#literally me when i dispose of the income it's so real

[enam3l]

my first full little ficlet? or blurb? some lovely fluff of your boy and his new hobby / 1.3k words / sfw

Once Eddie settled into a career and for the first time in his life, had disposable income there was one thing that he spent his money on more than anything... camera film.

You had bought him his first camera for his birthday, wanting to treat him to something special that he'd never let himself buy. But mostly, after everything he'd been through, you wanted him to be able to preserve the new happy memories you were going to make together. 

You wanted him to be able to keep mementos of seeing his favourite bands, of Corroded Coffin rehearsals, of the crowds they'd pulled in at gigs, of fun drunk nights your group of friends shared at The Hideout and Steve’s house, or your holidays like the camping trip in California you'd all gone on when you visited Argyle and the trip to New York for your anniversary (which was really an excuse for Eddie to visit CBGBs).

However, these were not the pictures Eddie took. 

Well, not really. All these people and places were merely in the background as Eddie insisted that you must be the focus of every picture. No occasion too small or too big, they all required documentation that you had been there. He couldn't help that you were his muse, he would dramatically declare you were the Edie Sedgwick to his Andy Warhol. Edie joined his already long list of nicknames for you. Was Edie your real name? God no. Was it remotely close? Not even slightly. 

-

Standing impatiently by the front door, you waited for Eddie to get ready so you could go to the Sunday market before it closed. After several minutes he appears from your bedroom, infamous camera in hand. 

‘Eddie what could you possibly need to take a picture of right now?!’ you scolded him, knowing all too well how this boy was going to delay your plans further. 

Shaking his head at your attitude, he calmly explained ‘No baby you don't understand, your outfit right now is fuckin killer. I gotta remember this!’

You're wearing one of his old faded Metallica T-shirts with a satin midi skirt, frankly it was what was clean. 

‘Honey, I am literally wearing the first clothes I could find, I just wanted to get out the house so I can make you a meal and not give you Chinese takeout for the third time this week.'

Gathering your shopping bags, you muttered 

'When you moved in here, I promised Wayne I'd actually feed you real food. Like actual vegetables and shit!'

‘Alright, alright... but you still look fuckin hardcore. Lucky veggies seeing you like that...’

Now angling his camera at you as you opened the front door he frantically tried to halt your movements.

‘Babe! Stop stop stop! Just wait there, the sun coming through the door is perfect... just turn your head towards me more... mmhmm... oh you can keep that angry look on your face, it's sexy, you're just making my picture better sweetheart'

By the time you got to the market, not a vegetable was left for you to force feed him. 

-

Squealing, you spin around your arms out wide as you take in your surroundings, 

'Eddie, we're here! We literally made it to your house of worship!!'

As your gaze returns to your boyfriend, you see exactly where he stands with his camera pointed.

'Why are you taking a picture of me right now?! Don’t aim the camera at me, aim it there! The freaking Ramones carved their names right there!' You point to the piece of iconic music history but Eddie remains unfazed, his eyes and lens laser focused on his favourite icon.  

'Yeah well there's four Ramones and only one of you.' 

You can't help but smile at his soppy ways however the romantic moment is interrupted as Eddie begins to shoo away an innocent fellow tourist.

‘Sorry Sir could you move out the way? Yeah, I'm just trying to get this picture of my girlfriend… great, thanks man... Okay cool, sorry about that interruption my darling Edie, now just pick up your beer and pose again.’

He proceeded to spend the rest of the vacation only acknowledging the wonders of New York if he could capture you alongside them. Multiple tourists’ days out ruined by Eddie pestering them insisting that his girl was practically supermodel and would’ve made a much better statue than Lady Liberty.

-

The beautiful moment before you was rudely interrupted by a ring-clad finger poking your ribs and a poor attempt at a whisper in your direction.

‘Psst baby… psst… look at me and lift your bouquet up a little bit.’

Oblivious to the occasion around you both, Eddie stood next to you, camera angled too close for comfort. In horror at his actions, you muster the angriest whisper ever heard

‘Edward! Are you shitting me! Turn your camera away from me this second or so help me…’ 

Outraged, as if he was the perfect angel Eddie gasped 

‘What?! Why!’

Now attempting to discreetly swat at him and half wishing on the seating chart you had sat him at the back of the room with children and toddlers, you chide him

‘Why?! It's our best friends’ wedding. Nancy is literally paying you to photograph her wedding… Oh my god! No! Stop it! Turn it around now, he's putting her ring on! This is like the most important part!’

Thankfully he does as he’s told… for once. As he captures the exchange of rings he timidly whispers to you again

‘...Will you be a runaway bride when I try to take your photo when we're at the alter?’

‘Yes.’

You attempt to put on your sternest voice whilst hoping he doesn’t spot your cheeks blush the same colour as your bridesmaid’s bouquet. Secretly, your more desperate than ever to catch Nancy’s bouquet later on.

-

After a long work trip, you were finally home. Sick of dreary hotels, you look around to absorb the comfort and warmth of the apartment you’d not long moved into. However, you quickly notice the walls had been filled. 

Now hung years of photos carefully arranged into frames. Some in collages. Some arranged into montages. Some standalones. Some with captions like 

'My own metal Cindy Crawford at Yosemite.' 

You try not to cry as you take them all in, every one of them a memory with you that Eddie felt he had to preserve for eternity. Although, you pray that the photographs you know exist of your more 'intimate' moments did not make it onto the wall. You also hope he got those developed somewhere out of town, you'd rather the spotty teenage boy at Eddie's usual shop did not see photos of what you let Eddie do to you. 

Following the walls, you eventually arrive into your bedroom. Now, above your bed are a montage of photos you've never seen before. Arranged in three frames. 

The first is you walking down the aisle, towards Eddie behind the camera at the altar. 

The second is you sliding a ring onto Eddie's finger as he takes the photo with his other hand. 

The third he had turned the camera round to capture the two of you as you kissed for the first time as husband and wife. 

On your bedside table in a pretty vase was now the dried and preserved bouquet you caught from Nancy at her wedding.

You had lied. You would never have been a runaway bride. 

You knew he'd end up taking photos, it's mainly why you'd made Hopper officiate the wedding. You weren't sure an actual priest would approve of being interrupted by your husband’s camera flash. 

Plus, you weren't convinced Eddie could step into a church without bursting into flames anyway. 

i loved doing this so much and hope you loved it too!! i am a total sucker for fluffy Eddie! i have lots more stuff coming soon. follow my lil hashtag to see all my Eddie writing and also feel free to request anything. i am open to whatever, as cute or angsty or horny as you want!

#enam3l x eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #husband eddie munson #stranger things 4

[whitehotharlots]

Hamster wheel

My first experience with active shooter drills came the autumn after Columbine. I was in a study hall course in our high school’s cafeteria. My seat was approximately ten feet from the exit, then it’d be just a thirty or forty yard dash through the parking lot to safety. 

We were walked through the steps. This is what a shooter alarm sounds like, and here’s how it’s different from a tornado alarm and fire alarm. When you hear the shooter alarm, you need to get beneath one of the spacious, fairly high-topped cafeteria tables and place your hands above your head. Whatever you do, you should not attempt to flee.

This was insane enough that even the kids who usually nodded along to everything teachers told them expressed some incredulity. I asked if they were being serious. Like, for real are you being serious? The door is right fucking there. We can leave, instead of putting ourselves in a physical position that would make us much easier targets.

I was told that, yes, this is for real. And any more questions would be met with detention. Now, wait for the alarm and assume your positions. We all complied.

A decade later, I and hundred or so incoming instructors at a large university went through more advanced training--by this point it’d become a cottage industry, and they had instructional videos. We were told not to panic, shut the classroom door, instruct students to get beneath their desks, and don’t let anyone flee. 

The good news was that in so large a campus, the odds of the shooter targeting your particular classroom were quite slim. Goodie. And in this case, you’ll never know who’s a cop and who’s a shooter--cops like showing up to active shooting scenarios in plain clothes while wielding large weapons, and what if a good guy mistook you for a bad guy? Also, if the shooter does enter your room, you and your students should throw whatever you have at your disposal toward him, try and disrupt his flow. 

In a room full of putative intellectuals, no one bothered to ask how it was that if a man with a gun attempted to enter our classrooms during a mass murder event, we were supposed to be able to tell if he was a bad guy shooter who needed to be stopped, or a good guy police man who would not be legally liable if you spooked him and he killed you.

Of course, I thought back to my high school training. And it finally made sense: the point of active shooter drills is not to mitigate loss of life during a mass shooting. It’s to deflect liability to the institutions that offer the drills. If codifying these procedures actually results in more casualties during a worst case scenario, well... that’s a small price for legal protection.

Columbine is now the touchstone for retro-90′s era school shootings, but to me, at the time, it wasn’t the most horrible or gripping. It all seemed too random, too much like an amateurish media fabrication; a pair of shitheads doing what they thought they needed to do to get nationwide attention. 

The one that really scared me, at a young age, was the Westside Middle School shooting a year before. The Columbine shooters were disaffected high school shitheads, like myself, and I felt I could diagnose such a situation on my home turf beforehand and either defuse it or, at the very least, make certain I myself would be in no real danger. The Westside kids were kids, aged thirteen and eleven. They didn’t wander about the halls of their school picking off any random enemy. They had a plan. They gathered a cache of weapons beforehand and pulled a fire alarm knowing where their classmates would congregate after the building had been evacuated. They perched atop a hill and used the high ground to pick off their classmates and teachers amidst the confusion.

What got me about that shooting was the tactics. Literal children, even at the time younger than me, could somehow figure out the value of having the high ground and preying upon mild, manufactured chaos. You didn’t need to be a genius to be very good at murder. You just needed intuition, guns, and some very basic training. This shit could therefore happen anywhere, at any time, and for any reason.

Back to Columbine: it might be hard for younger people to grasp this, but way back in the ancient year of 1999 a school shooting that killed a mere dozen-plus was could capture the nation’s attention enough to remain in the headlines for months. 

The internet was still very young at the time; the ubiquitous online-ness afforded by smartphones wouldn’t been seen for another decade, and social media as we know it was still 6-7 years away. Nonetheless, Columbine was the first hyper-modern domestic tragedy. The coverage of previous school shootings focused primarily on the event itself, with minimal attention paid to the shooters’ backgrounds and motivations. Like nearly every other tragedy that proceeded it, Columbine was used a backdrop against which preexisting and mostly unrelated culture war battles could be litigated. 

My, how the narratives flowed. The shooters were godless, perhaps even satanic. They were so incensed at their low placement on the social totem pole they exacted horrific revenge against the popular, god fearing masses. Before taking the pure and virginal life of an especially sympathetic, blonde victim, they mockingly asked her if she truly believed in our lord and savior. She was martyred for her affirmative response. 

This, we were told, is what happens when the natural social order breaks down. Marilyn Manson, Beavis and Butt-Head, dark clothing, loud music, divorce, feminism, homosexuality... these things are all connected, people! And if we as a society continue allowing for their proliferation, we can only expect more and more horror. 

