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pathologicalreid · 3 months

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Hello, love your writing, can i request a oneshot for spencer Reid x wife!reader with the plot of the movie taken where she goes on a business trip or something and she gets taken and the team have to work against the clock to get her back. Had this idea for so long and thought you would be perfect to write it. Perfectly fine if you dont but im craving this story.

leave a message after the beep | S.R.

When you go missing under suspicious circumstances on a business trip, the BAU goes to Texas - and ends up in the middle of something bigger than anticipated.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, blood, guns, reader almost kills someone, hospitals, the securities and exchange commission, typical cm violence, texas, takes place maybe circa season 7 word count: 4.03k a/n: okay anon so like yes i can write this but also i've never seen the movie taken so really i took your request and made it my own! i hope you like it either way!

Tuesday, 2:17 p.m.

“Hey, Spence, it’s me. Shame I got your voicemail, but I just landed at Dallas Fort Worth and I’m waiting for my ride to take me to meet the regional officers. Not sure if you’re traveling, but uh, call me when you get this, I guess. Or when you can. Hopefully, this trip goes better than I think it’s going to… oh, I think my ride is here.”

Tuesday, 6:42 p.m.

“Hey babe, so, the first meeting went fine, they don’t seem very receptive, but people generally aren’t when I’m sent in to change their methods. Wish you’d pick up your phone. Anyway, I’m on my way to the hotel now, I’ll probably try you again before I go to bed. I know my updates are probably riveting.”

Tuesday, 8:09 p.m.

“Well, I’ve definitely stayed in nicer hotels than this one, but I guess I can’t complain about being put up for free. I’m probably just biased because the a/c unit is busted – oh, my room number is 316, I know you like to have it. I opened the windows to let air in but it’s so dry here that I’m not sure it’s helping any. I’ll shut them before I go to sleep, so don’t worry about that. Call me back, I miss you, don’t worry about waking me up. I think that’s all I’ve got, goodnight, I love you!”

There was a collective sigh in the roundtable room, five agents around the room all looked nervously at each other. No one wanted to be the first person to speak. No one wanted to be the first to propose a theory. “Where’s Spencer?” Emily asked, looking through the voicemail transcripts that were splayed out in front of her.

“In Hotch’s office, they’re talking,” Rossi said, eyeing the photo of you that was being projected up on the screen. Most of the time, Penelope just used driver’s license or passport photos in files, but for you, she had chosen a photo from the last BAU O’Keefe’s outing. Your skin was flushed and there was an odd shadow being cast on your face, but your smile was unmistakable.

The official files would have your driver’s license photo, but that picture was for the BAU. Seemingly unable to peel her eyes off of the screen, JJ asked the question that everyone was sitting on, “We’re on this case, right?”

It felt ridiculous, one of their own had gone missing in the middle of the night and they weren’t even sure if they had the jurisdiction to look into it. When no one answered, Morgan looked around the room, “The brass isn’t seriously going to try to tell us not to investigate.”

“No, they’re not,” Hotch said, suit jacket unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he walked into the roundtable room with purpose. “We’ll debrief more on the plane, JJ and Garcia will stay here, the rest of us are headed to Dallas,” he instructed, nodding at everyone before turning around and walking out the door, the rest of the team following like ducks in a row.

On the jet, the traveling members of the team watched as Rossi held a cup of coffee out for Spencer to take, but the team's youngest member took a moment to even recognize that it was there, “Oh,” he mumbled, “thank you.” Blinking a haze from his eyes, he took the cup in his shaky hands.

A familiar concern flowed among Spencer’s teammates, they all watched as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger – a nervous habit that usually presented itself when he missed you. “Y/N’s boss is en route to Quantico to talk with JJ, the flight’s about three hours, we should get started,” Hotch was the one to speak up, herding the sheep in the correct direction while everything felt aimless.

With his legs tucked beneath himself, Spencer watched the team as they bounced back and forth in a discussion on what you were doing in Dallas and Penelope scoured through your recent communication.

“According to the voicemails and the hotel records, her room was on the third floor,” Emily spoke up, flipping through the file in front of her. “Do we have crime scene photos from the hotel room yet?”

On the video screen, Penelope shook her head, “CSI is still processing the scene, I have an inquiry in with them to send the photos as soon as they can.”

Checking his watch, Hotch looked over at Spencer, still sequestered on one side of the jet, “Make sure they keep the scene undisturbed for when we arrive. Dave and Morgan will meet with the sheriff at the hotel, and the rest of us will head to the precinct to set up.”

If Spencer wanted to be the one to investigate the crime scene, he didn’t protest his assignment, he just continued to spin that gold band on his finger. He didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the rest of his team; he could only think of you.

With the involvement of the BAU, the team had been redirected to the Dallas Field Office. “There was a hole torn in the window screen, the crime scene techs think that’s how they got inside,” Morgan announced to the team, they were all gathering in the conference room.

“On the third floor?” JJ questioned over video chat, she and Penelope sat right next to each other on the screen.

Rossi nodded, “We must be looking at a team. At least two, likely three UnSub’s in order to pull something like this off. They cut the camera feed and broke into the hotel room where she was staying – this was premeditated.”

It wasn’t difficult to deduce that being taken from the third floor of a hotel meant that you had been a target, but the evidence of a break-in settled like a boulder on Spencer’s chest. Someone had intended to take you. Someone had intended on grabbing you from your hotel room in the middle of the night – and they had succeeded.

“Is there any chance she forgot to close the windows when she went to sleep last night?” Emily looked over at Spencer, dark brows raised quizzically as she leaned over the table, skimming through the voicemail transcripts again.

Clenching his jaw, Spencer shook his head, recalling your promise to close the windows before the end of the night. “No, she’d never forget. She knows I worry,” although, after this, you’d never be able to chide him for worrying too much ever again. Sharing a knowing look with the brunette before him, “So, she’s been missing since last night, not this morning.”

The initial assumption had been that you’d disappeared at some point early in the morning, maybe on your way to your first meeting of the day, no one was entirely sure, but this confirmed that you had been missing for at least eight hours more than the first estimate.

A knock on the door garnered the attention of the team, each of them turning to see a field agent, “Uh, Ezra Buchmann is here to speak with you, he said he got a call from your tech girl.”

Hotch nodded succinctly, “That’s the co-worker who reported the case. Morgan, go see if he needs anything. Dave, let’s go check out the office building that Y/N had been working at.”

“Do you think she might’ve been caught up in something at work?” Spencer asked, following his team members with his eyes as they left the conference room.

The unit chief didn’t provide a forward answer, “I’d like to start checking off some possibilities. It’s been fourteen hours with no firm leads.” It wasn’t as optimistic as anyone had hoped, but Hotch shared a look with Emily before leaving the room.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Spencer turned to the evidence board, looking at the pictures of your hotel room, the water splashed around the rim of the bathroom sink, your phone charging on the bedside table, your wedding ring resting on the counter, and if he separated himself from the missing posters, he could almost convince himself that they were just random pictures. Almost.

Frowning at the blown-up images of partial fingerprints and a random CCTV shot from across the street, he recalled your voicemails. “I wasn’t busy,” he confessed to Emily. “When she called me, I wasn’t busy. I was doing other things, but I wasn’t too busy to answer the phone. I assumed that I’d have the chance to talk to her today,” he said, slightly leaning over the oak table, resting his fingerprints on the varnished surface in an attempt to keep himself standing.

Pursing her lips, Emily took a member for responding, “That’s not an outrageous assumption to make,” she tried to reason with a miserable man. “You’d never think something like this would happen.”

“Until it does,” Spencer continued. “We see it happen to people all the time, we’ve made a life of it, but I never thought it would happen to me. To her,” he maundered. If he had a dollar for every time he had heard the same sentiment from victim’s families, he’d never have to work another day in his life. “I did call her back when I got home last night,” he added, though, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to reassure.

In an effort to comfort him, Emily reached out and patted his arm, “We will find her, Spencer.”

Dead or alive? He wanted to retort, but he bit his tongue, holding it in.

As a favor to him, in the hopes of providing him with some emotional respite, Emily had haggled with the field agent whose name was last on the chain of custody of your belongings. It wasn’t entirely proper for evidence to be released to family, but she offered to put her name on it in the interim.

She stayed with Spencer in the conference room, letting him keep your things nearby as she spoke with JJ and went through the information that had been acquired back at Quantico. The team now had your performance reviews at work and, according to JJ, your boss couldn’t say enough good things about you. While it was nice to hear, it didn’t bring them any closer to finding where you were.

Tracing the woodgrain of the table with his fingertips, Spencer eventually tuned the phone call out, instead wondering at what point he was obligated to call your parents. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice your phone was ringing in the evidence bag before him until Prentiss tapped him on the shoulder.

It was an unknown number, but that was a barrier easily blocked by Garcia with a quick search. The rest of the team watched as she blanched on the screen, “Uh, you might want to answer that.”

“Garcia, who is it?” Hotch asked, a hardened look on his face as he looked from the screen to the buzzing cellphone.

JJ frowned at Penelope’s monitor as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading, “It’s the SEC,” she responded.

Swiftly, Hotch answered the phone call, turning on speakerphone so the rest of the team could hear, “Hello.”

“Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Reid?” A male voice came through the receiver, everyone sharing the same wary look.

Focused on the phone call, Hotch shook his head, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, you can speak with me.” He said, elaborating on the situation and rendering the SEC investigator speechless.

Unable to listen to the conversation any longer, Spencer got up, minding his movements as he walked out of the conference room. He checked the map of the building that was posted on the wall before walking up the stairs, making his way up to the roof of the building.

The dry heat of Dallas was about as miserable as everyone made it out to be, but it was hard to ignore the way it reminded him of home. Maybe he could call his mom – speaking with her usually brought him some semblance of peace. Though, she might have a negative reaction to the situation he found himself in. On the hot rubber roofing, he kicked around piles of dirt before leaning against the ledge of the building, craning his head back and closing his eyes when he heard the rooftop door open.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for any sort of discussion right now,” he complained, neglecting to spare a glance at whoever was disturbing his quiet – not exactly an Eden, but quiet.

He recognized Emily by the sound her boots made, even on the rubber that had been softened by the relentless sun, “I’d be more surprised if you were in the mood to talk.”

Impulsively, he rolled his eyes, “Did Hotch put you in charge of me?” He was glad his eyes were still shut, that way he couldn’t see the look on Emily’s face when he sniped at her.

“No,” she responded, gathering his attention as he brought his head down, squinting in the sunlight. “I thought you might want to know what just happened,” she nearly challenged, dark hair gleaming in the daylight.

Mentally kicking himself, he nodded for a moment, “You’re right, I just… I’m sorry.”

Taking a moment, Prentiss walked over, standing next to him, “I know.” She sighed, turning around and taking inventory of the surrounding buildings, “She was sent out here to look at some shady dealings of the company – insider trading, that kind of stuff. The main branch has an investigation open with the SEC, and they have been for the last few months. She was supposed to meet with that Ezra guy this morning to try and work something out. Hotch is talking to the CEO right now, he’s claiming he couldn’t tell JJ because it’s need-to-know,” Emily explained, focusing her eyes on the highway in the distance. “The SEC has an office in Fort Worth, they’re sending some people, and they faxed over all of the files.”

