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nimmy22 · 3 years

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A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

#resident evil #albert wesker #Albert Wesker X OC #albert wesker x oc

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radioactivepeasant · 4 years

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Toshinko Week 2020, Day 6: "Bonding"

(This is another excerpt of the story I've been throwing at y'all the last couple Free Day Thursdays. Long post incoming 😅)

The police arrived after Misnomer and his team had already left with the money and some jewelry from the patrons. Toshinori got there just slightly after them, and was horrified to hear how close to death Inko had come. He stayed with her while she offered a tentative description of Misnomer’s true face, and kept an arm around her while she described the encounter and his threat.

"He addressed his threat to the baby?" he asked incredulously. "The Munchkin can barely hear someone at that distance over your heartbeat, right? What was he gonna do, respond in Morse Code kicks?"

Inko snorted, despite herself. "Just like, this little hand punching hard enough for Misnomer to see it flipping him off."

Toshinori smothered an inappropriate giggle. This was a serious situation, after all.

"When you release him from Nine Month Baby Jail, we should probably not teach him that."

"Probably not," Inko agreed, slightly reluctantly. "Maybe he can learn Vicious Mockery instead."

It took Toshinori a few seconds to regain his composure after the mental image that caused. He cleared his throat and turned back to the poor, bewildered police detective who had been taking Inko's statement.

“Sir, I think it would be in the witnesses’ best interests to be under guard until Misnomer is apprehended,” he suggested, passing the detective a business card. “When composite sketches start circulating, this guy is going to know there’s only two people who saw his face.”

The detective took the card, read it, and paled. After stammering incoherently for a few seconds, he paged a superior and squeaked out something about seeing what they could arrange.

By sunset, agencies had been contacted, paperwork had been submitted, and Toshinori had left to “make arrangements”. He was back in twenty minutes, in full costume as All Might to escort the two witnesses to two different protected locations. The elderly woman was temporarily sequestered in a retirement community where at least four orderlies were sidekicks and a pro hero was keeping an eye on the establishment. (They later discovered that Ms. Yamada and the pro hero had staged a revolt against the quality of food being served and had started a takeout-smuggling ring. She’d also completely overhauled their activities list and started dating the man in the little condo next door within four days.)

Inko was taken somewhere else entirely.

“Mind you,” All Might said softly from the back of the large vehicle the police were using, “I’ve not been here before. A friend of mine, Principal Nedzu from U.A., arranged the use of this place.”

They were put on a private train car and, to their equal bemusement and slight concern, shipped off for Hokkaido with little fanfare. There was a van waiting for them, also arranged by the all-too-helpful Nedzu, which took them through a small town with bumpy roads and deposited them at the edge of the sea. The house in question was clearly visible in the fading light, and neither had been expecting it at all.

“....oh….” Toshinori muttered.

[[MORE]]

It was a rather Western-styled manor house, perhaps eleven to twelve chambers at a guess. With the tide out, they could easily have waded all the way to the stone steps leading up to the door, but it looked as though a boat would be required to get there when the tide came back in. Well, that certainly took care of the “privacy” aspect. Nobody was going to get in or out easily. Of course, there were drawbacks to that, too.

Inko’s brows crinkled with worry, and she clasped her hands protectively over her stomach. “Toshi...we’re not going to be here long, are we?”

“I don’t think so, no,” he answered, squinting out at the water. “The heroes being assigned to the case may not be in the Top Ten, but they’re strong, and dedicated. We’ll be fine.”

In truth, he’d have spearheaded the fight himself if it hadn’t meant leaving Inko alone. And he had no intention of leaving her unprotected until Misnomer was safely behind bars.

“Worst case scenario, we’ll just go to the hospital here in town,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “Maybe it’s not Eadu General Hospital, but we’ll make do if it comes to it.”

"Story of my life," Inko scoffed under her breath.

A faint breeze brushed hair out of Inko’s face with a trace of salt and she breathed deeply. Well, it was nice to be at the seaside. There was a beach not far from her apartment, but it had become a dump in recent years, and Inko hadn’t seen a proper beach in a very long time. The house was, admittedly, beautiful. Maybe she could just treat this like a vacation, and not a “hiding for your life” experience.

“Well,” she sighed and clutched her small suitcase a little tighter, “I suppose we’d better go see the house.”

In lieu of finding a boat and risking tipping when the tide came in, Toshinori opted to simply lift Inko up in his arms and wade through water that barely reached the middle of his shins. When they made it to the steps, there was a rather scandalized looking woman waiting on the patio.

“Oh my good heavens, sir, you can’t just-! That isn’t safe! Dear oh dear oh dear, are you alright, ma’am?”

Toshinori gently set Inko down and bowed. “Are you Mrs. Oiwa? I was told someone would be here to meet us.”

“Yes yes, Oiwa Michi, very nice to meet you, but what on earth were you doing carrying your poor wife across the marsh like that!?” the middle aged woman blustered, “Don’t you know that’s dangerous?”

Inko twitched. Wife?! Toshinori hadn’t told her the specifics of their cover story. But then, by the way he’d stiffened, perhaps he hadn’t known either. Maybe Mrs. Oiwa was just making assumptions. Or this Nedzu person had arranged it without telling them.

“Ah...I’m...not familiar with salt marshes. I’m very sorry,” Toshinori said at last. “I grew up around forests, I’m afraid! Very different, haha!”

“I was nervous about boats,” Inko added in a squeak, “They seem so shaky to me!”

Mrs. Oiwa’s face softened into something rather more motherly. “Oh, I understand. Still, if you want to walk here, you’d best use the path along the banks, or else wait until the tide is all the way out. The former owners of this place put down a concrete path so visitors could see where it was safe to walk.” She sighed and patted her face. “Dear me, you gave me a fright! Come along then, I think we’d better get you two settled inside, eh?”

The interior was rather like something out of Edwardian England. Dark, polished wood and patterned wallpaper decorated the parlor they’d entered, which opened into a dining room to the front and a hall or ballroom of some kind to the right. There were paintings along the walls, but many of them were covered with sheets, giving the place a fairly spooky atmosphere, especially with the sun setting outside. Mrs. Oiwa seemed used to it, and ushered them along, showing them where the kitchen was, where the bathrooms and toilets were, and how to work the television. (“It’s a bit finicky depending on the weather, I’m afraid, but we do get all the channels even out here on the marsh,” she’d assured them.)

“I come in twice a day, four hours in the morning and two hours in the evening,” she told them as they discovered the elaborate bedrooms upstairs. “I’ll leave my number on the refrigerator door if either of you need to get in touch with me, and if you need to go out while the tide is high, I’ll show you where the boat house is, or you can call for a water taxi like the last folks used to.”

She insisted on making them wakame udon for dinner before leaving in a small motorboat tethered to the end of the stairs, and wished them a pleasant evening.

“Don’t mind the noises now,” she said as a last farewell for the evening, “I know it can be a little unsettling if you’re used to the city, but it’s only the sea and the animals.”

Then she was gone, leaving Inko and Toshinori on the veranda and a little bewildered.

“She thinks we’re married,” Inko said faintly, staring at the fading green light on the back of the Oiwa boat.

“So she does,” answered Toshinori in a near identical tone. “I wasn’t expecting that. It makes sense, though.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Inko ran a hand over her very pink face. “Ooh boy. We...I have this sudden urge to play out all the tropes from those “fake married” episodes of the shows I’ve been watching since I was a kid.”

Toshinori guffawed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, me too. Except we’d probably give ourselves away because it would be too funny.”

They were silent for a moment, then he glanced down at Inko.

"We're totally doing this, aren't we?"

Inko grinned up at him. "We're totally doing this."

Toshinori chuckled -- a little impishly, Inko thought -- turned back to peer at the manor. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “Okay, who wants to go back in the creepy probably-not-haunted house first?”

“Toshi!” Inko smacked his arm. “Don’t even put that thought in my head!”

Her stomach twitched and Inko snorted. “You missed, Izuku, he’s over here.” She turned to lean against Toshinori. “Okay, now kick him.”

Izuku, of course, didn’t.

#toshinkoweek #toshinkoweek 2020 #part of a fic i call 'Next to Normal'#long post #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #inko midoriya #midoriya inko #Izuku cameo: he's a Bean about a month from being born #bnha au #bnha #bnha fic #bnha fanfiction #what follows is mostly Toshi and Inko pretending to be a married couple while having weird bonding moments #like being mutually creeped out by the ugly wallpaper in the bathrooms #they belatedly realize nobody told Gran Torino

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champhangman · 4 years

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No Other

Title: No Other Characters: Nick Jackson x OFC Part: Three of ? Summary: I don’t know the loneliness you’ve known. I don’t hear the frosty words echo inside. Word Count: 4,849 Warnings: n/a A/N: I promised some folks this would come yesterday, but it’s late because I am an anxious xennial writer that, despite everyone’s praise, constantly questions my abilities

@adampage / @cowboyshit / @baylynch / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @heelsamizayn / @what-does-mine-say / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @merchfreak / @markostuntthesehoes / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega /

Three

Jasmine agonized for the next week. Why had she done that? What had she been thinking? How could she have thought it was okay? She replayed the moments over and over until she had picked apart every detail, from the way her heart had jumped in her chest when he'd given her his hoodie to the way his mouth had felt on hers. Try as she might, she couldn't hate the kiss, or him for letting it happen, or the way it had made her feel.

Intoxicated. His lips had been like a fine, undiscovered wine, and she had wanted to drink from them for the rest of the night. In those moments she had been able to forget every reason why kissing him was the worst possible idea. She'd only been able to focus on him – the slightly callused palms on her cheeks, the warmth of his lips, the silk of his hair, the decadence of his tongue.

And she had, for a split second, hated whoever had called him and broken the spell.

She had immediately been grateful because she had done the worst possible thing. She didn't even know why, even after days of brooding, other than she had wanted to. Which was, she thought, the stupidest reason in the history of all reasons for kissing. Her boss.

She had kissed her boss.

Yes, she had only intended to kiss his cheek. That had been her plan while she stood there, wrapped in the warmth of a hoodie that smelled of him. A kiss on the cheek was fine. A little less than professional, but it fit into the laidback atmosphere of a company where people greeted each other with hugs and departed with more hugs and kisses to cheeks. He had been so nice, making sure she got to her car safely and sticking around to make sure she left without problems. She had doubted his vague claim of some duties but had chalked it all up to him just being a nice guy.

He was a nice guy, that was all there was to it. Nick Jackson was just a nice guy. That was why it had felt so natural to stand there after saying good night, why she hadn't hesitated to lean up to give him a goodnight kiss. On the cheek.

But then…

Had he turned? Or had it been her? Had she imagined that little crackle of awareness? All she knew was that his hand had been at her waist and she had smelled the cinnamon on his breath. There had been butterflies in her chest and an ache that she had thought she would never feel again.

And the kiss had done nothing but make the ache grow.

She was able to forget it during the day, when she was busy with her few work duties and cooking and cleaning and laundry and going to the park. She was able to forget it when she was eating and when she went for her daily run. But when her apartment grew quiet at night and it was just her and whatever music or TV show she put on for company, it rushed back to the forefront of her mind.

Jasmine was determined to forget it, though, and made the decision while packing that she would not bring it up when she saw Nick again. She would avoid him but that would be impossible. She just wouldn't say a word about the kiss. She would pretend it hadn't happened.

But of course, of course, he was the first person she saw when she got to the venue. She didn't dare think he had been waiting for her, but she tried to fight the little flutter in her chest as she finished checking in and turned to see him talking to Matt and Adam. The flutter grew into a flurry when he laughed.

"Jazzy," Adam called when she tried to slip by without being noticed.

And then Nick was looking at her. She couldn't look away, because, despite her promises to herself, she was remembering everything. His hand on her waist, his cologne, the taste of cinnamon, the gentle caress of his fingers on her cheeks, and the warmth of his hoodie around her.

"You ready for me?"

"Huh?" Jasmine winced at the sound that came from her lungs. Like a startled goose. Jerked from her thoughts, she blinked and was able to tear her gaze away so she could look at Adam. "Ready?"

"For the thing."

"Oh! Right!" She'd completely forgotten, even though she had spent two hours in her hotel room pulling questions to ask him. Glancing at her watch, she nodded. "We'll start in a little over an hour. I have to check in with Dylan and find a place to do it."

"You can use the EVP office," Matt said, eyes darting between her and Nick. "No one's going to be using that for a while."

Jasmine nodded again. She couldn't look at Nick. Not again. She couldn't bear the thought of reliving the kiss all over again. Did he feel as uncomfortable and embarrassed as her? Or had he given any of it a second thought since that night? "Thanks. I'll go ahead and get everything ready."

"Is everything okay?" Nick. His voice gentle and, to her, he sounded concerned.

"Fine," she chirped, giving him the barest of glances. Pressing her lips together, she began to turn away, keeping her eyes on the floor. "I gotta run. See you later."

***

"What's with her?" Matt asked while Jasmine hurried down the hall.

Nick was grateful when Adam brought up possible reasons for Jasmine being not herself. Travel, little sleep, bad food, the list went on and on, with Matt throwing in options as well. He kept silent, eyes on her retreating figure until she turned a corner and disappeared, then looked down at his shoes as though he didn't have a clue as to what was wrong with her.

When he knew damn well it was him. Or, if not him, what had happened with him.

"She hardly said a thing in the group chat the other day," Matt said. "Wonder if something's up at home?"

"Maybe she was just busy." Adam twirled an unopened straw between his fingers. "Didn't you say her niece practically lives with her?"

"Nick said that, not me."

"I didn't say that." Nick lifted his head. "I said her niece is with her a lot."

"Then there you go." Adam shrugged. "She was probably with her niece. Would you want to talk to you idiots if you were with family?"

Nick and Matt just looked at him.

"Oh, right, you idiots are family." Adam grinned.

"Speaking of idiots," Matt muttered.

"Got it from y'all," Adam muttered back.

"Was she okay when she left last week?" Matt asked suddenly, looking to Nick. "You were at Daily's until everyone left, did you see her?"

"I left right after she did," he answered evasively, grateful to feel his phone start to buzz in his pocket. Reaching for it, he grunted when his brother snatched it out of his grasp. "What the hell—"

"Something happened." Matt narrowed his eyes. "Didn't it?"

"Yeah. You took my phone."

Adam began to snicker.

"Something happened with Jazzy."

Nick tried to keep his face impassive. Tried to not let anything show. It had been easier during their days off when they'd been kept busy with things for BTE and plans for storylines. And especially when Matt's wife had insisted he do something with her for a day, during which Nick had been left blissfully alone. Now, though, there was no escape. If he walked away Matt would be right behind him, this time with Adam in tow.

"Well?" Matt demanded, looking down at Nick's phone. "It's just Brandon. He's finished with the stuff from Chuck and Trent."

"I better go check it out," Nick decided, taking a tentative step back.

"No. Tell me what happened."

"I'm gone," Adam sighed, shaking his head. "Y'all are giving me a headache."

Nick waited until he was gone and sighed when Matt cleared his throat. "Nothing happened."

"I'm not stupid, Nick." Matt scoffed when Nick lifted his eyebrows. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Nick insisted.

"I don't believe you."

Rolling his eyes, he snatched his phone from Matt's hand and shoved it into his pocket. "Don't be such a prick."

"What's gotten into you? You were fine until—" Matt's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Something did happen."

"For the love of… I'm going to see Bran." He reached for his phone to find out where Brandon was, muttering a curse when the immediate reply was that he was with Jasmine. And Nick had the feeling that he was the last person she wanted to see. So he hesitated, weighing his options, finally concluding that he could wait until Brandon was elsewhere.

"You're not gonna tell me, are you?"

"No." He kept his gaze on his phone, idly closing apps and adjusting the brightness.

"How long are things gonna be weird?"

"Things aren't weird," he defended.

"You—"

"It's not weird." Nick sighed and lowered his phone. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Nick…"

But he was already walking away. His brother's sigh followed him but he didn't turn back. He didn't want to listen to Matt's unending questions or watch his face while he tried to figure out what had happened. Worse, he didn't want to potentially make the wrong face that would have Matt unraveling the latest mystery. Anything that he didn't immediately know all the reasons behind was an ambiguous secret that he had to solve.

