#fishing store in los angeles

[samanthadoesitagain]

TackleShack USA was founded by Mike and Steve, both avid fishermen and entrepreneurs with over 40 years of combined experience. In 2020, they opened a new tackle shop in the valley aimed at revolutionizing the “old-school” fishing culture by providing a joyful and friendly atmosphere at the shack. Visitors won’t feel stupid if they don’t know anything about fishing or tackle. The TackleShack USA sells everything from fishing lures to tackle. Even better, they provide local fishing information, classes, guides, and fun activities for kids and adults. If you’re looking for a fishing store in Los Angeles that will not disappoint you, come to TackleShack USA.

[towards-toramunda]

Ashton Greymoore is from Crown Heights and works in a neighborhood deli and he makes the best chopped cheese New York City has ever seen and gets paid $18 an hour so you better fucking tip

Orym is from a small town in northern Vermont that voted 97% Bernie Sanders and he is rarely seen without the green thick flannel that he got from his stepdad before he passed. He helps run a martial training summer camp, but works at a grocery store most of the time.

Laudna is big in the Portland goth scene because she works at a taxidermy shop where people bring her their beloved dearly departed pets and she brings them back to life as statues.

Imogen lives in Tennessee and works at a horse ranch that rents out for kids birthday parties. She has a therapist that she goes to twice a week and she takes at least five different medications for her mental health.

Chetney is from northern Wisconsin where he lives in a cabin by himself and crafts the most gorgeous wooden furniture and statues. He thinks its funny when people complain about deep snow during the winter. He goes ice fishing and wears T-shirts with wolves howling at the moon.

FCG is from Huntsville Alabama where they used to work at the Space and Rocket center, but he recently discovered Christ and he’s really into it. They’ve never touched a bible but really likes the concept of being Christian so he figures its good.

Fearne was born and raised in Los Angeles to a wealthy and famous celebrity couple who left her with their housekeeper most of the time. She likes to garden and has a weird fascination with fire. She’s a nepo baby so shes never worked a day in her life and doesn’t know what “clopening” means.

[fw00shy]

Slow Days, Bad Habits

When Draco told Pansy he was moving to Los Angeles, Pansy said, "Fuck off, you're not." It was a Thursday and the afternoon sun stretched over Pansy's fire escape patio like a lazy cat. Draco fished out the olive from his glass and ate it, saying, "No, I really am," when he really wasn't — lying was a bad habit of his, and he was five martinis deep — but the next day he woke up thinking: Why not?

Doing what he wasn't supposed to do was a relatively new bad habit of his (sure he used to break rules, but he never broke Father's rules) but it was by far his favourite. Doing the unexpected. Turning heads. Like when he wore the shirt the Muggle orphanage gave him for painting walls to one of his mum's "Sorry We Lost the War" benefits and Daphne said, "You? Volunteering? No way, I bet a thousand Galleons you bought that from a thrift store."

Los Angeles was everything London wasn't and everything Draco wanted to be. Cars built to go 300kph putting bumper-to-bumper down wide, yawning freeways. Plastic surgery to cover up whatever you didn't like about yourself. Every day Draco looked in the mirror and changed something different. What if he had a different nose? A larger mouth? Would his life change for the better? Some days he wished he had more time to figure out how to turn his life around. Other days it was a lot easier to let his eyes droop until every second stretched long and he lost track of it, another day lost in the waste of his life. 

When Draco saw Harry at the farmer's market he knew Harry had moved to Los Angeles to disappear. He knew this because Harry wore dark glasses and a cap pulled low over his scar. He knew this because the papers had reported Harry missing four years ago, and had never found him since. He knew this because he had moved to Los Angeles to disappear, too. Draco bought his oat milk and his strawberries and walked back home with them tucked under his arm, like his little secret. That was another bad habit of his now: secrets. Anything could be a secret if he wanted it to be. His favourite bench at the park. The line from an Ada Limon that made him cry. Waves crashing against the pier. The scent of jasmine in his mother's garden. And now, Harry, in LA. All his secrets. All just for him.

Draco saw Harry at the farmer's market again the following week, around 1pm when the stalls were packing up and the baskets of strawberries numbered in the ones and twos. Draco came to the farmer's market every week and some weeks they ran out of what he liked, but he was fine with that; this was the time best suited for him.

Draco watched Harry meander past the stalls, his hands behind his back, like he was browsing with no intent to purchase. But why? Maybe he was a ghost. Draco chuckled at the thought, and then he saw Harry walking toward him.

"I won't tell," Draco said. "So don't Obliviate me, please. I like my memories. Or the recent ones, anyway. I mean, they're nothing special. Just things like, eating a good peach. The sun sinking into the sea. Waking up and not being too hot or too cold. Normal things." (Running his mouth: maybe the original bad habit?)

Harry blinked slowly, his mouth slightly agape. He didn't look like he was going to attack Draco. He wasn't even carrying a wand. 

"So," Draco said, smiling, a little more confident now. "I won't tell if you won't tell?"

"You live here too?"

"Sure do," Draco said. "Do you want to come over?"

So it was their secret now.

Which was fine. More than fine, even. Draco didn't normally like to share, but he sure did like breaking rules. Especially his own.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

And All the Pieces Fall Right Into Place

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 2

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

3.7k words

Warnings: Language, adults drinking adult things, a smidge of slut-shaming, sexual references, immature adults, Roy being Roy

Holi Dani! I’m back in town. Let’s get together tonight! I miss you!

Under April’s watchful eye, I typed my text to Dani Rojas and hit send. I knew full well that the Greyhounds had a game; Keeley Jones had sent me their schedule, after all. Step one of the most insane idea in the world was officially in motion.

“Remember, you can’t seem too desperate,” April reminded me as we lounged in my living room. “We don’t want it to be obvious that you’re fishing for an invite. Just be really subtle, like ‘Oh you have a match? Wow I’ve never been to one.’ You know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know, I know.”

Bzz!

Dani’s quick response would have been surprising if it was anyone else; but Dani Rojas was the friendliest, most accommodating person I knew. Since we first met at a party for some tequila brand back in L.A., Dani and I immediately clicked. Our paths crossed frequently enough in London, and I considered him one of my favorite people in England. We bonded over our shared desire to find good pan dulce in London and how much we missed our big, crazy families when we were away. It wouldn’t be too hard to finagle an invitation to his game, right?

Aww chula, I wish! I’ve got a fútbol match tonight.

Just as I was crafting a text that would score me a ticket to Nelson Road, another message came in.

You should come!

“Well, shit,” I laughed, showing April my screen. “That was almost too easy.”

My assistant- sidekick and soulmate, I preferred to call her- chuckled and started typing on her own phone. “I’ll let Keeley and Lanie know that our mission is complete. And I’ll take care of getting your ticket. All you have to worry about now is looking hot and having a good meet-cute.” She paused, pursing her lips. “You and Kent… you two can flirt with each other, right?”

“The heck’s that supposed to mean?” I snorted as I texted Dani back, letting him know that I would love to go to his game.

She shrugged. “You two just didn’t seem to like each other very much.” Her matter-of-fact tone held no emotion. “You’re going to have to pull some Daniel Day-Lewis level acting for this to work.” April grinned at me. “I mean, your goal is to get an EGOT, right? Maybe your Oscar will be for acting.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as Dani texted me back, all excitement. “Well, just call me Meryl, because that’s how good my acting will have to be to get people to think I’m into someone like Roy Kent.”

April’s face softened. “You’ve gotta admit,” she said slowly, “he’s pretty cute.”

“Cute?” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, sure, I could see how he could be considered handsome by some people. I could totally see him with models and shit. But if you’re worried about me falling for the guy, don’t stress.” I slouched further into my couch. “No way in hell am I falling for Roy freaking Kent.”

~

Keeley grinned and showed her phone to Roy. “She got Dani to invite her!” she hissed to the manager as they ate lunch together in his office. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

“Yeah,” Roy muttered flatly as he poked at his food. “Great.”

What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He hated this kind of shit, the paparazzi and attention. And he hated her party-girl lifestyle, always out at clubs. And what the fuck were they supposed to talk about on the dates Keeley would surely make them go on? He liked football, hanging out with Phoebe, reading… What did she like? Flirting with scrawny rockstars? Stealing her best friend’s boyfriend (according to the tabloid he’d noticed at the store that morning)? Her Malibu Barbie Dreamhouse, or wherever it was she lived when she was in Los Angeles? And he was going to have to endure months of this. Fucking hell.

But it was for Keeley, he reminded himself as he watched the blonde munch happily on her salad. She’d asked him to do something, something she knew he’d hate, and he said ‘yes’ without complaint. That had to mean something, right? Surely that would earn him a few points with her, maybe even enough to forget about the whole ‘pick one’ shit he and Jamie had pulled. She’d definitely see how above and beyond Roy was willing to go for her and remember why she had loved him, wouldn’t she?

Besides, seeing him with an admittedly gorgeous popstar on his arm might even make Keeley a smidge jealous.

“It’s gonna work.” Keeley’s reassuring voice penetrated his thoughts. “I know it is. You wouldn’t believe who’s gotten away with this scheme. You know that actor from-”

I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

Roy stood, frowning in the direction of the suddenly bolstering changing room. “What the fuck is that?”

Keeley grinned as she hopped up and followed his gaze to the sight of Jamie and Colin and a few other guys shaking their hips and singing along. “Your new girlfriend,” she whispered with a wink. “Come on, Roy, you know this one. It was only her big hit last summer.”

“Hmmph.” Yeah, he recognized the catchy tune that still seemed to always be on the radio all these months later; Phoebe’d made him play it about twenty times in the car just that week. But why the fuck was his team screeching it while they got ready for their afternoon training?

Jamie’s smile widened at the sight of Roy and Keeley. “Oi! Did ya hear Dani’s news?”

“What’s up?” Keeley asked, as if she didn’t know exactly what Jamie was about to say.

Sure enough, Jamie pointed in the direction of Colin’s little speaker, where the music was blasting from. “She’s comin’! To our game tonight!” He looked just about ready to do a cartwheel. “Apparently, she and Dani are buddies, and he invited her to watch us! Can you believe it?”

“You’re kidding!” Keeley gasped convincingly, smacking Jamie on the arm. “How the fuck did he never tell us they’re friends?” She glanced at Roy before turning back to Jamie. “D’you reckon he’ll get her to go out with you boys tonight? Or is she too famous for our little Greyhounds?”

Richard appeared over Jamie’s shoulder. “I hope so,” he sighed. “She recently broke up with her boyfriend.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She’ll be looking for a rebound, no?”

Roy rolled his eyes. Shit, was this going to be an even bigger distraction than he thought, he realized. For the millionth time since he stood in Keeley’s office and signed the NDA, Roy was regretting this decision. But when he saw the excitement shining in Keeley’s eyes as she watched the Greyhounds dance around, he couldn’t help the soft sigh he let out.

Fuck, he hoped it was worth it.

~

I took one last look in the mirror. Little jean skirt, black leather jacket, boots. April had assured me that the outfit was perfect: casual enough for a game, stylish enough for a night out with the team, hot enough to catch the attention of Roy Kent. Or at least, look like I’d caught the attention of Roy Kent.

The car ride to Nelson Road was quicker than I’d expected, and the walk to my seat was a blur of phones taking photos and my name gasped out of people’s mouths. I wondered if, with all the time I’d be spending at Nelson Road in the coming weeks, the reaction would die down. Or if, like Keeley Jones had implied towards the end of our first meeting, my presence would lead to a spike in attendance.

She seemed to be hoping for the latter, because she made sure my seat was very visible: right by the pitch, close to the Greyhounds’ dugout. Even if I wasn’t the biggest soccer fan, I had to admit it was exciting being so close to the field; I quickly snapped a few pictures to send to my family, who would appreciate the view much more than I ever could.

When the team came out, I joined in the enthusiastic cheers and screams, shouting Dani’s name loudly. His face lit up when he spotted me, and I saw him nudging his teammates and pointing in my direction. Keeley had warned me about their reactions; indeed, they were grabbing each other and making faces similar to the ones my nephew made when he saw Mickey Mouse on his first trip to Disneyland.

