Tumgik
#this is an actual line from joe's deep state
tigertales9 · 1 year
Text
Weathering the Storm
Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader
Warnings: 18+ / Smut
Description: This fic takes place last off-season in mid-April 2022 (about 2 months after the Super Bowl loss to the Rams).
A/N: This fic has been 99% done for several months, but I keep tweaking it to pieces. I'm still not super happy with it, but I've decided to go ahead and post it. It's a bit of a sex fest. Full disclosure: I actually edited out some of the sex and it's still a sex fest.
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You smile at Joe as he strides ahead to open the restaurant door for you. "Thanks," you say, your smile intensifying when he gives you a playful wink. It's good to see him happy, you think to yourself, following him into the dimly-lit building.
It'd been about two months since the Super Bowl and Joe was back to his usual self. The disappointment of losing the big game had morphed into a single-minded focus on improving and coming back better than ever. You had no doubt he was going to unleash hell on the league next season.
"Y'all can sit anywhere," the hostess hollers from across the mostly-empty dining room. "A waitress will be right with you."
You follow Joe to a table in the far corner and sit in the chair he pulls out for you. "We beat the dinner rush," you muse, giggling when Joe heaves an exaggerated sigh of relief.
That was the entire reason y'all drove to a small bar & grill just over the state line on a week-day afternoon. Joe didn't want any attention; he just wanted to eat in peace without it turning into a production. Y'all had also really enjoyed the leisurely drive on this warmer-than-usual April day. Winding around back roads with the windows down and the sights and smells of spring in the air felt like a mini vacation. Him sliding his big hand under the hem of your dress to rest on your bare thigh was the icing on the cake.
A few minutes after you sit down, your waitress arrives at the table with a couple of menus. "We know what we want," Joe says, softening his abrupt words with a big smile while waving off the menus. She blushes and drops her pen on the floor, quickly leaning down to grab it while muttering an apology. Joe widens his eyes at you for a second before she stands back up. You give her a smile and place the order y'all had decided on when looking at their online menu. She scribbles it down, grins at you then hurries away without looking back in Joe's direction.
You shake your head at Joe. "You can't just whip that thang out on unsuspecting people."
"What thang?"
"That panty-dropping smile. You gotta ease folks into it; build up a little tolerance before you hit 'em with it full force."
"It's just a smile," he mumbles, grinning when you narrow your eyes at him. "And the Mona Lisa is just a painting," you counter.
You're still smiling at each other when a waiter walks up carrying two frosty longneck beers; he drops coasters on the table and sets the bottles down, his gaze darting between you and Joe a few times before he takes a deep breath. "I'm a big fan," he mutters, a blush rising in his pale cheeks as he makes this admission. "You got screwed in the Super Bowl," he continues, locking his gaze on Joe and furrowing his brow. "That late holding call was bullshit!"
Joe smiles and nods his head. "Always good to meet a fan," he says, taking a quick sip of his beer while the waiter fidgets. The waiter blushes even more crimson before continuing. "You're gonna win plenty of Super Bowls, though, so don't sweat it. Everybody who knows ball knows you're the truth."
Joe gives him a dazzling smile. "Thanks man, 'preciate it. What's your name?"
"Ca…Caleb," he stammers, eyes going comically wide as Joe holds a hand out to shake his. "Nice to meet you, Caleb," Joe says, giving a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, too," Caleb whispers, backing away slowly before turning to jog toward the kitchen; he turns back around and points a finger at Joe. "Best QB in the league!" he yells, almost tripping over his feet before catching himself.
Once Caleb disappears, Joe glances around to make sure no one is ogling him. "Thank God this place is mostly empty," he mumbles, giving you a wry grin. You take a long swallow of your beer and give him a wink. "You're 2 for 2," you chuckle. "You need to register that smile as a deadly weapon."
"Hush," he mutters, his eyebrows creeping toward his hairline when you slowly slide your tongue around the rim of your beer bottle before taking a sip. His heated gaze is still locked on yours when there's a commotion at the back door of the restaurant; the door slings open and two men walk in from the outdoor deck, both of them cackling and snorting like a couple of wild animals before one stops dead in his tracks and points directly at you.
"Hot Damn!" he hollers, his bloodshot eyes going wide as a gust of wind from the open door blows your skirt higher up your thighs; you grab your skirt before anyone gets a glimpse of panties and firmly tuck it under your legs. "C'mon, sweetie, don't be shy," the drunk croons, taking a step toward your table before Joe stands up and turns to face him. "Oh shit, nevermind!" drunky yelps, retreating to the bar on the far wall across from your table, his friend close behind him.
Your pulse rate is going crazy when Joe calmly sits back down and takes a sip of his beer. "You wanna leave?" you whisper, throwing a quick glance at the rowdy drunks.
"Nah -- if they keep acting up I'll just beat the shit out of both of 'em."
"And go to jail for assault and battery?" you snap.
"Not if they throw the first punch," he grins, the twinkle in his eye looking scarily like anticipation.
"Joseph Lee," you grit out, your eyes narrowing in warning. "Don't you dare get into it with those assholes."
"Relax, babe," he soothes. "I promise I won't start anything."
You're still pondering if you should leave when your waitress walks up and sets your food down. "Thanks," you say, managing a smile even though your nerves are completely frazzled. "You're welcome," she says. "Just holler if you need anything else."
Before you can take a bite of food, you hear a loud whistle and turn your head to see the two drunks leering at you. "I might have to bust some heads if those assholes don't stop staring at you," Joe grumbles, shooting a death glare at them.
"Hol' up!" one of them yells. "Is that the pretty boy who just lost the Super Bowl?" They both squint at Joe, trying to get their alcohol-blurred eyesight to focus. "Sure is," his buddy finally chimes in, both of them guffawing and chanting "loser" until the bartender slams a hand on the bar in front of them. "Y'all can either shut up or leave," the bartender snaps.
You slowly turn your head and make eye contact with Joe; he takes a huge bite of his burger, his easy, breezy, greasy-lipped smile setting off alarm bells in the back of your mind. He's itching to beat the shit outta those guys, you think to yourself, taking a dainty bite of your burger while keeping a close eye on the drunks out of the corner of your eye. Joe gives you a wicked grin as he shoves a handful of french fries in his mouth before offering you one. You lean forward and let him feed it to you, giving his salty index finger a quick suck to try and redirect all of that pent-up energy. His eyes flash with lust and you give him a naughty grin. Mission accomplished, you think to yourself. "You keep looking at me like that and we'll have to get a to-go box," he mutters, taking another bite of his burger. You give him an innocent look before reaching for another french fry.
Y'all make small talk for the next 20 minutes while he eats all of his burger and half of yours. Just as he's polishing off the last of the fries, you hear more snorts and cackles coming from the drunks at the bar.
"Baby-faced pretty boy don't look like he knows how to please a woman," drunk #1 says loudly. "She must be with him for the money." They both laugh like hell before the bartender snaps at them. "That's it! Get out!"
"Relax," drunk #2 chimes in, giving the bartender a shit-eating grin. "We're just pointing out that he ain't man enough for her. She needs a real man. I mean, look at her!"
Joe's chiseled nostrils flare as he methodically wipes his big hands on his napkin. "Fuck … this," he snarls, pushing his chair back to stand up. "No baby, they're not worth it," you plead, your pulse rate kicking into overdrive as he walks toward the drunks, his long legs quickly closing the distance. The bartender, now joined by the manager, struggle to herd the drunks toward the exit before one of the drunks turns and sees a mad-as-hell Joe bearing down on them. "Oh shit! Run!" he yells, both of them falling all over the place trying to hit the door before Joe catches up to them.
Once they're gone, Joe and the manager have a conversation while you try to take deep breaths and calm your racing pulse. You absentmindedly run a hand through the condensation on your beer bottle as you watch Joe shrug his broad shoulders and shift his weight from one foot to the other. Wonder what they're talking about, you think to yourself, letting your mind wander a bit now that the threat is gone.
You're actually a little surprised by Joe's intense reaction to the leering drunks. He could get a little jealous sometimes but it was never anything too serious, usually just him getting annoyed at guys overtly ogling you or being flirty. He almost always let it go with just a warning look at the offenders because he knew you were going home with him. He was alpha to the bone but without the toxic masculinity that often came with it.
Joe's deep, throaty laugh pulls your attention back to him just as he turns around and strides back to your table. "Manager wants to comp our meal so he refused to take my credit card," Joe grumbles, reaching into the pocket of his gray jeans. He pulls out an old-school money clip and peels a couple hundred dollar bills off before dropping them on the table. "He can't refuse this," he gloats, giving you a smug look while dropping into his chair. You shake your head but keep your mouth shut. You'd warned him about carrying so much cash but he shrugged you off. The conversation went something like this:
"You shouldn't carry so much cash. Several hundred is fine but several thousand is asking for trouble; just use your credit card."
"You never know when something might blow out the power grid and credit cards will be useless."
You rolled your eyes. "What's gonna blow out the power grid?"
"Solar flare, World War 3, alien invasion," Joe shrugged. "You never know."
Joe loudly clearing his throat pulls you back into the moment. You take in his told-you-so smirk for a bit, trying to decide whether or not to remind him that you said carrying several hundred in cash is perfectly fine, so this is not a 'told-you-so' situation. One look at his body language and you decide to bite your tongue. No need to poke the hornet's nest, you think to yourself before grabbing your beer bottle and chugging the last few swallows, feeling his eyes on your throat as you slowly gulp the remaining beverage. When you're done, you set the bottle down and lock eyes with him. His cocky smirk is long gone.
He quickly stands up and gestures for you to do the same. "Let's go," he orders, placing a hand on the small of your back as y'all walk out the door and into the parking lot. The heat from his large hand easily penetrates your slinky shirtdress and you bite your bottom lip as a steady throb of arousal ignites deep inside you. He opens the car door for you, eyes glued to your bare legs as you get settled in the seat. "You okay, babe?" you ask as he slides in the car and starts the engine. "Fine," he mutters, flashing you a quick grin that more closely resembles the lovechild of a snarl and a grimace. Great, you think to yourself. Gonna be an interesting night.
You look out the car window as dusk settles in and the streetlights slide by in intermittent flashes; you note that he's taking the direct route home. No more lazy back roads, you think with a bit of regret, your attitude shifting when he cranks the music and settles a hand on your thigh. You turn your head to look at him, enthralled by his ridiculously sexy profile. You can tell by the look on his face that he's still pissed off. Luckily he isn't the kind of guy who takes his frustrations out by driving aggressively but his body language is big mad.
"You sure you're okay?" you whisper. "I said I'm fine," he mutters, removing his hand from your thigh just long enough to turn the music up a bit more. He slides his hand back under your skirt, teasing the elastic edge of your panties with his limber fingers. You wiggle your hips a bit trying to get closer to his fingers, but he never gives you more than a quick caress over the top of your flimsy lace thong. You shoot him a couple of glances trying to read his mood but the gathering dark makes it hard to read his expression.
You're wet as hell and a little annoyed when he finally whips the car into y'all's driveway. Just before the car rolls into the garage, you notice storm clouds forming on the horizon and realize it's going to be a stormy night in more ways than one. The second he pulls into the garage he quickly kills the engine and hops out, jogging around to open the door for you. You give him a bland smile as you swing your legs out and stand up. "Thanks," you whisper. "Sure," he mutters, ushering you in the house before you can say anything else.
As y'all enter the house he heads directly to the kitchen, grabbing a glass out of a cabinet before slinging the freezer open to get the vodka. He splashes some of the ice-cold alcohol in the glass and takes a hearty gulp, leveling a loaded look at you as you close the distance between you.
"That's not what you need," you say, nodding at the vodka bottle. He raises the glass to his mouth again and locks eyes with you over the rim; he pauses for a second then takes a long, slow sip, finishing it off by loudly sucking on his bottom lip in a way that sends a sizzle of electricity straight to your clit. "You got any better ideas?" he purrs, giving you a dirty wink before pushing away from the counter to stalk around the room like a caged tiger.
Ohhh, he knows exactly what he's doing, you think to yourself. Two can play that game. You watch him pace back and forth for a minute, a tiny smile gracing your lips as a naughty idea forms in your mind. He needs to work this aggression out, you think to yourself, and I know just the way to set it off. You feel a little thrill of anticipation as you think of what you're about to unleash.
"Those guys at the bar really pissed you off but I can't understand why," you muse. "I know it wasn't the stuff they said about losing the Super Bowl. You're just getting started in the NFL, and we both know you're gonna fucking run it one of these days. So what was it?" He stops pacing and narrows his eyes at you. "I didn't enjoy them eye-fucking you!" he snaps.
"I don't think that's it," you shake your head. "That happens all the time, to both of us. That's the price of admission when you're with a baddie." He gives you a tight smile as you continue. "What really pissed you off?" you repeat, holding eye contact with him while slowly unbuttoning your shirtdress. He shrugs his broad shoulders while avidly watching you. "I don't know," he finally answers.
"I think you do know. You just have to be man enough to admit it."
His eyebrows shoot toward the ceiling. "You don't think I'm man enough?" he sputters. "You sound just like those assholes at the bar!"
"That's not what I said."
"Sure as hell sounded like it!"
"Then you're not listening."
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Why don't you explain it to me," he orders, eyes glued to the cleavage exposed by your partially-open dress.
"I think you felt challenged when they said you're not man enough for me. But why did that make you mad when you know it's not true? You do know that, right?" you ask, holding his gaze as you push the dress off of your shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He watches closely as you bend over and pick the dress up, tossing it onto a barstool.
"Look." He runs his fingers through his hair and hits you with a penetrating glare. "I'm having a hard time following this conversation since you're mostly naked. Are you questioning if I'm man enough for you?"
"No, I think you're questioning it. I think that's why you're so pissed." You reach behind your back and unhook your bra, letting it slowly slide down your arms before tossing it on the barstool. "But if you're worried about it you can just … prove it."
His hot gaze rests on your ample breasts for what seems like ages before he finally meets your eyes. "You better stop playin'," he warns, narrowing his eyes as you slide your panties off and toss them on top of your bra.
"Oh, I'm just getting started," you tease. You give him a filthy grin before spinning around and sashaying toward the stairs wearing nothing but your high heels. You sling your long hair over your shoulder and add an extra swish to your hips, knowing Joe's eyes will be drawn to your perky butt and toned legs. "You coming?" you ask, throwing him a look over your shoulder. You're almost at the top of the stairs when you hear him pounding up the stairs behind you; it takes everything you have not to run like hell but you know he won't hurt you, not unless you beg him to.
As you walk into the master bedroom you hear the rain start hitting the roof, lightly at first then with growing intensity. You come to an abrupt halt when a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, the intense flash easily penetrating your gauzy window shades to light up the entire bedroom for several seconds. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as Joe walks up behind you and settles his big hands on your waist. You can feel the heat radiating off of him and a shiver of pleasure runs through you when he presses a kiss on your shoulder. You turn to face him, his heated gaze causing a visceral response deep inside you.
Before you have a chance to speak, a loud clap of thunder rattles the windows causing you to jump and let out a squeal. Once you regain your composure you take in Joe's stoic expression. Of course he didn't jump, you think wryly, he didn't even blink. You search his face for a minute before speaking. "What are you thinking?" you whisper. He stares at you for what seems like ages before finally answering. "What do you need me to prove?" he asks, voice husky with desire tinged with anger. You shake your head no. "I don't need you to prove anything. This is about you not me."
He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly before dropping to his knees at your feet, his gaze holding yours as he leans forward until his mouth is almost touching your crotch. You feel his breath on your most sensitive skin, and you're sure he's going to taste you but instead he flashes you a knowing smirk before looking down at your feet. "Let's lose these," he murmurs, his agile fingers easily unfastening the ankle straps on your heels. You hold onto his shoulders as you step out of the shoes. "Thanks," you whisper, watching closely as he stands back up and pulls his t-shirt off, dropping it on top of your shoes.
