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formyloveoflove · 3 months

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The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

#the bear #the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #the bear season 3 #the bear gifs #the bear spoilers #the bear meta #sydcarmy

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drrav3nb · 3 months

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Markings Of A Soul, Etched Skin Deep

“I’m thinking of getting a tattoo,” Sydney said aloud, her sudden confession almost drawing Luca’s attention away from the road.

Read the fic here

#the bear spoilers #the bear s3 #the bear season 3 #the bear #the bear fx #sydney x luca #sydluca #sydney adamu #luca the bear #ayo edebiri #will poulter #thebearedit #sydluca fic #sydney adamu fic #luca the bear fic #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #really proud of this one #hope you all like it too!

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scotianostra · 3 months

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On June 26th 1970 The Kingston Bridge, carrying the M8 motorway over the River Clyde in Glasgow opened.

It might not have the global fame of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, the impressive backdrop of Sydney’s Harbour Bridge or the history of London’s Tower Bridgee, but Glasgow’s bustling Kingston Bridge, which celebrates its 54th birthday today, is every bit as iconic It was officially opened on June 26th, 1970, by the Queen Mother.

The 52,000-ton structure took three years to build and cost about £11million – the equivalent of more than £180million today. When construction began in May 1967, it was the most expensive road project yet undertaken in Glasgow.

The bridge opening marked a massive reduction of traffic travelling through Glasgow, city centre numbers dropped by a massive 75%!

The Kingston Bridge is 270m long, over 40m wide and crosses the River Clyde at a maximum height of almost 20m.

Today, the bridge carries over 150,000 vehicles a day and is one of the busiest road bridges in Europe. Currently there are moves to have the bridge listed as a structure of historic and architectural interest.

#scotland #scottish #history #traffic infrastructure #Glasgow #bridge

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ravawrites · 1 year

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femme fatale

summary: a morally dubious personal investigator takes a holiday to virginia as she had heard that aaron hotchner was in witsec. he was not.

warnings: MDNI!!!!! blowjobs, slight d/s dynamic, slight rough play, open ending.

a/n: This is my first smut like work! so please give me the benefit of doubt as i know i need to improve lol. Hope you enjoyed!! Happy reading <3 SEND ME REQUESTS PLEASE. I know aaron doesn’t come back after witsec but for the sake of plot, he does.

word count: 3062

In the past twelve years you had been everywhere in the world. Paris, London, Milan, Sydney, Nigeria, Moscow, and in forty nine of the fifty states. Every one held a different passport and a different name and accent. There was one state, however, you avoided like the plague. Virginia. Named after the virgin queen, birth place of the first president and home to Quantico, the FBI office and unit chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner.

Through the grapevine of criminal connections, you had heard that he had been pushed into WITSEC by Mr Scratch. Him and his son were in Michigan, living a normal life. So you decided to make your way to Virginia.

Your week was spent going around to all the tourist attractions, you had hazy memories of. The Smithsonian, the national gallery of art, and the Lincoln memorial but steering clear of the Capitol. Too risky. Finally, the nightlife.

Holidays in your line of work were rare and short. A night out in a bar, for fun and not information on a suspect was even rarer. You were going out for fun, to get drunk and find someone to pull back into your cheap motel before you were back on the road again. Lightly curled hair twisted around your face, framing it and highlighting the dark, sultry makeup that was precisely painted onto your skin. Dark liner pulling attention to your eyes and a deep red lipstick, surely to leave a mark.

The dress was black, tight, showing everything you had off. It fell around mid thighs that were covered in a silky black stocking that ran down to your feet that were held in expensive black heels. The red bottoms were unmistakable and were a subtle hint at your wealth, steering all of the right people your way.

You’d looked up the bars in the immediate vicinity by your motel. One was a club, that was too young for you, it would be full of college kids looking to score with an older woman. The other was one an older bar with a snooker table and a dart board. This one was too old, filled with older men. The one you’d decided on was called O’keefes. It had a dart board and a moderately sized dance floor. It was the perfect medley between young and old.

The sign outside was glowing red, lighting up the immediate area. Brown wooden doors had little glass windows and you could see the inside was dark with red accent lights, matching the sign in the front. Pushing open the doors, you immediately make your way to the bar and do a scan of the place. The bar was in the middle of the room in a square shape, you sit with your back to the door.

“Can I get a gin and tonic please.” You ask, in a strong french accent, the bartender and she nods, whisking away to go and mix your drink.

“I’ll pay.” A voice says from behind you and you turn around. He’s a blonde, tall, muscular man. “You’re French?” He asks and sits on the red bar stool next to you while nodding to the bartender for a beer.

“Yes, I’m on a vacation?” You say, feigning pauses between your words, giving the impression of changing your dialect to American. “It’s fun here.” You smile at him and rest your chin in your hand.

“Ah I was born here, lived here my whole life.” He tells you and grabs your drinks off of the bartender and you sit and begin to chat. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m an accountant. What about you?” You ask him, not breaking your eyes from his, they were bright blue even in the red light. Not your usual type but he would do.

“I’m a gym instructor.” He comments and subtly flexes. Your toes curl in cringe as he does this but you grit your teeth and make a face of recognition.

“That makes sense, you’re very” You look down and sigh, pretending to think of the word. Looking up you make a grunting noise. You look down again, coyly this time.

“Muscular?” He offers and you make an ‘o’ with your mouth and nod at him. “Yes, I go to the gym every day. I do all sorts of things.” Immediately you had regretted talking to this man. He started to go on and on about all the types of workouts and weights and how long and what muscles it works.

He talked your ear off. He didn’t stop. Your eyes roam around the room, watching all of the other people and they’re conversations that seemed miles more interesting. There was a blonde woman and a bald man having the time of their lives on the dance floor, clearly drunk out of their minds, they looked familiar. The red light bounced around the room and your eyes follow it, taking you on a journey of people watching.

There was another couple, this time in a booth, snogging each others face off. They looked absolutely enamoured with each other. Her hands were in his hair and his hands were on her hips.

Your eyes followed the bouncing light to a round table in the corner of the room. There was a group of five people all laughing and drinking, pointing at the people on the dance floor from a second ago. They were close friends. In the background of your thoughts was the blonde man, still rambling on about the gym and being buff.

The light took your eyes to the door of the men’s bathroom as someone stood out of the doorway. His shoes were black leather oxfords, polished and shining. Black slacks that were perfectly tailored and were tight around his thighs. The same could be said for his white long sleeved shirt, tight across his chest with two buttons undone. A small amount of chest hair peeking out in the gap. Now he was more your type. You looked up to his face to study it.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you take him in. The stool squeaks as you stand up from it quickly and the two of you just stare at each other. You’d also realise you’d walked into a bar full of FBI agents and the one who disliked you the most was looking directly after you. Glancing over to the table of the large group of people you had just observed.

“I am not feeling to well, I have to go.” You say, leaning down to the man, who you didn’t know the name of and watched him look confused. “The gin didn’t sit with me. Goodbye.” You put your hand on his shoulder and grab his beer which he hadn’t touched yet.

You had never been so glad to sit near the door. The split second decision to bolt out of the door was risky. Running out of the bar, you rip the door open and made your way onto the Virginian streets. First mistake, wearing heels. Being a PI provided you with a generous amount of funds. However, expensive heels this high we’re for being walked down the the street in the arm of someone. Not pelting it down paved streets, you already regretted your choice to go out tonight.

Second mistake, coming to Virginia in the first place. You heard the bar door open again and he ran through it, bolting after you. He had the upper hand here, knowing the streets. Quickly, you run into the back alley’s. You didn’t stop running, checking the street signs as you ran. Desperate to get back to your motel, you don’t look back once.

Guessing wasn’t your strong point, you think as you randomly pick another alley to run through, hoping to find some familiarity. All of them started to look the same, maybe you’d already been here, or maybe it was the panic. There was a T shaped turn, you could either go straight foreword or turn right in a couple yards. You run straight foreword.

Suddenly, as you pass the right turn you are slammed against the brick wall. You feel the backs of your tights get stuck to the brick and rip and you wince.

“You prick.” You groan and pull your hands up to shove him off of you. “What you do that for?” Bending down you bring your hands to your knees and puff for breath.

“What job are you on?” He says, with his interrogator voice. Eyebrows creased and shoulders squared to make himself look more threatening.

“I’m not on a job, Hotch.” You tell him and stand up straight, looking at this face close up for the first time in a while. Your mind short circuits for a second as you contain yourself. “You have a beard.”

“You’re always on a job.” He states, clearly not believing you.

“I’m on holiday!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up into the air. “You.” Dragging out the word you point at him. “Are supposed to be in witness protection.”