Setting his jaw, Spencer was the first to move to the stairs, the air conditioning providing an instant relief as he strode down the steps with Emily trailing close behind.

A field agent was standing in the middle of the office, stirring a cup of coffee, “Would someone really kidnap a woman over an SEC investigation?”

“We’ve seen much worse for much less,” Spencer mentioned in passing, swerving through the office of people until he made it back to the conference room. “Why would Y/N’s boss send her to investigate something that had already been brought to the SEC?” He posed the question to the rest of the team, taking one of the files that Morgan handed him and reading through the pages.

Rossi shrugged, nodding his head in the direction of the evidence board, “He wanted it handled quietly,” he posited. “Maybe he thought she could negotiate a solution and they could call off the securities investigation.”

Understanding where Spencer was going with his question, Hotch watched the board as if it was all coming together, “But, Y/N had no idea there was an open investigation. This was just another assignment to her.”

You had basically said as much in your voicemails, you went in, and you cleaned up fires across the country, and now you were caught in a blaze. “It was a setup,” Spencer concluded.

“And I know just who you need to talk to,” Garcia said over the phone, typing on her keyboard, “Check your phones.”

Ezra’s assistant folded immediately under the threat of being charged with interfering with a federal investigation. She had no knowledge of what her boss was up to, but she did know where the BAU could find him.

On the edge of the city, your company held an old office building that was slated for demolition. With the information from the assistant and some actions of questionable legality from Garcia, the team was able to nail down Ezra’s location and, hopefully, yours.

Letting SWAT lead the way, Spencer, Emily, and Morgan all made their way up yet another flight of stairs, hoping to be able to find you on the third floor. The SWAT commander signaled with his fingers to direct everyone in their respective directions.

There was a clang from across the floor and everyone froze in place, “Fuck you!” Your voice rang out, reverberating through the mostly empty office space. The yelp that followed would have sent Spencer clambering in your direction if it weren’t for Morgan grabbing his arm in warning. “I didn’t know,” you spoke again, your tone less obstinate as the misery you felt crept in.

Drawing their weapons, the team clung to the wall as SWAT gave orders over comms until the team came into view, lifting their firearms.

In retaliation, Ezra pulled you up, keeping a deadly tight grip on your upper arm as he kept you compliant by pressing the barrel of his gun to your temple. “She told me you’d come,” he said, nearly seething with rage like a rabid animal.

It seemed like a ridiculous moment to feel relief, but the fact that you knew the BAU would come for you ever so slightly lightened the weight on Spencer’s shoulders. However, whatever relief he felt was quickly banished from existence when his eyes met yours, you were covered in blood. It leaked in a steady stream from your nose and down your sleep shirt, he hoped that was the extent of the damage that had been done but based on the evidence of a struggle in the hotel room, he doubted it.

“Y/N, don’t look at him, look at us, look at Spencer,” Emily reasoned, noting the way you looked over at your captor, eyeing the gun in his hand.

You didn’t look scared, not to Spencer, though Emily had reasonably assumed that you would be in this situation. “Y/N, don’t,” Spencer said in a warning.

But his warning came too late, you had already swung your bound hands up, grabbing the weapon from Ezra as you kicked his legs out from under him. If Spencer hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve been impressed, but now he found himself in an entirely different situation.

“The safety’s still on,” you chastised as your now shaking hands undid the small latch, settling your pointer finger on the trigger as you stared him down.

SWAT seemed entirely dumbfounded, not sure how to go about the admittedly unique situation, so, it fell upon your husband to talk you down. Slowly, he holstered his weapon and stepped toward you, “Baby, put the gun down.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, “He set me up, Spence”

“I know, darling, I know,” Spencer said breathlessly, holding his hands out to stop any and all movement in the warehouse. “This isn’t the answer though, okay? You know this isn’t the answer.”

Your hands didn’t stop shaking, still bound together by the flex cuffs on your wrists as you narrowed your eyes at Ezra. “He set me up,” your voice broke at the sheer memory of the betrayal.

Distantly, you heard Derek tell people to lower their weapons, convincing the field agents that you weren’t a threat. “This isn’t you,” Spencer insisted.

Blinking as tears fell from your eyes, you gripped the handle of the gun, leaving your pointer finger hovering precariously on the trigger. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer.

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at Ezra, who was taunting you, trying to get you to pull the trigger. You fought against yourself, trying not to stare at Spencer because you knew as soon as you met his brown eyes, the choice would be made for you.

“Pull the damn trigger,” Ezra jeered, baring his teeth at you. This was it; this was the end. The FBI had the whole building surrounded. Even if he tried to run, the BAU would follow him, they’d chase him down, and they’d kill him themselves if it came down to it.

Slowly, you moved your thumb, re-engaging the safety before you lowered your arms, handing the gun off to Spencer. As he grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, he pulled you in with the other, passing the gun off to Emily so he could hug you tightly.

He pulled away for a moment, retrieving a pocketknife and using it to cut the flex cuffs from your wrists, letting the stiff plastic fall to the ground, and catching you when you practically threw your arms around him.

Your legs gave out from under you, and Spencer wondered how long you had been in this sweltering building without water, likely having used the last of your strength to stop Ezra. “Shh,” he hushed gently, “Let’s sit down,” he spoke to only you as he guided you to the ground.

Closer to you now, he saw more of the damage that had been done, the glazed look over your eyes, your chapped lips, and a bruise on the side of your head. “I knew you’d come,” you murmured dazedly, swaying ever so slightly, “I told him you’d come.”

“I know, I know,” Spencer reassured you, listening to the buzzing of people, hopefully EMTs, around you.

A hiccupping sob almost broke his heart, but he just kept his hold on you, keeping you upright and wishing your nosebleed would clot. “I almost killed him,” you mumbled.

But you didn’t, he wanted to respond. Part of him felt like it would’ve been fine if you had. You’d have gotten away with it, even, but he knew firsthand what it felt like to take another life. He wanted to believe that he had played a part in you turning the safety back on, but even he wasn’t sure.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Spencer asked, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed and taking your hand in his.

He squeezed your hand gently, allowing you to admire the way your wedding ring looked now that it had been returned to its rightful home. “Much,” you assured him, keeping your head resting on the mountain of pillows behind you. You had been cleaned up, stitches on your forehead, and a bandaged cut on your thigh, but the main concern was your dehydration. An IV delivered fluids to you while you sipped on a cup of water, waiting for your stomach to settle enough for you to eat something.

Spencer raised his eyebrows, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “Good enough to try something for dinner?”

You nodded apprehensively, “Something light?”

The smile that sprouted on his face was enough to convince you to eat. He offered to go talk to your nurse, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he left the room, leaving the door open so you could see him in the hallway.

A small chime got your attention, looking around for the source of the noise, you found yourself digging through Spencer’s bag, retrieving your cell phone from the leather satchel.

There was a scratch over the screen, but it still worked just fine following your skirmish in the hotel, you opened the phone to find that you had a voicemail. You tapped the message before bringing the phone to your ear.

Tuesday, 10:23 p.m.

“Hey love, I’m just leaving the office now. I’m sure they’ll be more receptive to you as you talk more, you can be very convincing. The weather is very dry in Texas, make sure you keep hydrated, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls, we’ve been trying to prepare all of this paperwork for Strauss and time just got away from us. I miss you, maybe when you get home, we could talk about taking a trip. We could go see my mom. It’s been a while. Hm… I have to admit, I’m a little bummed you didn’t answer the phone, but I’m glad you’re getting sleep. I love you so much, sleep well.”

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x y/n #margot's requests #written by margot

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a9saga · 2 years

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youtube

tbt - shinee - view // bitch fuck yeah 🔥🔥🔥

#i just remembered to post this now im in the parking lot at school whoops #i saw someone drink prime irl at work the other day #i actually didn't know it was a thing at all until pinely talked about it recently wow logan paul is a talented salesman #i have an exam on monday and it's kind of all im thinking about #im so busy at tutoring i know for at least my full four hour shift i will not get enough work done #i still have the last section of homework to finish bc some of the problems are such bullshit #i had 7 or people on Tuesday and i stayed to work on my own shit after my hours but people kept asking me to check on their work #i might have to stop doing that #im too good at my job it seems #other than that being on my mind ive actually had a pretty good week and had an overall very good day yesterday #shinee still feels good tho i almost forgot to mention i fucking love shinee and you should too #shinee #tbt #song rec #kpop #shut up kaily #Youtube

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imgeekgirlfan · 12 days

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The Curse of Cassandra [EP : VII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings: Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader) [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: You start a new life on the planet Olega with the man you love. If your life were a novel, this would be the happy ending. But fate never lets you rest. One day, you find yourself facing three unfamiliar Jedi, and one of them, a Jedi Knight named Yord, captures your attention in an inexplicable way.

Status: work in progress (This is a long fanfic that will be about 10+ chapters.)

A/N : Since there are more chapters now, if you don’t want to miss any updates, you can ask me to add your username for notifications whenever a new chapter is posted. Just let me know in a reply, and I’ll make sure you’re included in the next update.

ps. I'll be in Singapore for the F1 from this Thursday until next Tuesday, so I'll pause updating my fic for one week. I hope you can wait patiently.

➡ Intro // EP : I // EP : II // EP : III // EP : IV // EP : V // EP : VI

[Episodes 7] It is impossible to live in the past, difficult to live in the present, and a waste to live in the future.

It’s often said that the safest place is also the most dangerous one.

Perhaps that’s why Qimir chose to remain hidden on Olega, despite it being home to the Jedi Temple, a major stronghold of the galaxy’s peacekeepers.

For most people, there was no reason to fear the Jedi, who were meant to protect them from harm. But that wasn’t the case for you. You remembered well what Qimir had told you: the Jedi were looking for you, too. Even though their exact motives remained unclear, the sense of paranoia never left your mind. Especially after the massacre on Tatooine, you and Qimir felt like fugitives—always just one step away from being caught if any evidence linking you to the crime surfaced and exposed your secret.

You hated being here. Given a choice, you would have fled to some remote planet at the edge of the galaxy. But Qimir had different ideas. “Most of those who know about your bounty are outlaws or trade federations. Neither group gets along with the Jedi, so they won’t be snooping around places where Jedi gather,” he reasoned. “And the Jedi? They’re too preoccupied with galactic affairs to pay much attention to the planet they’re on. Besides, you don’t have the Force, so finding you would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

Qimir wasn’t wrong. Life on Olega had turned out to be unexpectedly peaceful. Despite the city’s persistent chaos, it made hiding much easier. You and Qimir had managed to stay under the radar for over a year without major problems. Everything had settled so seamlessly that you almost forgot what it was like to be on the run from other planets.

With no need to keep moving, Qimir had shifted from his life as an illegal mercenary to opening a modest apothecary. He also worked as a broker, selling medicines and various odds and ends to travelers passing through. Meanwhile, you had taken on the role of his assistant and personal apprentice. Qimir was dedicated to teaching you both the theory and practice of his knowledge, especially in combat. He also encouraged you to continue developing your powers rather than suppressing them as you had before. Like your mother, Qimir believed your abilities were too valuable to be wasted.

