#i am SWEATIN this was tough

[oatflatwhite]

if u could have dinner with any three people (dead, alive, or fictional) who would it be???

oh my god lmfao this is so difficult!!!!! FICTIONAL TOO bro jeez ok. hm ok. ok going with gut responses here eyes closed head first can't lose

renee lemaire (i gotta meet and know more about the angel of bastogne i HAVE TO)

aloy from the horizon zero dawn video game (she's just so amazing and talking to her would be soooo cool especially about our world and her world and all the interactions/crossover etc)

sophie turner (she just seems like such a wonderful and genuine and funny person and i have the biggest crush ever on her so)

FOR THE GIRLS ONLY ❌️❌️ NO BOYS ALLOWED ❌️❌️

inbox me (1) thing you want to know about me

[merry-the-cookie]

omg has anyone said anything abt Ash in D3 and Cal in C3 (or the reverse). I just think cashton and sunflowers y'know...

ur so right. here are some flower boys for you 🌻💖

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

in too deep (part 5) - jules

jules x reader

TW: drugging

warnings: beating, homophobia, threat of death, i think that’s pretty much it??

notes: ooooohhh we’re getting closer to the end! not that i’m excited for this to end, but i’m just excited for you guys to see it

i really hope that me putting homophobia in this story doesn’t make you guys think i’m homophobic bc that’s the farthest thing from true. since i changed the gender of the mickey stand-in, i felt like it might be more interesting to add another dynamic into the story so it wasn’t just a word for word copy of the original except with a girl, bc that seems really one-dimensional to me. i feel like i need to put one of those things they have in movie credits like “the views in this film in no way reflect the views of the studio that produced it” kinda thing

also i think this may be my favorite part that i’ve written, bc if you didn’t notice, i’ve never left the reader’s perspective during the whole thing, so i had to improv a bit during the parts of the movie we didn’t get to see with mickey, and maybe i’m just a lil proud of myself :’)

******************************

for the first time since you came up with your brilliant plan to siphon the gas, you actually felt a glimmer of hope. jules was smart, she’d surely find a way out of the house; and she was damn loyal, too, so you knew there was no chance she’d leave you behind. 

sadly all those hopes were dashed when you heard the basement door creak open again. 

fuck, this whole plan was dependent on the fact that no one else came downstairs! your hands clammed up, your heart rate quickening as footsteps descended the stairs, stopping dead in their tracks once they reached the bottom. 

  “where the hell’d that little bitch go?” george roared, scanning every nook and cranny in the basement to see if jules was hiding anywhere. “answer me!”

you stayed silent, more out of fear than some sort of strategy. you quickly realized this was the wrong decision as george viciously backhanded you across the face. your head whipped to the side, eyes blinking back into focus from the impact. you felt something sticky on your lips and realized it was blood. 

  “you’re so angry,” you groaned. “why? just ‘cause you’re shooting blanks?” you pouted in mock sympathy. this sudden boost of confidence seemed to be a mistake as you saw george’s expression shift into a dangerously content one. 

  “i’m gonna rip your fuckin’ heart out.” your face dropped as he spoke. “i understand you not wantin’ to tell me where she is. in fact, if i were in your position i suppose i’d do the same. but god almighty i’m gonna watch ya’ die. i’m gonna hurt ya’.”

you were stunned into silence but you decided saying something, anything, would be better than nothing. “she’s gone, man. you just need to give it up.”

this seemed to strike a nerve in him. he turned towards you again and delivered another swift slap, knocking the wind out of you. he smacked you again, the back of your head knocking into the pole and causing your consciousness to fade for a moment. 

  “you think i’m full of hot air, don’t you? only good on roughin’ you up?” he asked rhetorically. “you know i worked as a door-to-door salesman for a few years? learned a lot, but the most important thing i learned was how to read people. and at the end of the day, you’re just an open book, sweetheart.”

the name sounded like poison dripping from his lips. it made you sick, that name belonged to jules. 

  “i know your type, believe you me, i’ve seen quite a few in my time. you see, you like to think you’re tough, strong, resilient, but at the end of the day, you just value her life above yours.” he laughed to himself. “am i right?”

he chuckled again when you didn’t answer. “that’s alright, you don’t have to answer, i know i’m right. well, you people are more loyal than i thought. guess i gotta give credit where credit’s due.”

  “fuck you.” you spat. “don’t fucking talk about her like that.” he stood up again, this time grabbing something from a shelf before making his way back to you. 

  “alright, no more pussyfootin’ around, time to get down to business.” he revealed the knife, positioning it under your ear as he prepared to slice it off. 

  “sheisn’tgoingtothecops!” you breathed out quickly, hoping he’d let you keep both ears with the statement. 

  “what? what’d you say?” he seemed caught of guard by the sudden admission, backing off of you. 

  “not yet, anyway.” you took a moment to catch your breath. “i told her to wait. yeah, we got a little meet up spot. now if i don’t show up there in an hour or so, then yeah, cops galore. you’re fucked, buddy. but, if i do show up, we just continue on our way like none of this happened.”

you took another shaky breath before you continued. “if we’re being honest here, i don’t want the cops involved any more than you do. y’know, the whole ‘not gainfully employed’ thing? the cops aren’t a huge fan of that one.”

george seemed to take this into consideration, nodding quietly to himself. “what about sweetiepie?”

  “her? i don’t give a fuck about her, she’s the whole reason i’m in this mess.” you winked at her, hoping she’d understand the message. 

george snapped the blade shut, producing the key from to the cuffs from his jacket pocket. 

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

  “any last words for this son of a bitch?” george asked gloria as he trained the pistol on you.

  “oh, i do wish you’d handled things differently. we could’ve had somethin’ beautiful here.” she smiled sadly, mourning what could’ve been. 

  “i’ll see you in hell,” george mumbled as he opened the door for you. you stepped into the doorway, only to stop dead in your tracks when you heard your girlfriend’s voice. shit.

  “stop, don’t kill her!” jules shouted from the top of the steps, baby doll in hand. “i will smash it!” she held it over the railing, dangling precariously above the hardwood flooring beneath. 

  “whew, that was close.” george laughed, closing the door behind you. “unhand my baby!” gloria whined. 

  “alright, missy, calm down. no one’s gonna get hurt.” he kept the gun aimed at your head, but gloria quickly pried it out of his hands and took a shot at jules. she crouched to shield herself from the bullet that thankfully missed, but in doing so let go of the baby that plummeted to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. 

  “get your ass down here or i’ll blow her brains out!” george shouted gruffly as jules descended the staircase. she ran to you, hugging you close and helping you to stand on your injured leg. 

gloria rushed out of the room, bloody pieces of ceramic in hand as george turned back to you. “look what you gone and did. what did i do to deserve you two?”

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

  “cooking’s a zen art for my dear gloria. i’ve found there’s a method to it: the more upset she is, the bigger the dish it takes to pull her out.” george explained. “needless to say, i think the two of you just summoned up a banquet.”

the two of you had been crudely duct-taped to some chairs in the dining room, forced to listen to the stuffy dialogue between the husband and wife. “why? why do you keep her down there?” jules asked. 

  “it’s not what you think.” he looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t listening. “my gloria, she’s always wanted a child. unfortunately, the good lord did not have that in his plans for us. so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

  “oh, so you kidnapped her.” jules stated bluntly. george glared at her, but continued his explanation. 

  “as you get older, things get... complicated, and i swear to god i had no ill intentions. i just wanted to make my wife happy.” he smiled. “and she was for a bit, until she started to remind her of what she couldn’t have. she asked me to make her go away, but i couldn’t bring myself do that, so the basement is our compromise.” 

  “dinner is served!” gloria announced, wheeling in a cart full of dishes of shepherd’s pie. she placed one on everyone’s plate before she sat down. they quickly said grace before digging into their food. 

  “so are you guys gonna kill us or...? what’s the deal?” jules asked matter-of-factly. you wanted to nudge her shoulder and ask her what in the hell made her so bold, but you didn’t want to cause a scene. 

  “george, you didn’t tell them?” gloria asked confusedly. “i wanted to make ‘em squirm a bit,” he smirked. 

  “t-tell us what?” you cursed yourself for stuttering but you couldn’t help it, it came out when you were anxious. 

  “we’re not gonna kill you.” george mumbled, almost sounding disappointed. “i said we’re not gonna kill ‘ya, what are you deaf?” you stifled a grin at jules, not wanting to change their decision to set you free. “we’ve decided that, despite your piss-poor behavior, the logistics of it just don’t make no sense for us.”

  “sooner or later someone’s gonna come lookin’ for you two. now, i can hide a body like the easter bunny hides an egg, but the two of you have been sweatin’, spittin’, and pissin’ all over this place.” he paused to take a sip of his drink. “anywho, i’m bound to miss a spot. i figure we have a better chance of hitting the road. we’ll give it 48 hours, tip off the police, they’ll come by and pick ya’ up. i reckon you’ll do some time for whatever the hell you two did, but at least you’ll still be drawing breath. so congratulations, you should be thankful. you just won the damn lottery.”

jules spared a glance at you as if to say, what now? “take your time eatin’ you got another couple days in those chairs.” george muttered as he took another bite of his meal. 

screw it, you thought. we’re hungry and going to jail in the next two days, what harm could a nice meal do? you both picked up your forks and knives and tucked in to the plate in front of you. you nearly let out a moan in satisfaction as the food hit your tongue. you scooped up more greedily as you had no clue if and when the next time you’d get fed would be. 

  “wait,” jules swallowed the food in her mouth. “what’s gonna happen to her?” gloria glanced over to george, waiting for the answer to the question as well.

  “well, i’m sure they’ll put her some place nice. these orphanages, i hear they’re like five-star resorts.” george answered. 

  “does that upset you?” gloria turned to jules, a smile of mock empathy on her face. “anything’s better than down there.” jules mumbled. 

  “you got a heart of gold, jules. is your full name julia?” jules nodded in response. “my mother’s name was julia. she had a good heart, too, you remind me of her.”

  “she died of cancer when i was real little. it was a slow, painful process, but i was with her every step of the way!” she grinned as her husband blew her a kiss. “the day before she died, she told me to look in the closet, that i’d find a special surprise for me in there. it was a package, wrapped up nice and pretty, with a tiny card with my name on it. she insisted i opened it, so i wiped away my tears, tore open the paper and there it was. a doll.” 

everything stilled. every sound, the scraping of cutlery on the plate, the sound of everyone breathing, even the breeze blowing through the window decided this was a nice time to take a break. 

  “she said it was a magic doll,” she continued. “that no matter how sad i became, and believe me, i became very sad, i’d always have him with me. my ethan.”

your gut instincts finally kicked in as you spat out the food that was in your mouth, the gross pile of chewed up beef and potatoes looking oddly blurry to you. jules looked equally as mortified, probably even more since she was the one who brought about the end of the magic doll. 

  “and she was right; he was magical. and you took him away from me.” she grinned her creepy stepford wife grin once more. jules mumbled something but everything sounded miles away from you as your head swam. 

  “wha-what is this?” you slurred, the bright colors of the table morphing into one another. 

  “this is a drug overdose, y/n.” he chuckled when you sluggishly turned your head towards him. “i know, i know, i fibbed about lettin’ you live, but see, you had a veritable pharmacy in that bag of yours. you two just munched down enough pills to put a bull to bed,” his voice muffled into indiscernible nonsense, though you knew he was still speaking. 

  “f-fuck you,” jules managed, still keeping her head up. you, on the other hand, were slumped over, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. 

george got up from his seat, pulling your head up by your hair. “not so tough now, are ya’?” he jested. 

jules muttered something in your defense, but as soon as your head dropped, you were down for the count; just missing the hopeful ring of the doorbell, possibly signaling you might live to see another day. 

******************************

i should probably put a link to previous parts at the top but i have no clue how to do that lol

tags: @emmyrosee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @willyourecognisemee​ @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass​

[toukatan]

If you haven’t heard Sour Candy with BP and Lady Gaga, you should listen to it! The song gives a Mikasa!!

ah yes sour candy is sassy as heck ahdjahs it does radiate mikasa energy! especially these lines

ask me to be nice and then i'll do it extra mean (hello her bde energy is this line

now you keep your distance with just my looks, when i reveal things without hiding, you'll scream (mikasa has looks that can kill literallt sis can say nothing and you’ll be sweatin)

im hard on the outside but if you give me time then i could make time for your love (mikasa’s a tough gal but if you give her time you’ll see she opens up to you and the squad got to see that :((( )

who am i gonna pay to make an amv of mikasa and this song? 😳😳

[thirteenthspirit]

ESG Investing in the Pokémon World

As a financial advisor (aka professional bank pimp), it seems the concept of “Sustainable Investing” has really taken hold this past year, despite being around for quite a few years. I was pondering new investment ideas and recommendations (so they can sit patiently on my desk waiting for my boss’s approval) and noticed that most of them are ESG-focused. Of course.

