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soundsof71 · 3 years

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So, considering you are a passionate fan of music released in 1971, I feel justifiably obligated to ask you what you think of Buffy Sainte-Marie's 'She Used to Wanna Be a Ballerina' album. 😂 (Also, it would make me beyond happy if you could post more about Buffy, my friend! Thank you! ❣)

Buffy Sainte-Marie + Crazy Horse - what’s not to love? LOL I confess that it was the Crazy Horse connection that caught my attention first. I had a general idea who Buffy was, had seen her on TV a few times, but I was a big Crazy Horse fan. News that they were her backing band for this album was easily enough for me to scoop it up.

They weren’t doing anything much with Neil Young in 1971 (other than this album, on which Neil also appeared!), but they had released a tasty solo album in February 71, produced by Jack Nitzsche (who also produced this, and would later marry Buffy), and featuring Ry Cooder (also featured here, although did not marry Buffy).

(btw, the first place that Buffy, Ry, and Jack worked together was on the Nic Roeg film Performance, starring Mick Jagger. People obviously remember Mick in that, but musically, Buffy was the best part!)

She Used To Wanna... also features Jesse Ed Davis, a Native American guitarist and singer who was a frequent “usual suspect” at these sort of “sure, invite everyone!” jam albums of the era, and played a prominent role at 1971′s biggest concert (at least in the US), The Concert for Bangladesh on August 1.

(I know you know RUMBLE: The Indians Who Rocked The World, the documentary about indigenous music’s influence on rock and roll, which has chapters on both Buffy and Jesse Ed. I just watched it again recently, and love it! A reminder of Buffy’s pivotal role in classic rock history. Not mentioned in the film: she relentlessly championed the work of her fellow Canadians Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen, helping them get their first record deals.)

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I haven’t listened to She Used To Wanna Be A Ballerina for a while, so I definitely need to do that, along with posting more pictures of Buffy. (I can’t believe I’ve only posted two!)

But I’ll tell you what still stands out to me about that record years later. “Smack Water Jack” is an underrated track from Carole King’s Tapestry that got a ton of airplay at the time. Quincy Jones did an instrumental cover as the title track for his terrific 1971 album, too, but it has somehow faded to obscurity since then. Buffy takes a playful trifle, and turns it into a powerful fable of men of color who explode into violence in response to the violence visited upon them, and self-satisfaction of whites in authority who answer their demands for better living conditions by killing them on the spot.

No need for a trial when you can murder them in the streets, right? “You can't talk to a man when he don't wanna understand / And he don't wanna understand” hits different when Buffy sings it, and in 2020 for that matter.

It’s also just a terrific performance whose combination of soul and rock and roll and driving piano in a sort of Old West-sounding context would have made this sound right at home on a record like Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection or something by The Band. I’m limited to five video embeds per post so I can’t embed it here, so I'm linking instead: anyone who hasn’t heard this definitely needs to.

Her cover of Neil’s CSNY track “Helpless” has things I like even better than Neil’s original, including Merry Clayton standing in for CSN. Buffy’s version is more muscular (thanks again to Crazy Horse), and taps even more deeply into the isolation of the song that the star power of CSNY somewhat obscured.

Buffy’s version also made a brief but memorable appearance in the 2018 film Hotel Artemis, starring Jodie Foster. A weird little movie that I loved maybe more than it deserved LOL but I recommend nonetheless:

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I know that this album gets attention because of the unusual number of covers, including one by Leonard Cohen, and a cover of a cover that Leonard had made famous on top of that, called "Song of the French Partisan” (hers is the far superior version imo, a song of French resistance to Nazi occupation from the perspective of a woman hiding a resister), but there are a couple of standout originals too.

I love the title of this record, and the title track is a delightful little stomper that playfully cautions against equating the intentions of grown women with the childhood fantasies they’ve grown out of. More Merry Clayton goodness here on backing vocals too.

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“Soldier Blue” is a powerful song first written for the 1970 film of the same name, billed at the time as “The most savage film in history” -- and maybe it was. It used the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre as a metaphor for Vietnam, and it's still shockingly brutal. It was the third-highest grossing movie in the UK in 1971, though, and the single became a top-10 hit for Buffy there.

It didn’t do as well here, either the song or the movie. Perhaps not shockingly in retrospect, Soldier Blue was pulled from American theaters after a few days, the Vietnam metaphor not at all lost on the Nixon administration.

As horrifying as it was, this is about when I was reading Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee (first published in 1970), and Soldier Blue resonated with me in a whole lot of ways. Here’s the song in the opening credits of the movie.

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I was also really struck by “Moratorium”, which is the story of “Universal Soldier” (from her 1963 debut, but a bigger hit for Donovan in 1965), coming from the opposite direction. In the earlier song, she blamed war on the soldiers who think that fighting is honorable, but here, she has empathizes with the young men, boys really in many cases, who’ve been lied to by their countries, their parents, and even their friends. They’re not vainglorious. They’ve been duped by people they trusted.

(I don't think she takes enough into account how many men sign up to fight because they want to embrace and celebrate their worst, most violent impulses, which was of course an undercurrent of “Universal Soldier”, but I appreciate her empathy here. More than one thing is true at a time.)

Buffy goes even farther, though, calling on soldiers to support and validate demands for peace as explicitly supporting them, summed up in the unforgettable cry, "Fuck the war and bring our brothers home!"

1971 was the peak of antiwar demonstrations in the US, with the biggest crowds ever seen in this country until the 2017 Women’s March. The May 1971 demonstrations pretty much shut down Washington, culminating with Vietnam Veterans Against The War throwing back their medals on the steps of the US Capitol, incredibly powerful stuff to see on TV in my formative years, and Buffy was right there in it. Anti-war songs were a cottage industry for sure, but nobody was writing with the nuance and empathy that Buffy was.

Here’s a 1972 performance of “Moratorium”, Buffy and a piano, and more emotionally bare than that:

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There’s obviously lots more to say about Buffy, far outside the realm of protest music that was actually just a small part of her musical palette -- her pioneering experiments with electronic music, her educational philanthropy starting in her 20s, Sesame Street, you name it. Her commercial peak was still in front of her, and while I can’t say that this is my favorite of her records, it does have some of my favorite songs of hers, and 1971 and She Used to Wanna Be A Ballerina is definitely where I went from knowing who Buffy Sainte-Marie was to being a fan.

I'll also note as I do now and again that while this blog started as an offshoot of a book on 1971 that I’d started but abandoned, I mostly listen to music released now. That’s always been my policy, including in 1971. When 1972 rolled up, I was mostly listening to music from 1972, music from ‘80 in ‘80, ‘91 in ‘91, 2018 in 2018, etc., to name just a few other favorites. (Plus The Beatles, okay? LOL I still listen to The Beatles every day. No apologies.) Honestly? It took me until 2011, in my fifties, when a whole bunch of 40th anniversary editions of 1971 albums got released all at once that made me think, “Wait a minute, this was maybe THE pivotal year in classic rock history!”

So yeah, the historian in me dug into 1971, but even though I happened to be alive and enthralled by music in that year, what I’m doing here has nothing to do with nostalgia, or any idea that that was the *best* year in music, even if for the narrow slice of music that is classic rock, yeah, it absolutely is. For soul/R&B too, and for the explosion of women artists outside the even narrower confines of pop as well. This is not subject to debate. No year like it, before or since. It's just that classic rock is a such a narrow slice, and I like my slices wide. LOL Which is also why my blog has less and less 1971 content as I go along.

While my general policy is that my favorite year for music is THIS year, this particular year hasn’t left me as much energy as usual for listening to music. Some of it is These Trying Times™, some of it is my bipolarity and schizophrenia getting the better of me in waves, as is the way with these, uhm, things. (Keep taking those meds, kids!) I listen to music and post about the people making it as a creative act, not a passive or reflexive one, and I just haven’t felt as creative as usual.

(This is also has everything to do with why so many Asks have been piling up unanswered. I apologize if you’re one of the many kind and indulgent souls who’s gotten in touch, but I swear I’m gonna get to ‘em all!)

To get an idea of what I’m ACTUALLY passionate about right now, my “to be edited later” running list of 2020 favorites randomly added to a playlist as I encounter them, to be properly curated later, is at Spotify, cleverly entitled “2020″ -- 94% women, which is about right. LOL

But since I do in fact listen to old stuff (by which I mean 2019 LOL), I made a list of mostly 2020 bangers from women rockers with some tasty treats from 2019 that I haven’t been able to let go of just yet, inspired by a post I saw at tumblr saying that punk music by women is just plain better (also beyond debate), called “Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam”. I’ll be posting an essay with a YouTube playlist soon, because god forbid that I only talk briefly about anything LOL and most of these women need to be heard AND seen.

Like Buffy Sainte-Marie, whom you'll both see and hear more often on my blog soon. Thanks for the reminder! Always a pleasure to hear from you and be challenged by you. :-)

Peace, Tim

#ask #musicrunsthroughmysoul #buffy saint marie #women in rock #1971 #she used to wanna be a ballerina #1971 album #youtube #1971 single #crazy horse #essay #me

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escapewriter · 4 years

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Halo

pairing : student!seungkwan x student!reader

synopsis : being in love with your best friend caused you to make some very impulsive decisions like, oh look at that, taking him to New York to watch Beyoncé perform.

genre : fluff

word count : 1.5k

a/n : can not believe i came up with this but it made my heart flutter lol. this isn’t proof read to perfection so im sorry if there are any typos or grammar mistakes.

svt written masterlist || main masterlist

“Hey Boo!” Seungkwan whipped his head to find you running up to him. “YN? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in class,” You leaned forward, your hand resting on your knee as you panted for air. “You good? That was barely a run,” standing back up straight, you looked at your best friend dead in the eye.

“You have to be free this coming break.”

You and Seungkwan have been best friends since he moved next door when you were in middle school. You both walked to school together, ate food at the convenience store together, and went to school dances together, of course platonically, for him at least.

No surprise, you are totally infatuated with the man that is Boo Seungkwan, which brings you here, standing in front of him, with Chan and Vernon behind him, concerned looks on their facial features.

“I think I am, why?” Grinning, you lifted your head a little higher, a proud smile on your face and turned around, your back facing him, “you might wanna speak to your mom Boo, she has some important news for you.”

You walked away from him, going to your final class of the day, excitement bubbling in your chest as you thought about what’s in store for Boo Seungkwan

The next morning, you were woken up at 5am to Seungkwan banging at your front door. You opened the door, glaring at the man who had a backpack and suitcase, “Seungkwan, I know you’re excited, but our flight isn’t until 11, so please, let me sleep!” he walked past you and into your living room, “How the hell are you not excited? We’re going to New York!” He began to sing Empire State of Mind as you crashed onto the sofa.

“YN, what are you doing? You should get ready! It’s a long flight but a big day!” You groaned into the pillow, tuning out his loud voice.

He looked at your slumped form on the couch and grabbed a cushion, hitting your back with it repeatedly. “Get! Up! You can sleep on the plane!” You sat up, snatching the pillow away from him. “As I said before, It is 5am. Our flight is at 11! Either you let me sleep or I will rip up your ticket.” He pouted and slumped down on the couch, turning on the TV.

“I’m waking you up at 7,” “Thank you.”

“YN,” the sound of your mom’s voice filled your ears as you slowly opened your eyes. You looked at Seungkwan who was fast asleep next to you and shot up, checking the time on the clock.

“Sweetie don’t worry, it’s only 7:15, you have time to get ready.” You nodded and kissed your mom’s cheek, thanking her, and went to your room.

As you got ready, you pictured Seungkwan’s reaction to the gift you got him. It wasn’t his birthday or anything, you just felt that he needed an appreciation gift. You haven’t been able to spend as much time with him because you’ve been working extra hours just so you could save up for this trip. But of course, he’s noticed your lack of activities spent with him, causing him to think that he hasn’t been a good friend. What a perfect way to show him how important he is to you.

You finished getting ready and brought your suitcase and backpack to the living room, Seungkwan laying sprawled out on the couch, still out like a light. Your mom came into the room from the kitchen with a tray of snacks for you both to eat for breakfast.

“Seungkwan, wake up,” you shook his shoulder as he opened his eyes and processed his surroundings. He yawned and stretched, looking at the food that was on the table, digging in.

“You didn’t wake me up at 7,” he looked up at you with wide eyes, and then focused on the clock that was behind you, “holy crap it’s 7:45.” You laughed and ate some strawberries, “My mom is gonna drop us off so we’re probably gonna leave soon.”

On cue, your mom emerged from her room, dressed and ready to go, “alright, let's get going. You both have everything? Passport? Plane ticket?” The two of you nodded your head, “Okay then, let’s go.”

You yawned as the two of you retrieved your suitcases from the cab driver. “Thank you Sir, have a good rest of your night.” Turning to Seungkwan, you smiled as he looked around the area, “You like it?” He looked down at you, “It’s more enjoyable because I know it’s going to be easier to get around. Thank god you speak english.” You laughed and slightly pushed him for teasing you.

“YN, where is the hotel at?” You pointed to the building that was right across the street. “We can settle in for the night, unless you want to go eat something.” He debated for a moment, “No, I ate enough on the plane. Let’s go check in and sleep, we have a lot of touring to do tomorrow.”

You smiled at him as he began to cross the street, both of your suitcases in his hands. You think that this was a good idea, but now, you don’t know how you’re going to contain everything.

“Does it look like I’m holding it?” Seungkwan yelled at you as you positioned the camera at an angle so it would look like he had the Statue of Liberty in his palm, “Yeah! Now smile!” He shot you a bright smile, happiness glowing in his eyes as the camera made a clicking noise.

He ran up to you, “How does it look?” You opened up the picture and showed it to him as he smiled and said, “Perfect!” The two of you continued touring the city, exploring places that you have done some research on as well as Seungkwan suggesting places that Vernon’s mom recommended.

You ended up at a small cafe, sitting in a booth by the window. You both ate your muffins in silence as Seungkwan looked back at some of the pictures that were taken. You looked at him and smiled to yourself, thinking about giving him the surprise now. Yeah, going to New York was only part of the surprise.

“Seungkwan?” He hummed, his eyes not leaving the camera but his head moving up to face you. You smiled again, “Seungkwan?” His eyes moved to stare into yours, “You can’t get mad at me for this, and you can’t top this either, but tonight, we’re going to a concert.”

His eyes widened, “Really?? Who’s performing?” You thought about keeping the secret a little longer so you twisted the truth a bit. “Jay-Z.”

You entered Madison Square Garden with Seungkwan behind you. “I know that this is a great arena and Jay-Z is cool, but I just don’t really know some of his songs.” After finding your seat, you sat down, “Oh please, you were literally singing Empire State of Mind before we left Korea.” He turned towards you abruptly, “That’s his song? I thought it was Alicia Keys’ song. Oh my god, do you think she’ll guest star tonight?” “Oh, someone will definitely be a guest star tonight.”

As more people fill in the empty seats, the lights begin to dim as people start to stand up. “Oooo yes, Jay-Z in all his glory. I still feel really bad because I only know one song,” laughing, you slightly shoved him, “I’m sure he’ll forgive you. But look, everyone is standing, you learn something new everyday.” ‘What exactly do you learn? That American’s stand during concerts when they have seats that are meant to be sat on?”

Suddenly, an instrumental started playing as the crowd began to cheer. The colorful lights shone the arena as the spotlight flashed onto the performer. “That doesn’t look like Jay-Z,” “Seungkwan be quiet and just look,” He focused on the big screen, the unknown performer still a silhouette until they lifted up their face and presented the audience with a bright smile.

“Holy fuck, that’s Beyoncé. YN! THAT IS BEYONCÉ! YOU TOOK ME TO A BEYONCÉ CONCERT??” Seungkwan began to shake your shoulders as you laughed at his reaction. Crazy in Love boomed in your eardrums, the big smile on his face making your heart swell.

“I can’t believe you got us tickets to watch Beyoncé! God, I could kiss you right now!” Not knowing what he said, he turned back to watch her perform as you lost your breath like you ran a marathon. You grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at you.

“Do it, or I’ll do it first.” He scanned your eyes, trying to read you before quickly leaning forward and placing his lips onto yours.

He pulled away and smiled, “Finally, and all it took was you taking me to a Beyonce concert.” You both turned your focus back towards the stage as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. “I basically did all the work, you were the one with no balls.”

You felt his chest rumble as he laughed, “That is true, but now I don’t have to be afraid of telling you that I love you.” You smiled and looked down, hugging him tighter. Halo started playing as you leaned into his embrace so that there was no more space left between the two of you. Swaying to the music, you said, “I love you too.”

#seventeen #seungkwan #seventeen oneshot #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #escapewriter oneshot

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mjjicons · 3 years

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apparently i’m an attorney right now

hey guys

this bitch right here

@deborahdeshoftim5779 i can’t even write her username without copying and pasting it but there we go

she’s trying you guyssss she’s really trying to come for michael

maybe inside her basement......no bathing for days... we know quarantine right.. people get crazy

so here i am responding to the “EVIDENCE THAT MICHAEL JACKSON MOLESTED CHILDREN” because.... i don’t know why tho

but this bitch challenged me and virgos love a challenge

we do love a challenge.. so

RESPONDING TO DEBORAH BLAH BLAH BLAH ABOUT HER BULLSHIT AND MICHAEL JACKSON OBSESSION

Michael Jackson slept in bed with other people’s children. Everyone, including @mjjicons, knows this is inappropriate and unacceptable. The majority of sexual abuse accusations against Michael Jackson have stemmed from the fact that he slept in bed with other people’s children. This is one of the clear reasons why parents do not allow their children to sleep in bed with adult strangers, and @mjjicons knows this very well.

this one is actually so shitty that i can’t even lol i highlighted the most important part on this.. this is actually not true

with a simple google search we can type in like “michael jackson accusations timeline” (i don’t have to do that because i actually know every single one of them but for proof purposes)

safechuck said he met michael in 1986 in a pepsi commercial set and of course, he said that michael asked him to sleep with him as seen in here:

alright! let’s do some research then

1986... what a year you guys! what a year!

here we have a great year review on the detail. (a youtube channel that i love so so so so so so so so much). and as we all know, 1986 was really important for michael jackson’s career overall, because that was the year when he wrote his (amazing) record called BAD!! kinda reclused. and of course he had the time to be the humanitarian he was:

also i can refute your “evidence number two” that michael only cared about pre-pubescent boys.. here’s our girl donna having a blast with my baby and bubbles.

also, safechuck said that he gave him the thriller jacket in the meeting.......but that’s actually a lie

because that jacket is with..... lady gaga! because it never was in safechuck’s hands. it was sold for her in a auction.

let’s go forward, shall we?

back to 86. allegations say that michael asked safechuck to sleep with him in the same bed in a trip to hawaii! of course if michael jackson was in hawaii in 1986 we would have some candids.

let’s do our research once again. he was never in hawaii in 86.... 87... no... here we go, 88, with safechuck and his family:

this was in february 1, 1988, at the kahala hilton hotel - hawaii. found it. also, this was the day of “moonwalk - the autobiography” release!

here he is with everyone! and our buddy alan light actually met him at the time:

as alan said, his team was with him too, of course. digging more information we can see it was a business trip and he brought his “friends” with him (fake bitchessss) as always. the first accusations, however, were made to the LAPD in 1993. james was with his whole family in there, fans around, team around, everyone. the only evidence is safechuck’s word, that as we saw before we can’t trust that much. i will explain why in a bit. michael had no time to bullshit in 1988, because this was the year of his american leg of the bad tour, and of course, shooting every single video from the bad era. iconic! he was in japan also in january-february as seen on his year review.

unfortunately i don’t have his hotel files from this time to see how many rooms he booked, but as a fan i can say that when michael did stay in hotels, it was common for him to book the whole hallway. (please read j. randy taraborrelli’s book if interested). same bed huh.......i don’t think so too

michael was diagnosed with vitiligo at the time, and his self-esteem wasn’t 100% (for his whole life actually) so i doubt he would let anyone in his room. also, his addiction to medication was also at the beggining. he was working so much as you can see. wait a minute. i have to eat my breakfast.

back at it.

about sleeping with children in the same bed in other occasions:

with the allegations made firstly in 1993, michael had to explain himself about every situation envolving himself and kids around him. he wasn’t a men of interviews, but on the topic, michael always said he never was alone with little boys in a bedroom. there always was someone when he did watch movies with his friends, including liz taylor, in any room (neverland had a whole movie theater there) and if falling asleep was the case, he mostly laid down on the floor. and he didn’t sleep a lot either. he couldn’t.

about sharing a bed tho, it happened! i’m not saying this never happened, brett barnes said it happened, in opposite sides, no touching. it happened, yes, and this is something not common between you and someone that isn’t your own kid. but it doesn’t mean that michael took off his clothes and had sex with a minor. not only a minor, but small boys. when someone is accused of pedophilia this is obviously a red flag, but those red flags were investigated by the FBI and local police (LAPD). if michael did it with a little boy, his DNA, sperm, skin would be all over them. the abuse would be clear. a kid doesn’t have body structure to handle abuse and heal fast enough. those are little kids. the brain development and body development aren’t enough to hide such a thing. if michael did it, he would be arrested FOR LIFE. oh yes he would. because no one besides his fans were there for him when shit got bad. people wanted his head in a plate with a tomato in his mouth.

on a side note i don’t know why people think michael was someone that always had time to keep little boys around him and sleeping around with them...........he worked his ass off EVERY SINGLE YEAR OF HIS ACTIVE CAREER LIFE. years and years on tour, no privacy, no free time, no real friends, no real family, no one.........

