#bunch of wannabe italians if you ask me

[mishervellous]

Which country is, in your opinion, the Ohio of Europe?

san marino

[sturchling]

A salt fic where Chloe tears Lila a new one how she has to lie because the real her is so pathetic that she has to lie because she isn't amazing as she thinks Lila has some bad memories and breaks down in tears

Here you go! Hope you like it! Let me know what you think.

Lila Rossi had made three mistakes. First, she took the spotlight off of Chloe. Everyone who knows Chloe, knows she doesn’t like sharing the spotlight. Second, she started making Dupain-Cheng miserable. The only one who can torment Dupain-Cheng is Chloe. Finally, Lila had humiliated Chloe with that fake Ladybug summoning dance and lied to her face. Chloe was furious with this girl. And as the old saying goes, three strikes and you’re out! Chloe was done humoring the liar. She was determined to destroy Lila.

 ------------

Chloe began her plan. The first rule of war is know your enemy. Chloe was so determined to end the liar, that she actually did her own research. She had tried to enlist Dupain-Cheng, but apparently, she had agreed to Adrien’s request to stick to the high road. Dupain-Cheng and Adrien now knew that wasn’t a good idea, but the class was already completely enamored with the liar. Any time they tried to tell the class about her, the class either ignored them or called them the liars. Chloe knew the only way to get this to end and to put herself back in the spotlight, was to make Lila confess. To do that, Chloe would have to play dirty.

  ------------

Her plan started slow. First, she gathered evidence that refuted all of Lila’s lies. Chloe figured it was better to have that on hand, in case the class still tried to defend the liar or Chloe wasn’t able to get the liar to admit it. Chloe interviewed all the celebrities Lila had claimed to know, and she wasn’t surprised when they were all confused when she asked about Lila. Now that Chloe had confirmation that Lila had been lying, she moved on to the next stage of her plan. Chloe had realized that if Lila was lying about these celebrity contacts, she might have lied about a bunch of other things. It was time for Chloe to go digging into Lila Rossi’s past. It was easy to find out where Lila used to live and where she went to school. It was time for Chloe to make some calls.

  ------------

It had been a few days since then. Chloe had found out a lot about the Italian. Hardly anything, she had told the class was true. Not that Chloe was surprised. Pretty much the only thing that was true was her name. Chloe could not wait to destroy the girl at school the next day. She was practically buzzing with excitement. Chloe double checked that she had everything she might need tomorrow. She had all of the evidence in case that ridiculous wannabe reporter asks for sources. Chloe had also made arrangements for Mrs. Bustier to be out of the class room for about 20 minutes, so Chloe would have the chance to strike uninterrupted. Knowing that she had everything ready, the blonde went to sleep, eagerly anticipating the blood bath that would happen in the morning

  ------------

The next morning, Chloe arrived at school early. The students at Francoise Dupont felt a chill in the air as she passed by. When Chloe smiled like that, nothing good happened. The rest of the student body felt sorry for whoever poor fool was that had crossed the mayor’s daughter. Chloe marched into the classroom, excited to end this liar’s whole career today. The class looked at her like an omen of death. Much like the rest of the school, they knew that when Chloe smiled like this, there was going to be destruction. Everyone had gone quiet, just staring warily at Chloe. All except Lila, who did not seem to notice the tension in the room. She just kept blabbering about some new celebrity story. Chloe was tempted to just end the liar right then and there. But Chloe wasn’t going to rush into this. Some of the class wasn’t there yet. She had to wait until the rest of the class arrived.  Besides, Mrs. Bustier was still in the room. She knew that Mrs. Bustier had a pretty hands-off approach to bullying, but she didn’t want to take the risk that today would be the day that Mrs. Bustier finally grows a backbone. So, Chloe sat at her seat and waited for her chance to strike.

  ------------

The day seemed to drag along. All of the class was here by now, but the distraction she had set up for Mrs. Bustier hadn’t started yet. Chloe looked at the clock, and saw that it should start any minute now. Right as she thought that, Mrs. Bustier was called to the office. The class was left for silent reading, but as soon as Mrs. Bustier was out of sight, the class started chatting. Chloe heard Lila telling another story. This time it was about how she helped the president of Italy pass a law to improve the environment. Chloe took this opportunity to strike. “Lila you are a ridiculous liar. Utterly ridiculous!” The whole class froze, as they realized who that smile this morning had been directed at. Alya got angry and yelled, “What do you mean?! Lila isn’t a liar! How could you say that?!” But Chloe knew not to get distracted by this. She simply threw the file of evidence at Alya that proved Lila had been lying about all the celebrities and continued going after Lila. “You know what that is? That is proof you are nothing but a liar. And not even a good one. You are pretty pathetic. You had to lie about the celebrities, your family, and even yourself, just to get some friends. You are pretty useless.”

  ------------

The class was shocked. Chloe hadn’t been this vicious in a while. Alix spoke up from the back, “What are you talking about Chloe?! She wouldn’t lie about all that!” Chloe just kept staring at Lila, “Wouldn’t she? You can ask Alya, she is staring at all the proof. Come on Lila, tell everyone how you lied just to sound important. Your mom may work at the embassy, but she isn’t a diplomat, she is just the assistant to one. And you weren’t so popular back home, were you? According to your old school, you had a lot of problems with bullying. Nobody would even talk to you. Were you such a loser that you had to leave the country and lie about everything just to find a friend? I have never met anyone more pathetic than you!” The class was about to jump to Lila’s defense when they heard crying from behind them.

  ------------

Everything Chloe had said about Lila was true, and when Chloe brought it up, it also brought up some bad memories. Lila’s time in Italy was not a happy time. Most of her school either ignored her or outright bullied her. They were so cruel. They would trip her, push her down the stairs, shove her into the wall, and did many more horrible things to her. All of the memories flooding her mind were too much to take and Lila burst into tears. For the first time in a long time, the tears were genuine. The class looked shocked and were about to rush up to console her, but before they could move Lila started speaking, “Its true. Its all true. Nobody liked me at my old school. I was determined that this place would be different. So, I reinvented myself into this girl who had done all these incredible things. I just wanted someone to like me, anybody. I just wanted to have some friends for once!”

  ------------

The class was stunned. Lila had really been lying? Her life in Italy had been that bad. Chloe continued talking while the class stood there in stunned silence. “If you wanted friends, you could have just showed up. This class of goodie-goodies would have been your friend no matter how much of a loser you are.” Marinette had been sitting in the back of the class and watching all of this unfold. Certainly, she was happy that Lila couldn’t trick her friends anymore, but she felt bad for the girl. Marinette had had no idea that Lila’s life had been so unhappy before coming here.

  ------------

Lila did end up leaving class for the day, since she was so upset by what had happened. Her mother was contacted regarding the whole issue, which is how her mother found out about all the lying. Mrs. Rossi was mad at her daughter for lying about the school being shut down, but she did understand why her daughter felt the need to lie about her life to her classmates. Mrs. Rossi ended up getting Lila some counseling to deal with the self esteem issue that had caused all of this mess. Mrs. Rossi also escorted Lila to school the next day and had her apologize to the class for lying to them. Lila may have lied out of fear, and Mrs. Rossi could understand that, but it still wasn’t right and her daughter needed to apologize. The class was still mad at her, but they could understand where she was coming from. They forgave her, but they knew now to be careful about trusting her.

  ------------

Time went by and things returned to normal in Mrs. Bustier’s class. The counseling that Lila was getting was really helping her with everything, and she didn’t feel the need to lie about herself anymore. Lila was even making friends with the rest of the class again. This time without lying. Lila had even started making amends to Marinette. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Bustier’s class put aside the lying incident and everyone became friends again. Chloe was just happy that her plan had worked. Chloe was back in the spotlight and was the queen bee of the class again.

[sophiamcdougall]

EXPLAINING SANREMO

(PART TWO) I am back. I have barely eaten or slept and Tumblr has tried to murder me and this post multiple times, but I have survived. Thank you for your patience.

Part One of my attempt to explain the seismic experience that is 2020 Sanremo Festival of Italian Song is here. 

Ready? I assure you, you are not, but let’s proceed. So Sanremo rages pitilessly on.  Now everyone knows what’s at stake, and everyone, including your humble recapper, is exhausted, but doing the gay/chaotic best they can.

As the final battle to save Amadeus, Rancore, Italy and THE WORLD approaches, Achille Lauro has a last message for the troops. And I’m not deducing this, he literally said it on Twitter. 

...Hold me I’m scared.

Meanwhile (sort of) (go with it) (time isn’t real at Sanremo)  a minor drama  has occurred offstage. Singer Tiziano Ferro made an ill-advised joke about Fiorello’s interminable comedy bits, some idiots on Twitter ran away with it, and poor Fiorello was upset! This is minuscule in Sanremo terms. But consider the flapping of a butterfly’s wings. Consider hurricanes. But who is Tiziano Ferro?

Hold on. We’ll get to it. For now ...

Fiorello is dancing seductively for an absolutely delighted Amadeus while dressed as a rabbit. And wearing a blonde wig. Is there a rational explanation for this? I mean, sort of. But also no.

And then he worries Amadeus might give him herpes, which causes Amadeus to freaking snap.

