#she was like is raising my kid in america going to give me an american kid. and then never internalized that and continues to be surprised.

[ghoulpiled]

ʟᴏꜱ ᴀɢᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ || Teaser

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘?

❧𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Pre-War!Cooper Howard x fem!Reader

❧𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧g: E / MATURE! Minors, DO NOT interact!

❧ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: nothing yet but it will get really explicit

❧𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: ~1200 words

❧𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You're an up and coming actress and he's America's sweetheart. (WIP summary)

❧ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This is my current WIP but be prepared for it to be so much longer and juicer and drama filled. I just wanted to get this out so y'all can see I am indeed COOKING !!! Also, A Man and His Dog was based off of A Boy and His Dog so that is what I based it off of!

You have been in the acting game for far too long. Originally you were advertising royalty. Your mom first put you into commercial gigs at the young age of five. Luckily for your mom, BlamCo Mac & Cheese was looking for the new poster child. Your face was plastered on billboards all around Hollywood. “Nothing says dinner like BlamCo Mac & Cheese. Bring the family together for a dish everyone will enjoy.” This phrase will forever be etched into the grooves of your brain. But as all gigs go, you outgrew BlamCo. Once you hit age ten, you couldn’t be the cutesy little kid telling families to eat the most disgusting mac and cheese known to man. Like many gigs will do, you were dropped from the gig. It paid well. Well, it paid your mom well.

She would go on lavish vacations without you. Only leaving you with a babysitter. This babysitter ended up raising you. Your mom would also buy herself expensive dresses and handbags. What would you get? Hand Me downs of whatever wardrobe on commercials could give you. This was a common theme early on in your career. The money you made was promised to you once you hit eighteen. Enough money to go to college and make a name for yourself professionally. After the BlamCo gig, you hit a dry spell. No one wanted a kid going through puberty as the face of their brand. With money getting tight, your mom signed you up for every and any background character role in a film and TV show she could. That’s where Nuka Cola noticed you.

Upon hitting sixteen, Nuka Cola representatives came up to your mom offering you a four year contract to be the face of Nuka Cola. It paid insanely well. So you did it. Another gig with your face plastered everywhere. From highway billboards to full body cut outs of you in Red Rockets across the country, you were back in the limelight. But those four years went by quickly. Once the contract ended, you were eighteen. You were excited to throw your acting career away. Child stardom was too damn much. College was going to be a fresh start for you! To no one’s surprise, you never got your money. To make it worse, your mom kicked you out of the house. She didn’t see you as profitable anymore. Mainly because you are old enough to go your own way.

Due to all these gigs, you never had time to make friends. So you took to crashing on random old co-star’s couches. You were back to background gigs. Which paid okay but not enough to help pay for college. Sadly, that was a dream you could never catch. It took three years for you to finally get your foot back in the door with big acting gigs. That gig being A Man and His Dog. A film in which you play the main female character who is supposed to seduce the main lead. It wasn’t really a film expected to go anywhere. The lead was a man straight out of the Sino-American War who had never acted a day in his life. This was also your first big gig, you’re not one to talk. Unknown to you, that man would become western movie royalty. A young and disgruntled Cooper Howard.

First day on set was odd. No one really talked to you. Not even the director. There was no way you were to know if you were doing the role justice. They had you in a wedding dress with white face paint. It was embarrassing. You stand near your trailer, lighting up a cigarette during lunch. Rent was due that night and you had no money to pay it. If this gig didn’t make a lot of money, you’re screwed. With a shaky breath, you look down at the ground. You’re getting cigarette ash all over this dress. Wardrobe is going to kill you.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?”

The southern voice takes you out of your thoughts as you look up. You rub your eyes, messing up the makeup you have on. Now your hand is stained white. Great. Cooper walks over to you before leaning against your trailer. He takes out a cigarette of his own and begins to smoke with you. This is the first person to speak with you and it's the lead of the film. You try to act natural but you’re smitten. There is some charm he holds. Maybe it’s the fact you’re playing weird lovers in the film or the fact you have never been in contact with such a gorgeous man before. This moment right now makes you realize you’ve never had your first kiss. Your life has been acting gig after acting gig. No time for personal relationships.

“Are ya just gon’ stare at me?” He chuckles, voice smooth like whiskey.

You clear your throat and shake your head.

“Sorry, I’m not used to small talk.” Is all you can truly muster.

He offers you a kind smile. One that feels like sickly sweet honey on a hot day. It makes your stomach flutter with butterflies. He already has you wrapped around his finger. Maybe it’s the southern drawl that burns like a good bourbon. He is one hell of a charmer.