2. The vast majority of “special friends” were pre-pubescent boys, who Jackson dumped once they hit puberty. Joy Robson testified to this in 2005, saying that she told June Chandler this would happen to her son as well. Joy Robson admitted in court that the dumping had a serious mental effect on the boys, as they were no longer the favourite.

this is the biggest lie ever. i can’t even. about “the vast majority of michael’s friends being pre-pubescent boys” i won’t even post pictures of him and little girls because this is actually.........sick.............you are just a google search away... don’t be a lazy bitch.

this dumping thing is so sad to read because it portraits kids as literal objects. and this is actually a lie too. michael mantained contact with people for years, like macaulay, the cascio family (including all the kids), omer, his nephews, tata vega..... so many people, so many children. the female-chandler had jordan and his sister as kids, and in the years that michael related with them he was at family barbecues with the chandlers (and the press even called them his new family) because he was always around EVERYONE.

the 2005 trial was the only one actually dumped in all of this because there was no evidence against michael. and 2005 is actually a really important year for all of us, because it was the year of the innocent veredict. and wade robson was a witness in this trial. ON MICHAEL’S FAVOUR. if joy robson warned june about this in this trial WHY WOULD HER KID TESTIFY IN A ALLEGED PEDOPHILE’S SIDE??????????

this makes no sense. and also, the clownery was way too much. in the book “untouchable” by randall sullivan (i do not know if this is the english title because i am brazilian and here this is the title for the book, i just translated it. but you can find it everywhere) the author describes how the prosecution tried too hard to accuse michael. they were always catching “witnesses” - even a man that said michael molested him in the 80′s, but when asked about the dates, time, what happened, the court found michael wasn’t even in the place the man said he was at the time. but they demanded michael to testify on court anyway - to talk about a child he never met in a day he was at a event - with pictures and shit. a solid alibi. it was ignored. the witch hunt was big and they were ready to put michael in handcuffs WHENEVER THEY COULD. they just needed something. and this something never came.

if you are good enough to get all “your evidence” together, don’t be lazy to check facts. as i said before, it’s a google search away.

about joy robson, this bitch is bipolar or.. idk. because she was thriving in 2013 liking posts about michael and how good he was.

2013 was also the year wade filled his allegations against michael. because wade realized that michael actually did the wrong to him in 2012. before that, as a grown ass man, in the ‘05 trial, he didn’t. but in 2012 oh boy we are here just realizing things.

in 2009, michael’s passing, the estate released the michael jackson opus, a big book of memories and good stuff. wade was there too and made a beautiful statement, as follows:

“Michael Jackson changed the world and, more personally, my life forever. He is the reason I dance, the reason I make music, and one of the main reasons I believe in the pure goodness of human kind.”

and after that, wade wanted to be on charge of all the tributes related to michael in tv shows and awards. that’s pretty big right......to work in the name of your “abuser”.......

now you answer me: how did joy robson warned june chandler about anything if she, herself, said that wade didn’t show a single sign that he was abused by michael? she even said michael coached him to be “a master of deception” and that “wade should have won an oscar for lying that good for her” on court (2013) and that she was lied to so good that she never believed anything.... but warned chandler’s mom about “dumping”? what dumping?

if wade was dumped and really sad about it.....why would he want to lead shit about michael after he died? if your molester died....you should cheer up....

just a side note: joy said in leaving neverland that when michael died she was so relieved and danced around BUT HOW IF HER SON JUST WROTE A WHOLE LOVE LETTER TO MICHAEL JACKSON IN HIS MEMORIAL

is it crack? is it? what you smoke? following up..

3. Michael Jackson’s “special friends” include: Emmanuel Lewis (Brooke Shields said in 1984 that it looked like the pop star was dating the boy, rather than her), Jonathan Spence (Jackson owned a naked photograph of him), James Safechuck, Brett Barnes (Jackson is on video pretending this boy is his cousin), Macaulay Culkin, Wade Robson, Jordan Chandler, Jason Francia, Arnold Schleiter, Sean Lennon (Mark Ronson said that Jackson watched pornography with both of them in a hotel room), Omer Bhatti (whom Jackson met in a Tunisian hotel, and pretended the boy was his son), David Martinez, Gavin Arvizo, Michael Jacobshagen, and his nephews (whom the police suspected him of molesting, and with whom he took an inappropriate photo shoot for Star Magazine).

“brooke shields said in 1984 that blahblagabal” when where WHERE bitch where

i think people don’t actually answer your allegations because it is so DUMB that no one wants to waste their time with you. like......why am i doing this

i am just on #3 and i’m so tired because THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT IT are you wade robson in a fake account? just take off your mask

just

why

if you have this brooke shields line please show me???? i would like to see it

michael didn’t meet omer in a tunisian hotel, he actually met him because he was in a contest for michael jackson impersonators.......and he loves him, and pia, his mom, is so grateful for everything michael done for their family WHY AM I RESPONDING TO THIS i am so frustrated

4. Joy Robson also testified in 2005 that Jackson had called her up in the middle of the night in December 1993, asking that Wade Robson be brought to his bedroom. She admitted that she went back home, after leaving her son with Jackson. For context, Jackson was under investigation for child sexual abuse of Jordan Chandler at the time

she actually didn’t because she wasn’t a witness on court at the time. wade was. she wasn’t. as i showed before. next.

actually i’m tired because all of this is so dumb and i am wasting my time........ let’s just jump to the final shit.

We have good reason to believe that Jackson molested other boys not named above. For example, who was the boy whose semi-nude photograph was found inside Jackson’s bedroom in August 1993?

they never found anything in ‘93 because if they did michael would be arrested...............

Who filed a Restraining Order against Jackson back in the 80′s, and who reported this to the FBI?

no one filed a restraining order against michael back in 80′s. there is no such evidence. the fbi files are public and you can access them and read everything.

Who were the two Mexican boys that Jackson was accused of molesting back in 1985-1986?

michael didn’t have contact with any mexican people between ‘85 and ‘86 as i said before, in his year review, and in ‘85 he was never seen with any mexican boys because he was working in USA for africa, we are the world and captain EO. nothing michael did was away from the public eye.

Who were the other boys that slept in Jackson’s bedroom, according to a security guard? Who were the boys/men whose DNA was found in semen stains on Jackson’s mattress in November 2003? Who was the “Rhonda” who sent Jackson a picture book of naked boys, because she said Jackson might like them? What did Norma Staikos know about Jackson’s predilection for pre-pubescent boys? Who was the boy that Darlene Craviotto saw Jackson alone with in 1991 (reported in her book)?

norma staikos was his personal assistant at the time and wade said she knew about “what was going on” and was someone that arranged all the “sexual meetings” as said on court right here, but this meeting mentioned by wade on court was actually arranged BY HIS OWN MOTHER!

and the book by darlene craviotto never mentioned anything sexual between michael and boys, actually it’s a kind book about how michael helped her with her agoraphobia................

WOW THAT WAS LONG AND I FEEL SO DUMB RIGHT NOW

the rest of your evidence isn’t worth the read or the research because i’m not the one who should be doing this, debora, it should be you. just google it. or show something more credible, maybe actual proof? pictures? videos? audiotapes? where are they?

why am i here tho?

fuck you bitch

#michael jackson #michael #jackson #mjinnocent

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1143

survey by brock-checkitout

Do you like cheese? Yeah but not to an obsessive extent like most people on the internet seem to be. I have a lower tolerance when it comes to cheeses with stronger or more pungent flavors, and I like sticking to those on the creamy side, like feta and burrata.

What type of shampoo do you use? Dove.

Do turtles make you happy? I mean not as much as dogs would but they are animals, so encountering one would still make me giddy and happy :)))

Name one person who snores in their sleep. Both of my parents, which is why I used to dread whenever we’d book a trip and there’s only one main room available for the 5 of us.

Would you walk around a grocery store with a bra as glasses? Sure, if I was gonna do it for like a cause or something. Or if I got paid for it. I can’t imagine why I’d ever have to casually/randomly do it. Also how would that even work, if it actually had to work as glasses???

Can you do the HoeDown ThrowDown? That movie came out when we were in the midst of moving houses and everything was super hectic in my little 10 year old life, so I never got to wach it, actually. I missed out on the whole Hoedown Throwdown craze and I distinctly remember jealously watching over my classmates as they danced it together.

Do you like Hershey's Chocolate bars? Just the cookies and cream variant.

What smiley face do you use the most? :) I very rarely use others.

What type of cell phone do you have? I have an iPhone 8.

Do you listen to rap? Not so much. For the most part, I stick to my tried and tested albums, like Jay-Z and Kanye’s Watch the Throne.

Look at something green, does it have batteries in it? That would be a nearby alcohol bottle, and no, it does not need batteries.

What's the first thing that comes to your mind when I say: PRINTER? Ink and paper.

What is the last cuss word you said out loud? Not so sure, but since I commonly say shit and fuck they could serve as safe enough guesses.

Do you like cows? Sure.

What kind of car does your mother drive? These days we split ‘my’ car between us since we sold our third car, which used to be the one she’d usually drive. The new arrangement used to bug me at first because it meant I now had to notify my mom in advance whenever I planned to drive out, but I’ve since gotten used to the setup.

What do you get in your tacos? I don’t eat tacos. Not that I dislike them; there are just many other Mexican dishes I find more filling.

What is your opinion on blueberries? As a flavor, it’s fine. But I actually tried an actual blueberry for the very first time last week when my aunt sent over a blueberry cheesecake - I really wanted to give it a chance, but I still found it nasty :( I really don’t know why I hate fruits so much lmao.

Are you currently wearing lip gloss/chap stick? Nopes.

Is there a bottle of lotion near you? There isn’t.

Name one person that you know that smokes. Sam smokes superexcessively. Like I’ve completely forgotten how much she can smoke in an evening until I hung out with her again a few weeks ago. It was half impressive and half terrifying; and my clothes ended up smelling because of it.

What's your favorite season? We don’t have the usual four seasons, but based on what I’ve seen in media, spring and winter look and feel the most pleasant to me.

Are any of your friends vegetarians? No.

What is one phrase that you hate hearing? “All lives matter” really pisses me off.

Can you name four presidents right now? Rodrigo Duterte, Ramon Magsaysay, Fidel Ramos, Diosdado Macapagal. But because I’m guessing this meant American presidents...George W. Bush, John F. Kennedy, Andrew Jackson, Harry Truman.

What is the first thing you think of when I say: HOOD? A jacket.

Do you currently own a cat? Nope.

What do you think of Ulta? I think of the fact that I’ve never heard of that before and I don’t actually know what this is referring to.

Have you ever walked into a club and asked for a Coke? No.

Do you like classical music? Sure, some.

What is your opinion on Oreos? I had the biscuits like a billion times as a kid to the point that I got sick of them. I will always pick the Oreo flavor in other desserts though, be it cheesecake, cupcake, cookies, milkshakes, tc.

Do you like Chips-Ahoy? No, tastes too artificial/processed. I’ll always go for freshly-baked cookies.

What did ya think of this survey? It was fine. I *think* I haven’t taken this before either, so that’s a plus lol.

survey by carolynnnnonia

1. What time did you wake up this morning? Around 6:30ish.

2. When did you take your default picture? It’s not a photo of me, it’s a still from BoJack Horseman. Years ago I saw someone on Twitter use it as a default and I found it hilarious, so I decided to do the same thing for this blog.

3. Are you hungry? Mmm not so much right now actually. I had a midnight snack that I only got to finish by like 2 AM so I still feel pretty filled.

4. Have you ever cheated on a test? Yup but just once. When I ended up perfecting the exam I cheated on, I felt like a fraud and I’ve never cheated since. I’d rather get an honest 99 than get a 100 that I’m ashamed of, lol.

5. When was the last time you ate ice cream? I think it had been last week when we had a cookies and cream tub in the fridge.

6. What computer game is in your CPU? I don’t play PC games and it’s been a hoooooot minute since I’ve seen a CPU.

7. Do you like Audrey Hepburn? You’ve come to the right person :))) Yup, obsessed. Have watched her entire filmography except for the ones that are impossible to find DVDs of or online.

8. What color is your winter jacket?

9. Do you have any siblings? Yup.

10. Would you call yourself skinny? Not anymore. I’ve filled up a bit over the last few years but I’m still usually seen as thin. I was a lot skinnier in my teens.

11. Does your phone take pictures? Yes, 2008 survey, it does.

12. Who is your favorite neighbor? They’re not really neighbors, but the construction workers who are currently working on a new house from across ours are crazy over Cooper and love to greet him and give him a few pats when I take him out. My actual neighbors are rather quiet and we tend to keep to ourselves.

13. Do you wish at 11:11? No.

14. Have you ever gotten a detention? We don’t have detention here.

15. Do you still watch Disney Channel? Nah, we took out our cable last year because no one was using it anymore. And I doubt there’s anything watchable on Disney Channel for a twentysomething?? Lmao I usually stick to the shows and movies I grew up with, so.

16. Who did you last IM? Angela.

17. Who is your least favorite teacher? Whoever hated me for no reason in middle and high school. Then in college, I had to power through a misogynist, sexist, delusional Duterte-supporting professor for an entire semester as well.

18. What were you doing six hours ago? I was winding down and watching Good Mythical Morning videos to eventually doze off.

19. What is your ringtone? Just the default iPhone ones.

20. Does your door have a dead bolt on it? I had to look this up haha but yeah.

21. Have you ever been to a show? Like, a live shooting of a show? Hmm....I don’t remember ever going to one yet. I remember being invited to one because they needed seat fillers, but I had school at the time and was never available on the day of the shoot.

22. What are some details about your first kiss? Innocent, pure. Even though that person ended up disappointing me, I don’t regret having my first kiss with them.

23. What college do you want to attend/currently attend? I went to UP.

24. Have you had any soda today? No and I most likely won’t.

25. What is your favorite scary movie? Carrie, The Shining, and Evil Dead are some good ones.

26. Do you own a Wii? We used to and it was a big part of my late childhood to my early teens. We had thrown it out years ago, though, because it stopped working.

27. Did you wear shorts today? I currently am wearing shorts, yeah, and I plan on wearing shorts for the rest of the day.

28. Anything fun happening this weekend? There’s an official Kim Seonho fanmeet happening tonight on Facebook and I’m so excited for it lmaaaaaaoooo

29. What shoes did you wear today? One of my sneakers.

30. What is your favorite type of Pop Tart? We only get 5 flavors here in the Philippines, but my favorite is the chocolate fudge one.

31. Do you subscribe to any magazines? Nope.

32. What was the last television show you watched? I didn’t watch it on TV, but I watched a few clips from this show called Caught in Providence on Facebook. I have such a soft spot for that show.

33. Do you know any other languages? If I’m not speaking in English, I use Filipino, yes.

34. Are you wearing anything green? No.

#survey #surveys

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

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So Not Hetero

Summary: Lizzie doesn’t play a role for anyone but herself. Not even on live tv!

Warnings: coming out? it’s not angsty lol

Word Count: 868 words

Marvel Kiddos: Lizzie Barnes

The TV wasn’t exactly loud. She’d describe it as just enough to remind her of where she was. Tugging at her sleeves once again, Lizzie took another breath. She hated these appearances. It felt like it was always a desperate attempt to get gossip. Whether it was true or not, they hardly cared. But she did. And guest specials weren’t her thing. They were Ozzie’s. They were her mom’s. Hell, even her dad did better than she did.

Lizzie looked in the mirror. Her fingers played with her hair here and there before a knock came at the door. She jerked, fists clenching a brief moment as some PA opened the door. “What’s up?”

“We’re ready for you, Miss Barnes.”

Another sigh and Lizzie looked to the TV. Johnny Fascon was prepping the crowd for her. How this would go, she had no idea. But one thing was sure. After this, “I definitely need a drink.”

The applause was deafening. Irritating even. It grated on her ears, but she smiled and waved like she was supposed to. Taking a seat, Lizzie looked to the guy that had her here. The one and only Johnny Fascon.

“I can’t believe you finally agreed to be on the show.”

Honestly, she told him, “Neither can I.” She was nervous. Interviewers asked questions. And superheroes weren’t exactly supposed to give them all away.

“So you go by Scarlet Star, right? I’ve heard it’s a tribute to your dad.”

“That’s right.”

Johnny leaned against the desk, curiosity getting the better of him. “Why didn’t you take up the title of ‘Captain America’? Like your mom?”

“Well,” Lizzie chuckled, fidgeting with her bracelet. “People didn’t like my mom being the big superhero and she rocked it. I mean Stephanie Rogers was, and is, the example of what a hero should be. She taught me everything. And those are really, too big of shoes for me to even try and fill. Same for my dad. I want to honor them, but I’m not here to replace anyone.”

And so the conversation went. It was simple for a while. Silly questions that she would tell anyone. Questions about her relationship with her parents were slipped in there as well, but Lizzie could handle those.

“So, “ Johnny started as Lizzie took a sip of water. “I have some photos here of what looks to be you and your boyfriend!”

She choked on her water, brow furrowing as he turned the photos to the audience. There it was. “Uh, actually – “

“How long have you two been dating? These photos go back a few years.”

“I’m not – “ Lizzie looked at one of the photos, recognizing the trip when she and Oscar had gone out to buy ornaments for their parents.

“I mean, can we get a close up on this?” Johnny turned to the camera operators, completely oblivious to his guest’s comfort. He was far too eager to encourage the buzz of excitement that had come over the audience.

It was turning out to be a mess. People shouted questions, curiosity getting the better of them all. Lizzie took a breath. A calmness settled over her. She was not going to let him paint a picture that didn’t exist. “Hey!” She waved to the audience, finally gathering their attention once more. Looking at Johnny, she held a hand out for the pictures. “These?” She stood up. “These are just photos of me and Oscar. He’s my best friend. That’s all.”

Johnny frowned. He had been so sure he had cracked a massive secret in the Avengers team. How was it possible that he had gotten this so wrong? “Come on, you don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”

“Johnny.” Lizzie laughed and set the photos down. “It’s not a secret. It’s actually impossible.”

His brow scrunched, confusion getting the better of him. She saw his eyes shift to someone backstage – probably silently asking if they knew what the hell she was talking about.

“Oscar is a sweetheart.” She looked at the audience. “Really, he is. I can’t think of anyone who’s a better person in my life. He’s my best friend. I go to him about everything.”

“But?”

Lizzie nodded. “But…” Well…here went nothing. She laughed. A weight seemed to lift off her shoulders, following a shrug. Then, finally, “I’m gay.”

Shock. An awkward silence settled over the audience. And she just knew that this would not be the last time this was brought up. Though the rest of the world would probably learn to accept it (at least to some degree), she lived in America. Hell, she fought for Americans.

And they? They tended to lean towards the judgey side.

“Look, I know it’s not expected, but I’m going to lie. Whatever terminology you want to call it, fucking go for it. But I am so, so gay.” With a beaming smile, Lizzie took another sip of her drink. She looked at Johnny who seemed to be far more embarrassed that his facts were wrong than by her coming out. Leaning forward, she drummed her fingers on his desk and nabbed his attention. Almost too innocently, she asked, “How’s that for Avengers gossip?”