“Whistle!”

The two syllables slammed against my ears. There he was, no longer in the black leather jacket I’d met him in, but instead wearing a dark blue Greyhounds jacket. One of the players- Jamie Tartt, I remembered- started animatedly talking to a very bored-looking Roy Kent. With one of those eyerolls that I knew I’d have to get used to seeing, he turned in my direction.

Despite my initial instinct to roll my own eyes, I instead forced myself to hold his gaze for a moment. A horrified thought suddenly struck me: Could Roy Kent pull this off?

Then his mouth tugged upwards in the corner, forming an admittedly sexy little smirk. In return, I let my eyes wander down his figure, taking in the way his jacket hugged his muscular arms and the way his pants hugged thick thighs. Damn. If I hadn’t already met him, if I hadn’t already discovered what a cranky and irritable grouch Roy Kent was, I’d probably be attracted to his smug expression and athletic build. He wasn’t my usual type, but I couldn’t deny that he was, frankly, kind of gorgeous.

He gave me a curt nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his team and shouting at them, his sharp yell reminding me that I was here for a reason. Remembering Keeley’s instructions, I pulled out my phone and snapped a couple of photos of the pitch, making sure to get Roy and the other Greyhounds in the frame. I quickly posted the picture to my social media and tagged Dani in it, as Keeley had suggested.

With the “official business” out of the way, I relaxed in my seat and prepared to at least appear to look like I was enjoying the game. Figuring that there were eyes and cameras pointed in my direction, I made myself steal several glances at Roy Kent; he must have been thinking the same thing, because more than once, he was already looking over at me.

~

Roy sighed when he looked over at the corner where most of the Richmond players were assembled, practically falling over themselves to get in a word with her.

It was a bit perplexing, honestly. These men were professional athletes. They regularly dated models and actresses. But this singer, this popstar, had them falling all over themselves trying to chat her up. Sure, Roy thought, her level of fame was pretty fucking impressive. She’d won a couple of Grammys, her songs were constantly on the radio, and he’d heard her latest tour was practically impossible to get tickets for. So maybe some of their fawning was justified.

He glanced at his phone, wishing he was at home in bed already. With a deep exhale, he made a beeline for Dani; the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could leave, he reasoned.

“Oi,” Roy grunted as he approached the striker. He nodded towards the swarm of players, doing his best to keep his trademark disinterested expression on his face. “You going to introduce me to your friend?”

Dani’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “You too, eh Coach?” He chuckled and clapped Roy on the shoulder. “Vámonos.”

Roy’s heart stuttered in his chest as he followed Dani to the corner of the club, where he saw, of all people, Jamie sitting close to the singer, murmuring something in her ear. She laughed at whatever he said and responded with a smile on her face. Her eyes flickered to Roy as he approached; was that… disappointment he saw?

If it was, it was only there for a fraction of a second. Just like on the pitch, her eyes trailed over his figure, a small smirk forming on her lips. If he didn’t know better, Roy would be intrigued by the boldness on her face, the uninhibited way she eyed him. In the back of his head, he couldn’t help feeling a bit smug when he saw the way Jamie’s brows furrowed as the striker looked back and forth between the two.

She kept her eyes on Roy as she stood up and stepped away from Jamie and the guys. She batted her lashes at Roy before turning to Dani, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

Shit, Roy thought. She’s good at this.

“Chula,” Dani said, smiling at his friend. “I want you to meet my coach, Roy.” He turned to Roy. “Coach, this is-”

Roy reached out and took her hand in his and shaking it slowly. “Only an idiot doesn’t know who you are,” he hummed, raising his eyebrows. “You caused quite a stir with my team, you know. You enjoy the match?”

She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. “I did. Sorry if I was a bit of a distraction.”

“I think you actually brought us luck.” Fucking hell, when was the last time Roy flirted like this? Was he doing it right? “You should come again sometime.”

Her smile widened as she tilted her head coyly. “Well, if that’s an invitation, maybe I will.”

Desperate to end this charade, Roy cleared his throat. “Have these fellas bought you a drink yet?” When she shook her head, he rolled his eyes playfully. “Fucking hell, guess I need to remind them what fucking manners look like.” With that, he placed his hand on her lower back and nodded towards the bar. “Come on, then.”

She winked at Dani and let Roy lead her to the bar, keeping that coy smile plastered on her face. Once they had ordered, she looked up at him, still smirking.

“Kent,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Watch your fucking hands.”

Sure enough, Roy realized that his hand was dangerously low, just above the curve of her ass. Shit.

Despite his embarrassment, Roy scoffed, although he did remove his hand. “You’re a natural at that flirting shit,” he all but sneered. “Then again, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice, with all your shaggy little rockstar pricks.”

Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second as the bartender slid over her drink. Still, she kept her expression neutral; to anyone watching them, she looked as though she was enjoying their conversation. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Her snarky tone contrasted with her sweet face. “Tell me more about the women who sell stories about your dick to the press and steal your watches?”

“Oi,” Roy growled as he picked his beer up off the bar. “That happened once, alright?”

“You mean it got into the papers once,” she grumbled, sipping her drink. She raised her eyebrows at him. “So, what’s the plan?”

Roy frowned. “Fuck d’you mean? We’re doing the fucking plan.”

She shook her head. “Like, are you going to ask me to dance? Are we taking off and going to a restaurant or some shit?” Roy avoided looking at the way her lips wrapped around her little straw as she sipped her drink. “Keeley said it’s up to us, just no going home together on the first night.” The little snort she gave would’ve been adorable coming from anyone else. “As if.”

“Well, I guess if we dance, we don’t have to fucking talk,” Roy muttered, doing his best to mirror her amiable expression; it was challenging, he realized, looking cheery while feeling irritated as hell. He downed the rest of his beer and practically slammed the empty bottle on the bar. “One song, alright? I don’t usually fucking dance.”

“Trust me,” she hummed, finishing the last of her drink. “For me, you’d make an exception.” Flashing what he assumed was her most winning smile, she took Roy’s hand and led him to the crowded dance floor.

On the dance floor, she pressed her body close to his, her movements teasing and natural. Everything about her- her hips, her smile, her eyes on his, the way her hands played with her hair flirtatiously- would have normally had Roy’s chest feeling tight with attraction.

She brought her lips to his ear, looking as though she was probably flirting with him. “I swear to God,” she hissed. “If you get a boner, I will fucking kill you.”

Yeah. Right.

~

Officially introduced? Check.

Flirted? Check.

Had a drink together? Check.

Danced? Check.

We’d gone through enough of the motions. There was no way I was going to spend more time with Kent than I had to; we’d be thrown together enough in the coming weeks once the “dating” began. Besides, Keeley had warned me that Roy didn’t like to stay out late anymore. He was probably even more ready to call it a night than I was.

Sure enough, after a couple of songs, he gave a small grunt and looked at his phone.

“Should get going,” he grumbled.

“Why?” I huffed, fluffing my hair. “Will you fall asleep right here on the dance floor soon?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a real ball of fucking sunshine?”

“That’s an improvement from nightmare.” I exhaled and tugged at his jacket. “C’mere.”

Roy’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“So I can say goodnight, you idiot. Someone’s bound to take a photo of this.” Not waiting for an answer, I pulled his face close to mine and planted a small, lingering kiss on his cheek. His face was warm, a little itchy from his beard, and now carried a little red mark from my lipstick. I smiled up at him and released his jacket. “Goodnight, Roy Kent,” I hummed.

He cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Right. Goodnight, then.” He reached down and gave my hand a squeeze before turning and walking away, his movements stiff and almost robotic.

Fighting the urge to childishly wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, I returned to the corner where the Greyhounds were gathered. Dani’s face lit up when I slid into the booth next to him and stole a sip of his drink.

“Did you have fun dancing with Coach Kent, amor?” he asked, his voice dripping with teasing.

I smirked at my friend. “He was very nice,” I declared with a playful eyeroll.

“Roy doesn’t normally dance,” one of the players- Colin- informed me. “And he usually doesn’t stay out this late.” He waggled his eyebrows at me over his beer. “Wonder why he came out tonight.”

Putting on my best coy smile, I leaned forward. “What about when his girlfriend comes out with you all? Doesn’t he dance with her?”

Immediately, all the men at the table shook their heads. “Roy doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Isaac, their captain, clarified. “He actually hasn’t really dated anyone since….” He glanced around the table. “Well, since he broke up with his serious girlfriend, Keeley.”

“Keeley?” I echoed without thinking. “Keeley Jones?”  

Dani’s smile widened. “Oh, how do you know Keeley?”

Shit.

“I don’t,” I lied. “But I’ve heard of her. We’ve got some mutual friends. She’s a model, right?”

Isaac nodded. “She’s moved into PR, actually. Runs her own firm, works with the club. She’s brilliant.”

“And once upon a time, she and Roy were our OTP,” Colin sighed dreamily. “But they’re good friends now. Them and Jamie and their weird little dynamic.”

“Jamie dated her too,” Dani explained. “Before her and Roy got together.”

I nodded, slowly piecing together the story. “Jamie dated her too?” I chuckled, wondering why I felt like I should have been told all this ahead of time. “Gosh, she has a type, doesn’t she? Dating two guys from the same team.” I put my hands up and quickly added, “Not that I have the right to judge. I dated bandmates once, did not turn out well for the band.”

The guys laughed good-naturedly. As I was about to feign interest and ask another question about Roy, Jamie Tartt approached, plopping down on my other side and setting down a drink in front of me, his arm behind me on the booth casually.

“Finally escaped from Grandad, eh?” he joked, eyes twinkling playfully.

Damn. Normally, his pretty-boy looks and admittedly annoying swagger would be exactly what I wanted, and we’d probably have a fun couple of weeks in each other’s beds. But I needed to stick to the plan; besides, wasn’t I done with guys like this?

Offering the athlete nothing but a polite smile, I turned back to Dani and took my friend’s hand. “It was fun watching you play today,” I hummed. “Think I could come again? Become a Greyhounds fan?”

“Yes!” Dani kissed my forehead. “Please, amor, come to more of our games.” He nudged me. “I’m sure Coach Kent would not mind one bit.”

Hoping my smile was shy rather than obviously fake, I giggled. “He did tell me I brought you all luck,” I said slowly. I batted my eyelashes at Dani. “Don’t suppose you could pass along my phone number to him? I’d love to know which game he’d like me to bring luck to.”

The table fell into a dead silence, all eyes wide and mouths agape. After the guys exchanged looks that could only be described as utterly shocked, Colin finally cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “are you asking Dani to give Roy your phone number?”

Feigning innocence, I nodded. “Sure,” I chirped. “Is that alright? You all said he’s single, so…” I shrugged and turned to Dani. “Unless you think it’s too weird, chulo?”

“No, no,” Dani assured me. “I can give him your number.” He tilted his head at me. “You… you liked Coach Kent, then?”

Nope. Not at all. Not one fucking bit.

“Sure,” I giggled, hating myself. “I mean, as much as I can like a man after one drink and a couple of dances.”

His smile lit up the entire club as he lifted his drink. “Well, then Coach Kent is a lucky man. I will give him your number tomorrow, how does that sound?”

I tapped my glass to Dani’s. “Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @hotleaf-juice @emmy2811 @captainorbust-blog @preciousbabypeter @shion-ah @royalestrellas

[theseasicksailorblog]

Indie Sleaze: 5 item shopping list

My non-negotiable 5 clothing items to live your indie sleaze truth, written as 2000s/2010s fashion historian.

Ballet Flats

Worn by school-teachers and it girls alike, ballet flats have always been a staple in fashion history, especially in the late 2000s and 2010s. For a first time wearer a simple black flat is a safe bet as it can be paired with anything, but if you want to sleaze it up, opt for a metallic or glitter variation. Something to note about indie sleaze fashion is that the more extra it feels, the better it looks, so don't hold back on cool, funky, flats. These can be found in thrift stores, department stores, and all over Amazon.