“How’d you know that?” He asks, confused. He takes a step forward, his chest rising and falling.

“Everyone knew?” You roll your eyes at him. “You had to disappear because of Scratch, you were in Maine.” You shrug. “Now can I please, go back to my motel.”

“No.” He says and takes another step foreword. “You’re a murderer.” He states. “I’ll walk you.”

“Alleged, you have no evidence.” You answer quickly, “You have a bias against me. I’m innocent.” You sigh and start to walk away from him. “We can’t be seen together.”

“I know.” You look at him confused. “To all of those things. But it’s dark, I’ll walk you.” He jogs to catch up to you and the two of you walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of your motel. It’s silent for a while and you take in the streets. “You’re British?” He questions, turning toward you.

“I assumed you knew, all these years.” You laugh slightly. “You have reading glasses yet?” You joke. He doesn’t find it funny. “One day, you’ll laugh.” The silence comes up once again, you swing your arms back and forth. “What did you tell your friends?”

“That I had to go.” He states and you turn into the street of dodgy motels. “Why did you mention my beard?” He asks as he walks you to the door. You turn the key you had in your bra, and lean against the open door way.

“It suits you, you look fit.” You shrug and smile. His face doesn’t move. “It’s a compliment, accept it.” You roll your eyes again and scoff. “You want to come in?” He shakes his head and goes to open his mouth but you interrupt.

“I don’t want to fuck. Calm down.” You walk into your room and wait for him to follow. “Close the door.” You hear it click closed. “It wouldn’t be a good idea for us to have sex again anyway.”

“Why?” He says with a strong breath out of his nose.

“You might get attached.” You smirk at him and he finally laughs. It’s a deep baritone, but silky like honey, you wanted to drown in it. “Also because I think someone knows we’re friends.” You sit down on your bed and pull your red bottoms and frown at the scuffed paint. You look up to him as you peel the ripped tights away from your legs, leaving you in your dress.

“What do you mean?” He asks and you rummage through your bag, pulling out a white envelope. You toss it towards him and watch him pull out pictures of you from vulnerable times throughout the years. “Are these not yours?”

“No, my blackmail is in a safe.” You give him a smile and lean back. “I was served them, like I was being sued.” You explain. “I’m trying to find who’s they are, don’t worry.”

“I will lose my job, if these get out.” He says flicking through them again.

“I know. They won’t.” You assure him and take the photos back, taking them back and sliding them into the envelope. The air in the room feels thick and you bury them back into the bottom of the bag. The dynamic was strange. He didn’t like you because he thought you were a murderer. You didn’t like him because he thought you were a murderer. However, you couldn’t deny the tension the two of you had. You had kept your meetings short for this exact reason, the room heating up. You look up and meet his brown eyes.

“Is that all your things?” He asks and you nod. “It’s not a lot.” He states and stands up rigidly straight.

“I don’t live anywhere for more than a month.” Zipping your bag shut. “I close my cases quickly. You can sit down.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “I should go.” You nod and watch him turn to the door and take two long steps towards it. You never said goodbye. This time though, he hesitated to twist the door knob.

“One more time, couldn’t hurt.” You stand up and the two of you meet half way, wrapping around each other. Your lips hit his neck and you start to suck gently while simultaneously unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. Your hands dive into the hair on his chest and generally feel him up through the open shirt. “You been working out?”

“Occasionally.” He says nonchalantly as your hands wander south. Down to his toned stomach and your fingers fiddle with the button on his slacks. You look up at him for permission and he nods. Slowly, you use both hands to unbutton them and teasingly pull down the zip. “Hurry up.” He grits and your hand slides inside the trousers but stay over his boxers. You felt him get hard in your hand.

He leans down to your neck and licks up to your ear and whispers. “Get on your knees for me.” You do exactly as your told and lower yourself down to the carpet.

“You’re so lucky you’re hot, this carpet is gross.” You say up to him and pull his black slacks down to his ankles. His mouth perks up at the compliment. You learn on the backs of your feet and wait. Your fingers trail up and down his thigh. He pulls down his boxers and that was a sight you missed.

Just looking at Aaron Hotchner, every one could tell he wasn’t small, in any shape of form. His build was big, his chest was big, his hands were big, you could go on. His dick was certainly big, you observe as he holds it close to your face. “Look up at me.” He instructs and you instantly do what he says.

You didn’t know what view you preferred. On one hand, his dick was pretty. On the other, he had grown a beard out while in WITSEC. They were both equal.

“Can I?” You ask, swiping your tongue over your lip but he cuts you off.

“Patience.” He states sternly. He liked to make you wait. You roll your eyes again but do sit there patiently. He pulls you gently from the back of your head closer to him. You furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering what he was doing. An uncontrollable red flush crawls up your skin as it dawned on you, he was measuring up to your face. Dirty man. He smirks and leans back, “Go ahead.” He finally says and you sigh in relief.

“Patience is not one of my strongest virtues.” You snark and lean in, taking a long, slow lick up his length. In the past few years, you had forgotten what he had tasted like, you didn’t want to forget again. Something you’d never forget was the noise he would make when you finally took him into your mouth.

That groan was music to your ears, a symphony that makes you blush. He’s heavy and warm on your tongue. You look up at him through your eyelashes and his eyes are screwed shut as he pants. Hallowing your cheeks, you slowly bob your head along him.

“Nor is it mine.” He moans out and runs his fingers into your hair. “Can I?” He strokes your hair and you nod, mouth still full of his cock. “Use your words.” He commands and smiles down at you as you pull off of him.

“Yes, you can.” You confirm and he grabs the back of your hair in a fist. He then guides you down on him again, but deeper than before almost breaching your throats and you couldn’t stop yourself from groaning, vibrating on him and the grip on your hair tightens slightly. “Christ.” You feel the leg muscles you have gripped in your hands twitch as he moves his hips forward to meet your movements.

The frequent small spurts of salty taste into your mouth signalled that he was getting closer to the edge. You try not to smirk and you take him deeper and he throws his head back with a throaty groan.

“I’m not going to last long.” He grits his teeth together and his legs twitch again, gripping onto the back of your head as you control your breathing through your nose.

He calls out your name, a word he rarely even whispers. It falls out of his lips as he finishes into yours.

He pulls out of your throat and you swallow, standing up and then perching on the edge of your bed. “Let me pay you back.” He says and takes steps towards your, lips landing on your neck. A soft moan leaves your mouth. But suddenly, the two of you are ripped apart by the phone ringing. He pulls away and answers, it’s not work, you can tell by his softer than usual tone.

“I’ve got to go.” He awkwardly says, pulling his trousers back up and buttoning his shirt. “It’s my son, Jack, he’s ill.” He grabs his wallet that had fallen on the floor in the chaos. “I’ll see you soon.” You follow him to the creaky door to see him out.

“No, you won’t.” He begins to walk away into the dark of the night. “Goodbye Aaron!” You call out into the darkness as he disappears.

#criminal minds #fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #ficlet #fluff #oneshot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #smut #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch smut #first smut #hope you enjoy!!!

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wub-fur-radio · 4 months

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Pspring Psych Pspectacular 2024

As sure as spring Coats our little piece of land in green The turnin' earth takes all of what it brings – La Luz

Wub-Fur is pleased to announce the worldwide availability of our seventh (!) annual Pspring Psych Pspectacular. Twenty-three powerful and 100% pure hits of contemporary neo-psychedelic pspringtime music for your pseasonal listening needs. Featuring contributions from Redd Kross, Black Sand, the Asteroid No. 4, Mondo Drag, Ty Segall, Meatbodies, Shannon and the Clams, Winter McQuinn, the See No Evils, Druid Fluids, Sons of Zöku, and a dozen more wild, trippy, far out, rockin’ and/or groovy bands from around the world and across the universe of psych.

Apologies (and happy fall) to all the bands from the southern hemisphere.

