#Tiger Woods arrested

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

average United States contains 1000s of pet tigers in backyards" factoid actualy [sic] just statistical error. average person has 0 tigers on property. Activist Georg, who lives the U.S. Capitol & makes up over 10,000 each day, has purposefully been spreading disinformation adn [sic] should not have been counted

I have a big mad today, folks. It's a really frustrating one, because years worth of work has been validated... but the reason for that fucking sucks.

For almost a decade, I've been trying to fact-check the claim that there "are 10,000 to 20,000 pet tigers/big cats in backyards in the United States." I talked to zoo, sanctuary, and private cat people; I looked at legislation, regulation, attack/death/escape incident rates; I read everything I could get my hands on. None of it made sense. None of it lined up. I couldn't find data supporting anything like the population of pet cats being alleged to exist. Some of you might remember the series I published on those findings from 2018 or so under the hashtag #CrouchingTigerHiddenData. I've continued to work on it in the six years since, including publishing a peer reviewed study that counted all the non-pet big cats in the US (because even though they're regulated, apparently nobody bothered to keep track of those either).

I spent years of my life obsessing over that statistic because it was being used to push for new federal legislation that, while well intentioned, contained language that would, and has, created real problems for ethical facilities that have big cats. I wrote a comprehensive - 35 page! - analysis of the issues with the then-current version of the Big Cat Public Safety Act in 2020. When the bill was first introduced to Congress in 2013, a lot of groups promoted it by fear mongering: there's so many pet tigers! they could be hidden around every corner! they could escape and attack you! they could come out of nowhere and eat your children!! Tiger King exposed the masses to the idea of "thousands of abused backyard big cats": as a result the messaging around the bill shifted to being welfare-focused, and the law passed in 2022.

The Big Cat Public Safety Act created a registry, and anyone who owned a private cat and wanted to keep it had to join. If they did, they could keep the animal until it passed, as long as they followed certain strictures (no getting more, no public contact, etc). Don’t register and get caught? Cat is seized and major punishment for you. Registering is therefore highly incentivized. That registry closed in June of 2023, and you can now get that registration data via a Freedom of Information Act request.

Guess how many pet big cats were registered in the whole country?

97.

Not tens of thousands. Not thousands. Not even triple digits. 97.

And that isn't even the right number! Ten USDA licensed facilities registered erroneously. That accounts for 55 of 97 animals. Which leaves us with 42 pet big cats, of all species, in the entire country.

Now, I know that not everyone may have registered. There's probably someone living deep in the woods somewhere with their illegal pet cougar, and there's been at least one random person in Texas arrested for trying to sell a cub since the law passed. But - and here's the big thing - even if there are ten times as many hidden cats than people who registered them - that's nowhere near ten thousand animals. Obviously, I had some questions.

Guess what? Turns out, this is because it was never real. That huge number never had data behind it, wasn't likely to be accurate, and the advocacy groups using that statistic to fearmonger and drive their agenda knew it... and didn't see a problem with that.

Allow me to introduce you to an article published last week.

This article is good. (Full disclose, I'm quoted in it). It's comprehensive and fairly written, and they did their due diligence reporting and fact-checking the piece. They talked to a lot of people on all sides of the story.

But thing that really gets me?

Multiple representatives from major advocacy organizations who worked on the Big Cat Publix Safety Act told the reporter that they knew the statistics they were quoting weren't real. And that they don't care. The end justifies the means, the good guys won over the bad guys, that's just how lobbying works after all. They're so blase about it, it makes my stomach hurt. Let me pull some excerpts from the quotes.

"Whatever the true number, nearly everyone in the debate acknowledges a disparity between the actual census and the figures cited by lawmakers. “The 20,000 number is not real,” said Bill Nimmo, founder of Tigers in America. (...) For his part, Nimmo at Tigers in America sees the exaggerated figure as part of the political process. Prior to the passage of the bill, he said, businesses that exhibited and bred big cats juiced the numbers, too. (...) “I’m not justifying the hyperbolic 20,000,” Nimmo said. “In the world of comparing hyperbole, the good guys won this one.”

"Michelle Sinnott, director and counsel for captive animal law enforcement at the PETA Foundation, emphasized that the law accomplished what it was set out to do. (...) Specific numbers are not what really matter, she said: “Whether there’s one big cat in a private home or whether there’s 10,000 big cats in a private home, the underlying problem of industry is still there.”"

I have no problem with a law ending the private ownership of big cats, and with ending cub petting practices. What I do have a problem with is that these organizations purposefully spread disinformation for years in order to push for it. By their own admission, they repeatedly and intentionally promoted false statistics within Congress. For a decade.

No wonder it never made sense. No wonder no matter where I looked, I couldn't figure out how any of these groups got those numbers, why there was never any data to back any of the claims up, why everything I learned seemed to actively contradict it. It was never real. These people decided the truth didn't matter. They knew they had no proof, couldn't verify their shocking numbers... and they decided that was fine, if it achieved the end they wanted.

So members of the public - probably like you, reading this - and legislators who care about big cats and want to see legislation exist to protect them? They got played, got fed false information through a TV show designed to tug at heartstrings, and it got a law through Congress that's causing real problems for ethical captive big cat management. The 20,000 pet cat number was too sexy - too much of a crisis - for anyone to want to look past it and check that the language of the law wouldn't mess things up up for good zoos and sanctuaries. Whoops! At least the "bad guys" lost, right? (The problems are covered somewhat in the article linked, and I'll go into more details in a future post. You can also read my analysis from 2020, linked up top.)

Now, I know. Something something something facts don't matter this much in our post-truth era, stop caring so much, that's just how politics work, etc. I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not.

Laws that will impact the welfare of living animals must be crafted carefully, thoughtfully, and precisely in order to ensure they achieve their goals without accidental negative impacts. We have a duty of care to ensure that. And in this case, the law also impacts reservoir populations for critically endangered species! We can't get those back if we mess them up. So maybe, just maybe, if legislators hadn't been so focused on all those alleged pet cats, the bill could have been written narrowly and precisely.

But the minutiae of regulatory impacts aren't sexy, and tiger abuse and TV shows about terrible people are. We all got misled, and now we're here, and the animals in good facilities are already paying for it.

I don't have a conclusion. I'm just mad. The public deserves to know the truth about animal legislation they're voting for, and I hope we all call on our legislators in the future to be far more critical of the data they get fed.

[starryaugust]

100 au!Jason Todd - Backstory

Jason was orphaned at a young age, his dad died when he was just a baby and his mother died a few years later. He can barely remember her.

Like Dick, he was raised in the orphanage.

He fought to survive, for every bit of food. No matter how little it was.

When Dick arrived, he was suspicious. Why would someone want to help without gaining anything from it?

It took some time, but eventually he started to trust Dick. And in the end, he started seeing him as a brother. And he started to come back to who he was before the orphanage, before learning the hardships of life, before the corruption.

When Dick was arrested, Jason decided to replace him. But security was more careful, he was caught and put in the sky box quickly.

When the guards came to get him, he fought. He punched a guard and they had to tranquilize him, when he woke up the 100 were already on their way to the ground. And Dick was next to him.

Jason was the first person to step on the ground for 100 years,

or at least that's what they thought.

Unlike in the series, in this au no one from the 100 doesn't go straight to mount weather. They decide to assemble a camp before and scavenge and hunt for food.

A few days after they landed, Jason was exploring the woods and was taken by the grounders. They almost killed him, only to heal him.

The 100 threw a search party, and a few days later they found Jason as a trap for a tiger. He was dying.

At the end, with the help of Bernard and Steph, he survived. But he wasn't the same, the hopeful ball of sunshine he used to be was gone, for good this time. He returned to the shield he put back in the orphanage, but it was rotted deeper this time.

So when the 100 tried to decide what to do about the grounders, he said peace wasn't an option.

He wanted revenge, he wanted a war, and he got one.

After everything happened, he thought he was finally safe.

But then mount weather took the 100.

He didn't trust Lex Luther, he thought the peace he was offering was a facade, nothing was that simple in the world they were living in.

So he investigated, and when he found the grounders, he wanted to come back to Dick to warn him. But he was caught by Luther's guards.

He ended up managing to escape with the help of a grounder, an archer.

Roy Harper.

Roy helped Jason realize that peace with grounders could be an option.

So Jason found the survivors of the arc, while Roy went to Polis. Together they worked for a truce. And they succeeded.

Jason still didn't fully trust the grounders, but he was ready to do whatever it takes to save his brother and friends.

Together with Tim, Bruce, Roy and the grounders Heda he managed to come up with a plan to save the 100 and the grounders trapped in mount weather.

This plan obviously went to shit.

And Jason and Tim needed to make a choice, their people or the people of mount weather.

They choose their people.

[doberbutts]

There’s also all the Tiger Woods stuff — as that one well circulated post put it ‘hearing about tiger woods as a child in the early 2000s you’d assume he was going to jail’ I get that in the immediate aftermath of the revelation it was like. PERFECT TMZ shit, high drama and all, but god that got dragged on and on

Yup, people get really weird when literally any black celebrity does anything wrong.

Which, don't get me wrong. Vick's fighting ring was horrific. The firsthand accounts of what happened on that property were truly gruesome. It was bad.

But. But. But. He also went to prison. For nearly two years. And then he spent some additional time in and out and on house arrest due to various violations of parole. He paid the maximum fine allowed by law. He was punished. People to this day, 16 years later, post fantasies about how much they want to kill him, torture him, and continuously ruin his life. They talk about how every time he does anything new, they call up the people in charge and protest and get signatures on petitions etc until inevitably the company caves and cancels whatever contract they've got with him. There are people who still will not watch the Eagles play even though he hasn't been involved with them in over a decade.

What punishment is enough? Does one black man need to spend the rest of his life being hounded by these self-professed dog lovers in order to have proper penance for his crimes? Does he need to spend the rest of his life in prison? Should he be executed as these people are calling for? Is he never allowed to make any money ever again? Is he permanently banned from any form of media coverage? Currently he's doing a miniseries where he dives into the lives of black quarterbacks, which people have tried to get cancelled because he's going to make money off of it and they don't want a dog fighter to have any amount of spotlight. None of the dogs removed from him are even alive anymore. When is it enough? When can we say, okay he has learned his lesson, he is allowed to be just a guy again?

Never? Forever punishment is acceptable? This is really the opinion we're going to have on the prison abolition website, where we say that forever punishment is bad and teaches nothing except that everyone is one major screwup away from being worth less than dirt? Really?

The thing is. When black people say black lives matter. They mean all black lives matter. Even the lives of black people that it's hard to defend. Even the criminal matters, because he is a human, and he has life, and he can be so much more than just a man in a box for the rest of his life.

And that is especially true when other football stars have gotten off more lightly for worse. The children JoePa knew about are still alive and dealing with their trauma today as adults, and they get to live with the knowledge that he knew and he chose not to help and he is still celebrated and worshipped as a coaching god to this day. People only get this intense about it when it's black folks doing it.

[distortionbobble]

something in the orange (oneshot)

pairing: frank castle x f!reader 

summary: you fell in love with frank castle almost twenty years ago. through the bad, through the good, you loved him. you were his best friend, after all. but after his death, and all the things he did as the punisher, you don’t know where you stand. (best friends to lovers) 

warnings: minors (under 18) and ageless blogs dni! blasphemy (just a little bit), mentions of child abuse/an abusive parent, oral (f! and m! recieving), p in v, edging kinda? just general smut warnings and maybe a little angst at the end 

word count: 12.2k 

a/n:  i worked on this for a very long time and i’m really really proud of it so i hope you guys enjoy! if you have any recommendations on how i could’ve built their friendship differently or what you wanna see more of lemme know. as always comments and reblogs are so so appreciated. thanks ! 

“I understand how you’re feeling.” 

“No, you don’t,” the boy in front of you spits out. He’s tense, coiled in a way that you recognize all too well because it’s been you before. Aaron, the teenager in front of you, is one that you’ve been working with since he was arrested during a street fight that was unofficially linked to one of the many mafias that poison New York City. The court mandated that he would visit you every week, Friday at 3 PM, right after he gets out of school. 