Metallic Fabric

Since the dawn of rave/party culture, glamorous lamé fabrics have used for just about every article of clothing possible. Cheaper spandex alternatives rose to popularity as The Cobra Snake era partying merged into mainstream. Shiny red leggings paired with a black cropped tank was peak casual 2010s sleaze attire. A great place to find styles like this is Los Angeles Apparel aka American Apparels re-brand. Though they no longer sell the fun colored disco pants and shorts, the lamé collection offers a variety of shiny colorful items with that trustworthy AA quality. Other places to look are party supply stores, poshmark/depop/ebay, rave shops, and of course Amazon.

Ultra Feminine Dresses

One of the most underrated pioneers of indie sleaze fashion is model and t.v. personality Alexa Chung. While Alexa is often grouped with the Twee (shopping list coming soon) and hipster aesthetics of the 2010s her ability to blend soft girlish dresses with last nights makeup allows for an uber sleazy effect. Mini shifts, polka dotted a-lines, and vintage baby-dolls all work as long as you pair them with unkempt hair and grungy tights to keep the edge, bonus points if your dress has a peter pan collar or your tights have rips. You can find these practically anywhere but start at your local thrift store as they usually have large selections of outdated dresses that were popular during this time period. Alternatively look at department stores, vintage/antique markets, and you guessed it Amazon.

Ringer Tee's and Shorts

Before athleisure was an over-saturated mess of "flare leggings" and Lululemon we took inspiration from student athletes everywhere with the iconic ringer tee's and ringer shorts. Getting their name from the contrasting ring of fabric outlining the seams of the article, ringer style pieces were seen everywhere and worn with everything. Both such versatile basics that could be kept casual or dressed up that you might see a ringer tee with a skirt, or ringer shorts with stockings and a blouse. Los Angeles Apparel has great options for both the shirts and the shorts, places like Walmart and Target often carry ringer shorts, and Forever 21 with great ringer tees, and as always Amazon.

Stockings/Tights

It doesn't matter if they're black, white, multicolored, fish-netted, or opaque, stockings always find a way to elevate a basic look and is often what takes an outfit from mainstream to indie sleaze. Don't worry about buying a super nice quality pair as stockings look best with ripping seams and enormous holes. But don't tear them with a fork like those tiktok girls did in 2020, it screams try hard as a real indie sleaze girl would rip them via dancing, curb sitting, and drunken stumbling. Just like the dresses, you can find tights anywhere. However I don't recommend secondhand as they are technically an undergarment and it's hard to ensure the level of cleanliness.

Spacehey saw it first https://spacehey.com/theseasicksailor

[separatist-apologist]

Neon In The Nighttime

Summary: It's the end of the word as we know it. A west coast baker and the drummer of a metal band team up in Boston, MA thinking they're one of the last few people left alive after a viral outbreak turns those infected into blood hungry monsters.

Their destination: Los Angeles, California- the last place Lucien's eldest brother was living while gearing up for a presidential run. Lucien is desperate to escape the memories of his past life and what he had to do when his wife, Jes, became infected. Elain wants to try and reclaim the fractured pieces of the life she remembers before everything went to hell.

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

Elain had been alone for a long time. A year and some change, if she’d been tracking the time right. More often than not, Elain spent the majority of her time talking to herself. She’d given to speaking her every thought out loud with no one to respond, no one to truly witness her. It had kept her sane, but had also created a habit she couldn’t quite shake.

Not that Lucien seemed to mind. Lucien Vanserra, he’d told her as they’d gone down the aisles, taking everything that was left without guilt. She recognized that last name the way you recognized the name Kennedy or Vanderbilt. He’d waited and Elain, unable to stop herself, had wanted to know what he did for a living.

She’d expected politician or politician adjacent. Drummer for a metal band called The Exiles certainly would have been at the very bottom of a long, long list. She supposed it checked out, though. Lucien’s long, auburn hair was tied in a messy knot atop his head, the kind of long hair he’d likely thrashed around once upon a time. And his large hands seemed like a drummer's hands—not that she had any expertise on that front. She was merely trying to fill in the gaps, to make sense of this new, terrible world. 

Lucien was the first uninfected person she’d talked to in nearly a year. Elain’s kill count had risen to two, and in the aftermath of taking another life, Elain had vowed to stay far, far away from other people. That had worked for a good six months before she got lonely, and after another six months of isolation, Elain would have gotten in the car with a man in a scream mask if he’d promised her conversation. 

Lucien seemed harmless enough. Tall, and broad, and muscular and wholly uninclined to weaponize it in any meaningful way. Elain told herself it would have been far cleaner to force himself on her in the store rather than take her on a journey with him only to have discard her later. In fact, Lucien kept his eyes wholly on her face which was a bar men in the past couldn’t clear, let alone this new wasteland where everyone’s worst impulses were on full display.

Maybe that had something to do with the plain black band on his ring finger, but no wife at his side. Elain didn’t ask, and Lucien didn’t volunteer. Instead, he let her trail after him, filling the silence with her every thought. 

Elain picked through clothes and socks and blankets and underthings, replacing their hand basket with a push cart. And when they finished, and Lucien showed her the rather nice black truck he’d stolen, Elain busied herself with organizing the backseat with the blankets and food and everything else she thought they’d need in a myriad of circumstances. 

Lucien jogged back inside while she worked, returning grinning and holding a fishing rod. “I saw this and thought might as well,” he told her, shoving it in the back with a relish. 

“You fish?” Elain asked, climbing into the passenger seat of the truck. 

“Once, I did. It’s probably like riding a bike, though. You never really forget.”

“Let’s hope,” she replied, pulling the seat belt over her body. 

“If we’re lucky we’ll be able to drive the whole way,” Lucien began, turning the ignition.

“I don’t think there’s any luck,” Elain replied, her good mood giving way to melancholy. “Maybe there never was.”

Lucien’s own expression seemed pained, haunted by some memory she didn’t think she ever wanted to know about. “We’ll need it, all the same. Where’s your optimism, Elain Archeron?”

Buried beneath the Chesapeake tunnel, not that he needed to know that. When Elain thought about that last day, it almost felt like reflecting on the life of someone else. A character in a book, someone on television. Not her—not Elain. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wondered about Graysen. When had she last thought about her bakery? Or anything besides her next meal, the next minute? Even Nesta and Feyre had faded from her memory, perhaps her own poor attempt to pretend they’d somehow survived, too. 

Lucien pulled from the parking lot and Elain tried to imagine what it must have looked like once. Before the virus and the world fell apart, back when going to the store was an afterthought, more chore than anything. She could picture the cars pulling and out, the start and stop as people crossed the street to reach the sliding glass doors. Leaving the parking lot would have brought them into mid-day traffic and open businesses. If they’d been friends, she might have asked him to stop at the now closed, broken storefront of a Dunkin Donuts. 

Elain missed coffee to-go. 

Now everything was silent, a frozen memory of a mundane life no one had thought to miss. Elain pressed her forehead to the glass, wishing as she so often did that she’d blink and it would all be some kind of weird, cosmic joke. The lights would come back on and things would return to how they’d once been.

Beside her, Lucien heaved a heavy sigh. “Mind if I stop really quick?” Elain didn’t. “Go ahead,” she murmured, unable to shake the sadness that had washed over her. Lucien only nodded, silent as he navigated the two of them downtown. They didn’t pass another car or another living soul—it was like they were the last two people left in the world. 

Lucien parked in the middle of the room, leaning over the center to stare out Elain’s window. She waited for him to get out and go inside, to retrieve whatever last little thing he’d been thinking about. Lucien merely remained, eyes frozen on the building he couldn’t go into. Elain looked up at the glass and metal and steel, hardly out of place in a once modern world. 

She could guess what he was leaving behind. 

Neither of them spoke while he worked through whatever thoughts ravaged him. Elain could only guess what it took to convince him to put the car back in drive and make that U-turn back toward the interstate. Lucien’s russet eyes were glassy, and from her place beside him, she saw the vicious trio of gouges over his eye. Another thing she was curious about and another thing she didn’t ask him about.

Elain had once been good at talking to people. That had been her greatest skill in a family of introverts. One smile and a well-timed question could make anyone her best friend. Now, though, Elain waded through the land mine of their new reality and struggled to think of a topic that was safe enough for conversation.

California might be a start. And his elder brother, who he’d spoken  of with fondness. “How long do you think it’ll take us to get to California?”

“If we’re extremely lucky, a week?”

Elain doubted they would be. Gas pumps would have turned off long ago, and even if Lucien managed to figure out how to get them going, who could say if there was any to fuel their car. If they couldn’t, they’d have to abandon the truck in favor of walking through vast, rural parcels of land. Mountains and rivers and desert…Elain hadn’t truly considered the vastness of the United States right until that moment.

Of the hugeness of this task, and how even under the best of circumstances, it was a miserable undertaking. What choice was there? They could stay in Boston or they could strike out and try and find other people, the brother Lucien loved and the home Elain had left behind. 

“Tell me about your brother,” she said, reclining in her chair to study him. Lucien glanced over, running through traffic lights that had been long turned off. Cameras pointed at them, unseeing the travelers fleeing for some place else. 

“Eris?”

She nodded and the world blurred into a sea of golden light. It was bright and warm—a good day to leave and start over. Elain didn’t look back, though Lucien glanced in his rearview mirror with a glassy-eyed expression on more than one occasion. 

“He’s a bastard. You’ll hate him,” Lucien said. Elain didn’t know what she’d expected him to say. Definitely not that. 

“But you want to find him?” Elain questioned, thinking, strangely, of Nesta.

Lucien’s smile was pained. “I love him. And after everything…I’d like to see a familiar face. Just to prove to myself this is all real.”

She understood that too well. “What if it wasn’t?”

“Real?” he clarified, gripping the leather wheel with white knuckles. “How I fucking wish.”

Elain, too. “I’d call my sisters,” she said, thinking of the day in the Chesapeake tunnel—of killing George before he could rip out her throat. Elain had been lucky she hadn’t been infected from the spray of his guts. She wasn’t the only one who’d had to kill someone as they exited. Bodies seemed to pile along the road and still those infected kept coming.

Running. They’d been so fast, so mindless…

“Oh?” Lucien cut through her blood tinged memories.

“Yeah,” she whispered, wondering if they’d suffered or if they’d died quickly. Sometimes Elain thought it would have been a mercy to be spared all this. To have died quickly by her own hand.

She’d thought about it once or twice in her darker moments, staring at the gun always perched in her lap. 

Whether it was cowardice or a testament to the human spirit that kept her alive, she couldn’t say. 

“I would tell them I loved them,” she said, drawing her legs up onto the wide, leather seat. “I don’t think I ever said it enough.”

Lucien clenched his jaw. “I’m sure they knew.”

But he didn’t sound sure. And Elain knew better than to prod or to push at this stranger who had agreed to let her join him. They didn’t know a damn thing about each other and though she hoped to learn, she didn’t want to earn his ire. She didn’t want to find herself stranded somewhere terrible.

Somewhere like Kansas.

“Maybe things are better out west,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. Lucien glanced over, still holding the wheel painfully tight. With haunted eyes, he offered a thin lipped smile. They both knew it wasn’t true, and that this journey was little more than wishful thinking.

But maybe he needed to just do something.

And maybe she needed that, too.

LUCIEN:

Driving helped clear his mind of the memories. Every time Lucien blinked, he saw Jes and her dead brown eyes lunging for him. Felt her fingers around his throat, her body pinning him to the dirty carpet in the hall. And when he blinked again, he saw himself grabbing her by her slim waist and inhaling the scent of rotting meat and urine—the smell of a dead body, but a mind that worked well enough. He’d gotten her to the kitchen before she’d tried to bite him.

Lucien knew by then how the contagion spread. Through body fluids, like saliva, like blood, and even semen if someone was dumb enough. He’d begged Jes to come back but she’d been rabid, and in the end, Lucien had used a kitchen knife to put her out of her snarling misery.

It hardly felt like a mercy. She’d watched him the whole time, and though his Jes was long gone, it hadn’t felt that way in the moment. Knees pressed to her chest so hard he’d felt them crack, Lucien had broken every vow he’d made to her when he’d wed her. He could still remember her teasing, her nervous expression when he’d packed for tour.

You’re going to be surrounded by beautiful women. You’ll forget me.