As a Millennial (like that means anything), imagining that your investments might go towards helping someone or doing some good for the world is a key motivation. I don’t mind even sacrificing some additional returns, if that means my money is being put to good use. Unfortunately, I don’t really have a lot of like-minded people as Clients, so raw returns still dominate the investment sphere. But we’ll get there!

I want to explain a bit what it is we call ESG – Environmental, Social and (Corporate) Governance Investing. It is a very studied and elaborated research topic that has become so convoluted that virtually any company can be qualified as ESG-passable (sigh). A company with a high ESG score means it Excels in all or one of these three key areas. The ESGest of them all, try to integrate in their daily practices some of the UN’s 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), which range from ending world hunger to reducing inequality, climate action, etc.

I’ve also been replaying Pokémon Platinum (ayyy you see where this is going don’t you?) – probably not, since you haven’t read my previous newsletters. But anyway.

Sinnoh could really benefit a lot from some ESG-focused investing, especially in the Environmental aspect of it. The first thing that popped into my mind was the Fuego Ironworks. No, it is not related to the 2018 Eurovision Song Contest runner-up’s song of choice, but rather a big warehouse-like facility harboring a huge furnace in the center of it all. If you manage to get past the arrow-one-direction-thingies leftover from the renovation of the Viridian Gym, you eventually reach this massive incinerator. Ok, so, fossil fuels are a big no-no in the battle for climate change. Hydrogen plants and renewable energies trump coal mines and similar facilities. So I would take that big chunk of investor money and shut down the Fuego Ironworks. I know what you’re thinking – WHERE ELSE AM I GONNA CATCH A POKÉMON WITH FLAME BODY THIS EARLY IN THE GAME so I can hatch that perf Togepi (because what else) – but fret not, those Magmar can relocate to Stark Mountain. But uh… maybe I’d try to throw a couple of Slugma near the Lost Tower or something, so you can still hatch them eggs early on. Need a motherboard-frying Magnemite? You can now catch them in Iron Island! Have fun.

But shutting down a massive energy-producing (assumption here assumption there la la la) facility like this is BOUND to have an effect on the residents, especially for the people who live in the nearby towns – I mean where else are Floaroma residents supposed to work? Smell the flowers in the floaroma medow (which is somehow located DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO THE IRONWORKS but ok)? Serve as night guides to wandering girls and their Chansey in Eterna Forest? Or sweat away in the Valley Windworks?

Huh? Windworks? Like an actual wind power farm? Grab ‘em Pachirisu and let’s go!

Seriously, the Valley Windworks would be exactly where my inflows would go. From any residual money gathered from the sale of the Ironworks, my investors could provide a massive overhaul of the windworks. We could bring specialists in from Hoenn’s Weather Institute and build a ton more Teletubbies (my boyfriend’s endearing nickname for those huge fan-thingies). Maybe we could even expand to hydraulics, what with that huge river flowing alongside the facility. Just imagine the drifloon! One for each doom-bearing child.

Ok great! We’ve managed to take action by remodeling the energy supply from the area, effectively diminishing its carbon emissions while preserving the citizens’ quality of life. For me that qualified as a big E investment! And maybe our work wouldn’t stop here, if you’ve got a few cents in your pocket imagine if we could harness the energy from Mt. Coronet! With cares not to disturb any dimensional beings or pseudo-gods. Just a thought.

Miss Moving On is a song by Fifth Harmony. Next we have the “Social” aspect of ESG investing. This would be the category where you would find the community-improving or demographic and populational aiding aspects. Infrastructures, accessibility, any and every thing that could better a population’s daily routine and ensure its sustainability for generations to come. So which issues plague Sinnoh residents? I can think of a few – weird people with bowl-shaped haircuts stealing Pokémon, people-swallowing marshes, freakin’ SELFDESTRUCTING ROCKS (née Geodude) and the occasional time/space distortions from the odd attempt at creating new universes.

Well let’s not go overboard with our intervention, we cannot hope to solve ALL problems plaguing our beloved residents. Let’s start with a simple issue. Little Timmy loves everything related to boats. Boats boats boats and sometimes ships – so he loves going to Sunyshore City, to see the Lighthouse. He goes whenever he can - he swears one time he even had a date with a girl who was visiting with her Ampharos! Legend has it for him it was love at first sight. But she had a ship to catch, bound for her hometown region. So they agreed to meet that very night, before she departed. She waited and waited, but Timmy never came. With tears in her eyes, the girl was last seen boarding the ship, never to return…

Dang it Timmy! Why did you do that?

Well… the thing is, Timmy tried. Timmy lives in Solaceon town and works for the local newspaper. So on that afternoon, after collecting his heart scales, he cheerfully got on his bike and began pedaling, heading to meet his lover. But there is no direct route from Solaceon to Sunyshore – Solaceon is pretty much isolated where it stands, one has to either go North trough Veilstone or face the marshes of the south through Pastoria, to finally traverse route 222 to the city.

Since a bike would sink pretty hard on the bog, Timmy rode North. He got drenched in rain before reaching Veilstone, though – forcing him to change clothes in the city before carrying on. Oh and he claims to have also had an encounter with a couple of Psyduck which seemed pretty checked out… I assume Misty rammed her bike into one. After leaving the city, he just had to face – I’m sorry, am I reading this correctly, inexistent participant – “hellhounds”. Um… ok… Timmy is a BIG Supernatural fan (Destiel FTW). But he finally made it to the Hotel Grand Lake – the last rest stop before reaching Sunyshore. His legs were already tired, and he was sweatin’ bullets, but his spirits were high as a Staravia!

“I’m sorry sir but Route 222 is closed until further notice, due to the occurrence of a blackout”.

Aaaand that was the end of Timmy’s love story. Don’t feel bad for him, I hear he went on to win a Pulitzer from his work on exposing the Ditto sex trafficking scheme.  

Maybe if Timmy had been a little faster on his route, he could’ve avoided the blackout altogether, it is just such a long stretch of Sinnoh to traverse…

Like Timmy, many residents who work in East Sinnoh face this issue in their daily commute – the lack of viable connections. So where could we begin to tackle this subject?

Well I heard of a guy who has been trying to dig a tunnel from Route 2014, to Solaceon Town, all by himself! Must be tough, Excadrill weren’t even invented back then…

Maybe our kind investors could give him a hand with their funds! We could make the efforts go faster and more smoothly, maybe even establish some underground ferry mechanism to aid in the crossover. Create a separate entrance, so people wouldn’t have to disturb the Unown. The newly crafted pathway would sure come in handy for travelers, maybe even helping in dynamizing Solaceon or Celestic Town with tourists staying at the Hotel Grand Lake! Seems like a somewhat simple-enough project for us to tackle.

So we basically identified a necessity, designed a way to overcome said necessity and then implemented it – thus creating sustainable impact!

Fantastic! Stunning!

Speaking of stunning – hrm, our efforts might be a bit derailed if these “blackouts” continue. Maybe someone could go have a chat with Volkner, to stop experimenting with the power grid? Perhaps Flint could help, I hear they get along quite well… Does he even have a license to tinker with the mechanisms? What, imaginary voice? You don’t need one in Sinnoh? So you mean I can just connect my Raichu to a generator and power my entire 12-story building?

That seems… unlawful. Couldn’t we do something to change that? Well, we could write a strong-worded letter to the lawmakers of Sinnoh, urging them to pass legislation on these activities. Maybe even use our leftover funds to raise enough awareness on this issue, so we could enact this change in policy! Wow, that’s what I call putting the G in Governance.

Random segway aside, that is exactly what the last letter in ESG is meant to state – policy, rules, means of internal conduct and culture that an organization runs with. And apart from Volkner’s constant need to reinvent his contraptions, there is a topic on which we can praise Sinnoh – gender equality.

Now, we recognize that we don’t know the details, but let’s assume Gym Leaders are paid equally, as not to have poor shivering Candice earning 70 cents on the poke-dollar, compared to Byron’s wage. 4 female and 4 male gym leaders comprise Sinnoh’s gym challenge. 50/50, nice message to relay. Ok fine, if we only look at the number and don’t analyze much else, we can give Sinnoh a passing grade on this one… what about the Elite Four?

The Elite Four is also comprised of 2 male and 2 female members. Wow, nicely thought out. And Cynthia is given enough screen time to actually be a fleshed out character, even appearing in several generations. She is, after all, in my opinion, the toughest Champion the Player is required to face.

But other generations don’t really follow suit – the list of League Champions or Elite Four members is comprised mostly of men… In these regions perhaps some gender diversity or inclusion metrics could be put in place, starting with getting each of them to affirm their stance and compromise with ending gender inequality in the League Challenge!

For that, I guess we’ll have to take that same ship and sail away to another region, with the sure knowledge that (maybe) we managed to help Sinnoh inch a little closer to a sustainable future!

Your ESG-type Trainer,  

                                                                                                 -João A. (Pachiren)  

[itslocsdiggs]

Thirst Trap

Daveed Diggs x reader

Teacher AU

Word Count:1.7k+

A/N: I just woke up one day and decided I had to add this to the teacher AU  series. Imagining Daveed as my workout, post workout. And then @iknowthekoolaidflavor provided the #thirsttrap selfie as inspiration and some very sensual sentences. Many, many thanks! Stay hydrated and do what makes you feel comfortable at the gym *winks* Yes, please imagine him with that sexy Snowpiercer beard

You're running on the treadmill enjoying your workout playlist and the next minute, you hear a voice which is more than music to your ears.

"So she does other things besides read”, he teases, “Hi, (Y/N)"

Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you stutter surprised, “Hi, Dr. Diggs. Oh, so you do wear other clothes?”

He's clad in a red muscle tank, some loose basketball shorts, and some ugly black and neon green sneakers. They still look new. It's a definite shift from his puritanical and serious work attire. You kinda want to burn his sweater vests. Or make him gag you with them... You decide not to torture yourself with whether or not he's wearing underwear.

“Ever the polite and blunt one, aren't you, Ms.(Y/N)? But please, outside of class call me Daveed.”

Does he let the other students do that?

The look on your face prompted him to say, "our secret," he attempted a cute little wink.

You giggle and smile.

You're still running and notice that he's staring at your heaving chest. It's a little much, to say the least. That stare made your blood run hot. Am I sweatin’ too much?

Even though he's equally sweaty. Oh, God I wouldn't mind being half naked and sweaty with him. You smile whilst pausing the machine. Your mind goes blank seeing him lick his lips out of the corner of your eye.

Oh my gosh, he's checking me out, too. What do I do?

He tips his water bottle towards the weights beside you, "is that taken?"

“No, no you're good here, sir."

He smiles, “Tough habit to break, huh dear?”

You don’t get a chance to see the exact weights that he picks up, but from the looks of it, they seem pretty heavy. He took his time curling one arm, then slowly dropping the weight. He curled the other arm and repeated the process.

You watch shamelessly as his biceps bulge each time he would lift the weights. The sweat dripped down his brow and collected at the low neck of his shirt. It clung to him and you couldn’t help but continue to stare.

After three reps, he puts the weights back in their respectful place. He caught your gaze and smirked.

“Are you alright (Y/N)? Be honest”

“I really like seeing you outside your work clothes”

“You wanna show me?” he grins as he quirks his eyebrow.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

“I won't be your professor forever," he puts his hand on your arm, "Meet me in the locker room in five minutes. If you don't come, I'll understand."

You finish your circuit and grab your bag trying not to look eager, and walk straight towards the locker rooms, no looking back.

Opening the door makes butterflies erupt in your belly. It's empty, save for one person tying up their shoes leisurely. You give them a withering stare, and they're scared enough to leave quickly.

Hearing the door shut, Daveed emerges and says, "I figure we could save water and wash away our workouts together."

“Sure,” you reply only half listening because he's got a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his treasure trail is a thin, wispy patch of curly hair.

Taking a few strides to close the gap you initiated a kiss. Daveed pressed his warm mouth against yours with equal fervor until you were lightheaded and he held you tightly for support. After a moment he pulled back biting his lip, his eyes saying way more than he could at that moment. You felt the flood begin.

"Please, please undress me," you gasped.

He made quick work of removing your t-shirt, bra and spandex shorts. Then he tugs off the towel, and you try not to stare at him for too long. It was nerve-racking enough living out your fantasy. And he met every expectation.

You turned on the faucet. While the water warmed up, you stood behind the spray hugging him and stroking his soft, plush beard. He tugged the elastic band from his hair and placed it in the soap dish.

You trace the contour of his body, breathing ragged now. You're touching him softly, as if a hard scrape of nail might make him disappear. Every muscle in his body is as tight as a bowstring. He rubs your back and massages soap into your skin and it felt so good.

Your head was still light and coupled with his careful attention between your legs, you felt like you were floating.

“Damn, Y/N, you're so wet. Do I excite you that much?"

"Mmmm, yes sir."

