#that's a lie i've seen half of one but it was in russian

[skullfaggot]

and a happy tummy tuesday to all who celebrate

#i've never seen a fast & furious movie #that's a lie i've seen half of one but it was in russian #you get the gist of it tho. it's cars n shit #💀🤙

[tomorrowusa]

Even by the abysmally low standards of the 21st century GOP, Speaker "MAGA Mike" Johnson ranks close to the bottom of Republican office holders. Johnson is a flunky to a flunky.

Historian Timothy Snyder has written eloquently about the need to stand up for democracy against fascism. He castigates "MAGA Mike" and reminds us that Russia's war is not just against Ukraine.

Johnson's term of office consists of stratagems to avoid funding Ukraine.  He and a minority of Trumpist Republicans have left Ukrainians without the means to defend themselves, and enabled Russian aggressors to retake Ukrainian territory.  As a result, troops are killed and disabled every day.  Around the world, Johnson's behavior is seen as betrayal and weakness.  We tend to focus on the details of Johnson's various excuses, rather than seeing the larger pattern.  Johnson's success in making the war a story about him exemplifies the American propensity to miss the big picture.  [ ... ] An elementary form of apocalypse is genocide.  Russia is making war on Ukraine with the genocidal goal of eliminating Ukrainian society as such.  It consciously fights its war with its own national minorities, and takes every opportunity to spread racist propaganda (including about African-Americans).  Russian occupiers deport Ukrainian children, rape Ukrainian women, castrate Ukrainian men, and murder Ukrainian cultural leaders with this purpose in mind.  They keep children out of school and force families into emigration, all with the goal of putting an end to a nation.  Ukrainian resistance, though, has put the backbone into "never again."  Where Ukraine holds territory, and that is most of the country, people are saved.  Ukrainians have shown that a genocide can be halted -- with the right kind of help. When we cut off that help, as we have done, we enable genocide to proceed.  This is not only a horror in itself, but a precedent. [ ... ] Russia is testing an international order. The basic assumption, since the Second World War, is that states exist have borders that war cannot alter. When Russia attacked Ukraine, it was attacking this principle. Russia's rulers expected that a new age of chaos would begin, in which only lies and force would count.

It doesn't get repeated enough that a Russian victory is a defeat for efforts to halt climate change.

For the past half century, people have been rightly concerned about global warming. Whether we get through the next half century will depend upon a balance of power between those who make money from fossil fuels and lie about their consequences and those who tell the truth about science and seek alternative sources of energy. Vladimir Putin is the most important fossil fuel oligarch. Both his wealth and his power arise from natural gas and oil reserves. His war in Ukraine is a foretaste of the struggle for resources we will all face should Putin and other fossil fuel oligarchs get the upper hand. Precisely because Ukraine resisted, important economies have accelerated their green transition. Should Ukraine be abandoned and lose, it seems unlikely that there will be another chance to hold back fossil fuel oligarchy and save the climate.

This is the most politically useful chart regarding aid to Ukraine. I've posted it before and will post it again. It shows Republican members of the US House of Representatives who represent districts won by Joe Biden in 2020. These are among the most vulnerable Republicans on Capitol Hill. One seat was just flipped last month in a special election; that should make Biden-district Republicans more attentive to their constituents.

If you live in one of those districts, contact your Rep and urge support to break the House logjam on Ukraine aid. Use language that will resonate with a Republican such as "What would Reagan do?". Check to see if like-minded friends or family live in those districts. Encourage them to contact their Rep.

Not sure who represents you? Use your ZIP+4 to find out here…

Find Your Representative

#invasion of ukraine #maga mike johnson #maga #republicans #us house of representatives #118th congress #contact your house member #UkraineAidNow #donald trump #timothy snyder #stand with ukraine #climate change #russia #vote blue no matter who #election 2024

[secretagentfan]

Not us (No never)

FE Three Houses - Russian Doll (2019)

Dimisylvix

Thought I'd share here too because it's been a minute since I've posted a fic and this one has been fun.

On Archive!

     “Come on Eileen” echoes through walnut floor-standing speakers proving that, despite having a streetwise best man capable of getting private reservations at the nicest bar in town, Ashe’s taste is an affront to mankind.

     Yuri, the best man in question, is currently walking away after playing sommelier to a tipsy, giggling Mercedes. Felix glares at him.

     “Eyes elsewhere Fraldarius,” Yuri drawls. “It’s Ashe’s last day of bachelorhood, so allow him his terrible taste in Celtic folk pop, and be glad I spared you all the trip to Medieval Times. There are limits to what I can do.”

     “That’s a blatant lie.”

     “Why Felix, I’m flattered you believe me so capable.”

     Perfect timing— Felix has been aching for a fight. He throws the verbal gauntlet: “Everything about this place screams mob connections. Not a single thing happens under this roof without you, his best man, allowing it to happen. That includes the shitty music—”

     “Hm, someone really got up on the wrong side of the bed today. You really want to talk about my alleged mob connections at our sweet friend’s bachelor party, or shall we walk that back?”

     “Walking it back sounds good,” Sylvain interrupts, returning from the open bar. His red hair is mussed and he smells like some combination of cologne, brandy, and cigarettes. So he’s started smoking again. Annoying. “What are we talking about?”

     “Felix seems to be in a grouchier mood than usual.”

     “Oh, don’t tell him that; he thinks he’s being subtle.”

     Felix scoffs. He’s fine. Fuck them. The caramel-colored shot in Sylvain’s hand is significantly more important than whatever’s leaving his mouth, and Felix overlaps the familiar fingers with his own to tip it back.

     “Whoa, hey, at least ask, Felix,” Sylvain complains but lets it happen. He winks at Yuri. “I’ve gotta say, you’ve done a great job on the party. Not at all what I expected from Ashe.”

     “Sometimes he needs a reminder that he can actually be fun. Have you seen him?”

     Sylvain gestures behind him, and Felix can make out Ashe alone on a barstool. He’s obviously a little drunk, openly fiddling with his engagement ring, a dopey grin on his face. Yuri shakes his head.

     “He makes a terrible barfly. I’ll go liven things up before he pulls out a book. Enjoy yourselves, you two.”

     “Later Yuri.”

     Sylvain’s drunk too, right hand drifting to Felix’s waist in a way that would never happen sober. His breath tickles Felix’s ear. “How’d my shot taste?”

     “Bad,” Felix replies, not stepping out of the half-hearted embrace. They’d fucked twice before. Maybe they’d fuck a third time. Maybe that would salvage the day. Dedue and Ashe were somehow getting married, anything could happen.

     That was unfair. Felix didn’t mean to think that. The truth was, they deserved it, deserved each other and the surprisingly nice bachelor party even if it was undoubtedly procured through means that would probably piss Ashe off. Felix was just—

     Somewhere behind them, a glass breaks. There’s laughter so it’s probably Annette’s doing. Everything was too damn loud. Felix still hadn’t seen him anywhere.

     Sylvain’s fingers squeeze his waist.

     “Seriously, what’s eating you, Felix? You’re not usually this tense.”

     “I am.”

     Sylvain actually laughs. “You know I’m just going to keep asking, right?”

     He will. Felix could stonewall him, but he isn’t a coward. They can talk around this. “Lost the cat.”

     “Aw wait, seriously? The one that’s been following you around?”

     “Is there another cat I’d be referring to?”

     “Okay, okay. Well, sorry. That’s awful. What happened?”

     “I don’t know. It hasn’t shown up in a few weeks. I’ve been feeding it—”

     “Hold on, you’ve been feeding it—”

     “You know what, I’m not having this conversation.”

     “No, no no. Just hang on Felix.” Sylvain grabs his hand. “You want to go search for it?”

     It’s a stupid offer. The cat doesn’t matter, but still, something dead stirs in Felix. Sylvain means it; he’d ditch the whole party to search for a stray. Felix yanks away, rubbing his wrist. “Of course not. If it’s dead it’s dead, I’m not going to waste the night looking for a corpse.”

     “It might not actually be dead, though. What if it’s just shivering in the park somewhere? We could—”

     “Do you want to have sex or not?”

     The words leave Felix before he can think them through fully. It’s the alcohol, probably, but the surprise blossoming on Sylvain’s face is starting to feel pretty rewarding too.

     “Seriously? Now? Today?”

     Felix shrugs. “I don’t have condoms so we’ll have to buy some somewhere. I trust that won’t be an issue?”

     Sylvain frowns. “You’re…sure? Felix, I’m a little—and aren’t you…?”

     “Drunk? Yeah. It isn’t like we haven’t done it before. Take it or leave it.”

     Those are the magic words. Sylvain’s expression snaps to a neutral grin— unreadable.

     “Well when you put it like that, I’ll take it. We should say bye to Ashe and Dedue first though.”

     They do.

     Sylvain calls the driver he’s supposed to use for necessities only to take them to one of the worst 7-11’s Felix has ever laid eyes on. Scratches on the walls give the distinct impression a trapped rodent gave his all before letting death claim him behind the humming slurpee machines.

     Before they leave Sylvain calls “Felix,” in a low, quiet way and sloppily kisses him against the checkout counter.

     Felix pays way too much for a box of condoms and doesn’t notice the eyes on them.

     They agree to fuck at Sylvain’s place because it’s closer, and Sylvain once found a crusty half-fossilized piece of pizza on Felix’s couch and has never let him forget it.

     Sex isn’t difficult.

     Touching Sylvain feels good, warm and simple. He kisses too hard and hugs too tightly, even when their clothes are on, but it’s an alive sort of feeling that fills Felix when they’re in bed together. Electricity under his skin. Still fresh enough there’s a novelty to the act.

     It helps that Sylvain is stupidly adventurous. Curious and clever with his fingers and mouth, eager to test limits and see what he or Felix can take. He doesn’t complain when Felix bites more than he kisses, and maybe that’s why they keep ending up here.

     Every time it seems Felix notices something new about Sylvain: how strong his thighs are, white vein-like scars on his fingertips, under his nails.

     Wait.

     “When did you get these?” Felix asks, catching Sylvain’s hand. It’s still damp from Felix’s saliva. Ugh. Weird.

     “You’re asking that now?” Sylvain breathes out, pupils dark. “Just kid stuff, don’t worry about it.”

     What kind of kid stuff would lead to finger scars? Felix almost asks, but all thoughts temporarily abandon him as Sylvain sucks down hard on his neck, making him grunt.

     “Got you,” Sylvain grins, tongue flicking over the mark he undoubtedly just left. “Told you I’d pull some sounds out of you eventually.”