Previous Pspring Psych Pspectaculars: 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023

▶︎🎶 Listen on Mixcloud

Running Time: 1 hour, 29 minutes, 50 seconds

Tracklist

Candy Coloured Catastrophe (3:25) — Redd Kross | Hawthorne, CA

Dandelion (2:26) — The Asteroid No.4 | Philadelphia / San Francisco

The Moon Is in the Wrong Place (2:57) — Shannon and the Clams | Oakland, CA

Cool It, Baby (3:20) — Levitation Room | Los Angeles

Silly Cybin (3:36) — Meatbodies | Los Angeles

Spring Time (3:00) — The See No Evils | Leeds, UK

Living in the Night (4:16) — MOOON | Aarle Rixtel, Netherlands

Daffodil (3:11) — Winter McQuinn | Melbourne, Australia

Pale Blue Dot (3:34) — Joe Ghatt | New Zealand

Burning in the Sun (4:26) — Custard Flux | Detroit, MI

Burning Bright (3:52) — Sun Dial | England †

Bobbin' For Apples (2:21) — Hot Apple Band | Sydney, Australia †

Butterfly (3:51) — Black Sand | New Zealand

Planetary (5:11) — Magic Machine | Sydney, Australia

Death in Spring (6:06) — Mondo Drag | Oakland, CA †

Nu Poeme (4:05) — Sons of Zöku | Adelaide, Australia

The Last Midnight (3:33) — Project Gemini | London

Last Flight of the Moon Goose (4:49) — Moon Goose | Hay on Wye, UK

Palus Somni (4:58) — Valley of the Sun | Cincinnati, OH

Watcher (5:26) — Ty Segall | Los Angeles

Layers (5:27) — Druid Fluids | Adelaide, Australia †

I Need Your Love Like I Need a Hole in My Head (2:50) — The Silk RailRoad | Portland, OR

Jerusalem Road (3:08) — Empty House | Blackpool, UK

All tracks released in 2024, except those marked † released 2023.

🌼 🌿 🌷 🌱 🌸 🌼 🌿 🌷 🌱 🌸 🌼 🌿 🌷 🌱 🌸

#psychedelic rock #neo psychedelia #psychedelic pop #indie rock #music mixes

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tempting-seduction · 1 year

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Born on 30 November 1960 in Punchbowl, Sydney, Australia, Mark Bouris is a businessman who is best known as the founder and chairman of 'Wizard Home Loans', Australia's second largest non-bank mortgage lender behind Aussie Home Loans. He is now the chairman of Yellow Brick Road, a business which he founded in 2007.

#Australian businessman #mark bouris #Aussie Home Lian

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digenerate-trash · 1 year

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More head cannons that I have but for non-love interests. mostly teachers and Bailey and Harper.

Bailey used to be a normal person who cared if the orphans got hurt but over time in order to keep the younger kids safe from the town he needed to start charging the older ones rent to keep this rinky-dink shack above water eventually it became too much for him to care about every victim he sent out onto the street to make rent so he stopped. Either by dissociation or worse. now he's just a heartless asshole who protects only the kids in the youth ward and even that is hard for him to do. The road to hell is paved with good intentions after all.

Harper is afraid of blood. Straight up. He’ll faint if he catches sight of it that's why he prefers needles and brainwashing no blood is involved if you do it right. He's giving some real “I never got my doctorate” energy and I don't think this town cares because he's the best they have. He's definitely jacked off over an unaware patient. Has a kink for making patients cum hands-free (it's a power thing). Almost agreed to work for Remmy for free because he got too excited about brainwashing people into mindless cow hybrids. moral compass? Whos she?

Leighton is such a fucking freak of nature. Would not be surprised if he went from teacher’s aid to head teacher solely through blackmail and other underhanded means this dud has always been a straight-up freak. Like Kylar but instead of being obsessed with one person, his passion is corrupting innocent people and once he's done and he's gotten off it's off to the next unsuspecting victim. This dude probably doesn’t know how to use a modern cellphone though so thank god for that.

Sirris. Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. I mean Mommy? Sorry. For real though giving milf energy. Probably really loved her dead husband to the point where she's not getting married again. (which is the real crime) but deeply cares for her kid, and even though she has no idea the extent of Leighton’s abuse she has threatened to kill him and go to church the next day if he even breathes near her kid. Owns a sex shop purely to exploit this town's obvious sex addiction issue and is probably saving for Sydney's future as well. The only good parent I’ve seen in this game.

River is a virgin for life. my man has never seen a pussy and is physically afraid of it. (same goes for cock but a little bit less so) has an avid believer of the church's teachings and he has a kind of friendship with Sydney but refuses to give them any special treatment because it wouldn't be fair (although Sydney is his favorite). Prob wear’s a chastity belt since he was 18 and has absolutely refused to take it off its like a security blanket now. No one is getting their filthy hands on this dick.

Doren is one of those freaks who has crushes on his students and sees nothing wrong with it, he cares about them and wants the best for his students but the power dynamic is hard to ignore for his students and even though he wants to be kind and a friend to all of them most students will avoid getting too friendly with him. He does his best to protect the students he likes best giving them snacks at lunch being extra patient with them during lessons helping them out or bumping up their grades just because they asked but if you’re a nuisance he lets you fall by the wayside because his love and care are conditional.

Winter is heavy into costumes and BDSM but that's not a surprise super into weird sexual history and also has a huge denial/edging kink. Surprisingly the teacher she gets along best with is River. They hang out in the teacher's lounge and bitch about students. Leighton has absolutely harassed her for information on her students like which ones squirm during her unorthodox lessons but she refuses to play into his antics. When she's working at the museum she is the most content. It's her real passion but it doesn't pay the bills. Probably got hired because Leighton thought she would be an easy mark but it turns out she's a total dom and now he's afraid to fire her.

Mason is the guy Dorent wishes he was. Students are always trying to feel him up during lesions and asking if he's single. But he really just wants to be left alone. At one point he was good enough to be on a national swim team but for one reason or another, his life fell apart and now he's burnt out and living in the worst town in Britain at the ripe age of 25. The dude probably wouldn't hurt a fly unless he had to and even then he would be crying for a week afterward. Bottom energy.

#Dol teachers #Dol harper #Dol bailey #Dol non-love interests #Dol Leighton #Leighton the headteacher #Dol Sirius #Dol Doren #Dol River #Dol winter #Dol mason #Dol content #Degrees of lewdly #mason the swimming teacher #doren the english teacher #river the maths teacher #winter the history teacher #bailey the caretaker #harper the doctor

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capseycartwright · 9 months

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to be irish is to leave -

i know this, i’ve always known this. i was raised on stories of emigration and of new dreams: american, english, australian, dreams of a house of your own, cities bigger than anyone could imagine, a career you’d never get to have at home. the songs sung at the end of the night in cosy pubs were always lamenting - songs grieving those who left and never returned, songs that told stories of what it means to be irish: to leave, to build a new life elsewhere, and to still be irish at your very core. because we leave, we do, but we never shake off our irishness, finding community in corners of the world filled with other irish people, thousands of miles from home but finding solace amidst your loneliness with the neighbour who grew up ten miles down the road.

it’s no country for women - that’s what they used to say, why they left. it’s no country for young people, now. we say it, over and over - with your family, as they welcome you home for christmas. with your friends, over christmas pints, the conversation always turning to emigration - she’s left too, you know, to sydney, and there’s a gang of them in london, and he’s gone to canada. our hometown is quiet now, a generation emigrating all over again. they say that leaving is in our blood but it’s not there out of a joy travel and a desire to see the world - not just that, at least. no, no, leaving is in our blood because this country we love so deeply doesn’t love us back.

this country raised me - the green fields and rolling hills and waves crashing against the shore are all embedded deep in my DNA, the very core of who i am. this country raised me, it shaped me, it’s one of the biggest parts of who i am - irish, i say, when i’m asked when i’m from, even though i haven’t lived here since i was 22, even though i have built a life in another country and i don’t know if i see myself coming back. we all feel it - raised to so fiercely love a country that doesn’t love us back. “i’ll never afford a house here.” “i didn’t think i’d be living with my parents this close to 30.” “it costs too much to build a life here.” “if i want my dream job - i have to go.”

i have to go, i have to go, i have to go - i knew this from the moment i settled on a dream: a career i could never pursue in ireland the motivation behind the one way ticket i booked all those years ago. i love this country - we all do. i fought for the betterment of this country, i marched and i led campaigns and i voted over and over for a better future for the country i love so dearly: and still, i ended up standing in the airport, suitcases in hand, and i got on a plane and left. because to be irish is to leave - and so i left. i left, and built a life elsewhere, gave that love and passion to another place, and the ache for ireland lessens, day by day, but i still ache for home, ache to be able build a life in the land i love so much.

ireland will always welcome you home, is the thing - with wide open arms, and a bright smile. this year marked the seventh christmas i arrived home to a choir, to news cameras, to a rapturous reception of carols and clapping, strangers happy to see ireland’s children return home. ireland will always welcome us home - but she waves us off just as enthusiastically. january comes and the airport is full again - tearful goodbyes, suitcases of presents and all the home comforts you never learned to live without, and the plane always leaves: taking you back to the place you’ve built your new life, ireland in the rearview mirror.

you learn to live with the homesickness, rugby matches in irish bars and monthly drinks with familiar accents a salve for the part of your heart that will always ache for home: because to be irish is to leave, yes, but to be irish is to leave and to always long to come home to ireland’s shores. and to be irish is to know you might never come home at all.