And you swear, you’ve been making progress with him. The first meeting you had with him, he refused to say a damn thing and the two of you sat wordlessly, staring at each other as you played your favorite songs from your little speaker. Every kid is different, you know that. You just gotta give them time to unwind. The first word he’d said was two weeks later, when you asked him how his day was and he responded with a gruff “fine”. 

He’s really a gentle kid, even if he won’t acknowledge it. He likes art, likes to talk to you about art. The only reason he’s involved with the mafia is because the rest of his family is. Or was, you suppose. They were killed last Saturday, gunned down by a man who should’ve been dead a hundred times before his actual death. 

Frank Castle. 

~~~

“I know this is a little unusual, but I believe the circumstance calls for it, my dear. I’m hoping that putting you next to him, and, if you can, having you tutor him, will help his behavior quite a lot. You’re one of my best students, you know.” 

Your teacher stared up at you expectantly, tapping her neatly manicured nails on the desk. The sound was jarring and loud, almost overstimulating as you blinked and considered her words. 

Normally, you wouldn’t have batted an eye at the request. It’s the most normal thing in the world, putting the troublemaker and the golden student together to encourage compliance. 

But Frank Castiglione scared you. Not that you had actually talked to him before, but his reputation preceded him. Hushed voices spoke of bloody knuckles that followed the fights he’d have with anyone that looked at him funny. It didn’t help when he came into class with a split lip and the fury of a starved tiger. 

“Please,” Ms. Beck added, gaze still trained on you as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. 

“…Okay.” You were reluctant, but you didn’t feel you had much of a choice. After all, you wanted her to write your recommendation letters for college next year, and if you turned this down, it could jeopardize that. Besides, it was only for an hour a day. 

You spun on your heel and marched back to your desk. You forced your back to remain ramrod straight, hiding any trace of fear because if you showed it, Frank would eat you up. You stopped at his desk— your desk too, now— and swung your backpack onto the floor with a loud thud. You were adamant on not looking at him, but you felt his eyes boring a hole into your skull as you focused straight ahead. 

Frank scoffed quietly and began to dig his pencil into the desk, carving his initials in jagged lines of graphite in the wood. 

“Quit that,” you hissed. He paused, looking at you with his pencil still jammed into the desk. You turned to look at him now. You figured that if you were gonna interact with Frank, you could start off with having a goal for every conversation. The goal for this one was for him to stop fucking up the desks. 

He was still staring at you, like he was confused. Confused on why you’d talk to him or why he shouldn’t damage the desks, you couldn’t tell. You ran your fingers across the surface of your own desk before you spoke again. 

“Please.” He didn’t move. “Listen, I wouldn’t care if it was your own stuff. If you wanna draw on yourself, I’ve got a Sharpie in my backpack that you are more than welcome to monopolize. But these desks? Paying for them to be fixed, which the district absolutely will make them do, comes right out of the teachers’ paychecks. You don’t have to love Ms. Beck, but you’re better than fucking with her income because you wanna tell the next set of high schoolers that you were in chemistry.” 

Frank’s eyes flicked to you before returning to his pencil, and you breathed a small victory exhale when he held out his palm for you to give him a Sharpie. 

Ms. Beck spent the hour explaining how to balance equations. You made a mental note to study it all later because for some reason, you just couldn’t focus with Frank next to you.  

You had to admit that part of the reason was because he was so damn attractive. His nose was crooked, with just a slight bump on the slope. You weren’t sure why you thought that was so cute, but you did. And his cheekbones, they were so defined. You wanted to know him, the real him that was hidden behind his facade of delinquency. You weren’t sure why you’d never seen it before. 

“Hey, Castiglione,” you said right as the bell rang. He looked at you with a shade of irritation coloring his face, but at least he was humoring you. The glare in his gaze was enough to give you pause, but the mantra of recommendation letter running through your head forced you onwards. 

“So I was thinking,” you continued, slinging your backpack onto one shoulder then the other as you walked next to him out of the classroom. “I don’t know how great you’re doing in chem, but I could use a study buddy. How about after school? At the library?” 

“Okay. And don’t call me Castiglione.” Frank’s voice was gruff, like he hadn’t used it in a while. You hid your smile as you turned and walked to your next class. 

~~~

2:30. The second that the minute hand kissed the six on the clock, you jumped out of your seat, grasping your French homework in your hands and stuffing it into your bag to get to the library quicker. 

It was raining slightly as you jogged out of the portable to the main building, and you silently wished that it wouldn’t still be raining later when you were to walk home. 

You collided into someone roughly as you turned the corner to the library. It sent you backwards, right onto your ass and you looked up to see Frank standing there looking guilty. 

“Cast-Frankie, you weren’t planning on pulling a runner on me, were you?” You said with a mock gasp, laughing when his skin flushed and he mumbled out a sorry excuse for an explanation as he held out a hand to help you up. 

You couldn’t help but notice how strong he was and how warm his hand was when he did. Frank pulled you flush to his chest, and you were so distracted by him that you didn’t realize you were still holding his hand after you were already up. You only realized you were still holding it when he cleared his throat, and you let go of his hand as if it burned you. 

“Can we review, um, the stuff about the valence electrons from the beginning of class? Think I fell asleep that day,” Frank asked shyly. 

“Only if you’re cool with me going over the stuff we learned today. I couldn’t focus at all,” you say, settling into one of the chairs at the library and pulling out your chem textbook from your backpack. 

“Alright. As for the valence electrons,”  you hummed, flipping through your notebook to a month ago, when school had started, “I like to think of the atoms as… sentient. Like they’ve got a goal and they want to do certain things, you know?” 

Frank nodded, but you could tell he was unsure where you were going with this. 

“Okay. So the goal is for a full valence electron shell. For hydrogen and helium, they both have a valence shell capability of 2 electrons. But for the other ones, they have an outer shell capability of eight. Atoms have a goal to react with things to try and balance out the number of electrons they have so they have a full valence shell. For the ones that are close to their goal, like the halogen family with fluorine, they’ll do anything. They’re desperate to get their goal, to get that full valence shell.”

“They’re slutty.” You snorted loudly at Frank’s words, covering your mouth as you giggled when the librarian angrily shushed you from the other side of the room.  

Frank didn’t say anything, just looked at you with a hint of amusement tugging his lips upwards in what seemed like a smile. You didn’t think he knew how to. 

You turned back to your books when you realized you’d been staring for longer than you could justify, but you couldn’t subdue the warmth that had risen to your cheeks. 

“Okay, ahem, let’s… uh, valence electrons.”

~~~

The sun was set when you and Frank walked side-by-side out of the library. October’s rains were cold on your skin, and you cursed the fact that you’d forgotten a jacket and would have to walk home now. 

“Well, I’ll see you…” you began, turning to Frank but he was already gone, “later.” 

Your voice dissipated in the onslaught of raindrops and you couldn’t see much except for the glow of the street lights reflecting in the raindrops. 

Maybe you’d imagined him, after all. 

So you turned away, gripping the straps of your backpack and ignoring the way that the water runs down your back and plasters your clothes to your skin. The dampness of your skin and the cold that it brought made you acutely aware of your heart beating in your chest and you dreaded having to walk home right now. 

You didn’t make it far before a truck pulled up beside you. Frank rolled down his window. “Get in,” he uttered. You quickly made it to the passenger side of his truck and threw your backpack onto the floor of the truck, shivering from the aftermath of the outdoors. 

“Here,” Frank said, tugging his hoodie over his head and handing it to you. You catch a glimpse of the jagged lightning bolts and symbols that he’d drawn on his arms during class and you smiled internally, accepting the hoodie. 

“Thanks,” you murmured. He nodded and stepped on the accelerator. 

“Where to?” He asked. The car was silent, but you didn’t mind. The traffic lights above you lit up his face with red and the moment felt soft in your heart. 

“Oh, um, it’s just straight on Parsons, and then turn right when you see the Rite Aid.” He hummed in response. “Frank?”

“Yeah?” 

“I know I haven’t known you for very long, but you’re not… not scary. Not the way people say you are.” He laughed quietly at your words, like he thought they were funny but you meant it. Frank Castiglione, in the past couple hours you’d known him, had been nothing but quiet, attentive, and kind. Which didn’t match the image he’d built himself in your school. It was like he wanted people to fear him, just so they’d leave him alone. 

“Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled. He gripped the steering wheel so tight you could see little abrasions in his knuckles as they turned whiter. “We’re here,” he said, pulling into your street. You muttered a quick thanks as you stooped down to collect your backpack and shifted it onto your lap, moving to pull his sweatshirt over your head before Frank’s hand settled on your shoulder. “You can give it back later, y’know.” 

“Oh. Thanks, I’ll wash it and give it to you in school on Monday, ‘kay?” You said, hopping out of his car with a grin. “Should we meet up at yours on the weekend?”

Frank shook his head quickly and you tried to hide the way your smile faltered at his response but you knew he saw. He cleared his throat and looked down at his steering wheel before looking back at you. “Could we- could we do yours instead? Your place, I mean.” 

“Yeah, of course. Works great for me, cos then I don’t even have to walk home. We could do that on the weekdays too, if you’re okay with that.” Frank nodded hesitantly, and you smiled back at him before swinging his door shut and running to your front door in the cover of the rain. 

By the time you turned to wave goodbye to him, he was already gone. 

~~~

“Aaron, it’s okay to grieve. Allow yourself to feel that, to sit with that. It’s not your fault,” you say, but the teenager shakes his head in frustration. 

“You don’t get it. You didn’t know them. To you, all my family means is a bunch of criminals that got me involved in the mafia. You never knew the good. You don’t really mean what you’re saying, and I know it,” Aaron says bitingly. 

“I’ve met enough people in my lifetime to know that there is good in everyone, even if I personally haven’t experienced it,” you respond coolly. Aaron squeezes his palms together and looks up, like he’s trying to stop the tears from building. You know he hasn’t been given the chance to work through this, to have the chance to grieve because to any mafia, death is just a part of the calling. It’s supposed to be a point of revenge, a source of raw brute strength, not a weakness. 

But you don’t want Aaron to just be some kid who is inevitably stuck in the mafia, you want him to know that there’s a different way of thinking. To break free of that cruel machismo persona that is forced onto the young men of Aaron’s community.  

You try to get through to him again. “How about you tell me about some of your favorite memories with them?” 

Aaron looks at you, then at the paintings on the walls. You notice that it’s raining outside as Aaron swallows and decides what it is he wants to say. 

“My, uh, my brothers. They’d come sit in my room when I was doing my homework— they were all older than me. They wanted me to stay far, far away from this stuff, but Dad thought it was better for my future to keep me connected, in a sense.” 

Aaron looks up at you. He’s seeking your approval as he breaks it all down, piece by piece, until his grief is out in the open for him to take in all at once. You nod encouragingly, with all the softness and understanding you can muster.

“Yeah. Yeah, they’d come in and sit in my room while I was doing homework, even if they didn’t know what I was doing or studying. Sometimes they’d help me if they could, if I had any questions. They really cared, they really loved me, y’know?” 