"Well ever since you fell into my office to discuss the plays, you've excited me. Fuck, look down, baby. This is all for you."

Okay, he's big.

Yeah, there’s no way you’d kneel on the tile floor, so you bend at the waist. It’s tight space in the stall, but somehow you made it work.

Daveed groaned and put one hand on your shoulder while the other fisted your hair. He relaxed against the shower wall and lightly pistoned his hips into your face. His grunts and moans were disguised by the rushing water, which was good because it would be a guilt free rendezvous. Daveed gasped and pushed your shoulders.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), come up here baby.” Daveed had his hands on your waist pulling you up and close to his body, as if the water hadn’t already turned you into a prune.

“Let’s make this quick, please? I’m getting a little cold,” you say as a shiver runs down your spine.

Daveed shuts off the water in response. He rubbed his tip and whispered, “I wanna take my time with you. Jump, baby.” You did, securing your legs around his waist. He firmly gripped your hips and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing it, and resting your head on his toned shoulder trying to keep yourself together.

You had enough lubrication so he slid in easily, though he was a bit of a stretch. It felt like he was wrecking your pussy, and you were glad to let him do it. After a few quick thrusts, he had you feeling warm again. It spread all over and left you pliant. Daveed turned so that your back was against the wall. The wall was cold, but you stayed put arching your back when he resumed his strokes again. He whined your name repeatedly under his breath as you bit and sucked on his neck. Nothing would stop you from claiming him with the fever he made you feel. Swiping your thumbs over his sensitive nipples made his breath catch in his throat. Daveed bit his lip and increased his pace as you continued to tease and pull them.

“Oh, God,” he growled.

His hands came around and wrapped under your thighs thrusting even deeper. You whimpered and gasped pressing your lips to his throat. As you rocked in time with him, Daveed pressed his thumb in lazy circles on your clit. You felt your stomach tighten and he started to hum as he drew out the last of his energy.

Daveed squeezed your thighs and groaned loudly as he came. You followed suit moaning and scratching your nails down his back. He held you a few moments more kissing you between staggered breaths. As you reluctantly prepared to stand again, he rubbed his thumbs into your hips. You wore a dopey grin impressed that he was able to hold you with no strain for so long. He moved to hug you from behind.

“Now we can shower, I guess.”

You giggled, “that wasn’t it?”

He shook his head pressing a soapy hand between your legs washing you up, softly massaging you. He made you sore, it was the least he could do. He made sure you were clean all over and he allowed you to do the same for him.

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he reached out of the stall, grabbed his towel and stepped out. He came back quickly with a towel for you and you accept it smiling sheepishly, cheeks burning.

“Hey, why are you getting all shy on me now?”

He took your hand and led you to where you’d originally been.

“No reason. Just can’t believe I did that, with you,” Dr. Diggs cooed softly in response and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Have you got me all out of your system now, your fantasy of me wearing something different?”

He pulled on a clean shirt. “Shit. Can you wear that to class?” you say ogling him again and crossing your legs.

He chuckled to himself, “There’s my answer.”

You both dress quickly, stealing glances every so often. The locker room remained empty.

“I have it on good authority they would enjoy it just as much as I do,” you chirp.

“Nah, baby. I’ve gotta dress professional. Keep some secrets, for you.” He winked at you again

Ugh, guess I’ll just have to keep the memory.

“I wanna see you again”, he leans against the locker as you’re lacing up your shoes.

You hesitate. If this became obvious, you did not want to get you or Daveed in trouble.

“What a coincidence we were alone this time. We could meet at my apartment. If you’re worried about getting caught you could be my work study assistant. Extra tutoring, whatever you wanna call it. But I want to be with you.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“Okay, you drive a hard bargain. We can do this,” you bite your lip, “But I still want our office meetings to discuss the books.”

“Of course. Among other things. Let me take you out. Theater, jazz, dinner. I’ve heard you love to eat.”

He stood there before you with a grey muscle tank, his shorts, sneakers, and both gym bags in his grip. A complete contradiction to the nerdy professor who lectured in Theater Lit two days a week. But he was such a gentleman, reminding you that he was so much more than just your professor.

He thought you were beautiful and someone that always kept up with him the class discussion. Time and time again you showed that you were an amazing student, and all-in-all you were an even more amazing person. Daveed had a genuine interest in you and he was willing to take the risk. As he left the locker room, he caught the soft smile on your lips and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to find you.

[ashleigh-inyourdreams]

Are you a pretty girl? Are you angry...or maybe just a little bored? Do you like to play with your food? This playlist is for you.

For Ashleigh’s Wampus playlist, I decided to choose songs themed around the competition itself, and inspired by BLACKPINK-- so the first half of it is the “pink” sound and the second half is the “black” sound. ;) For the full experience, I’ve linked the KPOP music videos because, well, they’re the best, they’re the mood. Enjoy! 

Ddu-ddu-ddu - BLACKPINK

When we want, we’ll steal outright Whatever you do, it’s like cutting water with a knife Our hands are full of a fat check If you’re curious, fact check My expectations are higher It’s like fish in water I’m a little Toxic You’ve fallen for me, I`m Foxy

Oh wait til’ I do what I do Hit you with that ddu-du ddu-du du

Let’s start our Melee with this powerful declaration of war from BLACKPINK, America’s #fave girl-crush kpop group. This entire song is all about that girl-power, which introduces the theme of Ashleigh’s playlist. I also like that it flows very smoothly between hard-hitting rapping and some melodic pre-chorus sections, two whiplash moods that will be reflected here in this playlist. One of my favorite lines comes in the pre-chorus: “I only smile for myself.” In the end, even if she and Corny do win, she’ll be doing it one hundred percent for Ashleigh and Ashleigh only.

Cannibal - Kesha

I eat boys up, breakfast and lunch Then when I'm thirsty, I drink their blood Carnivore, animal, I am a Cannibal I eat boys up, you better run

Keeping the beat pumping, this song speaks to the raw animalistic power of the Wampus in a pretty literal fashion. I don’t really know what else to say because I feel like Kesha’s really got it covered, in her embrace of her physical and sexual appetite. For Ashleigh, this appetite translates to the thirst for battle and her hunger for victory. So watch out other champions-- she’ll attacc and turn u into snacc

Icy - ITZY

What can I do though I seem cold? I don't care what you think because I'm cool oh, oh, oh Come on With confidence let it go (Here we go) Marching on the streets (On a roll) Background music where I be Bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb

Icy but I'm on fire A dream inside me, I'm confident Look at me, I'm not a liar I don't want to be put in your box (Dance)

I picked this song because its fun, erratic, percussive-- basically one big wink emoji to me, which you hear in every interesting sound in this song (you have like, three different types of drums, a cash register sound, the sound of glass breaking??, some cellphone noises??). The attitude of this song tells you that Ashleigh does not give a single fuck, and the lyrics reflect that: “They keep talking/I keep walking.” It’s also about embracing a flaw and turning it into a strength-- some people call her ‘icy’ but she says that makes her ‘cool.’  I also love the fun drum break-down in the middle of the song right before the bridge, which feels like Ashleigh flaunting everything that she’s got.

Birthday- SOMI

Oops, you're not invited Yeah, you're not invited Oops, you're not invited I'm gonna do what I want today Everyday is my birthday

Honestly, half of the reason I included this is because the lead in from ICY to Birthday is so smooth and fun.

But yeah! Another song about celebrating yourself, literally. It feels appropriate for a playlist themed around the melee for there to be a song announcing that its Ashleigh’s birthday. In my opinion, that’s basically her way of saying that this championship is really just about her and the rest of y’all are just bystanders, thank you.

also the brass at the end omfsalkgjadf

When I Rule the World - Liz

When I rule the world, then I'm gonna make you sweat Dog collar 'round your neck, on your knees and scrub the deck Oh there's a spot over there so I'll drag you by the hair So scrub it, rub it, whip it, dry it, 'til I tell you to stop When I'm on the throne, it's a total freak zone You can call me mommy and I'll throw a dog a bone Better bite on that bone, or you're never going home So bite it, break it, hit it, lick it, 'til I tell you to stop

Obviously, this is Ashleigh already basking in her inevitable victory. I like that the lyrics infantilize her audience while also leaning into that infantilization-- the high feminine “baby” voice, for example. The instrumental reflects that with its bright, bubbly songs, though there’s a dark undercurrent that draws from dubstep.

Also, shoutout to this line-- “I can be your daddy and you're gonna make me proud.” Please someone call Ashleigh Daddy.

Boo! Bitch - Kim Petras

No lyrics for this one, but we’re continuing our EDM thread here. I love all the dark beats and samples in this mini little dance-break as we move into the second half of our playlist. While the first half is more playful-- speaking to Ashleigh’s performance of the rich, mean girl-- I like to think the second half takes the competition more seriously. She’s not just pretty, she’s deadly.

disco tits - tove lo

I'm sweatin' from head to toe I'm wet through all my clothes I'm fully charged, nipples are hard Ready to go (oh, oh) I'm sweatin' from head to toe I'm wet through all my clothes (yeah) I'm fully charged, nipples are hard Ready to go

This could technically be interpreted as a pretty straightforward song about sex, but for Ashleigh competition is sex. Winning is better than any orgasm. The entire song has lots of gritty dark synths too and that’s the vibe we’re going for people.  

Bad guy - billie eilish

So you're a tough guy Like it really rough guy Just can't get enough guy Chest always so puffed guy I'm that bad type Make your mama sad type Make your girlfriend mad tight Might seduce your dad type I'm the bad guy, duh

I would include this classic billie eilish song for the “duh” alone. Billie Eilish is THE Ashleigh musician who is surprised, no one. Anyway, this whole song is the exact mood I’m going for here. I love Billie’s seductive whisper, the distortion on her confessed “I’m the bad guy” as though the demon is about to rip through. The ending also reminds me of those scenes in horror movies where the possessed person’s limbs start to distort and go every which way.

Mother’s Daughter - Miley Cyrus

Hallelujah, I'm a freak I'm a freak, hallelujah Every day of the week I'ma do ya Like I want to I'm a Nile Crocodile, a Piranha Oh my God, she got the power Oh, look at her, she got the power So-so, so don't fuck with my freedom I came back to get me some I'm nasty, I'm evil Must be something in the water or that I'm my mother's daughter

I love how this song also starts off gritty, like metal scraping against metal. I’m also big on the animal themes as I’m sure people have noticed, but I think that plays into that #wampus beast energy. Finally, this song is a really nice allusion to Wampus Ashleigh’s veela heritage on the downlow. Though she’d never be open about it, veelas are female, and so her true mother would inevitably be a full veela, as fierce and dangerous as the myths suggest. So this song is a cool nod to that and Ashleigh’s inhuman side.

Play destroy - Poppy

Poppy, I'm dying It's a Hollywood moment Destroy, destroy, destroy Destroy, destroy, destroy It's time to die Uh! This is how we play destroy, destroy

Now let’s ramp it all the way up! This song is vicious and creepy, from the hard metal rock orchestration to Poppy’s soft, girly vocals. I LOVE the “It’s a Hollywood moment” lyric because it’s like something out of a horror movie when one of those creepy dolls come to life. So this song is definitely building to the climax of the competition as Ashleigh revels in the violence, the blood, the pain.

Kill this Love - BLACKPINK

Feelin' like a sinner It's so fire with him I go boo, hoo He said "you look crazy" Thank you baby I owe it all to you Got me all messed up His love is my favorite But you plus me Sadly can be dangerous

Ending off our playlist, we must, yes, literally kill this love. It’s about ending a relationship but I’m interpreting it as the murdering of all your soft emotions and your weaknesses. It’s time to get down to business and finish off this game. Plus ugh-- the sirens! The marching! The air horns! That ending goes from 50 to 25000 and that’s how any Wampus ends her victims: not with a whimper, but a bang.

[alchemisland]

The Moors Mutt III

Night fled day. Before the others rose I read the sky. Spying an uncharacteristically vernal mustard sliver, I imagined another world past the clouds, opposing ours directly, and their rising summer sun.

God, shrouded in cancerous sadness,  could but weep. Too weak to conjure flame.

The storm, furious mute, spoke through man's works, droplets exploded musically; dull on timbers, shrill on sheet, like crackling fire on thatch.

Foot travel was impossible, even treacherous. Lar wouldn't have it. 'I know someone. Unpaid tab, lovely spacious wagon. Hold tight.'

Unpaid tab, yes. Lovely wagon, no. Against the rising slope, his contraption strained. Its light frame shed water. The man knew his charge and kept us steady. Hold tight proved apt phrasing.

When the carriage wasn't veering towards fatal tip, I dismantled the day's duties into gelded chunks. Easy. Ten manageable tasks. Ten had a ring to it. A certain motivating roundness. Ten tasks set to Heracles condemned to misery by jealous Hera. Ten commandments from on high.