Nick hated being his latest unsolved mystery.

Matt was the last person he wanted to know what had happened. Not that anything had happened. It had just been a kiss.

Just a kiss.

That he'd tried to not think about over the past week. Just a kiss that he refused to mope around over, because who moped over a kiss that had been interrupted? It wasn't as though he'd never been kissed before. It wasn't as though he hadn't enjoyed longer, deeper kisses that had led to not crawling into an empty bed.

But despite the reminders he gave himself every time he began thinking about the kiss, he still thought about it. More than he should have. More than he'd have thought he would.

What he thought about the most, though, was the terror in her eyes when they'd broken apart. How flustered she had been, diving into her car and getting away from him as quickly as possible. As though she'd committed a horrible sin and wanted to speed away from possible judgment.

He stopped walking when he reached the end of the hallway, giving his head a shake to clear the thoughts that had nothing to do with work. Glancing up when he heard a door open, he saw Brandon coming out of a room, laughing.

"Hey Nick, if you need me, I'll be in the EVP room helping Jazz set up for the thing with Adam." Brandon grinned. "I heard you're doing it next week?"

"Yeah." He hoped it did well. Hoped she would do sessions with lesser-known men and women in the company. "Need a hand?"

"Nah, we've got it." Watching his friend head down the hall, he glanced at the closed door that was labeled 'Social Media' and thought about going inside to see if they could talk. But, able to hear her and Dylan talking, he sighed and turned in the opposite direction.

***

"You know, in my head, this was just going to be some casual thing in a corner, not something professional looking with a backdrop and everything," Jasmine commented, stepping back. "Next thing I know, you'll be producing mics and talking about lighting."

Brandon chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you want a mic?"

"Not this time," she decided. Her nerves were starting to make themselves known. She had thought she would sit behind the tablet and ask the questions off-camera, but Brandon had insisted she be in the frame, too. Although she had no idea why anyone would want to see her. Everyone that watched would only be interested in looking at Adam. "Maybe if it gets a good response we can graduate to mics, but I want to keep it a little casual, you know? Dylan was saying that if it does well, we can try some impromptu ones during commercial breaks."

"It'll do great," he promised, smiling. "I'll go get the tripod, alright?"

"Thanks."

She watched him leave then pulled out her phone. He'd said the tripod was in his suitcase in the main locker room. She didn't know how fast he walked, but allowing for random conversations and a fast pace, she calculated that she had at least ten minutes for a quick FaceTime.

"Hey," she greeted as soon as her call was answered. "I've only got a few minutes but wanted to check in."

"She just woke up from her nap." Meg, her longtime friend and babysitter smiled. "Bea, someone wants to see you!"

The screen blurred as the phone was turned, and there she was, flaxen curls a mess and a chocolate milk mustache on her upper lip. She grinned. "Hi!"

Jasmine smiled, arms aching to hold the little girl close. She longed to kiss her chubby cheeks and comb her fingers through the messy curls. She inhaled, wishing she could smell the lavender shampoo and sweet scent of Downy. "Hey, sweetheart. Having a good day?"

"Uh-huh! Goin' to the museum!" Beatrice picked up her cup and took a long drink of chocolate milk. About to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, she wrinkled her nose when Meg pushed a napkin towards her. "Gonna see dinos!"

"Don't try talking Meg into letting you steal one," Jasmine warned. She loved her. More than she had ever thought she could love another human being. Even when she crammed Goldfish crackers into her mouth then giggled, sending a spray of crumbs everywhere.

"If I'm good I can get a stuffed dino," Beatrice said, still grinning. Then her eyes, dark as the chocolate syrup she loved, widened when Meg groaned. "Meg said not to tell you."

"You're always letting the cat out of the bag, Honeybee," Jasmine sighed.

"Meg don't have a cat."

"It's just a saying. But you getting a new stuffed dino is fine. I don't know where you're gonna put it, but we'll make room." She had a feeling the new stuffy would end up on her bed, as all of Beatrice's stuffed animals did. Just as her nightstand and dresser were always littered with the hard, plastic dinosaurs that seemed to multiply overnight.

"Are you with the wrestlers?" Beatrice asked, leaning close as though she could see more people that way.

"I'm alone right now, but they're around."

"I took a long nap so I can watch 'em tonight! Meg promised!"

"Meg's the best," Jasmine concurred. "But if you fall asleep we can watch it tomorrow when I get home."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too, Honeybee." A lump formed in her throat. Bad idea, she decided, to check in with Beatrice while at work. She would have to remember to keep her check-ins to texts. "Be a good girl at the museum, okay?"

"Yes ma'am." Beatrice looked sad. "You gonna cry?"

"Not this time," Jasmine promised. She would wait and do that later when the risk of being walked in on wasn't so high. "I better go. Meg, call me if she's still awake at the end of the show?"

"Sure thing."

"Finish your snack so you can go have fun," Jasmine told Beatrice with a sad smile. "I'll talk to you later. I love you so much, Honeybee."

"I love you, Mommy!" Beatrice puckered her lips and kissed the screen.

Laughing when she heard Meg's squawk, Jasmine blew a kiss in return then ended the call. She released a shaky breath, willing the tears to not come. About to text Meg to thank her for watching Beatrice again, she felt the phone slip from her hand at the clearing of a throat behind her. Her phone fell to the floor with a thump and, heart skipping a beat, she slowly turned to see Brandon.

"Hey," she squeaked, peering behind him to make sure no one else had come into the room with him. But the door was closed, thankfully. Or not. She slowly looked at him, nervous energy twisting in her stomach.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I think so."

"I didn't know you were a mom."

"No one does," she whispered. "I mean, no one here."

"I should have knocked," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, you didn't know, and…" God, was he going to tell everyone? Wasn't he Nick and Matt's best friend? She knew that being a mother wasn't taboo, but surely they would want to know why she hadn't mentioned her daughter during her interview. They would want to know why she'd lied and referred to her as her niece.

"Why doesn't anyone know?" He held up his hands. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I understand wanting to keep your life private. I'm curious, is all."

"I, um…" She cleared her throat. "It's not a huge secret, I just… I lost a couple of jobs because of her. That wasn't the official reason, but I knew it was because my daughter was more important to me than work."

"As she should be," Brandon said with a nod. "You don't have to worry about that here, Jazz."

"I know, but…" She sighed. "I don't want the questions to start."

He tilted his head, then nodded again. "I get you. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"You won't?" she asked in disbelief.

"Of course not." He gave her a look that assured her he was trustworthy. "It's not my secret to tell."

"Thank you." Taking the tripod from him, she smiled with relief.

***

"Thanks again, Adam, that was great. I'll see you later—"

"Wait, Jazzy, hold up."

She turned at the door. Had she forgotten something? She mentally went over everything she had brought with her and remembered putting everything back into her bag. Surprised to see him walking towards her, she raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say… It was fun, talking to you." He smiled while beginning to brush his hair back with his fingers. "You wanna do it again sometime?"

"Another Q-and-A thing?" she asked.

"No, no, not that," he chuckled. "I was thinking we could go out for drinks or something after the show tonight?"

"We?" she repeated.

"If you want." His smile began to fade. "Unless… Are you seeing someone? Sorry if me asking offended you or—"

"No, I'm not seeing anyone." The memory of her and Nick's kiss flashed in her mind and she sighed. "Very much single."

"Yeah?" He licked his lips. "Good."

"I appreciate the ask, but I'm not interested in dating someone I work with." That sounded bad, she thought, frowning. "I mean, I could be interested…"

Adam's eyebrows quirked. "Oh?"

"But I can't do it. Personal rule."

"It doesn't have to be a date thing," he said.

The space between them grew smaller and she tipped her head back to look up at him. "Doesn't it?"

"We can just be two work friends going out for a drink or two." He leaned against the wall next to the door. "What do you say?"

Her first instinct was to say no. She wasn't the type to go out for drinks. She hadn't had drinks in so long she'd forgotten what her favorite drinks were. Other than the occasional glass of wine, she didn't let herself imbibe as much as she used to, back when she was younger and stupider. But there was something so appealing about the idea of just relaxing. She wouldn't have to get drunk. She could just enjoy a drink or two with a man she wasn't interested in. Her only other option was sitting alone in her hotel room waiting for exhaustion to set in so she could sleep until it was time to catch her flight. Nodding her head, she smiled. "Yeah, sure. I can do friends going out for a drink."

"Great." He pushed off the wall and reached to open the door. "We'll hook up after the show?"

"We're not hooking up, Adam."

"We'll meet up, then."

"Still makes it sound like a date."

He rolled his eyes. "We'll find each other after the show?"

Jasmine wrinkled her nose. "That works, I guess."

"You figure out the right words and let me know," he said, nudging her shoulder before heading away.

Rolling her eyes, she went back to her and Dylan's quasi office. It was empty and she dropped her bag on the table to catch up on work, having made the decision to keep away from Nick for as long as possible. As much as possible. She knew it would only make it more awkward when she ran into him, but she had to stay away.

Adam texted her, asking if she'd figured out the right words.

Adam. He was safe. Her heart didn't flutter and her stomach didn't flip over itself a dozen times a second when she was around him. There was no danger of falling into the trap she'd fallen into before, no fear that she would find herself plunging into obsession over him. She could do drinks with him and not be tempted to let it lead to anything more. Replying that she was still thinking it over, she turned her attention to work.

When the show was over she packed away her things, keeping her tablet out to send a few more tweets and check for posts from the talent that she would need to repost. Groaning when another Disney song began to play on her phone, she almost skipped it but then shrugged, humming along to the first few bars while she watched a short video she had clipped to post.

"Yet I know it's true, that visions are seldom all they seem." She pulled one leg beneath her to get more comfortable, eyes on the tablet screen. "But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream…"

"I didn't know we'd hired a Disney princess," a voice said from the doorway.

Yelping in surprise, Jasmine snatched up her phone to pause the song. Her cheeks burned and she slowly swiveled to see Nick standing just inside the room. Startled, she inhaled deeply and bit her lip. "Nick… I didn't know anyone was listening."

"It was—" He exhaled. "You got a minute or two?"

"Sure. What's up?" She hated how strained her voice sounded. She also hated that just the sight of him brought up the fluttering in her chest. Suddenly she wanted to taste cinnamon. Looking away from him, she picked up her earbuds and began to wind the cord so her hands would be occupied.

"Can we talk?"

"Yes?" Her heart began to rattle in her chest. Brandon had told him. The thought made her physically hurt because she had thought she could trust him. She should have known he would tell Nick, one of his best friends. It wasn't as though she were anyone important.

"Jasmine?"

"What about?" she squeaked, twisting the cord around her fingers.

"Last week," he said softly.

"Oh. God." Did they have to? She gave her head a small shake, trying to clear the fears. At least for a little while. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I think there is."

"I'm sorry." She lifted her eyes to his face. "I shouldn't have done it."

He frowned and took a step forward. "It—"

"It was a mistake. It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"A mistake?"

"A terrible one," she confirmed. Seeing him flinch, she rose to her feet. "I don't – That wasn't supposed to sound so mean."

"Why was it a mistake?"

She stared at him, unblinking. Then she remembered that he didn't know. He couldn't possibly know, otherwise he wouldn't be asking. And she didn't have the nerve to tell him. She didn't want to see his opinion of her lower.

Whore.

"Because it was," she answered. Lame, yes, but it was the best she could do without going into detail. "It shouldn't have happened. You're my boss."

Gold-digging bitch.

"I'm only your boss when we're working." His hands kept moving. Into the pockets of his shorts, then out, tugging at his shirt. She hadn't thought him one to have a lot of nervous energy.

Then she wished she hadn't looked, because each time she saw his hands she remembered them on her face. "You—"

"And technically speaking, Dylan's your direct boss, and above him would be Brandon—"

"It doesn't matter," she said, flinching at the harshness of her tone. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"For what?"

"For doing that—"

"You can say the word, Jasmine."

"I'm sorry I kissed you," she whispered. The words made her chest ache. Because she wasn't really sorry she'd kissed him. She was sorry over the situation and the fact that she couldn't let herself get into a position where she would want to kiss him again. "I'm sorry I stepped over the line. I don't want you to think I go around kissing men whenever the mood strikes—"

"I don't," he said gently.

"Because I don't. I don't want things to be weird because I love working here already. But things are weird now, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I guess they are if you think so," he murmured.

He looked down and she felt the cord snap between her fingers. "I just can't let myself do anything like that with someone I work with. It's against my rules, and—"

"Hey Jazzy, you ready to go?"

She didn't say it often, although she thought it frequently, but the word slipped out at the sound of Adam's voice. "Fuck."

"Oh, hey Nick." Adam was smiling as he stepped into the room. He looked from her to Nick then back again. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No."

"Yes."

Jasmine blinked at Nick's contradiction to her answer. "No," she said again, not liking the frown that was pulling at his lips. "We were just talking about—"

"Next week's Q-and-A," Nick finished for her. The smile he managed didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right. …Did I tell you that more fans requested Nick than Matt?" She directed the question to Adam, who still looked confused, and as though he didn't believe what they were saying.

He chuckled. "No shit? Did you tell him?"

"I don't have the nerve." She turned and began stuffing her things into her bag.

"I'll do it," Adam offered.

"Don't," Nick groaned. "I'll have to listen to him bitch all the way home."

"Won't you anyway?" Jasmine asked without thinking. There was a small silence and she sneaked a glance at the men an instant before they both began to laugh.

"I'm gonna tell him you said that," Nick warned after choking back a giggle.

She liked that he giggled, liked that he let his humor out so freely. At the moment, she liked that he didn't look so serious. Picking up her bag, she smiled faintly when Adam reached to take it from her. She felt awkward while she pushed the chair under the table and slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans. Acutely aware of Nick looking at her, she grabbed the hoodie off the back of the chair and slipped her arms into her sleeves.

"Ready?" Adam looked at Nick. "We're going for drinks."

"It's not a date," Jasmine blurted because she felt she had to. Otherwise, he would think she was a hypocrite. Bad enough he probably thought she kissed men on a whim, she couldn't let him think she was a liar, too.

Whore.

Nick nodded and stepped to the side so she could leave the room. She disliked the awkwardness that still stretched between them and missed how easygoing things had been just a week before. She wanted that again. She wanted him to smile and call her his favorite employee. Wishing she held the magic words to smooth everything over, she zipped up her hoodie and threw the ruined earbuds into the trash.

"Have fun."

Jasmine managed a nod, biting the inside of her lip when Adam's hand landed on the small of her back to steer her out. She stopped at the doorway and looked back. "Do you want to go?"

"He doesn't drink," Adam muttered.

Nick shook his head, smiling, and his smile looked genuine. "Not really my thing. See you next week?"

"Of course you will." As though she could avoid him. "Bye, Nick."

"Bye, Jasmine."

#nick jackson fanfiction #aew fanfiction #my fics #multipart:NO #also omg you guys/gals/people really blow me away with your praise

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irisdateadventures · 3 years

Text

The Presumptuous Priest

I really wanted to do all of the dates in order but this is just going to have to go first because it's probably the one that gave me the most visceral reaction of all of the dates I've had so far and it wasn't even a date per se -- It was a phone call!

A 3 hour phone call to be precise!

Now, I love phone conversations. And I was so psyched about meeting a guy who equally likes phone convos as much as I do. So we were chatting on the dating app ( I don't want to say which since he might be found) and he asked if we could schedule a phone conversation and I was excited.

So the scheduled time came and our conversation started off pleasant. He seemed like a genuinely sweet and really cool guy! He didn't really hide that he was a priest and how passionate he was that he made his own church and he writes his own music for the church etc. He expressed that he didn't really share the same hobbies as me but! He was absolutely open on sharing them with me. Really cool really sincere. He didn't even bat an eye when he said that I was divorced or that I don't practice my faith or really share the same religious views as him.

And then after a really pleasant 1.5 hr convo things started to go downhill when he started asking deeper questions and I asked him questions that were very important to me (since he was already asking very deep questions about me right away, - I get that he doesn't want to waste his time since he was in his 30s and never been married but like 😒).

