our traumas, even if for completely different reasons than the majority.

I keep thinking of the term "competing access traumas", like competing access needs, you know. We feel others want to validate their traumas and make us hold space for others' grief at the expense of our own. There's so very much anger at imperialism from every direction, whether at USAmericans or Russians or their people at their governments, that get easily misplaced. All of our traumas are getting dregged up at the same time. So I think the best thing to do is to keep that awareness at the forefront, that all of this anger is just grief that has nowhere to go. All of this violence, no matter what their forms have taken, is the violence of empire, and all this grief is the one and same - the grief of the colonized. The only true resistance is the refusal to let it mould us into people we don't want to become.

#war in Ukraine #russo ukrainian war #Imperialism #colonialism #colonization #anti-blackness #racism #American exceptionalist #global south #global north #indigenous struggle #US politics #Black history #Eastern Europe #post-Soviet countries #asks #anon #knee of Huss

[imagine-docx]

sneaky.

Summary: Being neighbours with a cute boy has some perks. Also, Sam is being the best wingman (no pun intended) he possibly could. [neighbour!chubby!buckyau]

Warnings: Swearing, and some insecurity mentions and some body shaming.

A/N: Hello, quarantine has me writing again as I am officially done uni for the year. So please enjoy this jumble of different AU’s thrown into one. - Amanda 

➽───────────────❥

You have lived next to James Barnes for the last two and a half years and you guys never really talked, just smiles and nods whenever you see him, and occasionally swapping mail that accidentally went to your respective houses, this was mostly because your schedules conflict but also Bucky didn’t know how to talk to a cute girl but he won't mention that part.

You’ve heard rumours about how he was a serial abuser and other nonsense from the neighbourhood, because honestly Anita from five houses down creates random fantasies she might as well be an author.

He was so used to getting stares and glares for his left prosthetic and round stomach, due to the rumours that were spread around the neighbourhood and he always shied away from contact with anyone in the area. You on the other hand? God literally sent you, so warm and loving. 

He was working on his car one day, while his cat was outside with him. Looks back to see Alpine and doesn’t see his cat, slight panic until he sees that Alpine wasn’t there, but that cat is everywhere so it doesn’t bother him that much.

He heard soft lo-fi music coming from across the fence, indicating that you were outside. He looks over and sees you sitting there, on your computer between papers and notebooks and his cat sitting with you.

To you, Alpine wasn’t much chaos, in fact, a designer, he would randomly paw at something and it clicked with you that the two outfits look good.

“I’m so sorry, my cat is bothering you.” Bucky called out.

“Not at all, he constantly is spending time over here, love him like he’s my own,” you smiled at him.

“Thank you for looking out for him,” he said, looking down at his feet.

“Not a problem. You look exhausted, come get some coffee!” You exclaimed, with the brightest smile he’s ever seen, plastered onto your face.

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want your reputation to be tainted by having him over for some coffee.

“Come! How do you take your coffee?” you said, trekking back to close all your notebooks because honestly, it's not everyday that your cute neighbour talks to you and work can always wait.

You went inside to make both of you a cup of coffee, his black, and yours with some cream and sugar. You also plated two lemon bars for the two of you, and grabbed a little yogurt from your fridge for Alpine to enjoy. 

“I’m surprised you wanted to be seen with me. Especially with all the rumours, I found everyone believing them.”

“Honestly, half of them came from Anita and she is a whackjob. I’m surprised people listen to her.” You said taking a sip of your coffee.

He laughed, “You would be surprised, people look at me like I killed someone.”

“When I first moved in she told the entire neighbourhood that I got a divorce and needed massive space from my ex husband because I found him cheating with one of his juniors. People actually believed it which makes it worse. For like a year I was getting sympathetic looks for a divorce and relationship that didn’t even happen.” You cut a piece of your lemon bar with your fork.

He laughed, and felt so much more comfortable with you, like he has known you for so long. “My old place caught on fire, and I got trapped, lost m’arm. Girl left me because I had no arm, no place to stay, hit rock bottom, gained a few pounds, and Stark helped me by getting me this arm, even though I work for him and he paid for this place for me.” He said looking down, he felt comfortable enough for you to know what happened, but avoided your look, scared of judgement. 

You reached out for his flesh hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You’re doing amazing James, don’t listen to what the neighbourhood chatties have to say. That’s why half of their men turn off their hearing aids when they talk.” 

He smiled and you removed your hand, “Bucky.”

“Pardon?”

“Call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky. So how did Bucky derive from James, because there is no correlation” you said, shoving the piece of lemon bar into your mouth.

“From my middle name, Buchanan, and I guess it stuck with me since.”

“Wait, you work for Stark Industries?” You said realization dawning on you.

“Yeah…” He said unsurely as if you would kick him off your backyard patio set and never talk to him again. 

“I provide the latest and never seen before suits to Tony Stark!” You laughed.

“Insurrexon?” He asked.

“Yes sir, the one and only fashion director for Insurrexon.” You said.

He laughed, “So you guys are the reason he prances around his office saying his suit is worth more than everyone’s rent.”

“Sounds like a very Tony thing to do, but yes. I am the cause of that.” 

You laughed and spent the remainder of your day talking with Bucky in your backyard while Alpine takes occasional nips at the yogurt left for him.

➽───────────────❥

Since that day, you and Bucky practically became best friends. With your schedule practically all over the place you two were constantly texting to help compensate for the fact you probably saw him for a total of 10 minutes or less a day.

He noticed some days you were coming home super late and noticed the lights in your washroom and bedroom are the only lights that were on when you came home and after that he assumed you fell asleep. He felt bad knowing you didn’t eat and were constantly on the go and eating probably the most unhealthy things possible just to stay alive. So he would drop you off extra portions of whatever he made. 

Or that's what he likes to tell himself. One day on his break he saw the cutest reusable container, it was glass and had little black dresses on it with a hot pink lid, and knew it matched you perfectly. That night he had an extra portion of stir fry and rice leftover in your mailbox with a note saying, ‘make sure you eat something doll’, knowing you would check it before going inside and you would hopefully eat it. 

The next day after the longest shift he possibly could have had, he checked his mailbox and saw the container was back in his mailbox, he frowned thinking that you didn’t eat it. He saw a yellow post-it note attached to the top ‘thanks for looking out for me, btw the stir fry was delicious’ and he smiled, picking up the container he noticed it was quite weighty. He opened it and saw a slice of red velvet cake, keeping the grin on his face, he closed the container, gathered his mail and went inside. 

And that started the entire back and forth exchange of goods.

He would cook dinner for you to enjoy at night when you come home and leave it for you, the next day he got his container back with a form of a baked good.

Everyday on his way home, he was thinking of things to make you to impress you, there were lasagnas, soups with garlic bread, steaks with mashed potatoes, and he always went above and beyond to make it with love for you.

You on the other hand found it so sweet and kept giving him cute little desserts you would bake such as cupcakes, cheesecakes, and cookies, and when you couldn’t bake anything, you would make sure to pick something up on your way home from work.

This clockwork happened almost all the time.

➽───────────────❥

Bucky was in the break room at work with Sam and Steve, and Bucky couldn’t help but gush about how cute he found you.

“Aw Baby Bucky has a crushy wushy on his cute neighbour,” Sam said, reaching for his cheeks to pinch them.

“Knock it off Wilson,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“Buck, I haven’t seen you this happy since Dot,” Bucky winced at the mention of his ex.

“She seems to like you, and enjoys your company, make a move,” Steve said, nudging his ribs.

“She doesn’t look at me that way,” Bucky muttered.

“Buck, she literally ignores what everyone said and openly hangs out with you, I think she likes you.” Bucky felt a little string of hope when Steve said that, but couldn’t help but feel insecure.

He was 34 years old, slightly overweight and had a prosthetic and was IT director for Stark Industries. You on the other hand were slightly younger than him at 30 years old, but, god took his time creating you, you were beautiful inside and out, had a killer personality and worked as a fashion director for one of the biggest fashion chains in North America. You two were on two different levels and you were nowhere in his league.

“So Buck, when are you gonna cook me dinner?” Sam said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Not in your lifetime.” Bucky retaliated, feeling a buzz in his pocket, he pulled out his phone and saw it was you and instantly smiled.

“His girlfriend messaged him, that's why he’s all smiley” Sam nudged him once again.

The three of them continued talking until Brock Rumlow, the resident dick and lead prosthetic designer walked in. 

Brock pushed passed Bucky to get something from the cabinets. Brock had an attitude problem with everyone and it was still surprising that he worked at Stark Industries. “James Barnes has a girlfriend? Does she close her eyes when she fucks you? Because you are hideous.”

“Rumlow,” Steve warned.

And that’s when Bucky felt coffee trickle down his skin and the scent of coffee engulfed his nose. “Hope your girlfriend cleans you up, she might as well throw you out.” Rumlow said pushing past him.

“Buck-” Sam started before making a beeline to the mens washroom.

Bucky stood in the mirror and looked at himself, his hair was drenched with coffee, his cream coloured cardigan and white shirt were covered in brown coffee splotches, his pants and shoes got minimal damage. He dunked his head over the sink and tried washing out his hair.

As his head was over the sink, there were tears in his eyes. Of course his neighbour wouldn’t like him, he was weak. He looked in the mirror knowing he would have to sit in his coffee stained outfit for the rest of the day.

“Buck? Stark wants to see you whenever you come out.” Steve said from the other side of the door, giving him some space. 

He managed to murmur out an “okay” knowing Steve’s quality hearing would have heard him. It took him a solid 30 minutes before he made his way to Stark’s office. “You wanted to see me?” Bucky said walking in.

“Ah yes, I heard about the coffee incident in the break room.” Tony said. 

“Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault, it’s Rumlow’s. Also how do you deal with Sam? I heard him screeching from here about how he was gonna, and I quote ‘Brock Rumlow’s shit so hard he wouldn’t have seen it coming.’” 

“A lot of alcohol and tuning him out.” 

“Makes sense.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and handed him a card, “Take this, go buy something to wear. Can’t have my top IT director brewing in coffee like he’s a piece of tiramisu.”

“No Stark I can’t take this, you’ve done a lot already.”

“Nonsense. Take Sam and Steve with you, I can’t hear Sam screeching about fighting someone for the rest of the day, that’s gonna be one hell of an HR complaint I’m gonna have to deal with.”

“You got it.”

➽───────────────❥

And that is how Bucky, Sam and Steve spent two hours walking around Brooklyn attempting to find clothes for Bucky. Bucky couldn’t find anything that made him feel right, it was emphasizing his stomach which he didn’t want to show off.

This kept making Bucky smaller, and he didn’t want to be out anymore. Sam kept trying to hype him and Steve was reassuring that he looked fine. But after that altercation in the break room, they understood that he wasn’t in the best mood and just wanted to go back to the office and have this Friday be over. 

➽───────────────❥

You were sitting in a tiny coffee shop called Dream Bean with Wanda and Natalia planning for the next collection that was supposed to drop for Valentine’s Day, the ‘Love Bomb’ collection.

“I’m thinking colours like pastels, reds, pinks, whites.” Wanda said.

“So take Valentine’s Day and throw it into a collection?” Natalia said.

“Pretty much.” You stated.

“Makes sense.” Natalia stated, taking a sip of her iced latte.

“Is this more date night and sexy lingerie?” Wanda asked, working out a sketch in her notebook.

“I mean a lot of people are single on Valentine’s Day, so why not make it a feel good collection.” You stated nonchalantly, sitting back into your chair and taking a sip of your iced coffee.

“Oh, I love having a creative genius,” Wanda exclaimed, brushing her pencil gently across the sketchbook.

“I mean it's a part of my job description,” you laughed, taking a sip out of your iced coffee and looked out the window. You noticed a familiar face. Bucky. Your heart skipped a beat, until you saw that he was drenched in coffee. Your heart hurt for him.

“Hey? Hello? Anyone home?” Natalia waved in front of your face. 

“Oh sorry.”

“You okay?” Wanda asked.

“I just saw my neighbour-”

“Oh the cute one you’re so smitten by?” Nat wiggled her brows. 

“The dinner one! Aw he’s so cute and treats her well.” Wanda said.

“He was covered in coffee and he seemed upset.” You started, wishing you could do something for him. That’s when it clicked with you, “Do we have any samples from the ‘No Guidance’ collection?”

“I think there are copies in my office.”

➽───────────────❥

Bucky got back to work and sat in his chair, and ran his hands over his face. He felt horrible and nothing could make this day better. Rumlow’s words managed to hit deeper than he wanted it too. Usually, Bucky was very dismissive about what Rumlow said, but now that you were a part of his life, it hit deeper.

The elevator dinged, signalling someone was coming up. Secretly he was hoping it was the grim reaper ready to come collect him. “Package for-” He read the package, “James Barnes?” 

“That’s me.” He said not even looking up. When he did, he was greeted by a massive navy blue box with a yellow ribbon tied around it, and saw some white text but couldn’t make out what it said due to the distance. “Thank you.”

He noticed that the box said ‘Insurrexon’ and was confused. That was the company that you worked for. He untied it and was greeted by a white paper with black pen ink staining the paper on top of the red wrapping paper protecting whatever was in the box. 

‘Was in a meeting when I saw you drenched in coffee and wanted to help you out. Hope you like it. Also, can’t have my chef soaking wet, it could get him sick’ and it was signed off with your name. 

His heart burst with awe at the fact she went out of her way to get him clothes so he wasn’t wet. Part of him was embarrassed that she saw him in that state, but the joy overtook that feeling. He took the clothes to the washroom and was going to change.

He worried that he wouldn’t fit in it, but as he slid the items on, it fit. Maybe you did have a good knowledge at measurements and knew what would fit.

He looked himself in the mirror and grinned at the fact she picked an all black outfit with a light washed denim jacket and some black combat boots, he was upset at the fact that she knew how big he was, but was overtaken by happiness as his neighbour, someone he took such an interest in, picked this out, out of the goodness of her own heart.

Once he walked out of the washroom he was whistled at by Sam, “Looking good girl.”

“I thought you didn’t like anything.” Steve stated.

“His lovely girl at Insurrexon sent him stuff,” Sam said, holding up the note with his hands.

“Hey!” Bucky grabbed it. “None of your business.”

“Alright ‘chef’.” Sam mocked.

Bucky reached out to slap Sam’s head. “Hey, hey, hey, no workplace violence!” Steve said, breaking it up. 