The day passed quickly. I worked mostly absent of mind, scanning peeling labels for keywords. I napped again at some indeterminate point, rising to the first red flares of evening.

Near freedom, the final banality seemed yet more soul destroying. Fortunately it proved easy, simple scribbles to confirm a job done. Mac donned, packed bag overshoulder, I signed the final form with a flourish.

On the doorstep, gazing out at the torrid tempest I was to endure, and again the following day, for a brief moment Cairn Cottage seemed inviting.

I cast a final backward glance. Inside Acrisian frames, there lay my ancestors in oils, frozen in perpetual offence.

As discussed, Charon on his chucking carriage arrived and ferried me back to Sperrin.

Outside the tavern, wet as it was possible to be, I waited. I don't know what I hoped to see. Some queer curiosity took me. I wished to see how they spoke without me. Maybe it was awkwardness that prevented an unannounced arrival. I pressed my ear to the door. Lar told a joke and howled with laughter, joyous overmuch at his own humour. When I entered I hovered in the open doorframe, dripping like a swamp witch. A wave of relief swept over Lar, which he wrestled into a piteous pout.

Two drinks waited, patient as unconfessed sinners. When I peeled off the mac, he flashed a one-sided smile. I muttered a reluctant thanks.

We feasted after. A meal to see us off. For strength, we ate lashings of gravy thickened by meat juices, steaming Yorkshire puddings, slabs of succulent pork, bog mushy peas, and custard to follow.

Afterwards, we reclined swollen. When the small crowd shifted, Fergus rose to slip the bolt unbidden.

My mind was in custardy. I was eaten witless. I wondered had Lar planned the old stuff and sneak.

'Are we, as lantern thieves, away with the light?' Lar undid his top trouser button and grew an inch before my eyes.

'We are.'

'Handled a gun before?' That old chestnut. Long I had anticipated such a discussion.

'I have and don't intend to again. Hate hate hate them. Listen, speaking of, we need to talk about this whole thing.' Lar's brow furrowed. 'I believe with alternate ends, disagreements arise.' I thought carefully and he waited patiently. 'This isn't a fox hunt.'

'I never said it was. You seem a bit peeved actually. If I can be bold, why hate the gun and not its wielder? Is a rifle always an instrument of terror no matter the context? On the shoulder of an adventurer piercing the interior, emboldened by its weight, is it the selfsame tool that greedily dispenses random death in the hands of a deranged person? Say a rifle, bought with pacivity in mind, never packed to shoot, merely to brandish and quell cooling tempers, where do you class that?'

Nobody is perfect and there was the proof. When it came to criticising people en masse, Lar was your man. Less evident was his enthusiasm when the crosshair turned to his own private club. Gunfans, gunmen, - for men they were mostly - whatever their preferred nomenclature, are tiresome, everybody agrees.

Realizing I had zoned out, I nodded extra vigorously at his next points, hoping the nod was taken as a sign of attentiveness and not agreement.

Foam pooled at the corners of his mouth. 'Even if we should not spend a single cartridge, it's a fool that lowers caution in victory! Wear these chains. Be it upon your head.'

I tried to interject, 'Lar, really that's a bit dram-'

He continued unabated, 'Should the beast prove strengthful and beguiling as I suspect, and we its seekers should become gunless hunted, it's not a good look for that book of yours.'

Though admiring of his passion on the subject, I had none to share. 'A gun is a gun. Any given situation is more likely to end in a leaden exchange with guns present, vise a vie, sans guns we are overall safer, despite feeling less protected individually.'

'Right. And when those eviller guns unleash in benign judgement, who better to return fire than kind souls equally armed?' He wagged a finger at my smirk. His voice lowered an octave. He swerved and spat, throwing his arms aloft with such momentum that his knuckles wrapped the timbers.

He paced, every inch of his pulpit touched. Standing again before me, he exhaled the temporary madness.

Fergus rose disturbed, a tremble evident. He vocalised disquiet at our clamour. Lar made his apologies; mine mumbled, Fergus' thoughtful.

He continued 'A thousand fools wait raging. I'll not be one with my arms held aloft in deference to a keeper. Either I should die on spent casings or triumph. Your charisma won't stop bullets or beasts. I'll have Fergus pack a rifle for you. Don't wanna use it, don't.' Empassioned, Lar slammed his hand down on the bar.

'Take your rod, Pilate. We'll see who time vindicates. Have you not heard that he who lives by the sword shall too die by the sword?'

'Have heard you, Judge not?' Pulling aside a rug, he revealed a hatch beneath his feet. Fergus tossed the heavy door to one side with apparent ease and fetched a swaddled armoury, which he laid for my reluctant perusal. I chose a revolver. Six shots, lightweight, swift off the hip. I remember a sense of perceived ceremony, as if my hand should be drawn towards the right snug.

Once I fixed the holster, Lar longed to bequeath a second gift. Claims that my recent experiences left me badly turned on gifts fell on deaf ears. A gift on the house, as he put it. He returned, book in hand, and slapped it face-up on the bar. 'Old Mortimer's Mort Timer' was printed in bold crimson, letters tall as wide.

'If this is a pitiful attempt to convince me guns laws increase gun deaths, it's ill considered.'

'Ignore the cover. Cowboy there is a vessel for universal truths. Makes for a good bedtime story. Try it. If you're still offended tomorrow, we'll debate then.'

Everything seemed less intense once the guns were sealed away. We sank a fifth, then a sixth shortly after.

'Have you a path in mind?' Lar slurred.

'Arrogant I might be, fool not; you know the land better. Speak freely.'

'I have some notions.'

'Notions - mere legless actions! As joint expeditionaries, in name rather than eventual royalty, I offer no pronouncement. What am I paying you for? Hardly your winning anecdotes. We're following your route to success or failure.'

I departed, lifting the flap for myself this time. 'I know the way. See you. First light. Rest well.'

Once abed I turned the book in my hands. Its garish colour lent a faint luminosity which it seemed shameful my hands should dull. I discovered the binding was frayed. The object showed more blemish than the ravages of time; later pages wore blotches. A hypothesis soon formed, which further probing confirmed. This book was licked by the ocean. A sea tome it was.

On the inside cover, faded and difficult, illegible without foreknowledge of the owner, I saw Fergus' name printed, a phyrgian squiggle.

I read it;

Ever hear the story of old Mortimer Considine? He was bold as block letterin', round as a cowerin' brushhog, feared and lovered in equal measure. Them scales was centred for him. Instinctively he knew right from wrong. Round Texas way at one point he was the toughest sonofabitch the world had ever see'd. Papers sid it, wimmin giggled it, smoke signalled it, so it musta been true.

Guns smoking, he toured the land righting injustices, collecting bounties and if rumour holds truth, fathering bastards, later becoming county scourges in their own right. Nothing on their old man though, dull facsimiles, whudever that means. Chaotic he was. Kindly too. Smart as a Greek. Strong as a mountain man, and I hear them Greeks had big boys too.

Now, he was fixing to be the best at shooting after his days out ranging. Tired of hauling baddies in for cash. He wanted hisself a wife and cosy home, young'uns to raise right. Make right some on his past transgressions. Hell, if he had cash enough, as he was heard to say only in deepest cups on full moon nights, when the moon controlled the tides of his tears 'well as them on the beach, he'd seek out his illegitimate sprogs and give 'em something for their hard lot.

Best gotta beat the best. Roving West then East, he rode into town with his holster turned front, making his business clear so to speak. Everyone he'd fought so far he felled easy, like dead trees keeling at a shove. There was big boys, tough men who a punch would never fell. Only the impersonal, devious strength of a bullet would do it, seemed a shame really fer all their liftin' and sweatin'. What finnesse they had in riding and wrasslin' they lost at steels, for Mortimer was quick as cancer and spun like a storm at the whistle, shooting 'em full of steaming holes.

Had himself a reputation now. When he came upon town and rode the highstreet on his black destrier like a demon called from hell, only the toughest mothers dared from the shadow of the awnings. Now this one place he went, or was bound for, he got to hearing was a hovel of wretched rapists and varmint brigands, living in squalor, wallowing in vile hedonism. Imperial in their particular perversions, namely unholy orgies in that there big church built by them mexicans was once this far into the states, them was once from further yonder than Mexico and came upward, with them layered temples like square sandcastles.

Pilgrims passing elsewise in other directions he met, but none going toward. Then he saw it, the black spires silhouetted on the matte of night, which held purple and pink and orange, flashes of winking silver, and all the gold jewels of the firmament. He had no want of killing and no provin' to do with regular folk, so he kept his gun shy in behind, his trenchcoat held firm at his chest with a single button, which he took from a sheriff's waistcoat.

You there, he'd said, so high on his horse he appeared a drawn shadow, as if some perfidious god had set to drawing charcoal on the mirror of the world. Up stole the pilgrim and leapt almost.

Mort?

Nay, giggled Mortimer, almost though. What's yonder?

Pilgrim, without lookin, answered quick, Ain't nothing there and no god. Kindly sort you seem. Can tell from ya eyes. Big ol blue ones like the desert moon at night. Not cold though, blue as magick fire.

Mortimer again requested the name of that spiked tower.

Babel, he says and left.

Babel, Mortimer says and left wondering had he heard that name before. He'd met a guy named Barber once. Polack chap taking his wagon clean through to York. Was that the same word? Maybe. Nobody could kill him, not with a gun. Too fast, too cunnin' at gunnin'. Few years left at the top, at least. If they did it, it'd be ignoble, uncunning and devious. Mind, he was cunnin' at augurin' too. Augured him a plan.

After tracing his steps at a canter, Mortimer spied the same stooped soul, satchel slung on his back, hooded. Pilgrim, he said, help me and I'll pay ye. When the work is done, I'll ferry you safe to your destination.

Deal, said the pilgrim so quick as to be near suspicious.

All the way he walked fast. Faster'n an old man, Mortimer reckined. The man had loped, limped and lounged before, as a man of advanced age, now he sprang more sprightly.

Mortimer had a suspicion maybe. Gut feeling. A gnawing doubt. Not enough too stop him. Reckined he was too cliver 'n devious to get got. That morning when they got close to town and descried distantly, from a rise which he took to be an ancient thing built by them northern southern mexicans, a multitude assembled in the centre of town.

Mortimer turned to his pardner to git planning and found hisself did in, plugged and smoking, a fresh red rosette pinned on his breast. The pilgrim relieved Mortimer of his possessions and stole away back into a fresh day, right quicker than ever he'd gone yet.

That was the story of that there Mortimer.

[dorseycorcoranx]

SUMMARY: Reginald is a dumb dumb, Dorsey is a dumb dumb, but we been known that. Consider this a making-up lazy f2f from the morning after their fight.

Reg: ...Hey.

Dorsey: Hey. Reg.

Reg: Sup?

Dorsey:

Not much. How are you?

Reg: Fine. I’m fine. It’s fine.

Dorsey: You'll probably get mad for me saying it, but I miss you. I hope you're okay.

Reg: Whatever. I’m fine.

You ever get cold and hot at the same time?

Dorsey: That's a symptom of being sick. Where are you? Have you eaten anything?

Reg: I ain’t sick. I don’t get sick. I’m around. Nah.

Reg: You eat?

Dorsey: If you say so. Nah.

Reg: Yeah. Well. Now I’m sweatin so thats...Good I guess. Dunno.

Fuckin’ eat Goddamn you

Dorsey: Cold and sweating? Why?

Reg: Yeah. Because I fuckin said so

It’s real fuckin bright outside. Shit.

Dorsey: I'm coming to look for you.

Reg: No. Eat.

Dorsey: Make me.

Reg: Fuckin’...Whatever. It won’t take long for you to find me.

Dorsey: Reg.... What the fuck? Look at you-- there is snow in your hair. Get inside! Come here.

Reg: Yeah. It’s...Yeah.

I’m fine. I’m f-fine

Dorsey: It's not fine. You're not fine. I think the fireplace works, I'll get it going and turn on the heater. Your clothes are probably wet. You're going to need to bundle up-- I'll get you blankets. Sit down and get all the wet stuff off.

Reg: You don’t gotta do this

Dorsey: I know. I want to. It's okay.

Reg: I ain’t sick. I just....Shoulda planned better.

Dorsey:Planned better? We'll try to make sure you're not lying to yourself there. Which means food after I finish getting everything set up to warm you up.

Reg: Yea. When I...Came back.

Whatever. Don’t matter. Do what you want.

Dorsey: How long have you been out there?

Reg: Don’t matter.

Why?

Dorsey: It matters to me.

Reg: I don’t fuckin know okay? After I left I waited til dark, brought my blanket, and came back.

You happy now?

Dorsey: Reg... I would have let you back in, you know. I still want you here. I missed you so fucking much. It's stupid, I know.

Reg: Well I didn’t fuckin know okay? And I saw the Doc was comin. I just wanted to make sure you was good. Why? I ain’t shit.