None of the narratives passed scrutiny. The shooters were not disaffected loaners; they were relatively popular and Harris was an athlete. They were not bullied. They did not ask a girl if she believed in God before they shot her. They were not picking off the popular kids while sparing the misbegotten nerds and weirdos. They didn’t even like Marilyn Manson--their favorite band was the avowedly non-violent KMFDM, a group whose lyrics usually sound like something taken from a Dick and Jane book.

In spite of the thorough wrongness of nearly every aspect of the shooting’s coverage, Columbine remains the template for how we process acts of mass domestic violence. There’s no shortage of cultural grievances on either side of aisle, and zero popular or political will to question why it is that a society so inured to needless and manufactured deaths might keep suffering these paroxysms of horror whose targets and scale grow increasingly profane with each passing year. Like every other social problem, the causes are always obvious, always wholly subjective, and yet somehow always just beyond our capacity to control.

The vulnerability is inevitable. Always has been. The only thing preventing the people you pass on the street from ripping your throat out is a shared sense of human connection that was once so basic it didn’t need to be enunciated but now seems like a quaint illusion, perhaps even a malignant trick, a sheet of wool pulled over our once-naive eyes that prevented us from understanding the evil depth of those whose cultural and consumer preferences do not align with our own. The fact that this sort of petty, superficial dehumanization appeared to be driving factor of the initial shootings is ignored. We do not possess the moral bandwidth to acknowledge that we are living in the world idealized by the likes of Eric Harris and Dylan Kleibold. 

The terrors keep coming. Our responses make us dumber and more hateful. Our preparations render us much more vulnerable to future horror. The wheel keeps spinning. It will never stop.

[holdoncallfailed]

idk it's weird to me because barbie was an extremely politically-charged figure for me growing up because i understood that she represented an ideal of femininity that i didn't see reflected in any of the real women in my life and i knew that she was associated with vapidity based on various parodies, the barbie girl aqua song, etc. i was always gravely offended when someone who didn't know me well gave me a barbie doll because i didn't want to be thought of as girly (even tho i wore pink and purple and dresses and liked lisa frank and didn't like roughhousing etc.) and therefore shallow or unintelligent, which i recognize was due to internalized misogyny, but i didn't make that association out of nowhere.

that's why i'm so baffled by people saying "all movies are selling a product this is no different" because barbie has ALWAYS been the locus of culture clashes because she has ALWAYS been first and foremost intended for little girls. the obvious angle of the film is going against the mainstream understanding of barbie as a symbol of superficial consumerism by literally turned her into a real woman, that's why it's intriguing. so obviously the marketing for the film is implicitly if not explicitly hinging on the idea of female empowerment through consumerism. and these products are geared toward adults, who have way more disposable income than children but are also ostensibly better equipped to resist commercialism and yet here we are. like surely you are not all this dense

#i don't even careeeee about the movieeeeeeeeee #i was most interested in animals as a kid and played w them the way a lot of ppl do with dolls #acting out stories and families and weddings and various emotional crises #i very occasionally played with polly pockets but i mostly went for playmobil if i was going to play with human figures #so i don't have any real nostalgia for her as a product so i get that that's my thing #tbh i have more nostalgia for the aqua song and singing along to it with my friends and camping it up together

[salmonthestoryteller]

Casual Classism in Fiction and Fandom

Time for Salmon’s going to say something not everyone is going to like.  You know the drill.  Yadda, yadda.

So, originally my goal was to write a fandom specific rant about this, in regards to the treatment of a certain character in canon.  And I still might do that.  But that would be a different rant. I don’t have high expectations when it comes to classism in published work.  Nor do I admittedly have much faith in people calling it out.  Perhaps that's part of the reason I am far fonder of high fantasy than contemporary fantasy, and my taste in science fiction tends towards dystopian, retrofuturism, or older works closer to science fantasy or space opera.  Honestly, a lot of high fantasy actually tends to be very anti-classism, and numerous older science fiction made anti-classism allegories.

But in recent years, there’s been a lot more historical fantasy and contemporary fantasy/science fiction, and that seems to come with a heaping side of casual classism in the writing.  Nor do I mean this in a “there is addressed classism in the writing.”  No, when I say there is casual classism, I mean there are statements made and stereotypes used and neither the story or the writers call themselves out on it. And, sadly, this really does carry over into the fanfiction and meta of various shows.  There’s been a few times I’ve almost back buttoned out of fics that I otherwise was really enjoying when the writer suddenly drops in something classist without even blinking.  And not in an unreliable narrator way.  In an “I’m serious about this statement” type of way.  Usually, I remind myself of the classism in the show, unclench my jaw, and keep reading.  Once or twice, I have just noped out, though.

So, right now you’re probably like, well this seems very vagueing, Salmon.  And I don’t intend to call out any one fandom, nor any specific meta or fics.  But i do have a list of examples.  So let’s get to those.

Cleanliness This is a big one.  When a character is poor there are always comments made about their cleanliness.  Indications that they’re filthy or smelly.  Or that their living areas are dirty or stained or smelly.  And, really?  It’s classist crap.

I have been inside so many middle-class homes that were so filthy that I was frankly forced to wear a customer service smile to pretend that my skin was literally not crawling.  (Like, you're my friend babe, but when there are moldy strawberries on the rug by your couch - I am uncomfortable.) I have met people from all walks of life whose hygiene was very questionable.  And, honestly, cars?  I swear, the more disposable income a person has, the less they seem to care about the state of their cars.  The poorer they are, the cleaner they seem to keep their vehicle.  (Probably because there’s a very real possibility of them having had to sleep in their car at one time or another and it's much harder to sleep in the backseat if it's covered in empty food containers and sticky substances.)

“But what if they don't have a washer/dryer?” There are these two things called “handwash” and “drip dry”.  Also, laundromats exist.

“But without a shower and/or tub, they'd obviously be dirty.”  I don't know how to tell you this but a bar of soap, a cloth, and a sink and/or water basin are enough to clean off visible dirt and prevent you from smelling. It's nowhere near as nice as a hot shower, but it will get the job done.

And old things are not automatically broken, dirty, or stained. Well cared for things can last for years.

Alcoholism & Substance Abuse The factor about this that annoys me is less about anyone telling a story about alcoholism or substance abuse.  It’s in the fact that the moment a poor character drinks multiple times, or uses any type of drug even once, they are almost always written as alcoholics or addicts.  The few times the story does not refer to them as such, the fandom is quick to start referring to them as such. Moreover, this happens regardless of whether middle-class and upper-class characters in the same story drink just as often or use drugs more than once. There are multiple stories focused on alcoholism or addiction with a middle-class or upper-class character.  That’s not really the issue, either.  The problem is in the fact that if writers don’t go out of their way to state that a middle-class or upper-class character is an alcoholic or addict, nobody suggests they are.  Even if they are shown drinking numerous times.  But put a drink in a lower-class character’s hand even once, and suddenly they’re an alcoholic.

Literacy Overall fiction and fandom alike seem to fall into the notion that literacy is directly connected to class.  Both historically and contemporary.  The problem is that the issue is not at all so clear-cut.  Literacy is still an issue today, and an even bigger issue historically - but the problem with literacy is who was illiterate is a very mixed bag.  Really, there is a lot related to literacy including time period, location, gender, religion, and what type of work someone's parents did.  There were many times and places in history where you could absolutely write a story where an upper-class child is completely illiterate because it was deemed an unnecessary skill, and a poor child is very literate because they were taught by a parent whose work required them to be able to read and write.  Nor is literacy directly related to if a child attended school - there were other ways to learn to read and write. So while in any type of historical or historical fantasy having a larger portion of characters be illiterate is more realistic, relegating it strictly by class is not.

Working Class Jobs vs College This is going to be my longest rant. NGL, this one is a little personal.  Simply put, there is a lot of very casual referencing to working class jobs in a derogatory fashion.  Commentary that prescribes to the notion that anyone who did not attend college and earn a degree is unintelligent, incompetent, or lazy.  This varies from actually insulting the working class jobs outright, using negative stereotypes for working class characters, and/or to a much more insidious form of it where it is made to be about how a character is “too good” or “deserves better” than being working class.  The latter is the most frustrating because people do not even seem to be aware of how insulting it is.  The underhanded meaning of it.

“This character is working class but they're intelligent so clearly they shouldn't be working class” basically only seems uplifting because people are sold on the idea that working class = stupid.

“This person is working class but they must find a way to go to college in order to have a meaningful life.” Because having a meaningful life is directly connected to your career and tax bracket?

There's nothing inherently bad about stories where a character wants a different life. What is bad is the suggestion that the reason for this isn't personal (“My dream is X.”), but simply because working class jobs are “beneath” the character (“But they are capable of getting a “real” job” (As opposed to what exactly?  A phony one?)), or that happiness is tied to ambition (“But it's such a waste of their life to just be an X!”).

Knowledge/Skills Being lower class also doesn't mean a character has limited fields of knowledge or skills available to them.  You can learn things outside of a classroom.  Libraries exist.  I have never been in the book section of a second-hand store that didn't have someone's abandoned textbooks and multiple shelves of non-fiction.  You can self-teach yourself an instrument. A neighbor can teach you arts and crafts.  A co-worker can teach you a second language.

Look, I don't hate the master cooks, or the mechanically inclined lower class characters. But that doesn't have to be the limit. They can speak three languages. They can be an expert on local history.  They can be bizarrely obsessed with African Elephants! Niche interests exist.

It's just so disappointing to see how prevalent these types of things are in modern fiction.  It's equally disheartening to see how even when it isn't in the fiction itself, it may still be a prevalent attitude or concept in the fandom. It makes me want to shake people sometimes, because it's easy to see how they don't realize the people they are being so derogatory towards are people they're literally sharing fandom spaces with.

#salmon rants #salmonrants #writing #classism

[aketan]

We’ve found a very good set of questions for characters by @wisteria-lodge​ , time to use it! o9 ( link ) - - - - - - - - - - - - - F’arai Tevayen Tiefling Evocation Wizard What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant) - if it's a bar, then he'll enjoy some sweet cider, but if it's not the time for alcohol, then he'd like to drink some coffee with milk and sugar and some extra spices

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private) - Brushes his teeth, washes face, puts on some lotion as well (used to borrow Frey's, now he has his own), then then it's hair care time! He brushes his hair well and braids it, and then does some facial hair maintenance. Sometimes he puts some oil on his horns to make sure they look good and don't flake. He's good with high temperatures and he really enjoys a long soak in a hot bath.

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time) - His most expensive purchase so far (well, except the new house somewhen in the future) was his investment in his spellbook: had to buy a whole new thing, enchant it against damage and fire, and then spend some more money on special inks that should be used with such an expensive material. Now he can be sure that his spellbook is safe even when he uses it as the head of his hammer. Other than that - he enjoys spoiling his boyfriend and their cats with delicious meals.

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory) - He has some faint burn scars on his palms, as well as some marks from cuts and bruises here and there. Even with magical shields he couldn't avoid all the damage, since he often fights in melee.

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.) - He sometimes has a tear or two in his eyes from happiness or laughter. Real tears of fears and loss happened often in his alone moments back when Frey was close to turning fully into crystal.

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.) - He's the only child, and his parents were so excited for him to start learning magic and traveling that actually started teaching him themselves. He's pretty good at camping and survival!