➽───────────────❥

It was the end of the day and Bucky had to drop reports back off to Tony. He walked in and gave him all the files that Tony needed. “Is that Insurrexon?”

“Yeah,” he responded.

“Look at you go, getting into the big leagues, huh?” Tony punched his shoulder, “Wait, was it on my credit card?” Tony nearly cried out.

“No-”

“Wait, this collection didn’t even come out yet. How did you get this and how much did you spend?” Tony cried out.

“One of my friends work for Insurrexon and sent it to me for free.”

“Was it a lady friend?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows. Bucky blushed, “IT WAS! But honestly Tinman, you had a long day. Go home, get some rest, spend some time with your girl. I’ll see you Monday.” Tony said shooing Bucky out of his office. 

➽───────────────❥

Upon reaching home, Bucky realized how expensive the brand truly was, and the amount of hype behind it. He also realized that Tony wasn’t lying and this was a collection that didn’t even come out yet, yet you still gave him a copy of it. He paced around his living room, even though his paycheque said he made quite the amount of money, the worth of this collection laughed at that amount. He couldn’t possibly pay it back. He was running through scenarios on how to bring it up and pay her back. He finally looked back at the clothing that he folded and put into a bag to return, and saw Alpine looking up at him, “What should I do, bud?” Alpine just meowed back at him before leaving and returning to wherever he was.

It was close to eight pm when he noticed that you came back home. Your car was in your driveway, and your living room light was on. He had to pump himself up before walking over to your door, he knocked on it three times before you opened it.

You looked even more beautiful, and he didn’t even know it was possible. There you were, makeup free, hair dampened signalling you showered, a pair of black shorts, and an oversized grey NASA shirt. He noticed you were on the phone and mouthed, “I’ll come back later.” He turned around and was about to walk off. 

That’s when you grabbed his flesh wrist and pulled him inside. Closing the door behind him, he kicked off his shoes and admired your living room. He was unsure if he should sit, he looked at you as you were talking to whoever it was. You looked back at him, and signalled for him to sit down. He cautiously sat on your couch. Pen in your hand, you wrote on the post-it note.

“That’s just gonna delay ‘FIVE’ and we’re going to have to push back ‘Love Bomb’ which will have to be scrapped until next year,” you said running your hand through your hair.

Whoever was on the other line said something, you sighed, “It’s a Friday night, I can’t worry about this. Send out an email scheduling an interview on Tuesday for all the directors of different divisions.”

He admired you, even in comfortable clothes, you were a business woman strategizing ways to not prevent any delays. “Yeah, so me, Nat, Wanda, Okoye, Nebula, Val, Carole and Erik.” You wrote it down on your little post-it note, “Alright, thanks Gamora. Have a good weekend.” You said before hanging up. 

You turned around being greeted by Bucky sitting there, “Hi,” he said letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Hi there. Sorry about that, work has my ass on a platter right now,” you said, chuckling, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he looked down and remembered why he came, “You didn’t have to do what you did.”

“And what was it I did?” You asked ridding your dining room table of the computer and a few sheets of paper that were littered across the table.

“Give me clothes.” He responded watching your movements.

“Bucky, it’s not a problem. You looked upset and I wanted to help you,” and after those words left your mouth, his heart nearly exploded into tiny pieces.

“I can’t possibly pay you back for this. Even Tony said it was too expensive.” Bucky said rambling. 

“Bucky, do not worry about it. You don’t have to pay me back,” you said gently.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“If you want to do something, hang out with me,” you said.

“Pardon?”

“We could order dinner? Dessert? Mario Kart? I am open to criticism.” You said jokingly.

“I’d like that,” Bucky said grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright soldier, what are you craving?”

“Pizza?” He said.

“Alright.” 

➽───────────────❥

Of course it was a Friday night and your favourite pizza joint had an hour wait time before they could make your order, and don’t forget the 30 minute delivery window. And honestly, you both didn’t mind and enjoyed each other’s company. Yet here you were sitting on your couch playing Mario Kart together. “I fell off again,” he grumbled at rainbow road.

“Hah- oh no,” you said, getting blue-shelled.

“I just fell off, how can I possibly fall off again?” He exclaimed.

“No no no, don’t red shell me.” You said, rushing to the finish line. The moment you crossed it, ‘FINISH’ flashed across the screen. 

Bucky got up at the sound of the knock on the door, “Pizza’s here.”

“Oh, use my card to pay!” You said going to get your wallet from your bag.

“No Doll, I owe you,” he went to the door.

You stood hovered over your bag due to your cheeks burning from him calling you ‘Doll’. You went to the kitchen and grabbed two plates, and two cups getting ready to set the table. Bucky joined you in the dining room with the extra large pepperoni pizza, wings and soda. 

For some reason, to the both of you, this felt right. Like this is something that you two should be constantly doing. You two were laughing at childhood stories, work stories and other funny things that have happened to you two. He helped you clean up the table and wrap up the extras. 

You took out two pieces of plum cobbler and warmed it up, “Ice cream?” you asked.

“Do you have?” Bucky asked.

“What kind of girl would I be if I didn’t have any?” You joked.

“You have a point,” he laughed.

You two were back at the dining room table. Bucky let out a heavenly groan as he took a bite of the plum cobbler, “I love plum so much, and this tastes amazing.”

“Plum is that fruit that you can always enjoy,” you said, taking a bite of your own.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, where do you get these desserts? They’re amazing,” he said, taking another bite.

You sheepishly said, “I bake the majority of them.”

“They’re amazing, doll. Maybe you should get out of the fashion industry and get into baking.” He joked.

“I don’t know about that part,” you chuckled, “Wanda and Nat might have my head on a stick if I leave.”

“You guys are that close?” Bucky asked.

“Practically attached by the hip. We met in freshman year of college because of this stupid textile course. Here we are ten years later, in the same company. What about you? Any close friends that are work friends but would also commit manslaughter if you left the company?”

He laughed at the comment, “I have Steve, him and I have been friends since childhood and he kept getting beat up in alleys and I had to save him. Then there’s Sam, the drama queen. Him and I met through Steve.”

You nodded your head, signalling you understood. “I don’t want to intrude, but what happened today? Why was there coffee all over you?”

He shifted in his seat, “Oh, uh.”

“You don’t have to answer. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m feeling much better now, sugar,” he said, grabbing your hand and giving a gentle squeeze with his flesh hand. 

“That’s all that matters,” You said squeezing back

The two of you continued eating your dessert in harmony, occasionally making jokes.

➽───────────────❥

Bucky didn’t want to go, but it was nearly 1:30 am and he should probably let you sleep. He was strategically trying to leave the clothes on your couch without you noticing, which obviously failed.

You leaned against your door with one bag containing the clothes you gave him and the other containing leftovers and a good portion of the plum cobbler he seemed to enjoy. “Goodnight,” he said, prior to trying to walk off your porch. 

“Wait, Bucky?” You asked.

He turned around, “Yes sugar?” 

You hugged him, at first he couldn’t believe it, but knew this possibly wouldn’t happen again and hugged back. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime doll,” he was so ecstatic, he didn’t notice that you slipped the two bags into his hands. 

“See you around?” You asked, sheepishly.

“Of course.”

You let out a smile, “Night Bucky,” before the door closed.

He smiled, before realizing she slipped him food and the clothes. He shook his head and trekked his way home.

➽───────────────❥

Over the next 2 weeks, you and Bucky got so much more closer. He came to Insurrexon when she was in and could take breaks. Other than that you tried to meet up at random diners, restaurants, bakeries, wherever was convenient to the both of you.

➽───────────────❥

It was a Friday afternoon and Bucky was irritated, Brock was making sly comments about him knowing that Bucky heard it. And on several occasions, Steve had to hold back Sam from swinging and Sam stating that, “Rumlow isn’t ready for this smoke.”

Bucky sat at his desk looking over the file Tony gave him this morning and making notes in the margin for him and Bruce to look over once Monday hit. He felt someone’s presence next to him, “Brock I don’t wanna deal with this right now,” he mumbled out, not even looking up.

“Brock? From Pokémon? I always thought I was more of a Rosa from Black and White two,” you joked.

Once he heard the familiar voice, his head snapped up and grinned, leaning back into his chair, “Thought you were more of a May from Sapphire.”

You laughed, “Is that my favourite fashion director from Insurrexon?” Tony called out.

“Of course it is,” you turned to Tony, smiled and pushed back your hair.

“Are you bringing me some new designs? Or are you terrorizing my IT director?” He said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I prefer the second one.”

Bucky enjoyed the banter between you and Tony, “Then you are banished from my company.”

“Before you banish me, can you at least let me steal your IT director for an hour for coffee? I will bring him back in perfect condition.” You pleaded.

Tony pretended to think, “Fine, I’ll give you an hour and fifteen, but I want him back in mint condition.”

You said, “Scouts honour.”

Bucky got up and stretched his knees, “If anything comes up, let Sam deal with it until I get back.”

“I would rather not, I’ll pass it off to Banner and hopefully he doesn’t rage out.” Tony joked.

“See you at the Rocket fashion show in a few weeks?” You asked Tony.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll bring Tinman with me,” he joked.

“Doll, meet me at the elevator? I want to pass my file to Banner before I leave.” Bucky asked.

“Of course. Bye Tony,” you said before walking back to the elevator you just rode up.

Bucky grabbed the file off the desk, “So this is the girl who has my Bucky Barnes smitten?” Tony said, examining his movement. 

He blushed and stuttered, “N-no, where did you get that from?”

“Buck, you literally called her doll, and the way you look at her says otherwise,” Tony said, “Don’t let her slip out of her fingers, she is a wonderful person and I can tell that she genuinely likes you back,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and handed him a card, “It’s on me, now go get your girl.”

“Thanks Tony,” Bucky murmured out.

“Don’t worry Buck, now I will pass this on to the big guy,” Tony spoke, taking the file out of his hand.

Bucky met you at the elevator, you were leaning against the wall on your phone waiting for him. He finally took in how gorgeous you looked today. A quarter sleeve baby blue button up that was fashionably tucked into the high waisted dark blue skinny jeans, some black heels and rose gold jewelry to accent it all. “You ready Doll?”

“Been ready, let’s get some coffee. You look like you need it.” You said.

He smiled and pressed the button for down, you two were laughing and Bucky’s face dropped when the elevator doors opened. Rumlow. He got in, and you could feel the tension. You grabbed his hand and reassuringly squeezed it and kept your fingers interlocked.

Earlier when you were walking in the building, you ran into Steve and Sam by accident who were coming in from their ‘afternoon stroll’ and Sam went off and told you everything about Rumlow. “You know you don’t deserve someone like Chubs over there, why don’t you get with me instead, I’ll show you a good time.” Rumlow said.

“And you don’t deserve a job here, I can’t wait to go to Tony and let him know there’s a harassment claim against one of his employees. He wouldn’t like to hear that his favourite company can’t be providing him fashion anymore because of a harassment claim, would he now?” You gritted.

“Bitch,” Rumlow muttered before getting off.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said, trying to let go of your hand.

You kept a grip on his hand, “I don’t have to, but I do. You don’t deserve any of that.” “So where do we wanna go?” Bucky said. 

“Up to you,” you smiled at him.

“Well, we are going somewhere expensive because Tony gave me his card,” he chuckled.

You laughed, “Can’t wait.”

➽───────────────❥

You stuck out your tongue, turned back around and walked in the direction of your home.

You and Bucky enjoyed your time at the cafe. He ordered a large black coffee and a plum tart, you ordered a large iced coffee and a rainbow bit cake. His hour was up and you were walking him back to Stark Industries. Your left hand in his right hand, everything about this seems normal.

You two laughed in harmony. You turned towards him, “I’m done for the rest of the day. Movie tonight?” You asked.

“Of course.”

Bucky was about to walk off, before you called out, “Hey Bucky?”

He turned back, “Yeah doll?”

You reached out and grabbed his hand, and pulled him closer to you. You planted a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes widened, upon realization, he kissed you back.

You pulled away, “I promised Tony his IT director back, I’ll be waiting for you to come back.”

He kissed your knuckles, “I can’t wait.”

You were walking away, but turned back. “Also, don’t kill Sam. He told me everything.”

He blushed then realization hit him as to what you just said and let out a loud groan, “You two are the sneakiest.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #captain america #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky #neighbour!bucky #neighbor!bucky #chubby!bucky #chubby!bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #james barnes #james barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel au #winter soldier #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x y/n

[bopinion]

2021 / 28

Aperçu of the Week:

"For some reason, the climate issue has suddenly become a global issue."

(Armin Laschet, current Minister President of, of all places, North Rhine-Westphalia, who apparently lacks both foresight and perspective. Yet he leads in the polls to become Germany's next chancellor).

Bad News of the Week:

Last week I wrote: "Who still doubts the man-made climate change: look out of the damn window!" And now it is really here, the climate change. Or rather its effects. On our doorstep. No more threatened islands in the South Pacific, no more melting polar ice caps far away, no more fires in North America, no more sinking groundwater in the Middle East - here, in our neighborhood, immediately, now.

It doesn't take a tsunami, a tornado, an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption. It just needs rain. Much rain. Lots of rain. Former small streams burst their banks as torrents, mountain slopes slide down, floods rush through inhabited areas, sweeping everything away. Entire towns are under water, houses collapse, cars are thrown around like tennis balls, complete infrastructures are destroyed, people drown - almost 200 so far.

In parts of Bavaria and Saxony, but especially in North Rhine-Westphalia and Rhineland-Palatinate, the pictures look like a war zone. Not only because military recovery vehicles are often the only vehicles that can even pass the roads full of rubble and mud. The suffering of fellow citizens who have lost a loved one or simply their entire possessions from one moment to the next seems incomprehensible. Overcoming the consequences is a joint task. Politicians are putting together aid packages, while the solidarity of individuals and the commitment of many volunteers are setting standards.

One of the hardest hit places is called "Schuld", literally "Guilt". And this brings a bizarre realization: yes, we are guilty for what is happening. Not an unexpected phenomenon that comes out of nowhere. But the concrete result of what we have done and are doing. Or rather, what we have not done or are not doing.