#in which i ramble #me and my complicated feelings about emigration are back #my writing tag #complicated feelings i say as if anger isn’t the clear emotion in this

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crinkled-emotions · 8 months

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Day 28: Daggers in Australia

Back in the groove! I think this fic ended up being somewhere around the 5k mark whilst the others have been mostly 1-2k max. I honestly thought about writing more but rather than making it seem overfull I hit a point and I was like yep, we're done, that's fine there.

“Someone hold my hand when we cross the road, I’m not awake enough for this.”

“Payback, hold your wizzo’s hand.”

“Fuck you, Rooster.”

Rooster dodged when Payback went to swat at the back of his head, pulling his suitcase along with him as the pair fucked around. Fanboy groaned, turning to rest his head on Bob’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna keep me safe, right Bob?”

“A little busy right now, Mick.”

Bob, wrestling both his luggage and Phoenix’s while she went to the bathroom, did indeed look busy. Maverick was already on the phone organising pick up from the airport, talking quietly as people rushed around him. Coyote had decided to sit on a bench nearby and was texting his mom, letting her know they’d landed in Perth. Everyone was sluggish, feeling the jetlag from their thirty hours of flying including their layovers in LAX and Sydney. The only one with enough energy to keep them going had to be Hangman, of course, bouncing on his feet in a way that told Coyote he’d maybe had a taste of Aussie coffee on the plane. When his incessant talking made even Coyote doubt his friendship he reached out, grabbing Hangman by the wrist.

“Sit down and shut up a sec, you’re asking Rooster to punch you again.”

“He missed last time,” Hangman rebutted but he did indeed sit down and shut up aside from his foot tapping on the lino floors of the Perth airport’s international arrival terminal.

It was barely 3am and everyone was on their last legs, yawning and using each other to stay up. Even Maverick himself was struggling with the time changes which told everyone to be on their (mostly) best behaviour.

The conference with the Australian Navy was being held on the Perth base for some reason instead of Sydney; apparently it was their turn to host something and no one had really had a problem with it except for the fact that it meant an additional layover and six hours of flying for the Daggers who’d been flown in especially for a panel at the conference. Initially it had only been those who flew the mission who were invited but in the end it had been agreed that Coyote would also be attending to provide additional perspective on the training.

“Mav, I’m starving. Can we get food on the way to the hotel?” Rooster complained. Maverick, still on the phone, held up a finger to tell him to wait.

“No, that’s not what I said... okay, well, that would be- yes sir, that would be great. Thank you very much. I apologise for the early start.”

With his phone call over Maverick turned to the Daggers, including Phoenix who had returned from the bathroom and taken her luggage from Bob.

“Okay, everyone go and see if you can get an uber or a taxi. Your hotel rooms are all under your own names; check in and get a couple hours sleep. We’re going to meet tomorrow morning-“

Maverick paused, checked his watch, and grimaced.

“-later today around 0800 hours, and a representative from the Australian Navy has offered to take us on a tour of Perth. I expect that you’ll all be on time and ready for anything they set up for us on this tour. The conference starts in two days; today and the following day is all about building our relationships with our Australian colleagues so best behaviour, guys.”

“Yes sir,” the team all echoed. They all headed for the exit, immediately grimacing.

“How is it warm at three am?” Phoenix complained, already reaching to take off her jacket.

“Australia is notorious for their hot summers,” Bob supplied, “well; that’s what it said on the brochure in Sydney.”

A couple hours later the Daggers gathered out the front of their hotel, all of them battling jetlag like pros. The Navy representative greeted them easily, gesturing to the minibus behind him.

“Good morning everyone! My name is Jim Dempsey, everyone calls me JD and I’m going to be your Navy representative whilst you’re here in Perth. Today we’re going to be visiting some of the more common tourist attractions; I thought you might like to see the beaches, and then we’re going to-“

“-JD, I’m so sorry to ask, would it be possible to have our first stop be a coffee shop?” Rooster asked. JD laughed.

“I think that sounds reasonable. Alright everyone, let’s get a move on!” The Daggers started toward the minibus, climbing in and finding a seat. As Phoenix sat down she nudged Bob, leaning in to whisper to him.

“He’s way too happy for this time of day,” she muttered. Bob snorted.

“It’s the coffee here; apparently it’s supercharged.”

“This is going to end badly,” Phoenix sighed. Bob nudged her side.

“It’ll be so much better when you’ve had caffeine. C’mon, brighten up; when was the last time you went to Australia?”

“Never, actually,” Phoenix confessed, “you?”

“No. Fanboy said he and Payback got sent here a few years ago but it was in a remote location. They had to stand on a hill to get cell reception and Fanboy got heat exhaustion.”

“Sounds rough; explains why he’s clinging to his water.”

Their eyes fell to the large water bottle in a side pocket of Fanboy’s backpack, both wondering if they should have brought their own. They watched when Rooster hit his head on the roof of the minibus and stifled their laughter, instead choosing to take a couple photos of the scrub around the hotel. With everyone buckled in, the minibus started up and JD headed toward what he called bragged was of the best coffee shops around.

“Now, prepare yourselves, and go easy on the caffeine; speaking from experience, our coffee is the best in the world but it’s also strong so you will be shitting through the eye of a needle at twenty paces if you’re not careful.”

JD was quick to warn the Daggers as they stepped into the cute coffee shop, pausing to take a look at the menu. They all slowly looked to him in confusion but he waved them off.

“Our coffee is high in caffeine, so it gives you the shits. You’ve been warned.”

“I just want a coffee,” Hangman said after a moment of staring blankly, “damn coffee shops make this so difficult.”

“Try a flat white,” JD suggested. Hangman glanced at him, then shrugged and went up to order. Phoenix mused at the menu for a moment. It was too hot to be drinking hot coffee like Hangman had just ordered... iced latte it was.

Once everyone had placed their orders and paid they stood back to wait, glancing around.

“Where are you from?” Rooster asked JD, who hummed.

“I was born in Queensland, but I’ve been in Perth almost twenty years. It’s a great place to be; no one really thinks to come here so we mostly get our beaches to ourselves.”

“What ones would you recommend- holy shit that’s good.”

Hangman had joined the pair, takeaway coffee cup in hand as he took his first sip. He offered his cup to Rooster who shook his head.

“I’m not getting cooties, mine’s coming.”

“To answer your question, a lot of the guys go surfing at Scarborough but most people flock to Cottesloe on our hot days.”

“Hey, man, while I’ve got you-“

Rooster’s name was called and he split from JD and Hangman to grab his coffee. JD patted Hangman’s shoulder then went to see where they were at in regards to coffee collection. Maverick stood by Hangman, smiling at the way his eyes lit up the more he sipped at his coffee.

“Just remember what JD said; we’re moving around a lot today so don’t do something dumb.”

“Me? Dumb? I’m good, Mav, in fact I’m too good to-“

“-be true,” the rest of the Daggers filled in nearby, earning laughter. A woman approached Hangman suddenly, holding out a piece of paper and a pen.

“I’m so sorry to ask, but are you that guy from that movie?”

“Uh...? No?”

“Oh, damn, that’s... embarrassing. Sorry!”

She disappeared out the door and Hangman frowned as he looked to the others.

“What was she sniffing?”

With everyone happily caffeinated, JD loaded them back into the van and they drove through the picturesque scenery of the Perth suburbs sipping on their coffee and taking photos through the windows. For a group of seasoned aviators they were definitely feeling the coffee hit, talking a million miles an hour. JD glanced over at Maverick who cleared his throat.

“They’ll settle; where are we headed?”

“I thought we could do Fremantle Prison first, and then depending on energy levels and the coffee crash we could either relax and see a movie or head to the beach for the arvo.”

“I’m sorry; arvo?”

Fanboy interrupted the conversation, apparently listening to all the conversations in the bus. JD smiled at him in the rearview mirror.

“Afternoon.”

“Gotcha.”

“After the prison we might do smoko-“

“-smoko?”

Rooster, this time. Apparently all the Daggers had become eavesdroppers.

“Take a break; shearers use to have smoke breaks so they’d call it morning and afternoon smoko.”

JD filled in the blanks, already questioning his own lingo.

“I totally forgot to ask this earlier when I heard it in the airport; what the fuck is a gobby-“

“-and look at that, we’re here!”

JD pulled the van into a parking space at the prison, glancing over his shoulder.

“Before we go in, I do just ask that you’re respectful to both the staff and the culture. I can tell you more later but if you’re not sure about something please make sure you ask me.”

“Of course,” Phoenix reassured. A glance to Bob beside her found him dozing, hat over his eyes.

“Hey, Mav, we’ve got a man down.”

“I’ll wake him, you guys go.”