I made it known that I was an active member of the BDSM community and I have many friends that are dear to me that I have slept with. And knowing his faith and his firm belief in no premarital sex, I had to put it out there to see if he was open minded about that with other people doing that. (This conversation, folks, should never happen the first time you talk to someone. But I would like to reiterate! He started it! I thought it was going to be a fun conversation!)

Y'all he automatically sounded so insecure and actually asked me if I had a casual sex partner arrangement with people right now. And y'all know me, I'm very honest about what I do and my intentions. An honest questions deserves an honest answer.

And so, I told him, "Yes, I do."

He actually had the audacity to ask me "How many right now?"

I did however saved him the pain and said "Only one." 🤭

Anyway, he said something along the lines of, "I don't think we can build a good relationship if you had that relationship at the same time. I think you're really great and It could still work. But If we were married, I would expect you to cut off all the ties and never talk to the friends that you had that arrangement with. Having sex with someone makes a 'heart connection'"

Oh no. Hard Stop. I told him, "Well, it's seems we're at an impasse." I refuse to have someone control who I can and cannot talk to. And besides what heart connection??? I've had sex with people I met after one date!

Anyway, he gets shocked that I would say that we were at an impasse and he proceeds to ask me how many children I want and I said "I only want 2."

He said (summarized) "No, I want 4, but we can have 3 instead to meet in the middle. We can also adopt but I want my first born child to be named after me (to be the third)."

Nope. Nope. Nope. I hate Juniors with a passion! I'm a delivery nurse and I deal with this shit all the time. No. And My Uterus! I get to have a say on how many children I carry even if I change my mind down the line and say no! I don't want any children.

I told him that won't work for me.

Then, he finally gets the feeling that Im not into him and actually, ACTUALLY said, "Well here's my final pitch to you..." Proceeds to tell me how great of a guy he is and how great our relationship could be, how I deserve to have a guy like him that will treat me well etc. And even if we winded up not dating, he'd still want to be my friend.

Honestly at this point, I didn't have the heart to interrupt his rant. I was also so tired since by this time we were talking for 3 hours and it was getting close to midnight. So In my tiredness, and because I felt really bad for him, I agreed to go on an in person date with him.

That conversation left me feeling extremely neauseous and disgusted. Like my life as a priest's wife flashed before my eyes. A non-satisfying sex life in which I can't even talk to my friends that I've made in the community I really love. No way.

So the next morning, he messaged me a flirty morning message and I canceled our date. Nausea gone.

#dating apps #a series of unfortunate dating #online dating #hinge dating app #tinder #bumble dating app #irisdateadventures

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wildwarcat · 4 years

Text

Warhawk: The Second Avenger

Alright y’all, I’ve been meaning to post this for months and I finally got around to it. This fic is available only on Fanfiction.com under the title above. If you like the prologue, which I’ve posted below, definitely check it out on Fanfiction. This is NOT a reader fic, it’s a preview of an OC-centric fanfiction posted on another site. Enjoy!

Words: 4k

Warnings: Language, implied smut, references to homophobia

Chapter One

Prologue

"The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of life, himself a light." ~ Felix Adler

Edwards Air Force Base, June 1987

I could not have asked for a more beautiful day than that of June twenty-second, 1987. I arose to the usual sound of my alarm clock at 0600 and was greeted by rays of an early summer sun shining down on the picturesque form with which I shared my bed. Captain Carol Susan Jane Danvers, a woman with a knack for flying and a personality as fiery as the afterburners of an F-15 snored gently next to me. Her long, blonde hair cascaded around her face in waves, framing her perfect features as she slept through the alarm. I reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her snoring stopped and a small giggle escaped her. Her beautiful brown eyes opened a sliver.

"Well, now I know you're not sleeping anymore." I laughed quietly, my hazel eyes gazing adoringly at her. She scooted closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and burying her face in the crook of my neck.

"At least I get to open my eyes and see you lying next to me." She muttered into my chest, "Although, it'd be pretty nice to kiss my girlfriend when I see her on base later."

I sighed and pressed a kiss into Carol's hair, "You know we can't. Not if we want to keep our jobs. It's hard enough being women in the military. But if those shitheads knew about us, baby, they'd tear us to pieces."

Carol groaned, her face still buried in my neck. I laughed again and flung the covers off the both of us and slipping out of her grasp. Making my way into the bathroom before she could tackle me and drag me back into bed, I locked the door behind me and ran a hand through my tousled golden brown hair. My fatigues were folded on a towel rack next to the shower, my unit beret sat on the sink. Being a pilot, Carol was only seen wearing her flight suit on base, but being a part of command for the 31st TES like myself required a frequent change in attire. Dress uniform, fatigues, flight suit, repeat.

"Open up!" Carol rapped harshly on the door, "I need to shower."

"After what we did last night, I think we could both use one." I joked, unlocking the door. She burst in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before she turned the shower on.

"Paige Rose MacDowell, just what are you implying?" She asked me with a sultry tone, her brown eyes sparkling as she began to strip.

"Exactly what you're thinking, beautiful." I smirked, grabbing a brush and beginning to work through the knots in my hair, watching as her perfect form entered the shower.

As soon as I arrived on base, a Lieutenant Colonel, whose name I didn't know, dumped a touring group of potential recruits on me. As badly as I wanted to say no and take off running in the other direction, I took over the tour with a stiff smile, leading the group toward the tarmac.

"Anyone here interested in being a pilot?" I asked over the rumbling of F-15 engines. A majority of hands went up in the air. I even caught a glimpse of a few girls amongst the boys, hands raised up high.

"Well, first things first, y'all need to be accepted into the Air Force Academy or join a collegiate-level ROTC program. After you graduate, you'll be commissioned as Second Lieutenants, after which you can declare your intention to become an Air Force Pilot. Unfortunately, women aren't permitted to fly combat missions, but we have several test pilots here at Edwards that are women."

A pair of F-15s flew overhead, sending a rush of air over us. I smiled as I watched the jets move up into a barrel roll. I pointed the jets out to the group.

"In fact, two of our female pilots are flying right now: Captains Danvers and Rambeau."

"Major! Major MacDowell!" A newly minted Lieutenant... Rhodes, I think his name was, came jogging toward me, calling my name over the roar of the active tarmac.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" I asked him, gesturing to the tour group, "I'm very busy."

"I've been sent by Colonel Kissinger to inform you that you're to meet with him in his office immediately." The young soldier panted as he slowed to a brisk walk. I glanced warily over at the boy.

"This isn't another one of Captain Danvers' pranks, is it?"

The young man shook his head and handed me a folded piece of paper, "No, ma'am. He gave me this for you."

I unfolded the paper and saw that there was only two words printed on it.

'Project Rebirth.'

The words were unfamiliar to me. I didn't know what they meant. We were working on Project Pegasus here at Edwards, whatever this Project Rebirth was... it was something that I hadn't been briefed on.

"Lieutenant Rhodes, would mind taking over this tour for me? Just show them the hangar, let 'em take a look at a few F-15s up close, answer any questions. My sincerest apologies, folks, but this is an emergency."

I turned on my heel and took off running toward Colonel Kissinger's office, making it there in record time. I straightened my beret before stepping inside and giving the aged colonel a salute.

"Major Paige MacDowell, reporting, sir." I said sharply.

"At ease, Mac." Kissinger replied, standing up from his desk chair and making his way over to me. We shook hands and Kissinger immediately led me out of the office.

"What's going on, Bart? What's so urgent that you pulled me away from duties?" I asked, handing back his note. Kissinger said nothing, he simply opened the door to a conference room and stepped aside. I walked in, but when I turned around, I saw that Colonel Kissinger hadn't followed me inside. The lock on the door clicked, trapping me in the conference room.

"Major MacDowell," An unfamiliar, gravely voice addressed me from the other side of the room. There was an immediate air of distrust as I turned to see a man standing at the head of the conference table, a man I did not recognize. He was stout, with a terrible bowl cut on his pudgy head, and beady brown eyes. He wasn't dressed in a military uniform, but in a lab coat, on which the name Otto Octavius was stitched.

"My name is Dr. Otto Octavius. I've been employed by the United States military for a secret scientific project."

"Project Rebirth." I said quietly, taking a seat at my end of the table.

"Correct." Octavius took his own seat and folded his hands in front of himself, "I trust that aside from the name of the project, Colonel Bartholomew Kissinger told you no other details?"

"No, Doctor. He didn't." I answered politely.

Octavius smiled a grisly smile, "Excellent. Allow me to explain. I'm sure you're aware of the story of one Captain Steve Rogers?"

"Of course, who isn't?"

"Indeed. After Dr. Abraham Erskine, the lead scientist on the project, was killed, his Super Soldier Serum formula was believed to be lost forever. But, thanks to the efforts of a few select minds, we have successfully recreated the serum. The military has created a shortlist of soldiers who display exemplary qualities reminiscent of Captain Rogers, and from that list they have selected you to be our subject."

"So... what?" I deadpanned, leaning back in my chair and giving him a cold stare, "You expect me to crawl into a pod, get injected with a serum you aren't sure will work, and get blasted with Vita-Rays that could very well kill me? All because the big wigs selected me from a shortlist of soldiers who are nice?"

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds crude and inhumane." Octavius replied, chuckling a little to himself, "But there is no need to be concerned, my friend. We reverse engineered the serum using samples of Steve Rogers' blood. It is perfectly safe. And after looking over your record, I doubt you'll have any trouble enduring the physical strain the injection will put on you. Following the procedure, you will be assigned your first covert mission by General Chain. I suggest you get your affairs in order tonight, the procedure will take place at 0700 tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I stood from my chair and glared down at him, "I can't just drop everything on a whim to be a part of some science experiment! I have friends and family that will wonder what's happened to me!"

"Major, you have twenty-four hours to notify only your closest relatives and friends of your situation. Only those you can trust prior to the procedure should be informed."

I tried to come up with a decent counter-argument, but found that my mouth had gone dry, as though it had been stuffed with cotton.

I sat back down, "If I do this... I'm not gonna be like him. I'm not Captain America. For Christ's sake, my callsign is Warhawk, what does that tell you about me? I'm no Star-Spangled Woman. And I won't be turned into one. You turn me into a super soldier, and it'll only blow up in your face in the long run."

Octavius smiled, "I'd expect no less of an answer from one of the handful of women who served in the Invasion of Grenada. Now, no fluids or food of any kind beginning at 1800 hours tonight, absolutely no alcohol for the next twenty-four hours. You may bring one person with you to the procedure, should you feel the need to have a witness present." Octavius said, standing from his own chair and making his way over to me. He extended his hand, which I shook out of sheer politeness, before handing me a file, "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Major MacDowell. I shall see you bright and early tomorrow."

He went to the door, knocked three times and the door unlocked. The doctor left, and soon I followed, greeted by Colonel Kissinger on the other side of the doorway.

"Are you alright, Major? You're looking a bit pale." Kissinger asked me.

"Fine, Colonel. I just need an hour or two to process what I've just been told." I replied, straightening up a bit and returning to my office. Maybe a bit of paperwork would pull my mind away from the suddenly lingering sensation of dread that had set in me during my conversation with Otto Octavius.

Returning home from base was less than delightful. I had made it my personal mission to avoid Carol and Maria all day. Dr. Lawson agreed to be my witness for the procedure, but that didn't stop me from staying late in an attempt to delay having to explain everything to Carol.

"Took you long enough to get home." Carol called from the kitchen as soon as I stepped through the threshold. She ran out to meet me, a couple of beer bottles in hand. I sidestepped her and set my things down in my study a few doors down the hall. Carol followed me, shoving a beer into my hands as soon as they were free.

"You look like you could use a drink, babe." She smiled, pressing her lips to mine quickly.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I can't." I apologized, handing the bottle back to her.

"Of course you can! Just-" She raised her own bottle and took a long swig. She held the second bottle out to me and looked at me expectantly.

"No, Carol, I really can't." I said, pushing her hand away, "We need to talk."

She set both beer bottles down on my desk and grabbed my hand. For the first time in the years that I had known her, concern flooded her face, her brown eyes wide. I took a deep breath, gave her hand a firm squeeze.

"The higher ups are rebooting the Super Soldier Program. I'm their test subject. I go in for the procedure tomorrow."

I waited for the explosion of anger that usually followed any news Carol wasn't informed of at an earlier notice, but it never came. Rather, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around me, a pair of lips met mine with a ferocity and intensity unlike any I had experienced before.

"I love you." She blurted out as soon as she pulled away. I tensed up; we hadn't gotten that far in our relationship before. I must've looked like I was going to throw up or something, because Carol's face grew concerned again, "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah." I choked out, setting a gentle hand on her cheek, "Better than okay, actually. I... I love you too."

She smiled, that signature lopsided, cocky, adorable half-grin that made me melt every time she sent it my way. I set an arm around her waist and led her toward the kitchen.

"C'mon. Sit down, finish your beer, and I'll give you the details."

I told her everything. About Octavius and Project Rebirth, about General Chain. She listened silently for the most part, maybe an occasional question here or there. When I was done, I waited for her to say something, anything. When she did, it was only a simple question.

"So... you're gonna become Captain America?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her empty beer bottle, tossing it in the trash, "Not exactly. I'll be more of a new and improved version of myself. The way Octavius put it, it sounds like I'll become the best version of myself."

"You said you could bring someone with you. Do you want me to come?" She asked, a twinge of hope in her voice. I shook my head.

"I don't think I want my girlfriend seeing me in immense pain as I'm battered with Vita-Rays. I called Dr. Lawson earlier; she'll be my witness." I told her, taking her hand as I sat next to her again, "But I don't know when I'll see you again after this. General Chain is sending me on my first covert op as soon as I step out of that pod."

Carol leaned over, pressing her forehead to mine and letting her beautiful brown eyes flutter shut, "Then we better make tonight as memorable as possible."

The sun was just beginning to rise as I slowed my truck to a halt in the parking lot of the Stark Industries Research and Development Park. The file that Dr. Octavius had given me contained only a single piece of paper with directions to the park and the time of the procedure. I stepped out of the truck and made my way to the front door, where an unfamiliar man stood waiting for me.

"Major, I'm Agent Fury, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

I smirked, "Ever thought about just calling your agency, S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"We've considered it." He replied, holding the door open for me. I stepped inside and let Agent Fury take the lead, bringing me down the empty hall into a maze of research labs and test rooms.

"Has Dr. Lawson arrived?" I asked him.

"I wasn't informed of it, Major. I'm just here to bring you to the lab. I won't be in the room for the procedure, Director's orders." Fury explained, coming to a stop in front of one of the research labs near the rear of the building, "Good luck."

I nodded once and opened the door. When I walked in, every scientist and government official in the room froze, eyes locked on me for a moment, before they went back to work.

"Major MacDowell." A woman's voice, clearly British and one I didn't recognize, approached me. I turned to see an older woman walking toward me, her eyes kind yet fierce, her ruby red smile polite. She extended her hand which I shook firmly, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Peggy Carter, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. We'll be working very closely after today, so I thought it ideal to be here for your procedure."

"Director Carter, it's an honor. My father served in the 107th, I grew up hearing stories about you and Captain Rogers." I told her. At the mention of Rogers, her gaze turned sad, but it returned to its original state just as quickly as it had changed.

"Allow me to introduce you to some of our associates." She offered, leading me out to the main floor, "You've already met Dr. Octavius, of course, and General Chain, I'm sure you're familiar with. Here, we have Howard Stark-"

Of course I knew who Howard Stark was, anyone who wasn't living under a rock knew who he was. He wasn't the spry, handsome, young playboy he once was, but he still had an air of brilliance about him; an air he had most definitely passed on to his son, Tony. Stark smiled warmly at me and shook my hand.

"Major MacDowell, we're looking forward to seeing what will become of you after today." He said, "Though, I doubt anyone could top the efforts of Steve Rogers. No offense."

"None taken, Mr. Stark."

"Please, call me Howard." He insisted.

"Then by all means, everyone here should call me Mac. My entire battalion does." I smiled.

"At least there's someone here who isn't trying to turn into a carbon copy of Rogers." A nasally voice remarked from across the room. Leaning against a set of computers was a man about twenty or so years younger than Stark, with a bit of a bored expression on his face.

