#i think i am allowed to want a hometown boy if i am permanently in my hometown. if i’m jetting off to other countries every damn day?

[fingertipsmp3]

Do you ever observe random people you went to high school with on your FB and you’re just like “you really went all around the world and still picked a boy from our hometown? Really?”

[mountingpulisic]

I'D LIE

i don't think that passenger seat

has ever looked this good to me

she tells me about her night

and i count the colors in her eyes

christian felt as if he was starring as the male lead in a cliche romantic comedy. It was set in london, about two best friends that were in love with each other but in this movie, he called life, he was definite that you did not return the same feelings that he had for you. 

the two of you sat in his parked car overlooking london, indulging in some chinese takeout as you animatedly recalled your date the previous night to him.

you had idiotically given your obnoxious coworker a chance to take you out, having grown tired of him persistently asking. 

and you instantly regretted it. 

recollecting memories of the event, you told christian how you had rolled your eyes countless of times last night you had feared that at any moment they were going to get permanently stuck.

your co-worker was the definition of a loser, and you had hit rock bottom in the dating pool for allowing him to be graced with your presence.

christian listened thoroughly to your rambling, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked in the passenger seat.

she'll never fall in love she swears

as she runs her fingers through her hair

i’m laughing 'cause I hope she's wrong

and i don't think it ever crossed her mind

she tells a joke i fake a smile

that I know all her favorite songs 

“I’m never going to fall in love, i swear.” you frustratedly whispered, brushing your hair out of your face as you stabbed your sesame chicken with your chopsticks. this was your fourth failed attempt at actually meeting a decent guy, you seem to only attract bottom of the barrel men.

christian half-heartedly laughed but he could swear he heard his heart break a little; he hoped you were wrong.  

he ponders on how long it will take you to realize that he was standing right there, waiting for you to open your eyes, for you to love him back.

christian didn't know how long he would be waiting for you to come to your senses, but promised himself he was in for the long haul.

“hey, how about we listen to some one direction? i know how much you love them” christian bargained, wanting to get you out of your gloomy mood. "i promise not to play their last album. i know how upset you get over zayn's departure."

christian would've done anything to bring back the smile he loved so much, even it meant listening to the british boy band for hours.

I could tell you her favorite colors green

she loves to argue, born on the seventeenth

her sister's beautiful, she has her father's eyes

and if you ask me if i love her, i’d lie

christian watched as you flipped through the color palette, needing to decide on a color for your birthday cake, you two stood in the bakery located in your hometown. he knew you were going to choose the same color you've chosen for three years in a row, sage green. it had been your favorite color ever since you were little, the love for the color had caused you at one point to dye your hair the color.

“y/n, c’mon. just choose the green.” he argued, you two had been standing in the bakery for forty-five minutes now simply because you couldn’t choose between the sage green and lilac purple. even though the both of you knew you were going to choose the color you always navigate to. “you are just going to choose it anyway."

“no i am not!” you argued back, placing the two colors side by side as you determined which one you liked best. 

christian felt as if you secretly loved to argue with him, always having a quick comeback to any comment he made. 

“y/n, your birthday is the seventeenth, you don’t have time to be indecisive. pick a damn color.”

“I’m going to choose the sage green.” you sweetly told the baker, ignoring the cocky smirk that appeared on christian’s face next to you. 

as you discussed the cake design you pictured for your birthday party, christian couldn’t help but admire your features.

you were the definition of perfection in his eyes. his heart had jumped out of his chest when he saw you for the first time at tammy's going away party. it had felt as if all the air in his lungs began to disintegrate. 

growing up, you confided into christian about how you were always told by boys how beautiful your sister was. never being on the receiving end of their compliments.

christian wasn’t blind, your sister was an attractive young lady, but she wasn’t you. 

she didn't have your eyes, the eyes that you inherited from your father, the ones that held so much life and love in them.

she didn't have your nose, the one that cutely crinkles when you found something disgusting, like ketchup.

she didn't have your smile, the one that lit up any room that you entered.

she didn't have christian's heart, the one you didn't even know you were in possesion of.

deep into conversation with the baker about how red velvet was the ultimate birthday cake flavor an older had approached christian.

gently tapping him on the shoulder causing him to turn his head and look down at her sweetly.

“your wife is awfully pretty, young man.” she beamed, gummy smiling at you, still talking to the baker, now with your eyebrows furrowed together trying to get him to understand your reasoning on the choice.

"oh she isn't my wife, ma'am. just best friends."

“son, i’ve been around long enough to know you don’t just look at your best friend like that.” 

christian didn't understand how everyone could see he was in love with you, but you had remained oblivious.

she looks around the room

innocently overlooks the truth

shouldn't a light go on?

doesn't she know i’ve had her memorized for so long?

your birthday had quickly approached. your party was in full swing but something had been missing, or rather someone.

you stood on your tippy toes trying to locate christian, you had yet been able to properly talk to him tonight, having been swarmed the minute you had entered your "surpise" party.

when your eyes finally settle on the familiar head full of curly brown hair, you noticeably exhale a sigh of relief.

if your sister saw you in this exact moment she would have annoyed you to no end, always compelling you about christian and yours unspoken emotions towards each other. you'd just brush her off and assure to her that he did not feel that way about you.

christian's eyes memorized your attire the second they set on you. you had worn simple little black dress to celebrate your birthday, it was something so simple, but it had made look phenomenal.

she sees everything black and white

never let nobody see her cry

i don't let nobody see me wishing she was mine

an hour into the party, christian saw you quickly excused yourself when your slimy of an ex-boyfriend had shown up uninvited with a leggy blonde tucked to his side. 

your relationship with elliot, your ex, had ended in complete bloodshed and had caused you to lose the color in your eyes, now only seeing everything in black and white.

christian placed his drink down and excused himself from the small circle he was conversing with as he hurriedly followed behind you into the back of the restaurant. 

he followed the small sniffles and found you with your head leaned againist the wall, trying to soothe your cries.

“i never liked him, y/n” christian confessed, mimicking your exact position but instead his eyes were closed, letting you softly cry without a pitiful stare focusing on you.

christian knew how you never let anyone see you cry. it was a promise you had made to yourself when you were fifteen after having crying in front of the entire student body when your crush rejected you.

"you never like any of my boyfriends christian." you laugh, wiping away the tears that had spilled onto your cheeks.

yeah because they aren't me he thought.

he stands there then walks away

my God, if I could only say

i'm holding every breathe for you 

christian stayed leant up against the wall with you until you were certain you were going to be able to join the party again without tearing up. 

ushering him to go before you so you could fix your makeup, it didn't go unnoticed by you how your heart began to ache for his presence.

you knew that you shouldn't have felt this way about your best friend, first off it was such a cliche, second off, you knew he would've never felt the same.

valuing your friendship over your constant urge to profess your love, you swallowed your feelings and held you breathe for him.

he'd never tell you but he can play guitar

I think he can see through everything but my heart

first thought when i wake up is, "my god, he's beautiful"

so i put on my make up and pray for a miracle

"pulisic, play me a song." you jokingly ordered christian, pointing towards the guitar that was placed in the corner of his room.

you found yourself tucked in christian's bed at the early morning hours. not being able to sleep you had asked him you could come over, secretly knowing that his voice alone could send you into a peaceful slumber.

"y/n, it's three o'clock in the morning, i'm not playing you a song." he argued, tugging on the covers as you held a habit of hogging them when you slept.

"please, pretty please. if you don't i'm going to tell the world you can play the guitar and all your fans are going to go crazy constantly asking for you to play them a song an-"

"okay!" christian cut in, with his face being planted in the pillow, it had muffled his annoyed groan. the things he does for you he thought as he got up to go pick up the musical instrument.

making yourself comfortable, you looked at him with the widest grin. choosing to ignore him calling you annoying under his breath, you listened carefully as he began to strum the cords on the guitar.

god, he was beautiful.

after he was done playing you the melody, christian made his way back into the bed and began to get settled once more. following his lead, you fluffed your pillow multiple times while trying to get comfotable.

you decided to just sleep in christian's room since the spare bedroom was too far of a journey for your liking, you knew he wouldn't care due to you always sharing a bed when you went out of town with friends, both mending into your respective sides.

"goodnight y/n."

"goodnight christian."

neither of you knew that the other was wishing for the same thing.

a miracle

yes, I could tell you his favorite colors green

he loves to argue oh and it kills me

his sisters beautiful he has his father's eyes

and if you asked me if I love him

If you ask me if I love him, I'd lie

a/n: if you saw me post this two days ago, no you didn't. i like this version so much better, anon i hope you like it aswell.

[sophiexteresa]

Thomas Sanders Instagram Q&A Transcript

From @thatsthat24’s Instagram story, 25/8/2020. Questions in bold. Text added to the story in (parenthesis/brackets), and descriptive info in *italics*. I tried uploading the video(s) too, but Tumblr is having issues, so here’s the transcript only! 

Thomas: I had some time this evening so I figured, hey, why not? Another lil’ Q an’ A, so if you want to ask a question *posh French voice* be my guest!

When approximately will the next sanders sides be out? Very good question! Uh, we are aiming this for a late September release, that’s what we’re all working towards.

Favourite musical you have been in or just favourite musical in general? This is really tough, I can’t decide. I’m between Rent where I was in the ensemble, Peter Pan where I played Slightly Soiled, which was just one of the lost boyos — boyos? Boys — and, uh, Into The Woods where I played Cinderella’s prince and that’s where Roman’s first costume came from.

Are you ever gonna due your hair purple again? I loved it! Yes! I miss the purple hair too.

Do you love me? *laughing* Yes of course! I do love me.

What would each of the sides’ reaction be to seeing the Grand Canyon? *speaking very quickly* Roman would be revelling that we made the journey, Patton would be marvelling at the memories being made, Logan would be telling you to look at these fascinating signs for important information, Virgil would be telling you to ‘get back from those cliffs!’, Janus would be telling you to take pictures to make it look like you’re next to the cliff, ‘for clout’, and Remus would be like *Remus voice* ‘you could push somebody and get away with it’.

Also when will we get more Picani, I miss him? You and me both, Bri, and honestly with the amount of amazing cartoons that have come out recently *sighs while smiling* yeah, I am a-hankering (?) to get back to Emile!

How have you been doing, like really? Mental health is important as you teach us: I feel like everybody’s kinda struggling with mental health right now, especially people in the USA with COVID. Uhm *clears throat* for me I continuously struggle with the balance between work and leisure time, um, social media makes that difficult, blurs the lines, and I’m working on it.

Do you have any tattoos? Umm, I don’t, uh, I struggle with the permanence of tattoos. And like do I, can I, make a decision that I like? But! There are tattoos that I might like. Where I’d put them, I have no idea, umm, but I think like, maybe like, little stars!

What rank of “Gay” are you? Big gay? What rank? *speechless pause* uh... General. You know? I wanna do my duty. Come back a hero. An all-American Queero *gets an idea* *roughly quoting Hamilton* Queer comes the General!

Can you please make Logan day something Patton would say? *Logan’s voice* Something Patton would say? Umm... please, I request more baked goods from the kitchen so that I can fill Thomas’s body with more trans-fats at 3 am. I don’t know, I don’t like this game.

Have you ever dated a girl? *awkward silence* I have. It was pretty uneventful.

Do you miss your friends? *laughs* Oh... *face crumples as if he’s about to cry*

What are you voice acting in or are you now allowed to say? Not until tomorrow.

When did you know you were gay? I think I answered this one on the last Q&A, but it was early. I was like, 9 or 10 at least.

When will we see Gavin? Gavin has started school! He’s back in his hometown, so I don’t know when I’m gonna see him. He’s still getting taller — I can actually include a picture of him that his mom sent me after he got a new little hairdo *insert photo of an awesome Gavin here*

Do you miss vine? For like, sentimental reasons, yes. Uh, I mean, technically it had its issues and I don’t miss being restricted to 6 seconds anymore *laughs*

What has been your favourite part of the day? My favourite part of today was actually... I came up with this last minute short video, and I got it done and I sent it to some friends and they really liked it. I have to save it until Thursday thought, but it’s just nice to come up with stuff that makes your friends laugh.

Janus acting like Remus? *Remus’ voice* Remus here! Looks like the Dukey just dropped in! *Remus’ laugh* *Takes a breath and snaps into Janus’ character* I spend a lot of time with him so I’ve had a lot of practise.

Why do I feel like we’re gonna have another angsty Virgil moment? When is Virgil not being angsty...?

Please can you say trans rights? Uh, heck yah trans rights! I, uh, this one was very simple but I wanted to say it!

Do you think Virgil would be into anime? Actually, if you remember from, uh, Accepting Anxiety, uh, part 2, there’s actually a Death Note poster in his room, so he definitely likes some anime.

Hi! Can you say hola to the Hispanic fanders in el vecindario fander? Please? We love you! Oh my gosh, *a very naturally american pronunciation* hola! that’s very kind of you guys. I appreciate all of the support you guys give, and I love all of you guys. 

STORYTIME! I love you: *upbeat voice* Storytime! I love you back.

How gay are you? Like, 15 gay! I rank General! 

How did you end up meeting and babysitting Gavin? Gavin is actually Leo’s nephew, so he would come up here, uh, during the holidays or during the summer, and alternate being baby-sat between me and Leo’s mom - his grandma.

What was the inspo for Janus’ outfit? Ooh, that’s a really good question, uh... Joan had a vision in their mind for almost kind of like this early 20th century or late 19th century kinda Jack the Ripper vibe.

Any advice for gaybies to fit in with society? Don’t apologise for being yourself. If people have an issue, that’s their issue that they have to work through. Do not apologise for being yourself. 

What type of gay are you? (Math gay, plant gay, caffine gay, etc): Wait, there’s such thing as a math gay? I am absolutely that, and I feel like I’m just gonna be naming traits about myself but I’m a trivia gay, a driving gay, apparently a math gay, a Disney gay *laughs* and a theatre gay.

Not a question but I’m glad to be alive at the same time as someone as great as you: Dude, this stuff is really sweet. *laughs* That’s really sweet, umm, trust me, I feel the same way about all of you. Honestly.

Why don’t you own a doggo yet? I... went to Petsmart today - I didn’t get an animal, but like... I’m thinking about it and this question is like... hmmm...

I’ve run out of cartoons to watch, any recommendations? Owl house! Owl house, owl house. I just tried it, and I immediately got hooked. Infinity train’s also a really good one, duck tales is amazing, and I’m getting ready to start Tangled: the animated series, so *shrugs*.

What is Patton’s opinion on rats? *adorable Patton voice, slowly zooming in on his face* They are tiny little squishy precious babies!!!

How do I ask people for their pronouns? I don’t know, I mean, I don’t think it’s like a big deal? I hope we could get to the point where we could just be like ‘what are your pronouns?’ and then they would tell you, and then you’d just, you know, carry on the rest of your conversation. 