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.) - Simple, but very well-made leather shoes that support his feet during his long walks and hikes. They're some years old, but as a traveler, he knows how important footwear is for journeys long and short.

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.) - It is a big bed with extra pillows for him and Frey; their cats often join them. There are lanterns above and on the night stands to each side of the bed for both tieflings to read comfortably. The room is pretty quiet, with heavy curtains that they pull closed for the night and a fluffy rug that they have to clean from cat fur more often than they'd like to.

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) - It's Frey's birthday! He gets to surprise him with little pastries or muffins decorated with sugared flowers or fruits. Other than that it's probably the celebration of new year in winter.

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.) - His spellbook/hammer, a traveling journal with enchanted pen, a potion or two, a multi-purpose tool, some candies.

#oc questionnaire #dnd #tiefling #evocation wizard #f'arai tevayen #oc art

[randombubblegum]

hi sydney sorry if this is a weird question but how do you make friends? it seems like you have such an active social life and mine has really stagnated during covid and I recently realized some of my friendships are really unhealthy….im not in school tho and im ‘older’ lol (25) so I feel like it’s harder now compared to school, and I also suffer from pretty bad social anxiety :(

awww its not a weird question at all!!!! im rly lucky to have the friends/circles i do, my social life and connections w my pals is the thing i cherish most >__< there was a time in my life not that long ago where i was very deeply isolated and lonely to the point of not wanting to be alive anymore so i completely understand how easy it is to fall into what youre describing and i also rly put a lot of effort into being social……

i know this is going to sound patronizing and its a bad answer but i feel like it rly boils down to luck :( making friends as an adult/out of school is fucking HARD!!!!!!! for me personally the way i met my friends is like. a lot of my closest friends irl who i love dearly and hop around the country to see started out as online friends when we were all teens/early 20s!!!! like we met on tumblr at 16 and a decade later we take turns visiting each other as much as we can :,) well also meet up for concerts/anime cons and stuff!! when u become a young adult, u get a disposable income that allows ur online friends to become irl friends!!!!!

my other close friends ive met through a literal mishmash of ways: friends of friends, childhood friends, we met at work in japan (my line of work has a ton of young gay ppl around my age), we met studying abroad and realized we went to the same college……. like truly all kinds of things!!! its totally luck based and the worst thing covid did was make it so u cant have casual hobbies outside ur house where ull organically and randomly meet ppl who would become ur friends :( but my advice for making new friends is to try and meet AS MANY ppl around ur age that u can via hobbies, work, volunteering etc etc, or to literally force ur internet friends to hang out with u in real life :) worked for me!!!

as for friends who make you feel drained/upset/unhappy…….. it can be rly hard to drop them when u feel alone and like u dont have any other better friends :( but in the long run friendships like that will just wipe you out so……… as soon as you have new friends who dont treat you badly. RUN LOL

#also 25 is not old!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all my friends are like 1-5 years older than me and we always do fun stuff :3 #i feel sad that i cant give better advice when i get questions like this bc it rly is just good fortune >_< #i wish yall could see me at 19. i mean i dont bc i was a shell of my former self like starving to death and not talking to anyone #but it gers better!!! keep trying >________< #mail time!

[daysfullofdreams]

Can we just be honest and say that she truly hasn’t had a highly interesting, fun, creative, or exciting tour since like 1989? Or are we still pretending that the Rep Tour was good and that 40+ songs every night isn’t gonna burn her out of touring permanently by the end of the Eras tour?

I looooooooove to be a hater and complain on main so let's go there! honestly I do not remember rep tour super well....but maybe that sort of speaks for itself. rep tour's biggest thing going for it in my memory is that it made me like so much more of that album than I did before I stepped foot into the stadium. so major win there for ms swift.

I do think 1989 was the last time she really got creative in terms of how the songs were arranged (IKYWT and WANEGBT are the standouts from that tour, but we can't forget about Love Story and the Wildest Dreams/Enchanted mashup) which is one of the aspects of her tours I look forward to the most. And when you literally have a tour called THE ERAS TOUR with the express intention of honouring your career and work so far.....how do you not capitalize on your extremely large and diverse body of work and get creative with it. I made a setlist (an actually realistic one, not just 3 hrs of songs I personally wanted her to sing) just for fun and not to toot my own horn but the mashups I thought of (and I even wrote and recorded 3 of them just to prove a point) were kind of genius (and I did all of that in the span of a couple hours in one evening. this is Taylor's actual job). why is marjorie on that setlist. why is she only performing enchanted off of speak now. why did she cut the only song from her debut album the second night (jail!). WHY IS SHE PERFORMING THE DAMN 10 MIN VERSION OF ALL TOO WELL. I do not understand this woman!!!!!!!!!!

I'm also thinking (like you mentioned) about burnout and fatigue. It's not that I think it's impossible to sing/perform for 3h15m straight a couple days in a row and then have a few days off to recover, but like.....she is not a theatre performer who is accustomed to stuff like this. does she have the vocal technique and training to pull it off? we will see. I hope so! (also side note yes she should ABSOLUTELY be taking singing lessons if she's not already, absolutely anyone and everyone who sings professionally should be doing this and on an extremely consistent basis)

I do absolutely love the costumes for this tour though, and I like the visuals projected both onto the large screen at the back of the stage and the floor. There's some really cool moments (the dive comes to mind) and really great choreography (Vigilante Shit). The stage is not quite as intricate as (i.e. no real set pieces in comparison to) previous tours, but I think that has to do with the extreme scale of her tour. easier to have more elaborate moving pieces and detail when you're not in a stadium. idk. I watched most of the show via livestream Friday night and while I had a good time my takeaways were 1) this show is too damn long (for such a largely uninspired and at times straight up bad setlist) and 2) this doesn't make me want to spend hundreds of dollars for a ticket, go all the way into new jersey, and then go all the way back into the city after. so no fomo for this gal! only way you'll catch me at metlife is if I get a ticket for like less than $100. i'm spending my disposable income on theatre and broadway this summer because I'm moving to new york in may! wheeee

[blazehedgehog]

Not a question, but I did want to drop in and say that it is really good to see you hitting a bit of a rhythm with your latest content. I know it's probably especially tough with what's been going on in your personal life, but keep it up. You have the talent to create content that people really want to see. Even if it's only once per month or even less frequently, keep it consistent. Get in that groove. Myself and others are eagerly awaiting your future content. Thanks for the dedication.

No problem. I'd like to keep doing this as long as I can but there's obviously a lot of stress and worry.

(Inserting a note at the start: Sorry if this bums anyone out.)

Like to give some context here, I'm living in a room at my brother's place now. It's about the size of the room I was living in when my Mom was alive, but there are fewer luxuries. Like, obviously, when it was just me and my mom, I had a lot more storage space! But my brother has three kids and a wife, so I'm having to cull certain things and find space where I can. It's not as bad as I feared, but it's not great.

Mostly I keep to myself. I always swore that I'd make the perfect roommate some day because I don't like to make a fuss in other people's lives. I am absolutely, 100% fine keeping to myself and staying in my room. Even living with my Mom, she'd often joke that she "lived alone" because I was in my room busy with something.

That's generally the same here at my brother's, but I no longer have someone else buying groceries for the household. Generally speaking I am trying to minimize the impact I have on my brother's family, so when I can, I'm buying my own food. His wife cooks dinner for everyone, but I am paying for my own breakfast, lunches, and snacks. I have my whole own refrigerator, so it's actually kind of nice being able to buy frozen foods and stuff and not worry about taking away their fridge space.

But that also means I have now have zero disposable income! Every dollar matters. What little I had in savings are now being slowly bled out. If you've been noticing me pushing Patreon a little harder in these last two videos, now you know why! It is significantly more important that videos do well for me now. Which is a good motivator for me to not drag my feet on certain things.

I'm not broke yet. My savings are starting to reach what I would consider "the danger zone" and I've been tightening belts on basically everything, but also the Sonic Origins video did well enough that it'll extend my buffer of money. But the pressure is on to get moving.

This was all stuff me and my Mom talked about before we knew she was dying. After she had such bad back pain from her sciatica and then they broke her leg, there was this sense that she had been traumatized, and we're wondering if she'll ever walk again, ever drive again, etc. So we sat down one day and had a "things will never be the same and we're going to have to change" talk.

And during that I mentioned doubling down on Youtube and actually trying to make it work. So I collected all the disparate ideas I'd been sitting on for years because I was too busy with other projects or whatever and realized I had ideas for five or six different series and a couple dozen one-off videos. My mom supported this all the way. She said to me, "I've always told everyone you're going to be famous some day."

And through tears I told her "I want you to be there when I do it." Because even then, she'd already been in physical therapy for a couple weeks, and something didn't seem right.

And that interaction is the thing that echoes in my mind every time I feel like I'm running out of steam or I'm doubting myself. "You're going to be famous some day."

Sorry if this is making the readers emotional. I've had to do a lot of reckoning with myself these last few months, particularly these last six weeks, because there's literally no other way forward for me. Would I rather be struggling to relaunch my Youtube channel, or working a real, stable 9-to-5? While pandemic numbers are going back up again, but now you can't get people to wear masks anymore, and a full tank of gas is $190?

I'm good at this. I know I'm good at this. I've practically been a trailblazer in some of these arenas. I just have to, finally, at long last, dare to believe in myself. Which may be the most scary thing I've ever had to wrestle with in my entire life, because I have lived in the guilt of being this high school dropout that the rest of my family badmouthed to my mother. It's literally decades worth of baggage.

But I can't let that control me anymore. It's do or die time.

Let's hope it isn't the latter.

#questions #Anonymous #personal #emotional #things I've wanted to say for a while

[thee-morrigan]

hiii katie! hope you are doing well, and the q; is 1, 3 and 5 from the character questionaire for Holland? 💕

alya hello!!! hope you're well too, friend! <3 i will literally talk about holland any day/all day so thanks for indulging me lmao

1. What is their go-to drink order? Generally? Coffee, large and black (ideally with cinnamon). If she's craving espresso, she might go for a bone-dry cappuccino or an iced cinnamon latte with oat milk. She's had more than one argument about the ratio of water (hydrating!) to caffeine (dehydrating!) in an average coffee as a defense of how much she drinks (is this a patent self-insert moment for me? unimportant! moving on!) If she's ordering drinks at a bar, her go-to is usually a whisk(e)y sour, typically favoring bourbon over other whiskies. It's something you can find everywhere from seedy dive bars to upscale places, and even a shitty one is reasonably drinkable (unlike, say, a crap martini, wherein poor quality liquor is going to mean a drink that tastes like hand sanitizer and still somehow cost $12).