     “That wasn’t a sound,” Felix lies. “Air was just leaving my mouth.”

     “Yeah with a vocalization attached.”

     “So?”

     “That’s a—” Sylvain actually pulls back, eyes narrowing. “C’mon Felix, have we really reached the point in this process where you’re denying what a sound is?”

     “Shut up.”

     “Guess I’ll have to remind you, over and over again.”

     “Hm, get to work then.”

     Sylvain’s good at undressing him. He doesn’t waste time. For someone who spends all his time talking about romance and fucking and girls, girls, girls, Sylvain knows how to handle a dick. Knows exactly the amount of pressure to put around Felix to make him gasp, arch, cum.

     It works, enough.

     Felix crawls over him after, kissing him in the rough way he likes, and thinks, infuriatingly, about the stupid cat, shivering in the cold somewhere. Sylvain tangles his fingers in his hair and makes to turn them over. Felix blindly grabs for his boxers.

     “I have to go,” he says. Now Sylvain’s looking at him in that sleepy-fucked-confused way that means he’s about to insist on another round, but Felix is already on his feet, pulling his coat off one of Sylvain’s stupid abstract sculptures.

     “Wait, now?”

     “Yeah, I’ll be back later.”

     “You going to tell me where you’re going?”

     “Do you need to know that information?”

     Sylvain swallows. “Well, I can’t say I’d mind knowing it, but I guess you can just take off cryptically into the snow instead.”

     “There’s nothing cryptic about it. I’m just leaving. Shut up and wait here,” Felix demands.

     “Sure, sure,” Sylvain replies, digging in his nightstand to pull out a cigarette.

     Felix crosses his arms, just looking at him. “Really?”

     “What? You’re the one choosing the unforgiving snow, I’m just keeping it warm and lonely here.”

     It’s obviously bait. Felix doesn’t have time for this.

     “Be warm and lonely then,” he says, slamming the door before Sylvain can light up.

     There’s a park near Felix’s apartment. They used to have snowball fights here when they were small and stupid. Contests at the lakeside: who could dash from one end of the lake to the other quickly enough so the ice wouldn’t crack. Ingrid partially fell in once, scraped up her leg. She still has the scar. A metal fence got put around the perimeter soon after, but it didn’t matter. None of them wanted to go near the lake after that.

     Felix is taller than the fence, now. It always felt so big.

     He walks around, searching for the cat, knowing he won’t find it but needing to anyway. The snow builds up gradually until Felix realizes he’s leaving footprints. What the fuck is he doing out here, really?

     His phone rings and he silences it without looking at the name. He knows who it is, and he’s not dealing with that now. Felix doesn’t want to think about him. Felix doesn’t want to think about anything.

     He keeps circling.

     Felix finds the cat only after it’s dark and he’s given up. Point for Sylvain: it’s not dead, but it’s not looking great either. It’s too small, too thin. Its matted tail drags behind it like it can’t be bothered to hold it up anymore. Felix almost calls out to it, but he’d rather die than be caught expecting a response from a dying animal. It’s upsetting.

     He hurries into the street instead, scooping the trembling thing to his chest at the crosswalk. It accepts the rough handling without protest.

     “Shit,” Felix mumbles, voice softening in a way he’ll never admit. It’s so light. Skin, bones, and a persistently beating heart. He digs in his pocket for his phone to call Sylvain — he’s closest. “Let’s get you someplace warm.”

     The sound of brakes and swerving tires pulls him out of it. Felix has always had good reflexes—second only to Glenn in military school. They don’t help him here.

     The cat leaps out of his arms with strength Felix didn’t know it had and a yellow cab crashes into him. The windshield cracks and Felix slides over and off it, skull slamming hard onto the curb.

     He can’t move.

     His head is tilted toward his phone. The screen is broken, but it’s lit up with notifications. They’re still coming. One after the other.

     1 missed call from Dimitri

     7 missed calls from Ingrid

     4 missed calls from Sylvain

     The texts are moving too quickly, and Felix’s brain is too full of colors to register the names.

         Forgive me.

         Where are you?

         Felix I need you to fucking answer right now

         Call me.

         Felix please please answer your phone.

         Felix, call me now.

     There’s so much blood. Felix is dying here, on the sidewalk outside the stupid park. The realization is oddly tepid, considering. His life doesn’t flash before his eyes— in fact, it just drains out of him.

     He wonders if the cat made it.

     “Come on Eileen” echoes in his ears and Felix downs his stolen shot, coughing after.

     “Whoa, hey, at least ask, Felix— serves you right,” Sylvain complains, yanking the glass out of Felix’s grip. “I’ve gotta say Yuri, you’ve done a great job on the party. Not at all what I expected from Ashe.”

     “Sometimes he needs a reminder that he can actually be fun. Have you seen him?”

     Sylvain gestures behind him, and Felix doesn’t follow his gaze. His palms are sweating. Something feels unplaceably, impossibly off for a moment. He swallows hard, running his palm over his face.

     He’s at Ashe’s bachelor party. Yuri’s probably part of the mob. Felix stole Sylvain’s drink. It feels like he’s taken a few steps away from his body. He breathes out, slowly, focusing enough to catch Yuri’s next sentence.

     “He makes a terrible barfly. I’ll go liven things up before he pulls out a book. Enjoy yourselves, you two.”

     Everything is…so… Sylvain’s hand slides distractingly around Felix’s waist. Felix slaps it away— dammit he needs to think.

     “Man,” Sylvain whines. “Guess it’s going to be like that.”

     Something vague slides into place in the very back of Felix’s head; he grips the hand he just slapped.

     “Don’t grab me now, I’m thinking,” he grouches. He’s forgetting something important. Sylvain studies his face for a moment, a previously missing clarity slipping into his relaxed, drunken expression.

     “What’s eating you, Felix? You’re not usually this tense.”

     Wires connect. Felix finds one of the things he’s looking for.

     “I lost the cat,” he says, testing.

     “Aw wait, seriously? The one that’s been following you around?”

     Felix can’t believe he has to explain this again. “Yes, the one that’s been following me around. What the fuck was in that drink?”

     “Huh? The one you just stole? It was brandy, I think. You’re not dizzy or anything are you? I swear I watched the bartender pour it and everything—”

     Felix steps out of his hold. “Shut up, you’re the last person I need mothering me. I’ve done this before.”

     “I should hope so, Felix. I’m pretty sure I was there for your first drink—”

     “—Not the stupid alcohol, the cat! I went to find the cat after we…”

     Felix trails off, very clearly remembering Sylvain’s breath at his throat, palming his dick. Scars on his fingertips. He turns Sylvain’s hand, examining— sure enough, they’re there: faint and white.

     It’s Sylvain’s turn to pull away. “Not that I’m opposed to all this contact, but what are you doing Felix?”

     “Have you always had those scars?”

     Sylvain’s face goes slack, just slightly, in the way it always does when Felix cuts too close to the quick. Maybe that wasn’t the thread to pull at. Felix cringes. What the hell is he doing, grabbing Sylvain, interrogating him about his scars?

     Sylvain shakes it off, fingers closing tightly around Felix’s. “This cat really has you shaken up, huh? You want to go search for it?”

     Felix’s heart pulls, Sylvain’s hand feels deeply necessary for a moment, a grounding force in a collapsing reality. He looks away.

     “Yeah.”

     Sylvain lets go, offering him a small smile. “You got it, then. We should say bye to Ashe and Dedue first though.”

     They do.

     “Let me get this straight, Felix. You’re saying we hooked up again, and you went out here to find the cat and got hit by a taxi in…what? Another reality?”

     Snow’s starting to fall. It catches in Sylvain’s hair. Felix glares at it.

     “When you say it like that I sound insane.”

     “Well, I can’t exactly say you sound totally right in the head Felix. You’re pretty light, but the cab would have to be going pretty fast to get you to roll over it. I’m not even sure that’s possible— just gravitationally speaking.”

     “I’m telling you it happened.”

     “I’m just saying, what’s more likely: another universe, or you had a little too much and had one hell of a waking dream?”

     “I’m not making it up!” Felix growls. “I don’t know why I expected you to get it. Just leave me alone. I’ll find the cat myself.”

     “No way, I’ve got to learn more about this other reality.”

     “Fuck you.” Felix glares, cheeks hot as he tries to scrape together a defense for whatever absurd thing is happening inside him. “I don’t know, okay? I just know it felt real.”

     “That real, huh? I’d like to think I’m better than whatever dream me showed you. If you want a demonstration, I’m happy to get your mind off things.”

     Sylvain’s hand brushes Felix’s and dammit he really can turn any moment into an awful line, can’t he?

     “I’ll pass,” Felix grunts, pulling away. “I’m still thinking about bleeding out on the side of the road.”

     “Oh, come on! I left more of an impression than that, right?”

     “Trust me, I’ve already forgotten you.”

     “Ouch!” Sylvain’s dry laugh echoes in the empty park. They’re leaving behind two sets of circling footprints now. Something pricks unpleasantly in the back of Felix’s skull. He reaches for his phone, checks the messages. No calls. No texts. His head throbs. Something is missing. Something is wrong.

     It’s starting to get dark. Felix pulls his jacket tighter around himself.

     “Hang on, hang on, stop walking for a sec,” Sylvain says suddenly, crouching in the snow.

     For a moment, Felix thinks he’s found the cat and gets down to join him, but then scarred fingers wrap around his wrist, and Sylvain’s entirely too-warm left hand covers Felix’s.

     “What,” Felix bites out. He realizes, with mounting exhaustion, that this was a trap all along. Sylvain held his hand like this all the time when they were kids and he had to ask for Felix to cover him while he did something idiotic. As if tonight wasn’t enough already.

     “Don’t bite my head off yet,” Sylvain says, voice uncharacteristically serious. “Look, we’ve talked around this enough.  Dimitri’s been out for two months now. He’s always asking about you. When are you going to actually have a conversation with him?”

     Felix bristles, yanking out of Sylvain’s grip and standing up. His heart squeezes in his chest.

     “What does the boar have to do with any of this?”

     Sylvain’s measured voice only serves to make Felix’s ears ring harder. “Felix it’s been five years. He was at the party, even if you didn’t see him. I know you still care.”

     “Like you understand any of it! You weren’t there!”

     “I wasn’t,” Sylvain allows, and repeats, softer. “I wasn’t. So maybe I jumped the gun and you’re not ready to talk about this now but—”

     “Maybe save psychoanalyzing me for when you can spend one night alone in your own bed, Sylvain.”