He quickly strips down to nothing but his low-rise boxer briefs before burying one hand in your hair, pulling hard enough for you to hiss at the sting as you lean your head to the side, exposing your slender neck. He eases the pressure on your hair before dropping a trail of kisses and love bites from your collarbone up to the sensitive spot behind your ear; a shiver runs through you as your nipples harden against his muscular torso. He nips your earlobe with his teeth and you feel a gush of wetness between your thighs as he slides his hands down your back and cups your ass, giving a gentle squeeze before picking you up; you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his neck. "So wet," he groans, moving you up and down his barely-there treasure trail, his arm muscles flexing with each motion. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes flutter closed at the delicious sensation.
After teasing you for a bit, he abruptly stops. "Look at me," he orders. You remove your face from his fragrant neck and lock eyes with him. "You think you'd get this wet for those assholes at the bar?" he asks. "God no!" you make a disgusted face. "I'd never get this wet for anyone but you. You know that." He searches your expression for a minute without speaking. Before you can fill the silence, another loud clap of thunder causes you to flinch. "The storm's close," you whisper, glancing at the windows as a lightning strike sizzles across the sky. "Real close," he mutters, giving you a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
He walks to the side of the bed and sets you down before dropping to his knees on the floor between your legs; he plants his hands on your thighs and spreads you obscenely wide, licking his lips while leaning in.
"I need to tell you something," you say abruptly, stopping his forward progress.
"Right now?"
"Yeah."
He reluctantly drags his gaze from your crotch to your face. "Okay."
"I … kind of manipulated you earlier and now I feel bad about it."
He furrows his brow. "What do you mean?"
You chew on your bottom lip for a bit before coming clean. "I knew you were mad as hell and needed to work through it without getting shitfaced on vodka." You shrug. "I goaded you with that 'prove it' shit, but it backfired."
He studies your expression for several seconds before speaking. "How did it backfire?"
"I thought you'd chase me up the stairs, toss me on the bed and fuck me through the mattress, and then we'd both feel better. Instead you got all calm and quiet and I'm afraid you're mad at me, and I'm also afraid you actually think you're not man enough for me which is total bullshit and . . ."
"Babe," he interrupts your breathless rambling. "I'm not mad at you."
"Really? Even though I tried to manipulate you?"
His lips curl up in a genuine smile. "You had good intentions." You breathe a sigh of relief and return his smile. "Plus you were right," he continues. "It pissed me off when that dickhead said you need a real man." Joe's jaw clenches with anger as he relives the memory. "He's lucky I didn't knock his fucking teeth down his throat."
"Forget those assholes," you soothe, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lips. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I'll never get enough of you." His gaze and body language soften at your admission. "I feel the same way," he whispers, pushing you back on the bed and capturing your lips in a slow-burn kiss, his hands roaming your body while his tongue works magic in your mouth.
He takes his sweet time kissing you before nuzzling over to that sensitive spot behind your ear, smiling against your skin as you writhe beneath him; he kisses a trail down to your breasts, giving you that intense look from underneath long eyelashes as he teases your nipples for several minutes before continuing down, dipping his tongue in your belly button before planting wet kisses against your inner thighs. He eventually focuses his attention on your core, delicately licking your folds before plunging his tongue inside. You're so turned on that it only takes a few minutes of his talented tongue plus agile fingers to set you off.
"Sooo good," you eventually whimper once you catch your breath, your body limp as a ragdoll as he wraps his hands around your waist and easily moves you to the center of the king-sized bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he strips his underwear off and crawls onto the bed between your thighs. "You need a minute?" he whispers, hissing as you reach a hand out and wrap it around his erection, pumping him several times. "I need you inside me," you plead, moaning when he slowly drags his cock through your wet folds before pushing inside. He teases you with several shallow thrusts before placing your legs over his shoulders; once he's got you right where he wants you he starts thrusting again, slowly at first then picking up pace, running his big hands up and down your still-trembling thighs while his hot gaze pins you in place as effectively as a chokehold. After several minutes he moves a hand down to play with your clit. "Damn baby, you feel too good. I'm not gonna last long," he grits out, barely getting the last word out before your climax hits quickly followed by his.
The sound of your mutual heavy breathing is almost drowned out by the sound of the intense thunderstorm. Once you catch your breath, you bask in the afterglow of back-to-back orgasms, smiling at the way Joe continues to caress you as he stretches out beside you on the bed.
About 15 minutes later, a loud clap of thunder startles you out of your fucked-out bliss and your entire body jumps. "It's okay," Joe whispers, pulling you tight against him. You nestle your nose against his broad chest and breathe him in as the storm continues to rage. "So intense," you sigh. He slides a hand up and down your back and presses his lips against your ear. "What's intense?" he asks, "the storm or the sex?"
"Both," you giggle, "but especially the sex. Can't wait for the next time you get a little jealous."
"Next time?" he scoffs, giving you an absolutely filthy grin before flipping you onto your stomach. "I'm not done with you this time, gorgeous," he purrs, massaging your shoulders for a bit before slowly running his tongue down the length of your spine, pressing wet kisses against the small of your back. You smile against the mattress as he tilts your hips up and settles between your thighs. You sigh in contentment and arch your back, already anticipating an easy, slow-grind fuck.
The strength of his first thrust catches you off guard as you're pushed forward against the silky sheets. Damn, you think to yourself, quickly scrambling to brace your hands against the headboard, arching up and pushing back to meet his next thrust. He continues to fuck you hard, relentlessly impaling you on his thick cock as your whimpers and moans are muffled by the mattress. "You like that?" he growls, pounding into you with a force that takes your breath away; you try and fail to form the word 'yes' so you let your body language do the talking, grinding back against him as the sound of your flesh slapping together at the apex of each thrust drowns out the rolling thunder.
Just as your shaky legs are about to give out, he reaches a hand around and massages your swollen clit, speaking words of filthy encouragement as you dig your fingernails into the padded headboard. "Cum for me, baby," he purrs, pinching your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to set you off. Your climax hits like a bodyslam and you draw just enough air into your lungs to moan his name as he follows you over the edge, your core spasming hard around his cock as he empties inside you right before your knees collapse. You fall forward onto the bed and he follows you down, both of you sweaty and trembling and gasping for breath.
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Several hours later your eyes flutter open in the semi-dark room; you squeeze your thighs together as your half-asleep body comes close to orgasm before the moment passes, leaving you feeling unfulfilled. How am I feeling unfulfilled when my man just fucked me stupid? you think to yourself, turning your head to look at said man. The bed beside you is empty and you briefly wonder where Joe is before being distracted by the sound of thunder. You listen to the steady staccato of rain hitting the roof and realize the storm is still storming. You turn your head to check the bedside clock -- 3:33 a.m. -- before yawning, stretching, then going still just as Joe walks into the bedroom, his tall, naked silhouette outlined by the hallway light.
You watch through half-closed eyelids as he gulps water from a water bottle as he walks to your bedside table and sets another bottle down. "Thanks," you whisper, smiling at the thoughtful gesture. "I didn't mean to wake you up," he murmurs, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on your lips. You push up into a sitting position and shake your head. "I was already awake," you answer, reaching for the water bottle and taking several swallows before continuing. "I had a super naughty dream about you, but I woke up right before I got off."
"Why didn't you wake me up? I'm always happy to help."
"You weren't here when I woke up," you shrug. "Plus we already had a marathon sex session. I thought you might be worn out."
"Are you questioning my stamina?" he asks, crawling onto the bed and sitting upright with his back against the padded headboard.
"No, sir," you answer, smiling when he gives you a heated look. "But you put in work earlier tonight. It's okay to be tired."
He narrows his eyes at you. "You think I'm not man enough to get you off again?"
"What? Of course not," you argue, "I know you're man enou . . ."
"Then get your sweet ass over here," he interrupts, patting his thick thighs. You set your water bottle on the bedside table then do as ordered, slinging a leg over his lap to straddle him. He teases your folds with his fingers, groaning when he feels how wet you are. "Damn baby, so wet for me," he whispers, sliding his tip up and down your slit several times before pushing inside; you gasp when he breaches your entrance, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the feel of him stretching your sore folds.
He immediately goes still. "You okay?"
"Yeah." You wiggle your hips a bit to get him moving again. "Just a little sore."
He wraps his hands around your waist and starts to pull you off of him.
"No!" you protest, digging your fingers into his arms to hold your position. "you started this and you're gonna finish it!"
"I don't wanna hurt you, baby," he soothes. "Let me get you off with my tongue."
You narrow your eyes at him. "Are you trying to make me beg for your cock? Seems a little manipulative." His eyebrows shoot upward and he opens his mouth to protest; you cut him off before he has a chance. "I'm kidding," you chuckle, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips. You suck his full bottom lip into your mouth, biting it just hard enough to draw a deep-throated groan from him. "If you want me to beg for it, I will," you whisper, kissing a trail up his jawline to his ear. "I need you inside me. Please?"
"You don't have to beg," he murmurs, "but let's take it slow, okay?"
"Yes, sir."
He narrows his eyes at you. "Woman, if you call me 'sir' again tonight we're gonna have a problem."
"What kind of problem?" you ask, trying hard to keep your expression neutral.
"Don't act all innocent," he growls, "you know exactly what kind of problem. Don't you?"
"No, si…."
Joe playfully slaps your ass to cut you off.
"Sorry, daddy," you tease, flashing a wicked grin at the lust-addled expression on Joe's face. Before you know it, he's buried deep inside you. "Yeah," you whine, digging your fingernails into his shoulders and lifting up until just his tip is inside you; you bounce the tiniest bit to make sure you're lined up right before grinding down hard, wanting his entire length back inside you; you manage to get about halfway down before your downward progress is halted by Joe's strong hands on your waist.
"I said take it slow," he orders. "Bossy ass," you mutter, hitting the hardest Kegel when he chuckles. "Shit baby," he hisses. You lock eyes with him. "I need you to fuck me hard," you demand, reaching a hand down to where your bodies are joined. "You've got me dripping wet," you purr, gathering some moisture on your fingers before sliding your hand up and down his throbbing shaft. He looks down to enjoy the view as you gather some moisture and raise your hand to your mouth, licking your fingers then sucking them as he watches.
"Give me a taste," he orders, licking his full lips in anticipation. You reach back down and anoint your fingers again, bringing them within a few inches of his mouth before stopping. "C'mon," he urges, leaning forward and groaning in frustration when you move your glistening fingers just out of reach. "You gonna fuck me hard?" you ask. "I don't wanna hurt you," he whispers, his opaque eyes darkening with lust as as you wiggle your juicy fingers just out of reach. "Please?" you beg, your gaze locked on his as he slides his strong hands down from your waist to your ample ass, getting two handfuls while searching your expression. "Please?" you repeat, slowly sliding your slick fingers across his lips. "I wanna feel every vein on your cock."
"Jesus," he groans, sucking your fingers into his mouth and thrusting up inside you, both of you moaning as he bottoms out. The next several minutes are like an out-of-body experience, Joe's strong hands lifting you up and down, impaling you on his cock as the thunder crashes and the lightning sizzles across the sky.
What seems like a lifetime later, after your fourth orgasm of the night has you seeing stars and gasping for breath, Joe's deep voice penetrates your blissed-out vibe. "You manipulated me just now, right?" he wheezes.
"Of course not," you scoff, panting against his deliciously sweaty neck as your core continues to shoot aftershocks around his slowly-softening erection.
"Bullshit. You know that 'sir' and 'daddy' shit drives me crazy."
"Hadn't really noticed," you shrug, trying hard not to cackle at his incredulous snort. He pulls back and looks at you with an are-you-shitting-me expression. Before he has a chance to speak, you come clean. "Okay yes, I manipulated you like a motherfucker," you admit, still trying to suck air into your lungs as your pulse rate finally starts slowing down, "but you manipulated me too."
"Did not."
"Did too!" you argue, clearing your throat before doing your best Joe impersonation: "You think I'm not man enough to get you off again?" He chuckles as you continue. "You knew that ish was leading to one place and one place only."
"Pound town?"
"Exactly! Thanks for admitting it."
He hits you with a cocky grin, drops a kiss on your parted lips then maneuvers you off of his lap and down onto the bed. "Don't be mad, baby girl," he teases. "I'm not a bit mad," you chuckle, sighing in contentment as he nestles you in his embrace.
After several more minutes of heavy breathing, he nuzzles his nose in your hair before speaking. "I'm gonna pass out now, okay?"
"Yes, sir," you answer, giggling when he gives your ass a smack.
---------
You slowly open your eyes, blinking a few times to bring things into focus. The soft sunlight peeking through the window shades tells you the storm has passed. You yawn and stretch before rolling over to look at Joe; he's still sound asleep, his pretty lips parted slightly and his unruly curls caressing his forehead. It should be illegal to look that good so early in the morning, you think to yourself, grimacing at the thought of your own appearance. You quickly decide you need a shower to wash off the dried sweat, spit and cum from the previous night's activities. You give Joe one more lingering look before easing out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
You turn the shower on to heat up then walk to the toilet enclosure to have a quick pee. "Damn," you whisper as you wipe, a little surprised at how sore you are. "He beat it up for real," you giggle to yourself, stepping into the steaming shower and reaching for your shampoo. You wash and condition your hair then lather your entire body with your fav body wash, being extra careful with your sore bits. Once you're done with your shower, you step out and dry yourself off, towel-drying your hair thoroughly before grabbing a hand mirror out of a drawer. You lean against the vanity and spread your legs a bit, using the mirror to inspect the damage.
A few seconds later there's a knock at the door; Joe enters before you have a chance to respond. Should've locked the door, you think to yourself, giving Joe a reassuring smile when his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "What's wrong?" he asks, quickly walking toward you. You set the mirror down and grab your towel, holding it in front of you. "Nothing," you soothe. "Just a little sore."
"Lemme see," he mutters, dropping to his knees at your feet.
"I've been sore before. It's no big deal."
"Let. Me. See." he orders, giving you a belligerent look until you heave a sigh and drop the towel; he uses his thumbs to spread your folds, grimacing when he sees how red and swollen you are. "I was way too rough," he groans. "We've had rough sex before," you shrug, "it's really not . . ."
"But that's the first time I fucked you hard when I knew you were already sore," he interrupts. "I shouldn't have done that." You run a hand through his hair, smiling at the concern in his eyes as he looks up at you through those long lashes. "I begged for it," you argue. "Remember?"
"I remember. I still shouldn't have been so rough." He drops his head against your thigh. "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for," you soothe, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I loved everything about last night. I lost count of how many times you made me cum."
"It was a lot," he mumbles, trying and failing to suppress a smug grin.
"Exactly," you chuckle, glad to see his cocky swagger is fully intact after the 'real man' angst from yesterday. "Anyway, vaginas are designed to take a beating. One of these days I'm gonna push your big-ass babies out of it, and it will bounce back just fine."
He laughs while standing up and pulling you into a hug. "You always know just the right thing to say," he sighs, burying his face in your damp hair and taking a deep breath. He lets it out slowly before speaking. "Do you get nervous when you think about being a parent?"
"Of course." You lean back and lock eyes with him. "That's super normal. We have a few more years before we need to think about it, but I know we'll be fine." He smiles and gives you a lingering kiss. "We have so many things to look forward to," he whispers, his eyes going wide as his stomach growls loudly, interrupting the tender moment.
"Sounds like you're looking forward to breakfast," you chuckle. "Guilty," he says, laughing along with you. "I'll bring you breakfast in bed. What sounds good?" he continues. "Maybe an omelet?"
You take his face in your hands and level a serious gaze at him. "Babe, I trust you with my life, but I don't trust you to make a decent omelet."
"That's fair," he agrees. "The last ones I made came out a little rubbery."
"We have some blueberry muffins left over from yesterday. I'll just have one of those and some orange juice." You give him a wink. "I'll make us a nice brunch later, does that sound good?"
"Sounds great. Hop back in bed and I'll go grab breakfast." He gives you a quick kiss before striding from the room. You smile as you watch him go. "Nothing like a good ol' fashioned fuck fest to put a little extra swagger in his step," you whisper to yourself, giggling quietly as you walk into the closet; you grab one of Joe's t-shirts and pull it on, deciding to go commando to give your vag some breathing room.
You're just getting settled back into bed when he comes in with a tray of food. You smile at him then grimace as your leg encounters a wet spot on the bed; you scoot over to avoid it, making a mental note to change the sheets after breakfast.