God, if he’d known…if he’d known he would have told her to quit her job and come with him. He wouldn’t have left her there alone, where she’d been scared, when—

“Lucien?” Elain’s voice stopped him from spiraling. Night had fallen and he knew they should have tried to find someplace to sleep hours before, but he couldn’t bring himself to quit moving. 

Her eyes were on his forearms again, and he didn’t think she was admiring the black ink of his tattoos. That smile she kept putting on was the fakest thing he’d ever seen, and when she fell silent, he recognized the vacant stare in her pretty eyes. Whatever Elain had seen likely rivaled his own in terms of personal horror. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re in the wrong lane again.”

Ah, fuck. When he lost himself to his memories, Lucien often drifted all over the road. That was hazardous in more populated areas given people had just abandoned their cars and left, creating a museum of last moments dotting the American landscape. What had happened to them? Surely millions of people didn’t all vanish in the span of a year? 

Without the news, Lucien didn’t know what was happening in the world. One day everything had gone dark, leaving him with a million questions and no answers. What happened to the infected? Did their bodies merely rot to nothing or did they live indefinitely? Was there a cure? Had civilization started over somewhere? Were he and Elain about to find populous human cities in places like Missouri or Nebraska? Did they have a government, or had that been disbanded? Did anyone exist at all, besides the two of them? 

He’d seen no proof that the two of them weren’t the last survivors. 

“Maybe we should pull over,” Elain suggested. “Try and get some sleep?”

“Where are we?” he asked. He hadn’t been paying attention, but Elain had been keeping track on a large map she’d thought to grab. Bringing her had been, perhaps, the smartest thing he’d ever done. Lucien would have gotten a tent, a sleeping bag, and whatever food he could find but Elain had thought to get blankets and clothes and soap—a map, too, which she unfolded once the Boston skyline was little more than a memory in their rearview mirror. She’d painstakingly traced their route through eleven different states.

“I’ve never been on a road trip before.” She’d said it so cheerfully, gazing out the window like this was an adventure. 

And Lucien, who swore he wasn’t going to force her to make nice while he sulked his way through the whole thing, had said, “Neither have I.” It was firsts for them both. First apocalypse. First road trip. 

“Pretty close to Erie,” she said, glancing over. When he didn’t respond, she added, “Pennsylvania.”

“We’re out of New York?”

Elain looked at her fingers, tapping the surface of her map nervously. He hadn’t offered to go up to New York and Elain hadn’t asked. Maybe she knew they’d find nothing that gave them hope. Or maybe she didn’t want to see the carnage left behind and force herself to reconcile her sister's likely death.

“A while ago,” Elain replied. Without speed limits or the risk of cops, Lucien was making far better time than he ever would have before the world went to shit. He didn’t have to slow down, didn’t have to obey the laws. He could just drive. And not for much longer, he reflected, glancing at the needle of his gas gauge. 

“Alright. We’ll pull over at the next exit, see if we can find a gas station.”

“Good,” she whispered, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Elain was too polite to ask him to stop to go the bathroom and Lucien was too stupid to consider she might need to. He’d been alone for too long. 

“We should sleep somewhere close to the road,” Elain murmured, eyes bright as Lucien began to slow. The darkness unnerved him, and if anyone was alive, the light of his high beams was like a spotlight on the pair of them. Elain’s gun lay between them, and when he parked in front of the gas station, she didn’t complain when he picked it up.

As if he knew what the fuck he was doing with it. Still, better than making her do it and Lucien felt like he owed it to her to take the next kill given she’d so gamely agreed to come with him. For all she knew, he was a murderer—or worse. 

“Nothing’s broken,” she marveled, cupping her hands against the glass window to peer into the dark store. 

“Not yet,” he replied, pulling at the handle. It opened, which he supposed accounted for the unbroken glass. The inside had been left mostly untouched, which meant the stale smell of rotting food overwhelmed them both the moment they stepped inside. Elain gagged a little, but darted off in the dark to relieve herself. Lucien needed to go, too, and needed to put gas in their stolen truck.

If he could manage this one thing and keep them going, he’d believe her when she said all they needed was a little luck. There was none—not without electricity, and their little rural gas station didn’t have a backup generator that might turn everything back on.

“Lucien?” 

Elain’s voice cut through the dark and his urge to give in to his despair. If they had to walk to California she might as well just shoot him now. It would take them the rest of the year, and they’d burn through their supplies before they ever made it halfway.

“Yeah?” 

“Come here,” she called, as if he had any idea where here, was. Still, Elain called out, “Marco!” and he answered it with a dull, “Polo,” until he pushed open the heavy, paint chipped door of the manager's office.

“Elain.” He breathed in the smell of gas fumes as Elain shined a light in his face. Gas cans—there must have been fifteen of them, stacked full in that office that someone had abandoned, stared back at him.

“I found gas,” she said breathlessly, though it might have been from all the gasoline she was breathing in.

Thank God for Elain Archeron, he thought to himself. He didn’t dare say it outloud, not when they were still strangers and there was still a wariness to her expression when she looked at him. Would he have come back here to look? She was the scavenger, which made sense when he remembered where he’d found her. 

“I’m going to see if I can find any water.”

Lucien left her to heft the gas cans into the back of the truck, one after the other. He had no idea if gas expired as he poured it into his tank, but when he started the ignition and the needle pointed back to F, Lucien could have wept real tears of happiness. 

It was enough to get them into the midwest, at least. They could worry about what happened next when they got there—maybe he’d try a little scavenging, too. If nothing else, he could try harder to siphon the gas they’d need to get to California, given Elain seemed to be doing the bulk of the work required to keep them alive. 

He found Elain back inside the darkened gas station piling bottles of water from the dark case by the door.

“There is more in the back,” she said, her voice breathless from exertion.

“Let me help,” Lucien replied, following her as she made herself at home. It felt like a violation of social order to just wander into the stock room, even when, realistically, he knew there was no one left to complain. 

“When is the last time you had a root beer?” Lucien asked, reaching for one of the bottles left untouched. Elain shone the light in his direction, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t remember,” she admitted, biting the inside of her cheek. Lucien twisted the cap, jumping back ever so slightly when the fizz bubbled over, spraying his hands in sugary sweet liquid. He knew he’d regret that later, but for the moment he was quick to lick it from his skin before taking a drink.

Fuck, but it was better than he remembered. All at once, Lucien’s brain ignited with pleasure, making him reluctant to place it in Elain’s outstretched hand. Elain took a drink, unaware she looked like the kind of woman who woke up at six am to do a brutal, boot-camp style workout class before heading down the street for her morning green juice. Maybe she had been, once. 

“What did you say you used to do?” he asked. Housewife, perhaps? Some billionaires well kept girlfriend, before the world went to shit seemed like the sort of occupation she was born for. Maybe a model, though Lucien was six two and Elain herself couldn’t have been any taller than five four, if that. 

She had the face for it, certainly.

“I owned a bakery,” she said. Ah, right. He remembered it now. In the word vomit she’d left all over the floor in Boston, she’d told him what she did for a living. Lucien had been too overwhelmed from human conversation to absorb half of it. “I like sugar.”

“Me too,” he agreed, taking the soda back from her. “Maybe we’ll take some of these for our trouble.”

Her smile was tentative, but sweet. “I like that plan.”

Lucien did, too. “Let’s drive a little further out tonight. Sleep in the car on the side of the road. Tomorrow we can pick a rest stop or a campground to sleep in. I don’t want to be so close to…”

To people. He didn’t say it, didn’t need to. Elain nodded her head vigorously, bending to pick up a case of water. They were silent, repacking the truck with their new-found goods. Elain went to the bathroom one last time while Lucien went for the first. Splashing a little water over his face helped make him feel more awake, though the man looking back at him in that dingy, cracked mirror felt like a stranger.

Physically it was his golden brown skin, his russet eyes, his auburn hair. But emotionally that man looked vacant, a shell dragging around an exhausted, battered soul. He could remember a time he’d loved being alive, though that felt like a foggy, half-forgotten dream to him now. Realistically, Lucien knew he’d felt joy once. That he’d been so happy that even when the world was falling to shit, all he’d ever been able to think about was his wife. 

If he’d had Jes, everything else would have been fine. 

It was Elain, though, who was waiting in the passenger seat of his car. Two unopened sodas sat in the cupholders between them, and in her hand, a plastic wrapped treat.

“I found cosmic brownies,” she told him, turning on the inside lights when Lucien closed the door. “It’s a poor dinner, but…”

“It’s perfect,” he disagreed. There was some strange magic to her, he decided. Something about Elain that made a brutal, ugly world want to bend itself to her small whims. What could she accomplish if she asked for more, he wondered? More than a long-forgotten childhood snack and soda, even? 

Maybe it was luck to find her, and luckier still she’d decided to travel with him. He’d had none since he lost Jes, but Elain Archeron felt like lightning in a bottle. He barely knew her—he could, he considered, be projecting his own loneliness onto her. 

“Ready?” he asked as she reached into the back seat for a folded white blanket. Little dogs with wagons and pumpkins had been stitched along the fabric. It felt homey and normal. 

Safe. 

[spicykaraage]

Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Ryoma Echizen

[PROFILE]

Birthday: December 24th (Capricorn)

Blood Type: O

Birthplace: Los Angeles

Relatives: Father (Nanjirou Echizen), Mother (Rinko Echizen), Cousin (Nanako Meino), Cat (Karupin)

Father’s Occupation: Temple Priest (local)

Elementary School: Los Angeles Saint Youth Elementary School

Middle School: Seishun Academy Junior High School

Grade & Class: First Year | Class 1-2 | Seat 3

Club: Tennis Club (Regular)

Committee: Library Committee

Strong Subjects: English, Chemistry

Weak Subjects: Science Experiments, Japanese

Frequently Visited Spot at School: Under the big tree behind the school building

World Cup Team: U-17 World Cup USA Representatives ➜ U-17 World Cup Japanese Representatives

Favorite Motto: “All or Nothing.”

Daily Routines: Playing with Karupin

Hobbies: Bathing with bath salts from Japan’s famous hot springs ➜ Clearing games he’s borrowed, watching cat videos [23.5]

Favorite Color: Silver

Favorite Music: J-Pop

Favorite Movie: Any kind of Hollywood film

Favorite Book: Monthly Pro Tennis ➜ TENNIS LIFE (an American tennis magazine) [23.5]

Favorite Food: Grilled fish (with little bones), chawanmushi, local confections [23.5], shrimp senbei (plum and kimchi flavor) [removed]

Favorite Anniversary: Any day he can play tennis

Preferred Type: A girl that looks good with a ponytail

Ideal Date Spot: Santa Montica Third Street Promenade ➜ Santa Monica Pier Pacific Park [23.5]

His Gift for a Special Person: “Just tell me what you want.”