#marvel #marvel au #marvel fic #breaking the multiverse #lizzie barnes #elizabeth barnes #marvel kiddos

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #298

“i don’t like what i am becoming / wish i could just feel something”

Do you have sensitive skin? Very. Do you wear necklaces or earrings more? Just my tragus piercing, really. I only ever wear a necklace sometimes if I'm taking a "nice" picture. Rings or bracelets? I currently don't wear any bracelets, but I do always have one ring on. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Is your current crush younger than you? By just a couple years. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? Yes; he's very tan, especially his arms from being a mailman. Ranch or barbeque sunflower seeds? I don't like sunflower seeds. Do you know the first five books of the Bible in order? No. Do you have a pet fish? Nah, they're not my thing. Do you believe being gay is a choice or a "disorder"? Neither; I believe it's a genetic mutation. It defies biology and the very motive for life, but I always say that a mutation does not, in any way, equate to "wrong." I am extremely adamantly pro-gay rights and bisexual myself, so I can't shit-talk it. What are some of your favourite sounds? Crunching leaves, rain gently tapping on windows, windchimes, birdsong... mainly nature sounds. There are others, I'm just blanking right now. Are you a warm weather or cold weather person? Cold, 100%. What time do you wake up? What for? This spans over a massive gap, honestly... I can wake up as early as 5 or as late as 9:30. Most often, it's pretty early, and I call that my "trial" of being awake, lol... because I will almost without fail go back to sleep for a couple more hours. Hell, that happens even if I sleep on the later side. Do you ever listen to music to fall asleep to? I used to do that in middle and maybe some of high school, I think; I'd fall asleep with my iPod on and earbuds in. I haven't done that in a very long time, though. Could you spend the rest of your life with someone who had bad taste in music? ... Yes? Their taste in music has nothing to do with them as a person???? Do you still talk to the person you fell hardest for? No, and it's best I don't. Have you ever wanted to get drunk and get your mind off everything? Yes, and that's how I found out I'm far from a lightweight. I wasn't going to drink more than I actually wanted to drink just to get wasted. Did you love playing hide and seek as a kid? Yeah. Who is the last child you held? My youngest niece. Have you ever woken up not knowing where you were? Maybe for a few moments after my surgery? I don't really recall. When is the last time you made the wrong choice in anything? Every fucking day when I decide what to do with my time. What is the most interesting thing in the room you are in? My snake, I guess. She's a champagne morph ball python. When washing your hands, do you wet your hands or put soap on first? I put on soap first. When was the hardest you ever cried? What was the circumstance? Probably when Mom literally dragged me home after I tried to walk to Jason's to talk the night of the breakup. I lost my fucking mind. Which gift cards do you have in your wallet? I don't think I have any. Coke or Pepsi? Coke. I hate Pepsi. What is better: cute smile, or amazing eyes? A cute smile. What song are you listening to? "Drilled a Wire Through My Cheek" by Blue October is on currently. Name your best friend(s): Sara. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nope. Last night you felt? I wasn't suicidal, but still kinda wanted to die lmao. Do you still watch Disney channel? No. How do you like your eggs? I only enjoy them scrambled, and preferably with cheese. What’s your all-time favorite song? "False Flags" by Massive Attack. If you could be any TV character, who would you be and why? Idk, I don't watch TV enough. Maybe Donna from That '70s Show. Very strong and independent, outspoken, and not to mention she has great taste. I find her to be a good female character to look up to. Do you ever come up with really good ideas for stories or movies? Do you do anything with them? Yeah; I'll try to integrate them into RP characters and plots. What sort of things do you post on your Tumblr? Vintage photos, screen caps, girly things? It's a Markiplier cesspit lmao. Sometimes I'll reblog shit I find funny. I've been very inactive on it, though. Have you ever had a dream that you couldn’t shake, even for days after you woke up? Oh yes. When was the last time you felt like a nuisance, or unwanted? Recently, I'm sure. When was the last time your dreams were crushed, or at least hindered? I dunno. How’s school going? I'm not in school. Are you angry at anyone right now? Myself. The last person to say they loved you? Mom. When is the last time you laughed hard? Hard? I'm really not sure. Are there any words on your shirt? No, it's just a blank black tank. Does it take a lot to make you cry? NOPE. Do you tell your parents everything? No. Do you get bored easily? I'm bored to the point of thinking being dead would be more fun at some point almost every day. I have anhedonia badly. I'm honestly starting to think I've over-medicated to a numbing degree so am trying to wean off some things. Have you ever burned someone's picture? No. How long was your last nap? Maybe three hours? I was really, really tired, though. Can you name the last time you felt happy? Probably when Sara and I talk-talked for the first time in a while. When was the last time you played with sidewalk chalk? Oh, I have zero clue. Probably not since I was a kid. Do you have friends obsessed with World of Warcraft? Bro wtf don't @ me. Have you ever punched a hole in the wall? No. Have you ever told someone you hated them? The only time I've seriously said that was to my dad before we reconciled after the divorce. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to? I actually don't remember... Favorite thing to do on Facebook? See The Memes. Do you wear flip flops, regardless of weather, all the time? I SAID don't @ me. What is in store for your future? I both do and don't want to know. Have you ever seen a live bat? Yeah. I adore bats. Do you chew on straws? No. Do you have any trophies? Yeah. Who’s the last person that creeped you out? Some guy who walked into the store I was at with Mom, continuously looking back and forth. Would you believe an ex if she/he said they love you? Well, that would depend on the person. Have you ever been kissed in the rain? Yeah. Anything exciting happening soon? My half-sister and her kids are visiting tomorrow and staying for a few days. It's a surprise for Mom. Do you keep a diary or journal (offline or online)? You could say these surveys kinda are. I don't have a designated "diary," though. When was the last time you took a painkiller? What was it for and did it work? I had womanly issues a few days back, and yeah, it helped. Have you ever had to go and rescue someone because their car broke down? When was the last time that happened? I mean, I've driven /with/ Mom to do so. I myself don't drive. What’s one sweet/candy you miss from your childhood? Is this item something you can still buy or has it been discontinued? Y'all remember Baby Bottle Pops??? 'Cuz I do, and I love those fuckin things. I still see them sometimes in gas stations. When was the last time you used some kind of moisturiser? A few days back for my hands. They were painfully dry. If you’re under lockdown/stay at home orders at the moment, are you struggling or managing okay? A bitch is s t r u g g l i n g. Has anything positive come out of the pandemic for you? Fuck no. Do you wear a watch? Is it analogue/digital? Does it it have things like a step-counter in it? No. Do you have any gifts from Christmas that you still haven’t opened or used? Not used, yes. Well, then some things are still in their boxes, but they're unwrapped. Do you know how to tie a tie? If so, who taught you? No. Who was your last missed call from? Did you ring that person back? Some number I didn't recognize, so no. When was the last time you had some kind of problem with your internet connection? Is this something that happens often? A few days back. It has occasional instances where it'll go out but come back on shortly. Do you have a favourite celebrity chef? No. Do you prefer pizza or pasta? Pizza. Have you ever volunteered anywhere before? What was the reason behind doing so? Once at PetSmart when they had dogs to adopt out, which was for school volunteer hours. I spent time with them, giving them attention and taking them outside. I also had two other animal-related volunteer days, but each was only a few hours because my fucking weak-ass body couldn't handle them. Have you ever been truly obsessed with something? What was it and how did you come to feel that way? I have an incredibly obsessive personality; I could probably name near on a dozen or so things I've been genuinely obsessed with. I don't know what it means to love in moderation. Some are/were pleasant obsessions, some aren't/weren't. Does it bother you when people turn up at your house without asking or waiting to be invited? Yes. Are you taller or shorter than average height? I'm the average for an American woman. Do you have any family members whose beliefs or ways of life completely embarrass you? YUP YUP YUP YUP. Are you scared of heights? Yes. When was the last time you lost something of great sentimental value? Did you ever end up finding it again? I don't know. Have you ever injured anyone in self-defense? No. What food do you find to be the most filling? Is this something you eat a lot of? In relation to its portion sizes, oatmeal or eggs. I can't have a whole lot of either. I wouldn't say I eat either a lot, but oatmeal is more common. Have you ever heard people talking badly about you behind your back? Did you confront them about it? Yes, and in at least two instances. Do you consider “home” to be the place you were born, or is it somewhere you create for yourself? I consider it to be my childhood home; not the one I was actually born in, but only because I was way too young to remember and we only lived there like, maybe two years into my life. Have you ever experienced having to leave your home due to a fire, or due to the threat of fire? No, thankfully. When was the last time you felt you were in a dangerous situation? When we had a serious tornado warning Christmas Eve. Yes. In winter. Are there any superstitions that you believe in? Which ones and what are your reasons for doing so? No. Are there any series of books/films that you never finished - either because you got bored of waiting or just lost interest? Oh, I'm sure. I Wouldn't say I lost interest in a lot though, I just wasn't interested enough, like for The Hunger Games. Which theme park is your favorite? I haven't been to nearly enough to know. Like, just one. Do you eat healthy? I try to be, at least. Though I've been doing very poorly about it lately because I'm a emotional goddamn eater and am having a very hard time. Do/did your parents fight often? They're divorced for a reason. Do YOU fight with them often? No. Would you say that you're respectful? I hope so. Are you a fan of Green Day? Yeah, I love them. Would you rather have 4 kids at one time or never have a kid? Jesus Christ, never. I don't want any anyway. Do you think 'friends with benefits' relationships really ever work? No. Do you or have you ever known a drug addict? Yes. Do you turn off the water while brushing your teeth or leave it on? I always turn it off. No reason to waste it. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Lots, if you include my half-siblings. Are caterpillars more cute or disgusting? I tend to find them cute. What's your homepage when you bring up the internet? Google. Was the last book you read for fun or was it for some type of assignment? It was for fun. Have you ever dated someone you met online? Yes. Would you go on a date with someone right now if they asked? Depends on who's asking. Do you own any band tees? Oh, I have lots. Off the top of my head, some that I frequently wear are Metallica, Otep, and Korn. Do you know someone who wears a wig? No. Have you ever kissed someone under fireworks? I don't think so. What kind of dressing do you eat on your salad, if any? I strongly prefer the Olive Garden kind, but I also enjoy ranch. What genre of music do you listen to the most? Metal of some sort. Have you ever dated someone who was way overprotective of you? No. Do you personally know any cops? No. How many different colleges have you gone to? Three. How much stress can you handle? Not much at all. How confident are you in achieving your dreams? I ain't got the slightest clue by this point in my life. What is one thing you thought you’d never do but have done or are doing? There's a lot of things, most bad, some good. Do you have to take medication for any mental illness? A lot. Do you like looking at pictures? It depends on what's in them. Specifically pictures from my past, that's usually a big no. Do you believe the dead can have connections with the living? I guess in very vague ways. Which family member do you get along with the most? Well, define "get along with." I by far have the strongest relationship with my mom, but we fight sometimes. As for who I stay on the most stable ground with, that's probably my dad. Would you ever be able to become a vegan? I know I couldn't, but I'd love to. How did you meet your newest friend? Who even IS my newest friend... Have you ever watched the show Teen Mom? What did you think about it? No, and I think it's an awful fucking idea for a television show. Put a spotlight on and money into teen pregnancy, yeah, that's a genius plan. Are you old enough to remember MySpace? Yeah. Do you think you’ll be a good mother/father? I wouldn't be. Do you have trouble deleting your text messages? I don't need to. Is there something that you haven’t told anyone that you actually would like to tell someone? No. Have you ever been called a tease? Yeah. Do people ever make fun of your religion or lack thereof? No. Do you say/do things a lot for shock effect? No? What was the last compliment you gave a guy? I probably told my nephew Ryder he was a good brother. Was one of your grandpas in a war? Maybe? Idk. I never knew either well at all. Have you screamed in a pillow before? Yes. What do you like more, acoustic or electric? Electric. Have you ever ordered something off a commercial on television? No. What's worse, having someone mad or disappointed in you? Disappointed. Do you still consider Pluto a planet? Yes. Didn't they reinstate it as one, anyway? Right now, are you at a high, leveled, or low point? What's lower than "low?"

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''i am machine'' by three days grace

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

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Velvety Rich and Sickly Sweet

Once there was an African American girl who lived in a big city. Her name was Venessa. As a little girl, she loved playing with dolls and getting dressed up. Tea parties with her friends were a favorite pastime. She adored candy, cake and anything sweet, a craving that lasted for the rest of her life. She dreamed of becoming a famous celebrity.

As Venessa got older, computers and phones started to arrive. It wasn’t long before she got into social media. She pursued a career in fashion and posted videos of herself in velvet dresses baking cakes and seductively sucking on candies for the males. Her videos went viral and she basked in the online limelight.

But the more well-known she got, the more she distanced herself from her former family and friends. Venessa soon partook in gossip, laughing at other women and being a self-centered bully. She enjoyed the reactions of hurt people less well-off than her. This was especially true when she became a risqué model and dancer.

Soon enough, all of Venessa’s actions came back full circle. Venessa soon found herself as a target of bullying and racism. She received one hate comment after another…from the n word, to bad things about her black curly ponytails. Some even called her fat and fake.

Venessa was furious…so furious that she began to track down the bullies and kill them with knives. Childish laughter could be heard among the screaming victims. Venessa covered her tracks well…after all, no one suspected famous model to be a killer. However, she kept pictures of herself posing with her victims holding her knife.

But she was soon found out, and almost got arrested. Venessa soon spiraled down into madness, having a crazed breakdown. Distraught over the mean comments, she overdosed on skinny creating drugs. Her body couldn’t take the amount and she died before she was discovered by the police. A mirror was in one hand while a headless doll was in another. Venessa died at age 22 in 2012, the same year as Vaggie.

Venessa soon arrived in Hell and became known as Velvet. Velvet was a fitting name, due to both her wealth and her fondness for red velvet cakes. She even made an Instagram account called radvelvetcakes. Rad was a word meaning “cool” and “trendy,” the things she always aspired to be. With her status as an overlord, it was…well, a piece of cake.

Velvet would’ve been demon food if not for two Overlords who decided to take her in. Velvet soon had two friends and fellow Overlords: “Daddy” Vox and “Daddy” Valentino. The former was a wealthy TV demon, who owned all the TV stations in Hell. The latter was a moth pimp, who owned Hell’s number one porn studio. Together, the three Overlords made a near unstoppable fearsome force to be reckoned with. They become known as the Triple Vs. The three of them often hosted lavish parties on yachts and in fancy soirees, electronic music and dubstep pulsing through the air. All three of them controlled the “stimulants” of Hell: TV, drugs, porn, social media and food.

Vox had a flat screen TV for a head and wore a black suit with a large red bow tie and blue stripes going down the suit. He wore a black top hat with antennas and a teal Wi-Fi symbol on it, the same symbol on his chest. When he first came down to Hell in the 1950s, he had an old boxy TV head. But thanks to his power over electricity, he upgraded himself as the years went on. In his full demon form, the red eyed, sharp blue-toothed man could cause entire blackouts. Formerly a white man named Vincent, with black hair and icy blue eyes, Vox died from a TV falling and crushing his face. In Hell, he continued his sinful actions he did when he was alive: hooking up, doing drugs, and hosting gruesome TV shows for entertainment. TV towers were everywhere, looming like impenetrable metal fortresses. With his showman personality, he stood equal to Alastor in power, if not more.

Valentino was a light purple moth pimp with antennas and fancy coats. He had a ring of fluff around his neck with small red hearts on it. His glasses were pink and heart-shaped. He was often found lounging on couches with female “clients’ in his lap, smoking red smoke from a cigarette. The smoke itself could drug demons and make them doped up. Cruel and greedy, he enjoyed using and abusing people for his own pleasure, in particular, his porn star and worker Angel Dust. He promised love and pleasure, both of them illusions in the long run. His victims would be helpless and obedient, unable to leave and think for themselves. Valentino was originally Vasilis, a dark-skinned man from Brooklyn who also did drugs, smoked and participated in human trafficking. Valentino had died in the 1970s…and his distant relative was none other than fellow moth demon Vaggie!

And then there was Velvet herself. She was a black-skinned doll demon, short but very deadly. One of her favorite outfits was a velvet laced white dress with small hearts around it and black shapes. She wore black stockings and pink shoes with white puff balls on it. Her hair was dark pink and in two thick pigtails. She had red sclera and white irises with black pupils. Although she looked and acted like a child, she was in her twenties. Velvet was the Overlord of sweets and social media. If Harley Quinn turned into an animated doll who loved gossiping and tea parties, then that would adequately describe what Velvet was like. Velvet once sat with Vox and Valentino safe in the porn studio during the Extermination. She eagerly checked her phone and took selfies while sitting next to Vox.

Velvet could go full demon form like the other Overlords, but her power was laced with an extra dose of insanity. For in her most powerful form, she could make deadly potions to use against her enemies. Velvet was skilled enough making regular potion for perfume and to use as beauty products. But she could also make poisons and noxious gas to defeat any demon who dared disobey her and her fellow Overlords. In her most extreme form, she could magically turn her victims into sweets, absorbing their souls as she ate them! Even Vox and Valentino steered clear from her when she was in that form.

Like a doll, Velvet was doted on by Vox and Valentino, as well as her many followers. All three of them went back and forth from doting their workers to abusing them with deadly threats. Although Velvet enjoyed being spoiled, she often felt like she was treated like a child too much. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, even meeting up with Rosie and other wealthy ladies to eat demons in the streets. Velvet was also infamous for sometimes using demons’ blood and organs in her baking.

Yes, Velvet was living a life of luxury, perhaps second to the royal Magne family and the Eldritch family. Imagine her surprise when she found out that the princess was running a hotel to redeem sinners. She laughed it off, calling Charlie absurd. In many ways, she was similar to Seviathan, Helsa and Katie Killjoy: self-centered individuals who lived on gossip, trends, fashion and putting others down.

Velvet was frequently seen on and searched many media platforms in Hell: Voxtube, Voxflix, Voxbook, and Voxtagram. The movie and social media sites were all run by Vox, of course. His dimensional monopoly was getting closer to becoming permanent.

There was her Instagram account: “radvelvetcakes. Fun with the Overlords! Follow and comment to keep up on moth-pimp, voxtagram 8k and me!”

On July 6, 2020, Velvet posted a selfie of herself smiling on what appeared to be a dance floor decorated with green neon candy tiles.

“This is my newest account! Be sure to tell your friends! Ain’t I a cutie?”

On the same day, Velvet posted a selfie of her and Vox. Vox didn’t look very happy.

Vox said, “Chillin in the studio. Rad photo by my girl radvelvetcakes.”

On July 7, 2020, Velvet posted a picture of Valentino and Vox eating hamburgers at Hell’s version of McDonalds. Vox had his TV mouth open, a hamburger and French fries on his lap.

“Lol. Voxtagram8k is one to talk. He’s hardly as cool as he thinks he is.”

A later picture showed Valentino eating a giant chicken sandwich messily.

Valentino posted, “Picking up the goods,” as Vox and a smiling Velvet got into their limo after going to McDonalds. Vox had a bag in his hand, while Velvet carried two drinks. The McDonald’s M logo was upside down.

On July 9, 2020, Velvet posted a picture of herself showing off her manicured nails. Her sharp nails were decorated with sparkles, diamonds and little bows. The nails were extended ones. In the background, it looked like Vox’s leg was breaking down a door.

Later, Valentino mentioned that he would fuck up Velvet for posting bad pictures of him and Vox.

“Bored and missing the boys so I decided to do my nails up pretty!”

On July 10, 2020, Valentino posted a picture of Vox letting his pet shark loose on a tripping Velvet.

Valentino said, “Got her. This is the only time I’ll say this, but Vox having a giant demon pet shark actually comes in handy.”

On July 13, 2020, Velvet was seen beaming in a picture along with Vox, Valentino and their blue pet hammerhead shark.

On July 20, 2020, Valentino posted a selfie at his new club.

Valentino: “New club, new pole, anyone else wanna give it a whirl?”

Stolas: “No thank you. I’m sure even if things are new, the same slime is still around.”

When asked if Blitzo would do a dance on the pole for Valentino…

Blitzo: “No, no that won’t happen. I’m too busy with my horses and business.

Stola: It would be quite the sight. But I wouldn’t wish to see Blitzy working in Mr. Valentino’s establishment.

Stolas: Why would I ever want the rat to want such an excellent business venture?

Valentino: Watch yourself, bird.

Stolas: That’s a lot of talk for an insect.

Velvet laughed out loud as she read the comments.

On July 21, 2020, Velvet posted a selfie of herself about to eat a dirty green lollipop with a fly on it. Valentino stared in horror with wide pink eyes under his heart glasses.

“Val stopped me from eating a lollipop I found on the ground. But what he doesn’t know is that I grabbed it after he tossed it in the bin! #FreeCandy. #LivingFree. #RatsEatShitOffTheGroundAllTheTime.”

Valentino replied, “Stop, we have money! We can get you another one!”

Velvet: “It’s mystery flavored! We can do what we want!”

Vox said to Valentino: “I will not be the one cleaning the toilet tonight.”

Stolas said, “Wonderful parenting there,” and added a thumbs down.

Moxxie the imp added, “Why would anyone eat something that was on the ground?”

On July 23, 2020, Valentino posted a selfie of himself smoking, his eyes glowing pink under his shades.

Valentino said, “Dealing with Angel always puts me in a bad mood. Gonna go have some fucked up fun.”