"Something wrong?" he asks, noticing your grimace.
"No, just hit a wet spot," you chuckle. "I could probably wring a few gallons of liquid out of these sheets with how wet you had me last night."
He sets the tray on the bed and gives you a smouldering look. "You keep talking like that and I'm gonna need a cold shower before breakfast."
"Sorry," you mumble, giving him a cheeky look.
"You're not a bit sorry and you know it," he teases, taking what looks like an empty glass from the tray and setting it on his bedside table. He then hands you a glass of juice before crawling onto the bed beside you; he grabs his own glass of juice and holds it up for a toast. "To weathering the storm," he says, giving you a sweet smile when you clink your glass against his. "To weathering the storm," you repeat, taking a hearty gulp of juice before reaching for your muffin. He takes a huge bite of one of his muffins and gives you a sheepish look while chewing and swallowing. "I'm sorry I got so mad yesterday. I know better than that." You swallow a bite of muffin and take a sip of juice before answering. "It's okay; you're human, not a robot."
Y'all exchange small talk for the next several minutes while polishing off your snacks. When you drain the last of your juice and set your glass on the tray, he slides the tray to the side and gives you an enigmatic smile. "Time for some treatment," he says, leaning over to grab the other glass off of his bedside table. "Treatment?" you ask, watching as he dips his fingers in the glass and pulls out an ice cube, popping it in his mouth.
He slides the comforter off of your legs and crawls in between them, smiling at your quizzical expression as he grabs a handful of your t-shirt and pulls it up, exposing your bare crotch. "Mmmm, no panties," he breathes around the ice cube, his broad shoulders spreading you wide as he settles between your thighs. You gasp as he leans down and presses his cool tongue against your sore folds.
"Does it feel good?" he asks.
"It feels amazing," you moan, actually feeling a little lightheaded at the sensation.
"Good. Lay back and relax," he orders. "I'm gonna take my time."
You do as ordered, sighing in bliss as he gently soothes your aching folds with his icy tongue. "You're so good to me," you breathe, groaning as he continues his ministrations. "You're not just getting brunch today," you continue. "You're getting dinner, dessert, and anything else you want."
He grins while popping another ice cube in his mouth, manipulating it with his acrobatic tongue while giving you a dirty wink. "Brunch and dinner is more than enough, baby girl," he teases while lowering his head. "I already know what I'll be having for dessert," he sighs, smiling against your sensitive skin when his deliciously cold tongue causes you to gasp his name.
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vintagegeekculture · 3 months
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So even though it's kind of the Marvel line, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby didn't really quite reignite Superheroes, the Flash was around a good bit before. But nothing would have been the same without Marvel breathing new life into the genre. What state do you think comics would have been in if instead of writing the Fantastic Four Stan Lee had quit to go sell used cars? Was it inevitable someone would have paired with Jack to do it? What would comics and pop culture look like now instead?
I'm a Marvel True Believer first and foremost, but I think you're underselling how enormously successful Justice League of America was from 1960-1969. Marvel books, especially Fantastic Four (at the time, the "flagship" Marvel comic of the 1960s) regularly topped the polls as favorites for the serious fans in 60s fanzines like Alter Ego, but they were not top sellers until 1970, when Marvel acquired their own distributor. Prior to that, Marvel published their books through DC, who made sure Marvel's runs were lower. They also limited the amount of books that Marvel could print, which is why books like Tales of Suspense had two characters in them (Captain America and Iron Man shared a book). As soon as Marvel got their own distribution, they pushed DC out of the top selling lists.
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Justice League of America was a huge success when it came out, for a reason that may surprise people: nostalgia. Essentially a revival of the 1940s heroes, it was a huge hit because the adult audience bought it.
It's interesting how nostalgia itself as a cultural concept with actual power is a kind of recent phenomenon. Prior to the 1980s, there were huge volumes of books aimed at old people like Hallmark's "Remember When?" books.
I do think the single greatest what-if of the Marvel Age is one you didn't mention: what if Joe Maneely had lived to work on the Marvel Universe?
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Whenever Stan Lee was asked who the greatest artist he ever worked with was, his response was unexpected: Joe Maneely, a name that even some serious fans of the Silver Age may find unfamiliar. But Joe Maneely worked with Stan extensively in the 1950s in Marvel's non-superhero comics like Black Knight and Yellow Claw. He was a beautiful artist, a professional who was always punctual, and even more so, he understood and developed the "language" of comics, and had an even better relationship with Stan than Jack Kirby did, who, by all accounts, was a genius artist but was, interpersonally, a difficult, sullen wound collector who had difficulty keeping friendships (as his Captain America co-creator Joe Simon can attest; he and Jack had a "breakup" long before he ever met Stan).
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Meanwhile, contrast all those interpersonal problems with the difficult to get along with Kirby, with how Joe Maneely used to draw him and Stan holding hands and walking through the park together and so on.
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The downside is that Joe Maneely died at a young age, 1958, in a tragic accident where he fell between railway cars, all 3 years before Fantastic Four. He was the biggest Atlas-era Marvel artist to never work on the Marvel Universe.
A Marvel Universe with Joe Maneely as the major creative force alongside Stan Lee is a change so deep and fundamental I have no idea what it even would look like.
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idyllicbarb · 1 year
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teenage fever
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SUMMARY: following his first ever super bowl win, you and joe travel around the streets of los angeles.
WARNINGS: short + kissing + fluff!
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joe feels water get poured down his back while his teammates scream in his ear. the cinncinati bengals just won their first ever super bowl in franchise history. though last year's super bowl run ended in a devastating way, being able to come back the following year and prove he's worthy of winning the lombardi and mvp, means a lot to joe.
joe turns around seeing ja'marr smiling at him with tears running down his face, "we did it brother!" he yells, with his louisiana accent coming out. "i couldn't have done any of this without you, tee, or tyler." joe says before pulling ja'marr in for a hug.
he sees you walking towards him and opens his arms to hug you. "you did it babe," you scream with a smile on your face. joe picks you up spinning you around as you giggle. "i couldn't have done this with you baby." joe says in your ear, you kiss him without a care in the world.
"where are we going?" you giggle as joe drags you down the quiet sidewalks of california. you two decided to ditch the club after a few hours, wanting to see what else the state of cali has to offer. "i just want to spend time with you," joe smiles and your cheeks turn pink.
joe pulls you closer to his body, kissing you with all the breath left in him. pulling away from joe, you wipe your lipstick off of his lips. "woah buddy, someone is really happy." joe grins, "i'm just happy baby." you nod your head and wrap your arms around his neck. "i remember the start of our relationship like it was yesterday."
you and joe had been co-workers back when he was at lsu. he was the first person to actually notice you upon the day you started working for this firm. his smile and manners charmed you, but it was too risky to date a co-worker. besides, you were too scared to make the first move anyways. so here you were, two years later, dating your former colleague.
you giggled at that thought quietly. you love being able to wake up to joe each and every morning. you pinch his noise, causing joe to huff before a deep blush comes across his face and he hides it by pulling his hoodie down, to cover his whole head. you always laugh and make it up to him by saying a silly spongebob line.
"want me to do it again?" you ask in your best spongebob voice with a small smile on your face. joe doesn't say anything until you hear a small snort come from him and you two crack up.
you think it is oh so adorable how he still watches cartoons. once you two became really close friends, he started coming over to your house with two huge spongebob onesies. you smiled sheepishly, welcoming him with warm arms and a comforting hug!
now you two are standing in some dark alley kissing on one another after he won the super bowl. he should be with his teammates, but he has you in his arms, loving on him. the best gift joe could ever receive. "this is magical, honey, i'm happy to spend my time with you."
you hold joe's hands, standing on your tippy toes smiling at him, "oh joe, anything for you."
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ynbabe · 1 year
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Lockwood & Co. Incorrect quotes, pt.6
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Before Lucy 
Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks! Anthony: Why would I do that? Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
*The Squad is eating dinner* George: Can you pass the salt? Anthony: *throws Y/n across the table*
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George, after Anthony did something stupid: You should have realised, Anthony, if Y/n didn't kill you, I would have.
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Y/n: When will Ted himself...finally show up to the talk? Anthony: The final boss. George: You guys know TEDtalks stands for technology, entertainment, and design talks, right? Y/n: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer!
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Anthony, in love: How do you do that? Y/n, after having done something dumb: I'm fearless. George, having introduced the idiots and now regretting it: When we were kids, I saw you run from bees. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad. Y/n: I'm mostly fearless.
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Y/n: My aesthetic is "would be sentenced to the chair by DEPRAC."
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Y/n: Who hurt you? Anthony, always on the edge of a mental breakdown: *snorting* What, do you want a list? Y/n, pulling out ALOT of iron/silver weapons: ...Yes, actually.
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Anthony: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?! Y/n: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long line of violence. Anthony: Oh... George, from across the room: *from across the room* I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.
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Y/n: It’s not gonna work, I’m not a snitch. George: Fine, let's try something else. Tag a friend you recently committed a crime with. Y/n: Lmao, @Anthony.
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Anthony: I hate you. Y/n: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.
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Anthony, after a fight with Y/n: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing her name to Y/n.
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Y/n, grave-robbing: I’m going to hell. Anthony, there for a case: Probably. Y/n: I'll pick you up? Anthony: *nodding* Carpool.
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Anthony, pissed : Y/n! I thought you were dead! Y/n, back after running away for a year: No, just in deep cover. Anthony, about to lose his mind: ...But it was an open casket. Y/n, little scared now: It was very deep.
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Y/n: Hold on, I can explain! Anthony: Really? Can you now? Y/n: I can if you give me a minute to think of a convincing lie.
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Since Lucy
George, trying to joke: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon. Y/n, expecting a ‘delivery’: Cool. George: Do you know who Joe is? Y/n: JOE MAMA! Anthony, not even looking up from his phone: Damn, that backfired.
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Y/n, just back home: Do you cook? Lucy: I made a cake once. Anthony: Yeah, it was good. Lucy: Really? Anthony: Don’t make me lie twice, Luce.
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Y/n, back from sneaking around for state secrets: Anthony! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover. Anthony, pissed at her: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.
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Anthony: For most of human history, vehicles had automatic collision avoidance and could even take you home if you were asleep or drunk. But then we got rid of the horse. George: You complete moron. You stupid fucking idiot. "Cars would be better if they could bite and shit" – that was you just now, dumbass. George: "Wouldn't it be cool if cars could piss? Wouldn't it be cool if cars could fuck?" Fuck off. Y/n: It would be cool if cars could fuck. Lucy: We... We still have horses.
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Anthony, to Y/n, since they’re sharing a room,: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 dollars in your side of the room for food. Clean your side and you will find it.
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Lucy: It’s funny how well you and George get along. Didn’t they hate you at first? Y/n: George hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.
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Y/n: I just found out from Lucy today that when I ‘died’ and George threw my weapons in the grave, Anthony said, “You should aim one at the coffin to be sure.”
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Y/n: I give up. I am so tired. George: Get the emergency supply! Lucy: *carries Anthony and throws him in front of Y/n* Anthony: *smiles* Y/n: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO
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arielburrow · 10 months
Text
Jupiter and Venus
Hi this is totally something i wanted to do for fun, i hope you enjoy! This takes place when Joe was a sophomore at OSU; Joe x y/n
“y/n! your here! Finally, the party’s starting!” Your high school friend Marissa shouts as you enter the apartment. The overwhelming scent of beer and old spice attacking your sense of smell. Music blaring from every speaker in sight.
“Hi Maris!” You embrace her taking in the sight. It was a Friday night at Ohio State and Marissa was throwing a “small” party at her boyfriend’s apartment. You were told it would just be your friend group, but that guest list clearly went out the window.
Her boyfriend Jake hands you a drink you unsurprisingly can’t identify, but sip anyway.
Walking into the living room you see dozens of recognizable faces scattered about. Noticing your best friend Joe, you walk up to him.
“Hi guys!” You greet the group he is standing with and give him a hug.
You talk amongst the group noticing Joe’s oddly quiet demeanor, but considering maybe he’s just too sober. You zone out of the conversation you’re deep in to follow his line of view, stopping when you see the target.
Layla.
Joe and Layla were together for a couple of months and had really gotten to like eachother, but she called it quits last week with little reasoning. You found it completely odd but didn’t want to push him on the topic. You also couldn’t deny the fact that you weren’t necessarily disappointed that the relationship didn’t work out, given you’ve had your heart set on Joe since freshman year; but deciding that secret would be taken to the grave, given he was your closest friend.
You wanted to talk to him about it, but Marissa swooped you up before you got the chance.
“Cmonnnn we are doing shots y/n!” A clearly drunk Marissa exclaims. You leave the group to join your friend, downing 3 before joining the beer pong table.
It was a known fact that you crushed in beer pong, meaning every guy insisted on playing you to prove they could beat you, which never did actually occur.
You were having fun as time went on, careful not to drink too much because you had work tomorrow. Strolling through the party, pushing your way through the shit faced bodies, you notice you couldn’t spot Joe. Only Layla who was straddling some frat guy.
Soon you run into Sam, asking him where Joe is, he responds that he said he was going to get some air.
You assumed this meant to the rooftop which was known to be one of the best apartment rooftops in columbus. You whipped up a drink and headed towards the staircase.
The door swung open and you immediately spotted Joe sitting on a table top gazing upon the city. There were a few stragglers towards the back of the rooftop, but it was vacant otherwise.
“Hey you, brought you a little something,” you shrug with a smirk forcing the cup upon him. He showed you the best way to make a spiked hot chocolate freshmen year and you’ve never gone back.
Joe smiles, retrieving the cup from you and sipping it lightly. “almost as good as mine.” The wind blows across the rooftop making the already cold air sharp against your face. Joe notices your shivering and pats the bench top next to him. You scan his face as you take the seat; watching his eyes gaze upon the city line and the stars above it. Layla must have really gotten to him, cause he never isolates himself at party’s.
“Joe…” He turns his head and you notice his expression. Not the sad depressed look you were expecting, but more of a deep in thought face.
“I’m sorry about Layla, I know it must be hard seeing her with someone else, especially around all your friends.” He says nothing in response, just returning his eyes toward the city.
“But I really don’t think you should let her keep you from being yourself. I mean look at you, you’re usually the life of the party; I haven’t heard one mario kart joke from you all night,” you say keeping your eyes on him.
He cracks that half-way Joe smile that is recognized by those who know him best. That smile that pulled you into its grasp last year and hasn’t let you go since.
You watch as he stands, walking over to the railing along the rooftop, turning around to reach out his hand to you.
You accept as he pulls you next to him; close enough to make your heart flutter. The two of you stand along the railing adoring the view. As the wind picks up, your body lets out another visible shiver to which you laugh. The giggle comes to an end as Joe wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body, giving your head no where else to go but his chest.
You’re sure your breathing stops for a moment, sure you and Joe were close, but he’s never held you like this before. You keep your eyes glued ahead of you, not daring to look up at his baby blues.
No words are shared. No sounds escape. Just the two of you, embracing against the cold; something you couldn’t even find in your greatest dreams. You can feel your body becoming warm again.
Joe breaks the silence first, “Do you know why you can see Jupiter and Venus together on clear nights?” He asks pulling your finger to their direction in the sky.
You just shake your head, unable to form words at the moment.
“They follow a similar pattern around the planet, and when it’s the right time of year for their paths to cross, they look like they’re almost touching. So they follow each other year round, but don’t actually meet until the right moment” He finishes as he rests your hand back down, noticing your eyes glued to the planets in front of you.
“Gosh, so this is what it’s like when a space nerd gets his heart broken? He projects onto the planets?” You joke completely lost on what Joes mind was truly on.
He laughs in return but only pulls you closer to his chest, sending electricity through your entire body. He’s just keeping me warm. You have to repeat the sentence in your head to convince yourself this was a normal embrace between best friends.
“Joe please talk to me. What’s going on in your head, I hate not being able to read you.” You muster up the words as you turn your head up, inches away from his face.
“Can i be completely honest with you about something?” Joe asks
You nod in response. “Layla and I, you know we weren’t really what I made us out to be. I made it seem like we were really involved but honestly she was just a fling to distract my mind.”