Where He Wants to Travel: A snow-view hot spring

Thing He Wants Most Right Now: Nintendo DS ➜ Nintendo 3DS [10.5 II] ➜ A smart watch [23.5]

Dislikes: Waking up early, cleaning the temple floors [removed], paparazzi [23.5]

Skills Outside of Tennis: Animals take a liking to him for some reason, can cleanly peel fruit [23.5], horse-back riding(?) [TP]

Spends Allowance On: Fanta/Ponta

Routine During the World Cup: Soaking in an open-air bath

[DATA]

Height: 151cm ➜ 152.5cm [23.5]

Weight: 50kg ➜ 47kg [23.5]

Shoe Size: 24cm

Dominant Arm: Left

Vision: 1.5 Left & Right

Play Style: All-Rounder

Signature Moves: Twist Serve, Drive A, Drive B, Drive C, Drive D, Cool Drive, Selfless State, Pinnacle of Perfection, Samurai Drive, Hope [23.5]

Time He Wakes Up: 6:30am

Time He Goes to Sleep: 11:00pm

Number of Times Foreigners Come to Visit Him: 7.8 times a month

Favorite Brands:

Hats: FILA

Clothing: FILA

Racquet: BRIDGESTONE (DYNABEAM GRANDEA)

Shoes: FILA (Mark Philippoussis Mid)

Fitness Test Results:

Side Steps: 71

Shuttle Run: 119

Back Strength: 102kg

Grip Strength: 42.3kg (left)

Backbend: 59.5cm

Seated Forward Bend: 39cm

50m Run: 6.1 seconds

Standing Long Jump: 237cm

Handball Throw: 28m

Endurance Run (1500m): 4:46

Overall Rating: Speed: 4 / Power: 3 / Stamina: 4 / Mental: 5 / Technique: 5 / Total: 21

Kurobe Memo: “Even though many areas already have a high degree of perfection, I suspect it’s highly likely he’ll continue to grow and improve. I would like to see him work on building his body without sacrificing balance.” [RB]

[POSSESSIONS]

What’s in His Bedroom [10.5]:

Trophies from past competitions // They’re randomly placed since he doesn’t really care for them

Alarm clock on his bed // The alarm doesn’t necessarily wake him up…

TV and game consoles // He has several types of game consoles but keeps the one he uses the most (Nintendo 64) connected to the TV

Closet // Where his school uniforms are stored. His mother will put them away if they’re left out

His pajamas he’s left out // He’s always in a rush when he gets ready for school

Karupin’s favorite cat toy // A cat tail toy

What’s in His Bag [10.5]:

A beginner’s guide to doubles // He bought it after playing doubles with Momoshiro. He forgot it was in there

Notebook // His math notebook he forgot to take out

Photos of Karupin // He insists that he didn’t put them in there

Notepad // He’s written down emergency phone numbers since he’s always late

Pen case

Game Boy Advance // Bought for him as a starting school gift, he plays it during his free time

Senbei // He drinks Fanta/Ponta when eating senbei

What’s in His Locker at the U-17 Training Camp [10.5 II]

Game console // A PSP. He’s absorbed in video games when he’s not playing tennis and has recently been playing a tennis game

Photo of Karupin // It’s one of his favorites

Fanta/Ponta // Grape flavor

Senbei // Having Fanta and senbei together is a must

[TRIVIA]

The Prince of Tennis 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 11/02/2001

Although he’s lived in the US, he still prefers Japanese food and isn’t fond of Western food

People tend to be aggravated by him due to his abrasive personality, but he means no ill-intent by it

He gained his arrogant and abrasive personality from growing up in the US

He will speak his mind regardless of how it sounds as he believes it’s a way of being kind

His first name is written in katakana rather than kanji. It’s alluded that it may be due to his mother being another nationality besides Japanese

Konomi had Ryoma wear a hat since he thought it was cool, and wanted people to associate his FILA hat with him

He is called “Shorty” by Kikumaru but does not mind it since he says height doesn’t matter in tennis

He likes grape-flavored Fanta/Ponta

He keeps everything he needs for school in his tennis bag, hence why he gets confused when some items are still in it

His personality is described as pessimistic, but shy and gentle and is always striving for improvement

Konomi originally did not intend for him to be the protagonist. The role originally was going to be given to Kintarou, with Ryoma being his rival. He initially thought Ryoma would be difficult to portray as a protagonist, be better as a sub character and that making him the protagonist would dampen the mood of the series. He eventually decided on Ryoma and built the other characters around him

Konomi describes him as a “bad guy”, and that him defeating people who are even worse is a focal point of the series

The Prince of Tennis 20.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2003

He is described to easily get engaged in a single subject and then excel in that area

When he concentrates, he will become so absorbed in what he’s doing that he will not pay attention to his surroundings

He is described to be suited for professions that require special skills, such as a pilot or astronaut

He is very susceptible to change and has an insatiable desire to become stronger

One of his favorite subjects is chemistry since the science behind the substances changing, combining and gaining different properties reminds him of tennis

He doesn’t remember when he started playing tennis, and states he thinks he’s been playing it since he was born

His secondary sport would be soccer

The Prince of Tennis 40.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2007

He is described to be sociable and lively, but doesn’t get too involved in his personal relationships and tends to be reserved

His friends and schoolmates often visited his house when he lived in the US

He did not know what “Old Maid” was until he played it at the joint training camp with Rokkaku

In Genius 305, when he had won his match against Atobe and everyone huddled around him, someone had quietly handed him the shaver, but it’s a mystery on who it was

He considers Kintarou to be quite strong, and wouldn’t mind having an official match with him someday

He is the character Konomi states he has the least in common with, the second being Tezuka

[orangepealtea]

My They Cloned Tyrone Theory

Ending

At the end of They Cloned Tyrone we see Tyrone waking up as if he had a nightmare and we see that this scene scene is set in Los Angeles; earlier Biddy says in the news interview scene while holding what I assume to be Fontaine's file that they are also cloning people in Chicago,Detroit, and most importantly Los Angeles we can obviously deduce that there is a clone of “Old Tyrone” at each of these locations.After we are introduced to Tyrone we see him go through the exact same routine as Fontaine with the only difference being the people but they all occupy the same role and if my Theory that Tyrone is a clone is right then even elements made by the organization to keep clones conditioned are also the same if not tweaked a bit to suit the environment.

Eg.

. Fontaine's mom(ie the recording):Josephine held a fish fry at the community center and im still full

Tyrone's mom(prob also a recording):I think im gonna head out to the voodoo store later

Both of these are excuses used by the clones to prevent them from seeing their mother who is not real

Control

Music is also clearly a way the organization controls people and so they created Ruckus who all the mind control music is credited to, so the genre each clone listens to is another one of the differences Fontaine is never seen listening to Ruckus despite being a clone which may be the reason he is able to break free earlier than Tyrone

Organized religion is also another way used to control the population and this is clearly an Anti-organized Christianity message as organized religion is being used to control and manipulate as it has been for centuries. This form is clearly doing a harm to the community and also seems to be a control factor for the organization as I'm pretty sure they also clone the pastor.The contrast is seen in the pastor vs Frog, organized religion vs mysticism .Frog is using the bible and Christianity to go against authority doing harm while the pastor is using Christianity to maintain the ideology of the organization.

[retropopcult]

"Los Angeles, California. Street scene in Little Tokyo. Businesses represented here on East First Street include the Hotel Mikado, Sho-Fu-Do confectionery, Ten-Gen restaurant, Sato Book Store, Hotel Empire, Sumida & Son hardware, Angel Cake Shop, Moon Fish Co., Eagle Employment Agency, Kawahara Co. and Dr. C.K. Nagao, dentist.”  Photographed spring 1942 by Russell Lee for the Office of War Information.

[pabsterthelobster]

Nick Mag's SpongeBob Character Contest

In the August 2009 issue of Nickelodeon Magazine, there was a contest to see who could come up with their own SpongeBob characters, and the winners would get their characters drawn by one of the official artists. These characters, as well as a number of runner-ups, were showcased in the December 2009 issue, the last issue of the magazine's original run. Unlike the Avatar character contest that ran in the magazine beforehand, these characters were never utilized elsewhere.

Winners

Fredrick*

Personality: Very old-fashioned.

Often says: "I disapprove of this."

Likes: A good cup of English tea (virtual).

Dislikes: That his daughter (Karen) married Plankton.

More facts: He makes old jokes that no one likes. He lived in a computer store, then moved to the Chum Bucket after his wife shorted out.

Brenton M., age 12, Cumberland, Virginia

Stanley

Personality: Plain and boring.

Often says: "Why does everyone assume I'm funny?"

Likes: Nothing. Even Squidward is more cheery than he is.

Dislikes: Popcorn, his job, being stereotyped as a happy, smiley, stupid clown.

Funny because: Everyone assumes he's funny because he's a clown fish, but he's not.

More facts: He sells popcorn at a Bikini Bottom movie theater and lives in an empty tissue box.

Jessica and Adam M., ages 12 and 10, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Roberto Poncho Eelinski the 27th

Personality: Arrogant, sexy, bound to break out in song.

Often says: "Ladies, ladies, please! There's enough of me for everyone!"

Likes: Attention, exercise, flamenco dancing, ladies.

Dislikes: Larry the Lobster (who steals his spotlight).

Pet: Magestico the sea horse.

More facts: He has a Latino feel, has a 172-pack of abs, and lives in a beautiful mansion. Pearl loves him.

Emily R., age 11, Ankeny, Iowa

Honorable Mentions

Sal

He owns over 500 different Hawaiian shirts.

Stephanie D., age 14, Los Angeles, California

Shelby

He has a pet piranha named Fangs.

Amelia T., age 13, Buxton, North Carolina

Mermaid Man's Daughter

She lives in the Merma-lair.

Morgan J., age 8, Uncasville, Connecticut

Crazy Marv

He lives in an old Converse shoe stuck in a forest of coral.

Jax S., age 13, Aptos, California

Johnny Wings

He owns an eco-friendly restaurant called Algae Grub.

Austin F., age 12, Baltimore, Maryland

----

*The original drawing has his name written on his body, calling him "Fredrick 2000"

[katblu42]

Days 6 and 7

Okay, so for those of you following along at home, I'm sorry to say that I have fallen behind in my adventure updates!

Day 6 was a fairly quiet one - last day of the Comic Con, and my fandom friends mostly had tickets for today (but no spare), so I had a quiet morning before meeting up with one of said friends when she was done re-visiting the dealers she wanted to return to.

We walked along the foreshore, had a lazy lunch watching the ducks and went back to the houseboat to wait for the others to return.

She forced me (not really - she asked me) to show her some TAG episodes. She was extremely impressed, particularly with the detail of the sets, but also with the show as a whole.

The day ended with a final Con night dinner for the whole fandom gang out in La Mesa (where our organiser lives). Then it was time to say goodbyes as members of the group would be flying out to their home towns across the US the following day.

Day 7 was a road trip to LA!

This was another surprise sprung on me last minute by the fandom friends. Four of us took the 2 hour trip up the freeway to Los Angeles.

First stop was a surprise for one of our party who is a big fan of the show Emergency.

A lot of the location shots for the show, including every time the vehicles left the station, were filmed here.

We were all content to just take a few pictures of the outside, but one of the firefighters who works here heard/saw us and invited us in for a tour! (This seems to happen a lot! And the station is not busy as a general rule.)

The place has barely changed since the '70's when the show was being filmed, so it was actually very cool to wander through and see things I recognised from watching the show as a kid. We even signed the visitors book.

Next stop was the California Science Center in Exhibition Park so one of our party could see the space shuttle Endeavor.

It was very cool to see it up close! And there were capsules from the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo missions on display (amongst many other interesting things!) too.

Our next stop was Little Tokyo for our remaining 2 road trippers to explore the stores there looking for anime related merch, memorabilia, soundtracks and treasures. There were a few interesting finds made but not much deemed worthy of purchase.

I did spy a Voltron figure - one with the 5 lions that join together - which I've wanted to get hold of for ages. But at US$699 I decided it was going to stay up on that high shelf!

Little Tokyo also hosts the memorial to Colonel Ellison Onizuka.

Next stop, lunch! The others decided I needed to try an In-N-Out burger. Not bad. Definitely on the high end of the quality scale for cheap and cheerful!

We drove through Griffith Park, and down palm tree lined streets in Beverly Hills before a stop around dusk to check out the neon lights in Little China. Dinner was fish tacos at Rubios, then began the long drive back to San Diego.

Made it back to my hotel before midnight, but not by much!

[beardedmrbean]

TURNER, Maine — A Turner woman is accused of buying dozens of guns over several months in 2022 on behalf of a California crime gang.

Jennifer Scruggs, 35 was arrested Monday on 10 charges of making false written statements to three different licensed firearms dealers. Federal prosecutors filed one charge per purchase made between March 20 and June 17, 2022.

Scruggs allegedly bought 55 firearms over those 10 transactions at gun shops in Turner, Auburn and Whitefield.

According to the federal criminal complaint, two of the weapons were recovered by Los Angeles police in August 2022 and February 2023. Serial numbers for each weapon confirmed that the guns were bought by Scruggs in Maine.

Court documents describe a conversation between Scruggs and investigators with Lewiston police and a local ATF officer in mid-August 2022. Scruggs justified the number of guns by saying she did not trust banks and felt that buying firearms was a better long-term value than keeping cash in a bank.

She also cited medical concerns, including cancer, which prompted her to buy the firearms to leave to her son, should she die.