It is always said that a crisis is the hour of the executive. Because it can decide, take concrete measures, send help, make money available. Normally, this is done - yes, we are currently campaigning for the federal elections in September - at the expense of the opposition, which, in the absence of government responsibility, can really only show concern. In this case, the Greens, the strongest challenger to the current governing coalition of conservatives and social democrats. But they are the ones who have always warned about the consequences of ignoring nature, who have declared sustainability to be the guiding principle and who are the only ones with concrete environmental and climate protection plans in their party program. Let's see how this realistic far-sightedness and this credible commitment will carry the day when the voters have to put their crosses. Hopefully in the right place...

Good News of the Week:

At the Eurovision Song Contest, many are always surprised by the hardly known countries in Europe (okay, we'll leave out the questionable participations of Israel or Australia). This includes for example the Republica Moldova. A small country between Romania and Ukraine, (almost) on the Black Sea, one of the many former Soviet republics. It shares the same classic fate of autocratic structures, corruption, an ailing economy, isolation from the West, and dependence on big brother Russia. In Transnistria, there were already pro-Russian independence efforts supported by Moscow before there were more high-profile ones in the Ukrainian Donbas region.

But just as in Ukraine, a democratic spring is dawning. Back in the 2014 parliamentary elections, pro-EU parties won a clear majority of 55 seats to the pro-Russian 46, but then failed due to cronyism, dubious entanglements and sabotage. But then came Maia Sandu. Coming from the World Bank as a lateral entrant, she first gained a reputation as a fearless fighter against corruption as education minister in the Liberal Democratic Party before failing as prime minister due to a lack of support for her radical judicial reform. In 2020, however, as the candidate of the "Partidul Acțiune și Solidaritate" ("Action and Solidarity Party" / PAS), which she co-founded, she finally won the presidential election with 58% in the runoff against incumbent Igor Dodon.

In last week's parliamentary elections, PAS was now the clear winner, winning a clear absolute majority in parliament with 63 of 101 seats. Memories of Emanuel Macron and "En marche" are awakening. PAS and Sandu now have the power to shape the government, freed from coalition concessions or multiparty dependencies. And their objectives were unambiguously defined as democratization and turning toward Europe. Sandu: "The people here have been lied to and disappointed so many times". The election results express "the desire of our people that order be established in this country and that corruption be fought. People want law and justice."

The great challenge will be to rid the country's institutions of the felt, to clean up and reorganize the administrative apparatus. For only on this basis can an economic perspective emerge for one of the poorest countries in Europe. It is precisely this lack of prospects that has caused an exodus of those willing and able to perform: one-third of Moldova's population now lives abroad. Sandu's first priority is therefore to modernize the education system and infrastructure and to develop a healthy sector of small and medium-sized enterprises. Only then would positive outlooks for the future have been created for the population - by their own efforts and they could then seek cooperative support from the EU. That this is not a foregone conclusion can be seen by looking across the border to neighboring Romania: a member of the EU for 14 years, the country is still struggling with economic misery and fundamental structural reforms. One can only wish the Republic of Moldova all the best and Maia Sandu a lucky hand.

Personal happy moment of the week:

I don't really know...

How pleased am I that Japan will not succumb to the commercial temptation to allow the same spectator madness at the Summer Olympics starting next week as England and Hungary did at the European soccer championships?

How satisfied am I to have found a solid solution to a complex challenge in weekend work that I can present to colleagues in the office tomorrow?

How relieved am I to live neither on a riverbank nor in a valley and therefore to be exposed to flood hazards only in underground garages and underpasses?

How happy am I that my wife will be standing in the kitchen tonight while I open the red wine, listen to the spherical sounds of Tangerine Dream and comfortably read the newspaper?

In some weeks you just have to be satisfied with the little pleasures in between. All good.

I couldn't care less...

...that insurance companies fear being confronted with claims arising from the flood disaster. After all, their business model should be to provide support in the event of an emergency. And not to look for backdoors and exclusion clauses in the fine print of their cryptic contracts.

As I write this...

...I'm tasting delicious olives my daughter brought back from her graduation trip in Tuscany.

#thoughts #aperçu #bad news #good news #happy moments #news of the week #armin laschet #climate change #Rain #flood #north rhine westphalia #rhineland palatinate #guilt #the greens #federal election #campaign #moldava #russia #maia sandu #olympics #Weekend Work #tangerine dream #insurance company #olives #tuscany #romania #sowjetunion

[ohholyfanfics]

Wrong Door| Shawn Mendes

Title: Wrong Door 

Warning(s): None

Playlist: 

Author’s Note: It’s been a long time coming but here’s the little imagine I’ve been working on loosely inspired by Crazy Rich Asians. 

Smiling softly as the middle-aged man got her luggage out of the car, she thanked him and promised to give him a five-star review. She knew she was going against her manager's wishes by not only flying out four days earlier to spend time with Katie but also refusing to hire someone or getting a rental car. She believed she knew enough to get away with a few days in being normal, something that she needed before the craziness of the press tour kicked in.

Walking to the front door with both bags in toll she felt the excitement finally kick in. The show hasn’t been the same since Katie had left. Sure, she hadn’t left for good but her only being a returning member did put a bit of a downer on herself and the rest of the cast. She couldn’t help but feel a bit of resentment in the beginning as well, Katie didn’t want to leave but when Jason introduced his new girlfriend things just went downhill from there.

Knocking softly on the wooden door she bounced lightly waiting for the door to open. She couldn’t contain the squeal that was lightly building as the door opened and her red lips parted. The moment she looked up it all happened a bit too fast, her excitement soon turned to confusion as she looked at the singer before 

“You’re not Katie.”

He chuckled softly making her stumble backward, his eyes widen as he reached forward stealing her on her heels. Her brown hair was pulled into a messy fun and her eyes were covered by the most ridiculous glasses he’d ever seen a girl wear. Yet, Shawn couldn’t deny the fact that she was stunning.

“No I’m not.” He confirmed looking around for a car only to come out short. “I’m Shawn.”

Frowning slightly, she nodded her head raising her glasses and resting them on her head. She looked around her before finally meeting his eyes once more.

“I’m so sorry!” She finally rushed out as he chuckled waving her off as if it was no big deal. “I seriously didn’t mean to like show up here.”

“Hey no worries, do you need a ride?”

She shook her head rapidly as she pulled out her phone ready to call an Uber or maybe even her manager at this point. Then again she can hear Aline’s voice already. ‘Eu falei com você..’  (I told you so.)

“I’m fine really..” she mumbled scrolling through her texts and looking for the address Katie has sent her and of course she had mistaken for the street beforehand. “Just messed up the street is all..’

“No really let me take you, I was on my way out anyway.”

Who was he kidding, Shawn had literally nowhere to be, but somehow just the thought of being with her for a few more minutes settled his mind. He knew absolutely nothing about this girl other than the fact that she was completely and utterly breathtaking. Plus, it wasn’t like she showed up here on purpose to look for him and intrude on his privacy.

“Are you sure?” She mumbled, giving him a once over. “ I don’t want you to leave just to take me. I can totally get an Uber.” She rushed out as he nodded reaching over to get his keys from the side table.

“Absolutely.”

Not even five minutes later she found herself sitting in his passenger seat as he drove off down the road. It was silent for a while before he cleared his throat. He was sitting here with a stranger in his car who could potentially be a stalker fan.

“I never got your name.”

“Oh sorry I’m Andressa, but everyone calls me Ana.” She mumbled as he nodded his head as a wave of familiarity hit him.

“Do I know you?”

She giggled softly shaking her head, she gets that a lot. Something she’s sure he’s used too, but she liked the fact that he didn’t know who she was. It was refreshing in a way.

“I think I would remember you if I’ve ever met you, Shawn.” She giggled making his cheeks flush as he pulled up in front of the house.

“Cats out of the bag huh?”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence as she responded to group chats to ensure she had arrived safely. Leaving out the small detail of being dropped off at Shawn Mendes house instead of Katie’s. She always felt a sense of relief when visiting different countries, almost a sense of privacy she wasn’t able to maintain back in Brazil. She always knew that was why she envied Katie so much, once Katie moved out of the country she wasn’t as noticeable and she was able to keep somewhat of a normal life.

Standing by the open trunk, she watched as Shawn swiftly placed them on the ground. Taken hold of the handles, turned to face him with a soft smile. “Thank you again, Shawn.” She smiled softly as he waved it off and swiftly took the handles from her.

“No worries.”

A small silence works its way between them, he knew it was crazy. Everything he was feeling was crazy but he just felt a pull between them, he kept wrecking his brain for clever ways of asking for her number but always coming up short. He couldn’t just ask her, well he could but that would be wired.

“I can take them.” She finally spoke as she reaches for one of the handles. Shaking his head, he started his way up the driveway making her sigh and follow along. How the hell was she going to explain this to Katie, the one thing she was glad about was that she knew Katie nor her would be filming today.

“Hurry up slow poke!”

Giggling softly she jogged her way over to him as they walked the short path to the front door. She knew that this was probably when she should tell him who she was, but then again the show hasn’t aired in the US or Canada yet. She had a few more weeks where she could keep up whatever fantasy she was living right?

“Thanks again, Shawn.”

“Hey no worries, I’ll see you around?” He asked, rocking on the balls of his feet. She chuckled softly nodding her head.

“Don’t miss me too much..” she giggled as he rolled his eyes.

“Not possible I know where you’re staying if I wanna see ya.” He winked, turning to walk back to his car. Knocking softly on the door, she looked back at him one more time just to catch him waving before climbing in his car.

“Want to explain to me why Shawn Mendes just dropped you off?!”

//

Three days that’s how long it’s been since she came knocking on his parents' door, three days since he heard her voice and the sudden regret of not asking her for her number. Shawn knew absolutely nothing about this girl other than her name and the fact she was staying at her friend's house. Usually, when he liked or even showed an interest in someone they were willing to bend at his feet, but she was different.

Everything about her screamed perfection and the thought alone was scary to him. He knew so little about her that it kept him up at night, but the inspiration in him was an all-time high. Whatever block he had hit after this last tour was being lifted by the beautiful girl that showed up on his doorsteps.

“Hey, you still coming?” Ian mumbled as he threw himself on the couch besides Shawn. It seemed like ages since the boys had gone out to get a pint or two.

“Going where?”

Ian rolled his eyes at him, it seemed as if Shawn had seriously disconnected himself from the world these past few days. Maybe it was Shawn’s decision in staying back in Pickering instead of heading back to his condo in downtown Toronto. He insisted it was the fact that he missed his family and friends so much, not that anyone doubted that he did but everyone knew there was something else, or rather someone else.

“Well, you sitting here isn’t necessarily going to help you find this girl.”He frowned more than ready to object but stopped the moment Ian started talking again. “Plus, how are you going to find her if you only know her name man.”

“I know where she’s staying.”

Ian let out a loud laugh, shaking his head and patting him on the shoulder. Shawn had done many questionable things but if he actually were to show up at this girls place that would be one for the books.

“That’s if you’re going.”

That’s how Shawn found himself at a local bar downtown, it was a slow night with few people crowding the place. Most tables were taken up by men in suits and others by groups of friends much like them. The soft chatter of the place was enough to calm his nerves, that was until he laid eyes on her.

She looked beautiful, her brown hair was perfectly styled in a high ponytail, she was wearing perhaps the tightest pair of jeans he had ever seen and her shirt showed off her stomach. It was a completely different side of her than what he had seen before. She looked taller too, definitely the help of the heels she was wearing. He felt like the air had been sucked out of him the moment their eyes meet.

Quickly turning around he nudges Ian, throwing his head in the direction she was standing in with her group. Looking back over at her quickly his eye met with one of her friends before turning around and losing all cool he had of walking over to her.

“She’s the one in the black?” Ian asked as Shawn shook his head.

“The one in the white crop shirt.”

“Shit man, go for it.”

She didn’t want to be there from the moment she saw him, the battery pack to her mic hitting every corner of her back when she sat down. The feeling a constant reminder that she wasn’t who she told him she was. ‘I’m just here visiting a friend nothing more’ it wasn’t necessarily a lie but it wasn’t the truth either. It was only a matter of days before the first episode hit the air in North America causing her nerves to sky rock.

“Isn’t that Shawn?” Katie mumbled over a glass of vodka tonic, Andressa looked to where Katie has pointed and nodded her head. They had locked eyes earlier and she somewhat hoped he’d come up and talk to her.

“Yeah, I think so.” She stated as she brought the black straw to her red lips, the color leaving a small imprint on the black straw.

“You should go up to him..”

“I’m good trust me..” she chuckled softly as Sean called her from across the room.

“Just saying, he was totally eye fucking you earlier meu amor.”

//

She laughed softly as Sean explained his decision on bringing her along for a cover of one of his sister's songs. This was something she absolutely loved about her job, she got to spend as much time as possible with the ones she loved. Andressa grew up in a family were Sunday’s where the biggest family days ever, something her grandfather had instilled in his kids from the moment they were able to talk.

“I’m not much of a singer but Sean here happened to convince me that one night.” She soft into the mic as her childhood best friend nodded his head in agreement.

“God, she was completely plastered.” He stated as a burst of roaring laughter overcame the group. This was their third interview that day, the first episode of Nossa Family has officially aired and they were doing amazing.

“So the show picks up where the other series left off do you care to explain?”

“Basically we have been doing this show since we were about sixteen/seventeen. It wasn’t until last year where we decided it wasn’t for us anymore.” Sean stated as she nodded her head.

“We’re all older and the whole rich kids' theme doesn’t really go with us anymore. We no longer depend on our parents for money and are in a place where we all have careers.” She added on as the rest of the interview went fairly well.

Throwing herself on the loveseat besides Sean she rested her head on his shoulder as he welcomed the silence of the room. This was their only break before they would go straight back into filming the moment Holly and Liam were done with their interview. 

“Know where we’re eating?”

Shaking her head, she reached for her phone as she scrolled through their group chat in hopes of finding the location. She didn’t know how much longer they were going to be in Toronto before she headed off back home to Brazil where the bomb was about to drop to her parents about her decision of moving.

“No, but I’m positive Liam does apparently Jason’s bitch recommend it.” She mumbled with an eye roll as she stood up. Fixing her shirt, she walked towards the mirror checking her appearance when something caught her eye.

“Andressa?”

Turning around slowly, she smiled softly giving off a shy wave as he stood at the door. Her heart racing as she thought of every possible excuse why she could’ve been here.

“Hey, you're Shawn Mendes!” She couldn’t help the relief that filled her body as Sean jumped up from the couch and walked over to him.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, man.”