You nod at him, but your mind is far, far away, decades ago, next to a boy that used to do the same damn thing for you. 

~~~

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d left your house for something that wasn’t school. 

Even Frank’s study sessions with you, for the past four months, had been cut short. But you could feel yourself growing closer to him, the attraction you felt for him settling into the background as your friendship began to grow. And thankfully, Frank was really starting to get better at chemistry. You weren’t sure why he’d struggled so much before the two of you were studying together, because once he had a little bit of quiet to do the work and study, he didn’t even need you. You’d even wager that he knew the material a little better than you did. You couldn’t complain though, because studying with Frank was the highlight of your day.  

It did suck, though, spending the weekends and late nights studying for the SATs. You felt like you were going stir crazy, and the equations scribbled on post-it notes and stuck on your walls only felt like they were starting to enclose on you. There was only so much you could study, anyways. 

You bit back a scream and buried your face in your hands, chucking your pen across the room before standing up to pace back and forth. There was that story about the woman from the Victorian era, the one who went mad with the yellow wallpaper. You felt a little like her at that moment. You threw your window open, poking your head out into a crisp wintery evening and breathing deeply. Then you heard a familiar voice call your name out, and you turned to look in disbelief at Frank Castiglione standing in your backyard on frosty grass with a little plastic grocery bag in his hand and looking very, very cold. “What the fuck? Frank, get inside, it’s so cold out there!” You hissed, turning away to find some sort of rope or something to help Frank get in. But he scaled up the tree right next to your bedroom window and inched himself further into your window until he could swing himself into your room. 

“Shit, lemme put my shoes on the bag so they don’t make your room dirty,” he muttered. You were still staring at him, gaping at him in total confusion when he turned to you with the biggest grin on his face and a shiny little CD that had your name written, all jagged and crooked, in Sharpie. “Made you a mixtape,” He offered uselessly. 

“Frank, what? I have to study!” 

“I know, I know. It’s just that you’ve seemed a little bummed out recently and I figured you haven’t been doin’ much outside of studying, cos hey, if you were doin’ it you’d be talking my ear off about it during our study sessions. So I, y’know, assumed. Sorry if I was wrong,” Frank rambled. You noticed he was doing that thing he got when he was nervous about embarrassing himself, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing like a tomato. You hid your smile behind the back of your hand as you marched over to him and took the CD from his grasp. 

“Thanks. And I don't talk your ears off, your ears are very happy to hear me talking.” Frank snorted at your words, and you gave him the biggest, most genuine smile you could muster as you began to play the CD. “So, Castiglione.”

“Hate that name.”

“Even if it’s yours?” 

“It’s never felt like mine,” he said, sitting himself on the floor next to your bed and resting his head on the mattress behind him. 

“Why not?” you asked him, coming to sit next to him and mimicking his position. You could see the little glow in the dark star stickers that you’d put up when you were just a kid, from ages ago, and they still made you smile. You wanted to see Frank smile, you thought to yourself. 

He shrugged, eyes trained on the ceiling as the fan spun its blades round. “Reminds me too much of my old man,” he decided after a while. “And I don’t wanna be him. Not ever.” 

“What about Castle instead? Sounds kinda similar to Castiglione, so you could get away with getting people at school to adjust to it easy-peasy, but it’s your own name. Frank Castle.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Frank said with a laugh, bumping your shoulder with his own before resting his head on yours. 

“Alright, Castle. How’d you know I was in dire, desperate need of a break?” You giggled, kicking at his legs just slightly with your own. There was some part of you that needed this, needed to be next to Frank or just connected to him even in the most fleeting of touches. 

“Mm. Been stalking you, of course,” he snorted, withdrawing from you just enough to flick your skull with his fingers. 

“Shut up. You’re so annoying, y’know.” You didn’t mean it, and he knew that, which is why Frank laughed at your dispassionate dig. 

“Was just joking. Knew you’d be up, anyways. You’ve been looking like a raccoon recently, and I know how stressed you get when there’s tests ‘n shit coming up.” 

“Thanks, Frankie. How have things been outside of school?” You said, nuzzling your cheek further into Frank’s shoulder. You felt him tense up under you and for a second, you were worried that you’d pushed too far. It wasn’t meant to be malicious, though. You wanted to know that Frank was better than before, even if he smiled more around you and seemed happier overall. 

He shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. You know my old man and I aren’t exactly close.” And you wanted to ask what that meant, but you figured it simply wasn’t your place. It didn’t seem like something that Frank wanted to talk about. Not right now, at least. 

“My SAT is on Sunday. Two days,” you sighed, getting up from the floor. Frank stayed seated there, and you felt his gaze as he scanned you. You wonder what he saw, if he saw the tension in your back that you felt. Frank could read you like a book. You didn’t know how he did it but he knew you, sometimes better than you knew yourself. 

“Alright, I guess I’ll head out then,” He said, but you shook your head as you sat down to study and turned around to face him. 

“Stay. You can take a nap or something or just chill out—I’ll keep the music playing, I like the songs you put on the CD.” Frank nodded and flopped back onto your bed, and you returned to studying.

At that moment, your mom knocked on your door, calling out your name. 

“I’m studying!” You shouted back, hiding a nervous laugh when you looked at Frank on your bed. Your parents would probably kill you if they knew that Frank was here. They loved him, but you weren’t so sure they’d love him in your room after hours. 

“Sure. Tell Frank he can use the front door next time. And that we say hi and that he has to go home by eleven, ‘kay?” 

“Will do, ma’am!” He called back. Your mother opened the door to look at the two of you and smiled, before she shut the door again. 

“I can’t believe she knew you were here. And she didn’t wanna kick you out. How?” You laughed, tossing your pen at him and laughing when it hit him with an oof. 

“Beats me,” he shrugged, stretching onto your bed. 

You didn’t know why either. But you knew one thing: just having him near you brought you comfort. You didn’t know much, but you knew that you adored being around Frank Castle. 

~~~

“What do I do now?” Aaron asks, swiping at the corners of his eyes as he cries. You hand him the box of tissues and he accepts them graciously, dabbing at his tear-stained cheeks. 

“Death is a hard thing for anyone to come to terms—” 

“No, not just their death,” Aaron interrupts. His voice is so heavy with grief that it hurts to listen to. “Castle’s death, too. I wish I could’ve found him and killed him myself, because I want him to hurt the way I do right now. The hurt that everyone he’s killed felt. And now he’s dead? That feels too easy, ma’am.” There’s that undercurrent of anger, sharp and unrelenting and you know it won’t go away, not for years, not for decades. It’s the kind of anger that you learn to live with, not the kind you let go. 

It’s the kind of anger that you still hold for Frank Castle’s father. 

You sigh, and rub your shoulders as you lean back. “Aaron,” you say softly. You’re worried that if you go about this wrong, you’ll lose all the progress you’ve made with him thus far. “There are people in this world that die painlessly despite all the hell they’ve put others through. And that kind of death isn’t something you move on from in days, or months. You don’t have to let go of your anger, ever, even if others try to force you to do so. So it’s okay to be angry, and to grieve, and to wish that—” you can’t bring yourself to say Frank’s name, you just can’t— “That the man who murdered your parents suffers a thousand lifetimes.” 

“It’s not fair,” he bites out. You nod. “You’re right, it’s not. And it leaves us with no choice but to accept what’s happened, and to try and move on. Even if it hurts, even if some days are worse than others. You take it one day at a time and you hold onto that anger if it helps you keep going, but that’s what matters. Taking it one day at a time.” 

Aaron’s gaze meets yours and you know, in the millisecond that he looks at you, really looks at you, that he sees more than you intended to show. He’s perceptive and he knows, somehow, that you hold the same anger he holds. But he doesn’t say anything, just exhales and a little bit of the tension leaves your body. 

You don’t say anything. You’ll give Aaron the space he needs until he’s ready. 

~~~

Ever since that night, Frank Castle had developed a habit of showing up right after dinner time, sneaking in through your bedroom window even when the door was unlocked. You’d told him that a few times, too, but he favored coming in through your bedroom window for some reason that you just couldn’t piece together. 

The snow had fallen and melted, and the flowers had bloomed all in the time that you’d taken to become Frank Castle’s best friend. 

You were on the phone with Frank, sitting on your bed with the home phone as your mom prepared dinner.

“So I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” You said. 

“Get off the phone, I wanna talk to my boyfriend!” your younger sister whined from across the house. 

“I’ll be done soon!” You shouted back. “Frankie?” 

“Yeah. I’m lookin’ forward to it, I’m so excited to not have to use my brain for a couple hours.” 

“Since when do you use your brain?” You asked jokingly, but as you did, you heard Frank’s parents yelling in the background. 

He sighed. “Shit, I gotta go. But I’ll be there, just leave your window open like usual.” Then he cut the line, and you stared at the device in your hand, confused. 

“I’m getting on the phone, I don’t care if you’re still talking to your loverboy or not!” 

“He’s not my loverboy!” 

~~~

You were reading on your bed when you heard the telltale shuffling of leaves and branches that signaled Frank’s arrival. 

“Hey MTV, welcome my crib,” you giggled, not bothering to look up from your book when you heard his feet thump into your room. But when Frank was silent, instead of laughing how he usually did, you got up in concern to see him standing there with red-rimmed eyes and an ugly purple bruise on his cheekbone, sniffling quietly as he wiped his eyes with his sleeves. 

“Frankie?” You asked, rushing to his side and wrapping your arms around his middle as he cried. 

“I- oh, God, I just, give me a— a minute” he stammered out, crying into your shoulder as he sank into your embrace. 

“It’s okay, Frankie,” you said, holding him tightly. “You don’t have to talk. I’m here for you.” His shoulders shook and it lit a cold fire inside you, because Frank did not break like this. Frank was a force of fucking nature and to see him shaken like this was like seeing the ocean brought down to its knees. It was wrong. And you’d make whoever hurt him like this pay. They’d see hell at your hands, that much you could promise. 

Frank remained with his head tucked into your shoulder long after the strength had left his body and he could cry no longer. But he held onto you still like you were his strength, like he would fall apart if he let go of you. 

“Was my dad,” he said finally. Frank’s voice was rough with the force of his sadness, scratchy and thick in his throat. “He found out I skipped church this Sunday and decided that he needed to remind me of everything I’ve ever done to let him down. How I’m not as good as Anthony, never will be. Always the black sheep of the family. He decided to throw me around for good measure, so I fought back. Knocked him out and I came running to you. Like a coward.” He sounded so defeated that you couldn’t help but draw him closer to you, like your arms could protect him from the cruelty of his father. 

“You’re no coward. He should never have laid a hand on you, Frankie, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to grab some frozen peas real quick?” Frank shook his head, arms wrapped around your torso and squeezed you a hair tighter. 

“No, I can deal with it. He does this a lot.” With that, it all clicks in your head— the rumors of all the fights, the little scars on his knuckles, the split lips he used to sport. It was his father abusing him this whole time. You wanted to crush his father’s windpipe for hurting Frank, and watch the life fade from his eyes. And you wanted to cry, just thinking of all that Frank had endured, but you needed to be strong for him. So you held back your tears, and kissed his head to give him all the love you had. 

“Frankie, your father cannot force you to join the priesthood or join the parish or however you say it. Know that no matter what, the choice will stay in your hands. And you’re not the black sheep. Not to me. You’ll never be anything less than your own wonderful, dynamic, caring person. You’re Frank Castle. Your father had no right to use the mistakes you might’ve made when you were younger against you. Plus, everything you’ve done so far is to keep him happy. You're so smart and he just doesn’t see it, he doesn’t see you but I see you and I love you, Frank. You’re my best friend for a reason,” you said softly. Clumsy words tumbled out of your mouth, but you needed Frank to know that his dad’s words were bullshit. 

“I’m sorry for coming here like this,” Frank whispered. 

“Don’t you dare apologize. Not for this, not to me.” 

“Will you distract me?” He asked you, an inkling of hope coloring his tone. You smiled softly against his skin but didn’t let go. He’d been hurt tonight. And for as long as you’d let him, you’d shield him from the world and help him glue back together the pieces of himself with a smile on your face. Frank was your safe place, and you wanted to be his safe place too. 

“So, uh, Jake asked me out,” you started, staring at the ceiling. You didn’t really like Jake like that, but he was cute and sweet and you thought maybe you could have a fun date with him. Besides, you couldn’t keep pining after Frank. After months of friendship, you were pretty damn sure he didn’t see you like that and confessing would just ruin what you had.

“Really?” Frank asked, lifting his head up to look at you. There was something you couldn’t quite place on his face, a look that was familiar but not on Frank’s face. You dismissed it and nodded with a soft smile. He was your best friend, he’d be happy for you, right? 

“I dunno, he’s nice, I guess. I said yeah, so we’re going to the movies Friday night.”

“Didn’t he take Marcy to junior prom?” Frank asked, rolling himself off of you to rest on his back next to you. 

“Yeah, but he’s not into her. He told me that they’re just friends and y’know how it is when everyone in the friend group is going together.” 

“Oh,” Frank said blankly. He didn’t look at you, just traced the little stars in your ceiling with his finger and made constellations only he could see. 

“Will you help me choose an outfit?” you asked him. You felt like he was mad at you and you hated that. You didn’t mean to sound so desperate but you’re sure Frank could sense it. He always did with you. And there was that part of you that you tried so hard to bury all the time, the part that wanted him to confess to you that he loved you. But he didn’t, so you forced yourself to ignore the way your heart wanted to stop time to sit next to him for all eternity. 