“I thought you really liked her? You were always telling me about the dates you guys were going on.” You recall as those harsh memories arise of you having to put on a smile as Joe shared with you his experiences with Layla; pushing that “i wish it was me” talk far in the back of your mind whenever she was brought up.
“No. I mean, she’s a nice girl, but i’ve been really thinking about it lately and she was never the goal; she was just a way for me to take my mind off what i really wanted, or who.” As he finishes his sentence you feel his arm tighten around your waist only pushing you closer to him. You could swear your heart was screaming at him right now, almost wanting to hold your breath, careful not to give yourself away.
“Well…than I guess you can focus more on you’re goal than, but what was the point of getting with her if you weren’t really interested?” You press on
“The goal didn’t seem so attainable at the time, but now i realize that it’s my only option, and I can’t be with anyone else if she’s not her.” Joe shifts himself so he’s more facing you, gazing down toward you as your eyes meet his.
You couldn’t help but let out a smile and blush a little. This attention from Joe was so abnormal and making you feel every emotion possible. You wanted nothing more than to be his goal, be his venus.
Your eyes stayed locked for what felt like a lifetime, you stayed in his embrace feeling warm in his arms.
“How can I help you reach that goal?” You press on smiling in a way that no soul could hide. Your mind was spinning and words were forming on their own.
In an instant Joes lips are upon yours, he pulls you in, holding on like he’s scared to let go. Your hands reach for his face, cupping his checks as the kiss only intensifies. You feel his hands around your waist and smile against his lips. This was it, this was the love you believed you could never have; with the man you never thought saw you as anything but a friend.
You both pull away in heavy breaths, not daring to leave each others embrace. You both laugh, not able to take your eyes off one another.
“My god you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that for.” Joe shakes his head.
You smile in return leaning into him again, “Joe…I’m going to be completely honest, i’m so in love with you.”
You watch as his smile rises as he picks you up spinning you around as you laugh.
“I love you so much y/n, it’s always been you.” he whispers in your ear.
Setting you down on the ground, you both take a seat on the table top, lying down so your vision is filled with the night sky. You and Joe lie ear to ear and hand in hand. Smiling as you both crack jokes and whisper sweet nothings to each other. This is it, you think to yourself, this is Jupiter meeting Venus.
I hope this was kinda fun to read! Im just trying to get into writing fics so let me know if you have any requests!
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princesspete · 4 months
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hello and good evening, can we pls talk about “i saved it all for you” vs “im saving this all for later” and “i don’t have the right name or the right looks but i have twice the heart” vs “twice the dreams but half the love, be careful what you bottle up” and “im here to give you all of my love” vs “will you still love who i am?” and “id trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday” vs “scar(star? patrick, make up your mind. please.)-crossed lovers forever, here we are, untouched forever” and “heaven’s grief” vs “heaven, iowa” bc i feel like im going crazy
hi, hello!!! (^: oohh i think one of the things that makes fob songs SO fun is that you can take two songs from any album and compare them to see what similarities and differences you come up with and any ties between them, and i would say, a majority of the time, there are some threads that you are able to pick at and play with.
to me, just one yesterday is overwhelmingly pete. it's melancholic, it's bitingly self-aware, and it also reveres the past (whatever the past may have been good or bad) not due to glorification of the past itself, but simply because it was "yesterday" when there was something between two people. it's overall a lament but also a declaration and a promise all wrapped in one — i'm bad news but i still saved everything of me for you, if i had one more yesterday, one more chance... the bridge especially kind of makes me want to explode sometimes if i think about it too long because i think this sentence can truly go both ways if you think about it a bit too deeply but — "if i spilled my guts / the world would never look at you the same way / and now im here to give you all of my love / so i can watch your face as i take it all away".
it's worth noting that patrick has said in a commentary on SRAR that just one yesterday was one of the earliest songs (whether that means to be written or in the case of actually being recorded, that is up in the air) and patrick states that at first he didn't "understand the song when [they] wrote it". i've talked a lot in the past about how people tend to up play patrick's obliviousness and my distaste for it but in this case it seems to only strengthen my thoughts on the fact that this song IS more of pete's thoughts than anything else.
a line from just one yesterday, horrifyingly enough comes from 2006, and it's..the one and only poem. (i do have a post on it here too lol)
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(more than anything however, i think that just one yesterday has the most parallels to deep blue love + the eternal song)
heaven iowa is a song that is......it reeks of patrick to me through and through — it's earnest and it's deceptively straightforward with a deep devotional undercurrent running through it that speaks to me more of patrick's style than pete's. it also, brings a connection up to where did the party go, which we know of as the first song that was written between the two of them even before joe or andy were called up (patrick here mentions that it was written right in "the middle of the hiatus"). scar crossed lovers makes me want to personally die once you think about the many times that romeo and juliet has been brought up regarding folie by both patrick AND pete (look forward to our joint folie edit coming soon<3) — star crossed lovers is an obvious well known epithet of that particular work by shakespeare, and scar crossed lovers invokes that same feeling with a twist especially regarding the concept of kintsugi that seems to flood through the smfs album itself. you're lovers (and if we go based off of the og hold me tight or don't lyrics), you're scar crossed, possibly even star crossed as well — and what are your scars full of now? like just one yesterday, this song refers to the past but it also is a song that is very much rooted in the present day and looking forward to the future ("i'm saving this all for later") — what are the lovers' scars knitted together with when undergoing healing? i'd argue what with the themes prevalent in smfs it's the process of kintsugi itself.
i think a lot of people forget that patrick did write a majority of ttyg and that "scar crossed lovers" + the bridge about being able to see that someone's "glow" reminds me a lot of sending postcards from a planecrash (wish you were here) with "my insides are copper, i'd kill to make them gold". pete mentions that the line has "almost an arma [angelus] influence" (funnily enough joe and andy seem very ??? by this song) and patrick mentions that they wrote it [postcards] because they wanted to "dance" to it in this clip from a 2004 commentary regarding ttyg tracks. for all that has been said regarding how pete sees patrick as the sun or as something golden, it should be noted that patrick has also expressed the exact same sentiment back to him from the very start.
off topic, but i would love to get my hands on some of the poems that inspired mania and smfs because i think they must be fucking insane.
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By Jess Coleman
When, in December 2021, West Virginia Senator Joe Manchin announced he would vote “no” on President Biden’s signature legislative proposal, the Build Back Better Act, the reaction boiled down to: “Well, what did you expect?” After all, Manchin, despite being a Democrat, is from deep-red West Virginia, and politicians from deep-red states simply cannot vote in favor of major progressive policies championed by the leader of the Democratic Party. That’s just politics, dummy. That Biden and his fellow Democrats even tried was treated in some circles as painfully naïve: Unless Democrats learn that basic lesson and bring centrists into the fold, they’ll never achieve a vibrant, sustainable majority. Or so sayeth the conventional wisdom.
So when Manchin announced last week that he is considering leaving the Democratic Party to become an independent, his rationale was hardly difficult to predict. “The brand has become so bad,” he said, drawing on the oft-repeated talking point that the Democrats have lept too far left. In other words—and in contravention of all logic, given the results of the 2022 midterms—Manchin simply cannot in good conscience remain with a party that, in substance and style, provides no room for leaders seeking to appeal to a moderate, bipartisan electorate.
Don’t be fooled. Manchin’s charade is hardly one of principle. It’s one of total desperation.
There are no secrets about Manchin’s political situation at home. After being reelected in 2018 by just 3%, in a year in which Democrats vastly outperformed expectations nationally, Manchin has an enormous hill to climb with his reelection looming in 2024. But the West Virginia Senator doesn’t seem to have much interest in taking responsibility for the electoral crisis in which he has enmeshed himself. Instead, he’d like us to believe the political forces around him have simply left him no choice: Both sides have drawn too far to the extremes, leaving no political home for the critical mass of centrist West Virginians who sent him to Washington. Hence the need to chart a new path on his own.
The framing echoes a convenient perspective that is adored by the media and political establishment: Elections are not won with base voters, but through a small slice of persuadable, moderate swing voters, perpetually lurking just outside of frame. Democrats, in turn, need to have some Joe Manchins—those politicians who embody the voters who are key to electoral success—lying around to be taken seriously. The failure to keep these soi-disant moderate saviors on hand reveals a fundamental structural deficiency for the party writ large.
But if it’s true that Manchin is such a political genius—uniquely capable of surviving as a Democrat in a deep red state—you would expect that his victory is owed to a broad cross section of voters from a variety of political camps. Alas, that’s the complete opposite of what happened in 2018. According to CNN exit polls, Manchin garnered the votes of 64% of those who identify as moderates, and just 23% of conservatives. Those numbers are roughly in line with what New York Senator Kirsten Gillibrand achieved that same year: 70% and 18%, respectively. The reality is Manchin barely made it over the finish line in roughly the same way Democrats all around the country win their seats: by running up the numbers with voters on the political left—Manchin won 80% of self-identified liberals in 2018.
Indeed, as The New Republic’s Alex Pareene observed in 2021, Manchin is actually far more reliant on Democratic voters than many of his blue state counterparts. While someone like Gillibrand can afford to lose large swaths of Democrats in a state where they are in ample supply, Manchin needs to pull virtually every registered Democrat in his state to win. Against all logic, Manchin approached Biden’s first term as if the rules that governed his electoral hopes were precisely opposite to reality. Instead of rewarding his most loyal voters—dyed-in-the-wool liberal Democrats—by delivering for them in Washington, Manchin has spent his latest term going out of his way to alienate his base and position himself in a political no man’s land: personally steamrolling key Democratic priorities while siding with his party on most routine issues and appointments.
In short, Manchin made a bet. He believed he could rely on the support of Democrats and spent nearly all his time trying to appeal to a tiny, if not nonexistent, group of voters who are up for grabs and have no real allegiance to either of the two dominant political parties. It hasn’t worked out the way Manchin anticipated, and this is where he now finds himself—orchestrating a last-ditch, hopeless effort to create a new political reality from thin air.
It is possible Manchin never had a shot at reelection, had fortune and circumstance not permitted him to avail himself of 2018’s political trends, we’d already have a Republican holding that West Virginia Senate seat. But the broader lesson is crucial for those in the media and elected leadership who constantly insist that disregarding the Democratic base in service of pursuing the allegedly vast rewards that come from focusing solely on the views of the so-called centrist, swing voters is the only viable path to victory in American politics. Those who subscribe to this view should explain why the two most notable Democrats who aggressively pursued this approach—Kyrsten Sinema and Joe Manchin—are currently fighting for their political lives, while other red-state Democratic senators such as Sherrod Brown of Ohio and Jon Tester of Montana have consistently survived—and remain loyal to the party’s big priorities even when their electoral hopes face massive headwinds.
Mostly, we have to understand something simple about Manchin: We are not watching a political genius at work. He’s not on the verge of revealing a masterful plan to pull off another miracle in West Virginia. This is a desperate politician squirming for his political life after making a series of catastrophic political decisions. Manchin has hardly proven that the Democratic Party is mortally wounded due to its failure to leave room for the center left. All he’s done is reinforce a very basic rule in politics: Doing the opposite of what your voters want is an idiotic election strategy.
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Mike Luckovich
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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN
HEATHER COX RICHARDSON
NOV 20, 2023
Yesterday, David Roberts of the energy and politics newsletter Volts noted that a Washington Post article illustrated how right-wing extremism is accomplishing its goal of destroying faith in democracy. Examining how “in a swing Wisconsin county, everyone is tired of politics,” the article revealed how right-wing extremism has sucked up so much media oxygen that people have tuned out, making them unaware that Biden and the Democrats are doing their best to deliver precisely what those in the article claim to want: compromise, access to abortion, affordable health care, and gun safety. 
One person interviewed said, “I can’t really speak to anything [Biden] has done because I’ve tuned it out, like a lot of people have. We’re so tired of the us-against-them politics.” Roberts points out that “both sides” are not extremists, but many Americans have no idea that the Democrats are actually trying to govern, including by reaching across the aisle. Roberts notes that the media focus on the right wing enables the right wing to define our politics. That, in turn, serves the radical right by destroying Americans’ faith in our democratic government. 
Former Republican National Committee chair Michael Steele echoed that observation this morning when he wrote, “We need to stop the false equivalency BS between Biden and Trump. Only one acts with the intention to do real harm.”
Indeed, as David Kurtz of Talking Points Memo puts it, “the gathering storm of Trump 2.0 is upon us,” and Trump and his people are telling us exactly what a second Trump term would look like. Yesterday, Trump echoed his “vermin” post of the other day, saying: “2024 is our final battle. With you at my side, we will demolish the Deep State, we will expel the warmongers from our government, we will drive out the globalists, we will cast out the Communists, Marxists, and Fascists, we will throw off the sick political class that hates our Country, we will rout the Fake News Media, we will evict Joe Biden from the White House, and we will FINISH THE JOB ONCE AND FOR ALL!”   
Trump’s open swing toward authoritarianism should be disqualifying even for Republicans—can you imagine Ronald Reagan talking this way?—but MAGA Republicans are lining up behind him. Last week the Texas legislature passed a bill to seize immigration authority from the federal government in what is a clear violation of the U.S. Constitution, and yesterday, Texas governor Greg Abbott announced that he was “proud to endorse” Trump for president because of his proposed border policies (which include the deportation of 10 million people).
House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) has also endorsed Trump, and on Friday he announced he was ordering the release of more than 40,000 hours of tapes from the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, answering the demands of far-right congress members who insist the tapes will prove there was no such attack despite the conclusion of the House committee investigating the attack that Trump criminally conspired to overturn the lawful results of the 2020 presidential election and refused to stop his supporters from attacking the Capitol. 
Trump loyalist Senator Mike Lee (R-UT) promptly spread a debunked conspiracy theory that one of the attackers shown in the tapes, Kevin Lyons, was actually a law enforcement officer hiding a badge. Lyons—who was not, in fact, a police officer—was carrying a vape and a photo he stole from then–House speaker Nancy Pelosi’s office and is now serving a 51-month prison sentence. (Former representative Liz Cheney (R-WY) tweeted: “Hey [Mike Lee]—heads up. A nutball conspiracy theorist appears to be posting from your account.”)
Both E.J. Dionne of the Washington Post and Will Bunch of the Philadelphia Inquirer noted yesterday that MAGA Republicans have no policies for addressing inflation or relations with China or gun safety; instead, they have coalesced only around the belief that officials in “the administrative state” thwarted Trump in his first term and that a second term will be about revenge on his enemies and smashing American liberalism. 
MIke Davis, one of the men under consideration for attorney general, told a podcast host in September that he would “unleash hell on Washington, D.C.,” getting rid of career politicians, indicting President Joe Biden “and every other scumball, sleazeball Biden,” and helping pardon those found guilty of crimes associated with the January 6th attack on the U.S. Capitol. “We’re gonna deport a lot of people, 10 million people and growing—anchor babies, their parents, their grandparents,” Davis said. “We’re gonna put kids in cages. It’s gonna be glorious. We’re gonna detain a lot of people in the D.C. gulag and Gitmo.”
In the Washington Post, Josh Dawsey talked to former Trump officials who do not believe Trump should be anywhere near the presidency, and yet they either fear for their safety if they oppose him or despair that nothing they say seems to matter. John F. Kelly, Trump’s longest-serving chief of staff, told Dawsey that it is beyond his comprehension that Trump has the support he does. 
“I came out and told people the awful things he said about wounded soldiers, and it didn’t have half a day’s bounce. You had his attorney general Bill Barr come out, and not a half a day’s bounce. If anything, his numbers go up. It might even move the needle in the wrong direction. I think we’re in a dangerous zone in our country,” Kelly said.  
Part of the attraction of right-wing figures is they offer easy solutions to the complicated issues of the modern world. Argentina has inflation over 140%, and 40% of its people live in poverty. Yesterday, voters elected as president far-right libertarian Javier Milei, who is known as “El Loco” (The Madman). Milei wants to legalize the sale of organs, denies climate change, and wielded a chainsaw on the campaign trail to show he would cut down the state and “exterminate” inflation. Both Trump and Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro, two far-right former presidents who launched attacks against their own governments, congratulated him. 