A circle has no bounds and it’s the same with your beauty: This is really precious, and it of course came from Nash (?) who is a poet, he published a lot of wonderful, wonderful poems on twitter, they are are amazing, and you are once again far too sweet, Nash. 

Dream role? This is a pretty broad question, so maybe dream theatrical role would be Sweeny Todd, dream movie role would be anything in the marvel universe, uh, really just give me anything in any voice acting role, *smiling mischievously* egg rolls are also really good.

Can Remus please say ‘I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand’? *Remus voice* I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand! (love that vine)

Are there still plans for the Roman series? *nods* Oh, yeah, yeah, it was definitely hindered by COVID, uh, as was this Sanders Asides episode that’s coming up, which is why it’s taking longer in the editing stage, it is our, uh... strategy, for circumventing the obstacle, and we hope you like it.

Are we still getting an August playlist? Uh, heck yah you are! But honestly, actually, if you guys have any suggestions I should include in the playlist, lemme know! I’d be happy to get some suggestions - but yes. You will be definitely getting one.

May I please see your feet? *confused, slightly disgusted expression* *begins to move the camera away from his face* *holds up a tape measure, extended to 1 foot long* *grins*

Any shows on Netflix to recommend? Umbrella Academy is really good, Dragon Prince, uh, She-Ra, of course, umm The Hollow (?) is really cool, there’s a documentary about video games called High Score, that was really fun.

Roman, who would you say the gayest side is? *Roman’s voice* Oh, we’re all equally gay, okay? *chuckles* it’s a sexuality, not a personality trait. *takes a breath and speaks quickly* I’m just kidding it’s *sings* meeeeee!

If you were not a YouTuber, what would you see yourself doing and why? Uh, maybe putting my chemical engineering degree to some use. *laughs awkwardly* Uh, I went to school for 5 years for that one.

Like you literally make me so flipping happy: I’m glad! I don’t know what I’m doing to do that, but the feeling is absolutely mutual. 

Can we have Virgil saying “Falsehood”? *hair already over one eye, in Virgil’s voice* Uh, c’mon, okay, sure. *very quietly and unenthusiastically* falsehood. Is that good? Is that? I don’t know, I don’t wanna steal his bit.

Which Sanders Side do you feel you embody most? Ah, I would probably say it’s either Patton or Roman because Patton can be definitely me, all the time, just really enthusiastic about things and finding things cute, but Roman... Roman’s sensitivity, oh. That’s me. 

What was the first job you had? I actually worked as a page in a library! A- pages basically just kinda like, shelve books, check books out; it’s one of the chillest jobs I’ve ever had, one of my favourites, and my dad always had a lovely dad joke for it: ‘you’re working as a page, when do you get promoted to a book?’

How tall are you? I usually say 5ft 10, but I think I’m trying to be a little more realistic with myself. And I’m probably 5ft 9 and a half. *zooms in on his face, staring into the camera* I’m holding onto that half a foot for all dear life. 

DROP THE SKIN ROUTINE PLEASE! This is very sweet, uh, I, *laughs nervously*, uh, I use Curology? They’re very nice. Umm, just... different kinds of lotion, I guess. (I suppose I should write down what I do lol)

Can we get a FALSEHOOD? *is standing* *clears throat* *points upwards from his eyeline* FALSEHOOD! 

Do you have a boyfriend if not are you planning on dating soon? I do not, uh, dating is kinda difficult right now midst COVID, you know, kinda tough... love... in the time of Corona... umm, but, you know, option’s open.

When was your first kiss? I’m sure I’ve answered this somewhere, it was in high school, I might have been 15 or 16. It was with a girl. *Shakes head* And all I can remember is hitting teeth. A lot.

Can we get a super super vague hint about the new Asides episode?  Alright, I’m getting ready to end the Q&A, so this, you know, if you’ve made it so far you deserve this super vague answer, umm... it includes a side that was not in the last episode. (This isn’t much, I apologise lol)

Thomas: And that is it for this evening! Thank you so much, you guys, for watching. I know some of you are still over in Europe watching and it’s like 4 in the morning, and I need to go to bed so thank you all so much for your questions - I gotta do this more often ‘cause I really enjoy it. Love you guys, gals, and non-binary pals. Peace out!

[btsxmalereaders]

hi 👋🏼can i request taehyung x male reader where they’re on a long distance relationship and they meet up after a long time after not seeing each other and maybe a little smut at the end :))

Hello! Thanks for your request, I hope you like it :)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Male Reader.

Word Count: 1,7 k.

“I'm outside the gate 3, where are you?” You murmur, taking with difficulty your phone between your shoulder and your cheek.

Both of your hands are holding the heavy luggage as you walk slowly between the people waiting for the arrival of someone in the same gate.

You get no response, so you stop and place your belongings in the floor to take a look at your phone, seeing that he ended the call. You sigh, looking for his number to call again.

“Do you need help with that?” A deep voice behind you says, so you turn on your feet to see him.

“Baby!” You say out loud, jumping a bit to give him a tight hug. You've been missing him like crazy.

“I missed you so, so much.” Taehyung says softly, caressing your hair and placing his other hand on your back.

You separate a bit to look into his eyes. He's breathtaking. His hair is curly as he said some days ago (“M/N, I'm getting a permanent! Just so I can look good when you come back”), his eyes are shinning, his skin is glowing, and his lips...

You kiss him for a few seconds only, but you feel a wave of heat in your chest by doing it, then you smile at him. “I missed you more.”

He holds you in his arms for a moment and kisses your forehead before helping you with your suitcases, heading to the exit of the airport.

“So... I know I said I'd only stay for two weeks here before going back to my hometown to visit my parents.” You murmur, putting on your seatbelt as Taehyung starts the car.

“Oh, please tell me you won't leave earlier.” He says, making a pout, so you giggle at that.

“I've convinced them to allow me to stay longer here. Is a month okay? I don't wanna bother y-”

“How could you bother me?” He suddenly says, “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that! I wished you could stay here forever with me...”

He cups your jaw and squeezes your cheeks to make you laugh.

“Me too, but hey, this is my last year at college, so, you know.” A smile appears on Taehyung's face as he hears you. He starts to drive. “We will see each other every day for a long, long time.”

“I love how that sounds.” He agrees, not trying to hide the blush on his cheeks and his growing smile.

You kiss his cheek and start to talk about how has he been these past months. Being in a long distance relationship is hard, but you both have been doing okay lately, specially since you two have been together for three years now.

You both are coordinated, save spots on your schedules to make video calls, message each other just to keep up. And it wasn't so bad now. The trust you have is unbreakable and something to admire.

“How are the boys doing?” You ask, noticing that you're now near the neighborhood. Taehyung's friends are also your friends; you have so much fun together and you've missed them too. Sometimes they'd sneak into phone calls to greet you and make jokes to cheer you up.

“They are... Still them.” He shrugs and laughs. “They're coming tomorrow, by the way. They said they wanted to take you out, grab dinner, keep up in everything...”

“Oh, they're taking me on a date?” You joke and Taehyung only raises his eyebrows, staring at you. “I'm kidding!”

He parks the car in front of the house and sighs. “Welcome home, love.”

The house, at least outside, it's still the same. Just like you remember it from the last time you were here. The grass in the entrance, a big tree in the backyard that can be seen from there and a floor mat in front of the door from RIPNDIP of a cat doing a middle finger up with the legend "go away" (courtesy of Yoongi).

Taehyung helps you taking your bags and puts them on the entrance once you're inside the house. You notice that he moved his furniture and the walls changed its color, so now there is Taehyung's art all over the house. There are also paintings and photos of you two, which makes your heart beat faster.

“Wow, I have such a talented boyfriend.” You whisper, looking at every single detail, getting closer to appreciate everything he just made.

He stands by your side and rests his chin on your shoulder and puts his hands on your waist. “Do you like it?”

You nod, still can't taking your eyes off the walls. “I love it, it's really awesome.”

Tae separates from you a bit. “Where do you get all the inspiration and creativity to do all of this? Honestly, I admire you...”

You get no response, so you take a look at him; just to see him standing in front of you, staring at you. He tilts his head and raises one of his eyebrows. No answer needed, since with that gesture he has said it all.

However, he does reply: “Baby, it's you.”

You smile, getting blushed at the same time and hug him again. You missed the warmth of his body, how his hands carefully touch your back, your neck and caress your hair. You've missed resting your head on his shoulder, giving him kisses on his neck, tangle your fingers on his soft hair, listening to his relaxed breath as he holds you for what it feels like an eternity...

He suddenly kisses you and it takes you by surprise but you just simply go with it. His lips feels so good, so soft on yours. You have to stand on your tiptoes since he's a few centimeters taller than you, but his arms are still holding you tightly, avoiding you to separate.

The kiss it also feels desperate. It's like Taehyung's way to tell you that he has been thinking about you everyday, that he waited anxiously for this day to come, that he needed you; he needed to see your face, to hold your hand, to actually touch you and not simply see you in a screen.

In the heat of the moment, Taehyung starts to kiss every corner of your face. He starts to give small kisses on your cheeks, then to your nose, your eyelids, forehead, and all the way down again until he's on your neck. You inevitably giggle, still holding him and closing your eyes; simply enjoying and receiving all the love he has to give.

“Shall we move to the sofa?” He softly asks. You get it quickly.

“Yeah, let's do that.” You kiss him a couple more of times before walking to the sofa, getting comfortable as he is on top of you, continuing his last actions kissing your neck.

You lay on the couch, tangling your fingers on Taehyung's curls, putting him closer to your own body, wanting to feel him as much as you can.

His hands are gently touching your torso, teasing you by placing them on your hips, squeeze, and then going back to your shoulders. Soft moans leave your mouth as he kisses the right spots, your weak spots.

He's leaving you breathless, and once he puts one of his hands on the button of your jeans, with one finger slightly lifting the fabric, he stops to look at you. “Is this okay?”

You nod, desperately. Taehyung proceeds to put down the zipper and slowly take off the cloth. His hand travels from your belly to your crotch, touching over the gray underwear and making you moan louder.

Taehyung smiles at the view. How you look so needy, how your cheeks are starting to get reddened and your hair is a mess. He starts to rub his thumb over the tip of your cock, seeing how you move your hips, wanting more.

He does it slow, until he feels how you're leaking pre-cum. You open your eyes and take his wrists. “W-why do you stop?”

“Don't be so impatient.” He squeezes your hips before starting to slowly run his hands all over your thighs, dedicating extra time when he touches your ass.

You get hard with every single touch, and by the time he notices, he decides to finally put down your underwear to have a better access.

He does it so quickly and unexpectedly that you shiver when you feel the fabric running down your phallus. His hands immediately go to your cock, making you groan.

You close your eyes again and your breathing is becoming irregular. One of his hands is massaging your testicles while the other one is slowly stroking you.

Your back arches at that, the sounds leaving your mouth are obscene but that only makes Taehyung's movements faster.

When you feel over the edge he stops again, making you sigh. “You have to be kidding me...”

He tilts his upper body so his lips are in contact with the skin of your belly, he also sighs, so the warm air coming out of his mouth sends you shivers. His lips go down and he looks into your eyes. “Can I?”

“If you don't I'm going to kick your a-” A moan interrupts you when Taehyung decides to lick the tip. Slowly, again, knowing you're too sensitive. Your hands are holding the armrest of the couch and your hips are uncontrollably thrusting as your need of more contact.

His mouth finally takes your length, little by little; the humidity and warmth around your cock is making you moan, desperately wanting to cum. His tongue makes undecipherable movements, bobbing up and down his head so he can lick all of you.

You're incapable of saying a word but Taehyung can tell that you're close by how you stopped moving, so he separates but his hands take you again, stroking you faster.

You cum on his hand, also staining your shirt. Taehyung stands up and gets lost in a room of the house. Your eyes are still closed and your heart is beating fast.

He comes with a towel to clean you and help you get dressed, too. You stand up and kiss him again. “I really missed you.”

He smiles at you and kisses your cheek. “How about we grab dinner and continue this later?”

Rules

[rhysismydaddy]

Bad Boys of Persia - Part One

Hi! This is a new fic about the ACOTAR ships (Feysand, Elriel, and Nessian). Since everyone always describes the men of this series as having dark hair and dark skin, I thought about how they could look Persian... and then since I’m five I thought about Prince of Persia, and here we are.

Ask in my box if you want to be tagged!

Part Two || Masterlist

Her entire body hurt.

From head to toe, Feyre could hardly move. 

She was laying in her hotel room, spread out on the bed like a starfish, groaning in pain. She glanced down at her bare body, grimacing at the bright red skin she saw. 

And she’d thought the sun in her hometown in Florida was brutal.

She’d only laid out in the sun for an hour, and yet Feyre was as crispy as a piece of fried chicken. She didn’t think an hour would even give her a tan, but it had been long enough to scorch her head to toe and leave her a pathetic mass of red flesh.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for herself, Feyre got up and dressed in a pair of loose, dark blue genie pants and a long sleeve white shirt. It covered all of her skin but was loose enough to not irritate. She wrapped the navy sari Elain had bought her around her hair so her face wouldn’t get any more sun and headed out the door.

Feyre walked down to the front desk of the resort, asking if they had a store where she could buy aloe.

“What?” the man replied, looking at her like she was crazy.

“Aloe. For sunburn.” She pulled up her sleeve and showed him her burnt skin.

He chuckled. “Ah, white man’s disease. We don’t sell anything for that in the hotel, but you can go to the market and get herbs to help.” He pointed out the door towards the crowd of bustling people buying and selling materials.

Feyre grimaced. She hadn’t left the hotel since their arrival two days ago, something her sisters couldn’t believe. She weighed her options: she could go back to her room and lay around in misery or she could suck it up, go buy some aloe, and then lay around... a little less miserable.

She thought about the disapproving faces Elain and Nesta would give her as she told them she hadn’t left again and frowned. 

It wasn’t that Feyre was trying to ruin their trip; she really wasn’t. She just wasn’t in the mood to explore a new place and be outgoing right now. All Feyre felt like doing was laying in bed and crying.

It’d been three weeks since she’d broken off her engagement with Tamlin. Three weeks since she’d found her in bed with her best friend, Ianthe. They deserve each other, she thought bitterly.

Even though she accepted what had happened and knew it was over, it still hurt. She felt like she’d wasted two years of her life on someone who didn’t ever love her. She didn’t want to date again, she didn’t want to go through the first date nervousness or awkward dates or disappointing hookups. She’d thought she’d found “the one,” but all Feyre had figured out was that love was a lie.

She wanted to be like her sisters. 

Nesta was the oldest and strongest. She’d never allowed herself to get close to anyone, so she’d never had a broken heart. She was a complete badass and she knew it, too. She’d worked for the CIA for the past three years and in that time, had become invaluable to their overseas operations. 