     Sylvain takes the sentence as the blow it was intended to be, expression hardening.

     Felix spots the cat. Still malnourished, limping across the crosswalk. His body acts on reflex, dashing into the street.

     Brakes. Swerving.

     Felix’s life does flash before his eyes this time: he sees himself as a child, snowball fights with Glenn, Ingrid, Dimitri, sneaking out past curfew in military school to trade blows, Glenn and Dimitri’s deployment, bloody teeth on the counter, Dimitri’s trial, his promise with Sylvain, the fucking cat, bleeding out on the sidewalk, two sets of footprints—

     And he’s yanked back onto the curb.

     “Felix, shit! That was way too close. Are you okay?”

     He’s looking at Sylvain, wide-eyed and breathless.

     For some reason, the first thing out of Felix’s mouth instead of the intended thanks is: “A fucking taxi cab. I told you.”

     “So watch where you’re going!” Sylvain shouts, visibly agitated. “What the hell, Felix?”

     Felix’s heart is in his ears. He almost died. No, he almost died again, and for what? Words leave him him without permission, like Sylvain knocked loose the seal on a fire hydrant.

     “Fuck off Sylvain, I would have been fine! I didn’t ask you to protect me!”

     “You’re not serious,” Sylvain repeats, incredulous. “You’re really yelling at me, now. Right now?”

     “I said fuck off! Just leave me alone!”

     And now Felix is running. Legs taking him as fast as he can away from this moment and toward whatever’s left of that stupid cat. He chases it back into the park, scooping it up before it can shimmy under the fence to walk across the iced-over lake. It goes lax in his arms.

     Felix, in a moment of exhausted triumph, leans against the short fence. He’s older now. He’s fine. The cat purrs quietly in his arms, and Felix feels a little better.

     Then he doesn’t.

     “Dammit,” he whispers.

     He should probably apologize to Sylvain when he sees him next. He doesn’t know where to start with Dimitri. What the hell was he supposed to do?

     At least he got the cat. Everything else can fall into place when Felix is somewhere quiet, indoors, and unlikely to kill him. The cat is just as cold as it was earlier, ribs still protruding. Felix wonders for a fleeting moment if it needs a vet and then he isn’t holding the cat.

     His arms are empty, cradling nothing at all. There’s no heartbeat in his arms, no mangy creature.

     He’s still outside. It’s still snowing.

     The cat was there, he was holding it, and now he wasn’t.

     The fence creaks, tips, and before Felix can think twice about it, he falls into the frozen lake.

#dimisylvix #sylvix #dimilix #fire emblem three houses #my fic #been a minute since I've posted -anything- tumblr is a different place now #yet somehow the same #hi

[purity-in-heart]

Generalizing Issue

Ever since Trump, or at some point after, there had been an increase in memes being created based on America or Americans regarding lifestyles or the societal way of thing. I'm from the US, myself, but that doesn't define me. For a while, I let the memes slide - go ahead, have your fun. But they had started getting old some time ago and now I've begun to find them both irritating and insensitive. I know we've been dealing with problems but we are not general shitheads. Not only are these memes disrespectful to a degree, they are are also making light of real issues and harming the people who care/are standing up the problems we face and are trying to fix them. Not just civilians but also political leaders. We are not a bunch of redneck, white supremacist, AR-15 worshipping thugs who think 'western civilization' is the shit (despite the US being one of the youngest countries in the world). At least half or more of us are good people who believe in care, Human equality and justice, to name a few things.

Since it matters, I'm a white American man, but I'm not racist. I hate guns. I believe in equality regardless of where you were born, what your faith is, the language you speak, whether you're straight or queer, I see Humans, and I see Humans being Human. I believe in free health care, the necessity of abortions. I believe in freedom and democracy. I believe in freedom of speech but I know the difference between that and being a prick, that 'freedom of speech' doesn't mean you're permitted to be an asshole. I find capitalism to be harmful. But more than that, I hate Trump, who did not and does not represent the American people any more than Putin represents the Russian people - A traitor who sold out his country to an adversarial figure in exchange for power, power that was actually a lie for he also sold what little of a soul he had left to a devil who wants us destroyed.

But apparently being a white American man also means being a prime example that you shouldn't judge an entire country's people. Because that's what any country consists of; People. No more generalizing. We must have an open mind and tell what actions have unfortunate consequences. In any group of people, especially a country, there will always be one person in it who thinks a little differently or believes in something a little different than others, or more so, whether it's something positive or negative. If you have time to focus on our troubles in America, instead take that time to focus on the people who stand against those who stand against what America is meant to be. These memes hurt more than they make people laugh. We don't silence our news reporters nor do we label believers in equality, rights and the like as 'enemies of the state' and have them disappear in the prison system. If you can't see why, then I pity you. If you have time to make memes that make fun of the harm that is happening and we try to face, you should instead make the time to support us. Just goes to show how many times there's depth to things that are looked at so shallowly.

I've seen too much good in life to give up.

#american memes #memes #america memes

[waterfallsnwhiskey]

Something people miss in Goncharov is this scene. It's easy to miss since it's at the beginning of the film when the setting is primarily Leningrad. Mario has just enthusiastically supported Goncharov's idea to expand a Russian mafia presence in Naples and won the support of the elders. We're about to get to the celebration scene the night before Goncharov, Katya and Andrey leave for Italy (the scene where we meet Sofia for the first time) and Mario is on the way to the party. He stops to meet his father, the elder named Sergei from the prior scene, at this park on the water. It's a brief scene but Sergei gives his misgivings to Mario about the expansion and he basically becomes a prophet to everything that is about to happen, not just in the movie but in the real world too. "This generation, Mikhail. you move too fast. You've forgotten everything the past had bled for." Not only do we learn Mario's birth name but its also among the film's early references to the symbolism of time and blood. Sergei thinks the focus shouldn't be on the west but the vultures circling in Russia. He laments the rot in places like Moscow and thinks the ideals of his grand fathers generation will be tossed aside in two decades time (Given the film was released in 1973 this means Scorsese eerily missed the collapse of the USSR by two years btw). He urges Mario not to let Italy change him though he predicts it will change all of them and he hopes that won't cost them everything. Mario excuses himself and we pretty quickly get to the infamous party scene, the last on-screen look at Segei being this shot.

But Segei's backstory continues the whole movie in dramatic ways. Remember the scene where Katya is getting ready for Goncharov's birthday party, at the height of the crime empire? Remember she was met in the dressing room by Anastasia, Sergei's wife, who came to celebrate on behalf of the elders (and brought the secret note to Mario). In the same talk about the prior day's firefight with the Sicilian mobsters she says "darling I've seen war. I've soaked up shell wounds with dirty rags, disinfected surgical tools with vodka and eaten bread that was half sawdust. And I was just a nurse. I had it easy. That's where I met my husband after all and you know what he went through." Of course we the viewer do not but it's HIGHLY implied that Sergei and Anastasia fought and lived through the Nazi siege of Leningrad, arguably the most brutal extended siege and battle in human history. How could the note to Mario be so brutal? Because Sergei and the elders aren't being brutal...they have seen true brutality. They know true war. They know real horrors. And they want to pull the plug while they're ahead. It also adds extra depth to the early scene with Mario. Sergei isn't an old man lamenting changing times, he knows the dangers that lie ahead when progress and ambition and a desire to conquer come to ahead. The way he speaks makes him sound like a true believer, not just in the possibility of Russia but also the internationalist hope of the USSR, despite knowing full well that the Socialist experiment has run off the rails by the 1970s. Still he laments the changes and what will be lost, what he fought for, and even his own son going by "Mario" (an Italian, ally of Germany, name btw) rather than his birth name. This also adds an interesting wrinkle on things like the rivalry between St. Petersburg and Moscow, communism and capitalism, ussr and nazi Germany, and even Stalinism versus Leninism. Anyone connect the dots about that weird allusion Ice Pick Joe made about being the one to assassinate Trotsky?

And oh yeah, the scene immediately after the birthday party when Anastasia gives her above speech and then gives the note to Mario....Pompeii.

This film is brilliant.

#goncharov #katya #sofia #unrealism #andrey #martin scorsese #sergei #Anastasia

[sunflower-butch]

oh mon chéri i need you to know that i shut my laptop after i read your reply i was blushing so much (i'm stupidly easy to flatter, it's horrible. mix that wit being short af and having hair like mine and you'll get a constant stream of 'oh you're so cute' from old ladies)

i've actually read about the gay m&m honey but i'm sure it's not as sweet as you!

time to impress you then ig. my first language is English but i'm also fluent in French! i understand Spanish better than i speak it, i know a little bit of Russian (i'm learning it rn) but i sing it better than i speak it. i also sing Arabic, Japanese, Italian, and Tolkien Elvish(on a dare)

now would be the time when i'd give music recs but i seen your post about how northern attitude. now i'm not gonna lie i've never actually heard of Noah Kahan before but when i seen you talking about him i went and check it out and OH MY GOD HIS VOICE IS SO BEAUTIFUL??? but that's not what made me cry, it was the lyrics. they sucker punched me. how dare they resonate so deeply

(if i get too close

and i'm not how you hoped

forgive my northern attitude

oh. i was raised out in the cold) shoot me it would hurt less

i would love to go to a renaissance fair with you.

if you're my knight in shining armor then that makes me the damsel Not in distress because i know archery.

твой преданный - эль

Oh darlin’, I hope you’re aware of the gay panic this message has instilled in my poor gay heart. I made *you* blush? I feel like a tomato. (And boy do I get that! Us adorable short people gotta stick together, you know?)

I am. On my knees. That’s so cool?? Wtf, you must be so intelligent! Languages are so hard, I’m so easily impressed by a polyglot. French is so romantic, and Russian is so badass (hello are you Robin Buckley??) but my god, if I’m not swooning imagining Elvish singing. I bet you could guess by now I’m a huge LOTR fan. I just know your voice must be so beautiful, and of course a face to match. And Italian! Be still my beating heart.

Oh! Oh! Don’t let that deter you from giving me music recs, I adore music with every bit of my soul, and I think the music people share says a lot about them, you know? Swapping music is probably one of my favorite ways to get to know each other.

I’m so so glad you loved the song as much as I did. It’s such a punch in the gut and a warm hug all at once. His vocals are so lovely—and I would highly recommend Stick Season as well by him!

(And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do) gets me right in the heart strings every time.