In 1959, President Dwight D. Eisenhower took on the question of authoritarianism. Robert J. Biggs, a terminally ill World War II veteran, wrote to Eisenhower, asking him to cut through the confusion of the postwar years. “We wait for someone to speak for us and back him completely if the statement is made in truth,” Biggs wrote. Eisenhower responded at length. While unity was imperative in the military, he said, “in a democracy debate is the breath of life. This is to me what Lincoln meant by government ‘of the people, by the people, and for the people.’” 
Dictators, Eisenhower wrote, “make one contribution to their people which leads them to tend to support such systems—freedom from the necessity of informing themselves and making up their own minds concerning these tremendous complex and difficult questions.” 
Once again, liberal democracy is under attack, but it is notable—to me, anyway, as I watch to see how the public conversation is changing—that more and more people are stepping up to defend it. In the New York Times today, legal scholar Cass Sunstein warned that “[o]n the left, some people insist that liberalism is exhausted and dying, and unable to handle the problems posed by entrenched inequalities, corporate power and environmental degradation. On the right, some people think that liberalism is responsible for the collapse of traditional values, rampant criminality, disrespect for authority and widespread immorality.”
Sunstein went on to defend liberalism in a 34-point description, but his first point was the most important: “Liberals believe in six things,” he wrote: “freedom, human rights, pluralism, security, the rule of law and democracy,” including fact-based debate and accountability of elected officials to the people.
Finally, former First Lady Rosalynn Carter, who was a staunch advocate for the health and empowerment of marginalized people—and who embodied the principles Sunstein listed, though that’s not why I’m mentioning her—died yesterday at 96. “Rosalynn was my equal partner in everything I ever accomplished,” former President Jimmy Carter said in a statement. 
More to the point, perhaps, considering the Carters’ profound humanity, is that when journalist Katie Couric once asked President Carter whether winning a Nobel Peace Prize or being elected president of the United States was the most exciting thing that ever happened to him, Carter answered: “When Rosalynn said she’d marry me—I think that’s the most exciting thing.”
LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN
HEATHER COX RICHARDSON
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miztrixx · 4 months
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KIMI GA SHINE - THE MASTER ANALYSIS - Chapter 1-1: The Path Home (SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE GAME)
Okay, you know what. Screw schedules and timings... they mess with my little neurodivergent brain. I'll just do this whenever I want to! Alright, so where we left off Joe was walking Sara home using some banter and humor to mask up the fact that he's walking her home because she has a stalker. The beginning of this scene has some more playful banter between Sara and Joe, once again showing their deep friendship as well as Sara's more relaxed side. We also get to see Joe be super happy about his date with Ryoko which I find just adorable.
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The game in these beginning scenes help to set up Sara as a normal high-school girl who is just trying to get by in life and I think it does a good job of doing exactly that! In the Death Game, Sara is seen as this all-powerful angelic figure that is either a force for good or evil depending on the perspective, so it's nice to have scenes like this where we can see Sara in her most undisturbed state (although not as undisturbed as we see her in the Sara minisode. Don't worry, I'll get to the minisodes later on.) to see what she's really like and to contrast it against the participants' perceptions of her.
Shortly after this once we've finished investigating the streets (which only yields a small reaction from Joe when he sees the poster about strangers, obviously because of Sara's situation regarding the stalker), Joe teases Sara slightly by asking her if she wants to hold hands with him and then by asking her if it'd help things if she had a boyfriend. This is where Joe's little positive facade of simply bragging to Sara starts to crack and we can see his genuine and actual concern for Sara, which we learn is because of the stalker.
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Also, something to note is how Sara doesn't really have a reaction to Joe asking her about getting a boyfriend. One thing about YTTD is how it focuses primarily on platonic relationships and connections rather then romantic ones. This may just be my bias seeping into the analysis, but I think Sara is somewhat aspec-coded, not just because of this line but also how her and Ranmaru's dynamic is explored later on down the line. Anyways, after this Joe tries to put back on the facade and exclaims that he did just come back to brag. There's choice dialogue where you can respond to him in different ways...
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I feel like each of these responses highlights each key character trait of Joe: His relaxatory vibe and chill attitude, his humble and kind words and his light and humorous comedy. People tend to shit on YTTD for presenting the illusion of choice but I think the minor choice dialogues like this one are really well done because they help to build a LOT of the character in simply one scene where it would've taken three scenes if there was not a choice dialogue. But enough about Joe, cause now we're gonna talk about...
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Kai. You really do feel bad for him in retrospect considering the context of the entire situation and everything he's gone through. In this small scene, he was trying to warn Sara, trying to stop her from going back home and being dragged into horrors beyond her comprehension. But, just like, in the art itself, Kai was always enshrouded in the darkness, hiding himself in the shadows. Kai's self-deprecation and how he doesn't see himself worthy of other's affection and time ended up leading to him being unable to protect the ones he loved and its so tragic and painful to watch in hindsight.
Another thing about this moment, and the one following it where Sara talks to Joe outside her house, is that it shows how scared Sara is in this situation and it's not even comparable to the situation that is the Death Game. It's another bit of humanisation of her character that allows us to contrast it with other people's perceptions of her.
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fairydust-stuff · 1 year
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Thoughts on Adam x Cherry
So I watched Skate 8 Infinity recently and these two have given me a lot of food for thought. And I have seen zero meta on them so here we go a deep dive on   Cherry X Adam as a whole. 
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Honestly having watched all 12 episodes of the show. I think if we’re talking healthy, recovery, realization  Adam the best options for him would be either Cherry or  Tadashi. 
While Tadashi has his own issues and Adam x Tadashi is a very mixed bag for me. This isn’t about them so i’ll save my thoughts on them for another post because oh boy do I got thoughts. 
So anyway Cherry had a huge crush on Adam you’d have to be blind not to see it. The way he silently looks at him tells so much. I also don’t think the feelings were one sided like a lot of others seem to think. 
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Adam catches Cherry in his arms at one point and that has been the  romantic short hand visual in hetero media forever. Its basically the writers winking at the audience that they should start thinking of  these two as a couple. That they have feelings for each other.  
While its unclear if they actually did date since this a thinly veiled subtext show. Either Adam and Cherry had a full on closeted secret relationship or they just pinned for each other relentlessly.  
Also Adam has issues but he did in fact cherish Joe and Cherry. 
There’s a clear scene where Adam takes off his hood and when Cherry remarks on the dangers of this. Adam replies  that its ok if Joe and Cherry see his face, implying their special. 
There’s also some bitterness from Adam and one or two remarks in present day implying Adam felt abandoned by Joe and Cherry. 
Adam also refused their beefs with him and while some may take his your boring comment as face value, I dont but we’ll come back to that.  
The fallout from what i understand is Adams obsessive need to find his Eve. Adam got more intense and willing to hurt others and Cherry and Joe got cut out of his life for trying to make him see reason. 
I think it was Joe at one point states  Adam cut them out first. 
Adam didn’t want to hear it and if Adam and Cherry were a couple. Adam’s need to find his Eve must of really stung. Its kind of ironic to me that certain fans see Kaoru as not a perfect skate board partner for Adam and that means their not meant to be in a relationship. 
Adams whole issue is he is looking for someone who can be his everything but a rival in competition has an opposite set of requirements then what one looks for in a romantic relationship. Adams abusive family has blurred those lines in an unhealthy manner. Skating has become Adam’s whole life to the point Kaoru being unable to compete with him equals not meant to be. 
Cherry is still clearly hung up on Adam in the present day and wants to pull him back from the brink. Viewing Adam’s rejection of their offers to beef as a sign Adam still cares. 
Cherry’s whole thing with Carla and measuring each degree so he can go faster, even seems to scream look at me! I can go toe to toe with you! suggesting that Adam made Kaoru feel inferior because he wasn’t good enough for Adam. He wants to both help and show Adam he is worth it. 
Which I agree with for all Adam’s talk of abuse is love. Adam can only up until the Cherry affair, hurt other skaters he competes with those he devalues and objectifies as his Eve. Adam doesn’t know crap about Reki, Miya and Langa or the other skaters he trashes. 
He projects a false image onto them and forgets them when they fail to live up to this image of the perfect Eve. (something he clearly learned from the aunties!) Langa isn’t even special he’s part of an ongoing pattern. 
But Adam won’t beef with Joe or Cherry. When Cherry taunts him about this “ were you scared”  in an attempt to push Adam to admit he still cares about him and Joe. Kaoru gets a skateboard to the face because Adam lashes out aginst the threat to his Adam persona. 
Even before their beef Adam drops his madador of love act completely. He acts distant and not like his usual flamboyant self. In fact he acts more like he does to Tadashi. Your not seeing Adam in that moment your seeing  Ainosuke. 
Cherry wasn’t attacked for being boring he was attacked because he saw though the illusion. He knew Adam was a lie.  At this point Adam wanted to drive him and Joe away. So he could continue to bask in his dellusions. 
Though there seems to be some resentment that in Adam’s mind Joe and Cherry” didn’t love him enough”  Adam ultimately in his attack on Kaoru rejects the reality of love for a false promise of “perfection” an Eve. 
If Eve was the lie Kaoru was the real relationship Adam could of had. The one rejected for the ideal.  
So where do they go from here? 
I like the ship on two fronts one the tragic angle Kaoru is  Ainosuke’s  karma he screwed up a good thing or ruined the chance for something chasing Eve who  never existed. Adam hurt Kaoru so badly he’ll be lucky to be  allowed to crawl back into the friend zone. (Kaoru was still hurt/ salty by the end and he was allowed to be) 
 Tadashi  is Adam’s second chance with Kaoru being his lingering regret. Even if Adam wanted to try again with him Kaoru has moved on. 
Or  Ainosuke is hit in the head with the fact he still has feelings for Kaoru and   has to actually work his ass off to make it up to Kaoru and has to learn to handle an real adult relationship with someone who adores him but will not put up with his shit.  
I like either option honestly because both would lead to interesting stories. 
So those are just some of my thoughts on Adam x Cherry and or Love blossom. 
So are your thoughts on the subject? 
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winksasleeplesseye · 10 months
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obscura (one)
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SUMMARY: Six years have passed. And Amara can't help but think about them as she heads for her next mission, recounting a pair of blue eyes and blonde hair and just what the government has done thus far.
WORD COUNT: 5.8k
WARNINGS: mentions of violence, cursing, experimentation implied, angst
[SERIES MASTERLIST]
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London
October 2004
Amara’s headspace had become more and more frequently a comfort these days. A more refined person would call it a mind palace, a memory palace, etc. 
She found living in memories, in moments of calm, had become an anchor for her. Between every punishing mission, she’d find a quiet place and drift and daydream into this place. Her mind conjured up images of a familiar, yet slowly unfamiliar pair of blue eyes and blonde hair but she couldn’t produce much else. But it was enough for her. 
Leon was becoming a distant memory since Raccoon City and that scared her more than anything, not being able to see him or talk to him after everything is agonizing. 
Sure, she had her outlets like kickboxing classes in the gym down the street from her apartment with that stupidly hot instructor John, sporadic visits coordinated by that weasely bastard Simmons with Sherry and Claire, and other things like music and painting but companionship was something she’d craved. Maybe too much sometimes. That was something that still made her just like everyone else. 
Things moved at a breakneck pace after they’d been picked by the government in the aftermath. Once it became known just what Amara carried now forever in her blood, did the threats come for her by the very same government that she thought would protect them. 
Now, she’s just a weapon—correction, an agent to do their bidding, their science experiment. Wesker did this to you. Keeping her mouth shut about Raccoon also guaranteed her safety and not just hers but Leon’s, Claire’s, and Sherry’s safety. 
Another part of her wanted desperately to find the man who put her in this position in the first place. But that didn’t matter now. Wherever he is, she hopes it’s nowhere good.
Above everything else, Amara wanted nothing more than to keep her new allies—friends safe. Most of all, Leon. 
She lets out a pitiful laugh to herself, thinking about him, her eyes focused on the road ahead. If she’d known everything that would’ve happened after that night in the motel, she would’ve held him longer, tighter. Kissed him more and savored the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of him inside her. 
Even in their last interaction, deep down she knew she shouldn’t have let go. 
See you later had shifted from what she thought would only be days, weeks, months…to six long years. 
Rain pelted down against the tan leather of her jacket, she couldn’t find it in herself to even wear a helmet as she weaved through the traffic on her bike. Something about the rain against her face reminded her that she was alive. 
With what she’s paid? A quick trip to the salon would fix her right up anyways. She actually didn’t quite mind when her hair reverted to its natural state. 
Cutting down a narrow alley, she stops short in front of a parked van in front of what seems to be a derelict building. It’s black, inconspicuous, and with this weather? Practically invisible. 
Her eyes venture up at the dilapidated sign above the said building. King Arthur’s Sword in the Stone attraction.
“There seems to be a fine line between coincidence and irony.” She says to no one in particular. The window of the van rolls down and an unfamiliar man sticks his head out. 
“Good evening, Agent Moore.” The man smiles, a little too cheerful for Amara’s taste. “I’m Joe, I’ll be your support on this mission from here.” 
A crack of lightning brightens the area momentarily. “I thought supports usually stayed in an office?”
“Courtesy of the government, this is my base of operations,” Joe, with a hint of a British accent she notices, gestures to the back, Amara briefly sees the high-tech screens and monitors. 
All to keep her in line, she’s sure. For a brief moment, the lyrics of that stalker song by The Police play in her head. Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you take, every step you take, I’ll be watching you… “Right. So you’re telling me there’s an old Umbrella facility underneath a King Arthur attraction?” 
“According to our intel, yes, unfortunately. There was actually some nonsense of the real King Arthur’s tomb here years ago…soon discredited.” 
“And yet another roadside attraction was born,” she jokes. “Let’s see what we can see, shall we?” 
She doesn’t wait for Joe’s answer, opting to head to the wall to climb up from the gutter into an open window at the top. Dropping gracefully into the expansive space, decorated distastefully and quite cheesy for a King Arthur attraction. 
“Joe, hear me loud and clear?” Amara pressed the comms system on her ear. 
“Clearer than clear, love.” 
“Good, hopefully, this will be educational for you.”
“Learning from one of the top agents in the US division is more than an honor.” The thought of being a top agent at one point would’ve made Amara proud but now it felt like a stain that's never washed clean. 
Covert operations never did seem like things deserving of the honor. 
Crates and other knick knacks lay about haphazardly. “If I were an evil pharmaceutical company, where would I hide a lab?” 
“I thi-“
“That was rhetorical.” 
Amara ventured further in, finding more opulent, ornate items scattered throughout the various ridiculous set pieces. Jill would’ve thought it was a good score. The goofy narrations made her chuckle; were they really trying to actually educate anyone about the King Arthur tale?
Many times in her schooling, particularly on the subject of English literature, her teachers would talk of how King Arthur’s life and deeds gave way to the Arthurian legends. The once tried and true history nerd inside of her would’ve devoured this silly attraction.
Now, she can’t exactly imagine sitting down to read much of anything except lots and lots of mission reports. When she wasn’t reading them, she was certainly writing them.  
At least going on missions broke up the monotony. The routine that had become so much of her life as of late. Another side objective to this mission, one that HQ told her not to really divulge anyone of, was her search for paintings. Not just any paintings either; these ones were linked to Umbrella’s former leader, Oswell E. Spencer. 
She had found 4 out of about 5 (luckily the man never quite got them all in his possession), spanning across the globe, each one portraying demonic, disturbing imagery. HQ claimed they held “power” within the paint which was just about the stupidest thing she’d ever heard but in a world with the most grotesque monsters created by a human hand, was it that stupid? 
Something about each one, despite the thoughts of its stupidity, intrigued her because of the symbols within the image but she did as told, destroying them (and those who protected them). All her intel pointed her to this place but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in July that it was actually here. 
“How long ago did this place close down?” Amara asks, tiptoeing over water-damaged pieces of wood. “This place certainly is not up to code.” 
“The illustrious owner, a…uh, Professor Kenneth Whitman went bankrupt in 2003, it’s been closed ever since then,” Joe answers, “Madness, right?”