"And this is Dr. Hank Pym. One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s consulting scientists." Director Carter said politely. He didn't wave or anything, but I acknowledged him with a small nod, which seemed to be enough for him. As she began to list of the names of a few other military officials and a couple of senators, I found my gaze drawn to the pod at the center of the room.

This was happening... it was really happening.

"Major, are you ready?" Stark asked me. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Excellent." Dr. Octavius walked over to me and shook my hand, "Please remove your shirt, shoes and dog tags."

I did as instructed, leaving on only my fatigue pants and a black sports bra. The pod lowered itself until it was parallel to the floor, Octavius motioned for me to lay down on it. I looked up at the observation room that sat in the northwest corner of the room, letting out a small sigh of relief when I saw Dr. Lawson standing there next to General Chain. She offered me a small nod of reassurance and I set myself down on the bed. A couple of nurses began prepping the serum while another one prepped my shoulder for an injection.

"Nurse Reilly will now administer a precautionary dose of penicillin." Stark informed me as the nurse sent a needle deep into my arm and hit the plunger.

"Let's get this over with then." Pym sighed. Director Carter made her way up to the observation room while Stark grabbed a microphone and began to give a little spiel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, officers and senators, welcome. While it may seem like a lifetime ago, it wasn't so many years back that I stood in a room similar to this to witness the rebirth of Captain Steven Grant Rogers. And today, we are here to witness the rebirth of the super soldier era. Major Paige MacDowell, today you become not only the first in a new line of soldiers, you become the first in a new line of heroes."

There was a bit of applause from the observation room before Stark set the microphone down and turned to Octavius.

"Dr. Octavius, let's begin."

Injection pads lowered themselves onto my shoulders, my stomach and my legs with the press of a button. With the press of another, small cylindrical vials filled with bright blue liquid began to drain. There was a sharp, pinching pain all throughout my body, as though a lightning bolt had been sent through me. The pod began to lift me up until I was perpendicular to the ground. After a minute or two the pain subsided.

"Serum injection complete. Preparing for Vita Radiation." Octavius announced. The pod began to close itself, sealing me inside. Once the pod locked shut, someone knocked on it from the other side.

"Mac, you okay in there?" Howard Stark's muffled voice asked me.

"Yeah," I replied loudly, "Though I think I may be claustrophobic after this."

I heard a few laughs on the other side, I must've been mic'd up. Suddenly, the small window that I had became invisible as a white light filled the pod. At first, the presence of the light sent a tingling sensation through my body. But as the light became brighter, the tingling became a dull, steady pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the light continued to grow brighter and pain grew sharper. I bit back the desire to yell in pain until it became too unbearable to handle. The sound that escaped me was unrecognizable, almost animalistic, but it fell away almost instantaneously when the light disappeared and the pain subsided.

The pod opened up with a steam-filled hiss and suddenly a rush of cool air greeted me. Stark and Pym rushed over and helped me down when the injection pads removed themselves. From a glance, I realized that I now stood an inch or two taller, so that I matched both scientists in height. I looked down and saw a well-defined four-pack, in fact, every muscle in my body seemed to have been given a major tune up. I felt... new, like I was a mint condition action figure just taken out of the box.

Director Carter and General Chain came jogging out of the observation room, Lawson seemed frozen in place.

"How do you feel, kid?" Pym asked me as we came to a stop.

"Fantastic." I panted, a dopey grin on my face, "Like I could do a triathlon and run straight into a marathon without breaking a sweat."

"That's good to hear." General Chain said, "Because from here on out, you work for Director Carter."

My grin fell away, delight replaced by confusion, "What do you mean, Chain?"

Carter smiled softly, "I believe the good general means to welcome you to S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent MacDowell."

"So when you said we'd be working closely, this is what you meant." I said in understanding. I paused for a moment, then looked her in the eye, "Working under a woman of your caliber will be an honor. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it without question."

"Spoken like a true soldier." She remarked, a playful smile gracing her lips, "But you're not a soldier anymore, Paige. You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, which means that you're first and only priority is doing what you believe is right to make the world safe. Is that clear?"

"As crystal, ma'am." I answered. She extended her hand to me. I shook it, and followed her out of the room, into a new chapter.

#carol danvers x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #marveledit #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanov x reader #avengers x reader #original character #avengers endgame #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #peter parker x reader

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brooklynblerd · 4 years

Text

So You Want To Be An Ally

Over the last 2 weeks, I have been fielding many white-guilt questions at work and having very interesting conversations and Zoom calls. Overall, they have been well received, but I am not sure if anything will happen once this is no longer a hot topic. I hope we keep up the momentum, but the media and Politicians and other power holders will try to silence us as quickly as possible. All of the companies realizing that #BlackLivesMatter will inevitably fade away as well. WE HAVE TO KEEP THE PRESSURE ON. So I made a list of talking points for the company that I work for, I hope they put it to use. I will begin sending this to anyone that reaches out to me to “talk” or “to see if I am ok”. While I appreciate the concern (if it’s genuine), I cannot continue being your only Black friend or the only Black person that you feel comfortable speaking to.

I saw this on Twitter recently, White privilege doesn't mean that your life hasn't been hard, it just means that the color of your skin isn't one of the things that makes it harder. I think this pretty much sums up what white people need to understand, what those people calling themselves our allies need to understand. Having Black pride & saying Black Lives Matter should not offend anyone. It does not mean that we are anti white people.

Black people are not a monolith. While we have all experienced racism in some form or another, we do not share the exact same experiences with it. To try and get an overall view of the different types of racism, you need to speak to many different Black people. Stop treating us as a collective, we are all individuals. Racism has permeated every single institution in this country. Education, Housing, Banking, Healthcare, Criminal Justice, Entertainment, etc. Racism is very much systemic, not always overt. There are also many different microaggressions that do not present as overt racism. Also, if we are going to have these discussions, please make sure that we feel safe, that we will be heard without reprimand or cynicism or disbelief. Our silence is the reason why this has gone on for so long. We want to be heard. We are no longer willing to stay invisible. Fear makes many of us stay silent, not willing to upset the status quo.

Revamp your hiring strategy/quota. People and organizations tend to conflate diversity and inclusivity. They are NOT the same. While there are many women, LGBTQIA members, Black and other People of Color, the Executives, Sales Management, and HR do not reflect this.

Conversations about race and other social justice issues are uncomfortable. Having these conversations without any Black and People of color present is pointless. Make sure you have Black people and other People of Color in any discussions you have regarding race relations and any other social justice issues. Empathy and sympathy is great, but it will not replace an actual experience.

Understand that the current state of the world has been a long time coming. George Floyd was the straw that broke the camel's back. The only difference is that everyone has a camera now and the police aren't doing themselves any favors by brutalizing everyone who is protesting police brutality.

Acknowledge your privilege. Acknowledge that the system is built to benefit you more than it does us and that it always has.

Saying "I'm not racist" isn't enough anymore. You have to be anti-racist. You have to stop the jokes, stereotypes, etc amongst your circle of friends and family members. This will be hard. But Black and Brown lives have to matter more than offending anyone that is unwilling to change.

Racism is not up to Black people and other People of Color to solve. This wasn't created or instituted by us and as we remain the "minority" in positions of power, we are unable to change it. We only have the ability to fight it, to rise up and demand change. To show that we will no longer take it. We will no longer be silent. We were all taught to be quiet and hold our feelings in to make sure that white people are comfortable. To make sure that we don’t appear threatening or angry. That is changing. Things will not go back to the way that they were.

Books to read in your journey of becoming an ally:

How To Be An Antiracist - Ibram X. Kensi

White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism - Robin Diangelo

So You Want To Talk About Race - Ijeoma Oluo

Me and white Supremacy - Layla F. Saad

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration In The Age of Colorblindness - Michelle Alexander

Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America - Ibram X. Kendi

Between the World and Me - Ta-Nehisi Coates

Notes of A Native Son - James Baldwin

Born A Crime - Trevor Noah

Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower - Brittany Cooper

Reproductive Injustice: Racism, Pregnancy, and Premature Birth - Dana-Ain Davis

Racism without Racists: Colorblind Racism and the Persistence of Racial Inequality in the United States - Edwardo Bonilla-Silva

Towards the Other America: Anti-Racist Resources for White People Taking Action for Black Lives Matter - Chris Crass

Two Faced Racism: Whites in the Backstage and Frontstage - Leslie Picca and Joe Feagin

How To Be Less Stupid About Race: On Racism, White Supremacy and the Racial Divide - Crystal Fleming

The Ethnic Project: Transforming Racial Fiction into Ethnic Factions - Vilna Bashi Treitler

Race and Racisms: A Critical Approach - Tanya Golash Boza

Racist America: Roots, Current Realities, and Future Reparations - Joe Feagin

White Rage; the Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide - Carol Anderson

Black Americans - Alphonso Pinkney

Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to Present - Harriet Washington

The Hollywood Jim Crow: The Racial Politics of the Movie Industry- Maryann Erigha

Code of the Street - Elijah Anderson

The Wretched of the Earth - Frantz Fanon

The Mis-Education of the Negro - Carter Woodson

UNESCO General History of Africa, Vol.1 - Joseph Zerbo

UNESCO General History of Africa, Vol. 2 - G. Mokhtar

Black Wealth/White Wealth - Melvin Oliver and Thomas Shapiro

Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? And Other Conversations About Race - Beverly Daniel Tatum

Uprooting Racism: How White People Can Work for Racial Justice - Paul Kivel

Witnessing Whiteness - Shelly Tochluk

Race Talk and the Conspiracy of Silence: Understanding and Facilitating Difficult Dialogues on Race - Derald Wing Sue

The Emperor Has No Clothes: Teaching about Race and Racism to People Who Don't Want to Know - Tema Jon Okun

Understanding White Privilege: Creating Pathways to Authentic Relationships Across Race - Frances Kendall

The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: How White People Profit from Identity Politics - George Lipsitz

Waking Up White, and Finding Myself in the Story of Race - Debby Irving

How I Shed My Skin: Unlearning the Racist Lessons of a Southern Childhood - Jim Grimsley

Everyday White People Confront Racial and Social Injustice: 15 Stories - editors = Eddie Moore, Marguerite W. Penick-Parks & Ali Michael

Understanding and Dismantling Racism: The Twenty-First Century Challenge to White America - Joseph Barndt

Beyond the Pale: White Women, Racism, and History - Vron Ware

Charleston Syllabus: Readings on Race, Racism, and Racial Violence - editors = Chad Williams, Kidada E. Williams & Keisha N. Blain

We Have Not Been Moved: Resisting Racism and Militarism in 21st Century America - editors = Elizabeth Betita Martinez, Matt Meyer & Mandy Carter. Forward by Cornel West. Afterword by Alice Walker & Sonia Sanchez

killing rage: Ending Racism - bell hooks

Acting White? Rethinking Race in Post-Racial America - Devon W. Carbado and Mitu Gulati

Towards Collective Liberation: Anti-Racist Organizing, Feminist Praxis, and Movement Building Strategy - Chris Crass

White Like Me: Reflections on Race form A Privileged Son - Tim Wise

White Trash: Race and Class in America - editors = Annalee Newitz & Matt Wray

Rise of the Warrior Cop: The Militarization of America's Police Forces - Radley Balko

Race Traitor - editors = Noel Ignatiev & John Garvey

Feeling White: Whiteness, Emotionality, and Education (Cultural Pluralism #2) - Cheryl E. Matias

Disrupting White Supremacy

Hillbilly Nationalists, Urban Race Rebels, and Black Power: Community Organizing in Radical Times - AmySonnie, James Tracy

For White Folks Who Teach in The Hood...and the Rest of Y'all Too: Reality Pedagogy and Urban Education (Race, Education, and Democracy) - Christopher Emdin

Benign Bigotry: The Psychology Subtle Prejudice - Kristin J. Anderson

Subversive Southern: Anne Braden and the Struggle for Racial Justice in the Cold War South (Civil Rights and the Struggle for Black Equality in the Twentieth Century) - Catherine Fosl

How Jews Became White Folks and What That Says About Race in America - Karen Brodkin

America's Original Sin: Racism, White Privilege, and the Bridge to a New America - Jim Wells

Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race - Reni Eddo-Lodge

Living Into God's Dream: Dismantling Racism in America - editor = Catherine Meeks

Promise And A Way Of Live: White Antiracist Activism - Becky Thompson

What Does It Mean to Be White?: Developing White Racial Literacy (Counterpoints #398) - Robin Diangelo

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minaminokyoko · 5 years

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Toy Story 4: A Spoilertastic Review

*huge sigh of relief* Disney/Pixar, y'all had me worried.

Truly. Honestly. Not that you guys aren't amazing, but the Toy Story films have a legacy that almost no other franchise period has: three perfect movies, and movies that improved with each sequel. Most of the time, trilogies can't pull that off. Sometimes you get three that are good, but there's a straggler in the bunch, like the original Star Wars trilogy or The Dark Knight saga. Like a lot of folks, I was sweating bullets when they announced TS4 because this is one of the only trilogies where each sequel was friggin' better than the last, and TS3, imo, might be the best Disney/Pixar film period. Honestly, it stands at the top of just animated films period, and so I was very nervous to think about trying for a fourth one.

I am very pleased to say TS4 is a worthy sequel. It's not empty, it's not lazy, it's great. I personally put it on the same level as the first movie. I do consider TS2 and TS3 to be better than this one, but not for a bad reason, simply because it's attempting something different from the previous films. This is another all-positive review for me; all I've got are nitpicks, no cons at all. Disney/Pixar did a great job creating what a friend of mine referred to as an epilogue story. That sounds about right to me. It's like there's a trilogy and an epilogue now to the Toy Story saga.

Overall Grade: A

Spoilers ahead.

-I really want to dive in to talk about the fact that while it might upset some people, this movie is about Woody, almost exclusively, and I actually like that a lot. I don't mind at all that this is a snapshot of dealing with change through Woody's perspective, and you know why? Man. Woody is a fucking great character. Really. To his core, he's a phenomenal, landmark, memorable character. I think as the years pass and people reevaluate what films will stand the test of time, animated or otherwise, people will realize that Woody is such a well-written, well-acted character. One of the things that I think got everyone ugly sobbing in TS3 was the way that Andy described Woody: "He'll never give up on you." That's it. That's why Woody is just such a charming character. He will do whatever it takes to do the right thing for the kids. Every time. No matter what it costs him. And that's why this movie took a big risk in breaking up the Toy Story family, but at the same time, it's giving Woody a path that allows him to do something he loves and that is important to him, and for him to be happy in the process. It's a very surprising and unique but realistic idea that Bonnie, while a great kid, wasn't the kid for Woody. But he cared so much for her that he wanted to make sure she got the right toy that will help her learn and grow. That's...fucking amazing, man. I got choked up. I really did. Woody's heart is so huge. And I love that this movie showed that he's been through some rough stuff and that it was time for him to be able to find his own happiness while still being able to help kids, because that's who he is. He's a leader. He cares to a fault. Woody is such a rich character and I'm really glad they got to focus on him and gave him a good send off. It's quite touching. I hate the idea of the gang breaking up, but the movie does an excellent job of explaining change. I like this motif. Things change. Something you always dreamt of might be different. Or things end and you have to move on and try something else. It's a great lesson for all of us to learn, and it took some serious courage to do that in a franchise so known for its ensemble cast and family. I dig it. I truly do.

-Bo and Woody had me all up in my feels. Oh, man. When she was taken...my fucking heart...oh, that hit me right in the feels. I love how they filmed the reunion, too, that the first time he saw her again they were both having to be inert at the time. That was so cleverly done, and it's so apparent how soft they are for each other. It's really sweet. I enjoyed getting to see their dynamic, even with things being strained between them. The hat thing gets me every time. I love nuance, and Bo pulling down his hat is just the cutest little gesture that sells the entire relationship. I enjoyed Bo getting to be active and frankly badass, because it's super cool to see a girl's toy everyone would think is too delicate to be played with be at the forefront of the action.