“Sean, Andressa you guys ready to go?”Looking to the side they were met with Aline typing away on her phone before looking up with a confused face. “Oh, I’m Aline.”

“Shawn.”

“Lovely to meet you, Shawn, unfortunately, these two can’t chat right now.” She smiled softly before turning to look at the pair with a pained expression making Andressa frown knowing just what happened.

“Let me guess, Maria?” She mumbled as Aline nodded just waiting for the meltdown to come. Taking a deep breath Andressa reached for her back placing her overly large sunglasses onto her head. “It’s was great seeing you Shawn, but I gotta go.”She smiled softly as he nodded his head moving to the side watching as he watched her walk down the hall muttering words he couldn’t understand.

“Promise she’s not usually like that.” He chuckled softly as he waved it off with a shrug of his shoulders. Whoever this Maria girl was seemed to really get under her skin. “But you should come over later, we’re having a small get together.”

“Oh, are you two- “

“God no man.” Swan chuckled with raised hands, he wasn’t at all surprised by the question. “Literally known her, her whole life. She’s single by the way.”

Shawn couldn’t help the blush that dusted his cheeks as Sean pulled out a piece of paper quickly scribbling something down. “Here’s the address, hope ya can make it. Andressa would love to see you again.”

//

Fixing his black bottom down, Brain chuckled lightly as he watched his best friend nibble with the sleeves before finally speaking. "You done yet?"

Looking back at him he cleared his throat running a hand through his hair before deciding he looked good enough for whatever it was he was about to walk into. He knew very little other than what Sean had stated the other day, apparently, it was just a small little get together at the place he and his friends were staying at.

“Yeah, ready to go?”

“Sure, where we going through?” Brian questioned as the two made their way out of the apartment and off to the ground level. “I know its some sort of house party?”

“Not sure, Sean said it's just a small get together,” Shawn mumbled as he typed in the directions he had been passed. It wasn’t too far from him thankfully.

“Sean?”

“Yeah..”

The rest of the ride was filled with random chatter as the two wondered what the night would be like. Brian had insisted that it would be like on those rich people dinner parties, just because the spelling of Sean screamed fancy rich kid.

“You’re being dramatic.”  Shawn chuckled as he turned into the street the house was in. It was a calm street, the house was easy to find seeing the driveway was littered with cars. Taken the last spot Brian let out a whistle looking back at Shawn.

“What was it this kid does again?” Brain mumbled as he hopped out the car waiting for Shawn. Shoving his eyes in his pocket Shawn shrugged.

“He never mentioned it, just stated it was a friend’s house,” he mumbled as he held the bottle of champagne he bought for the occasion. Knocking on the door he felt the nerves start to build and wondered if this was a good idea.

//

Andressa frowned as she looked towards the door, she was almost certain everyone had arrived. Sean lit up as he walked over to her with a bright smile and a sparkle in his eyes. “Who did you invite?” she chuckled taken a sip from her glass.

“A friend.” he shrugged she pushed her towards the front door. “Go, on this is your house to greet your guest, promise it's not Jason or Maria.” he smiled as she rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

Tugging on the grey top she was wearing she took a quick look at her appearance in the hallway mirror before reaching forward to open the door. She couldn’t help the smile that made way onto her face as she took note of the unmistakable head of curls standing before her.

“Hey.”

Giggling softly she moved to the side allowing the two boys to walk through. Shawn shifted his weight from foot to foot as he watched Andressa and Brian introduce themselves.

“Oh no, this is my house actually.” she chuckled softly causing Shawn’s eyes to widen. “It was a spur of the moment decision really,” she stated as Brian went on to compliment her style.

“Thank you, Sean thinks to too bland and white.” she shrugged as she led them into the living room where a small group of people was seated. The decor was obviously different than what Shawn expected from her. The patio doors were open giving the room a fresh breeze. It was marvelous decorated, from the black and white pictures on the light blue walls to the silver tables and white couch.

“This is bland my meu amor.” Sean mumbled as he arrived carrying three new glasses handing them off to both Shawn and Brian. “You need something or rather someone to spice up your life.” he chuckled giving Shawn a slight nudge.

“Sean shut the fuck up.,” she mumbled throwing a pillow at him, laughing he shook his head and blew her a kiss. “Anyways let me introduce you guys to everyone.”

it wasn’t long before everyone was engaged in conversation, the whole atmosphere was a relaxing one. Shawn and Andressa were sitting outside as he looked at her with wide eyes. “Really you’ve known each other that long?” he chuckled as she nodded her head.

“Literally that long, it's crazy really.” she shrugged as he shook his head with a soft smile.

“It's not honest.” he stated as he looked behind him where Brian was in a conversation with Liam and Holly, who he found out have gotten married about a year and a half ago. “and you all live in the states?”

She shook her head resting her glass on the table. “No, not necessarily. Sean and I are mainly in Brazil most of the year. But just recently I’ve been spending more time in Switzerland and out here. Holly and Liam relocated to Canada due to Liam’s job, and as you know Katie already lives here.”

“What about Harry and his girlfriend?”

“Harry grew up in Connecticut so he’s staying there, as far as I know, He met Ally a few years ago but the two didn’t get together till two years ago I wanna say.”

“That’s crazy how do you all keep in touch, seems like you’re always together?”

“Work, kinda a wild ride if I’m honest.” she giggled softly as he nodded his head understanding. “Well enough about me, tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Well, there isn’t much to tell really.”

She rolled her eyes as he chuckled softly, she was definitely different than other girls he’d ever met before. She was simple but well rounded he could tell she had a different upbringing than his, she was definitely what he would consider privileged. Yet, she was caring and down to earth everything that he was hoping she’d be.

“Okay, how about this twenty questions?”

“Only if I get to ask some as well.”

“Deal.”

//

“So let me get this straight he asked you out?” Katie breathed out as Holly encouraged her to continue speaking. It’s been four days since the little hangout at her house, and Andressa was left with Shawn’s number and an arranged date for the two to meet up again. Needless to say, she was stressing.

“No?”

Holly frowned placing the shoes on the shelf as she leaned forward for her glass of wine. It was a Friday night, with the boys out doing whatever it was they do the girls had decided to stay back and finally unwind about the events that had happened since the last time Andressa had seen Shawn.

“He didn’t necessarily ask me out, he just asked if I wanted to hang out.” she shrugged organizing her jewelry in the center island. Amy scoffed sitting down on the plush rug.

“Babe he’s so obviously smitten with you.” she giggled as Andressa rolled her eyes. “He clearly asked you out,” she added.

“Gente it’s not like that.” (Guys)

“But you want it to be like that.” Katie pointed it out as she looked back at her with a soft smile. “It isn’t like you’re gonna film anything, didn’t you schedule it for a no film day?”

“Well yeah, of course, he doesn’t need to know any of this.” she huffed out pointing to the mics that were scattered on the floor charging. “Plus, I’m not ready for that. Low key is the best thing here.”

“That is a fact, remember Joe?”

“Ugh we don’t talk about that like ever.” she giggled softly reaching forward towards the bottle.

“What are you guys doing anyway?”

//

He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched her look around the small field he had found a while back. There was just something about her that made him want to show her this place, make her feel welcome. Shawn understood the pressure of moving out and being alone, he wanted her to have this safe place to go too.

“How’d you find this place,” she asked as she sat back down beside him on the ground. The afternoon sun was golden, as it cast a sweet warmth.

“I found it a while back,” he mumbled as she looked back at him with a soft smile. “Kinda became a place where I come too when things get a bit too much,” he admitted with a blush as she looked at him with a soft expression.

“Is that often?”

He sighed, nodding his head as he looked straight ahead of him. Things were much different now and he knew so. There was so much he’d have to take into account when doing the simplest things and at times it got too much.

“More than I’d like to admit,” he mumbled.

Leaning forward she placed her hand lightly over his giving him a soft reassuring smile. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I get it.” she breathed out.

Rising an eyebrow at her confused she chuckled softly looking back in front of her, she knew what it was like to have millions watching your every move. Waiting for you to mess up just to be able to say I told you so.

“We have more in common than you think Shawn Mendes.”

Part two maybe?

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes blurbs #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfics #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fics #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes one shots #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes oneshots #Shawn Mendes x you #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes fluff

[alexsmitposts]

Why is this Ongoing American “Revolution” Bound to Fail? Observed from outer space, the United States is in a revolutionary turmoil. Fires are burning, thousands of people are confronting police and other security forces. There are barricades, banners, posters, and there is rage. Rage is well justified. Grievances run deep, through the veins of a confused and socially insecure population, in both cities and the countryside. Minorities feel and actually are oppressed. Indeed they have been disgracefully oppressed, since the birth of the country, over two centuries ago (see my latest report carried by this magazine). There are some correct words uttered and written; many appropriate sentiments are expressed. And yet, and yet… It looks like a revolution, it feels like a revolution, but it is not a revolution. It definitely is not! Why? *** An expert on Communist China, a man who spent many years living and writing books about the most populous country on Earth, Jeff Brown, recently voiced something that immediately caught my attention. He described, accurately, on his China Rising Radio Sinoland, what has been taking place in his native country, United States: “Protests in the USA, land of Marlboro Man will come to nothing because there is no solidarity, no vision, nor guiding ideology to unite the people in the common struggle against the 1%. Just ask the Black Panthers and Mao Zedong.” This is precisely when ‘guiding ideology’ is desperately needed! But it is nowhere to be found. For years and decades, the US (and European) elites and their mass media, as well as their educational plus ‘entertainment’ outlets, have been systematically de-politicizing the brains of their citizens. Pornography, consumerism, and sitcoms instead of deep, philosophical books and films. Massive – often booze and sex-oriented – travel, instead of roaming the world in search of knowledge, answers, while building bridges between different cultures (even between those of victims and victimizers). Results are increasingly evident. Citizens in the Western countries were told that the ideologies, particularly the left ones, became “something that belongs to the past,” “something heavy,” unattractive, and definitely not ‘cool.’ Western masses accepted it easily, without realizing that without the left-wing ideologies, there can be no change, no revolution, and no organized opposition to the regime, which has been plundering the world for several hundreds of years. They were told that Democrats are representing left-wing, and Republicans, right-wing. Deep inside, many felt it is rubbish. There is only one right-wing political party in the US – Democrat-Republican one. But it was better for the great majority just to ignore its own instincts and swim with the flow. *** It went so far that most of the people in North America and Europe reached the point when they were not even able to commit themselves to almost anything, anymore, from the Communist movements to marriages and relationships. I recently described this occurrence in my book “Revolutionary Optimism, Western Nihilism.” There are many explanations for this. One of them: regime created society built on extreme individualism, selfishness, and shallow perception of the world. To organize, to commit, actually requires at least some discipline, effort, and definitely great dedicated effort to learn (about the world, a person, or a movement) and to work hard for a better world. It is not easy to become a revolutionary when one is positioned on a couch, or a gym, or while banging for hours every day into a smartphone. The results are sad. Anarchism, consisting of countless fragmented approaches, is increasingly popular, but it will definitely not change the country. When leaders of the ‘revolutionary commune’ in Seattle were approached by sympathetic journalists and asked about their goals, they could not answer. These were, undoubtfully, people with good intentions, outraged by racism, and by the killing of innocent people. But do they have plans, strategy, an organization to overthrow the system which is literally choking billions of lives on all continents? Definitely not! On June 11, 2020, RT filed a report about the situation in Seattle: “A few different organizations have different demands, and no one speaks for everyone, but everyone’s trying to get together,” Simone clarified, implying that the much-discussed list of “demands” that have circulated for the past few days don’t represent the wishes of the entire community. However, there are a few lines of commonality running through the settlement. “Everyone’s upset. We all came here in unity, just over the fact that cops need accountability,” he said, declaring that his decision to join the demonstration was about “trying to send a message and get accountability held.” “Now we’re here – let’s get the dialogue going,” Simone continued, unwilling to commit to taking over other precincts, expanding the Zone, or any of the ambitious demands made by others in the group.” *** Russian Bolsheviks had it clear, and the same could be said about their followers. Before the 1917 Great October Socialist Revolution, they spent years and decades educating people all over their vast country. Some of the greatest thinkers and writers, including novelist Maxim Gorky and poet Vladimir Mayakovski, were participating in the “project.” Even simple peasants were easily grasping the reality of their dismal existence while getting inspired by some of the greatest minds of their nation. If not for the Cold War and West’s brutal interference, the Soviet Union would survive and thrive until this day. The same could be said about the great revolutionary struggles of China, Vietnam, Laos, Cuba, Venezuela, where hundreds of millions of tremendous works of philosophy, fiction and poetry have been distributed, for free, to both peasants and workers, who easily understood and got inspired by them. In China, in the 1930s, the entire so-called “Shanghai School of Cinema” was born, a true socialist-realism movement that helped to educate the Chinese public about the state in which it was forced to exist. Big and successful revolutions were constructed and then supported by the educated urban and rural poor, who were awaken and consequently outraged by their position in the society. *** The rebellion in the United States is strategically shallow. There are no great leaders, no cultural figures leading it, no extraordinary educators. Without any doubt, there are clear reasons for rage and resistance. Racism is one tremendous one. And, there are other ones: US society, in general, is tired as it is depressed. As it is confused. The country is robbing, literally looting the entire Planet. It tortures people in various countries. Rainforests are burning in Indonesia, Brazil, and Congo to satisfy demands for more palm oil and other raw materials. US citizens are consuming as no other nation under the sun does. They entertain themselves, often living frivolous, empty lives. And yet, almost no one seems to be happy there; no one satisfied. People know something went essentially wrong, but they are not sure precisely what it is. Or, who should really be blamed? There is an acute lack of solidarity. And everything is happening impromptu. Are the ‘members of the majority’ in the US truly kneeling because they are in unison with the oppressed minorities and the brutalized non-Western world? Or are they “trying to save their own skin,” and at the end, keep the status quo intact, as has happened in Australia and their basically insincere “We Are Sorry!” 2008 movement? There’s no strong “front,” there is no revolutionary program. It appears that the country is not ready, not prepared, for a huge job of re-defining itself. Insecurity is due to the lack of free medical care, education, and subsidized housing. Most of the people are in debt. Depression is, at least partially, due to overconsumption of intellectual and emotional junk. There is plenty of fundamentalist religions, but almost no discussion about how to improve life in this world. Segregated, atomized, and otherwise, fragmented society seems to be unable to give birth to a truly compassionate, egalitarian national project. Many US citizens see themselves as “victims.” Ethnic minorities definitely are. Are the others, too? Who is the victim, and who is the perpetrator? On which side of the scales sits a regular middle-class family, compliant and, by global comparison, heavily indulged in overconsumption? So far, there is no open discussion on this topic. In fact, it is being avoided by all means. There seems to be at least some consensus that 1% of the richest is to blame, as well as the entire corporate and political system, and also banks. But what about the majority; those individuals who keep voting the system, those who are making sure to ignore imperialism, racism, inequality? Many questions should be asked, particularly now, but they are not. The very uncomfortable questions they are. But without asking them, without searching for honest answers, there is no way forward, and no true revolution possible. The neo-liberal system created entire nations that cannot think independently and creatively. US is definitely one of them. People were bombarded with propaganda slogans that they are free, enjoying liberties. But when the day to act arrived, there has been nothing substantial in terms of new, revolutionary ideas. Just one enormous void. Nothing that could inspire the nation and the world. The outrage over the brutal police killing propelled millions of people to the streets. The mood has been truly rebellious, revolutionary, geared for big changes. But then, nothing! Revolution is being postponed. Postponed for how many years? The truth is – there are no shortcuts. Those who sincerely want to change the United States will have to follow the revolutionary formula from other countries. The formula is mainly based on education, knowledge, and determined, selfless work for the country and the world, called “internationalism.” Unless the US comes up with an absolutely new strategy, formula, but right now, frankly, it seems to be extremely far from coming up with it!

