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unholyhelbig · 3 years

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Triple Treble High school AU??

Read on AO3 | Request prompts here

The darkroom wasn’t originally in the blueprints for the high school. It was a small space that was wedged between the back stairwell, something that still smelled so thickly of drain cleaner, and sawdust, that the developer only added a twinge of vinegar to the mix.

Beca had pestered and persisted until the school board agreed to convert the unused storage area into a place for the yearbook committee to soak and hang their film. It could fit about four people at a time and left her blinking away the red light when the bell rang, load and enough to vibrate the whole room.

She leaned against the table that woodshop had constructed, mindful of the surface that could splinter at any moment. She was putting the finishing touches on her book report for Mr. White’s third-period English. She was cutting it close, but the photos from the pep rally the day before still had a good three minutes left of the egg timer.

She twisted the dial and listened to the satisfying click that accompanied it.

Beca had learned a long time ago that it was better to be unseen than seen by the whole world. There were no standards that way, if this batch of photos didn't turn out, or darken fully, that would be okay- because it wasn’t like they had noticed her, other than the small flashes of light, or the click of her Nikon.

She scribbled the finishing touches on her interesting take of “To Kill a Mockingbird” and shoved the crinkled lined paper into her backpack. She hadn’t put much thought into it- having read the novel more than once and never finding it as moving as it was intended to be.

The timer sounded off and her heart caught in her throat. It always did, even though she was the one that set it. She knew it was going to hiss eventually, and her hands moved before her mind could catch up. She peered over the edge of the basin at the photo that developed fully.

Chloe Beale beamed charismatically, her arm around Kaylee Eli, brow glistening with sweat. The logo of the cowboy shining under the lights. Beca was a damn good shot, but Chloe was an even better model. She stared right into the lens like she actually saw Beca- she noticed and posed and smiled with the same type of vigor as always.

The second warning bell sounded off and Beca fished the photo from the solution with her tongs. She shook it once, then twice, before clipping it on the line. She shouldered her bag and then emerged into the hallway, breathing in to clear out the sharp acidic scent from her lungs.

She nearly collided with a warm body, also trying their hardest to get through the hallways and into homeroom in time for the third and final bell to sound. Her sneakers squeaked against the floor, and her shoulder did make contact with something soft, and hot, and she stumbled with an apology before even realizing who it was.

Posters, and buttons scattered across the floor with a deafening clatter, and a pile of books were soon to follow. They were obnoxiously red, white, and blue. And Beca was on her knees, very suddenly, scrambling to pile them into a stack that they had once been.

“I’m so sorry,” She said, her own backpack forgotten.

“Were you in a supply closet?”

Beca glanced up, meeting hard and ripe green. The girl in front of her was a mass of blonde hair and lip gloss. She shoved her bangs back and gave Beca an inquisitive look. The posters were stacked now, and the two raised to a standing position.

“No, I mean, yes.” Beca frowned “It’s not a supply closet anymore, though. It’s a dark room. For photography.”

The girl studied her. She looked vaguely familiar. Those posters did too- Aubrey Posen for Student President. She realized she was still gripping them, reading them. She flushed and handed them over.

“I’m afraid I’ve made you miss the final bell.” She said.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a fantastic day.” Beca replied, even if she didn’t’ mean it. She grabbed her bag from the floor and maneuvered her way around the girl and walked off towards her first class- one that she wouldn't be paying much attention to.

Aubrey glared down at her posters. The word Fantastic was outlined in blue and slanted in a way that screamed desperately. She swallowed back the suddenly queasy feeling in her stomach and pulled her shoulders back. It didn’t’ matter if the candy-cane stripes and the blue lettering were tacky. It would win her the vote.

She felt disheveled, the pink late slip in her pocket burned like dry ice. She hated breaking the rules, and even this, even having the permission to skip the first half of the morning to work on her campaign, made her feel like some kind of common criminal.

Aubrey walked all the way to the gym.

She was meant to set up the ballot tables for the three lunch periods. She hadn’t thought that many people would skip out on the greasy scent of fried chicken and the brothy greens that were slopped next to them to vote for student council. Not many people cared about the election, and sometimes Aubrey questioned her own dedication to the cause of no cause at all.

The gym always smelled thickly of sweat and floor wax. It’s bright lights seemed to be the only thing in the school that ran on an automatic timer. The last moments of morning cheer practice had just concluded, and Aubrey waited dutifully by the double doors for the girls to clear out.

Most of them- she knew cordially. She was nod at them and say hello, and even give them a button to strap to their bags. So they smiled kindly as they exited past her, and wished her luck on today's vote. She figured she needed it.

“Are you nervous?”

“Huh?” Aubrey had started to study the sound system in the corner, but her focus was suddenly on the one remaining cheerleader in the gym. Her voice echoed, and her smile radiated. “Oh, uh, no my opposing candidate is a gerbil so.”

“he’s got a solid campaign.” She replied, walking across the seal in the center of the floor. ��For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to do great. You’ve got my vote.”

Aubrey hadn’t been this close to Chloe Beale. Not in school- they usually avoided one another after Bumper’s Halloween party, two semesters ago. She didn’t remember, much- the fowl taste of beer, the flashing lights, a kid in a skeleton mask, and Chloe Beale’s lips on hers. Cherry, and tart with alcohol.

Her cheeks reddened at the thought, all-encompassing. “Right, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell me that.”

“Oh?”

Chloe took a few steps backward before turning completely and walking towards the double doors. Aubrey struggled to avert her eyes, knew that she had to, but couldn’t find a way to do it. Chloe could feel them on her- swinging her hips intentionally.

She found herself letting out a trembled breath once she exited into the hallway. Her arms were burning, and so were her cheeks. Aubrey M. Posen had always been intimidating; in her fancy blazers and thick reading glasses. Her lips tingled, and she pressed two fingers against them to quell the sensation. The girl probably didn't even remember her on Halloween night, that stupid skeleton kid, drenched in fake blood, and the flashing lights that spurred her drunken stupor.

Chloe pressed her back against the painted brick wall and let the coolness drip through her sweaty t-shirt. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and practice before the day had even begun made her bones ache and her stomach turn.

She was going to be late for class, she knew that before they had even finished listening to coach Morris reminding them (for the third time that morning) about the pep rally on Friday. She peeled herself from the wall, blinking away the light from the trophy cases, before slinking into the locker room. It was empty now, the remaining scent of body spray and lotion clouding her lungs.

Chloe quickly changed and pulled her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t’ have a pink slip, not as she should, but figured that Mrs. Gordon would excuse her this once. She would slide into first-period Chemistry and try her best not to disturb the room more than she had to.

“Miss Beale,” She felt her heart seize, Mrs. Gordon’s eyes on her, lifting from the workbook that she was struggling to flip through. The rest of the room had taken to staring at her too, roaming eyes and giddy for a distraction, no matter how small. “Take the nearest seat.”

It would certainly be easier than working her way around the room, through the bags and the lab stools. She glanced sparingly at the empty seat closest to her. Beca Mitchell lifted both of her eyebrows and shifted the camera bag to the floor, allowing her to take a seat.

“Flip to page seventeen, The building of Electron’s and Neutrons”

Chloe reached for her bag, but before she could Beca shifted the textbook towards the middle of them, letting her scan her eyes over the annotated version of the paragraphs. She had never expected Beca Mitchell, resident outcast and photographer, to go through the nightly reading and actually absorb it.

She smelled thickly of cloves and chemicals. It was earthy but comforting. It almost relaxed Chloe from the morning, brought her down to a familiar buzz after sharing a conversation with Aubrey in the gym. She blinked through her lack of focus and tried to concentrate on something other than how close the alt girl was, and how their knees almost met under the lab table.

Beca reached up and turned the page, Chloe realized she hadn’t read a single line.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Aubrey Posen #Pitch Perfect #Pitch Perfect Fanfiction #triple treble #Triple Treble Franfiction #Request

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horatiocomehome · 3 years

Text

In Memoriam

There was a child with a gun, and he was a general, and he sat next to a fire with his army camped around him. Across from him sat another boy, just as young — his bodyguard. Just two boys, barely teenagers, and a fire.

"What if I die?" the general whispered into the flames. "What if you die, or another one of my friends, or—" his voice cracked. "People have died! Because of things I've done! And it'll happen again, I know it will! And this upcoming battle… I'm scared. What if it's us?" Between the two of them, the fire crackled. "What if it's us?"

"Oh, please." Across the fire, his bodyguard stood up. "There's no way we're going to die. The others, maybe, but us? I mean," —he flexed his muscles, impressive only among other teenagers his age— "Just look at me! No one's going to get through to you. And you're the best tactician I've ever met, not to mention an amazing shot."

"Yeah…." the general agreed, hand falling automatically to the gun at his side. "No one's escaping this thing."

"Exactly! Besides, we made a deal. I keep you safe, you win us the war." He picked up his warhammer and, with a flourish, pointed it at the general. "Would you really break that promise?"

The general laughed. It was genuine, though his position lent it a bitter edge. "Nope. You'd better bet this thing is going all the way. Anything to beat the emperor, am I right?"

~~~

Ten years and a few days later and far from the camps of war in more than just distance, two ghosts sat on top of a school building and watched the empty road. It was early morning, but no one had arrived yet.

"Man, what's keeping them all?" The ghost named Art asked. "Did we miss a late start announcement or something?"

The other ghost, named Octavius, though he usually went by Tav, shook his head. "Don't you remember what day it is?"

"Oh." Art's gaze grew distant. "Ten years, huh?"

Tav elbowed him with a mischievous grin. "Ten years since you fucked up your job, am I right?"

Art shoved him back. "Hey, we won the war, didn't we? That promise was null and void!"

"Oh, yeah, sure, technicalities."

The two laughed off the old exchange. Though they brought it up regularly when they felt like bickering, neither much liked talking about the times leading up to their deaths. They were past that now, and it wasn't like they could change anything anyways. Better to just hang around the school and make light of the afterlife. Or at least, that was how it usually went. Art, for whatever reason, was feeling restless.

"Hey… do you want to go out exploring? See what the kids are up to nowadays?"

Tav thought about that a moment. "You know what, why not?" He stretched, floating up from his perch. "It's been a while since we've left the school, after all."

~~~

The last time they'd left the school had been a happier time, though the two hadn't yet met each other. It had been a warm fall day, the emperor's tightening reign a distant worry.

"Hey Tav!" His friend Luc called out. "There you are!"

He waved back and ran to catch up. "Hey! You ready for this break?"

"You bet I am! This week won't know what hit it! Speaking of which, I've got something to show you." Tav arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? Is it just another drawing of your girlfriend?"

Luc sputtered. "What? No! This is something you'll actually like! It's an artefact."

"Oooh, I do like me a good artefact," Tav said. "Do you know what it is?"

"I'm not sure actually! I think it might be some kind of weapon?"

"Well, I guess we'll find out!"

And so they left the school, on the way to the weapon Tav would wield in the coming days. They didn't look back then. Later though, somehow elected most fit to lead their ragtag group of rebels, Tav would long for those days before the school was closed. For those days when all he had to care about was playing with his friends.

~~~

Now, as a ghost, Tav hadn't seen his friends in years, just Art. That was fine with him though. Better to have fun than be reminded of what he was missing, right?

Speaking of fun, he and Art were currently having the time of their lives thwarting the efforts of some jerk from the school and his father as they tried putting away groceries. He giggled as Art set out a bottle of milk in the exact spot it had just been put away from, then when the kid turned around and let out a cry of surprise, Tav scooped flour out of a jar and back into the bag the father had just poured it out of.

Finally, the father set down the groceries he was holding and went over to a stairway leading to the upper floor. "Honey, can you come down and help? These groceries are giving us more trouble than we thought."

A muffled voice replied, then a few seconds later a woman — presumably the mother — walked down the stairs. And Tav froze.

"Hang on a minute," Art said, "is that the figurehead of the rebellion, slayer of the emperor—"

"My best friend," Tav choked out. "Luc."

Art said something else, but Tav didn't hear. Luc had changed so much since he'd last seen her. She looked so old — easily late in her twenties now. It showed in her face, but mostly in the way she held herself. It was like there was some weight on her shoulders pushing her down. It wasn't right. They'd won, hadn't they? So why didn't his friend look happy?

Before he could think more on that, another thought pushed it out of his head. If that man was the kid's father, and he'd called Luc 'Honey' — she had a family? She'd grown up, gotten married — though not to her old girlfriend, apparently — and had a kid.

And he'd just been at the school the whole time. Completely unaware as time kept passing by.

"Tav. Tav!" Art poked him hard on the cheek. "I'm going to go on to the next house. I get it if you need a minute, but don't stay too long, okay?"

Tav nodded. As his friend flew off, he floated down a side hallway himself. It felt too strange seeing Luc older to stay in the room with her. The rest of the house, though, was that same off-putting mix of old and new. Luc's old sword, hung between pictures of a wedding and posing with an adoption certificate. An old stone tablet he and Luc had dug up together, displayed next to a plastic trophy.

And then, in the corner of a library-looking room, a table. On it was a picture of Tav and a picture of Art. The two almost looked like they could be the age of Luc's kid. Between them, two identical medals. A memorial.

~~~

A general and his bodyguard lay, hand in bloody hand, sunk down in the mud of the battlefield. The bodyguard pinned to the ground by a spear through his gut, and the general with no energy to go for help.

"Do you think I'll become a ghost? When I die?" The bodyguard rasped.

The general's chest tightened with the certainty of the words. When. Not if. "What do you mean?"

The bodyguard broke into a coughing fit, more blood wrenching itself free of his body. "I just… thought it might be nice. Maybe I could— I could hang out with you some more."

"Yeah. That would be nice." A tear rolled down the general's cheek. His breaths were slower now, as was the beating of his heart. "Maybe I can be a ghost too. And we can leave all of this behind."

#inspired by my general sixgun fics but not neccesarily a canon conclusion to the trilogy #my writing #writers on tumblr #ghost stories #short story #creative writing #from my very own mouth

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thepancakeboi · 4 years

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Day 1: Favorite Scene

Would you people hate me if I said it’s the scene after the boiler room fight...? Because it is- Granted, “Honey I’m home” is always a favorite of mine but...the after-fight FEELS. Also, my favorite scene could change as I play through Royal, as I’m still on the third palace and have just started Goro’s confidant.

I’m going to leave this now. Someone needs to remind me to stop writing things that make me cry-

I severely underestimated you, Joker. You and your band of thieves...

“You ready to call it quits?”

Skull’s question is pointless. Isn’t my answer obvious? I decide to indulge him with a response if only to put your mind at ease. “I know... I’ve had enough.” I’m done trying to kill you. It’s clear your skills exceed mine. You win again, just as you always do. “...You’re so lucky. Lucky to be surrounded... by teammates who acknowledge you...And once Shido confesses his crimes, you’ll all be heroes.” Your fame won’t be part of an elaborate scheme this time. Shido’s crimes are truly unforgivable. No one would side with him once the truth is revealed. Anyone who does isn’t in their right mind. But with the truth comes... “As for me, people will find out my past deductions were just charade. My fame and trust will vanish.” The trust I had lost with you, the Phantom Thieves, it seems minuscule in comparison.

“I see,” Mona says after a slight pause. “So you were turning people psychotic, then solving the cases yourself. And you did that by joining forces with Shido.”

He’s just now figuring this out? How foolish...though I keep those thoughts to myself. I don’t have the time nor the heart to antagonize your group further. Besides, what right have I to say anything? It was foolish of me to think I could take on all the Phantom Thieves at once. Mona was right. I’m just some child ‘throwing a temper tantrum’ as he rightly put it. What was I thinking, believing I could be something special? That was the wishful thinking of a naive little kid. “In the end... I couldn’t be special...”

Skull immediately buts in. “Dude, you’re more than special...”

Wait...what?

“It pains me to admit... but your wit and strength far exceeds ours. We only defeated you by teaming up,” Queen reluctantly admits. Where is this coming from? “I was honestly... envious of your natural ability. It was frustrating to see how much my sister trusted you...” If only you knew how strained our trust truly was when I started working with you. Sae-San and I were barely speaking to each other by that point in time.

I’m surprised when Noir joins in. She’s the last person I would expect to add on to this conversation, considering what I did to her father. “I have no intention of forgiving you for what you did to my father, but... I sympathize with you.” I don’t expect her to ever forgive me, and she shouldn’t. Not when I don’t deserve any form of forgiveness. “I wholeheartedly understand wanting to get back at the adults who took from you...”

“But when you gained the power to fulfill that desire, you only used it for your own self-benefit,” Fox adds.

Oracle chimes in after him. “If you’ve got more than one Persona, maybe you actually have the same kinda power as Joker’s.” The same power? My gaze turns to you at this. You’re being much more quiet than usual. I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours. “But you trusted no one, so you only got two Personas: one for your lies, and one for your hate. Still, you thought that was enough, right? That part I totally get.”

“You excelled at everything over us... yet that was the one thing you lacked.”

The one thing I lacked...here I thought it was skill, or perhaps friendship. To think that it would be simply trusting others. Oracle and Fox are right. I only relied on myself to get where I am, trusting no one. In the end, that’s what’s caused my downfall. Though...it isn’t entirely true. I had trusted you to some extent.

“All right, let’s go back and get that callin’ card ready!” Skull says, eager to leave. “We’re gonna take Shido down. What’re you gonna do?”

The question stuns me. You shouldn’t be concerning yourself with me. “It’d be a problem if you kept getting in our way. Wanna come along and help us settle things?” Panther asks.

“...Are you all idiots?” I finally say, shoving my own feelings away. It doesn’t matter that I want to come with your group or that I would love nothing more than to fight my father by your side. It’s too late for that. “You should get rid of me... if you don’t want me getting in your way.”

It may have been Panther who asked the question, but my eyes are on you. I want to hear your response. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you say with such certainty, such finality, that it leaves little room for argument. “I don’t want to lose you. Come with us. We’ll change his heart, together.”

Together...? Is that really what you want? I shake my head at the absurdity. “...You all are truly beyond my comprehension.”

“Akechi?” Skull blurts out in shock. His response confuses me.

“Another one!? Wait, is he...” Fox says, and it’s then I realize the source of their surprise. I must really be faltering if I didn’t notice the newcomer, a nearly identical version of me. His dead brown eyes give away who, or what, he is.

“That’s... Shido’s cognitive version of Akechi!” Mona says, confirming my suspicions.

So, I’ll be finding out what my father thinks of me. Haha, not that I give a shit anymore-wait, he’s...pointing a gun at me!? “I’ll deal with the rest of you later,” he says. At the look of shock on my face, he elaborates. “Captain Shido’s orders... He has no need for losers. Well... this just moves the plan up a little. He was going to get rid of you after the election anyway.”

“What!?” How... how could he!?

“Did you truly believe you’d be spared after all the murders you undertook?” No... I hadn’t believed that for a second. I knew the consequences of my crimes should they ever be discovered. But surely Shido couldn’t say anything without implicating himself! “Don’t tell me... Were you actually feeling good about having someone rely on you for once?”