And a few more because I’ll never shut up about music, but Something in the Orange by Zac Bryan and Sleep Deprivation by Chance Peña will also break your heart, but Apple Tree Blues by Caamp is a bit cheerier!

Okay, pause, WHAT, that’s cool as shit!! Maybe I’m the damsel in distress, given my utter lack of grace. I’d probably get my sword stuck in a tree, but that’s okay because I’ll have you to protect me <33

Adoringly yours,

- Max/Lo

#elmax anon #please excuse me while I just #[screams into pillow] #you do know understand how badly I’m swooning rn #ARCHERY #ELVISH #RUSSIAN #god

[dancing-to-architecture]

17 of 1001

Today's album: Super Furry Animals - Rings Around the World (2001)

Initial thoughts: I have never heard of this band. I know this because i would certainly have remembered the worst band name since hoobastank. Cool looking album cover, though.

Alternate Route to Vulcan Street-

Prettier than i was expecting, tbh. Kinda dig the spacy vibe. Singer is mumbly, but there's a lot of processing on the vocals and that's not helping matters.

Sidewalk Serfer Girl-

Oh yeah, a meaningless misspelling. Woo.

Guitar's nice and heavy but the lyrics are a jumbled and overdubbed word salad.

Chorus is catchy, but kinda stupid.

(Drawing) Rings Around the World-

Okay, the end of this song is fucking obnoxious.

Now, I honestly and without irony enjoy music that some other people have described as "truly heinous shit", but this is a very specific kind of obnoxious. Beeping and ringing noises are just irritating as hell.

Also, do *any* of their songs' lyrics mean anything?

It's Not the End of the World?-

Okay, I'm immediately made an asshole by this album, because this one is kinda sweet.

Kinda feels a bit like a slower early OK GO song, tbh.

Receptacle for the Respectable-

Credit where credit is due: that's the nicest way to call somebody a "posh cum dumpster" that I've ever seen.

[A] Touch Sensitive-

A nice spacy vibey instrumental. I kinda dig this one.

Shoot Doris Day-

Ah, fuck, he's singing some nonsensical bullshit again. It's like the kinda shit that sounds somewhat deep but then you actually read it and it's just "yeah, these words rhyme and follow the metric foot".

Miniature-

Ooh, another instrumental!

Oh, it's 40 seconds long.

And kinda just some warbles.

No Sympathy-

Sounds like it's half a country song, half an early led zeppelin song.

Reads like it was written by a pissed off 14 year old. Like, real nu-metal lyric hours over here.

The lyrics continue to be the worst part of this band.

Long outro, but it gets kinda rad at the end, not gonna lie. Almost a bit like Aphex Twin just dropping out of nowhere.

...Someone somewhere is having the absolute inverse experience as i am, just vibing for a few minutes on the meanest song I've heard in years, and then just fuckin HATING this weird IDM/psytrance outro.

Juxtapozed with U-

Japanese City Pop vibes right off the bat.

2001 autotune sounded like dogshit. Lyrics are stupid as hell, as per usual.

I will *never* not be mad at landlords, weird British guy.

Wait, *THIS* is their most-played song!? This has been played over 9 *million* times?

Who the fuck is this band for?

Are y'all okay, England?

Presidential Suite-

Oh Jesus, some goddamn Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky shit? Oh heh heh, all those drunken Russians? Yeah, fuck all the way off, ya smug shit.

I have to wonder how this guy feels about the last 8 years of UK politics. Clown shoe fits a bit different now, don't it?

Run! Christian, Run!-

What? No, this song is 8 minutes long!? Yeah, no. Fuck this.

This band sucks absolute shit and I'm bailing on this album.

Fragile Happiness-

Don't care. I read the stupid lyrics and i don't care.

How was this band popular 20 years ago? How are they popular now? Over 140,000 monthly listeners in the year of our lard Two Thousand and Twenty Three? What is wrong with you people? Who hurt you? And why are you trying to fix it with... *THIS*?

My wife's perspective: "supremely unremarkable"

Favorite Track: [A] Touch Sensitive, as it's the only one the singer didn't fuck up with his mouth.

Least Favorite Track: literally everything else.

#1001 albums #dancing to architecture #Super Furry Animals #Rings Around the World

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits,  but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

[stefciastark]

Worthy ~Webpril Day 8

A/N: At almost my 4a.m, here it is! The concluding part to yesterday's little 'hidden injury' combined prompt fill. For some reason, these last two were harder for me to write, and I couldn't quite get this one to sound the way I wanted it to in my head (being sleep deprived probably hasn't helped haha). The struggles of writing sometimes - some ideas are just stubborn and don't always come out how you want them to haha Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“I’m good, just a bit tired...had a big week of homework and helping Aunt May with the charity stuff y’know.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed from behind the suit’s helmet, his gaze a level of intensity usually only directed to dealing with complicated circuitry, mathematics, or playing the intimidation game with Nick Fury. Now that was some bullshit. Tony had known Peter for long enough to know that the more excuses the kid gave, the more likely it was that he was lying. Tony could practically taste the blood that Peter kept trying to subtly spit onto the pavement when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Above all, however, Tony wasn’t sure whether to be angry that Peter was trying to lie about how he was feeling and thought his biometrics weren’t being transmitted to Tony’s HUD at all times (it’s Stark technology, of course it would be), or whether he should be concerned about some form of brain damage because it didn’t seem to cross Peter’s usually so sharp and quick mind at all that his biometrics would be transmitted.

Tony decided he couldn’t watch Peter struggle with moving what were some of the lightest pieces of rubble anymore. Cutting the power to the repulsors, he landed next to where Peter was trying and failing to nonchalantly lean against the tower of debris they had begun to stack, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re done, kiddo. I’ve got it from here.”

The HUD inside the suit displayed an increase in blood pressure, which F.R.I.D.A.Y informed him was likely a result of ‘the human body’s response to acute pain.’ Tony knew Peter was a tough kid, but the way Peter moved looked stiffer than the Doombot metal corpses that were now strewn about the streets of Manhattan.

“No no, I’m good, see?” Peter returned to shifting the (smaller) pieces of rubble onto the pile. Tony had a feeling he was only continuing to wear his mask to prevent the undoubtedly pained expression on his face from telling Tony all he needed to know.

If Tony could pinch the bridge of his nose through his helmet at that moment, he would. He knew a compassionate and understanding approach should be the first port of call, but it would take the strength of a god like Thor himself to summon the patience he needed to deal with the situation at hand. He was tired, possibly mildly concussed after his skull had repeatedly hit the inside of his helmet at least eighteen times that afternoon, and he couldn’t wait for the day to be over so he could hit ‘reset’ on life and enter into the welcoming void of sleep.

Peter would have five minutes to come clean. Five minutes was about as long as Tony gave himself before his celestially bestowed patience wore out. Tony gave Peter a once-over once more as he continued to collect the smaller pieces of fragmented concrete. Tony returned to scanning the surrounding buildings for any hidden damages to the infrastructure, still making sure to keep Peter in his peripheral, his biometric data continuously updating on the top left of the suit’s inner display.

After five agonising minutes and another spike in Peter’s heart rate, Tony sighed in resignation and approached Peter. “Kid. Stop.”

Peter looked up, having taken his mask off moments before, happy to feel fresh air on his face for the first time since the fight began. Moreso, Peter was happy to have anything that felt like it restricted his already strained breathing off of his face. Tony could empathise with the feeling - experiencing an elephant sitting on your chest didn’t make the job of breathing any easier.

Peter’s expression to his instruction was one he’d seen too frequently; it was the one that bled with innocence, accompanied by the wide-eyed stare of a young Labrador puppy. “Yeah, Mr Stark?”

The helmet receded from Tony’s face so Peter was able to take in his blended countenance; it was something hovering between disappointment and barely concealed concern.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me? Maybe...I don’t know, an injury?” Peter blanched as he felt Tony’s probing eyes drilling into his own before clearing his throat.

He began to return to cleanup duties, hoping that if he ignored the situation for long enough, it’d go away. “No, Mr Stark, everything is -” Big mistake.

Another round of Peter’s half-baked excuses and deflection were cut off as Tony interrupted. “Zip it, you’re busted. You can try to hide it from me all you want, but F.R.I.D.A.Y knows better.”

Peter cursed under his breath. Even after spending considerable time in Tony’s Spider-Suits, he still sometimes forgot about the extent of the capabilities of the technology and AI programming that came with the package. While there was no point in hiding it anymore, Peter couldn’t stop himself before he insisted, “really, it’s okay.”

“It obviously isn’t,” Tony said, unable to prevent his tone from taking on a scathing and acerbic quality. Dragging his hand down his face, he paused and took a deep breath, seeing the way Peter’s features were pinched with hurt he was trying so hard to hide. Tony had a feeling that that hurt extended beyond just the physical; it was just wrong. “Look, kid, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to hide your injuries. I mean not like it’s possible anyway, you’re wearing my suit, for one. You should’ve known better.”

Tony supposed his frustration stemmed from the fact that he felt like he was looking into a mirror. He had wanted for Peter to find that little grey area to operate in in more than one capacity, yet instead Peter was currently taking a page out of Tony’s book, and not one of the good ones. ‘Don’t do anything I would do’. Well, attempting - poorly - to conceal any and all injuries unfortunately fit the profile. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’. Tony had to give Peter credit; that book hadn’t been opened.

“I just didn’t want to disappoint you again.” Peter saw the way Tony almost imperceptibly flinched as soon as the word ‘again’ left his lips. Chewing on his bottom lip momentarily and stopping when he tasted blood, Peter waited for Tony’s response. The silence persevered and Tony didn’t offer one.

Peter couldn’t quite tell what was going on beneath the surface with his mentor. At times, Tony was able to make himself so unreadable that it made Peter both envious and afraid. Envious, because Peter hated the way he was such an open, easily read book at times, and afraid for the aftermath of whatever Tony kept repressed under the surface. It was like a game of Russian Roulette, except Peter sometimes wondered which he’d really prefer; Tony’s disapproval or the actual bullet.

“I…” Peter continued, fixing his eyes on one particular pigeon feather that was floating in circles just in front of his left foot. He found himself pouring out his latest insecurities against his own will; at least he told himself it was against his will and that it was the pain’s fault. “I don’t feel like I belong with you guys. You’re all older, you’ve seen more stuff, battled more aliens and wizards. You all know what you’re doing and here I am, the young kid from Queens who doesn’t really deserve his place next to the Avengers.”

Silence.