[gwoongi]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 ✰ taehyung (7)

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 kim taehyung / reader genre: zombie apocalypse au words: 4228

It felt shit to feel thankful of someone’s screaming. Mostly, Taehyung was happy it was them and not him.

a/n: funny story, i submitted this chapter as part of my creative writing portfolio and the prestige uni i sent it off to loved it and accepted me :D hopefully thats a nice indication on whether or not this is good :S

warnings: extremely graphic content, sexual pain, graphic torture, gore, violence, death, Humans Suck

01. denver ↝ 02. holiday with me ↝ 03. sad forever ↝ 04. surely ↝ 05.scorpion ↝ 06. shakespeare ↝ 07. thrones ↝ 08. moon motel

The group leave the trailer park three days later.

Bundling everything of use into the back of the truck, which seemed darker in colour since the last time it was used, you had found you enjoyed leaving more than you did settling in. Packing everything into correct places had always been such a bore, even at a young age. You remembered when you were eight, and moving in to your grandparents’ home in the outskirts of Denver. Was this really Denver? It was a small town, barely noticeable amongst the cluster of trees and ferns, but nonetheless peaceful, ‘perfect for a new place to start fresh’. Yeah, it only took around an hour and a half to get to school every-day, but don’t worry, it’s a fucking perfect place to live, aged eight, as an orphan. It took you around eleven months to finish emptying each box.

But four years ago, throwing everything into a backpack and into the boot of a car you nicked from down the road, it had been so easy. It was so easy to throw everything out and keep what you really needed. Easy to forget to pack a jacket you had been given for Christmas off an aunt you barely knew, easy to remember to pack all the knives out of the kitchen and the forbidden gun your grandfather used to hunt deer in the winter. It was rather symbolic- pretending people were deers as you shot them between the eyes.

“That everything?”

Namjoon stood, risen off the ground, his hand on the bar of the roof of the truck. Taehyung stepped down the plastic steps from the trailer, not bothering to lock the door, knowing nothing in there was of any value. At one point, the rainbow-glassed fruit bowl might have been of value, sentimental value or something. Now, it was worthless, with a lightning bolt crack down the middle.

“Yeah, good to go,” Taehyung replied, hovering when you climbed into the back to join Kyungmin. He waited, not knowing what for, only mildly embarrassed when you turned to see him staring. “You okay?”

You nodded once with a smile. “Mm. Are you?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I-”

Somehow, he hadn’t realised you shuffle to the open back doors to pull him in for a simple kiss. It was that quick and simple that he almost missed it. His eyes opened to the sight of you in front of him, your hands holding his face, rubbing the stubble around his jaw.

“You’re holding us all up, you know.”

“You’re holding me up,” he muttered, peeling your hands off his face and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, somehow finding the strength to let go and at the same time, make his way to the front of the truck. The whole vehicle shook as you pulled the back doors closed, submerging Kyungmin and yourself in familiar darkness.

“You got a map anywhere?” Taehyung fuddled in the glove compartment as Namjoon started the truck up. He pulled out a worn map, the same one you had used to direct the both of you out of Denver. Namjoon didn’t care for the quality, muttering a hasty thanks and peeling it open, staring at the lines and faded colours. “Keep heading East, as if we’re going to Georgia. Hopefully, we’ll catch Seokjin and his crew of fans on the way there.”

“And if we don’t?” Taehyung asked. When Namjoon fell silent, Taehyung’s lips pulled into a tight frown, “I’m just asking for the future. You’re not coming to Georgia. We’re going. I wanna know what our plan is before we put ourselves in danger in the middle of nowhere.”

Very aware of the compartment slider down, Namjoon found it was difficult to pick a solution that would best suit everybody. Kyungmin wanted to stay with Taehyung and yourself, forgetting Korea entirely and heading straight for the islands off the coast. Namjoon knew you wanted to go to Georgia with everybody, hoping to stick together as a four, but if there was no other option, you’d go to find a plane. Taehyung wanted to get to Georgia with you, but wouldn’t be opposed to finding Seokjin. As for himself, Namjoon wanted to take the jeep to Virginia, leaving Taehyung and yourself on the road.

Everybody made tough calls. Those words echoed in his head. Above all else, Kyungmin was his priority.

“I wanna take the jeep,” Namjoon said slowly, aware of the frowns, “but I can help find a vehicle for you and Y/N to use to get to Georgia. When that happens...we’ll go our separate ways. Half to Virginia. Half to Georgia. Fair, and square.”

Kyungmin fell with a thud and a sigh in the back of the jeep, and Namjoon did his best to ignore it.

“Alright,” Taehyung agreed, believing there was no other way around it. As long as you and him were safe, he didn’t care how it happened. “Whatever you say goes.”

14TH MARCH, 5 YEARS AGO.

Jiyong: i’ll be round at like 7:30ish. lost my weed bag and i’m a junkie and cant leave without it

Y/N: i hope it kills you

Jiyong: watch me actually die

Jiyong: don’t cry at my funeral you fake friend

Y/N: KIDDING!!!!

Y/N: is...seunghyun coming

Jiyong: fuck off

Jiyong: hes banned from seeing you

Jiyong: i cant believe my best friend is fucking my other best friend

Y/N: i like to call it woohooing and we’re being safe

Jiyong: i cant believe this is happening

Jiyong: why seunghyun?????? why not youngbae he treats women nice

Y/N: idk!!! we just hit it off a lot

Jiyong: you’ve known him for like 5 minutes

Y/N: it’s literally been like 5 years but whatever

Y/N: can’t you just be happy for me? i’m living life getting laid being happy n shit

Jiyong: i respect it but i’m not coming to urs expecting to have fun watching goblet of fire for the millionth time only for you to give seunghyun a sweaty bj right in front of me

Y/N: that was one time Let It Go

Jiyong: one day i’m gonna fucking die and you’ll realise how badly you treated me

Y/N: stop you’re my best friend :-(

Y/N: what are you like jealous that im banging him and not you???? wanna join

Jiyong: yeah i’d literally rather fuck the girl from the ring

Y/N: kinky

[03:45am]

Jiyong: woah did you hear about the north korea shit

Y/N: im literally being pounded into Cant this wait

Jiyong: we’re gonna die because kim jongun wants to nuke us and all you care about is seunghyun’s 3 inches

Y/N: it’s just fake news dont worry about it

Y/N: how many times has he threatened nuclear war

Y/N: he should hurry up and do it before exams

Jiyong: just wanted to check up on you because ur nan is fucking mental and she’ll probably collapse tomorrow morning and panic buy loaves of bread

Y/N: stop omg

Jiyong: anyways stay safe love U please bring me my weed tomorrow morning me and Jennie are gonna get high and try anal

Y/N: sweet thanks

SOMETIME LATER.

Leaving the world behind through the back windows of the jeep, you were oddly reminded of the time you left everybody behind during a Summer many years ago. It had been a spur of the moment decision, something you never expected to do, but found yourself doing anyway.

It felt like a lifetime ago; you had almost forgotten about it, until now, until seeing a sign graffitied with a smiley face, reminding you of the “GRIME SIGN” back in your hometown, renowned for being the most graffitied sign in the city. Whether or not that's true, you never really found out. Seunghyun and Jiyong had come along too, for the moral support of being alone on the road. With Jiyong in shotgun and Seunghyun in the backseat, it had felt like something slap-bang out of a teenage coming-of-age movie, titled “3 delinquents on the road to God knows where”, directed by Quentin Tarantino. You didn’t even know how to drive. It was pure bliss.

“Any luck with the radio?”

Kyungmin rattling the small radio that had been picked up from the trailer park startled you, the memory of driving nowhere and everywhere at the same time suddenly gone like the wind. As your vision readjusted to the dark, you noticed that Kyungmin was pressing all the buttons and turning all the dials, a frown on her lips jutted outwards.

“Not yet,” she replied. “Just give me a few more minutes, I can probably get this thing working.”

Namjoon let out a soft curse, swerving the truck slightly to move around a left behind Volvo, the cars open like wings with a dried trail of dragged blood leading into the thick forest. Things like that were common accessories, famed like tourist attractions. Namjoon now thought of what the world was really like- could Paris be any worse than America? What was Iceland like these days?

“Nearly there, now,” Namjoon said vaguely, and Taehyung debated whether or not to reply, if there was even anything to reply with at all. That’s how things went now, short replies or simply none at all. When the world died, so did words. Namjoon thought that was funny, how the collapse of society could mean the collapse of communication and language.

“We’ll need to stop for gas,” Taehyung said, his voice barely above a third volume. From the back of the van, you sat with your face looking out towards the left behind road, your eyelids growing heavy at the sound of Kyungmin pressing buttons, and the hum of the van beneath your thighs. “We’re running on fumes.”

Namjoon grumbled a reply, mentioning something about a gas station a couple miles ahead, near the clearing in the woods, just off the road. It didn’t take long to approach, only around ten minutes if Taehyung were to count. At least three songs had played since then. Taehyung couldn’t believe he was now counting using songs.

The station was large, decaying and it looked unsafe. Taehyung didn’t exactly care about the safety of the building itself, just caring about how safe it would be in the long-run. Safe enough to hide inside? Safe enough to step inside? Safety in architectural design didn’t matter anymore. If it looked rusted, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Namjoon pulled the truck into the station, immediately noticing a few canisters of fuel that was left for the purpose of using, a sign reading “STAY SAFE” stood up, stuck with black masking tape. The letters were dripping onto the concrete, a small pool of chalky white near the drain where a plant was starting to sprout.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Kyungmin’s voice made you look over from the canisters, a wrinkle between your brows. She smiled, generously, and waited for your reply. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She was talking about the Great Escape the other day. You already knew that.

“Just curious,” she replied, the smile never wavering. “There’s not many people left in the world, you know. Next to Namjoon, you and Taehyung are all I have.”

A silence fell on the two of you, and all you could hear was the sound of Taehyung dragging a barrel across the gas station, dipping his head underneath a broken window and scanning the interior of the gas station.

“I’m here for you,” Kyungmin continued, her voice significantly quieter. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, and your hand came up to stroke her forearm, a smile on your lips. For a moment, it didn’t feel like the apocalypse. In that moment, it felt like two best friends, reunited after a Summer break, the pine trees isolating them from the world, a Studio Ghibli film, released 2019.

And yet Kyungmin moved away, her gaze lowered as she passed across the gas station to meet Namjoon, already lifting canisters of gas towards the car to refill. Taehyung had emerged once again, his bag refilled with cans and cigarette packets, surprisingly a bottle of liquor in his hands as he stepped back into the bitter wind. Inhaling a breath, Taehyung crossed the width of the station and opened the passenger door to the vehicle, setting down his bag and the bottle, as if they were small children.

“There’s no way we’re making it to Georgia on time.”

Taehyung paused, throwing you a look over his shoulder. “What?”

“Let’s think realistically,” you reasoned, tugging at the cloth over his elbow. Above all, you didn’t want Kyungmin to be upset if she overheard. “It’s been...how long? Since we left the warehouse? I haven’t exactly been keeping up with the dates, but it’s been too long, Tae. Normally, it takes less than 24 hours to get from where we are- wherever we are- to Georgia. And yet, we’re still not near. I’m just-” you sighed, raking your hands through your hair. In the dim light, the grease was visible. “I think we’re out of time.”

“Y/N, they’ll be there,” Taehyung said. He didn’t know what else to say, frowning, “I thought you wanted to remain optimistic?”

“I do, but I can’t afford to hope to get to Georgia and find them there. And what?” you continued. Your voice had raised slightly, not enough to make Kyungmin or Namjoon ask questions, but enough to make Taehyung’s nose cringe at the increase. “We get there, and find them. Is anything gonna be the same? What if we get there and they’re gone and there’s no boats? What if we get there and something happens to any one of us? Tae, I can’t have that on me. I can’t have that on my conscience. Not again.”

Not again. “Yena wasn’t your fault, Y/N, you have to know that-”

“I don’t fancy being out on the road all night.” Namjoon stepped into view from around the front of the van, his hands shoved into the pockets of his distressed jeans. “Thinking we keep driving, turn in when it gets dark to the first place we see.”

“Isn’t that a little risky?” Taehyung asked, mentally making a note to continue your conversation later. “I mean, we have to really check the place before we head in.”

Namjoon frowned. “I know that. But, Kyungmin’s feeling kinda travel sick, and I don’t wanna overdo it, you know? Nights like back at the trailer park...I want more of them.”

Already moving to the back of the van, you pulled open the double doors and slipped inside, keeping them open in time for Kyungmin to crawl in after you. Her skin was a shade of ivory, whiter than earlier, as if the sickness had come suddenly like a simulation glitch. Wasn’t that what you were now? A glitch? An error in coding.

Namjoon shut the drivers door, groaning at the loud sound.