“I-” I... had enjoyed being relied on, even if the reason was as deplorable as needing me as his personal hit-man.

“Oh by the way, the captain says it’s time you receive retribution for causing the mental shutdowns.”

“What the hell, man!?” Ryuji yells. He sounds pissed. “That bastard’s the one who put him up to it!”

“I see,” I chuckle. The irony of the situation doesn’t escape me. “I was wondering how he’d protect himself if I used my power to tear through his Palace. Turns out you’re how. So he’s making a puppet kill me... Sounds like something he’d do.”

He nods. “That’s right. I’ll do anything. But look at yourself... you’re the true puppet.” I...I’m the puppet? “You wanted to be acknowledged, didn’t you? To be loved? You’ve been nothing but a puppet from the very beginning.” That... was exactly what I had wanted. All of my plans, my revenge, all stemmed from simply wanting my father to acknowledge me. Here it turns out that he already knew everything and he has no qualms of killing me off. It doesn’t surprise me, but... “What’s all this nagging about?” He’s talking to you and the rest of the thieves. What did any of them even say...? “Want me to take care of you first?”

I can hear the sound of Shadows materializing behind me, but I pay them no mind. Panther is the one to speak the entire group’s thoughts. “No... He’s not alone! He has Shadows too!”

“You know what? I’ll let someone volunteer to take his place.” A cruel grin forms on the cognition’s face as if relishing the situation. “Who knows, you might delay his death.”

Immediately, my eyes hone in on you. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, right before you execute some outlandish scheme. You better not try it now. “I-”

“No,” I snarl, cutting off whatever response you might have. I already know exactly what you’re thinking, and I’m not going to let you go through with whatever wild plan is taking shape in your mind. “I’m not letting you die for me.”

“But-”

“No.” I am not going to let you change my mind.

“You guys are all about doing things for others, aren’t you?” The cognitive me remarks as if goading you on into ignoring my wishes. “Oh, that’s just the same as me. I’m going to take all the blame for our captain. I’ll die for him too.”

“This is what Shido thinks of Akechi-kun, even after making him help with the murders!?” Queen says in surprise. Why is your group so shocked by this? I know exactly the kind of man my father is. I know what’s going to happen next.

“Here, I’ll give you one last chance.” The cognition focuses his attention solely on me. “Shoot them,” he commands.

I laugh, “I was such a fool.”

My hand is steady as I point my gun, aiming it right between your eyes. The mask hides it well, but I remember the look on your face right now. It’s the same one that you had in the interrogation room just before I murdered you in cold blood. Despite my outward stillness, my thoughts are going haywire. Am I truly capable of this? Your voice wavers a little as if you can’t bring yourself to believe the scene before you. “Goro, you-”

“Yes,” the cognition hisses excitedly. “That’s the you our captain wishes to see.”

I shake my head, a chuckle escaping me. If anyone notices my tears, I’m blaming it on the pain of my injuries. “...Don’t misunderstand.” I don’t know who I mean that to: you, the cognitive version of me, or both of you. It seems I’ve finally managed to fool you after all. “You’re the one who’s going to disappear!”

I whirl around, immediately firing once I have the cognition in my sights. My shot hits him in the abdomen. I barely spare him a glance as he drops to his knees. My next target is further away, but my accuracy pays off. The glass shatters, the bullet activating the red button underneath. Alarms blare as red lights flash. “The watertight bulkhead door has closed,” an automatic announcement says in a monotone female voice. “All personnel within the partition wall: evacuate at once.”

My intuition was right. The bulkhead door rises up from the ground, right between us. I’m left with the Shadows and the cognition. This is how it was always meant to be. “Whoa, what is this!?” Oracle says, her voice muffled behind the door.

“Akechi!” Skull yells, banging his fists hard. His voice is clearer just because of how loud he is. Typical.

“Hurry up and go,” I yell back, leaning against the door. I’m struggling to stay on my own two feet, but I fear that if I collapse now, I’ll never get back up.

“You fool!” Fox’s voice isn’t as loud as Skull’s, but his voice cuts through the thick metal. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

I suppress a laugh. It wasn’t the plan, but... if it happens, so be it. At least my death will be for something- no, someone I love. “The real fools... are you guys. You should have just abandoned me here a long time ago... You would have all perished... if you had tried to face these with me weighing you down...” My words are interrupted by a fit of coughing. I cover my mouth as I do. The black gloves are speckled with red spots that hadn’t been there before. It’s blood... my blood.

“Akechi-kun!” Queen cries out. Is...she concerned about me?

I hear a fist bang against the wall, this time right behind me, and I immediately assume it to be Skull again. Instead, I’m shocked to hear your voice crying out my name, “Goro!” Are you...crying? I must be imagining things. I’m not worth your tears. “Why!? Why are you-”

My voice is strained as I continue. Even talking hurts. “Let’s make a deal, okay?”

“Goro...”

I can hear the pout in your voice. I’m so glad I cannot see your expression. It would make this so much harder. “You won’t say no, will you?”

Fox answers, “Why at a time like this!?”

I know you won’t deny my words. You’re too good, too perfect to refuse this request. “Change Shido’s heart... in my stead... End his crimes... Please!” I end with a desperate yell. I’m hoping you don’t refuse.

“Akeppi...” I wasn’t imagining it after all. You are crying over me. Of course you are. If there’s one thing that has been constant, it’s your damn feelings for me at every turn. I don’t even object to that stupid little nickname you gave me all those months ago. “I’ll hold on to your glove.”

I gasp. I thought you had forgotten about that, after everything that has happened. To think that you still have it... I shake my head. You never fail to surprise me. “Heh... After all this, that’s what you have to say? Seriously, you really are...”

I don’t have time to finish my sentence. The cognitive version of me is finally recovering, standing up as he snarls in whatever pain a cognition can feel. “You bastard...”

He immediately points his gun at me. I push myself off the wall, pointing my own gun at the cognition. “So my final enemy is a puppet version of myself... I...!”

I try to shut out the rest of the world before my resolve falters. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. I am, but... you’re worth this sacrifice. If only I could have accepted your offer, but there’s still no use talking in hypotheticals.

I’m... I’m sorry, Ren.

Case closed. This is how my ‘justice’ ends.

#GoroWeek #goro week #i need to stop writing things that make me cry #the feelings #p5 #persona 5 #p5r #persona 5 royal #persona 5 spoilers #persona 5 royal spoilers #goro akechi #akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #p5 joker #phantom thieves #akeshu #shuake

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robertreich · 4 years

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Presidential Primaries: What You Need to Know

Every four years, our country holds a general election to decide who will be our next president. Before that happens, though, each party must choose its candidate through primary elections. But our system of primaries can be a bit confusing. So here’s a quick primer on the upcoming primaries, containing the most important things you need to know based on the most frequently asked questions: Are primaries, caucuses, and conventions written into the Constitution? No. The Constitution says nothing about primaries or caucuses. Or about political parties. So where did primaries and caucuses come from? From the parties themselves. The first major political party convention was held in 1831 by the National Republican Party (also known as the Anti-Jacksonian Party). The first Democratic National Convention was held in 1832. Who decides how primaries are run? It’s all up to the parties at the state level. Political parties can even decide not to hold a primary. This year, five states have decided not to hold Republican presidential primaries and caucuses, a move designed to stop Donald Trump’s long-shot primary challengers. Can state laws override party decisions? No. In 1981, the Supreme Court held that the Democratic Party wasn’t required to admit Wisconsin delegates to its national convention since they hadn’t been selected in accordance with Democratic Party rules. The court said that a political party is protected by the First Amendment to come up with its own rules. Why did we start holding primaries? In the 19th century, the process for deciding on a party’s nominee was controlled by party bosses, who chose the delegates to the party conventions. In the early 20th century, some states began to hold primaries to choose delegates for party nominating conventions. Although the outcomes of those primaries weren’t binding, they sent a message about how a candidate might do in a general election. In 1960, for example, John F. Kennedy’s victory in the West Virginia primary [archival footage] was viewed by Democratic Party leaders as a strong sign that a Catholic like Kennedy could win the votes of Protestants. As recently as 1968, a candidate could still become the Democratic nominee without participating in any primaries, as Hubert Humphrey did that year. But since then, both parties have changed their rules so their presidential nominees depend on the outcomes of primaries and caucuses. They made these changes to better ensure their candidates would succeed in the general election. What’s the difference between a caucus and a primary? States that hold primaries allow voters to cast secret ballots in support of candidates. States that hold caucuses rely instead on local in-person gatherings at a particular time and place -- maybe in a high school gym or a library -- where voters who turn up openly decide which candidates to support. Here are the states that will have Democratic primaries in 2020 and those that will have caucuses: Iowa, Nevada, Kansas, North Dakota, Wyoming, and Maine. What’s the advantage of one over the other? Primaries are the easiest way to vote. Caucuses are more difficult to participate in, so the people who turn out for them are usually the most enthusiastic and engaged voters. In caucuses for the 2008 and 2016 Democratic nominations, for example, Hillary Clinton lost to Barack Obama and then to Bernie Sanders. Fewer than 5 percent of pledged delegates will be awarded by caucuses in the upcoming Democratic primary, down from 14 percent in 2016. Are Democratic and Republican primaries the same? No. One of the biggest differences is in how delegates are allocated. In the Democratic Party delegates are allocated proportionally -- so that, for example, a candidate who wins 40 percent of a state’s vote in the Democratic primary will win 40 percent of that state’s delegates. The Republican Party allows each individual state to choose how its delegates are allocated, with some states allocating delegates proportionally and some giving all their delegates to the winner of the primary. Another difference involves what are known as “superdelegates” -- typically elected officials and prominent party members like former presidents or congressional leaders. These superdelegates are automatically seated at the party’s national convention and can vote however they like. Superdelegates are still used by the Democratic Party but the Republican Party eliminated superdelegates in 2012. In 2018, the Democratic Party reduced the power of superdelegates, allowing them to vote only in contested conventions, when no candidate has a majority of votes going into the convention. What’s the difference between an open, semi-closed, and closed primary? Some states have closed primaries, where the only people who can participate are those that have registered as members of a political party. Independents and members of another party are not eligible. Other states have semi-closed primaries, in which both registered party members and Independents can vote. Different states also have different rules about when voters must choose which primary they wish to vote in -- for example, registering with a party on the day of the primary or even at the time of voting. In open-primary states, any registered voter can participate in which ever party’s primary they choose. Why is Iowa first? Why is New Hampshire second? How is that order determined? It may seem odd that the first two primaries occur in tiny overwhelmingly white rural states -- and it is. But hey, here we are. Iowa’s caucus is first, by tradition. New Hampshire’s primary must occur at least seven days before any other primary, according to New Hampshire state law. Originally held in March of a presidential election year, the New Hampshire primary has repeatedly been moved forward in order to maintain its status as the first primary. What’s “Super Tuesday?” That’s the Tuesday during primary season when the greatest number of states hold primary elections. This year, Super Tuesday will be March 3 -- coming after the Iowa caucus, the New Hampshire primary, the Nevada Democratic caucus, and the South Carolina Democratic primary. And Super Tuesday will be really super because two huge states with lots of delegates -- California and Texas -- have both moved their primaries to March 3. All told, 9 states will hold primaries that day, including 6 of the most-populous -- meaning almost 29 percent of the U.S. population will have a chance to get in on picking the presidential candidates that day. So once a state’s voters have decided on their candidates, how are the specific delegates to a party convention chosen? The national parties have left that up to their state parties, so it varies from state to state. Delegates are typically party activists or insiders who have been supporters of the candidate they’re chosen to represent at the national party convention. Do delegates to a national party convention have to vote for the candidate they've pledged to support? Both parties’ rules require that they do, at least on the first ballot. What’s a contested convention? A contested convention is one where no candidate has a majority of delegates going into the convention. When was the last contested convention? A while back, but we could see one again this year. In 1984, Vice President Walter Mondale entered the Democratic convention only a few delegates short of a majority. In 1976 Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan competed for the Republican nomination, and at the start of the convention neither had a majority. What’s a brokered convention? A brokered convention occurs when, after the first round of voting, still no candidate has a majority of delegates. If that happens, delegates are then free to vote for whomever they want. When was the last brokered convention? You have to go all the way back to 1952 to find a brokered convention. That year both conventions were brokered. Adlai Stevenson finally emerged as the Democratic nominee and Dwight Eisenhower, the Republican. But here again, it might happen in 2020. Which party’s convention comes first? And when and where? By tradition, the party that holds the White House holds its nominating convention after the party that seeks the White House. So this year, the Democratic National Convention will be July 13 through 16 in Milwaukee. The Republican National Convention will be August 24 to August 27, in Charlotte. Are vice presidential candidates chosen or announced at the convention? Not necessarily. Presidential nominees often announce their choice of running mates in the days or weeks leading up to the nominating conventions. So what do we do? Make sure you’re registered and be sure to vote -- in your state primaries or caucuses, and in the general election November 3!

#video #videos

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celestialexpress · 4 years

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A Game of Strategy... | Libra | Re: Leo, Aquarius, Pisces, Attn: Everyone

Although it isn’t visible through his mask, Libra’s brow twitches at Leo’s remarks. He sighs in annoyance.

“On the contrary, I’ve actually spent the whole week thinking about this. I thought about skipping this mission all together initially, but I’ve chosen not to do that. If we skip, then there’s a chance that the next leader could be someone from Equinox. With Equinox having the advantage of knowing each other, it’s too risky of a move. At least with myself as the leader, Solstice has a better shot at a comeback. That said, I’ve been doing my research and planned this mission out very carefully.”

Although his voice is steady, the way his hands fidget with each other reflects how nervous he truly is for this.

“First and foremost, I’m going to be electing those who rejected Virgo's team proposal from last time. This would be Me, Gemini, Capricorn, and Pisces. Equinox won last time, and as I've mentioned, they have the advantage of knowing each other. This would mean that they should have had no reason to say No to the last mission. You could argue that perhaps that there could be a reverse manoeuvre in play, but I highly doubt it. They wouldn’t have been able to communicate such a plan on the spot so easily when the team was picked, since no one knew who Virgo was going to choose. According to Corvus, throughout the selection participants have been mostly taking things at face value— meaning there usually isn’t too much fore-planning when it comes to decision-making."

It seems like Libra is going for a more logical approach this time around. He folds his arms.

“I’ve also been doing my own research on things this past week, and I can also confirm that Virgo is 100% on Solstice, just as Pisces has said.”

He takes a moment to turn to the star sign beside him.

“I’m sorry for doubting you about it before.”

Libra bows apologetically.

“Last mission, I actually let the timer run out. Just like what Virgo said, I was kicked out of the train, however my button auto-pressed to Solstice. This had me wondering about the exact mechanics of the timer system, so I clarified it with Corvus— to which I learned something crucial:

Only Solstice Members have Timers on their buttons.

Since Equinox members have to make a decision, the mission can’t move on without Equinox pressing a button. On the other hand, Solstice members only have one choice, hence why their decisions are timed. Once time runs out, they’ll be kicked out of the cart and their buttons will be automatically pushed. Virgo, being the first to actually bring it up, makes me believe that she has to be on Solstice.

This is why I’m selecting her for this mission as well.”

He glances around, watching everyone carefully.

“To summarize, so far I’m picking Myself, Gemini, Capricorn, Pisces, and Virgo for this mission. This is already five people. Feel free to contest my decisions if you wish. However, keep in mind that I’m basing this lineup on logic more than anything. I don’t care if you have tension, or personal grievances with who’ve I’ve picked. Solstice needs a win, and that’s what I’m prioritising as of the moment.”

#ce #chrono1 #stardropselection #chseven #libra #submission

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gaming2day · 4 years

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Zombie Army 4: Dead War - Review

Did you notice that just a few weeks ago, Valve came out and said in uncertain terms that there'll be absolutely no Left 4 Dead 3 anytime soon? Well, the terrible news for several is astounding for Zombie Army 4: Dead War, which couldn't have hoped for better timing. He's here to follow those four-player cooperative steps - except that his zombies also are Nazis, and sometimes once you kill them you get a super-gross gross kill. It definitely scratches the itch, although the few new ideas it injects don't really reinvigorate the genre that Bill, Coach, Zoey, and Francis have built.

It may sound familiar on the entire, but Zombie Army 4 manages to separate itself from the already sizable horde of zombie cooperative shooters in some fun ways. For starters, the story is delightfully absurd, with occult forces bringing the Nazi army back from the dead, apparently from the literal bowels of Hell. His campaign of about eight hours ends with a ridiculous and surprising final battle that's worth seeing uncontaminated. there's also a simplified Horde mode if you only want to remain on one position and see what percentage waves you'll face as you are trying out different weapons. I prefer the variability and forward momentum to play the entire campaign, but the Horde offers many opportunities for intense shootings and last-second wins.

The WWII setting is disgusting and filled with blood, but during a creative way during which I could not wait to ascertain what I might have fought after. I enjoyed facing powerful enemies like zombie flamethrowers with explosive gas cylinders on their backs, Nazi zombie generals whose hearts must be removed to stop them from spawning more enemies and managers like tanks that reveal gigantic ribs when their armored sides are made the jump. And it's made all the more exciting by a superb soundtrack that seems straight out of the classic zombie movie George A. Romero from 1985, Day of the Dead - my only complaint about music is that I wish it had been mixed louder and channeled more often.

There is a layer of strategic dismemberment within the brainless massacre.

There's a little quite running and shooting because the way you shoot zombies encourages you to face the walking dead during a more nuanced way: getting a particular number of kills unlocks special abilities, like enhanced sniper shots or reload of superfast rifles, but you furthermore may have the likelihood to recover health by taking close kills. Killing a variety of zombies from afar to realize the proper to run and recover some health adds a layer of strategic dismemberment to the brainless massacre.

Additionally, there's clearly some Doom inspiration that helps keep the action moving, with some zombies offering ammo, grenades, or health packs if you tread on them after they're defeated. This led to some great moments during which I recovered from being cornered by coitus interruptus an enormous wave, healed myself with close fatalities then trampled on enemies on the bottom to recover ammo before rushing to subsequent target. Where it appeared to me that it had only been done a couple of moments before, I found myself at my best and prepared for everything that happened afterward without even an ammo cache pitstop.

The layouts of the eight levels of Zombie Army 4 (and the smaller final comparison) are neat and do an honest job of contextualizing why you would like to maneuver from point A to point B beyond basic survival. Sometimes you're exploring an abandoned zoo, other times you're getting fuel for a ship so it can make its way down a canal, or you're learning pieces of a bomb to mix at the top of the stage. the amount doesn't look radically different, but all of them have interesting layouts that are fun to explore and are disturbing and disturbing in their own way. The goals are simple enough where you and your friends will never be confused about what to try to next, but interesting and varied enough that it doesn't appear to be you're always doing an equivalent thing. There are never times when cooperative play is required - you'll easily play alone if that's how you roll - but the more players take part the action the upper the problem it automatically climbs and therefore the more important teamwork becomes.