Velvet eagerly asked, “Oooh, oooh, can I join?”

Valentino replied, “Sure, why the fuck not?”

On July 25th, Velvet went on a killing mission with Vox and Valentino. Velvet was seen in a picture, beaming while holding a knife in her hands. The blade was stained with purple cake frosting.

Valentino said, “Thanks for the backup today, baby doll.”

Velvet responded, “It was so much fun! Wish we could do it more often.”

Valentino added, “Always up for a little messy fun.”

On July 26th, Velvet posted a picture of herself doing a “duck” face while holding a piece of pink and teal cake on a plate. The rest of the cake was on a plate on a table, with suspicious bloodstains in the frosting. Nearby, a blue demon stood holding a piece while his right shoulder had a bloody bandage on it.

“So it turned out it was cake!” Velvet posted. Apparently, Velvet had thought that the demon was made of cake, so she had used a knife to slice his shoulder. Then she sliced up the cake and to her delight, it was, indeed, cake. Velvet had gleefully watched videos on VoxTube that showed artistically made cakes that looked like ordinary objects. This led to a meme or an online joke that everything was secretly cake. Velvet briefly wondered if she was cake herself.

On August 4, 2020, Velvet posted a video of a blue Vox writing down notes and a red Valentino screaming at him. Vox remained unfazed.

Velvet said: “Laughing my fucking ass off!”

Valentino wasn’t happy and said, “The fuck? You were supposed to advertise my company, not, whatever the fuck this is. Cute drawings, though.”

Velvet: “Thank you.”

Valentino: “Lucky you’re a crazy cute bitch.”

Vox said, “Ur lucky I have a built in mute button. Also, this is perfect! <3.” Vox was the more easygoing, “dad” type individual in comparison to Valentino.

On August 5, 2020, Velvet happily posed in a picture, holding a pink balloon she was about to pop with a pin. In front of her was an illuminated cake that read “Happy Birthday Gasu,” in reference to an artist who made character art for the show. Valentino had a scowl on his face as his red jacket got messy, the hearts on his fluff turning into broken hearts.

“Celebrated Gasuguma’s birthday with cake! Love his amazing pictures of Vox, Valentino and me! Happy Birthday!”

Valentino complained, “Yeah some celebration, stained my fucking jacket. Cake was good, though.”

On August 6, 2020, valentine posted a picture of Vox in a dark room with two cups of soda in his hands.

Valentino: “5:30 am. I asked Vox to get me a strawberry iced coffee several hours ago. The fucker shows up now with half a finished diet soda! Do I kill him, yes or no?”

Velvet was annoyed. “So that’s where my fucking diet soda went.”

Valentino: “Oh my fucking god, he didn’t even buy it for me.”

Vox: “I’ll send Vark the Shark to deliver your drink next time.”

Valentino: “You just wanted to see me.”

On August 7, 2020, Vox’s picture showed his TV screen cracked and one of his antennas crooked. Vox’s screen turned to colored bars and Valentino was grinning in the picture.

Valentino: “Thanks for the soda, Voxy. Don’t fuck up my order next time.”

Velvet sadly says: “My dads are fighting.”

Valentino: “Don’t worry baby doll, not my fault, Vox is a dumbass.”

Vox: “Velvet, you’re literally the same age as us, wtf?”

Sir Pentious: “Ha ha ha, that’s hilariously evil, Valentino. Or may I call you Val, we should “hang” soon?”

Stolas: “You can do better.”

Vox: “Time to get a new screen. Ungrateful rat. #notmyboyfriend.”

Valentino: “You woke me up. Sorry not sorry.”

Stolas said to Vox: “I would say you could do better, but I’m not entirely sure you can.”

Valentino: “Go fuck an imp.”

Stolas: Gladly.

Valentino: Sad.

Stolas: What’s sad is traipsing around in a giant tacky coat trying too hard to be intimidating.

Valentino: What’s sadder is watching you thirst over a tiny-dicked imp 24/7.

Stolas: From what I’ve heard, he has a bigger dick than whatever you have between your legs.

Valentino: From who? Lol. You obviously don’t have anyone, I don’t see nothing on your insta other than a thirsty dried old man.

Stolas: …

Stolas: You only like Vox because he can display glowing lamps on his screen, dirty moth.

Velvet laughed out loud, this was the most fun she had in a while.

On August 17 2020, Valentino posted another selfie.

Valentino: “Got some business to take care of.”

Stolas: I knew disco was dead, but I didn’t know it went to Hell.” Another successful roast.

Velvet said: “Looking pretty dapper, Val. Don’t worry, I know Vox will see it!”

Valentino said to Stolas, “Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me, imp fucker.”

Stolas replied, “Why would I want to be a rat?”

Valentino: “Why are you so obsessed with me, baby cake? Want me to stop by? Help remove the stick from your ass.”

Stolas: The stuck up my ass would be more pleasurable than anything you’ve got.

Velvet was laughing so hard, tears came from her eyes.

Valentino: Don’t knock it till you try it, baby. You know what they say about moths.

Stolas: That they’re little pests obsessed with light bulbs? Owls eat insects, you know.

Valentino: They can go all night.

Stolas: Well owls eat rats. Wait this came out from the wrong particular situation…

Valentino made an erotic face.

Stolas: No.

Sir Pentious to Valentino: “I own the same shirt, maybe we can do business and hang.”

#velvet #vox #valentino #hazbin hotel #overlords

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shaydeoffical · 4 years

Text

Bright as a Diamond. Shinso Hitoshi x Fem Reader: Chapter Nine

Chapter Summary: Shota takes (Y/n) and Shinso to the USJ to get some specialized hostage training done. But things rarely go to plan, and (Y/n) gets to play the role of the victim to her dismay. But there is one thing she knows for sure, she’s not a tease.

Series Summary: When (Y/N)’s co-worker decided to send a picture of her making a diamond to the paper, her life was over. Gemstone based quirks weren’t all that rare, but being able to make a diamond put a target on her back. After years of hiding in the city, it’s time to hide in the countryside with her Uncle Shota Aizawa and his more than ‘roommate’ Hizashi Yamada. With the promise of training her to be self-sufficient, she’s ready to learn.

Author Note: Me updating two days in a row? Unheard of lol. Also this chapter is 5K, so enjoy the fest. I tried to make this some more wholesome, but also...I like to keep some action going.

Warning: Near drowning, avalanche, flashbacks

Last Chapter: Eight

Next Chapter:Nine

Hostage Training

It had been a few weeks since my run-in with Kira, and Hisoka's accident. Despite looking for the animal that hurt Hisoka, we found nothing. Just like the police still hadn't found Kira. It was unsettling but manageable.

I was sitting on the porch waiting for Shota to pick me and Shinso up for training. Hisoka was cuddled in my lap, lazily pawing at my exposed thighs. Per Shota's request, I was to wear my paired down training uniform and lose all the camo elements.

Still, I wasn't a big fan of showing off my body. Lately, I hadn't been so hard on myself about it, after nearly being kidnapped, I was thankful that my body was still my own. Grateful that Hisoka enjoyed my soft thighs and stomach. Thankful that I was able to even move and fight.

Mom would be happy that I wasn't skipping meals or hiding in my room all day. I should really try calling her, I just don't know what I'd begin to tell her. Maybe about Shinso?

"Why so contemplative Kitten? Trying to remember how to tie your shoes?" Shinso kneeled and did up my laces, double knotting the bow.

"No," I puffed my cheeks and pouted when Hisoka ran off to the koi pond. "I was just thinking about my mom is all."

"What about her?" Shinso sat beside me, leaning back on his forearms.

"She moved to a care facility around the same time I moved here. Her quirk lets her make burning coals, and for some reason, it's started activating inside her without warning. She lost one of her lungs not too long ago because of it. So she's partaking in a special quirk related illness program." I stopped myself. "That was maybe too personal. Sorry, I just need to call her at some point, that's what I was thinking about."

"Your mom is the Ash hero?" Shinso raised his brow.

"Um, yea. She was the ash hero, but she doesn't really like to bear the title anymore." I twiddled my thumbs, kicking my legs out to distract myself.

"She was pretty big in the underground. She rescued the same civilian twenty-seven times. It's a record."

"That was my dad." I laughed. "Mom said she married him just so she could find the spare time to breathe. They ran into each other so often, they just couldn't help but fall in love."

"I didn't know that. Your quirk makes sense, though, the coal mixed with the ability to make gemstones." Shinso hummed, sitting up to match my pose.

"Yea. I managed to hide my gem quirk till I was a teen, then- then things happened." I pushed my hair in front of my face.

Shoved in the back of a van. Gunshots. Taking a curve so fast, I bust my head open against the trunk.

I gripped the back of my head, a small bump remained. "You spaced out again."

"Hmm," I glanced at Hitoshi, his gaze focused on my hand.

"I said you spaced out again. You do that during training a lot. I don't want to push it, but you want to tell me why?" He slid his fingers over my scalp, tracing the outline of the bump.

My fingernails became the most exciting thing in my world. The way they were chewed to the quick, the cracked polish and rough cuticles poking through. "I was kidnapped a couple of times, actually. It turns out that the same people who liked to take my dad thought I would have his quirk too." I forced a laugh, pushing my cuticle down. "Of course I played dumb right up till they threatened to kill my best friend. It was like tv you know, they showed her on a camera and one of their goonies walking right behind her. Needless to say, I got so stressed sapphires started to sprout from my eyes."

"I'm sorry," Hitoshi scooted closer to me, his arm resting aginst mine.

"Don't worry about it, Lint ball. That was the easy time around. Besides, my mom saved me that time, and the group was so keen on keeping me a secret they didn't tell anyone. Plus, I never made them diamonds." I sat up and popped my fingers. "Looks like Sho is here, let's go. I'm going to wipe the floor with you today."

"Thank you for telling me that." Shinso stood, and I suddenly realized how much taller than me he was. His hand rested on my shoulder with a firm squeeze.

"Yea, like I said, it's not a big deal." I held my hips and smiled the best I could. My eyes stung, but I couldn't let anyone know.

"Let's go Kitty." He nodded for me to follow him to the car, and I did without fuss. Shinso was a strange man, but he was really decent under all the dry humor and teasing. I could try playing along for now.

"This place is huge." I gawked at the many different disaster simulation zones inside the vast building. The USJ was a top-notch training facility, and Shota had pulled his strings at the school to let us practice inside today.

"Listen closely." Shota walked to the edge of the stairs, turning to face Shinso and I. "Shinso, we're going to be working on search and rescue today. (Y/n), we are going to be working on hostage behavior. Since you are still healing, we'll be focusing on finding the best places to hide and knowing when to run."

"So, I'm learning how to be a useful victim?" I cocked my head to the side and blinked a few times.

"Basically." Shota sighed, looking out at all the different zones.

"This feels kinda sexist for some reason…" I mumbled. "Why can't I rescue Shinso or you?"

"That will be for another time. Just focus on how you can survive until help arrives today." I knew what Shota wanted from me, I knew it was a good plan, and I knew it was beneficial. But did it have to be a kidnapping scenario? After I confess part of my past to Shinso, now he's just going to be looking for me to zone out. Well, I'm going to rock this challenge.

"We'll start off with the desert." Shota leads the way. We passed several other biomes and just how vast the building was amazed me. Shinso smirked, nudging me so I'd keep up. I pushed him right back and passed him to walk by Shota.

At the desert biome, I got to go out into the sandy hell first. It made sense why I was told to lose the camo part of my outfit now. Shinso needed to be able to see me to "rescue" me. Shota was right behind me as I climbed up the hill. The humid air already doing things to my hair.

"If you turn your feet when you walk, it will be easier," he instructed, quickly walking through the grit.

"I'll try," I did as told and didn't slip as much in the sand. "How do I keep the sun from burning me out?"

"You need to wrap your head in a cloth, and possibly wet it with urine." Shota didn't sound like he was joking. Pausing my climb, I wait for him to say sike still.

"Noted, don't get caught in a desert." Shrugging my shoulders, I kept walking. Once at the top, I slipped on the dune and skidded down the other side. Rolling fast, hot sand filled my shorts, lighting my skin on fire. I stopped myself at the bottom and spat up the grains in my mouths. Ugh. Jumping to my feet, I bounced around till my shorts were empty.

"What would you do if that happened with a real villain?" Shota asked me, gliding down the slope. Not once jerking to regain balance.

"Run for my life?" I offered, sitting up and dusting myself down. Licking my lips, I laid back on the ground, resting my eyes in his shadow.

"That would be wise." Shota nodded, an underlining message with his words.

"You want me to run? But you're teaching me stuff?" I cocked my head but got to my feet once I saw him frown.

"At some point, I want you to run and hide. Give Shinso a real challenge in search and rescue. I can't tell you much about our current case, but if you can really give him a hard time, that would be for the best." He paused to give it some thought. "Really think about how a hostage would act in each scenario. How the elements affect what you're willing to do."

"Is this how you prompt him?" I asked, going deeper into the desert. While I lost my chance to bolt, I wanted to keep talking. This was not my biome to start getting active.

"Yes," Shota took my hand and pulled me up the incline. He grinned, tapping my forehead before shoving me down another hill. "Just have fun with it."

"Wha-"I squealed rolling like a soup can, but with more momentum. Sand-filled my shorts again, but it got past my undies too. After I stopped and got my bearings, I looked at the hilltop, Shota had a captured weapon around his hand. So Shinso had caught us super-fast.

Trekking back up the slope to help, I resisted the urge to sneak to the exit. I knew I was supposed to give Shinso a hard time, but this wasn't the biome that I wanted to use all my energy in. It was hot and draining; if I was a hostage, I'd be sticking it out with the villain.

"Oh, Mr. Hero, save me!" I put on my best American accent and waved at Shinso. Having fun, pretending to have been poisoned by the sun. Which wasn't hard to imagine at that point.

"Hold on-"Shinso tried to offer a comforting phrase, but was distracted long enough to let his guard down. Their fight went on for a while until finally Shinso got Shota down and tied in his scarf.

"My hero, you are so brave." I pretended to stumble into his arms and whack his chest. "I've been in the sun for three days. I can't remember my own name, surely you can help me find it."

"How will you handle this, Shinso?" Shota asked, not fighting against his ties. "What should you do with a delirious victim?"

"Delirium, that's my favorite drink. We should get drinks at some point." I don't know what it was about the accent that made me a flirt, but I was clinging all over Shinso, gripping his arms and making him blush. "Such a strong young man. Oh, how much do you train?"

"Don't worry, ma' ma, I'm going to get you some help." Shinso grabbed his scarf and my hand, dragging Shota and me behind him.

I looked at Shota with an evil grin and asked permission to make it even harder. Shota nodded no, and I held back my scheme of accidentally letting him loose. I could try again in the next biome.

It was the blizzard zone, and of course, I didn't have a jacket with me. Shota offered the bullshit answer that I needed to figure something out if this was real. I knew what he was inferring, but I didn't like it.

Goosebumps broke out over my arms as we took the ski lift to the top of the mountain. I held myself and followed behind him, using my coal quirk to heat myself. Shota turned and deactivated my power.

"As my captive, I'm not going to let you waste your energy on coals when I want diamonds." He reminded. "What is your best move?"

"Follow instructions till I see an opening." My teeth chattered, the snow wetting my socks as I trudged through. "Why did we go from a dessert to a blizzard. We're all going to get sick." I slid down a small section of the hill and grabbed a pine for support. Now I noticed the snow that had piled on top of the branch.

"I can't move," I pretended to tug on my foot, gritting my teeth.

"Come on, don't slow me down," Sho was onto my rouse, but I knew I could convince him.

"Then leave me to die and let my power go to waste asshole." I spat, making small grunts while pulling the large branch down further.

"Fine, come here, brat." He smirked, once in range, I let the limb go and sprinted down the hill. "Wait, get back here!" Sho yelled, covered in snow.

Saving my breath, I activated my quirk to create coals. The only place I could make coals was my hands, but that was more than enough heat to keep me warm if I was smart.

I spotted a small cave and did a few laps around it to cover my tracks. Jumping into the small hole, I slide on the icy bottom finally out of the wind. Wasting no time, I made a pile of coals and started to heat the cavern. This time I was doing really good; maybe I could even save myself in this scenario.

To be fair, I wasn't in the snow very long, but my socks were soaking wet. Now I was heating up, all the snow was melting and putting me at risk for hypothermia. Sighing, I took my shoes off and lowered the intensity of the coals. Shinso would hopefully capture Sho and be here to 'rescue' me soon.

How could I make it harder for Lint ball? Hiding was already a challenge, but what else… Maybe fake a broke arm or ankle. Well, I wouldn't want him to carry my big ass off a mountain, that wouldn't be fair. The snow crunched outside. I held my breath and waited.

"There you are." Purple hair and a faint smirk greeted me, his head poking in the hole.

"Who are you?" I scooted away from Shinso, picking up coal to 'toss at him.'

"I'm a hero. You need to come with me." He fumbled for his next words. "It's going to be okay."

"That's what the last guy said….how do I know you're a hero. You're not on tv." I reasoned, making another coal, and getting in a defensive position.

"Here's my hero id." He pretended to pull out a badge, and I exclaimed it. "We need to hurry before the villain wakes up."

"Hey, don't rush me, I've just had the worst day of my life." I reminded him. "Besides I can't go, my shoes are wet and I-"

"Come on," Shinso grabbed my hand and pulled me out, putting my shoes on. "It's a small hike to the bottom of the mountain. I can carry you, but we need to hurry."

"I can walk just fine-"I puffed, turning my back to him. His coat was draped around my shoulder, and he tied the sleeves around my neck. "Hitoshi-"

"We need to move." He used my confusion to his advantage and had me on my feet. He crouched and wedged his hips between mine, quickly catching me off guard.

Latching my arms around his neck, he adjusted me once and started running. It was dumb to go sprinting downhill with a victim on your back, but I trusted his reasoning.

"Why do we have to hurry?" I asked, wondering how cold he must be getting.

"There's a chance there might be an avalanche." He was panting, the strain of my blubbery body, and the cold stressing his lungs. The fast pace and quick moments made my head spin. My every muscle was stressed, trying to help him keep a good grip.

A scarf wrapped around my upper body, jerking me into the powdery snow. Shota held the other end and reeled me towards him. Kicking with all my power, I tried to get free. Shinso nose dived but was getting his baring again. "Hero, you forgot to make sure I was bond down." Shota grinned, tugging me back up the mountain. Changing my tactic, I dug my heels into the earth.

"Don't worry (Y/n), I'll save you." Shinso charged up the hill, ready to take on Sho. Only the mountain top rumbled. In the middle of the two men, I was about to be fucked up alone. I prepared to be at the mercy of the tumbling snow, praying that I didn't crush Sho or Shinso.

"You failed to keep her safe once, are you going to fail again, hero?" Shota was around four meters from me at this point. The snow working in my sandy shorts. The mountain still rumbling with a panicked fury.

"Run." I yipped, the snow moving like a wave overhead. Shota seemed startled, as well. Shinso ran up the hill at full speed. The wave already got Sho, but Shinso grabbed me just in time. He undid the binds, cradling me as the snow hit us.

I didn't know what came over me, but I created a swirling ruby, wrapping it around our bodies like a cage. The snow was able to get through the large cracks, but it kept us from hitting any trees. My stomach did flips, as my world was put through the rinse cycle.

Shinso had my head pressed in his chest, so I couldn't see if my ruby was breaking or not. All I could do was feel my essence in the gem, and keep pouring energy into fixing any impurities. Waiting for the avalanche to stop, I prayed. This was a simulation, but I knew it was not a joke.

Shinso squeezed tighter, snow impacting us from all sides. It would be hard to know which way was up or down. Still, we finally slowed down then stopped, the snow kept settling and getting heavier around us. "You okay, Hitoshi?" I mumbled, spitting out the ice. My legs were so numb from my shorts, I had to reach down to make sure I wasn't bleeding; it was so cold.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" he ignored my question, using one hand to dig up some headspace. I expanded the ruby, a headache coming on from the large gemstone.

"Peachy, now which way is up?" I rested my chin on his collar, taking shallow breaths. While training was making me stronger, I didn't have a lot of stamina built up. Even if I wasn't hurt, my body was stressed.

"This way, I think." He held up a twig and dropped it to test the gravity. With each breath, I brought my life into my palms. With two large coals, I turned up the heat, melting a path. Unfortunately, I had to straddle Shinso, but he was being a good hero and not teasing me.

I wavered for a moment and crashed back into our little cave. There was plenty of space, but the bottom was still tight. Shinso propped me up and pressed his hand to my forehead. "I'm fine, just worn out…here. Can you dig for a minute."

"Yea, I got it." He took the coals and used his scarf to wrap his hands before working on the exit.