She told the investigators that while two of the guns were stolen by people staying with her, the other 53 were stored at her brother's home.

Her brother, however, reportedly told the investigators that not only had he never been asked to store weapons, but that he and Scruggs did not have a good relationship, due in part to her alleged history of drug use.

In another conversation with the officers in October, Scruggs admitted she had bought the weapons for two other people, who had said they were outfitting a gang in California.

Buying guns for other people, also known as a straw purchase, is illegal. Gun buyers must declare that they are obtaining the weapons for their own use.

After getting a warrant to access Scruggs' Facebook Messenger account, investigators found conversations with several unidentified people, one of which included photos taken by Scruggs at one of the Maine gun shops, with the person then telling her which ones to buy.

A photo sent on June 14 showed cash on the sales counter inside G3 Firearms in Auburn.

A message Scruggs sent later that same day read, "they're all yours after this lol," and explaining she had to get a hunting and fishing license in order to provide the firearms dealer a government-printed document with her current address.

The criminal complaint also details multiple conversations in which Scruggs described driving to California and how she met a gang boss and its alleged "cartel" contact.

Investigators used License Plate Reader machines to track a car rented in June from Portland to Los Angeles. The person who rented the car was the same person who Scruggs was messaging about the gun purchases on Facebook Messenger.

A Browning pistol Scruggs bought in May 2022 in Auburn was recovered by Los Angeles police on Aug. 30, while they investigated a suspect who reportedly fired into the air multiple times while yelling the name of a local gang.

On Feb. 18, 2023, Los Angeles police also seized a Glock purchased by Scruggs on June 2022 in Turner.

If convicted on the ten counts of making a false statement during the acquisition of a firearm from a licensed dealer, Scruggs faces up to ten years in prison and a $250,000 fine.

She is now being held without bail until a hearing can be held to determine if she would qualify for release. The U.S. Attorney's Office has requested that she remain in custody during her trial.

[daebakinc]

Pretty Woman Pt. 5

Pretty Woman AU

Pairing: Kihyun x Reader

Word Count: 4.6 K

Synopsis: Rich business man, Kihyun Yoo finds himself lost driving in Los Angeles. Stopping for directions he meets you, a prostitute on Hollywood Boulevard. What starts as a one night stand soon becomes a weeklong proposition, as Kihyun needs arm candy for his visit in the city of angels.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

~Admin V

             You’d never been on a boat before, yet alone a yacht. Kihyun assured you the speed would be so it wouldn’t feel like you were on water. He said it was like a large moving club.

             He decided to wear the tie you got him. Shyly, you showed him you got a dress that matched. To your surprise, he loved it, and told you in Korea couples actually wear the exact same outfit, so matching colors was in the realm of Korean culture.

             You could never get over his reactions each time he saw you, be it all dressed up in the blue chiffon or in nothing. He always looked at you like you were the biggest prize in a fair. The gown and his tie looked great together. Your makeup was in light shades of pink to offset the blue, and your hair was almost identical to how Minhyuk set it up.

             The party was starting late. The two of you arrived to the dock after ten o’clock and the yacht would be setting sail at eleven.

             Your mouth dropped upon seeing the yacht. It looked like a mansion on water. Everyone you saw was in formalwear like you and Kihyun. They held champaign flutes and laughed. You could see chandeliers inside the yacht from windows.

             It was a bit overwhelming to be around so many people. Last night it was just Hyunwoo and Jooheon. Tonight was a much bigger crowd, and you weren’t sure how well you could fit in. Remembering how Kihyun was this morning in the store, you tried to calm your nerves. Kihyun would protect you. He told you to stop fidgeting and smile.

             You held onto his arm tightly while you both walked around the deck. Kihyun smiled politely and nodded to other guests, so you did the same. An older gentleman came into view.

             “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.” The two men shook each other’s hands. Kihyun introduced you, then gave an introduction of the man.

             “This is my lawyer for the company, K.Will.”

             The man handed you a champaign glass and an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine. You recognized his name from the dinner last night and thought about the story Kihyun shared in the tub. He must have been the other idol caught in a scandal.

             A woman who looked both incredibly expensive and bored appeared next to him. “This is my wife.”

             She didn’t even attempt to make her smile look genuine, and shaking her hand was like handling a dead fish. However, a celebrity passed you all, causing an authentic smile as she called after them, leaving your little group.

             K.Will made a comment about how she loved said celebrity and asked Kihyun if an important person they needed to help them take over Honey Bear Records was at the party. When Kihyun confirmed because he invited this person, K.Will grabbed his shoulders excitedly, exclaiming his love for him. He then excused himself to follow his wife.

             Once he was out of ear shot, you looked to Kihyun. “Real sincere guy.”

             “He’s a lawyer. Would you expect him to be any other way?”

             “You could freeze ice on his wife’s ass.” You’d never met such a frigid bitch, leave for the store clerks who refused you.

             Kihyun chuckled, “We’ll try that later.” He again took your arm in his and escorted you inside the yacht.

Your eyes widened once inside. It somehow got bigger from the inside. The lighting was dimly lit, giving a romantic atmosphere. Some waiters walked around carrying drinks and hors d'oeuvres. There was a bar, a food buffet, small tables and chairs, and even a dance floor.

In the middle of introducing you to a group of women he seemed familiar with, another gentlemen tapped Kihyun’s shoulder taking his attention, leaving you with the ladies.

             The ice-queen syndrome seemed to be customary in this world. One of the women looked you up and down with a sneer. “So, you must be the flavor of the month.” She turned away from you.

             Another woman looked embarrassed. “Don’t mind her. What she means is, Kihyun is a very eligible bachelor. He’s very sought after to land for marriage.”

             This was the reason Kihyun hired you. These women were jealous you were on his arm. And if they sought to marry him, that would be a lot of romantic hassle which Kihyun wasn’t here for.

             Your eyebrow twitched up as you looked to both of them. “Well, I’m not trying to land him. I’m just using him for sex.”

             The apologetic woman’s face turned red, and the snob turned with her mouth gaping. That caused you to smirk then excuse yourself to the bar.

             Kihyun joined your side. “Sorry for the interruption. Care to dance?” He offered his hand.

             However, before you got the chance to take it, more people came up to talk to him. Naturally, he was polite and talked with them, but again leaving you to fend for yourself. You decided to check out the buffet and found a small table to stand at.

             Watching Kihyun in conversations and shaking hands, it seemed like he was some kind of royalty. It wasn’t just women after his attention. Everyone wanted a piece of Kihyun. You thought of Minhyuk’s expression when seeing Kihyun’s name on the credit card. He was like a Korean Kennedy.

             A group of women were gossiping across from you, which you assumed was about your comment of using Kihyun for sex. You didn’t give them another thought, especially when the reality was that Kihyun was using you for sex, and once he left town, you’d never see these people ever again. As you watched him with the people crowding around him, you noticed that every one of them had the same hard frigidness about them. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that if Kihyun wasn’t rich or successful, they wouldn’t give him a second thought.

             Finally managing to escape the gathered entourage, he walked to your little table. “My apologies.”

             You popped a mini quiche in your mouth and shook your head, to signal it was no problem. “That’s why we’re here right?”

             He looked relieved and nodded his head in agreement.

             Smirking and lifting your eyebrow, you commented, “Good thing we got rid of your tension before the party, huh.”

             The stare he gave you was hard, but he had a playful smile with his tongue between his teeth. “How about that dance now?”

             You were able to take his hand this time and he took you to the dance floor. At this point, you were not surprised that among Kihyun’s many talents was dancing. He spun you, dipped you, pulled and pushed you from his embrace. Being with him like this was fun. He pulled you close as the music became slower.

You looked into his eyes, and you couldn’t help but think, he didn’t belong with these people. He didn’t seem like them. You couldn’t imagine if it had been any of them picking you up the other night, that they’d be shy about getting to sex and wanting to talk, or buying you the whole breakfast menu, or even paying a store to suck up to you. They were all plastic; fake like Barbie Dolls.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

His face lit up to your answer and a smirk fell in place. “Really?”

“These people are your friends?”

He looked around then back to you. “I spend time with them, yes.”

Looking around as well you sighed, “Well, no wonder.”

His eyebrow lifted and he looked at you curiously. “No wonder what?”

“No wonder you came looking for me.”

Both his brows furrowed to that, but he didn’t say anything else and continued dancing with you.

When the song finished, Kihyun took you to the upper deck of the yacht. You could see a view of the city from the water, but you were also far enough that you could also see some stars.

             The important person Kihyun had invited came into his line of vision.

             After assuring him you could entertain yourself, he walked over to the man. At least this one seemed nicer than who you’d met so far as you watched the two of them. He reminded you a bit of Changkyun.

             You heard your name being called and turned your attention to a smiling face.

             “Jooheon!” you beamed. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

             He smiled at you then looked over your appearance. “Wow. You look amazing.”

             Blushing, you tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “Thank you.”

             “What brings you here tonight.”

             You motioned in Kihyun’s direction. “I’m here with Kihyun.”

             A dark shade filled Jooheon’s face.

             “How about you? Are you enjoying the party?”

             A smile came back on his face. “Actually, I’m here to play in the house band.”

             “You play, really?”

             “Yup, not just the fancy CEO.” Both of you chuckled to that. “I play the drums. You wanna see the setup?”

             “Oh, I should stay with Kihyun.”

             That put a gleam in his eye. “He’s busy schmoozing. Besides, we’re on a boat out on the water. It’s not like he’d lose you.” Still not fully convincing you, Jooheon pulled on your hand. “Just five minutes.”

             Looking over to see Kihyun still occupied, you finally agreed.

             Jooheon escorted you back downstairs to a small stage area where some instruments were set up. It wasn’t a full drumset like you were expecting, but much quainter.

             “It’s so cute.”

             Jooheon laughed at that. “Cute? Not rugged and manly?”

             That made you laugh, too. “Sorry, no. Maybe if you play something?”

             His face lit up to the challenge.

Then you realized that maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Classical music was currently playing on speakers, and him playing would probably cause a scene. “I didn’t even think, I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

Looking completely unbothered he moved to sit behind the set. “No, it’s fine.” He situated himself and grabbed drumsticks. Quirking his ear to the music, you saw him counting time, then he began drumming along to the classical song. It was one of the coolest things you’d even seen.

A small crowd started gathering around him. When the song finished everyone, including you, clapped for him.

He put his sticks down and came back to your side. “Still cute?”

You shook your head. “Very rugged and manly.”

“Would you like to try it?”

“Playing the drums?”

He nodded.

“I’d rather not embarrass myself.”

“Ah, throwing the tentacle at Hyunwoo was too much for you then.” He had a sheepish smile.

Playfully smacking him, both of you laughed. “I’ll have you know that was my first time ever eating with chopsticks.”

“Noooo,” he replied sarcastically.

Putting your hands on your hips you glared at him. “I think I did pretty good for my first time. And I refused your pity fork!”

He laughed harder to that. “Yes, you did very well. But, I wasn’t the one who got you the pity fork. That was your boy, Kihyun.”

At the mention of his name, you looked to see if he’d made his way back downstairs. You found him, but he was in the middle of a conversation with K.Will. It didn’t look like a heated discussion, but Kihyun didn’t look happy having it.

“I hate that guy,” Jooheon sighed.

You looked at him wide eyed. “Kihyun?” Not that you could blame him. He was after all trying to take his company.

“K.Will.”

That piqued your curiosity. “Do tell.”

“Have you met him?”

“Just introductions.”

“And what did you think of him?”

The uncomfortable shiver came back to mind. There was definitely a negative vibe.

Jooheon could see it in your expression. “Trust your gut on that.”

Other men holding instruments came out to the small stage.

“Guess that’s your cue.” You were a bit disappointed. You were having fun with Jooheon.

“It appears that way.” He gave a small wave and went back to the drumset.

Looking around again, you didn’t see Kihyun, and decided to find another standing table to watch the band. As they played, you enjoyed their sound. You wondered if this band was part of the company. Is that why Jooheon got so upset? Would he be one of the groups Kihyun was going to sell off?

You smiled, even laughed a little when Jooheon pointed a drumstick in your direction. You made a show to dance a little to the music.