The Fremantle Prison had a long (complicated) history in Australian culture, and the Daggers were quiet as they took it in. It originally opened in the 19th century, and when it closed in 1991 it was a welcomed announcement by the general public due to concerns for prisoner welfare and the state of the facilities. At one point Rooster separated from the group to read a plaque about the last execution on site and Maverick appeared by his side, a hand on his shoulder.

“How are you feeling about the panel?” He murmured. Rooster shrugged.

“The more I talk about it the less I feel like I’m gonna hurl.”

“I know. If you need a break just ask, okay?”

“Mav. I’m fine.”

Rooster sent him a reassuring smile, turning back to the information he’d been reading. Phoenix joined him when Maverick left his side, nudging his side.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Tash.”

“This place... wow.”

“Haunting,” Rooster mused. Phoenix glanced around.

“Apparently they do night tours as well; think we can make Bagman scream?”

Rooster raised an eyebrow, then smirked; Phoenix rolled her eyes.

“Ew, Brooster. Ugh, you’re the worst.”

“I really think that one’s on you!” Rooster called as she left him to go and stand with Bob.

“Do you think that’s him?”

Rooster glanced over his shoulder, trying to figure out where the younger female voice came from considering it wasn’t Phoenix and she was the only female in their group. He frowned, then put it down to the eerie nature of the prison. It was probably playing with his head.

“How are we feeling? We could have a counter-y or we could head to Cottesloe-“

“-a counter-y...?”

JD winced.

“Sorry. Uh, we could go have a sit down meal at the pub or we could head out to Cottesloe beach.”

Maverick checked his watch, then shrugged.

“Everyone okay if we go have something to eat?”

The group agreed easily, Hangman jogging up to catch up with Bob.

“Hey, did you have the coffee? That was seriously strong, like crack but also a little like maybe I should have slept more, and did you smell the air- and the vegemite toast this morning was disgusting-“

“-what is wrong with you?”

The pub JD picked had a strong scent of stale beer the second you walked in and the TAB room to the left was loud enough that even if there was music playing over the speakers you wouldn’t have been able to hear it. The Daggers and JD found a table toward the back of the dining room, picking up their menus.

“What would you recommend, JD?” Payback asked.

“No more coffee for Jake,” JD deadpanned earning laughter from the others, “but anything here is great. The parmy has just the right amount of ham and sauce to cheese ratio and the fish is always fresh.”

“I’m so lost,” Bob muttered as he stared at the menu. A waitress appeared to get their drinks orders then they poured water to get themselves started, the Daggers taking in the room.

“Is that a pool table?” Phoenix asked. She immediately realised her mistake when Coyote and Hangman stood.

“We’ll be back.”

There were already a couple locals playing, but it appeared the two Daggers were welcomed into the group easily to everyone’s surprise. The waitress came by again to take food orders then while they waited the group fell into easy conversation about the Australian culture and the upcoming panel the Daggers would be attending. It was highly classified so they kept it general, talking around it rather than about it. Maverick leaned back in his chair and he was the first to spot the food coming out, his eyebrows raising.

“That is huge,” he said in regards to the steak placed in front of Bob, then turning to the seafood Rooster had ordered.

“And that- there’s so much.”

“I feel a nap in my near future,” Rooster grinned. Maverick smiled at him, taking a prawn when it was offered.

“Is this where that saying about a shrimp on the barbie comes from?” Payback asked JD, who shook his head.

“Not really, we might do that your last night here. Most Aussies actually prefer yabbies; a type of... I dunno, it’s kinda like a prawn or a lobster but oversized. You find ‘em a lot in freshwater dams on the farms but there’s plenty of yabby farmers around here that keep up the supply.”

“What the fuck is a yabby-“

“-hey, food!”

Coyote and Hangman returned from the pool table when Bob waved them over, eagerly eyeing their meals.

“I feel like this is going to ruin everything I’ve ever worked for,” Hangman said as he reached for his silverware. The others laughed.

“We’re going to swim it off, remember? It’s about half an hour to Cottesloe so you’ll be good to get straight in the water when we get there.”

“That’s alright then.”

The Daggers stripped off to their swimwear on the sand, tossing various articles of clothing at Maverick and slathering on sunblock. Right before they took off JD waved to get their attention.

“Swim where everyone else is and keep an eye out for sharks.”

“He’s joking, right?” Coyote whispered to Payback, who snorted.

“Yeah; it’s a public beach, there’s no way sharks would-“

“-unfortunately I’m not joking mate, we get a few shark attacks every summer. We’re in their territory and if they feel threatened they’ll defend.”

The Daggers were suddenly a little slower to head for the water. Maverick laughed, turning to JD.

“That should settle them... oh. You weren’t joking.”

“Nope.”

Out in the water, Phoenix was lying on her back and enjoying the cool water whilst the others horsed around a little further out. She felt something brush her foot and gave it a gentle kick, taking a deep breath to refocus when there was another touch against her ankle. Next thing she knew there was a sharp tug and she screamed, thinking about the seven most deadly animals in Australia and how most of them were in the ocean. When she came up for air Payback and Fanboy were coming up too and laughing, high fiving. Phoenix scowled.

“Sleep with one eye open, assholes,” she warned. The pair exchanged a look then swam off to join where Bob and Coyote were wading and talking. Rooster was talking to a local and Phoenix didn’t have the heart to tell him he resembled a drowned rat with his damp curls rather than his usual attractive (dry) face. When she realised she couldn’t see Hangman she glanced around, finding him on the shore. There was a group of women surrounding him and he was loving it, as per usual, but she could tell he was utterly confused. She decided to join him on the shore (cockblock him within an inch of his life and then a little more for good measure), nudging his side.

“Hey, Bagman, what’s going on?”

“He’s the guy from that movie!” One of the onlookers exclaimed, Phoenix snorting.

“No, he’s US Navy and as much as he’s loving this he’s not who you’re looking for.”

The women all blushed and scattered across the beach back to wherever they were supposed to be, Phoenix wheeling around to face Hangman.

“What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea.”

That evening the team had an early dinner and thanked JD for his tour. The team knew they shouldn’t go to bed considering it was only 7pm so they decided to go see a movie nearby. A local cinema was playing a new one so they headed into the city, bought tickets and went into the theatre. They’d picked a movie at random and hadn’t even looked at trailers; the only rule was Rooster was banned from picking movies because he’d chosen Oppenheimer last time and it had sparked a Barbenheimer debate on base. Settling into their seats, Phoenix opened a bag of M&M’s then poured half of it into Rooster’s popcorn, the other half going into the box she and Bob were sharing. They sat through the twenty minutes of previews and when Phoenix glanced over she wasn’t entirely surprised to find most of the Daggers dozing already. It was dark and cool in the room, a nice break from the heat of the Australian summer sun. Even Maverick was struggling to keep her eyes open, something Phoenix wouldn’t have ever predicted. The only other Dagger mostly awake was Bob after his impromptu nap on the way to the prison that morning, sending her a smile when the movie finally started. A young woman ran across a train station, politely apologising to everyone she nearly bumped into on her way to a coffee shop. Bob glanced down at Phoenix when she yawned, offering his shoulder.

“I won’t tell ‘em.”

She accepted the offer, leaning on his shoulder.

“Wake me if something happens.”

“Tash. Phoenix, wake up.”

Phoenix felt like she’d only just closed her eyes when Bob jolted her out of her doze, sitting upright.

“Wha? What’s wrong?”

“Look!”

Phoenix scrubbed at her eyes, glancing up at the screen. Her eyes widened and she reached over to wake Rooster.

“Look,” she hissed, “doesn’t that kind of look like-“

Rooster’s brows furrowed as his brain tried to wake up, probably in his REM stage considering what time it was back at home, then he connected the dots and snorted.

“It kinda looks like Bagman- huh... I wonder if that’s what those women were talking about earlier?”

“At the beach? You saw that?”

“No, at the coffee shop this morning. A woman came outta nowhere, asked Hangman for his autograph.”

The male lead in the movie started yelling and stripping, pulling his shirt off shortly followed by his shorts which were tossed into the trees. Rooster snorted.

“He looks so much like Bagman, I wonder if he has-“

Phoenix and Rooster’s heads tilted to the side, frowning.

“The ass dimple.”

Rooster turned to his other side, frantically shaking Hangman awake.

“Bagman, look! Your ass is in a movie!”

“Was that a dream? Did I dream that?”

Standing outside the theatre, waiting for their ubers to take them back to their hotel, the Daggers all turned to Hangman who looked like he was having an existential crisis.

“Nope, sorry man. Wasn’t a dream,” Rooster grinned. Phoenix jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, stifling her own snort. Bob glanced between them.