With the cold air swirling in my lungs, I took deep breaths. Lifting my palms together, I pushed out even more coals. With the fresh supply, Shinso was able to break out faster. Without his coat, I could admire his toned arms digging through the packed snow.

Tugging me out of the hole, Shinso adjusted his jacket around my shoulders. "We need to find Mr. Aizawa." He pushed my hair back. "Just stay here, and look for signs of movement." he started looking around where we landed, and a hand popped up in the distance. "Mr. Aizawa." Shinso jogged to his mentor. Finding it in myself, I hobbled over. "You okay?" Shinso asked Sho, checking him over.

"Yea, I see you two made it out. That's some good work." Shota dusted the snow out of his hair. "Let's get ready for the next one."

"Wait I'm killed, can't we take a break?" I asked, seeing the exit was just a short walk away.

"We will, after this next one." Shota opened the door, and we both filed out.

I shrugged off Shinso's jacket and handed it to him. "You did a fairly good job at keeping the hostage calm this time. Though maybe lie about the avalanche in real life."

"Noted." He nodded, and when I followed after Shota, I swore his eyes scanned me up and down. I told him I was okay.

Still, Shota did let us use the body regulator before hopping into our next scenario. UA was really a top-notch school, I couldn't imagine how much money they floating around to pay for such high tech items.

"This time, we'll do the shipwreck situation. Shinso, give us three minutes and then come in; however, you see fit." Shota used a small boat to take us to the bigger one in the center of the pool. All I had to do was watch him row, and be a good hostage. It was honestly surprising that none of the training had triggered me yet. Shota was right, I was having fun with it…like I was above the reality.

Once on top of the deck, he tied me with his scarf till I couldn't move my upper body. "How did I do, Sho?"

"That's what I want from you. Make it different each time, give him a real challenge. But remember to save energy for the next." Shota looked over the side of the boat. "I enjoyed your little ditzy act."

"Thanks, I don't know why that accent made me take on a campy flirty character, but it was kind of fun."

"Here, he comes." Shota got into position and watched as Shinso decided to go headfirst into the fight.

When he got on deck, he was soaking wet, his hair still fighting off gravity. "Help help help, he's got a bomb on the ship!" I yelped like a child, wriggling against my ropes. "Mister, do something."

"I got this, don't worry," Shinso was in hand to hand combat with Shota. I noticed he was trying to get him to speak, but Shota wasn't going to fall for his quirk.

"Watch out!" I screamed, seeing that Shinso was dangerously close to the edge. Of course, he knew what he was doing, but I was challenging a scared kid.

What would a kid do if they thought a hero needed help? I stood up and ran full force to try to knock over Shota.

"Stay back-"Shinso warned, but I kept going, surprising even Shota. Still, Shota dodged and caught me before I could fall from the edge. He tossed me back the way I had come, but instead, I tumbled backward on my feet.

My ass hit the lip of the guard rail, and I dropped back. Headfirst, I crashed into the water below. Sucked down by my own weight,I kicked till my legs were underneath me. I was twelve feet deep at a guess. At least I had a good breath before going under, but I didn't know how long I'd have to wait. Well, a kid would try to swim up top, but my kicking isn't getting me anywhere.

Shota would see this as a great training experience. I hoped he knew I was moving at a turtles pace. Changing my tactics, I wiggled like a mermaid with more success, but it wasn't enough. Maybe I was deeper than twelve feet. Why didn't they look over the side, this is just a training.The tension in my throat was building … I wasn't drowning. There was no way that I was drowning. I stayed calm and kicked again to no avail. Seconds ticked by, then a full minute.

Desperately willing my body to the surface, I gasped, the air in my mouth floating above me. Did they not remember I was tied up still? Shit. They are going to wait for the last minute on this, or they just think I can float. Another bubble escaped last my lips. The burning spread down my throat and to my legs. I kicked slower but with broader motions, closer to the top but still too far. Then I put my legs together and did another mermaid kick.

Nothing. It wasn't working fast enough. Another bubble left my lips, and I took water in. The next gulp was deeper. The burning urge to cough and breath. I swam harder, trying to make the distance—finally, a splash.

Hitoshi's body was several meters from mine, but we locked eyes quickly. He made frantic motions and grasped my binding once it was in reach. I coughed, taking in yet another mouth full of water, and then another and another till my lungs were almost nothing but water. He clamped his hand over my mouth, swimming up.

Another gulp in, my vision was blurring, my muscles felt like they were ripping. Hitoshi pushed me up with all his might, and I broke the surface. A nasty gasping, retching, gurgle left me. I needed to retch, breath, and cough all at once. I bobbed under again, but Hitoshi got me in his arms, floating on his chest. He undid the scarf and started to paddle to a piece of the wreckage.

Hacking, spitting, and crying wasn't a good look on me, but I was finally calming down once we reached the floating mass. My arm held firmly on his neck.

"I'm sorry that it took too long." He rubbed circles on my back, turning me on my side so I could expel the water. "I finally got him to answer me, though. Then I lost sight of where you landed, and I figured you could swim."

I grappled with pulling myself up, then rinsed off my face. Still trying to catch my breath. "Thank you- for saving me. For the record, I can swim, but not like that. I knew you would help me, I just couldn't hold my breath any longer. I stayed calm, but a stranger would probably have flipped out." I flopped back against the wood and coughed up a little more water. "Well, I'm safe now. You should go make sure the villain is tied up."

"He's preoccupied at the moment." Shinso glanced up and then back at me. "Where are you hurting?"

"Well, my body slammed the water, so everything tingles. The good thing is the captured weapon must have reinforced my chest. So no broken ribs that I can feel. Though, I don't think I'll be able to donate mom a lung anytime soon. Not that we're the same blood type, but you get my point." I wheezed, rolling over onto my side, and taking a look at my torso… my bra was very obviously visible under my shirt. Covering my chest, I turned.

"I'm not looking." Shinso countered, treading the water.

"Then why do you know what I'm concerned about, hmm?" Glaring back at him, I pursed my lips.

"I didn't think you'd be a pink person." His face went red, he head hanging low.

"Then it's too late. Damn it." I shivered, a cold breeze from the blizzard biome drifting by. "Come on, hero, I wanna go home." I slid into the water, still holding to the wreckage. "Lead the way."

"Hold onto my back." He twirled, patting his shoulder.

"I can swim still." I raised my brow, still covering my chest. Of course, this was all just a drill, but I didn't like touching him so much.

"I need the practice; come on, Kitten." When he didn't move, I rested one hand on his back and took a deep breath. I assumed he'd bob under or realize that I was too heavy and awkward to swim with like that. But I was able to effortlessly hoover over his back. He used my floatation to our advantage and took long strokes towards the pool's edge. Of course, he was good at everything, that's how he got so smug. Working smarter and not harder, I couldn't blame him.

"You really are stronger then you look," I complimented, resting my head on his back. "Don't let it get to your head."

"Is that because you cooped a feel earlier?" He glanced back at me with a smirk.

"No, that wasn't me. That was an American socialite that had been kidnapped. Besides, I realized you were strong long before then. I just thought I'd remind you of how weak you look versus how strong you really are."

"So a backhanded compliment." He slowed his pace.

"Of course," I answered, biting my lower lip. "It wouldn't have to be so backhanded if you weren't such a tease."

"I'm the tease?" He reached the edge of the ship and twirled so we were facing each other. He pulled me flush against his chest. "Since when do I tease you?"

"Nearly every second we're together." I sulked, looking at the ship in the distance. "Like right now."

"Besides now, when have I been a tease?" His breath tickled my throat, his hair blocking my line of sight.

"Like when you make fun of me for going red. Or when I ran into a spider. How about when I forgot to turn the rice cooker on." I listed a few, feeling the heat work up my neck…no I wasn't going to turn red now.

"Don't I kill the spiders? Turn on the rice cooker. And make sure you're not getting sick?" His lips were inches from mine, the heat radiating. Water dripping from his hair onto my forehead.

"You do," I admitted. "But-" He bit lip his bottom lip.

"Do you want me to stop?" There were only millimeters between us. The thumping inside my ears clouded out my panting. Sweat pooled down the side of my chin. Fuck. I needed to focus on anything but his lips.

"No-." His hands gripping on either side of my waist. The smirk he always wore softening to a tender smile.

"We're going to the swell zone next!" We broke apart as Shota yelled from the top of the boat, dropping a rope between us.

"Shota, I need a rest," I hollered back, my entire body equivalent to jell-o. Treading water on my own, making it more apparent.

"One more." Shota climbed down the side of the ship and back into the little boat.

"I'll make it fast this time. How about that?" Shinso winked, offering me his hand, and I splashed him.

"Yea, I'd like to see you find me in under two minutes." I got out of the water and offered him my hand instead, which he took without hesitation.

"You got a deal," he shook my hand and caught a towel that Shota tossed his way. I grabbed my own towel and cocooned inside it. Shinso had entered my personal space; he made my heart race and got inside my head…He really was such a tease.

The rest of the training had been to plan. I no longer played the reckless child, and instead settled for a tired businesswoman. True to his word, Shinso found us in under two minutes, but he struggled to use his capture weapon in the windy zone.

Once that was done, we hit the showers at the gym, then loaded the car and headed home. Shota went over our strengths and weakness and made a remark that I should be paid to be a crisis actor. It wasn't a bad idea, the preliminary hero license was coming up, and I could use the cash since my jewelry gig was up.

"I could look into it," I mused, kicking my legs out in the back seat. Thankfully there had been a few old sets of school uniforms in the gym, so I was wearing a comfy jumpsuit home. "I gotta keep my payments up for school, and after the whole fake jewelry shop incident, I don't think I'm ready to face that industry for a while." I twirled the gem around my throat and chewed my lip.

"We should look into less dangerous lines of work first," Shota nodded, "it would be best for you to lay low till Kira is caught, but if you want to rush things, we can ask the school."

"I think I will start applying around, what the worst that can happen?" My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I saw a message from an unknown number. It never failed; every day at three, I'd get a cryptic message with a blurry picture.

I knew there was nothing I could do to prove it was or wasn't Kira to the police, but it was unsettling.

Shinso was watching me in the rearview mirror. As soon as we locked eyes, I turned my phone off and closed my eyes. Today it was a picture of a pomegranate and the letter C. There was no way I was going to change my number again over this. It would be the third time in three months, and that just makes life that much harder.

#bright as a diamond #shinsou hitoshi #reader insert #x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #Shinsou #tw drowning #series #Shota knows what he's doing #freinds to lover #enimies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #ambershaydeoffical #my hero acadamy #eraser family #bnha x reader

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limitless-rose · 4 years

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The Signs as things I wanted to be when I grow up

[This has literally been in my drafts since December because I wasn't sure if each option matched with the sign I chose but whatever (it's also a long post again, oof)

Also I didn't really post anything related to 2020 so... Happy New Year, let's hope something good will happen this decade!! 💖]

♈ Aries: Be part of the army. I was quite fascinated by the idea of guns and protecting the nation and actually getting my life together. I was actually thinking about it for quite a while until I realized that in order to get accepted (at least according to the Greek system) you need to have excellent grades (especially maths/physics), to be taller that 165cm and to be excellent in sports. Guess what, I don't understand physics/science/chemistry, I've been about 158cm for the past 3 years and the only two sports I'm good at are badminton and tennis (while you need to be good at running, swimming and things like that I guess 😕)

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♉ Taurus: A chef/baker. Cooking and baking always seemed pretty fun. I would always sit by my grandma whenever she cooked/baked goodies and observe the whole process. I also got inspired by the movies "The Princess and the Frog" and "Ratatouille" and thought that one day I could possibly come up with my own recipes and open my own restaurant. But while growing up I realized that I can't cook properly when I'm stressed/multi-tasking (I'm capable of burning the food AND the kitchen if I get slightly distracted, ooof)

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♊ Gemini: A TV presenter or a weather woman. My mom told me that from the age of three I would always pretend to talk to an audience and answer questions from the callers or announce news/talk about the weather. Maybe that explains why I talk to thin air (as if I was a YouTuber) about anything and everything when I'm alone. Though it sounds cool, I don't really think I could do it now because I have social anxiety.

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♋ Cancer: A writer. I really like writing, I don't know why. Authors have been inspiring me since my childhood, I remember I used to read so many books and try to write something of my own based on it. 😅 I like taking notes and then re-writing them more neatly. I like re-doing old homework in a different style and see if I have improved. I really like writing in a diary/a bullet journal too, I feel like it's much better than bothering others with my problems anyway. I also love coming up with random scenarios/stories/characters and writing about it but I don't know if I should share it. Idk, sometimes I feel like my writing is a bit boring or that it's nothing that impressive. So, honestly, if more people took writers seriously instead of thinking it's a hobby as it doesn't always pay well (when did the world even start revolving around money that much, oml) and if I was more confident about my work I'd definitely chose to become a writer/author (I'm still keeping it as a hobby no matter what I end up doing, lol).

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♌ Leo: A model. Omg, I honestly don't know why I even thought of it. Probably because I really liked watching ANTM when I was younger (and I specifically chose the American version because the one we have in my country makes me cringe a lot, just hearing girls from my school talking about it is painful). My friends also liked the outfits that I put together or how I would always pose for pictures (a few years ago, I'm too awkward now asdfghjkl). Looking at it now it's just so funny. There's literally so much competition in the name of beauty, the community can get kinda toxic sometimes and the standards are pretty high. Also I'm way too short and I still can't walk like a normal person when wearing high heels lol.

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♍ Virgo: A teacher. Specifically, a teacher for elementary or even kindergarten. Back then, the concept of teaching seemed pretty fun to me and I had lots of ideas about how to make class more interesting. The thing is that I have good chemistry with most kids and I actually kinda dislike teenagers because of how rebellious we can get when it comes to school (idk but like teens in my country are like pretty rude to everyone 😐). I'm not so sure about it now, though it's still an option.

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♎ Libra: A psychologist. I always liked helping others out and offering advice when they're having a tough time and I was also curious to see what makes each person feel angry, sad or stressed and the way they respond. It's also interesting because you can learn a lot about someone's personality, preferences and way of thinking or understand what caused someone to commit a crime. I still really like psychology and it's one of my main options for uni. The only problem is that psychology is pretty much overrated in my country so people say it's best to choose something else. 😒

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♏ Scorpio: A criminologist. And, surprisingly, I still want it. I was always intrigued by things that required research, was interesting in learning what caused a murder/crime to be committed and I would always watch crime thrillers with my dad. I also like it because it's a field of Sociology which is one of my favorite subjects. I'm just hoping finals aren't super difficult so I can get accepted in the college that I want on the first try lol.

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♐ Sagittarius: A flight attendant. Back then I found it kinda fun, as I was always curious about what going on a plane is like. It could also be because of their outfits (like the ones you see in movies or in Britney's MV for Toxic, idk why 😅). Plus I would get to travel around the world without paying as much as the passengers. But then, at the age of 14-15 I got on an airplane 4 times and I saw that it wasn't really like the movies and that literally everyone ignored the flight attendant so yeah, it's not an option anymore. ✈️

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♑ Capricorn: A fashion designer. So because I would always draw and constantly ask for new crayons/markers and other art supplies, my mom bought me a few coloring books that focused on fashion. It came along with stickers, stencils, ideas for Victorian dressses, advice for how to design lace or mermaid tail dresses and I was so impressed. A few years later, my grandma showed me a few dresses that she had made for my mom when she was younger (which were so gorgeous like I'm definitely going to wear one of them on my graduation day) and taught me sewing. I also got to see these small floral designs that you usually see on lingerie and it was so pretty, I wish I could do it as perfectly as her. I decided to follow my grandma's advice and keep it as a hobby instead (because she ended up doing nothing but designing clothes and repairing them which she regrets 🧵🧶).

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♒ Aquarius: An astronaut. This was pretty random, I have to admit. I guess I really liked space and looking at at the stars in the night sky. I read a few books about space and learned a few things about NASA back in elementary too, though I realized that it's something I could never really do, as you have to sacrifice a lot. I'm still fascinated by this profession but there's no way I could ever do it, since I can't even understand basic physics or mathematics. 🤷‍♀️

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♓ Pisces: An artist. Honestly I didn't really care if most artists didn't get recognition/fame or if they didn't earn enough money, I just wanted to make art because I liked it. It's also fun because while you are expressing your thoughts through an art piece, another person might interpret it differently, based on their likings and thoughts. Art also plays an active role in my life: I've been drawing and painting since I was 5 and I would always watch the show with Bob Ross on TV with my grandma. Instead of completely giving up on this idea, I thought that I could choose another profession (also my family didn't really like the thought of me doing art for a living 😐) and keep art as a hobby.

#astrology #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #me and my thoughts #yeah idk #for fun ig #at least for me #random

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theemptyquarto · 4 years

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Abandoned WIP

Warstan (but John got killed off before the story starts) and purely platonic Sherlock & Mary. Quite AU... John and Mary get together before Sherlock jumped off of Bart’s. Maybe a little bit of hinted unrequited Johnlock, I honestly can’t remember if I was going there with this fic. A “Mary is the new Watson” retelling of “The Adventure of the Empty House,” rated T. This was written before S3 happened and I fell in love with BBC Mary and she actually made me view BBC John as an interesting character in his own right and I rejiggered my alignments.

I’m going to rant here, just briefly, about how ACD’s Mary Morstan is probably one of the most wronged-by-their-author characters that I can think of, which is why I started writing this fic where she takes the lead.

She appears for the first time in the second-ever (authorially, not chronologically) Sherlock Holmes story, “The Sign of the Four,” and is delightful. Watson falls hard in love right away and acts like a huge dweeb about her, she’s courageous, clever, and kind. Maybe without all the panache of the later Irene Adler, but a more traditionally Victorian heroine for our more traditionally Victorian junior protagonist. Her next appearance, “The Adventure of the Crooked Man,” is significantly more tangential, but she sets the action of the story in play and is shown to be a helpful, kind figure.

And then all of a sudden Conan Doyle ships her off to visit her mother (she was established as an orphan), stops using her at all, and finally kills her off.

Not even on the page. Between books. And it’s mentioned so tangentially in two lines of “The Adventure of the Empty House” that you can easily miss it if you aren’t looking for it.

(Incidentally this sort of shit is why ACD fandom can’t agree on how many wives Watson had or who the subject of his “sad bereavement” is. The number ranges from 1-13.)

Why, Artie? Why did you do that? I mean I get if you want to park Watson back at Baker Street you probably do have to off her but you were a fairly good hack and doing it this way made you give up the opportunity to have some sort of emotional payoff in your stories. Especially since you later introduce another wife character who is in no way distinct from Mary (a niche component of ACD fandom thinks that Mary didn’t die at all and Watson “abandoning (Holmes) for a wife,” was him and Mary reconciling after an estrangement.)

Anyway. Don’t create cool characters and then kill them for no good reason. That’s my point.

_____________

The Empty Flat (Mary)

I had been widowed for three months and was rather surprised at how badly I was doing with it. The snug three-bedroom garden flat in Maida Vale had been the perfect size for a not-quite-young couple planning on children. Now it seemed vast and empty and utterly, utterly silent. When I slept, which wasn’t all that much, I did it on the sofa. Our bed still smelled faintly of his aftershave, and I couldn’t stand either to sleep there or to wash the sheets. Arthur, the blue point Siamese cat who I had bought into the marriage, would curl up on my feet and awaken me with his yowls in the morning.

To some extent I had been able to occupy my mind with work, and the requirements of my job had kept me more or less a functional adult. But the summer holidays had begun a week previous, and I was thus thrown entirely on my own resources, which were scant. What family I had left were all back in America, and the friends I had made in England seemed to have melted away since John’s death. Some days, I thought that this was due to the universal impulse to avoid reminders of mortality. Other days I decided it was more likely due to the fact that I deleted their emails and declined to answer their phone calls.

The truth, as always, was probably somewhere in the middle.

Whatever the cause, my life was empty. I ate when I remembered that I was meant to. I wore pajamas all day. I left the flat when I ran out of cat food, and at night I would turn on the tv and stare at it without paying attention until I finally sank into oblivion.

Presumably it was on one of those descents into the maelstrom of crap British late-night TV that I first took note of the murder of Ronald Adair. The dead man was vaguely familiar to me, though I had never watched any of his shows personally. He was a scion of one of those impoverished but very old-and-noble families that the English keep on out of sentiment. Showing unusual initiative for one of his class, he’d made a success of himself by appearing on a famous reality show, then on the “celebrity” version of that show, and parlaying that into one of those mysterious but apparently quite lucrative careers that consist mostly of having your picture taken.

And now, he was dead, shot in the back of the head in his own bedroom on Park Lane.