Before Peter could react to the shadow that started to loom over him, he felt himself being pulled into a not-too-tight embrace that managed to expertly avoid his sore spots. He couldn’t help the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes and fought to keep them from flowing over.

“Just so we’re clear on a couple of things. First, none of us know what we’re doing, get that out of your head. Second, you’re every bit worthy of being here.”

The sound of propellers were suddenly very close, and Peter wondered how on earth he’d missed them altogether.

“Third, get in the helicopter. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about it, kapeesh? We’re taking you to medical.”

A/N: Tomorrow's prompt is going to be quite an interesting one to fill. Tomorrow's prompt fill might also be a little bit later than usual. I've got quite a lot on my plate approaching the weekend, so worst-case scenario, I'll update twice in one day ;) Definitely going to try not to let that be the case though :) x Thank you for your continued support and encouragement!

#webpril day 8 #webpril 2021 #webpril #mcu fanfiction #marvel #peter parker fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #irondad fanfiction #peter parker whump #h/c fanfiction #emotional h/c #writing prompt #writing challenge #my fic #h/c

[multiocblog]

Greetings~! Welcome to my blog!

Just a little introduction, and some rules along with it~! ^^

Hello~! My name is Brianna but you may call me Bree~ I like to write stories, and create my own characters and such- It's what makes me happy~! And I love when I get to act like my OCs and interact with people! So, I created this blog~! (Sorry this post is quite long so be ready to read-)

To start out this blog, I have 7 OCs I will be making introductions for, so you can find out some about them, and interact with asks!

I have 2 OCs from Black Butler, 3 OCs from Diabolik Lovers, and 2 OCs from My Hero Academia! (I have many many more OCs soon to be added to this blog once I get consistent and completely settled in!)

Theres a brief intro to each at the bottom of the page!

((I write better than what I did there I swear-))

In the meantime, here are the

Rules:

No NSFW asks PLEASE! They make me very uncomfortable, and any asks I think might be dirty in any way, I will not answer.

Please make sure you put the OCs name in parenthesis or brackets so I am aware of which OC you are talking too! Ex." [To Arabella] I love your outfit! "

Please be kind! I will not accept hate comments or anything of the sort towards a subject, opinion, or an OC!

PLEASE "tag" or label accordingly to anything, slightly, definitely, or mildly triggering, even if you're not sure! I just want to make sure that everyone can scroll through my blog without having to be weary! Ex. [TW death]

Please do not flood the askbox or get mad that I don't answer right away! I can't always be online for I have a life to live outside of social media. This is purely for fun! ^^

Please no asks about r*ape, inc*st, pe*dophilia, or anything of the sort! Talk of those subjects will not be tolerated on this blog!

I am the admin to this account, therefore, I am allowed to reject or ignore ANY ask if need be.

((Rules will be updated, should the need arise.))

Bye for now~!

((OC info under read more!!))

Kyoko Komori (DL) ((OC based off the anime. Though I've heard plenty about the games, I have not yet played them, so if I get some things wrong I apologize in advance.))With Kyoko everything is the same. Yui has Cordelias heart and such and was supposed to be sent to the brothers. However, in this universe, Yui has an older sister, one year apart, whom has also been adopted, except she knows it. When she overhears something about her younger sister, her only sister, being sent away to vampires, she decides to take her place. To protect her.

Alyssa Freeman (MHA) ((I have not watched the entirety of MHA yet, and really I don't plan too anytime soon. So if I get anything wrong please correct me, and spoilers to the anime for me are welcomed. Let's just act like I've seen it all-)) Alyssa hates villains. And heros for that matter. All of them. When her apartment was destroyed from a casualty in a battle, Alyassa labeled heros as reckless and careless of the people around them. Herself and her little brother where heading back to the apartment, when she saw it crumbling down. Her parents and grandparents still inside, along with her best friend who was going to surprise Alyssa with a visit. Now she lives on the streets, doing whatever she can to provide for herself and her little brother.

Ongaku Yamada Aizawa (MHA) ((Again, haven't seen it, let's just pretend I have. Also this OC is in result of a ship. I don't really ship it, but I thought both their powers together would be cool so I thought, why not?)) When Ongaku was young, she was always bullied in 1st and 2nd grade for having two dads. One time, she got in trouble for heavily injuring a student with her voice quirk. You can insult her all you want, but not her dads. So, in 3rd grade, she kept a lie she created, that she only has one dad, Erasure Head Shota Aizawa, and that her mother died when she was born. Turns out the lie worked pretty well, people loved her and she was seen as an icon for having a prohero as a father. Shes was usually a quiet person, kept to herself, no friends, only spoke when spoken too. It was just her, her drawings and her music in her headphones. To this day, she keeps the lie, and keeps her distance, even at her new school, in U.A. (She also develops a major crush on Tenya Iida while there.👀)

Lilly and Lila Sakamaki (DL) ((Just thought I'd make one description for both bc they're twin sisters. This is also result of a ship. Ayato x Yui.)) Lilly and Lila are polar opposites despite their similar looks. Lila loves the cutesy, pink, flower stuff, and Lilly is all "tough" and "all that" (When shes really insecure-) Lilly is extremely protective over her sister, and possive too. She doesn't let any man even glance in her general direction. Basically if a man wants to ask Lila out, hes gonna have to go through some interrogation. Lila loves her sister deeply, and is basically like her sisters personal therapist. Lilly will only vent and show emotion around Lila. Lila tries to get her sister Lilly into pink, but with no prevail. Typically, you'll find Lilly hanging out with "Uncle Reiji", for she has a secret interest in his experiments and such. She'll also cuddle with Uncle Shu whenever she has time. And Lila loves hanging out with Uncle Kanato and Uncle Laito. She'll have tea partys with Kanato all the time. Lilly always tries to get Lila away from Laito. She says he's "demented" and "weird". But, Lila doesn't listen and hangs out with him anyway. Laito and Kanatos typical nickname for Lila is, Lilac or Little Flower. Both twins are vampires. Yui always teaches them about God and how to be selfless and kind, while Ayato plays sports with Lilly and cute video games (like Animal Crossing) with Lila.

Arabella Phantomhive (BB) ((This OC is placed in the future, and based off a ship, Ciel X Lizzy. Please be aware that, even though my OC speaks multiple languages, I do NOT. So, as bad as it sounds, I'll probably use Google Translate if I must use another language-😅 ) When Ciel and Lizzy are older and married, they have a little girl. Half human. Half demon. Arabella was taught how to be a lady, ballet, and sword fighting by her mother. And she was taught chess, ballroom dancing and more sword fighting by her father. Instead of going to a school, little Ara was homeschooled, by Sebastian, the Phantomhive Butler. He taught her multiple languages, such as Russian, Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, and her personal favorite, French. Time skip to the age of 10, she saw her mother murdered before her, and her father taken by some strange light beings. Having been raised by Sebastian since then, now she's 17, running the Funtom company, and determined to avenge her mother and find her father. :)

Robert Trancy (BB) ((This OC correlates with the Arabella OC, and is in the same storyline.)) Robert J. Trancy was his sweet Arabellas betrothed since birth. Even though it is set to be an arranged marriage, Robert always had a crush on his Arabella, and was awaiting the day to marry his beloved. Robert is a sensitive and kind boy, but sarcastic and joking all the same having been raised by Alois Trancy. He has no idea of whom his mother is, and was always told she died when he was born. At the age of 6, it was at a party when he saw his father dead on the floor of the long corridor. He didn't exactly see his fathers death, but he heard it, and knew exactly who did it. Ciel Phantomhive. He was determined to make his revenge. Having made a contract with Claude, his fathers old butler, he now lives alone in the manor, sending all the old servants away, except Claude. He makes frequent visits to his sweet Blue Rose however. He's a very insecure boy, full of anger, bitterness, jealousy, and sadness, but hides it well behind humor and love for his bride-to-be.

That was very long- and for that I apologize-

#new blog #new rp #oc rp #bnha oc #oc #oc x canon #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers #black butler #sebastian michaelis #diabolik lovers laito #laito sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #my hero fanfic #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #my hero academy oc #mha fanfiction #mha oc #send asks #ask blog #new ask blog #ciel phantomhive

[motleyfuckingcruee]

Rocket Queen

0.3: New Friends

Henley's P.O.V

I grin as we get into the dingy bar. Sasha let us in this time. She said that Sebastian had the night off so she was stuck doing the bartending. To me, that made no sense. Colin could easily do the bartending on his own. A lot of the people that come to this bar order the simplest things. Hardly ever any mixed drinks. Mostly just beers and vodka. I prefer to stick to Jack.

Madeline giggles as she pulls me out to our usual table. For some reason no one ever takes this table. Not once in the past few months that we've been coming here has anyone sat there. That is, until tonight.

My eyes widen as I spot two blondes sitting at our table. Madeline gasps in an over dramatic way, but I ignore her to keep myself from laughing. Getting a closer look at them, I realize they're two grown men. They're both very attractive and can't be much older than us. One has fluffy blonde hair and the other has teased blonde hair with an odd brown patch in it.

"I'm gonna go teach those guys a lesson!" Madeline exclaims. She takes a step closer, then stops. "Wait a minute."

"What," I laugh, wanting to see how this pans out. I love the girl but damn can she be dramatic.

"They're hot," She says. "Oh my God! The one with the fluffy hair is extra hot." She wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. Honestly, you'd think she'd already been drinking. "The other one is just your type."

I push her off, rubbing my ear. "Why the hell did you whisper like that?" She just shrugs in response, fixing her top to show off more cleavage. I grab her wrist as she takes a step towards the men. "Don't go over there! We can easily find another table."

Madeline sighs. "Look. This is a one time chance! And we can finally get you laid."

I roll my eyes. I guess I'm not winning this argument. "Not everything is about getting laid, y'know."

Madeline opens her mouth to respond, but a deeper voice sounds from behind her. "It may not be everything, but it sure as hell is fun."

I look back towards the table to see the fluffy blonde gone. His friend sits there, looking at me strangely. I just blush and turn back to the guy.

"So why're two lovely ladies like yourself hangin' 'round our table?" He asks.

Madeline scoffs. "Actually it's our table. We're just letting you use it."

I half expect the blonde to get a bit mad, but he doesn't. He laughs wrapping his arms around Madeline and I's shoulders. "Well, why don't you join us if it's your table. We'd hate to leave you without a table as special as this one."

"Don't be a smart ass," Madeline says. I know she's enjoying the attention she's getting from this dude. It's obvious by the way she's looking at him. I know that smirk is reserved for when she likes someone.