-I enjoyed Gabby being a sympathetic antagonist. That's awesome. I always applaud movies that can pull it off. It's easy to write a one note villain. It's much, much harder to write one who has a story and who has something that they want, and that the hero is standing in their way. I also think it's a GREAT lesson for kids growing up. Sometimes the thing you think you want isn't what it seems. There are going to be SO many moments in a kid's life where they've been dying to get something, and it's a big disappointment in the end, or they don't get it at all. Wow. Powerfully done. And the scene with the little lost girl damn near made me shed actual tears. That was nothing short of beautiful. Because that is what it's like for kids. Kids get scared, and sometimes the smallest thing encourages them. It hearkens back to what Woody did on Bonnie's first day, getting her the supplies to make Forky and getting her confidence and creativity up. Fuck, that melted my heart. Gabby's story was fantastic, and touching, and a really good use of an antagonist. I was very, very satisfied with how they handled it.

-Centering everything as one big chase scene, kind of Mad Max: Fury Road in a weird way, was a lot of fun. It kept you guessing and it kept things fresh. I also am really impressed that they managed to unnerve the unholy hell out of me with Gabbie and the puppets. I'm actually not scared of puppets, but the way that they moved was very, very creepy, and I would never have expected it from Toy Story. Nice job, guys.

-Forky is the right balance of being a naive, hapless character without being annoying. I was worried his antics would get old, but actually, no. I didn't hate him. I like that Woody was frustrated, but he didn't hate the little guy and he wasn't jealous of him. He did the right thing and he helped Forky understand what toys are all about, and it's very heartwarming.

-Duke Kaboom was such a treat. I'm really happy everyone is now on the Keanu boat, because I've been a stan for that man since the fucking 90's and it's so satisfying to see others join me. He really is a fun, sweet human being, and his character is delightfully over the top. I loved him. It worked really well with the rest of the film, and I am all about the Keanussance/Reevessance that's going on right now. Keep it up. You're breathtaking.

-Goodness me, I just need to note how gorgeous the effects are. I mean, it's Disney/Pixar, it's always gorgeous, but for instance, the rain sequence in the beginning was incredible. That water...man...they are so exceptional at details and realism all while still creating their own look. Bravo, man.

-The payoff of the little guy getting his high five finally was fucking adorable. This is what makes me love Disney/Pixar so much, too. It's the little things that put a smile on your face. How cute.

Nitpicks:

-Key and Peele were annoying. There. I said it. I fucking hate them both, and they were annoying. But thank God, they were more cameo characters than main leads. Throw them both in the trash, though. Ugh.

-I don't like that Gabby needing to switch out the voice box had zero consequences. That was...odd. And kind of like cheating. I got really excited when Woody allowed it to happen so he could get Forky back, but then nothing bad happened. I thought that maybe Woody's voice would be damaged, go in and out, or he'd be mute, and it would show what a sacrifice he made for Bonnie. Nope. It had no negative consequences, so it almost makes me wonder why they did that. It ended up a moot point, and invalidated the conflict.

-I'm waffling on how I feel about Bonnie just forgetting about Woody entirely. Mind you, this is realistic. This is how small kids work. They move abruptly and often without explanation. But thematically, I sort of wanted her to notice him gone, if only to tie off how I felt about how far Woody was willing to go to make her happy. But at the same time, that's kids for you. Things happen fast. She's going to be happy, and so will the rest of the toys, and that's the most important thing in the end.

-I did actually want a longer scene of just Woody and Bo together, catching up. I don't feel robbed, but I was letdown because I wanted to know more about them since they seem to truly click and feel strongly for one another. I'd have liked to see them just sit and talk for a moment, but the film had too much urgency, so unfortunately we had to keep moving.

I only just got home, so I don't know if other reviews are out, but let me go ahead and say that if anyone is shitting on this film, I guarantee you it's people who don't like change. This film is different and it takes risks and in the end, it is about Woody and not the rest of the toys, so it is going to step on some toes. However, it has earned a spot on the shelf next to the other movies. Trust me, its heart is in the right place and it's still keeping our legacy of films on par with each other. I don't feel that it takes anything away from them, and is simply a send off to a character I think will stand the test of time as one of the greats. I'm glad it was just as worthy as I hoped it would be.

#toy story 4 #toy story #movie review #film review #spoilers #spoiler alert

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inkbun · 6 years

Note

So what about Dva's S/o is is slightly famous but is feeling insecure about themselves becauses they think all of their followers are just because they are dating Dva

Ayyy, my first D.Va prompt. Keep ‘em coming y'all, I’m loving all these specific jump-off points. This one was hella easy since I stream too (not regularly or on a schedule anymore bc I’m trying to finish this damn book, but hey). Enjoy! 🐰

D.Va

Words: 1,481

Genre: Hurt & Comfort

“Who’s next in the queue?” you asked, picture-perfect grin on your face.

You glanced at your stream stats on the monitor: 103 concurrent viewers, 2 hours uptime, 88 new followers.

An explosion of “ME!,” Kappas, and emotes flooded your chat.

Stream had gone swimmingly the past few weeks—you were easing into Starcraft II after Hana suggested you try something more competitive. You were more of a Stardew Valley type, but damned if it didn’t help to let off a little steam via a realtime strat game.

You took to it like a fish in pixelated, alien-riddled water, and your follower count was skyrocketing.

Whether that was because of your gameplay or your girlfriend was yet to be seen. To their credit, most of your followers were chill about your love life. But that didn’t mean you avoided her rabid fans.

Yes, you were dating Hana Song, better known to anyone with an ounce of pop culture awareness as D.Va. Yes, you also loved gaming and junk food. Yes, you know she was the best gamer to hit the SC2 comp scene.

Yes, you knew how lucky you were.

Hell, you were once one of those people without an ounce of pop culture awareness. You and Hana met in a convenience store in Tokyo. She was on vacation from the MEKA program back home in Korea, and you were abroad with your friends. While they ooh'd and ahh’d over all the foreign snacks, you were too struck by the pretty girl with the neko headphones and scowl on her face to notice.

You wandered down the shrimp chip aisle, pretending to look at all the different flavors. When she was close enough you took your shot.

“Hey, do you know anything about these garlic parsley chips? It’s my first time trying them and—”

“I don’t have any autographs or goodies on me, okay?” she quipped, ducking her head into the crux of her baggy grey hoodie. “Please, I’m just trying to enjoy some time off.”

Bewildered, you apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother. It’s my first time so far from home and I was hoping for some guidance on what’s good here…I’ll just ask the clerk.”

Hana glared at you with narrowed eyes, looking between you and the package in your hand.

“Wait, you mean you didn’t pick them up because they’re Bunny Approved?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” you asked, looking at the pink-and-white bunny sprite in the top corner.

Aside from its cutesy scowl, it had no significance to you. Sure, you’d noticed it on energy drinks, donuts, and other junk food, but you just thought it was a quirky cartoon character.

Here this gorgeous, albeit pissed woman was, staring at you like were from Mars. Cautiously, she held a hand out to you.

“I’m Hana, Hana Song.”

“I’m, ________. Nice to meet you.”

You shook her hand, ignoring the flutter in your chest, or the scent of bubblegum that accompanied her words. She smiled at you, pink whiskers on her cheeks molding around her dimples.

“Wanna grab some boba?” she said, hand still wrapped around yours. All you could do was nod.

Fast forward a year, and the two of you were inseparable. You’d packed up, moved to Seoul, and taken up streaming in-between your shifts as a mech technician.

In the time since you’d learned about your girlfriend’s fame and adapted to the unending swirl of fan attention it generated.

Which is exactly why you kept your love life separate from your hobbies. Your stream name was different than any of your other accounts, and you went to great lengths to keep all D.Va or MEKA-related inquiries confined to Hana’s Q&A with fans or other designated appearances.

You loved your girlfriend very much and wholly respected her prowess as both protector and master entertainer. Still, you were fiercely independent and wanted to carve out a name for yourself on your own, not just as “D.Va’s Significant Other.”

All of that went out the window when she started popping into your stream room mid-broadcast. At first, it was accidental.

The visor on her mech had cracked during a mission and she needed a quick-seal before deploying for sentry duty that night. You were streaming Stardew, chatting with your regulars before you saw the chorus of messages.

OMG is that DVA?!?

______, you didn’t tell us you were dating her!!1

MEKA: activated. Bunny hop: on.

Can she say hi???

You looked behind you to see a Pepto-pink MEKA looming in the oversized doorway. To her credit, Hana handled it well, ejecting from the seat to apologize for barging in. Aside from the wet kiss and little wink she gave the camera, she kept the cutesy antics to a minimum, happy to let you be the star of your own show.

Then it started happening with greater frequency. It became customary for her to hang out for a few, answer some questions from your viewers, and join you for stream sign-off.

For the most part you didn’t mind, glad to have your girlfriend by your side. She wasn’t overbearing, and the two of you got to spend some rare downtime in the hour or so after.

Once the secret was out, you saw your stream stats go up until you were a starlet of your own regard. Still, it unnerved you at times, the idea that people only hung around to get a glimpse of the famous D.Va.

You made it through 3 hours of queued games tonight before she showed up, sending your chat into a frenzy once more.

She was beat-up from combat, sections of her bodysuit singed with plasma ash and face smudged with dirt. Despite the exhaustion from a long day at work, her face lit up when she saw you.

Plopping in your lap, she gave you a big hug and kiss.

“I’m home!” she announced.

You pushed away from the keyboard, shifted her hips against the armrest to get comfortable. “I see that.”

No matter how much the media tried to paint her as a teenage darling, you saw the weight and sadness being in the MEKA program placed on her.

Though barely 20, Hana was no longer a burgeoning mech pilot. She was a damned war veteran who chose everyday to plaster a smile on her face and emerge as D.Va, the Pink Ray of Hope.

I know better.

“You still live?” said Hana, glancing at the blue light on your webcam.

“Yeah.” You could sense the urgency in her words, the glisten in her big brown eyes. She was breaking.

“Sign off.”

You did, making your excuses and ignoring the whinging from folks who didn’t get to see their “daily dose of D.Va.”

Choosing to ignore how grossly objectifying that sounded, you hit the “Stop Streaming” button. Once the light went dark and your offline screen popped up, you twined your fingers in her hair.

“What happened today?”

“We went to Oasis,_____. I saw things there—terrible things the Omnics did, the experiments they conducted on children to give them powers. I just thought, ‘if I’d decided to go to school there instead of joining the MEKA pilots,’ I could’ve been one of them!”

You pulled away to see the depth of horror on her face. You’d heard of Oasis, knew the supposed “advancements” they made bordered on inhumane in their methods of discovery. Still, you never knew Hana had been invited to study there.

“Well you’re not, and you’re fighting evil which is all that matters,” you said, cradling her against your chest.

She cried, hot tears wetting your shirt. You shushed her, rocking slightly and petting her hair.

It was times like this she felt fragile, liable to break under all the expectations the world hefted on her. You’d gone live tonight expecting to have an audience without Hana, hoping she’d forget to show at the end of stream.

Petty as it was, you wanted to have something all your own, felt insecure at times about the truth of your own growing community and their intentions.

If tonight proved anything to you, it was the power of your love. Sure, your community and your growing “fame” were cool—you’d be remiss to deny that. And sure, some of that clout might be bolstered by you dating one of the world’s top professional gamers.

But all of that meant nothing if your girl wasn’t okay. Watching her cheery, bright facade crack from the sheer volume of suffering, combat, and violence she was subjected to served as a grim reminder.

Your community may come and go, your fame may grow or wane, but Hana was your everything.

Nuzzling her neck with soft kisses, you whispered in her ear: “You and me, love? We’re gonna save the world.”

Her teary grin and hiccup laugh lanced your chest—god, you loved this woman.

“Damn right.”

#sabbry26 #dva x reader #d.va x reader #hana song x reader #hana song #dva #d.va #dva overwatch #d.va overwatch #overwatch imagines #overwatch imagine #ovw imagines #ovw fic #ow imagine #ow imagines #overwatch #ovw #owimagines

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attraversiamo19 · 6 years

Text

Always

Well guys, here’s my first fanfic. I would love feedback if you take the time to read.

Thanks so much to @ereri-writing-prompts for the prompt and to @omglevixeren for reading through it. I greatly appreciate it. <3

Read on AO3 or under the cut.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan

Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Bittersweet, Older Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Older Eren Yeager, Memory Loss, Ereri Writing Prompts, I just want them to grow old together y'all, I promise it's not all sad

Summary: Despite the trials of old age, Eren will be always be there for Levi. No matter what.

Eren knows that Levi doesn’t care what people think of him, not really.

He’s unapologetically himself and people who can’t tolerate that - or appreciate it, even - aren’t worth his time. But Levi does take pride in his appearance. Never understood teenagers who went into public without even pulling a brush through their hair, or people in the grocery store wearing their pajamas. It’s not vanity by any means, but it’s important to him that he looks put together.

Even after all these years, Levi still irons his pants.

Eren thinks it’s silly and often chastises him gently for it whenever he walks into the bedroom to find Levi setting up the ironing board.

“We’re old now. We get to walk around in wrinkled pants if we want to. It’s a privilege,” he would say with mock exasperation. And Levi would simply roll his eyes and nod and carry on with what he was doing.

They know each other far too well by now for Levi to let Eren’s words bother him. It has been almost 40 years, after all.

Eren drags himself up out of the recliner in the living room where he’s reading and shuffles toward the bathroom. It’s not a joke when they say you’ve gotta pee more often as an old guy. An older guy. Whatever.

Partway down the hallway though, he hesitates due to the smell of something burning. Concerned, he changes direction immediately and heads back to check the kitchen. They had toast that morning for breakfast, perhaps the toaster oven was left on and was burning up some crumbs.

The kitchen looks and smells normal. Eren frowns. “Levi? Do you smell something burning?” He calls down the hallway to their bedroom.

The sudden shrill beeping of the smoke detector from their bedroom confirms what Eren’s nose already knows.

“Shit.” Levi’s curse is quiet but still audible enough for Eren to hear the frustration in his voice. Alarmed, he moves quickly despite the ache in his muscles to the bedroom. Levi stands a few feet from the ironing board, silver hair drooping into his eyes and a horrified expression on his face.

Small flames lick up around the iron, which is laying down on a pair of what Eren assumes was, until about two minutes ago, slacks.

The fire is easy enough to put out, once Eren has snapped Levi into action and grabbed several towels from their bathroom to smother it.

When the flames are extinguished, Eren snags the back-scratcher next to their bed and taps the button on the smoke detector to silence it.

He turns to Levi. “What happened?” Eren asks, bewildered.

Levi sits on the edge of their bed, looking down at his hands wringing nervously in his lap. His brow is furrowed and he won’t meet Eren’s eyes.

“Nothing.” Levi glances up quickly at Eren. “It was nothing. I left the room for a minute to check something on the computer. It’s not a big deal.” Levi looks over to the ironing board to examine the damage and mutters, “Shit. This all needs to be replaced.”

Eren sits down beside him on the bed and places his left hand gently over Levi’s, still wringing in his lap. Levi’s hands stop moving.

“Levi,” Eren says quietly. “Look at me.”

Levi sighs deeply, then turns his face toward Eren.

Eren reaches up and pushes a bit of Levi’s hair out of his eyes. When Eren had first met him all those years ago, he had been struck by Levi’s eyes. A deep steel gray with a hint of blue that reminded Eren of the ocean on a stormy day.

Aside from some extra wrinkles around the edges, they’ve stayed exactly the same.

Eren is intimately acquainted with the intense range of emotion that Levi’s eyes communicate. Emotions that the casual observer would miss entirely. And right now…

Right now they’re haunted. Filled with embarrassment, with frustration.

With fear.

Eren’s heart hurts. Levi is the bravest person he’s ever met. His eyes should never be filled with fear like this. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

Levi looks away from him, down at the floor, and pulls his hands from Eren’s. He begins to fidget with some piling on his bathrobe.

“This isn’t the first time,” he says, almost inaudible.

Eren stays silent, giving him the time to formulate the words.

“Last week I left water boiling on the stove. Was going to make noodles. Forgot about it. Completely scorched the pan when the water all boiled off.”

“When did this happen?” And how had he missed it?

“You were visiting Mikasa. I took care of it all before you got home,” Levi answers.