Elain, the middle sister, was strong in a different way. She had perfect control over her emotions and had always been a bright, happy, and loving light in Feyre’s world. She ran her own restaurant in Florida and had become one of the most successful people in their area. Everyone loved Elain. 

Feyre felt like the disappointment of the family. Sure, she was successful in her work as an artist, but no one needed her or loved her like they did her sisters. Lives depended on Nesta, and everyone adored Elain. Feyre could drop off the face of the Earth and no one’s life would change.

She’d thought that Tamlin was the one person who understood her and needed her, but it turned out he’d just been using her.

Her sisters had tried to help when the breakup first happened, but Feyre was inconsolable. She wouldn’t leave bed and only got up to get more ice cream. 

Elain had been gentle and kind and suffocating while trying to get her to open up and tell her how she was feeling. Nesta, who’d always been bad with emotions, had just thrown a suitcase on her bed and begun packing half of Feyre’s closet.

“What are you doing?” she’d asked, sniffling and wiping tears off her face.

“You, me, and Elain are going to Persia.”

“What? What do you mean we’re going to Persia?” she’d asked.

Nesta had sighed dramatically. “We’re getting on a plane. I have to go for work, and I talked my boss into giving me two extra tickets. We leave in three hours. Get up and take a shower.”

“No, Nesta, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I am not letting you die in this bed because some ugly, stupid little fucker cheated on you. Get the fuck up.”

When she hadn’t, Nesta had yelled at her and literally dragged her out of the bed and into the shower, then turned the faucet on, ignoring Feyre’s protests. 

Three hours later and many arguments, thrown shoes, and explicit gestures later, Feyre was sitting with her sisters on a plane, annoyed she’d given in.

“It’s going to be so good for you, Feyre,” Elain had promised. “Nesta is going to have fun at work, I’m going to have fun stuffing my face, and you’re going to have fun looking at art.”

She’d closed her eyes and tried to ignore her sister’s aggressive happiness. 

Thirteen hours later, Feyre was checking into the hotel suite she was sharing with Elain. Nesta, who was going undercover apparently, would be staying at a place provided by her boss, so it was just the two of them. 

Elain had thrown her suitcase on her bed and immediately gone out to the market, coming back with an armful of different foods. 

“It’s so nice out there, Feyre,” she’d said, a bright smile lighting up her face. “You should check it out.”

Feyre had just crawled into her bed, closing her bedroom door.

Two days later, not much had changed.

Feyre glanced back out at the market, noticing the chaos of too many people shouting at each other, decided facing a crowd was better than facing her sisters disappointment, and headed outside. 

As Nesta walked through the open market of Suza, Persia, she couldn’t help but feel like a failure. 

Her boss had been understanding yesterday when she’d reported no new information, but Nesta hated being a disappointment.

Especially with this important of a case. Especially when thirteen girls were still missing. 

She was hunting a human trafficking group that had taken over a dozen girls out of their bed within the past two weeks.

This was one of the most important cases Nesta had ever worked, and it all had rested on her being able to sell a story.

Nesta was bait.

Their entire operation rested on her getting the groups attention and getting kidnapped. She had a chip permanently implanted in her left heel--somewhere people were less likely to search--and the idea was that Nesta would allow them to take her, make sure she could get a visual on the other thirteen girls, then cut the tracker. 

Lucien, one of the IT guys she worked with, would be able to tell where the signal had been cut and would send her team in. 

All she had to do was get kidnapped. 

But it was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated. She’d been here for two days, and she hadn’t felt threatened in the slightest. The city was beautiful and clean and the people she’d met so far had been friendly.

Nesta was determined to make something happen today, though. 

She’d made sure to put on more makeup than usual, drawing more attention to her, and had pulled her hijab back far enough to show off her blonde hair. She was wearing a short jean skirt and a tank top, more skin than a lot of other women were showing. 

She was sauntering through Suza, looking like a naive, young, tourist, when she noticed three men, siting in a cafe at the edge of the market, looking at her.

One of them nodded and raised an eyebrow flirtatiously, and Nesta forced herself to smile broadly. 

She could see why so many women had fallen in his trap. He was gorgeous in a dangerous, exotic way. His skin was the deepest shade of caramel, hair long and curly, and body was lined with thick muscle. His eyes, the most alluring part of him, were a deep golden color, rimmed with thick eyelashes and eyebrows.

He was the most beautiful man Nesta had ever seen.

She had to restrain herself from spitting on him.

She waved and kept walking, slow enough that they could easily tail her. Only the man who’d nodded got up, though. Apparently, they thought he could handle her alone.

She made sure to ignore him as she walked back to her apartment, almost rolling her eyes at how bad of a tail the man following her was.

Nesta even made sure to take a few selfies in front of pretty buildings to really sell the story.

She went inside the apartment--the CIA kept a few in Persia for operations like this--washed up, laid in bed, and waited.

Three hours later, she heard the lock to her loft click open. She closed her eyes, ignoring the almost-silent footsteps she heard the stranger take toward her closed door.

When her door creaked open, Nesta forced herself to snore softly. 

His heavy hand clamped a cloth drenched in chloroform over her mouth, and as Nesta began to lose consciousness, she looked into his beautiful, sad eyes and thought, I’ll kill you. I don’t care what it’s going to take.

The man thought he’d caught his prey, but what he didn’t know was the girl he carried down the stairs and out into the night was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. One who wanted nothing more than to destroy his life.

Elain floated through the market, tilting her face towards the scorching sun and smiling. The hot air was full of scents of dried meat, cumin, roasting vegetables, and black pepper. 

As soon as they’d landed, Elain had gone to the nearest restaurant she could find and stuffed her face. 

She’d eaten somewhere different for breakfast lunch and dinner both the days she’d been here, making sure to talk to the chefs whenever she could.

Her travel journal was full of new recipes and spices and ways of cooking. 

This was her favorite part of traveling. Seeing how different people made food and learning how to make her own dishes better.

She walked along the street, then spotted a small, open restaurant on the corner. Morrigan, the sign read. It seemed quiet and authentic and quaint, so Elain walked in and sat at an empty table.

She loved the place before she even ordered. The walls were brick, a large mural covering one, and there was a small corner with a wood fireplace. The people were all talking softly, and traditional Benju music was playing over the speakers quietly. 

It was serene and peaceful. The entire restaurant was there to appreciate the food. It was the kind of place Elain wanted her restaurant to be. 

A server came up a few moments later, dressed in black pants and a flowing black top, her hijab a dark blue color, bringing out the teal of her eyes. She was beautiful in a classic way. 

She asked if Elain spoke Persian, and she responded a little.

“I speak little English,” she said apologetically.

Elain shook her head. “Don’t apologize for your culture. I’m in your country. We’ll just do our best.”

She asked the woman what her favorite dish was, and she smiled and recommended the Dizi, a traditional Persian dish named after the stone crock it’s cooked in. 

She wisely listened to the recommendation, and ten minutes later, Elain was eating the best stew she’d ever had in her life.

The chickpeas were soft but not soggy, the chicken was tender and flavored to perfection, and the base was powerful but not overwhelming. There was something else she couldn’t quite place, something she’d never tasted before. 

She dipped a piece of naan into the mixture, smiling happily.

After she’d downed the whole bowl, Elain decided she had to meet the creator of the dish. As she was paying her bill, she asked her server if the restaurant owner was here in her broken Persian. 

She shook her head and responded, “No, but he’ll be here tonight.”

Elain debated her options. She’d vowed to not eat at the same place twice, but she’d also vowed to talk to chefs whenever she could. And she knew when he was coming in...

She didn’t let her self debate for long. She wanted to know what the secret ingredient was and applaud the chef, even if he wouldn’t tell her.

After going back to the hotel, she took a long bath and recorded what she’d done that day in her journal. She pulled her hair back, then put on jeans and a white blouse, slipping her hair under a pink hijab that matched her lipstick. 

She smiled at her reflection before going to see Feyre in her adorning room. Elain knocked softly on the door between their rooms, going in when she didn’t hear an answer.

She walked into her bedroom, eyebrows lifting when she saw the bed was empty. “Feyre?” she called out, then smiled when no one answered. 

She went out.

Elain went back into her room, grabbed her purse and--rolling her eyes--the pepper spray Nesta had forced her to bring, then walked out of the hotel.

She smiled when she walked back into Morrigan, inhaling the smell of roasted turkey and vegetables and spices. After she got seated and looked at the menu, she ordered pomegranate soup, another Persian classic she hadn’t tried yet.

“And I’d love to meet the chef if he has a moment,” she said. 

Her server looked down at the ground, nodded, and said, “I’ll see if he has a moment.”

When her soup was brought out, she became more determined to meet him. She’d thought the pomegranate would be overwhelming with all the other ingredients, but the seeds added a crunchiness and fruity flavor to the otherwise dense stew. 

She motioned her server over and asked, “Is the chef available?” as she gave him money for the soup.

“He’s in the back,” he muttered, motioning towards a dim alley leading to a back exit.

“Can I go back there?”

He shrugged, slipped her a receipt, and walked away. 

That was strange, Elain thought, but shook the thought away as she got up and began to walk towards the back rooms of the restaurant.

The Persian symbol for “management” was written on a black door, so Elain knocked and waited for an answer.

A few moments later, she knocked again. She could see someone was there; light was coming out from underneath the door. 

Maybe he couldn’t hear her over the restaurant’s music? She tried the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked.

“Hi,” she called out in Persian as she opened the door, then froze as she beheld what was in front of her.

Her server from earlier that day was sitting on a chair, topless, clutching the huge, jagged wound across her stomach. Tears were streaming down her face as someone knelt in front of her, dabbing the area with a wet towel.

The man dropped the towel as he saw Elain, spun around, and was in front of her before she could mutter another word. He slapped the door closed, and walked forward, Elain backing away, until her back hit the frame. 

His hands planted themselves on either side of her head. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, voice low and heavy with a thick Persian accent. 

Elain felt like a lamb caught in a lion’s teeth. Her heart started racing and she realized she was utterly alone here. She couldn’t breathe, let alone answer his question. 

His blue eyes bore into hers, and he growled, “Answer the fucking question.” 

“I was just looking for the chef,” she blurted. “I’m a cook; I just wanted to meet the chef.”

He stopped short at that, a strange look--pride?--in his eyes for a split second. 

Then the anger was back.

“Get out,” he growled, swinging the door open.

“Is she okay? Should we take her to a hospital?”

The wound looked deep and swollen; she definitely needed medical attention. And was that... was that a bloody nail  on the ground next to her? What the hell was going on?”

Anger took over, and before Elain could talk herself down, she was shoving past him, and kneeling next to the woman, inspecting the wound closer. 

“Did you do this to her?” she yelled at the man still standing at the door. 

It was his turn to get angry. He surged forward and grabbed her arm before opening the door with such energy, he almost ripped it off the hinges. 

“Get the fuck out. And don’t come back.”

She looked at the woman again, the tears flowing freely down her beautiful face, and vowed to get her out of this place. I’m not someone you fuck with, she thought angrily as he slammed the door in her face. And I’m sure as hell going to be back.

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Part Two.

[creativebloon]

Not From Around Here (Part 4)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1911

Other Notes: Links for the other parts can be found at the bottom. Part 4 of an unexpected series for the wonderful @lupizora! She has been amazing and I can’t tell you how happy I am to read her comments. I hope everyone enjoys Part 4 as well!! Happy readings!

“Yagi!?” Ochako and Bakugo both call out his name in unison, though with different reactions to the reveal. Ochako grins, relief swelling in her chest. It’s been years since she has actually seen the old mage. No one really knows where he has been or why, but there has always been a permanent residence for him at the center of her hometown. The little home has always looked pristine and well-taken care of on the rare occasion Ochako has been allowed to roam around the town.

Bakugo, on the other hand, says the mage’s name as if it were sour and distasteful; full of disdain and skepticism. Ochako takes advantage of his loose grip to move to his side. True enough, the Yagi she remembers from her childhood is standing there, just out of arms reach. He is thinner than she remembers, bony wrists poking from beneath a grand robe the shade of plum. His golden hair is brighter under the moon, and when he sees her, his formerly-grim expression softens into a bright smile.

“Long time no see, young Uraraka.” His voice is as booming and melodic as ever. How had she not recognized it was him before?

“Um… Just Ochako, Yagi.” She looks away, just a bit of shock registering in her mind. Of course she would rather be called her first name rather than her last. Not out of spite. Not because she hates her family. It’s because she feels out of place when people address her by her family name; almost detached from the name--as horrible as it sounds. She doesn’t hate her family. But she would give all her wealth to be in a place where she can be recognized by who she is rather than by her last name.

Yagi nods. He turns knowing eyes to Bakugo, who starts at the shift of attention. He examines the boy for a moment, expression completely unreadable to her. Then he glances around them to the few homes and businesses. “You two should come with me.” He says firmly before he pivots on one heel and starts walking before Ochako can ask him where, even if it’s obvious.

As they walk through the familiar town that Ochako has grown up in, the three of them are quiet. There is much to discuss and plan--no doubt. Yet they say nothing. At least not to Yagi.

“Why didn’t you--”

“Why didn’t you--”

They avert their eyes. Ochako’s cheeks burn, and she prays to the stars above he can’t see them. “You can go first,” she whispers after a few long moments of awkward silence. She had tried stealing peeks of Bakugo every so often (maybe too often) and upon catching the red flush on his neck, she felt even more awkward. Even though awkward isn’t the exact word she’d use, it’s the only one she can think of at the moment.

Bakugo clears his throat. He straightens his posture, standing as tall as he had when they first began this little journey together. He stops walking, drawing Ochako to a stop as well. “W-Why--fuck. Why weren’t you...repulsed...by my--by me?”

“Because I have no reason to.” Ochako is blunt, but she doesn’t find herself feeling apologetic for it. She is only speaking her mind. Which she rarely ever gets the chance to do with anyone else. She likes it. “Look. I--You have done nothing to earn my distrust or heartlessness, Bakugo. You have helped me; protected me; made me laugh and let me speak my mind around you.” She shrugs, now feeling faintly embarrassed. “Everyone has scars. Yours just show more than others.”

Bakugo says nothing. He is outright staring at her. No amused look in his eye or mischief to his smile. In fact, he isn’t smiling. His dark eyes aren’t as intensely focused on her as they were before. They are softer, a wonder in them that says more words than Bakugo could ever say.

And she’s staring right back him. Maybe her eyes are searching his to determine whether she is reading him right or not. Maybe there are butterflies making a ruckus in her stomach and she doesn’t know how to get them to stop. Maybe she takes a step closer to Bakugo because it feels right; as if it is only the two of them in the world, moon shining down on them in the still of the night. There is a familiar tug in her chest that pulls her closer to him. A sense of comfort encircles her as if it has always been just the two of them. Despite not ever knowing of Bakugo before, she can’t pull away.

She prays this isn’t some spell casted on her while her guard was down at some point.