I move away from the guy, causing his arm to fall. He looks over at me. "We'll hang with you guys as long as you keep your hands to yourselves."

"Speak for yourself," Madeline giggles.

I sigh. "Alright, I'll stay as long as you guys don't touch me."

"It's gonna be a party tonight!" He exclaims, looking really excited. "I'm Steven by the way."

"Madeline," Madeline says, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"I'm Henley," I say almost too quietly.

Steven grins down at me. "You're really quiet."

I just shrug, settling in beside the other blonde. He smiles at me, but I just turn my head to look towards the entrance. I'm hoping that tonight my friend will come in. I haven't seen him for a while at it makes me sad. He genuinely brings me joy. He's probably the best substitute for Tommy. After all, they act a lot alike.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I try my best to hold back my audible groan. I just got here and I already want to leave. How sad is that?

I turn my head to see the blonde smiling at me. I try my best to return the smile, but I guess it didn't reach my eyes. I hope he's not taking offense to me acting the way I am. I'm not meaning to be rude, it's just that my heart isn't in it tonight. I guess I'm just getting homesick for L.A after that phone call with Athena.

"I'm Duff," He finally says, holding his hand out for my to shake it.

I need to be at least a little bit nice. "I'm Henley."

He grins at me wider. I guess he's happy that I finally spoke to him. "That's a pretty name."

I smirk. "I guess Duff is a pretty name too."

He laughs, taking a swig from what looks to be vodka. "It's a nickname."

"Then what's your real name?"

"Michael."

I nod my head, looking him over. His eyes are this pretty color hazel and his smile is really cute. He dresses a lot like how Tommy does when he's not in his outrageous stage clothes. He has zero makeup on his face which makes me happy. I've been around too many guys that wear eyeliner and lipstick just to be more "rock n roll". I'm pretty sure they're getting the different genres of rock confused. They're more glam rock than anything. Although, I think they're just trying to look like Nikki Sixx. I may not have a crush on the dude, but he is one sexy motherfucker.

"Duff suits you better," I respond, glancing back towards the entrance.

"Waiting for someone?" Duff asks, looking in the direction I am.

I sigh. "Not really. It's really just hit or miss if he comes tonight. We didn't talk about meeting up or anything."

I didn't get to talk to him at all at school today. We kinda avoid each other when we're outside of the bar. I guess we just don't fit in together.

Duff smiles. "Maybe I can replace him tonight."

"Maybe," I grin.

Okay, so this guy wasn't that bad. He's pretty sweet. At least that's what I'm getting from talking to him the past five minutes.

"So," Duff says, taking a drink of his Russian Water. "What do you and this guy usually do?"

"Well, me and Hyde-."

"Hyde?"

I giggle. "It's his last name." I take the vodka from Duff and drink some. I'm gonna need some liquid encouragement before I say this. I ignore the burning sensation in my throat and smile at Duff. "We usually fuck." That's definitely not true. But his reaction is priceless.

Duff nearly spits out the Jack he stole from Steven. "I didn't expect that," He coughs out. I laugh, watching him. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," I respond, smiling at him.

He laughs. "I didn't expect that from you."

"And how old are you since we're talking ages here?"

"Nineteen."

I scoff. "You're only three years older than me."

"Yeah, but-."

"When did you lose your virginity, Duff?"

"Uh. . .," He trails off, not sure how to respond.

I giggle, loving how easily I made him stumble on his words.

I turn my head to see if Sasha or Colin is at the bar so that I can grab Duff and I another bottle of vodka when I see Hyde walk in.

I instantly spot his brown curly hair and sunglasses that he wears all the time. Trailing behind him is some beautiful blonde. I feel my smile drop as they come closer. I don't think Hyde realizes I'm sitting right here. Hyde looks back at the blonde and kisses her. I feel a twang of jealousy shoot through me. I'm not gonna lie. I really liked him. I guess I never really had a chance.

"Henley?" Duff nearly yells to grab my attention.

I turn my head towards Duff, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"What's the matter?" He asks.

Just as I'm about to respond, a familiar voice sounds from next to me.

"Henley?"

I look over to see Hyde and his new 'girl' standing beside the table.

Great. This is exactly what I fucking wanted to happen tonight.

TAGS:

All fics: @the--blackdahlia @sugar-content @sharon6713 @siliwanoel @charlyallise @lo-bells @lauravic @livingdeadharley @kawennote09 @ozzypawsbone-princeofbarkness @hllywdwhre @abbysdogcollar @nikkisixxwiththebass @waywardprincess666 @tommyleeownsme  

@rock-n-roll-soul-frankie @unholy-brat @eak1996 @madsthegroupie @sinningsixx @kissyourrosegoodbyemotley

Duff: @daisystuffsstuff

[frecklesdefelix]

Tequila

(revised) tutor!felix, badboy!changbin, rapper!chan, frat!straykids

Warning: swearing, sexual innuendos, drinking, drugs

Word count: too many, I didn't count

You trudge into your school library. You're not excited to be here but you're late for your tutoring lesson. You despised that your parents and teachers insisted you got tutoring for something as rudimentary as Russian history; just because you failed one exam by accidentally falling asleep while taking it didn't mean you needed help. You were fine, but no one else thought you were.

You rush into the secluded study room and are met face to face with Felix, the History nerd in school.

He was cute but not in the way that Hyunjin was. It was the type of cute where you would want to squish their cheeks and read them a bedtime story. While everyone else was into shaving, drinking and sex, Felix looked like his mom tucked him into his race car bed every night with a bedtime story that revolved around talking mice and sleeping princesses while he calmly wears his two piece pajamas under his childish spiderman sheets.

Felix was a glass of warm milk, soothing to the soul and familiar to the tongue. You were looking for something that made your throat burn, your skin itch and your heart race. You often described your personality as a lime; you were sour on your own. But together with tequila, you were an iconic balanced duo. You were searching for that tequila, that kiss in the dark. And Felix was not it.

"Sorry I'm late. Have you been waiting long?" You apologized half-heartedly.

"No, it's okay. I just got here too." He smiled softly as he put away his snacks. You sat down and tried to get everything over with quickly. You answered all the questions correctly and sometimes played dumb to indulge him. Before you knew it, it was time to go.

After the tutoring lesson reached it's time limit, you started rushing to put everything away quickly.

"Hey, so I, um, I know this is awkward but my friends, Chan and Jisung, they're having a party and they told me to invite my friends. The thing is, I don't have many other friends unfortunately. Would you be interested in going?" He asked shyly. You chuckled and stood silent when you saw he was being serious.

"A party? Han Jisung and Chris Bang Chan?" You coughed. They were some of the most exclusive parties of the school. You had never gotten the opportunity to go to one since you were never invited. Although you wished you were. Chan, Jisung and Changbin were notoriously popular in school for being troublemakers. Chan and Jisung were the only ones attending school at the moment because Changbin had gotten suspended. The cause was unknown, but the rumors were aplenty and ranged from highly illegal things to petty theft.

"Yeah. Would you be interested in going?"

"Well, I don't know any of the people there." You muttered.

"See, that's okay because I'd be going. And you know me, right?"

"I mean, Felix you're nice and all but you're just my tutor." You smile, apologetically.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry to try to put this on you." He smiles, but you can see the sadness in his eyes. You felt your heart start to hurt with guilt and pity for the poor boy. How he was friends with Han Jisung and Chris Bang Chan was definitely a question for conspiracy theorists everywhere. They were total opposite of Felix. They were the tequila you so desperately desired.

"Okay, I'll go with you." You agree.

"Like a date?" He gulped nervously.

"If that's what you want, sure. I'll keep you company." You shrug, grinning. He nodded and thanked you profusely before walking out. He rushed back in, scratching the back of his neck.

"I should probably let you know what time I'm picking you up, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, you probably should." You chuckle.

"Is 9 okay?" He inquired.

"9 is perfect." You state as he nods, writing stuff down on his agenda. Once a nerd, always a nerd.

The day of the party, you made sure to eat before you left, in case he asked you out to dinner. You didn't feel comfortable eating in front of strangers. You were pulling the last finishing touches on your tameless mane of hair before you heard the doorbell sound. You opened the door and were faced with who you soon realized was Felix. He didn't look like his usual self.

Felix was wearing a piercing, something that you knew you hadn't seen him wear or probably never noticed he owned. You weren't even aware he had the balls to pull a move like getting piercings. He had on a baseball cap that perfectly framed his now blond hair. He had dyed it since the last time I had seen him, from a very cute light scarlet red to a seductive blond that framed his masculine features perfectly. His cheekbones were high and his mouth was curled into a soft smile. His eyes were piercing into your own, the familiar and warm chocolate brown replaced by stormy grey that overflowed with electricity whenever he looked at you.

"Felix?" You asked, smiling.

"Y/N?" He teased.

"What happened to my Russian History Tutor? What did you do to him?" You chuckled.

"He goes into hibernation during the weekends. Ready?" He questioned. You nodded and closed the door behind you.

"I hope you don't mind walking to the party. It's right outside campus in the frat house Jisung and Chan are a part of." He explained, looking at my shoes. You had opted for high top converse this one time.

"Oh, yeah no it's fine. I'm all set for the night." You lifted you foot off the ground and shook it briefly. Felix chuckled and waited for you to catch up with his pace.

"Thanks again for agreeing to come to the party with me. I know we don't know each other too well, so I hope it isn't too awkward." He muttered nervously. You chuckled.

"What?" He asked, curious as to your amusement.

"For a second I saw a bit of my tutor Felix again. I thought he went into hibernation." You joked. He burst out laughing.

"Well, we are still the same person." He stated.

"How did you become friends with Jisung and Chan? I'm sorry, but I still can't believe you guys are friends." You apologized. Felix sighed before chuckling at your question.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Honestly I don't even know how myself. It really started as a simple tutoring session. Then they asked me if I wanted to attend a party and they kept coming up to me after that. Now we're buds." He shrugged.

"I'm not going to lie, I was shocked the first time I saw all of you together. You just don't fit the mold of what I would assume people like that are like." You breathed out nervously.

Before he could answer, you heard a commotion farther ahead on the block you were walking through. You saw a house, lit up with Christmas lights that flickered and loud heavy music that sounded muffled but deafening.

"So that's it, huh?" You gulped, hiding your excitement. He nodded.

"Before we go inside, because you agreed to come with me, doesn't mean that you have to stay of you don't want to. Just tell me and we will head out."

"But what about you? What if you want to stay?"