Eren just nods at this. They sit silently, Levi continuing to pick at his bathrobe and Eren utterly still, staring at a stain on the carpet that Levi has never been able to banish despite countless tries over the years.

How long has this been going on?

There had been little things, if Eren’s honest with himself.

Things like leaving the cap off the tube of toothpaste. Or forgetting to pick up coffee beans on a grocery run. Or the television being left on overnight when they’d talked repeatedly about saving money on the electricity bill.

Levi had always been so detail-oriented. So vigilant.

But just last week he had left the stove on when they left the house. And just a few nights ago the front door was left open overnight, when Levi had told Eren to go to sleep, he took care of it, don’t worry about it.

It’s true they’re both getting older, and Levi is ten years his senior. Technically no one is immune to aging and the forgetfulness that comes with it. It could happen to anyone.

But this isn’t just anyone.

This is Levi.

His Levi.

Eren finally breaks the silence, needs to reassure himself, reassure them both. “Maybe you’re just tired. You have been sleeping a lot more lately--”

“I’m not stupid Eren. I’ve never been this forgetful.”

“I know,” Eren says.

And Levi’s right. It’s always been Levi reminding Eren to pick up his clothes off the bathroom floor. Levi remembering to pick up a gift for Mikasa and Jean’s anniversary. Levi who would discreetly grab Eren’s wallet from the nightstand when they were on their way out the door, shoving it in his pocket and pulling it out with an amused smile the moment Eren realized he had forgotten it.

“What can I do?” Eren asks.

Levi scoffs at this. “Nothing. I just need to pay more attention to what I’m doing.”

Eren shakes his head, “There has to be some way I can help though…”

“You could just stick me in an old folk’s home and forget about me.”

“That’s never happening. Asshole.” Eren nudges Levi’s shoulder with his own, and Levi chuckles softly.

A few more moments of silence, then, “I don’t want you to have to care for me, Eren.”

Eren looks at him questiongly.

“I can’t…” Levi trails off. Sighs deeply. Then, steadily, “I can’t be a burden to you. I won’t.”

Eren actually smiles at this and laughs a little. Levi looks at him like he’s gone crazy. “What the hell is funny about this?”

“Levi, I have always cared for you. And I always will,” Eren says.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Well it’s what I mean. I don’t care if you’re wandering around naked with your pants on your head. I’d never abandon you. And you’ll never be a burden.”

Levi stares at him.

Eren leans forward and plants a chaste kiss on Levi’s lips. “I love you.”

Levi refuses to see a doctor. Eren doesn’t push it, but he does do a lot of research about memory loss online. He refuses to google words like “dementia” and “Alzheimer’s” because that’s just ridiculous. Levi isn’t losing himself, and Eren sure as hell isn’t losing Levi.

The websites he finds recommend things that do help. Eren insists on being around when Levi is cooking, climbing up on things - still ironing, for god’s sake - anything potentially dangerous if he were to lose his train of thought.

Levi hates it, Eren knows he does, but Levi puts up with it; he’s learned over the years to accept help from someone he trusts.

They make a lot of lists now too: Grocery lists, morning routine lists, evening routine lists. Eren leaves sticky notes throughout the house, reminding Levi to turn off the stove, lock the front door.

Eren buys a white board for the wall in the kitchen so he can record his plans. That way Levi can always reference them if he gets confused.

They write notes to each other on the bathroom mirror with dry-erase markers, Levi in blue and Eren in green. “Don’t forget to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer!” “I won’t, you idiot.” “I love you!” “I love you too.”

Simple things. Because Levi’s not so far gone that he’s forgotten names or faces.

They spend time together each evening playing card games or chess, because the doctors all say that those kinds of activities are good for “flexing your brain muscles.” Levi, however, says that “flexing your brain muscles” is the most asinine thing he’s ever heard. So Eren uses the phrase as often as he can. Just to make Levi roll his eyes and curse under his breath.

Mikasa and Jean come over every Friday night and the four of them make dinner and watch a movie together. Sometimes Eren catches Levi staring off into the distance during the film, so he’ll grab his hand to place a kiss on the back of Levi’s palm and give him a smile. Trying to pull him back into the present.

Sometimes Levi smiles back at him. Sometimes he doesn’t.

“I forgot who Mikasa was tonight,” Levi says to Eren one Friday after Jean and Mikasa have gone home for the evening. They’re sitting side by side on the couch, Levi working on a sudoku puzzle and Eren reading a book.

Eren’s stomach clenches. He marks his page and sets his book down in his lap. Forces his tone to be neutral. “Mikasa is my sister.”

“I know that now,” Levi glances up at him from his puzzle with annoyance, then flicks his eyes back down. “But for a few minutes... I just stared at her and wondered who she was and why she was here in our house.”

He keeps his eyes down on his puzzle, and Eren doesn’t respond right away. His mouth has gone dry.

Levi’s never been good at being vulnerable. At opening himself up, even to Eren. He’s gotten better over the years, but god, it must have taken a lot of courage for Levi to share this with him. Or, maybe courage is the wrong word.

Levi looks back up at him, searching Eren’s face. “I just thought you should know,” he says quietly with a shrug.

Eren doesn’t really know what to say to that. Not out loud, at least.

He meets Levi’s eyes again, and Levi gives him a small sad smile. Then he closes his puzzle book and silently scooches over on the couch until he’s pressed up against Eren and resting his head on Eren’s shoulder.

Eren leans down to kiss the shorter man lightly on the crown of his head and breathes in the scent of him. They’re going to be okay.

It’s not all sad smiles and nervous stomachs though.

“Eren!” Levi hollers from down the hall.

“Yeah?” Eren shouts back, hoisting himself painfully out of his chair and heading toward the sound of Levi’s voice. “Everything okay?”

“Just come back here please,” Levi responds, panic in his voice.

Eren’s expecting another fire, or worse. But as far as Eren knows, Levi was only doing laundry.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Levi is indeed standing in the laundry room. The washing machine is spewing out copious amounts of soap bubbles. They’ve pooled around Levi’s ankles, and they’re quickly growing into a mountain that is blocking Levi off from the doorway.

“I must’ve added soap instead of detergent…” Levi trails off, almost in a daze, before finally meeting Eren’s eyes with a horrified expression.

Eren glances down at the expanding onslaught of bubbles, then back at Levi. And he can’t help it. He tries, tries so hard to muffle the laughter that is beginning to spill out from behind the hand clamped over his mouth. But it’s no use.

Levi smiles then, because he knows Eren isn’t laughing at him. The sheer ludicrousness of the situation hits him, and now Levi is suppressing laughter, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

Finally pulling his hand away from his face, Eren allows the laughter to come out full force, and he begins to walk toward Levi, directly through the path of the creeping bubbles.

“Eren,” Levi breathes, laughter breaking apart his sentence, “You’ll make even more of a mess.”

Eren reaches down to pick up a handful of bubbles and unceremoniously deposits them right on top of Levi’s head before leaning down to plant an obnoxiously loud kiss on his cheek.

Levi bats him away and tries his best to remove the suds from his head. “We should probably turn the fucking machine off or it’s just going to get worse.”

“Let it. This is hilarious,” Eren is still laughing, and Levi rolls his eyes when Eren wraps his arms around his waist with a deep sigh.

“Seriously, turn the thing off. Are you gonna clean this up?” Levi huffs, but he’s smiling, and he holds on to Eren tightly.

They stand this way for a few minutes, just the two of them surrounded by soap bubbles. And Eren thinks that, yeah, sometimes things are tough. Sometimes Levi gets frustrated when he can’t remember. Sometimes he gets cross with Eren for repeatedly reminding him of things.

But moments like this makes everything else worth it.

The past six months have been difficult for them both. Levi recognizes faces less often, and he’s been withdrawn and spending a lot more time alone. Last week he had asked Eren to cancel their weekly dinner with Mikasa and Jean because he didn’t want anybody else to see him like this. Didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him.

Eren had denied the request, saying that spending time with Jean and Mikasa was good for them both. Levi huffed and complained, but had eventually given in. It had actually ended up being a really good night - Levi had been in a great mood and he hadn’t had any issues with forgetting or zoning out.

Their anniversary is coming up next week. Forty-two years. While Levi’s never placed much weight on celebrating birthdays or anniversaries - “It’s just one year closer to dying,” he’s always said - Eren’s a romantic at heart who enjoys celebrating those kinds of milestones. Levi usually relents and plans something.

Eren doesn’t expect anything from Levi this year for their anniversary.

Nowadays, Levi struggles more frequently with basic things like remembering what day it is, or forgetting which drawer the spatulas are in. Sometimes he can’t remember what they did yesterday, or the plans they have for later that night.

Eren has started keeping a journal to record what they’ve done each day and any new important information in their lives. There’s a calendar in there as well where he marks important dates, doctor appointments, things like that. He leaves it on the living room table so Levi can reference it when he’s ‘having a blank’, as they’ve come to call his episodes of forgetting.

Eren leaves the date of their anniversary unmarked.

Levi is under enough stress right now as it is. He doesn’t need the added pressure of trying to plan something for their anniversary. And Eren’s okay with that. He really is.

He loves Levi. And he knows Levi loves him. They don’t need to celebrate their anniversary for that to be true.

Eren sits in his chair by the fireplace with a book, like he does most of the time when he’s home alone now. Except this afternoon he’s not reading. He’s deep in thought, staring blankly at the page in front of him.

The house is quiet, nothing but the ticking of the grandfather clock on the mantle. Mikasa and Jean had come to pick up Levi early that morning so they could go visit Hanji, per Levi’s request. They usually all went together, but Eren had said he hadn’t felt well and had stayed home. He’d needed some time to himself.

He sighs and pulls off his reading glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Today is their anniversary, and Eren hasn’t planned anything to celebrate.

He wants to celebrate, of course he does. But Levi’s already chastising himself for his more frequent blanks and getting increasingly frustrated every time they happen. It’s infuriating for him because he knows it’s happening and he’s powerless to stop it.

Eren would never do anything that could make Levi feel guilty. Like planning something for their anniversary, only to have Levi realize he had forgotten it.

He’d tried not to get his hopes up. No need for that. But despite his efforts, the sliver of hope had been there the past few days. The hope that Levi would remember. That he would say something, anything, to acknowledge their day, even just in passing.

But he hadn’t. Levi had kissed him goodbye this morning as if it was any other day. Which, Eren supposes, to him it probably is.

He hadn’t expected anything, but he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt. The past two years have been hard on Levi, but it’s different for Eren. He’s sitting on the sidelines watching the man he loves slowly slip away from him. Watching Levi beat himself up every day over something he can’t control.

They’re both pretty powerless here, in reality.

Eren shakes the thoughts away and slips his glasses back on so he can attempt to focus on something else other than his thoughts. His book. Right.

He’s just gotten back into his book when his concentration is broken by the creak of the back door. Levi’s home, and Eren smiles. At least they have the rest of the day together, whether or not they’re celebrating.

“How was it?” Eren calls into the kitchen, closing his book and collapsing the recliner before standing up and stretching a bit.

No response.

Eren walks toward the kitchen. “Levi?”

As he rounds the doorway, Levi turns around to face him from where he had been fiddling with something on the counter.

“Everything okay?” Eren asks, eyebrows raised. “How was Hanji?”

“We didn’t go see Hanji.”

Eren’s brow furrows in confusion. “Then where…”

Levi stares at him, eyes searching. Then he sighs. “Did you really forget our anniversary? I’m supposed to be the one with memory loss here, not you.”

Eren doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. “Uh. How did you..?”

“You’re not the only one who keeps a calendar, you idiot.” Levi’s lips quirk up in a smug grin before he turns around to fetch something from the counter behind him.

It’s a small bunch of petite blue flowers tied up in a green ribbon. The same green as Eren’s eyes. Levi thrusts them toward Eren and looks down at the ground. Still so awkward after all these years. Eren loves him all the more for it.

“They’re forget-me-nots.” Levi says. “Seemed… appropriate.”

Eren’s not going to cry. He’s not. But his lip does quiver for a moment before he breaks into a huge grin and closes the space between them. He wraps his arms around the shorter man and envelopes him in a massive bear hug, lifting him up off the ground before Levi can attempt to stop him.

“Eren...” Levi huffs in his ear, a warning in his voice.

Eren laughs heartily and sets him back down. Pulling back from the hug, Eren asks, “So Jean and Mikasa were in on it?”

“I asked them to give me a ride earlier this week, yeah,” Levi confirms. He’s still holding the flowers and he pushes them to Eren’s chest. “Put these in some water, eh?”

Eren takes the flowers but doesn’t move. Levi looks at him now, meeting his eyes, grey on green. Levi’s eyes are glassy, like he’s holding back tears. He takes a deep breath and, a little shakily, says, “Happy Anniversary Eren.”

“I love you, Levi.”

“I love you too,” Levi murmurs.

Eren is certain that his eyes are just as glassy as Levi’s, and there might be a tear slipping down his right cheek, but Levi won’t care. He leans down to touch his forehead to Levi’s and closes his eyes, just appreciating the moment.

When he opens them again, Levi is looking at him. “Thanks for sticking around.”

Eren’s heart clenches and explodes simultaneously.

“Always.”

#ereriwritingprompt3 #ereriwritingprompts #ereri #my writing #eren jeager #levi ackerman #fluff and angst #snk #snk fanfiction

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felicityb-reviews · 6 years

Video

youtube

BTS x Steve Aoki “MIC Drop” Remix

What’s that?!?!?

It’s a Jace (aka Felicity B) with her review of BTS’ MIC Drop (Remix)!!

~The Song~

So.

This is a remix.

If this was anyone else but BTS and Steve Aoki (like the Chainsmokers, for example), I’d have skipped this release and cussed out Big Hit for two weeks gay straight.

But I happened to really enjoy this. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the original (it felt like a cheap imitation of their School Life Trilogy era and didn’t knock hard enough), but I put up with it cause it happened to be a highlight of Love Yourself ~Her~.

Which should tell you everything you need to know about my thoughts on that album.

But MIC Drop the Remix is a B A N G E R, sis!!

Mic Drop the Remix builds upon the foundation laid by the original, and takes it to heights it should have gone. I dare one of y'all hatin’ ass heauxs to say you couldn’t at least nod ya head this. Go ahead, I dare you.

Cause this remix has me turnt up, sis. This remix has Thot Mode Level 69 activating, sis. This remix has me runnin’ up on a bitch like I ain’t got nothing to lose, sis.

THIS REMIX IS BOUTA MAKE ME LOSE MY DAMN JOB, SIS!!!

SHE’S THAT POWERFUL, SIS!!!

I got some complaints, tho -

1) There is entirely too much auto tune, fam. I can barely understand half of what they’re saying in the song (and mind you, this song is ~50% in English), and it’s just so distracting. I get that that is partially a stylistic choice.

I respect that.

But what I cannot respect is that this has been a problem I’ve had with BTS since I started checking for them after We are Bulletproof Pt 2. And it’s only gotten worse. Their voices sound so freaking animatronic!!

This is unacceptable!!

2) This really should have been a Rap Line featuring Taehyung or Jungkook song. You can *clearly* tell this is for Rap Line, so there is absolutely no reason for all seven members to be present. If all the vocal parts are too much for one feature vocal, have them split with Hoseok. Ain’t nobody mad at Hoseok stuntin on a bitch with them vocals.

I mean, there is but they can kiss my black ass

And while we’re at it, chop off that extra af vocal section at the end; it kills the energy of the track and causes it to end like weak ass orgasm. After the release (heh heh heh) of the second chorus and Namjoon actin like he’s about that life (he’s not), have Yoongi repeat the hook till the beat builds enough for another drop. And then end that bitch right.

Now…

I accept PayPal and MasterCard.

~The Video~

This video looks like someone at Big Hit wondered what would happen if they made We are Bulletproof Pt 2 with a bigger budget. And considering the subject matter of the song pretty much makes this We are Bulletproof Pt 3, I am not mad at that at all.

There isn’t much for me to report on here, folks - the camera work is pretty standard, the editing is tight, nothing about the sets jumps out at me. This is a very good video for the song, but it isn’t blow your socks off amazing.