The story struck me, for some reason. John, when he’d been alive, used to take four daily papers and half a dozen weeklies, and I had not cancelled them yet. I plucked a week’s worth out of the recycling where I had tossed them, unread, and scanned through them for articles about the murder.

Ronald Adair had been alone in his bedroom, drinking neat whiskey and updating twitter, when he died. His last tweet (@JustLukeyA, “LOL C U @ Ibiza”) had been sent at 10:11 in the evening. His personal assistant had heard the sound of breaking glass, broken down the locked door that led into the bedroom, seen his body, and dialed 999 by 10:17. The bullet had been a large caliber hollow point round that had done severe damage to the back of his skull, and he had most likely died almost instantly.

The entire affair was mysterious. While the police hadn’t released any real statements, the personal assistant had been the only other person in the house at the time of the shooting, and had been released after questioning. This would suggest the shot had been fired from outside, but the window in Adair’s bedroom, while open, was on the fourth floor. There was no evidence to suggest anyone had climbed to the window, meaning that the shot had come from somewhere outside.

This made no sense at all to the gossip rags. The window faced directly over Hyde Park, and any level shot would have had to come from over a mile away. And shooting from ground level would have been impossible: the Park was open, reasonably crowded given the warmth of the summer evening, and no one had heard a thing. The American embassy was less than two hundred yards away, and even its overblown security hadn’t noted any unusual activity. Essentially, it was impossible that he could have been shot, and yet there he was.

As I read through the papers, I thought how John would have gone through them at the breakfast table to try and figure out what had happened. Although his professional interest in solving mysteries had died with Sherlock, he never lost his fascination with the more arcane sorts of crime. He would have loved this one, and I could imagine the crinkles that would form around his eyes as he would describe the possible motives, mechanisms, and solutions. It was a Sunday, and I suspected that he would have wheedled me into taking our normal long walk in the direction of the crime scene. I’d have teased him, said he was morbid, but I’d have gone, and he’d have hypothesized happily for a while.

I could so clearly imagine it, and it made me smile, despite myself. It had been difficult to like Sherlock Holmes, and very difficult to deal with the fact that their association put John into danger on a regular basis. Yet, now that they were both gone, I found myself forgiving every thoughtless insult and sleepless lonely night the detective ever gave me, since he had made John so happy.

Wishing to hang on to my happy memory, I decided, abruptly, to take the walk over to Park Lane myself, just as John and I would have done. It was past time I actually started doing things again. I would go and see where Ronald Adair had died, and I would try and solve the mystery, and I would remember John. Quickly, before I could change my mind, I showered, dressed, and left the flat.

July, in London, is one of the few times of the year when it approaches being warm enough, and it was a beautiful day. I took the long route around Kensington Park, since a straight shot would have taken me directly past St. Mary’s Hospital, where John had worked - and where his body had been taken. The trees were brilliant green, and it seemed everyone in London was sunbathing or playing football or falling in love around me.

Ronald Adair’s flat was adjacent to the Mariott, in one of the converted brick Georgian edifices that infest all of Park Lane. I had forgotten to take note of the number, but it was easily identifiable by the flowers and stuffed animals heaped up on the low fence that surrounded it. There were a fair number of gawkers, and by asking, I found which window Adair had been shot through. I was stumped, for the moment, but thinking logically, decided the best route was to see from where I could have made the shot. The busy street and the shrubbery borders of the park being ruled out, necessarily, I confined my attention to the sidewalks. I took pictures on my phone, and paced around, and tried to work out the trigonometry involved.

Then I stopped. There were half a dozen locations from which the shot could have come. It would be the hell of a task: the window was small and high, but if it were dark out and the shooter were aiming into a lit room, it would be possible. I had hunted a lot as a kid, and might have been able to make it with a rifle. John, who had been an excellent marksman, might have been able to do it with a handgun. But to do it quickly enough to avoid notice in a busy neighborhood, to do it silently? That was impossible.

All facts that were undoubtedly obvious to the police. If John had been with me, it would have been a fun little mathematical exercise. We’d have followed it with a walk home, dinner at the pub on the end of our street, and making tipsy love in the light of a summer sunset in our flat. But he wasn’t with me, and he never would be again, and the day would end as all days did, alone with the cat and the television and the dark. The whole thing was a pointless, futile exercise - a little girl’s attempt to play make-believe.

I knew, suddenly, that I was going to cry. It happened a lot, and it wasn’t an experience I wanted to share with all London, so I spun around to depart and slammed full-force into a souvenir hawker who had been just behind me. Grace has always eluded me. The pole she carried, hung with ballcaps and other tat, fell to the ground, and she gave an indignant Cockney squawk of “Oi! Watch it!” I bent to retrieve her pole and handed it back to her, mumbling, “Sorry, sorry,” and fled outright into the park, keeping my eyes firmly on the ground.

Leaving the path, I hurried through the park, not really aware of where I was going as long as it was quieter and emptier. I reached a dim copse free of children, tourists, and lovers, where I sat down, and let the tears flow.

It’s easy to see why the ancient Egyptians thought that the heart, and not the brain, was the source of love. True sadness isn’t felt in the head, it’s felt in the chest, and I could feel every choked beat of my heart as I sobbed and gasped and tried to catch my breath for what seemed like ages. But from a pragmatic point of view, I’m sure I didn’t go for long. Crying is too tiring to keep up for much time. Of course, I had come out without any tissues, so I wiped my aching eyes and puffy face on the corner of my cardigan.

At that moment, the hawker walked into the copse.

“There you are!” she called out, “Wondered where you’d got to!”

I sighed. “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry about knocking into you. It was an accident. If I’ve damaged anything I will be happy to pay-“

“Na, na, love. Just a load of rubbish. Can’t hurt it if it isn’t worth anything to start with. But I saw your face and thought you might be in some trouble.” The woman was elderly, with a mop of dyed auburn hair and a thick Docklands accent which I would love to render in text, if it didn’t look so silly. But her blue eyes were kind, and she handed me a miniature water bottle marked with “Souvenir of Hyde Park.”

“I’m – fine. I just got a little upset. Thank you.” The water was lukewarm and tasted faintly of plasticizers, but it soothed my irritated throat.

The woman seemed to take this remark as an invitation, and placing her wares on the grass, sat next to me. I have lived in London since I was twenty-five years old and I could tell what was coming. There are two main personality types among the English: the type that is intensely uncomfortable with any sort of emotion, and the type that delights in every possible expression of sentiment and wishes to hear all about it. They’re like New Yorkers in that respect.

Apparently I had found one of the latter variant.

“You get to see a bit of everything, my line of work,” she said, digging a battered packet of Silk Cut out of her pocket, “Care for one?”

I had officially quit smoking years ago, when I finished my doctorate, and stopped even having the occasional one when I started dating John, since he loathed the things. Just at that moment, though, it sounded like heaven. “Yes, thank you.”

She shook two out of the packet, and passed one to me before getting out a transparent plastic lighter. She lit hers, and then handed over the lighter. A brief breeze kicked up, and I bowed my head over the tiny flame, trying to make the cigarette catch, as she said, quietly, “Now, Mary, you need to remain calm.”

The cigarette caught, and I took that first delicious, poisonous drag, before the fact that this stranger knew my name really filtered into my mind.

I looked over, and where the woman had been, sat Sherlock Holmes.

The Sign of Four (Sherlock)

The art of disguise, as I have often remarked, is in context far more than it is in costume. Truly approximating the appearance of someone else is only possible from a distance: in ordinary situations major alterations to the face appear theatrical and attract more attention than not. If, instead, you select a character who would be entirely appropriate in the context in which he appears, you need make only minor changes to your own appearance. The observer’s mind will then do ninety per cent of your work and you will be de facto invisible. I intend to write a monograph on the topic when I have the time.

Mary Morstan may have had some subconscious understanding of this. On the occasion of our first meeting, I observed that she was wearing a carefully calibrated disguise, although I doubt she would have referred to it as such. Very high heels, but an intentionally prim and boxy suit, severe makeup and hairstyle, heavy-framed glasses. She introduced herself with a flat, middle-American accent, only slightly sharpened by years of living in London.

Just after she arrived, John walked into the flat, his arms filled with carrier bags of groceries, which he set down with great rapidity in order to shake her hand.

“Mary Morstan, my associate, John Watson. Miss Morstan,” I said, “Teaches maths at Westminster School.”

She stared at me when I said that. John, I noted, didn’t let go of her hand when her attention was distracted.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

I sighed, though in truth I always enjoy it when they ask for the reasoning.

“You’ve obviously come straight from work, meaning that you work Saturday mornings. Chalk dust on the right cuff, which is worn in a way that you only ever see with people who spend a great deal of time writing on blackboards. There are traces of red ink on the heel of your hand and a splotch near the tip of your index finger. Thus, teacher.”

As I’d expected, she dropped John’s hand to examine her own.

“You took the tube to get here, and in those shoes you probably didn’t walk far before you boarded at Westminster station: there’s construction digging up the street there and the fresh splashes of yellowish mud on your left stocking are quite distinctive. Half a dozen schools in that area, but your ensemble suggests older students and moneyed parents. Hence, Westminster School.”

The last was a gloss, as her ensemble suggested nothing of the sort. It said quite plainly “I teach older boys.” Her skirt was unfashionably long, her blouse was buttoned up to the neck, and her jacket was boxy in order to conceal her rather large breasts. Having attended an all-boys senior school, I recognized the style, and the motivation behind it. But since I was undoubtedly going to receive the ”abrasive” and “show-off” lectures after her departure, I saw no reason to add the “inappropriate” one, and simplified the matter.

“And… maths?”

I sighed again, this time sincerely. The easy ones are never any fun.

“There’s a graphics calculator in the right pocket of your overcoat.”

At that, she laughed. Giggled, really. But almost instantly, she caught herself, cleared her throat, and dropped back into the lower vocal register that she had previously affected. Everything I could ever have wished to know about Mary Morstan’s character was thus revealed in the first five minutes of our interview. Nature had given her a respectable brain and deposited it in a body that was small, blonde, and rather fluffy. Her disguise did a reasonable job of concealing this, but she would spend the rest of her life trying to make people take her seriously.

“That’s amazing,” she said, “I read in your blog, Doctor Watson-“

“John, please,” he interrupted. Oh dear.

“John. I read about this kind of analysis but it’s remarkable to see it in real life.”

“Can be a bit creepy if you’re not used to it, though,” John replied, which I thought extremely unfair, given that I had been very polite and not mentioned that her teeth demonstrated her adolescent bulimia or that her fingers and eyebrows strongly implied a mild obsessive-compulsive condition. I maintained my dignity, and said only,

“Thank you, John. State your case, Miss Morstan.”

“Right. Well. I suppose I have to go back to the beginning. My father, Thomas Morstan, was English. I was actually born in Sussex, but when I was two my parents divorced and my mother and I moved back to America. I never got to see him much, growing up, but he always kept in touch, by phone and letters, and then by email when that came around. Sent birthday gifts and that sort of thing. Ten years ago I finished grad school, and he offered to buy me a ticket to come and meet him in London. I hadn’t seen him for several years at that point and I didn’t have a job so, obviously, I said yes.”

“Mmm. Continue.”

“He’d booked us rooms at the Langham, which I thought was much too expensive for him, but he said it was a treat for my graduation.”

“What was his profession, then?”

“He started off in the Army, but he resigned his commission after the first Gulf War and joined the diplomatic service.”

“As?”

“An attaché. Just an office job, basically. Visas and helping distressed tourists and so on.”

“And his rank in the army?”

“Ah, he ended as a Lieutenant Colonel, I believe.

“Go on.”

“I flew to London, expecting him to pick me up at Heathrow, but he wasn’t there. No answer when I tried to call him. I took a cab to the Langham and asked if he’d checked in, and he had, but there was no answer when they called up to his room. Eventually they agreed to open the door – he’d had a heart attack a few years before, and I was getting very upset - and all of his things were in there, but no sign of him. I never saw him again.”

“Interesting. Did the police investigate?” John was patting her shoulder, sympathetically, which seemed excessive given that the death (and yes, it was death, almost certainly) was ten years in the past. She should have been well beyond it by this point. But upon closer observation, I could see that he was right: a slight swimminess around the eyes and the set of the jawbone indicating gritted teeth. Oedipal complex. She replied, calmly enough.

“Yes. They didn’t find anything.”

“Of course they didn’t. They never do. Did your father have any acquaintances in London?”

“Only one that they could find: a Major Sholto. He had no idea Dad was even in town.”

“Mmm. I doubt a disappearance ten years ago would incline you to seek the services of a consulting detective today. What has changed?”

Morstan cleared her throat and opened the battered leather attache case that had been sitting at her feet. From a manila folder, she removed a broadsheet page of yellowing newsprint, with a quarter-page sized advertisement in the upper right hand corner circled in red ink. The paper was the Omaha World-Herald, the date was May 4, 2004, and the advertisement simply stated:

“If Mary Morstan, daughter of Captain Thomas Morstan, will contact the address below, it will be to her advantage” followed by an email address.

“Half a dozen of my friends from high school saw this and forwarded it on to me.”

“And what did you do?”

“I sent them an email. I said I was Thomas Morstan’s daughter, that I’d relocated to London, and asked what they wanted.”

“Any reply?”

“No. And when I sent on a follow-up a few days later, it bounced. It was just Hotmail… could have been anyone. But then a few days after that, I received this in the mail.”

Reaching back into the attaché case, she pulled out a small pouch made of black jeweler’s felt. Loosening the drawstring, she tipped something small and square into her palm, and passed it over to me.

I could hear John inhale sharply through is teeth as I reached for my lens. Mary said, wryly, “Yes, that’s pretty much how I felt. It’s a three carat, blue-white, flawless diamond. Probably dug up in India, if that’s any help. It’s worth around $150,000, retail.”

“Unusual cut,” I murmured, looking at the magnified lump of crystallized charcoal, “It’s called the-“

“The old mine cut,” interrupted Mary, “Meaning it was most likely faceted sometime between 1700 and 1900. I know. After the police gave it back to me, I had it appraised at Sotheby’s.”

“You went to the police again?”

“I did.”

“Any good?”

“Not really. They hung onto it a while, but nobody reported any similar gems lost or stolen, and then they gave it back. Apparently it’s “not illegal to be given things.” So after that I was on my own. But I still didn’t feel right about it, so I had the appraisal to see if a real professional could find anything more useful.”

“Well done,” said John, heartily. He was in a fair way to make an idiot of himself over this woman, although she seemed flattered by the compliment.

“Thank you,” Mary replied, “And then, the thing is, Mr. Holmes, that it didn’t stop with this. Every year since then, on May 14, I get another one of these in my mail. I’ve changed addresses and it didn’t make a difference. Perfectly matched, very expensive diamonds. I left the rest of them in my safe deposit box: even carrying one of them around makes me edgy. And then, yesterday, there was this.”

She passed over a letter. Fine, high linen content paper, no watermark, 10-point… Trebuchet font, printed on an HP laserjet printer. It read, “Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatre on Saturday, July 9 at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.”

There was no signature or address.

“Did you keep the envelope?”

“Yes, here. And here,” she said, passing over a small heap of padded mailers sealed into plastic zip-topped bags, “Are the envelopes the diamonds came in.”

“Well, you do have the right instincts. Not much to see here, though… the letter and the last three packages had their labels off the same printer. The first four were from another. It stretches credulity to think that there are separate groups doing this so we’ll assume for the moment it was simply a matter of replacing an outdated device. The mailers can be bought anywhere. Various London postmarks… thumbprint on this one, Miss Morstan, may I see your right hand please? Thank you. Your thumbprint. I’ll put them under the microscope later but I doubt there’ll be that much to learn.”

“And you’ve no idea at all who may have sent these? No… admirers, things like that?” John asked.

She laughed at that. “Generally, when men are interested in me they go more for things like asking me to dinner rather than anonymously sending me a million dollars in gems over the course of seven years. I’m not that unapproachable.” I rolled my eyes at their stale flirtation, although I don’t believe either of them noticed it.

“But…” she continued, more hesitantly, “Mr. Holmes, do you think that there’s any possibility that these are from my father?”

John was glaring at me, and so instead of saying “Of course not. He’s been dead for ten years,” replied “I’m afraid it’s very unlikely.”

“I see,” Mary replied, quietly. She drew a deep breath and continued, “Well, regardless, I had planned to go… unless you can give me a real reason not to. If whoever it is wants to hurt me it seems like they’ve chosen a really baroque way of going about it. I mean, they already know where I live so it’s not like there’s much point in avoiding them. And I’m getting sick of this mystery.”

“There are, however, a few points of interest in it. As you are allowed to bring two friends and John is already planning on accompanying you, I believe I shall join him.”

She darted her gaze back and forth between us, smiling, “Really? You will? Both of you? Oh, thank you, thank you so much! This whole saga has just been so shady and I didn’t know anyone who’d be any help with this kind of thing. It’s such a weight off my mind. Thank you.”

She was gushing, and her voice had inevitably pitched up again. I responded calmly with, “Yes, well. Can you be here by five thirty on Saturday? And leave us your contact information.”

“Of course!”

And, writing an email address and a phone number on a sheet of scrap paper, she disappeared in a whirl of gratitude.

John rose to escort her to the door. I remained seated, and began texting.

“That, he said, picking up his carrier bags and taking them into the kitchen, “Was a very attractive woman.”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Really. I knew you were a human adding machine but I never thought you were actually dead. Sherlock, it’s an objective fact! She’s got a beautiful smile.”

“Very short.”

“Oh, come on. She’s an inch or two shorter than I am.”

While this statement would not actually exclude “short” from consideration, I simply raised my eyebrows and replied, “Women have developed this remarkable technology called shoes which they use when they wish to increase their height, John. She’s no more than five feet tall.”

“Yes, well, shortness is not a handicap, Sherlock. And she’s clever.”

“She’s adequate.”

“And brave. She was going to walk by herself into a threatening situation just because she wanted to find out the truth.”

“So are you. So am I, for that matter. I fail to see why it’s so much more meritorious when it’s her doing it.”

“I’m a combat-trained military reservist, and you are England’s only consulting detective. It’s our job. She’s a very small maths teacher.”

I set down the mobile and glared at him, “Mary Morstan, John, is in no need of your protection. This affair of the diamonds is a mere personal intrigue. She’ll meet with the woman and resolve it without the benefit of your attention.”

He paused from putting the potatoes in the bin and inquired, “It’s a woman sending the diamonds? You’re sure?”

In general, I don’t admit which of my deductions I’m certain of and which are (very good) guesses. Maintaining a reputation as infallible isn’t a trivial exercise. But John had repeatedly earned the truth from me, and so I said, “No, I’m not. I’m reasonably confident, given the font choice, the computer used, and the wording, that it’s a woman, and a rather melodramatic one. But there’s more – uncertainty in these things than I would like.”

John chuckled. “I should take a picture of you right now and call it ‘Sherlock Holmes admitting he might be wrong’. They’d love to have it down at the Yard. So why take the case if you don’t think there’s any mystery?”

“Oh, there is one, just not the “why is someone sending me expensive gemstones” one she came in with. Can you log on to the GRO database and look something up for me? My email address and password will get you in.”

“Sure,” he said, walking back into the sitting room and picking up his laptop, “What?”

“Deaths. Start by looking for “Sholto” in late April, early May of 2005. If that doesn’t bring up anything, look for ex-military, older, in London, same time frame.”

“Right. What are you going to do?”

I held up my mobile. “I’ve done it. I’ve sent a text to brother Mycroft.”

“Why?”

“Watson, when a man leaves a high rank role in the army to become a low-end functionary in the diplomatic service, what does that suggest?”

“Er, PTSD?”

“No. It suggests spy. I want to find out exactly what Thomas Morstan did for a living.”

A week after that, Mary Morstan arrived punctually back at Baker Street. She’d replaced the dowdy suit with trousers and a blue blouse cut low in the front, left off her glasses, and undone her severe bun to let her hair hang over her shoulders. She had chosen flat shoes this time, which was a relief, as it showed the target of all this display was John rather than me.

Six hours after that, I saw that the display had been successful. I had to physically restrain John from going to her as she was handcuffed and loaded into a black maria for the murder of Barbara Sholto. As typical of Americans, she was explaining loudly and slowly to the arresting officer that there had been a terrible misunderstanding, clearly expecting this to rectify the situation.

“John, look,” I said, sotto voce, as I pinned him to the wall of the alley, “If you go over there you’ll only be arrested too. Athelney Jones has already picked up the entire domestic staff and Theresa Sholto and would be only too happy to increase his bag. The man’s an idiot, even by the standards of the metropolitan police. We’ll text Lestrade to let him know, and the worst she’ll have is a few uncomfortable hours, but we need to be on our way if we’re going to actually catch the killer which is the only thing that will do her any good.”