“I shudder to think that that man had students, but shudder even more at how much disrepair this place has fallen into within a short amount of time.” 
Amara attempted to test her royalty, pulling up the aforementioned sword in the stone with no luck. No power. No King Arthur glory for Amara. And certainly no way further inside. “Looks like I’ll need to switch on the breaker, wherever it is.” 
“Map shows a side alley entrance, check there?” 
Ugh, back out in the rain? She really didn’t want to go through another period of drying out inside this dank, almost humid place to getting soaked by London’s neverending rain again. This is what I signed up for, remember? 
Yeah, yeah, yeah. But that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. She sighed, following the map displayed on her communicator, the newest gadget added to her gear. 
After traversing over the cast iron gates outside to switch on the breaker, only then does the power cut back on. Light pours out from the windows of the attraction, illuminating the rain as it hits the pavement. 
“And let there be light,” she deadpans, it still earns her a chuckle from Joe through the comms in her ear. 
Through all the narrations and displays, somehow Amara finds that she’s disappointed just a tad that the very room that supposedly was meant to get to the truth of the myths of King Arthur had now been converted into a storage facility.
“So much for getting to the truth of King Arthur.”
“Give the Professor some credit, at least he chose the most boring part to convert. Besides, who wants to know the actual truth anyway?” 
“You’d be surprised,” Amara responded, finding a crack in the wall furthest from an exit beaming red from the fluorescent light above it. She knocked on it, finding the whole wall is hollow. Her eyes also happen upon a forklift, just asking to be used. 
Operating it should be simple enough, right? It’s like operating a claw machine…with two metal sticks on the front. Joe seems to scoff, obviously watching her feed. “Is this what they teach you agents in America?” 
“No, we usually just shoot our problems. But I thought I'd give this a try." Amara quipped. 
He laughed. “I don't know about the forklift, but they definitely teach the sarcasm."
“Oh no, sarcasm is when I say the opposite of what I mean. Wit is when I say exactly what I mean, but in a way that makes you wish you had thought of it first."
“Lesson number one with Agent Moore? Wish I had grabbed a notepad.” 
“I charge for lessons by the hour, Joe. Hope you’re ready to pay up when I get back there.” 
“I’m good for it, love.”
The forklift did its job, taking down the wall to reveal…a secret entrance to a cavern. Amara pretended to be shocked, but she’s not. “Oh, wow, they hid that sooo well.” 
“Is that sarcasm?” 
“Yes, Joe,” she answered, hopping off the forklift. “This next part will require some silence, mate.” 
All she hears is a small hum from Joe in her ear before the line is dead silent. Thank the gods above he knew when to be quiet. 
The cavern is shrouded in darkness just beyond what Amara can see with the forklift’s headlight, so she flicked on her flashlight finding the craggy rocks bending and forming crudely to reveal a path. It seems to descend rather than just go straight forward. Huh, so it goes underground? This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it, Amara? 
It’s a bit of a tight squeeze in some places, especially with all her gear, but she manages. More and more static filters through her comms in her ear the deeper she goes, so she lowers it. She almost wanted to let out a sigh of relief at the fact that she was finally alone even momentarily. 
Eventually, the cavern begins to open up, an almost ominous humming echoing off the walls of the cavern as she gets closer to…
…a lab? Down here? 
Well, at least the intel was correct. 
The humming, she found, emanates from a big generator nearby which is hooked into a cavern wall. The wires seemed to lead nowhere, perhaps they were powered on with the breaker above ground? It looked more and more likely. 
“Does this shit ever get less complicated?” 
In 2003, after a lengthy trial that led to the dissolution of Umbrella and loss in stocks, the US Government, in a rare show of giving a shit, went after all involved with the company but that didn’t absolve their part in blowing Raccoon sky high. Hence, why she was here, partly. 
While she’d been on other tasks (very much like the government’s goddamn lackey), this one was of the utmost importance. After RC, the government under USSTRATCOM formed the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. To no surprise, she alongside Leon are their main operators (though it wasn’t like they had much of a choice). 
The current administration, Graham and his lovely cabinet, actually seemed to want to take down as many Umbrella adjacent so she’d spent the better half of last year during the RC trials and this year doing this. 
Outside of her Umbrella pursuits, she’d heard of something going on with the President’s daughter but that currently wasn’t under her jurisdiction, technically she wasn’t even supposed to be aware of that.
There was some…mole within sectors so while usually Amara would be flanked by at least two other agents, now it’s down to just her. For reconnaissance purposes, it makes sense. The fewer agents, the less information could slip between the cracks. A smart tactic at the time, smart keeps most people safe. 
But now in hindsight, it seems kind of absurd that one lone agent is tasked to find what could very well be an active Umbrella facility. 
A sleek doorway stood before her, a sense of deja vu took her by surprise. The doors opened with no trouble, and the overwhelming smell of rust and damp concrete mixed with unused chemicals lingered in the air. Almost by instinct, Amara drew her Beretta, taking a moment to scan the surroundings. 
The eerie silence was only broken by the sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls. 
Dimly lit corridors made her a little cautious, only her trusty flashlight in her other hand guiding her next steps. The place was in disarray, with broken machinery, debris, and paperwork scattered everywhere…it must’ve been a hell of a time escaping this place. 
Amara didn’t scare easily but she couldn’t shake the chills up her spine and flare in her nostrils. Taking in deep breaths, she pushed on and focused on what she came here for. The facility is empty as she suspected, so her next steps were getting information and finding the painting. 
A glint of something shiny on the ground just so happened to fall in the line of her sight. 
“Well, hello there,” she bent down and picked it up. A small metal disc with Umbrella’s logo shines briefly in her vision, a small bit of her reflection displayed within the iridescent surface. 
She pockets it and keeps moving. 
Chancing it, she raises the volume back up on her comms. There’s no longer static so that’s a relief. Except now, she had to work a little harder to hear considering the comms tended to block out sound quite well when cranked up, so well, in fact, that she could hear her own footsteps reverberate through to her skull, maybe even hear her own brain knocking around it if she focused hard enough. 
“Joe?” She speaks and for a few seconds, there’s a nerve-wracking silence. 
His one-syllable answer practically rattles her skull from the vibration, “Yes?”
Oh, thank god. Joe may be a tad annoying but at least there was someone to get her through this creepy-ass atmosphere. “Nothing. Just checking that you’re still there.” 
“Were you getting lonely?” There’s a teasing tone to his words that she doesn't appreciate. Fuck, especially here of all places. “If you needed a big, brave man to accompany you, all you had to do was ask.” 
And there he goes ruining it. Some support he is. “Shut up.” 
“No need to be touchy.” 
One thing she’d learned about these paintings is that they tended to be within a shrine of sorts, or blatantly on display. Judging by the narrow hallways and the dim lighting, barely even lighting as much as the shoes on Amara’s feet, she definitely doubts that the painting is here. Seriously, who would even have a shrine down here? 
She paused in front of a rusted door, her hand hovering over the handle. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed it open and stepped into the room beyond. The final room within the lab is a computer lab of sorts, though all the computers are ten years behind. Blocky, huge, and ugly to look at.
As she began to sift through the piles of documents laid atop the desks, Amara's eyes fell on a computer with its screen turned on, nestled in the far corner.
It’s sleek, newer, and curvier than blocky. Someone was showing off to their colleagues. 
That same computer spits lined papers of what seems to be numbers onto the floor. It must’ve also cut back on with the breaker. 
“Joe? You seeing this?” She raises one of the pages to eye level. 
“Yeah, what are they?” 
40.4637° N, 3.7492° W…that layout…these were coordinates. She ran her fingers over the papers, reading them out quietly. Where could these lead? 
“Coordinates. Think if I give you a few, you could find where they are?”
“Give me—“ Joe cuts himself off, shuffling sounds coming from her comms, “alright, give me the numbers.” 
She reads them out at an even pace, making sure that Joe could catch every number. 
This time, his brief silence has her on the edge of a hypothetical seat. It annoys the shit out of her. “Well?” 
“Hmm…” Joe’s small noise is filled with confusion, a first for him that she’s willing to bet on. “These coordinates were pulled recently. Coordinates are in Spain.”
Spain? Pulled recently? So maybe the heebie-jeebies she was getting from that place meant someone else was there not too long before she got there. But, her senses had been too good, she would’ve picked up on someone sooner.
“Think it’s another former Umbrella researcher? Trying to reach out? Maybe another facility?” Amara hypothesized, it was the only logical thing that came to her. 
Joe laughs, though it doesn’t sound like he finds any of this particularly hilarious. “Highly doubt there’s people still that devoted to Umbrella.” 
Amara always divided former Umbrella employees into two categories: the devoted and the wise. She always liked the wise, for one thing, they weren’t as dumb as the devoted (for researchers, they sure didn’t use their brains). The wise researchers knew to get the fuck outta dodge as soon as they even whiffed the brewing disaster. The devoted? Oh, they’d been drinking the red Kool-Aid for so long.
Apprehending the devoted made her feel as though she’d left the real world behind and entered the world of Alice in Wonderland. They’d taken to the primrose path, the path of fantasy and illusion, believing themselves to be doing right with Umbrella as their guide through and through. 
Regardless, both bled the same.
“I think these coordinates will be worth a look. At least I won’t be leaving here empty-handed,” Amara replied. No painting, though. Guess that’d be for another mission. 
The return to the above ground is far less treacherous, a bit anticlimactic but she likes that. She’s well-equipped to engage in a little hand-to-hand combat, all thanks to Uncle Sam but these jeans were far too nice to get messed up. Who knew that she could throw a man off balance by just using her legs? Those were the better parts of training, the others she hoped would never resurface in her brain. She’d gotten good at dividing parts of her life now into sections. 
Climbing up the way she came in, she drops right down outside into a puddle, splashing a bit of her bootlaces with rainwater. It already seeped into her socks. Gross. 
She lets out a deep breath as she walks back over to Joe’s van (she’s not calling that thing a base, no matter how much he convinced her), holding out the disc she’d found earlier. “Mission accomplished?”
He runs it over and over through his fingers, appraising it for its usefulness to the reports he’d no doubt have to write too. “Mission accomplished. Well done, Agent Moore.” 
“Now you and your mystery van can skedaddle.” Amara waves her hands towards the road, chancing her eyes back towards the attraction. She sees a flash of red atop the roof. 
Joe chuckles briefly, turning his attention to starting up the van. He’s none the wiser to what Amara has her eyes set on. 
No fucking way. 
Talk about a ghost story. 
Amara makes sure that Joe drives off before following the trail. Could she have left well enough alone and got back to her hotel? Yes, absolutely. But at her core, she knows she’s curious as hell. Always had been. Besides wanting to protect others, she always had a curiosity to know all there is to know. 
And right now, she wanted to know why Ada Wong is haunting this attraction. 
Amara carefully plans her steps, trying to avoid detection by the woman as she watches from afar. Ada moves through as if she knew the place like the back of her hand. 
The path narrows, making it more than a little difficult for Amara to conceal her presence. 
“Well, well, well…” Amara announces herself, and for the first time since she’s known Ada, she notices a minute jump in her shoulders. “Didn’t take you for a history buff.”
Ada is slow to turn around but wears what seems to be a trademark smirk on her face, like she always knew something that no one else knew… most of the time she does.
“I could say the same to you.” 
Ada and Amara now faced each other in the dimly lit hallway. The only sound that could be heard was the stupid, cheesy narration about the Lady of the Lake.  Amara was tense, ready to fight, but also conflicted. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't quite bring herself to hate Ada.
"So, you're the one who's been tailing me," Ada said, a smirk still ever present on her face. "I'm flattered."
Amara is puzzled by her words, she only stumbled upon Ada by chance. If anyone was tailing anyone, it had to be the other way around. 
"I'm not here to tail you," Amara said, raising her fists. "I'm here on a different mission but stopping you from causing any trouble would be a benefit.” 
Ada laughed. "And here I thought we were friends."
"We're not friends," Amara retorted. "But I don't hate you either."
"Good," Ada said, as she lunged forward with a swift kick. Amara blocked it easily, her training kicking in. The two women traded blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. Amara was quick and agile, an added benefit to whatever pumped through her blood, but Ada was more experienced and calculated in her movements.
As they fought, Amara couldn't help but think about the strange friendship that was developing—well, redeveloping— between them. She and Ada were on opposite sides, and now they crossed paths once again. Maybe it was just the adrenaline talking, but Amara found herself almost liking Ada.
"You know," Amara said, as they continued to fight. "I really don't hate you, Ada. I kind of like you, in a twisted sort of way."
Ada raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Amara's admission. "Is that right? Well, that's good to know. Maybe we can be friends after all."
Amara smiled, just as she landed a punch on Ada's jaw. Ada stumbled back, but recovered quickly, launching herself into the fight.
Despite their differences, Amara and Ada fought with fierce intensity, each determined to come out on top. In the end, Ada emerged victorious, but as she helped Amara to her feet, the two women shared a small, knowing smile. Maybe they weren't enemies after all.
“With that in mind, you’ll have to forgive me, friend.”
Ada moves quickly, too quick for Amara to stop her. Jabbing a needle into her neck with efficiency. Not even her body could fight whatever was within the syringe. 
Things become unfocused, and blurry as she stumbles back, away from Ada. She clutches her throat, every muscle in it closing up. The last thing Amara sees is Ada standing over her, she fights to get out one crucial word, “Bitch.” 
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Hours later
Amara jolts awake, gasping for air, expecting to shoot upwards but she finds that she can’t move. At all. Upon further inspection, she realizes she’s strapped down to a cold, hard table. 
The brightness of the light above her blinding, making it hard to see beyond its edges. How long had she been unconscious? 
The last thing she remembered is London, King Arthur, and…Ada. God damn it. That’s the last time she lets her defenses down so easily. So much for being friends.
She pulled and struggled against the restraints, hoping that “enhanced strength” would actually come in handy but found they were very unbudgeable.
“I wouldn’t mess with those if I were you,” a voice with an accent sounds off, “they were made just for you.” 
Amara turned her head, finding a curly-haired man leaning against the adjacent wall, his eyes scanning between her and the lab equipment next to him. “Who the fuck are you?” 
“Eso es irrelevante, encantador, ¿no?” There’s an almost sleaziness to his tone, it reminded her of the creeps you’d find on a busy street as they tried to catcall. 
Amara sneered. “Considering you’re holding me captive? It’s very relevant.” 
“I don’t find pleasure in this, precioso.” 
She laughs lightly, he was laying it on pretty thick. “Amara. As much as I love an ego boost, call me by my name.” 
“Amara, I am not the one holding you captive.”
“Okay…if it’s not you, then who is it? How long have I been here?”
“Long enough for me to take your blood,” he gestures to a machine, about 3 vials of red liquid sitting inside it.
“What?!”
“Relax, eh, I haven’t done anything with it. At least not anything they’d want.” 
Amara couldn’t find it in herself to put up with the back and forth anymore. If she’d learned anything from Raccoon City, it’s that time is of the essence and mincing words and being secretive got you nowhere good. “Enough with the runaround what you really mean bullshit. Get to the point.” 
The man comes close to her side, eyes darting around quickly before focusing his attention on her. Apprehension seemed to spring up in him on a dime. Whoever he worked for certainly must have him spooked. 
“There’s an infection, a virus, going around this village. I believe with your blood, they want to strengthen the strain. They call it Las Plagas.” 
So that’s why Ada brought her here. To be used in someone else’s nefarious game. Using her own bioorganic chemistry against her, against others. Amara was really beginning to think whoever Ada worked for and her own government was one and the same. Two sides of the same fucked up coin.
“Great, you’ve already stolen my blood, so why tell me this?”
“I’m a biologist. I think—no, know that I can reverse engineer a vaccine. Something to stave off symptoms.”
With his admission of this, Amara senses a serious case of deja vu once more. It’s John all over again. The intercepted email he wrote echoed in this man’s words, “Seriously, fuck these guys. Innocent people are getting hurt.” 
“How long would that take? I can’t imagine your employers are just going to let that happen under their noses.” 
“This is my lab, not theirs,” Luis said simply. “Think you can stand being strapped down a little longer?” 