“Yeah. You said it’s Sunday, right?” He said. You were sure you imagined the gruffness in his voice just then but the thought vanished entirely from your head when Frank looked at you. His lips were tugged into that lopsided smile that made you feel like your heart was gonna burst from your chest, and how could you think of anything else when you saw him? 

For a minute, you want to tell him. Fuck Jake and the movies. The words sit light and sweet on the tip of your tongue, IthinkI’minlovewithyou, but you bite your tongue and wish that now was forever. 

~~~

You’d called Frank halfway through your stupid date with Jake. 

Jake had taken you to a drive-in movie theater, which had sounded romantic at first but had resulted in you losing your virginity in the backseat to a guy who was too sloppy to even care about whether you felt good or not. 

Afterwards, when you were pulling your panties back on under your skirt, he’d flipped down his driver’s side vanity to look at himself and asked you to keep this whole thing “quiet” because he really liked Marcy and was planning on asking her to be his girlfriend. 

And then he’d asked you if he should drop you off at home. Your hair was mussed up and lips swollen from his rough (and awful) kissing, so you shook your head and told him you’d just watch the movie from the front seats near the projector.

Instead, you’d walked off to the entrance of the park when Jake had driven away, and called Frank asking him to pick you up. 

You saw him now, the lights of his truck a beacon of sanity after what you could safely classify as the worst first date experience you’d ever had. 

“You look rough,” Frank called out to you once he was stopped right next to you. You threw open his door and climbed in with a scoff, rubbing your face with the palms of your hands and ruining the already messed-up makeup. 

“Frankie,” you whined, tilting your head back to rest on the headrests. 

“You got your lip gloss all over your face, dummy,” Frank said after a beat. You tried to wipe it off with the back of your hand and looked at Frank for his approval. He shook his head and brought his hand to your face, swiping the lip gloss from your cheek and under your lips. The tip of his thumb ran across the skin on the bottom of your lower lip, and you swore his eyes were trained on your lips before he withdrew his hand. 

God, you wanted it back. 

“Thanks,” you whispered. 

“Alright, where to now?” Frank asked you, speeding as he got the two of you out of the park. 

“Can we just… drive?” You asked, rifling through Frank’s CD collection before selecting the identical copy of the one he’d made for you seven months ago. “Didn’t realize you had this in your truck. Attaboy, Frankie,” You said to him with a wide grin. 

“Attaboy?” He laughed. The stop lights and streetlights were all a blur as he drove, and you felt all of your troubles melting from the warmth that was Frank. 

“Fits you, I suppose,” you hummed, lost in the music that you’d listened to so often thanks to Frank’s CD.

“I like that. I’m taking that now,” Frank laughed. 

Frank didn’t ask you questions about your bad date until you wanted to talk to him about it. He was sympathetic when you told him, and while he could’ve said I told you so, deservedly, he’d kept it locked up until you said it yourself, and then he laughed at you and agreed. But strangely, you didn’t really care about your bad date, or losing your stupid virginity to a stupid boy. You cared about being in this car with Frank. 

You cared about Frank, that’s all. 

~~~

A myocardial infarction. 

That’s what the doctors had told Frank when his father sat down after dinner with a chest ache and never opened his eyes again. 

It seemed too easy to you, too peaceful for someone who had been so abusive in his lifetime. Why did he get it so easy? He didn’t deserve that, he deserved to rot in jail until the taste of sunshine was a forgotten memory to his skin.

Mr. Castiglione’s funeral was a solemn affair. He’d been on the police force, and some of his old coworkers were in attendance at the funeral. Dressed in all black, you wondered what they were mourning. Did they know the outlet of his anger? Did they ignore the concerned calls from the neighbors because they knew whose house it was?

You stayed by Frank’s side the entire time. Your family had been more than understanding, cooking enough to feed Frank’s family too to support the Castigliones in their time of mourning. You knew the bastard didn’t deserve the mourning, but after his father’s death, Frank had been… concerning. 

He stood now, above his father’s grave in the rain long after the last bit of dirt had been shoveled on to the grave. When Frank spoke, his voice was gravel and broken glass. 

“I kept waiting,” he said. Then he fell silent, and you let your head fall onto his shoulder as he stared blankly at the fresh dirt. You held an umbrella above the two of you, even when your arm ached from the effort of keeping the two of you dry. Mostly to keep Frank dried. That’s what you were concerned with. “Kept waiting for him to be my dad. And it never came. I’m— I’m glad he died. He can’t hurt me anymore, not six feet under.” You looked down to see Frank’s fingers clenching the fabric of his coat. You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded quietly. 

Frank fell to his knees with a thud, still staring blankly at the ground. You knelt down to his level, still maintaining the umbrella over his head. You’d keep him safe however you could, you decided. Frank dug into the dirt with his hands, disturbing the grave as it settled and just… held it up to his face. Then he tossed the dirt to the side, disturbing the orderly appearance of the monster’s grave. “Husband, officer, father,” he muttered angrily under his breath. “A failure in all. A failure in life. Husband, officer, failure.” 

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to nod, but you didn’t know if this was a burden that would be more painful to share than to shoulder alone. But you wouldn’t let Frank be lonely. You thought of the bitter man, whose heart had been filled with such poison that it simply gave way. You hoped that his last moments were excruciating, that every nerve was alight with pain and that he regretted every breath he’d taken in his damned life. Wishful thinking. 

“He taught me how to shoot a gun,” Frank said. His voice sounded robotic, hollow. You turned your head to face him, and brought your free hand to his cheekbones to collect the teardrops that fell. “Taught me to throw a punch, taught me how to make a bruise go away faster. Everything of violence, everything of hate.” He got to his feet, and you mimicked his actions silently, arm stiff from the weight of the umbrella. 

Frank looked at you and silently pushed your arm down. You dropped the umbrella as you looked into his solemn eyes, and Frank took your hand in his own as the rain swallowed the two of you whole. You felt invisible with Frank Castle. The rain washed clear the grief on his face, and he gave a bitter smile before he walked away from his father’s grave with his hand still holding yours.

~~~

“Thanks for listening, ma’am,” Aaron says, shrugging on his jacket as he gets ready to leave your office. 

The two of you had spent the hour working through all the good memories Aaron had with his dad and brothers, and though Aaron still carried that unshakable grief on his shoulders, you could tell that it was a little lighter. 

“It’s what I’m here for, kiddo.” 

He smiles at you before he heads out of your office, and you close the door. 

You felt a smidge of guilt deep inside. The little things that Aaron had mentioned today had brought Frank to the forefront of your consciousness, but you knew that wasn’t him anymore. No, Frank had gone from your best friend to murdering people just because they got caught up in the wrong side of things. And it had hurt Aaron, which haunted your thoughts when you saw Frank’s face in your mind. 

The last time you’d seen Frank’s face was the mugshot they’d broadcasted on the news. You could still see traces of the old Frank, the one you’d loved as your other half, but it was all fragmented pieces in a man that had lost far too much. 

You shake off the thoughts of Frank and try to turn your focus back to your work. Aaron was your last appointment of the day, and you’d done anything else you needed to do on your break between clients. 

You spend the next twenty minutes updating Aaron’s files— going through what worked with him, and the initial anger that he showed up with. And when you’re all done with your work, you pack up your things and turn the lights off, ready to walk the five blocks to get to your apartment. 

You’ve always liked walking. Tonight, the smog of the city is a little lighter and you feel sharp, alert. You hear thunder clap in the distance as the skies begin to pour down on you but you don’t mind the rain, not tonight. You don’t bother to put on a jacket or grab your umbrella, allowing the rain to drench you. You feel warm still, despite the downpour as you walk home. 

~~~

It felt like senior year passed by in a blur.

Frank didn’t like to talk about college applications much, so you really didn’t ask, but it was something that loomed over all of your heads. What would you do after high school? What career did you want to go into? It all seemed so daunting, but there was comfort to be had in knowing that everyone was going through the same dilemma. 

Frank’s parents still thought he was gonna become a priest. The two of you had realized that it was safer to let them think that, so he kept his mouth shut and quietly saw the end of his religious career. Frank was too hot-headed to be a priest, anyways. When he saw Jake sometime in the middle of senior year, he’d slammed the other boy into the lockers until you’d tugged the side of his hoodie and muttered to him that it wasn’t worth the hassle. 

Jake wasn’t the only boy you’d slept with, anyways. You had slept with some from your high school, and some from others. They all had two things in common: they were all very unsatisfactory, and none of them could make you feel how Frank did.

Frank, on the other hand, was the same as always. He had asked you if you thought Maria was into him once. You’d responded with a firm no, jealousy in your heart and hot on your tongue as you attempted to quell the feeling. You hadn’t been able to look at another boy since he’d asked that question, because in case he felt the way you did, you didn’t want him to go through the pain of seeing you with someone else. You didn’t want to see him with anyone else. 

Frank spent almost every day at your house, sneaking in through your window every time. It was almost a running joke in your family, how Frank would “sneak in” even when the front door was unlocked. He was like your counterpart, going where you’d go and even in your loneliest moments, you weren’t alone, because you had Frank. 

Time had passed quickly. The only regret you’d had as the year passed was that you hadn’t befriended Frank sooner, because the time you had with him felt altogether insufficient. You’d gotten into a college nearby, where you planned on studying psychology and seeing where that would take you. 

Frank still hadn’t told you what he was gonna do after this. You figured he’d continue with whatever his parents would finance, and as much as you hated the thought, you didn’t know what else he could do. All you could do was trust that Frank had it handled, and if he wanted your support you’d be there before he could even finish asking the question. 

Frank Castle was your best friend. He was also the person you dreamt of before sleeping, the one you called when you were happy or sad, the first person you’d share anything with, the one you turned to for comfort, the one you wanted to kiss so desperately that it felt like you couldn’t breathe sometimes. 

As the school year had wrapped itself up, the two of you found yourselves skipping prom— “it’s stupid anyways, we could just slow dance in a parking lot and have way more fun”-- and getting matching tattoos of your bedroom window to immortalize your friendship. And then you slow danced in a parking lot, stiff and awkward with the bandages of the tattoo still bulky and the pain just barely radiating as you sang some top 30 hit and Frank twirled you around, humming what he could. 

You were leaving for college tomorrow. There was an unspoken tension between you and Frank now, now that your date to move out was so close. Of course, he promised to visit and you promised to call every day, but there was something heavier still. You both knew everything was gonna change, and you hated that. Deeply. 

Frank was next to you on your bed now, tossing your pillow in the air and singing along to the radio that you’d put on. You thought he had a beautiful singing voice. You knew he’d been playing guitar for a while, but it was rare for him to be singing like this. 

“You sound beautiful,” you blurted out, then turned your head to hide the warmth that singed your cheeks from the impulsive compliment. 

“Nah,” Frank chuckled, slinging an arm around your shoulder and bringing your temple to his lips to press a fleeting kiss to your skin. You wished you could get it tattooed. “You’ve got a pretty voice, though. Sing with me?” He asked, swaying your intertwined bodies softly as he continued to hum. You joined your song with his, a clumsy and intimate chorus for just the two of you as you savored the time you got to spend with Frank. “Attagirl,” he said lowly, looking at you with the shadow of something you saw so often on his face nowadays. 

And all the emotions that you’d hidden in your dark bubbled up uncontrollably, maybe because of the warmth of Frank’s arm or the heat of his gaze, but your tongue was clumsy and loose and you felt yourself opening your mouth before you could even think to stop yourself. 

“I’m in love with you,” you said abruptly. Frank’s body relaxed against yours as he looked at you in shock, blinking at you as the two of you processed what you had just said. 

“What?” 

“No, no, fuck, I didn’t mean to tell you that,” you panicked, getting up from your bed and backing away from Frank. 

“But you meant it.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t mean to tell me that. But you meant it.”

“Fuck, Frank, does it matter?” You urged, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyebrows. 

“Yes, it does. Are you in love with me?” He asked. Frank’s voice was low, and it made it hard for you to read him. Tears pricked at your eyes as your body internalized the panic you were feeling. You felt frozen but Frank’s proximity forced you to spill out the truth, a frantic yesohgod that you wish you could’ve trapped on your tongue instead. 