Because she really l--

“If the two of you had managed to keep up we would be there already.” Ochako looks at Yagi, having completely forgotten about him. “Now come on you two. We have work to get to.” In a fashion that Ochako is getting used to, Yagi pivots on his heel and begins walking back to where he had been expecting them to be. At the end of the road to the direct entrance to Yagi’s yard.

Ochako starts after him. She gives Bakugo a glance, a sadness creeping into her chest at what following Yagi means. Three hours into meeting Bakugo and she can’t bear to think of what will greet her in the morning sun.

“Hey--Wait.” Bakugo grabs her wrist. Ochako turns to look over her shoulder, hope swelling in her chest. Confliction battles across his face until Ochako fully turns to face him. Distantly, she is aware of the fact that Yagi is waiting for them. She doesn’t care.

“Ochako.” One emotion freezes on his face, his eyes meeting hers. Ochako giggles. “Call me Ochako. I forgot to introduce myself ear--”

When Bakugo leans forward, Ochako’s previously steady heart stammers into overdrive. She closes her mouth and lifts her head just a fraction, anticipation and slight panic crushing fiercely in her stomach. Bakugo gets too close too slowly. She swallows, not realizing she had twisted her wrist out of his grasp to hold onto his hand until she squeezes it. Bakugo freezes for just a second.

He kisses her forehead. His lips are warm and soft against her skin; an unexpected sensation. She shivers from her head down to her toes. Bakugo pulls back, a shy lift to his smile. Even though she had been expecting--hoping--for something different, it only brightens her light of hope. Hope that he really is feeling the same things for her as she is for him.

For now, that is enough.

Wordlessly, they begin to walk to the end of the road they have been walking for a long time. His hand is hot in hers, and every so often, Ochako catches him glancing at her from the corner of his eye. He smiles at her; the kind of smile that feels like a joke only the two of them get. He steps to the side to let her through Yagi’s gate first, as well as through the mage’s still-open door. Once both of them are inside, Bakugo closes the door. Though not before finding her hand again and giving it a small squeeze.

“How long have you been here?”

“Three hours and twenty-seven minutes.”

“Do you know how you got here? Did anything happen before you left your realm?” Racing from one side of his home to the other, Yagi sends question after question at Bakugo. Unlike in their first encounter, Bakugo responds calmly. He tells Yagi that he had been with his doragon. (Ochako notices the softness in his tone as he says the name. As if whoever he had been with means more to him than just what the name suggests.) Afterwards, he had set something up to visit one of the other worlds he liked to visit. Everything had been fine.

“Until the very end. I remember seeing a change in the mirror before I was sent through it. As if the location had been switched. But it was already too late; I had one foot in and was making my way through it.”

Ochako looks up in concern. She squeezes his hand and steps just a little closer. “What was on your mind?”

Bakugo, for the first time that night, looks uncomfortable. Yagi looks up from the pages of his book, staring expectantly. They stare at one another, some kind of silent conversation between them that Ochako isn’t apart of.

He heaves a deep breath after a moment. “...It was just a thought. But I was thinking, “What if I had someone to come with me on these kind of trips?”” He looks down at Ochako, as if feeling her disbelief. He shrugs in return, defending himself. “Batu is a beautiful place, okay? There are springs and fields of color everywhere. Plus--”

“So you broke concentration.”

“I--”

Yagi cuts Bakugo off before he has a chance to retaliate. He snaps his book shut. His tone changes from the stern lightness Ochako found comforting to a tone of almost disbelief.“You know how dangerous that can be, Dragon King. Especially with such a vague and unconventional thought.”

How can I be vague and unconventional?

The thought pops into Ochako’s mind quickly. She nearly says it aloud before she can stop herself. Unfortunately, this swings Yagi’s attention to her. “Young Ochako. Can you recall what your thoughts were before you met the Dragon King? Precisely a moment or two before? Did anything happen to alert you of his presence?”

Now their eyes are on her. She should be used to this kind of attention, especially in more conventional and larger spaces. She isn’t--doubts that she ever will. “I….I….I had a feeling. A feeling that I was missing something; that I was alone. And I...wanted to fill it. Somehow. And the wind had picked up a lot; not just that, but kind of hot too. I almost missed it.”

Ochako keeps her eyes trained carefully on Yagi. His frail body and long, ornate robe that is actually a deep blue. She watches intently as he works to process her added information, surely already having found the similarities to the teens’ stories. She keeps her eyes on Yagi because if she looks at Bakugo she just may lose herself.

“Well this is great.”

“What?” Once again in unison, Ochako and Bakugo.

“You two are just made for each other.”

Ochako waits for the punchline. The joke that is sure to follow, or be somehow hidden in that one sentence to make her feel humiliation. Something to shame her. She waits for what must be a long time yet Yagi’s azure eyes steady as ever.

“You’re not joking,” she whispers. The feeling of having the breath knocked from her chest returns. Ochako releases Bakugo’s hand, both of her own running through her hair. The declaration--normally--wouldn’t be met with such a silence. If it had been delivered under different circumstances; if she weren’t standing in the small home of an often-disappearing mage next to a shirtless king from a different realm in the dead of the night, Ochako wouldn’t be feeling as she does. She’s happy. She’s been the happiest with Bakugo the past almost fours that in her entire life. Yet she can’t describe why this feels...wrong.

“Ochako--”

“I WANT MY DAUGHTER.”

Part 1>> Part 2>> Part 3>> Next

[blueandyellowdiamond]

PRID OSOBNE NA KAVICKU - NIC POTAJOMKY KU SMRADLAVYMI ANALFABETOM DEDINSKYM CO NEVEDIA ANI ZRAT PALICKAMI!!!

REPORT ON FOLLOWING PERSON - ROBERT FICO & ANDREJ KISKA

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

So, first of all is necessary to mention, that my relation or even relationship with those both persons which are mentioned above are at 0%. What does it mean?! I have NOT, absolutely NOT interest to deal with them. No personally, no through cell, not even through emails.

You will never understand behavior and mentality and character of those persons, of slovak politicans, especially of political party of SME due to fact that their position and status will cause and ruin life of innocent people? Because they are man, or little boys, or what? Their visiting in my "hometown", and my permanent address will cause what?

There is huge possibility that R.F. played that he was/is my boyfriend/fiance, whatever. He could make a lot of visiting across whole east slovak republic due to following reason. First, he probably visited all my classmates since elementary school, high school, university, etc. Second, he probably made a lot of pictures without my permission, of my room in bratislava and in hazin and in cottage, zemplinske hamre. He probably made a such nice contact with either my "parents", "grandma" or other people that live in Hazin nad Cirochou.

Of course, that he visited a several times Humenne, just due to fact that he wanted to know how many people know about me, how many people wanted to help me, how many people he caused sexual harassment or abuse, just either to give them job at higher position or make them shut up. You know, is huge scandal, everybody play either for corrupted money from slovak politicans, slovak singers, slovak models, or all people that HATE ME, are extremely jeaulousy on me, on MY results, that a lot of poeple robed MY articles, my private files and folders from my computer!!! Why? Just to use extremely talenetd person that should have OFFICE at Upper Easr Side, at least!!!

They know about me, since everybody just verifying my education, my skills, my abilities. So, carefully people at higher positions and lowest positions are very cruel, just to welcome naive foreigners and to get their investmenst due to no skilled and cheap labour, right?!  

So, since sept 2012, after my returning from usa, they only wanted to isolate me, to restrict me from any kind of income. Why? Nice smart woman, we can not allow her to stay in usa because we need her in slovak republic. Why? She is so smart, she can help us to get nice rating of companies, of universities, or republic. Without me you never ever meet a lot of people and you would never ever had a lot of projects, grands, at contracts.

So, yes, they knew that I have got visa to usa till 2018, yes usa ambassador was corrupted as well, because I have never taught to help Slovak Republic due to their "hospitality" in Bratislava, in Humenne, and everywhere where I have been. So, kindly check why the have 3% of gdp. No quality products, no quality services, right? But, you can get every young bitch, you can get paid attention, you can make easily falsifications, easily to corrupt. Motto in Slovak Republic: To do nothing, To use talented people, especially from east of slovak republic, and waiting for friday to enjoy weekend. They are NOT used to work overtime or even sacrifice something in order to accomplish something.

Yes, different mentality accross cities, and villages. Accross social positions and their salaries! So, becarefully who gonna play fake theater on you.

And to argue and fight with people all the time, is wasting of energy due to fact that I could be with people that at least want to spend time with me. Yes, I have different thinking like others, I am different than others, beacuse I have gone through what they not. So, if since sept 2012 till july 2016, was my a such happy journes, I would like to congratulate of slovak representatives that think that they can do evertyhing: especially to hide everything, to corrupt everybody, to rob everything from me, to sell behind my back my garbage! my personal things! and in front of me they gonna behave and treat me like fucking bitch! What fuck is going on around me? Everybody is scared to meet me? Why? Too many eyes is keeping on me?! Why? I am NOT "falsovatelka obrazov, podvodnicka, ci dokonca lacna slapka, ci chudera, ci troska"!!!

Btw, I am not a lesbian, and I have not interest for slovak politicans or mans, because they only know to talk about me and to make pictures and to follow me and to say disgusting rumors in front of me. And you want to help Slovak Republic?! Kindly get up from your dreams, I am not prison, I want to do what I love to do without worrying that somebody gonna rob my results and than to hide me and to kill me. 10. Uneducate people voted for SMER, so dont be surprised when people dont know foreign language but they gossiping and watching a lot of tv, so they know how to use foreigners and play theater on agents or even ask money for information, right?! Dont ask me, how many ceo of cities and villages are under "controling" of R. F., you know what I mean? I am NOT property of Slovak Republic, EU!!!

To eliminate all job opportunities and than to make me "domacou putkou"?! That is a main reason why I dont have appropriate job in Humenne, east s. r.?

I am who I am, and nobody is at position of jesus to change me, my character and my lifestyle. Btw. question of religion of nationality of citizenship, is correct? I dont think that I am slovakian, and I am not proud on this country, not even to help this country for their bullying, tyranizing, corruption of "friends and all people that I meet". So, you didnt get this till july 2016?! Your observation, will make a sense for your agency? Look, what about AIA = Antonia´s Investigation Agency? Only woman!

Woman know to handle so much, dont you think? And I am not talking about kitchen! So, kindly consider income equality, percentage of woman at higher positin, values priorities and ethical codex of people in their working environment, impact on social, financial, environmental environment, changes of gdp of corrupeted countries and punished countries. Yep, family is basic unity, comunities, districts, towns, cities, villages, countries, economic integrations = the same scenario, so that may resulted in nice war accross them, you know what I mean?

If everybody wants me just in the kitchen, and making babies, or to see me in hospital, or to see me at cemetery, why I should smile on them? Listen, those people should be so far from me. I dont want to learn from them their fucking disgusting methods how to ruin prospective people.

So, I am not gonna tell you everything, you should discover and figure it out how it works over here, in Slovak Republic. The most politicans gonna come over here, summits, conferences, dont forget to share with them how they gonna treat me, and not for free! And take them to gogo bars, so they could experience cheap bitches that are satisfied with car and house and babies, for future generation right? So, they absolutely dont care about me, conversely they only to want to see my cry and depressed. Why? To make money on me, easy. And quality of my life is at ? .... level? Congrats to primitive colony which is leader of hiding anf selling ideas as yours. So, day after day I am more exhausted due to no progress, beacuse is huge chanel, right? And you are affraid to make final  - more to the point to shot their political career and their political activities, they do not have any conscience, they only want money for their plastic surgeries.

I should be protected by any law, dont you think? And if your law doesnt allow to help me due to byrocracy or any other reason, than create fucking international treaties in order to see ME!

 (C) Intellectual Property Rights of AF ING.

P. S. : No affilation, no employer, no salary! Only sexual harassment and abuse!

[othernecessarythings]

let’s go

and btw it it’s weird that i just tell my whole life story like this where no one will ever read it, and it’s kinda cringe that i’m writing in english for no one but myself, but whatever here we go

TWENTY ONE PILOTS

* implicit demand for proof: are you more of a skeptic or a believer?

skeptic, i’m no good at believing or being optimistic smh

* fall away: are you afraid of heights?

not really

* the pantaloon: describe your favourite shirt.

ooh i’m right now is it probably my big, deep blue nike hoodie? idk it just fits to everything

* addict with a pen: write a four-line poem about whatever’s on your mind.

please reopen the schools (wait four-line? i read four-worded huh)

* friend, please: what is the nicest thing a friend has ever done for you?

my friend gave me a decorated photo album, it’s one of my most priced possessions (does that expression even mean that? i mean it’s very important to me anyways)

* march to the sea: you are given one day to live, with unlimited travel capabilities in that time. where do you choose to die?

probably here in my hometown? i’d travel as much as possible, but i’d still like to die where i belong

* johnny boy: have you ever risen to an occasion in a way of which you are proud?

hm probably, but i can’t really come up with any

* oh, ms. believer: is your favourite season the same now as when you were younger?

yeah, i’ve always preferred spring/summer

* air catcher: give your most unpopular/controversial opinion about love.

that it’s no rush trying to find love? everyone’s like it’s okay if your first love is in your 40’s, but i feel kinda stressed out that i haven’t fallen in love yet

* trapdoor: when have you felt invisible?

um the whole winter of being 14? but like invisible for everybody else, painfully visible for myself while i simultaneously shut off and didn’t feel a single emotion for like half a year,, yeah aha ha good times

* a car, a torch, a death: favourite way to travel? least favourite?

favorite: train, i always have a special and exciting goal if i travel

least favorite: car i guess, it’s just so mundane and boring

* taxi cab: tell us about the most memorable journey you’ve taken.

i’ve been on lots on journeys, but they’re all like typical family trips, so allow me to get poetical here, i guess the most memorable journey has been my own? like how i have evolved and developed to where i am today? hmm

* before you start your day: name your favourite part of your morning routine.

getting to check others private snap stories and to see what has happened during the night for them

* isle of flightless birds: what do you think is the most beautiful part of nature?

ah i love love nature and the complexity of it and how everything is connected, but like one specific thing? sunsets. it may be basic, but i’m a real slut for sunsets

REGIONAL AT BEST

* slowtown: where is your sanctuary?

i live by the sea, so i’ve got a few safe places near the shore that’s my favorites,, and like my best friends house, i always feel at home there too :,)

* glowing eyes: you inherit the powers and status of one well-known superhero. which do you choose, and why?

um i’m not that much for superheroes but like shuri from black panther is really cool and super smart, so that would be awesome!