Amara didn’t exactly want to trust this man. He’d given up this information so easily, what was to say he wouldn’t turn on her at some point? But, throwing caution to the wind, she goes along. Well, it’s not exactly like she had much of a choice, considering she’s the one strapped to a table, god knows where. 
“Just get on with it.” 
“Name’s Luis, by the way. Luis Serra.”
She nods in understanding, training her eyes on a corner of the wall to try and take her mind elsewhere. The hum of the lab equipment takes over the silence of the room. At least Luis seems to realize that he didn’t have to take up the air in the room by talking every second. Amara appreciates that. 
Her eyes move towards the other end of the lab, scanning over tubes filled with bubbling liquids, diagrams of molecular specifications, X-rays of subjects unknown to her, and, on the far wall, calculations of specific chemicals and their reactions. Whatever was going on, Luis’ employers had been going at it for quite some time. 
Amara is certainly no biologist but training in the government, you had to know some science. It wasn’t just close-quarters combat or weapons training, agents needed an analytical mind and the ability to recognize specimens, especially biological weapons now. 
Training with the government wasn’t too unlike the police academy, though there was the unfortunate thing of everyone, everyone, keeping their eyes on her. Her reputation preceded her and the same could be said for Leon.
There wasn’t a place in training where she didn’t hear utterances and whispers about him but he became just as elusive there as he was to her now. Upon learning that Leon was there, to begin with, pissed her off, they’d clearly gone against their deal but it’s not like she could do anything about it. 
And anyway, the government must have a personal vendetta about keeping them apart. But for her in the same circles, she was the subject. The Subject. Never her and never by name. There was another one she’d heard from recruits as she passed. Dark Angel. 
Dark Angels were known for their inability to fall and their brutality, well, at least to the mythos Amara had read. Still, she couldn’t stand either choice of names bestowed upon her.  
In a way, both were dehumanizing. A reminder of the distinction between her and everyone else. Amara certainly didn’t want to be separated from everyone else. It’s not like she asked to be turned into some science project. As much as Amara hated to, she looked on the bright side…it certainly made her infinitely more interesting than she actually was.
At some point, Amara found that she couldn't keep her eyes open, her eyes fought against the almost burning lids, but it was no use. 
She drifts off, finding that familiar set of blue eyes calling to her again. Man, were they pretty. 
Amara is now sitting up when she wakes up for the second time. Still strapped down, still not-so-cozy and there was a very chilly draft that lingered around, thanks to whoever stole her jacket—but overall this was much better than the hard table.
Shit, they took her sidearm too? Why is she only just now noticing? This place is beginning to suck more and more. 
One thing she hadn’t been warned of was her lungs burning, her eyes stinging, she had to fight for her first breath. She lets out a few coughs, her breathing returning to its normal pace. But, a weariness sat in her muscles that she couldn’t shake. 
Luis…
…where was he? How long had she slept this time? What the hell had he done since she’d been asleep? 
As if to answer her question, Luis runs inside the lab, with an urgency he didn’t possess before. At first, she couldn’t hear him, her senses hadn’t quite progressed past pain. Then she heard shouts. Whispers. Murmurs. 
Luis was yelling. Yelling at her. He was trying to coax her into consciousness in any way he could. “We have to go now!” 
“Go? Go where?” She asks while Luis undid the straps. Her legs wobbled as she stood, all the strength was gone momentarily but she regained her footing quickly. 
“Anywhere but here,” Luis pulls out a Red9, places a magazine in it, cocking it, and holding it at the ready. “You ready for an escape, Amara?”
“Is that even a question?”
He grinned and cocked his head towards the door. Amara hadn’t felt a rush like this in a long time. Something about it reminded her of Raccoon City in a sick, twisted kind of way. Luis grabbed her wrist and tugged her along, setting them both off into a sprint down long corridors and dimly lit passages with side doors and passcodes.
Amara’s eyes widened at just the enormity of this place, this was all Luis’ lab? There was no time to pause and gawk; getting the fuck out of here took priority, otherwise, both of them would be dead. 
“I guess this is a bad time to ask, but why are we running?” She questions between heaving breaths. Running and talking at the same time especially after only just being able to breathe again are not things Amara enjoyed doing. 
“Do you really want to-”
“Yes!” Amara interrupted him, ripping her hand from his to get a better pace going. 
Luis stops short as the hall opens up to a big space. Amara barely has a second to register his ceasing movement, preventing herself from all but crashing into his back. “That’s why.” 
Amara follows his line of sight, upon seeing what he’s referring to, she laughs bitterly. “Are you fucking for real right now?” 
This gigantic asshole stomped in through the door that Amara assumed was their ticket to freedom. He was dressed not unlike a monster she’d seen before, but this guy had a beard, yellow eyes, and sickly pallor to his skin and could talk. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had been kidnapped? But now she had to deal with this shithead? God must be playing a cruel joke on her.
Luis reached for his gun, but before he could draw it, the man’s towering figure charged at them. Amara tried to dodge, but the giant man grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her against a nearby table. She felt a searing pain in her side as something sharp pierced her skin.
He’s not here for me.
Luis fired his gun at him, but it had no effect on the hulking monster. As he advanced on him, Luis ducked out of the way, practically army-crawling to get to her.
"We have to go, now!" he yelled, dragging Amara behind him as they ran towards the door.
Amara stumbled, her head spinning. She could feel blood oozing from the fresh wound in her side and knew they had to keep moving if they wanted to survive. 
Just as she thought they might make it out alive, Mendez lunged towards them, his massive hand closing around Amara's neck from behind. The man was quicker than she thought he’d be. She gasped for air as he lifted her off the ground, the world spinning around her.
Mendez's grip tightened around Amara's neck as she struggled to breathe. She clawed at his arms, but it was no use. She was trapped.
"At least buy me dinner first!" Amara gasped out, her eyes flickering with anger. 
But it was too late. Mendez hurled her across the room, her body slamming into a nearby table with a sickening crack.
Everything went black.
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By Philip Giraldi 
Over the past four months, I have carried out my daily morning scan of the major online news websites increasingly concerned over what I would be seeing given the mainstream media’s reluctance to report honestly and the persistent management by government propaganda mills of what is leaked to the journalists.
News regarding what is taking place with Russia-Ukraine suffered initially as the war turned sharply in Moscow’s favor late last year, so much so that the likely outcome is only being challenged on neocon-dominated sites like American Enterprise Institute, Foundation for Defense of Democracies and the National Review.
The deep hole of depression that I crawled into as I watched the fat twerp Pompeo cavorting while the midget Mayorkas touted his Jewish credentials drove me to rethink the whole issue of U.S. foreign and national security policy.
President Joe Biden and team are now only struggling to raise $61 billion for Volodymyr Zelensky to prolong the conflict through the U.S. election later this year so Biden can appear to be a strong “wartime” president fighting hard to defend the United States from the threatening Red Hordes. 
That the money will essentially drop down the hole of Ukrainian corruption seems to bother no one in the White House, but the game goes on with Biden saying, “This bipartisan bill sends a clear message to Ukrainians and to our partners and to our allies around the world: America can be trusted, America can be relied upon, and America stands up for freedom. We stand strong for our allies. We never bow down to anyone, and certainly not to Vladimir Putin. So, let’s get on with this….Are [we] going to side with terror and tyranny? Are [we] going to stand with Ukraine, or are [we] going to stand with Putin? Will we stand with America or – or with Trump?”
The president is also currently pumping the line that he is somehow saving or protecting “democracy.” The fact that Ukraine, banning political parties and even religious groups and the Russian language, is not a democracy does not seem to impact on the narrative. And don’t forget how the Zelensky government recently murdered American journalist Gonzalo Lira for his exercising freedom of the press!
Biden argues that standing by America’s “allies,” even when they are not actual allies, is essential to maintain confidence in the U.S. and its leadership mission to create a “rules-based international order” and thereby save the world.
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Put down your shovel Ron DeSantis! 🤦‍♂️
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Thank God for John James. I wish I had a twatter account just so I could HIGH 5 him. I've actually written 2 Tumblr Draft Posts venting about this online insanity. I still might share my thoughts here, but for now John James of Michigan nailed it.
From JohnJamesMI to RonDeSantis:
#1: slavery was not CTE! Nothing about that 400 years of evil was a “net benefit” to my ancestors. #2: there are only five black Republicans in Congress and you’re attacking two of them. My brother in Christ… if you find yourself in a deep hole put the shovel down. You are now so far from the Party of Lincoln that your Ed. board is re-writing history and you’re personally attacking conservatives like VoteTimScott and ByronDonalds on the topic of slavery. You’ve gone too far. Stop.
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https://twitter.com/JohnJamesMI/status/1685020441692225536?s=20
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Ron DeSantis Slams GOP Rival Tim Scott for Criticism of Florida Black History Curriculum
Scott is the second Black Republican DeSantis has attacked on the issue as siding with Democrats
Published 07/28/23 Marc Caputo
Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis accused a Republican presidential campaign rival, Sen. Tim Scott, of laundering Democratic talking points by suggesting that the Sunshine State wanted to teach kids there was a “silver lining” to slavery.”
“Part of the reason our country has struggled is that all too often D.C. Republicans accept false narratives, accept lies that are perpetrated by the left," DeSantis said Friday while campaigning in Iowa. "And to accept the lie that Kamala Harris has been perpetrating even when that has been debunked, that's not the way you do it. The way you do it, the way you lead, is to fight back against the lies. So I'm here defending my state of Florida against false accusations and lies."
DeSantis’s counter marked the second day in a row of responding to a Black Republican criticizing him over the education standards by comparing them Harris, the first Black vice president, who traveled last week to Florida and bashed DeSantis. 
On Thursday, he similarly swiped at Florida Republican Rep. Byron Donalds, a supporter of Donald Trump in the presidential primary who called for a slight adjustment in the education standards that say slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit.”
DeSantis pointed out that Harris and other Black Democrats had embraced an AP African American history course that they backed —and that he opposed — had substantially similar language about slaves learning “specialized trades” but “nobody said anything about that.”But Scott, the only Black Republican senator, later that evening took DeSantis to task. 
“The truth is that anything you can learn, any benefits that people suggest you had during slavery, you would have had as a free person,” Scott told reporters. “What slavery was really about was separating families, about mutilating humans and even raping their wives. It was just devastating.” 
DeSantis has repeatedly pointed out the state standards clearly teach the evils of history and racism
Lost in the discussion over the slavery issue is another major controversy concerning the standards that indicates kids should learn about violence “by African Americans” before they were massacred by rampaging white people. 
DeSantis's feud with Black lawmakers from both parties who don’t support himerupted as his campaign struggled to regain its footing after financial troubles and struggles in the polls. Trump leads DeSantis by wide margins with Scott in third in many surveys. 
DeSantis advisers say he won’t back down in the face of criticism, even as the controversy has raged into its second week and, according to critics, helped undercut his message that he will be a better general election candidate to defeat Joe Biden because he can get more independent and swing voters. 
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DeSantis Attacks GOP Rep. Donalds Over Criticism of Florida Black History Curriculum
The Republican presidential candidate and Florida governor also took aim at Vice President Kamala Harris 07/27/23
Marc Caputo
Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis swiped at a reporter and accused a fellow home state Republican congressman Thursday of siding with Democratic Vice President Kamala Harris for saying that a controversial state curriculum provision about slavery should be changed.
DeSantis said Rep. Byron Donalds —who endorsed Donald Trump in the presidential primary over the governor — was wrong to say that the new Florida standards suggested suggested that slavery was beneficial to some slaves.
After those standards passed last week, Harris flew to Florida and accused DeSantis of trying to whitewash history.
But DeSantis stuck back, noting that Harris and other Democratic critics had endorsed an Advanced Placement Black history studies course that had a similar point.At the end of the day, you gotta choose: Are you gonna side with Kamala Harris and liberal media outlets? Are you going to side with the state of Florida? And I think it’s very clear these guys these guys did a good job on those standards,” DeSantis told reporters.
The standards in question say that “slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit.”
DeSantis mispronounced Harris's first name (which sounds like “comma-lah”) but later sounded it out properly.
“Don’t side with Kam-a-la on that. Stand up for your state,” DeSantis told Donalds.
The row came at a low point for DeSantis’s presidential campaign as he reels from financial woes, layoffs and bad poll numbers vs. Trump. When Donald spoke up via Twitter with a mild suggestion DeSantis amend the language, the governor’s campaign and executive office both criticized him.
After the blowback, Donalds took to Twitter to say that “What's crazy to me is I expressed support for the vast majority of the new African American history standards and happened to oppose one sentence that seemed to dignify the skills gained by slaves as a result of their enslavement.
“Anyone who can't accurately interpret what I said is disingenuous and is desperately attempting to score political points,” Donalds wrote. “Just another reason why l'm proud to have endorsed President Donald J. Trump!”
DeSantis also had a testy exchange with a reporter who asked “were there benefits to slavery?”
“That’s not what the curriculum says,” DeSantis shot back.
“What do you think?” the reporter asked.
“The curriculum is very clear. I think it’s like 200-plus pages of all kinds of stuff that —you can’t read that. Have you read it?” DeSantis responded.
When the reporter didn’t answer the governor’s question, he asked again “Have you read it?”What’s your opinion?” the reporter repeated.
“But you haven’t read it,” DeSantis said. “So I’m just making that clear. That makes it very clear about the injustices of slavery in vivid detail. So anyone that actually read that and then listens to Kamala would know that she’s lying. And that particular provision about the skills, that was in spite of slavery not because of it.”
“The AP course has made that same point,” DeSantis continued. “Other courses have made that same point. Nobody said anything about that.”
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The fight over Florida's new African American history curriculum that suggests slaves derived "personal benefit" from slavery has turned into a war among conservatives as Gov. Ron DeSantis aides are attacking Black Republican Rep. Byron Donalds.
"We will not back down from teaching our nation’s true history at the behest of a woke @WhiteHouse, nor at the behest of a supposedly conservative congressman," Education Commissioner Manny Diaz, Jr., tweeted abut Donalds.
Diaz slammed the representative after Donalds said that he supported almost the entirety of the new standards, calling them "robust" and "accurate," however it was line about slavery that needed to be change.
"What's crazy to me is I expressed support for the vast majority of the new African American history standards and happened to oppose one sentence that seemed to dignify the skills gained by slaves as a result of their enslavement," Donalds tweeted. "Anyone who can't accurately interpret what I said is disingenuous and is desperately attempting to score political points."
Just another reason why l'm proud to have endorsed President Donald J. Trump!" Donalds added.
Jason Miller, a senior advisor to Trump tweeted out a statement in defense of Donalds calling him a "conservative hero." Miller lambasted the DeSantis team for their attempts to "smear" the congressman.
"Ron DeSantis needs to look in the mirror and recognize that at his current trajectory, it's not just 2024 that is dead for him, but 2028 as well," Miller's statement read. "DeSantis' misguided attacks are only helping Joe Biden, and if that's his goal, DeSantis should just get out of the race."
Christina Pushnaw, who works as DeSantis' Director of Rapid Response, has compared Donalds criticisms of the curriculum to those voiced by Vice President Kamala Harris.
Pushnaw responded to both Miller and Donalds' tweets with a Harris gifs.
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balanceingrace · 2 years
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Up, Up and Away Ch.2
In case you missed it, Ch. 1 is here. Let me know what you think!
Miranda took a swig of her drink as she followed Joe down a winding path past a brick library and into some brush. “Let me turn on my flashlight,” Joe fumbled with his phone and the rough terrain is suddenly illuminated. “Is this where you guys hide the dead bodies?” Miranda joked, eliciting a loud laugh from Joe. “Just the ones of the visitors,” Joe chuckled, causing Miranda to playfully swat his arm. God I wish I had the balls to reach for her hand, Joe thought to himself. 
Shivering, Miranda cursed herself for not bringing a sweater. Noticing the goosebumps on her chest, Joe immediately unzips his sweatshirt and wraps it around Miranda. “Thank you. Now you’ll be cold,” Miranda scoffs, her body tingling at the scent of Joe’s body wash on his jacket. “It’s okay. I have that internal midwestern heater,” Joe pats his chest causing Miranda to giggle. He’s cute in a dorky way. 