“Hey, man, you okay to drive?” Taehyung asked quietly, looking over from shotgun. “Look, if you’re tired, we can switch the orders around.”

Namjoon looked over weakly- “You’re sure?”

Taehyung unbuckled his seatbelt, dumping his jacket in the footwell with a sniff of stuffy air. “I’d prefer if you slept if you’re tired. ‘Specially when they’re in the back. Don’t wanna hurt them.”

He made a sort of grunt as a reply, switching seats with the younger. When he was sat in the passenger seat instead of the drivers, he let his head lull back onto the windowpane, feeling the chilly glass cool the back of his head. It was as if resting his head had added extra weight to his eyes.

“‘m gonna drive straight-ish,” Taehyung said with his tongue between his lips, backing up the van slowly and carefully. Namjoon opened his eyes slightly, squinting.

“Can you drive?”

Taehyung changed gears. “Yes.” 

If Namjoon noticed that Taehyung paused, he didn’t mention it. In-fact, he closed his eyes again with a shrug, a half wriggle, resting his forehead against the glass, pushing towards the cool touch.

Taehyung had been driving for hours, for sure.

The time in the van was unlikely to be reliable, reading 5:19pm when the sky was as black as squid ink, the dim street-lights that somehow worked- probably solar - beckoning the group forward. In honesty, Taehyung had no idea how long it had been since the gas station, just long enough to give him a crick in his neck, the back of his thighs numbed. All things considering, Taehyung thought he was getting better at driving.

He flinched slightly as the divider to the back came sliding down, and your face popped out slightly, peering out the front window with sleepy eyes. If he had a free hand, Taehyung would have wiped the sleep from the corner of your eye, and he turned back to the road, oddly afraid of crashing the car with all four of you inside. Like yourself, he didn’t want that on his conscience. Like yourself, he couldn’t have it on his conscience, not again.

“Are we stopping soon?” you asked quietly. Namjoon shifted, making it known he wasn’t sleeping. He groaned, grinding the heel of his palm into his eyes, unbothered when dust and dirt smudged on his skin when he pulled away. He could look worse, he thinks.

“Nearly,” Taehyung replied. “I don’t know where to go from here. Last road was blocked, so, I’m trying to get out of here.”

Namjoon shifted, cracking his shoulder loudly. “You tried any back-streets?”

Instantly, Taehyung thought of the woman earlier in his trip. The way she screamed at the car, scratching at the rusty paint job, her eyes bloodshot and her skin a lime colour. He gulped the hot lump in his throat, “I’d rather avoid them.”

“It’s safer,” Namjoon continued. “Out of the way-”

Somewhere outside of the van, there was a loud crash, similar to the way you sound when you drop something at midnight when your parents are sleeping. The volume was loud, louder than anticipated, and Taehyung unintentionally stalled the van. Kyungmin jeered forward, hitting the underneath of her chin on the seats opposite, sending out a string of foreign curses to Taehyung in the driver's seat. He avoided the stare of Namjoon, deciding he didn’t want to see the deathly glare.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, cradling a throbbing pain on the side of your face after catching it on the separation between front and back. “Is someone here?”

Namjoon stayed silent for a moment, staring darkly into the outside. Taehyung didn’t know what to do except wait, ready to jump into action when Namjoon made a noise of surprise- or was it shock?- and slapped Taehyung’s hand with great panic, “Fucking pull up somewhere. Turn off those fucking lights. Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Jesus,” Taehyung cursed, doing exactly that as you leaned back to switch off the lights, submerging Kyungmin into darkness as the blood pooled in her mouth from earlier. She groaned something between her lips, holding her chin with her left hand as she picked herself up to lean over into the front, staring out at what Namjoon was watching across the small street. With the van now in darkness, away from the streetlight, you were invisible.

It wasn’t hard, locating the source of Namjoon’s panic.

Across the street, a flood of artificial white engulfed the street, barely missing the pull-in that Taehyung had moved into moments earlier. Namjoon slouched out of instinct, keeping his eyes on the road as he noticed three people dashing out into the darkness, the explosive lights following them as if they were automatic. They probably were, turning on as they stepped further and further away from the door they ran from. As they hurried past the hidden van, another noise pulled away your attention.

A large garage door screamed as it opened, in desperate need of oil, chains clattering against the metal interior. The light suddenly changed to an eerie green, something you saw in documentaries about weed farms. As it slid further up into the building, Namjoon hitched a breath as the sight of three sets of human legs came into view, dressed in stunning ebony, large guns by their hips. One of them smoked a cigarette, the smoke rising up like old Native smoke-signals. The middle guy pulled up his mask, covering his nose and lower face, and loaded the large Heckler Koch HK MG4 MG 43, aiming it swiftly at the little piggies running away from the slaughterhouse.

Taehyung knew that gun- the Heckler Koch never missed a target. He barely flinched when the gunman hit the kneepits of the runners, sending them to the ground instantly, their bodies buckling under the loss of legs. The screams were loud. Mama has the bacon, now.

The other two gunmen laughed loudly, approaching the pigs and picking them up to drag them back into the garage, a trail of blood marking the concrete like paint. He said something, the main gunner, and the two spares were taken away, possibly to die, maybe to a waiting room where they would await their death, as casually as they would waiting for a doctor’s appointment. The last runner, a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, with already greying hair at the top, was pulled to the side of the room where three more men emerged, a woman amongst the pack with her hair sprawled out to her elbows, in mermaid curls. She was gorgeous, nobody could argue against that, with her body in a glamorous dress, something too glamorous for the apocalypse. On her feet, heels that presented her perfectly painted toes, a peachy shade.

“What’s happening?” Kyungmin asked. It was rhetoric. Everybody knew the answer.

The woman dressed in glam approached the slumped body of the runner, crouching to cup his face and stroke a thumb across the bags under his eyes, bleeding out with veins a bright red, the red of a freshly picked apple, the red line under a spelling error. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, putting her thumb over his lips and kissing her nail, before retreating and nodding curtly at the men around her. It was a signal, for they picked up the runner and began to tear off his clothes, leaving him stark naked, covered in purple bruises, tiny flowers on his skin.

Taehyung had seen things like this before- he was no stranger to the way the men beat the man with clubs and their boots, laughing at the way he retreated into his own skin, recoiling at every kick and screaming with every sickening club, until he accepted the fact that his body was their plaything. He watched, in morbid wonder, as they dragged him by his swollen balls to the center of the room, where a sharpened hook hanging from a chain off the ceiling swung threateningly, a bone being wagged in the face of a dog. The man whimpered, his eyes hurting, only barely making out his destination before his body shook violently.

The man picked him up as if he was a sack of sugar, with one hand around his neck, promptly planting him on the hook as if it were a throne. Now Taehyung had to close his eyes.

It was curling upwards, sharply, scraping every wall and nerve and good spot that ached. Yet, the men watched with wonder and satisfaction, clapping when he thrashed like a fish out of water. His legs were immobile, moving inches and with every movement came a grunt of pain, flashed with panic and agony from his rather pointy throne, and then the passing pain of his arm being cracked upwards.

The crack was loud.

From behind him, Taehyung heard Kyungmin make a small wheeze, hurrying into the back of the van, where Taehyung watched you pick her head up off the seats, your thumbs in a pool of vomit around her mouth. You didn’t even care about the sick on her knees, or the smell in your nose. Namjoon looked through the slot, dragging the divider up before the sound of retching made him sick, too.

You stopped listening to the retching, quietly shushing each whimper as Taehyung slowly started the van back up, grateful that he was covered by the sound of someone screaming in fucking agony. It felt so wrong, to be thankful of a tortured man. Cock and all, Taehyung was thankful he was screaming. The tyres of the van slowly rolled along the road, in the shadows, at a sluggish pace. Namjoon wiped away a line of sweat on his forehead, unable to look away from the man, thrashing like a pig, hanging like a sack of meat in a slaughterhouse, blood pooling now at the corner of his mouth, his eyes, his nose, dried blood at his ears.

It felt shit to feel thankful of someone’s screaming. Mostly, Taehyung was happy it was them and not him.

#ktaenet #btsguild #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #bts scenario #taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung #bts v #kth #bts smut #bts au #tlou #zombie apocalypse au #au #tae #the last of us #gwoongi

[child-of-sunshine]

Just gotta rant for a minute so this is going under a cut

I can’t stand the way tumblr in general talks about “rich people” (which they can’t define to save their fucking lives) and particularly when they mention “millionaires” as though it actually means something significant in terms of wealth. 

First, no one seems to understand that by today’s inflated standards, a million dollars really isn’t that much. A quick google search will tell me that the average “middle-income” parent in America will spend over 250k to raise a child from birth to 18 years old. If a couple has 4 kids, they’re already spending over a million dollars on those kids. Yes, that’s over 18 years, but it’s still meaningful.

If a person makes 100k, which is supposedly the 85th percentile of income, it only takes them 10 years to make a million dollars. And yes, obviously they’re spending money too, and it’s not like their savings or their net worth are going to be a million in that time, but people don’t even seem to comprehend that their earnings over that time would literally be a million. Someone earning the average American income, let’s say 50k because I get conflicting information from various sources, would only take 20 years to earn a million dollars.

And calling “millionaires” (putting that in quotes because people (a) do NOT understand the difference between net worth and actual liquid assets or even income) rich, particularly in the context of the “eat the rich” rhetoric, is ridiculous. I know this site has a serious problem with black-and-white thinking, but for fuck’s sake.

Let’s take a look at my parents.

My dad grew up in a relatively low-income household. His mother’s grandparents came straight from Italy with a few dollars in their pockets and nothing else. Her family struggled to get food on the table at times. She worked very hard as a seamstress and married a man who had a good job at Ford back when that meant actual benefits including into retirement, and so they managed to raise two boys without having to worry too much about being able to afford food or housing. They saved like crazy and spent the minimum that they possibly could on themselves, so that when they reached retirement, they had a pretty decent amount of savings for the rest of their lives and could finally enjoy some luxury vacations and get a small but nice house in Florida.

My mom grew up in a truly low-income household. She was the youngest of five siblings living in a tiny, shitty town in Nowhere, Michigan, with two parents who smoked constantly, in a house that sat next to some kind of horrifying mystery waste pond (she and both of her sisters had cancer, my mom at just 36, and one of her brothers died from some kind of unknown neurological deterioration). Her father got TB and spent time in a sanitarium, after which he became a withdrawn alcoholic and then died relatively young. Her mother became depressed, stopped working, and died of cancer. My mom lost both of her parents in her early 20s, before she even met my father.

Both of my parents were gifted with the great privileges of great brains and being white. Even in their crappy hick town in the middle of nowhere, my mom managed to be in the top of her class (of 56 whole people) in high school and earned a scholarship to a state university, literally the only way she could have afforded to attend. My dad worked to pay for his college as far as I know (because back then you could actually do that). They both got bachelor’s degrees. My dad became an engineer, a good career, and quickly found a job with a relatively new, small local company. He worked extremely hard, long hours for years and moved up to being a manager, and the company has grown a lot over the 25+ years he’s now worked there, with the result that he now makes a low six-figure salary. My mom took a computer programming course after realizing her journalism degree wouldn’t get her much paid work, and has worked as a programmer for 25+ years now, switching jobs sometimes, usually making somewhere in the 60-70k range in the last decade or so.

My mother got pregnant with my sister around the time she and my dad got engaged. She was working a crappy programming job and he’d barely started as an engineer, making nowhere near six figures. They lived in a trailer park, in a trailer with a hole in the floor and steps that were a safety hazard. She’d spent some time living with her sister, who’s 13 years older than her and never had children (thus had a house and some savings). My dad’s mother, the seamstress, made my mom’s wedding dress for free as long as my mom bought the material for it, which was just about all they could afford. They had a nice, small wedding when my sister was about 2 (she was afraid of my mom’s dress lmao) and one of my cousins took the pictures.

Four years after my sister was born, my parents had saved up enough to put a down payment on our house, a moderate-sized family home in a suburban neighborhood that was just being built. The house was a little over 200k. She got pregnant with me and the house was finished just after I was born.

My mom got cancer when I was 2 years old. They haven’t talked to me much about it. Her sister spent a lot of money to buy her a really nice wig made of animal hair (which, unfortunately, she could rarely wear because it made her very itchy). She went through surgery, chemo, and radiation. She spent months sick as hell and miserable, while trying to raise two young daughters. Thankfully, they’d saved enough to be able to handle the medical bills, particularly with my dad’s good job that had good benefits and, by then, was paying him a pretty decent salary. My mom recovered, thankfully (over 20 years in remission now!).

In 2008, when the recession hit, my mom lost her job quickly. She tried finding new ones but couldn’t. No one was hiring programmers, they were getting rid of them. Her depression got a lot worse. I was in high school and depressed myself (in large part because of the situation at home, though my parents don’t know it, that became suicidal depression a while afterward), and they had to start paying for therapy for me. My sister was in college and had to try to pay for it herself because my parents’ college fund for her hadn’t gone as far as they’d hoped. My dad’s company supplies machines to auto manufacturers. They were worried. They laid off some people, thankfully not my dad, and others had to take pay cuts. My parents started sitting down and seriously going over finances. My mom and I had to completely quit figure skating, my only physical stress outlet (like I said, that contributed a LOT to the severe depression). We had to cut down the grocery bills and think about not buying gifts for family members’ birthdays and such. My grandparents, happily retired by then with good savings, paid off the rest of our mortgage and told my dad to pay them back without interest whenever he could, so that no matter what happened with the jobs, we at least wouldn’t have to worry about losing our house. I listened to my parents scream at each other over money and I cried myself to sleep a lot of nights.

Guess what? My dad is a millionaire. Definitely not in liquid assets, but in net worth he probably just barely hits 1 million. He now makes a low six-figure salary and when the economy is doing okay, he invests some of it in the stock market, mostly in low-risk stocks that are guaranteed to have payouts (I don’t know a lot about this, so that’s all I’ll say). He inherited/learned his dad’s extreme money-saving ways and saves as much as possible. He’s an engineer and very handy, so whenever possible he does home and car repairs himself to save a lot of money. I managed to get a scholarship that covered almost all of my undergrad tuition, I lived at home for half of undergrad and all of med school to save money, I worked in retail in undergrad and as an EMT in med school to pay for some of my own stuff, and they didn’t pay for any of my med school tuition, so that’s it for their educational expenses for me. My mom’s had a good, stable job for the last few years that pays in the low 80k range, I think. We live in a house worth ~250k that we now fully own thanks to my grandparents. 