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? Holland's disposable income tends to go towards music in some capacity. She loves live music, and she's definitely spent a lot of money over the years traveling to different music festivals and following favorite bands/artists around. Her single most expensive purchase was probably her guitar. (Technically, she owns a couple of acoustic guitars, but only one of them is like, Her Baby). When she finished grad school, she bought herself a Taylor as a graduation present to herself (and in her twc-verse canon, her Taylor guitar is one of the belongings she made a point of panic-grabbing before fleeing her flooded apartment in the book 3 demo!) 5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? This was tough to answer for her! Holland's not a big crier, and she's more likely to cry because she's frustrated or angry rather than any other big feeling. Sticking with her twc canon (and with the book 3 demo 😈), it's pretty likely that she teared up a bit after the incident in the clearing with sad giant mothman. (Because, let's be real, Nate said "try not to draw attention to yourself/die," Holls said "fuck that," then got Big Mad when he had feelings about it.) (i've been picking at a now-oldish fic about this scene forever and i really want to finish it now)

[character questionnaire]

#ty for the ask beloved <3 #lowkey i can't wait for her to be a prickly/messy/secretive bitch in book 3 i know it's coming #she spent all of book 2 feeling soft and acting like her mom didn't raise an emotionally stunted infant of an adult woman #oc: holland townsend #answered #anotherbeingsworld #ocs + hcs #katie says things

[hella1975]

identify one specific fiscal policy that might be implemented to offset the effects of a decrease in investment and explain how the policy would affect 1) aggregate demand 2) output and price level 3) real interest rates

(jk u don’t need to answer this hehe. unless? 🤨)

reading this actually made me want to burst into tears. but i hate myself so im gonna try give a simplified answer off the top of my head and if halfway through my spelling goes to shit just assume i cant see past the ugly snotty crying

okay so the determinants of economic growth (increased economic growth = yay we're doing well!) are written as C + I + G + (X-M), where C = consumption, I = investment, G = gov.spending, X = exports and M = imports. if ANY of these decrease then we have a fall in growth which is boo bad it means the economy is in a downturn and too much of a downturn means recession which is VERY boo bad.

so if there's a decrease in investment, that means growth is falling, which we don't want, so to pick it back up again, we want to increase the other determinants of growth. this is actually just what most policies are (policymaking is a big part of economics, hence monetary policy, fiscal policy, supply-side policy etc. you hear it all the time. i have a pavlovian response of pure aggression upon the word 'policy'). fiscal policy is when the government starts getting jiggy with spending and taxation, which is just sof cuking fun.

literally just remembered that expansionary and contractionary fiscal policy exist im literally head in hands weeping rn anyway. im choosing expansionary all my homies hate contractionary

so if investment falls you can increase government spending, which increases growth bc that means better education, better infrastructure etc = higher productivity = higher output = higher growth. you can also cut taxes on shit, which will increase consumption bc people are like 'fuck yeah i have more disposable income im gonna buy a hand soap and grow the economy <3'. there's also an increase in inflation. fun fact if ur studying economics: if you dont know the answer, assume inflation is happening. inflation is the world's biggest pick me. she literally is always there you cannot escape her she stands in my bedroom watching me sleep. so this is no.2 bc rise in price level is literally the definition of inflation. inflation can be a good thing though sometimes as a treat so we now have a perfect economy there are no problems im going to faint bish bash bosh

im pretending interest rates dont exist bc im lazy im just a pathetic little guy in the rain

#half of this is definitely slightly or completely wrong #and there's huge gaps #but ive not done this since a-level so if i want to just pure lie to you about economics then i think i should be allowed to do that #fiscal policy is actually pronounced really funny bc you go *vomit noises* how cool is that? #ask #hella goes to uni

[dadbodsandbots]

all of the s/i questions for the spider-goon.

ty bestie!!

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how they like to be publicly perceived because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/restaurant) Unsweet tea or an iced coffee if On the Job, but a craft hard cider and/or beer if hitting the dive bars. Never let have more than two shots of straight tequila because no amount of pre-hangover food will keep it down, this is a threat.

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private) Usually morning showers, then a cursory washcloth scrub after coming home from fighting goons all day. If work was especially hellish, a long soak in bath salts is a must with a mud mask just to be extra pampered.

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time) Getting paid in Oscorp Fun Bucks means a HELL of a lot more money than I've seen in my life at one time and that's with a weekly direct deposit hitting. I treat myself to furniture I've been eyeing for years but never had room for, some shit for my Gamer Cave, then throw the rest into savings.

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory)  Biggest scars are from my timeline Kraven attempting to skin me (Catverse Kraven is a Big Sexy Russian Lady, so it was absolutely 99% avoidable I'm just a wall-crawling bimbo), so there's a different colored patch of skin between my shoulders that healed FAST but never healed just right. Small, barely visible lines across my limbs, neck, and torso where the Catverse Symbiote healed me from massive bodily trauma that would have killed anyone else. Smaller scars include bite/claw marks that I can identify as either Fun (Logan, Venom, Tigra) or Not Fun (Logan, Sabertooth, Hulk, Wendigo). Work-related scars include small thin lines that circle my thumbs and index fingers where my Oscorp-brand wire webs barely cut into the thin flesh due to excessive force during "test runs."

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.)  Small cry: chronic PMS, saw Man-Thing doing something cute, Lester calling my fashion weeb and cringe. Big cry: 1) Realizing that Catverse you were the last real friend I had before my verse collapsed on itself, and that 616 you will always choose Norman despite the inherent dangers and that I can't protect someone from their final, informed decisions. 2) Being homeless in a literal and cosmic sense. 3) Selling out my spider powers to avoid insecurity at all costs. 4) Catverse Logan ghosting due to unsuccessful communications regarding personal/professional incompatibilities, and worrying about repeating those mistakes with 616 Logan.

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.) Only child baybe lmaooo this one was boring sorry

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch-all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.) "Work" shoes for the vanilla Wolf Spider suit look like medium brown knee-high wrestling boots with reinforced kneepads/joint support for my creaky ass knees/ankles. An original design element is three little "claw" marks at the toe line I painted onto the first pair (wolf spiders have three claws as opposed to two!!). The New and Improved Oscorp boots are basically the same, save for increased durability with green laces to stay on Brand. Off-duty, I usually wear vintage cowboy boots, chunky hi-tops, or shoes I mugged from muggers - especially when I first got dumped into 616.

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.) IN THE WALLS. No joke, I found several utility spaces forgotten in the recesses of the Oscorp building and turned several into hang-out spots. Norman knows but tolerates it as it means less time for me out in the open to cause trouble, and I can traverse multiple floors quickly during an emergency. As long as nothing catches on fire, he doesn't care. Daken can smell me through the vents and goes through my stuff to fuck with me, mostly eating my food and stealing t-shirts. I retaliate by dressing like his dad and that shit stops real fast lmfao. The multitude of "rooms" means I curate my aesthetic space depending on my mood, which can range from "frat house" to "low light urban garden." It's a mix of shit from the thrift store or curb, and some name-brand home goods I can finally afford with my Oscorp Fun Bucks. Bedding can range from a crash pad I snatched from the training rooms to hammocks made from webbing.

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.)  HALLOWEEN!!! This is a constant no matter what universe. Weird shit happens in 616 all the time, but the REALLY WEIRD SHIT goes down on Halloween. The only downside is that it cuts into my time to party and be a hooligan. Also, never a non-zero chance to fuck a monster. Least favorite is Easter because the candy is shit and [chitters in agnostic]. Christmas doesn't hit as hard as it used to as there always seems to be less people around every year. I'll sooner be at some shithole bar or volunteering to try and feel a little less like a depressed scumbag.

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.)  If you don't see me carry any Burt's Bees Pomegranate lip balm and double-mint gum, assume I'm a Skrull and shoot on sight.

#hc tag #v: spectacular spider goon #thank you this was fun!!

[copperbadge]

How did you get started with investing? I've seen you talk about it before and I know that's something I need to do, but I feel so lost in terms of which companies to invest in and how much money I should put in. I have retirement accounts but nothing outside of that. And really, I feel like I can't talk to anyone IRL about this because I'm too embarrassed - I'm literally a CPA and do corporate taxes for a living but still find investing to be so intimidating 😞.

I mean, when people say "you should be investing" often, until you reach a certain wealth level, they are actually referring to your 401K. This is more general advice for the readers, but don't feel bad if you're not investing outside of retirement, especially if you're early in your career or if you're in a job where you don't have much disposable income. Don't feel bad in general, honestly, even if you haven't got a retirement fund at all; life is hard and money is necessary but stupid.

I only really started to invest invest in the last two years and even then I'm pretty conservative about it. On the plus, as a CPA, you will probably have a leg up in terms of knowing a lot of financial terms and kind of...understanding how money works in at least some sense.

I actually got started studying investing with my retirement fund. I was young and broke and mad that a chunk of my paycheck was going into my 401K when I could use that money NOW (see Sam Vimes Boots Theory for more on why ready cash now can often beat more cash later). I didn't know much about finance but I knew that a) I was basically being forced to play the financial markets with that money and b) the fate of our country's economy is tied to the stock market which is a mood ring hooked up to a roulette wheel. Being the Oldest Living Millennial I also understood I might not actually ever get to retire, so I decided to treat my retirement fund like Monopoly money: real but meaningless. And so I thought, well, let's Learn About Investing with it.

When you invest with a 401K or IRA usually you're not buying straight stocks; you're buying some conglomeration of investments bundled together as a fund (this is not a technical term, fund has a specific meaning in the technical sense, but it's easier to just use fund as a shorthand so I'm gonna). These can include stocks, bonds, mutual funds, and other more esoteric vehicles. So I started looking into the funds available to me -- there's the "retire in this year" fund that most people just dump all their money into, but there were also ways to invest in small businesses abroad, in health care or in funds that are "socially responsible", ways to buy into funds that did nothing but attempt to keep up with inflation, and on and on.

I didn't know any of that, of course -- I just saw something like "International Explorer Fund" and decided it sounded interesting and I'd learn what it was and what it did, and when I was satisfied that the reward was worth the risk, I'd dump some cash from my 2045-Retirement investment into it. While "past performance is no indication of future success" past performance isn't a bad way to at least pick something to research, and usually there's an earnings graph on the fund's prospectus page. I'd start reading prospectuses and looking up every word I didn't know or felt had a specific context I was missing (mostly on Investopedia, a GREAT resource). I'd take the term, add it to a vocabulary list, and rewrite "what is this and what does it do" in my own words. Eventually I internalized a lot of the terminology but I still check my notes once in a while.

There are financial literacy courses you can take, of course, and I don't think you should be AT ALL ashamed about trying to find a good one (lots of scams out there) or asking colleagues about them. "Hey, I'm not comfortable with my level of literacy about investment vehicles; do you know of any good educational material or class that would fill in the gaps?" is a good way to go about it. Very few people know jack shit about investing and my level of knowledge is just BARELY above jack shit, to be honest, so no shame, my friend. It is also totally fine to find a financial planner or investment advisor outside of your work and have a sit-down with them to get advice, which is what my parents do. Many banks offer that kind of service, so check with wherever you do your banking, and almost any retirement fund administrator (like Vanguard or American Funds) will be happy to send someone to meet with you and advise you. I was never prouder of my financial self-education than the one time I met with a guy from Vanguard who said, "Basically, keep doing what you're doing, this is a model portfolio."

Once I was investing in my retirement funds more confidently, I got the RobinHood app and started studying stocks, which is really just like, "find a stock and do a book report on it". Look at past earnings, who the CEO of the company is, what their board makeup is like, what they're doing in the news. And of course the most important advice: Never, ever invest money in the stock market that you aren't prepared to lose.