Even that early, I suspected that Mary would not be as swiftly forgotten as the rest of the girlfriends.

Three days later, Mary was a free woman again. The lost crown jewels of the Russian Tsars, of which she had been offered a one-third share, were scattered along six miles of the bottom of the Thames. She had accepted this development with equanimity. As she said to John, “Even if they hadn’t been lost, it’s not like I was expecting to keep them. I’m sure there’s still some Romanovs somewhere who’d like to have them back. The whole time Teresa was telling me the story of how she got them I kept thinking “Yeah, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in real life.””

I heard, while they were falling in love, enough of “The Things Mary Says” to gag a cat. I heard about Mary’s feelings on politics, the arts, and current events. I heard about Mary’s emotional turmoil on the discovery that her father was an intelligence agent who had taken the pay of so many competing nations and organizations that even now nobody could say who he had really worked for. And that was apart from his being a jewel thief. I heard enough recitations of her personal charm, intelligence, and integrity to gag a dog.

Not being enamored of her, I was able to observe her far more clearly. I saw that she omitted to mention during the investigation that she was already in receipt of seven perfectly-matched flawless three carat blue-white diamonds, pulled from a coronet made for some forgotten Tsarina. I saw no reason to bring it up to anyone, if she had overcome her scruples about receiving stolen property. I would rather the money have gone to John than to anyone else, and it was clear by that point that it would.

Over the next months, Mary incorporated herself into John’s life, and thus, into mine. I grew accustomed to the scent of her cosmetics in the flat’s shared w.c. (she was a disgustingly early riser and had usually gone before I woke up), and the sounds of their post-sex conversation from the upstairs bedroom (they kept the actual lovemaking quiet, out of politeness, but the after-chat was quite distinct). I drew the line, however, at allowing her to tidy the place. She didn’t understand the system and would have made a hash of it.

Ultimately, just over six months after the day she rang the bell at Baker Street, I found myself ordering a round of tequila shots at the bar of the White Lion and slipping chloral hydrate into three of them. Earlier, Mary had balanced on tiptoe to kiss my cheek and whisper in my ear “Can you please try not to let them get him too drunk?” I carried the round back to the table where a flushed and grinning but not yet weaving Watson listened as a dozen of his Army and medical school friends speculated on whether Mary would qualify him as “Four-Continents Watson” or if the actual location of the coitus mattered more than the origin of the lady in question. I passed the shot glasses around, judging that the administration of three Mickey Finns to three particular members of the party would bring the night to a graceful but early end in about an hour.

I judged, as usual, correctly. After decanting the three dazed ringleaders into a cab, the party broke up, and John and I made it back to Baker Street with only slightly more difficulty than usual. The stairs did give him some trouble, but ultimately I was able to successfully deposit him on the couch. I shook two aspirin from the bottle and handed them to him along with a glass of water. He took both uncomplainingly.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. For whatever you did back there. I’d hate to be a mess tomorrow.”

“I looked up the duties of the best man and apparently making sure the groom is present and presentable are tops on the list.”

“And you even agreed to wear a tie!” This non sequitur amused him, and he chuckled at his own joke for a moment, before sobering (comparatively), and staring around the flat. “I’m going to miss all this.”

“No, you won’t,” I predicted, climbing the stairs to fetch the blankets off his bed.

“I will!” he insisted, “I’m happy, really happy, about Mary. She’s wonnerful. But I’ll miss this life. And you.”

“It’s not as though I’ll be dead. You’ll be ten minutes away. I’ll be sure to call you whenever I need my cases blogged.”

“I love you, mate, you know that? Even though you are- just such a prick.”

I smiled and pitched the blankets at his head. “I do. Tosser. Now go to sleep. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

He was out and snoring, wearing everything but his shoes, five minutes later. I refilled his water glass and left it on the end table.

At noon the next day I (wearing not only a tie but my entire morning suit) stood at John’s left shoulder and watched Mary Morstan walk down the aisle. I doubt she saw me: her eyes were fixed on John, who was sober, alert, and in full dress uniform, as requested. The expression of love and joy on her face obliged me to concede that, at the moment, she was in fact a very attractive woman.

I don’t think I could have given him up to anyone who loved him even a bit less.

At the reception I gave a speech which everyone said was very interesting, and drank one and a half glasses of inferior Prosecco. I watched them cut the cake, noting that the new Mrs. Watson was far more comfortable with John’s ceremonial saber than he was. She’d lost the callosities of the dedicated fencer, but the skill remained. Then, as Molly Hooper was prowling around with an eye towards dancing and my actual duties were complete, I slipped out of the hall and walked back to Baker Street.

I stopped in at the chemists and bought a packet of cigarettes, then let myself into the flat. There was a peculiar sensory illusion that it was larger and emptier than normal: nonsense, of course. John was routinely absent when I was there. The fact that the absence would now be permanent didn’t alter the actual physical size of the place.

There was always work, and heedless of my dress clothes, I went to it. Three months later, I “died.” And three years after that, I returned to a London which seemed larger and emptier than I recalled. Sensory illusion again. The softer emotions have a very negative impact upon accurate observation, and the world in general doesn’t change at all when a single person drops out of it. On an individual level, though, a single death can rip the bottom out of everything. Such was the case with Mary Watson, who I encountered on a bright August day in Park Lane. She’d lost a stone in weight, which was significant at her height, and was wearing an oversized camel-colored cardigan which I recognized with a pang as being one of Watson’s. She had, in general, the appearance of a child’s toy where the stuffing had been pulled out. I approached her, unseen, as her attention was on Ronald Adair’s flat. When she lost her composure and fled, I hesitated. Then I followed. There were two reasons for this. The first, as always, was John. I couldn’t envision a situation where he would not have come to the aid of a crying woman. In the particular case of Mary, he’d have sprinted to it.

As for the second, well… On the occasion of the case of Neville St. Claire, John had said to me that, “People in trouble come to my wife like birds to a light-house.”

And I truly had nowhere else to go. Chapter 3: The Death of Ronald Adair (Mary)

In general, I am not a fainter, and I didn’t faint then. But a grey mist swirled in front of my eyes, and when it subsided I noticed I had dropped the cigarette onto the well-clipped Hyde Park grass. I picked it up with numb, nerveless fingers. With my other hand I reached out to Sherlock and pushed on the flesh of his bicep. He was reassuringly solid.

“So I haven’t gone mad.”

“No.”

“Not dead, then?”

“Yes.”

I took a drag from the Silk Cut and asked, “Does anyone else know besides me?”

“Mycroft.”

“Of course.”

“And Molly Hooper.”

“That bitch!” I exclaimed, before I could stop myself. I wouldn’t quite have called Molly a friend. We didn’t see much of one another, but her quiet competence had gotten me through the hellscape of the funeral. I found it startlingly painful to believe that she had been concealing a secret like this- especially from John.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “You’re harsher on her than on Mycroft?”

“There is nothing that I would put past one of the Holmes boys.”

He sighed, and drew on his own cigarette. The sun dipped below the treetops and set us into shadows.

“Sherlock,” I asked, eventually, “What do you want?”

“I need a gun.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Of course you do.”

“Mary, please-“ and he hesitated. He and I had never been more than “friendly”, and he certainly had never been inclined to ask any favors of me.

“You’re still in trouble, aren’t you?” I accused.

He hesitated again.

“Yes.”

“Right,” I said, brushing off my pants and rising, “We’ll talk. Baker Street, or our place? My place.”

“Baker Street is being watched.”

“Can we take a cab?”

“Probably.”

It was actually very impressive, how he collapsed his face into that of the Cockney souvenir hawker. He even seemed to lose several inches in height. The stage lost an excellent actor when he decided to go into detective work.

We walked in silence back to Park Lane, and took a cab (after he’d dismissed the first one that tried to stop). He sat next to me in silence, until a horrible thought overtook me, and I said, “Oh, God, has anyone told you? About-“

“Your… bereavement? Yes. I was… very sorry to hear of it.”

It was a relief. It had already happened several times: some colleague or acquaintance who I hadn’t seen in a while would, in the course of ordinary chit-chat, drop, “Oh, and how’s John doing?” into the conversation. And then I would have to watch their faces change from polite disinterest to horror and pity as I gave them the news. I would say it was the worst thing I had to do, but I had developed an entire new suite of worst things in recent months and was somewhat spoiled for choice.

We didn’t speak any further until I let us into the flat.

“Have a seat. I’ll just go get it.”

John, given that he was occasionally prone to physically violent nightmares, had always kept the Sig Sauer semi-automatic securely locked away in a box in the master bedroom closet. I retrieved it, and returned to the living room. Sherlock had installed himself in his old favorite spot on the sofa, and Arthur had climbed onto the arm next to him. They were watching each other with matching expressions of flat-eyed distaste.

“I don’t know where the key is,” I said, passing the box over.

“It’s fine,” he replied. And indeed, he materialized a lockpick from somewhere and opened it within ten seconds.

He’d removed his auburn wig, although he still had on an excellent shade of lipstick for his complexion: a glossy transparent berry-stain. It was almost the only color on his face. Whatever he’d been up to, it was doing no favors for his health. I wouldn’t have thought he could have gotten thinner or paler, barring his contracting tuberculosis or vampirism. And yet, he had managed. At some point, he’d cut his hair off close to the scalp, and it was faintly peppered with grey. Sherlock was a year or two younger than I, but at the moment I could see what he would be like as an old man.

“You know that thing’s illegal, right?” I said.

“It’s not something that’s a real concern just at the moment,” he returned, calmly.

“It should probably be cleaned. It’s not been touched since… well, I’m not sure of the last time John cleaned it.”

“It will be fine. They’re very simple instruments and Watson was always over-cautious. I didn’t clean my old one for years and it never had any problems.”

“That’s because John would secretly do it for you every few months.”

One of the small pleasures in life that everyone should get to experience at least once is to watch Sherlock Holmes’ face when he is informed that one of the normals has gotten something past him. I had to suppress a flicker of a smile at how thunderous he looked.

“Look,” I said, “Give it here and I’ll do it. The cleaning kit’s on the top shelf above the stove in the kitchen, if you’ll reach it down for me.”

I could hear him rummaging around in the cabinet as I released the clip, disconnected the slide, and popped out the spring. I laid everything down on the coffee table and accepted the kit when he returned and gave it to me. When I sighted down the barrel, I could see ample dust, and a fair bit of corrosion from the soggy English atmosphere. It only made sense, really. When Sherlock had died, John had lost any professional reason to carry a gun, and gained a strong personal reason to lock it away and leave it to rust. Dipping the cleaning swab into the wide-mouthed jar of solvent, I began passing it through the barrel.

“’In a self-defense situation, there will be many things you can’t control. The condition of your weapon is not one of them,’” I quoted.

“Did Watson say that?”

“No, though he’d have agreed with the sentiment. That was my stepfather. He was the one who taught me about shooting.”

Sherlock blinked at me. “I didn’t know you had a stepfather.”

“Like everyone else, I do actually have an objective existence apart from the parts you find interesting, Sherlock.”

I sounded bitter, but I didn’t care. I had been the one to put John back together after Sherlock’s quote-unquote death, and having him sitting calmly on my sofa irked.

“I only meant,” he replied, “That he wasn’t at your wedding.”

“He has congestive heart failure and travel is very difficult for him!” I snapped,

“Sherlock, why the hell did you do this?”

“Well, I had in fact been exposed as a fraud and-“

“Bullshit. You have been more or less cleared for two years and I’m sure your brother told you that. D.I. Lestrade had to demonstrate that you weren’t, in general, a criminal, because he wanted to keep his job. Fifty people, including me, by the by, came forward to tell stories of how you had solved cases that you couldn’t possibly have faked. The only real mystery remaining is this whole affair with Richard Brook, and frankly the best person to justify that would have been you.”

He scrubbed his hands through the bristles of his hair. “There was more.”

“So tell me.”

Sherlock sighed, and stared off into the space over my left shoulder. “When the head of an organization is removed, the organization generally remains. John Kennedy is shot, the United States persists. The death of Jim Moriarty left a thriving multinational criminal organization with a vacancy at the top for which there were numerous keen candidates. I have spent the last three years attempting to take advantage of this situation and dismantle its operations entirely.”

Something about the cold way he said “dismantle” made me think I really didn’t want to hear much about this process. I asked, “And you couldn’t have done that in your own persona?”

“No. Because- Moriarty was in many ways a remarkable man.”

The tone of this statement was pure admiration, and I rubbed my forehead where I could feel the old familiar “Sherlock” headache coming on. “How’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t want to say he founded a cult of personality, but in his immediate circle were several men who genuinely did admire him and support him in his goals, as opposed to the ordinary hangers-on who simply were in it for the profit.”

“So, his friends.”

“What?”

I sighed. “Never mind. Continue.”

#quarto's fics #warstan #Sherlock&Mary #major character death #Mary morstan #mary morstanning #ACD Mary in BBC Sherlock #which used to be a thing

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inboldmagazine · 4 years

Text

INBOLD MEETS: Nwaobiala, the artist healing the hidden traumas of the African Diaspora

Nwaobiala poses with paintings created by BAKHITA. Photo taken by BAKHITA. Interview and Text by Nandi Ndoro.

Nwaobiala (they/them/their) is the mixed-media artist the African Diaspora never knew it needed. Hailing from Nigeria and Prince George's County, Maryland, Nwaobiala is a 21-year-old creative using short films, photography, personal essays, mixed-media collages, and other mediums of art to promote self-care and self-expression.

Since starting university as a pre-med major to appease their traditional parents, Nwaobiala has been shifting into full-time artistry. Addressing everything from their first time having an STI to intergenerational abuse amongst African mothers, Nwaobiala's art is powerful, especially to black people who have never been able to have these conversations. There is no doubt that as they continue to explore their artistic capabilities, they are creating a movement of young black people who seek to explore, expose, and heal the hidden traumas of communities in the African Diaspora.

Nwaobiala’s most recent project, “we are more than bodies,” explores the effects of cultural homophobia in Queer Nigerian Americans via photography and digital collaging.

Nwaobiala sat down with Inbold in July to talk about their upbringing and what it has been like being honest in communities that often promote secrecy.

How did you get into art?

I've been writing stories ever since I was in 2nd grade. I showed them to my teachers but never to my parents. They used to say, "You have to be a doctor. You have to go to medical school." They still say that. Then from seventh grade to the middle of 10th grade, I went to school in Nigeria. When I came back to the States, I ended up in this English class taught by this really dope, black woman. When we got to the Poetry unit, I didn't know how to write poetry but I ended up writing a piece about women empowerment. I performed it in front of the class and I got a standing ovation. I was like, "Wow, I'm actually kind of good at this." Then, during my senior year of high school, I took a TV production class and that was the first time I ever held a camera. I thought it was cool how some people used visuals to tell their stories. I had started working around that time so I decided to buy myself a camera. I had also just come out of a terrible breakup so it was perfect timing. I was still using that camera when I got to college.

When did you start doing slam poetry?

After that poetry performance about women empowerment, I found a lot of spoken word videos on YouTube which I became obsessed with. Then, during my freshman year of college, I joined CUPSI, the College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational, so I was competing in poetry slam events across the country. I did that for two years and it was really cool. That was really when I started to express myself more. I just met so many cool people doing their thing: being queer as hell and gay as shit. It was everything I needed. I'm taking a break this year though because I'm not really into slam poetry anymore.

Why is that?

At the time I was doing slam poetry, it was bringing up a lot of trauma in my life. I didn't have therapy and I couldn't deal with it. I feel like people want you to tell them about your traumatic experiences during performances but that's re-traumatizing for me. I needed to take a break. Looking back now, I don't think I'm going to go back to it. I also don't like when my writing is in that "slam poetry format". I realized that when I took poet Ariana Brown's workshop and I was like, "Wow, I hate the way my writing is structured." Once I left that format, I liked my writing a lot more.

How did you get into collages?

Last year, I was at home for Christmas, and I was really bored. My parents are really strict so when I go home, I don't leave the house that much. So I was like, "Okay, let's make art." I couldn't take pictures though because it was cold, plus I needed models and transportation. I had been seeing people make digital collages so I started making them and they were a really big hit.

“we are more than bodies” by Nwaobiala

Are you still making them?

Definitely. I think digital collages are really cool because you get to put different parts together to create a whole new message. I have one about intergenerational trauma via mothers that's inspired by Safia Elhillo. She has literally some of the best diaspora poems that I've ever read, specifically from her book The January Children. The college is about how cultures that only see women as objects for breeding children, not as a people to be loved, impact our mothers. I think my mother is very much affected by that culture. She's not happy in her marriage but she'll still go around telling people, "At least I kept my man." I'm like, "Who cares?". That nigga stresses her out so why is she happy about that? I think a lot of women are unhappy in their marriages, especially in Nigeria. It makes me so sad. Even more, when I watched the Nina Simone documentary, it reminded me of this intergenerational trauma. Nina Simone was abused by her husband and went on to abuse her daughter. You can see the cycle of trauma within that situation. Now that I think about it, we all remember Nina Simone differently than how she really lived. Exploring that type of trauma and how we interact with our mothers is an example of what my collages are about. Outside of that, I'm also trying to get into music.

I was gonna ask you about that… music is the one thing you haven't conquered yet!

Yeah, I'm trying to get into DJing because I think it's so sexy.

Honestly, it is.

Yeah, but the equipment is a barrier. Same thing with photography. Honestly, all this art shit is extremely expensive. Photography is really expensive. The one lens that I have only cost me $30, so that's good. It's nice but it's not versatile. I've been applying to a million, trillion grants and they’re hard to get so I have to wait until I win some before getting more photography equipment. My laptop is also running out of storage every day because of my YouTube channel. Lol, it's just been a lot.

I love your videos!

Thank you! I actually make my videos via my external hard drive because I can't have them on my laptop. Oh, man. It's a mess. Art is expensive and tedious.

But it's something that you have to continue?

Oh, yeah. Art is the only thing that feels right to me. I'm not drawn to anything else. I don't see myself looking up YouTube videos about engineering, for example. I don't feel any type of drive to do anything but art. I'm interested in a variety of subjects but I like the medium of art. I like how it gets to people and I like making it.

“we are more than bodies” by Nwaobiala

What has your relationship with your parents been like since you started spending more time creating art?

My parents don’t really know about the art thing. See what had happened was, I had told my dad that I was going to go to university as a Bioengineering major to eventually get into medical school, I’m still on an engineering scholarship, but my first semester was so stressful. It was really anxiety-inducing and I was stressed about my GPA all the time. I couldn’t live like that. So I changed my major to Industrial engineering, which even though it’s still STEM, my dad doesn’t approve.

But being a full-time artist is the goal?

Yes. I’m building my brand now with my website and social media. I’m mostly financially independent so even if my parents tell me I can’t do it, I’m just gonna do it.

When did you start identifying with the Diaspora as opposed to just Africans in general?

The Diaspora is home for me. Even though I grew up in Nigeria partly, I can't fully identify with Nigerians because I do have that "Americanness" in me. Whenever I have a dissenting opinion about our culture, they often attribute it to me being "spoiled" or "damaged" by western culture.

Yeah, that "Americanness" will separate you so fast from an African community.

Facts. It's just hard for a lot of people to understand or see any other point of view that's different from theirs. But recently, I've been connecting with a lot of people that I went to boarding school within Nigeria. Some of them are roaring feminists now and that's hella cool. I know two who are queer so I would really like to interview them. In Nigeria, the ignorance about queer identity is real. Actually, I don't even have to go back there to feel the ignorance. I can just go to a family reunion or talk to my Dad. It's really hard to deal with, honestly. It makes me so mad that I need to calm myself down.

Who are some of your influences?

Oh man, this question is so hard! I need to pull out my Instagram. One of the first people that comes to mind is Yagazie Emezi. She's a Nigerian photographer and she's a trailblazer. I like everything that her work revolves around. I also like her personality: she's the type of person to say that the photography industry is really white and male and that they all want you to be a certain type of way. They want you to be quiet and aloof. You're just an artist so you can't have a presence to you. But she's like "Fuck all of that! I'm going to be whoever I want and you should just take it or leave it." She also doesn't let people dangle money in front of her and she's very successful. Who else? Oh, Koffee, the musician! She's just herself and I love it.

What has your networking been like with other artists?