“How did you two figure it out again? The ass dimple?”

“That’s classified,” Phoenix commented at the same time Rooster said, “it was a long time ago.”

Hangman rolled his eyes, focusing on the parking area.

“Thanks for exposing me.”

“Anytime,” Rooster grinned. The uber drivers began to arrive and the Daggers paired off, splitting into the three cars. Maverick took the front seat of one of the cars, glancing over his shoulder at Rooster and Phoenix.

“Am I missing something?”

“No, Mav,” Rooster said easily, exchanging a look with his best friend who turned toward the window to stifle her giggles.

The next morning the Daggers eased into their day plans, having breakfast together in Rooster’s hotel room and then discussing what they wanted to do. JD, who met them a little after they finished eating, suggested a ferry ride out to Rottnest Island.

“Wait- isn’t that where you can see a quokka?” Fanboy asked. JD nodded.

“They roam all over the island out there, it’s almost certain you’ll see at least one.”

“JD I’m guessing you already got tickets?”

Maverick glanced over at JD.

“We should get going though if we’re going to get there in time. The ferry is a decent drive out of the city. Everyone should take plenty of water and sunscreen but there is a general store on the island.”

“That’s great- Hangman, are you alright?”

Hangman glanced up, shaking his head.

“Rough night. I’m good.”

Phoenix and Rooster snickered whilst Payback covered his laugh with a cough. Maverick’s eyes passed over the Daggers then he smiled at JD.

“Let’s go.”

The ferry ride was surprisingly smooth on the way over, the water steady enough that Bob took to reading the brochures nearby without motion sickness and Rooster had a short nap on the seat against the window. By the time they got to the island Bob was full of knowledge- mainly about the local wildlife.

“Guys, I wonder how many snakes we’re gonna see? Apparently they release them on to this island all the time.”

Phoenix’s eyes darted to Bob, glaring at him.

“What?”

“Yeah, the Western Australia government relocates snakes out here instead of letting them- y’know.”

“Die?” Payback filled in, but his eyes were firmly on the ground as though he was looking for any signs of said reptilian attacker. Hangman’s lips quirked upwards.

“They’ve never seen a rattlesnake-“

“-did you not see that video they played on the plane ride over? Tiger snakes are aggressive and dangerous,” Phoenix interrupted as she threw her hands in the air. JD laughed at the Daggers.

“Tiger snakes aren’t social creatures; the only reason they’d come into populated locations like this is if their habitat was invaded or there was insufficient food. The conservation teams out here are great with snake monitoring and they’re all qualified to relocate them. It’s not the tiger snakes you need to worry about, though; we have a dugite snake population out here and they’re highly poisonous.”

“A what?” Rooster asked. Bob dug out his phone and after a quick search showed Rooster said snake. The others watched the colour drain from his face.

“That’s terrifying.”

“Stick to the paths, and most importantly if you see one don’t move, just let it go on its way. It’s very rare that a snake comes anywhere near here but we like to be aware of our surroundings.”

JD gestured to the first café he saw.

“C’mon; I believe you guys could use a coffee.”

“Do you guys have a break every ten minutes for coffee? Goddamn,” Rooster muttered. Despite his comment he still jogged to catch up with the others, ready for a caffeine hit.

“Bagman what’s your coffee count at?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Mickey, you’re walking so close to me I’m getting claustrophobic. What are you doing?”

Reuben glanced over at his wizzo who was indeed standing quite close, frowning at him. Fanboy cleared his throat, scooting over a little.

“Sorry man; the snake talk freaked me out.”

“Me too but I’m not being snake bait so you’re gonna have to walk like a normal person. C’mon Mickey, we literally fly death traps for work!”

“And fun!” Hangman called, a couple metres behind them. Fanboy glanced over his shoulder to glare at the caffeinated aviator, turning back to face toward the rest of the track.

“I fuckin’ hate snakes, I never made peace with ‘em-“

“-make peace?”

Payback burst out laughing, doubling over as he gasped between laughter. Fanboy rolled his eyes.

“What a great partner you are. Thanks for the support.”

“Make peace!”

“What’s got him so wound up?” Coyote asked as he passed the couple on the walking track, Rooster and Phoenix ahead with JD whilst Bob had stayed back with Maverick and they were talking between themselves.

“Mickey has just told me he wants to make peace with a snake,” Payback said, stifling his laughter. Coyote’s eyebrow twitched as he tried not to smile.

“That sounds like something that could get us in trouble with the locals.”

“Fuck you- both of you!”

Coyote and Payback broke into laughter, standing around long enough that Maverick, Bob and Hangman caught up to them. Hangman opened his mouth to start talking but Bob easily slid a palm over it.

“That’s enough from you. What’s so funny?”

“We were thinking of going to the zoo later to see if Fanboy can face his little snake phobia,” Payback said. Bob snorted.

“I’m in.”

“You’re all mean as hell,” Fanboy groaned, “I’m hanging out with Hangman now. C’mon Hangman.”

“No one tells me what to do-“

“-Seresin, get a move on!”

“Coming Mav!”

Maverick had kept going around the teasing; Hangman took off to catch up to Maverick and Bob sent the others a look.

“He’s gonna crash hard any second now. Be prepared.”

“Oh, we’re ready.”

The search for a quokka took a little longer than expected; it was only that they stopped the lap around the island for a bathroom break that Phoenix saw one whilst she was waiting for the guys.

“Ohhhhhh holy shit!”

JD, standing on the other side of the track, smiled at her.

“They’re cute aren’t they?”

The closer Phoenix got the more confused she was.

“It looks like a rat!”

“That one’s probably got a bit of somethin’, you know how it is.”

“But- but all the celebrity photos- they’re cute!”

“I appreciate that, Phoenix,” Rooster said when he appeared. Phoenix whipped around, phone in hand.

“Roos! Look, a quokka!”

“What the fuck is that?!”

Rooster backed away from the quokka, an eyebrow raised.

“Why does it look like that?”

“Bradley, respect!” Maverick scolded as he came out, giving Rooster a quick swat up the back of his head. Rooster pointed toward his feet where the quokka had decided to hang out and Maverick grinned.

“Look at that! Hey little guy, what are you doing down there, huh?”

“Mav, I think it’s got mange,” Rooster winced. Then he smirked.

“Wait here, maybe it’ll bite Hangman. Hey, Seresin-“

Phoenix laughed when Rooster went to turn back into the bathrooms, only stopped by Maverick who caught him by the arm.

“Not now, there’s witnesses- hey, JD.”

JD laughed as he watched Rooster and Maverick, Phoenix rolling her eyes as she took a couple photos of the quokka.

“Bloody hell mate, you lot are cooked,” JD laughed. The others emerged from the bathrooms, Payback pausing when he realised Phoenix was taking photos.

“Hey, Fanboy look, snake!”

A kid in the background, having overheard Payback, screamed for his mother and Hangman burst out laughing.

“Aw, man, Payback, you made a kid cry. No more quokkas for you.”

That night, Maverick and JD organised a pit fire at JD’s (despite fire regulations, they were very aware there was some law bending going on there) as well as beer and fire-grilled steak (Hangman’s mouth started watering when JD mentioned it). A couple kilometres out of the city JD’s parents had a small farm and when the Daggers got there they had a fire going in the fire pit, steak almost ready to go on the fire and cold beer in the esky nearby. They all gathered around the fire and Bob reached for a bottle of water.

“Hey, JD, I forgot to ask; are dropbears real?”

JD hummed. Winked at Bob who smirked.

“Mate, we try not to talk about it, but we’ve seen a lot of ‘em around here lately. Just don’t go out the back when it gets darker, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Coyote leaned back in his chair, beer in hand.

“What the fuck is a dropbear?”

“Wait; you guys don’t know what a dropbear is?” Bob started. Phoenix put down her raspberry Cruiser, something she’d been handed by JD’s girlfriend.

“How do you not know what a dropbear is?”

Rooster scoffed.

“Oh c’mon, everyone knows what a dropbear is-“

“-shhh!”

Phoenix elbowed him in the ribs, putting a finger to her lips to shush him. Hangman was leaning forward, interested.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a dropbear?”

“A killer koala; mate, they have these gnarly teeth, and these claws that can claw through- well, anything!”

Coyote gaped.

“Killer koalas?”

Maverick snorted, watching Phoenix and Bob exchange a look. JD piped up then.

“Mate, dropbears... they’re terrifying. One night, my dad, he went into the bush looking for some firewood when we were camping... came out covered in scratches. The only thing that could do that, well...”

JD took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. Everyone glanced around, eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s not serious... right?”

Hangman was the first to speak up, but he shut his mouth when JD turned to him.

“Deadly serious, mate. You don’t stand under a tree after dark out here.”