Aside from my stock adventures on RobinHood, which is about five hundred dollars that I turned into a thousand dollars over a couple of years, I have money in a few savings accounts. I don't have CDs or money market accounts or any of that, because I still don't have quite enough cash to make it worth it. I just parked some in a credit union that pays 6% interest on the first $1K you put in, and the rest in Betterment, which had a 2% interest rate when I started but now is down to .3% which is a bummer. But I haven't found another vehicle like Betterment which allows you equally easy access to your money while having as intuitive and modular an online interface.

So overall, aside from retirement (which is at $116K, which seems impressive until you remember you're supposed to retire with 25x your yearly salary in your 401K) I have a grand in the stock market, a grand in a 6%-interest savings account with a credit union, a grand in an emergency-only savings account attached to my checking, and roughly five grand with Betterment. It's a fairly conservative setup but I'd like never to be poor ever again, so I'm hedging carefully :D

Some great resources that I've used include:

Investopedia

Planet Money podcast by NPR and its sister podcast, The Indicator

The Financial page of the newspaper (I used to read NYT, now I read Tribune)

Rankandfiled.com, a free stock filings resource site that basically scrapes the SEC for financial data -- this is for if you really want to do a deep dive once you've got more experience

Good luck! It's a slog at first, but eventually it gets kinda fun :)

#investing #financial planning

[watchtowerindistress]

we all have our secrets (4/5) - shangqi x asian!reader

Summary: Y/N finds a kindred spirit in Xialing. Xialing is an aggressive flirt (who knew?).

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: angst, fluff, language, a wee bit of violence

Relationship: Xu Shangqi x asian!reader

Author’s note: Xialing flirting with the reader just happened, I can't explain it. 🤣 Only one more chapter because my writing muse/plot bunny decided to switch things up. 🤷🏻‍♀️ What can I say?

Reblogs and/or comments are appreciated.

Tag yourself | Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Bring me a cuppa

“So, who wants to go first?”

The tension-filled silence only made things worse as soon as Wenwu gazed expectantly into the eyes of his ‘guests’. Shangqi’s sister glanced at them with a bored expression as she used the chopsticks to play with her food.

The only thing anchoring Y/N to the present was Shangqi holding her hand at her side under the table which covered a variety of foods.

Unsatisfied with the group not showing a reaction, Wenwu rested his arms against the table, putting his bracelets on full display. In Y/N’s head, she couldn’t help calling them that, knowing how much it bothered Wenwu when she dubbed them like that out loud. That thought alone put a smile on her face.

Y/N slowly turned her head to gaze at the man, only to feel his inquisitive stare on her already.

“Y/N, how are your ribs feeling by the way?”

Shangqi’s face hardened at the reminder of her injury before Y/N felt his fingers caressing her hand in comfort.

Y/N smirked, trying to get a rise out of rigid terrorist leader. “Oh, I’ve never been better. Nothing beats having your bracelets hit against the side of my body with a lethal force. You should try it some time.”

“Don’t call them ‘bracelets’, child,” Wenwu spoke slowly with narrowed eyes.

Xialing, who was sitting opposite them, chuckled under her breath. “I like this one,” she said before pointing her chopsticks at her and turned back to her meal.

“You tried to kill her,” Shangqi threw in, with simmering anger in his voice. In any other situation his protectiveness would be flattering or even arousing, but the ache at her side and the insidious situation they were in, took over her mind more.

“Don’t be dramatic. A Black Widow knows how to fend for herself after all.”

Y/N exhaled heavily. She was still processing the literal bomb Wenwu just dropped before she even comprehended that Shangqi let go of her in shock. Her stomach clenched once the realization hit her that Wenwu managed to hit her where it would hurt the most. The life she built for herself. The life she built together with Shangqi.

Y/N swallowed thickly as she turned her head to look at Shangqi pleadingly. Silently begging him to look at her.

Despite the silence taking over the room, the blood rushed to her head, making her feel all woozy from the incoming ringing taking over. With her heartbeat racing nervously in Y/N’s chest, she could feel Xialing’s intrigued stare on her.

“Wait, you’re a Black Widow, for real? Like, Natasha Romanoff-Black Widow?” Katy asked with a hoarse voice made of surprise and reverie. Y/N didn’t know whether her friend’s admiration was for her former status as a Black Widow or her connection to Romanoff.

The mere mention made Y/N abruptly face her with a venomous glare. “Don’t mention that name.”

Satisfied with that outcome, Wenwu laced his fingers together. Smug apathy took over his features. It made Y/N wonder what horrors he had to face in his immortal life to gain that perspective that people were just disposable.

“To be honest, I knew you meant something to my son and … you were just a means to an end. I didn’t really care in what kind of state you’d end up.”

Y/N leaned forward in her chair. “Just admit it,” she glared at Wenwu with her next words, “you send my sisters after me, you’re trying to have me killed.”

The stillness of Shangqi’s body was starting to worry her as her anxious eyes met the side of his head. “Shangqi? Please look at me,” Y/N begged him openly, knowing how rare it was for her to admit her vulnerabilities. To earnestly admit her feelings.

Shangqi stubbornly faced the table and settled his arms on the table, openly defying her wish for closeness. Shangqi was all about showing affection - it was one of the things that unsettled her upon meeting him. How the Red Room upbringing had enforced her to remain unfeeling, not to let anyone get close to her and never to trust anyone. It was strange how she craved Shangqi’s sign of affection by a simple touch.

He merely clenched his jaw, refusing to face her again.

Wenwu asked with an innocent voice, “Oh, you didn’t tell him about that? That’s harsh.”

It turned out a ‘family’ dinner could turn out even more awkward than previously thought. If Wenwu’s monologue about the Mandarin’s impersonation and appropriation of the Ten Rings wasn’t bad enough, Shangqi’s cold exterior was.

Y/N felt like she was on the outside looking in of this intimate and most tension-fueled event. Her skin was burning from Shangqi not even sparing her another glance.

Y/N clenched her jaw and focused her eyes straight ahead. Astonishment hit her once Y/N met the soft-eyed glance of Xialing as Shangqi’s sister let sympathy shine through like a blanket.

“I’ll let you freshen up,” Wenwu cleansed his fingers with a light-colored napkin that complimented his dress shirt and casually threw it on the table before standing up, “and I will meet you all in my office to talk about things.”

The moment that Wenwu’s presence was gone, and the heavy tension left with him – save for Shangqi’s which left a pang in her chest - the body language of everyone changed dramatically.

“Guys, please tell me we’re not sticking around for this lunatic. No hard feelings, man,” Katy admitted with honesty.

“None taken,” Xialing and Shangqi retorted simultaneously.

“And no. We’ll see what his plan is and then we’re getting the hell out of here.” Her brother assured them.

The escape from the Ten Rings headquarters turned out messier and even more fantastical than Y/N had expected. Getting her gear back, discovering the former Mandarin imposter, escaping with the former Mandarin imposter through a magical maze and reaching the magical dimension of Ta Lo.

A small part of Y/N believed that Xialing reveled in the misery of her older brother when she took the seat by the door, effectively squeezing Y/N into a tight space with Shangqi. Being able to feel every sharp turn - or more like his strong muscles, as they tensed with every colliding touch.

The fact that this was such a fantastical place wasn’t the only factor to make Y/N feel so out of place. It was the distance Shangqi kept between him and her. It felt like Y/N was merely tolerated for the ride and she hated being the passive force.

The cooing noise under her fingertips pulled her out of her thoughts and made Y/N look down to one of the fantastical animals which habituated this home territory that had slowly inched towards her as she ruminated on the patch of grass. Upon further observation it appeared to be a hybrid of a red-golden winged lion. Absentmindedly, Y/N stroked the soft feathers of its wings and watched its wide golden eyes settle on her as it snuggled deeper along her calves.

“You seem to have a magical touch.”

The sudden voice made Y/N look up in curiosity.

Xialing was wearing her new silver-black armor as she inched towards her with casual steps - a description she wouldn’t have associated with the rigid sister. If anything, due to her upbringing, it gave Y/N the impression that Xialing tried not to spook her.

Shrugging her shoulders, Y/N gave her new feathery friend her full attention.

“I never thought I’d enter a world where I ever encountered a Pixiu,” Xialing whispered almost in awe, like this animal was something to worship. Her eyes didn’t leave the animal’s form as she knelt down and sat cross-legged.

“Do you know the story behind them?” Her fingers cautiously stroked the back as its wings flapped from the care it was receiving.

Curiosity shone in Y/N’s eyes as she looked up, bonding over the purring hybrid. “Not that well-versed in Chinese Mythology,” she admitted.

“The males are a symbol of wealth, while the females are supposed to ward off evil. It seems you found a female,” Xialing explained calmly, just in time to have another dragon lion get closer and willingly snuggled at her hips before nudging her with his head. This one had a different color though, in blue-and-gold feathers.

Y/N raised a teasing eyebrow. “And you’re saying I’m the one with the magic touch?”

Xialing smirked indulgently. “Usually, animals shy away from me.”

“Is that supposed to mean something? That they have some sort of instinct to keep away from you?”

“Probably my own inhibition to get close.”

“It’s all about training, Xialing. You can train or manipulate your body for anything.”

As soon as the word ‘training’ left Y/N’s mouth, Xialing cleared her throat. “Speaking of training, is it true that the Red Room program only trained women?”

Y/N exhaled heavily and dropped her head. The moment the female Pixiu sensed the loss of her touch, she jumped into her lap, making her jolt with a humph.

Absentmindedly, she stroked the hybrid’s stomach which felt strangely furry than feathery. “I was wondering when someone would mention that part.” She inhaled deeply and gazed into the sky. “Girls,” Y/N corrected her, feeling that the distinction was pretty important. “They train young girls to turn them into assassins.”

“How old were you when they−?”

“Took me? About 7. It’s just easier to mold kids into their perfect killers and manipulators when they’re still young and … pliable? Simpler to play with their minds when they’re still easy to impress. To shape us into what the instructors wanted us to become.”

Xialing’s eyes shifted, trying to come up with words. “I’m not good with comforting people.”

In that regard - of wearing your heart on your sleeve - Xialing was certainly nothing like her brother.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I don’t … want you to?”

Xialing nodded her head mechanically, rocking her upper body back and forth. “That’s great to hear. That’s cool.” She pressed her lips together before awkwardly adding with an exhaling breath, “Cool.”

A pregnant pause settled in the air before Xialing asked, “So, uh, what’s your name again?”

Y/N snorted at her crude social skills, yet still replied, “Y/N” while waving to her chest.

“Xialing, the forgotten sister.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows at the offhanded remark and felt utterly torn between wanting to defend Shangqi and knowing how much the sister was at a disadvantage with the way her own father barely even glanced at her at his compound.

Y/N sighed and glanced when the flutter of wings touched her legs. “Would you prefer it if I defended Shangqi or you?”

Xialing sent her a side-eyed glance which was filled with annoyance. “You know, as much as I don’t want to be judgmental−”

“I’m getting the feeling that you’re still going to.”

She continued as if Y/N hadn’t said a thing, “−but what do you see in him again? You’re like way out of his league.”

Y/N scoffed with laughter which turned almost wheezing.

“Who am I kidding? You’re like leagues ahead. You're not even playing the same sport.”