"No it's not about me." He shook his head. You nodded slowly, accepting the fact that you were actually nervous too. The idea of partying with some of the school's most notorious players and troublemakers wasn't something you thought through very much. And now that you were here, faced with the reality of the situation, you were nervous.

Felix saw this and grabbed your hand. You instinctively pulled away and he apologized profusely.

"I saw you were nervous. I was going to give you a reassuring squeeze. You're not alone, you know? I'm sorry though. I should've asked." He coughed.

"Sorry, it was instinctive. I don't mean to be rude. Let's just go inside before I make a bigger fool of myself." You sighed, chuckling anxiously. Felix started walking towards the house.

Inside the house, you had discovered that these parties weren't all illegal substances, as you had previously presumed. Sure, there were definitely people who were into the hard stuff, but you could point them out in the crowd and apparently everyone else did too. They steered clear of them. Going through the rumors you had heard in your head, you discovered that apart from it being a mostly drug free zone, Chan and Jisung, along with Changbin, provided the music for the most part. They performed and rapped live. Felix stayed beside you for the most part and didn't try anything else with you.

"You want anything to drink?" He asked, shortly after Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had gotten off the stage.

"Sure. But I get to grab my drink." You joke.

Felix led you to the kitchen, where he ran into Chan.

"Felix! Mate, glad you came! What did you think? Oh fuck, you brought A GIRL?! You fucking rascal!" He exclaimed, putting Felix into a hug before pulling him into a headlock.

"Um, excuse me but I'm right here. I'm not a fucking piece of meat." You glared.

"Feisty! Apologies, I got overexcited. Here, help yourselves to anything you want to drink and then come, let's introduce you around to the crew." He smiled sweetly. You followed him outside, a cooler in hand, to Jisung and Changbin.

"You fuckers, you will not believe who I met in the kitchen! There's Felix here, and he brought a friend! Wait, fuck, I didn't ask your name. What's your name?" He exclaimed.

"Y/N. Nice to meet you guys." You smirked.

"Felix actually brought a friend, who knew?! Welcome Y/N, feel at home. I'm Jisung and that's Changbin." He shook your hand.

"Nice to meet you guys formally. I've heard a lot about all of you." You sip your drink.

"Yeah, everyone says that. Don't believe everything you hear though." Changbin scoffed, smiling.

"Only the good stuff is true." Jisung winked. You scoffed and looked at Felix.

"Where's Hyunjin and Jeongin? They're usually out at things like these." Felix coughed, changing the subject. As if by magic, Jeongin stormed up to Chan and Changbin.

"Your stupid loud music ISN'T letting me sleep! I tried to study but I can't and so I'm trying to sleep but you won't fucking let me!" He yelled at the boys. They burst out laughing and Jeongin grew into a disturbing shade of red.

"I'm trying to fucking sleep! Keep it down!" He yelled, turning to look at every single one of the guys and then his eyes landed on me. His gaze softened before asking me who I was.

"This is Y/N. And she came with Felix." Jisung answered, the smirk plastered on his face.

"Oh, word!" Jeongin smiled, excited and extending his hand out for Felix to high five.

"He invited me and I accepted. It seems you have the wrong idea. We aren't together." You stated, clearing your throat.

"Oh, we know that. We're just excited to see him out with a girl and away from the books." Changbin stated.

"Jeongin, where is Hyunjin? Haven't seen him all night." Chan asked, changing the topic, much to your amusement and appreciation.

"He's tearing up the dance floor." Jeongin sighed, grinning lightly before walking away. They took this as a sign to follow him and started to slither through the crowd. Felix was standing beside you, his ears red and his fingers on his neck.

"Are you okay?" You furrowed your brows.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry about that. They're-" he started before you finished.

"Frat boys. I know."

Before long you were inside the house again, in what would've been the living room if there weren't so many people dancing. In the center, Hyunjin was dancing away and beside him, Minho.

He was another frat boy who majored in dance, along with Hyunjin. They weren't bad at all. Hyunjin looked in your general direction and stopped, hitting Minho's arm and he stopped as well. They approached the guys and they yelled at each other in an unintelligible volume. They all headed into the kitchen where Woojin, the house dad, was throwing empty cups into a huge trash can they were carrying around. Seungmin, the last of the frat boys was mixing drinks and pouring away as if this was a bar. He even had a tip jar set up for people after offering his services.

"Hi Y/N!" Seungmin greeted.

"You know each other?" Hyunjin asked.

"We have biology together." You smiled. He was always helping you with your labs and helping you finish your assignments on time.

"Nice to see you around. Glad you came. Any drink you want?" He asked.

"What does it look like I'm in the mood for?" You teased lightly. He smirked, looking at Felix.

"She's a tequila person." He answered.

#i know this is long but i really wanted to write this better. #a part 2 is in the making #nerd #nerd felix #frat boys #stray kids #frat stray kids #lee felix #felixlee #felix lee #stray kids felix #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin #stray kids changbin #stray kids chan #seo changbin #bang chan #han jisung #stray kids jisung #jisung #changbin #chan #chris bang chan #stray kids woojin #woojin #stray kids jeongin #jeongin

[molly2140]

Introducing Octavia Freeman 😎

Includes brief shit about my Half-Life universe.

Gordon has a twin sister, Octavia, she's approx. 4 hours younger than him if that matters haha. Their mother died during their birth (depressing as hell I know but I like the tragedy and dramatic shit), so their awesome father took it upon himself to raise his twin children the best he possibly can and give them a good life. Since Gordon can't speak, he, Octavia, and their father learned ASL in order for them all to communicate. Octavia acts as Gordon's voice and helps translate his signs for those who don't understand ASL. While growing up, Octavia becomes very defensive for Gordon, she hates when people make fun of him for not being able to speak. High school consisted of lots of fights and detentions for Octavia simply because she's defending her beloved twin. The two have a very unique bond, not only are they twins but they are best friends. Gordon has a really hard time opening up to other people, especially other girls, but he's always found it easy to confide in his sister, and Octavia is extremely supportive of him.

About a year after Gordon and Octavia graduate high school, their father falls ill and soon passes away, by then they are sharing an apartment on the university campus. Gordon is undoubtedly a genius, Octavia is quite intelligent as well, but she is studying for casual things such as photography and journalism, compared to Gordon who's clearly working for his PhD in science stuff. Soon after their father passes, Octavia finds herself taking the loss much worse than Gordon, and somewhere down the line she finds herself addicted to heroin. If Gordon wasn't home the night she finally overdosed, she would have died. During her rehabilitation and healing process, this brings the two of them closer and Gordon simply tells her that he cannot lose her, because she's the only family he has left. From that day forward, the two became even more inseparable.

Gordon and Octavia both end up at Black Mesa! Gordon obviously working in anomalous materials, whilst Octavia became the first female security guard, and she and Barney form a great friendship. Barney even tells her about his interest in Lauren, and she instantly hooks them up and everybody watches them fall in love. Octavia, like Barney, is a huge party animal, and enjoys grabbing some beers with Barney and Gordon after a long shift. Did I mention that Octavia and Barney are huge Queen fans? 😎 They will blast their music every day when they hit up the shooting range or while on lunch break. Also, Barney proposes to Lauren and Octavia was so happy when he announced it to her that she literally would not shut up about wedding plans for a whole week.

Black Mesa Incident time, yayyyy.

Octavia loses her shit when she can't find Gordon, she knew he was going in the test chamber that day, she wasn't supposed to know but he had told her anyways. She and Barney team up to fight the foreign alien creatures in order to escape Black Mesa alive. They are extremely pissed about the military simply executing any scientist or Black Mesa employee, however their highest priority is finding Gordon. Octavia and Barney get separated inside the Lambda facility, Octavia is trapped within and simply focuses on finding Gordon. She finds a portal to Zen, where she fights more of the alien creatures and soon realizes there's no way back to Earth. Suddenly the G-Man introduces himself to her, and offers her a job, she hesitates, but accepts when he tells her that he has Gordon. Together, the twins are put into stasis until their "hour has come again".

I'm not gonna get too much into the Half-Life 2 era stuff cause I'm planning on making a fan fic of it but here's some highlights and other facts about Octavia.

The land outside City 17 is fairly different, White Forest still exists, however everything is more inland and not next to the coast. The only large bodies of water are rivers and lakes. Technically City 17 is somewhere in Russia or in Soviet territory because I noticed a lot of the buildings and signs there are in Russian, but let's pretend City 17 is in the US because I want Octavia and Gordon to find their home as well as the ruins of Black Mesa. :3

City 17 has a wall around it that the Combine patrol heavily, the canals still exist but there is also underground tunnels that lie below City 17. The Combine are completely clueless of the underground tunnels, therefore Alyx uses them to help transport supplies and escort citizens to other outposts.

The Combine become aware of Gordon and Octavia's return a couple months after they arrive, unlike literally within the first day in the actual game.

Gordon and Alyx do fall in love of course. :)

Barney and Octavia fall in love too. :) Not gonna spoil shit about what happens to Lauren though I'm sure you can figure it out easily.

Eli's lab is far outside City 17, further west, so instead of it being called Black Mesa East, it's now Black Mesa West. It's actually a fairly large building that is partially submerged underground and is hidden in the trees so the Combine aren't aware of it. There's a nice open area to the south of the lab where Alyx and Dog have plenty of room to play fetch.

Since the lab is partially submerged underground, kinda like some houses where the back end is underground but the front isn't, that's literally this concept. So you can basically walk onto the roof, and that's Barney and Octavia's hang-out spot. This is also the spot where they confide in each other and talk about their tragedies, for Octavia, her heroin addiction and overdose, and for Barney, what happened to Lauren.

Oh yeah they also stole a Combine helicopter and fixed up Black Mesa style. 😎

Octavia helps Barney cope with his reoccurring nightmares over Lauren and the things he's seen working undercover, oh, and about that cat.

Barney managed to save some of the old mixtapes he and Octavia made back in the day, as well as the portable cassette player, which he rigged so it doesn't need batteries. So they constantly jam out to their favorite old tunes when hanging out or going on supply runs or hunting trips.

Octavia is definitely a night owl, Gordon is as well and they both have troubles sleeping sometimes. Gordon sometimes joins Octavia on the roof at 3am to talk some energy out in hopes of going back to sleep.

The classic desert eagle is Octavia's preferred weapon, the one she used while on security at Black Mesa. She is forever grateful that Barney managed to find and keep her prized gun after the Incident, as well as Gordon's infamous crowbar. The crowbar he still swears his life on by the way, ha.