You can easily play alone if that's how you shoot.

I like the crazy sprint to finish this sort of goal, but I used to be less hooked into the areas where you've got to carry your position for a particular period of your time. These defensive scenarios aren't all that common, but curiously enough Zombie Army 4 constantly offers you anti-personnel mines and electric cables that are not that useful when you're on the run rather than preparing for an assault. And even during the checkpoints once you have time to put the traps, most of them went after the primary wave and returned to plain shooting anyway.

The upgrade system is additionally rewarding, to some extent. The persistent progression of the character allows you to deepen across the board, so whether you're in Horde mode, playing the campaign alone or with friends, you'll add new skills like better defense or faster positioning of anti-personnel mines, among others. There aren't enough options to permit you and your friends to diversify and occupy classes with wildly different and synergistic abilities, but it's still worth increasing your skills from one level to a different.

Why should I exploit a machine gun when my rifle electrocutes zombies?

The gun upgrade system, however, is initially exciting but can hit a wall. the ditch Gun may be a personal favorite: by the top of the campaign, I had sped up my refill, boosted damage output, and added bonus damage to electricity. I added similar upgrades to my precision rifle, but after a short time I ended up with a load of weapon upgrades that I wasn't getting to use. Why should I take two steps back and begin employing a machine gun when my rifle electrocutes zombies? Since there are not any lessons, I even have not felt the rationale to travel back to the start line and alter things.

It's a nice touch, though, that once you die you switch into a zombie and watch, without control, as your character approaches the gang and becomes another obstacle for your friends to beat. Once they kill you, you'll regenerate (as long as they do not die first), so it works as a fun handicap to stop instant regeneration - and let's face it, it is also fun to kill your friends' zombie versions.

Microtransaction reaction

Zombie Army 4 at launch represents a good package with a considerable campaign, but a primary season of DLC is already planned and a Season Pass is out there for $ 34.99. alongside new characters and guns and new skins for all characters and guns, the primary DLC also will add three new campaign missions. There also are additional free levels for Horde mode, although at the instant it's not clear exactly when these new contents are going to be available. In terms of what is immediately available, there's a little selection of cosmetic items and alternative guns that are included within the Deluxe edition or which will be purchased individually for $ 4 or $ 5. So far, it doesn't appear to be the DLC content is going to be an enormous problem.

From a technical point of view, I didn't encounter any connection problems, but I had some general bugs. On quite one occasion I found a scenario during which the zombies were coming to infinity, albeit the goal had been completed, forcing us to start out over. I also had a few times when large black bars appeared, obscuring my view of ammo reserves and when my special skills would be available. it had been quite annoying.

The verdict

Zombie Army 4: Dead War feels largely familiar among the horde of Dead 4 Dead-style cooperative shooter, but it isn't without its clever mechanical touches and runs on the oldest computer game clichés: killing Nazi zombies. Between his varied election campaign and a fun horde mode, there are many opportunities for heartbreaking teamwork and gory, disgusting X-ray kills. The weapon's progression system doesn't provide many reasons to expand, therefore the attraction of his replay value isn't as strong because it might be.

#zombie army 4 dead war ps4 #zombie army 4 dead war review #zombie army 4 dead war gameplay #zombie army 4 dead war pc #zombie army 4 dead war

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beinglibertarian · 6 years

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James Smith and the South Carolina Governors Race

You may have heard, or will likely soon hear, of the South Carolina Candidate for Governor, James Smith‘s, recent attempt at gaining the nomination for three other minority parties after gaining the Democratic Party’s nomination.

After he withdrew his request, South Carolina county representatives of the Libertarian Party (LP), a group of 16, met and decided that he was not within his legal right to withdraw, and nominated None Of The Above (NOTA) as the LP’s candidate of choice; eliminating James Smith not just from acting as a fusion candidate for multiple parties, but also claiming that their vote of 16-to-0 means that all 240,468 people who voted in the Democratic Primary will not be able to vote for James Smith (their 1st choice by a wide margin).

They now must either quickly find another candidate, or not have any Democrat candidate on their ballot in November.

A good person doesn’t ask if something is legal or illegal, they ask rather, is this right or wrong.

First, consider the Libertarian pledge:

“I hereby certify that I do not believe in or advocate the initiation of force as a means of achieving political or social goals.”

This oath should be seen as a clear directive against using, or even encouraging the use of the government (aka a monopoly of force) against a political opponent, like a competing political party or their chosen candidate.

The Libertarian Pledge is based on the Non-aggression principle or NAP, “The NAP is an ethical stance that asserts that aggression is inherently wrong. In this context, “aggression” is defined as initiating or threatening any forcible interference with an individual or individual’s property.”

When a libertarian, especially one in a position of leadership, says that they will not use force to achieve political goals, what does that actually mean?

To be fair, this would mean a variety of things based on the true priorities of the one speaking.

For instance, if one puts party over principle, this pledge might just be a nice sounding platitude for which an authoritarian can hide behind and claim anything aggressive was only done in self-defense, no matter how clearly false the claim may be. Or the pledge may be completely ignored when seen as an inconvenient limitation of his power.

If however, the one speaking is a principled libertarian, meaning that he puts principle ahead of party, then it is meant the way it was written; and “believe in or advocate” (or actively use) “the initiation of force” will clearly include using the force of government, especially in an aggressive or forceful way “as a means of achieving political goals” (such as using a legal trick to disqualify a political competitor).

So, it really should not matter what evil, or harm to another, a state law permits us to do (against a political competitor), a principled libertarian would refuse to use government force for political gain, maintaining his integrity and limited only by his libertarian pledge, standing on strict adherence to the non-aggression principle alone.

We can do better. Liberty demands it! Liberty is for everyone. We need liberty everywhere, and we desperately need liberty in South Carolina.

Excuses Running Wild

“But the ‘Sore Loser Law’ is not our fault, it merely exists, and we’re all subject to it.”

While that is true, couldn’t the exact same thing be said of all illegitimate laws, and their unlawful enforcement?

This is a bit like shooting your neighbor’s dog, because the cops shot your dog, and then claiming in was somehow in self-defense since it wouldn’t be fair unless we were all equally oppressed.

This bit of immoral “logic” sounds all too similar to every other justification ever used to excuse the use government force against another, but they do not sound at all libertarian in nature.

How about we just stop aggressing against each other? Show some leadership by example, and stop seeing political trickery for anything other than what it is: tyranny by using the force of government against easy marks. Those that employ this type of method ought to be given no quarter and rejected from any position of leadership within the party of liberty.

Essentially, a small group of individuals (claiming to represent libertarians from all over South Carolina, but who actually only represent at best 16 out of 46 counties and are in number less than one out of every 3,000 of us) led by a most interesting character, decided on his advice to make a bold attempt at completely disenfranchising all 240,468 who voted in the Democratic Primary.

First, let’s look at what should have been done, then at what was done, and finally ask yourself if those principles that you see as the principles of liberty are currently being properly displayed.

What Should Have Been Done

For those who truly are “classical liberals,” best described as those who consistently prioritize and respect liberty and justice for all, doing what is right may be difficult, but it’s not complicated.

Boldly declare this specific law as removing a voice from the people, as such it ought to be immediately removed and, until that point, nullified in practice.

Quietly convene the minority party meeting and, in the principles of liberty, vote only to stand behind the candidate’s right to withdraw.

Send to the election commission the decision of the minority party’s agreement to accept the majority party candidate’s withdrawal from seeking the additional minority party’s nomination.

Use the opportunity to encourage others to also nullify such protectionist and illegitimate laws by discouraging anyone else from suing and stating that our decision not to sue (presuming the law is not automatically enforced) is a principled one, and that we’d like to challenge others to follow our principled example by leaving it alone.

Ask for a repeal of the offending law and encourage nullification until that time.

What Actually Happened

They did what was legally permitted yet morally wrong, this was an easy decision for some, yet handled in a much more complicated way than necessary. Instead of what I mentioned above, they instead:

Boldly declared that this specific law must be upheld (knowing that it gives a big voice to a tiny party) and that it ought to be enforced, and great attention ought to be brought to it to encourage others to sue for its immediate enforcement.

Loudly and quickly called a meeting of the minority party’s executive committee and voted against the majority party’s candidacy for the additional minority party’s nomination, which said candidate has already withdrawn from.

Sent the unanimous rejection of said fusion candidate to the election commission with the statement that it was too late for the candidate to withdraw. So his withdrawal from the minority party’s nomination was rejected and he was instead voted against making him ineligible, by current law, to run at all on the ballot, including as a majority party’s candidate.

Used the opportunity to speak to multiple newspapers and radio shows, explaining the law as it stands, the vote that was taken, and how even though we are not financially prepared to sue, that it is set up so that anyone else could sue, strongly encouraging others to do so.

Never once asked for a repeal of the offending law, appearing to celebrate the attention that it brings to the minority party and the trouble that it causes for the much larger party.

The Take Away

Every individual must ask: are the principles of liberty currently being properly represented by those claiming to represent the “party of liberty”?

If liberty and the party of liberty don’t match up, which one ought to change?

Which matters more, principle or party? If you say party, then what have you gained if unprincipled politicians win seats in your party’s name? We already have some of the most unprincipled politicians in power. Instead we need those who will advocate for liberty.

Would you strongly encourage the enforcement of current oppressive laws on your political enemies? Or, would you apply the timeless principles of liberty, even to those who would not do so for you, in the hopes to show all a better way?

Some choose the former, I choose the latter. It’s not always the easiest path, but it’s the right thing to do. If you choose principle over party, then join your fellow liberty advocates in South Carolina.

Good choices make your food taste better. They make it easier to look yourself in the mirror, and easier to sleep at night. If you’re having trouble with any of those things, check your choices.

Remember, Liberty is for everyone!

“Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds.” – Robert Nesta Marley, Redemption Song

“We can’t expect to live in a free society if we play by the establishment’s rules.” – Tom Woods, Real Dissent.

“Those that truly believe in Liberty will refuse to use the tyranny of government force against their political competitors.” – Matt Wavle for Liberty

Matt Wavle has been a liberty advocate since the late 1980’s, before the Berlin Wall fell. He is an advocate for self protection through groups that promote Constitutional Carry and Liberty in South Carolina. He can often be found speaking on the subject of natural rights libertarianism and protecting our freedoms through voluntaryism. You can reach him at Matt 4 Liberty and Liberty in SC on Facebook.

The post James Smith and the South Carolina Governors Race appeared first on Being Libertarian.

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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years

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Heatwave for President

Fic: Heatwave for President (ao3 link)

Fandom: Flash, DC's Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Mick Rory will go down in history for being the first person to start his campaign for President of the United States by saying, "I really don't want to do this, but seriously, look at my opponent."

A/N: Birthday present for @oneiriad! Happy birthday!

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"Do you have any regrets about the process?" the reporter asks as they all stare at the giant television showing the projected results as the exit polls start trickling in from the states. "Anything you would change?"

"What kind of question is that?" Iris mutters under her breath.

Mick - to whom the question had been directed - hums for a moment. "I think - the time travel," he says. "That bit. Wouldn't do it."

The reporter frowns. "But wasn't it your association with the, quote, 'Legends of Tomorrow' that originally propelled you on your current path towards politics and, eventually, your present run for President?"

"Yeah," Mick says glumly. "Exactly."

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Technically, it's a bit more complicated than that.

First, of course, there was the Flash. Everything always starts there - oh, shut up with your stupid 'Green Arrow was first' bullcrap, no one cares that he was first because he was just some weird serial killing vigilante to start off with, and anyway barely anyone outside of Starling (Star City, whatever) knew about it - because it was by watching the Flash's epic battles with what have come, retrospectively, to be known as his "Rogues" that Mick first became famous. He even had his own action figure, which most people running for president could only imagine happening in relation to political satire.

Of course, back then they called him Heatwave.

Then Snart - that's Captain Cold to you, reporter - had the bright idea of hooking up with some time travelers for a lark. Mick hadn't thought much of the idea at the time, even tried to quit a few times - quit with prejudice, one might say, and there'd been that whole Kronos business that you're not finding out any more about, the news media already knows more than Mick would like on the subject - and it hadn't taken.

And then Snart died.

Yes, Mick is perfectly aware that Snart's back now, but for a while there he'd been absolutely and totally convinced that he was gone for good (he was dead - how was Mick supposed to know that it hadn't fully taken?!) and it'd been pretty shattering.

That was the period with the Legends. Saving history, fucking up history, all of that.

Yes, that's when he met Georgie Washington. Stop asking about it. Mick's already told you all he knows.

No, he refuses to go get him for the Inauguration, should it happen! The guy didn't even like politics towards the end of it! Leave Georgie alone!

Okay, maybe a dinosaur. Mick makes no promises.

Well, yeah. He guesses it would be pretty cool to ride to the White House on a dinosaur. You might have a point there.

Anyway, where was he? Oh, right, the Legends. Anyway, when the first alien attack came - the Dominators - Mick was there with the Legends. It was a state secret and all that at the time; that's when he got a pardon for everything he'd previously been involved with. Very hush-hush, though how the pres was planning on keeping the details of how a nation- or world-wide invasion was defeated a secret is anyone's guess. Sure, keep it a secret from the American media, that's one thing, but those British tabloids are vicious weasels that will stop at nothing.

Okay, yeah, Mick taking a selfie with a downed Dominator and posting it to Instagram - instantly making it one of the only good pictures anyone had of the damn things, which were resistant to being recorded on any type of media unless you did some special adjustments to the settings, like, say, the sort Gideon did automatically when upgrading their camera phones, and by sheer scarcity thereby became famous worldwide as the definitive Dominator photo - probably didn't help with the whole secrecy thing.

Hell yeah Mick's going to put a copy of that in the White House if he wins, you kidding? That picture won photo of the year, and that was the year of the solar eclipse, so it had some pretty stiff competition.

Anyway, yeah, that's how Mick's rep started shifting from supervillain to - you know what, let's just avoid any use of the terms 'superhero' (Mick is not) or 'hero' (also not).

Good guy?

Ugh. Fine. Out of lack of better options.

Anyhoo, that's when the buzz started, y'know? A couple of pranksters - whose names shall remain nameless but who know exactly who they are, Barry Allen and Cisco Ramon - uh, that last part's off the record - anyway, these fucking assholes decided to start up a fake Super PAC called 'Heatwave for President'.

Yeah, Mick knows it was just meant as a contrast to the current incumbent. Sort of a "if this idiot can become president, why not Heatwave the famous supervillain" sort of deal. Mick's cool with that. It was a funny joke and, yeah, the incumbent was worse than useless. You'd think getting the job when your predecessor was shot by aliens would give them the sympathy vote, at least for a bit, but wow did they blow it. Who the fuck tries to kill health care for kids as their first official push in action? Seriously, who?

Yeah, you can definitely write that down. “Mick Rory still ticked off about asshole move”. Honestly, just keep that handy for copy-paste purposes, it’s probably going to be relevant a lot in the future.

What? No, Mick hadn’t thought about running for office as far back as the whole joke Super PAC thing. Mick was traveling through space and time at that time. Keep your chronology straight. If Mick can do it – and, again, not to over-emphasize this, but do you know how hard it is to keep track of time on a time-traveling spaceship? – then you can do it when you've got your feet firmly set down on planet earth in a consistent timeline.

So yeah, things were going along that way, Mick with the Legends, going around, doing shit, messing shit up, fighting with people. The whole thing wasn't exactly all sunshine and roses, but they did well enough. Well, they managed to keep the timeline more or less intact, at least.

No, you wouldn’t know it if they’d failed. Time doesn’t work that way.

No, the current incumbent isn’t a result of a horrific failure by time travelers to prevent an evil catastrophe from –

Huh. You know what, Mick’s not going to give a definitive answer on that one. Just assume that if the Legends had failed, things would be even worse.

No comment on North Korea. Just – no comment. Ever.

Yes, ever.

The Legends are on it, okay?!

Not the point Mick was trying to get at here. More what he was trying to get at is – Len. Snart. Captain Cold.

Fuck it, Mick's just calling him Len for the rest of this interview -

Yes, thank you Len, your commentary that you are “always the point” is incredibly helpful here.

Fucking drama queens.

Anyway.

That's about when it turns out (or rather, when they all discover) that Len didn’t, in fact, die – or maybe he did, and it got reversed, or something like that – and he ended up in a different universe. Fighting Nazis.

Listen, if there’s one thing that Mick’s going to take a permanent never-gonna-change-it-no-matter-what-new-evidence-appears-no-matter-what position on, it’s gonna be Nazis. Mick fucking hates Nazis.

Yes, neo-Nazis count.

Yes, they have a First Amendment right to free speech, meaning no government oppression.

Yes, Mick realizes that means he’ll have to stop punching them all the time if he gets elected President. It’s okay. He’s sure that some fine, upstanding people will take up the slack and keep on the good work for him.

Listen, if Super PACs are “sufficiently unrelated” to a presidential campaign to raise money on behalf of some asshole – and yes, Mick’s counting himself here – then the Nazi-Punching Party which endorsed Mick and which he may or may not go to regular meetings of is “sufficiently unrelated” for the purposes of government oppression of free speech. You get me?

Fine, Mick will probably stop attending meetings.

Probably.

Len can still go, though, right?

See, Lenny, you can still go. Bring a goddamn camera.

Fuck, being President is going to be no fun at all. Why is he doing this again?

Oh, right, because the World’s Worst Caricature is running for office and the Legends and Gideon have all agreed that letting that guy get elected would literally mean the end of the world. That’s it, kaput, no more history, everyone’s all back to using sticks to write in the dirt again – what weird mutated creatures are left over anyway.

Ugh.

Trust Mick, you don't want to see the things Mick has seen. It's bad.

Mick would like it known that he does not approve of things going in a political drama-slash-mutated creature sort of way. Sci-fi was always more Len’s things. Mick prefers ninjas.

Yeah, that meeting with Tokyo’s Prime Minister went awesomely, why do you ask?

Shut up, Len. There was some discussion of policy; it wasn’t all about what classic ninja movie was the best. Though the last five hours were definitely all movie marathon. Not gonna lie.

Where was he?

Right, Len. Fighting Nazis. Terrible nearly world-ending invasion of the present Earth by the Nazi forces of that Earth, including the superhero and meta equivalents, repelled only by the combined forces of basically everybody.

Len and Mick teamed up to save the day, just like old times.

Okay, old times, they teamed up to steal things. Basically the same thing.

Listen, Nazis from another dimension invaded. That trumps everything.

For anyone other than the current incumbent, anyway. Fuckhead.

Yes, that’s on the record.

What? What the fuck is “Presidential decorum”? Listen, you, unlike you, Mick’s actually met George Washington, and if you think that every three words he uttered wasn’t some variation of ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, or ‘damn’, then that’s just because you’re reading the cleaned up history version. He was a soldier. And before he was a soldier, he was a surveyor, which as far as Mick can tell means “walked out into the forest with a compass and came back out hating bears”, and if that doesn’t make a man swear, then nothing will.

No comment on whether or not Mick hooked up with him.