“I love the vote of confidence.”

“I mean, who would have thought? A Black Widow and my brother? Talk about mind-blowing.”

“That would imply that we were on good terms, you know, since we’re not. Your brother has been giving me the silent treatment ever since we arrived at this place.”

“Listen…” The Pixiu purred underneath her fingertips while Xialing stroked the feathers of the male creature, “we don’t have time for regrets. As I much as I can’t stand my brother sometimes, you two need to have that conversation, before mayhem ensues. The way I know my father, it is going to come. Before it’s too late.”

Astonishment shone in Y/N’s eyes at her profound words, seeing the other woman in a different light. “Xu Xialing, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a romantic.”

Xialing rolled her eyes. “I’ll deny everything when someone asks,” she threatened lightly with glaring eyes. Xialing tilted her head and pursed her lips in mock contemplation. “Or I could kick your ass right here, right now.”

Y/N chuckled. “You’re funny. Shangqi should’ve told me he had a funny sister.”

“I’m serious.”

Y/N gazed into her brown eyes. “You think you could beat me in a fight?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Xialing mused thoughtfully before sending Y/N a teasing smirk. Her eyes shone with a daring glimmer which had the intended effect when a jolt coursed through her body.

“I know you’re just trying to get to me, but challenge accepted.” With these words, Y/N stood up from her cross-legged position. “Try to keep up, would you?”

Xialing sneered. “That’s funny.”

“You’re cheating,” Xialing stated with a raspy voice.

A snort left her lips. “I would hardly call this cheating.”

Her hand was still rubbing the sore spot on her throat before Xialing sent her a judgmental stare. “You just punched me in the throat. You seem to have a loose definition of cheating.”

Y/N smirked. “You say that now and you haven’t even met my friend yet. She basically created the whole playbook of cheating. How do you think I survived your father? By being honest?”

The mention of her father made her spring into action. Xialing leaped in the air with her hand clenched into a fist.

It made a thumping sound against her wrist to block the attack which had a flurry of fists to follow. Y/N grunted before she switched back into strike mode and hit Xialing’s face with the back of her elbow, making the other woman let out a pained grunt.

A taken-aback gasp pulled her out of the moment before Y/N looked back and saw that they had lured quite a crowd of onlookers watching the spectacle. Including Katy who covered her mouth with her hands.

Shangqi standing next to his best friend, with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face, made Y/N hesitate for a second.

It was all Xialing needed to trip her feet. Y/N fell backwards, with Xialing’s triumphant grin on her face as she was standing above her.

Xialing’s pride soon shifted into dread.

Y/N scissored her legs around Xialing’s neck. Pulling her opponent towards her until they were face-to-face, Y/N kept her arm in a tight lock, pressing against her pressure point on her wrist.

“Yield,” Y/N hissed through gritted teeth.

“You first,” came Xialing’s reply.

“Five more seconds and you will faint; with the way I’m pressing on your wrist. You’re probably feeling fuzzy already.”

Xialing blinked twice. “It’s a tie,” she grunted with wheezing breaths. The chokehold and the grip on her wrist were probably slowly getting to her.

“Agreed.” Despite the knowledge how Y/N could render her immobile, she released her thighs around her neck.

Xialing inhaled deeply before grunting. “Guess we need to do that again.”

Y/N’s head did a double-take from her statement. “Come again?”

Xialing squatted onto her knees before straightening into a standing position. Y/N looked up, just as Xialing’s hand was offered at her eyelevel.

“I could use a capable sparring partner,” Xialing admitted with a soft smile – an expression which Y/N wouldn’t have expected coming from her.

She accepted her help in standing up and brushed a few sweaty strands away from her forehead. “You’re very optimistic for someone whose father is intending to bring about the end of the universe.”

Xialing shrugged, almost brushing her body against hers as she stepped closer. “What can I say? I believe in delayed gratification. Baby steps, you know?”

“Really? Wouldn’t have figured.”

Something moving in the side of her eye made Y/N turn her head to see the dark-haired head of Shangqi moving further away with brisk steps, with his arms clenched at his sides.

Y/N furrowed her brows and glanced in confusion at Katy, hoping for some answers. Her long dark hair whipped through the air to glance back at her friend before switching her gaze between Y/N and Xialing and mouthed, “I don’t know.”

Y/N sighed under her breath, but still felt her feet lingering.

“Talk to my brother. There’s still time to train for later,” Xialing acquiesced with a soft voice.

Y/N turned her head with the corners of her mouth pulling downwards, hating that Xialing wanted to be the voice of reason. Still, Y/N hesitated.

Xialing insisted though. “Come on. We don’t have the luxury to have regrets, remember? Or do you want me to kick your butt again?”

Y/N ignored the apparent lie and narrowed her eyes in thought, teasing, “I’d prefer to fight you instead, actually.” Than to face Shangqi, remained unsaid. Nonetheless, she groaned before slowly moving in the direction where Shangqi had wandered off to.

Y/N cursed her quickly beating heart in her chest once her eyes met the broad shoulders of the man who had shunned her from the minute of Wenwu’s seed of mistrust. Shangqi had sought refuge at some sort of shrine which honored his departed mother.

Nervously licking her lips, Y/N was careful not to disrupt the sentimental mood he was in when she softly spoke, “What was she like?”

“I don’t remember,” Shangqi uttered with a grunt.

What a load of crap.

Her eyes focused on the tenseness of his shoulders ever since he sensed her presence. “That’s a lie,” Y/N paused, letting it linger in the air, “I might have been taken by the operatives of the Red Room off the streets of Koronadal when I was a young girl, but I still remember my mother as I cling to any kind of memory, I still got left of her.”

Shangqi jerkily shook his head, almost like he was in denial. “I can’t do this.” He turned his body and walked with brisk steps in her direction, but he averted his eyes as he tried to escape her.

Y/N would have none of it when she deliberately stepped in front of Shangqi. “Can’t have this conversation? Tell me something, what bothers you more? The fact that I used to be a Black Widow or that you found out from your father?”

Shangqi exhaled heavily through his nose as he braced his hands on his waist. His eyes wandered around before he exhaled with a grunt, “I’m not – that’s not –” With a glare, he gazed directly into her eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Y/N felt heat rise in her, almost in provocation from Shangqi’s defensive tone.

Well, two could play this game.

“Were you?” she asked with a counterquestion while her eyebrows rose high and felt silently confirmed through Shangqi’s clenched jaw. “See? It wouldn’t have mattered who you were or who I was because that part of my life was over.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes in speculation before her voice shifted into a whisper, “You know, it’s strange. I didn’t blame you for who your father is, but still, I never thought you would be the one to judge me instead.”

Shangqi tilted his head, refusing to believe her innocence which strangely hurt before he taunted, “Kind of far-fetched though, isn’t it? A Black Widow getting together with the son of the most dangerous terrorist in the world. I mean, what are the chances?”

Her eyes widened.

“Wow, and I thought I had issues with trusting people.”

Shangqi crossed his arms. “Was any of it even real? What you told me?”

Y/N deflated with her next exhaling breath. “I never lied to you about that. How I’m … scared of crowds of people or that I’m sensitive to sounds. When you grow up in the Red Room where all the girls were only allowed to speak when the operatives allowed us to, you tend to … loathe some noises.”

Y/N snorted in derision. What was the point of all of this? “Maybe Yelena was right. I was fooling myself into thinking I could have a normal life. To share my life with someone, be happy. To forget who I was.”

Y/N stroked her arms, hating herself for being vulnerable like that in front of him. Dejectedly, she shook her head. “But what does it matter? Nothing I say is going to change your mind about me. Why bother?”

Remembering how much Y/N tried to stop Shangqi from leaving and realizing the irony of it as she attempted to go with a twist of her body.

The warmth against her lower arm caught her by surprise before she glanced down to find Shangqi had caught her arm as his hand lingered. “Wait. I don’t – I can’t – This is too much. I can’t think about … me and you when there’s literally the fate of the universe at stake.”

“I get it,” she sighed before ruffling her fingers through her hair. “Anyway, your sister is going to deny it when asked but she thought it’d be a good idea to have that talk.”

A smirk tugged at Shangqi’s lips. “Didn’t take Xialing for being a romantic.”

“Yes, it’s hard to believe.”

Inhaling slowly, Shangqi gazed at Y/N with a pondering expression. “How high are the chances that you’re going to leave this place and get back to San Francisco?”

Y/N tilted her head at the suggestion. “And accidentally bump into your father? Very unlikely, Shangqi.” She pursed her lips. “Only you would reject the help of a Black Widow.”

“I just want you safe. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I get it, you’ve been trained by the best of the best, but…”

Not having expected that, something softened inside Y/N at Shangqi’s confession. They weren’t exactly the best at being vulnerable, as much as Shangqi tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. At least one of them had to. Trying to make him feel better and to alleviate his worries, Y/N spoke softly, “I’m not that well-versed with the magic stuff, so don’t hold it against me for not wanting to fight on the front lines.”

Shangqi exhaled deeply. “That’s a relief. Just …” His hand lingered in the air, as it hovered a few inches above her cheek before he finally stroked her skin. Warmth blossomed from within her body at the familiar touch. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Feeling her cheeks redden, Y/N felt hypnotized by his dark gaze. “You too.”

“Promise me we’ll talk later.”

Y/N nodded once before she smiled fondly at Shangqi’s insistence. “I promise. See you on the other side.”

“Not if I see you first,” Shangqi whispered quietly.

​Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @yourwonderbelle @ponyboys-sunsets @lindseyrae20 @towerofhellll @selmasemlan @kvnmoonies @jandalulu​ @clumsy-writing-rdb @treehugger9000 @nxstalgicnxbxdy @lovvelyyj @xuxialling @unaware-dumbass-here @yelenarmnv @imsuperawkward​ @justalittleweirdoo​ @wintergirlsoilder2 @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @lov3vivian @capswife @littlepencilthings

#watchtowerindistress #shang chi x y/n #xu shang chi #shang chi x you #shangqi x reader #xu shangqi #shang chi x reader #shangqi imagines #shangqi x you #shangqi x y/n #simu liu #simu liu x reader #steph writes

[scoriasoil]

Meta: Promethea, its economy, and why Rhys is bizarrely the biggest philanthropist in the galaxy (that we know of)

There is a wry barometer in the field of human geography that tells you when a neighbourhood is getting wealthy: someone opens up an independent coffee shop. You generally won't find one slap-dab in a poorer neighbourhood. They cater to people with disposable income to burn on overpriced cupcakes and fancy renditions of bean water.

You might already see where I'm going with this and how this principle applies to Promethea. Rhys’s impact on the planet is something that I don’t think the fandom discusses enough, but when you think about it, it is insane, so I gave it a spin.

Promethea before Borderlands 3

It's hard to believe that any planet could be worse off than Pandora, but back before BL3, Promethea canonically fit the bill.

The events of BL1 take place largely in the context of Atlas attempting to colonise Pandora. Despite the fact Promethea was Atlas's HQ at the time, propaganda posters nonetheless remind Pandora’s citizens: "At least you're not on Promethea!" This tells us that whatever wealth the Atlas Corporation had, prior to its collapse at the hands of Hyperion, it was not sharing it with the general population of Promethea.