I need to address these wardrobe choices real quick, tho.

And not even everybody’s wardrobe, just Hoseok and Namjoon.

Hoseok… I don’t know who told you those fabric tassels hanging from your hat were cute. Cause they’re not.

I don’t know who told you they looked ~Hood~. Cause they’re not.

I’m just confused as to why you’re wearing them. It’s bad enough y'all are wearing bucket hats (I’m not about to go in on them, but suffice to say that they’re ugly), but you gotta have those things dangling from your, too?!?!?!?!.

Mess™

I mean, I’m glad you aren’t wearing those horrid braid things you wore in the Mic Drop stages in this, but sis… Why couldn’t you have just worn a bandanna in your hair, like Yoongi?!?!?

A fuckin waste…

And Joon… I don’t wanna roast you. Just kidding, I fuckin love roasting you. You are my favorite Bulletproof Bias to roast. But this is just asking for it.

The sad part about this hair is that I know the rationale behind it. Unlike Hobert attaching two feet of fabric from Joanne’s Clearance Fabrics to his hat, this hairstyle was super popular with 1st gen boy bands doing a hip hop concept.

He looks like Jaehyun’s mo whack older brother, circa Limitless era. He looks like he was doing a hair masque before the shoot and forgot to wash that shit out. He fuckin looks ridiculous and idk what kind of style he should have done instead of this, but I just want y'all to know that this isn’t a Cute Look™. I don’t wanna see no Boyfriend RapMan MBs with this foolish hair, y'all. I will rebuke you and your whole entire family if I see it.

Just don’t do it!!!

~The Choreography~

BTS, as of late, have been dabbling in more complex formations in their routines, and it’s been really cool to experience as a fan. Their routines are the same old stuff we know and love from the boys, but they’re presenting it to us in very new ways. They’re breaking off into twos and threes to do specific parts, and I admit that seems kind of simple on paper, but seeing it in action is great.

As much as I loathed DNA (yes, even DNA can get this fire), I put aside any kind of animosity I had for those triflin’ ass breakdowns to watch the live performances, because there’s just something so cool about seeing it performed.

Similar to what I said in the song section, I think this kind of choreography shows off BTS’s potential to break off into units/do solo promo. In fact, I think it’s really kind of lame how BTS faded us all with the solo material on WINGS, just to come back with all group tracks on Love Yourself ~Her~.

We didn’t even get a cypher, sis.

And no, I am not counting Serendipity and HER in that, because those songs are less than two minutes long. Give me full versions, and I’ll consider it.

Anyway.

So.

I guess Kim Taehyung wasn’t content trampling all over my bias list with his singing (he has the best technique in BTS, don’t fuckin’ @ me, bitch) and visuals, he’s decided to up his dancing. Because I need another bias who makes me sweat aggressively when they start two steppin.

He’s in almost all the unit formations, and while I’m happy he’s getting the spotlight he deserves, I’m gonna need him to calm the fuck down.

Or come serve me the D, whichever he feels like doing on this good day

~Overall and Final Thoughts~

*ahem*

LET BTS DO SOLO AND UNIT SHIT, YOU FUCKING COWARDS!!!

That’s it.

That’s literally all there is to this 40 page dissertation I’m calling a review.

I like this remix a lot, but every time I listen to it, I circle back to the thought that this would be a Perfect 10™ if it was a unit feature".

It’s Time™, sis. Even EXO has a sub unit. And y'all KNOW SM Entertainment is Determined™ to shove EXO in our faces as a whole, because of their We Are One bullshit.

It is Time™.

I need whoever is in charge of their music (cause Lordt knows Rap Line has dropped enough hits this era that it isn’t them) to take a risk. Or maybe if y'all don’t wanna do unit promo just yet (even though you should), go the Seventeen route and have them record unit tracks for the album b sides. Teen.Age, much like WINGS, was elevated by the unit tracks.

I just need something different, sis. Because Lord knows that BTS has enough talent to deliver. This remix is more than enough proof.

#bts #felicity b #review #steve aoki #mic drop

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ravencromwell · 7 years

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Thoughts on the Wolf 359 Season 1 Finale

All you folks who followed me in hopes of Wolf 359 meta and who're probably wondering if I've forgotten y'all: fear not. I liked doing ep recaps, and y'all seemed to enjoy perusing my musings, so have my thoughts on the S1 finale, Deep Breaths and Gas Me Twice.

If the other eps won me over on a narrative and structural level, this one's greatest strength is its message. The narrative and structure are fucking fabulous, don't get me wrong, and I'll ramble about them to embarrassing length momentarily, but I finally know what the beating heart of this show is. There were a lot of contenders up to this point: would it be humans vs. aliens? or humans vs. the inhospitable environs of space? or even humans vs. humans? But no: if this episode is anything to go by, it's humans vs. their worst selves, with a splash of humans vs. other humans. And to facilitate this sort of plot successfully, there has to be tremendous emphasis placed on what makes one human n: the creators have to have a fundamental understanding of the quality they think is uppermost in defining "humanity" from other animals, so they can set up folks grappling with and succeeding at achieving whatever it may be.

And the ringing shout at the core of this episode and I hope the core of this podcast is empathy. Not some sort of in-born empathy, but the choice over and over to walk in other people's shoes and to let that define our choices. Hera and Hilbert are set up as brilliant foils: and Hilbert, despite being blessed with all the intelligence that is supposed to make him human, being hampered by none of Hera's limitations--that we're aware of anyway--chooses again and again to remain tied to a code of conduct and a mission no one forces him to maintain, while she always chooses to reach out and help. And it's that choice that saves them all.

[spoilers beneath the cut]

But let's back up a bit, and ponder Doug for a sec before we dive into the darkness that's the last half of this finale. We're starting to see so many of Doug's flaws now, as well as his strengths. I'd say that one of the greatest flaws is that only in adversity do we see that strength. When left to his own devices, he crafts nonsense--if utterly hilarious--hijinks, like attempting to smoke a damn cigarette with an oxygen mask so as not to explode the ship. (Doug, seriously honey, just don't smoke 'till you're home! It's not like they didn't warn you there would be a limit to the luxuries you're accustomed to when you're in the middle of deep space ffs) He more and more strikes me as one of those really smart people who desperately needs external motivation, a really strong support network that can gently redirect his potential, to achieve things. But I'm also starting to wonder if he knows and doesn't much like this about himself. After all, he's the guy who no one remembers the birthday of. Admittedly, it is on Christmas, which does give folks some excuse, but it paints a portrait of someone always kinda buzzing around the fringes of circles, maybe irritating folks a bit, but never really getting close enough to matter enough to be remembered. He's really surprisingly touched when Hera remembers, like all the griping at the beginning of the episode was entirely genuine, if melodramatic in typical brilliant Doug style.

The way Doug uses humor as a defense mechanism is also really coming into focus in these one. The "Gas me once, shame on you. Gas me twice...well, still shame on you. But I'm not fooled" line springs immediately to mind. This's a man they've spent over five hundred days with, who's just utterly betrayed them, and his default response is dry as bone snarck. It forces you to examine some of his melodrama from things like Little Revolución. Was he actually more hurt that Minkowski and Hilbert made such a good team? That every time he thought he and Minkowski might be united in some small thing, she and Hilbert showed that they too were united and he was on the outside? And no wonder he feels such an affinity for Hera: also the outsider, sniped at by Minkowski and dismissed by Hilbert. He treats her the way he wants to be treated: which isn't entirely the correct way to treat her because she is right. There is a chasm between them, and it needs to be acknowledged. But it's a better way than Minkowski or Hilbert, and it calls to something in her, as we see here.

I know from the last couple points, it may seem like I don't like Doug. Which couldn't be further from the truth! I like him a lot, as much because of the flaws we're seeing revealed as anything else. Because if he can transcend those flaws, he has the potential to become something extraordinary. For all his silliness and insecurity, he brims with empathy and I adore him for it. The way he flirts! actually omg flirts with Hera, uses humor to reach out and bridge that chasm, to say see I see you; I believe in you. is one of the most powerful moments in the episodes. And when he tells her that she's smarter and stronger than Hilbert could ever believe: I wonder how much that's him telling her what he wishes someone had told him? This is a man after all who wanted to go on a deeply dangerous mission for years on end that's light-years away from Earth; still waters run deep.

Hilbert simultaneously infuriates and intrigues me. We get that marvelous soliloquy about the fear of being alone and what it signifies about the great unknown in ep 11. We have such intelligence! in this ep--like I was really on the verge of liking him merely because he was so damn quick and clever at figuring out that there was no way the music could be coming from Earth. And there was an odd gentleness in Extreme Danger Bug, when he was telling Doug to be still and that he would be right back. He wasn't just calm, which I might have expected on the theory that remaining calm keeps your patient calm; he was actively gentle Ok admittedly, his admission that he *thought* the antivenom would work was shitty bedside manner. But there was something that prompted him to be kind in that moment. So he can be oddly poetic, he's intelligent as hell, and he clearly has the ability to feel empathy. And yet, he actively chooses to betray these people he's been with for nearly two years! with no outside prompting! And yet. And yet there's something almost regretful when he says that Hera is gone--despite that he was the one that ripped her to shreds (I wanted to reach through the screen and throttle the bastard for that). He doesn't monologue at them after he takes over; he's immediately all business. There's no triumph in this coup, no personal vendetta being fulfilled. It's almost like it's a logical step, a necessary part of a formula or equation or something. And there's something almost...quietly wry in his question to Minkowski about whether it would change anything. Like he's almost regretful or tired. This's why I keep snagging on the idea that it's humans against their better selves that's part of what this show wants to explore. Because he knows what he's doing is wrong! and it's going to be fascinating to see if there're ever any mitigating circumstances or if he ever comes to regret his choices.

Going back to monologuing for a minute, I love how this show subverts tropes left and right. It's not the villain who foolishly monologues and gives away their advantage, but the hero. I was screaming at the monitor for a minute straight begging Doug to pls pls for the love of God shut up you're talking to a really brilliant scientist wtf are you doing! And his arrogance, or generously overconfidence, had horrific consequences. And yet, in another thing that made me utterly adore him, there was no great swearing of revenge, no shouting that it was unfair. Just a deep, exhausted realization that he'd fucked up, that they'd lost so much and their world was irreversibly altered.

The way show is utterly fearless in playing with your expectations still takes my breath away. The way it opens with Minkowski being so happy about preparing Christmas dinner--about trying to bring this mismatched crew together in something, stubborn and fiercely determined even when she has to know it won't go well. It makes you think that the first part of the episode will end happily. That they'll all be sitting around, eating dinner, bonded into something like a family by the extraordinary thing they've just done together--discovering first life outside of Earth is a hell of a present after all. You expect there to be governmental complications, of course, but you expect the core team to be all right. The way that rug is utterly jerked from beneath you, and the tension never really abates is masterful. Always before, our crew's been battered at the end of eps, exhausted or angry, but Doug's always found some humorous closing, even if it were melodramatic as hell. There's no humor at the end of this, just uncertainty about their next moves and about Hera, just two people clinging together. And that gradual tonal shift Gabriel's been enacting all season is finally complete. We've shifted into another gear, and he's weaned us a little more off what the show originally was and prepared us for what I'm hoping it'll become.

And in the vein of plot: the Hilbert reveal was Barr none, the most masterful reveal of its kind I've ever seen. There's always this niggling question with most reveals: but how could they not have noticed? But we get that answered, over and over. They do *notice* They notice that the physicals are out of the ordinary; Doug even suspects that Hilbert's doing something to him with the cigarette candy! But even the audience is convinced that Doug is an unreliable narrator there, that Hilbert is fundamentally a good person if a shitty doctor. And he keeps saying that he's not a doctor, but a scientist. So we put all his irregularities down to that. And having been fooled as the audience, we understand on a gut level how the characters could be fooled, would just shrug off what they saw as odd.

This episode feels like...the easiest metaphor would be a Chinese puzzle box, but that's not quite right. It feels like a wide-panning camera shot, wherein we finally see a full glimpse of the canvas. And it's as utterly terrifying as those moments when we finally see glimpses of the beasts we've only seen in profile in a horror film. Command actively wanted Doug and Minkowski dead. They actively wanted Hilbert in control, and the question, the terrifying, overarching question is why. And what will they do when they realize they've failed? It was terrifying enough to think of these people dealing with first contact with the full support of command, but with a hostile command, and a mutiny....yeah, I'm so, so ready for season 2. And in closing, I'm amazed and delighted that while weaving together so many lose threads, they managed to make Minkowski's obsession with the space manual from EP 1 important. I love Minkowski so. so much, with her need for order, and her obsession with obscure protocol that saves their asses every. single. time.

#Wolf 359 #Podcasts #Podcast Babbling #My Meta

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lisaroquin · 7 years

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yeah, I’m a redneck, but leave the kids alone no matter your opinion

I suppose this all falls under the disconnect, absolute ignorance, and what most out in the sticks would just shake their heads or roll thier eyes with various levels of disbelief and/or disgust at 'city stupid'

Like the post I've seen several times on my dash about calf nose tags, or the post that has gone around several times at OMGWTFBBQ!!! Pigs are big?

THere was a post "I'll unfriend you if you post a dead deer and your six year old kid" and the hilariously stupid on that of "I don't kill anything for my food, I buy it at the grocery store like a civilized person"

"Civilized" in that case is extremely disconnected. Dude the meat you buy at the grocery store did not just magically appear. Yeah something was killed for it, even if you want to pretend otherwise and didn't do it yourself, something was killed for it. And a hell of a lot more of that animal was probably wasted than the deer some kid was proud as hell of bringing down. (Now trophy hunters after a set of antlers make me fucking see red, but that is not the majority--though the pricing of hunting permits certainly seem to cater to those fuckers. Nor do I have much use for 'fish-in-a-barrel hunting where wildlife ranches sell 'hunting packages' with animals trained to show up in certain spots because food is always left out there)

Hunting season is actually a necessary part of wildlife management--it is also limited, the amount of hunting permits can vary from year to year, and the type of permit (doe or buck for deer season since that is what is coming up and had the comment of stupidity about being 'civilized')

Wildlife management is about maintaining healthy wild populations. Overpopulation? Means starvation for a deer population because too many deer, not enough to eat, that crosses over to damaged and destroyed crops--which if there's enough of that, your civilized food--particularly cereals or grain based of any type go up in cost. Farmers financial issues can result from that--and guess what civilized folks, that impacts you. Because family farms are a hell of a lot better for the environment than corporate--corporate farms do not give a fuck. The ones making the money are in a city somewhere and do not care about the runoff of anything be it animal waste or chemicals into the water table. (and on a side note--the massive issues of growth hormone and antibiotics in meat supplies come down from fda type mandates on 'safe food standards' same with so much of hte chemicals now used in crop production--pushed by corps, forced on farmers that originally were clueless on how the long term issues would go. family farms keep their animals healthy because their family *depends* on it. and pay a hell of a lot more attention to the impact of things on the land because *their family lives there* and will be effected first.)

Over population also means disease. Some which very easily hops species to farm animals, and there goes your 'civilized food' at the grocery store, possibly contamniated, recalls. etc etc etc.

And the diseases can wipe out wild populations in an area, can cause some major problems that spread just--well like we had bluetongue go through the deer around here about 3yrs ago. Lot of dead deer around, just dropping dead with cyanotic lips and tongues and then you have the issues brought by carcasses rotting especially along the rivers, which I live near. Populations devastated by disease have years, possibly decades coming back from that and rebalancing the areas ecosystem.

Wildlife management --which includes hunting for some animals--actually keeps the population healthy and prevents the spread of diseases, starvation of the wildlife etc.

But that (eventual, always a few, majority I see ar emore like 10-14 of kids w/ deer but sometimes the littler one gets a really lucky shot) little kid you're howling about pictured with that dead deer--do you know what that little kid actually did? That little kid was up by four at the latest, to go out, and walking through terrain that is not a stroll in park. November--cold, wet, 4am. While there my not be snow, temps esp in early morning are not higher than 20s F (which, for those of you measuring temps differently 32 is freezing). Wait in dew and cold, rain or snow easily possiblilities as well, and quite possibly come home with jack shit, hours of patience and down right cold and shitty-ick-to miserable if it's rainy/snowy for nothing. A permit doesn't mean you get a deer, just means you have a *chance* at getting a deer.