* kitchen sink: what is something that only makes sense to you?

i’ve never mentioned this to anyone before, but i kinda think in shapes? ye not gonna elaborate on that one, but i feel like that’s not really explainable to anyone but myself

* anathema: what is a word most people don’t know? give its definition.

okay the swedish word fika,, like i’m very confused by how you non swedish guys live your lives without that word?? it basically means to “sit down, eat something sweet or more of a snack, have a cup of coffee or similar, and just talk and enjoy time together” and it’s very useable and necessary in my vocabulary

another word i thought of was the swedish word dygn. the translation is a day, but like we have a word for day too. day=dag. but a dygn is more like the 24 h the day lasts, while the dag only lasts during daytime,, idk it sounds complicated but it really confuse me sometimes when someone says a day, cause idk if they mean like the whole dygn, 24 h, or only daytime,, okay rant over

* lovely: how often do you express affection?

sigh i’m really bad at it and i should show the people i love how much i appreciate them more often, but when i do is it usually in form of words and thoughts,, i’m not a touchy person, not the one to give lots of gifts either, but i like to show it in words

* ruby: has a stranger ever permanently impacted your life?

hm no not really a stranger? but i mean some celebrities (*ahem tyler joseph*) have really changed my life, and i guess i’m just a total stranger to them but it feels like i know them personally for me

* be concerned: name an issue you believe should receive more attention.

all the species doing extinct

* clear: how much of yourself do you wear on your sleeve?

um not that much, i’m usually a quite reserved person

VESSEL

* ode to sleep: describe the last dream you remember.

omfg oh the dreams i’ve had lately, they’re something complete different,, like with the quarantine have i started sleeping more, which i guess is good, but i’ve started dreaming so much more and it’s fucking scary how much and how intense i dream now? like every dream seems real, and i’ve started to struggle to remember what’s actually happened in my real life compared to what i’ve dreamt, i can’t separate them and it all mixes together to one confusing mess,, and some dreams have been quite horror like too, not that i’m bothered when i’m actually in them, but more like i wake up and think whatthefuck actually happened

* holding on to you: which part of a conflict do you believe is more important - the journey to solution or the solution itself?

solution, i’m always a solution person, just give me that damn happy ending even with real problems too

* migraine: do you have a favourite day of the week?

no not really, it really depends on what i’m doing each day

* house of gold: what is a childhood dream you had that now seems unrealistic?

hm this is about to be sad but i never dreamt of anything big or special, ive always known that i’ll just end up living a normal life like anyone else? and i haven’t got any special talents or something, so the most creative i can think of is probably a good scientist or something

* car radio: do you enjoy silence?

in the right amount, yes. i usually appreciate silence a lot, whether alone or with friends i’m comfortable with, but that awkward silence sometimes is horrible

* semi-automatic: what is your stance on gun ownership?

disgusting. there’s no fucking argument that justifies having a gun, a possibility to take someone others life. there’s NEVER a valuable reason. sweden is really good with our super controlled gun laws, but like the us desperately needs stricter gun laws

* screen: what is the lie you most regret?

uhm update i think the last time i wrote here was in like april?? so anyways it’s december let’s finish this one lol

oh um i am, as mentioned before, highly scared of conflicts so i’m always weighing pros and cons of lying - and usually am i quite close, so there’s really no big lie that i regret? i tend to stick to the truth bc i’m scared of the consequences that might come if someone discovers my lie

* the run and go: if you were a fugitive, where would you hide out? explain.

simple answer: my friends places, if i had to hide somewhere better than that then maybe like... my grandpas wife has a lovely summer house in norway, yeah i’d hide there

* fake you out: freedom or safety?

depends. right now, fucking freedom. no, but like in theory right now freedom is the only thing i wish for, but i’m actually prioritizing safety bc of obvious reasons and i hope everyone else is too so i can have my damn freedom soon

* guns for hands: what is your favourite metaphor from a book or other piece of writing?

i really wish i was more attentive about such things, right now so i not have a clue

* trees: talk about your most memorable experience with a stranger.

i’m shy and scandinavian so i don’t talk to strangers unless i really have to,, maybe the man who shouted ���i want that chinese” and pointed at me when i was in the city with my friends, who made me fully realize that wow people are actually racist towards me

* truce: name an acoustic song (other than truce) that makes you emotional.

misguided ghosts. do i really need to say anything more? no.

[saltcdlimc]

hold onto me, 'cause i'm a little unsteady

BASICS:

Name: Quinn Leland-Porter Nickname: Q Age: 25 Birthday: october 13th Species: human Power: mind incursion Subpower: subconscious control Orientation: fluid, polyamorous Occupation: independent tattoo artist Hometown: gatlinburg/memphis, tennessee Languages: english, spanish Dominant hand: right Alcohol tolerance: average Drunken behavior: more social Smokes: socially Drinks: yes Drugs: light recreational Diagnosis: insomniac, bipolar Pets: Pluto-black kitten

PHYSICAL:

Ethnicity: native american, american, israeli Hair color: dark brunette Eye color: jade Height: 5'7 Weight: 122 Build: hour-glass, athletic Voice: american Scar(s): right hip and inside of left forearm from car accident

Tattoos:

tribal feathers behind left ear

minimalist armband on right forearm

minimalist rib piece

lotus,libra,venus thigh piece [ left ]

serotonin and dopamine pulse over the scar on the inside of her left forearm

watered-ink black cat on inside of right forearm

fishbones on right middle finger

planetary line-up left collarbone

PHSYCOLOGICAL:

Skills: guitar, vocalist, independent tattooing Hobbies: free-hand sketching, inking, mechanics,  Fears: losing control Comforts: smokey days, chipped nail polish, scented candles, crowded rooms, drawing

Positives:

confident

dependable

charismatic

sociable

Negatives:

unchaste

moody

unruly

listless

PERSONAL :

Diet: pescetarian Foods: greek yogurt, hummus and pita chips, vegetarian curry, sushi Color: muted indigo, peach Season: autumn Memory: age 8 when her dad taught her to ride her first dirt bike Bands/Artists: kings of leon, twenty-one pilots, x-ambassadors, zz ward, skylar grey, amy winehouse,  Book: milk and honey-rupi kaur Quote:

"your body is a museum of natural disasters; can you grasp how stunning that is?" -rupi kaur

“Past and future are in the mind only. I am now.” -Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

BIOGRAPHY:

Quinn Leland-Porter was born October 13th to high school sweethearts at the age of seventeen. While she wasn’t planned for, she also wasn’t unwanted. The circumstances might not have been easy or ideal but the couple made it work with the help of their parents and teachers working with them both to get them through to graduation of that senior year. After graduation it should have been smoother sailing, with her dad working in a small auto shop in their town of Gatlinburg, Tennessee and her mom working opposite shifts at night at a local grocery store, ends were met, but it came with a strain on the relationship. Quinn’s mom gave up more and more every day on putting her heart and effort in raising their daughter; she grew more stressed and ached more for a freedom she felt robbed of, so the sweethearts crumbled. Quinn wasn’t even a year old when her mom left and didn’t come back, nothing more left to Quinn than her mom’s last name right alongside her dad’s like a fingerprint that was only proof that she had been there at some point. Her dad stepped up to the plate and became her hero the older that Quinn grew, ‘daddy’s girl’ to anyone who knew the little family of two. 

Q blossomed into a very charismatic and cheeky young girl who’s biggest fight in life was pulling ponytail and messy braids out of her hair and trying to fix them when her dad couldn’t get them just right. He tried his best and his lacking in knowing how to raise a little girl only gave Quinn more room to let her independence grow, so their relationship stayed strong and balanced. With her high-school years came some more extreme fights for Quinn and shows of her independence. She did well in school when she managed to make it on time and or even show up at all, when she could be pulled away from friends enough to apply herself, but truancy stacked up against her. Quinn liked mingling through crowds within her school, never one to settle down into a clique but rather meander her way from one to another to another. She knew everyone’s name and everyone knew hers; Quinn liked it that way. People were just as infectious to Quinn as she was to them and she was never lonely because she never allowed herself to be. Home life became a little more tense and turbulent when a slightly stronger show of her charming ways, and the promiscuous habits, picked up. It always an interesting morning in the house when a boy was sent scrambling out her bedroom window and out into the lawn to escape her dad. Quinn understood that her dad didn’t like the behavior but she wasn’t about to slow down and she fully expected her kisses to his cheek to soothe the tension before she went about the rest of her day.

After an extra summer spent in school, Quinn graduated and she roamed a little further from home to Memphis. She had been there plenty of times in cars full of friends, late nights spent in clubs and in motels, but this trek was different and a little more permanent in her mind. While some friends had made the move for college, Quinn made the move looking for a bigger piece of her newly attained freedom and she found it in a little voodoo-inspired tattoo parlor. While she’d always had a strong knack for free-hand sketching, she had never tried her hand with permanent ink on skin, but she was drawn to strongly to the notion. Starting out in the parlor she was only allowed to clean the shop and equipment, but soon after Quinn was allowed to draw out pieces of art people came in with and described to her for their tattoo. Her talent was seen then by the young man who owed the shop; Noah. For Quinn, it was like she could see right into the patrons’ minds and see the artwork exactly how they envisioned it, so much more vivid than any drawing could ever portray, but her hand could bring it to life on paper. She thought it more of a gift than a superpower, but maybe they were one in the same. 

When she wasn’t working in the shop, Quinn was focusing on the pleasure she found from falling into a relationship with Noah, who had finally let her place her artwork on people’s skin after months of only being allowed to draw them on paper. To the young lovers the relationship was glowing and infectious, the two rarely ever seen without smiles on their faces when they were together. It felt perfect even despite random heated fights of broken glass that seemed to only amplify the way they were drawn together like magnets disguising a beautiful train wreck. The two were destined for a different kind of wreckage. After almost four years of dating off and on again, the two were thinking further into the future and in more official ways. It started out as a playful game of Quinn asking Noah questions while they drove across the city about the things he wanted for them, only to be met with Noah’s equally playful answers of denial that they didn’t have a future at all. It had Quinn pressing further into his thoughts just to see that he was teasing her and and she smiled more every time she called Noah out on it. Over and over again Noah denied, and over and over again Quinn saw the truth in his mind that told her he wanted nothing but her. Time seemed to slow down so suddenly, a moment of Quinn scooting over to be closer to him in the front seat and his arm wrapping around her before everything was cut off by crashing metal and blinding pain.

Quinn woke up in the hospital alone the next day, save for her dad lingering close by. He wasn’t the male she was looking for, but her injuries were mostly minor. Aside from wounds from broken glass, it was her heart that hurt the most when she learned they’d been struck on the driver’s side and that Noah had been killed on impact. Quinn’s mind went right back to the moments leading up to the accident and she remembered the game, she remembered the images she’d walked in on in Noah’s mind of the future they wanted, and with that came immense pain. Panic ensued and guilt took over. Quinn’s moods snapped and she pleaded, insisted, telling doctors what she’d done, that she was to blame, that she’d distracted him from driving, right down to the way she’d entered his thoughts. It was waved off as the girl being in a stage of grief and shock but Quinn was persistent and quickly became volatile at not being believed. She was the reason he was dead and she needed to be heard, she had to be held responsible for something that could be seen as nothing short of being entirely her fault. 

Quinn was placed on suicide watch when she started refusing the treatments for her recovery and instead went against her own recovery by ripping out the stitches on the inside of her forearm, a growing anger and desperation to be heard. She was admitted to Crestwyn in Memphis for inpatient treatment, allowed phone calls to her dad but only insisted to him that she was fine. With the people around her however, Quinn continued to fight them on what she believed she was responsible for, taking every opportunity that she could to walk into the minds of counselors and other residents to prove what she was capable of. It was eighteen weeks of what felt like a war-zone to Quinn before she calmed and tired enough to be released, but where they wouldn’t keep her, Quinn built her own prison for herself in her head.  Looking at Quinn people wouldn’t realize she’s had anything but a happy life, and that’s because to Quinn, and despite the loss of Noah, she has had a happy life, or at the very least, she’s had a life worth living. Her natural charismatic and sociable antics returned in full-force and was right back to the girl walking with charge in her step and meandering her way from one crowd to the next, taking names and leaving hers behind as she moves about.

[reytonbleyer]

The Things We Do For Love - Chapter Eight

The worst part of loving someone is realizing you need to let them go. Unless you didn’t have to… Unless you never knew.

ff.net // wattpad

CHAPTER EIGHT: Words of Wisdom

It was beautiful. The way the sunrays slipped through the cracks on the roof setting an angelic glow over all the most ordinary things piling around the barn. Lucas sat in silence on a heap of hay that could have easily been mistaken for gold as it shimmered under the sunlight, observing the world awaken around him. He could hear the horses' steady breaths and the roosters in the distance announcing a new dawn. He was engulfed in the epitome of peace and yet his heart was filled with anything but. Two years today, he thought to himself, two years away from her.

He had hoped it would get easier over time, he'd hoped he might move on. Lucas had been trying to live life as best as he could and, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself... he was still trying to live a life that would make her proud. He may have not been good enough for Riley then, but it didn't mean Lucas would give up trying, it didn't mean he didn't want to be worthy of her still, even if she'd never know, he owned it to himself and to her to become the best man he could possibly be.

Lucas rubbed his eyes, burning from the little sleep he got that night. He stretched and forced himself up to his feet, walking over to the horse. Not even twelve hours ago, Pappy Joe had called saying Sophia had gotten worse. Lucas didn't need him to finish, a moment later he was speeding from College Station back to Austin, in the pickup truck his grandfather had surprised him with as a welcome gift, when he moved back to Texas.

He was thankful his classes hadn't started yet, though deep down Lucas knew he would have gone regardless. He had to be there. It was already dark when he arrived at the ranch, going straight to the barn where a worried Joe waited for him. Of course Sophia meant a lot to Lucas, that horse had played an important part on one of the biggest decisions of his life. However, if he were completely honest, he had mostly come for his grandpa, not for her.

Joe wasn't the most sentimental of all people, but when it came to his loved ones, human or not, his devotion knew no limits, reason why Lucas had to assure him about a million times that he would watch Sophia all through the night, in order to convince his grandfather to go back inside and get some sleep. The old man hadn't been feeling so well lately, he wasn't the same strong Joe that welcomed Lucas back to his hometown two years ago. He had lost a lot of weight, which he insisted was something to pride himself for, but Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, despite Pappy Joe's easiness about it all. And it wasn't just that, Joe got tired a lot easier and faster nowadays and his once insatiable appetite was gone. Still the man was stubborn as a mule; he insisted he was fine, ignoring his grandson's persistence that he saw a doctor.

The blonde did his best to shake his worries away as he entered Sofia's stable. She wasn't getting any better, though it was already a small miracle she was still standing. She'd been doing poorly long before Lucas moved to the lone star state and things had only gotten worse since. She was old and tired, but a true fighter. Nevertheless, he doubted she would make it through another night. Lucas hugged her neck and patted her back, just like he'd done over a decade ago when he helped deliver her baby on this same barn, suddenly feeling like that terrified little boy again, except this time it wasn't the birth or a life that scared him, but the death of one.