And things have not improved there by the time Borderlands 2 rolls around. NPCs in Sanctuary will occasionally echo in idle dialogue: "At least you're not on Promethea!" Pandora—a planet defined by mindless violence, scattered patches of infrastructure and no discernible healthcare/education system—is still a better option than the planet that once headquartered Atlas.

Promethea in Borderlands 3

BL3, bear in mind, takes place six years after BL2, and around five years after Tales from the Borderlands. When we're first introduced to Promethea in BL3, Claptrap now describes the planet as thus:

Ahh, Promethea! A shining metropolis and the home of the Atlas Corporation. It's the most technologically advanced planet in this arm of the galaxy!

What we learn of Promethea is that it is "glimmering with new technology and an unsustainable amount of noodle shops." We meet Lorelei, born and raised on the planet... working at an independent coffee shop. What we see of Promethea itself is indeed a "shining metropolis" with impressive buildings and cute little business parks.

To make the most applicable real-world comparison, in the space of five years, Promethea has gone from a washed-up, dilapidated ex-mining town to New York.

Where did all this money magically come from?

Literally just Rhys. Well, Atlas 2.0, under his leadership.

The in-game description of Promethea in BL3 attributes all this wealth to the original Atlas "first [discovering] a Vault on Promethea, [triggering] a new golden age of... profit margins," but this is obviously untrue. The original Atlas knew of Promethea's Vault in BL1, but the planet was still so poor that Pandorans were being reminded of how awful Promethea was in comparison. The Atlas corporation did not invest in Promethea's people and infrastructure at this stage. Even if Atlas was hiring directly from the Promethean population, it still wasn’t enough.

So who did? Lorelei tells us. "Promethea was finally crawling out of the gutter," she says, "really becoming a decent planet again.... then Maliwan thought better of it." She is referring to recent history here by implying that Promethea was only making decent strides just before Maliwan invaded. She's referring to the Rhys-era of Atlas.

Sidenote: Lorelei's whole schtick is that she was originally a barista who really likes coffee, but it occurs to me there's more to it than that. Coffee is not a staple but a luxury, and it's entirely possible that Promethea did not have coffee until recently, explaining her fixation on something new and shiny—as well as the fact Promethea has "an unsustainable amount of noodle shops." Food for the sake of enjoying food is a new concept on the planet. The hallmark of a wealthy, industrialised civilisation.

But what is especially interesting to me about Lorelei is that we can hear her first meeting with Rhys, when he stopped off at her coffee shop and was promptly intimidated by her. The fact she then jumps from barista to the head of Rhys's army indicates that Rhys hired Lorelei not because of her war experience (she gleefully tells us she had none)—but because he, well, liked his barista as a person, and trusted her.

Lorelei herself talks favourably of Rhys on a personal level, referring to him not as one would an employer but just, well, 'Rhys.' In other words, the CEO of Atlas befriended his barista, presumably because he makes a habit of mingling with average Prometheans.

What's your point?

My point here is this: we know Pandora barely has a centralised economy in BL1, and Promethea is still seen as worse than a planet where skin pizzas are a feature of the local cuisine. There is no way Promethea had any consistent source of income whatsoever, because Atlas sure as hell wasn't sharing its wealth.

The only thing that could have possibly brought money to the planet was Rhys showing up with the "alien tech" he mentions in the ECHO of his interview with Promethean media. That is, what he found in the vault in Tales.

But he could have done what Atlas 1.0 did, and not shared that wealth with the citizenry. Yet we see him befriending average Prometheans like Lorelei, and we see how Promethea has gone from 'worse than Pandora' to a "shining metropolis" in the space of five years where the only change in Promethea's landscape was Rhys's arrival.

Rhys not only invested a little here and there in the infrastructure. His Atlas has put enough into the planet that everyone is so well-off enough that there's a market for independent coffee shops. I cannot overstate this enough: this from a planet that only five years ago was worse than Pandora.

When Rhys says, in his media interview, that he believes "a company should lift its employees on its shoulders," this sounds like empty corporate-speak—until you look around and see that's exactly what his Atlas did.

#borderlands #rhys strongfork #i dunk on rhys a lot so i wanted to put this out there #note: i use she/her for lorelei in this but that's only because she is-- #--comfortable w/them in bl3 and we have no confirmation on if that changes #mine: meta

[p-redux]

Gloating about being an insider during a time of sadness is DISGUSTING

I'm not gloating, I'm posting INFO and FACTS like I always do...and showing restraint and discretion in not posting it sooner, and not posting the details, which I haven’t and won’t.

But you know what IS disgusting? Here’s a LONG list, and by no means, a comprehensive one, of what Extreme Shippers, Former Extreme Shippers, and Assorted Haters have done that is VERY DISGUSTING. I’ll write it stream of consciousness-like and not in order. Put your feet up and grab a tall drink. Here we go...

Click on Keep Reading

Extreme Shippers found Cait’s condo when she used to live in Los Angeles and sat outside for hours waiting to see if they saw her with Sam. ES blackmailed and coerced a minor, a 14 year old girl who was a super fan of Abbie’s sister, Charlotte Salt, into giving them info regarding Abbie and Sam. The girl was following Abbie’s locked Instagram account and could see the Sam related stuff Abbie was posting. ES won her trust, she gave them info about Abbie and Sam, they then told her if she didn’t screencap and give them the Sam related pics on Abbie’s IG account, they would tell Abbie and Charlotte that she had been giving them info. Sick doesn’t begin to describe it. ES tried to dox and did dox anyone and everyone who got in the way of their SamCait ship. Doxed, as in PUBLICLY posted, the names, addresses, pictures of their houses, professions, husbands’ and children’s names, employer names of ANYONE and EVERYONE who posted something to contradict the ship. They even posted pictures of their children. Again, messing with minors is a big no no, and usually a crime. ES created fake Ashley Madison accounts (that’s the website for married people who want to meet people to cheat on their spouses with) and pretended to be non-shippers’ husbands to try to make it seem like the husband was cheating. It got so bad, that in some cases, non-shippers had to get restraining orders, cease and desist orders, get the police, lawyers, and in TWO cases, the F B I involved. Yes, the F B I has come a knocking on a couple of Extreme Shipper’s doors because of their ILLEGAL actions. ES lured some of Sam’s girlfriends into believing they had their best interest at heart, gained their trust, and they PUBLICLY posted their PRIVATE messages. Luckily, in the case of one Sam’s ex, Abbie Salt, she later did confirm she and Sam dated, which totally negated everything that shipper had said Abbie told her.  ES directly BULLIED and HARASSED fans, Outlander cast, crew, journalists, reporters, family and friends of Sam and Cait. ES contacted people’s employers to try to get them fired...literally messed with people’s livelihoods. They tried to get the Outlander drivers fired because they started posting stuff against shippers AFTER shippers turned on them. ES waited outside Sam and Cait’s residences in whatever location they were in to try to “catch them together.” Taking pics at someone’s private residence is very different than getting pics or video in PUBLIC places. For years, ES have manipulated pictures, gifs, video to sell the SamCait LIE to their gullible shipper friends. They’ve made money off selling these lies. ES have ostracized and banished any shipper friends who acknowledged the ship wasn’t real. They sent their best friend to Tony’s bar in London to try to prove he and Cait weren’t together, and when she unwittingly found out they were, they then bullied her and kicked her out of shipperville. ES created multiple hate sock accounts for the SOLE purpose of CYBERBULLYING Sam’s girlfriends and dates. Any time Sam dates a woman, ES follow the same pattern. They contact the women’s employers, parents, siblings, other family members, friends, ex-boyfriends trying to malign the women. Some examples: They pretended to have gone to high school with Mackenzie Mauzy and spread lies that she had a bad reputation in high school. They spread lies that Gia was a paid escort. ES contacted social media outlets to spread LIES about Sam and Cait and their significant others. Contacted anyone associated with Cait and Tony’s wedding trying to intimidate them into saying there was no wedding. They posted the picture of a waiter at one of the Outlander premieres and tried to pass him off as Tony to prove Tony didn’t go with Cait. ES have continuously posted pics of Cait with her naturally poochy belly trying to prove that she’s been pregnant with Sam’s children for the last 7 years. ES publicly questioned her if she was pregnant. Sam haters and disgruntled ex-shippers have spread rumors that Sam is gay. Nothing wrong with being gay, but what is wrong is spreading LIES. ES have badmouthed Cait’s HUSBAND, Tony McGill saying he was: her assistant, gay, her gay assistant, a loser, broke, boring, ugly, her purse holder, etc. And trust me, what I’ve posted above is the SHORT list.

And that’s not even mentioning what they’ve done to ME. Ever since I committed the unforgivable sin of posting source info CONFIRMING Sam and Cait were never a couple, and Cait was dating Tony, way back in 2014, this is what SamCait Extreme Shippers have done to me. Tagged me endlessly when I had my Twitter account telling me things like “Die, b*tch,” “Die, c*nt,” “You should be gang rap*d,” “Drop a house on her,” “You’re worse than AIDS,” and those are the “nice” comments. They literally BULLIED me every day, all day for YEARS. They also created hate accounts on Twitter and Instagram to mock me, parody me, and post lies about me. They were convinced they’d found my real identity (based on circumstantial evidence, which I’ve countered and can counter with the actual truth), and proceeded to post THAT woman’s FULL NAME, city where she lived, profession, reported her to her licensing board, and created a fake Twitter account pretending to be her. She got a lawyer and was able to get everything taken down, but they basically tried to ruin her life. They’ve spread LIES about me being the one harassing THEM and managed to convince over 60 dopes with disposable incomes to give them money for a GoFundMe campaign where they hired a Private Investigator to try to find me. They started a witchhunt letter writing campaign, hashtagged it on Twitter, #takebackourfandom, or some such bullsh*t, tagged everyone in Outlander cast and crew “telling” on me and even sent letters and e-mails to Starz and Sony executives trying to...I don’t know what. Hahahaha. It’s so ridiculous, my brain is scrambling as I write this. They told their followers not to believe anything I say and that I’m evil personified. ALL of that and more because they couldn’t face the FACT that their SamCait ship NEVER EXISTED and I was the one that confirmed it. When I think about it, I can’t believe I lived through all that. But I stayed because I knew I had the TRUTH on my side and that eventually it would all come out, which of course it did. And because I’m a bad bitch who doesn’t scare easily.  EVERYTHING I’m referring to here is well DOCUMENTED with screencap proof. Or just ask anyone who’s been in the fandom long enough, they’ll attest that what I’m saying did actually happen, and that Extreme Shippers, Former Shippers, and Haters did do all of that.

So, Anon, when you come at me with “disgusting” things in this fandom, please refer to the above before you start pointing fingers at me. 

PS. “Anon,” I’ve got your Los Angeles/Anaheim Samsung Galaxy S10e IP address tagged. So, send me another hate Ask and you’ll get blocked. And don’t bother using a VPN...once the tag is on, it follows the user no matter what IP they use. Now you know. 