Just give up. You’re never going to get a comment.

So while everybody else was being scared shitless at how the Nazis from another dimension – and yeah, Mick’s perfectly aware that the usual term is “another Earth”, but fuck it, “another dimension” sounds like a crappy 1950s sci-fi “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes” and makes Len grin every time, so Mick’s sticking with it – were invading, especially when they got all the white supremacists on this Earth to join up with them, taking advantage of all those so-easy gun laws to arm up into an actual local army, the current incumbent decided to throw a temper tantrum because the attention wasn’t 100% focused on them for five fricking minutes.

Also, Mick’s pretty sure they’re actually not-so-secretly a Nazi supporter. All that talk of cooperating and seeing what they have to say and how they were “good people” – total fucking crap, obviously. That asshole was probably disappointed when Mick and Len had their Moment of Awesome sending them all back to where they came, right into the trap Len’d been setting up with the other resistance forces on that Earth.

Either way, as everyone knows, as soon as the Nazis were gone, the next thing the current incumbent decided to do was push a horrible law outlawing any metahumans – and they defined metahumans in the stupidest possible way, and all because they wanted it to cover people who actually didn’t have any powers like Len and Mick, which didn’t even make sense – and trying to make Earth-1 full on fascist.

Yeah, fascist. They put lots of fancy words and stuff – no, that’s not right, their speechwriters put fancy words and stuff around it, but that law was – is – fucking dystopia nightmare fuel right there, okay?

Listen, Mick literally has someone from 2042 going around and testifying to how awful that law makes literally everything. What more evidence do you fucking need?

So, yeah. Horrible future. World's Worst Caricature running for office, almost certain to pass it if they get in.

And that means -

Someone was gonna have to man up (woman up? non-gender up? human up? wait, is the last one specieist?) to stop it.

Now, you’d think the other party would do something about that, wouldn’t they? But noooo, they decide to shoot themselves in the foot by nominating some old geezer taking a hard line about how everything’s going to change now that everyone’s “together” – never mind the details, togetherness is what’s important, right guys? the movement's gonna fix everything! because it's a revolution! of feelings! Of all the dumbass hippie-dippie crap... – and coming up with increasingly more stupid ideas that wouldn't work. Doesn't matter, of course, Mick was all set to vote for the fucker anyway, along with everyone else, just to keep Worst Caricature outta office, but no. See, then, three fucking months before the election, the asshole gets found out to be corrupt as fuck! Except he won’t resign and let anyone else run! And his fanboys have made their way into the levers of power, so the party can’t kick him out, either! And all the goddamn ballots have already gone to the printers!

That’s how this whole thing really got started, you know. Three fucking months, and the only other person who’d been entered to run for President in all 50 states before the deadline passed is – you guessed – Heatwave for President.

Fucking hell.

At the time, the entire freaking organization was being run by the people who now make up Mick’s circle of advisors – Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen, Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow, and Iris West – because they’d all thought it was freaking funny or something, and everyone suddenly had to change gears real fast to try to make it into an actual thing.

Not that anyone thought it would work. You know, they just thought - might as well give it a try. Can't just roll over and give in; gotta go for the Hail Mary pass if that's all that's left to you.

No one actually thought it would work.

At least, no one thought it would work until the polls started changing. First time they polled it, Mick got, like, 5%.

Second time they polled it, he got 30%.

Now he’s somewhere near 50%.

Jesus.

If Mick wins, Mick’s taking a weekend to go sit quietly in a room and hyperventilate for, like, an hour.

Thanks for the hug, Len. Means a lot; Mick knows very well how much you hate public displays of affection. Or emotion. Or anything but drama, drama, drama.

Huh? Yeah, Len and Mick are partners. They’ve always been upfront and clear about that.

No – no – partners.

Yes, criminal partners. But also, you know, partner partners. If you get what Mick’s saying.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, they’re married. Len’s going to be the First Supervillain or whatever they call it when it’s a guy.

What do you mean, nobody…? It’s fucking legal and everything! Central City’s Hall of Records has a copy of the goddamn certificate!

…oh, okay, yeah. Fair point. Can’t even imagine the type of backlog you’d have to go through to get Central City bureaucracy to do anything, much less respond to a freaking FOIA request. They'll probably get around to responding to it sometime in the 2030s.

You mean people really didn’t know?

Huh.

Well, that’s gonna surprise a lot of people, then.

First ever non-straight resident of the White House? Don’t be ridiculous. Haven’t you met Lincoln?

Right. Not everyone time travels. Sorry, keep forgetting.

Yes, Mick’s met Lincoln.

No, Mick’s not going to comment on if he hooked up with him, either. Jesus. Stop asking.

Why hadn’t Mick mentioned meeting Lincoln before? Because it wasn’t important? It never came up!

It’s not like anyone asked for a listing of all the time eras he’s visited!

Of course the Legends never mentioned it; it wasn’t when Mick was with them. It was during his Kronos period. Listen, it’s a long story, okay? And they’re getting close to actually starting to yell out states, so maybe everyone should pay attention to that instead.

Yes, Mick is totally aware that he’s being weaselly. He’s a politician now. He’s allowed to be weaselly sometime.

What’s everyone got against weasels, anyway? Perfectly nice animals.

Mick has a pet rat, you know. If Mick wins – yes, he’s still using fucking “if”, nothing gets decided until we hit Ohio and Florida, Iris – does that make Ratigan the First Pet or something now?

Is there a First Pet position?

Wait, there is? Kickass.

Never been a rat before? So what? Mick’s got nothing against dogs, you know, but he doesn’t have a dog. He has a rat. People will just have to deal.

Heh. Not Mick’s fault you don’t know what part of this interview you should make the headline.

…thank you, Len, he’s not going to go with “Bisexual Rat-Owner Wins Presidency; Husband Approves”.

No, “President-Elect Uses ‘Fuck’ More Often In Last-Minute Interview Than Any Prior Candidate” isn’t a good choice either, Iris. Probably historically inaccurate, too; LBJ was real big on the whole swearing thing - no comment on the hook-ups! Jesus!

What? No, Ramon, no one is running a headline that goes “Time Traveler Confirms Academic Suspicions Regarding Lincoln’s Sexuality”. No one cares!

Fine, maybe the history journals care. But no one else. Not like it’s a big deal. People can sleep with whoever they want.

Oh, it’s still a big deal in some ways? That sucks. Okay, that’s going on the agenda of things to do to fix in the next four years.

Eight years?

No.

Yes, he means it! Why the hell would he run for office twice? How bad can the next option be?!

And Sara just ran into the room. Please say that you’re not here to tell everyone that some horrible thing has happened in the future that –

Actually, never mind. Please be here to tell everyone that some horrible thing has happened in the future and that you desperately need everyone here to go take care of it immediately.

No?

Damn.

Wait.

What do you mean, Mick won?

Oh fuck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, what are you planning on doing now, Mr. President-Elect?” the reporter asks, beaming like a maniac, as the giant television shows the explosive celebrations occurring immediately outside – literally explosive, since Mick had insisted on bonfires and fireworks and at least four different pyrotechnics teams. “What’s your first move?”

"What kind of question is that?" Iris laughs as Barry swings her around. “We can worry about that tomorrow! Tonight we party!”

“The world is saved!” Cisco cheers.

“I’m doomed,” Mick says, his head rolling back. “They’re never gonna let me quit.”

“Probably not,” Len, who is perched right next to him, says to him, not without sympathy. “But it’s okay. I’ll do the work for you.”

“You’re the best, boss,” Mick says, not without feeling. “Why couldn’t you have been Vice President?”

“Because they can’t be in the same building for too long,” Len explains. "Meteorite strikes."

"Oh," Mick says glumly. "Right."

Len pats Mick’s arm comfortingly. “Don’t worry. There’s a long, storied precedent of First – uh, First Spouses – running the joint for their husbands.”

“Damn right there is,” Mick says, rubbing his face. “Thank god for Woodrow Wilson, that's all I'm saying - don't you even ask," he warns the reporter.

“Besides,” Len continues, sounding quite practical. “Sara makes a great Vice President. After all, if you die, who would you want to avenge your murder if not Sara?”

Mick nods.

“Um,” the reporter says, blinking at the two of them. “That’s…not what a Vice President does?”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“…moderately sure. I’ve been reporting on political matters for a long time now.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure she’s gonna let Jax, Stein and Ray do most of her work,” Len offers. “Even after all that trouble we had to go to in order to get her declared alive again…”

“It…really doesn’t,” the reporter says. “But thanks for the update?”

“No problem,” Len says. “C’mon, Mick. Let’s go watch things burn.”

Mick brightens and climbs to his feet.

“Hey,” Len asks the reporter, “you’re the politico here. Do Presidential spouses get immunity from prosecution?”

The reporter frowns. “Why?”

“No stealing stuff, Snart,” Barry says.

“Oh, fine.”

“For four years.”

“Wait, what?!”

"You're a role model now!"

"No! I refuse!"

"Too late now," Iris cackles.

Mick starts laughing. “Well,” he says, looping an arm around Len’s waist and dragging him towards the flame, Len’s face still frozen in a rictus of horror. “At least I won’t be the only one suffering!”

“Look on the bright side!” the reporter shouts after them. “Politicians are basically just thieves on a much larger scale!”

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #my fic

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serkewen12 · 7 years

Text

Something There - Part Five

Pairing: Jefferson x Reader

Warnings: some naughty words and one suggestive situation

Word Count: 8164

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Tag list: @butlinislin @wolfphantom-m @musicalmoriarty @daveedish @imagineham @imaginebeinghamiltrash @insane-hamilton-imagines @shamagangster @tempfixeliza @crazypurplebananas @secretschuylersister @love-doesnt-discriminate @icanneverbesatisfied @getupoffathathang @th-mtchndr-s-th-pwrhs-f-th-cll @hamiltryingmybest @marquiis-de-la-baguette @consumed-by-musicals @drugsdiggs @hamfan22 @hamfamhamfam @y-lue @chloehamiltonn @patron-saintof-sluts @hanakatsumi @itsgarbagecannotgarbagecannot @alois-in-bootyshorts

Much to your delight and slight worry two weeks had passed without John and Lafayette bringing up your blunder outside the coffee shop. John was ever cheerful and with everyone having a full course load it seemed that he didn’t have time to worry about the fact that you were obviously flying by the seat of your pants with this “internship” or so you were inclined to believe. Lafayette was the one who made you worry. He hadn’t brought up the subject up, but you could tell by the odd looks suspicion that were always followed with a glint of amusement in reaction to how uncomfortable you looked that he was biding his time. Lafayette always knew when you were lying and you were on edge waiting for the moment he finally decided to pounce.

Last week Thomas had told you there was a new collection of books arriving from his parent’s home in Virginia that he would be adding to the library’s vintage and rare book section. You were set to meet him Wednesday evening to help look through the titles and organize them, on top of that he had promised to play you a song on his violin. He had finally admitted to you that he played when you had accidentally knocked over a stack of handwritten sheet music off a shelf in his study. Curiously he had never once played you that song you had walked in on him playing that day at school.

Economics was as eventful as ever, your professor had assigned a project for students to pair up and come up with a solution to help lessen the budget deficit within the government. Alexander had automatically claimed you as his partner that would help him take down his “enemies” in the class. You wanted to roll your eyes but the idea of the debate the professor was putting on was bringing out your competitive side. Thomas might be your friend, but there was no way you were going to let your emotions get in the way of the last big project of the semester.

“I think our ideas will blow everyone out of the water,” Alex said triumphantly.

“Don’t forget Jefferson is well versed in foreign government. He will most likely pull ideas from what other countries are doing at the moment. We have to stay on top of that so he doesn’t surprise us,” you commented without looking up from the laptop.

Alex shared a desk with you and set off researching topics from France because he assumed that would be Thomas’s country of choice to pull ideas from. He wasn’t wrong, you agreed one hundred percent. You glanced up and gazed across the room. Thomas and James were both engrossed in their notebooks. Thomas looked up to grab a book and made eye contact with you. His lips turned up into that arrogant smirk and you returned one back in return. You quickly grab your phone from your back before opening a new text. You could tell by the look in his eye that he was confident in what he was working on.

(Y/N) 1:40pm - You’re looking pretty confident over there. -

The Asshole 1:42 - You don’t think you’re going to win this debate do you? I’m not going to take it easy on you because I care about you. -

Because I care about you. You stared at your phone for a moment letting those words sink in. Don’t overthink that, you are just friends (Y/N).

(Y/N) 1:48 - I wouldn’t expect anything less. We still good for Wednesday? -

The Asshole 1:49 - Of course.

“Who are you texting?” Alexander teased and attempted to look at your phone.

“Just a friend,” you laugh. Keep telling yourself that.

Lafayette hummed along with the music flowing through his earbuds as he walked into the library Wednesday evening. He was on the hunt for a book to reference for cake decorating for his pastry class. Browsing quietly he found a few books that seemed promising before settling in at a table. Almost thirty minutes had passed when he heard a familiar voice approaching and he looked up from the books.

(Y/N) was walking towards the rare book section happily talking to Thomas Jefferson of all people. He was carrying a box and was laughing at what (Y/N) had said. Lafayette couldn’t help but stare in shock as he leaned forward to watch them disappear around the corner.

“Mon Dieu!”

He quickly jumped up, shoved all of the books into his bag, and scurried around the corner. Stopping quickly when he spotted them a few aisles away, he ducked behind one of the bookcases. The box Thomas had been carrying was now sitting on a table and they were both pulling small stacks of books out and were cataloging the titles onto a spreadsheet.

“These are going to be great additions to the collection Thomas,” (Y/N) said with a wide smile.

“I figured you would be excited about them.”

They continued to catalog all of the books and started making organized piles so they could quickly put them onto the shelves. As Thomas moved to the shelf closest to them and started placing the books while Lafayette backed off slightly to stay out of sight. This was better than anything he could of expected. He knew (Y/N) was lying about an internship but he never considered that she was spending time with Jefferson. I can’t wait to talk to her about this.

“So about dinner last weekend, I was thinking I should return the favor and cook for you,” Thomas mused.

“Is that so? I guess that’s fair since I refused the first time I was at your place. I’ve been curious about if that fancy ass kitchen is just for show or not,” she teased.

Well, well they have been in each other’s houses. She has cooked him dinner even.

“I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. If you don’t believe me ask Gil.”

“Looks like you will have to prove it to me sometime then. I’m going to be working on the economics project with Alex on Friday, but I should be done around 7 if you wanted to still watch a movie at my place,” (Y/N) commented.

“That works for me. James and I are working on ours as well….”

Lafayette slowly made his way toward the exit of the library. No wonder (Y/N) had been so worried about what had happened at the coffee shop. If Alexander or Hercules found out about this they would lose their minds. They still were plotting off and on how they wanted to get back at Jefferson for that insult a few months ago. He could only imagine how they would react if they knew about this secret relationship.

“I’m going to have to talk to her as soon as possible,” he said to himself as he walked down the street.

“God damn him!” Alexander slammed his bag on the the table causing both Eliza and you to jump.

“What happened now?” You shot him an annoyed look.

“Was it Jefferson?” Eliza asked with a concerned look.

“No! I’m so tired of Burr! He never will take a side on anything! He had the nerve to tell me people don’t like me. Can you believe that?”

“Well to be fair Alex you are one of the mouthiest people on campus so that’s not an outrageous claim,” you retort.

Alexander tried his best to look outraged, “That is besides the fucking point. If there is one other person on this earth I can’t stand besides Jefferson… it’s Burr. You should see him in our politics class! He skims by without really telling anyone anything on his stances. It’s shady, he is shady.”

Well at least Thomas and Alexander had one thing in common, they both can’t stand Aaron Burr. Thomas had told you all about how Burr had tried to upstage him in the class elections, but he was able to come out on top. Alexander didn’t like him because he never seemed to have an opinion about anything and then had the nerve to insult him for always having to much to say. He didn’t take kindly to being told to talk less, even though you were inclined to believe that was actually some sound advice because Alexander was always getting himself into situations because of his quick tongue.

A chorus of hellos brought you back to the present and you realized John, Herc, Laf, Angelica, and Peggy were all gathering around the table. They were all happily chatting about how the semester was almost over and that means a small amount of stress lifted for the time being.

“So (Y/N) your birthday is this weekend! We all know what that means,” Eliza said with a smile.

“PARTY!!” They all chorused.

“I don’t know guys…” you begin.

“Oh hell no. It’s your birthday and it’s been months since we have all gone out and had fun. You have been blowing us off long enough, we are going out for your birthday,” John complained.

It was true. It had been a long time since you had gone out and hit the bars or went dancing. You had been neglecting your friends lately and getting dolled up and hitting the town did sound like a fun.

“Oh all right. Let’s do it!”

“Saturday. You put on that cute sparkly dress that you’ve been saving for a special occasion and we are going to treat you to the best night out ever. We are going to that new club that just opened!” Angelica practically squealed with excitement.

“You will be able to get away from that job without an issue right?” John questioned.

“It won’t be a problem at all,” you say nonchalantly waving your hand.

As you walked away after aggressively planning the party out and arguing with them all about whether there needed to be cake, everyone had compromised on cupcakes. You were so deep in thought about how you hoped the night would go that you didn’t hear the footsteps quickly coming up behind you.

“(Y/N)! J'ai besoin de te parler,” Lafayette was saying as he ran to catch up with you.

“Hey French Dip, what’s up?”

He gestured for you to follow him and grabbed you hand as he lead you down a hallway away from everyone and sat down on a bench.

“Okay… What the hell is going on Laf?” You bite out, “You said you needed to talk to me, not drag me down the damn halls.

“Is there anything you would like to tell me about?” He gave you a stern look.

“Uhhh. Could you be more specific?”

Anxiety was running high at this point when you saw the look in his eyes that said “you can’t be serious”. Oh God, this is it. He is confronting me about the coffeeshop.

“There is no internship.” It wasn’t a question it was a full blown statement as he looked you in the eye daring you to try to lie to him again.

Your breath caught in your throat as you struggled to form a response that would sound convincing.

“What? That’s silly Laf. The internship is at…”

“I saw you (Y/N), in the library on Wednesday last week. You walked right past me with Thomas as I was studying,” he accused you with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I… I um… oh that,” you stutter quietly trying to regain your composure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit. Laf was watching you expectantly. He looked so incredibly smug as he rested his chin on his hand. You knew he had been waiting to strike about catching you in a lie but the fact that he had actually seen you with Thomas had you sweating nervously. He’s the one that said I should give him a chance in the first place!

“Oui that.” He had a wide smile now.

“I’ve been seeing him and Angelica was covering for me by coming up with the internship,” you confess.

“Quelle!? Pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas dit? Je savais que Thomas pouvait vous montrer combien il se soucie de vous! Je ne peux pas croire que tu rencontres!” Lafayette practically shouted wide eyed. (What?! Why didn’t you tell me? I knew Thomas could show you how much he cares about you! I can’t believe you are dating!)

“Whoa! No! We aren’t dating. What the fuck Laf? We are just friends! We have been hanging out, nothing more,” you pressed. Why does calling him a friend seem harder to believe?