“Haven’t you ever thought,” Qimir once said, “that someone like you could rise to replace the Jedi one day? With your power, you could bring far more to the galaxy than they ever could.”

His words seemed absurd, like a far-fetched joke meant to tease you. You laughed every time, confident that such a thing would never happen.

Never getting involved with the Jedi, no matter what, had always been your rule for survival.

But sometimes, fate can be cruelly ironic, and this was a joke that wasn’t amusing at all.

That's what occurs at noon on a Friday—one of fate's cruel jokes when you unexpectedly find yourself face-to-face with a group of Jedi.

It all takes place at Qimir’s apothecary on a day he isn’t around. Lately, he has been disappearing more frequently—sometimes for two or three hours, or even the better part of a day—claiming he has business to attend to involving herbal shipments from other planets. As a result, you’re left to run the store in his absence, handling the medicines and assisting customers as usual.

But everything changes the moment the shop’s bell rings and the door swings open. Brilliant sunlight floods the store, heralding the arrival of three strangers you’ve never seen before.

One of them is a teenage theelin-human hybrid girl, with paper-white skin adorned with spots and orange hair with small horns encircling her head like a crown. The other two are human men—one middle-aged, with long black hair tied in a half-ponytail, his face stern and serious; the other younger, with sharp features, sun-bronzed skin, and a tall, muscular frame, likely not much older than you.

They couldn’t be more different from each other, except for their identical attire. They’re dressed in light yellow tunics, covered by long brown robes, and each wears a large belt with the unmistakable emblem of the Jedi Order.

Jedi—The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning the moment your eyes land on their belts, and you instinctively draw in a sharp breath.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, composing yourself with practiced ease. Lifting your head from behind the counter, you address them with a polite, businesslike smile. “How may I assist the three of you today?”

The older man, likely a Jedi Master, introduces himself with courtesy as Sol, while the young girl, his Padawan, is named Jecki. The other young man, a Jedi Knight, is introduced as Yord. “We’re here on a mission,” Sol informs you, his voice laced with concern. “We’re investigating a serious incident that occurred in this city.”

You have no idea what serious incident he’s referring to or how severe it must be to involve the Jedi. For a moment, your mind jumps to the possibility that it might be connected to you—until Jecki explains further, warning you to keep the information strictly confidential.

It turns out that the serious incident is a series of murders currently happening on Olega. Four bodies in four months—each victim a high-ranking Jedi responsible for overseeing the temple here.

"Since the incident is still recent, the killer might be someone who just moved here or snuck into the city illegally," Sol continues. "There are many of these types around the spaceports, which is why we need to increase security in those areas to ensure the safety of the citizens."

You can tell Sol's words hold only a half truth. The Jedi aren't particularly concerned about the lives of citizens since the killer's targets are not random people but specifically high-ranking Jedi.

The presence of the three Jedi at the apothecary today is no coincidence. As a newcomer here, you're automatically placed among the suspects, though none of them have the nerve to say it outright to your face.

Understanding this, you begin to relax a little. After all, you have nothing to do with these murders, so there's no reason to worry. You just need to play along with the Jedi's charade until it's over.

Sol, the group's leader, takes charge of questioning you, with Jecki also taking part in the interrogation. Most of their questions are basic: had you noticed anything strange or seen any unusual people recently? They also delve into your personal history—your identity, background, and reasons for ending up on this planet.

You respond naturally, mixing truth with lies, careful not to arouse suspicion. You're confident in your ability to act convincingly—that is, until you sense the sharp gaze of the one Jedi in the group who hasn’t said a word.

You furrow your brow, the intense scrutiny from the Jedi named Yord making you increasingly uncomfortable. You try to ignore him, but there's something inexplicably magnetic about his presence—an instinctive urge that draws you to meet his gaze.

At first, you think he's trying to catch you in a lie, but when you see his expression, you're surprised.

He’s not scrutinizing you for deception—he’s staring at you in shock, as if you’re some kind of ghost.

As you peer deeply into his brown eyes with curiosity, time seems to stretch unnaturally long. You find yourself not looking at the present but plunging into the past. Every moment flashes before your eyes like pages of a book flipping by—one year, ten years, a hundred years, up to a thousand years.

Suddenly, your consciousness is yanked back to the present. You startle as your entire body trembles with the icy chill sweeping over you. Pain surges through you like a jolt of electricity, followed by the sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

You know exactly what’s happening. The side effects of your vision are punishing you for seeing what was not meant to be seen.

Closing your eyes, you take slow, deep breaths, trying to steady yourself and acclimate to the pain. As your senses return, you hear Sol’s concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," you quickly reply, shaking your head while wiping the blood from your nose with a handkerchief. You feign composure, even though the lingering pain continues to gnaw at you from within.

Sol looks at you with disbelief, but he doesn’t press further. His face betrays concern, and you can’t help but think how fitting he is as a Jedi. His every gesture screams 'purity' If goodness had a color, this man would be the brightest white—so blinding it hurts to look at.

The awkward silence breaks as Sol clears his throat, returning to the topic at hand. “We still don’t have any more leads on the perpetrator, other than the fact that they’re highly skilled with weapons—probably a former soldier or maybe...” He trails off, as if he almost let something slip, but catches himself just in time. "Anyway, if you find any suspicious leads, don’t hesitate to contact me or any other Jedi.”

You watch as Sol places a thin metal card on the counter before bidding you farewell with the classic phrase, "May the Force be with you." He and the other Jedi then leave the apothecary quietly.

You reach for the card, running your fingers along its cold metallic edge. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s an electronic contact card, storing his information. The front clearly reads, ‘Sol, Human, Jedi Master.

For a brief moment, you consider throwing it far away, but something compels you to tuck it into your pocket instead.

The sun slowly sinks, signaling the approach of evening. Hours have passed, but you're still lost in thought, pondering the group of Jedi you encountered—especially Sol’s story of the horrifying Jedi murder case. Though it has nothing to do with you directly, you can't shake the unease creeping into your mind. It's an inexplicable feeling of foreboding, devoid of any logical reason, as if instinct itself is whispering from deep within, warning you to be cautious. Yet you have no idea what or whom you should be wary of.

And then, there's another matter weighing heavily on your mind—the Jedi Knight named Yord.

His name has settled deep into your thoughts, etched onto your lips. A strange sense of familiarity fills your chest, as though you’ve known him before, despite seeing his face and hearing his name for the first time today.

How odd you think, fragments of a past you can barely recall flicker in your mind, disjointed and unclear. You want to focus your power on a vision, to delve deeper into the memory, but your body is too frail. It would only bring more pain. All you can do now is predict the hazy path of the future, as far as your bruised mind will allow.

You close your eyes, adjusting your breathing to a slow, steady rhythm. You let your mind sink into the stream of consciousness of possible futures.

There’s a ninety percent chance.

Certainty rises inside you—the answer you seek will come when you meet him again... soon.

The Bene Gesserit meditation gradually envelops your mind, nurturing it with such calm and a cold, almost numb detachment. Your fingers gently brush against the knife hidden in your cloak, recognizing that it may become necessary if things spiral out of control.

You step toward the front door of the shop, hand reaching for the handle, but a sudden hesitation grips you, freezing you in place.

A moment of silence surrounds you. You feel like a fish swimming towards a hook, drawn into a dangerous situation you shouldn't be involved with. The closer you get, the harder it becomes to turn back.

But in the end, you open the door anyway.

You stand there, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t take long before someone grabs your arm, pulling you swiftly into the narrow alley beside the shop, hidden from the bustling street.

Your back hits the wooden wall of a nearby house—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock the wind out of you. You look up, meeting Yord's eyes with a calm expression, showing no sign of surprise. You know he is waiting for you, just as you are waiting for him.

“Be careful. You’re in a place you shouldn’t be,” he warns in a firm voice. “Get out while you still can.”

That’s all he says before releasing your shoulder and quickly walking back to the street, disappearing into the crowd while you stay still, watching his broad back in the yellow Jedi uniform fade from view.

In that moment, it's as if a veil of uncertainty is lifted, revealing a truth you had suspected before.

You are certain now. That Jedi can see the future—just like you.[1]

[1] In Star Wars canon, some Jedi can see the future, but only a few—usually masters with strong Force abilities like Yoda (though as he got older, his visions became less reliable). You can see that Jedi powers and the Bene Gesserit abilities are somewhat similar (because Dune inspired Star Wars). However, in this fic, the author wanted to create a special distinction between the Reader (who is a Bene Gesserit) and the Jedi, so regular Jedi can’t have visions like the Reader. Yord’s case is unique and will have significant importance to the plot later on.

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rrenzwrld · 10 months

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secreto de amor VII

chapter 7! read chapter 6 here

“y/n~i need to talk to you.”

“you always need to talk to me. talk to your other friends.”

“don’t get smart with me. i just wanted to remind you about the business trip i’m going on. i leave next wednesday.” jean worked with a company that providing them with relaxing trips out of the country twice a year because they know how taxing the job can be.

“where you going this time?”

“it’s actually a cruise, going to the bahamas. i’ll be gone for two weeks tho, much longer than last time.”

“two weeks??” that caught your attention. you were used to jean and his trips but you’ve never been left alone for two weeks.

“i figured you don’t need a babysitter because you’re 18 but some people will swing by to check on you.”

“you tell—“

“yes i told mom and dad. they’ll come check on you and if you get scared just stay over there.”

“anything else i need to know?”

“nope, think that’s all. love you!” jean closed the door behind him. although it was only tuesday and he had about a week to prepare, it shouldn’t worry him about leaving you. he knew that you were a good kid, you don’t cause trouble , and you’re practically already independent apart from you living with him. so he didn’t know why he was feeling weird about all of this.

later on that day, you called tia to have your daily conversation and some interesting things were brought up.

“you said he said what now?”

“just reposting tweets n shit and relationships, talkin bout some ‘i’ll take my old bitch over a new bitch any day’” the dude in question was your ex you dated for two years until he cheated. he was your first and last boyfriend and luckily you hadn’t lost your virginity to him or else you’d be going mad even now.

“a weirdo for real. remind me why you follow him again?”

she shrugged. “to be nosy. give us something to talk about.”

“valid.”

“your brother still going on the trip thingy?”

“yeah, why?”

“just asking. don’t he always go around the same time?”

“yeah but i didn’t think you were paying attention. he’s gonna be gone for two weeks this time.”

“two weeks?? oh you’ll be dead before he gets back.”

“don’t say that! i can handle myself fine for two weeks.”

“you don’t even sound like you believe yourself. but look at the bright side,” you rolled your eyes as you already knew what would come next. “connie can come over without any interruptions and he’ll stay and keep you company, and then~” tia started clapping her hands and moaning.

you laughed. “i fucking hate you. i don’t even think about him like that, he 22.”

“so? older dick be the best dick.”

“i’m gonna hang up on you.”

“it’s okay if you wanna hang up on me to call your man.”

“i don’t have a man.”

“sure..”

next wednesday rolled around quicker than you thought and it didn’t seem real to you up until you saw your brother all packed up in suit and tie.

“why you dressed up? i thought you were going on the trip to relax.”

“there’s a meeting right before we board the plane.” you nodded as you watched your brother put on his dress shoes. “are you sure you’ll be okay? you’ll call or text if you need anything right?”