Dorsey: I want you to know now. For the future. You're always welcome here. I told her she didn't have to come. You're more than shit, Reg. I see it. I know it. And you matter to me.

Reg: It’s...I’m...

Its real cold.

Dorsey: Fuck, fuck, fuck,fuck, fuck, okay. Do you think I should call Frannie over? Or we can get in a warm shower, try to heat you up faster.

Reg: No. I don’t need no fuckin doctor. Just cmere.

Dorsey: Okay. I've got you. Let me hold you. We can still get in the shower, if you want.

Reg: I don’t know if I can stand.

Dorsey: Then I'll carry you. You can lean on me. Otherwise, all I know is skin on skin is the fastest way to get warm.

Reg: Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

Unless you don’t wanna.

Dorsey: I do want. I'll take my clothes off, then. And cu--uhhh get in the blanket with you.

Reg: Say it.

Dorsey: Cuddle you.

Reg: C’mere. I don’t want to...Get you sick if I...I mean not that i am

Dorsey: Any time. Gladly. I'll be fine. We're worrying about you right now. Mhm. Tough guy.

Reg: I...Mighta missed you too.

Maybe.

Dorsey: Reg.... That's real nice to hear. I'm right here.

Reg: I know. I dont...I dunno. I ain’t gonna apologize. Don’t mean I was right

Dorsey: It's fine. You don't have to say anything. Or do anything. I'm just glad you're here.

Reg: We fucked.

Dorsey: Yeah. We spent a good chunk of time together too. I liked it. The fucking and the hanging out.

Reg: You did?

Dorsey: Yeah. I did. I like being around you, Reg. And you know you're damned fucking hot. Like next level hot. You have to know you're ace in bed. I don't want you thinking that's all I like about you, though. I like cooking for you, and I liked it when you cooked for me too. I like playing video games with you, and watching movies, and talking about all the shit rich people get to do that we have here now.

[kanjikiwi]

hey! so, i am finding it so hard to do lower intermediate translation for japanese. i practice so much, and while i see improvement, , when i come across very long sentences with a lot of verbs and need for nomanlisers and modifying noun related things, i always freak out and do so badly. just yesterday i did so poorly on my translation exam because i just become so lost and confused under pressure and with a time limit. do you have advice on how to practice translation? any material out there?

Hi Anon!

Firstly, wowza… I commend you on battling through exams and time constraints because that’s always super tough! 

Secondly, as someone who studies casually and without time constraints, I have the luxury of taking this business at my own pace as well as the freedom to laugh in the face of my own blatant inadequacy. I imagine that with your studies, there might be a more pressing need to see results. My lax study habits may not mesh with the criteria you have. I apologise if any of this fails to meet your needs and can put you on to smarter folk if you like (Just flick me a message any time)

H’okay! Wall of text ahead… (・・;)ゞ 

Material for practising translation? Literally anything written in Japanese.

That’s right. Read, read, read. Reading explodes your grasp of vocabulary and grammar. Having a parallel text in english is especially helpful for those of us who can get the gist easy enough, but sometimes stumble with precision. Finding reading material is one google search away, but here are a few for good measure:

NHK Newsweb Easy (website)

Hiragana Times (website)

Human Japanese’s Satori Reader (free or paid subscription)

Breaking into Japanese Literature (physical book)

Short Stories in Japanese (physical book)

I’ve linked you to Tofugu’s reviews on both books as I feel they are quite accurate. I own both books and am getting through them slowly with much enjoyment. The Short Stories volume is particularly good, in that it often shows furigana for a kanji the first time you encounter it, then promptly drops it thereafter, requiring you to fire up those recall engines. Not recognising a particular kanji at all means scouring the parallel english text like a regular Sherlock Holmes for its english meaning. Definitely be prepared to use your dictionary and jot new info down on paper. It’s slow going, but fun (especially for sleuths and those who get a kick out of linguistic dread)

How to practise sentence translation?

You mentioned practising a lot, but find that the sentence length, frequency or odd placement of verbs and the occurrence of “nominalisers” like こと and の get you sweatin’ (saaaaame)

My advice probably outlines things you already know, and is perhaps better thought of as “sentence understanding” rather than translating, but it may have some merit:

Make long sentences into several smaller ones. 

When confronted with a Japanese sentence, I ask myself two things - Do I know these words yet? (vocabulary) and - Do I understand how the words are interacting with each other? (grammar) Generally the answer to these questions depend on my exposure to both aspects - e.g. over the past several months, how often have I needed to recall this kanji? How often have I seen or heard this sort of grammar pattern?

If my answer is “Oh yeah! Some of these words seem familiar! Also, I have a reasonable understanding of how particles link things together” then I should also be able to break any sentence into manageable chunks and come away with the gist, if not more - especially if I use the aid of a dictionary.

I define a “chunk” as being a word+particle combo, or anywhere a pause seems it could naturally follow - e.g それは… 公園に… 彼が… 東の方へ… To me, this always feels like a little break in which to get my bearings and question what information might come next. 公園に.. Yes, I’m listening… “at the park” what?

See mid-sentence informal verbs as a little flag which marks a relative or descriptive clause.

A relative or “adjectival” clause is just a mini sentence or one bigger chunk which describes the chunk that follows it. Sentence-ception (⌐■_■)

ぎんさんは　[ お菓子を　食べるのが ]　大好きな人　ですね

As for Gin-san, he is a person who loves [ eating sweets ] isn’t he?

See that の there? That leads into my next point.

Treat nominalisers as a switch for the verb it’s attached to.

A verb+こと/の combo is a chunk that requires some thought before you can add it to what comes next. Because こと is a word meaning “abstract thing” - tagging it to a verb switches the verb from being an action to being the experience or concept of performing an action. In fact, as in the example sentence, it can switch an entire relative clause ending in a verb into one!

Consider the verb “walk”  歩く …On it’s own, it means X walks. It is an action that someone performs. However, if we want to talk about the “thing” we call walking, we need to use こと. の does the same thing to a verb, but carries a sort of personal or intimate nuance. Often used for verbs that are directly sensed or experienced. 

So, Gin-san is a person who loves what? Eating sweets.

That’s about as simple as it goes for me, I’m afraid. If anyone reading would like to add their advice - especially those who are studying formally and dealing with the same pressures, by all means do!

がんばって！

[chinablue2600]

I want to start off by saying the server/ everything was Gucci! But that other shit was like Rainbow. Shout out to R they get a us through some shit without looking crazy sometimes. #factz But I ain’t trying to dine #halfass. This shit was fucking DISGUSTING! I can’t call it the F word out of respect. #food The shrimp was weird and under cooked, the stake was tough as nails and over cooked to my liking. I send it back full expecting a side of spit, then it came back the same wow interesting. And why is this bullshit called mac & cheese I have no fucking clue damn shame. I am highly offended you don’t give this mess to nothing and nobody. #absurd This garbage not even fit for a doggy. But out of respect for the consumer I took one cause the plates were full! My son didn’t even eat the chicken tenders and that was the only thing edible. He filled up on juice like me. #belch I’m lucky this didn’t come out my pocket cause I might of gotten arrest. #dineanddash And it was hot ass fuck like they had the heat on in that bitch and you know we draw heat!!!#eyerolling It felt like I run up in the Chinese spot. #sweatin And moral of the story is #prettyshitty #F (at Apple Downtown Brooklyn) https://www.instagram.com/p/By1mAHoFEyA/?igshid=vbbouvbv983b

[hopeishappinessff]

Chapter 25... Continued

The dining room table was crowded and everyone engaged in small talk as we all enjoyed the scrumptious meal that’d been prepared by my aunt, Ms. Joyce, and Ms. Cynthia. With not enough space to fit every guest in the house, several people moved back into the kitchen to squeeze around the table in the breakfast nook. One way or another, Chris and Jordayn both managed to make it to the main table and I eyed Chris periodically, who sat next to me, with an underlying fear that he would snap without warning.

“So Breezy, how’s your new living situation going?” Tameka asked. Chris quickly diverted his gaze from Gabby, who was busy nagging and complaining on the opposite side of him, to Tameka and the entire table seemed to fall into silence as we all awaited his response “It’s uh… it’s going good Meka... really good.” “Well that’s good. How is uh… how’s your neighbor doing?” She probed with a devious smirk. “What neighbor?” He asked, confusion masking his tone. “You know, what’s her name… um,” She drifted off for a moment, snapping her fingers as if she really forgot the girls name, “Daynah! Yeah Daynah…. how’s she doing?”

“Who is Daynah, Chris?” Gabby blurted. “My neighbor.” “Our neighbor,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes to compliment her attitude, “Don’t front at this table right now.” “Our neighbor…’ Destani taunted quietly in a mocked Hispanic accent from across the table beside Tameka and they both, of course, cackled amongst themselves. “You’re so childish Destani.” Gabby abruptly turned to face Destani, unloading her unnecessary attitude in her direction. “And what exactly do you think you are Gabriela?” Destani fired back, squinting her eyes right back in Gabby’s direction.

“Oh no ma’am Destani, you keep that attitude to yourself over there girl,” Ms. Cynthia chimed in, glancing from Destani to Gabby, “Now, I think we all need to just calm down and enjoy this wonderful Thanksgiving meal right now before things get out of hand.” Taking heed to her suggestion, both girls immediately zipped their lips, but suddenly the ambiance at the table became awkward and the remainder of dinner flew by with tension filling the air.

--

The girls and I wasted no time offering to help clean up the kitchen and with a bit of coaxing, we were able to drag the boys in to help put away all the food. “Man this is some bullshit. I’m supposed to be in there whoopin ya’ll niggas on Madden and where the hell am I? In the kitchen… working like a damn slave.” Rashad fussed as he transferred a large dish of dressing into a tupperware bowl.

“First of all nigga, you wasn’t about to whoop nobody in nothing and second of all… why the hell are you over there sweatin just from puttin that food up?” Dontay asked, causing everyone to laugh. With an annoyed roll of his eyes, Rashad raised a middle finger to Dontay and continued on with his back breaking task.

“But yo, my nigga… what the hell was that all about at the table bruh?” BJ asked as he leaned against the broom he’d since stopped sweeping across the floor to peer over at Chris, who stood tall stacking dishes into their rightful place in the cabinet. With a sigh, Chris turned to face him as he ran a hand over the top of his head “I don’t know man. It’s like I can’t even say two words to that girl without her unleashing all that attitude and trying to check my ass.”

“Damn man, that’s tough. What are you gonna do about her and these crazy mood swings?” Dontay asked as he finished up his task and moved to take a seat at the table. “Nothing… I mean what can I do? I can really only just deal with the shit. I mean I know her ass had an attitude on her before she got knocked up, but the shit ain’t no joke now.” Chris said.

“I know that's right, that bitch has always had a nasty ass attitude, but your stupid ass was always too damn pussy whipped to recognize it.” Destani mumbled as she waltzed past Chris clutching a bowl in her hand. “Shut the fuck up Dez,” Chris snapped as he shifted his head to glare at her, “Maybe if you and Tameka’s loud mouth asses wouldn’t have started shit, she wouldn’t have popped off in front of every damn body.”

“No honey, you not gone sit here and blame that bitch's ridiculous ass mood swings on me. Shit, if she wanna sit there and embarrass herself and you in front of your family and friends then she can go ahead and do it… shit don’t have nothing to do with me.” “Every time that girl starts it usually has something to do with you though Dez.” Rashad said, joining the rest of the boys at the table.

“Nigga quit adlibbing. I made a simple ass joke… not my fault her fucked up hormone having ass didn’t find it funny.” Destani argued. Just as Tameka popped her lips open to add more fuel to the already raging fire, Gabby rounded the corner into the kitchen and waddled over to Chris. “How long are we staying here?” She asked with her hands plastered against her widened hips. “Just for a little while longer Gab, I’m helping them finish up in here then we can head out.” He yawned as he stood from his seat and attempted to weave around her, but she stood directly in his path with her huge belly sticking right out at him.

“It’s enough damn people in this kitchen for you to excuse yourself and take me home. My feet hurt and I’m tired.” She stated with a sharp roll of her neck. “Gabby chill out okay. I said just give me a few more damn minutes then we can go. Chill… go get comfortable in the den or something.” Chris said with a deep scowl.

“Why don’t you quit ridin this nigga dick so hard and go back in there and sit the fuck down like he told you to.” Destani muttered carelessly and just loud enough for Gabby to hear her. “I’m so tired of you talking shit like you know me Destani. What you need to do is hop off my man’s dick, shut the fuck up, and mind your own got damn business.” Gabby retorted in her thick accent as she twirled around to face Destani through menacingly piercing eyes.

“Sweetheart, you better be so fucking glad you’re with child right now. I swear if you weren’t, I would wipe the floor with your ass.” Destani countered, staring Gabby down as though she were the scum beneath her feet. “Do it then hoe! That’s all you fucking do is talk… come over here and wipe the fucking floor with me puta!” Gabby yelled and charged her pregnant body toward Destani. Before she could even fly past him, Chris reached out and snagged her with ease, pulling her back against him.