“Having a good time?” K.Will was now standing next to you.

Smile still in place, you answered honestly. “I’m having a great time.”

“Must be very different from Hollywood Boulevard.”

Your smile fell and your blood felt cold. “W-what?” You couldn’t look at him and focused on Jooheon.

“Kihyun told me everything.”

What. The. Fuck.

“So, when he heads back to South Korea, perhaps you and I could get together.”

What the fuck. What were you supposed to do? Right now you were playing the role of arm candy. Making Kihyun look good. You weren’t in hooker-mode. You weren’t ready for him to come at you like this. You didn’t want to be in this conversation. At the end of the day, you got to choose your Tricks. K.Will wasn’t one you’d choose. If you said no though, would he make a scene and expose you?

“Sure, why not?” Your robot self was back.

He chuckled happily to himself then rested his hand on your shoulder. His thumb stroked up and down, causing your skin to crawl. “Good, why don’t we do just that. I’ll be seeing you.” Letting go of you, he walked away.

Your heartbeat raced as panic took over. You looked up and saw a group of women gossiping. Were they talking about you? Did they know your secret? Why would Kihyun hire you then tell people? Were you just a game to him? You wanted to leave. Needed to leave.

Unfortunately, the yacht was still out on the water. You had no place to go. Ignoring everyone around you, even though you had a growing suspicion they knew you were a prostitute, you rushed to the women’s bathroom.

It was small, with only 2 stalls and one sink, but there was a plush chair across from the sink, so you sat in it. You were planning to live in it until the yacht docked.

An older woman came into the bathroom. She looked concerned the second she saw you. “Are you alright, dear?”

Not feeling like speaking you just shook your head.

“Seasickness?”

You nodded in response hoping it would get her to leave you be.

“I have some Dramamine. Let me get you a glass of water.”

She left the bathroom. At least she didn’t seem to know what you were.

When she came back, Kihyun was with her. He rushed to your side, kneeling down to your level.

“You’re not feeling well?”

How could you feel well? Looking at him filled you with disgust as well as a new sense of rage. This apparently helped to make you look seasick.

“I’m fine.”

“We’re docking in 30 minutes. We’ll get off right away.”

He informed you that he had to bid farewell to the other party goers and left you alone.

You thanked the woman as she handed you the water and medicine.

When the yacht landed, you very much did not want Kihyun near you or touching you in anyway, but because he thought you were sick, he insisted on helping you to walk to the limo. During the ride back to the hotel he kept asking how you were, and the only thing you could manage that wouldn’t cause you to blow up was “I’m fine.”

Finally you were back in the hotel. “Are you feeling better?”

You just wanted to get into the bathroom away from him. “Fine.”

Kihyun huffed. “You’ve been saying ‘fine’ all night. Can I get another word please?”

Turning your attention from the bathroom door, you turned giving him your nastiest sneer. “Asshole. There’s a word.” You slammed the bathroom door and leaned against it. Then you thought, why should you hide? Already calling him an asshole, he deserved to have his rich, spoiled self knocked on his ass.

Opening the door, you made yourself calm before speaking. “Tell me one thing, why’d you make me dress up?”

He looked completely unbothered by your name-calling and outburst. “Well for one thing, the occasion called for it. You saw how everyone was dressed tonight.”

The fact that he seemed oblivious to your anger brought it on stronger inside you. “No. What I mean is, if you’re going to go around telling everyone I’m a hooker, why make me dress up?”

He looked slightly taken aback, but didn’t answer.

“That way, when creeps like your lawyer come up to me and make a pass, at least when I’m in my own clothes, I’m ready, I’m prepared.”

The surprise was now gone from his face. “I didn’t know K.Will approached you. I’m very sorry that he did that at all. I’m not happy with him, but he is my attorney. I’ve known him a long time. He thought you were some kind of a corporate spy working for Honey Bear.”

That was his excuse? K.Will was his friend so it’s okay? “Are you my pimp now? Think you can pass me around to all your little rich friends? I’m not some little toy.”

The frustration was clear on his face. “I know you’re not a toy.”

You walked away from him not caring what else he had to say.

“I know you’re not,” he called your name, his voice getting louder. “I’m speaking to you. Come back here.”

Facing him, you let the anger seethe out from your gaze.

“I hate to point out the obvious, but you are, in fact, a hooker, as well as my employee for the week.”

Was he serious? He thought he owned you. “I’m not your anything! I say who. I say when. I say . . .” You were so mad you couldn’t think straight.

Kihyun interrupted you, his voice still raised. “I refuse to spend the next 3 days fighting. I said I was sorry, I meant it. End of discussion.”

Disbelief washed over you. No where in the conversation had he apologized. And oh no, he didn’t want to fight so he got to end the argument? To hell with that. To hell with him. “Having money doesn’t give you the right to treat people like you’re better than them. You apologized? The fuck you did. Well don’t worry, you don’t need to worry about arguing for the next 3 days.”

He mumbled some snarky little comments, but you weren’t listening. You looked around the closet for the cocktail dress and Michelle Obama. Once finding them and draping them on your arm, you collected your boots and hooker-wear.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving. I’m done. I want my money, and I’m gone.” Reaching under the bed you grabbed your bag.

There was no response from him, but you could feel him staring at your back. “We still have the rest of the week.”

“You made it very clear how you treat your employees and regardless of what you think of me, I fucking deserve better than that. I want my money.” Crossing your arms, you stared at the wall, not daring to look at him.

There was no more conversation. After what seemed like a long time, Kihyun walked out of the bedroom and left you alone.

             You looked at the bed where he tossed a large sum of bills. $8,000 could really change your life. But you were so pissed off at Kihyun. You didn’t want to take anything from him you didn’t truly earn. Didn’t want him having an excuse like you owed him something. You still had the $700 from the first night, which would suffice. Ignoring the money, you walked out of the bedroom, ignored Kihyun playing with papers at the desk, and left the hotel room.

             Why was the elevator taking so long? You pressed the down button again in case it didn’t take the first time. The door to the penthouse opened. You looked straight ahead, pretending you didn’t see Kihyun walking toward you.

             He angled himself to be slightly between you and the elevator. “I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, reserved. “I wasn’t prepared to answer questions about us. I was stupid.” He sighed. “And cruel. An asshole as you said. I didn’t mean it. You absolutely deserve to be treated better than how I treated you tonight.” He took another long exhale. “I don’t want you to go. Will you stay the week?”

             His apology seemed sincere, but you couldn’t dismiss your anger so easily. Still not looking in his direction, you asked, “Why?”

             From the corner of your eye, you saw him looking down, as if he were ashamed. “I saw you talking to Jooheon Lee tonight.”

             “So?” Was that it? He thought you were gonna turn on him and expose his plans to Jooheon?

             “I didn’t like it.”

             His response caught you off guard and you finally looked at him. “We were just talking.”

             A small smirk appeared on his face. “I didn’t like it.”

             The elevator binged and Hyungwon smiled, stepping slightly out the doors. “Going down?”

             Kihyun looked to you. It was your decision. He wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to go, but he already told you that he wanted you to stay.

             The confession that he was jealous of Jooheon lifted a small bit of anger, but not all of it. However, he did finally give you an actual apology. Could you give him another chance?

             Looking at Hyungwon, you shook your head. The taller man’s face fell, taking in the situation. He stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed.

             You exhaled to steady your voice from sounding shaky. “You hurt me.”

             He looked into your eyes. “Yes.”

             At least he was acknowledging his fuckup.

             “I’m not ready to forgive you.”

             “I understand.”

             Your glare into his eyes was hard. You wanted him to make no mistake that what you were about to say was a threat. “Don’t hurt me again.”

             He nodded in understanding and offered to take some of the things in your arms to carry back into the hotel room.

           Once everything was put back in place, Kihyun moved as if to leave the bedroom.

           “If you want my forgiveness, you’ll sleep in the same bed with me tonight.”

           Surprise was on his face, but he stopped moving.

           “You’re allowed to sleep in the bed you’re paying for. We do have sex. I don’t know why you can’t sleep next to me.”

           He opened his mouth to answer then closed it.

           “Are you embarrassed to sleep next to me?”

           “No.”

           You raised your eyebrows waiting for his answer.

           “I didn’t want to bother you. I’m not good at sleeping.”

           That put a smile on your face for the first time since the party. “You’re not good at sleeping?”

           “I have trouble falling asleep, always thinking about work and what I need to do in the morning. Then I can’t get comfortable in bed and toss and turn. Then if I do finally fall asleep, I’m such a light sleeper that if I snore, I wake myself up.”

           Your anger was starting to melt away. How could you be mad when he was this cute and endearing? “You won’t bother me by sleeping in the same bed. Or not-sleeping laying next to me.”

           He gave you a firm look, making sure you meant it and weren’t just being nice. But you’ve never minced words with him yet. Why lie?

           Kihyun helped you out of your dress, and you helped with his tie.

           Once the two of you were ready for bed, you both got in facing each other. Neither of you closed your eyes to sleep, but looked at each other. Even with the lights out, you studied the contours of each other’s face.

           “You’re so beautiful.”

           Glad your blush couldn’t be seen in the darkness, you weren’t sure what to say.

           “Can you explain it to me?”

“How I’m beautiful?”

He gave a low chuckle. “No. How you came to be in this profession.”

No one had ever asked you how you became a hooker.

“I guess it would start when I was younger. Not being a prostitute, just the story.”

He watched you curiously, never taking his eyes off yours.

“Everyone in my family constantly said that when I would be older boys would be all over me. I’d have so many boyfriends. Even my grandfather. He taught me a few ways to get rid of them if they didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“In middle school I expected to be popular with boys, but I wasn’t. They liked my friends, but never me. I felt so disappointed. Why wasn’t I living up to the hype I’d always gotten? So in high school, when a boy finally liked me, I didn’t care about his personality, just that I’d finally have a first boyfriend.

“He was older, and he wanted to go out here to California. I followed him. Next thing I knew, I was here with no money or friends, or even him. I worked at a few fast food places, and parked cars as a valet, but it wasn’t enough to make rent. I was too ashamed to go home.

“One night I ended up in this 24-hour diner, and a group of hookers were there, sharing details about the Tricks they just turned and how much money they’d made. Tired of my third week of living on ramen, I decided to do it.

“I was so scared the first time. I shook the whole time and was awkward. I didn’t know what to do and ended up crying. But eventually, I became friends with some other girls who gave me tips and I got myself a few regular clients. I could pay rent and eat something that didn’t need to be microwaved.” Saying it out loud, your life sounded so pathetic to you. “No one plans this. It’s not a childhood dream anyone has.”

His gaze was piercing. That power was back, pulling you in. “You could be so much more. I saw you tonight. You lit up every place you stepped on that yacht. Even at dinner last night. You have so much charm. You don’t hold back what you’re thinking. You’re not afraid to be yourself.”

Those were not compliments you’d heard from anyone else. Of course being a sex worker  came with negative comments all the time, but even before that, back when you were home. “When people put you down enough, you start to believe it.”

Looking at you for a moment, a small smile formed on his face. “I think you’re a bright, very special woman.”

You could see he was being sincere. Fighting a yawn, you answered. “It’s easier to believe the bad stuff.”

He held your gaze for a few more moments then reached for your chin like he had in Façade. “Why don’t you sleep.”

“Okay.” You reached up for his hand and held it in yours, closing your eyes and letting everything fade.

[hogarthwrites]

penitent thief

pairing: none

genre: grief/mourning, family bonds, reconciliation

words: 1493

summary:

Sam returns to his hometown after many, many years trying to reconcile with his past and to have his transgressions be heard.

note:

a love letter to samuel drake from uncharted 4 (i love him), so yes, this will be from sam's POV but i also have a lot of thoughts about nate regarding this topic.

Rain poured over the city of Boston, accompanied by rolling thunder, but in a little home just on the outskirts of the city, Cassandra Morgan held her one year old son in her arms. Nathan was her second son and she loved him just as much as Sam, who had just turned six.

“Shh, it’s just a little rain, Nate,” she whispered as Nate began to cry from the loud thunder.