“No, no!” yells the mercurial Fiorello. Amadeus isn’t worthy of his kisses yet. He ricochets out of Amadeus’s arms and into the audience and “passes on” the kiss to a guy in the front row. 

“Incredible things are going to happen tonight!” yells Amadeus, who has no fucking idea. ”Beautiful things,” corrects Fiorello. 

But just because Fiorello is a mayhem elemental on a mission of love doesn’t mean he hasn’t got feelings. 

Enter Italy’s sweetheart, Tiziano Ferro.

Actually, Tiziano’s been there all along. He’s the specialest of special guests, singing through basically his entire back catalogue every night. Which why it really was unfair of him to pick on Fiorello --   it’s not his fault he’s literally got to stand there and babble nonsense for aeons on end, Tiziano! He’s just serving the hungry chthonic entity that is Sanremo, same as you.  

While the gay mayhem (the gayhem, if you will) surges around him, Tiziano  has been fighting the good gay fight in his own steadfast way, so far untouched. His mere presence is a message of hope in itself, he knows this, and is determined to make it count. Ten years ago he was closeted, convinced coming out would end his career, and suicidal. Now happily married and gloriously successful, he is here to demonstrate that “it gets better”. He radiates such wholesome joy and resilience that everyone loves him.

So anyway, Tiziano didn’t mean to hurt anybody because he would never, and now he wants to make things right. So will Fiorello forgive him?

Ah, what better gesture of reconciliation than to goofily sing a  love song written by Fiorello himself. Of course Fiorello forgives Tiziano, because Fiorello loves everyone, good and bad, (after all he loves Amadeus the most). But he is also a chaos being, and he is working harder than anyone else to channel the divine madness of this deranged Sanremo Festival into anyone who gets close. Tiziano, watch out!

Seems TIziano naively thought he could lean in for a staged, nearly kiss, but  Fiorello’s very soul is antithetical to “nearly” anything.

“My husband’s going to divorce me!”  wails poor Tiziano, but Fiorello has never felt so alive. This is Sanremo, bitches. Rules like “sixty-year-old men can’t be danger twinks, Fiorello,” have ceased to apply. He is an apostle of Achille Lauro, he has accepted the sermon of Benigni into his heart: it is time for PHYSICAL LOVE. While not quite ready (yet) to fuck everyone in the orchestra pit, he is throbbing with readiness, to frolic all over the theatre giving all the guys he can get his hands on THE KISSES OF HIS MOUTH.

Naturally this sparks further firestorms of chaos. “Do it again!” begs grizzled rocker and high-ranking competitor Piero Pelù. Electrified by the touch of Fiorello’s lips, he is later to be found running shirtless through the auditorium where he steals a handbag.

Everyone is kissing everyone, age and orientation be damned. Summoned by the gay sorcery unfolding, 65-year-old queer rock goddess Gianna Nanini manifests and is kissed worshipfully on the lips by 36-year-old duet partner Coez.

There’s also some kind of song competition going on I guess. 

This happens:

That’s Ghali, GUYS, IT’S NOT WORKING, rappers ARE DROPPING LIKE FLIES ALL OVER THIS STAGE, WE’VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING.

(...  it isn’t really Ghali and don’t worry. This is a gag? Which I still don’t really get? And nor does sweet anarchist cherub Fiorello whom we will later discover is currently being physically restrained from rushing onstage to tend to the fallen rapper’s wounds.)

The real Ghali raps in Arabic which among other things is a big old “me ne frego” of his own to Italian Trump-tribute act and failed wannabe prime minister Matteo Salvini. Then he gets close to Fiorello, which can only end one way.

All the boys are crazy for Fiorello’s kisses but Amadeus still can’t have any

It’s already a difficult night for Amadeus.  TV presenter Antonella Clerici enters and far from standing a step beside him, righteously rips the piss out of him, which to be fair he accepts with grace.

And as for Achille Lauro ... ...No.  Patience. The time to bear witness to the last stand of Achille Lauro is not yet come. There are other forces stirring at Sanremo.

Chaos has its dark side.

The gun on stage is cocked and loaded. This is it. ENTER MORGAN.

... and enter Bugo,  who trails in behind Morgan, looking dazed and haunted. But whatever, it’s a million o’clock in the morning, aren’t we all. 

They start to play.  Italian Tumblr dozes fitfully on its sofa, idly crackshipping Amadeus and Fiorello. Utterly unprepared.

So most of us don’t notice what’s happening ...

... until the music just stops.

No one’s paid attention to the Morgan and Bugo in days. As far as I’m concerned Fabrizio Moro has already been avenged and my bloodlust is slaked.  The song - apparently written wholly by Bugo - honestly, isn’t bad, but Morgan’s been tuneless throughout and their duet/cover last night was cringeable. There have been some major reversals in the rankings but at this point there’s almost no way they’re going to be one of them.  And Morgan is not happy.

So Morgan changed the lyrics (and this isn’t even last-minute improv, he fucking printed it) to attack the one person who still had faith in him, blaming Bugo and Bugo alone for their poor performance so far. On live TV. In front of millions. After screaming at Bugo backstage just minutes ago. And he expects Bugo to just stand there and take it.

"Me ne frego to that shit,” thinks Bugo, and becomes the unexpected self-care hero of Sanremo as he vanishes into the night.

And that’s how I learned the Italian word for pandemonium. 

Morgan has the absolute nerve to ask what’s going on. Amadeus breaks out in visible cold sweat. Fiorello is thrown bodily onstage to DO SOMETHING, ANYTHING, OH MY GOD.

It’s long past midnight and a bunch of worried middle-aged men in sparkly jackets are scampering around yelping “Bugo? Bugo! BUGO? BUGO!!!” and that, I am here to tell you, when you are already delirious from exhaustion and shitposting-induced hysteria, is more than enough to tip you right over the edge.

Italian Tumblr resigns itself to never sleeping again.The memes aren’t going to make themselves. 

Translation: ”Is Bugo there?” “What’s happening?” “Where’s Bugo gone?” “I have to go and see where Bugo is.” “Bugo left.” “BUGO!”

Morgan wants vengeance. Fiorello, adorably indifferent to the fact that he was shoved on stage to, you know, entertain the audience, wants to find the missing waif, wrap him in a blanket and feed him soup. So they both rush offstage and Amadeus is left alone in a living anxiety dream.

The audience are booing.  The 70th fucking Sanremo Festival of Italian Song is falling to pieces on his watch. For all he knows murder is going on backstage and he picked known powder-keg and scoundrel Morgan for the Festival. The buck stops with him. And he has no lines, no back-up, no idea what to do about it.

And then Fiorello, angel of misrule, avatar of lawlessness and love, strolls back onstage. He looks confident and relaxed, like a man with all the answers.  Which he is.

“Have you got Bugo?” Amadeus inquires desperately.

NO RULES, NO MASTERS, NO SPONSORSHIP MONEY. ME NE FREGO.

Everything is broken. And somehow everything is OK.

Everyone, Amadeus included, bursts into hysterical, cathartic laughter.

“Is this my fault?” Amadeus asks. “YES!” crows Fiorello, lovingly forcing Amadeus to face his sins and his nightmares in a healing atmosphere of radical acceptance and mass psychosis.

And that’s how Amadeus learned that the real Sanremo was inside us all along.  And what he needs in this glorious maelstrom was never a beautiful woman standing a step behind him. It’s a chaos pixie dream boy at his side.

It’s time to cast out toxic masculinity and become a better man.

So Amadeus wraps up the show as best he can and then out of pure human compassion, he and Fiorello personally wander the streets of Sanremo looking for Bugo until four in the morning.

Bugo and Morgan are automatically disqualified

And now let us witness the final passion of Achille Lauro. Who is this Achlle Lauro kid anyway? How intentional is all this? Is he the Messiah, or a very naughty boy?

SO YEAH. Anyway, everyone’s wondering what the fuck Achille and his producer/guitarist Boss Doms (yes, really) are going to do, and BE, next. Achille’s first three looks were inspired by St Francis of Assisi, David Bowie, and Marchesa Luisa Casati. 

So ... Freddie Mercury, maybe? Elizabeth I? Jesus Christ?  And after the flurry of kissing Fiorello whipped up .. 

Will they ... can they ... dare they...

Do you even need to ask?

I have no idea how the crazy bastards who guessed “Elizabeth I” did it. 

Achille thrusts his hips against Boss’s backside. Drops to his knees before him and lets the shape of the microphone speak for itself. Briefly chokes him. And throughout they are tender, elegant, and utterly, regally dignified.

And then, at last.

A  joyous chorus of maenad-like shrieks rings out across Europe. If you’re in the Greater London area and your ears are still sore, I’m sorry. That was me. 

That’s it. Achille Lauro and Boss Doms ascend into heaven and pass into history. 

Not even they can give more to Sanremo.

The dust settles. 

The dawn breaks.

WE FUCKING DID IT! RANCORE LIVES! WOUNDED (as are we all) BUT SMILING AT A WORLD TRANSFORMED! (Not only that but, after starting at the bottom of the leaderboard he’s been catapulted up into the top ten and wins the special prize for Best Lyrics!)

And Amadeus?