“yes, i’ll be okay. just have fun.”

“i already called everyone to let them know so some one would be there everyday to check on you. and don’t throw any parties or anything while i’m gone.”

“i’ll try not to.” you joked. but he knew you weren’t like that. the most you’d probably do is have tia sleep over or something and just the two of you do stupid shit in the comfort of your own home.

“well,” he started as you helped him load the last of his things in his car. “i love you, i’ll be back in two weeks. i’ll call and text everyday, just don’t die on me.” he laughed while he pulled you into a tight embrace

“i won’t die, promise.”

after the both of you struggled to let go, you bid him a formal farewell as you watched him back out the parking lot, “love you too, be safe!”

after all that, it was weird having the place to yourself but you’d just operate how you would normally do. the only difference was that jean wasn’t present and you had to get used to that. but as he said, over the two weeks, people came to check on you every day.

you had visits from your older stepbrother elliot snd his girlfriend, your mom, your stepdad, and even your biological dad who really just started speaking to you after your mom remarried. but family wasn’t the only people who were there for you. you had visits from sasha who you’d hang out with from time to time, and sleepovers with your friend tia. but one person you really should’ve saw coming was connie. but you didn’t know how you felt just yet.

“y/n~” you heard connie call out to you from your room but he stopped in the doorway when he made it. “your brother told me to—“

“check up on me?”

“yeah, but.. a little more than that.”

“what?”

“he gave me a key, see?” he held it up proudly but you were shocked and maybe a bit upset.

“when did he give you a key? and why?” connie walked into your room and sat at the chair by your desk.

“he wants me to check on you

everyday—“

“people do that already.”

“yeah but he wants me to check on you everyday.. for multiple times a day.”

“so i don’t have a choice.. but to see you everyday?”

“multiple times a day, yes.” he smiles. “but that makes it easier for us to get to know each other.”

“don’t you have things to do? like work or..?”

“yeah but i’ll just come here after.” you rolled your eyes. although jean suspected that connie was trying something with you, he still trusted connie to keep you safe if anything else.

“whatever.” you went back to whatever you were doing.

“right,” connie stood up to walk out the room. “and imma need your number or something.”

“to track me?”

“no, just to keep in contact with you. weirdo.” he laughed. you were the weirdo? you ended up putting your number in his phone and he put his number in yours. “i turned locations on by the way. i’ll be back, bye!” he left before you could even get on him about it.

#aot #aot x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #connie springer #aot connie #connie springer x black y/n #connie x black y/n #connie x black reader

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heartsforjohnnycake · 4 days

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OK WAIT I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST A PASTOR DARRY AU HOLD ON 🗣️‼️

ok so. the church is held in the YMCA he worked at, so they have special permission to have church there . soda sings & is worship leader, pony helps plan events (he seems like such a perfectionist who literally could plan everything on his own . like let him make a yearbook or smth and it is gonna eat) johnny comes w them and helps runs errands (i am CONVINCED he can drive . i think he’d have a license, js not a car) . SO

the curtis gang doesnt rlly come over like,, monday or tuesday nights (i havent decided) for bible study cause none of them could sit still enough for that bsfr

johnny will be gone for like. half the service and he just shows up w coffee and snacks because they’ll all be there a while

mind u . my uncle is the pastor at my church and i think he gets here from 7:30 - 8 am?? and church starts at 10:30 am. so they’re there for a while

so ponys waking up early 6 days a week if he doesn’t have plans on Saturday so bro is like . TIRED. he’ll stay home and johnny will run the events table for him

i think johnny skips school twice a week (tuesdays and thursdays) . i think he’d find a way (get pony to help him manipulate staff) so he can wake up later and do his work at home or smth . so he’d help w the chirch some (alot)

darry will be preaching and he’ll js call out to them . like “and then- johnny can you go home and grab the posters- thanks” *clears throat* “and then..” or smth like that

he took over for his dad

he’ll share childhood stories of the gang . like js to help add stuff onto the lesson

i think that ms. mathews is in charge of the children’s ministry, two-bit helps w the youth ministry, but he’s not there as much

curly gets a job at the ymca on sundays and he’s like “damn this is boring 😔” while cleaning and he looks over and just sees johnny drinking creamer cups like shots while pony and two’s sister (i might name her susie?? idk) cheer him on. he’s like “GANG??” he goes up to pony and taps him and he YELLS. like “WHAT THE HE- oh hi curly” ahh

i think that the curtis bros would all dress niceer, and johnny does NOT gaf . he wears his nicer jeans but he’ll show up in a stained hoodie or shirt looking emo asf no shame . i think it’s a mostly greaser church so no one says anything, but ponys always like “that hoodies stained..” nd johnnys over here “do i look like i gaf bffr”

two-bit wears his nicer jeans and a nicer mickey mouse shirt

i think he’d work nursery a babies bc i think he’d actually be really well with little kids

mind you, he has a little sister and is rlly responsible w ponyboy before the rumble . he is responsible

ponys talking to people and worshipping n shit and johnnys over here scrolling through temu and checking his account to see how much money he has (i WILL give him a job and credit card and hes in darry’s custody in modern au since theres so much more freedom and opportunities then . fight me)

i think the entire gang went to church w them once . it was exactly the same in the book but the curtis brothers had to deal w people from church in their house two days later 😭🙏

i think the curtis brothers r religious, johnny not as much but he still likes being apart of something so thats why he helps

ok thats all i got for now . i might post hc of what they look like modern au later but im in church rn (💀)

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #ms mathews #the outsiders headcanons

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nancypullen · 21 days

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Thursday

Howdy do. It's Thursday here in Dullsville and I've decided to go full steam ahead with fall decor. Why not? Just gonna' do what makes me happy and maybe Mother Nature will see it and usher in some true autumn weather. We've had some really pleasant days lately, it was actually FIFTY degrees on Tuesday morning! I think our high today is 76 which is just fine with me. A little rain wouldn't hurt, but I feel like that's asking too much. I'll just be content that the brutal summer heat seems to have moved on. So....FALL! Remember the candlesticks I was going to paint and distress? I'm building a centerpiece around them, not sure where it's headed yet but I like the before and after.

That's the dollar store pumpkin I covered with napkins, and the little $1 pumpkin stack got some fresh paint. Easy and cheap! Tonight I'm headed to The Foundry for a mosaic class. I've taken these mosaic classes a couple of times before, it's pretty straight forward - you're basically just paying to use the supplies. She always has boxes of tile, glass, china, and of course the nippers to cut it all. The instructor is super sweet, so it'll be fun to create and chat. Tonight's class will make a 14x5 house number or welcome sign. This is the example given.

I plan to make a house number with a Halloween vibe. Our house number is 504, so I can make the 5 and 4 with black tiles and make the 0 an orange pumpkin. We'll see if that works. I've never been able to get to the grouting stage in class. I always have a big plan and not enough time. I'm keeping it simple for this project, so maybe tonight is the night I finish!

Tomorrow I'm scheduled for a COVID shot at 10am. I also have a 1pm plant pick up at the arboretum. Every spring and fall they have a big native plant sale and I always buy a couple of things to support them. This fall I'm just getting some rudbeckia (Black-eyed Susan) and some blue mistflower.

It's supposed to attract bees and butterflies, crossing my fingers but not counting on it. In a quest to lure more wildlife to our yard we added yet another bird feeder. This one clamps onto the railing of the back porch and allows us to watch the birdies from the sofa. The cats are loving it too. It's been nice enough to have windows and doors open lately, so Phoebe is on duty.

Of course, the squirrels found it right away. They never miss a snack. I zoomed in with my phone to snap that from the living room.

This one too - Phoebe had him in her crosshairs.

I think a birdfeeder is better than tv. The sounds are certainly more enjoyable. The new feeder is covered in finches every day now and with the windows open it's lovely to hear their chatter. They sound like they're terrible gossips. A Caroline Wren entertained us yesterday afternoon, they have such pretty songs. Yep, that's who I am now, a crazy cat lady who looks forward to meeting new birds. I own it. I've been reading about people who develop relationships with crows, trading trinkets and stuff like that, and I've never wanted anything more in my life. When I drive between Denton and Easton (which I have to do for just about anything) and I see a crow near a corn field I want to roll down my window and scream, "Come to my house, I'll give you stuff!" Crows remember faces (so do hummingbirds!) so maybe one will land in the backyard soon and recognize me from the road. This is all normal to think about, right? Alright, time for me to go beat my hair into submission, then throw something together for Mickey to eat while I go glue mosaic tiles to a board in hopes of having a little fun. The class is 5:30 to 7:30 and I'm usually the only person who stays to help clean up, so I may be out until 8 o'clock!

Sending out tons of love, take what you need and pass it on. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

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ingek73 · 1 year

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As a Cult Survivor, I Found Prince Harry’s “Spare” Surprisingly Relatable

I didn’t even refer to our way of life as religion, because religion could be false

Princess Diana and Prince Charles broadcasted on a television set

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

APR 7, 2023

REBECCA WOODWARD

I woke up earlier than usual on the Sunday morning Princess Diana’s death was splashed across the news. I knew my mom would want me to wake her up for this. When I told her what happened overnight in Paris, she leapt out of bed and hurried to the television, where she sat in silent attention, still in her nightgown. At the time I knew it would be deeply uncool to betray an interest in European nobility, but I couldn’t look away either.

While my mom’s affection for the princess was hardly unique among midwestern mothers of the 1990’s, I suspect her fascination ran deeper. Like Diana, my mother had married at 19, and she gave birth to her first and only child the same year Diana emerged from the Lindo Wing with a young William cradled in her arms. For any stay-at-home mom, it must have been ennobling to see traditional womanhood celebrated at Diana’s level of fame while working moms in powersuits simultaneously dominated American pop culture. But my mom knew better than others what it was like to live within a rigid system like the royal family—except there were no adoring crowds cheering her on as she struggled.

Both my parents had been raised as Jehovah’s Witnesses. They accepted that their most important duty as parents was to raise their child in the faith—to teach them about the Bible, yes, but even more importantly, to teach them to live their lives as Jehovah’s Witnesses, which had less to do with the Bible than they wanted to believe. No birthdays, no Halloween, no Christmas of course, but that’s just the beginning. This way of life was all my parents had ever known, so they didn’t think to question it.

This way of life was all my parents had ever known, so they didn’t think to question it.

My mom, who sewed her own modest clothes in the 60’s when only miniskirts were available in stores, thought I was lucky that maxi skirts were in style when we went shopping for meeting clothes. My dad would tell me stories about congregation elders spying on him and his friends through binoculars when they were teens, as if to say I should just be happy I wasn’t being actively surveilled by middle-aged men.

As head of the family, my father tried to drum up enthusiasm for the monotonous routine of Witness life, which included three meetings a week—Tuesday night, Thursday night, Sunday morning—and Saturday mornings spent preaching door to door while other kids watched cartoons in their pajamas. I would sit at the end of my parents bed while my dad tied his tie for meetings and he’d lead me in a duet of an old Marty Robbins song.

“A white-”

“Sportcoat!”

“And a pink-”

“Carnation!”

“I’m all dressed up for the dance,” we sang together.