"How's our girl doing?" Joe limped into the barn, smiling at his grandson, though it didn't quite reach his worry filled eyes.

"Not so good." Lucas looked from Joe to Sophia and back, his heart breaking for both of them "Pappy Joe, I'm going to be honest with you, I don't think she will make it through tonight." Joe nodded, averting his eyes to the ground as he chewed on his bottom lip "I'm really sorry."

"I know you are, boy. I am too." He took a deep breath, his expression softening ever so slightly "Do you have to be back on Campus yet? I was planning on making us some breakfast. What do you say? Care to spend some time with your old man?"

"I'd love to." He smiled sadly, watching as his grandfather turned around, walking with difficulty back to the house.

Lucas wasn't lying. Over the last two years he'd grown much closer to Pappy Joe. They had always had a good relationship, but their bond had strengthened considerably since Lucas's move. The first six months were hell, he'd admit to that. Back then, Lucas resented all things Texas. During those dark months, he had barely seen his grandfather at all, always coming up with excuses not to visit, he either had to study or he had a test or a project, whatever it was, there was always some matter he couldn't possibly postpone keeping him busy, which was funny considering he damn near failed his first semester.

He couldn't find it in him to focus. He hated college, his classes, his dorm room and even his roommate, with whom he wouldn't exchange anymore words than strictly necessary. He'd also drink. A lot. Lucas was spiraling, a small part of him knew so, but for the most part he didn't care. Until one night, when he picked a fight with a guy in a bar, over something so stupid he couldn't even remember now. Lucas went back to his dorm late that night, bleeding, bruised and more than a little drunk, trying to reach the bathroom as silently as he could, but failing not to wake up his roomie, Nate, who much to Lucas's surprise didn't hesitate to help, even though he had no reason to show him any kind of mercy.

He had treated the guy like crap for months and still the redhead didn't give it a second thought before leaving their room only to return a few minutes later with an ice bag and a first aid kit. Lucas laid in bed that night unable to fall asleep. He had done his best to keep his mind off of her since arriving in Texas, but for the first time since leaving New York Lucas allowed himself to openly think about Riley Matthews. It might have been Nate's kindness, the fact he cared for Lucas when no one else did, when he didn't even deserve it... it reminded him of Riley. Hell, he hadn't gotten into a fight ever since she'd walked into his life, he'd thanked her over and over again for helping him accept and control that side of himself, for believing in him, for being his calming influence. Now look at me, he thought bitterly. Lucas suddenly felt disgusted.

He woke up the next morning determined to turn his life around. He would make her proud. He apologized to Nate for his behavior over the previous months and thanked him yet again for being there for him when no one else was. Lucas dived into work, tearing through his books and whenever his will wavered he'd just look himself in the mirror, staring at the scar above his right eyebrow, a permanent reminder of that fight and the man he refused to become. It wasn't easy, but he managed to pass his practically unsalvageable semester.

Even though his college life finally started to ride on the right tracks, Lucas knew he still had a lot of making up to do family wise. Lucky for him, his grandfather and parents were ready and waiting with open arms for their prodigal son to return. It took a while for things to be like they were before, Lucas had been lost and angry for a long time, said and did things he regretted, things that hurt his loved ones, but eventually they found their way past those wounds.

With time, he became good friends with Nate too and, because of his constant support, Lucas decided to try out for the football team on the beginning of his second year. Now, a year later, he was the best student on his class and the star quarterback. He should be happy, he kept telling himself that. To anyone on the outside looking in, Lucas Friar had it all. But he didn't. He had managed to put himself back together pretty well, and for that he was grateful, but there was a part of him missing, a huge part, one he could never replace.

"Luke! Are you coming or what?" He heard Pappy Joe yelling from the porch, snapping him back to reality.

"Coming!" He yelled back, leaving Sophia's stable and jogging back to the house.

He was welcomed to the kitchen with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. Lucas sat on one of the stools behind the counter, observing as his grandfather worked through the cabinets, the ever present limp in his right leg making it harder for him to move around.

"Need some help? I make some mean pancakes." He chuckled, trying to sound more relaxed than he felt.

"Oh I know you do, I taught you how for Christ's sake! It's your grandma's recipe though, so I won't take all the credit." Pappy Joe focused back on the stove "And I don't feel like pancakes. Today is more of a scrambled eggs day."

"If you say so... hey, grandpa" Lucas bit the inside of his cheek as he thought through his next words carefully "How's your leg doing?"

"Great! Just like the rest of me." He laughed "Why do you ask?"

"Hum, nothing, it's just, it looks like your limping is getting worse."

"Yeah, well, you know, just regular old man's issues. You'll understand someday." Joe waved his hand around dismissively, quickly changing the subject "So I hear you're going back to the city for the holidays this year." When his grandson shot him a curious look, Joe chuckled "Jen told me."

"Of course she did." Lucas laughed along. His mother just couldn't keep anything to herself "But yeah, I am. We talked a couple days ago and decided it was about time I go back, hum, home." Even as he said it, Lucas knew the word sounded weird coming from his mouth. New York didn't feel like home, though for some reason Texas still didn't either.

"You mean they decided?" Lucas's words failed him, his mouth agape as he stared at Joe "Oh come on, Luke. You've been avoiding New York like the plague since you moved here and you haven't stepped foot in the city again. Don't get me wrong, I love having you and your family over for the holidays, but we both know your mother is a sucker for Christmas in New York and your dad finds that stupid New Year ball drop incredibly amusing for some reason. And I know you. You're doing this for them."

"Well... yeah." He muttered, playing nervously with his fingers.

"Look, I know you didn't leave New York under the best circumstances, but whatever happened then is now two years behind you. You're better now, stronger, more mature. I don't know what you're afraid of, but it really doesn't matter. You know what we say about fears. You either ride them..."

"Or they ride you." He nodded, forcing a weak smile "Thanks, Pappy Joe."

"I'm always here for you, boy." He fixed Lucas his breakfast, placing the plate on the counter before him with a smile "I always have been."

"I know."

The rest of their morning was filled with much easier conversations than that one. Lucas helped Joe with the ranch's chores, mostly feeding the animals and cleaning after them. Soon it was noon and the Friars returned to the kitchen to cook lunch together. They watched some TV and finally gave in to their tradition, finding their way to the porch's rocking chairs.

The afternoon flew by while Lucas filled Joe in on how he was doing on the team. He loved playing football and it kept him busy during those few free hours he had between classes. His social life suffered from it for sure, but that was one of the perks if you asked Lucas. His packed schedule served as the perfect excuse to dodge his way out of most social events, so he only ever went to the parties he absolutely had to, he was the quarterback after all, he was required to make some appearances with the team.

Nate would constantly give him hell for it; he was always saying Lucas was very likely the quarterback to get laid the least in all history. He knew his friend had a point, even through his troubled start on college, when he was all kinds of messed up, Nate hadn't yet seen Lucas with a girl and that hadn't changed to this day, though he never asked why and Lucas didn't intend on giving him an opening to do so. Riley... she was off limits. It hurt a little less if he didn't talk about her.

But it wasn't like he had completely closed himself up. He talked to most people on his football team and he was pleasant to his classmates and teachers, he'd just rather maintain a safe distance. He'd made the mistake of getting too attached once, he wasn't looking forward to doing it again. He had his family and Nate and Lucas found that to be more than enough. He still talked to his friends in New York on occasion, mostly Zay, but it wasn't the same anymore. Time and distance had taken their toll on all of them. As for Riley, he hadn't seen or talked to her since the break up. He'd never ask about her either, afraid of what type of news he might get. Lucas knew she'd likely moved on and he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy... He'd just rather be spared the details.

Pappy Joe asked him about his classes as well, he always did, and as usual Lucas told him how in love he was with veterinary medicine. It was the right career for him, but that they'd both known for years. He described his whole schedule to his grandfather, who listened intently to every detail. Lucas then explained about the volunteer tutoring he had been doing and the extra credit he would start getting this semester, for the work he would begin at A&M's Veterinary Medical Teaching Hospital. He wasn't required to work there just yet, but his favorite teacher Mrs. Collin, given Lucas's great promise, had suggested he took an early start, so he could get more experience.

It wasn't until he was done rambling about his routine that Lucas realized he had been the only one talking for over an hour, while his grandfather simply stared at the horizon, seemingly lost in thought.

"Pappy Joe, is everything ok?"

"I don't know, Lucas, you tell me." He frowned, looking back at his grandson.

"Hum, I'm not sure I know what you mean." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a little intimidated under his grandfather's stare.

"You've just spent the past two hours telling me about all the exciting things you're doing on college and, while I'm happy for you, I'm also worried. You're always either on class or studying or practicing or playing or volunteering and, God, now you're about to start working at the hospital too."

"I still don't see the problem." Lucas muttered, not meeting Joe's eyes.

"It's too much, Luke. When are you living? When do you have time for yourself, for your needs, not as a student, not as the quarterback, but as Lucas Friar? Look, all I'm saying is... be careful, I know you're doing your best and you should, this is your moment to shine, just don't burn yourself out too quickly."

Lucas nodded "I'll try." He hated to lie to him.

His grandfather didn't get it. That was exactly the point. Yes, Lucas had a lot on his plate right now, but it was a win win situation. By packing up his schedule, he was not only making the most of his college experience, but he also kept himself busy enough not to think about Riley. Whenever he had too much time to spare, his mind helplessly wandered back to the pretty brunette who stole his heart in seventh grade. And no matter how fond of their memories Lucas was, the knowledge those moments were forever behind him was a knife to the heart. So he worked. Lucas worked through his every waking moment so he wouldn't get too caught up in his thoughts of Riley all the while, inwardly, doing his very best to make her proud. He decided not to argue with his grandpa about it though, he sure wasn't going to try and explain his reasons, Joe wouldn't understand even if he did. Instead, the two Friars just fell in a comfortable silence, watching the sun hide behind a distant hill.

"This was your grandmother's favorite time of the day." Joe declared softly, a unique kindness to his voice Lucas only ever heard when he talked about his late wife "We'd sit here just like this for hours. We never ran out of things to talk about. Oh Katherine, she... she never ceased to amaze me. She used to say people were like sunsets, a balance of light and dark, always different, but beautiful in their own way."

"You miss her." It wasn't a question. Pappy Joe simply rolled his head forward, a half smile gracing his features.

"Every day."

"Does it still hurt?" Lucas asked carefully. His grandfather rarely talked about Nana Katy and Lucas genuinely wanted to know, even if mostly for his own selfish reasons.

"It did. For a long time. You'd think the hardest part about losing someone you love is the separation, that very moment when you're pulled apart from the person you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with. But it isn't. The worst part is living through the aftermath. The next morning and every other one after that, when you have to get up and go about life as if a huge part of it hadn't been taken away."

"How do you make it stop?" His voice was almost inaudible, asking the question Lucas wanted more than anything to have answered.

"You don't. You wait. You do your best to keep living, even when it feels like you're just surviving. And someday, you wake up and it hurts less. Someday you wake up and the pain has turned into something else, a resigned longing, wrapped in the comfort that comes with knowing you made the most of the time you had together."

He was taken aback by his grandfather's words. Throughout his life, Pappy Joe had taught him many lessons, shared various pieces of advice, so Lucas was no stranger to his wisdom. Still, this was unlike any other conversation he had ever had with Joe. And he just so happened to have chosen today, of all days, to... That's when it hit him. Coincidence? Maybe. But Lucas didn't believe in those, something he'd learned from his grandfather himself.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know what day it is." He admitted without a trace of hesitation, his voice calm and steady as he continued, ignoring Lucas's surprise "You might be fooling everyone else, Luke, maybe even yourself. But you ain't fooling me. And I know you don't like talking about this, so I'm only going to say it once. If you believe there's even the slightest chance you can save your relationship with Riley, do it. Do everything you can. Because that comfort I was talking about, you'll never find it if you give up. And you deserve better than to live haunted by your past and all its what ifs."

Lucas's eyes were locked on his grandfather's, but it felt like he was looking right through him, his gaze empty as his mind wandered somewhere else, on someone else, and Pappy Joe had a pretty good guess as to whom. Hopefully Lucas had understood the message. Joe had watched him hit rock bottom, rise against all odds and fight every day since to be his very best self. But beneath all that, the boy was still just as broken as he'd been when Joe picked him up at that airport. He couldn't just stand by and witness his grandson's suffering. None the less, he knew Lucas needed time, so he changed the subject.

"It's getting late, we better check on Sophia."

"Yeah. Of course."

They walked to the barn together, Lucas's mind racing with a million thoughts per second, thoughts he hadn't allowed anywhere but in his dreams for years. Had he not left all his hope at that airport back in New York? Was it possible that after all this time there was still a chance for him? For them? Was he willing to risk putting himself through all that pain again? And could he even survive it this time if it came to it?

All those questions disappeared a second later. The voices in his head went silent as he opened the door to the barn, his eyes scanning over Sophia's stable. He couldn't see her and, unfortunately, Lucas knew exactly what it meant. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, forcing his legs to take him closer to the stable, where Sophia laid lifeless on the ground. His grandfather said nothing as he walked past Lucas, crouching next to the horse, losing his balance in the process. Lucas hurried to his side, helping Joe steady himself and finally kneeling next to him, watching the old man caress Sophia's belly.

"Of course this would happen today." He muttered underneath his breath, frustrated.

"It's life, Luke. It's just life." Pappy Joe sighed "She was suffering. I hate to see her go too, but she deserves the rest." He finally looks up, his eyes finding Lucas's and a small smile curling the corners of his lips "Thank you. For helping me take care of her these last couple years and for being here today, just... thank you."

"No,Pappy Joe." He smiled back at his grandfather, Joe's words of wisdom once againreplaying through his head, a warmth he hadn't felt for a long time taking holdof his Lucas's heart "Thank you."

[newssplashy]

Boko Haram: I can make Shekau, others surrender: Ex-commander

Goni, who is undergoing rehabilitation at a military detention camp in Maiduguri, said this in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN).

A 32 year-old former Boko Haram Commander, Rawana Goni, has appealed to the Nigerian military authorities to allow him make a phone call to the elusive leader, Abubakar Shekau and at least 137 other terrorists to make them surrender.

Goni, who is undergoing rehabilitation at a military detention camp in Maiduguri, said this in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN).

The former Boko Haram commander is an indigene of Bama in Borno state. He surrendered to the military in Cameroon after escaping from Sambisa Forest eight months ago.

He claimed to have held several positions in ten different cells of Boko Haram in Sambisa. He said the last position he held was as the Chief officer of Dispute Resolution for the group. He explained that many militants came to him to settle problems ranging from family matters. He also reconciled Boko Haram factions.

“I rescued people sentenced to death and minimised punishment of those who committed crimes. I am one of the most influential persons in the group and they always listened and abided by what I said.