Frank’s big palms met your jaw softly, holding your face in place as his thumbs ran over your cheekbones. “Now ask me what I feel,” he said. 

“What do you feel?” You whispered. Your mind was blank from Frank’s touch, and the only thing you could process was the softness and warmth of his skin against yours. 

“I’m in love with you.” He said your name, sweeter than a prayer, and brought his forehead to rest on yours. The tip of his nose just barely pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. “I’m in love with you, and I have been for a very long time. I love you. I love you.”

You whimpered softly and you weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or kiss him. It was almost too much, and the frustration of knowing that he’d loved you this whole time was enough to drive you mad. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, eyes still closed as you soaked in the radiance of being this close to Frank. You felt him nod against you, and that was all the confirmation you needed to press your lips against his. You wished he’d been your first kiss, because all the other boys you’d kissed just couldn’t compare. His lips were soft and hesitant against yours, and your noses collided as you tilted your head to kiss him deeply. You withdrew to catch your breath, and then pecked his lips softly, smiling at him as you guided him to lay down on the bed next to you. 

It was familiar, something that you’d done a million times before, and as you brought your lips to Frank’s you couldn’t help but think about how kissing him felt natural. His fingers gripped the hair at the back of your neck as you sat up to keep kissing him, teeth just barely clashing against each other as your tongue met his. You were vaguely aware of how he tasted like cinnamon as you kissed him. 

His hands found their way at the hem of your dress, toying with it as the two of you kissed. You paused and pulled it off, leaving you in just your underwear. Frank raised a brow at your state of undress and pulled his own shirt off. The little cross necklace he still wore gleamed in the light of your bedside lamp, and you rubbed it between your forefinger and thumb gently. Frank flicked his brows up as if to say, what now? 

You straddled Frank on the edge of your bed and bent to kiss him more. His lips were addictive, molded perfectly to yours, ebbing and flowing against your motions. Frank wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you flush against him, the skin of your chests only separated by the flimsy fabric of your bra. The force at which you kissed him made it hard to breathe but you didn’t want to breathe, you just wanted to kiss him over and over again until he was sick of you. 

Frank’s fingers ran up the length of your spine until they rested at the nape of your neck, where he toyed with the clasp of the necklace you wore. It was the one he’d bought you for your eighteenth birthday, and you wondered if he knew that. You placed a kiss on his nose, the one that you adored so much, and let out a soft giggle at Frank’s shocked expression. 

“Oh, c’mon. You know how much I adore your nose.” 

“It’s big,” he said with a frown, moving his hand to cover it when you pulled it off and kissed the bridge of his nose some more. 

“It’s beautiful. I love your nose, Frankie,” you breathed out, kissing his cheeks and his forehead before twisting to kiss his pretty jaw. As you moved from his jaw to his Adam’s apple, he rocked his hips upward to meet your aching center. You both groaned in unison, and your teeth caught on the skin of his throat as your breath hitched in your throat. The fabric of his jeans was rough on your exposed flesh, providing friction as you ground your pelvis onto his bulge. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, and you brought your hand up to cover his mouth as you continued to rock back and forth. 

“Quiet, Frankie. You don’t want anyone to hear us, baby,” you teased, biting his pecs and dragging your free hand down the expanse of his chest. You traced his v-line with your nails, smiling when you felt him gasp sharply against your hand. “Just tell me how far to go, ‘kay?” you asked, pulling your hand away to kiss his sweet lips. 

“How- how far can we go?” He asked, trembling under your hands as you traced the details of his face with your fingers, still grinding on him through layers of clothing. 

“D’you want me to show you? I don’t wanna push you too far.” Frank was frozen under you, and you understood what he was feeling. It was hard to think when you were this close to one another. You smiled and pecked his lips, then ran your fingers under the waistband of his pants. His breathing pattern changed in response to your motions, and you decided that the sound was addicting. He was addicting. 

“Do you want this?” You asked, dragging the tip of your nails on his skin as you tugged his pants down an inch. He whispered a yes and that was all the confirmation you needed to drag the rest of it down, kneeling on the floor next to your bed. You rose and pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, his bare skin hot on your lips. Then you bit it, lightly, enjoying the way his pale skin flushed when you nipped at it, and soothed it with kisses. You repeated the process on his other thigh, moving up his legs until you were at the rigid lines of his hips. 

Frank had a hell of a v-line. He had a hell of an everything, that was a different matter, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your tongue on the bones, following the curve to where his cock stood. His tip was wet with beads of precum, and you traced under his pink tip with your tongue before wrapping your lips around it. You traced the tip with your tongue, smiling to yourself when Frank’s hips involuntarily jutted up deeper and he groaned. You took Frank’s hand and placed it gently in your hair, where his hands gripped your hair as he tried his hardest to stay still. 

It was adorable how gentle he was trying to be. None of the others were like that, but none of the others mattered, did they? So you shifted your focus to Frank, who looked oh-so-pretty as his composure crumbled with his cock in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the tip before you bobbed your head down, pressing your mouth down on the ridges and veins of his length. It was thick, so much so that it was difficult to take him into your mouth any further, so you replaced your mouth with your hand and licked the base of his cock, working up his shaft. 

You worked your hands quickly over his length, hollowing your cheeks around whatever length you could fit in your mouth and rubbing his balls with your hands. Frank let out a choked gasp and you could feel his balls tightening in your hands. You were sure he was close, so you pulled away and ignored the pitiful whine he gave at the loss of your mouth as he neared his climax. 

“There’s a condom in my bedside drawer,” you hummed, draping yourself over his bare body. “If you want, we can use it. Only if you want, baby.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, let’s do that,” he gasped, propping himself up on his elbow and blindly reaching to open your bedside drawer. You reached in and grabbed the little foil wrapper and moved to tear it, but Frank shook his head furiously and pulled your hips forward. “Lemme make you feel good,” he said. Little pinpricks of heat settled at the back of your neck and your breath hitched in your throat. “You don’t have to, y’know,” you said. With all the boys you’d slept with already, not a single one of them had bothered about how you felt, about making you feel good. But Frank did. Of course he did.

He eased your hips to his face, where you hovered right above the heat of his mouth before his hands shot up and pulled you directly onto his mouth. His tongue began to explore your cunt, using just enough pressure to drive you insane as he circled your clit before sliding down to thrust his tongue into your hole. When your breathing shifted, a soft whine threatening to break out of your mouth, Frank did it again until you were stifling your moans with your hand and riding his tongue. Frank alternated between sucking on your clit and dragging his tongue back and forth, leaving you dripping into his mouth from the overwhelming pleasure as he drove you closer to your climax. 

The cords of muscle in your thighs drew taut, and you pushed yourself away from Frank’s sweet mouth and grabbed the foil that lay on your comforter, tearing it and easing the latex condom onto his length. “I wanna feel you,” you said, moving to straddle his legs before easing yourself onto his cock. Frank let out a guttural groan when his tip met your warm cunt.

He was warm and the familiar stretch left you breathless as you eased yourself onto Frank’s cock. He was girthier than anyone you’d fucked before, and it took a minute for you to adjust to the sensation, your velvet walls clenching around his member as you took him in deeper. You bounced yourself as you eased yourself down, fucking into him until you were seated with the backs of your thighs pressed against Frank’s hips. 

You rose slowly, then bounced your body back down onto him, enjoying how full he made you feel and the way his cock dragged against your g-spot as you rode him. You were slow, at first, but when you sped up and grabbed his hand to press against your belly where you could feel Frank’s cock, he growled and flexed his hips upward. 

Then Frank flipped your joined bodies entirely, using one swift motion to lay your body down while he was still in you. 

“Is this— is this okay?” He asked, kissing your forehead as he waited, still buried to the hilt inside of you. Your wordless nod was all the confirmation he needed, and he bottomed out of you before driving into you with a punishing force. You intertwined your legs behind his back and drew him in closer, soft moans leaving your mouth as he fucked you. The cross of his necklace dragged from your collarbones up to your mouth as he leaned over to kiss you, and you bit down on the cold metal to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to spill out as you were brought closer and closer, the coil in your belly making your entire body lock up as your face screwed up in pleasure. 

Oh. You never understood the hype about sex, finding it to be inadequate every time that you’d been fucked, but it all made sense now. This was what you needed. 

Frank brought his hand to your clit as he continued to slide in and out of you, the metal of his necklace warming up as it still sat on your tongue, and the clink of it against your teeth made Frank look down. “Dio,” he swore, flicking his fingers against your nub as you tightened around his cock. You were close, so close that you wanted to sob. “You look beautiful,” Frank stated, and the way he said it, you would’ve thought he was looking at an angel. 

You shattered. Your back arched as he drove deeper into you, seeking his own release as you fell apart with him buried inside of you. “Attagirl,” Frank said, and it only intensified your orgasm. You shut your eyes so tightly that you saw stars, moaning softly as Frank finished at the same time as you. He began to rise away from your body but you brought your arms to bring him back to you, holding him against you so that you could feel his heart beating against yours. Skin and bones and muscle held skin and bones and muscle, and you felt content. 

“Baby, I gotta get up,” he laughed into your skin quietly. 

“In a minute,” you murmured, stroking the skin of his back gently. “You were perfect, Frankie,” you assured him. Then you let go of him, and he moved to collect his clothes before grabbing your clothes and putting each one on gently, kissing you after every piece he put back on you. 

The sun was beginning to rise as you snuck out to the bathroom to pee, washing up and splashing your face with cool water before you returned to where Frank sat at the edge of your bed. His hands were clasped in silent prayer, and you let him finish before he turned to you and gave a smile full of longing. 

“You’ll be gone soon, huh?” Frank asked. You nodded. You didn’t know why you wanted to cry right now, but you did, biting under your lip to hold your composure as you realized that you would have to leave Frank. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he said, getting up to cradle your face with his palms and kissing your forehead. “You’ll always have me in your corner.” You could feel his lips moving against your forehead, and you held his shirt in your hands as you breathed him in silently. “I’m glad we got to spend tonight together.” 

You didn’t have the strength to respond so you just nodded, fit tightly with Frank as you waited for the sun to rise, when Frank would inevitably have to go. You were leaving soon after the sun rose, all your clothes already packed in the suitcases lined up at the door. 