The wide excited smile on Lafayette’s face quickly turned to a look of disappointment and confusion. You couldn’t help but feel as disappointed as he looked, but telling him the truth about what you had been doing lifted a weight from your shoulders. In truth the only reason you hadn’t confided in Laf like you normally would was because of stubbornness. He was the one that told you Thomas was a good person and you told him you would never be his friend. Yet here we are..

“Oh… you aren’t dating? I must have misunderstood, you said you were how you say, "seeing each other”. I just assumed, forgive me. You are friends then? How did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?“

Laf seemed sad that you had been keeping this secret from him as he asked you more questions about what had been going on. You answered all of his questions and filled him in on what had been going on. He was surprised that Thomas had taken the bold move to invite you his house. As you detailed your interactions a knowing look had settled onto his features.

"As I have heard Angelica say before… ‘you have it bad’,” Laf said with a smile.

“Oh shut it Laf! Okay I’ll admit he is attractive and you were right there is a lot more to him than he lets people see. You aren’t mad at me for lying to you?” You felt awful that you hadn’t told Lafayette about this situation sooner.

“Non. I understand completely. I will help you.”

“Help me? What do you mean?” You gave him a confused look.

“I’m going to help you keep this from Alexander, John, and Hercules. I understand why you did this. I will talk to Angelica and we will try to keep them from finding out about what’s going on with Thomas,” Laf smiled warmly and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you so much Laf. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Thomas was stretched out casually on the floor of your apartment leaning against the couch. You were lounging on the couch, Beauty and the Beast was half over on your television. You absentmindedly twirled your fingers through the ends of a small portion of Thomas’s tight curls as you watched Belle twirl around the ballroom in her signature yellow dress. You let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong (Y/N)? Thomas said looking up at you.

"Huh? Oh nothing Thomas. I just love this part of the movie, always have,” you comment without looking away from the screen.

“Something is bothering you, you’ve been distracted a lot these last few days,” Thomas pointed out.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow… everyone insisted on going out and dancing.”

“That should be fun. You are going to have a great time,” he said his voice seemed more hollow than normal.

“It will be… I just wish you were going to be there. I wish we could all just go out and be together without it causing world war three,” you lament quietly.

“How about I cook you a nice birthday dinner at my place? Let’s just turn off the movie and go now.”

The movie was quickly switched off and you quickly grabbed your bag and coat.

Thomas swept into the large kitchen in his home. You slowly followed him into the open room. He had rolled up the sleeves of his button up to above the elbow showing off his toned forearms. He also undid the top few buttons on his shirt because of the heat that was going to be generated from cooking dinner. You tried not to stare, but you weren’t going to complain. This was for your birthday after all.

“So what are you going to cook? Can I help?”

“I’m going to cook my specialty. No you may not help! This is your birthday dinner,” he shooed you away from the stove.

You sat down at the island and watched him rustle through the pantry. There was an odd looking antique metal contraption sitting in the corner that caught your attention. Thomas turned around with his arms full of clear containers of assorted noodles.

“Penne, rotini, farfalle, shells, or traditional elbow?” Thomas asked as he sat the containers down in front of you.

You stared at the containers and then raised an eyebrow at Thomas. You looked over the types of noodles and weighed your options.

“Um… rotini? I guess. Hey Thomas what is that contraption in the pantry?”

“Oh that? It’s an antique noodle press. I use it to make all the noodles,” he said matter-of-factually with his back turned to you as he put the water on the stove.

“You made all those noodles? From scratch?”

“What kind of cheese do you like?”

“Parmesan and cheddar I suppose…” you say slowly, “Thomas are you making macaroni and cheese?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, it’s delicious. It’s the best when it’s baked and made from scratch,” he said proudly.

The noodles boiled and you laugh to yourself as you watched Thomas meticulously grate cheese. You had no idea that his most absolute favorite food was macaroni and cheese. The idea of someone has sophisticated as Thomas being in love with such a simple food was hilarious at the very least. Of course he was making it in the most complicated and classiest way possible. He pulled a baking pan out and started layering the noodles and cheese before putting bread crumbs on the top and he put it into the oven.

“Well it needs to bake for a little while and then dinner will be served M'Lady.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. It had been almost 45 minutes and Thomas hadn’t let you help with anything.

“You know macaroni is the least sophisticated of all pastas right? I can’t believe it’s your favorite food. I could’ve made that in three minutes in a microwave,” you teased.

Thomas turned around and looked horrified, “How dare you!? That instant microwave joke of a meal is vile. The handmade molten goodness that is in the oven right now is pure heaven! You’ll change your mind when you taste it!”

You hadn’t expected the passionate reaction from Thomas and an idea floated through your mind. You smirked as you opened your phone and went to Thomas’s contact. You hit the edit button and quickly deleted ‘The Asshole’ as his name and typed in 'EZ Mac’. You giggled to yourself.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you continue to tease.

Thomas pulled out dishes and silverware and went to set the table.

“You aren’t even going to let me help set the table?” You pout.

“Nope, I told you I’m treating you tonight,” he said as he breezed past you with some wine glasses.

When the buzzer sounded and he pulled the dish out you had to admit it did look delicious. Thomas smiled when he caught you staring hungrily. He led you into the dining room and you both sat down.

Thomas sat down slowly and watched (Y/N) as she took the first bite of her food. She closed her eyes as she savored what she had just tasted and he felt satisfied.

“Okay, I admit it Thomas this is amazing,” she admitted with a smile.

“Anything for you, happy birthday (Y/N),” Thomas said sincerely as he raised his glass.

Her eyes snapped up and met his and a blush worked it’s way across her cheeks. He loved it when she blushed when he said things like that. He smiled back at her and continued to eat. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep this up.

Two helpings macaroni and two glasses of wine later (Y/N) was laughing and trying to pull information from him about the debate coming up next week.

“You know you want to tell me. Come on Thomas it’s my birthday,” (Y/N) crooned.

Thomas swirled his wine slowly in the glass and smirked, “Pulling the birthday card on me? I haven’t drank nearly enough wine to fall for that routine.”

“Damn… are you absolutely sure you won’t tell me anything?” She pouted slightly before taking another drink.

“I’m absolutely sure you are beautiful.”

The words had fallen from his lips before he could stop himself. My God… I’ve apparently had enough wine to make a fool out of myself. He stared at (Y/N) nervously, she slowly put her wine glass down and looked him in the eye.

“I… um… so we should get these dishes taken care of,” she stuttered as she got up and started picking up her plate.

“Hey! No, no I’ll take care of those! I told you it’s your birthday dinner and you shouldn’t have to do a thing,” he exclaimed.

“Oh no you don’t Thomas Jefferson! You cooked me dinner and let me drink your wine. I’m going to help you clean up!”

Thomas watched as she snatched the plate from his spot and retreated into the kitchen quickly. He slowly went to pick up the wine glasses.

“Why did I say that? I called her beautiful and she basically ran off. Damn it,” he quietly berated himself.

You quickly put the plates in the sink and grabbed the pot from the stove. You weren’t sure what to think of what Thomas had said at the table. He had looked so sincere and you could tell it was something he wasn’t planning on saying. You didn’t have much time to think on it before Thomas made his way into the kitchen carrying the bottle of wine and the glasses.

“Here let me wash them, you can dry them and put them away,” he tried to compromise.

“Sounds good,” you say trying to reel in your feelings. Just play it cool…

“So are you excited about going out tomorrow? You never said where you were going,” Thomas mentioned as he washed the plates.

“Oh! It’s some new dance club that just opened. Yeah I’m excited, it’s been a long time since we all went out,” you say before letting out a sign.

“What’s bothering you? Seriously (Y/N) you can tell me,” he pressed.

Everything, but right now your handsome face is high on the list of things that is bothering me.

“It’s nothing Thomas. I was just hoping that I look good enough tomorrow. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy always look so good and I just feel like I’m inadequate when I’m around them when we go out,” you confess as you put down the glass you were drying.

Thomas dried his hands quickly on the towel sitting by the sink and turned to face you. He was so close that you could almost feel the heat that was blazing in his brown eyes. Your eyes widened and your heart was hammering out of control

“Listen to me, you are going to look amazing,” Thomas whispered drawing closer to you, “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You felt his hands cautiously touch your hips as he pulled you closer to him. Holy shit… holy shit.

“So beautiful…” was all he whispered before he pressed his lips to yours.

As he slowly pulled away you felt like you were in a daze. The kiss was quick but he had poured every bit of emotion and longing into it. As he went to take a step back you grabbed the front of his shirt and kiss him again. His fingers tightened on your hips and you wrapped an arm around his neck as he backed you into the edge of the counter.

As you deepened the kiss you could feel his hands working up your sides. His hips had you pinned against the side of the counter. God yes. You grabbed the edge of the counter with one hand to steady yourself and barely registered the feeling of your elbow grazing something. He had just begun to trail kisses along your jaw when you heard glass shatter.

The sound snapped you out of your daze and you practically leap apart. You were both breathing heavily and you turned to see one of the wine glasses that had been sitting on the counter was now lying broken in the sink.

“I…I’m sorry. I should go, it’s um… getting really late,” you fumble as you rush out of the kitchen.

Stupid! What the fuck was that?! Oh my god how could I do that?!

You ran into the living room trying to find your coat and purse so you could leave. This could not be happening. Sure you had thought about what it would be like to kiss Thomas and that had felt better than anything your imagination had concocted, but now what? You had to get out of there, you knew the feelings you had been trying to ignore were running rampant and you were not ready to have the conversation that the kiss would start. God, God, God…

“(Y/N)! Wait!” Thomas came rushing into the living room behind you. Shit.

“Sorry I have to go,” you stamper not trusting yourself to look him in the eye.

Hurrying towards the door you were stopped when Thomas grabbed your hand.

“Please wait, I’m sorry,” he begged, “If you’re going to leave at least take your birthday present.”

Thomas picked up a carefully wrapped rectangular package off the small table in the entryway and held it out to you. You steal a glance at his face and he looked defeated. You mumbled a thanks and slip the gift into your purse before retreating out of his house.

Thomas stared at the spot (Y/N) had been standing for what felt like an eternity. He didn’t know what to do or what to say about what had just occurred. He hadn’t planned on kissing her like he had, but she was there and so close, he just couldn’t stop himself. He slowly turned on his heels and trudged to the kitchen. He paused letting his brown eyes scan the counter where you had just been and looked in the sink at the broken wine glass.

“What the fuck was I thinking?”

He turned and leaned against the counter and his thoughts wandered to a conversation he had with Lafayette a few days prior.

“Shut up Gil, we are friends.”

“Oui that’s what (Y/N) told me but we both know that isn’t what you want,” Laf said with a sly smile.

“Well it really doesn’t matter what I want now does it. She made it pretty clear to you that we are just friends,” Thomas snapped.

“I think we both know that there is something between you. It’s totally obvious, even Angelica says so.”

“I don’t know what to do, OKAY! Happy now?! I thought becoming her friend would make it easier, but it’s made it a thousand times worse,” he said with an exasperated sign.

Lafayette rolled his eye and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just tell her how you feel! Make her dinner. Seriously do you have no skill at all?”

Thomas ran his hands through his curls and sighed. He had told Lafayette he was going to try his best to tell (Y/N) how he felt. He had planned on dropping a few hints and gauging her reaction to them.

“I just wanted to tell her she was beautiful not attempt to seduce her on my counter. Damn it…”

Thomas left the kitchen without cleaning the broken glass. That could wait until the morning. He made his way upstairs and stripped off his clothes and collapsed onto his bed. His mind was consumed with thoughts of how he should proceed. He wanted to call her, apologize, and beg for forgiveness but decided to wait and see if she would talk to him tomorrow. All he could do was hope he hadn’t make the biggest mistake of his life and ruin everything as sleep overtook him.

It was officially your birthday, which meant tonight was the night that you were hitting the club. The party however was the furthest thing from your mind after what had happened with Thomas. With your phone constantly going off with endless notifications from Facebook and various text messages from friends wishing you a happy birthday you were on edge. Every time your phone went off you were nervous that it was Thomas. The thought of what he might say and what you could say had been a constant worry since you had gotten up this morning. You had retreated like a coward the night before, running away from the feelings you had been trying so hard to repress. What if he wanted to forget it happened? That would be impossible. What if he confessed that he wanted to date? Best case scenario with a lot of variables. The what ifs was killing you and even though you dreaded what he might say his silence was also making you nervous.

You stared at your phone as it read 7:00pm. Angelica had just went live on Instagram with Peggy and Eliza showing that they were getting ready for the evening ahead. You had spotted Alexander in the background with his nose in his notebook as usual. Angelica had stared into the camera after seeing that you had started watching and told you that you had better get your ass off the couch and start getting ready. You chuckled to yourself as you got off the couch, she knew you all to well.

Wandering into your closet you pushed all the clothes to the front to reveal a teal dress that still had its tags. Snatching it off the rung you held it up and smiled before laying it carefully across your bed. You quickly strip out of your clothes and put on your robe before making your way to the bathroom. You had just begun priming your face when you got a text from Angelica harassing you about getting ready, your only reply was a quick selfie to show you were indeed in the process.

You had managed to successfully finish your foundation and slight contouring and then you stopped and stared at your own reflection. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Thomas’s voice floated through your head. You felt your face heat up as the memory was brought back.

“Nope, don’t you do this to yourself. Don’t think about him or his mouth. He hasn’t even said a word to you all day so tonight you not going to think about Thomas fucking Jefferson,” you command your own reflection.

“You did what now?” James asked looking up from his essay.

“I invited her here for dinner because of her birthday, I told her I thought she was beautiful, I kissed her… rather aggressively against my counter, and then she ran out of the house as fast as she could,” Thomas repeated as he sat another book on his dining room table.

“This is great! I was starting to think you were never going to make your move,” James said cheerfully.

“Were you not paying attention? She literally ran out of my house; like picked up her things and ran out the door and wouldn’t look me in the face! How exactly is that 'great’?”

“I was paying attention and didn’t you say she was the one that pulled you in for the second kiss? That shows she is interested, therefore that’s great and you can finally stop tip toeing around and moping about how you hate being in the friendzone,” James replied matter of factly.

“I haven’t even said anything to her today. The way she ran out of here I figured she could use some space.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse you?” Thomas said angrily.

“You haven’t said anything to her at all? She ran out of your house because she probably was to flustered to be able to handle the emotions she was feeling and then you go radio silent? It’s her birthday, the least you could do is say happy birthday. You need to make your move.”

Thomas picked up his phone and stared at a blank text message while he tried to figure out what he should say.

“Come on Thomas, make your move. Don’t freeze,” James pressed.

“Shut up! I’m trying!”

Thomas: 8:00pm - Hey I hope you have a great time tonight. Happy birthday.

You were working on blending your eyeshadow when your phone buzzed across your counter. You huffed and put your make up brush down.

“Damn it Angelica… I swear to god if you’re hounding me about getting ready…”

Fully expecting to see a text from the eldest sister you eyes widened when you saw the message was from Thomas. Hey I hope you have a great time tonight. Happy birthday. A scowl formed as you read the text. Your first instinct was to thank him, but you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about him tonight. Tonight was about you.

“He waited all day to say something… I think I’ll return the favor. I will just text him when I get up tomorrow,” you smirk.

When you had finished up your makeup you decided to leave your hair loose. Sliding on the teal dress and putting on your matching strappy heels. Standing in front of the mirror you examined your full reflection. The dress fit you perfectly. It had a fitted top with a flowing skirt that had an ombre that ended in a midnight blue right above your knees. There was a scattering of sparkling small crystals on the skirt fabric. The fabric flowed nicely when you swayed back and forth and the crystals glittered in the light. You nodded in approval, you looked damn good.

The club was incredibly crowded and the music was loud. You smiled as you felt the bass pump through you. John stood up on a chair and waved animatedly to get your attention and you laugh as Peggy pulled him down and started scolding him. Everyone cheered and wished you a happy birthday. Laf pulled out a square parcel and handed it to you. When you opened it you saw a delicious looking cupcake.

“Oh Laf you didn’t have to bake for me,” you shout over the music.

Lafayette waved you off and they all broke out into song before you ate the dessert. Red velvet. It was your favorite kind of cake.

“Laf holy shit this is so good,” you gush and he gave a cocky shrug in return.

A few drinks later and you were on the dance floor surrounded by your friends. Eliza and Alexander were dancing with each other and Peggy had wrangled John into dancing with her. There were plenty of attractive men here, but none of them were able to keep your attention. None of them are Thomas. Angelica didn’t miss how you were turning down invitations to dance from a few of these men and the slight frown that appeared when you saw the couples dancing.

“Damn it,” you hiss.

“What’s wrong? Are you missing a certain someone?” Angelica teased.

“I don’t want to talk about it Angie,” you lamented.

Angelica stopped dancing and grabbed your arm and started pulling you away from the dance floor.

“Where are you goin’ Ang,” asked Herc.

“Bathroom! We will be right back,” Angelica replied quickly.

You both hurried down the back hallway and stumbled into the bathroom. You crossed your arms immediately with irritation.

“Okay, what is going on? Did something happen with Jefferson?”

“Nothing happened,” you lied.

“Bullshit girl, you are lying. You play with the hem of your clothes when you are lying,” she challenged.

You swore to yourself as you slowly let go of the hem of your dress. You didn’t want anyone to know about what happened with Thomas. If Angelica found out about the kiss she would lose it and try to meddle in what you did next.

“It’s nothing,” you argue.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll go get Laf.”

“Jesus what the hell. I promised myself I wouldn’t think about him tonight, but that’s next to impossible. We kissed okay?! He invited me over last night for dinner and we kissed,” you snap.

“You WHAT?! Tell me everything!!”

“He kissed me. Oh my god Angie it was amazing, but then I broke one of his wine glasses, panicked, and then ran out of his house like an idiot.”

“You two are unbelievable. You are going to call him tomorrow and you are going to fix this. This is getting out of control. You like him, he likes you. Do something about it,” Angelica said flabbergasted.

“What about the guys? They want to destroy Thomas. It will be world war three every day,” you counter.

“Who gives a shit! They want you to be happy and if he makes you happy they will deal with it. Now let’s get back out there and have fun. You can worry about Thomas in the morning!”

When Thomas woke up in the morning the first thing he did was check his phone. The text shown as read, but still there was no reply. He rubbed his eyes slowly and sighed. Instagram was the next place he checked and there was a flood of pictures of (Y/N) dancing with her friends, drinking various types of drinks, eating a large fancy looking cupcake, she was smiling brightly and looked like she was having the time of her life. He took a long shower, taking extra time with his hair and then meticulously groomed his facial hair. It was almost 9AM by the time he sauntered out of the bathroom and got dressed. He looked up from buttoning his shirt when his phone lit up.

(Y/N) 8:50am: -Hey. Wanna meet me for coffee? We need to talk.-

We need to talk. That was a phrase that gave him both hope and anxiety. This could go very wrong or very right.