All of the sudden, the lake was in view. Leading them down the vegetation, Joe stops in front of two makeshift swings made from rope and planks. Sitting in one and patting the other, Joe sips his drink as he tells Miranda about the tradition of the football team jumping into the lake before the annual Michigan game. 
“So you really believed them when they told you there were barracudas in the water? It’s a fucking pond,” Miranda cackled as Joe describes his first time jumping in as a freshman. “What can I say? I was young and trusting,” Joe laughed. 
Swinging slowly, Joe and Miranda spent hours talking under the starry Columbus sky. He learned that Miranda and Sam are actually from New Orleans; that their mother Hannah was a prominent Louisiana politician who was considering a Senate run that Miranda was secretly dreading. Miranda learned that Joe was nearly decades younger than his two older brothers and that he was from a small town in southeast Ohio. 
When the topic shifted to football, Joe felt bashful. “So, you’re the starting quarterback next season?” Miranda asked, sipping her cocktail. Joe was grateful it was too dark for Miranda to see him turn a deep scarlet as he searched for a way to answer. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I was first in line for this season but I busted my hand a few weeks ago. It’s healing but…I just don’t know what’s going to happen in the fall,” Joe grimaced, hoping he hadn’t killed the mood. Miranda seemed dope as hell and was a major player at LSU; he felt inadequate with his benchwarmer history. 
“That blows. I’m really sorry Joe. I hope they give you a fair shot. You deserve it after two years of waiting,” Miranda places her hand on Joe’s knee and he felt his whole body light up. How has it been only 6 hours and this girl is already driving me wild? Nodding, Joe smiles. “So, Team USA U18 this summer? That’s fucking rad. Are you excited?” Joe asked. He knew she had received a call up from the national team as had her brother; they were the first siblings in the history of Team USA basketball to do so. 
“Yes,” Miranda said hesitantly. Was she excited? Not exactly. It was a huge honor but after the events of the past few months, she was burnt out and distracted; basketball had become overwhelming at times and the constant pressure to excel was exhausting. “I’m more excited for Sam. He will most likely make the Olympic team,” Miranda was proud of her brother and his determination since arriving at Ohio State. He came to college to prove he had NBA talent and he had done so. 
Finishing the rest of her drink, Miranda felt the lightest she had in months. Joe was the smartest guy she had talked to in as long as she could remember, and he put her at ease despite having just met him. He’s probably got girls chasing after him constantly, she fretted. 
The soft breeze wafted Miranda’s perfume towards Joe and he was met with the scent of gardenias and jasmine. Glancing over at her, Joe was struck by how the moonlight made her skin glisten. He’d been so focused on taking extra credits and rehabbing his hand that dating had fallen to the back burner. Sure there were girls he’d hooked up with and he definitely had a string of casual flings, but Miranda seemed different that those other girls. She was whip smart and funny; unafraid to talk shit and quietly confident. There was a lot bubbling under the surface with her and he felt this urge to discover all of it. 
Noticing that Joe had gone quiet, Miranda was worried he was growing bored with her. “What are you thinking about?” Miranda asked, nudging Joe’s foot with hers. Smiling, Joe felt bold from the vodka running through his body and decided to be honest. “You. And if you have some massive swamp monster boyfriend waiting back home,” Joe grinned. Giggling, Miranda felt the butterflies in her stomach intensify and she wanted so badly for Joe to lean over and kiss her. 
“No swamp monster boyfriend although to be honest, I have been kinda talking to Big Foot,” Miranda sighed dramatically, as Joe hung his head in mock disappointment. Turning towards Miranda, Joe tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leaned in a bit. “What would you do if I kissed you right now?” Joe whispered, slightly afraid of being turned down. “Why don’t you do it and see what happens Burrow?” Miranda licked her lips and stilled her swinging; a familiar pull in her abdomen activating. 
Reaching over, Joe traced Miranda’s bottom lip with his calloused thumb, causing Miranda to close her eyes and lean into his palm. Joe moved in and just as his lips gently brushed against Miranda’s his phone rang. Miranda’s eyes snapped open as she looked down at his pocket. “Joe, I think it’s your coach,” she groaned, noticing the photo on the screen. Cursing, Joe saw that it was Coach Meyer and hastily answered it. Miranda exhaled shakily as she listened to Joe’s end of the conversation. She could tell something bad had happened as Joe told him that he could be wherever Meyer was within 15 minutes. 
“I’m so sorry. Nick and Justin just got picked up by campus police for fighting and coach wants me to meet him at the station. I’ve got to go,” Joe was crestfallen at his bad luck and made a mental note to absolutely annihilate his two friends for torpedoing his evening with Miranda. “It’s okay!” Miranda tried to sound reassuring as she followed Joe back to the main campus, disappointed at how the night was wrapping up. 
Joe walked Miranda back to her brother’s house and apologized again for having to end their evening abruptly. He wanted to ask her on a proper date before she left Columbus but what if the moment was gone and she was no longer interested? Rocking back and forth on his heels, Joe gave Miranda a chaste hug before she ended his misery. “I hope I see you around again. I’ll be here all week,” Miranda said as she fiddled with the ring on her thumb. “Me too. I had a good time at the lake with you,” Joe grinned, feeling optimistic that he hadn’t blown it. 
Joe was halfway down the block when he heard Miranda calling after him. “Wait, Joe. I have your jacket!” Miranda yelled, unzipping the hoodie. Joe beamed as he turned around. “Keep it. I’ll get it from you when I take you out this week.” 
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trashbinbackyard · 1 year
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1-19 for moe n hoe & lucien + viessa?
Ok these four is what I call the "bisexuals eating my brain" Also black hair + red hair duos!
Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?
I think both. Both of them can get very stubborn, but ultimately it comes from place of love. iirc you said Joe would storm off with a "because I love you" to cool off. Mae would defend her point with "I think this because I love you". After cooling off they make up like adults,
Again both, both are stubborn (especially in the beginning), and Lucien has a bit of a petty streak to him. The situation usually follows a "Lucien don't you do the dumb shit, I will yell at you about this bc I love and care about you", or a "Viessa, I'm doing the dumb shit bc I love and care about you"
What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?
Mae isn't as haunted by nightmares, and after having kids she's a fairly light sleeper, so if Joe was to jolt awake, she would follow soon behind, hearing him breathe heavily she would stroke his hair and lay her head on his chest and ask if he wants to talk about it, or offer to get him something
Both are very much haunted by Visions (mostly of Deanoh, he's pretty pissed this "escaping death" thing happened AGAIN). They both have such deep understanding of the other they don't even need to speak when it happens, just hold each other, the weight grounds them
Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)
Joe simply cannot fit into Mae's clothes and will not wear accessories. Mae is a hoodie FIEND, and often sleeps in Joe's tshirts too
Lucien is bigger in stature, but Viessa’s silk robes still fit him, they’re perfect for hot summer mornings. He also has ear piercings he sometimes puts Viessa’s jewelry in. Viessa sometimes wears Luciens coats, they’re thick, warm and comforting, and wears a necklace with Luciens old signet ring on it
Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?
Both. But Joe more for simply being bigger and "honey please you are 5 foot nothing do NOT". Mae acts like she hates it when he does that but actually really appreciates Joe having her back every day all day
Both of them are highly capable of holding their own, be it in battle or social or social situations. But both are driven to keep the other safe. Viessa's magic is mostly wards, so she can keep Lucien safe like that. Lucien figures if he can stab an enemy dead before they get the chance to even look at Viessa, that's what he'll do
Describe their cozy night in.
The kids are asleep, dog walked and fed, cuddles up on the couch, have a bottle of wine. Movie or something playing in the background but all their attention is on each other
Viessa can conjure a wholeass manor if she so wishes, but she intentionally makes it smaller and cozier. Cozy night in for them is sitting by the fireplace, both reading their own books across from each other. If they want to be closer, Viessa hoists her legs on Luciens lap
Who would beg the other not to leave?
Mae would and did. Was a bad time for both of them every time Joe had to leave to a new job
They both would feel bad if they had to seperate, but neither would beg the other to stay, they are aware of their situations and the decisions they need to make to keep themselves safe
Who has to leave to protect the other?
It isn't like that?
Both. When they stick together for too long, suspicions start to arise, because way down the line, they will be ghosts, they aren't supposed to exist at all.
Would they build a pillow fort together just because?
Maybe in the way of "ok the kids love to do this, whats all this about"
Nah
What happens if one of them gets sick?
Mae goes into mom-mode, Joe will NOT leave the couch for the whole day or so help her god, he's may have the manly man sniffles but gets the same treatment as their kids. Mae's a bit whiny and wants to be taken care of as well, so it Joe's duty to keep her supplied with tea and painkillers
Just force the other to take it slow and stay in bed. Lucien would like to keep going and complain the whole time but he can't do it if he gets to actually rest. Viessa would haul her book collection to bed with her and Lucien has to one book at a time take them away from her and make her have a nap instead
What are their thoughts on having children?
Joe has been a hell yeah for as he know what having children and the responsibility means. Mae was a bit more hesitant, not about being a parent as much as being pregnant, but Joe was supportive enough for her to do it twice
They're both physically middle-aged, so if either of them had ever wanted kids (even before they died) they would've had them already
Describe their first date.
They agreed to meet when Joe was forcibly removing gently escorting Mae out of Mirad's joint. The went for dinner and drinks, had a lovely time and really clicked. Got even a goodnight kiss out of it and the itch to go on another date
It was the "let me show you something" kind. Lucien took Viessa out into far-north, to the cliffsides of Thani, overgrown with gardens, overlooking the northern sea and the second largest city of Thani at night. They'd sit there and stare at the night sky the whole night.
Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?
Joe does his darnest to hide his emotions, and it worked for some time, until Mae learned to pick up on the little things that indicate he's upset. She'll gently coax him to open up, and even if he doesn't she'll make it known she' there for him
They both would rather bottle shit up and never let anyone know anything that's bothering them. And it took a long while for them to be honest about their feelings, and be upfront, because an eternity together would really suck if you keep shit bottled up. Lucien is very good at reading people, so in the beginning he would know something is bothering Viessa even if she didn't indicate it. Meanwhile Viessa isn't as adept with people, so she would have no clue (plus Lucien is extremely good at lying and hiding things)
Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?
The worst of them had been back when Joe was mercenary, they needed to talk it out thoroughly. They've taken heed of that and resolve their issues with first calming down on their own and then coming together like "ok how do we deal with this"
Before they had feelings for each other they basically disagreed over everything, but nothing worse than: V: "you're wrong" L: " l + ratio + im in your pocket dimension". The worst was also in the beginning when Viessa was in serious distress and just an existencial crisis and Lucien told her to stop being such a baby, he later did apologize and admitted thats how he used to feel like. Viessa would also apologize for being hardheaded and riling him up when that has happened
Who’s the bigger tease?
Joe takes the cake with the smallest margin. I think Making Mae flustered is a personal highlight for him, and getting joking punched on the arm as a result
Lucien is just overall more prone to teasing, he's a little shit sometimes as well as more promiscious, but it adds a new type of headache (affectionate) Viessa gets to deal with. (Lucien being able to speak directly into people's heads only makes this worse)
How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?
Both are outgoing and loud, confident and assertative, know what they want and what they're worth. Mae's very open with her feelings while Joe is very reluctant to she his. They work togehter so smoothly because their temperaments are basically the same. But having two very assertative and confident people can lead to butting heads, which has happened
Lucien... while not very outgoing himself, likes to be around people a lot, while Viessa would like to lock herself in her room and do magic things all day. He's managed to coax her out a bit more and appreciate people, and she has made it so he actually likes to relax and take time for himself. They're both very intellegigent and work as duo very smoothly
Do they always say 'i love you' before leaving?
Every time, without fail
They do, but not out loud everytime, sometimes a squeeze on the hand or kiss on the neck will do
Can they stay up all night just talking?
They could but they have work in the morning and the kids need their breakfast and luch packed
Yes and they sometimes do. Just discuss the universe and go super deep and meta
Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?
Both. Though I dont think Joe would appreciate being on the receiving end in public, in private Mae can (pretend to) manhandle him a bit. This will make Mae swoon
Both at the same time, Lucien's hands go for the waist and Viessa's to his neck. Neither of them really appreciate the "suprise passionate kiss" thing, time and place
How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?
They have a beast called Buddy, he is their fourth child. When time leaves buddy behind I think they would take in another dog, they already have the stuff to take care of it and the kids know how to live with a pet
Viessa used to be accompanied with a variety of cats (they were spirits of magic and thus not actual cats). So she would have one or two (or five) roaming around her pocket dimension. Lucien's never really had pets so it took him a while to get used to waking up a furry lump on him
How do they feel about PDA?
They're touchy, they're lovey dovey, but remain appropriate. A quick kiss, holding hands/waist, Mae's hand in Joe's backpocket
They're quite reserved. But there are times Viessa would lean her head on Luciens shoulder when sitting down, or Lucies would hold his hand on her waist when making their way through a city
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bllsbailey · 9 days
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REPORT: Lawmakers Reach 'Agreement in Principle' on Homeland Security Funding, Would Avert Shutdown
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Congressional leaders have reached a deal on Homeland Security funding, according to multiple reports Monday night. Details of the bill have not been released, and sources describe it as an “agreement in principle,” but if it holds it would avert a partial government shutdown before Friday’s funding deadline.
Congressional leaders have struck a deal to fund the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) through the remainder of fiscal year 2024, a source familiar with the matter confirmed to The Hill, closing out the six bills due by Friday’s shutdown deadline. Negotiators are still working out the details and legislative text of the DHS agreement, the source said, but the DHS legislation will be a full-year bill and not a stopgap, which lawmakers were eyeing over the weekend.
#BREAKING: Congressional leaders strike deal on Homeland Security funding ahead of shutdown deadline https://t.co/2Zs2v27THb pic.twitter.com/f8hprfbuKL— The Hill (@thehill) March 19, 2024
There’s a lot of scrambling going on as Democrats and Republicans have to come to terms on a host of spending measures:
Funding is set to expire Saturday morning for the departments of State, Defense, Homeland Security, Labor and Health and Human Services and a host of other agencies. The other five funding bills were effectively settled by the end of last week, with only the Homeland Security bill presenting deep divisions Republicans and Democrats were unable to settle. Heading into the weekend, negotiators were poised to release a package that includes the five other funding bills and would fund DHS separately on an extended stopgap basis, largely continuing the status quo, before reviving attempts to negotiate a full-year funding bill for the department through the end of September.
House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA), Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY), and the White House are all involved in the negotiations, along with other leading lawmakers. 
Johnson, however, is facing blowback from the Freedom Caucus, who are demanding tougher border provisions.
On Monday afternoon, two leaders of the hard-right Freedom Caucus, Reps. Bob Good, R-Va., and Chip Roy, R-Texas, issued a letter from 41 Republicans demanding that any DHS funding bill include “the core elements of H.R. 2, the Secure the Border Act,” or President Joe Biden’s immigration policies won’t change, they said. “Therefore, we ask you to join us in rejecting the appropriations package (or anything similar) slated to be before the House that will directly fund these disastrous policies, and choose instead to stand against this assault on the American people,” they wrote.
HFC Chairman @RepBobGood and @RepChipRoy led 41 fellow Republicans in urging the @HouseGOP to use the power of the purse in this week’s government funding bill to dismantle Biden’s disastrous “open borders” policies, otherwise Republicans will be actively funding this crisis. pic.twitter.com/BBR7GW0Pw0— House Freedom Caucus (@freedomcaucus) March 18, 2024
Sausage-making is no fun to watch, and budget negotiations can get Byzantine as both sides try to use brinkmanship and the threat of a shutdown to their advantage. While Bob Good and Chip Roy’s displeasure with the ongoing negotiations probably wouldn’t be enough to tank the reported deal, they can make life unpleasant for Johnson down the line.
We’ll see if this agreement holds or if we’re headed into shutdown territory this weekend. It would be nice to think that lawmakers have been able to negotiate policies that will actually strengthen our border security, but since the GOP has only a slim majority in the House and is in the minority in the Senate, I’m not holding my breath. 
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