So when the sky turned to its light grey hue, you kissed Frank goodbye and watched him fade into the day with a feeling in your heart that told you this was far from over.

~~~

You’re being followed. 

Have been for the past six blocks. But that’s not new, it’s something that’s been happening for the past three days. For however long Frank Castle’s been believed to be dead. But you had this gut feeling that it wasn’t over, that he wasn’t really dead. 

And judging by the man who’s trailing you in the shadows, you’re right. 

You reach your apartment complex, and when you’re walking up the stairs, you pause, squinting in the rain to see the shadowy figure. 

“Well?” You ask, annoyance lacing your tone. “Are you gonna come in?”

He steps into the light of the streetlight, and you feel like you’re staring at a ghost. Frank Castle’s face shows all that he’s been through, and you feel a pang in your heart just thinking of everything he’s gone through. You don’t hold his gaze, turning to grasp your key and slotting it into the lock, swinging open the door with Frank on your tail. 

Hell of a reunion, you think to yourself, snorting in dreary amusement. Frank glances at you, but he doesn’t say anything. He feels more like a shadow than a man, and you pay him no mind. When you’ve unlocked your door and let yourself into your apartment, you head to the kitchen without sparing him a second glance. “What kinda tea do you like?” You call out to him, cracking your neck and setting the kettle to boil. 

“Just black tea is fine, thanks,” he responds. You hear him shuffling— likely taking off his rain-soaked jacket— and then a thump as he settles into your living room sofa. 

“Can I ask you why you were following me?” You ask. Your hands are gripping the counters tightly, because your head is throbbing with confusion. You don’t know how to act around him anymore, around this man that once meant more than air itself. 

“I wanted to make sure you’re safe,” He says stiffly. 

“From what?”

“I’ve made a lot of enemies. With the right digging they’d know exactly who was involved in my life, ever. I couldn’t let you pay for my mistakes,” Frank says. His voice is low and you have to strain to hear him over the hiss of the kettle as it finishes boiling. You pour the water into two mugs, attempting to balance them as you make your way to Frank. 

When you hand it to him, you finally get the chance to look at him. There’s some stubble from days of growth that sits on his face, making him look weary. You suppose he is, who wouldn’t be? And in his eyes, there’s a hollowness to them. The product of a never ending cycle of loss. 

“I was sorry to hear about Maria and your kids,” you decide, setting your mug down on the coffee table and leaning back onto your sofa. “She was always kind to me, and I’m sure your kids were lovely.” You can see the pain flashing on Frank’s face as you bring up a wound that’s still raw, one that’ll probably never heal. 

“Thanks,” he says gruffly. The mug looks almost comically small in his large hands, and you almost smile at the sight. 

“Where have you been staying?” You ask, draining the last of your tea before getting up to adjust the pillows of your sofa. You have a sneaking suspicion that Frank’s been staying on the streets, and you simply can’t allow that to happen. 

“Just, y’know, around,” he says, avoiding your gaze. You shake your head, and head to your linen closet to fetch some clothes. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and freshen up? You can stay at my place for as long as you need.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” Frank protests.

“I wasn’t asking. You’re going to stay at my place. I’m not letting you stay out on the street, Frank.” Frank. He was never Frank to you, always Frankie. The name feels foreign on your tongue, but you don’t think you can call him Frankie. That’s not him anymore. “So what now, Castle?” You wonder if he notices that you aren’t calling him Frankie. He’s not your Frankie anymore, and there’s a part of you that mourns the loss of your friendship. 

“Why?” It makes sense for Frank to be suspicious. He’s been through too much, but there’s still a bitter taste in your mouth when Frank hints at his distrust towards you. 

“You were my friend once,” you say quietly, handing him a fresh towel and directing him to the bathroom. “You’ll always mean something to me. Now go shower, it’s been too long since you’ve taken a bath and it’s painfully obvious. Washer’s over there, I’ll toss your stuff in, and it’ll be done in a little.” 

The two of you jump into motion and as you hear the shower starting up, you feel the guilt eating you up inside. You shouldn’t be harboring someone that’s caused so much pain. But hasn’t he also suffered? You make up your mind to talk to him, adjusting the sheets on the couch and arranging it so that Frank could sleep here for a night or two. 

Frank comes out not long afterwards, steam billowing out from the bathroom with a towel slung low across his hips. You curse yourself for not being able to resist the sight of his bare chest, mind flashing back to the night you two shared as you sit in silence next to him. 

“Frank,” you say finally, “I need to talk to you about something.” 

“What is it?” The look on his face is grim. You wonder what he’s thinking. 

“I understand what you’re doing with the mafia, and frankly, I don’t really have an issue with you killing them like that. But all you’re doing is fueling the fire.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Frank asks hotly. You’ve offended him, great. 

“I mean that you have good intentions. But what I’m seeing in my job? Your efforts are only making the next generation of kids feel that vengeance and anger and the mafia is the only outlet they know. I’m saying you gotta refine your targets and take out who actually can influence these things instead of going in blind and killing them based on who they associate with alone. You wanna prove a point? Fine. But you’re better than making things worse just because it’s what you’re used to.” 

“And what would you know about me? You gave up on me, gave up on us.” You scoff at Frank’s words. 

“Really? Really, Frank? I came home from college two months after I went to college. You hadn’t written me a single letter or called me even once and I thought to myself okay, he’s busy. Then I come home and Maria’s knocked up with a ring on her finger and you’re nowhere to be found. What’s with that, huh?” You sneer. The chime of the dryer lets you know that his clothes are done, but you’re locked in this battle with Frank. 

“Because I needed to get out!” He’s nearly shouting now. “I’d expect that you of all people would understand that. And Maria, she was just a mistake at first. Sure, I grew to love her, but her pregnancy was the result of a one night stand and I couldn’t just leave her. I was gonna be a father.” 

“I know, Frank. It was all such a mess and I don’t blame you for any of it,” You said, rubbing your temples. “But don’t say I abandoned you. Don’t. I called you, and you never picked up. I was always glad you found happiness but it hurt that you cut me out when you did.” 

“I’m sorry,” he acknowledges. But the apology feels hollow, and all you do is nod in response. “I’ll be more careful with who I target. You’re right. I can’t just keep worsening things for my own revenge.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper. The two of you sit in silence before Frank moves to get his clothes, and you head to your bedroom door, where you linger before turning to see a fully-dressed Frank. 

“I’ll always care for you, Frank, and there will always be a place for you in my home. And when you need a break from fighting, I’ll be here. Just don’t shut me out again, please,” you plead. Frank closes his eyes and nods, and you know he feels the same pain over how things turned out. A future lost to what-ifs. 

When you wake up the next morning, there’s not even a trace of Frank, save the flowers he left on the table for you and a note with just the word sorry scribbled on to it. You don’t know when he’ll be back, but you know deep down that he will be back. And you are left certain of two things; you hate him, and you desperately want him to come back. 

[mercury-drinker]

THEM!!!!!!! I’VE BEEN HYPERFIXIATONG ON THESE TWO IB MY HEAD FOR DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!

Info abt them under the cut v

Ok so I was thinking about that one anthro warriors au here on tumblr (i forgot who made ot :c) a few weeks ago and then that somehow led to me making an oc who was abandoned because of a genetic imperfection

And tgat oc is Rani!!! She’s an Indochinese Tiger born w melanism. She was born in a litter of 4 (altgough 2 of her siblings were born stillborn so technically litter of 2). Her dad didn’t like that she looked weird n shit so he forced her mother to get rid of her. She was left out in the jungle but her mom planned to sneak back to jer at noghtfall to give her food and take her back. But someone found her and was like “wtf why is there a weird ass baby in the middle of the jungle” and took her with them to find some adoption center to drop jer off at or sum. I haven’t decided what this person is or what their name is yet but we’ll call them Eee for jow ig. All i really know for sure abt Eee rn is that they’re an explorer and journalist from Russia who’s been to almost every country in the world by now.

Eee originally was going to gove Rani a Russian name but wanted her to havesomething from her original birthplace so they gave her an Asian name instead.

Fast forward to 11 years later. Eee in cact did not gove up Rani because she grew on them too much. Rani is now Eee’s legal child and helps them w/ traveling preparations and such. For Rani’s 11th birthday she wanted to go to Alaska to see Skagway. While they were there, they decided to camp onstead of rentong a hotel or Airbnb or something because Rani wanted it to be authentic. In the woods while looking for firewood Eee found a baby otter no older than 6 by a river.

This toddler is Uki. Uki’s widowed mother had died of cardiac arrest a gew weeks before Eee found Uki. Her father had died of lung cancer when Uki was 2. Upon finding Uki, Eee took her in and adopted her.

Now fast forward again to presenttime. Rani is 31 years old, Uki is 26. Rani works at a fast food restaurant and is studying computer programming and engineering. Uki works as a special education teacher in an elementary school. They both still live with Eee, who settled down temporarily in Miami, Florida when Uki was 13 and Rani was 18, since Uki wasn’t as fond of traveling constantly as Rani was. Eee plans to start traveling again when they both move out but will visit frequently.

Ty for reading my oc ramble >u< Unlike my SISTERS who were too busy playing DRESS TO IMPRESS when I was trying to tell them smh

I’ll make Eee’s ref at some point….. not today tho i’m too tired (even tyough its not even 2 in the afternoon yet)

[tdciago]

Fargo: Author! Author!

I've thought for a long time that what we're watching in season 5 is a story in the process of being written. My initial guess was that the author would turn out to be Scotty Lundegaard, who would be writing it as a way of providing some poetic justice for his mother, Jean, who was killed by Gaear Grimsrud in "Fargo" the movie. But I have come to the shocking conclusion that the author of this story is Gaear himself, and Ole Munch represents the author. Gaear has also reimagined his victim as a worthy adversary, and maybe an alternate version of himself. Let's go back to the first episode of the season, because whenever a mystery is resolved, it turns out that the big clue was given to us right at the beginning, but we didn't have the context to understand it. LORRAINE (to Dot): Or here's a thought. Write your own pulp fiction now that you're an outlaw. Lorraine actually refers to Dot twice as an outlaw. This was concerning to me, because I thought Dot's comment about the author Lee Child pointed to Scotty Lundegaard as the author. Lee Child's pen name was derived from a mispronunciation that resulted in his daughter jokingly being called "le child." But Gaear Grimsrud is a legitimate outlaw, and the term "pulp fiction" is ironic, because wood chips are used to make the wood pulp on which those lurid stories were originally printed. And Gaear Grimsrud knows about wood chippers. He also would know about every detail of Jean's kidnapping, and even the most obscure bits of information, such as Marge Gunderson saying to him, "It's a beautiful day." That phrase has been used twice now, once by Indira in the prowler after arresting Dot, and once by Lindo at Camp Utopia. Roy notes of Munch, "You don't talk much. I like that." Gaear says only 80 words in "Fargo" the movie. Perhaps most significant of all is Gaear's fondness for pancakes. Both Munch and Dot have been connected to pancakes. One of these characters is associated with sin, and the other with Dorothy Gale from "The Wizard of Oz." Interestingly, the town of Liberal, Kansas, the setting of season 4's "East/West," is also associated with both of those things. It is the official home of Dorothy Gale, and the site of a famous Pancake Day race on Shrove Tuesday, a day to prepare for Lent, confess one's sins, and receive absolution. Maybe that's what Gaear is trying to do here. In episode 5, "The Tiger," I was struck by a couple of things that might be clues. Indira talks about Lars blaming his gear for his poor performance. "The nine iron, the eight iron, the seven iron....Keeps thinking it's the gear. 'Maybe with better gear.'" The consecutive numbers 987 made me think of 1987, the year that the movie takes place. And the word "gear" sounds like "Gaear." As though, if Gaear were better, things wouldn't have gone so badly. At the end of that episode, Dot drives off in the Kia with dealer plates, another reference to the film. Then there's episode 7, "Linda," which I want to make a separate post about. Not only does Munch re-create Gaear's murder of Carl, but there are a bunch of references to the movie in that episode, as well as things that point us to the fact that this is very much "a long-ago story, come back to haunt" someone. I think the person being haunted is Gaear, and it's Jean Lundegaard's ghost who's haunting him. Gaear may think of his life in the same way as Munch does, rooted in sin, with no escape. The parallels between Munch and Dot increase with every episode. Since Dot serves as a stand-in for Jean, it's as though the perpetrator has come to identify with his victim, and is trying in some way to give her justice. I should also point out that Peter Stormare, who plays Gaear, also played a nihilist in "The Big Lebowski," and Munch literally says, "I'm a nihilist."