A few years ago, my dad’s brother bought a crappy, tiny, nearly-condemned cabin in the woods up north for about 20k (seriously, it was shit). He and my dad put in a few hundred dollars and a TON of time and manual labor to fix it up, and now we pay half the bills on it and both of our families use it for vacations. We have a small (19ft) boat that my dad bought as a gift for my mom when she had cancer--he got it extremely cheap from a guy who’d bought it, barely used it, and just wanted rid of it. It’s a 1994 and full of problems now, but we’ve managed to keep it going (barely, at times) and my dad has taken really good care of it over the years. A friend of my dad’s got him into snowmobiling about a decade ago and once his brother bought the cabin and they fixed it up, my dad got a cheap, crappy used snowmobile, which he used for a few years before reselling it and upgrading to an actually nice, new one, because yeah, he could afford it. He’s upgraded a couple times, good for him. When I actually have the time off, I go up with him in the winter and ride one of his old ones that he kept and fixed after it had an engine problem. It doesn’t cost much to renew the trail permits each year and I borrow my uncle’s gear for riding, so other than the initial cost of the sleds, it really costs us nothing to go riding (gas is extremely negligible in snowmobiles, they can go 120+ miles on a single 8 gallon tank, and we store them ourselves at the cabin so we don’t pay for that). We store the boat in our garage at home (like I said, it’s small) so other than the permit and gas for that when we take it out, again, really no continuous expense.

My parents pay all of their taxes without trying to do any bullshit work-arounds. They don’t have a lawyer or a tax accountant or a financial advisor, my dad does it all himself. He keeps track of all of our finances himself. We don’t pay a landscaping service or a cleaning service or any of that crap, we do it all ourselves like any other middle-class family. My mom donates regularly to charities for cancer, animal rescues, and injured veterans. 

But to tumblr, incapable of seeing nuance, we’re “one-percenters (absolutely nowhere near true) who own a house and have a ‘vacation home’ and a boat and recreational vehicles” so we’re pretty much just as bad as Bezos, because anyone who isn’t actively struggling to put food on the table or in horrible medical debt because of our disaster of a system is apparently “rich” and there’s no such thing as shades of gray.

#sorry that was insanely long #no one will read it though so it doesn't matter #that's why I made the read more #just needed to write down thoughts and bitch #I hate the politics on this site #so many good ideas SO badly implemented #the splitting on here is completely fucking ridiculous #and I'm really sick of seeing things that imply me or my family are evil and inherently bad for existing comfortably #and going on occasional vacations #and being able to afford the medical bills when I got a tumor and needed surgery

[feitanswife]

Living in the PNW be like

(That’s Pacific Northwest, The upper left of America for all you normal fuckin people)

I’m sitting in my room listening to coyotes scream in my back fukin yard/pasture. This happens every night. I hope they don’t try to kill my neighbors dog again.

Said pastureland is actually a floodplain. There’s just a giant hole in the middle of this town and it floods sometimes but only like a few days at a time so people put animals there. I had a horse growing up and our neighbors have 2 plus a mule and up higher on the hill there’s some of those long haired cows and we watch their babies run around in the hill from our front window with binoculars cause that’s literally the most entertaining thing that happens around here.

Is it pouring down rain and cold as balls? Yes. Am I going to walk to the store to buy pizza rolls? Yeah. Am I wearing a coat with a hood or bringing an umbrella? Fuck no!

Literally every single house has at least 2 of these plants growing in their yard: lilacs, cherry trees, Japanese maple, or rodhedendron (98% sure I spelled that wrong but even my phone has no idea what I just typed)

Sometimes bald eagles and other large scary birds just show up and the crows beat the shit out of them and it’s kinda funny and kinda terrifying. I once had over a hundred crows in the trees around my house screaming their heads off cause a hawk pissed them off.

We all (on the western side of the mountains) have giant ass trees like 10 feet from our homes. No this is not safe. No we will not be doing anything about it. If our fuckoff crazy windstorms haven’t knocked the bitches over yet then they seem intent on sticking around.

We get winds high enough to tip over trucks like every other week in winter but like not in proper storms. Like it doesn’t rain, it’s not a tornado or a hurricane, it’s just Fuckin WIMDY. And they don’t cancel school for it either I was waking from one building to another for class and I had to brace myself against a wall cause the wind nearly blew me tf away!

Also we get annoying thunderstorms. Like you think it’s over but it never is! And it’s even worse on the east side, it sounds like the thunder is In Your Body. Shits gonna knock stuff off your tables.

The center of Washington is this massive fuckoff volcano that’s overdue for erupting and when it does it’s gonna wipe out over half the west side’s cities and absolutely no one is concerned. I’m especially not concerned cause I, like all the other smart people, am moving east where I can live in the middle of nowhere and live off subsistence farming with my gay colony from college.

There is a surprising amount of rednecks here. Like it’s a weird ratio. And there not like, normal ones either. It’s like they’re cosplaying what we all think of when we hear the words “North Carolina” or “Alabama” I’m talking all camo outfits at school and big fuckoff trucks with two American flags on the back and obnoxious bumperstckers and all the horrible opinions to match. A lot even talk with fake southern accents. It’s like the weebs of the redneck world.

Like excuse me Conner your family has lived in this county since the 1930’s and I’d fuckin know cause your grandpa went to school with mine and our dads worked together at the printing company before it moved to California and half the school can claim the exact same cause we’re basically one giant small town where everyone knows everyone and no one ever moves out! You’re not from Texas. No one believes you’re from Texas. Stop talking like a Hollywood born and bred actor being forced to play a cowboy!

[technogenic-mess]

I’ve been thinking about transportation again.  Even under anarchy, people need to go places and get shit done, after all.  We’re not going to be less connected without a ruling class -- we’re going to be more connected than ever.

Airplanes?  It’s time to stop thinking of them as the primary method of traveling long distances for domestic travel.  Once upon a time we undertook the massive project of building a railroad that connected America’s coastlines -- we can do that again, this time with maglev rails capable of carrying passengers at hundreds of miles per hour.

Really, air travel should be reserved for those instances when you just have to get something across a long distance as fast as humanly possible because lives depend upon it.  If you’re just going to visit Grandma in Boise, well...take a train.  Might take you longer to get there, but it’s still better than taking I-84.

Business travelers?  Oddly enough, they’ll still exist post-capitalism.  They’re going to have to either take the train or learn to live by teleconferencing, though.

Cargo needs a big overhaul, too.  Semi trucks generate massive amounts of carbon and the ever-increasing number of them means that our roads are being worn out faster than they can be repaired.  More conventional cargo rail needs to be rebuilt alongside the new maglev lines so that resources and goods can be transported long distances efficiently.

Cars are the part most people bitch about, though -- the thing everyone wants to get rid of.  Sure.  Once the rural and suburban populations have been successfully migrated into the cities, making drastic cuts to the number of cars on the roads is a good idea.  I’d love to live in an urban center dense enough that everywhere I need to go is either within walking distance or serviced by rail.  We’re not there yet, though.

North America isn’t like Europe.  It’s spread out in all the worst possible ways -- it’s not hard to find podunk backwaters of a few hundred people who live twenty or thirty miles away from the nearest anything.  Running rails to all of them just isn’t feasible or worthwhile, especially when the plan is to eventually surrender those backwaters back to wilderness.

Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t mitigate the damage.  Electric cars powered by renewable energy, using roads that aren’t being torn up by trucking...that’d produce a hell of a lot less problems, I think.  Maybe borrow some ideas from that neoliberal hack Mehdi Sadaghdar about ways to recharge electric vehicles while they’re on the go for the truly middle of nowhere places.

Shipping (as in, the anchors aweigh kind) is a bit of a tricky duck.  If you want to move something across the ocean, you need a way to travel literally thousands of miles without a lame-ass propulsion system that requires literal months to make the journey.

The last form of transport I wonder about is the most esoteric: moving data around.  Definitely wouldn’t mind seeing our current, physical structure give way to wireless mesh networking.  Satellites are still gonna be a necessity, though -- I’ve yet to meet a wireless router capable of bridging the Atlantic.

#long post

[startrekvigilant]

episode one introduces us first to a specific family living on earth. this scene takes place somewhere in north america, and these characters are all to be played by aboriginal actors.

a father daughter duo are camping in the woods. 

the father brings a large game to the traditional campsite where the daughter is playing with futuristic toys. the father calls out her name, she switches off her game and runs out to him. He teaches the daughter something about the hunt or preparing the meat, maybe tells her a silly story of what happened when he was out hunting or something and it's a nice bonding moment. 

the father tells his daughter to go tell her mother they can start getting ready for dinner and she gets on a teleporter to her home.

instantly we shift focus away from the forest to this beautiful high-tech kitchen, in the centre of which is a large table surrounded by the rest of the daughter's family. 

at the head of the table is the mother, where the daughter runs up and tells her mother what her father told her. every body begins talking about tonight's big meal when the daughter's older sister walks into the kitchen in full starfleet regalia. 

the mother sees her first daughter and comments on her new uniform. everyone is impressed with her promotion and she mentions that she has to go to pluto before the unveiling of a new telescope, which means missing the big family gathering. the older daughter is upset but her mother promises to save her favourite dish which cheers her up. 

so now the story follows the older daughter as she leaves her home and teleports to the starfleet academy in san francisco. she'll be walking through large crowds of people, introducing the audience to the diversity of earth in this century. 

from the academy she gets in a shuttle pod to a docking station in orbit, where she'll wander the halls trying to find the starship she needs. she'll follow a big crowd of people in one direction, but get stopped by a ticket master who tells her these ships are warp 5 destinations and they'll pass right by pluto. they have a conversation, then she's directed to the warp 1 terminal.

as she walks there she passes groups of children, all heading in the same direction as her. there are also a lot of tourists in these halls, of many different species. 

she rounds a corner and suddenly there's the vigilant. 

it's meant to be a triumphant moment for the audience, and the cinematography will be an homage to the earlier movies but the characters on screen don't feel the same excitement we do. they clearly recognize this ship as old and junky, but at first the audience doesn't notice that. 

the older daughter will then board the ship where she will be greeted by Rex, the captain. Rex is going to be either hungover or slightly tipsy but this is where the older daughter will theoretically pass the baton to shift focus onto him, and we can introduce the rest of the cast and begin the episode.

so most of the vigilant crew is introduced in the first episode, except for david and theeca, who will each be introduced in the second episode. 

After we pass the focus onto rex, we'll go on a quick tour around the ship to show the audience how it operates and who operates it. 

After rex the biggest characters we meet are the medical bay main crew: cecil, justine, and tony (Chief Medical Officer, Head Nurse and Med Bay Ensign, respectively), who will always be seen dealing with some sort of highjinks in the background (or foreground) of an episode. 

From there we go to the engine room to see the patchwork of tech from different centuries and meet delvox and george (it will be established over the course of this season that delvox is the main reason this ship is still in space now even though it's been in service for 140+ years, and george is his ever-eager assistant). 

After that we walk the halls, where we meet muurk, a security officer, for the first time. The conversation with muurk ends, rex continues to the bridge, and as he ambles through the halls the many side characters will quickly be introduced to be seen later in this season and beyond.  This ship will have around 150 crew members in total (the number might fluctuate time to time) and I think it's vital to have the same actors- the same people - as often as possible to really establish how small of a ship it is. 

By now rex is at the bridge, where he interacts with midge at the communications centre. bayta zee will be at her security station, and hank at the helm with a very frightened unnamed human ensign in a red shirt navigating beside him. This is where we can begin the episode "for real." 

The idea is that the vigilant has been hired by the lunar school board to take large groups of children on a tour of the solar system. one of these kids will eventually reveal themselves to be a telepathic alien. this kid is adopted, and before they got on the vigilant they had a fight with their adoptive parents and now are determined to run away to their "real home planet." 

so they take over rex's mind (which was easy for the child to do since rex had been steadily drinking all day) and divert the tour lightyears off course. the home the child is searching for has long since been destroyed by internal conflicts, and eventually they will relinquish their mental hold over the captain.

At the end of the episode we're back orbiting around earth, the children and teachers have all left and rex has snuck away from the bridge to go to the surface. He does this frequently; run off to a transporter or shuttlepod once back in earth's orbit to disappear into his favourite bar - Homeworld - and drink real alcohol while still on active duty. 

Homeworld Bar is a nice place, a small yurt in the literal middle of nowhere, earth. It lies at the centre point of four dirt roads where the borders of china, kazakhstan, mongolia, and russia used to be. Filled with various knick-knacks, it has dim lighting but a warm atmosphere. there are always under a dozen people inside, including staff. 

The first time we see it is the ending of the first episode, where Rex has slunk off to after having his mind controlled for the entire day by a six year old throwing a temper tantrum. Usually, no one notices that he's gone since the missions are so very menial. However this time it's different, this time Rex actually needs to be doing his job. His navigator is dead, his ship went thousands of light years off course and all he was supposed to do was go out as far as the cometary nuclei and back. 

Basically, he's in for some deep shit. 

Admiral Holiday makes his first ever appearance, hailing the Vigilant only for the crew to discover he's left the ship completely and no one bothered to stop him, again. They bring up the admiral on screen where he yells furiously at the crew, and then notices the captain is no where to be seen. He cuts the feed abruptly and the remaining main bridge crew (Hank, Bayta, and Midge) just look at each other desperately. 

We cut then to the homeworld bar. The sun is streaming thru in dusty beams, the air is a little smoky and there are maybe two other people quietly talking and drinking in the corner. 

Rex is slumped over the bar, three drinks already finished around him and a fresh one in his fist. The bartender is standing over him disapprovingly, but Rex has been coming here for so long  he's learned to just give the man a drink when he asks for it. 

The admiral beams onto the planet's surface outside the bar and walks in. He takes a moment to adjust to the lighting and strides up beside the pitiful figure hunched over his drink. 

The admiral sits down and Rex looks up, drunk. It takes a second, but he finally recognizes the admiral and realizes he's been caught. The admiral berates him for a while but then softens, telling him he's read the file on his starfleet career. 

This makes Rex stiffen. 

Holiday doesn't notice or doesn't care, and mentions how Rex used to be someone; how a few years ago he was in charge of one of the most successful five-year runs of the 24th century, what happened? This only results in  angering Rex, who clumsily lashes out. That just makes the admiral more pissed off at his behaviour than he already was. 