“I’m the hoe, really Gabby. Don’t fucking try me girl,” Destani laughed mockingly and stared at her through squinted orbs, “I’m the hoe, but you’re the one standing there knocked the fuck up with no clue who the baby’s father is because you’re fucking more than one nigga at the same damn time to this day?” Within seconds the kitchen was washed over in the most uncomfortable silence and every head in the room instantly turned to Chris who held a face of stone as he glared at Destani. “What you talkin ‘bout Destani?” Chris asked and I physically shivered right where I stood from the cold tone of his voice alone.

“Baby, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Don’t listen to her papi.” Gabby spoke hastily as she turned to face him, “Come on, let’s go home now and stop listening to these bitches who have no clue what the fuck they’re talking about.” “No Gabby. Tell him all about the extravagant dates you’ve be on without him. Tell him all about the new boo you’ve been flaunting around like an expensive piece of jewelry.” Destani taunted and as much as I wanted to rush over and clamp my hand over her mouth, I couldn’t. Gabby had been much too disrespectful within the past few hours, in my house at that, so I knew it was only a matter of time before someone in the house told her about herself… and who better than Destani herself.

Gabby seemed almost frozen in place from obvious shock as Destani spilled the beans to everyone in the kitchen, including Chris who repeatedly clenched his jaw as he stood behind Gabby gripping onto her arm. I glanced back over at Destani and couldn’t help but notice the omniscient smirk tugging at her lips and I braced myself for the drama that I knew was to unfold “Tell him about all the fun you’ve been having with my brother...”

Time seemed to come to a standstill and I watched in complete horror as Chris’s frown deepened and his face washed over in a solid shade of red. The following seconds seemed to tick on in slow motion… Chris thrusted Gabby out of his grasp and clenched his fists tight, virtually drawing blood from his own palms as he turned and aimed for the kitchen exit before anyone could even think to restrain him…

--

The hard pound of his footsteps rushing determinedly down the length of the main hall was the deadliest noise I could have ever heard. His breathing was beginning to increase with every passing second and once he rounded the corner into the den with all of us hot on his trail, he instantly caught the attention of everyone in the room. He stood there, eyes locked on his target as if he was prey and no one in the room dared to utter a single word as his expression held a silent warning. “You motherfucker…” Chris spoke coolly, much too calm for the rage written clearly all over his face. Jerking his head back in surprise, Jordayn glanced casually around the room and jabbed a finger into his own chest “You talking to me bruh?”

“The fuck else would I be talking to?” Chris asked, serenity continuing to envelope his words. His language was harsh, but it was as if everyone in the room was frozen in time as the scene played out before us. “Whoa lil nigga, the fuck is your problem? Who you speakin to like that?”Jordayn asked as he rose slowly from his seat. Chris’s pursuit toward him remained slow and steady and he never bothered to tear his gaze away. “I’m speakin to you, bitch… you been fuckin with my girl?”

“Christopher, what is going on here?” Ms. Joyce asked fretfully, finally breaking the silence amongst the onlookers. Chris remained silent, however, and maintained his pace toward Jordayn until they stood face to face. “What if I say I have… what you gone do about it lil nigga? You run your fuckin mouth too much homie, but I promise you won’t swing.” Jordayn’s sardonic tone was just enough to send Chris over the edge and in one second flat, he drew his arm back and slammed his fist into the left side of Jordayn’s face, forcing him to stumble back.

Regaining his composure, Jordayn lunged forward and returned the hit, instantly catapulting them both into an all-out brawl in the middle of the den. The commotion grew in the room as everyone seemed to finally realize what was happening. Rashad, BJ, and Dontay were the first to react and they each rushed into the madness to break it up… BJ and Dontay yanking Chris back in a headlock and Rashad snatching Jordayn back by his shirt.

“Let me fuckin go bro! Let me go! Fuck this nigga… get the fuck off me!” Chris bellowed over the ruckus surrounding him. With the nearly herculean strength that he possessed under the influence of anger, he snatched his way out of the boys grasp and charged directly at Jordayn, knocking him out of the clutches of Rashad. They landed on the floor with an excruciating thud and Chris rained blow after blow down on Jordayn’s head and face as Jordayn fought desperately to knock his enraged opponent off him. With not much time left before he was knocked out cold, all three boys and a few additional neighbors finally swooped in and dragged Chris back. His breath was jagged and his face seemed permanently inflamed beneath a light perspiring sheen.

“Christopher! Stop it… what has gotten into you?” Ms. Joyce shouted, racing toward his quaking body. “This nigga,” He huffed as he jabbed an incriminating finger toward Jordayn’s nearly limp body, “This nigga ma!. Did you know she was pregnant you sick fuck? Or did you just ignore her big ass belly and keep fuckin her anyway?” “Fuck you,” Jordayn groaned, slowly pulling himself into an upright position with the help of a bystander, “Why would I ignore something that I’m pretty fuckin positive I put there in the first place?” Chris didn’t move a muscle or even blink the moment those words slipped from Jordayn’s mouth and the room was once again washed over in a thick blanket of silence.

“Come on baby, it’s alright.” Ms. Joyce jumped into action without second thought and quickly slipped an arm across Chris’s back to grip him up firmly at her side. He remained mute as she turned his body and began to guide him slowly out of the den. After all the chaos was said and done, Ms. Cynthia was left to stare at her son with a frown of disappointment “Jordayn, I think it’s time for you to go. You’ve caused enough trouble here tonight.”

“Fuck that ma, this nigga…” He attempted to go against his mother’s word, but it was clear that she wasn’t having it the moment she raised a stern hand to his face to shut him up and shook her head. “Leave Jordayn… now.” She stated firmly with a slender finger pointed toward the door. Not daring to debate with her, he stared at her for only a few prolonged seconds before wincing and dragging himself up from the floor to make his move toward the front door.

Before he reached the door, Gabby called out to him suddenly and he turned his attention to her. “Jordayn , wait.” She whined as she waddled toward him, “Don’t leave me here… let me go with you.” I stood stunned, along with everyone else in the room, but we could only silently watch as the unexpected duo exited the house hand in hand.

--

Much to my surprise, Ms. Joyce remained tucked away in the kitchen with Chris for quite a while. In the midst of the turmoil between Chris and Jordayn, I’d failed to realize one key factor… today marked the end of the ongoing feud between a mother and her beloved son. I knew the moment she held him protectively at her side and escorted him away from his battle, that she was finally stepping up and raising the white flag on whatever grudge they were holding against each other.

With more than half of our guests gone for the evening, the two finally emerged from the kitchen and although Chris’s demeanor was much calmer, he maintained an expression of stone. He eased his way into the den and moved leisurely to take a seat beside me with his gaze glued to the floor. “Breezy… you good man?” Dontay asked, receiving only a simple head nod as a response from Chris.

Ms. Joyce, who followed Chris out of the kitchen, ventured toward my aunt and Ms. Cynthia who stood near the entry of the den near the front door. “Is she still here?” She asked quietly with furrowed brows. “No,” Ms. Cynthia responded in a hushed tone, “She left with Jordayn.” “Well I think everyone has had a long night so… maybe it’s time we all just head on home for the evening.” Ms. Joyce suggested finally raising her voice to acknowledge those remaining in the den. With everyone following her suggestion, the room was soon emptied, leaving only my aunt, Ms. Joyce, Chris, and myself in the den.

“Maddie, can I talk to you for a second in the kitchen?” Ms. Joyce asked and wordlessly they both made their way out into the hall and toward the kitchen. The room became awkwardly silent in that instant as I sat next to Chris and I dared not speak a word as he seemed entranced by his own thoughts. “I don’t wanna go home tonight.” He muttered, almost too soft for me to hear. “Hm?” I responded, glancing at him.

With his hands linked together and tucked beneath his chin, he leaned his elbows onto his knees and began to rock slowly back and forth. The sight was adorably familiar… it was a habit I knew he’d picked up when we were young and I found myself smirking as I watched him. I had always understood one thing about Chris… he contained anger that no one seemed to comprehend, yet beneath that rage was a contradicting innocence. An innocence that I was slowly beginning to realize seemed to be triggered by only one person…

“I don’t wanna go home...” He repeated, just as quiet as before. “Why do you say that?” I asked. He began to shake his head as he continued to rock “I just don’t.” “Well why don’t you just go to your moms until you’re ready to go back?” He stopped rocking abruptly and turned to face me with desperation clouding his golden stare “I want you to go with me.” “I don’t know Chris,” I exclaimed, shaking my head sternly, “I don’t know if your mom would be okay with that.” “I don’t care Hope… please, I just…” He paused and thrust his face into the palms of his hands, “This shit is just too much.”

“I know it is and I’m sorry,” With a sigh, I took a moment to consider a revolving thought in my mind, “Maybe it was meant to happen this way.” Slowly dropping his hands away from his face, he turned to look at me “What do you mean?” “Well, maybe everything that happened today was supposed to happen. Maybe it was meant to turn out this way so that you could finally find out the truth about what’s been going on right under your nose.”

He stared at me for a long while and remained silent as he did so… I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even heard a word I’d said… “You know… maybe you’re right. Maybe this was God’s way of telling me that this isn’t for me… that I was putting too much energy into a person who I didn’t love and barely even cared about. The only reason I kept my mouth shut and dealt with that girl and her bullshit was because I believed she was carrying my seed and I was willing to do whatever it took to protect her for the sake of my child. I only wanted what was best for my child…”

I nodded indulgently as I listened to him come to grips about his own situation “I won’t sit here and tell you what I feel you need to do when it comes to Gabby, because it’s not my place to do so. If you feel that it’s right to be there with her throughout the remainder of her pregnancy… just know, I’ll be here for you no matter what.” He shook his head suddenly and chuckled softly “You don’t know how much that shit means to me.” “What?”

“I’ve told you before Hope, you have an ability that I’ve never seen before and I don’t know that I will ever understand it. You bring this calmness to me that like… shit I don’t know, I depend on…” Never breaking the intensity of his eye contact, he slowly closed the gap between us, “You’ve made me realize that I wasted years on the wrong girl…”

Eyeing his lips as he moved even closer, I swiftly dropped my gaze the moment he eased two fingers beneath my chin, forcing me to endure his penetrating stare. He finally closed the gap between us completely and placed the most gentle and tender kiss on my lips. He pressed himself even closer to me and nearly dragged me onto his lap as he tilted his head and drove forward as if he weren’t close enough. Parting my lips ever so slightly, I welcomed his warm tongue as he slithered it between my lips, allowing it to dance harmoniously with my own.

I gripped frantically at the front of his shirt and allowed him to express to me exactly how he felt through the passion enveloped within his kiss. He didn’t kiss sexually, but instead he did it with fervor… with a clear message that he didn’t quite know how to relay with his words. The voices of my aunt and his mother drawing closer to the den forced me back into a reality that, in this moment, I did not want to be in. I wanted to stay captured in his grasp for as long as I could. He reluctantly pulled himself back slightly, tugging gently at my bottom lip before letting go completely. Smirking with his eyes glued to my lips, he leaned forward again and pressed his lips against mine over and over again just until the voices were nearly in the den.

“Chris, baby are you going back to your place tonight?” His mom asked just as Chris moved back into place exactly where he’d been sitting when they’d exited the den earlier. With a quick glance at me, he shook his head with sigh “No ma’am. If you don’t mind… I’d like to just stay home tonight.” With the warmest and most satisfied grin, Ms. Joyce’s chest seemed to inflate with pride at the sound of her son’s decision and she nodded rapidly “You’re always welcome to stay home baby.” Rising from the couch to bid my aunt adieu and to follow his mom out, he quickly glanced back at me, mouthing “come over” before turning and following Ms. Joyce out of the house.

--

I hung out downstairs with my aunt for a while, briefly discussing the events of the evening and helping to clean up the kitchen. Once we were done, we both migrated upstairs for bed. After a quick shower, I tied my hair up into a semi wet messy bun and dressed quickly in an old pair of Chris’s basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. The moment I was fully prepared for bed, I moved past my plush mattress and instead made my way to my bedroom window. Pulling the blinds up carefully, I couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the sight of the window directly across from mine already wide open… revealing the strapping figure of Chris who stood leaning against the frame of his window with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his shorts.

Reaching to push my window up, I gripped onto the edge of it and eased my way out onto the sturdy tree branch that Chris had utilized many nights since we’d been neighbors. Holding onto the branch with one hand, I turned back to shut the window and nearly lost my balance as I faced forward much too quickly. I clutched at the tree branch, quickly losing my confidence to climb on to Chris’s window.