The song was from the ’50s, when my dad was just a kid himself. I imagined his father singing it with him and his brothers before meetings to get them excited—or at least willing—to sit quietly in uncomfortable formalwear on a weeknight.

The dictionary definition of a cult is so broad that almost any group of people aligned around a belief system or leader could qualify.

My mom, on the other hand, hated getting up early for Sunday Meetings, and preaching to disinterested strangers added to her sometimes crippling anxiety, yet staying at home was out of the question. Elders paid close attention to meeting attendance and hours spent preaching, and if we were absent too often we would be labeled “spiritually weak.”

There were large assemblies and summer conventions, too, where we would pack our lunches and roast in an un-airconditioned stadium alongside 40,000 other Witnesses for three straight days. On the hottest days, my mom would take an ice pack from the cooler and tuck it under her skirt while no one was looking to stay cool. We dreaded the summer convention every year, but they were nothing, my parents would say, compared to the eight-day outdoor conventions they attended as children, and it was unthinkable not to go. When it was over we would agree with the rest of the congregation that we had found it so encouraging, that we couldn’t do without this wonderful “spiritual food.”

Watching television coverage of the Windsors alongside my mom, the tiresome schedule and strict rules of royal life started to resemble life under our religion: modest dress was required, personalities were stifled to uphold an organizational image, and service to the institution was to be top priority at all times. We even had the same bizarre aversion to facial hair, and we were never to complain publicly. The Princess seemed to be chafing against the same kind of strictures with which my mother and I were painfully familiar.

Decades later, I would watch coverage of Prince Harry and Meghan’s separation from the royal family while I navigated my escape from the religion I was raised in and really begin to understand my mother’s royal fascination.

In his memoir Spare, Harry says of his family “outsiders called us a cult,” seemingly unable to leverage the claim directly. It took me a while to use the word, too. The dictionary definition of a cult is so broad that almost any group of people aligned around a belief system or leader could qualify, but the dangerous kinds of cults share common traits: They’re governed by authoritarian control, believing the leadership is always right and the only source of truth. Followers are taught that they’re never good enough. Criticism or questions are forbidden. And, most importantly, cults believe there is no legitimate reason to leave the group, that former followers are always wrong to go.

Like life in the royal family, Witness life was full of ever-shifting rules that often made little sense, but obedience to the men God had chosen to lead his organization was mandatory. In Spare, Harry is often as mystified by the arbitrary rules that dictated his life as I had been. Obedience, it seemed, was the only point for both of us.

Harry opens his memoir with a frustrating scene between himself and his brother, who can’t seem to understand why he’s left royal life behind.

“I couldn’t believe what I was hearing,” he writes. “It was one thing to disagree about who was at fault or how things might have been different,” he concedes, but he cannot understand how his brother pleads ignorance of how he’s suffered. They’re having the conversation I avoided for as long as I could.

When I told my parents in an email that I was leaving the faith behind, my dad admitted that he understood why I was unhappy.

“Things haven’t always been done the best way,” he said vaguely. “But in order to accomplish Jehovah’s will there simply has to be an organization.”

Not unlike a royal justifying the existence of the monarchy, I thought. Both systems of rule ordained by God.

I’d been taught that what we believed was absolute fact.

If there’s one thing the royal family and a cult have in common, it’s the indoctrination. As Witnesses we simply referred to our beliefs as “the truth,” as if our interpretation of the Bible was beyond questioning. Growing up, I didn’t even refer to our way of life as religion, since religion could be false, and I’d been taught that what we believed was absolute fact, like it or not.

The worst thing you can do in a cult is admit it’s a cult, so for a long time I used the gentler term “high-control religion.” Even as an active Jehovah’s Witness, I couldn’t deny that the words fit, and I still worry that calling a group a cult will close more eyes than it opens. I want a better term for myself than “cult survivor” too. Cults can be life or death business, but compared to some, I didn’t have it so bad. Some didn’t survive at all.

Harry seems to have decided the name fits his family, too.

“Maybe we were a death cult,” Harry dares to suggest. “And wasn’t that a little bit more depraved?”

He describes his father pointing to the Duke of Edinburgh as an example of someone who was tormented by the press in his young years, but hailed as a national treasure at the end of his life.

“So that’s it then?” Harry asks. “Just wait till we’re dead and all will be sorted?”

“If you could just endure it, darling boy, for a little while, in a funny way they’d respect you for it,” Prince Charles replies.

The reward deferred is essential to keeping an otherwise independent adult in a system of control, and I knew those kinds of promises well. Witnesses are expected to sacrifice their own desires to earn passage through Armageddon and entry into a paradise earth. Better to die faithful and be resurrected in paradise than to seek happiness now and miss out on this glorious hope.

“Consider the Israelites,” my father urged me. “They complained about how things were being done, and they witnessed miracles…and some lost out.”

I no longer had to feign interest in the latest Watchtower article when my parents called, because they weren’t calling.

Leaving the royal family, it seemed, was a lot like leaving a cult, too. That is—unthinkable and punishable by social and familial exclusion. Witnesses can leave the faith three ways: against their will by being disfellowshipped and shunned, of their own volition by disassociating and being shunned, or by avoiding the decision as long as possible and “fading”—gradually doing less and less in the faith and hoping no one will notice.

For me—and for Harry, it seemed—the pandemic made a slow fade from our responsibilities impossible. When my parents invited me to watch the annual convention with them on Zoom, I could no longer pretend I had any interest left in the religion, or that I hadn’t been weathering lockdown with a boyfriend who didn’t share the faith. On some level, lockdown was the perfect time to be shunned—there were no parties to be disinvited from, no one was hanging out without me. I streamed coverage of Harry and Meghan’s move to California while I cut off contact with devout family members and watched friends unfollow me on Instagram.

At first, it was an immense relief. I no longer had to feign interest in the latest Watchtower article when my parents called, because they weren’t calling. I could post a picture of my boyfriend on Instagram for the first time. I could be myself.

It wasn’t until life began to return to normal that I felt what I had lost in a more visceral, even physical, way. One Saturday, before Witnesses had resumed door-to-door preaching, I passed a group of former friends eating brunch outside a restaurant near my apartment and we pretended not to see each other. I had understood that relationships within the religion were conditional, but I had also always been the one sheepishly turning my head when passing a former Witness on the sidewalk. I had been trained to treat defectors as if they were dead, but this was my first time as the ghost. I didn’t know how much these friends had heard about my decision to leave, or what stories they were telling themselves to make sense of it.

“I think deep down he knows it’s the truth,” we would often say of a disfellowshipped friend. “He just didn’t want to follow the rules.”

We told ourselves our missing friends would come back once the shunning process had worked its magic on them, and some did. But I wouldn’t, and they would never understand why.

Harry’s memoir may have set sales records, but both the book and the Prince’s post-royal publicity tour received its share of criticism.

“Even in the United States, which has a soft spot for royals in exile and a generally higher tolerance than Britain does for redemptive stories about overcoming trauma and family dysfunction,” Sarah Lyall wrote in the New York Times, “there is a sense that there are only so many revelations the public can stomach.”

Someone better versed in TikTok therapy-speak might accuse Harry of “trauma dumping.” But what they may not understand is the desire, after a lifetime of indoctrination into a bizarre way of life, to have strangers confirm what you always suspected—that you’re not the crazy one, they are. I wore out the patience of at least one friend seeking exactly this kind of reassurance, but the satisfaction of having your instincts confirmed at last is hard to resist. Finally, someone is telling you you’re right and it’s intoxicating.

When Harry told Anderson Cooper he and his wife would apologize if only his family would tell him what he and his wife had done wrong, an article in Newsweek was more than happy to provide an answer. But the question was rhetorical. If his family realized they had no answer, maybe it would open their eyes, bring them around to his side. That result was optimistic, and unlikely.

Leaving a cult requires you to let go of being right. The only way to garner sympathy from the people you leave behind is to shatter their faith, and for most of them, the cost is too high. They simply must believe in the fact of the institution they’ve sacrificed their freedom for. It’s easier to see the faults of a system that doesn’t benefit you, so the second-born son doomed to bad press coverage, or the single woman in a patriarchal religion, is better able to see the dark side of the institution that raised them. If you’re next in line for the throne, there’s so much more to lose by acknowledging the harm your beliefs do.

“I’m not interested in debating,” is all I would say to my father when he attempted to understand why I left or tried to convince me to change my mind. My parents have already made all their sacrifices for their faith and they’re waiting for their reward. To take that from them now would only hurt them.

The only way to garner sympathy from the people you leave behind is to shatter their faith.

One reviewer called the Prince “deaf to his privilege” in The Guardian, and I couldn’t help but think that perhaps our definition of privilege is too small. The privilege of leaving a palace for a mansion is undeniable. If I’d been able to afford my own apartment when my parents threatened to kick me out of the house if I stopped attending meetings, I could have left earlier. I wouldn’t have doubled-down on trying to convince myself I believed what I had been taught so I didn’t have to leave my entire life and all my loved ones behind to start over with nothing. But if I didn’t get to choose to be a Witness, certainly Harry didn’t get to choose to be a prince. And self-determination is more valuable than any trust fund. No palace or royal title could be more valuable than freedom. In that sense, Harry is only now enjoying the privilege of an ordinary person in an ordinary family.

In interviews Harry often says he hopes to reconcile with his family, that his issues are only with the press and the royal system, but I’ve learned it’s impossible to separate family from the institutions that rule them. My family and their religion are so intertwined they have become one and the same. Leaving one means leaving the other. I hope Harry makes peace with the fact that his family is the monarchy, and the monarchy is the press. And that in leaving any one of those things, he loses them all.

In the ex-Jehovah’s Witness community there are acronyms for people along the process of leaving: PIMI (physically in, mentally in), PIMQ (physically in, mentally questioning) PIMO (physically in, mentally out) POMO (physically out, mentally out) and perhaps the worst stage: POMI (physically out, mentally in). The POMI stage can be the most dangerous: it’s where ex-Witnesses, often disfellowshipped against their wishes, still believe, but find themselves unable to meet the demands of their faith. At best, POMIs languish, believing themselves disapproved by God and doomed to destruction. At worst, they resort to violence or commit suicide, hoping for forgiveness of their sins and a resurrection, a shortcut to a paradise they won’t get into otherwise.

For Harry, physically leaving could be as easy as making a phone call to Tyler Perry, but mentally leaving is the real work. Whether he makes amends with his family or not, I hope Harry can make peace with the fact that they may never understand why he wanted to be free. And I hope he can watch his father’s coronation and be happy for him—he’s finally getting the reward he was promised.

About the Author

Rebecca Woodward is a freelance writer living in Brooklyn. Her work (link: rebeccawoodward.com) has been published in The New York Times, HuffPost and Paste.

#prince harry #spare #british royal family #cult #rebecca woodward

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mamabearwonders · 1 year

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When I got hired, I chose my schedule. 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.. I like it because I go to work on Monday and then I get a nice little break on Tuesday and then I just finish my last 2 days and I get the weekend off. I love it.

Just like most places I've worked the cheery happy facade wore off. Now my boss got upset because I came into work at 11:00 a.m. a bit ago and said I was supposed to be there at 10:15 a.m. I was not hired for prep. I was hired for day shift.