[mariana-oconnor]

Black Peter pt 2

I still maintain that Captain Carey shot himself with a harpoon. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Alighting at the small wayside station, we drove for some miles through the remains of widespread woods, which were once part of that great forest which for so long held the Saxon invaders at bay—the impenetrable “weald,” for sixty years the bulwark of Britain.

A mini history lesson from Watson for us. Was not expecting that. Thank you. This is very informative. And also an interesting little critical aside about industrialisation and deforestation in the Victorian era.

Stanley Hopkins [...] introduced us to a haggard, grey-haired woman, the widow of the murdered man, whose gaunt and deep-lined face, with the furtive look of terror in the depths of her red-rimmed eyes, told of the years of hardship and ill-usage which she had endured. With her was her daughter, a pale, fair-haired girl, whose eyes blazed defiantly at us as she told us that she was glad that her father was dead, and that she blessed the hand which had struck him down.

Firstly, good for her. Secondly, do these ladies not get names? No names available for them? They have to be immortalised only in their relationship to an abusive dead man. Although I supposed the daughter is described as 'her' daughter rather than Carey's.

Clearly they aren't viable suspects if they don't have names. Pity. They deserved to do it.

Stanley Hopkins drew the key from his pocket, and had stooped to the lock, when he paused with a look of attention and surprise upon his face. “Someone has been tampering with it,” he said.

Someone wanted their book back, perhaps? But apparently someone not very good at picking locks. Sucks to be them.

"Let us walk in these beautiful woods, Watson, and give a few hours to the birds and the flowers."

He does love his walks through the countryside.

It was past eleven o'clock when we formed our little ambuscade.

Excellent word. This is the second time it has arisen. Means 'ambush' and last time we saw it, I believe, was when the poor cook in Wisteria Lodge was arrested for a crime he did not commit, that the police officer in charge of arresting him knew he did not commit. That's an unfortunate connotation for a good word.

What savage creature was it which might steal upon us out of the darkness? Was it a fierce tiger of crime, which could only be taken fighting hard with flashing fang and claw, or would it prove to be some skulking jackal, dangerous only to the weak and unguarded?

Watson's really getting into this. We're back with the tigers again, but also Jackals. Rude, btw. Anubis might want a word. Jackals hunt bigger animals in groups. Honestly, I wouldn't want to meet a tiger or a jackal in the middle of the night.

'Tiger of Crime', though. What a phrase.

The nocturnal visitor was a young man, frail and thin, with a black moustache which intensified the deadly pallor of his face. He could not have been much above twenty years of age. I have never seen any human being who appeared to be in such a pitiable fright, for his teeth were visibly chattering and he was shaking in every limb. He was dressed like a gentleman, in Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with a cloth cap upon his head.

This was all very atmospheric until we got to the word knickerbockers, which just isn't a word I can ever take seriously. Honestly the problem with knickerbockers is that when you actually see a picture of them, they're really very boring looking. They shouldn't be. It's such a comedic word.

He returned with a large book, one of the log-books which formed a line upon the shelves. Leaning on the table he rapidly turned over the leaves of this volume until he came to the entry which he sought. Then, with an angry gesture of his clenched hand, he closed the book, replaced it in the corner, and put out the light.

OK, so not after the book they found, but just after some information from one of the books. Hmmmm.

“First of all, what is your name?” “It is John Hopley Neligan.”

Well now you've got a name, you're definitely a suspect. Luckily for you it has the same initials as in the book they found, which officially makes you Too Obvious.

“Can I speak confidentially?” “No, certainly not.”

At least they are being honest with him.

"It has always been said that my father stole all the securities and fled. It is not true. It was his belief that if he were given time in which to realize them all would be well and every creditor paid in full. He started in his little yacht for Norway just before the warrant was issued for his arrest."

...

Bye! I'm off to Norway, but I'm totes innocent and not stealing any money. See you!

"He left us a list of the securities he was taking, and he swore that he would come back with his honour cleared, and that none who had trusted him would suffer. Well, no word was ever heard from him again. Both the yacht and he vanished utterly."

... John... I hate to break this to you, but I don't think he was going to Norway to work things out.

Like, maybe in the story he was, but this is just such a fake death. "Daddy's gone to Norway to make everything better, little Johnny!" Mmhmm. The only way this could amuse me more is if he were in a canoe.

"We had a faithful friend, however, who is a business man, and it was he who discovered some time ago that some of the securities which my father had with him have reappeared on the London market."

You astonish me.

The entire framing of this story makes me feel like in the story Neligan Sr. is as innocent as his son believes and was done dastardly by Captain Carey in some way, but this story is so unbelievable. Gonna just nope out of there and sail to fucking Norway and that will totally solve all our problems? The logic. The reason. The chivalry of leaving your wife and child behind to deal with the disgrace and your disappearance alone. Daddy was a dickhead, Johnny boy.

"It struck me that if I could see what occurred in the month of August, 1883, on board the Sea Unicorn, I might settle the mystery of my father's fate."

Yes, I am going to put a narwhal gif whenever the ship name comes up. If ACD didn't want this to happen, he should have named the ship something else.

“You have nothing else to tell us?” He hesitated. “No; there is nothing.”

“Then how do you account for that?” cried Hopkins, as he held up the damning note-book, with the initials of our prisoner on the first leaf and the blood-stain on the cover.

Hopkins is really channelling Holmes here with his dramatic reveal.

And it seems like Neligan Jr here really should have been coming back to get his own book. He just didn't realise he'd dropped it. Which is weird. If I had been at a murder site earlier and then found out I had lost something, my mind would immediately spiral into 'oh shit, you dropped it at the murder site, you utter numpty', but apparently John Neligan does not doom spiral like I do. Apparently this possibility hasn't even occurred to him. Not a thought between those ears, huh?

“That is enough,” said Hopkins, sternly. “Whatever else you have to say you must say in court."

Or... you might say... You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say can be given in evidence.

Or... something like that. Eventually. When the official Police Caution comes in.

"As it turns out your presence was unnecessary, and I would have brought the case to this successful issue without you..."

Ah. Hopkins. You were doing so well up to this point. But now you've gone and cursed yourself. Sorry. I don't make the rules.

And then they all went to tea at the Brambletye Hotel and had lashings of tea.

But no... there is still another part. Obviously, because we all know Captain Carey was killed in a (not so) tragic Harpoon cleaning accident, so Mr Neligan has to be freed.

[strawberry-creep]

Okay idea, TMNT2012 x Sweet tooth

Mikey (10) as Gus

Casey (18) as Jep

Karai (20) as Bear

Shini (20) as Tiger

Donnie (18) as Aditya Singh

April (20) as Rani Singh

(theyre more like found family not romantic partners tho)

Shredder/ Oroku Saki (old as dirt) as Douglas Abott

Leo (16) as Wendy

Raph (13) as Tommy (could change)

Jennika (adult idk what age // yeah i know shes not a part of 2012 but shjh) as Aimee Eden

Splinter (deceased lmfao) as Pubba (Richard Fox)

Tan Shen as Birdie

and thats as far as ive gotten

Few things i have changed, Both Hamato Yoshi and Tan Shen were scientists who worked together and eventually fell in love and started a family their oldest Miwa, second oldest Donatello, Middle child Leonardo, second youngest Raphael and youngest Michelangelo. Yoshi had always known Martial Arts and taught his children when they were old enough to learn. Yoshi and Shen being home mutagen that is highly dangerous bc they dont know shit abt it yet. Donnie having a love for science and wanting to impress his mom takes it upon himself to go and investigate it which prompts his siblings to want to check it out too. Raph having an obsession with turtles brings his pet to come watch and Mikey crawls in (hes around 1-2 ish at the time). The mutagen spills mutating all the brothers but in different ways: Donnie only gets a turtle shell with all his other features being relatively human like, Raph gets mutated into a half turtle half human hybrid (like regular 2012 raph), Leo has turtle like limbs with the rest of his torso and head being human like, and mikey gets mutated into a half human half turtle hybrid like raph since he was exposed to it super young. Miwa finds them and calls for her parents who at first freak out and then try to find the cause of the mutation to turn their children back. (I havent fleshed out what the virus would be but lets just say the kraang had something to do with it) Then the government starts freaking out about the virus which causes chaos and once they find the mutated brothers they arrest tan shen and Don, Raph, and Leo leaving Miwa alone because shes human. Yoshi is in his lab monitoring Mikey because hes still a baby and just got mutated. Once he catches wind of the arrests he flees into the woods with mikey thinking that Miwa is safe. She wasnt and she and donnie were separated from their mother, raph and leo (who escaped). Oroku Saki being the person people go to for answers sees the potential in Donnies smarts and Miwas skills and decides to keep Donnie alive because of it having his partial mutation be a manipulation point for him and giving him to a wealthy and smart family where he can continue to advance in his studies (the o’neils) while oroku trains Miwa. After a few years of training under oroku miwa and her girlfriend Harmony escape and decided to form their own pack of children who lost their parents the foot clan and train them in martial arts they were taught. Both change their names Miwa becomes Karai and Harmony becomes Shinigami

During the shake down Casey Jones’ younger sister was born her being a hybrid (plot hole i will patch up later) which causes him to freak out

Back with Mikey and Yoshi, Yoshi changes his name to splinter as to not associate himself with his scientific discovery gone wrong and trains mikey for 10 years of his life also telling him stories of how life was and his family before all this happened until Casey finds Mikey and Splinter (dead), Mikey who has grown up with the sense that there was more to the world than what splinter told him wants to go and see for himself and find his family. Casey having a soft spot for hybrids agrees and together they travel

thats as much as im going to write bc its two am and i have school in four hours

[westdallasgang]

Bonnie Parker: "Poetry From Life's Other Side"

On April 19, 1932 in Kaufman, TX, Bonnie was arrested for the first and only time after a failed hardware store robbery. The gang (Clyde, Bonnie, and Ralph Fults) were hiding out on the banks of a creek where they found themselves surrounded by a team of Kaufman police officers. A shootout immediately ensued, wounding Ralph in the arm and then surrendering himself during gun battle once caught trying to crawl away into the woods. Clyde wasn't taking any chances and managed to escape on foot, leaving the frightened Bonnie behind. Ralph and Bonnie were detained in a small, one room, dirt floor jail, "The Kemp Calaboose", which still stands today as a roadside attraction in Kemp, TX.

The pair arrived with their clothes covered in mud and Bonnie was reportedly smoking cigarette after cigarette while being questioned. Neither gave out their real names and used aliases. Bonnie's was "Betty Thornton". In the end, Bonnie spent 2 months at the Kaufman County jail after the jury failed to indict her. Therefore, no mugshot of Bonnie exists.

With little to do other than pine for Clyde and chat with her jailer, it's no surprise Bonnie's fertile imagination turned to poetry. Inside her black leatherette first national bank book, or rather what she officially titled as "Poetry From Life's Other Side", are a total of ten handwritten poems. Out of the ten poems, five appear to be original compositions, largely drawn from her adventurous life on the road with The Barrow Gang, taking on gangster girl alter egos, her devotion to Clyde, and marriage to husband Roy Thornton.

The ten poems in the order she chose to write them are:"The Story Of Suicide Sal" (original), "The Prostitute's Convention" (original), "The Fate Of Tiger Rose" (original), "I'll Stay" (original), "From Shadow Sun" (copied), "Bravery" (original), "The Hobo's Last Ride" (copied), "The Girl With The Blue Velvet Band" (copied), "When!!" (copied), and "People Will Talk" (copied).

Bonnie's other famous poems were written while on the run over the years.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 8.21 (after 1900)