“Come on… I got you.” His raspy voice rang out like a savior in the night and I stared at him foolishly as he stood in only a sagging pair of basketball shorts, leaning his entire upper halfway out of the open window. Finally letting go of the branch, I leaned forward and gripped tightly onto his broad shoulders. Effortlessly, he moved his hands into place at my waist and lifted me as though I was a rag doll and within seconds I stood sturdily before him in his room.

Smirking down at my short stature, he raised one hand to lower the window and snagged one of my hands with the other. He swiftly led me to his bed and moved ahead of me to raise the blanket on one side, giving me just enough space to slip into place and make myself comfortable. He quickly made his way around to his side of the bed and plopped down on his stomach. Silence consumed us as he adjusted one hand on top of the other, resting his head on both and making sure to face me as he did so.

“Why were you just standing there staring at my window like that?” I whispered after a long few minutes of silence. “Because I knew you would open your window eventually… I was just waiting for you,” He explained in a sleep laden voice with his eyes now shut, “Took you long enough… had a nigga waiting forever.” I giggled and nestled my head further into his down pillows “You’re tired aren’t you?” He slowly pried his eyes open and stared at me with a smirk gracing his beautifully sculpted face “Nah, I’m good. You know, honestly… I never really got much sleep with ole girl staying with me… with her big ass mouth. I’m good right now though.”

“No you’re not Charlie, you’re exhausted and I can tell… go to sleep.” I said. I rolled over onto my side and didn’t give him a second to argue… I’d already reached over and begun to caress the top of his head, knowing the action alone would have him knocked out within a matter of minutes. He stretched a hand out suddenly and pulled me closer to him and I nuzzled my head against the warm and bare skin of his chest. With his eyes now shut, I watched him as I continued to graze the tips of my fingers gently over his hair and I could only smile at the sound of his breath evening out. Like a small child, he was drained and he knew it but he was determined to fight it until he finally lost the battle and gave in. His light snoring was almost like a perfect lullaby to me and within minutes of him surrendering to such a peaceful realm, I found myself dozing off in his arms.

[kernyen-xo]

Schtuff

Letting go is tough. I’m stuck and I’ve been coasting through each day knowing it. Some days have been pretty bad where my evil twin makes an appearance and truth be told I let her beat me up. What a bitch! I finally got my taxes done. I’m happy with the results even though I have to pay state. My income more than doubled last year so I was sweatin’ bullets. I bought my daughter a new phone for her birthday, which is next month, but the gift couldn’t wait. Her old phone was anicent by technology standards (over 3 years old). It was time. I joined the Goodreads 2017 Reading Challenge. I am going to read 50 books this year. Two down 48 more to go! However, according to Goodreads I’m 9 books behind, but c'mon! I joined the challenge just yesterday =:p

[theastonishingkylejackson]

– Written By Angela Miconi, Contributing Columnist for The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine and Author of The Hot Mess Memoirs

To read more of Angela Miconi’s work, go to her website by clicking HERE.

Originally Published HERE  at The Hot Mess Memoir.

  Yep, that title pretty much sums it up. I exercised tonight and it sucked.

The Astonishing Angela Miconi, contributor for The Astonishing Tales Magazine and founder of The Hot Mess Memoir

I would like to think today is the first day of consistently working out but to put this in perspective for you, I haven’t worked out this much in 6 years.

So to say I’m taking baby steps is an understatement as these are more along the lines of fetus steps.

Why? Because I worked out a combined total of 11 minutes.

But to my defense, I didn’t have shoes on and I suffer from horrible foot cramps, especially in my right foot.

Sure, these would probably go away if I consistently worked out but again, fetus steps.

The First 5 Minutes

I found the perfect workout video on Amazon Prime. It was Sweatin’ Into the Oldies with Richard Simmons. OK, I kid, I kid.

This would be Hot Mess if she actually went to a gym…

After searching kickboxing, I found beginner’s kickboxing. PERFECT! If you want to check it out for yourself, it’s included in Amazon Prime.

By now my 12-year-old came in to watch the debacle that was about to take place. Great, this is the kid that has an hour and a half soccer practice, 3 days a week then 2-4 games on the weekend.

He’s the perfect picture of athleticism and now he’s going to watch me kill myself, thanks to an Amazon Prime video.

“Weave and bob. Weave and bob,” kickboxing lady begins.

Exercise is hard for a lot of people… obviously….

“Wait, aren’t we warming up with inhale/exhale?” I asked her. Sure, weaving and bobbing wasn’t too hard, but this is a beginner’s video so I want a beginners warm-up, somewhere along the lines of a corpse pose.

“Punch, pivot, punch, return. Punch, pivot, punch return,” kickboxing lady says.

“I can’t keep up,” I whine. “So many steps.”

By now the 9-year-old walked in. Equally athletic as the 12-year-old.

“Come on mom! Punch that ninja!” C yells at me.

“I can’t. Stop, you guys are being so tough,” I protest.

The Last 6 Minutes

Kickboxing lady starts into a side kick on each side. By now I want to quit and so I handle this uncomfortable situation as I do all situations, with humor.

“It’s like I’m at a ho’down,” I say as I begin to kick each leg out on each side while pushing both hands down in front of my chest at the same time.

“Mom! Stop,” P yells.

I get back into the groove of the workout, trying to stay serious. 30 seconds later I grow more and more frustrated. This was supposed to be beginners. This isn’t for beginners.

Obviously I needed to specify that my fitness level was more along the lines of work 40 hours, commute 7.5 hours a week, blog every chance I get and lastly, drink wine.

“You’re the devil!” I scream at the TV. C just laughs.

Alas, I had to stop. I could have gone longer but my right foot began to cramp and I swear to you I’m not lying. When I start getting spasms in the foot, I gotta stop.

But I did realize I need actual tennis shoes that have support. I haven’t bought tennis shoes since 2012 and my Nike’s have 0 support.

So Now

So now I sit on the sofa, typing this out while my sons sit next to me. We are watching tiny houses and eating Samoans. I mean Samoas.

We aren’t eating the people of Samoa.

“Mom, have you contacted your dealer?”

“No, I’ll do that tonight.”

My dealer he is referring to is 3′ tall, wears a green vest and can be found on many grocery store corners.

She’ll even come to my door if I ask her to.

I’m The Astonishing Angela Miconi, Contributing Columnist for The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine and The Hot Mess Memoirs I Am Astonishing, And I Approve This Message!

You will find more of Angela’s work here at The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine.

Angela can be found on Instagram by Clicking HERE; and also at Facebook by clicking HERE.

[amazon_link asins=’B01NBARFKU,B076KF3Z72,B0785DNQTR,B074DTNQ6J,B01MU7WJFF,B078MVDYGY,B075CHZGNN,B0782WX4RP,B071LDCZRM’ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’theastonish0b-20′ marketplace=’US’ link_id=’32079645-2bd0-11e8-b062-095411394c23′]

I Exercised Tonight And It Sucked – A Hot Mess Memoir - Written By Angela Miconi, Contributing Columnist for The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine and Author of The Hot Mess Memoirs…

[ricardosousalemos]

Salt-N-Pepa: Very Necessary

In 1990, Salt-N-Pepa walked onto the Hollywood set of “The Arsenio Hall Show” ready to spread awareness about HIV and AIDS. The men in the audience were fervently doing the signature Hall bark well beyond the call of the show. The Queens trio—Cheryl “Salt” James, Sandy “Pepa” Denton and Deidra “Spinderella” Roper—were there to promote their spot in a fundraising traveling tour of Heart Strings, a new musical about AIDS and HIV featuring Cher and Magic Johnson, where they would perform their PSA-rework of “Let’s Talk About Sex” titled,  “Let’s Talk About AIDS.”  Maintaining its message that if you’re having sex, you have to talk about “all the good things, all the bad things,” the alternate version fine-tuned the song so that its focus on sexual health was more explicit.

But it was hard to tell who in the audience was there to hear Salt-N-Pepa and who was just there to look. “We’ve talked about the image of female rappers in the past,” said Hall. “Your image is a lot more lady-like. Do you think that’s the reason for these guys?” A clearly frustrated Salt responded, “We’ve gotten a lot of flack about that.” She looked exasperated. “I’ve heard people say we’ve gotten over on our looks. First of all, I ain’t know I look that good. To get over for six years on your looks? We’ve been around for awhile and if it’s just looks, then that’s messed up.”  

If their fan base included dudes who just had crushes, they only made up a sliver. The rest were there because S-N-P were spearheading a movement toward take-no-shit femininity that didn’t require them to dress like B-boys. “We’re not soft, we’re not hard,” Spinderella explained it to Arsenio. Salt lifted her Docs over his coffee table and told him their style was all lipstick and combat boots.

So much of the first decade of Salt-N-Pepa forged a path for women to follow for the next twenty years, both in rap and pop music, as well with social and sexual mores. The whole map of their conquest is laid out on their 1993 album Very Necessary. The confidence of “Push It”—which Pepa has insisted is about dancing, not about sex—and the emotional intelligence of “Let’s Talk About Sex” are present, but the womanly conviction here is far more plentiful than it had been in their music before. It was a palliative to the hyper-misogyny spewing from their male contemporaries. If Snoop Dogg and friends were going to harangue hoes, then in Salt-N-Pepa’s world, words like “hoe” and “hooker” were just as applicable to men. They maintained their themes of sexuality and empowerment—and were in good company with Queen Latifah’s “U.N.I.T.Y.” and TLC’s “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg”—but it got a new look. Whether in combat boots or pum pum shorts, their message was still clear: women need to have agency over their sexuality and, if she’s safe, she can express it however the hell she wants.

The album’s lead single “Shoop,” in particular, is unintentionally prescient about the contemporary inverted misogyny so many feminists engage in now, in jest or otherwise. In the video, Pepa tells Salt and Spin about her weakness—“men!” they chant in unison—while she scours guys on Coney Island playing dice. It is reverse catcalling, a playful way of leveling the field of objectification.

In a 1995 conversation with Mary Wilson of the Supremes for Interview, Salt conceded that the perception of the group changed once they started talking more frequently about their own sexuality instead forecasting what goes on behind other people’s closed doors. “When we get raw and sexy some people say, ‘Why do you have to go there?’ I feel like, as long as you’re letting the world know that you're intelligent and you're to be respected and you have a mind of your own and you're taking care of business, ain’t nothing wrong with showing off what you got, especially when you work out almost every day to get it. Of course, you have to show it with taste and with class. It’s about having an attitude of your own.”

Part of that attitude was putting men like the ones in the “Arsenio” audience squarely in their place: sometimes women get to do the barking and no one gets to judge them for it. Very Necessary is packed with anthems that are unafraid to look at men with the same ogling eye and do not accept being told it’s unladylike. “None of Your Business,” the album’s third single, denounced slut-shaming before it even had a name and is stridently dedicated to pushing a message that no matter how desperately you want to judge women, it will not matter to them. Spinderella calmly raps, “How many rules am I to break before you understand/That your double standards don't mean shit to me?”

Just as combative, “Somebody’s Gettin’ on My Nerves” is one of the album’s finer (and fiercer) points. Salt-N-Pepa make club records, but this track shows off they fare just as well when the bars are the focal point. Salt raps with a sober precision that only comes with a particularly refined and potent fury (it is not dissimilar to Ice Cube’s bite on N.W.A. diss “No Vaseline”). It is also the perfect playground for knockout punches like Pepa’s “You rolled up on me in your man's Beemer/And I could look at you and tell you was a meat-beatin' daydreamer.”

Some of this ferocity is bolstered by the production handled by Hurby “Luv Bug” Azor. While quips like, “Get off my bra strap, boy/Stop sweatin’ me” are part of S-N-P’s power, the track’s menacing bass is what keeps it ice cold. Azor had been mentoring the group since he put Pepa and Salt together as the duo Super Nature in the early ’80s. He had seen them through their four preceding albums, but after relinquishing production control to Salt for the Coltrane-sampling single “Expression” from their 1990 album Blacks’ Magic and a toxic romance between Salt and Azor ended, the women wanted more say in what went into Very Necessary. 

A 1994 New York cover story reveals that Azor found “Shoop” uncompelling and that he wanted the group to take an even softer approach. Despite how much of a hand Azor had in the album production, Salt-N-Pepa's interest in keeping it more "street" endured. Songs like “Nerves” and “None of Your Business,” do have the trappings of the gangster rap that was populating the charts, its toughness mainly comes from the take-no-shit vocality delivered by the group. The album’s textures are as sundry as the city they are from: Opener “Groove Me” is indebted to the outer boroughs’ West Indian populations; “Break of Dawn” lifts the ecstatic sax from the J.B.s’ James Brown-produced “The Grunt” and takes Joe Tex’s funky “Papa Was Too” and pounds them into Queens Boulevard brashness. Public Enemy may have been the first to use “The Grunt” on their 1988 track “Night of the Living Baseheads,” but Salt-N-Pepa were in good company, as Wu-Tang Clan and 2pac both used the same sample in that year.