Well, let’s hear from him in his own words.

Because Fiorello asked him to, Amadeus is wearing a blonde wig to look like legendary TV host Maria de Filippi. Amadeus doesn’t normally sing, but because Fiorello asks him to, he joins him in song.“A WORLD OF LOVE! LOVE! LOVE!” they chorus. It’s the hymn of the new day. 

“He can make me do anything!” Amadeus sighs to the audience. So Fiorello asks him to slow-dance.  And they do.

The prophecy has been fulfilled. Amadeus has let love into his heart. He has surrendered to the holy power of gay chaos. He is a man reborn. 

He didn’t find Bugo on that long, gruelling dark night of the soul, because incredibly,  poor Bugo never left the theatre and spent the night literally hiding in a cupboard.

But he found something else. 

As Sanremo finally, mercifully approaches its end, Fiorello grapples him close and, all teasing cast aside, whispers fiercely in his ear:

And somehow it was.

And toxic masculinity?

To find out why don’t we - and I am sorry about this - check in on Matteo Salvini who would normally be rage-tweeting up a Trump-style storm by now. He loves bitching about Sanremo for being “rigged by the left”  or occasionally letting a non-lily-white performer win, and this year he even tried to organise a boycott. Let’s see how that’s going.

This, the gayest-ever Sanremo in history, is the most-watched Sanremo in 18 years, with an incredible 60% audience share.

“Me Ne Frego” flies to the top of the Spotify charts.  (And though the judges are still cowards and traitors who left Achille in 8th place, there is no doubt across the media who the real star of the festival was. ) And Salvini’s “boycott” just meant he effectively banned himself from making a peep about it.

So who won the festival?

ALL OF US.

Oh, you meant literally.

This guy. His name is Diodato and his song is called “Fai Rumore” (Make a Sound.) It’s fine.

And that was Sanremo. It wasn’t a dream, it was a place. And you, and you, and you were there.

[kaniacqueen]

Leverage International: The Diner Job Ch. 12 Invitation

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What are you up to?” Savannah asked as she stirred awake after a solid three hours. 

Eliot was sitting up next to her, swiping through his tablet. “I think I have the menu for the party, just about finalized. I just sent it to you and Parker and Hardison.” 

She reached over to the side table and groped around for something that apparently wasn’t there. “Wait, where--” She laid back down in realization. “Right, we’re in your suite.”

“Yeah, you know, we’ve been here weeks, almost months, and I can count how many times I’ve slept in my suite on one hand.” He nudged her.

Her eyebrows knitted in shame. “Sorry.”

He kissed her forehead. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “How do you put up with me?”

He handed her the tablet, choosing not to answer the hypothetical. “Here, take a look at this for me.”

“Hmmm,” she mused as she scrolled. “Looks good. Tasty. A little more complicated, a little show-off-y. Perfect for a party for a bunch of egotistical Italian mafioso-wannabes.”

Eliot laughed through his nose. “Your descriptors are getting excessive. You’re spending too much time with Sophie.”

She dropped the tablet on her chest and covered her face with her arms. “I’m trying to spend less time with Sophie. She’s making me nervous.”

“Is all this about Sophie?” He spoke without thinking. 

“Eliot, please don’t,” she whined. 

“Fine.” He changed the subject. “So I’m a show off?”

It worked and she started laughing. “In like the best possible way though!”

He leaned over her, playfully looming. “And what way is that?”

“The sexy way.” She shifted beneath him. 

“Yeah?” he asked through his teeth. Her submissive positioning made him tight in the crotch again. 

“The one where you know what you’re doing...and totally deserve to show off.” Her breathing quickened. His hands curled into fists alongside her hair. The tension pressed on them like a lead weight. 

“We should get ready to go to the diner.” 

“That is a fantastic idea.”

They moved like lightning to escape each other’s presence, the exact opposite of the night before.

“Okay, time to drop the invite for their little party,” Eliot voiced, catching Savannah in the kitchen between orders. They were swinging wildly between keeping their distance and not keeping their hands off each other. Her fingers flexed as he got close to her. He felt excessively warm, even for being in a bustling kitchen. 

She shrugged uncertainly. “So go invite.”

She started to turn away, and he pulled her back. “Nope. No. United front. You gotta do it with me.”

She rolled her eyes and made an exaggerated wretching noise. “Fine.” She grabbed a pitcher of ice water. “Let’s go.” 

He followed her out. She stretched on a fake syrupy grin. “How are you, gentlemen?” she asked with a touch of Southern charm as she began filling glasses. 

After the peppering of positive responses, Eliot followed up with, “Well, we’re having a party, celebrating our most loyal regulars.” He glanced at Savannah.

“Meaning y’all,” she continued. 

“Next Thursday. We would close a little early and you guys could have the place to yourselves.”

“Just us and you. How does that sound?” 

There were the expected murmurs of anticipation. Eliot squeezed Yavetz’s shoulder. “Kilmer?” he implored quietly. “Be my guest of honor?”

Yavetz clapped him back and nodded. “For you, Paul.”

He heard Savannah exhale. “Glad to hear it.”

“I...I need your help,” Hardison’s exasperated voice came through the phone. Savannah had been half-asleep on Eliot’s shoulder watching a movie that neither of them were truly paying attention to, about ready for bed, when the phone rang at a truly odd hour for any sort of pleasant phone call. Eliot picked up on Parker roaring in the background. 

“Is it Yavetz?” Eliot asked. None of what was coming through the phone was adding up. 

“No, Parker is freaking out...Just get here, okay?” Hardison pleaded. 

Savannah finally sat up. “His suite or Parker’s?” she asked, not quite present yet.

“Parker’s,” Hardison answered, evidently having heard Savannah in the background. 

And without further ceremony, they headed to Parker’s suite where they found her shredding various notes and throwing them about the room in a screaming fit. “What the hell?” Eliot said to himself. Savannah hovered by the door. With a deeply furrowed brow, she searched around the room as if solving a puzzle.  Eliot slowly approached Parker. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Parker? What’s going on?”

She hardly seemed to register he was there. She just slumped over next to the coffee table and started ranting. “It’s supposed to be perfect but it’s so frustrating. I don’t understand any of it. There’s so much to do. It’s supposed to be perfect, but it’s just so hard. I can’t do this. This feels like a mistake.”

“What are you talking about? Is this about the job? Damn near none of our jobs go perfect. Why are you freaking out?”

Savannah came up behind him, took him by the shoulders and shifted him behind her. “Move,” she instructed.

She knelt down next to Parker. Eliot noticed her peering at the torn pages. She carefully removed the paper shrapnel from Parker’s hands. “Parker, talk to me. I get you’re stressing about the wedding. Tell me what exactly is going on in there.” She grazed her fingers over Parker’s hairline. 

Parker finally looked up, her face reddened and puckered in stress, her eyes glassy. “There’s so much to do. Venue. Flowers. Menu. Invitations. Wedding party. It’s supposed to be perfect. But there’s so much of it. Every time I think I have things figured out, there’s more that I had no idea...it’s so complicated.”

Savannah pursed her lips like things weren’t adding up. She started piecing together paper scraps and examining the notes she could translate. “Parker, is this really what you want?”

She shrugged. “I want this day to be perfect. For Hardison. He deserves perfect.”

Savannah looked away for a moment, like she was struggling with something. Then a smirk blossomed on her face as she turned back to Parker. “Have you...asked Hardison what he wants?”

Parker leaned back visibly as if Savannah had shoved her. “He...”

With a nod, Savannah repeated, “Have you asked him?”

Parker and Savannah both turned to look at Hardison who stood near Eliot, both watching cautiously. Savannah nodded towards Parker, wordlessly turning the situation over to Hardison as she got up. She and Hardison switched places.  Hardison took one of Parker’s hands as he sat down and took a look at the notes Savannah had pieced together. 

He stifled a laugh and shook his head. “Parker, is this what you want?” he asked, touching the scraps. 

She pressed her lips together then sighed. “I want this to be perfect, perfect for you.”

He nodded. “And what do you think is perfect? What do you think I think is perfect?” Parker looked at the notes and her expression turned sour. She opened her mouth, but it was Hardison who spoke. “See, this is normal. Doesn’t necessarily mean perfect. Especially if you look at the divorce rate.” He took both her hands in his and had her face him straight on. “Parker what did we agree on from the very beginning? That this wasn’t going to be normal.” She nodded, her eyes welling up and a grin tickling the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want normal. You want to know what would make me happy? Marrying you. I don’t care if it’s in a courthouse, on top of the Eiffel tower, or jumping out of a plane. Okay?” It was an embarrassed laugh, or a relieved sob; it was hard to tell. But Parker laughed as a few tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes. She touched her forehead to Hardison’s and nodded. “What do you want, Parker?”

“I want you. And the Eiffel Tower sounds pretty good.”

Hardison groaned, obviously regretting the sentimental suggestion. “Okay, we’ll talk about it.”

Savannah told hold of Eliot’s arm. “I think that’s our cue to slip out.”