So the episode ends with our valiant captain being ordered to daily medical and psychological examinations to ensure this type of thing never happens again. 

"Why don't you just fire me?" 

"Good luck finding a replacement, no one else wants this job."

#star trek #star trek: vigilant #original content #writing #and that's that on that #long post

[thekillerssluts]

Arcade Fire Channels Their Inner Absurdist in “Chemistry” Video

It’s been nearly a year since Arcade Fire released Everything Now, but 2018 seems like the right time to release a visual for the album’s centerpiece track “Chemistry.”

“When times are really crazy and fucked up, you have to be able to rely on the absurd. It’s a valuable response to the insanity,” Win Butler explains over the phone before boarding a plane that will take him and his band to Europe to resume the Everything Now Continued Tour. “I think it’s confusing to people if we make something that’s not super serious. [But] one of the pieces of our catalog is, ‘Don’t take it too serious; it’s really light.’”

That ethos is at the heart of the track, as well as its video. Directed by Ray Tintori—whose filmography includes music videos for MGMT and The Killers—and animated by Starburns Industries (Rick & Morty, Charlie Kaufman’s Anomalisa, Community), the clip tells the story of an animated cat (played by Tootie Tootz from Big Freedia: Queen of Bounce) and a dog who fall in love under…interesting circumstances.

We chatted with Butler about the visuals, finally working with Tintori, and the band’s ever-evolving partnership with New Orleans’ Preservation Hall Jazz Band, as well as why they don’t tour as much as other bands of their stature. Watch the “Chemistry” video, check out an exclusive behind-the-scenes look at the recording of “Chemistry” in-studio in New Orleans, and read our interview with Butler below.

Your “Chemistry” video expands on the song’s theme of chemical attraction, using a mix of animation and live action. What made you decide to portray the story that way?

In a sense it’s almost just sort of like a Tom & Jerry cartoon—an absurdist version of a Tom & Jerry cartoon.

I wanted to talk about an experience I think many of us have had where it’s just complete mutual attraction. My mom’s from LA and grew up Mormon, and my dad’s from Maine and is sixth-generation Harvard. They were camping in Idaho, saw each other for like ten seconds, wrote letters for five years, and have been together their whole lives. On the surface, it’s absurd why people are attracted to each other—it makes absolutely no sense. I just feel like that’s an experience a lot of people have had and wanted to try to capture that feeling a little bit.

This was your first time working with director Ray Tintori, but you’ve wanted to work with him for years. Can you talk a little bit about your fascination with his work?

“On the surface, it’s absurd why people are attracted to each other—it makes absolutely no sense.” — Win Butler

I remember when he did those MGMT videos. They kind of just came out of nowhere, and you could tell there was so much love put into it. It kind of felt like some sort of collective. We were working with Spike [Jonze] on a short film for The Suburbs at the same time around when that was happening. Spike was good friends with Ray, and we initially were going to make the film in New Orleans—way before we moved there. Ray was going to help, and we were getting everything set up, and then he started working on Beasts of the Southern Wild. We didn’t know anything about it—that was just happening in the background. So we kind of pivoted and ended up making the film in Austin, which was really cool, but it was just sort of this ships in the night moment where we had the instinct to work together.

How did you end up working with him for this video?

A lot of his work is really playful and carefree. We sent him the song and he really liked it. He loves New Orleans [and that’s where we wanted to shoot it]. I had the basic Tom & Jerry idea, and he completely bugged it out with all the robots and sharks [laughs].

The video ends in the middle of Fat Tuesday, which mirrors the playful energy of the song and also pays tribute to New Orleans, where you’ve been living the past few years. In what ways would you say the city has inspired your creativity and music?

You constantly feel like a hack [living here] because there are so many beautiful, amazing musicians. You see twelve-year-olds playing the trombone and you’re just like, “Holy shit, this kid is an embarrassment of riches.” So it’s not in a literal sense, where we’re playing a more New Orlean style of music, but it’s more just being inspired by it.

We hang out at the Preservation Hall, and the saxophone player Charlie Gabriel is like eighty-five and played on most of the Motown records. I met the drummer who played on every Ray Charles record the other night. Some of these dudes—no one knows their name, and they’re kind of forgotten in a sense, but all the shit people are sampling nowadays, they played it with their hands. It’s just really inspiring and makes you want to work harder and work on more music. It kind of gives you this false impression that music is really important and is the center of the universe, which I think is a good deception to have when you’re a musician. Even if it’s not true, it’s good to believe.

You’re about to resume your Everything Now Continued Tour, which sees you traversing Europe and North America for three months and concluding at the Life Is Beautiful festival in Las Vegas. How do you prepare for such extended time on the road?

We’ve done it a lot now, so we kind of like to leave some room for the spirit. We don’t over-practice. We know the songs really well. Our team is really familial—we’ve been working with a lot of the same people for most of our career, and they know how stuff is supposed to sound and we know how stuff’s supposed to go. So when we go home we just try to get back into our lives and get inspired.

“We hang out at the Preservation Hall, and some of these dudes—no one knows their name, but all the shit people are sampling nowadays, they played it with their hands.” — Win Butler

All the touring can really be a slog. Being away from home and all the airports… As we get older, we try to space it out a little more, so when we’re on tour we can really appreciate it and give it our all, instead of feeling bogged down. I think that’s why we tour a lot less than other bands in our position—we probably do half as many dates as a lot of bigger bands, just because we give so much. I don’t ever want to be onstage and going through the motions, and thus far I don’t think that’s ever been the case. When we’re up there, we’re in it.

You’ve been collaborating a lot lately with Preservation Hall. How has your relationship with them evolved?

[Our relationship] was born out of friendship and seeing the world in the same way. We started a Mardi Gras crew with them, and half the money goes to the Preservation Hall Foundation and half of it goes to an organization in Haiti called KANPE to try to make links between Haiti and New Orleans and celebrate the historical connection. It’s a deep partnership, and I think one that will be going for the rest of our lives.

What’s it like performing with them?

It’s very humbling. They’re such amazing, beautiful people and such great players. FL

#Arcade Fire #Win Butler #interview

[definitelynotaminion]

2 and or 4 for Tobirama and a partner of your choice? Thank you so much and I hope you have a happy valentines day!

I would like you to know that my computer crashed in the middle of this and I’m going to mourn the few paragraphs I lost like a lost child. I almost went blind with rage when I realized there was no getting them back. Retyping the pale imitation of them was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do and I think it’s stilted and awkward at that part as a result. Just looking at it now makes me twitch. BUT I persevered and I’m proud of me.

Okay *deep breaths*. Happy valentines day @inconveniencedneutrons! This is one of the late prompts I’m finally getting to. Enjoy!

“You can do this but you can’t return my calls?” Tobiramaasked, airy and petulant.

“Oh my god shut up,”Izuna said into the material of his shirt as he sank down to his knees. Hisbreath fanned out hot and wet onto the front of Tobirama’s boxers. “I told you,I was working a case.”

“For three days?”

“My phone literally fell into a sewer, I told you this. Itwas a miserable stakeout and a miserable chase and all I wanted the whole timewas to be back here, at home, with you.” Izuna rolled his eyes and pressed hischeek to the impressive tent in the fabric in front of his face.

He just breathed,everything in him settling now that he was surrounded by familiar scents andtextures. That’s a background contentment, though, the calming senses of home.Taking up roughly ninety nine percent of his focus and crowding out everythingelse is Tobirama.

Careful hands card through Izuna’s hair, soothing despitethe spiteful words. It’s easy, to fall into snark with his husband. Easy enoughthat he can manage the words without thought, responding even though he’s beenon the edge of a zone since walking through the door and on his knees about .2seconds after that. Say what you want about him, he has priorities.

“Did you catch him?” Tobirama asks, indulgent and stillpetting, as though he has nothing better to do than stand in their living roomwith Izuna at his feet, very nearly hugging his legs. It’s an idly question, asthough, also, Tobirama can’t read the weary but triumphant exhaustion curlingaround Izuna’s synapses, or wherever the hell emotions get stored.

“Yeah.” Izuna says, breathing deep. Cinnamon and books pagesand tea leaves, hours old sweat and the lingering scent of New Haven fauna. Tobirama. The soft pads of callousedfingertips on his scalp, parting his hair with the ease of practice, soothinglike it’s second nature.

“You were on the edge of my range the entire time,” Tobirama complains, and now that a few minutes havepassed he gathers Izuna up, an unprotesting lump of Sentinel, and lets themboth fall sloppy onto the couch.

“I was in SanFrancisco,” Izuna says indignantly.

“Ugh.” Tobirama responds, arranging them more carefully.Izuna goes along with it, pleased at the skin contact and the way his face endsup pressed into Tobirama’s neck. “Close enough that I could feel your location,sense you moving around, but just far enough away that I couldn’t get a read onyour emotional state or communicate with you. It was awful.”

“Tobirama.” Izuna says, patient. “I was literally on thewest coast. You shouldn’t have been able to sense me at all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Tobirama huffs. “I can sense youanywhere within the continent. Even, apparently, when I’m on the exact otherside of it. Longways.”

Izuna huffed back, grinding his shoulder a little intoTobirama’s chest.

“Can you sense your brothers like that?” He tries not to getlost in the feel of soft skin and slight scars, invisible to the sight and thetouch unless one is focused on them with hyper-aware senses. He mostlysucceeds. Izuna has spent eighteen months memorizing the unique tapestry of hisGuide’s skin, and after so long away from the man he has all five sensesgrounded on, it’s enough to nearly hypnotize him.

“Only within the country, for them.” Tobirama concedes,almost grudgingly. As though that’s not remarkable and to be expected, givenhow young he’d have imprinted his siblings.

Izuna sighs into his skin, loving the way his breath causesa small spattering of goosebumps to break out across the flesh. From the momenthe’d stepped off the plane, he could feelTobirama in his head, welcoming him, reconnecting with him.

When he walked into the apartment building Tobirama’s mindhad wrapped around his, reaching out and soothing outer shields worn ragged—fromthe case, the distance, the plane ride—and strengthening his primary ones,blending with them and taking over so that Izuna could truly and fully relax.

“Next time I’m comingwith you.” Tobirama says, low and fervent. “I’ll shove my thesis up the board’sasses if they don’t grant me an extension to defend.”

Tobirama’s heartbeat has become a lullaby, heavy and steadyunder his ear. He digs his shoulder a little into Tobirama’s chest, snorting. Respondingtakes a bit more energy than he counted on, he’s so grounded on his Guide. There’s nothing beyond the five senses thatisn’t Tobirama, this close and withhow long they were apart. Even the apartment beyond the couch is a vague ideato his senses, much less the building and world beyond it.

It would be dangerous, letting his guard down so much,except Tobirama can literally sense every person in the city and their dispositions,at any given second. Passively.

He doesn’t have to worry about intruders or someone gettingthe drop on him with Tobirama’s senses being what they are.

Besides, his husband is an actual badass. Izuna has no ideawhere he finds the time to keep up with martial arts with his teaching schedule,but he does.

“Next time?” Izuna breathes, a bit mumbly with how dazed heis—after nearly a week, burying himself in the familiar and safe scents and sounds of home and Guideand mate and Pride is like lowering yourself into the world’s most comfortablebed after three straight days awake—but amused despite it. “Five doctorates notenough for you?”

He can hardly keep his eyes open.

“Six, now.” Tobirama corrects, smiling. The shift of hislips and the currents of the words interrupting the air around them.

“Ridiculous.” Izuna grumbles. With Tobirama shielding forboth of them it feels like a great weight is off his shoulders. He has amazingprimary shields, more than most Sentinels bother with, honestly, and they’vebecome unconscious to use and maintain at full strength. His secondary shieldsare the ones that take a beating from day-to-day activities, pounded on bystimulus from fucking-everything.

It’s an act of unspeakable intimacy for Tobirama to takeover his primary shields, the ones hedeveloped before he even came online—the instinctive defenses of a child,thrown up out of necessity to keep him sane before he even knew what Sentinelsor Guides were.

Speaking of acts of unspeakable intimacy—

A white leopard hops nimbly and gracefully onto the couchwith them, curling contentedly around them.

Izuna huffs.

“And where were youduring our trying separation?” He asks, scratching behind Tobirama’s spiritanimal’s ears. It tolerates this, but doesn’t deign answer his question.

A parakeet flies in from nowhere, chirping happily. It landson Tobirama’s head.

The Alpha Guide Prime of North America sighs heavily, tryingnot to smile at the bird nesting in his bird’s nest of messy white hair.

The parakeet is dappled blue and white, like clouds againstthe bluest of skies, and it half camouflages with Tobirama’s hair, tappingaround with little bird feet until it’s comfortable.

“You didn’t sleep while I was away.” Izuna realizes, noting thelines under his Guide’s eyes, the way his whole body radiates tiredness.

“I was defending my thesis.” Tobirama protests. “Getting adoctorate is hard.”

“Mhm,” Izuna hums, disbelieving. “At least I had an excuse.Hotel sheets, even nice ones, aren’t oursheets. And I was missing my Guide.”

“Well I wasmissing my Sentinel.” Tobirama counters, sliding an arm around Izuna’s chest.He snorts. “Besides, you left me here with all seven of our siblings. It’s a miracle I got any rest at all.”

Izuna rolls his eyes—or he would, if they were open.

He can’t be bothered to lift his lids, surrounded as he iswith warmth and safety and snark, the smells of his mate and their mingledscents from the apartment wafting over him, them, creating a cocoon of bliss.

Izuna never wants to leave this couch. He says as much,slurring a little with how close to sleep he is. Finally.

“Or at least,” He mutters. “We’re not leaving the apartmentall weekend. We deserve a few days of sleep and sex before we have to deal withmy siblings or your brothers.”

“Don’t give me false hope, Sentinel.” Tobirama murmurs, breathjust a step away from laughing into his hair.

“You’re all I need in this world, Guide.” Izuna manages,sleepily drawing their fingers together, tangling them over his chest. “Everythingelse can wait.”

“I missed you.” Tobirama admits, warm and homey. Izunathinks he might say more, but beyond the soft sensation of lips to his temple,he knows nothing but dreams. It’s good to be home.

#also it was literally a thousand words longer than it needed to be #guiding light #tim speaks #my stuff #vday prompts #tobirama #izuna #izuna/tobirama