He had the balls to ask me what do you do before 11:00 a.m.? Do you have college? No. It's called I'm in my bed chilling. And then he keeps pushing me about why I can't work more hours. I work 15 hours a week I'm very happy with that. I was hired for and what we agreed upon.

Now he's trying to not only do that, but make me stay an extra hour so my shifts are shifting from 5 hours to 7 hours. Not that it's his business, but I have bad feet and 5 hours is perfect for me. I would rather do the 15 minute break that is paid then to stay an extra hour and get a 30 minute unpaid break and be taxed higher due to more hours.

I like to go to the thrift store after work and I have to leave by 4:00 p.m. to still have an hour or two at the thrift store. It's not that far away. It's in my neighborhood.

I hate it when bosses do this. You pick your own schedule and they pretend to be caring about your work life balance. And then a few weeks in they mess up your schedule, they ask you why you can't work more hours because that's my availability. That should be the end of it. It's not my boss's business to know what I do outside of work. Whether I'm playing video games or climbing Mount Everest, it's not any of his concern.

But if he starts trying to add more days so I only work 3 days a week. If he tries to make me work four, five days a week and tries to take my weekends away from me that is when I will say something.

I don't think it's worth fighting him on an extra 2 hours. I'm trying to keep my job and I feel like he's going to start trying to schedule me outside of the three days so I want to save that energy for that battle.

He's already upset at me because I came in late even though in the group chat I've seen this one woman who is a lovely person but she comes in late every like 2 days like the past few months.

So I'm like why are you on me? And people been messing up on the register that day, but I made one mistake and it was like the end of the world. I also took my 15 minute break without asking my boss which was kind of dumb, but we just got done with a 2-hour rush and I was exhausted and it was a slow moment and my friend was up there so he can handle it by himself for 15 minutes.

Yeah I get you just had a bunch of people leave for college. I get that apparently you failed restaurant standards a little bit ago. Don't take it out on me.

If the 10:00 a.m. shit keeps up I will probably talk to him about it because this will be probably the second time in a row that he's going to do it this week too. And I'll ask him.

It shouldn't matter if I'm doing anything outside of work or not that is my availability. That's what we agreed upon.

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blueboyluca · 2 years

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I'm back to being frazzled at training, which I hate. I really need to work on my own routine to get the most out of the limited time I have to myself. Last night I was trying to demo the tandeum turn for people, but that just meant I had more eyes on me and felt more anxious and distracted about training Marceline and I was giving her bad and unclear cues. I'm lucky she engaged at all to be honest, let alone happily. But she didn't give me a lot of attention and I bet that was because of how frazzled I was.

I did everything anxiously fast last week and I knew that wasn't sustainable, so I consciously was slower this week, but I also skipped steps and didn't plan well. I forgot to film, which is always a sign I'm not fully paying attention. I need to figure out a better system for myself.

I arrive at 6:30 so that I can give Marceline an off-leash run before I tie her up to set up. Set up takes about half an hour. Then I explain what the training plan is for the Trialler class, and then I run first. This is where I get distracted and frazzled, and don't do my established routine properly and then it falls apart when I'm actually training. The idea here is that I give Marceline a short break, then I do the second activity set up for the Triallers (usually a single obstacle to work on). This week it was weaves, which went poorly as well but mostly because we haven't practiced in ages. So I also need to get back to practicing weaves.

Anyway and then from 7:30 I move to the second yard and set up for the Pre-Triallers (I can't think of another way to do this because I can't run two classes at once and I don't want to leave us staying out until after 9pm if we start later). If Marceline is amenable I do another run with her as a demo, then leave her alone for the rest. I have to give my full attention to the Pre-Triallers because I'm trying to get them up to a trialling level.

I've inherited this entire situation from the previous president. I haven't found a perfect solution because I can't seem to recruit new instructors. And I don't like the way the previous president did it, by having the Foundations and the Pre-Trialler at the same time, which is running two classes at once. This doesn't work for me at all, it splits my attention and makes me a bad instructor.

We have two nights of training a week, and I'm instructing on both of those nights – one class on Tuesdays and two classes on Thursdays. I'm thinking if I want dedicated time on equipment for myself, I'm going to have to come out extra early on a Tuesday to have time to myself to practice before I take the Foundations students. I used to think coming half an hour earlier would be enough time, but inevitably people arrive early and want to talk to me. The more I have to pay attention to other people's training, the worse my own training gets.

I've only had two weeks so far with the full training schedule, so my hope is that things will get easier as everyone works out the new schedule. I hope that I can sort out my own routine, if not I think I'll have to go for the earlier start on Tuesdays just for myself.

#dog training #dog agility

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softsky-daily · 1 year

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9/19/2023

Is the sky gray or blue? I guess somewhere in between.

Positive thing: I got Tijuana Tuesdays with a friend which was good, and I watched the new trailers for the Yakuza games coming up.

They look really fun. I enjoyed 7 a lot and 8 looks like it basically takes on all the cool mechanics from 7 and adds even more to it, like the positioning in combat and the new minigames. 7外伝 is coming out in November which is the next game in the series, so I'm interested in seeing how it connects the two. There were a lot of story beats in the trailers I thought were crazy, in varying levels of crazy (this looks so fun) and crazy (what are they cooking). Also they're in Hawaii??

Anyways, in my continuing quest to spread the seeds of my influence in Japanese Club, I was asked by one of the officers to help brainstorm ideas for a Language Table. Basically, it'd be a weekly meeting where people come by and someone facilitates group conversation and it's all in Japanese. We did them in my undergrad university, but we had the benefit of being able to connect with native speakers and had our own Language Building to use. My current university doesn't even have a Japanese minor and from what I know there's few advanced speakers who can help facilitate. So it'll be a bit different than what I'm used to.

This may brand me as a bit of a hater, but learning Japanese can be especially tricky because it's very heavily connected to subcultures who are Not Normal about Japan (i.e. see it as just Anime or some kind of monolith usually skewing on the side of "wow this place is perfect and a utopia"). And then learning the language means needing to tread carefully because I've seen many Japanese learning communities who have this... meme-y veneer to the way they interact with the language. I think learning a language for any reason is always worth pursuing of course, but I do get annoyed personally when people just make memes all the time in places meant specifically for learning.

Buuut I'm not trying to rain on their parade. They can stay silly. As long as they stop romanticizing Japan.

I really do wonder if other languages have this issue. Do people learning Finnish or Hebrew have to deal with an onslaught of memes about the pop culture from that language's country all the time?? I imagine some must. Actually I would guess Korean might have a similar issue with how widespread Kpop has become.

But anyway, all this to say, the Japanese Club here is both a bit silly and lacks resources, which will be a bit hard to work with for the Language Table. But maybe I'm just being overly rigid thinking about it that way. People definitely have the enthusiasm and like talking to each other. That'll be helpful.

I can feel myself getting on my soapbox again about how so many Japanese learning places end up becoming just Anime Club 2. Like, I get it!! Anime is a huge gateway into Japanese culture!! Sharing interests is good!! It's fine!! <- trying very hard not to be a hater

#skyposting #thoughtposting

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kindheart525 · 2 years

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Tag yourself! I’m Slowly Dying, Discord Server Mod, and Poor Little Neigh Neigh

[Image Description: Chibi-styled headshots of the Thirdverse cast with the following descriptions under them (character names indicated in parentheses, not part of image):

Homophobic Dog (Celestial Blessing)

Would rather drink a smoothie than go to therapy

“You have depression? Just cheer up”

Gives you a dirty look if you start crying

Constantly judging everyone

Slowly Dying (Bismuth Sun)

Full time student with a job, doesn’t even need it to survive

Three majors and five minors, considering another

Attends every single community event

Somehow has time for online discourse too

Quiet Quitter (Evergreen Blaze)

Does the bare minimum at work

Works with someone for 5 years and never learns their name

His favorite color is “personal information”

Avoids his coworkers at the grocery store

Influencer (Moonray Chill)

Goes on annual trips to Disney, thinks this is normal

Believed in Santa until she was 14

“If you’re homeless, just buy a house!”

No concept of money whatsoever

Common L (Lantern Glow)

Looks at themselves crying in the mirror when they have a breakdown

Has daddy issues or mommy issues if not both

Finds comfort in their childhood interests well past that age

Can’t find a therapist so they have several diaries

iPad Kid (Strawberry Breeze)

Bites people like a rabid dog

Life goal is to scream louder than Krakatoa

Picks her nose and wipes it on the wall

First word was fuck

Better Than You (Earth Day)

Always dresses in style

“I won’t have my son doing makeup like that, his eyeliner is all wrong”

Can convince you that you need something you had no interest in

Joins every single conversation just to be the center of attention

Nepo Baby (Princess Cut)

How much could one banana be? 10 dollars?

Thinks Kim Kardashian is a self-made millionaire

Saves money by cutting out avocado toast and Netflix

Also dad owns a business

Chihuahua In An Itchy Sweater (Sunny Sweet Dreams)

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me”

Takes even the slightest teasing personally

Selective in showing affection including to herself

Thinks being school project partners is "too intimate"

Dont Mine At Night (Laffy Taffy)

Curses at you in the Call of Duty lobby

Has a meltdown when the game lags

Fall Out Boy blaring in headphones 24/7

No sleep, bad grades, but defeating the final boss was worth it

Shallow (Galatea Candyheart)

Everyone wants to be her friend

Because she has the cool 24 pack of crayons with the sharpener on the back

She has to check her schedule to plan playdates…in preschool

Calls people she just met her best friend

Oh Worm? (Tiger Lily)

Says I love you to the cashier at McDonalds

Holds the door open for people who didn’t ask

Offers snacks and band-aids to everyone including strangers

Cries harder than you do when you scrape your knee

Discord Server Mod (Daisy Wasp)

The only one with conflict resolution skills

Stays up till 3am to moderate the group discussion

“No venting in the general chat”

Calls herself the friend group babysitter

Poor Little Neigh Neigh (Fairyfly)

Puts all the pressure on himself because his parents won’t do it

Complains about the stress he’s under as if it isn’t self-imposed

Thinks it makes him a better person

“Shut up I’m not short I just hit 4’11”

International Harvester (Blackberry Maple)

Posts travel pics at 12pm on a Tuesday

Accepts every single friend request on Facebook

Knows every stranger’s life story

You only ever see him at Thanksgiving dinner

Living Pinterest Board (Orchard Sunrise)

Does school notes about horrible tragedies in cursive with a pink highlighter

Every outfit is coordinated, even the work clothes

Spends hours in the bathroom doing her makeup

Asks you for help but nitpicks every step of the way

Useless Little Fuck (Fireside Jam)

Quotes distracting vines while his family does dangerous yardwork

Tries to carry the groceries inside but spills the whole bag

Offers to carry one (1) thing and hands it back to mom when it gets too heavy

Parents have to re-do all the chores he did badly

End Description.]

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kelmcdonald · 2 years

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Failure to Launch Crowdfund is Launching!

This is crossposted with my newsletter. Sign up for it here!

Hi everyone. Hope you all had a good January. Lots of things coming up this month!