[crystalrainwish]

Ask Meme Thingy (Under the Cut)

Thanks for the mention @hikariri ^^

Nickname: Crystal/Diamond

Zodiac: Leo

Height: 5′3′’

Last movie you saw: The Incredibles 2

Favorite musician(s): μ's, Aqours, Saint Snow, A-RISE,Starish, Quartet Night, AZALEA, Ariana Grande, Mamoru Miyano, Camila Cabello, Vocaloid(Does that count?)

Song stuck in your head: Yeesh...I have a bunch stuck in my head.😩 But uh, if I had to pick one, I’d say “Mirai Chizu” by Starish. It’s a very touching song.

Other blogs: I have side blogs if this is what you mean:

@mcl-fairyfluttershy729 My “Beemoov VN” blog

@se-young-sook My “Sweet Elite” blog

@diamondpencilsz My Fanfiction blog

I also have these “aesthetic” blogs for my MCL OCs: @vivid-crystal-heart and @spicysweet-bonbon.

Do you get asks: Occasionally- it’s been a while since I last got one

Following: 713 

Followers: 52

Amount of sleep: Depends on the day. I’d say around 4-5 hours???

Lucky number: I don’t have one...

What I’m wearing: My PJs- a Spongebob T-Shirt and floral pajama pants

Dream job: I do like writing, so, I hope I can make some kind of career out of that

Dream trip: Japan, Hawaii, California, Canada, France, England, etc XD

Favorite food: If I had to name one, I’d say french fries 😋

Languages: English being my first while Spanish is my 2nd. I had to learn in Spanish in school. Unfortunately, I think my Spanish must be really rusty since I didn’t really speak it outside of school...

I also would like to learn Italian, French, and Japanese

Favorite song(s): Oh God...😫 I’ll just list some that I can name off the top of my head or looked up because of my dumb memory. These are in no particular order btw:

From Utapri: Southern Cross Waltz, Nanairo no Compass, Mirai Chizu, Destiny Song, Innocent Wind, Not Bad, Fly to the Future, The World is Mine, Mighty Aura, Winter Blossom, Day Dream, Night Dream, Aurora, Gamushara ROman☆Tic, Shining Romance, Force Live, Setsugetsuka,  Andromeda de Kuchizuke wo, Maji Love 1000%, Ao no Tsubasa, Eternity Love, Orion de Shout Out,  QUARTET★NIGHT, Welcome to Utapri World

From Love Live!: Kimi no Kokoro wa Kagayaiteru kai?, Sky Journey, Galaxy Hide and Seek, Innocent Bird, In this Unstable World, Omoi yo hitotsu ni nare, Thank you Friends, Snow Halation, Self Control, Dropout?!, Crash Mind, Private Wars, Shocking Party, White First Love, Start:Dash!!, Aishiteru Banzai, Yume no Tobira, Bokura wa Ima no Naka de, Bokutachi wa Hitotsu no Hikari, Natsuiro Egao de 1,2,Jump!, Mermaid Festa vol.1, Fuyu ga Kureta Yokan, Otohime Heart de Love Kyuuden, Kodoku na Heaven, soldier game, Daring!!, Arifureta Kanashimi no Hate, Watashitachi wa Mirai no Hana, Garasu no Hanazono, Kowareyasuki, Strawberry Trapper, Guilty Kiss Guilty Night, Guilty Eyes Fever, Yozora nandemo shitteru no,  Manatsu Wa Dare No Mono?

Random fact: I want to see Starish/Quartet Night live. (More like a wish than a fact but who cares)

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: Fairies, Mythical Creatures, Books, Tea, Flowers, Rainbows, Galaxy, Space, Wings, The spring

Uhhh...I’m too nervous to tag other people but I guess my friend @lonely-wannabe-artist might be interested in doing this. But, if you’d like to give it a try then consider yourself tagged by me.

[jiminelli]

#MONSTAXinBerlin Experience

hey everybody. some of you might know that MONSTA X recently finished their European tour in Moscow and previously visited Berlin and Paris. I was lucky enough to visit their show in Berlin and even get a group picture ticket. Sadly, this trip was not as fun as it was supposed to be. The concert was amazing and the boys were incredible but everything before and after the concert was a disaster. I know it sounds lame but it’s still kind of hard to talk about it so it took me several days to finish this post, therefore please excuse any grammatical errors. Here I am now, to tell you everything that happened:

Sasaeng fans 1.0

Let’s start with the sasaeng fans. There were different… let’s call them events, happening with sasaeng fans at the concert in Berlin. My friends and I arrived in Berlin on Thursday, the concert was on Friday. We arrived around 12pm and went into our hotels. After checking in, three of us wanted to see if we can find the arena easily with the city map, you know, so we wouldn’t struggle the next day. So we went to the arena, which was like 8 minutes away from our hotel by walk and let me tell you, we almost had a stroke or something. One of my friends had arrived a day earlier as she was staying for her vacation there as well and had messaged us at 7am on Thursday while we were still in the train on our way that people were already lining up in front of the arena. We didn’t take it serious and told her to stay calm; who would have thought those people were actually staying there 37 hours before the concert was supposed to even start? So when we arrived at the arena at 1pm, about 100 people were already chilling there. 

Now, this didn’t start on its own. There was one specific girl who ruined this experience for all of us and I swear if I would have seen her that day, I probably would have slapped her or something. I’m not pro-violence but jesus, this girl is the devil in person. Apparently she wasn’t even German but Italian and she got herself some Portuguese and German supporters, all underage and wannabe hoes or some crazy sh*t like that. So, usually at K-Pop concerts over here in Europe, there are people (fans) who organize the merchandise and like fan events and everything, so drama and chaos would be avoided. They also do the numbering, which is usually combined with checkup times, so you don’t have to stay in front of the arena the whole day. But this girl thought, she could just start a numbering on her own and started giving out numbers at like 11am on Thursday (remember, the concert was Friday), giving herself and her followers, the first few numbers. By doing this, a mass panic broke out and hundreds of people rushed in front of the arena to line up and get a good spot for the concert. 

Organisation

One of my friends had booked a hotel right in front of the arena, so when she saw all the people starting to line up and handing out numbers, she rushed down and called us, basically screaming at us to move and get a number. Our group of friends was divided into three smaller groups though, everybody chilling somewhere else. At this point, none of us moved because that friend is usually one to break into panic mode without any reason, so all of us kept chilling until like 6pm. The promoter of the concert had arrived and “officially confirmed” the numbering and added this: everybody who had a number until 6pm was allowed to go home until 2am. Then they’d have to come back in front of the arena and line up again to keep the numbers, until 10am where the official wristband distribution was supposed to be held. Anybody who did not have a number until 6pm would have to stay in front of the arena the whole night until 10am to keep their spot in line. Two of our three groups managed to rush to the arena and get themselves numbers but my group was in the middle of Berlin having dinner/lunch. The reason why I say “officially confirmed” is because that - excuse my language - asshole appeared for like one second, laughed at all the kids waiting in front of the arena and thought “okay lol that’s funny, let’s just keep doing that, without giving them shelter and any form of security” and left again as people started complaining. As an adult and as the responsible person of this whole event, you can’t just let teenagers sleep in the open in front of a building. It was storming, we had an actual thunderstorm happening from like 1am until 4am, soaking everybody who stayed in front of the arena from head to toe and leaving them like a block of ice. They did not provide any form of medical help to keep them warm or from dehydrating, nor did they let them get inside of the arena or even under the roof so none of the kids would get wet. Another thing is that many of the people sleeping on the streets were underage. I don’t know how it is in other countries but in Germany, if you’re underage you can only stay outside until midnight. If you’re under 16 it’s 10pm as far as I know. But that didn’t bother neither security, nor the promoter. 

My friends, who got numbers around 6pm, went back to the arena at 2am and stayed there the whole night. I don’t want to sound dramatic but they’re honestly traumatized from that experience. It wasn’t just a little rain that came down that night. We had severe storm warnings for that night. Me and two other friends who did not get a number ignored the promoter and did not stay the whole evening and night, like boi who the f do you think we are?? All of my friends were 18+ so it was our own decision what we’d do. My other two friends and I decided to show up around 5am to at least get a decent spot in line. When we showed up, I was honestly in complete shock. My friends looked horrible and the security didn’t even care how they felt. Not even about the small children in line. Many had left during the night because it just got too much. A lot even felt so bad that they started selling their tickets. Honestly guys, I don’t know how to put it into words so that you can even get a little glimpse of how horrible it was. We tried to lift those up who had been waiting since 2am and took care of each other. the security had said that we cannot leave the line until 10am but all of us made a deal that we would be able to leave the line if we just told each other where we’d be going like to the bathroom or to change into dry clothes and things like that. 

During the first 5hours that we waited, so many rumors spread that I can’t even recite them all. It was a mess. Such a mess that even fights between VVIPs and VIPs broke out. VVIP was the highest ticket category which officially included a Hi Touch OR Group Photo and front row. VIP was the normal standing ticket behind VVIP. Naturally, everybody thought that VVIP would be let in first and then VIP but security kept changing plans. First they said, we would be let in together, then they said it’s going to be 50 VVIP and then 50 VIP, always switching. We went crazy, honestly. VVIP started arguing that it wasn’t fair because we paid much more money for our tickets and on the websites where tickets were sold, they promised you front row tickets but if VIP is let in at the same time, there is no way for all VVIP to be in front row. VIP argued back that it was only fair because they had also been waiting there the whole night and deserved front row tickets (gurl, should have just spent the money and bought some then but whatever). For the following 5 hourse they kept changing plans, misinformed us over and over again until at 10am MyMusicTaste posted a statement and said that VVIP will be let in first, followed by VIP and then seated tickets.