#extremeshippers #haters #samheughan #caitrionabalfe #disgusting #trolls #bullies #cybercrimes #abbiesalt #mackenziemauzy #missgiamarie #witchhunt #tonymcgill #charlottesalt

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.10

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Ten: Feels Like We Only Go Backwards: A choice is made. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, serious serious angst, disclaimer [& spoiler warning], this chapter is not a happy one. this whole series is a real slow burn.

series masterlist

A/N: as always, thank you for all the love you’re giving this story. we have about six chapters left to the end and words cannot describe how grateful i am to you for sticking with me and my rambling writing. ENJOY !

-

A significant weight was lifted off Spencer’s shoulders the second he told you how he truly felt about you. Actually, it was more the second you said you loved him back.

Even though the two of you distanced yourselves from one another, giving you the space to really think about your future and who you wanted to spend it with, the week that followed the admissions was considerably good.

Yes, the brunette doctor continued to feel uneasy about the situation he put you in. Uneasy about the choice you eventually would have to make. However, as days went by he noticed it didn't seem to bother you. No. You were oddly chirpy and cheerful. Spencer couldn't help but feel like it was because of him.

Like your choice was already made, and that choice was him.

“Do you have plans tonight?” You asked in a hushed tone, slyly glancing around the bullpen to ensure no-one else was paying attention to you and the doctor.

Spencer shook his head. “Not entirely, no.”

Your lips curled into a smile at his response. “So you wouldn’t mind if I came over?” You asked, gently tapping your fingers in a walking motion against his desk. They stopped next to his hand - you could feel it was there, yet you didn't move your fingers further in fear of someone seeing. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Spencer mouth twitched into a pleasant smirk. He should have been nervous, what if you were going to break the news you were choosing Ethan? He should have been anxious, the thought of losing you all over again, he couldn't imagine how awful that would feel. Yet he didn't feel any of those things.

Judging by your relaxed body language. Your hand just aching to touch his. The way your eyes glistened looking at him. Your elated tone as you spoke. It didn't take a genius, a profiler, or even someone that knew you as well as him, to say these were all indicators whatever you wanted to talk to him about was happy.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “What time do you think-”

“I’ll let you know, okay? I know you like to switch off for the weekend so keep your phone on you for me.” You traced a finger against his knuckle and with one last smile, ambled elegantly towards the exit.

Yes - Spencer deducted - whatever you wanted to tell him was going to be good news.

A knock on the door grabbed Spencer’s attention. He quickly examined the place one last time, to ensure everything was clean and, well, perfect for you.

Satisfied, he eagerly crossed his living room and without thinking twice, expecting to see you on the other side of the door, he opened it.

“Hey Spencer.”

But it wasn’t you. It was the last person he ever expected to see.

“E-Ethan, what ehm, what are you doing here?” Spencer asked.

Ethan smirked at the question, slowly sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We need to talk, don’t you think?”

Spencer swallowed, but before he got a chance to reply the surgeon continued. “Actually, I’ll talk and you can listen. Also don’t bother inviting me inside because I’ll keep this brief and to the point.”

Your fiancé cleared his throat. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my wife-to-be still has feelings for her ex boyfriend. Did you know she is actually on her way here to tell you she’s choosing you? Yeah... Now, she doesn't know that I know. Her plan is to inform me tomorrow, after my shift at the hospital, that the wedding is no longer happening and our relationship is over.” He paused, almost as if he was daring Spencer to interrupt him at any moment and defend your honour.

Which in hindsight is something Spencer should have done.

“So here’s how this is going to do, doctor.” He slurred. “When she comes here, you're going to turn her down. You've broken her heart once before, I’m pretty sure you know how to do it again.”

Spencer stepped forward and opened his mouth to protest, but the surgeon impolitely cut him off. “Look, you’re a smart guy. Some sort of genius, right? I think deep down you know Y/N is better off with me. I can provide for her in ways you can't even comprehend. I am going to give her a life you can only dream of Spencer.”

“I think you’re forgetting it’s not all about the money.” Spencer stated coldly. His eyes narrowing. Jaw clenching.

Ethan chuckled callously. “Of course not. But I think you need to consider how much disposable income can improve life. I have the ability to ensure we buy our dream home. I have the ability to invest in a second home for her father, and move him somewhere closer to us. With me, Y/N will be able to quit her job and no longer risk her life on a daily basis. She will be able to spend time with our future kids, in a beautiful home, completely care free.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Did she even tell you she’s been thinking about transferring out of the BAU? She doesn't want to be a profiler anymore. Fuck man, she doesn't even know if she wants to be a SSA anymore. The only reason she’s sticking around is you.”

The statement caught Spencer completely off guard. Ethan had to be bluffing, right? He would say anything to ensure you stayed with him, right?

“You’re lying.” Spencer grumbled through his teeth.

Ethan smirked in response. “I’m really not though. Ask anyone. Her dad, it was actually he who suggested it in the first place. Or your friend Penelope, she seems to think it’s a good idea.”

Spencer’s world was crumbling down around him and he was helpless to stop it. Why didn't you tell him this was on your mind? Why did you keep this a secret? And how did he not see any inclination of this before?

“Like I said, you’re a smart guy Spencer.” Ethan stated. “I think you know what the right thing to do is.” And with that, he walked away leaving the brunette agent alone with his thoughts.

Slowly, Spencer closed the door. He turned on his heel and leaned against it while letting out a long winded breath, one he didn't even realise he was holding.

He never wanted to stand in the way of your plans. He didn't want to be the one holding you back from anything. Was his ever growing love for you clouding his judgement?

He closed his eyes, resting against the door behind him. The guilt he was now feeling riddled him from head to toe. And mixed with the guilt was a faint feeling of anger. Anger directed at the man that dared to get between your relationship with the brunette agent.

Ethan, a name of Hebrew origin that means firm, enduring and strong. A good name for good people.

Spencer knew off many Ethan’s in his lifetime. His college friend, an old colleagues son - all people that definitely lived up to the meaning. Yet your fiancé was anything but.

This Ethan was arrogant, rude, possessive. In Spencer’s mind, this Ethan was quite literally the physical embodiment of the curse word dick.

He never truly understood what you saw in the guy. He always thought you could do a lot better. Even if it wasn’t Spencer himself, there are men out there a lot kinder than Ethan.

And yet, despite all of the resentment he felt towards the man, Spencer couldn't help but feel like there was some truth to what he had said. The hazel-eyed man started doubting himself. Doubting whether he really had your best intention at heart, or whether his own selfishness was preventing him from making sure you’re living your best life.

This was supposed to be a happy day. A happy evening. 

It certainly started out that way. You were on your way here to tell him you were choosing him. You were choosing to spend the rest of your life with him.

Spencer felt sick to his stomach. Dizzy. He was sure if he opened his eyes even just for a second he would collapse. He also knew the only rational thing, the right thing to do will only make him feel worse.

The brunette agent wasn’t entirely sure how long he stood frozen like that. His breathing shallow. Heart sinking, heavy.

A knock on the door behind his back caused him to slowly open his eyes, yet he didn't move an inch. He simply couldn't. He couldn't bare to face you. He couldn't bare to look you in the eye and break your heart for a second time.

Instead, he chose the childish way out. He hoped if he was still enough, quiet enough, you would think he wasn’t home and leave. It is a conversation that cannot be avoided, but it would be a conversation for another day.

You knocked again, using a little more strength this time.

Spencer held his breath. Tears began to form in his eyes. Salty droplets that if he let escape, he knew they wouldn't stop falling.

He heard faint shuffling outside and for a split second he thought you gave up and walked away. For a split second he thought he bought himself more time. More time with the fantasy that the two of you would get your happy ending together. Foolish, he thought.

It was in that moment the mobile device in the back pocket off his pants started to buzz, vibrating against the door. The phone you asked he kept close to him earlier that day. The sound of the ringtone followed soon after completely giving away Spencer’s current location.

“Spencer?” The sweet sound of your voice coming through the wooden barrier between you caused the tears he was fighting to slowly trail down his face. The device stopped ringing. “I know you’re in there. Can you let me in?” You said, so blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

Spencer turned around and pressed his forehead against the painted wood. His hand travelled to the door knob, yet he still didn't move any further. “I-I... I c-can’t...” He managed to blurt out.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He heard you ask, the hint of confusion in your tone aching his heart further. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

The brunette doctor licked his lips and swallowed, tasting the saltiness of his own tears. “Y-you should go Y/N.” He uttered.

“Go? Spencer, you’re not making any sense.” You responded, the door knob rattling under Spencer’s fingers. “Please let me in. I’m not going to say what I want to say through a door.”

“Don’t s-say it at all. You should be with E-Ethan. Your future will be brighter with him.”

Silence. Unbearably heartbreaking silence.

At first you thought your ears were playing tricks on you. There was no way he just said that, right? A week after he told you he loved you. A week after he said he'll always wait for you. A week after he proposed. There was no way he changed his mind.

And then you thought of his time in prison. More specifically the day you went to visit him for the last time. The day you wanted to propose. The day he broke your heart.

He used those exact words - “Your future will be brighter without me.”

Slowly, you placed the palm of your hand on the door between you and took in a deep breath. Your eyes glossed over as the confusion rushing through you evolved into sadness.

Spencer could pinpoint the exact moment the air changed around him. It was suddenly tense. Broken. He felt like a coward. Even if he had your best interest at heart, he should still be able to face you and explain his side in person. Tell you that Ethan came by. Tell you everything that was said. Ask about your plans to leave the BAU. Ask whether he really was the only reason you haven't resigned yet. But he couldn't formulate the words. He simply gave up. A coward.

“Spencer, I-I don’t understand...” You sobbed. “I-I thought-t you loved me.”

“I love you more than anything in this world Y/N.” He quickly replied, the palm of his hand now pressed against the wood. Unbeknown to him, against the exact same spot on the opposite side of the barrier was your hand. So close yet so far.

“Then let me in. Please. I-I came here to say I choose you. I want to be with you Spencer. Please... Please let me in.” You cried through the door. Spencer could hear the pain behind your words, the sorrow. It really took all the strength he had not to let you in.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Your hands trembling uncontrollably against the barrier between you and the man of your dreams.

His sudden change of heart left you completely speechless. His words like tiny daggers stabbing directly into your bleeding heart. How did this happen? What changed between now and this morning? What changed between now and last week? You had so many questions. Ones that you feared would remain unanswered.

Additionally, your gut was telling you there was more to this than he was letting on. That it wasn’t as simple as ‘Ethan is the better man for you’ because you knew Spencer didn't believe that. But you couldn't find the strength within to argue with him.

“If-f that’s w-what you want Spencer, I’ll leave-e.”

It was the last thing he heard before the sound of your footsteps ushering away.  

After a minute, the hazel-eyed agent moved to the couch and sunk into the material. Every fibre of his being was currently aching. He hoped he did the right thing, although the voice at the back of his mind said no. What else was he supposed to do? He knew Ethan wouldn't just give up. Was Spencer prepared to fight for you? If tonight was any inclination the answer would also be no.

Spencer’s gaze locked onto the small box in the middle of his coffee table.

It was a considerably good week, and it was supposed to end a hell of a lot better than this.

Every part of me says, "Go ahead" But I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again

-

A/N: i hope you liked this chapter! and i am so so sorry for giving y’all false hope with the last one! i promise these there are happy times ahead for these two just not quite yet... as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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