1901 – Six hundred American school teachers, Thomasites, arrived in Manila on the USAT Thomas. 1911 – The Mona Lisa is stolen by Vincenzo Peruggia, a Louvre employee. 1914 – World War I: The Battle of Charleroi, a successful German attack across the River Sambre that pre-empted a French offensive in the same area. 1918 – World War I: The Second Battle of the Somme begins. 1942 – World War II: The Guadalcanal Campaign: American forces defeat an attack by Imperial Japanese Army soldiers in the Battle of the Tenaru. 1944 – Dumbarton Oaks Conference, prelude to the United Nations, begins. 1944 – World War II: Canadian and Polish units capture the strategically important town of Falaise, Calvados, France. 1945 – Physicist Harry Daghlian is fatally irradiated in a criticality accident during an experiment with the Demon core at Los Alamos National Laboratory. 1957 – The Soviet Union successfully conducts a long-range test flight of the R-7 Semyorka, the first intercontinental ballistic missile. 1959 – United States President Dwight D. Eisenhower signs an executive order proclaiming Hawaii the 50th state of the union. Hawaii's admission is currently commemorated by Hawaii Admission Day. 1963 – Xá Lợi Pagoda raids: The Army of the Republic of Vietnam Special Forces loyal to Ngô Đình Nhu, brother of President Ngo Dinh Diem, vandalizes Buddhist pagodas across the country, arresting thousands and leaving an estimated hundreds dead. 1965 – The Socialist Republic of Romania is proclaimed, following the adoption of a new constitution. 1968 – Cold War: Nicolae Ceaușescu, leader of the Socialist Republic of Romania, publicly condemns the Soviet-led Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia, encouraging the Romanian population to arm itself against possible Soviet reprisals. 1968 – James Anderson Jr. posthumously receives the first Medal of Honor to be awarded to an African American U.S. Marine. 1971 – A bomb exploded in the Liberal Party campaign rally in Plaza Miranda, Manila, Philippines with several anti-Marcos political candidates injured. 1982 – Lebanese Civil War: The first troops of a multinational force lands in Beirut to oversee the Palestine Liberation Organization's withdrawal from Lebanon. 1983 – Philippine opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr. is assassinated at Manila International Airport (now renamed Ninoy Aquino International Airport in his honor). 1986 – Carbon dioxide gas erupts from volcanic Lake Nyos in Cameroon, killing up to 1,800 people within a 20-kilometre (12 mi) range. 1988 – The 6.9 Mw  Nepal earthquake shakes the Nepal–India border with a maximum Mercalli intensity of VIII (Severe), leaving 709–1,450 people killed and thousands injured. 1991 – Latvia declares renewal of its full independence after its occupation by the Soviet Union since 1940. 1991 – Coup attempt against Mikhail Gorbachev collapses. 1993 – NASA loses contact with the Mars Observer spacecraft. 1994 – Royal Air Maroc Flight 630 crashes in Douar Izounine, Morocco, killing all 44 people on board. 1995 – Atlantic Southeast Airlines Flight 529, an Embraer EMB 120 Brasilia, attempts to divert to West Georgia Regional Airport after the left engine fails, but the aircraft crashes in Carroll County near Carrollton, Georgia, killing nine of the 29 people on board. 2000 – American golfer Tiger Woods wins the 82nd PGA Championship and becomes the first golfer since Ben Hogan in 1953 to win three majors in a calendar year. 2013 – Hundreds of people are reported killed by chemical attacks in the Ghouta region of Syria. 2017 – A solar eclipse traverses the continental United States.

[cleocatrablossy]

17 for the get the know the wc artist ask game please!

Oh, you know.. I just have a couple…

She Got Arrested by the Interrupters- (Evil?)Squirrelstar AU

Buddy Holly by Weezer- Hollyleaf

Have Eachother by Alec Benjamin- the first 3 generations of the fire family

Turntable(Interrupters), Let the bad times roll(Offspring), Worlds Smallest violin(AJR), haven’t seen the last of me- Squirrelflight

The moon will sing by the crane wives- Cinders

People who died covered by Against Me!- Crookedstar

F*CKMYLIFE666 by Against Me!- Ebonyclaw(okay this whole one is pretty much projection headcanoning but shhh)

Don’t let me down by the Chainsmokers- (AU)Bluestar

Youth by Daughter- (AU) Leopardstar

Renegades by X Ambassadors- (AU) Squirrelflight

Stamp on the ground by ItaloBrothers- (AU) Hollyleaf

There isn’t any god by Rusty Cage- (AU) Jayfeather

Closer by Paulina Andreeva- (AU)Frecklewish

Basket Case by Green Day- (AU) Ivypool

Snail by Cabetown- (AU)Mothwing

Pigeon by Cavetown-(AU)Firestar

Dance and Cry by Mother Mother- Frecklewish

You’re the best by Joe Esposito- The original arc 1 apprentices

Knife Fights by Lemon Demon- Scourge

Metro by Berlin- Squirrelflight

Animal Cannibal by Karen Skladany- Ivypool and Hawkfrost

Lost Woods from Okarina of Time- Squirrelkit and Leafkit

Eye of the tiger by Survivor- Tawnypelt(rip the song name)

Molotov by Stand Atlantic- Needletail

Tangerine by Glass Animals- Mothwing and Leafpool. This one is planned to be so very gay it’s unbelievable

Warriors’ Code by the Dropkick Murphys- Code of the Clans

Pork Soda by Glass Animals- Squirrelflight and Bramblestar

[z-raven]

Timesplitters 3 characters and descriptions time

Jo-Beth Casey

F'Sure

Amy Chen

Amy is actually really sweet... it's just that everyone seems to have got on her bad side...

Angel Forge

You can ask all you want - but, despite appearances, she's not actually a real welder...

Anya

So you think physics is boring? You’ve never been to one of Anya’s night classes.

Booty Guard

That wry old devil Khallos has an elite corps of extremely personal bodyguards who attend to his special needs and maniacal whims. Only women can apply--how's that for positive discrimination and enlightened recruitment policies.

Candi Skyler

She's still got a cute butt and she's just been promoted to fleet command. Surely there's no connection?

Changeling

Looks like Maiden forgot to put her makeup on this morning...

Chastity Detroit

The chic cyberpunk crimebuster returns.

Chinese Chef

The undisputed master of dim sum and char sui returns!

Corporal Hart

Cortez's old sidekick. Who knows, if she hadn't caught one in the kisser back in TimeSplitters 2 she might still be around, Oh, I see, you've completed the story game so the TimeSplitters never existed and she didn't die. Well, how come there's a selectable TimeSplitter character then?

Doctor Amy

The only way you'll get Amy out of her regulation leggings is to wave a designer outfit in front of her.

Elite Henchwoman

Black rubber mini-dresses--Khallos is a genius.

Henchwoman

The henchwomen asked Khallos for some concessions to Woman’s Lib in the workplace like maybe a Sisterhood of Ultra Science. So he burnt their brassieres and got them some mini-dresses--he's very progressive.

Inceptress

Cloned from genetic samples taken from catwalk models, the Inceptress are trained to kill and looked damn good while they’re about it. They are naturally bald and Crow likes nothing better than to caress their smooth domes.

Jo-Barf Creepy

Gag me with a spoon.

Jungle Queen

The Jungle Queen has taken to her new life in the Scottish Highlands like a true native. She has been amazing Captain Ash with her amazing talents for fly fishing and tossing the caber and he’s never had his bagpipes played quite like that before. Och-aye the noo!

Kitten Celeste

Sometimes things get a little too hot under the collar for Harry and he needs some manual assistance from his slinky sidekick, Miss Celeste. Go get 'em tiger! Grrrrrrr!

Kyrpiss

The experts are still out on this one.

Lieutenant Black

At the interview, Miss Black said she would happily give her right arm to work in UltraNet - Crow took her up on the offer and then went one better.

Lieutenant Christine Malone

Lt. Malone's impeccable arrest record is enough to make her chest swell with pride.

Maiden

Two years have gone by and she's still innocent and pure--I've no idea how she manages it.

Mischief

If she asks you round to the back of the coconut shy to pull some salt water taffy-just say no.

Neophyte Constance

Constance spends most of her expense budget on hairspray.

Nurse Gulag

Always a popular choice for flu jabs and yearly medicals amongst the Brotherhood of Ultra Science. Nurse Gulag is well respected for her strict, if somewhat unconventional examination techniques.

Sister Faith

It took six months before Sister Faith could convince the other U-Genix scientists that girls liked pulling the legs off spiders too. Six months, and a whole lot of spiders.

Venus Starr

Venus always keeps her shooters loaded and ready for action.

Viola

"CENSORED"

Warrant Officer Keely

Warrant Officer Keely is in charge of the safe where the keys to the castle cellars are kept-she's a very popular lady.

Edwina

She's more dangerous than she looks.

Arial DaVinci

Balsa wood, PVA adhesive, twine and too much spare time.

[beasopanels]

Top 5 Applications for Tiger Stripe Bamboo Flooring in Architecture and Design

Tiger bamboo flooring has been more and more popular in recent years, drawing in both homeowners and designers with its eco-friendly and fashionable combination. Tiger stripe bamboo is one of the most visually appealing varieties of bamboo flooring. Known for its striking, contrasting stripes that mimic the coat of a tiger, this flooring option gives any area a vibrant, exotic feel. 

Tiger stripe bamboo offers countless opportunities to enhance any area, whether you're picturing a sleek restaurant, sophisticated office, or comfortable home interior. Discovering the most inventive and motivational uses of tiger stripe bamboo flooring in architecture and design, we're delving deep into this subject in this blog. Let's see the use of architectural wood beams in different settings, combining style with utility and creating a striking impression in both home and business settings. 

Applications for Using Tiger Bamboo Flooring in Commercial & Residential Interiors

Living Rooms

Modern: Combine tiger stripe bamboo with simple furniture and a muted color scheme for a sleek, contemporary aesthetic. In contrast to minimalist design and clean lines, the striking stripes of bamboo can make a statement item that adds intrigue without taking over the room.

Rustic: Tiger bamboo flooring well with wood and stone when used in a rustic environment. Its earthy hues go well with rustic furnishings to create a warm, welcoming ambiance. To accentuate the natural beauty of the bamboo, add warm lighting and vintage rugs to the space.

Modern: Tiger stripe bamboo's striking pattern complements contemporary design when it's contrasted with streamlined, contemporary furniture. For a chic, contemporary look, combine it with geometric patterns and high-contrast accents.

Kitchens

Durability: With a reputation for toughness and durability, tiger stripe bamboo flooring is a good material for kitchens where spills and high foot traffic are frequent occurrences. Its inherent antimicrobial qualities also make the cooking environment healthier.

Design Tip: To achieve a unified effect in the kitchen, match the worktops and cabinets to the tiger stripe bamboo to bring out its distinct pattern. Darker countertops can provide contrast and refinement, while light-colored or neutral cabinets can counterbalance the boldness of the bamboo. 

Offices

Sustainability: Bamboo is a renewable resource, making it an eco-friendly choice for businesses committed to green practices. Teak wood bamboo beam offers both aesthetic appeal and practical benefits in office environments. Its sustainability and durability make it a smart choice for businesses looking to create a professional yet inviting workspace.

Design Tips: Tiger stripe bamboo flooring can be used in office layouts to visually connect desks and form distinct zones. Choose architectural wood beams that draw attention to the distinctive pattern of the bamboo without taking over the entire area. Add contemporary furnishings and subdued, coordinating hues to keep the space looking polished while boosting worker comfort and output.

Feature Walls and Panels

Creative Applications: Tiger bamboo flooring isn't just for floors; it can also create a big impression as accent panels or wall cladding. Tiger stripe bamboo panels may turn an ordinary wall into a visually arresting feature. Whether they are used in a living area, office, or retail space, these panels may give any space some texture and visual flair. The distinct pattern of bamboo produces a lively background that improves the entire design.

Design Tip: When incorporating bamboo into feature walls, think about framing particular areas, such artwork or fireplaces, or using it as a focal point. Its inherent patterns can be highlighted and the design given more depth by combining it with lighting that complements it. 

Custom Furniture

Creating Custom Furniture: Use teak wood bamboo beam when creating custom cabinets, storage units, or tables. Tiger stripe bamboo has unique stripes that can be utilized to make eye-catching furniture that will stand out in any room. 

Case Studies: A custom dining table with a tiger-striped bamboo top and a sleek, contemporary base could be an example of excellent custom furniture design. Another example would be custom cabinetry in a bathroom or kitchen, where the natural pattern of the bamboo provides a sophisticated touch. 

Transform your space and make a statement that lasts!

Tiger bamboo flooring offers a compelling combination of beauty, durability, and sustainability. Its distinctive appearance and eco-friendly properties make it a standout choice for a variety of applications, from residential interiors and commercial spaces to unique design features and custom furniture. As you consider your next architectural or design project, let the versatility and aesthetic value of tiger stripe bamboo inspire you to create spaces that are not only visually stunning but also environmentally conscious.

Explore our collection of tiger stripe bamboo flooring and discover the perfect match for your project. Whether you’re renovating your home, designing a commercial space, or crafting custom furniture, our selection has something to elevate your vision.

Get started today by visiting our website or contacting our design experts for personalised advice. 

[suresportstakers]

Just in: Justin Timberlake Is Opening a super luxurious Sports Bar with Tiger Woods

Screenshot The pop star and golfer will transform an old movie theater into a venue called T-Squared Social Just weeks after Justin Timberlake was arrested for drunk driving, the pop star has been granted permission to begin the planning stages for opening a “luxury” sports bar in Scotland. As reported by the BBC, Timberlake and golfing legend Tiger Woods (who had a DUI arrest of his own in…

[novumtimes]

Justin Timberlake and Tiger Woods to open sports bar in Scotland

Reviews and recommendations are unbiased and products are independently selected. Postmedia may earn an affiliate commission from purchases made through links on this page. Article content Justin Timberlake is to open a sports bar in Scotland. Article content The 43-year-old pop superstar, who was arrested on suspicion of driving while intoxicated in New York last month, is moving ahead with…

[labelleperfumery]

Justin Timberlake and Tiger Woods Plan To Open New Bar in Scotland

Justin Timberlake isn’t letting his drunk driving arrest get in the way of his business aspirations … He’s reportedly opening a new saloon in Scotland with Tiger Woods! According to Billboard … Justin and Tiger – who’s also had a past DUI… from TMZ.com https://www.tmz.com/2024/07/05/justin-timberlake-tiger-woods-open-new-bar-scotland-dui/