Now, at 10am we were supposed to get our wristbands but guess what? We didn’t. We had to wait until 11:30 to get the wristbands and they told us to be back at 3pm otherwise we’d lose our number in line. So all of us went back to our hotels, tired and exhausted as hell and the first thing all of us did was sleep. At 3pm we were back at the arena and the security had managed to organize everything a little better and divided the lines into sections so it would be easier to have an overview, which was great. But then when we lined up again and it was again past 3pm, we asked a security guard when they would do the check-up, so we could go have lunch or something - none of the securities knew about a check-up. They had again spread false information and everyone had turned up for nothing. We were honestly about to lose it. From there on, everything went by okay, it started raining around 5 or 6pm again but me and my friends had super sexy plastic ponchos to keep us at least kind of save from the rain.

Let’s jump forward to the concert: The concert itself was lit af like no lie, it was one of the best concerts I’ve been on. (If you want to hear more about the concert itself, leave a message in my inbox otherwise this is only going to be even longer) But again, the security. They didn’t let us film and literally attacked us with their flashlights so we would put our phones away. For me personally, it wasn’t really such a big of a deal because my phone is shitty anyway and the pictures never turn out great but some people wanted to at least take one video or picture as a piece of memory, you know. One security guard even ran up to people and did this hand movement to them after blinding them with his flashlight:

It was scary af like dude we get it, we’re not allowed to film BUT CAN YOU NOT THREATEN OUR LIVES FFS???? 

Another thing that was really inhuman, was water distribution. Now, I don’t know who to blame for this because I have no idea of these people were also security or just staff from the arena but this was one of the most inhuman acts I’ve ever witnessed during concerts. Normally, security has a bunch of water bottles lying at their sides to distribute them during the concert, especially if they see that some are having trouble with their circulation. Not during this concert. They freaking sold the water for - grab onto your chairs - 4,50EURO. For each tiny bottle of water which maybe held 300ml, they wanted 4,50€. I thank God that the Monbebes around me were some of the sweetest people ever because some would actually buy a bottle of water and share it with everyone around them. So many people got dragged out during the concert because security would not give them water. The boys were worried like crazy, especially in the end when girls fainted in front of their eyes as they were conversing with us. Security should be there to keep the artist AND the fans safe, not treat the fans like garbage.

Which brings me to the last point of security treating us like sh*t and leading to sasaeng fans 2.0. Most of my friends (and I) had chosen the group photo ticket instead of Hi Touch. We had already heard rumors earlier that we would be 20 fans on one picture, instead of maximum 10 like they usually do. We didn’t think much of it because many things that had been said before were also just false information so no second thought was spared. As the concert finished, security again failed to organized us properly into two different sections: Hi Touch and Group Photo. It took them forever. When Hi Touch finished, it was our turn to take the pictures and security created four lines for 20 people each, so that it would be easier for them to let people in. My friends and I were 10 people in total and we hoped that if we went in last, we’d get a picture with only us on it. It was a chaos again, so we went in some time in the middle and security wanted us to go in with another group that were already 12 people. We were like “hell no, we ain’t gonna be 22 fans plus 7 members on one damn picture” so we talked to the only nice security guard there and he let us wait, so we could go in as the first ones for the next picture. Which leads me to the next disaster:

Sasaeng Fans 2.0

Before I explained what happened, I want all of you to know that in no way I’m saying that fansites are crazy, stalking psychos that don’t know how to behave. This is just my experience with two explicit fansites and maybe they’re not even usually like this but this whole chaos just made them lose their shit, I have no idea.

Anyway, so my friend walked around the corner behind the wall where the boys were standing and the first thing she does is start running, jump and throw her jumper across the room so it would not be on the picture with her. Now you have to imagine a tall, very skinny girl, running like a giraffe, not even glancing at anyone but Wonho and awkwardly throwing her jumper at a security guard - all seven started laughing and security lost their shit. I went in second, trying to bow and say 안녕하세요 to every single member while all security guards yelled at us to keep walking to the end of the line. I stopped in front of Shownu and Wonho who were the two last ones but these two fansites sprinted their way over to us and boxed me out of the way so that I stumbled to the side to Kihyun who was standing next to Shownu. He opened his arms for me, as if inviting me to stand next to him and as I moved closer, security screamed at us again to sit down in front of the guys. We weren’t even allowed to stand next to them. So I knelt down in front of Kihyun and one of the fansites apparently was a Kihyun fansite because lord help me, I’ve never seen look at someone like this. Never. And I never want to see this expression ever again, I feel like it might haunt me in my dreams. Kihyun even moved away from them and he looked so frightened, it was heartbreaking. This is not how you treat another person, idols are just as human as us. I was sitting on my knees and then another security guard screamed that we were squishing the boys and that we should move forward - which I want to mention, was so unnecessary because the boys just followed us to the front and leaned into us anyway. Honestly, I felt actually kind of humiliated because I had to scoot forward like a little kid while Kihyun was standing right behind me. My friends had it even worse, apparently they weren’t fast enough for security and they got pushed, making several of them fall over and onto each other. Minhyuk and Changkyun even stretched their hands out for them, trying to help them up and keep them in place, like c’mon security?? Just give us 2 more seconds and we would move. The boys were so worried that we were harmed and the security just kept screaming at us. One girl moved so she was sitting next to Wonho but that was also not okay according to security so they threatened to kick her out if she didn’t move to the front, making us all go even quieter. There are no words to express how frightened we all were in that moment. The only thing that I clearly remember from the actual second of taking the picture is Kihyun leaning over me as if making sure, I was okay. It lasted maybe three seconds and then security ran up to us, grabbed us and made ups stand up again, shoving us out. While being pushed out, I wanted to at least thank someone from the boys and the only one that I had some kind of chance to look in the eyes was Wonho because he was the last one in line. Honestly, I will never forget his worried expression when I thanked him. He looked at me as if to makes sure I was fine and his eyes were actually full of hurt. Like guys, I’m not kidding. They all care so much for their fans and that’s the only thing that helped me not to cry over this traumatizing event. Because we could feel and see that the boys did not want this for us. They wanted to interact with us, they wanted to talk with us and help us. They tried and from what my other friends told me who had Hi Touch, they actually managed to push some of the bodyguards off the fans. 

One girl who is going to be on the same group picture as me, took a voice recording of our picture and you can hear the chaos. You can even hear my 감사합니다 at Wonho lol. The recording only lasts 57 seconds and that’s exactly how long it took them to traumatize us and kick us out again. I don’t think I have anything left to say, except that Paris seemed to have a very similar experience and I really hope that nobody will ever have to go through that again. My legs and some parts of my arms are still bruised and as hard as I try, the anxious feeling thinking about the group photo experience is not going away. 

If you have any questions regarding the concert itself or anything mentioned in this post, feel free to leave me a message in my inbox. I’m sorry this post is so long but I tried to explain everything that happened so that those of you who made it through the post, get a better impression.  

I hope all of you still have a nice day/night and keep or start supporting our boys MONSTA X ♥

[go-redgirl]

I'm Begging Crazy, Racist Democrats to Keep Talking Townhall.com ^ | July 14, 2019 | Wayne Allyn Root

Kamala Harris, Rashida Tlaib and AOC (Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez) are at it again. Their insanity, racism and hate speech are the best gifts ever for President Donald Trump and the GOP.

Harris just announced her plan to save America. If she is elected president, she'll give $100 billion of taxpayer money to black Americans to buy homes.

Do you think the Democratic Party and leftist mainstream media would call me "racist" for suggesting we give money to only one race of Americans? Of course, they would. And they'd be right. Because I'm Jewish, how about I announce a plan to give $100 billion of taxpayer money to Jews to buy homes? How do you think that would go over with Harris?

I know how my friends feel about Harris' plan. Over the July Fourth weekend, I had calls, texts, and emails from a dozen of my childhood buddies. They're all Italian. Every one of them asked, "Where's my $100 billion?" They all suggested a plan to give $100 billion to Italians and Jews to buy homes. Harris has inspired them.

How can any politician propose giving taxpayer money to only one group of Americans, based on race? How is Harris not laughed off the presidential stage? How is she not called a racist?

I'm Jewish, and Jews have always faced discrimination and prejudiced. Why can't a politician just hand me money for being a Jew?

Harris is obviously a fool. She's clearly a racist. And she should be charged with bribery.

Then there's Ocasio-Cortez, D-Venezuela, and Tlaib, D-Hamas/Hezbollah. They both spent the July Fourth holiday repeating the lie that Trump is putting illegal aliens in "concentration camps." As a Jew, I find the comments of these radical Democratic fools to be offensive, disgraceful and disgusting.

My relatives were put into real concentration camps. They were born in Germany. They were legal citizens. They committed no crimes. They were taxpaying citizens. They were educated and cultured and contributed to society. Then the Gestapo came in the middle of the night, herded them onto rail cars, took away everything they owned, made them serve as slave labor at gunpoint and then murdered them in gas chambers. That's the definition of a "concentration camp."