Thomas 8:53am: -Sounds good. Normal spot?-

(Y/N) 8:54am: - Yup -

After making the plan to meet up with Thomas you took a deep breathe. When you grabbed your larger purse so you could put your wallet in it, the bag was heavier than usual.

“What the hell…”

Looking into your bag you spot a magenta package. Pulling it out you realized it was the birthday present from Thomas that he had given you before you ran out of his house. It had gone forgotten when you arrived home and you used a small purse when you had gone out to the club. Carefully turning it over in your hands and sitting down on the couch you open it slowly. He had taken every bit of care in wrapping this gift. Once the piece of magenta paper was loose and had fallen to the ground you stared at the back cover of an extremely old looking book. Turning it over and carefully opened the cover to see the title page. You gasped as you read the title The Count of Monte Cristo. This was from his private collection, he had shown you this book one of the first times you had gone to his house. It was his favorite book in his collection if you recalled. You felt tears sting your eyes slightly, this was a perfect gift.

Taking extra care you placed the book on your nightstand in your room. You ran out of your apartment with a large smile on your face. You hailed a cab and told him the address of the very same coffee shop that you had chased Alexander out of. All you could do is hope for the very best when you met up with Thomas.

Alexander walking down the crowded city street, weaving back and forth between bodies. He had spent the last hour speaking with George Washington about what his plans were after graduation. He was already irritated, George wanted him to work for him, that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. He had no idea why he hadn’t spent the night with Eliza and opted to go home. As he walked he looked across the street at the familiar coffee shop that he almost lived in. He could use the strongest coffee he could after the heated conversation he had this morning.

The familiar form of (Y/N) getting out of a cab quickly caught his attention. He smiled and sped up to catch her. She walked into the door before he was able to cross the street. Curiously he could see through the windows (Y/N) hadn’t gotten in line to get coffee, she had gone and immediately sat down at a table across from a very familiar mess a black curls. Alex stopped in his tracks.

“What the fuck is she doing here with Jefferson?” Alexander hissed.

He crept close enough to be able to see most of what was going on at the table, but since he was outside he couldn’t hear anything they were saying. They were smiling and she reached over and grabbed onto his hand. Rage bubbled to the surface as he watched Jefferson raise her hand to his lips and kiss the top of it. It took every ounce of his self control to not run into the coffee shop and make a scene. He winced when he thought of what Eliza would do if she found out he had done something like that. He was going to get to the bottom of this as fast as possible. He quickly shot off a text to squad saying their plans were cancelled. He had new plans: to confront (Y/N) as quickly as possible. They looked way too friendly in there and all the guys had grown suspicious of this internship. John had been joking that she probably had a secret boyfriend and with what he had just witnessed he was inclined to think John might be right. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. There was something that was nagging at the back of his mind. Something that he had heard in passing at school. He stopped walking when he recalled something Aaron Burr had said to him about a week ago. Alex had been so angry about Burr saying people don’t like him that he had only half listened to the other things he had said to him.

“I’d watch your back if I was you Hamilton,” Aaron Burr said quietly.

“What the fuck are you talking about Burr?”

“Well I’ve heard through the grapevine around here that Jefferson has it out for you and your little friends,” Burr said with a smile, “He’s a charmer and is incredibly sly, he will pounce on the first weakness that he finds and exploit it.”

“Fuck off Burr, Jefferson isn’t going to exploit anything,” Alexander growled and shoved his way past Aaron.

Charmer. Pounce on the first weakness. Alexander was seething. Was Thomas low enough to try to seduce (Y/N) for the means of exploiting her feelings? He would like to believe he wouldn’t do such a thing, but his track record for being an arrogant self centered prick wasn’t doing him any favors.

“I’m going to put a stop to this right fucking now,” Alexander said.

You walked down the street after meeting Thomas at the coffee shop. You were buzzing with excitement. He didn’t regret the kiss, though he had apologized for how it had escalated. He had even invited you to the charity gala that the university’s wealthy families and students put together once a year. The Schuyler sisters went every year, as did Lafayette. They were from wealthy families that always donated to the charity event. Thomas of course was also one of the guests who attended every year. You had never had to worry about going to such a fancy event, until now.

Hambone 10:23am: - Hey we need to talk about something important are you free?-

(Y/N) 10:25am: - Um ok. Yeah I’m free, where are you? -

You looked at your phone with a raised eyebrow. Alex seemed upset for some reason. He never wanted to do anything on Sundays especially this early in the morning.

“I wonder if something had happened with the debate project,” you whispered to yourself.

Hambone 10:26am: - Little park a few blocks from the coffee shop -

He was only a few blocks away. Something about this seemed strange to you, but you shrugged and headed to the small park. After walking for a few minutes you turned to the left and went down the path into the park. Alexander was sitting at a bench a few yards away. You waved with a smile.

“Hey Alex. What’s going on?” You said cheerfully.

“So I’m going to cut right to the chase here…” he said angrily.

“Whoa Alex… calm down,” you reasoned.

“Uh no. You and Jefferson looked really friendly back there in the coffee shop.”

You felt like the air was sucked out of your lungs. He had seen you and he was angry. You knew they wouldn’t be happy about this, you knew Alex would act like this, but you were hoping to have more time to plan out how you were going to talk to them about the situation with Thomas.

“I can explain.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind!? That’s Thomas Jefferson that you were making heart eyes at! He is a piece of shit (Y/N)! I can’t even believe this. Did you forget how he treats people? How about the things he has said to you?! He’s…” Alexander was in a full blown rage fueled rant.

“Stop it…” you were trembling.

“…always trying to screw us over! How long has this been going on? Is the internship real? I bet it isn’t. I seriously can’t believe you! Angelica and Laf are always standing up for you in this little internship story too… my god they fucking already knew about this didn’t they?! Did it ever occur to you that Jefferson is trying to screw with your feelings?”

“Stop it Alex,” you said a little louder.

“He is a self centered and arrogant. Not only that Burr told me that Jefferson had it out for us and that he is a 'charmer’ and 'that he will try to exploit weakness’! He is probably just trying to seduce you so that when he gets what he wants he can throw it back in our faces! He only cares about himself (Y/N)…

"STOP IT ALEXANDER HAMILTON!”

He stopped mid sentence and saw that you were shaking with angry tears streaming down your face.

“Oh (Y/N)… I..”

“NO! You shut your fucking mouth for once,” you roared, “You know what, I knew you were going to be mad when you found out about this, but I at least thought you would be respectful! Thomas had been nothing but kind to me since I gave him a chance! Laf is his friend too… I don’t see why you can’t just attempt to get along!”

“Oh of course he is being kind to you! He knows he can win you over so he can rub it in my face…”

“Not everything is about you Alexander! Is it so insane that he might not be some monster? I’m going to be his date to the gala. You aren’t going to ruin this for me Alex,” you conclude.

“But why?! He is awful. He is going to take advantage of you (Y/N)! I’m trying to help you before he does something awful,” he reasoned, “He doesn’t care about you, why would you want to date him?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!” You yelled.

Alex stared at you slack jawed. You were breathing heavily and the realization of what you had just shouted was creeping into your head. You stared at Alexander wide eyed. The silence between you was heavy and it was obvious that he had no idea what to say to your declaration.

“So you better just get over it Alex. I will see you in class tomorrow,” you said curtly before turning on your heels and storming away.

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #jefferson x reader #hamilton the musical #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fan fiction #reader insert #tjeff x reader #x reader

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mechagalaxy · 5 years

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Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184: Pinching your Niodes.

(By Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184)Pinching your Niodes.

In his excellent article; Affording the Changes, Spike Shepard listed the various ways a Commander might lay his hands on some Niodes. If you have not read the article yet, do so. And while you are at it, why not look up some of the other fine writing you can find in the Galaxy Gathering?However, there are a couple more ways to gain them, but as two of them are fairly automatic, and the third carries the risk of actually loosing Niodes, he probably saw no need to mention them. But to complete the list here they are:

Some of the quests will give you Niodes. mainly those that asks you to defeat a set number of opponents.

Each time you increase the Piloting Licence you are also given a complimentary fivepack of Niodes. While this amount probably wont cover the upgrading expenses, every little bit helps.

Lastly. When we have the yearly wars, Nicks Casino offers a shot at winning some Niodes. The catch here is that you risk losing some as well if you fail to predict a sufficient number of winners. But if you have the knowledge, you can win a fairly big chunk, personally I walked away having a net win of 1180 Niodes from the gambling on the `52 war.

But getting some Niodes is only the first step. The crucial part is how you spend them, and when.

The ways to spend them are legion, and some of them are in my opinion pretty stupid. But hey, it is your Niiodes, not mine, so if you want to squander them, that is your business.From worst to best in my opinion, you can spend the Niodes to:a) Repair Mechs. Why??? Cant wait a few minutes to have them fixed for free? About the only time this might be a good idea is when there is 30 seconds left of a war, you have just managed to beat one of the opponents to make it a tie, and need the formation fully operational to get the last win needed to beat the opponents.b) Power Ups. Another why? You can get the Mechs repaired at a faster rate, get battles and energy faster and/or find more Ferrite/Bioptics. About the only reason to spend those Niodes is if you are out doing missions, or are bashing other pilots to rack up the kill tally. Such endavors tend to give lots of fame, and will probably gain you a higher licence in short order. Better save the Niodes for those upgrades.c) Recharging energy.By paying a couple Niodes you can completely refill the energy bar. Or you could wait a while to have it refill on its own. There might be a point to this, especially if your energy budget is really high. Or it is almost closing time in the Wave/Circuits and a few more wins look to give you some prizes.d) Hiring Mercenaries.Having a Honor Guard is always a good idea, but why not ask your friends to fill it for free? Also, if you are the one joining their HG, (which will add them to yours as well) there are some Ferrite or Bioptics thrown into the deal as well.e) Buying weapons.Not a bad idea, but should preferably be done during sales, and constitute of fivepacks. On the other hand, competing in the KotM`s participating in the wars, and raids and just doing missions tend to net you quite powerful armament as well. And really, for most of us, the weapons we can buy today are pretty puny compared to what we can get for our Niodes when the Piiloting Licence get higher numbers on it.f) The Vortex By paying 60 Niodes for one roll or 165 Niodes for three rolls you will might some pretty decent stuff. This includes Mechs (with weapons) Equipment,(some of it only avialiable in the vortex) and weapons (some of them also only found in the vortex).What you can win depends on the Piloting Licence you hold, and if that is low, there might actually be Crystal items among the possible prizes.A careful scrutiny of what you can win, how useful it might be, and whether it can be gotten in other ways should be done before one decides on this venue.g) Purchasing Equipment.As the Mechs get upgraded they will have room for Equipment, and you had better fill those slots. However, at least for the Mechs of lower tonnage the Crystal Equipment avialiable is not that much worse than the Niode Equipment, and a careful evaluation should be done before a purchase is done. And if you decide on an item, try to wait for a sale before you buy it.h) Buying MechsYes, you need Mechs, and the Niode Mechs are in general the best around. But still, consider how many Mechs you can afford to have fully upgraded and equipped before you make the purchase. Do not forget, getting a medal in the wars, will give you some Mechs, and the raids might as well. The missions can also net you some Mechs.And mostly, the Mechs come fully armed, so even if they are not battleworthy right away, the weapons they carry can be put to use of those Mechs that are.And again, if you have patience, there will probably be a sale sometime where the desired Mech will cost less.i) Upgrading Mechs Absolutely essential to be a succesfull Commander.One can do the regular upgrading of Niode Mechs which cost 3 Niodes, some varying amount of Ferrite/Bioptics, and take time.Or you can instantly Upgrade any Mech for 5 Niodes.If you decide on the second option, you can even (as I did in my youth) waste Niodes on upgrading Red Ants (or other Crystal Mechs).The premium paid for this speedy process might be worth it for some, but personally I elect the slower method, and wait until the Upgrade rates are reduced.

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 7 years

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Where You Go To Rest Your Bones

TWW one-shot, Josh x Sam, set after "Red Haven's on Fire." An early present for @actuallylukedanes. Happy almost-birthday, spouse of mine!

When Sam disappears after the special election, Josh follows to bring him back home. Unstoppable force meets immovable object...in close quarters with minimal clothes.

“Sam had always been sunshine and lemonade and puppies, more than any other political operative Josh had ever known. Bitterness didn’t suit him.”

Cross-posted on AO3; more notes can be found there.

“I called you seventeen times,” Josh said by way of greeting when Sam answered the door. He pushed past Sam into his apartment, squinting his eyes in the darkness. “God, it’s a cave in here.”

“California sun. Late night.” Sam rubbed at his gritty eyes, trying to see the clock over Josh’s shoulder. “Is it two in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Josh agreed. “Five in D.C.”

The weeks on the campaign trail had aged Sam since Josh saw him last. He sounded different in the dark. Weary. “You couldn’t have waited until a more reasonable hour?”

“Nah, why bother?”

“Common courtesy, for one thing.” Sam sighed and shut the door behind him, turning on the light. “Well, you’re here. What did you come to say that you couldn’t have left in a message during one of those seventeen phone calls?”

“You know what I came to say.”

“Oh, god, Josh.” He closed his eyes, willing himself back to the blissful oblivion of sleep. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a dream. “No.”

“No? Just like that?”

“Yes. Just like that. You had to know what my answer would be, after all those missed calls.”

Josh frowned, deep furrows creasing his forehead. “Well, actually I thought that flying all the way across the country might get me a little more consideration.”

Sam yawned, trying to blink the tired away. “You have frequent flyer miles.”

“Still.” Josh raised hopeful eyebrows at him. “There was turbulence.”

“Oh, well, since there was turbulence…nope, still no.” Sam dropped onto his couch, gesturing for Josh to sit. Clearly they were going to have this out.

“Come on, Sam.” Josh pulled out the cajoling tone that he knew usually worked. “What are you going to do with your life that’s better than this? Come home.”

He blinked. Home. That was how he thought of the White House, deep down, secretly. Of course Josh would get that. They were family, and home, and he’d failed them. He couldn’t go back there, take their pity and a job that Will Bailey was better suited for anyway. It was time to move on.

“The weather sucks,” he replied lightly, avoiding the issue. “The pay is even worse.”

“That's crap,” Josh countered evenly. “You don’t care about the money. You never have.”

Sam shrugged. Josh wasn’t wrong. He’d made enough at Gage Whitney to be secure for decades, anyhow. “Not the point.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“I’m not going back.”

Josh froze. He heard the finality in Sam’s voice and began to panic. “You’re not serious. I mean, sure, a little time to lick your wounds, a vacation, even…but not ever? You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Look at my face, Josh.”

He did, and his own crumpled. “Why not?”

“I don’t belong there anymore.”

“That’s idiotic. Of course you do. You write for the President, Sam. How many people can say that? How high up the food chain do you have to be to feel like you’re in the room?”

“I’m not talking about-” He cut himself off with a sigh. “That’s not what I mean. Why would I care about that?”

“Well, then-”

“I can’t help Toby the way he needs, Josh. That’s why I sent Will. I’ve been in the trenches too long and I can’t see past the weeds. I’m just…I’m so damn tired.”

Josh got up to sit next to him on the couch. “I get the feeling we’re not talking about my unexpected wake-up call now.”

“No.”

“Well, god, Sam, we’re all tired. I’m pretty sure Toby’s asleep on his feet half the time at this point. But we have to keep fighting. How else are we going to win?”

“Don’t you get it? That’s the whole point! I didn’t!”

His words echoed in the dimly lit room as the silence stretched out between them.

Stunned by Sam’s explosion, Josh ran a hand through his hair and studied him. “Of course you didn’t.”

His wounded eyes met Josh’s. “I thought I could. That’s what I went there to do. I believed it was possible.”

“So did I,” Josh admitted. “I mean, we’ve seen worse odds.”

Sam quirked an eyebrow his way.

“Okay, maybe not. But close. It’s not like President Bartlet was a shoo-in the first time around…or the second.”

“What was it you said? That you wouldn’t allow me to look like a fool?” He sounded sour, like lemonade before the sugar got added. Sam had always been sunshine and lemonade and puppies, more than any other political operative Josh had ever known. Bitterness didn’t suit him.

“You acted like I had a shot. I believed it because I believed you. Josh, I just got destroyed out there.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Josh reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I wanted it to be true. I was wrong.”

“I saw the national coverage on Donna and Perez,” Sam told him, changing the subject, even though he knew it wouldn’t work.

“It’ll blow over. One silver lining from your campaign was definitely that disaster of a meeting. She’s been reading books about communists now and going on these long tirades about manifestos and bread. It’s hilarious. Don’t you care that you’re missing it?”

“Of course I miss it!” Sam was insulted by the question. “I’m not exactly enjoying my existential crisis. But I can’t leave here until I decide where I'm going next.”

“Make it easy on yourself and be who you’re supposed to be,” he suggested. “We can catch the same flight back, sit together.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Not happening.” Stretching, he opened the blackout curtains to the neon lights outside his window, giving Josh a better look at him.

He reached over to brush at Sam’s hair with his fingertips. It had grown out so much, Josh thought. He’d never let it get this long in D.C. “You look like a surfer,” he said with a grin.

“You’ve never seen a surfer in your life.”

“Well, you look like a surfer in a movie,” he decided, “all tan, with the hair. Do you even own a suit anymore?”

“It’s been a week since the election, Josh. You’re acting like you haven’t seen me in years.”

Maybe it felt that way, Josh admitted to himself. Despite his visible fatigue, Sam seemed more relaxed here: less Princeton, less anxious. Almost like losing the race had been a relief somehow. “Nothing but phone calls during the campaign,” he pointed out. “So, really, it’s been months. We make a great team, remember?”

“I appreciate the interest,” Sam said with finality, “I really do. But I'm out. I need a different way to accomplish my goals.”

“Hmm.” Josh had already moved on, in that way of his that left no room for argument but refused to cede the point. Sam gave up for the moment. It was 2 o’clock in the morning, after all.

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Fine.” Josh rubbed a hand over his hair, making it stick up even worse after the plane ride. “Do you have stuff I could borrow?”

“What do you mean?”

Josh looked down sheepishly. “I was in a hurry. I didn’t exactly book a hotel room, so I was hoping I could stay here. And maybe bum something off you to sleep in?”

Sam laughed. Hand it to Josh to show up unexpectedly, plan to stay without invitation, try to convince him to do what he least wanted to, and then ask to borrow his clothes.

Not that he was likely to say no to any of it. Josh knew him well.

He waved a tired hand toward the couch. “Go for it. I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing the first set of old pajamas he found, Sam returned from his room and tossed them at Josh. “They might be a little tight. You’re…bigger than me.”

Josh swallowed his smirk at that. “Thanks.” He started stripping before Sam was gone.

Sam flopped back in his own bed with the image of Josh shirtless emblazoned on his brain. There was no reason for it to be weird, he scolded himself as he fell asleep. Josh was shirtless all the time: to play basketball, getting ready for public events, even hanging out off-duty sometimes.