“I  joined Boko Haram because of the condition I found myself in the last five years. When the insurgents invaded Bama town, I ran with my family to Cameroon thinking I was in a safe destination. But on reaching Cameroon, I was shocked to realise that I brought myself into another Boko Haram camp. By that time, I knew I would not survive without joining the group.

“Days after my induction, we opened a permanent camp at the Cameroon border and named the forest “Aluska”. It was in that camp that I learnt all types of trainings including handling weapons.

“After the training,  we embarked on our first mission.We invaded a military formation in Cameroon, dislodged the soldiers and took many weapons from their armoury. We couldn’t take any vehicle because the area was surrounded by river.

“We took the weapons we recovered to our leader Abubakar Shekau and briefed him on our success. He was happy that five of us could dislodge a military formation. After congratulating us, he appointed me to lead the group and returned our weapons to us.

“Few days later, I recruited many fighters, because as a commander, you are expected to have no fewer than 250 fighting troops.

“With the new fighting force, we invaded Waza village, Damaga and Banki. We also invaded Bama which is my hometown.

“I was touched to see my people being tortured and killed, while many women and children were living in excruciating hardship. So I decided to pass a message to my fellow insurgents from Bama and we formed a group comprising of about 137 persons to help our people in prison to escape.

“I was able to rescue about 300 hostages at the prison facility in Bama. I usually lied to the guards at the prison that I was going to kill the inmates. But I would take them to a safe place in Konduga and ask them to run to a safer destination.

“Many of the prisoners were exposed to hard labour while some were used as guinea-pigs at shooting range by new arms handlers among Boko Haram,”he said.

On Abubakar  Shekau’s health status, Goni told NAN that the insurgents’ leader was healthy as against a report that he was ill.

“Nothing happened to him. He broke his leg five years ago while riding on a horse. But he had since recovered. Any one saying Shekau is sick is only deceiving himself. We used to communicate through radiophone but not any more,”he said.

Goni who believed that the war was coming to an end, urged  the military to let him tell Shekau and other insurgents that he is still alive.

“My 137 boys are on standby to hear I am still alive and I can assure you they will run out of Sambisa Forest and surrender to the military. I once told them to surrender and they said we shall all get killed.But I told them that I will surrender and they said if nothing happened to me, they will all come out,” he said.

Goni commended the military for the special treatment given to inmates who surrendered.

“They received us with joy and interact with us at all time. They feed us well and always want to know our problems. If other Boko Haram members knew how we are being treated, they will never want to remain where they are,”he said.

source https://www.newssplashy.com/2018/07/boko-haram-i-can-make-shekau-others.html

[ngpride-blog]

Boko Haram: Ex-commander makes explosive revelations about sect, Shekau

A 32 year-old former Boko Haram Commander, Rawana Goni, has appealed to the Nigerian military authorities to allow him make a phone call to the elusive leader, Abubakar Shekau and at least 137 other terrorists to make them surrender. Goni, who is undergoing rehabilitation at a military detention camp in Maiduguri, said this in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN). The former Boko Haram commander is an indigene of Bama in Borno state. He surrendered to the military in Cameroon after escaping from Sambisa Forest eight months ago. He claimed to have held several positions in ten different cells of Boko Haram in Sambisa. He said the last position he held was as the Chief officer of Dispute Resolution for the group. He explained that many militants came to him to settle problems ranging from family matters. He also reconciled Boko Haram factions. “I rescued people sentenced to death and minimised punishment of those who committed crimes. I am one of the most influential persons in the group and they always listened and abided by what I said. “I joined Boko Haram because of the condition I found myself in the last five years. When the insurgents invaded Bama town, I ran with my family to Cameroon thinking I was in a safe destination. “But on reaching Cameroon, I was shocked to realise that I brought myself into another Boko Haram camp. By that time, I knew I would not survive without joining the group. “Days after my induction, we opened a permanent camp at the Cameroon border and named the forest “Aluska”. It was in that camp that I learnt all types of trainings including handling weapons. “After the training, we embarked on our first mission.We invaded a military formation in Cameroon, dislodged the soldiers and took many weapons from their armoury. We couldn’t take any vehicle because the area was surrounded by river. “We took the weapons we recovered to our leader Abubakar Shekau and briefed him on our success. He was happy that five of us could dislodge a military formation. After congratulating us, he appointed me to lead the group and returned our weapons to us. “Few days later, I recruited many fighters, because as a commander, you are expected to have no fewer than 250 fighting troops. “With the new fighting force, we invaded Waza village, Damaga and Banki. We also invaded Bama which is my hometown. “I was touched to see my people being tortured and killed, while many women and children were living in excruciating hardship. So I decided to pass a message to my fellow insurgents from Bama and we formed a group comprising of about 137 persons to help our people in prison to escape. “I was able to rescue about 300 hostages at the prison facility in Bama. I usually lied to the guards at the prison that I was going to kill the inmates. But I would take them to a safe place in Konduga and ask them to run to a safer destination. “Many of the prisoners were exposed to hard labour while some were used as guinea-pigs at shooting range by new arms handlers among Boko Haram,” he said. On Abubakar Shekau’s health status, Goni told NAN that the insurgents’ leader was healthy as against a report that he was ill. “Nothing happened to him. He broke his leg five years ago while riding on a horse. But he had since recovered. Any one saying Shekau is sick is only deceiving himself. We used to communicate through radiophone but not any more”. Goni who believed that the war was coming to an end, urged the military to let him tell Shekau and other insurgents that he is still alive. “My 137 boys are on standby to hear I am still alive and I can assure you they will run out of Sambisa Forest and surrender to the military. I once told them to surrender and they said we shall all get killed. But I told them that I will surrender and they said if nothing happened to me, they will all come out,” he said. Goni commended the military for the special treatment given to inmates who surrendered. “They received us with joy and interact with us at all time. They feed us well and always want to know our problems. If other Boko Haram members knew how we are being treated, they will never want to remain where they are,” he said. Read the full article

[munchkinxcop-blog]

Lacey

It was the second birthday that she was spending without her ex-wife. The last two years had been hell for the mother of the three young children. She was frustrated with the feeling of loneliness. The constant empty feeling was something that relentlessly ate her soul. Lacey understood that she was loved by her family; her children, Taylor but she missed the comfort of a lover. She was empty without the unity, without the partnership, without the mutual love. Romance was something she craved and she hated that it defined so much of her life. The blonde had much success but felt like it wasn't worth a thing without having someone to share it with. She hated the vulnerable feeling so she decided she was going to remedy it by taking a trip to see her friend Erin in Chicago for her birthday. It was going to be a few days but it was something she felt she needed. Erin was her sense of logical thinking, and someone she trusted with her whole heart. The detective was full of solid advice and one of the best sounding boards she knew. Lacey was eager to catch up with her and get to know the latest on her life as well as tell her about her own. This was the productive solution to remedy the endless loneliness she was facing.

After careful planning, Lacey was all set and ready to go. She was spending the Sunday before her birthday with Taylor and the kids and football and leaving that night. She knew that her family wasn't thrilled with her decision but she needed the break. Football and family time came to an end and Lacey began her temporary goodbyes. Both of her girls got upset. It broke the blonde's heart to see and tell them that she wouldn't be able to spend her birthday with him but as much as she was a mother she was a woman that needed to heal her own heart. After apologizing to Taylor for leaving him with such a mess, she got into her truck that was already complete with her bags and headed to Los Angeles International Airport. Next stop, Chicago O'Haire Airport. This was needed is what she kept telling herself. It was the only way she was getting through the guilty feeling of leaving her children behind on such a notable day.

“Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for flying with Jet Blue, we'd like to welcome you to Chicago. The time now is 9:00pm. Please remember all of your belongings and exit in a safe and timely manner.”

Four hours and one minute later, Lacey had arrived in Chicago. The hour was already late so she didn't want to chance bothering Erin. Pulling out her iPhone, she found a hotel on her travel app and took a cab to get settled. Once she was checked in and settled, she decided to at least text the Detective. “Hi girl! I just got to Chicago, I found a hotel close by in case you were working and busy. I'll see you tomorrow! Xo,” she wrote before hitting send and laying comfortably in the king sized. The alone time felt shockingly peaceful.

Erin

When Erin and Lacey made plans for Lacey to come for her birthday, Erin was ecstatic.  Their friendship had surprised Erin in a world where very little seemed to.  Erin wasn’t very good at the female friend thing, finding females to be more catty than anything.  She’d always done better with the boys instead, even when it came to friendship.  There was just something that normally happened when women got together and it just wasn’t something of interest to Erin.  She didn’t have time for the jealousy or the antics of pitting women against other women.  So she simply always steered the other way.  But there was something about Lacey that wouldn’t allow it.  Lacey never came off to Erin like the others.  Lacey was different.  Supportive, kind, and a voice of reason, which more times than not Erin needed from her as much as it seemed Lacey needed it from her.

The day Lacey was to arrive, Erin was all set to be off, ready and waiting for her friend’s arrival.  But when there are plans, there are things that will change plans.  It was midnight before Erin saw the text message.  An eighteen hour day working a case that would shatter the hearts of everyone on the team.  Once she and C.J. headed out of the district, Erin drew her phone from her chest, finding Lacey’s text on it.  She grumbled a complaint, having gotten so wrapped in work that she completely forgot that today was the day of Lacey’s arrival.  <i>Hey, babe.  Just got off work.  I’m going to try to sleep a few hours and I’ll see you first thing in the morning.  Coffee around 9?</i>  Erin sent the text, instantly switching to her alarm app to set alarms for 7:30, allowing her enough time to get from the home she shared with C.J. to the hotel to meet Lacey.

The next morning, the detective woke early, minutes before the alarm sounded.  She reached over, turning off the alarm before it rang, then turned back into C.J.  “I gotta get up.  Lacey’s in town.”  She explained, to which she was met with a kiss and a swat to her ass, something mused her direction on how she better get a move on.  The relationship between them had taken Erin by surprise, perhaps more than her friendship with Lacey had.  She couldn’t have asked for a better man to share her life with.  This was what she wanted for Lacey too.  If anyone deserved it, it was Lacey.

A half hour later, Erin was slipping out the front door of the house as quietly as possible.  It was rare for J.J. and Bash to sleep in, yet this morning, she was the only sound moving through the house.  Successfully getting out of the door, she headed out towards downtown Chicago, imagining Lacey had probably booked where she normally did, a few minutes from the district.  It was a twenty minute drive from the area of Chicago where the Luciano home was.  When she breeched those lines into downtown, she withdrew her phone, calling Lacey as she headed to the standard hotel, though not positive where Lacey had booked yet.  When the phone connected, Erin couldn’t help but smile through the phone.

“Laceyyyy.”  She laughed, shaking her head, clearly excited for a girl’s day for her friend’s birthday.  “Happy Birthday, hun!  I’m heading your way!  Where are you staying this time?”  She asked, making the turn into the hotel parking where Lacey ordinarily seemed to book, waiting to find out if her gut was right.

Lacey

Due to the late hour Lacey didn’t expect miracles when it came to her arrival. In the business in which Erin was in, Lacey knew that work would have to come first even if they made their plans already. Being a detective was a 24/7/365 endeavor and it was something Lacey understood completely. Luckily, Chicago wasn’t a foreign city to the blonde. The Tiny Dancer had made many a trips to the Windy City in her time. First, it was to see her best friend Jagger Matthews and now more recently to spend time with Erin. It wasn’t a likely occurrence to meet people let alone someone to consider a good friend in a cemetery but somehow they managed it. Ever since that day, the pair of ladies found themselves in each other’s highest of graces. Texts, calls, e-mails and now the occasional visits were all the foundation of their rock solid friendship they carried on with today. Lacey was relieved to have such a source of sanity away from Los Angeles. She loved her hometown but the kind of people within its lines weren’t always the most logical or selfless for that matter. It was hard to make friends in a town full of people out for themselves and a town that was swarmed by the entertainment industry.

Eventually once Lacey got settled in with her things, she made herself a cup of tea and drifted off to sleep not even hearing Erin’s text when she got off of work. The late Chicago evening brightened into the early crisp Chicago morning. The blonde awoke feeling rested for the first time in a few weeks. She was excited to greet the day and spend time with her dearest friend. Pouring herself some coffee, she turned on the news for the weather and local area happenings and relaxed for a few minutes before getting herself ready for the day. Like clock work, her phone went off and she spotted the texts from Erin signaling she was on her way.

“Coffee sounds awesome!” she replied, laughing at her caffeine indulgences. She was on vacation, it was totally allowed. That’s what she was telling herself, at least. Hopping in a fast shower, she got cleaned up and dressed and waited to hear from Erin. Her final ensemble was a simple one; a long sleeved purple t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. It was nice to be out of work clothes for a change and a more casual attire for the day. The phone began to a few minutes before 9 AM. Answering her iPhone, she smiled bright. “Thaaaaank you!!” she replied with a laugh. Erin’s high energy was contagious this morning and something she appreciated very much so. “Same hotel as usual,” she confirmed. “Are you close by?” she wondered. These next few days were so needed for the dancer. The lonely months had taken their toll so she needed the recharge with her very own voice of logic.

Erin

Erin had been in work and family mode for so long now, adjusting to life living with two boys, C.J., and C.J.’s mother.  This meant very little time when she was completely alone, which is what her life looked like before the tailspin of events that landed her in the Luciano home permanently.  She wouldn’t trade it for the world, but some time alone with Lacey sounded like perfection.  As Lacey asked if she was close, she was already pulling up into the guest parking area.  “You could say that.”  She teased as she shut her car door and started that walk towards the lobby entrance of the hotel.  She was greeted with a good morning from the concierge at the door, to which she returned with a brilliant smile that was only ever present anymore when she was off duty.

“I’m in the lobby, so when you are ready, I’ll meet you down here and then we need coffee, like pronto.”  A laugh was there to follow, as normally by this time she was already on her third cup, but this being a day off, the bed was her friend for longer than usual, then she was out the door to meet Lacey, so there had been no time to grab her first cup, let alone her third.   “I’ll see you in a few.  Take your time!”  Erin concluded as she hung up the phone, tucking it away into her pocket as she awaited Lacey’s arrival off the elevator.

In the meantime, Erin found a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs, taking a seat and crossing her legs across one another.  She didn’t blame Lacey for always choosing to stay in this location.  It was convenient to the city, yet held a charm within its walls.  It was this very hotel that she and C.J. had found to be their staycation location, finding an oasis of peace and quiet for the two of them in this very location on two different occasions throughout the long summer.  The first, after the Annual Gala held for the Officers and Detectives.  The second, the weekend about a month before.  She glanced down at the piece of jewelry sitting upon her left hand that had been given to her that night, before they went to this hotel to spend a weekend together, celebrating their engagement.  Each time the elevator doors opened, Erin’s eyes shot in that direction, her anticipation only growing as the two had been apart for quite some time at this point.