These illegal aliens purposely evade the laws of America by invading our country. Putting them in detention facilities -- with food, water, clothing, diapers, and air conditioning and protected by American guards from rapists, violent gangs and drug cartels of their own countries -- is a far cry from putting them in "concentration camps."

My guess is these detainees live better and safer lives in our detention camps than in their old countries. They are free to leave anytime and go back to the horrible crime-ridden, poverty-stricken, socialist hellholes they came from.

America doesn't run "concentration camps." And no politician will ever give our taxpayer money to one race of Americans to buy homes. Over my dead body.

But these Democrats should keep on talking. They're the gift that keeps on giving to President Trump and the GOP.

TOPICS: Culture/Society; Editorial 

KEYWORDS: hoaxtroversy

______________________________________________

OPINION:  The Democrats in Congress need to put a ‘STOP’ to these out-of-control Anti-Americans that are holding office in Congress.  If not, then you will be responsible for everything that they do while serving office in Congress.

No other country in this ‘World’ would allow them to hole office in their country for being anti-establishment/Congress.  

The Democrats need to stand-up and renounce the young out of control anti-Americans that’s getting paid from ‘us citizens’ taxes, we do have a say so in whats going on in our country.   

Hick them out!  Impeach these anti-americans.  Denounce their anti-america behavior, slogans, speeches, and ‘treason’ behavior.  

They have proven all the above.

What other facts do you need Democrats before you take the necessary actions thats’ required in this country.  

It’s 90% of Americans what these ‘mob’ impeached immediately, the so-called ‘squad’ (i.e, anti-americans)

_______________________________________________________________________

To: Kaslin God bless Wayne Allyn Root. As a Jew I resent the anti-Jewish stance of the Dem Party——and that includes all the silent ones with no courage to speak up against Tlaib or Oman et al.

Any Jew in America stupid or passive enough to STILL vote Dem is beneath my contempt. 24 % voted for Trump and I expect that pitiful figure to be expanded soon.

This stuff doesn’t do my natural problem of misanthropy any good. I’m trying to improve. I like my wife, FReepers and the 63 million Trump voters. That’s a start.

3 posted on 7/14/2019, 10:29:39 AM by frank ballenger (End vote fraud,non-citizen voting & leftist media news censorship or we are finished.) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Racist democrat is an egregious violation of the redundancy rule

4 posted on 7/14/2019, 10:34:47 AM by dsrtsage (For Leftists, World History starts every day at breakfast) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: Kaslin It’s what you get when you shut down your mental institutions.

5 posted on 7/14/2019, 10:39:24 AM by PGalt --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: Kaslin I am appalled that we now have such slime wads in our Congress. Dangerous slime wads with quite deadly associates—CAIR, Soros, ISIS, etc. We also have a bunch of eunuchs in Congress, particularly those with an “R” next to their name. Instead of acting as a united front to save the U.S. from the obvious commie agenda of the dummocraps, they quietly step across the aisle for reasons unknown. Is their personal jealousy of Trump (yeah, that’s what I think is the basis of their TDS) enough reason to sell out their constituents and all Americans? I’d love to see all those RINO traitors lined up to face a gauntlet of patriotic Americans armed with horsewhips and called out for all to see their treachery.

6 posted on 7/14/2019, 10:40:39 AM by EinNYC --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: Kaslin My relatives were put into real concentration camps. They were born in Germany. They were legal citizens. They committed no crimes. They were taxpaying citizens. They were educated and cultured and contributed to society. Then the Gestapo came in the middle of the night, herded them onto rail cars, took away everything they owned, made them serve as slave labor at gunpoint and then murdered them in gas chambers. That's the definition of a "concentration camp." What? What? What? Is Wayne Allyn Root saying his family didn't pay people to get them to the "concentration camps" so they could complain about a lack of toothpaste?

7 posted on 7/14/2019, 10:41:23 AM by GOPJ (MSNBC Bimbos & Pretentious men: EVERY CHILD RAPIST on Epstein's plane was a powerful democrat...) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To: frank ballenger

Wayne is great on the radio. ESP Billie Cunningham’s show on sundays

12 posted on 7/14/2019, 10:55:42 AM by Truthoverpower (The guvmint you get is the Trump winning express !) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ To: Kaslin https://townhall.com/columnists/wayneallynroot/2019/07/14/im-begging-crazy-racist-democrats-to-keep-talking-n2549959

13 posted on 7/14/2019, 10:58:58 AM by Cincinnatus.45-70 (What do DemocRats enjoy more than a truckload of dead babies? Unloading them with a pitchfork!) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: frank ballenger “This stuff doesn’t do my natural problem of misanthropy any good” I'm with ya man, I'm with ya!

14 posted on 7/14/2019, 11:01:45 AM by misanthrope (Deranged, sinister deplorable) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: All

2020 wannabe Kamala Harris just announced her plan to save America. If elected, she'll give $100 billion tax dollars to black Americans to buy homes. Why doesn't the Democratic Party and leftist mainstream media announce a plan to give $100 billion tax dollars to Jews, Italians, Irish, Norwegians, Serbo-Crotians, etc to buy homes?

How come Harris left out govt largesse for all these other people?

15 posted on 7/14/2019, 11:02:54 AM by Liz ( Our side has 8 trillion bullets; the other side doesn't know which bathroom to use.)

NOTE:  Kamala Harris can promise anything she want but only the HOUSE can approve such ridiculous proposal. And you can rest of sure that Nancy Polosi will not be the House Chair person next year! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[juggieheadcoopers-blog]

Friends With Benefits (Part 3)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

AU: Jughead never went to Riverdale High and never became friends with Betty and the gang the way they were supposed to. Archie, Jughead, and Betty were close in middle school, but once they parted ways and Jughead followed in his father’s footsteps of becoming a Serpent, their relationship was never the same.

A/N: Okay so I realize that I left off with a lot of angst in the last part, but what I envisioned is that both Betty and Jughead had enough time to think and cool off so that they could realize that the only thing that mattered was being with each other. So after their fight in the Blue and Gold room, they both made their move to fix things in their own way that next afternoon.  

Read on ao3 here if you would prefer!

–

Jughead paced back and forth along the worn sidewalk outside of Archie Andrews’ family home, his mind teeter tottering with the decision to knock on the front door or walk back home to the Southside of town where he belonged and pretend like he hadn’t just shown up at his estranged friend’s house like no time or ill feelings had passed between them at all. 

Just when he had made up his mind to leave well enough alone and turn away from the red-headed boy he hadn’t spoken to in nearly two years, the large red door swung open and Archie stepped out into the fading sunlight of the mid-afternoon autumn day with his lips set in a firm line and eyes dancing with anger . 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Archie’s voice cut through the sleepy neighborhood, booming down the street and disrupting the hushed simplicity of the day like a fog horn on an eerie Sunday morning. 

“We need to talk, Archie,” Jughead told him, taking a cautious step towards the house as he mustered up the courage he had been lacking the past few months to have the conversation he had been dreading for so long. 

“I have nothing to say to you,” Archie spat, pounding down the porch and causing Jughead to scramble backwards onto the sidewalk. “Go home, Jughead.” 

“I’m sorry about your Dad,” Jughead said before Archie could protest. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him and I wish that I could have been there for you the way you were there for me when my father would go on those week long benders when we were kids. I never told you this, but I don’t think I could have gotten through that without you.” 

The stony look on Archie’s face wavered the slightest bit, softening only in the eyes and the way his brows drew together. 

“What happened to us, Arch?” Jughead asked tentatively. “We used to have the kind of friendship authors would write about in children’s books, you know? Pirate adventures in my treehouse-turned-pirate-ship, mud pies in your backyard after an epic rainstorm? How did we get here?”

“Your father was in the same gang that had my father shot and left him for dead,” Archie snapped. “That’s a deal breaker in my book.”

“Our friendship was pretty broken before that and you know it,” Jughead pointed out. “Once I switched schools and joined the Serpents you treated me like I had an extra eye and a giant horn coming out of my forehead.” 

“Maybe I knew you were going to turn out like FP and become king of the Southside,” Archie shot back, although there was a sadness to his voice that gave way to the fact that he was more hurt than angry. “Maybe I didn’t want to be a part of that.” 

“But I haven’t,” Jughead reminded him, not unkindly. “And I think you know that.” 

Archie descended the last step leading down to the sidewalk, shifting his weight on the pavement so that he was eye level with Jughead. They were the picture of polar opposites - the letterman jacket contrasting with the leather in ways than stemmed from much deeper places that just fabric thrown over broad shoulders.   

“I think you know that I had nothing to do with your father’s assault too,” Jughead muttered. “So what’s really going on, Arch?”

Jughead’s words were enough to cause the walls Archie had built over the past few years blocking his memories of his friendship with the dark-haired boy from the other side of town, to fall in one swift motion and crumple to the sidewalk. 