But being in California made everything feel slightly off-kilter, like a vacation from reality in the endless sunlight. Then there was his new freedom from responsibility–he could go anywhere now, choose just about any job. What did he want?

Swallowing, he closed his eyes against his brain’s automatic retort. He’d left those feelings for Josh behind a long time ago. Or at least he thought he had. Now, with Josh just one door away, he could feel the same ache, rushing back like it had never faded. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe he had been in denial for all these years.

He laid awake long after Josh started snoring, thinking about all the little moments that had led them here, and where he wanted to go next.

****

When he woke back up, Josh was already checking his messages. “When’s your flight back?” Sam asked over coffee.

“What flight?”

“Your flight back to D.C., Josh. When do you leave?”

“I haven’t got one.” Josh shrugged a shoulder casually. Too casually.

“What do you mean? They won't let you stay here for long, I know that much.”

“Doesn’t mean I booked my flight yet.” Josh sent him a smile. “Told you, I want to get adjacent seats.”

“Josh…”

“I’ve got two days.” He met Sam’s gaze. “Leo gave me two days for this ‘crazy attempt of mine,’ as he called it, before I have to get my ass back to the Oval.”

“Leo doesn’t think I’ll come back.” Sam nodded, oddly comforted by that. If Leo understood, maybe the others would too…and they would hate him less. “But he let you try anyway.”

“He knew I needed to.” Josh talked about leaving his post with the confidence of someone who sat exactly where he wanted to be, no matter the stress and chaos that surrounded him. Sam had always admired that, while he worried and hoped and was never quite sure if he was where he should be.

But California had taught him one very important lesson: wherever that place was, the West Wing wasn’t it anymore.

“Why did you need to?” He asked when he realized Josh had quietly been watching him think for the last few minutes.

“What kind of dumbass question is that?” Josh frowned, as though he expected better. “We need you, Sam. You belong with us, as part of the team. Everybody misses you.”

A hint of a smile played around his mouth. “Margaret and Bonnie the other day, you should have seen–”

“Everybody misses me.” Sam thought about that, too. It wasn’t ‘everybody’ who had been calling him, arguing the case for his return, keeping in touch. It was just Josh.

“Yeah.”

“Including you. You miss me. And…need me?”

Josh returned to frowning. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, more to himself than for Josh’s benefit.

“Okay, as in you’ll come back?”

He laughed. “No. Okay, as in okay, that’s good to know.”

“Come on, Sam,” Josh pleaded, sitting next to him on the bed. “What’s it going to take to bring you back with me? I’m not leaving until we figure this out.”

“There’s nothing you can do. I’m done as Deputy. I’m done with the West Wing.”

He softened his tone, guilt paining him. “It’s not because I won’t miss you guys too. I just can’t…I can’t go back there and shove myself in where I don’t fit.”

“You keep saying that but it doesn’t make sense,” Josh countered. “Of course you fit. What are you talking about?”

“I left the White House to run for an office that I lost spectacularly. I’m a national joke, Josh. The last thing the President needs is that in his news cycle. Or tarnishing all the ones that come after.”

He winced, remembering. “And god, Toby. He came back here for me, even after I abandoned him. How could I expect him to ever work with me again? You should’ve seen the way he looked at me when I left, Josh. It was like I’d punched his mother in the face.”

“That’s…an oddly specific metaphor,” Josh replied with a smirk. “Toby’s a big boy, Sam. He survived without you. But he would take you back in a heartbeat if you let him. I know he would."

Josh held up a hand. "Just--think about it. Okay? Also, can I use your couch as an office?"

Sam nodded, grateful for a break from the sales pitch. He fixed them both bagels for breakfast.

****

Josh spent the day in his apartment, putting out fires over the phone like he'd never left Washington, still wearing Sam’s clothes. The way he sprawled out on the couch in the shorts and threadbare t-shirt made Sam feel like a moron–or a hormonal teenager. Not that the two were very different.

He took his own phone call, the one he was expecting, while Josh was in the shower, and was glad for the coincidental privacy.

Maybe it would be better this way. Maybe this could solve his problem. Of course, Josh was a separate problem, an unsolvable one. “Amy’s back,” he dropped casually into their conversation while they dug into their delivered lunches. “Mrs. Bartlet hired her as Chief of Staff.”

“Huh.” Sam nodded, adding this to the mix. “She’ll be great at it.” And back in Josh’s orbit.

“Yeah. She’s going to give us hell,” Josh said, looking mildly nauseous. “But it was kind of my idea, so I have only myself to blame, really.”

“What do you mean?”

Josh told him the story, and he couldn’t help laughing–it was just so Josh. “You’re not planning to try again with her, are you?” he found himself asking, against his better judgement.

Josh was surprised, but recovered quickly. “No. No, I think that would be a pretty stupid idea. Why?”

“Just curious. She’s…and you…” He gestured vaguely. “I know what you’re like with her around, and I wouldn’t want to see you get all torn up again.”

“Yeah. No, we’re on strictly professional terms these days. She was a big help on your campaign,” Josh pointed out.

“I still can’t believe you held back your budget,” Sam told him, spearing salad with his fork. “You shouldn’t have done that when I was so thoroughly screwed anyway.”

“The alternative was being part of the mob that was actively screwing you,” Josh argued. “No way in hell we were we going to do that instead.”

“Should’ve,” Sam mumbled around his lunch.

“Why?”

He swallowed. “Because the federal budget is more important than one congressional campaign, and so is the President’s ability to work.”

Josh shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Why?”

“Because you had Will Bailey lying to me–which means you knew I wouldn’t go for it. And you were right! I would never have been in favor of your idiotic attempt to protect me.”

Josh’s stare was much too intense for the casual lunch they were enjoying. It made the air in Sam’s lungs hitch for a moment.

“Maybe that’s why I kept it from you then. Idiotic or not–and I say not–I have every right to try and do what I think is best for the President…and to try and look out for you.”

“Yeah? When did that happen?”

Exasperated, Josh pushed up from the table. His plate rattled underneath his fork. “God, Sam, I don’t know. When you stopped me from perjuring myself over Leo’s rehab? When you and Lisa broke up and you could barely get out of bed? Two seconds after we met at that party, when all I wanted to do was reach over, grab you and do this?”

And just like that, Josh was in his space, warm hands behind his neck, fingers trailing up into his hair, kissing him like there would be no tomorrow.

Maybe there wouldn’t be, Sam realized, dazed, as Josh pulled back. This could be the last time they saw each other for years. He could find work here, or in New York, maybe, and Josh would never leave Washington–given the nature of Josh Lyman, he would probably be buried there. They’d bump into each other at a function someday, a Democratic fundraiser where he got his name put on a plaque and didn’t even expect to see Joshua Lyman in attendance, and be complete strangers.

How depressing would that be? How utterly depressing, and heart-wrenching, to look back and know it ended this way?

Well, he decided, since he refused to go and Josh couldn’t stay, they should make the most of the day they had. It didn’t matter that they’d never spoken about the way they sometimes looked at each other, or a night of stolen kisses when they were drunk and stupid and too young to be worried about the political grapevine yet.

What mattered was Josh’s warm breath on his cheek, giving him the space to decide for himself, and broad hands moving down the curve of his back. “Maybe it’s not about my rights at all,” Josh added quietly. “I might just be tired of not doing that.”

Nodding, even though Josh was too close to see it, Sam prepared to enjoy Josh’s surprise–because he knew what Josh expected, and it wasn’t for him to tug him closer and kiss him back.

Josh searched his eyes until he found what he was looking for, then closed his own and let himself get lost. When his tongue found Sam’s, the contact was more intense than when they were kids, his flavor deeper and his touch more heated.

Sam nipped at his bottom lip and he hissed in a breath, oversensitive. He’d done his best to bury these feelings for his best friend, but they’d never gone away, and now it was almost too much, being able to steep himself in Sam’s exquisite taste and scent.

“Wow,” Sam whispered against his lips before deepening the kiss. It was Josh who moaned, and Sam who gripped his arms until his fingernails left little half-moon marks behind, but both of them had to break away for air at the same moment.

“Wow,” Josh agreed, running a shaky hand through his hair. What was he doing? This wasn’t why he'd come here. Of course he missed Sam, desperately some days, but this was purely a business trip. How could he expect him to listen if Sam thought he'd really come just to get him into bed or something? He had to shut it back down.

Josh was trying his best to talk himself back to sanity when Sam met his eyes, those bright, impossibly blue ones like windows he could see right through, and it was as powerful as gravity–all his effort out the window, Sam standing up as they crashed together for a rougher, more forceful kiss.

“Oh, god, I have to–” Josh’s hands were under his ratty sweatshirt, tracing a hot path wherever they touched.

Sam took his t-shirt back, tugging it up over Josh’s head. “That’s better,” he declared, looking his fill without guilt this time.

“Hmm?” Josh’s fingers were toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“It drove me crazy last night, seeing you change into my shirt. I don’t know why,” he added, letting Josh pull him closer again. “I see you shirtless all the time. But it tripped something in my brain.”

“Well, whatever it was, I like it.” Josh kissed him, letting their lips meet slowly, softly, so that the heat building was a painful throb that threatened to burn them both up.

When Sam couldn’t stand it any longer, he gripped Josh’s hips, hard, and and enjoyed the sound he made low in his throat. After a few bruising kisses along Josh’s neck, he led him by the hand to his bedroom, where neither of them noticed or cared that the window was open to the breeze.

****

“I got an offer from Gage Whitney,” Sam confessed as they lay tangled up in the sheets later that afternoon.

“You did?” Josh sat up a little to stare at him. “When?”

“This morning. I wanted to give it some time, think about it first, before telling you.”

“Oh.” Josh laid back down, voice flat. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”

“But then I couldn’t. Which you’ll notice, as I’m telling you now, about four hours later.”

“Okay…” With his eyes closed, Josh felt Sam shift his way, settling against his bare chest. He leaned in automatically but didn’t open his eyes.

“I’m going to take the offer,” Sam told him quietly.

Josh swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. I figured.”

“I can’t go back,” Sam said, reminding Josh of the dark hour when he’d first arrived. So much had changed since that morning and yet here they were, right where they’d started.

“So it’s the private sector then.” There was just a hint of disapproval in Josh’s tone that he couldn’t mask.

“I can’t go back,” Sam repeated, deeply sincere the way Josh loved most, “even more now. It’s not just about the job, Josh. Think about it. What do you want?”

He opened his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“What I’m saying is, I want a career where I can do good, absolutely…maybe even affect change from the inside. Gage Whitney is willing to give me a title bump and more responsibility–turns out getting a man elected President looks good on a resume. But outside of my ambitions, there’s also this.”

He took Josh’s hand. “Us.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sam grinned. “The whole dating thing will be a scandal. But at least if I’m out of the West Wing, it won’t be against the rules. I’d rather you not get, you know, fired or anything.”

“No way I’d get fired,” Josh scoffed. Then he kissed Sam’s fingers. “Point taken, though. It’d kill the President in the media for weeks, if not longer.”

“So, see? I’ve always been a good lawyer. I’ll do that. You’ll fight with politicians. And we’ll have this, in the meantime.”

“I like this,” Josh murmured against his mouth.

“Me too.”

“And you are a good lawyer.”

“Thank you.”

“Won’t you miss it, though?”

“Oh, only every day.” Sam sighed, thinking about their first few years in the White House. It was crazy, but glorious. “Maybe I could come meet you for lunch occasionally.”

“I’m sure we could arrange that.”

“They’re letting me pick my location. Maybe if I land at the D.C. branch of Gage Whitney, we could share an apartment.”

Josh smiled. “Maybe…”

“I mean, you’re a slob, but I think I could stand it.”

“I’m not a slob, I’ve just got too much to do to worry about the little stuff.”

“The little stuff is important,” Sam argued. “If you don’t shut the toothpaste tube all the way, it leaks. Socks belong in a drawer.”

“You’re a control freak.”

“And there is also that,” Sam agreed as they cuddled. “Still…it could be nice.”

“Very.”

“You know what else is nice?”

“What?”

“This.”

“No argument here.” Josh closed his eyes and did the math. Thirty-four more hours until he was expected back. Practically an eternity, when it came to a vacation of sorts with Sam lying next to him.

He turned his most charming grin Sam’s way. “So, you’ll need to meet with somebody at Gage Whitney, right? To seal the deal.”

“Yeah…” Josh’s tone was innocent; his smile anything but.

“I’ve still got a ticket to buy. How about we fly home together? We can get adjacent seats.”

Sam’s laughter shook the bed and warmed Josh’s chest.

He was already home.

#i looooooove you!#happy almost birthday #actuallylukedanes #!!!#hope you like #abw2017 #tww #josh x sam #tww fanfic #josh/sam #josh x sam fanfic #tww fic #josh x sam fic #josh/sam fic #my fic

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taiey · 7 years

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I’d like to ask you to imagine that you live in a very repressive country—there are elections but they are fake. The leader wins 100% of the vote each time. Security forces beat up opposition leaders with impunity, and they harass everyone else. This is a country where being in this room right now would get you on a list. Now let’s say you’ve had enough, and so have many other people that you talk to in low whispers. I’m not talking about the Hunger Games although that would be awesome. Unfortunately I’m talking about real world conditions that many people find themselves in right now.

Assuming you’ve decided to act, what would be the best way for you to challenge the system and create major change?

My own answer to this question has changed over the past five years. In 2006 I was a PhD student in political science here at CU-Boulder, and I was finishing my dissertation about how and why people use violence to seek political goals. As for the scenario I just described? Well, back then I bought into the idea that “power flows from the barrel of a gun.” I would have said that although it was tragic, it was logical in such cases for people to use violence to bring about change.

But that June, I was invited to an academic workshop put on by the International Center on Nonviolent Conflict. They were giving a week-long primer on nonviolent resistance to encourage people like me to teach about it in our courses. Now, my view of all this stuff was that it was well-intentioned, but dangerously naïve. The readings they sent me argued that the best way for people to achieve political change was through nonviolent or civil resistance. The authors described civil resistance as an active form of conflict where unarmed civilians used tactics like protests, demonstrations, strikes, boycotts, and many other forms of mass noncooperation to confront oppression. They brought up cases like Serbia, where a nonviolent revolution toppled Slobodan Milosevic—the butcher of the Balkans—in October of 2000, or the Philippines where the People Power movement ousted Ferdinand Marcos in 1986.

At the workshop, I said things like, “Well, for every successful case you guys mention, I can think of a failed case like Tiananmen Square. I can also think of plenty of cases where violence worked pretty well, like the Algerian, French, and Russian revolutions. Maybe nonviolent resistance works if you’re seeking labor rights, gender rights, or environmental reform, but it generally can’t work if you’re trying to overthrow a dictator or become a new country. Serbia and the Philippines–they were probably exceptions. And there’s no way nonviolent resistance can work against a ruthless opponent.”

By the end of the week, as you can imagine, I wasn’t too popular.

My soon-to-be co-author—Maria Stephan–came up to me and said something like, “If you’re right, prove it. Are you curious enough to study these questions empirically?”

Believe it or not, no one had systematically done this before. Although I was still skeptical, I was curious. If they were right and I was wrong, I figured somebody had better find out. So for the next two years, I collected data on all major nonviolent and violent campaigns for the overthrow of a government or territorial liberation since 1900. The data cover the entire world and include every known campaign that consists of at least a thousand observed participants, which constitutes hundreds of cases.

Then I analyzed the data, and the results blew me away. From 1900 to 2006, nonviolent campaigns worldwide were twice as likely to succeed outright as violent insurgencies. And there’s more. This trend has been increasing over time—in the last fifty years civil resistance has become increasingly frequent and effective, whereas violent insurgencies have become increasingly rare and unsuccessful. This is true even in extremely repressive, authoritarian conditions where we might expect nonviolent resistance to fail.

So why is civil resistance so much more effective than armed struggle? The answer lies in people power itself.

Researchers used to say that no government could survive if five percent of its population mobilized against it. But our data reveal that the threshold is probably lower. In fact, no campaigns failed once they’d achieved the active and sustained participation of just 3.5% of the population—and lots of them succeeded with far less than that. Now, 3.5% is nothing to sneeze at. In the U.S. today, this means almost 11 million people.

But get this: Every single campaign that did surpass that 3.5% threshold was a nonviolent one. In fact, campaigns that relied solely on nonviolent methods were on average four times larger than the average violent campaign. And they were often much more representative in terms of gender, age, race, political party, class, and urban-rural distinctions.

Civil resistance allows people of all different levels of physical ability to participate—including the elderly, people with disabilities, women, children, and virtually anyone else who wants to. If you think about it, everyone is born with an equal physical ability to resist nonviolently. Anyone who has kids knows how hard it is to pick up a child who simply doesn’t want to move, or to feed a child who simply doesn’t want to eat.

But for lots of people, violent resistance is much more physically demanding. You have to train to be good at it. When I was in college, I took military science classes because I wanted to go through the ROTC program and become an army officer. I liked the rappelling, the uniforms, map-reading, and shooting at the range. But I wasn’t stoked about getting up in the wee hours of the morning to run until I vomited. I quit–and chose the far less strenuous career of professor.

Not everyone wants to take the same chances in life, and many people won’t turn up unless they expect safety in numbers. The visibility of many civil resistance tactics, like protests, helps to draw these risk-averse people into the fray. Put yourself back in that repressive country for a minute. Say your neighbor comes to you and says, “We’re going to have a demonstration in the main square down the street at 8pm tonight. I hope you can make it.” Now, I don’t know about you all, but I’m not the person who is going to show up at 7:55 to see what’s up. I’m going to wait until about 8:30 or so, check out my window, and see what’s going on. If I see only 6 people assembling in the square, I’m probably going to sit this one out. But if I see 6,000 and more coming down the alleyway, I might join them.

The point here is that nonviolent campaigns can solicit more diverse and active participation from ambivalent people. And once those people get involved, it’s almost guaranteed that the movement will then have some links to security forces, the state media, business or educational elites, religious authorities, and civilian bureaucrats who start to question their allegiances. No regime loyalists in any country live entirely isolated from the population itself. They have friends, they have family, and they have existing relationships that they have to live with in the long term, regardless of whether the leader stays or goes. In the Serbian case, once it became clear that hundreds of thousands of Serbs were descending on Belgrade to demand that Milosevic leave office, policemen ignored the order to shoot on demonstrators. When asked why he did so, one of them said: “I knew my kids were in the crowd.”

I’ll bet some of you are thinking, “Is she insane? I watch the news, and I see protestors getting shot at in the streets all the time!” Sometimes crackdowns do happen. But even in these cases, nonviolent campaigns outperformed violent ones by two-to-one. When security forces beat up, arrest, or even shoot unarmed activists, there is, indeed, safety in numbers. Large and well-coordinated campaigns can switch from concentrated methods (like protests) to dispersed methods, where people stay away from places they were expected to go. They do strikes, they do stay-at-home demonstrations, they bang on pots and pans, they shut off the electricity at a coordinated time of day — these tactics are much less risky. They’re very hard or at least very costly to suppress, while the movement stays just as disruptive.