“Right,” Hangman scoffed, “y’know we can read. There’s no way dropbears are real.”

Bob raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

The beer and steak around the fire was a great idea, and everyone was in high spirits as they got ready to go back to the city. By the time they were climbing into the van they were giggling to themselves about how loud Rooster had yelled when he’d gone to pee behind a tree, heard rustling and thought it was a dropbear coming to eat him alive. The good news was Bob definitely wasn’t going to eat him but he wasn’t going to let him forget it either. The nerves about the panel the following morning had mostly dissipated, Rooster himself even saying he was ready to tell the story to an audience rather than explaining his every move to Cyclone because he had to. Maverick had taken one look at him as he climbed into the van then passed him a huge bottle of water and reminded him that even if he was hungover he still had to show up. Hangman finally had his caffeine crash and was snoring in the back of the van- Phoenix had wanted to draw on him in retaliation for every dumb stunt he’d pulled but Coyote had frantically shaken his head at her; he’d been rooming with Hangman and he was like an energiser bunny on a good day. Payback and Fanboy were quiet as they took their seats, still googling dropbears to see if there was anything to those rumours even though JD swore on his mum’s life that he really was just shit stirring. Bob was still thinking about the huntsman spider he’d seen in a brochure and was reaching to shake out his boots just in case putting them back on earlier hadn’t been enough to kill whatever may have snuck in there.

“Hey, Mav?”

Maverick glanced over his shoulder at Phoenix as they walked into the hotel lobby, ready to sleep for a million years. As much as he’d tired the Daggers out he’d exhausted himself too.

“Yes, Tash?”

“Tonight was a really good idea. Thanks.”

“Thank JD; it was mostly his idea, I just bought the steak.”

“But still. We’ve been so busy ever since the... y’know. We’re here for the conference but this... this feels like a vacation too and I think we needed it.”

Maverick smiled.

“We all need breaks sometimes.”

“Even you?”

“I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation day unless it was forced- wait, yes I can. Bradley decked a kid at school. God, I’ll never forget that phone call. He was 12...”

As they headed into the elevator Maverick began to tell the tale, Phoenix hanging on his every word.

“And now we turn to the United States’ top aviators, the Dagger Squad.”

Maverick sat up in his seat, nudging Rooster under the table.

“Shoulders back,” he whispered, but apparently the microphones were sensitive enough to catch it and the group of Australian Navy personnel stared blankly. Maverick cleared his throat.

“We knew what we were facing going in. We had a steep mountain, g’s that tested our skills and the risk of fifth-generation fighters taking us out at any given moment.”

“Sir, who was the enemy?” Someone piped up from the crowd. Maverick cleared his throat.

“That’s classified. Now, in order to start our training, we spent a lot of time running simulations...”

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faithfromanewperspective · 1 year

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remember being in a horrid shitty mood catching the bus back to my parents, thinking, if they just painted a bus lane on the fucking road my journey could take less than 45 minutes and be way more reliable. wondering why it isn't there, the infrastructure, surely i could afford the jail time if i just went out there and built it, they wouldn't tear it down right? footpaths and shit. cause it's still a pretty rural area. instead i'm sitting on the bus destroying my mental health, no wonder i feel better having moved out of the area, when every car that cuts in front of us and all the traffic we can't just zoom past feels like a personal put-down, an insult to my way of life that i've chosen because it's better for all of us, not just me.

and realising, when my head's out of the constant frustration of it having moved out to somewhere walkable, i can see it 'above the trees' if you will that i can whine and bitch about it all i can (and believe me i have) but any change like the one i want, is political. we do this for the city, we as the whole city do it together. of course it would be good, say the 3+ million of us living in greater brisbane, soon to be 4, 5, 6, 7 million in the leadup to 2032 and after, but it's the tragedy of the commons isn't it? my priority, say 3+ million minus one self-supporting adult in this soon-to-be megacity, is getting to work every day and putting food on the table. i've never had that strong of a survival drive, I'd rather do the right thing and invest my choices into something that makes for a better city than be able to work or eat but when it comes to my mental health? sometimes you've gotta learn the hard way, some things you can't change, and it's not worth losing everything over. you can't think if you're exposing yourself constantly to what's fucking up your brain like if i punished myself for the inaction of the city it might make it better.

i'm starting to learn it doesn't. change is political, it's about power, and people are like water (bear with me, i'm a hydrologist) because it takes volume, all going a certain way, to make the biggest impact. have the strongest force. erode grooves in rocks and wash away entire buildings (this is brisbane, we've seen it happen). what we need, is all these people, 3+ million of us and more, coming together around an idea. getting together, council can't do anything to stop a majority, not in australia at least, and the functionality of a city is something we all need. heck, traffic is bad for all of our mental health and i would bet both my kidneys that the impact of it on our lives and relationships is understudied and underreported exponentially. we can solve this, but individual choices alone don't do shit.

so i'll stop beating myself up for not being able to simply will all the traffic lights along my commute to be green, and turn the energy i put into being mad at all of those stupid annoying cars into the things i do best. it turns out i'm really fucking good at drawing up ideas and connecting with people. so i'll stop beating myself up about the fact that the uni degree i did so i'd know about these things and the job i do for Experience and Sustenance meant i haven't had time to do all of these things As Soon As I Thought Of Them (like you always got told to do for your homework assignments). instead i'll think in larger timeframes. 9 years til the olympics. 2 to finish my masters degree. 27 til the rest of the world is carbon negative like tasmania and bhutan. what can i do in each of these timeframes? and how can i prioritise it?

as i coax my brain slowly out of fight or flight, as i put my pencils and watercolours and maps to annotate out on the table in front of me and say 'take your time, but you're allowed to do what you love' i know the places that have marked on my soul stand out to me. south east queensland right out to the bay. western sydney and bringing dignity to our second cbd, parramatta. queenstown tasmania, for some reason. the murray-darling basin as a whole, gundagai and the murrumbidgee at its heart. the red dirt centre of this great land and all the peoples and cultures it holds. i can hold all of their perspectives. i can train my intuition to find out all of their needs. i can put myself into 26 million pairs of shoes and decorate the lands and i can do it respectfully and lovingly like i'm tattooing my own skin because it might as well be. tattoo it with the needs of all of us and all who have gone before. blueprints of functionality, functionality we don't have, and then meet all 26 million souls (okay, i probably only need 2 million if we're starting from brisbane) and say to them, would you dream this dream with me? will you imagine this lifestyle where you're less burdened? can you be a part of simply talking about it, because that's how we're going to make it happen? can you improve it, make it better, make it yours, knowing that when you do it imprints itself on your heart a little more, you feel a part of it? and then we're all part of it. it takes years, but it can happen.

so i guess i've got my life's work cut out for me, and i'm so fucking glad i could figure this out from something that has been frustrating me to no end, because 'you can't change it' doesn't work for me unless you switch it out like a child's toy for something more big and exciting that i can change instead. fuck you, conformity. i found what it can be for me. a dream so big it doesn't matter if i can only do some of it--and who says i have to limit myself to australia?

#urban design #personal mental health tag #silver bridges #urban planning #sustainable transport #sustainable lifestyles #sustainable development goals #socio hydrology #neurodivergence #not to mention climate change mitigation

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angrelysimpping · 2 years

Text

you know what, fuck self control, what kinda English majors they'd be based on my time as an English major

Alex struggles a bit with sussing out deeper themes sometimes but damn are they good at discussing the aesthetics of the works.

Anxious Guard never clearly makes their point in argumentative essays. Takes creative writing classes but never commits to the degree itself, worries about it being a "useless" degree.

Avery is more cold and analitical in their analysis of the text than most people are. Often points out flawed relationships and acts as if one character is getting taken advantage of, it's that character's fault becuase the problems are "obvious."

Bailey gripes about the price of textbooks (don't we all?) and starts buying and selling textbooks themself as a way to make a quick buck and undercut the University. Middle of the road essays. Doesn't give a shit, just make their passing grade and moves on. Fucker is selling essays that get top marks. Has some blackmail on some of the professors.

Briar propositions the professors for better grades. Half the time doesn't even need better grades, they just want to make the professors squirm. Does the same with their fellow students, exchanging sexual favors for essays and test questions. Always focuses on the sexual aspect of any works they have to analyze.

Darryl works so hard, bless them. Often uses the University provided services to help with their essays. Studies poetry but hardly ever writes their own.

Again, Doren is in English education but they also take loads of poetry and drama classes. Works in the tutoring center. Worked for the essay revision service for a bit but didn't stay on for personal reasons.

Eden in Victorian lit, Eden in Vioctorian lit, Eden in Victorian lit!!!! It just feels right to them. Struggles with other classes but Victorian lit comes to them easy.