A lot of my friends are artists. I have one friend who I went to school with in Nigeria and in the States as well. Her name is Crystal Anokam and she's an amazing photographer. She's really been my support system because she's also a Nigerian American so she knows what's up. In general, I surround myself with a lot of people from the African Diaspora. If you're Diaspora: I want to value your work, I want to pay for your work, I want to see your work. I care about the stories that you're telling. That's the art I want to see. I hate going to museums sometimes because there's so much white art! If I wanted to see white art, I'd go to church. For example, the MFA in Boston is hella white. I was there one time and this teacher was taking a group of students through the African art section. The teacher said to the students, "Oh yeah, this is the African art. We haven't really talked about Africa this year..." and he just kept speeding past all the work. I was like, "Bruh, this is your chance to talk to your students about our continent!" It's sad because there were black kids in that group too. But yeah, I like to surround myself with people who have that background because they know where I'm coming from. Even if our parents don't support our art, we know that the art that we create matters. It's so important for us to talk about heavy subjects and these stories because no one is specifically scouting for African artists. You have to push yourself into the spotlight. You also need to be able to connect with other people. Ever since I started my YouTube channel, I've had so many people message me and tell me "Damn, I'm going through the exact same thing!" It's nice to hear people say that and to be able to have these difficult conversations. Sometimes I feel like I'm just kind of here by myself. This shit can get rough so that's nice.

You can find more of Nwaobiala’s work at www.nwaobiala.com, on Instagram @nwaobiala, or on YouTube: nwaobiala.

#art #blackart #afropunk #dmvartist #digital art #collage #artist #africandiaspora

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Note

I would ask you 1-100 but that's a huge request and doubt you'll do it, UNLESS🤔🙃

UNLESS....

1. Name- Deanna or as everyone knows me, Star

2. Nationality- American

3. Age- 19

4. Birthday- April 5th

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign)- Aries

6. Gender- Female

7. Sexuality- Bi/Pan (im fine with either)

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself)- Dark brown hair, greenish eyes and body of a 12 year old boy

9. What do you/did you study?- Animation

10. What’s your current job like?/What job would you like to have?- I work in an ice cream shop just as a job but i wanna be an animator or writer for shows

11. Your birth order- Youngest of 2

12. How many siblings do you have?- One

13. Do you have good relations with your family?- for the most part

14. How many friends do you have?- I would say I have about 8 close friends and then just a ton of other friends

15. Your relationship status- single but accepting applications

16. What do you look for in a SO?- usually a pulse and good hair

17. Do you have a crush?- kinda but also no

18. When did you have your first kiss?- haven't yet :(

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?- prob meaningful

20. What are your deal breakers?- smoking and drugs and how they treat others

21. How was your day?- well i just woke up so i guess good.

22. Favourite food & drink- Raspberry iced tea/Vanilla Lattes and Chowmein or burgers

23. What position do you sleep in?- either on my side or stomach. Im usually curled up in a ball so prime cuddle position...just saying

24. What was your last dream about?- I think it was about cake..

25. Your fears- bugs and the overwhelming thought of me being a failure

26. Your dreams- being someone where others can be inspired by

27. Your goals- to live a life with no regrets (i know typical right?) but also have a successful career.

28. Any pets?- 2 doggos

29. What are your hobbies?- drawing, painting, writing, video games, reading

30. Any cool places in your area?- kinda but you gotta drive to them so not really

31. What was your last awkward situation?- me stuttering over my words at work

32. What is your last regret?- idk

33. Language/s you can speak- English and barely any French

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.)- hell yeah

35. Have any quirks?- i can make a guinea pig noise and can stand on my head for a while.

36. Your pet peeves- having my neck being touched and mouth breathing

37. Ideal vacation- Any disney park

38. Any scars?- only mentally

39. What does your last text message say? “Shes being a big girl and taking 5 classes.”

40. Last 5 things from your search history- im to lazy to check but prob youtube or fics

41. What’s your [device] background?- Phone background is a painting from a museum and my computer is a bunch of Nintendo items

42. What do you daydream about?- being a voice actor or a pirate

43. Describe your dream home- one that looks like a castle

44. What’s your religion/Your thought about religion- I was raised Catholic but i really dont practice it anymore. I think it its a beautiful thing and alot of good comes from it, however i dont like it when it is used to harm others or defend evil people

45. Your personality type- So i took a test based on the 16 different ones and I am an Advocate type which apparetnly is very rare and less than one percent of the pop are it. https://www.16personalities.com/ heres the link if you wanna take it!

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done- I used to suck on batteries as a child

47. Are you happy with your current life?- for the most part

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life- Snorkeling in Hawaii (which i almost died), Crystal Cave tour and donuts which i hate

49. What does your wardrobe consist of?- hoodies and graphic tees

50. Favourite colour to wear?- black

51. How would you describe your style?- comfortable and sometimes i look good

52. Are you happy with your current looks?- ye

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?- I want blue hair one day

54. Any tattoos or piercings?- have my ears and now my nose pierced but i do want tattoos in the future

55. Do you get complimented often?- usually for my hair and i find it happens often

56. Favourite aesthetic?- Gothic and pastel

57. A popular trend that you dislike- crop tops

58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with?- “Good Night Moon” by Go Radio

59. Song you normally wouldn’t admit you like.- My Little Pony and Sofia the First songs slap

60. Favourite genre?- pop punk or pop

61. Favourite artist/band/genre? -Panic!, Taylor Swift

62. Hated popular songs/artists?- I wouldn’t say hate but im not really a fan of Billie Ellish, maybe i need to sit down and really listen but its just not my jam. I think shes a cool person and i love watching her on tv and what she stands for. By i hate Drake and Chris Brown for sure.

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5- Head above Water, Happy when im sad, Love bug, Casual affair, I believe. So Avril Lavigne, Jonas Brothers and Panic!

64. Can you sing or play any instruments?- Im not the worst singer but im also not fantastic and i can’t play

65. Do you like karaoke?- sometimes

66. Own any albums?- like cds then yes

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations?- not anymore

68. Favourite movie/series?- Any disney or pixar

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc- YA like adventure books

70. Your fictional crush/es- oh here we go. Juvia and Gray (Fairytail), Catwoman, Danny Phantom, Captain Hook and Regina Mills and Henry (Ouat), Steve (stranger things), Riddler (gotham) and Molly Hooper (Sherlock) and prob more.

71. Which fictional character is you?- prob a mixture of Momo and Deku from My Hero and Honey from Ouran

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so. Am I a shipper? ha. aight Gruvia, Nalu, Gajevy, Jerza, Kiribaku, Kacchacko, Todomomo, tododeku, LadyNoir and the love square, Captain Swan, Outlaw Queen, The powerpuff girls and the rowdyruff boys (respected partners) and like five thousand others

73. Favourite greek god?- Hades and Persephone

74. A legend from where you live that you like- literally nothing from where i live

75. Do you like art? What’s your favourite work or artist?- love art and i cant just pick one

76. Can you share your other social media?- i mean you can follow me on twitter at StarsnShortcake but all thats there is my shitty tweets and interactions with my friends and Voice actors lol

77. Favourite youtubers?- Mikes Mic, Macdoesit, Twamiz, Larri, Dan Howell, Amazing Phil, Jenna Marbles, Shane Dawson, Steph Inc, Garret Watts, and like a ton more

78. Favourite platform?- Tumblr or twitter

79. How much time do you spend on the internet?- too much

80. What video games have you played? Which one’s your favourite?- I love anything Nintendo

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts)- Kingdom Keepers, Suicide Notes and the Selection Series to name a few

82. Do you play board/card games?- Yes

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema?- nope

84. Favourite holiday- thanksgiving for the food

85. Are you into dramas?- ye

86. Would you use death note, if you had one?- haha ye

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?- no racism, sexism, homophobia and legal marriage everywhere. Also that no one goes hungry and everyone has a nice place to live.

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?- probably

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?- a hot demon

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?- I turn into a goddess

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?- ooo Celeste is a cool name

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week?- hmmm Tara Strong

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo- either the stars or the black heart or the fireworks

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true- Ive never eaten a chicken nugget, I can do the splits and I have cat

95. Cold or hot?- hot

96. Be a hero or be a villain?- oooooo um im a sucker for villains

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?- Rhyme

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time?- Shape shifting, i could be a plant

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?- bold of you to assume i would wanna live forever

100. ….. or …..?- :0

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ANON CAUSE IT TOOK FOREVER.

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intheheartofthematter · 5 years

Photo

TFBM "Lioness" (Source: Flickr/ exodus-travels)

Photo by Gramps, Nov ‘68, 4th birthday, Knott’s Berry Farm... Knott’s first every visit for little cars, farm animals, horse rides.

TFBM 2016 “Happy Birthday, Dad! I love and miss you! (I sang Happy Birthday, too) First birthday since...” ❤️

TFBM 2013 (Three months after my grandpa died, his dad) “Today is my Dad's birthday. I called him and he's really sick again, and sounds so depressed. He says he's getting old and he's so tired of being in pain and stuck in a wheelchair and in a nursing home. He doesn't want me to visit him today, but said maybe tomorrow. As usual, he let me go quickly, said he needed his pain shot and then said, I love you, through tears, almost sobs and hung up. It's so hard and I don't know what else I can do for him. I just needed to say something, think out loud.”

TFBM 2014 (Bill Eppridge—LIFE Picture Collection) “In late 1968, not long after famously capturing Robert Kennedy's assassination, Bill Eppridge spent two healing months among wild horses in the fabled landscape of the American West.”

youtube

This share is not about the main lyrics...

Sent to me shortly before he died, ‘So you won’t forget me’ I never could. I will remember you throughout eternity! ❤️

A couple of my Grandpa’s late years ‘wild horses’ paintings *card size prints in an album

Tonight! Tuesday Tuck In

One tradition passed down from my grandparents & dad💕 My baby at Knott’s riding horses there like me when little. And, just like me, didn’t want to get off when time was up.

Currently watching...

youtube

I’m hoping to find photos showing how different Knott’s was when I was little. I’d like to point out my favorite memories. The farm animals area had a mascot dog, Queenie, who was always a tail-wagging greeter. She was the first one I wanted to go see and hug and get face-licks from. Just like Lassie, they were brilliant in naming each same breed dog Queenie over the years, when one would pass. Later, Knott’s Scary Farm and Knott’s Merry Farm came into existence. T likes to go to the Halloween Haunt every year. I used to go all the time, too. Since my birthday is just two days after Halloween it’s usually celebrated in some Halloween combination. I remember when I went to Knott’s Scary Farm with my friends for my 16th birthday and I couldn’t wait to visit the farm. “Farm?” Yeah, it’s still here although not a main attraction now. I went home with a Red Satin bunny. I named her Pumpkin.

An oil painting by my grandpa. A couple of detail shots...

I couldn’t avoid the lighting on it in my room...

I have a small oil painting of cats, given to me when I was a little girl, and three of his pen etchings; a fox, a rabbit, and my favorite of a tree. I also have two paintings of flowers I asked for. All used to be up on the walls in my homes. T has a few of them in my stored belongings at their place, as well as my piano. I hope they don’t get damaged at any point. There’s a sad story about a lot of my grandfather’s work, and who has them, who avoided me after the funeral. My family out there say they will try to figure out a way to get them back, but I know they won’t, or can’t. This woman is wealthy and thinks she’s entitled. Anyway, it’s not important. My family who have paintings of his offered them to me, to take them down off of their walls (of course I couldn’t take them)... this woman avoided me at all costs, with several excuses, until I had to leave. I don’t know why they’re so important to her! Anyway, this painting was one that my dad loved. He had it hanging in his homes for years. When he became paralyzed, he pleaded with the doctors to let him go home again. Once he pushed through physical therapy and proved he was strong enough to do it, they released him. But, sadly, his roommate came home one day to a tipped over wheelchair, blood (and more) all over the walls and floor, and my dad missing. Thankfully, a neighbor heard him cry out and called an ambulance. We had no idea which hospital he was taken to. By the time I found him, walking into the ER room sectionals, the nurse across the way told the others, his DR says he’s DNR. I looked over and saw that it was my dad... too many details to tell it all, but I said, “No he’s not! Resuscitate him right now!” Who are you? - His daughter. What doctor said that? He’s fired. And I had her call my dad’s Internal Medicine doctor, who agreed to become his primary doctor. Too many details, but even after all that happened, they didn’t insert the tube correctly, and I pointed that out, because they were saying it was useless that he was going to die. So, they rushed him to x-ray and found out I was right, and corrected it. Everything was a nightmare. There’s so much more. He had a raging staph infection. His skin was discolored throughout his entire body, looking leopard-like. They said he wouldn’t recover from it... just like when they wanted me to pull the plug and he fully recovered. It goes on and on... too much to think about, really. But, that’s when the doctor did the dirty work for me and told him that he had to go back to a nursing home. Anyway, this painting, and some of my dad’s other belongings (when I moved him out of that house with his roommate), was kept in the warehouse where I worked. When I finally got my piano and the other stuff out of there only a few years ago, I planned to bring this painting to my dad and hang it in his room at the home. He was looking forward to it, but then his health took a turn, and he died before I could bring it to him. So, it’s been sitting in my room since... painting side against the wall, to protect it, braced by other things. If I could get my own place, I would hang them all again. I think at this point, we’re stuck here until spring, losing more money to rent, medical, meds and all in the meantime. I just hope that nothing changes by spring and we can still make this happen before I won’t be able to contribute anything or do for myself in that way. We’ll see 🙏🏻

Oh! I almost forgot! Look what I came across yesterday: baby...

I noticed my photos program created this video this August. It’s mostly of Aiden (T’s Make-A-Wish kitty) one of the last times when he was real sick, and I’m also trying to connect on Skype with T for him in the video, lol... It helped him a lot. We finally managed to get through to each other. They Skyped daily a few times... he was anticipating it in the one shot. It was awful how he died. Just like my dad. Neither should have gone through what they did. I can’t let that happen to Marozi. Everyone needs to brace themselves soon. Neither my aunt or T are ready to have him put down, and I talk about it all the time, but both keep saying he’s better in between... For what? Half a day? Anyway, dreading it, too. But I can’t experience more like that. I just can’t. It’s too much for me. I’ve seen and been through too much already. The flashbacks of both of them are hard. And, not just of them... of the children I watched die in the hospital, of all of the medical stuff I saw with my kid, my dad, Alex, others and my beloved animals, too. I just can’t. But, here’s the video... strange... the music doesn’t fit either. And, although Aiden looks awful in these photos, it’s not so bad that I wince and cringe and feel that deep emotional pain. Just sharing to get it out, I guess:

vimeo

Currently watching, The Last Airbender, on our new 55″ TV. Not bad. Theater sound. Our old TV went out two days ago. Waiting to hear if T & Alexandria are coming over for AHS. I have the house to myself for a few hours. Relaxing now... Trying to get my symptoms to calm down. Hours late on meds. Still can’t go without them. I guess I need Prednisone this time. I don’t think life will ever be easy for me. Ever. Nothing new. I have to accept that, and have, and will. (Wed. 1:45pm)

(Art by willow-s-linda) - 9/26/19 2:18-2:42pm

Oh! You want to know what’s happening...

Well, T & Alexandria came over last night, but didn’t stay as late as usual. In part because my brother had to drive them home and needed to get up early today because he went to Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights. It must be nice to receive disability and health insurance and spend most of your time watching TV or playing video games or constantly going to amusement parks... Bitter, who me? And, I wasn’t feeling well, with my head foggy, so I didn’t feel like talking about any plans or progress on their part and they didn’t bring it up either. But, today, feeling worse I wrote to T. No response yet, but classes and work, etc. I’ll just paste screenshots. I left one little part out that is a little too personal to disclose publicly. Even if no response really, just knowing someone cares and listens is comforting (and I might delete a few later, but leave one that gives the gist for reference remembrance). I have to fwd them to be able to add here. I need a few. OK, here we go:

Maybe I said too much and it will just be skimmed again. But, I text, sent a detailed email before, and talk in person when I see them when I can and it doesn’t seem like I’m getting through to them. T tends to go into denial about the seriousness of a lot of things. I think it’s a coping mechanism. Like with Aiden and Marozi. Anyway, I noticed a few typos, too. Whatever. And, I typed loops instead of hoops (make you go through), but it feels more like loops, so it’s fitting, lol. I��m propped up in the living room chair with my support cushions and pillows, since my brother’s not here to take over the chair, and just made myself Double Spice Chai in my Stitch mug, and hope to find a movie to distract myself with for the time being. Hope your day is going smoothly! :)

Currently watching. Nothing else on... Previously known in person, but I’ll take it as a refresher on these types.

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TFBM (Source: thinned-skin via -thefixisin)

New listing townhouse. I went ahead and sent the link, saying that if we could get a different lender and a little more offered (not much more) this would be ideal. Coupled with my subtle joke, the funny part was in the real estate wording, trying to make it sound like an automatic chair was a big selling point: “What a deal!’’ (I don’t think they thought it was funny.)

Hard to see, but the stair chair is to the right, top of stairs.

TFBM

Peppermint tea and lights off, darkening blinds closed, diffusing a mix of Frankincense, Eucalyptus and Rosemary for the first hour. Next, I’ll add Peppermint and Lavender. The baby wants in with me so bad. He keeps rattling the doorknob and meowing in such a sorrowful way. He leaves and then comes back. It’s mid-afternoon. He can cat nap on the cat tree.

Putin will try a few scare tactics, through his cronies, but will let it go, not really caring. He has other tactics to gain his end, but I don’t think he realizes just how outdated most are, lol. It’s kind of funny to watch. But, on the serious side, it’s scary.

Frankincense, Eucalyptus, Rosemary, Peppermint and Lavender is an odd combination. I’m mostly smelling the Frankincense and Eucalyptus now. The others must have brought out those two to the forefront. Frankincense helps boost the immune system and reduces inflammation. Eucalyptus stimulates the immune system, relaxes sore muscles, helps with depression and fatigue, sinus and allergies, and mental exhaustion; per science.

Chewbacca (Source: aleriydraws)

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And Saved

Just a gist :)

#FBF This goes with the Knott’s stuff (Camp Snoopy)

WAIT! Something’s happening behind the scenes, like... I hear whispers and see many faces and finger pointing... what is it? WHAT IS IT? This pinned tweet is a distraction, a place holder, something people will stay with mentally, his signal to the alt right? I can’t tell. It’s a signal but for what? To who? Something’s going on. I hope it’s not something devastating. Stay vigilant whoever you are. I need to tune in, focus to see. WTH Trump? (Fri 9/27 8:45 pm)

ahem

I’m using this song to help focus...

Yes, I can. You underestimate me. Give it to me. IT, explosion, something missing. OK, blocking with energy.

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I Am Lion

+ Still no response from T even after I wrote again today... I gave them a percentage of the original lender offer to deposit into their savings account to show we had at least that much for a down payment. Since it’s taking so long and doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen I’ve repeatedly told them both I need that money back to either use to afford moving/living expenses on my own, or medical if I’m without insurance much longer (part of the reason to move out of state), or to redeposit into the account it came from before the end of the year, if we move but not until spring, so I don’t get penalized for taking out too much this year without investment or proof of other mentioned.

Lemongrass tx alone right now, might add a few others.

Cliff Burton has a few things to say in my last personal post. I’ll be adding them soon… lending his energy. Thanks for reminding me Faith No More. And, get well, James… I’ll be with you soon in energy. too. You’ve been through enough. And you’ve remained one of the nicest guys I know. Remember. (Yeah, I sound crazy. Who cares. I know what I’m doing.) Here’s this for now, live footage, from “Ride The Lightning” =

For Whom the Bell Tolls (9/28 4:24)

(5:23) Are you listening to the bass too?

Orion

The Call of Ktulu

The Four Horsemen

And, what do you know... I got a response, finally. It looks like I possibly can get insurance through them. Will be checking out the link sent to me soon. Fingers crossed.

Lemongrass tx, now with Teatree, Lavender & Cedarwood too.

OK, I’ll admit it, I’m slow because I haven’t been feeling well. We got part of it figured out... I used a “green” light, “green” in the Metallica song... money is “green”... Trump is suddenly receiving a lot of money, so they say... a golf course is “green”. IT, Intelligence Test, [What is an IT raid? IDK] (IT, Institute of Technology; IT, In Training...) Thank God for energy in the meantime... still need more.

Ohhh!!! IT, Income Tax [raid]. “Green” is money, and sudden donations, tax evasion… Trump! OK, we’ve gotten a little farther… oh, this is good. OK, golf resorts are “green”, too. Whispering on the “green”. Those who can do are you listening? Do the math… you’ve got this! There’s more. I’ll keep on, too.

I keep getting Moscow. Not Russia. Not Putin. Moscow. I don’t understand.

Even though T gave me info, and said they could give me the money back, nothing more was said. I told T to hang onto it for now and explained no rush, but by mid December at latest to redeposit if we don’t move before spring or if I need it sooner for medical expenses. Asked what they’re thinking at this point and an important question to be able to get the insurance too. I think they’re upset with me. But, come on... I’ve been more than fair and patient until now, when I have pressing matters. It’s sad and sucks. Everything.

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