When the doors finally opened to reveal Lacey stepping off the elevator, Erin’s smile was the first reaction.  It was an honest and true expression, one that held a light behind her eyes that would tell her friend that she was genuinely happy in all ways at this point in time.  Lacey had seen the downsides to Erin, but this would be an entirely different woman who wasn’t afraid of the future, or settling down, or failing.  This was a genuinely happy and confident woman before her, rising from her seat, crossing the vast space from the seating to the elevator to wrap her arms around her dear friend.  “Happy Birthday!!” She exclaimed, though she had already offered such a sentiment over the phone, it just wasn’t enough.

-September 18, 2015

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Two Transgender Artists on the Importance of Queering Home

Jaimes Mayhew and Rahne Alexander in their installation “Queer Interiors” at the Baltimore Museum of Art (photo by Jill Fannon)

BALTIMORE — How often do you get the opportunity to loll around in bed at an art museum? Artists Rahne Alexander and Jaimes Mayhew invite the public to do just that in “Queer Interiors,” a site-specific installation within the exhibition Imagining Home at the Baltimore Museum of Art (BMA). While lying on a giant bed, complete with fluffy pillows and patterned comforter, you can watch a slide show projected onto a patchwork quilt on a far wall of snapshots from backyard barbecues, kitchens, and living rooms. If you get tired of reclining, you can also browse the books and personal ephemera displayed in several slim cabinets nearby. It isn’t overt, but the photos and objects reflect the lives of queer and transgender people, all willing participants in the project.

Imagining Home is a three-year exhibit featuring a variety of works culled from the museum’s permanent collection that explores ideas of domestic space. Alexander and Mayhew’s related collaboration invites viewers to connect their own domestic lives to those of LGBTQ people — to find a common bond in the everyday activities we all share at home.

The project is subtle and inclusive enough for all sorts of visitors to appreciate it; on the day that I visited with the artists, children wriggled around on the giant bed. For those who look deeper, though, “Queer Interiors” sends a powerful message to a country vacillating between fear, contempt, misunderstanding, and acceptance of transgender Americans. The installation calmly proclaims the obvious: that people, regardless of their gender or sexuality, tend to live similar lives and that we’re all entitled to equal rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When the show opened last September, this message didn’t seem so revolutionary, but since the GOP’s sweep of the federal government in November 2016 — and subsequent attempts to roll back legal protections for everyone except cisgender white males — the artists’ message has grown more poignant.

I reached out to Alexander and Mayhew to discuss the work in relation to their personal biographies, the act of queering a domestic space, and the importance of visibility for LGBTQ people in American museums.

*   *   *

Detail of Rahne Alexander and Jaimes Mayhew’s “Queer Interiors” at the Baltimore Museum of Art (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic unless otherwise noted)

CO: Can you each talk about your own experience being a transgender person? What was it like growing up and being you?

Jaimes Mayhew: I grew up not knowing that lesbian, gay, and bisexual people existed, let alone transgender people. I grew up in Littleton, Colorado, which is really conservative, heteronormative, white, and Christian. I came out as a dyke in the mid 1990s, when I was 15 or so, after going to some youth retreats with the Unitarian Universalist church and meeting people who were also gay and lesbian. I was one of two out gay or lesbian people in my high school of over 2,000 people.

I landed in Seattle in my early 20s and met other masculine-identified trans people there. I began to think about transition. My living full time as male began as a long-term performance art project for a class at the art school I was attending. Thirteen years later, I have never stopped the performance. That identity has become me, and I have become that identity.

Rahne Alexander: I was clear about my sex and gender from a very early age. As early as five I had an understanding of myself as female, and by the time I was eight I had discovered, through medical texts, that transsexuals existed. Learning that word, learning that there were medical treatments out there, somewhere, gave me a lot of hope. I lived with this quiet knowledge of myself for another decade or so, waiting to leave the closet, my hometown, and the religious oppression that threatened me with violence and conversion therapy.

Denial is a strong emotion, and I believe that it was very much at work within my family and the world in which I was raised. I think everyone knew, at a visceral level, that I was not a boy, even when they were attempting to make me participate as one in the world. As a teenager, I was passing as female frequently without even trying. The first time I was ever harassed on the street, I was called a bulldyke. The first time I was “in drag” in public was at a themed school spirit day. And as I came out to people in the years afterward, the general reaction was, “Oh, now I understand that you’re a woman. That makes sense.”

My takeaway was always that I never made sense as a male person, even to people that knew me casually. It was very telling that once I came out to my mother, I never really had a deep, continuing conflict about my gender or even my name change. She adopted those terms very quickly and easily. We held on to a difference of opinion about religion for years until she passed, but it was always very interesting to me that she welcomed my change with relative ease.

CO: Your exhibit at the BMA breaks through many stereotypes about LGBTQ people in America. It’s domestic, cozy, and emphasizes everyday life. Can you talk about the concept for this piece — why you wanted to build a giant bed, include a quilt, slide show, and cabinet, and what these objects represent? 

RA: I have always been very interested in the transformative power of the ordinary. Perhaps because of my own experience — that my own change, while revolutionary for my physical and emotional health, was really received as a sensible and ordinary progression. 

JM: The everyday is a language that can acknowledge difference while still allowing recognition of familiar things. Within the context of the Imagining Home exhibit, it seemed logical to choose a bedroom as the subject of an installation about “queering home,” because it’s a contentious place in regards to sexuality, gender, sex, and identity.

This has been the “year of the bathroom” for transgender people, and several cisgender people have asked why we didn’t choose a bathroom. I like to remind them that it isn’t really a problem for transgender people to use the bathroom in their own homes.

The bed is the stage for sexual acts with an assumption of privacy, but historically, the bedroom has not been private enough to prevent sodomy laws from attempting to stop “deviant” sexual acts from happening.

Detail of Rahne Alexander and Jaimes Mayhew’s “Queer Interiors” at the Baltimore Museum of Art

CO: What does the oversized bed mean to you?

JM: I designed the bed to be larger than life for a few reasons. This show is about queering the domestic, and the bed stands in as a monument to our shared histories with beds. It’s also playful and invites visitors to lie on it. A bed that relates to our bodies in the way that we are used to would not accomplish the same things.

The bed was an important [image] for gay artists during the HIV/AIDS epidemic. I designed the fabric for the comforter based on the bedsheets in AA Bronson’s “Felix Partz, June 5, 1994” (1994/1999), a photograph of Bronson’s General Idea collaborator hours after his death due to AIDS-related illness. The pillows on the bed, with their indentations, refer to Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s “Untitled (billboard of an empty bed)” (1991), in which the indentations in the pillows suggest absent bodies, in particular Gonzalez-Torres’s partner Ross.

Additionally, beneath the cover of the bed are 12 hand-dyed pride flags that represent just a few identities under the LGBTQ umbrella. The flags remain out of view except for on special occasions, which, for me, is the way many LGBTQ people reveal identity, mostly because we are presumed to be cisgender and straight until proven otherwise. Of course, some people can’t hide, or don’t hide their identities, but some do.

CO: Can you talk more about the ways these objects are designed to connect with a diverse museum-going audience?

RA: A lot of the work I’ve done in the last decade has been focused on making connections outside of what are maybe more insular LGBTQ spheres. My feeling is that we need to be talking across these identities — not to obscure or diminish them, but to manufacture a greater desire to connect across the barriers or spaces that identity politics can create.

This installation is something that I see as very comforting and familiar. I wanted all who see it to find some points of relation there. When I look at this exhibit, I see a queer ordinariness; in many ways, this is what my everyday life has looked like for the past 20 or 30 years. I hope that this is conveyed for other queer people as well, and I hope this helps people who think they are on the outside of queerness understand a new way of seeing.

CO: Has it been officially confirmed that this is the first major exhibit in a US art museum by transgender artists? Are there any other examples that you’re aware of?

JM: There have been other transgender people in museums. Wu Tsang, for example, has been in the Whitney Biennial and exhibited in several museums, and Zackary Drucker and Rhys Ernst were also in the Whitney Biennial. It gets difficult for me to parse exactly what this exhibit might be the first of, because it gets into a long list of qualifiers and winds up distracting from the work on some level. While it’s great to be a first, I am more excited at the opportunity to get to produce museum-quality work. I’d love it if people were interested because a trans perspective is not the norm for a museum show, and especially not the norm for a museum show in Baltimore — that’s what makes me proud to have participated in this collaboration.

RA: As far we’ve been able to determine, this is the second major museum to offer a collaborative installation by two trans artists, with the first being the 2014 Whitney Biennial, which worked with Zackary Drucker and Rhys Ernst. Other museums have worked with trans artists, to be sure, but this seems to be the first time that a major museum has offered an installation of this magnitude and duration to a pair of trans collaborators.

The art world has a long history of working with trans artists, but, as with most things that have to do with trans populations, it’s sometimes been hard to track. The Museum of Transgender Hirstory and Art offers this list of artists: niv Acosta, Mark Aguhar, Effy Beth, Justin Vivian Bond, Pauline Boudry / Renate Lorenz, Vaginal Davis, Zackary Drucker, Chloe Dzubilo, Reina Gossett and Sasha Wortzel, Juliana Huxtable, Greer Lankton, Amos Mac, Pierre Molinier, Genesis Breyer P-Orridge, Flawless Sabrina, Buzz Slutzky, and Chris Vargas.

To my mind, though, it’s really less about being able to make this claim for this exhibition. I’d like to see more museums actively seek out these kinds of collaborations, because trans artists have been making excellent and challenging work for a long while. I’d like this to be a more common practice.

A group of children visiting Rahne Alexander and Jaimes Mayhew’s “Queer Interiors” at the Baltimore Museum of Art, with the artists on the bed in background

CO: Why is it important for museums to support the message and mission of equality for LGBTQ communities? What is a museum uniquely poised to offer that other institutions can’t?

RA: I’ve heard many people say that they haven’t seen themselves represented in art; specifically, I’ve heard from some people that they have never seen such a concentration of queer people in a museum all at once before coming to our opening night. These comments have made me recognize that I’ve found myself in the privileged position to have much more frequently visited museums and found queer alliances there, perhaps because I’ve sought out the work of artists that have fueled me.

JM: As an audience member, I was really inspired by Carlos Motta’s show We Who Feel Differently at the New Museum back in 2012. It changed the way I thought about LGBTQ time, bodies, and lives, as well as breaking new imaginative ground in what an exhibition’s content could be, especially as it related to LGBTQ people. Seeing a history of something I could relate to in a museum legitimized a whole history that has not been well documented. The New Museum offered a space for this to happen and be on display. Art museums act as a container for objects that are institutionally ranked as higher on the hierarchy, that are special, and that are important to a culture and time period.

I am grateful to get to make a show about LGBTQ communities and to have it in the BMA. I am especially excited that we are in Baltimore doing this show, and not in one of the major LGBTQ centers like New York, San Francisco, and others that have more recognized histories of LGBTQ people. I am so happy that so many people in our communities are excited by the installation, are participating, and that we have built a space that speaks to these communities.

RA: This exhibition tells me that the things our work is exploring matter. I haven’t even been alive that long on this planet, but in that time I’ve had my political concerns and artistic interests dismissed and diminished by people both inside and outside of my communities. It moves me that the concerns and interests explored in this piece have been valorized by the BMA, an institution whose own reputation and collection is so stunning to me.

“Queer Interiors” continues at the Baltimore Museum of Art (10 Art Museum Drive, Baltimore, MD) through August 31.

The post Two Transgender Artists on the Importance of Queering Home appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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[newssplashy]

Goni, who is undergoing rehabilitation at a military detention camp in Maiduguri, said this in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN).

A 32 year-old former Boko Haram Commander, Rawana Goni, has appealed to the Nigerian military authorities to allow him make a phone call to the elusive leader, Abubakar Shekau and at least 137 other terrorists to make them surrender.

Goni, who is undergoing rehabilitation at a military detention camp in Maiduguri, said this in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN).

The former Boko Haram commander is an indigene of Bama in Borno state. He surrendered to the military in Cameroon after escaping from Sambisa Forest eight months ago.

He claimed to have held several positions in ten different cells of Boko Haram in Sambisa. He said the last position he held was as the Chief officer of Dispute Resolution for the group. He explained that many militants came to him to settle problems ranging from family matters. He also reconciled Boko Haram factions.

“I rescued people sentenced to death and minimised punishment of those who committed crimes. I am one of the most influential persons in the group and they always listened and abided by what I said.

“I  joined Boko Haram because of the condition I found myself in the last five years. When the insurgents invaded Bama town, I ran with my family to Cameroon thinking I was in a safe destination. But on reaching Cameroon, I was shocked to realise that I brought myself into another Boko Haram camp. By that time, I knew I would not survive without joining the group.

“Days after my induction, we opened a permanent camp at the Cameroon border and named the forest “Aluska”. It was in that camp that I learnt all types of trainings including handling weapons.

“After the training,  we embarked on our first mission.We invaded a military formation in Cameroon, dislodged the soldiers and took many weapons from their armoury. We couldn’t take any vehicle because the area was surrounded by river.

“We took the weapons we recovered to our leader Abubakar Shekau and briefed him on our success. He was happy that five of us could dislodge a military formation. After congratulating us, he appointed me to lead the group and returned our weapons to us.

“Few days later, I recruited many fighters, because as a commander, you are expected to have no fewer than 250 fighting troops.

“With the new fighting force, we invaded Waza village, Damaga and Banki. We also invaded Bama which is my hometown.

“I was touched to see my people being tortured and killed, while many women and children were living in excruciating hardship. So I decided to pass a message to my fellow insurgents from Bama and we formed a group comprising of about 137 persons to help our people in prison to escape.

“I was able to rescue about 300 hostages at the prison facility in Bama. I usually lied to the guards at the prison that I was going to kill the inmates. But I would take them to a safe place in Konduga and ask them to run to a safer destination.

“Many of the prisoners were exposed to hard labour while some were used as guinea-pigs at shooting range by new arms handlers among Boko Haram,”he said.

On Abubakar  Shekau’s health status, Goni told NAN that the insurgents’ leader was healthy as against a report that he was ill.

“Nothing happened to him. He broke his leg five years ago while riding on a horse. But he had since recovered. Any one saying Shekau is sick is only deceiving himself. We used to communicate through radiophone but not any more,”he said.

Goni who believed that the war was coming to an end, urged  the military to let him tell Shekau and other insurgents that he is still alive.

“My 137 boys are on standby to hear I am still alive and I can assure you they will run out of Sambisa Forest and surrender to the military. I once told them to surrender and they said we shall all get killed.But I told them that I will surrender and they said if nothing happened to me, they will all come out,” he said.

Goni commended the military for the special treatment given to inmates who surrendered.

“They received us with joy and interact with us at all time. They feed us well and always want to know our problems. If other Boko Haram members knew how we are being treated, they will never want to remain where they are,”he said.

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