What happens in these countries once the dust settles? It turns out, the way you resist matters in the long run too. Most strikingly, nonviolent campaigns were far more likely to usher in democratic institutions than violent insurgencies. And countries where people waged nonviolent struggle were 15% less likely to relapse into civil war.

The data are clear: When people rely on civil resistance, their size grows. And when large numbers of people withdraw their cooperation from an oppressive system, the odds are ever in their favor.

So. Many people in my field had largely ignored the millions of people worldwide who were skillfully using civil resistance in favor of studying things that blow up. I had a few questions about the way I used to think. Why was it so easy and comfortable for me to believe that violence works? And why did I find it acceptable to simply assume that violence happens—almost automatically—because of circumstances, or by necessity—that it’s the only way out of some situations? In a society that celebrates battlefield heroes on national holidays, I guess it was natural to grow up believing that violence and courage are one and the same—and that true victories can’t come without bloodshed on both sides.

But the evidence I’ve presented here today suggests that for people serious about seeking change, there are realistic alternatives. Imagine now what our world would look like if we allowed ourselves to develop faith in them. What if our history courses emphasized the decade of mass civil disobedience that came before the Declaration of Independence, rather than the war that came after? What if Gandhi and King were the basis of the first chapter of our social studies textbooks, rather than an afterthought? What if every child left elementary school knowing more about the Suffragist movement than they did about the Battle of Bunker Hill? And what if it became common knowledge that when protests become too dangerous, there are many nonviolent techniques of dispersion that might keep participants safe and keep movements resilient?

So here we are in 2013 in Boulder, Colorado. Maybe some of you are thinking, “OK, I get that civil resistance is the best bet, but what can I do?”

Encourage your children to learn about the nonviolent legacies of the past two hundred years and explore the potential of people power. Tell your elected representatives to stop perpetuating the misguided view that violence pays by supporting the first groups in a civil uprising to take up arms. Although nonviolent campaigns can’t be exported or imported, it’s time for our officials to embrace a different way of thinking—that in the short and long term, civil resistance tends to leave behind societies in which people are able to live more freely and more peaceably together.

Now that we know what we know about the power of nonviolent conflict, I see it as our shared responsibility to spread the word so that future generations don’t fall for the myth that violence is their only way out.

Thank you.

https://rationalinsurgent.com/2013/11/04/my-talk-at-tedxboulder-civil-resistance-and-the-3-5-rule/

#video #resist #Protest #politics #not mine

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truck-fump · 4 years

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Presidential Primaries: What You Need to KnowEvery four years,...

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Presidential Primaries: What You Need to KnowEvery four years,...

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Presidential Primaries: What You Need to Know

Every four years, our country holds a general election to decide who will be our next president. Before that happens, though, each party must choose its candidate through primary elections.

But our system of primaries can be a bit confusing. So here’s a quick primer on the upcoming primaries, containing the most important things you need to know based on the most frequently asked questions:

Are primaries, caucuses, and conventions written into the Constitution? No. The Constitution says nothing about primaries or caucuses. Or about political parties.

So where did primaries and caucuses come from?

From the parties themselves. The first major political party convention was held in 1831 by the National Republican Party (also known as the Anti-Jacksonian Party). The first Democratic National Convention was held in 1832.

Who decides how primaries are run?

It’s all up to the parties at the state level. Political parties can even decide not to hold a primary. This year, five states have decided not to hold Republican presidential primaries and caucuses, a move designed to stop Donald Trump’s long-shot primary challengers.

Can state laws override party decisions?

No. In 1981, the Supreme Court held that the Democratic Party wasn’t required to admit Wisconsin delegates to its national convention since they hadn’t been selected in accordance with Democratic Party rules. The court said that a political party is protected by the First Amendment to come up with its own rules. Why did we start holding primaries?

In the 19th century, the process for deciding on a party’s nominee was controlled by party bosses, who chose the delegates to the party conventions.

In the early 20th century, some states began to hold primaries to choose delegates for party nominating conventions.

Although the outcomes of those primaries weren’t binding, they sent a message about how a candidate might do in a general election. In 1960, for example, John F. Kennedy’s victory in the West Virginia primary [archival footage] was viewed by Democratic Party leaders as a strong sign that a Catholic like Kennedy could win the votes of Protestants.

As recently as 1968, a candidate could still become the Democratic nominee without participating in any primaries, as Hubert Humphrey did that year. But since then, both parties have changed their rules so their presidential nominees depend on the outcomes of primaries and caucuses. They made these changes to better ensure their candidates would succeed in the general election. What’s the difference between a caucus and a primary?

States that hold primaries allow voters to cast secret ballots in support of candidates. States that hold caucuses rely instead on local in-person gatherings at a particular time and place – maybe in a high school gym or a library – where voters who turn up openly decide which candidates to support. Here are the states that will have Democratic primaries in 2020 and those that will have caucuses: Iowa, Nevada, Kansas, North Dakota, Wyoming, and Maine.

What’s the advantage of one over the other?

Primaries are the easiest way to vote. Caucuses are more difficult to participate in, so the people who turn out for them are usually the most enthusiastic and engaged voters. In caucuses for the 2008 and 2016 Democratic nominations, for example, Hillary Clinton lost to Barack Obama and then to Bernie Sanders. Fewer than 5 percent of pledged delegates will be awarded by caucuses in the upcoming Democratic primary, down from 14 percent in 2016.

Are Democratic and Republican primaries the same?

No. One of the biggest differences is in how delegates are allocated. In the Democratic Party delegates are allocated proportionally – so that, for example, a candidate who wins 40 percent of a state’s vote in the Democratic primary will win 40 percent of that state’s delegates. The Republican Party allows each individual state to choose how its delegates are allocated, with some states allocating delegates proportionally and some giving all their delegates to the winner of the primary.

Another difference involves what are known as “superdelegates” – typically elected officials and prominent party members like former presidents or congressional leaders. These superdelegates are automatically seated at the party’s national convention and can vote however they like. Superdelegates are still used by the Democratic Party but the Republican Party eliminated superdelegates in 2012. In 2018, the Democratic Party reduced the power of superdelegates, allowing them to vote only in contested conventions, when no candidate has a majority of votes going into the convention.

What’s the difference between an open, semi-closed, and closed primary?

Some states have closed primaries, where the only people who can participate are those that have registered as members of a political party. Independents and members of another party are not eligible.

Other states have semi-closed primaries, in which both registered party members and Independents can vote. Different states also have different rules about when voters must choose which primary they wish to vote in – for example, registering with a party on the day of the primary or even at the time of voting.

In open-primary states, any registered voter can participate in which ever party’s primary they choose.

Why is Iowa first? Why is New Hampshire second? How is that order determined?

It may seem odd that the first two primaries occur in tiny overwhelmingly white rural states – and it is. But hey, here we are. Iowa’s caucus is first, by tradition. New Hampshire’s primary must occur at least seven days before any other primary, according to New Hampshire state law. Originally held in March of a presidential election year, the New Hampshire primary has repeatedly been moved forward in order to maintain its status as the first primary.

What’s “Super Tuesday?”

That’s the Tuesday during primary season when the greatest number of states hold primary elections. This year, Super Tuesday will be March 3 – coming after the Iowa caucus, the New Hampshire primary, the Nevada Democratic caucus, and the South Carolina Democratic primary. And Super Tuesday will be really super because two huge states with lots of delegates – California and Texas – have both moved their primaries to March 3. All told, 9 states will hold primaries that day, including 6 of the most-populous – meaning almost 29 percent of the U.S. population will have a chance to get in on picking the presidential candidates that day.

So once a state’s voters have decided on their candidates, how are the specific delegates to a party convention chosen?

The national parties have left that up to their state parties, so it varies from state to state. Delegates are typically party activists or insiders who have been supporters of the candidate they’re chosen to represent at the national party convention.

Do delegates to a national party convention have to vote for the candidate they’ve pledged to support?

Both parties’ rules require that they do, at least on the first ballot.

What’s a contested convention?

A contested convention is one where no candidate has a majority of delegates going into the convention.

When was the last contested convention?

A while back, but we could see one again this year. In 1984, Vice President Walter Mondale entered the Democratic convention only a few delegates short of a majority. In 1976 Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan competed for the Republican nomination, and at the start of the convention neither had a majority.

What’s a brokered convention?

A brokered convention occurs when, after the first round of voting, still no candidate has a majority of delegates. If that happens, delegates are then free to vote for whomever they want. When was the last brokered convention?

You have to go all the way back to 1952 to find a brokered convention. That year both conventions were brokered. Adlai Stevenson finally emerged as the Democratic nominee and Dwight Eisenhower, the Republican. But here again, it might happen in 2020.

Which party’s convention comes first? And when and where?

By tradition, the party that holds the White House holds its nominating convention after the party that seeks the White House. So this year, the Democratic National Convention will be July 13 through 16 in Milwaukee. The Republican National Convention will be August 24 to August 27, in Charlotte.

Are vice presidential candidates chosen or announced at the convention?

Not necessarily. Presidential nominees often announce their choice of running mates in the days or weeks leading up to the nominating conventions.

So what do we do?

Make sure you’re registered and be sure to vote – in your state primaries or caucuses, and in the general election November 3!

#Uncategorized

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di-oblio · 4 years

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thelongestdamnreviews · 6 years

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Diablo III + Reaper of Souls

I originally started Diablo III as a Witch Doctor when I first got it, but I put the game away for a while and eventually came back during Season 15 and rolled a Monk for it. It took just over 25 hours to get to the end of Act V, playing mostly on Hard with some Expert thrown in. This review covers the base game plus Reaper of Souls, but not Rise of the Necromancer. I played entirely on my own and since I had a seasonal character, none of the items or gold my Witch Doctor found could be used.

Diablo III is a bit of a different beast from the previous games in the series, mostly from Diablo II. It's more of an arcade-y experience I think. You no longer can allocate stat points (until level 70) and you no longer have three skill trees to balance your skill points between. Instead, the game automatically adds points to your stats and you unlock a new skill or a Rune that modifies it for every level up to 69 or 70 depending on the character class. I imagine some people cried foul at having player choice taken away in how their character develops, but you still have control over what skills are in use. You just don't dump points into skills to boost the synergy it has with the others you'll use.

You also unlock passive skills and slots to put them in.

Minor break in the long review, but the best times I had with D2 were with modded games and using PlugY to not only give me a ton of inventory space as well as over four million pages of shared stash, but I could reset my stat points and skill points at any time. Most of my playtime was during Normal difficulty and I had a bunch of builds, though not all of them were viable for anything beyond that. I know Blizzard eventually added a once-per-difficulty respec option, but I'm still not keen on the possibility of ruining a character by investing in the wrong skills/stats. You couldn't really freely experiment with builds unless you were willing to invest a bunch of time into leveling them and come to find out, Sanctuary really isn't a great Aura even when it's been leveled. And for what it's worth, the only time I beat Act V Hell was in Eastern Sun, using an Arctic Blast/Winter Fury Druid.

This still ended up being the most kills I got in one chain.

Diablo III lets you change around assigned skills and their Runes at any time you're out of combat, no need to use a consumable or anything. I really liked this aspect since it let me go hog wild with trying out different skills, combinations of them, different Runes, etc. I didn't need to look up guides to see if a skill that looked good on paper was still worth using or not because there was no risk in actually trying them out. You're given six slots (left mouse button, right mouse button, 1234 or QWER) to assign skills, and the game initially restricts you on which skills go in which slot, but you can change that with Elective Mode. This also allows you to use more than one skill of a given category in your loadout provided it's not an "only one" situation like the Monk's Mantras category.

Each skill has five Runes assigned to it, though you're only able to use one Rune per skill. Sometimes they merely buff the damage a skill does, sometimes they change other parameters like making the skill hit in a wider area or they change how the skill works entirely. For example, the Monk's Wave of Light summons a ghostly bell right in front of the Monk that deals pretty heavy damage to anything it hits. The Wall of Light Rune changes the damage type and makes it stun enemies it hits, while Shattering Light also changes the element type but also has the bell generate a wide beam of cold that travels and smashes into anything in its way. Its Explosive Light Rune creates eight flaming avatars of the Monk that then rush in their own direction while still dealing heavy damage, but without summoning the bell. Some Legendary items and some Set items can also change aspects of skills, like the Tzo Krin's Gaze spirit stone causing Wave of Light to drop the bell directly on the enemy instead of placing it next to the Monk.

Skills now run on weapon damage, though that's still derived from your stats as well as the actual stats on your gear. I found this kinda jarring but instead of needing a caster weapon for a caster class, you can use pretty much anything. So my Witch Doctor who could throw exploding fireballs somehow was doing more damage with it using a giant two-handed sword. Okay. Skills also use the weapon's attack speed, so you have to decide what balance of speed and power to run with.

Wonderful names for Rare items make a comeback, of course!

Once you hit level 70, you start gaining Paragon Levels. These actually give you points you can allocate across four categories with four attributes each (though you earn points for each category in a set order), and these too can be reset at any time for free. You can boost your primary stat, your movement speed, give points to resisting all elements, and even buff your gold find! Most of these stats can only be raised 50 times each but there apparently is no limit to Paragon Levels, though leveling naturally slows down after some time since you still have higher and higher EXP requirements for each Paragon Level.

Though the character sheet still has a tucked-away readout of all of your stats, all of those have been condensed to three categories that give you a general idea of your power--Damage dealing with damage per second, Toughness representing how much damage you can absorb before dying, and Recovery detailing how many points of Toughness a second you recover. Items still have the full stat readout too, but you can use these three categories to get an at-a-glance look at which gear would be better to use. Just remember that the game only cares about numbers when it comes to the comparison between the three categories--if you rely on Life Per Hit with fast weapons to stay alive, the game won't know that a Life Per Kill item isn't actually better for you even if the numbers are higher.

I found that items didn't drop very often for me on Hard, and I actually liked that, as ass-backwards as that sounds for a game in a genre all about killing things and getting loot from them. I still picked up everything, even white plain items since they could be broken down at the blacksmith. The inventory has been expanded to 10x6 and items take either one or two slots, so no need to figure out how to fit a 4x2 giant axe into your backpack. For me, this led to not needing to return to town nearly as often because of a full pack and I oftentimes came back willingly before I capped out because I found a waypoint or because the questline required me to come back. There are also three crafters in town who can create items for you, and you very quickly unlock the ability to make rare-quality items and the blacksmith can even make Legendary or Set items with the post-game recipes you can find.

Though the full CGI cutscenes are rare, the "moving drawing" ones are still pretty neat-looking.

With Reaper of Souls, beating Act V opens up Adventure Mode for all of the characters on your account regardless of their progress in the story. Here, you're given full access to all five Acts and their waypoints, and each Act is given five Bounties. These involve going to X area and killing Y many monsters, or Z specific boss, or surviving for so many seconds during an event. Completing a Bounty rewards gold and experience, while clearing all five of an Act's Bounties rewards a Horadric Cache which dumps a bunch of items, crafter recipes, and Blood Shards to use for the new Gambler. Bounties only last for one game session, so completing four of Act I's and leaving the game for a moment will cause all Bounties to reset.

Two types of Rifts open up as well. Nephalem Rifts put you in "random scenery, random enemy" environments and you go through killing enemies to fill up a meter that summons a boss when full, and then you're allowed to leave. You also earn a Greater Rift Stone, and Greater Rifts are much like Nephalem Rifts except their difficulty is determined by the Rift itself instead of the current game setting, enemies don't drop loot, and you're timed. 15 minutes is kind of generous, but Greater Rifts have access to difficulty levels well beyond what the rest of the game does. Clear it in time and you can win a Legendary Gem and are given opportunities to upgrade it or any others in your possession a number of times. Get a good time and you'll jump several levels ahead on the difficulty selector, as well as place well on the leaderboard that I ignored entirely.

A Greater Rift. Some enemies drop orbs that add to your completion meter, but you still need to watch that orange line with the hourglass as that's the timer you need to stay ahead.

Instead of having the "complete the game three times" difficulty loop of prior Diablos, the game starts with three difficulty levels and you unlock an additional 14 as you play. You're able to set the difficulty to whatever you have unlocked before you enter a game, but you can only lower the difficulty while in-game. I originally started my Monk on Expert but found the enemies too damage spongey on a new character, but I honestly could've kept it there once I had actually good gear. I found Diablo III pretty easy my first time through the story, not dying until I very smartly jumped from Expert to Torment III in Adventure Mode and got one-shot by the first boss I came across...seven times in a row. Enemies scale with your level but the difficulty levels boost their stats while also granting you more EXP and gold per kill. When I stopped to eventually write this review, I was sitting at Torment VIII but could probably push it up a little bit more.

I didn't really mind the story, but I was more of a "play the game, skip the story" player with the prior games. There are a couple of contrivances I rolled my eyes at, but I really enjoyed that your character actually has a personality and talks so much. You converse with NPCs instead of being a monologue-catcher and you say a hell of a lot more than a single line when entering certain areas or completing quests. You unlock three different companions of which you can take one along with you on your travels and they too have personalities and comments and you can even have conversations with them! I didn't try going through with other characters to see if the NPC interaction was mostly canned, but this was a nice touch for me. I actually tried to exhaust all of the dialog options with every character just for that reason to be honest, though the little blue asterisk above their head to denote a new topic might've been a driving factor too.

I didn't really have many issues with Diablo III. It being forced-online sucks because you can't really play in an internet outage or on the road without a hotspot, and that in turn kills off any ability to have mods. While I gushed about the characters having personality and all above, I also triggered their taunts (from killing a bunch of enemies in a short time) excessively often and I don't think there's a way to turn just those voicelines off. The first time through the game is probably where the game is the worst since you're probably a burning scythe with a monofilament edge cutting through demons made of wheat, but the ability to skip the story afterwards with any character more than makes up for it as does having a wider selection of difficulties. And I wish more games did at least the "postgame for everyone" option too. You're pretty limited on character slots (I had ten with the expansion) which wasn't really a problem for me, but I imagine people could be constrained if they had different builds or if they wanted Seasonal characters as well as their usual roster.

Bounties are definitely worth doing, even if most of these are crafter recipes.

I lucked out and got Diablo III plus Reaper of Souls for very cheap, but I'd say it's worth $15-20. The story mode is kind of short but it has pretty long legs to it. Six different character classes, a bunch of builds based around the gear you find and use and what skills and Runes you like, and a bunch of demons and other baddies to kill, recipes to learn, achievements to farm, challenges to clear... For me, Diablo III put more emphasis on actually getting out there and killing instead of doing research on builds so you don't permanently screw over a character with misplaced points and all, and you're even rewarded for not slowing down on killing mooks or breaking things. I didn't have way high levels of fun playing, but I actually enjoyed my time and didn't feel like stopping midway.

Normally, you can have one Mystic Ally out at a time. One Legendary item doubles the number, and one Set lets you have every version out at once...and these stack.

Though you'll need a battle.net or Blizzard whatever account, you can try part of the first Act of plain Diablo III for free with any of the original five classes.

#pc #recommended

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