Like Alyx, Octavia is quite fit and flexible, it's obvious they're experts at parkour. ;) If you haven't noticed, Alyx has a hoodie underneath her leather jacket with the Black Mesa logo, so I decided Octavia's shirt should have the Lambda logo with a similar color concept as seen on Gordon's HEV suit.

Octavia sometimes will go undercover with Barney to try and understand what he does every day, as well as gain more Combine information. She starts doing this soon before they confide in each other and confess their newfound love for each other. They definitely feel like they're working together again like in the old days but now forming secret crushes on each other.

Okay I'm not gonna spill too many more details without spoiling everything haha. But this is Octavia, as well as a brief explanation on my Half-Life universe. I showed my finished drawing of Octavia to my boyfriend and he swears she looks like me in real life but I don't see it other than the fact we both wear glasses and we both have our hair in ponytails all the time lol. The pose was based off of Kibbitzer's reference sheets, as mentioned before, you can find Kibbitzer's sheets on DeviantArt, their Patreon, or by simply searching it in Google. So yeah, this is my OC, Octavia Freeman, I hope you guys like her because I've put a lot of thought into her character and I've never done that with my other OCs haha. But I'm really proud of it. :)

#Half-Life #oc #Gordon Freeman #Alyx Vance #Barney Calhoun #Black Mesa #art #Freemance #Kibbitzer #fanfic

[ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie]

Everytime i see a post saying "bilinguals don't switch/confuse languages" i feel like an idiot because i can speak/write in 3 languages (fluently!!! Like, i've been learning since i was 3!!) But sometimes i do confuse them like one time i was talking to my german friend and then i ramdomly told him something in romanian???? He looked so confused and i was like "what?? Did i do domething??" Like damn am i just stupid or??? Does anyone else get it???

Dude I relate to this!! Except like in the opposite way? I speak 4 languages. I took 4 years of Russian and 6 years of French, so I’m decent in both of those. English is technically my second language, but I feel like it’s my first? It’s my major in school, and definitely the language I’m best at. I was born in Bulgaria. Bulgarian was my first language - I speak it fluently, I can read and write okay, and while I was there during the summers I passed through 4th grade, but we moved to the US when I was two and a half, so I definitely make a lot of mistakes. Because of that, I second guess myself a lot. We have accents and vowel sounds that sound moderately similar, and even when they don’t, even when I know I’m right, I convince myself I’m wrong while writing. I watched La La Land with my grandma a few weeks ago, and translated while reading the English subtitles, and I actually did a really good job! She even cried at the end, lol. But a common issue for me was the fact that I would go to say a Bulgarian word, and then I’d be like “naaaahhhh, that’s not a real Bulgarian word, is it? Is it an English word that I’m convincing myself is a Bulgarian word by saying it in a Bulgarian accent?” And honestly every time I second guessed, I was right, and it was indeed an actual Bulgarian word. That said, I don’t think I’ve ever responded to a friend in Bulgarian? Unless I was on the phone with my mom and just talked back to my friend in it my accident if I was being talked to at the same time? While trying to speak Russian I often accidentally switch to French or Bulgarian, lol, because Russian is my weakest least-familiar language. I associate French with Russian, because I was learning them at the same time, and I associate Bulgarian with Russian because they’re very similar languages (which is actually why I took Russian i the first place lol). When writing Russian I tend to spell things wrong sometimes because I’ll spell something the Bulgarian way, or I’ll just forget how to spell it in Russian. (I also drop accents all the time in French, and my verb endings can be a bit of a tragedy :/)My most common problem, however, is speaking Bulgarian, and accidentally switching into English. When I speak English to my parents, I speak in their Bulgarian accent, and all of us often pepper in Bulgarian words, and create out own little combo language. So any time I try to speak Bulgarian to my parents, I often slip into that English, and same goes for them. That happens with my brother, too. In most situations, it’s usually because I can’t think of a word in Bulgarian, so I switch languages to accommodate it. There are rare instances, however, where I don’t know English words for things. Like, I’m far more knowledgeable on the names of car parts in Bulgarian than I am in English. Also spices, herbs, and flowers. Actually, no, that’s a lie probably. I know a lot of names in both, I just don’t know their counterpart? Like, when we cook food, sometimes we use джоджен (djodjen), and until I googled it just now, I would never have been able to tell you that that is mint. I’m actually deeply shocked, because we also have мента (menta), which is also mint, so I’m not sure what the difference is?? Is one supposed to be peppermint?? ( @snaps7 or @justbooklover do you know??) Alas, I digress. The point is, sometimes I don’t know English words for things, or I do know the English word and it has suddenly left my brain (which totally happens to everyone in their native language, don’t even lie.) and it’s in situations like those when the Bulgarian word hops in, and takes over, and then I’m like no no, and then another English word pops in, and it’s about 5 years later when I suddenly remember. The common example of this that I’ve seen on tumblr is “what’s that word again? y’know, for people stealing??” and as I’m trying to remember, the Bulgarian word would go through my head, and then I’d probably move back into English and be like “Baby snatching?? No. And it’s not babysitting either, obviously.” And then I would proceed to repeat babysitting to myself because it’s all I can think of because I’m dumb. And then I will give up, and then a while later, all of a sudden, “KIDNAPPING! THE WORD IS KIDNAPPING!”So I guess in all of this, what I’m trying to say is that I never really accidentally speak in my other languages, or specifically my secondary language (I’m referring to Bulgarian as my secondary language, because in all honesty, as sad as that makes me, it definitely is at this point), I guess, which is why I relate in the opposite. I do it under very specific circumstances. 1) If I’m already speaking it to some capacity, like if I’m on the phone with my mom while one of my friends is trying to talk to me, or if I’m slipping in and out of Bulgarian to talk to my brother about a movie.Or 2) If I’m reaching for a word, and I start to doubt myself and my knowledge - that’s where I trip up. And the sad part is that if I can’t think of a word in Bulgarian, I just sort of sift through other words to go around them - which is a bad habit, but hey, it works! So if I can’t think of the word kidnap in Bulgarian, or if I’m not sure I can spell it, I usually would just be like “they stole him away!” or something like that, so if you have this problem too, not gonna lie that’s a pretty good method (although simply expanding your vocabulary is probably the better more difficult option :/)All of that said, you’re totally not stupid. The fact that you can speak 3 languages fluently clearly proves that you’re anything but!! Everyone messes up I know plenty of people who speak only English and do so with terrible grammar, and they honestly have no excuses. And you know what, you may have answered your friend in Romanian, but I bet it was freakin’ perfect Romanian. Most of the time, we think about what we want to say, and our brain talks to our mouth, and everything works out the way it should. Other times, our mouth just kinda says fuck it and runs away. For most people, this means rambling, or word vomit, or suddenly losing the capability to speak properly for whatever reason. For people who know multiple languages, sometimes that means bursting out in another language, and that’s totally okay! Own it! My friends always get really excited when they hear my speak Bulgarian, and I bet yours probably dig the Romanian too :) You should always be proud that you can speak three languages fluently.@snaps7 @justbooklover @wrathofabooklover and any one else who speaks multiple languages - any thoughts on the subject? What are your experiences? 

#lol i am so sorry this got super long... #real life #oh look it's me #answered #Anonymous

[evergloffpress]

Bottle of Blog: My Dinner with Stalin.

This is clearly a what-if scenario. I've seen this before as a writing prompt where the author would imagine what it would be like to break bread with a long-gone historical figure or one of the dearly departed.

Normally it would be someone the writer would actually enjoying having dinner with.

A favorite actor an author, inventor , a world leader, a loved one or spiritual guru of their choosing.

Though I figure some have opted to dine with those in league with shadow.

The real-life monsters that have left their scars upon the human narrative.

Hitler comes to mind right away but I surmise he has shared a few fictional table a few times over.

Also for those who believe that I have elected to bypass Hitler because I condone his actions, do yourself a favor and relax. It is a ridiculously offensive stretch in logic to do so.

I have come to the conclusion that he is overused as the poster child for evil that men do.

The Joker has Batman but he also has the Penguin or the Riddler. Quite a few fiends to choose from.

History is no different.

Chronicled demons have not just German dictators.

One of the worst was Russian.

Assuming we both spoke a shared language fluently I do believe my dinner with loseb Besarionis A.K.A Joseph Stalin with not involve much honest conversation.

I do not pretend that I am the expert on Stalin or a historical psychologist. So my analysis of his possible reactions are based solely on the literature I have read and the documentaries I have seen about him.

He would smile some. Chuckle to himself from time to time. Avoid direct questions or outright lie to my face.

This being such a unique experience it would not matter to me what I would have to eat.

My biggest question to him would be why?

Those versed in the the horrors that was the age of Stalin know why I would ask that.

How could you justify much less allow so much death and suffering to be perpetrated upon your own people?

All because of your supreme paranoia that you might lose your grip on power?

There where other ways. I am positive there must have been others venues. So many people sent to their deaths when they could have been far useful to their country in numerous ways. Not as slaves in the gulags or fodder for graves.

Scientists, doctors, and intellectuals done away with because of your own insecurity.

What they could have contributed to the world we will obvious never know.

I would ask the very questions many have inquired from him before but should he utter any truths I doubt his answers would either justify his actions or satisfy curiosity.

I imagine I would lose patience with him from the get-go. I have met people who would never admit to being wrong. Those who would rather look like a fool ten times over than to concede to an inaccuracy on their part.

I long ago stopped trying to reason with people like that.

Obsolete- adjective

No longer in general use, fallen into disuse.

I have an acquaintance who is as stubborn as a stack of mules.

We were one discussing the advancements of home media technology. Blu-rays being the belle of the ball at the time. I mentioned how their turn in the limelight would soon come to an end. For the ascension of the 4K discs were nigh. So I said Blu-rays would eventually be obsolete. However his definition of the word obsolete was technology that is no longer functional i.e broken. I countered with you can still get your hands on a vcr , a video cassette and a compatible tv and use them as originally intended. Proving that said tech could still be functional but has been passed over by newer advancements. His rebuttal was the epitome of willful ignorance. He said if he had the time to look up the definition of the word obsolete and found my definition next to it he would continue to use his understanding of the word. Suffice to say I had nothing else to say on the matter.

I not saying this person is as loathsome as Kobo himself.

I am saying that is how I imagine having dinner with Stalin would be like.

Now that I have given it half a thought I would probably have cheese ravioli with marinara sauce.

Oliver Evergloff

April 4rth-2019