“I always knew where my life was heading,” Archie sighed, lowering himself onto the bottom step and pulling his legs up to his chin. Jughead quickly joined him, turning to Archie with a look of expectant curiosity. "Captain of the football team, student council president, ivy league after we graduate. I didn’t know how to juggle all of that with my friendship with you. I didn’t know how to have both. And I know that sucks, and I know you didn’t deserve the way I treated you but I guess I was just being cautious. You remember the stories about my Dad and FP. You know how their friendship ended. All the secrets and lies and betrayal? I didn’t want that for us, Jug. But mostly, I guess I was just using my father’s assault as an excuse not to make things right because I felt guilty. I knew how selfish I was being. And I knew you didn’t deserve that.” 

I would have forgiven you,” Jughead told him. “If it meant being friends again? I would have forgiven the silence and the judgments in a second.”

"I know,” Archie nodded, glancing up to look at Jughead with downcast eyes. “I think that’s the worst of it - that I’m screwed up enough to ruin our friendship over nothing and you’re willing to forget all of that to save it.”

“We’re all screwed up,” Jughead reminded him, nudging him playfully in the side with his elbow.

“I’m really sorry, Jughead,” Archie told him, and the honesty in his expression gave Jughead the impression that he really meant it. “Do you think we could ever be friends again?”

“Depends on how you react to what I’m about to tell you,” Jughead admitted, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms along the fabric of his jeans.

“Okay, what is it?” Archie asked, raising a questioning eyebrow in his direction.

“It’s about Betty,” Jughead admitted. “Something sort of… happened between us. And I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.” 

–

“I’m not giving up the Blue and Gold, Cheryl!”

Betty burst through the gymnasium doors where Cheryl Blossom and her River Vixens were finishing up cheer practice, her red hair whipping around as she turned to glare at Betty with wild eyes. 

“Tell Archie, tell the whole school for all I care. I’m done playing by your rules. I’m done playing by any rules period. It’s not worth it.” 

“Well, well,” Cheryl smirked, swinging her duffel bag over her shoulder and sauntering over to the bleacher to pick up her monogrammed water bottle. “Who knew little miss Stepford Betty had real, earth shatteringly honest feelings in her. Deny it all you want, slicked-back-ponytail, but the motivation you had to come stand up to me like a scene in a 1998 chick flick wasn’t fueled by your desire to run that pathetic newspaper of yours. It was driven by your desire to be in the arms of a certain leather-clad rule breaker who resides on the Southside.”

“This isn’t about, Jughead,” Betty shook her head almost too quickly, her blonde ponytail nearly smacking her in the face from the too-fast motion. 

“Enough already,” Cheryl groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she closed her water bottle and stuffed it into her bag. “Can we skip all senseless denial and jump straight to the overdue slow motion moment where you have the big epiphany that clues you in to the fact that it’s been about the broody, yet lovable boy from the wrong side of the river all along? Have your grand, When Harry Met Sally moment so we can all move on with our lives would you?”

“Cheryl, I already have trouble understanding what you babble on about ninety percent of the time, but that monologue of yours just reached Donnie Darko level of confusing so if you could just-” 

 “God, the dim-witted imbeciles in this town, I swear,” Cheryl mumbled, clapping her hands together so that her cherry-red nails clicked together as she pointed them in Betty’s direction. “Let me spell it out for you. You pushed Jughead away because you were too scared to jump into a real relationship with anyone at all, let alone someone as special to you as he is. It was never about protecting your friendship with the Sing-Along Football Star, Archie Andrews. It was about protecting your heart from getting trampled on the way my brother ran over your sister’s with his fancy Italian sports car.” 

“You think I’m not in a real relationship with Jughead because of what Jason did to Polly?” Betty’s brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to comprehend what Cheryl was saying. “I think all that hairspray has gone to your head, Cheryl.” 

“Deny it all you want, blonde and delirious,” Cheryl smirked, tossing her locks behind one shoulder and shrugging. “But you’re in love with Mr. Hells Angels himself so do us all a favor and go tell him before he finds some other Nancy Drew wannabe to whisk away on his revved up Harley. It’s getting old and I grow bored easily.” 

“But-” 

“Why are we all still standing around like a bunch of paralyzed robots,” Cheryl snapped at her squad. “Shoo! Go get changed, I can smell the sweat-soaked polyester from here!” 

Betty watched the girls shuffle out of the gymnasium, her thoughts swimming with Cheryl’s words as she wondered if there was any shred of truth to them. She had spent so much time and energy keeping Jughead at arms length because she thought Archie would have ended their friendship if the truth had gotten out. But maybe it was her fear of letting someone else in that kept her from being with Jughead. And maybe it was time to push past the fear and take a leap of faith.  

–

“You and Betty have been…” Archie trailed off, his eyes going wide as he looked at Jughead for confirmation so that he wouldn’t have to fill in the blanks. 

“Yeah,” Jughead mumbled, biting his bottom lip nervously as he waited to hear what Archie had to say about that. “For the past six months.” 

“And you kept it a secret because…?”

“She didn’t want to upset you,” Jughead explained. “She knew that you and I weren’t exactly best buddies, singing campfire songs together or firing up the Xbox in your room to play some senseless video game, so she was afraid that being with me would destroy her friendship with you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Archie shook his head in confusion, turning to Jughead with concerned eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted is for her to be happy.”

“I know,” Jughead concurred, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicking at a pile of rocks on the edge of the sidewalk. 

“That can’t be the whole story,” Archie mumbled. “There has to be something else going on.”

“Agreed,” Jughead nodded, his chin lifting slightly so that he could tentatively meet Archie’s gaze. “So you’re not mad? That we kept a secret this big hidden from you and all?” 

“Trust me, Jug, I haven’t been worthy of your honesty for a long time,” Archie admitted, smiling up at Jughead apologetically. “I think you get a free pass on this one.” 

“Thanks, Arch,” Jughead nodded, turning to meet his smile with one of his own. 

“So now that it’s out in the open,” Archie wondered. “Are you going to make things official? I know we haven’t been close for a while but I think I’m correct in assuming that friends with benefits isn’t exactly your style.” 

“It’s what she wanted,” Jughead shrugged, standing from his spot on the step and shuffling his feet down the graveled walkway a few steps before turning back to his friend with serious eyes. “And I’d agree to anything if it meant being with her.” 

“You’re in love with her,” Archie guessed, watching the way his expression changed with the slightest mention of their childhood friend with the halo of golden hair and the kindest eyes that either one of them had ever seen. 

“Yeah, I am,” Jughead confessed. “And it’s simultaneously the most terrifying and exciting feeling I’ve ever experienced. But it’s Betty so I don’t remember there ever being a time when I haven’t felt this way.” 

“So what’s the problem?” Archie wanted to know, confused as to why a distant look of uncertainty had clouded his expression that prevented him from reaching the level of giddiness a teenager in love should have been feeling.

“I don’t know,” Jughead sighed. “There was this incident with Cheryl and-”

“Archie!” 

The sound of pounding footsteps came barreling down the pavement as Betty rounded the corner, her blonde ponytail nearly falling out of its elastic as she sped down the road. 

“Archie, I have to tell you something!” 

Betty slid to a halt when she approached the Andrews’ home, her eyes going wide at the unexpected sight of the estranged friends standing next to one another without their fists flying at each other’s faces or their bloody knuckles slamming into their jaws. 

“Jughead,” Betty breathed, her heart beating wildly in her chest at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I told him, Betty,” Jughead informed her, nodding his head in Archie’s direction and shrugging at her helplessly. 

“You…” Betty trailed off, her mind putting two and two together and her stomach dropping in complete dread. “Oh.” 

“I think you two have a lot to talk about,” Archie muttered, backing away from the couple and smiling knowingly as he headed up the steps leading into the house. “I’ll be inside if you need me. In the words of Veronica, ‘use your outside voices, it makes it easier for those of us trying to eavesdrop!’” 

Archie hurried up the steps and into the house, shutting the door behind him so that Betty and Jughead were left alone to stare at one another wondering who was going to be the one to speak first. 

“So Archie knows,” Betty muttered, pulling anxiously at the hem over her lemon-colored cardigan and glancing back up at the house with nervous eyes.

“And the world didn’t implode,” Jughead pointed out, gesturing to the neighborhood that had not been blown to bits as a result of Archie’s knowledge of her relationship with Jughead and smirking. “Would you look at that.” 

“I’m sorry, Juggie,” Betty told him, taking a cautious step forward to close some of the distance between them. “I really screwed up. I think I was just afraid of letting myself get too close to someone. I mean look at Polly and Jason and even my parents - it’s like the Cooper girls are cursed in the relationships we form with other people, doomed to get our hearts broken.” 

“But you’re not them,” Jughead reminded her. “And I’m not Jason or your father.” 

Reaching out to place a gentle hand on his smooth cheek, Betty couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t immediately pull away. 

“I know you’re not,” Betty whispered, her eyes dancing with so much love and warmth for the boy who had been the one constant in her life that had made a shred of sense over the past few months. “That’s why I-”

Just as the words that she had been holding in since they had formed their newfound relationship all those months ago were mere seconds from falling from her lips, the sound of motorcycle engines tearing down the road caused them both to pull apart and turn towards the noise in confusion.  