Firstly, as the title says Failure to Launch's crowdfunding has gone live. Failure to Launch is a light-hearted, educational tour of (so far!) unrealized technological and societal advances promised in years past, but which never came to be. What could have been, but wasn't. It tells the tales of planned utopias in space, wild inventions, attempts to improve society, robot pets, and predictions of armageddon! History is often written by the winners, but this time join us in spotlighting those who didn't let failure stop their dreams. I edited it and drew a story. My story is titled Paradise Within the Reach of All Men. It's written by Ryan North and io9 posted a sample!

Later toward the end of the month, I'm doing a live reading of Fame and Misfortune. It will be Saturday February 25th at noon PST on my twitch. Some friends will be playing different roles. Then I'll answer some reader questions after the reading. Post any questions you got to this public patreon post.

Also while not in February, it's early enough in March that I wanted to mention it now. March 2nd-5th I'll be at Emerald City Comic Con. They haven't sent a map yet, but I'll try to post it in March's newsletter.

The full moon was yesterday, so I didn't get this out in time. But we watched Wolf Children. The next few moon is March 6/7. I'll probably do the movie on March 7th since I'll be driving back from ECCC on the 6th. Either way please join the discord so you don't miss the next full moon movie night.

As always I'll be streaming art on Twitch. My schedule is currently the following:

Tuesday 8pm-10pm PST

Wednesday 8pm-10pm PST

Thursday 6pm-9pm PST (during the Iron Circus Geekshow)

As for last month, what you might have missed is You are the Chosen One is back to updating on Patreon. I posted a PDF catch up for folks, because I know Patreon isn't great for catching up on reading comics. Also, The City Between has a new storyline starting. It's up early on my Patreon, but will start posting on my website this month.

This past month I did my best to work on Meredith McClarren and I's graphic novel Blue Moon. I'm behind on writing it because I've been a little buried with editorial work for Iron Circus and Seven Seas. A lot of my free time this month will go to trying to finish that one up.

On the editorial front, I'm putting the finishing touches on Failure to Launch. I'm also getting the ball rolling on a new anthology about committing crimes. It's called Perfect Crime Party. That will be fun to get the ball rolling on. At Seven Seas I'm editing the manga for one of my favorite recent animes, Life of an Ordinary Guy reincarnated as a Fantasy Knockout. It's a very funny parody of fantasy books and romantic comedies. I recommend checking it out the anime or the manga once it's out.

Staying on top of all that and exercising every morning has been pretty rough. But it's getting easier. I had trouble sticking with it after SDCC and ECCC being so close together last year. So doing Emerald City Comic Con will be the test on if I can stick with it. I've mostly been watching stuff while on the treadmill. Here's stuff I watched and read this month

My Love Mix Up vol 6 by Wataru Hinekure and Aruko - I mentioned this in my newsletter a year ago. But My Love Mix Up is one of my favorite regular reads. It's very cute. The bisexual main character starts the series with trying to figure out his feelings for two crushes (one guy and one girl). Now that it's been going on awhile the series has moved on to the main character navigating dating another guy. I like it because the character conflicts are mostly about them figuring out their own feelings rather than miscommunication. I find people needing that time and space to sort out their feelings and thoughts really appealing. Like the love interest is dating the main character and hasn't had a crush or feelings for anyone before. He sometimes comes off as detached or disinterested in they relationship. So compared to the heart on his sleeve main character, the conflict doesn't need miscommunication. Because if someone needs time and space, that's a conflict that can only be resolved with said space and time.

The Night Eaters by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda - I picked this up because I like Monstress by the same creative team. The art is beautiful just like Monstress. Currently, I think I prefer Monstress because that hit the ground running. But The Night Eaters was mostly setting things up for the series. The main characters are twins that don't understand their immigrant mother. They have a good dynamic and I like their back and forth as they learn their family's supernatural secrets. I'm gonna grab volume 2 and maybe now that groundwork is laid it will really knock volume 2 out of the park.

Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire - This is the newest volume of The Wayward Children Series. If you don't know it, the series follows kids that had a portal fantasy adventure and came back. Mostly the kids are called to their respective fantasy worlds because those worlds fix the kid better. I always like this series and end up grabbing the book the day it comes out. This one follows a girl who ends up in an in-between world which is where lost things magically end up. It is better for her because her home life has gone to hell and it's a sanctuary for her. She doesn't realize what she is giving up to stay though. It has some good thoughts and observations about how people treat children. All the Wayward Children protagonists have rough home life, but this one starts especially rough.

Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio - I loved this version of Pinocchio. I always like Del Toro's designs and the stop motion animation was lovely. I especially liked the design for Death.

Watership Down Mini Series - I also watched the Watership Down Mini Series that came out a few years ago. While the acting was good, I think it feel for the trap that happens a lot with cg animation. They rabbits look too realistic and that kinda robs them of personality. The visuals didn't really sell the horror of the book or the old 2nd movie.

First Kill - This and the next thing on this list made me think about how quickly netflix cancels stuff extremely quickly. If you aren't familiar with it, First Kill is the teen lesbain vampire romance series they put out last summer and quickly canceled. It follows a vampire and a vampire hunter who fall for each other while their families are fighting one another. It is EXTREMELY bad and not in a fun way. The whole show is very poorly thought out and seems slapped together. While it wants you to think Romeo and Juliet with the two leads, it is established that after being bit a human becomes devoted to a vampire. So one member of those pair has their freewill compromised. It is then brushed aside. And the vampire girl doesn't want to kill, but is told she has to. Why? Well, she just has to. We see other vampires feed from willing donors and not kill them, but it's never established why she can't just do that. The vampire also has to keep keep the fact that she is a vampire secret but then it turns out the whole world already knows about vampires. I could go on, but all the examples of what's wrong can be summed up as a lack of thought being put in to anything. And at the end of the day it's also boring. I can only imagine how frustrating it would be to think you were getting gay version of Buffy or True Blood and instead getting this.

That 90s Show - I watched a lot of That 70s Show as a teen. And I've been watching a youtuber named Jose do retrospectives of different sitcoms. After watching the That 70s Show one, I decided to check out That 90s Show. Overall, That 90s Show is just okay. I think the new teen actors have a decent chemistry, are unique, and their jokes are funny. But they don't really have time to explore/find their feet. Way too much time is spent on cameos for the cast of That 70s Show. The set up for the show is that Donna and Eric's daughter Leia is spending the summer with her grandparents Red and Kitty. So Donna and Eric being in the first episode as well as Red and Kitty all fit in the show fine. But the problem comes up when it turns out the single mom next door is dating Fez and her landlord is the guy Fez had a rivalry with. So now instead of sticking with the teen main characters, we are spending all this time rehashing Fez's joke from That 70s Show. And when Leia likes a boy with the last name Kelso, both Jackie and Micheal invade Kitty and Red's kitchen to repeat their usual fight. Something like this happens once per episode. And it's a shame because I think the teen characters holding their own would have better served the show. It left me wondering what season 2 would be like, but since it's on Netflix it will most likely never get that chance.

Watching all those sitcom retrospectives and listening to the Always Sunny Podcast (the crew of always sunny are rewatching their old episodes). It made me think about how sitcoms usually don't find their feet until season 2. Nearly all the shows we think of as changing the landscape of television had poor ratings the first season. Sitcoms rarely have complicated premises and live or die on the chemistry of their cast. And you don't know what does and doesn't work until you actually make a couple of episodes. While dramas/dramadies are also in a rough place in a landscape where things either take off immediately or get canceled, seems like sitcoms are getting get the worst of this cancel happy time period we are currently in. That's just something that's been on my mind lately, especially when shows I really like such as Inside Job have ended up on the chopping block. Thanks everyone! Have a good month and thanks again for your support. I'm gonna start doing an art round up after each newsletter. So enjoy and have a good one.

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 2 years

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well I've had an interesting first week of the year back at work. I managed to get through to my usual doctor this week, which is a bit of a miracle, considering she's always back late jan/early feb each year. she's recommended 3 places for me to ring to follow up on a probable ADHD diagnosis. the best one is one in Sydney, in Bondi.

but to do all of their tests would mean I'd try to jam them into a week, if I could (probs not let's be real), or each time I do one I spend on a hotel room to stay up there, since I just wouldn't feel bothered to the 2 hour drive home after 8 hours of tests. but the Sydney one gives you a brain scan which would be super cool. but also if you managed to get bulk billed, it's $1,200. also they don't focus on meds, they focus on "brain based" and behaviour change stuff.

the other 2 places are local to my area, but you have to ring to find out their prices. but on the other hand, my doc said to leave all this stiff until after I have my colonoscopy that's booked for a couple weeks from now, on the 16th.

work is better since I'm not at a tired low point like I was at the end of last year. my boss is a bit happier that I'm turning up at the office at around 8:50 roughly and set up by 9. but yeah I hate having to cut my pre work bed relax after my bath each morning to 7:15 to get out the door by 8;20. but rn 8:20 is only working bc it's the school holidays so I'm not locked into the mronjng school run traffic and school zones right next to my house (basically). so it means I will have to bother to leave at 8:15 or whatever when school starts back up again on jan 31st.

but yeah. I still haven't handed in any of my unfinished (or unstarted) cadestship assessments; bc I forgot right before we left of chrissy/NY break to ask our outsourced IT guys to set up our VPN access app (it just gives you a code to type in) on my phone to access the work hard drive at home lmao. so I've meant to start this week, but I just haven't.

aside from work, the other interesting thing is that someone from the catholic school I went to for years 7-10 from 2008 til 2011, decided to invite me to a 10 year reunion that someone else from our year group from that school set up on Tuesday on fb for October this year. and I was just so surprised that someone bothered to remember me and invite me.... and I feel kinda touched tbh lol. bc i didn't even graduate with them properly, in a way, in 2013, bc I obvs graduated at the public school that I transferred to. it's so random that someone thought to invite me all these years later.

and I'm also stressing over the event a little. mostly on the level of what to wear to it, obvs lmao. but also, most of these people are successful working in good jobs. or they run their own successful local businesses/take over their parentd businesses.

while, on the other hand. I finish my cadetship in march, and I have no idea whether i'll be kept on where I am or whether I'll be somewhere else or jobless lmao. but anyway. it's going to be so weird seeing anyone from that school again, when half of them have kids and are married now or some have even divorced or split from their partners that they married in our early 20s (or at least that's what I've deduced from their name changes on fb back to their original last name I knew them by in school).

also im bitterly jealous of a few of them because they've bought their first house or have a second house and are using their first as an investment property. like bruh. am I the only one who still hasn't moved out of home yet??? and obvs there are obvs other people renting but still. am i the only one still at home??? I don't want questions about that tbh.

like is it even worth catching up with these people, when I still remember the derision I got from one of the girls from my group from that school, when I ran into her at uni back in 2016??? how she told me that everyone was actually SO GLAD that I'd left bc apparently they were all secretly harbouring embarrassment for my behaviour and my "attention seeking" or whatever the fuck she said to me???? but also part of me hopes that rich boy goes and is happy to see me and I'll get to congratulate him in person on his engagement or perhaps being married by the time this event happens (if it even does lmao). and that's my other thing. could just be an elaborate joke where they do this, and I turn up, but NO ONE is there???? like hello trust issues, aren't you looking very sexy this week.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona's work thoughts

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nightsidewrestling · 2 years

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D.U.D.E Part 14 - Sunday Morning (set in 2020)

Note: This is set in a universe where Men VS Women / Intergender matches can happen.