Harper always praises the moraly dubious and/or unreliable narriators. Just, how they're written. Not their actions, no, they would never. Don't believe them. Likes medical settings and anything thats a bit of a trippy read.

Kylar is a lil poetry major. Always writes the most sappy love poems. Turns every assignment into a love poem, somehow. All their poems have an underlying theme of obsession, and they're the only one who doesn't pick up on it.

Landry is very middle of the road. Doesn't stand out. Midling grades. 100% lifting the test answers from the professor's offices. Hangs around th campus coffee shops. Gothic lit enthusiast.

Leighton likes all those "taboo" classics and loves driving group conversations to those topics. "Helps" freshmen who have to take their English 101. Works for the university helping people write essays. Actually good at their job, even if there have been some complaintes about them acting a little inapropriately, all rumors that get brushed aside.

Niki is so fucking good with imagry, it's a little scary.

Quinn doesn't even try. They just costs by, and still make solid grades. Has been known to dominate group discussions. Often wins debates.

Relaxed Guard plays devil's advociate all the goddamn time. Doesn't even believe half the shit they say and write, just does it to see if they can pull it off.

Remy is cut and dry. Often pointedly ignores symbolism. Often hangs around the library, but it's unkown what they fuck they're doing there because they're never studying or looking for books or any of that, really.

Robin focuses on children's lit. Very good student, works hard, always starts on essays right when they get them.

Sydney is doing too much. Creative writing degree, focuses on religious symbolism and works. Works in the library. Goes to office hours. Takes on extra assignements. Regular at all campus coffee shops.

Vet Guard is that one person who always focuses on battles and wars. Picks their side on debates and will not change their opinian for anything.

Whitney bullshits their way through essays and class discussions and it fucking works. Hardly ever shows up to classes. Somehow still passing.

Wren bounces around. Mostly in the creative writing department. Chooses classes based on what they find interesting insted of focusing on getting a degree. Loves the poetry classes, tares Kylar's poems appart in group crituqe. Works in the coffee shop in the library, scribbles lil one off poems on napkins. Also writes tiny poems on the paper cups along with their number, handing them off to customers with a wink.

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multi-lefaiye · 1 year

Text

a modern ghost story - wip re-intro

finally, a re-intro for my first ever writeblr wip intro... waow how time flies.

taglist (i'm gonna be real with y'all, i lost track of the taglist and had to dig it up again--tentatively tagging the original taglist as well as folks i thought might be interested): @albatris @skitzo-kero @anexor @lychniscitrus @transmasc-wizard @chaieyestea @vacantgodling @kingkendrick7 @jezifster @manuscriptsatmidnight @fictionalbullshitter @astral-runic

(if you'd like to not be tagged in posts relating to this wip going forward, lmk!!! <3 and if you'd like to be added to the actual taglist, also lmk!!!)

synopsis: A Modern Ghost Story is the tale of the four members of The Cyclone Seekers, a group of semi-famous storm-chasers, and their harrowing adventures chasing after storms in Nebraska in 2006. On the way, they quickly come to learn that they have far, far more than tornadoes to worry about waiting for them in the storms. Something sinister is afoot, and their past may come back to haunt them in a very literal way.

setting: various fictional locations in Nebraska, United States, in 2006

genres: postmodern horror (?) with traces of comedy--fundamentally a road trip story, though, about healing and facing the horrors head-on.

vibes except it's not clear what these mean: late nights at sleepovers where no one wants to go to bed yet, a mason jar full of bottle caps, the highs and lows of a long road trip with your friends, strange messages on the radio in a voice you thought you'd forgotten, the past is always one step closer than it appears to be, the coppery taste of blood on your tongue, your heart pounding in your ears as the world roars around you, a group of queer adrenaline junkies, "therapy is expensive, but sitting in your car while it rains is free."

characters:

picrew: [link]

Roach - 29 - they/them - 5'2"

Roach is not the face of Cyclone Seekers, as they find the idea of actually appearing on camera daunting. For the most part, Roach prefers to stay behind the scenes, most often handling their budget, equipment, and transportation, as well as acting as their cameraman. A lifelong smartass, they always say exactly what's on their mind and they're not particularly graceful or tactful. Why would they be, after all? Talking around the point only wastes time, and Roach hates to stop when there's important shit to get done.

Despite their blunt and often rude nature, Roach has a big heart deep down, and they care deeply for their fellow Cyclone Seekers, considering the others their best friends in the world. Roach doesn't have a lot of people in their corner, and they're steadfastly loyal to the end.

Oliver Cox - 32 - he/him - 6'1"

Oliver, like Roach, is not the face of the Cyclone Seekers. Instead, he is the manager of their ViewTube channel and website, as well as the one who usually deals with the people side of things. He's very sweet and enthusiastic, and generally a very gentle man who hates to even raise his voice. While, like everyone else, Oliver has his moments of anger, he prefers to redirect this anger into something productive rather than taking it out on others.

This isn't to say, of course, that Oliver is an innocent child. He's had his fair share of hardships and struggles in his life. However, he believes wholeheartedly in the goodness of humanity and the world around him. And this extends to the team, especially Roach--despite their often prickly exterior, Oliver considers them a very dear friend and is very happy to have them in his life. He sees the best in everyone until they give him reason not to.

Sydney "Syd" Ambrose - 29 - they/she - 5'11"

Syd is a friend of Roach's from college, an extremely anxious person who, at heart, has always wanted to leave their mark on history in some way. With their thirtieth birthday rapidly approaching, they want to do something great before the big day. This has, in part, reflected on their work with the Cyclone Seekers. As one of two hosts of the show, Syd is often in the spotlight, despite their severe anxiety about public speaking. When the cameras are rolling, their fear falls away, and they easily steal the show.

Aside from their ambition to do something great that lands in the history books, Syd has had a lifelong fascination with storms. The world of more traditional meteorology wasn't for them, so they've decided a more fulfilling career is to chase storms around and study them directly. It's working out so far, despite Syd's growing restlessness regarding the group's lack of mainstream success.

Yara Key - 30 - she/her - 5'7"

Yara is the other host of the Cyclone Seekers, and she's the much more outwardly optimistic and outgoing one. Their bit on the show is that, though Syd is the anxious one, they're also first to jump headlong into danger just to get a good look at a tornado; Yara, meanwhile, is friendly and outgoing but also the first to hide. It's a good bit and one that brings her a lot of joy, though it does irritate her sometimes to have people assume she's actually a coward. Because she isn't--she's just not stupid.

Though Yara hasn't known the others that long, she's a loyal friend who cares about them all deeply, and her not-so-secret crush on Syd is something Roach teases her about rather frequently (to which she gladly responds by teasing them about their similar crush on Oliver). When it comes down to it, fame isn't important to Yara, but she has a genuine love for entertaining people. And if she can do it while educating them about dangerous storms at the same time? All the better.

Vincent Cruz - 28 - he/him (questioning they/them) - 5'9"

Vincent Cruz is not a member of the Cyclone Seekers, nor does he have any particular interest in joining their little group. In fact, he thinks they're pretty ridiculous, and more than that, they're fucking stupid. He's grown up his whole life in a small town in Nebraska and knows all-too-well how dangerous storms like the ones they seek out can really be. They're going to get themselves killed, and they'll be lucky if it's quick.

However, Vincent feels an obligation to help them, or at least to make sure they can't put themselves or anyone else at risk with their antics. He isn't sure what makes him feel such a desire to protect them, but he insists it's not out of any care for them. They're just stupid. If he doesn't do anything, then they'll die. Simple math. (Ignoring the fact that they're his first friends in years, and they seem to genuinely like him for who he is when few others do.)

Vulture - 31 - he/him - 6'2"

A mysterious figure from Roach's past, one that they, until now, were completely certain was out of their life forever. Vulture is cold and cruel and pretentious, seeing himself as quite literally better than everyone else. He loves to hear himself talk and wants everyone to think he's the coolest motherfucker in the room at all times, for better and for worse.

For the most part, he doesn't seem interested in Roach, for which they're grateful. However, he has been contacting them again for the first time in nearly ten years, asking to meet up again.

#a modern ghost story wip #wip intro #wip reintro #writeblr #writblr #multi makes text posts #christ FINALLY.... WE'RE HERE #got lost in the sauce making that vulture picrew lmao #anyway yeah :)#i think vincent had the biggest glowup here but i'm so happy with them all #so excited for the directions they're going now #this really feels much more like a story i can sink my damn teeth into #i hope y'all enjoy :3 #also i know i said the rewrite is roach centric #but god i love syd.... revived my affection for them....#so we'll see #roach is the primary protag but uhh :) we'll see

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