On top of the beats, it was Salt-N-Pepa’s relentless campaign for social and sexual agency that drove the album. “Sexy Noises Turn Me On” may sound a little bit dated in 2017, but the frankness with which the women express their needs is anything but. It is the precursor to so many Foxy Brown one-liners and songs like Rasheeda’s “My Bubble Gum” and Nicki Minaj’s “Get on Your Knees.” There are calls elsewhere on Very Necessary for reciprocity, like when Salt raps: “You’re under my control/I got your heart and soul/Go down and take your time” on opener “Groove Me” but they were pushing to do even more than just smash the insidious taboo that women can only perform oral sex, not receive it that many of their descendants have rallied for (see: Lil’ Kim’s entire 1996 debut album Hard Core). 

This attitude bleeds through to tracks like “Step,” which uses a hefty sample of Hank Crawford’s jazzy “It’s a Funky Thing to Do” and comes off optimally unbothered. “Somma Time Man” is reproachful of male promiscuity (just like their 1986 Otis Redding-interpolating song “Tramp”), but so much of the critique is about infidelity and the lack of safety. Ultimately, Salt-N-Pepa’s mantra when it came to AIDS was, “If you don’t get it, you can’t spread it.” It is their entire ethos: sex is happening everywhere and it cannot be ignored because like all other thrills there are risks—risks you take with your heart and risks you take with health. If you’re doing it right, there’s no shame attached to it. It’s why they wrote “None of Your Business,” but also why they spent many of their television appearances talking about how easy it is to put on a condom.  

Pepa and Salt appeared on “Charlie Rose” a year before the album was released to talk about their activism. “Some guys don’t think it’s macho, some girls are insulted if you ask to use a condom,” Salt told Rose. Pepa offered, “It’s not macho to get AIDS… You have to wear condoms like you put on a jacket when it’s cold…” With many fans confiding in them their own diagnoses with HIV and AIDS, they felt it was their responsibility to keep the conversation going. Very Necessary closes with a skit unlike almost any that has ever appeared on a pop album. Titled “I’ve Got AIDS,” the sketch is a harrowing performance from two members of the multicultural peer education group WEATOC from Boston, Massachusetts. The script is bold and stark, featuring a female member, distraught, explaining to her boyfriend that she has just come home from a clinic where she was told she was HIV positive. Her partner then accuses her of being with other men because, even though he is untested, he couldn’t possibly have HIV. To close it with something so dark is to remind your audience to take care of themselves and that committing to your cause means using your platform to disrupt. Their fearless outspokenness has been unrivaled in the mainstream, conscious rappers be damned.

Salt-N-Pepa, however, do not explicitly call themselves activists or even feminists. In the same interview with Mary Wilson from the Supremes, Salt also said: “I think we’re feminists to a certain degree. But I have no problem with the man being the man, as long as the man knows how to be a man.” The biggest song of their career, “Whatta Man,” is a paean to good-looking respectful guys. Peaking at No. 3, the track united the trio with En Vogue, who were still riding high off of their star-making sophomore album Funky Divas, released the year before. Although the song’s ballast may be “good men are hard to find,” the use of Linda Lyndell’s classic “What a Man” and Spinderella referencing Whitney Houston deep cut “My Name is Not Susan” in her verse still keeps it a celebration of womanhood. The video co-starred Naughty By Nature’s Treach, Pep’s IRL man at the time, and remains one of their fluffier offerings. In the context of the album, however, it rounds out the robust portrait of women’s romantic interiors: Not all love is fleeting and when it is good, it is so good.

That lyrical flexibility made Salt-N-Pepa so versatile. Like their contemporaries Queen Latifah and MC Lyte, the group was interested in exploring their own world, from quotidian romances and jealousies to the ever-present threat of AIDS, as well as gang violence and drugs. This panoramic view of not just personhood but womanhood paved the way for someone like Nicki Minaj to be a pop superstar while still sticking to her Smack DVD roots. Whether they were thinking about it at the time, their output has always been about giving women opportunity to express themselves.

In a recent interview on BuzzFeed podcast Another Round, rapper Remy Ma noted that because it is a genre that clings to youth, its legends get brushed aside. The acclaim dwindles and no one graduates to become like the Who or the Rolling Stones. Salt-N-Pepa were celebrated at VH1’s Hip-Hop Honors in 2016, but the event was specifically about female MCs and the celebration was a catch-all including so many artists for whom they were the forebears. They are classic enough to have toured with both the Fat Boys and N.W.A. (who were the women’s openers!) but are now relegated to ’90s nostalgia package tours, top-billed with people like Vanilla Ice. Instead of being canonized for their contributions to the genre, they are playing side-by-side with someone whose one hit song made a mockery of it. But that’s the thing about Salt-N-Pepa: There is so much more there than what you see on the surface.

[ultralifehackerguru-blog]

New Post has been published on http://www.lifehacker.guru/tough-love-forgetting-names-finding-friends-and-falling-in-love/

Tough Love: Forgetting Names, Finding Friends, and Falling in Love

You’ve got problems, I’ve got advice. This advice isn’t sugar-coated—in fact, it’s sugar-free, and may even be a little bitter. Welcome to Tough Love.

This week we have a forgetful politician, someone in search of friends, and an older man who’s unsure about his new relationship.

Keep in mind, I’m not a therapist or any other kind of professional—just a guy who’s willing to tell it like it is. I simply want to give you the tools you need to enrich your damn lives. If for whatever reason you don’t like my advice, feel free to file a formal complaint here. Now then, let’s get on with it.

So, This Person Can’t Remember Anyone’s Name

Dear Patrick,

I simply cannot remember people’s names for the first, like, eight times that I meet them. I know that I should take a moment, repeat their name, and try to think of something about them that stands out so that I make that neural connection, but when I’m in social situations like that, my adrenaline spikes and I don’t even hear the name!

It’s driving me crazy and I’m starting to get more involved in local politics, so this is actually causing major problems. My strategy now is to follow-up by finding that person on Facebook and adding them to my network so that I see their name more often but this seems goofy. What should I do?

Sincerely,

Forgetful Francine

Hey… you:

The reason people forget names is complicated. The names you hear when you’re meeting someone goes right into your brain’s short-term memory, but it needs to move into long-term memory for you to recall it later on. If you don’t make a concerted effort to move it from short-term to long-term quickly, you’re screwed.

You’re on the right track repeating their name, making visual connections, and doing the creepy Facebook thing, but if that’s not enough, it could be a much bigger issue. Either it’s social pressure getting to you as you suggest, or, more likely, you don’t hear the names because you’re not actively listening for them. When you meet someone, you subconsciously make the interaction more about you than about them. It could be because you’re nervous and too worried about how people will perceive you, or it could be that you’re too caught up in your own routine of how you introduce yourself, or it could be because you don’t think meeting that person will matter in the long run. After all, we meet tons of people in our life that we never meet again, right? But you’ve met some of these people EIGHT TIMES…

So, it’s not really about what tricks will work for you at this point—those are just triage—it’s about rethinking the way you meet people. It’s not a memory game where the goal is to match the names with the faces. These are real people, with real life experiences and stories to tell. Find a way to be more interested in everybody you meet. Only then, Francine (see, don’t you feel more connected to me when I remember your name?), will you be able to make those connections and get those names moved from short-term to long-term storage. You probably don’t know these people’s names because you don’t make an effort to know them.

This Loner Is Tired of Hanging Out With Just Their Dog

Dear Patrick,

I had a cancer scare a while back and it made me realize that I don’t have friends. Like, people who would drive me to chemo, or help me plan my own funeral and promise me to look after my dog if I die and shit. I’m in my mid-30s, I freelance from home, I’m a loner and I like dogs. How do I friend?

Sincerely,

Lonely Lassie

Hey Lonely Lassie:

I’ve never understood why people ask this question as if there are official methods for acquiring friends—like they just haven’t been given the secret details. There’s not a friend store, and there are no step-by-step instructions. Think back to when you were a kid. School and whatnot made things a little easier, right? But what would always lead to friendships? LIKING THE SAME STUFF.

Yes, real friendship should go deeper than that, but in the beginning, friendship is almost exclusively about having similar interests and points of view. So, you need to go find people that meet those very basic requirements. Now I know, I know, you want me to tell you WHERE you’re supposed to go. Fine. I’ll break this down for you, Lassie.

You like dogs. That’s perfect! Take your dogs somewhere. Lots of other people like dogs too. Hit up dog parks, hang around pet stores, take your dogs walking in places where other people walk their dogs. When I take my girlfriend’s dog out walking I can’t get other dog walkers to leave me the hell alone. But here’s the kicker! You have to make the first move. You WILL NOT meet people just going about your business, hoping someone sees you the one time your out of the house each week, thinking “Gee whiz, they seem interesting! Hi!” Talk to people, make an effort. Those weird hairy toddlers everyone’s pulling around are barking, pooping ice breakers.

You want friends? Try to make some. The operative word here is MAKE, Lassie. As in takes time and effort. People are always afraid to put themselves out there because they’re afraid they’ll look like a loser for not having any friends, but that doesn’t make any sense! Trying to meet people doesn’t make you a loser. Not trying and complaining about it does.

This Widower Isn’t Sure How to Approach His New Relationship

Dear Patrick,

I am 74. My wife passed away last May. We had been married almost 50 years. Recently, I met a very nice lady and we have been seeing each other regularly for some months. It is pretty intense.

At my age, does it make any sense to even think about another long term relationship? If so, does it make more sense to marry, or just be together?

Sincerely,

Sweatin’ It to the Oldies

Hey Sweatin’:

You met a nice lady. Great! You’re seeing each other regularly. Excellent! And it’s intense. Fantastic! Sounds like you have a good thing going there. I don’t know you very well, Sweatin’, but life is short and you’re running out of time. Why should you spend one minute of it being unhappy? If this woman makes you happy, and you want to keep it going, then I don’t see what should stop you. You’re older, fine, but that doesn’t mean you should hold back how you feel. If that means jumping into a long term relationship, then go for it man.

Does marriage make sense for you guys? I don’t know, does marriage really make sense to begin with? Again, Sweatin’, just do what feels right. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. There’s no actual rule that says you have to be married to love each other and be together. It’s very common these days for couples to be together and devoted without being married. Then again, marriage does give you an excuse to go on an awesome honeymoon vacation…

Quickies

Because I just don’t have the time or patience for all of you…

JohnW asks:

Should I get an electric mower to replace my gas powered one? If so which do you recommend?

Well John, unless you get one that’s cordless—which is more expensive—it will be kind of like vacuuming your yard. Lame. And how are you supposed to wake the whole neighborhood up on Saturday morning with a far-quieter electric engine? That said, electric mowers are much better now than when they were introduced. If your gas powered one is getting old and you can find a good deal, go for it. It’s good for the planet or penguins or one of those things I think. Go cordless, though! People seem to like the Greenworks models.

Junker23 asks:

I need to find somewhere new to live and work. Aside from teaching 6 months in Thailand last year, I’ve been in Boston for forever.

There are too many places; decide for me, please?

Scottsdale, Arizona. So hot right now.

Snorp asks:

Should I buy a hot tub? I want to be hot and submerged in water every day but I don’t fit in my bathtub.

Hot tubs are awesome. All of my instincts are telling me to say “Yes, spend the money you fool, you could die at any second.” But! I have a few questions for you… First, do you have anyone in your life you can use it with? If not, get a bigger tub instead. Roman-style. Second, do you have a place to put it? Hot tubs are quite large. I know this because I’ve sat in over three of them. Third, are you willing to take care of it? They actually require a lot of upkeep, which is actually really annoying and so not relaxing. And lastly, do you live near me so I can also use your hot tub whenever I please? If not, probably not worth it, you know?

Dividing by Zero says:

I’m currently pursuing a Bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering but can’t bring myself to study much/care about it. Math is the main problem.

You don’t like math, huh? If you’re just getting started with your degree, you have several years of math to look forward to, including linear algebra, physics, differential equations, multiple levels of calculus, and vector calculus. So, what’s the real issue? Do you just not like math? Or are you merely struggling with it?

If you just don’t like math but you’re capable of doing it, you can suck it up and power through. In the end, you won’t be doing a ton of complicated equations at work anyway. If you’re just struggling with the coursework, find a tutor. Maybe you’ll care about math a bit more when you understand it. If it’s both, you should probably rethink your major. Math is essential to engineering. You need to know it. And to know it, you kind of need to care about it.

That’s it for this week, but I still have plenty of blunt, honest advice bottled up inside. Tell me, what’s troubling you? Is work getting you down? Are you having problems with a friend or a coworker? Is your love life going through a rough patch? Do you just feel lost in life, like you have no direction? Tell me, and maybe I can help. I probably won’t make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but sometimes what you need is some tough love. Ask away in the comments below, or email me at the address you see at the bottom of the page (please include “ADVICE” in the subject line). ‘Til next time, figure things out for yourself.

©