Sam was sitting on the sofa in his matching Sesame Street pyjamas as he listened to Cassandra sing to Nathan.

“Dream a little dream of me…” She softly sang.

It was a song he often heard her sing, and as he hugged his teddy bear with an eyepatch, he felt his eyes get heavy as her voice lulled him to sleep.

Cassandra carried Nate over to where Sam was and wrapped her other arm around him as she continued to sing slowly.

“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you…” she brushed the hair off Nate’s forehead. “But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me…”

As both boys fell asleep on the sofa, she covered them with a blanket and stood by the window, watching the rain fall. Just a few days ago, the doctor had told her what was wrong, telling her they didn’t know how long she had left. Only her husband, Frank, knew, but instead of comforting her, he drowned his emotions in alcohol again. Cassandra tried to hold back tears as she glanced back at her sons. How was she supposed to tell them?

Present Day

Massachusetts Welcomes You

Sam scoffed at the sign as he drove past it. Sure it does, he thought as he looked up at the grey clouds above and the brown leaves covering the trees. He suddenly missed the warmth of the California weather, wishing he was back in Los Angeles instead. He’d been driving for days, dreading going back to the city he grew up in, but now that he was finally within the state, he didn’t feel any different. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in Boston yet.

He couldn’t remember the last time he saw that particular sign. Was it before Panama that he’d come back here? Sam was lost in thought as he continued to drive, eventually he saw the sign he had been dreading to see: Entering Boston, Est. 1630.

The streets were just as Sam remembered it, but some of the stores were different. Not that he cared, he’d convinced himself long ago he had no attachment to them.

He stopped by a flower shop to buy a bouquet of different shades of purple. It was akin to a bride’s bouquet, with lilacs and wisterias, but the flowers were for no bride.

It had begun to drizzle as Sam parked his motorcycle at the cemetery. With a black umbrella in one hand and the bouquet in the other, he walked to an all familiar spot on a small hill by an oak tree whose leaves have all turned orange. 

Sam kicked away the leaves in front of the headstone and he kneeled in front of it as he placed the bouquet in front of it.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” he said softly as he looked up at the headstone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit for so long.”

Cassandra Morgan

November 14, 1947

June 25, 1982

Beloved mother, wife, and daughter.

He fished out a doubloon from his pocket, one that he got from Henry Avery’s piles of treasures.

“Remember Avery?” He smiled as he held it up, tossing it in the air and flipping it around his fingers. “We did it, Mom, Nathan and I. We found Libertalia and the treasure.”

Sam sighed as he fully sat down, ignoring the wet ground under him. For a second, he wondered if he was just talking to himself or if he really believed that there was a heaven and that Cassandra was listening to him. 

“I think I did something wrong, Mom, but I’ll save it for confession. It’s what they taught us in that school Dad dumped us in.”

He sat there for a while, telling her about the Libertalia adventure then just taking in the scenery. It was cold, but it wasn’t cold enough to bother Sam, and he began to think about all the adventures Nathan had had and all the adventures he knew he was about to have.

“I wish you coulda been there,” he said. “You were right about it all; Libertalia and Sir Francis Drake. You would’ve loved it.”

A giggle from a child caught his attention and he looked on as a father and son walked by outside the cemetery. 

“You think Mommy would like the card I made her?” The little boy asked his dad.

“Of course she will,” the dad replied. “Just keep it in your bag so it doesn’t get wet in the rain.”

“Okay.”

“Well,” he sat up and brushed off the dirt from his jeans. “I gotta motor. I’ll be back next year. I promise, Mom. Happy birthday.”

He stopped by the church next to the cemetery, finding it empty except for an old woman kneeling in prayer. As he passed her to go to the confessional booth, he recognised her, but couldn’t quite remember who it was. It’ll come to me later, he thought as he entered the booth.

This wasn’t usually something Sam did. Hell, the last time he did a confession was when he was 16, but something compelled him to do another one. Maybe it was just the nostalgia of it all.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…” He muttered after crossing himself. “It’s been about 30 years since my last confession.”

“That’s quite a long time,” he heard a voice behind the screen, relieved he wasn’t talking to himself again.

“Well, this isn’t really my kinda thing,” Sam took a deep breath. “Anyways, I lied to my brother. I mean, I’ve done a lot of sins, but I lied to him for such a long time.”

“Have you asked for forgiveness?”

“Yeah. He says he’s forgiven me and we’re good, but it’s been eating me up. Weird because it’s not the first lie I’ve told.”

“You care about your brother a lot, then.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “He’s my only family left.”

He looked up at the screen. No response this time.

“Anyways,” he continued. “I’m sorry for these and all my sins.”

“Always remember that God loves you,” the priest said then.

Sam simply nodded, trying not to roll his eyes. It was something he’s heard a billion times. 

“Will you make an Act of Contrition, child?”

It was one of the prayers Sam was surprised he still had memorised as he recited it out loud. For a second, he felt like an orphan schoolboy again.

“I absolve you from your sins. May the father of all mercies cleanse us from our sins and restore us in his image. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest changed.

“Amen.”

Sam felt a bit lighter after he left the booth, not because he felt his soul was saved, but he was glad he got to say how he felt out loud. As he got to his motorcycle, he noticed he had received a few messages from Nathan on his phone while he was busy.

“Yeah?” He said as his brother picked the phone up.

“Where have you been? Did you get there?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah, I just left the church. Why?” 

“Ah, nothing. Just wish I could’ve been there, I just couldn’t leave Elena.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Sam shrugged as he wiped down the seat of his motorcycle which was wet from the drizzle. “Mom’s doing fine.”

Nathan chuckled. “That’s good to know. Did you get her the…”

“Lilacs and wisterias? How could I forget? How’s Elena?”

“Oh, we just found out the sex of the baby earlier.”

“And?”

“It’s a girl,” Nathan sounded happy.

“Kinda symbolic you found out on Mom’s birthday, huh?” 

“Yeah…” Nathan’s voice drifted as though he were in thought. 

“Thanks for telling me, little brother,” Sam looked up as a raindrop fell on his cheek. “Listen, I gotta go. Call me if anything comes up.”

“Right, I forgot, Chloe said it’s a go on the India job with you and that she’ll email you the stuff.”

“Got it,” Sam smiled. “Talk to you soon, Nathan.”

“Bye, Sam.”

Sam felt high on the possibility of going on another adventure as he drove through the rain. Boston suddenly felt like a new city to him, now that there was hope that he could do even more in life. He wasn’t the scrappy little orphan on the street anymore, he was now a free man with the world at his fingertips. He knew Cassandra would be proud of her sons.

note:

full discretion that i'm not catholic so all of my knowledge about the church and confession are purely from research so if i get anything wrong i apologise in advanced

[spiremire]

6 months in Interior Alaska

In August I moved 3500 miles north from Los Angeles-ish to Interior Alaska for a PhD program. This was the most nerve wracking thing I’ve ever done and also one of the most exciting. When I talk to friends and family about having moved up here, it’s pretty clear they’re picturing me living in a cabin in the woods, fending off bears and somehow a university fits in there, somewhere. Like Alaskan Bush People, with a random college campus thrown in.

Sometimes, they’ve got the right idea. But never for the reasons they think. There’s lots of stuff that’s hard to get up here. That means everything purchased in the state of Alaska comes with a hidden shipping cost built into the market price of the item. When you’re paying nearly twice as much for fresh meat and produce in the stores than the folks living in the lower 48, it’s no question why so many locals turn to hunting and foraging to stock their pantries. Yes, even the ‘city folk’. (I live in the largest urban center in Interior Alaska, but there’s only like 33,000 people living in the city limits. I think that’s what most people would qualify as a small town.)

In terms of hunting and foraging, I wouldn’t even know where to start. No one is ever willing to share where their berry spots or mushroom spots are, and I can’t eat fish and have no interest in getting a hunting license for something bigger. I don’t even have hunting experience to make something larger feasible.

Regardless of price, there’s still some things that I just can’t get up here. Furniture stores like Ikea and Wayfair make no selfsame effort to get their products up here, not even for exorbitant shipping costs. (Usually you have to pay exorbitant shipping costs to a third party package forwarding service, or something similar, instead.) There’s a Target in Anchorage, but Anchorage is 7 hours away on a good (not icy) day. I’ve been making do with Wal-Mart, but it’s not the same and I’m not thrilled about it. Amazon usually charges extra for shipping, because I never buy anything on Amazon I can get in a store, and that usually ends up being weird, bulky items because I am perpetually unlucky.

Speaking of big grocery chains, we only have 4. We have Wal-Mart, Fred Meyer, Safeway, and Costco. These are all the biggest single stores I’ve ever seen in my life and have enough departments they’re almost individual mini-malls. Except the Costco. Costco is the same everywhere. I think I’ve already mentioned being afraid to go into the Wal-Mart and that I just use online order pick-up instead? Yeah. Yikes.

A related aside: Over spring break, which was a couple weeks ago now, we had a few researchers from Portugal visit us so they could get samples at a few of the thermokarst lakes nearby, and they had a pretty miserable mishap with their luggage where all their clothes got lost in Frankfurt, Germany (their first connection), but all their sampling materials arrived just fine. So we ended up taking them to Wal-Mart to get them a few basics, and they’d never been in a Wal-Mart. They also found it entirely overwhelming and I feel vindicated. Anyway.

The familiar-national-chain pickings are slim, whether I’m looking for groceries, fast-food, or another specialty store. This isn’t to say that everything I need isn’t available. Because it is. If you can’t get it for closer-to-lower-48 prices at a national chain store, you can definitely get it from some local supplier. Only problem is, the local suppliers can charge whatever they want, because there’s no competition. Is that good for them? Yes! Absolutely. I love small businesses, and I love that this area allows them to thrive. Is it good for me? Hell no. I don’t make enough as a student to justify going out to eat more than once a month, or once every two months if I’m going to a sit-down restaurant, where the cheapest plate is somewhere between $20-25. Which is rough.

But I don’t only have complaints! There’s so many things I love about here, so far, and in the big picture, I feel like my complaints don’t even begin to outweigh the benefits. I’ve gotten a million opportunities I’d never have gotten anywhere else to do cool stuff. I got to go ice climbing, touch three million year old dirt at the bottom of a permafrost tunnel, see so many excellent showings of aurora borealis, dodge moose and bears and caribou with my car, feel -45F, or experience a full 24 hours of darkness.

I’m having a blast, but sometimes the little things make me feel more like I’m living in the woods. (Don’t get me started on the dry cabin situation up here.)

A lot of it can be mitigated by simply going to these places while I’m visiting my family in the lower 48, but I only see them once a year because I’m so busy and flights are so expensive.

[formeryelpers]

Super Sal Market, 17630 Ventura Blvd, Los Angeles (Encino), CA 91316

Super Sal has been open for years. I think I went years ago. Recently, Tel Aviv Authentic Kitchen opened inside Super Sal, making it the only market in the country with a Tel Aviv. They even sell Tel Aviv’s dips and salads in their cold case near the meat/fish department. Whoa. You can probably tell that I love Tel Aviv (casual Israeli café).

Super Sal also looks better (I think they remodeled?) than I remember. It’s a fairly large kosher market – not as large as Vons or Ralph’s but more like a Sprouts size. They claim to carry the largest variety of grocery items from Israel in the San Fernando Valley. There’s also a deli, meat/fish department (they have seasoned meat like shawarma), kosher sushi, homemade salads and their own line of baked goods. The thick Israel pitas I picked up were still warm from the oven. And there are baked goods from Sam’s and Angel Bakery, including pita, sangak, buns, Jerusalem bagels, lavash, and more.

You can also get spices, produce, ice cream, dairy, cheese, frozen food, canned food, pasta, snacks, nuts, wine, household essentials, toiletries, candles, etc. There’s a parking lot behind the store. I think Western Kosher has a better selection of hummus and baked goods but they do not have a Tel Aviv inside.

My picks:

Super Sal pita (5 for $5.99): Super thick, Israeli style

Classic hummus, 17 oz, $6.99 - 

Super Sal hummus, $7.83 -  thick & smooth, Israeli style, made in-house

Don’t forget to save room to eat at Tel Aviv.

5 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.