Chapter 1: here Chapter 2: here Chapter 3: here Chapter 4: here Chapter 5: here Chapter 6: here Chapter 7: here Chapter 8: here Chapter 9: here Chapter 10: here Chapter 11: here Chapter 12: here Chapter 13: here

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16 @janetreader

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places (those chapters will be marked as 'Mature / sexual content' just to be safe). Please inform me if you wish to be tagged or untagged from posts. If the text is in italics and orange it's Kirby's inner monologue. If the text is coloured but not in italics, it's either dialogue or a P.O.V change (P.O.V changes will be in bold and translated dialogue will appear in square [ ] brackets), Key below. Quick note on Geia's text colour: Yes I do know that as Greed she should be in yellow but I decided to colour the men's dialogue yellow so Geia was changed to be pink like the other women in the story outside of the main 8.

The Main 8: Damo - Bio. Vi - Bio. Billie - Bio. Geia - Bio. Kirby - Bio. Honey - Bio. Eli - Bio. Sara - Bio.

Kirby's P.O.V:

It had been a month, almost three, since she had told Eddie everything.

He hadn't taken it well at first and she got scared, leaving before Eddie could stop her.

Well done idiot, now we're on our fuckin' own again.

Kirby had taken time away from everything in her life.

Wrestling... her other work... her family... friends... Eddie.

A fresh start, that's what we need.

She had begun attending church every Sunday, part of her hoping to bump into him every time.

Kirby had driven out to Orangeburg, South Carolina and spent the remainder of September there, gathering most of her stuff from Asheville in October and Yonkers in November and moving into a rented apartment in Arlington, Virginia.

She had cut off her ponytail and started dressing more formally. Suits, shirts and slacks. Switching between dark makeup and no makeup. She had even taken up a part-time job in an office to pay for her rent and other expenses. She had even gone to the extent of buying a new phone, keeping the old one purely for the memories.

Kirby's alarm clock starts ringing at'05:00', She gets up and checks the calendar, Tuesday 1st December. Almost three months since starting fresh. Just a few more days and people will stop searching for us.

Her old phone goes off and she answers without thinking, her brain kicks into gear a few seconds later and she doesn't talk, holding the phone next to her ear.

"Kirby, is that you?" Renee's voice asks, followed by Mox and Eddie telling her to put it on speakerphone.

Don't answer the question. Do not speak.

"Kirby, if you're there, answer us... please." Renee requests softly.

Stay silent, they'll hang up soon.

"C'mon, Ma, no more silent treatment," Eddie takes a deep breath, "Tell me how to find ya... tell me where my fuckin' wife is."

"Eddie, don't growl like that." Moxley warns.

Kirby hangs up and leaves the phone on her nightstand, walking into the kitchen and making her morning coffee as she goes through her call log.

Eddie spent all night trying to call us, text after text begging me to pick up the phone.

She reads a couple of his texts out loud, "'Ma please pick up', 'Kirby, I love you, call me', 'tell me where I can find you'... Holy fuck, I gotta call off from work today and sort this out... I can't have Eddie trying to track me down."

Kirby dials her boss and hopes he doesn't pick up on anything, explaining the situation by calling Eddie 'an old friend turned stalker' and praying her boss believes the lie. He does, or at the least seems to, believe what Kirby tells him and lets her have the day off to sort it out. Eddie phones right after she ends the call to her boss, Kirby goes against her gut and answers it.

"Hey Wifey," God, I can see his stupid grin in my head, "Mind telling me where the fuck you are? Or if it's even you I'm talkin' to, Ma?"

Kirby stays silent for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

"You're the one who picked up, the least ya could do is say 'hi'." Eddie grumbles.

Kirby can't help but giggle nervously, "I'll give you that one, Eddie, the least I could do is say hi." She murmurs her thoughts out loud.

"I fuckin' knew you were still alive," Eddie chuckles heartily, "Now ya gotta tell me where you went, our home feels empty without ya. Before ya say it, I know 'technically, Edward, it's just your home'," Eddie does an impression of Kirby before clearing his throat, already choking up slightly, "It's our home, I know ya gave me back the engagement ring, I found it and the note, saying to forget you, but you're still my fiancée... Kirby, please" Eddie sobs, "I'm beggin' ya, sweetheart, come back ta me."

"I'm in Arlington, Virginia." She blurts out before her brain can stop her mouth, "I have an apartment, and a job, and I haven't even spoken to my parents since I left."

"Ya haven't... but what about ya folks, ya family, ya 'obligations to the C.R.C'?"

A wave of emotions hit Kirby all at once, rage, sadness, fear, and all she can muster up as an answer to Eddie... a man she loves so much and hates to hurt, is the most brutally honest thing she's ever said, "I wasn't expecting to be alive for this long after running away... but every time I think of harming myself, I think of you and I can't do it... I know we never got married, but I can't stand the idea of making you a widower."

"I'm gettin' the next flight out there."

"Eddie, don't." She pleads.

"Don't? Ya just told me you've thought of endin' ya life... the life of the most beautiful woman in the world... my Celtic warrior queen, my better half, my angel of death-matches... my bride just fuckin' told me she'd thought of goin' to the grave instead of walkin' down the aisle." Eddie nearly yells down the phone, his emotions getting the better of him.

Kirby sits on her bed and sobs, unable to speak anymore.

"I'm flyin' to Arlington and makin' sure you're okay." Eddie tells her before hanging up.

Kirby texts him her address and apartment number, telling him how to get into the building. She walks to her bathroom and turns the shower on, getting undressed and grabbing a towel, she sits in the bathtub in the path of the water and cries silently.

After what feels like a century she moves, getting out and slowly drying herself off, she's in her underwear when there's a knock at the door... more of a pounding on the door than a knocking.

"Give me a second to get dressed." She calls, her voice weak.

The pounding gets louder and Kirby rushes to open the door, still just in her underwear.

"I fuckin' hate planes, but I didn't wanna drive ten hours to see ya." Eddie mutters, thrusting a bouquet of roses at Kirby.

She steps back and Eddie walks in whilst she inspects the roses.

"Are these-" Kirby goes to ask him why the flowers are covered with plastic and foil.

"I couldn't choose between flowers or chocolates, so I got you chocolate roses, I know, big dumb Eddie Kingston can't decide bet-" Eddie gets cut off by Kirby pulling him into a deep kiss.

It's as if they never parted, Eddie wrapping his arms around her waist, and resting his hands on her ass, Kirby wraps her arms around his shoulders, and chucks his baseball cap at the couch. He smirks against her lips, biting her bottom lip and roughening up the kiss, smacking her ass which makes her moan against his lips, just enough room for him to slip his tongue in her mouth. Kirby pulls away when air becomes a need and not an excuse.

"Ya like them?" Eddie asks softly.

"Like isn't the right word, this is so fuckin' genius of ya, I fuckin' knew you were smarter than how you act."

"Genius of me? Ya not mad I got you chocolates and not flowers?"

"Flowers die and you can't eat them when you feel down, chocolates don't and they make me happy... chocolate roses," Kirby beams, "well, they're... they're fuckin' genius, ya don't have all the packaging of a stupid box, with stupid little info cards, ya don't have ta throw them out because they're wilting... they're..." Kirby trails off, unable to come up with the right word.

"They're you," Eddie whispers, "Beautiful and pretty, and they taste so damn good, especially when you shouldn't be eatin' them 'cause ya know you'll get caught." He smirks.

"Does it always come back to sex with you, Eddie?" She teases, shaking her head softly.

"Not always, but when I think of you, my mind tends to go visual." He winks.

"Eddie, ya haven't seen nor heard from me in almost three months and all-"

He cuts Kirby off by kissing her, lifting her so her groin is level with his, carrying her to her dining table and putting her down on top of it. He weaves one hand into her hair and the other into her boxer shorts, caressing her inner thigh.

"Do I have ya consent, my bride-to-be?" He teases.

"Yes, Eddie... I missed how filling you can be." She whispers.

It takes Eddie all of five seconds to strip them both, carrying Kirby to the bed over his shoulder. He stands above her for a moment, taking in the changes she's made to herself. Not many, but a few noticeable differences, like the fresh bruises on Kirby's knees and shins, the cuts, scabs and scrapes on her arms, and her much shorter hair.

He takes his time, kissing from her fingertips to her neck, first on her right side then her left, smirking as he kisses from her neck down to her crotch. Eddie teases her with his tongue, moaning at the return of her taste to his lips.

"How did my lady get hurt?" He whispers as he moves to make out with her as he makes love to her.

"I may have had a couple trips and accidents recently, none I am happy to talk about." Kirby murmurs, moaning when Eddie starts thrusting.

"Ya can tell me, Ma, it's why we're a couple. So you have someone who'll listen to ya problems."

"I fell down the stairs twice in the last month, once by tripping over my own feet, and once by a stray cat, running in front of me when I was jogging up the stairs after work."

"And ya arms?"

"I got in a scuffle with someone at a bar, scratched up my left arm in the process. The next week I was jogging, with headphones in, and someone tried to grab me. They went to stab me, I used my right arm as a shield."

"And now ya husband's home, so nobody can fuck wit' ya ever again." Eddie smirks.

"I don't have the ring anymore, back to square one on the whole marriage thing." Kirby shrugs.

Eddie doubles his pace, groaning as he tries not to cum early, "Kirby, would ya be my girlfriend?"

Kirby moans out the words, "Yes Eddie." as she cums.

Eddie smirks as he follows her over the edge... literally, groaning in pain as he lands on his back on the floor, all 250 pounds of Kirby landing on top of him.

"Holy fuck, Eddie, are you okay, Papi?" Kirby asks, checking the fall hasn't given him a concussion.

"I'm fine Kir-" Eddie goes silent as Kirby picks him up in a bridal carry and places him on the bed.

"Sorry, I got concerned..." She whispers sheepishly.

"Shh, shh," Eddie puts his hand over her mouth, "ya could've fuckin' been carryin' me over ya shoulder every time we've had sex... you can carry me?"

"Well, you're not actually that heavy, I have picked up and carried men double your size, Eddie... would you, uhm, would you like a coffee?" She murmurs, sitting next to him on the bed.

"Marry me." Eddie blurts out.

"What did you just say?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Marry me, at the nearest fuckin' chapel we can find, marry me."

"Eddie, I can't just drop everything to be in that world again, no."

"Kirby, I know I sound like I've lost my fuckin' mind, but... I need you in my life. I need my smart, sexy, strong, unafraid to tell her own father when he's crossin' a line, badass babe in my life. I can't be me anymore, not without you... Tony noticed that after ya left I got cruel, I started actually wantin' to hurt whoever I was facin'."

"I can't just drop everything all over again." She gets up, heading to the bathroom.

Eddie follows her, "Kirby, you are my calm. You are beautiful. Your blonde hair is like a sandy beach, your blue eyes are like the ocean, your scars show you've lived a story worth telling, those little beauty marks and freckles are like stars and ya pale skin... like paper, marked with ink, or snow, fragile but beautiful."

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