“Jug,” an older man in a torn-up Serpent jacket called to him from his bike, the remainder of the gang stopping closely behind him as they watched the couple with a look of cautious distrust. “We gotta go. It’s your pops.” 

“What about him?” Jughead asked, glancing from the man sitting on the motorcycle in front of him, to the girl who was just moments away from uttering the words he had been longing to hear for weeks. 

“They’re pinning him for the attempted murder of Fred Andrews,” the man explained, nodding to the Andrews’ house sitting in front of them and frowning. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“But he didn’t do it,” Jughead reminded him, thinking back to the investigation that had been closed a few weeks ago and remembering that they had cleared his father of any serious charges. “He didn’t do it… Right Red?”

“We should go,” Red repeated, starting the ignition and gesturing for Jughead to hop on the back of the seat. 

Jughead was frozen, torn between his life with Betty and the friend he had just now gotten back in his life, and his life with his father and the Serpents and all the uncertainties that came with it. 

“Jug?” Betty muttered, her brows drawn together in concern as she waited with bated breath to hear what his next move was going to be. 

Archie stepped back out onto the porch, taking in the half a dozen men on motorcycles with the same look of distrust that they had given Betty and the Andrews’ house when they had first pulled into the neighborhood. If Jughead got on that bike, his newly rekindled friendship would be damaged yet again, and the repercussions would not have as forgiving an ending as before. And the friends with benefits relationship that he had just barely wriggled his way out of and into something more meaningful with Betty Cooper, would soon turn into absolutely nothing at all. 

Taking a deep breath, Jughead took a step towards his decision and into the fate of the way his life was going to turn out from that point on. 

[schlockvalue-blog]

Schlock Value, Issue #2: Jersey Shore Shark Attack (2012)

Step over Speilberg and fuck off Jaws, your shit may be all classic and shit but bro, it ain’t got the abs this bitch is packin’.

An underwater mining exercise sends shockwaves through the water and calling a bunch of red eyed albino sharks of constantly changing design out of a cave barely dick deep in the waters off the coast of Jersey Shore, calling out like a proud stay at home mom that dinner’s ready, and Italian and silicon is on the menu.

This shit kicks off with as much patience as the cast has for keeping their shirts on — introducing the lip pouting cast with not a shred of subtlety. Winks and nudges all around as the filmmakers elbow you in the ribs for the next fifteen minutes, proudly spouting quick “Aye? Aaaaaye?” The lead Gueidette of this motley crew rocking up early with a license plate reading “Nooki”. Subtle is hardly the name of the game though, it’s all on display — literally — as the dude are muscle bound and the chicks ‘muscles’ less bound…“Aye? Aaaaaye?”.

Nooki kicks off confronting her skeezing ex-boi, “The Complication” (Aaaaaye?) the night after what this white suburban boy can only assume was a maaaaan rager bro. Red cups ahoy. Setting up a Boiz vs Bitches dynamic that spans most of the film. The Complication and his boiz Donnie and Balzac just want to enjoy waxing each other up, flexing all day and solving their need for some “serious A.S.S.: Alcohol, Sun, and Sex”. A noble venture. God speed boiz. The babes on the other hands are all about gettin’ their independent girl power on, proving they don’t need no man. Jersey Shore Shark Attack, tackling the big issues. Herein lies one massive fucking fuck up of the film. Not a single one of the Jersey Shore ripoff characters gets turned into chum by the horde of sharks turning their shore into a buffet. Let’s just rip that bandaid off early. See now, who the fuck is watching this not hoping to tune in and see Guido mince meat sprayed across their screen? The film makes a blatant attempt to humanise the meathead parade that makes up the cast of characters so I guess it’s aiming for cinema loving Guids out there (is that an actual thing?) but it’s also so incredibly obvious that it’s a piss take at the same time, poking fun at every aspect of Guido party life that its real life, shark-less) TV counterpart that you’d think it was giving every hater of the show their dream of seeing a Snooki wannabe get ripped apart from ass to the tip of her overly styled hairdo. Dear movie, MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND! This isn’t “The Misunderstood Souls of The Jersey Shore: A Lifetime Channel Special Edition” it’s JERSEY FUCKING SHORE SHARK ATTACK. Get with the program. Gimme silicon tits flying left right and centre! Is that too much to ask for?

Apparently so.

The shark attack portion of the title ain’t left for late though (thank fucking christ) as possibly the only pale skinned Italian in the entire cast — clearly some dude with a bad accent, a wife beater, slicked hair and given a cigarillo for a prop to complete the flawless and totally convincing transformation — gets offedby the freshly uncaved albino snappers while fishing in a dingy maybe two meters from the shore in. Why the asshole needed to be in a boat is a question for the screenwriter (I’m sure it had nothing to do with plot convenience).

The whole beach is going off in preparation for the arrival of the films token…*ahem*…‘celebrity’ cameo — former NSYC ‘not Justin Timberlake, one of the other guys’ guy, Joey Fatone. An excitement you better get used too because the film crams itself every ten minutes with a quick reminder in case you forgot you bought it in at least partial hope of seeing the NSYC alumni get his ass chomped by a bad CGI shark at some point. Spoiler alert, he does, almost immediately after being introduced (late) in the film. So we might not get Snooki or any of the 28 collective abs in the film gets chomped, we at least get that. Gee golly gosh.

The film spends a large portion of its early part half occupied with what it assumes is a ‘story’, trading blood and guts for a power struggle between the ever partying Guids and the sweater vest wearing, double collar popping, four syllable speaking, private school yacht club douches across the way. I swear, if Jersey Shore Shark Attack weren’t one of the best titles you could ever see staring back at you; in some distribution house somewhere out there, someone would have suggested releasing the film under the title of Guido’s vs Yuppies vs Sharks…not bad…I might have to copyright that. The good guys look like the musclebound bro bad guys from any other film and the bad guys are portrayed as assholes because they don’t want to listen to club music every second of the day. So, again, who the fuck is this thing supposed to be for? Cause I’m on Team Shark here. It’s hard to get behind walking wannabe cannon fodder with single digit IQs who use words like “drowneded”. You’ll be praying the whole cast gets their arses ripped out their mouths the moment they step on screen, and that they take the script with them.

The battle of the sexes enters a ceasefire when one of the many disposable and interchangeable bronzer snuffing pieces of cannon fodder washes up on shore. In a feat of literary originality, the mayor refuses to shut down the beach and The Complication’s father — the local Sheriff — doesn’t believe his son, seeing his actions as further proof of his disappointment in life — gee, wonder if that’ll resolve itself by the end of the film. Subplot ahoy. It all leaves our main pack of Guidos to take it upon themselves to hunt down the pigment deprived sea evil using fireworks and protein bars as bait. They also try to steal one of the ‘bad guy’ yuppies yachts “because he’s a douche” before Balzac fumbles one of the fireworks and blows the whole thing up (tell me again why we’re supposed to like these guys?).

At its core Jersey Shore Shark Attack is a Guido love story with a mayoral conspiracy giving the old reach around and wrapped up in just enough shark attacks to give its title enough credence. Everyone’s more pre-occupied with their own shit and getting occasionally distracted by a corpse or two. The climax of the film only comes in the midst of the customary blood letting beach side massacre when the head of the Yacht club tries to pull one over on the Guids by seducing Nooki and convincing her to join him and the his botchi loving conga line of talking pastel sweaters on a yacht out at sea for a party. The Complication reaches his character arc and realises he loves her (oh and y’know, that they need to take care of the sharks once and for all) and rounds up the Ab Club, stealing another boat and heading out to play cockblock while armed to the teeth with automatic rifles (and, I assume, more protein bars. After all; “Nothing’s going to resist 25 grams of power packed peanut butter crunch.”)

They shoot, pout and even nose kick the sharks on their way to rescue the yuppies and Nooki onboard their boat — which, of course, is broken down out of phone reception range — before returning to shore to save everyone from the shark attack which apparently a trained police department could handle on their own. Not enough protein in their diet I suppose. It all ends with hugs, cheers of “GUIDOS! GUIDOS!”, mended father son relationships — even though The Complication is still no less a party and gym obsessed meathead who will never leave the Jersey Shore. But hey, he does make peace with the yuppies, even though they just tried to revenge bang his girlfriend and gave off the impression that there was a roofie or two in her future if Plan-A went sour. But hey, water under the bridge right?

Jersey Shore Shark Attack is about as intelligent a parody as the dense fuckers it’s populates itself with. Every ounce of self aware writing makes you wonder if they themselves got the joke because other than The Complication and Nooki, the rest of the characters assume the completely pointless position reserved for cannon fodder to give people expecting some kind of delivery on the title and yet not a single person you want to see die actually dies. Hell, only once is any of them vapid “wait, what’s her name again” characters in any peril. The only other time anything happens is when Nooki’s trapped in the sinking boat, with a shark ripping its way through the hull, at the end of the movie in a scene replicated in damn near every other shark movie ever made and trust me, you’re rooting for the shark to get just a liiiiiitle closer. Just one more inch. Just rip off a leg! Just one goddammit. ANYTHING!

Drunk with a group of friends and a shameless love of self flagellation and if nothing else you’ll probably get a kick out of screaming at the screen for everyone to die. *Sigh* the love of communal hatred.