So that six, seven eight year old--who has by the point they go out hunting had hours upon hours of gun safety, like as not been put through hunting and gun safety classes--spends hours of at least semi challenging endurance (which the civilized commenter going to the grocery store probably couldn't stand and would be appalled at). Has had numerous types of wildlife sign, plants, etc pointed out (if they haven't already learned htem) has spent *HOURS* huddled up with parent/grandparent/aunt/uncle and a sibling or cousin or two pending how big the hunting party is and how scattered they are where they're hunting, even if they're sitting up in a deer blind, that's generally fucking cold and windy and not a lot of room so only two or three likely in it (because yup women and girls hunt too, this is not toxic masculinity. Hell I know some women who'll leave the husband at home with the kids and go on a girls hunting trip. hubby more city and doesn't hunt in the particular case I'm thinking of) *gasp* the horrors, hours of quiet conversation, passing down of knowledge.

So the kid gets a deer and is over the fucking moon because actually got one. Picture necessary. Just like any other activity the kid is in (little league/softball/soccer/dance/band/choir/midget football wtf ever)

You know what happens then? The kid gets a lesson in field dressing most likely. Possibly a lesson in butchering--pending if the parents/grandparents do it themselves or they take it to a meat locker to do.

That little kid you'e so horrified over, just provided a fuck of a lot of meat for their family for the winter--and that meat will not be wasted. Unlike the civilized meat at the grocery store which is garbage when it gets past it's packaged expiration date. (and for those of you that don't know--Bambi tastes fucking awesome. Lot like beef only a bit stronger and richer, for the most general comparison) That kid just possibly fed their family for the next two fucking months. That kid has put in some long miserable hours to get that deer, because you don't just walk out and boom come home with a big deer (that *can* happen but realistically it's several days of freezing your ass off, hoping and praying like hell you actually get something. I'm not arguing sport or not--but it is work, with some real fucking physical effort and physical endurance as well as, usually, hours upon hours of patience put in to get a deer)

And if the family is really lucky and the household brings down their limit--which means they have more than their freezer can hold--it's gifted. There's papers got to fill out --yep you have to have your hunting license and have paperwork to legally have deer in your freezer. Has to be accounted for in case of poaching investigation ever cropping up (hey that gives someone a minimum wage data entry job with gov bennies so whatever even if is rather redundant and aggravating for the common folk.) so fill out your gifting paper and give it along with some meat to extended family/neighbors etc.

Several foodbanks accept deer. And give the meat to people who are at the fucking foodbank because they can't afford to eat.

That little kid grinning so proudly with their deer--deserves to be proud. And in the process of getting that deer have gotten a hell of a lot of lessons in everything from gun safety, nature, possibly wildlife diseases (hopefully not, because that would mean there are visible signs of disease on the deer, and meat then unsafe to eat.) has put more time, effort and discomfort into that than a 'civilized' person at the grocery store will ever grasp--even in the learning of gun safety and so on to be able to go, long before there's thought of that child going hunting. That little kid just learned a hell of a lot more of what it takes to feed their family or strangers if that meat is donated, what it feels like to really accomplish something worthwhile. That little kid has spent more time out in nature than the 'civilized' person deriding them and their family likely has--even if one counts a manicured public park as nature.

That little kid has learned a hell of a lot bringing down that deer, even getting to the point it was deemed they could go hunting. (no one takes a completely untaught and unmindful child hunting). That little kid, is a kid who knows how to listen, who knows how to follow instruction and learn, is a kid who has more respect for and knowledge of wildlife and nature than some airhead model prancing around naked for PETA. Is a kid who has spent hours upon hours time with parent/older family member, probably listening to stories of parent/aunts/uncles childhood, grandparents childhood. Like as not with a few lessons thrown in unthinkingly like finding deer tracks/trails, possibly (probably) spotting other tracks--beaver, raccoon, badger, opossum, dog/coyote/wolf, and around here mountain lion. Seeing plenty of other animals and birds besides the deer they're looking for--around here fucking massive populations of wild turkey, plus hawks, eagles, vast assortment of smaller birds, geese and ducks migrating etc.

Y'all so up in arms at all this flailing and wringing hands....

Why don't you take a hunting safety course? You don't have to hunt to take the course, but more and more (if not almost all) places require it for child hunters these days. See what that kid has actually learned before they go near hunting.

Look up deer diseases. Look up the issues with localized overpopulation of wildlife. Look up sharedeer.org.

Hunting is not for everyone, that's fine. (Fuck no, while I'll gladly accept some venison even pay for processing of part of a deer, my ass is not going out and freezing for hours for maybe nothing. Joint deterioration I have is not about to let me even if I wanted to)

But y'all love to go on about 'don't like, scroll on, don't be an asshole' practice what you preach.

Yeah. Scroll on, quietly delete, whatever. Just shut up about it. You don't have to be an asshole--especially about a kid that is quite possibly better educated on several 'uncivilized' subjects like wildlife,gun safety, butchering and meat processing than you'll ever be. A kid that actually *put a fuck of a lot of effort and discomfort* in accomplishing something that will feed their family and/or others, with meat that sure as hell isn't going to be wasted like meat at the supermarket might be (and pro-tip, folks who take their *child* hunting aren't big macho dickheads looking for a trophy, they're looking for fucking *food* and quite probably have scrimped and saved back a dollar here five there for the chance at getting that food becuase hunting permits are not fucking cheap and those looking for food are not rich.) That kid so proud of their deer-- honestly worked for that deer with the amount of effort and discomfort and time put into getting it. Has learned a hell of a lot in the process of getting that deer, and just had the time of their life with parent/grandparent/older relative of some sort in the process of it as well as a good deal of conversation with parent/grandparent/older relative.

Y'all, go watch Lion King again maybe? Maybe that will help you grasp a bit of circle of life.... think what you want, scroll past, unfriend/unfollow wtf, but *don't fucking be an asshole and post shit at the kid.* That kid deserves to be proud, and so do their parents.

#hunting season is coming

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expandmedia · 7 years

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PWR BTTM Lose Touring Members and Opening Bands Amidst Sexual Assault Allegations

UPDATE 10/12 7:30 PST

Salty Artist - PWR BTTM’s management have now announced via twitter that they will no longer be representing the band. Jezebel has done an interview with a victim of Ben’s going by the pseudonym Jen where some details of the alleged assault are outlined. Their record label Polyvinyl are offering refunds for the groups album Pagent which was out today if you email their support at [email protected]. Hopscotch Music Fest has also taken the band off of this years’ lineup. iji, another opener for their May tour has also dropped off. You can read all of the mentioned statements and an excerpt from the jezebel interview below the read more.

10/12 11:00 AM PST

Yesterday, allegations against PWR BTTM’s Ben Hopkins surfaced on a private facebook group for the DIY punk scene in Chicago. The allegations included mention of sexual abuse, predatory behavior, and anti-Semitism. Today, touring members Cameron West and Nicholas Cummins have distanced themselves from the band, and T-Rextacy, Tancred, and Nnamdi Ogbonnaya – the opening bands for their upcoming tour – have dropped off. Their album release show that was scheduled for today has been canceled, and Bled Fest have dropped the band from their lineup. Chicago Venue Subterranean is also offering refunds to fans for PWR BTTM’s scheduled show there May 30th. You can read statements from PWR BTTM, Cameron West, Nicholas Cummins, Nnamdi Ogbonnaya, T-Rextacty, and Bled Fest below.

We will continue to update this post as more information comes to light.

STATEMENTS MENTIONED IN UPDATE

Salty Artist Management

“In light of allegations involving members of PWR BTTM, Salty Artist Management will no longer be working with the band. We do not take these kind of allegations lightly and our thoughts are with the victims and survivors of abuse who have been affected by this.

If you need someone to talk to, these organizations can provide information and support

National Sexual Assault Hotline (800) 656-4673

The Trevor Project (866) 488-7386

LGBT National Help Center (888) 843-4564

National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs (212) 714-1141″

Jezebel Interview

““I just felt totally powerless in the situation, first due to physicality because they are so much bigger than me in size and also social status,” [Jen] told Jezebel. “I was trying to be okay with whatever was going on.”

Hopkins continued to send Jen nude photos after the assault. Jen said she didn’t initially process her experience with Hopkins as rape after being assaulted in high-school. “In high school I was blamed, told it was my fault, shouldn’t have gone to this place,” she told Jezebel. “I have a lot of that internalized, unfortunately.” A month later, she said, Hopkins assaulted her again. After talking about the experience with a few musicians and friends, Jen said she realized she was assaulted and, like Coredo-Kolin, gradually began to hear more stories about Hopkins’s predatory behavior.

In the duo’s statement, they wrote that the allegations “come as a surprise.” Early this year Hopkins’s bandmate Liv Bruce reached out to Jen after “hearing stories,” and she told Bruce “everything” about her assault. “Their response to me was, I don’t think Ben knows what they did, maybe you should reach out to them,” Jen said. “Then they never spoke out about it again and continued being in the band.”

“The statement that they made, I know for a fact, is an actual lie because I know they did know,” she said. “The statement they made is 100 percent false.””

Hopscotch Music Fest

“Each year, as we book and program artists, we do so with the intent of making Hopscotch Music Festival an inclusive, positive, and safe space for all members of our community. This week’s allegations against Ben Hopkins of PWR BTTM are ones that we do not take lightly. It is absolutely necessary to believe and support survivors of abuse, and to take steps toward holding abusers accountable. For these reasons, we have removed the band from our 2017 lineup.

We will be in contact with local LGBTQ+ and social justice organizations to address how to best raise awareness and funds for marginalized communities here in North Carolina. It is the primary goal of the festival organizers to ensure that everyone feels safe and free to be themselves.

Thank you for your continued support. Take care of each other.”

Iji said via Twitter

“Friends, iji band has decided to drop off the #PwrBttm tour in support of the people coming forward about the bands abusive behavior. In many ways this was an easy decision. Whats not easy is we are now trying to book a last minute DIY tour. Please get in touch if you have questions or if you would like to see iji in your town in July.”

STATEMENTS MENTIONED BEFORE UPDATE WAS MADE

PWR BTTM said via Twitter

“Hi everyone,

Ben and Liv here. We want to respond to some very serious allegations that have been made against Ben. The allegations come as a surprise, but we are trying to address them with openness and accountability. With respect to the image included with these allegations, Ben previously addressed this matter on their/the band’s Twitter in January (https://ibb.co/dsNRRQ).

Unfortunately we live in a culture which trivializes and normalizes violations of consent. There are people who have violated others’ consent and do not know. Ben has not been contacted by any survivor(s) of abuse. These allegations are shocking to us and we take them very seriously. Further, the alleged behavior is not representative of who Ben is and the manner in which they try to conduct themselves.

To address this matter head on, we have set up an email address through which a survivor or someone working directly with a survivor can discuss the allegations being expressed on social media: [email protected] We are currently looking for a mediator with the necessary qualifications. This will be the only person with access to the account. Ben does not have access to the account, for two reasons: 1) because we acknowledge that certain individuals will not feel comfortable establishing a direct communication link between themselves and Ben, and 2) to protect Ben in the event that a malicious party attempts to use the address for anything but its intended purpose.

Our primary goal here is to ensure that a survivor of abuse has a voice, that their story should be heard and that people who cross the line should be held accountable. What this means for the band, our album, our fans and our upcoming tours is, as of yet, unclear. Music is everything to us, but we feel strongly that this matter needs to be addressed first. Updates forthcoming.”

Cameron west said via Facebook post:

“Hi everyone. Today, like many PWR BTTM fans, I was shocked to discover that sexual assault allegations were levied against Ben Hopkins. From my understanding, these accusations were in fact levied via e-mail months ago, but were left unshared with other members of the band, including myself. In order to provide the highest possible respect to everyone who has come forward, I am hereby ending my tenure with the band as an arranger and touring musician.”

Nicholas Cummins said via Twitter

“I’ll say what I told Ben; while I will never dispose of them as a human, I fully believe all accusations that came up today. Regardless of their intent it’s clear that multiple people had their boundaries crossed. that’s incredibly unacceptable and needs to be acknowledged… I am deeply horrified by the thought of any role I may have played in doing harm to those people when playing with that band. All I can do is hope that the band does the right thing and pursues accountability in an honest and transparent way.”

Tancred said via Facebook

“Due to the allegations that have come to light over the past few days I will be removing myself from the upcoming PWR BTTM tour dates. Siding with any and all survivors is and should always be a priority.”

Nnamdi Ogbonnaya said via Facebook

“Hey y'all. I’ll no longer be opening up for PWR BTTM on this upcoming tour. It Fucking sucks for everyone involved and in light of the allegations I can’t comfortably continue. I hope that truth is found/admitted and I’m incredibly disappointed at this type of shit continuously happening. I love all of you. Also DO NOT message me on here anymore. Email me about this or anything else at [email protected]”

T-Rextacy said via Twitter yesterday

“We wish we could say these allegations come as a complete surprise, but that is not the truth. Around the time we agreed to a July tour w PWR BTTM, someone came to us privately + warned us that they had these experiences w Ben. They asked us not to share them publicly. At the time we felt we should continue w the tour. We did not want to out the person who had had come to us in confidence. We feared that ducking out of a tour offer with no excuse would damage our professional relationships, many connected very personally to PWR BTTM. This in no way excuses us from culpability. We were scared and confused but we were also selfish. We made a mistake supporting this band. We put our career above the safety of fans who have trusted us and supported us and there’s no way for us to remedy that.”

They also clarified today:

“Hi folks. We wanted to state clearly and in our own words that we have decided to pull out of the PWR BTTM tour.”

Bled Fest said via Facebook

“Hi friends, Two days ago, our team was made aware of allegations of sexual assault by a member of the band PWR BTTM that were making their way around the internet. We appreciate everyone who respectfully made us aware of these allegations. After taking the needed time to discuss the situation with folks that we have a great working relationship with, we’ve made the decision to remove PWR BTTM from this year’s lineup. We do not have any tolerance for this kind of activity, and it’s important that we act in favor of any victims, whether we know them directly or not. One of the things that we’ve always taken pride in, but doubled down on this year, is creating a safe space for fans of all ages and walks of life, where they could enjoy themselves regardless of who they are. We don’t love the term “safe space” (just like we dislike the word “scene”), because it implies the opposite of some of the elements of danger and excitement that drew us to punk rock in the first place. However, we try very hard to make our little festival a safe place for folks of all walks of life. All races, genders, religions, sexes, preferences, and ages are welcome here. And importantly, in this case, all past victims of abuse of any type are welcome here, and are meant to feel comfortable inside our venue. We cannot control what happens in the world, but we can control who we feature on our stages, and the allegations against PWR BTTM are such that we cannot maintain that promise and allow them to remain on our stage. One of the new features of BLED FEST in 2017 that we announced last week is our Community Room, where we’ll host 4 discussion panels. One of which, entitled “Safe Spaces, Not Boring Spaces”, will tackle this exact issue in depth. We’d love to hear your voice and what you have to say. We’ll announce the panelists next week. Finally, we are going to actively try to fill the spot vacated by PWR BTTM’s removal, but it’s late in the game, and we can’t promise to have anything booked on such short notice. If we don’t, we’ll just move set times around (those announce May 16). We’re working to have news for you soon regarding the acts that were supporting PWR BTTM’s tour (Tancred and Nnamdi Ogbonnaya). We want them to know that they’re still welcome here, and that we were excited for their performances on the festival, independent of their involvement in any tour. We’re fans of both, and hope to have good news about them soon! If you have any questions about anything, I’m willing to discuss via email at [email protected]. I have an incredibly busy weekend working with my wife’s dance recitals, so my responses may be delayed, but I will answer every message sent my way. Thank you for your support, your energy, and your passion. BLED FEST is a strange, special day each year, and this year will be no different. Take care of one another, and we’ll see you on May 27! Sincerely, Nate Dorough Fusion Shows P.S. Please give us a few hours to update all the artwork on our various sites.”

#pwr bttm #news #contributor: Jasey Lucker

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