“Ain’t small talk unless you want it to be.” He takes a long drag from his cigarette, licking his bottom lip.

“You’re killing it by the way. The director is- pardon my language- a dick.” Cooper scoffs, shaking his head. He flicks his cigarette onto the ground and stomps on it which causes you to do it to your own.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“You can tell me that.” You turn to face him, leaning against your own trailer.

Maybe this set wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

-

During set, you would crash at Cooper’s apartment. A tiny place near filming. You ended up getting evicted because you couldn’t afford rent. It was only logical you still find somewhere to crash. You’re lucky you became close with Cooper. He’s a gentleman. Made you feel at home. You opened up about your childhood and he opened up about war.

War. It was a scary thing. His stories kept you on the edge of your seat. Here you were, thinking you had a tough past. Almost all of Cooper’s friends are dead because of the war. You could only comfort him.

-

After filming wrapped, you were thrusted into the world of press. The press tour with Cooper was something else. The director wanted you two to lean into a facade. He wanted the both of you to act like lovers. This was to sell the film, lean into that romance your two characters had. You couldn’t flirt for shit without a script. Cooper, however, was a complete natural.

You followed Cooper’s lead. You know it was all an act but you were falling for him. Hard. He was the first man to ever give you the time of day. You knew it was fake flirting but every blush that he caused was real. The film ended up being big enough to push both Cooper and you into the spotlight. Now you’re landing gigs like crazy as well as him.

You both play lovers again in another western B-film. This one didn’t have the same success as the prior film but it was still another film you did with Cooper.

Part One

[usssnarfblat]

Did Anastasia deserve to die for her family's crimes against Fieval's family?

I've always found it interesting that "Anastasia" and "An American Tail" were made by the same guy...

My mom got us "An American Tail" as kids, since we were Jewish, and a Disney-like movie with Jewish characters was a one-of-a-kind thing. ("The Prince of Egypt" was still a few years away. Yes, I'm that old.) More to the point, my dad's side of the family is largely Russian Jews, who immigrated in the early 1920s, for exactly the same reasons as the Mouskewitz. Being a child of this background and very literally obsessed with cats, I had mixed feelings about the movie.

When "Anastasia" came out a few years later, Mom didn't let that history stop us from enjoying the new princess movie, but she didn't shelter us from it either. We regarded it like we did the real history behind any sugar-coated princess movie. She even got us some history books about the real Romanov family, and we were fascinated by the subject.

Still, it's an odd elephant in the room, watching "Anastasia" and knowing that her granddad was the one who sent those Cossack cats after Fievel's village, and her dad himself continued doing it to the Jewish mice who didn't leave.

"Go, Pompom, Kibble and Fluff-Baron! Kill those Jew mice, and I'll give you extra catnip treats tonight!"

Don Bluth presents both the Romannov family and their victims with equal sympathy, even opening both movies with the family celebrating a holiday, with the kid heroes getting a plot-specific present, before being viciously attacked.

"Wow Grandmama! Fieval and Tanya could use this as a merry-go-round!"

*Cough* "Yes uh, about those Jewish mice Sweetie..."

Bluth's portrayal of the Romanov family is not entirely inaccurate. By all accounts, Nicholas II was a deeply loving father who both doted on his children, but raised them not to be spoiled. Despite being royalty, the princesses shared bedrooms and did charity work at hospitals.

It's a baffling irony that Nicholas was nevertheless was a tyrant, and not remotely just to his Jewish subjects. When I was about twelve, Mom got me the Dear America book A Coal Miner's Bride, about the Catholic Polish immigrants who also fled the oppression of the Russian Tzar. (Anastasia's family conquered part of Poland in the 1800s, banning the Pols from speaking their own language and drafting their sons into the Tzar's dick-measuring contest wars.) Anyway, that's what my mom's side of the family was fleeing when they immigrated. Yes, my family has double reason to hate the Romanovs.

So, I personally don't have a lot of sympathy for Nicholas II. But the horrors his poor wife and children endured in their final moments never fails to get the reaction from me.

The rationalization for the murder of the children and queen was that it was the only way to ensure that the monarchy never returned. But I assume most modern-thinking people would say that the ends do not justify the means in this case.

That said, millions of families like Anetka's and Fievel's suffered as bad or worse than the Romanovs, because of the Romanovs, and no one remembers them because they didn't wear tiaras. This no doubt was another factor that killed sympathy for the Romanov children. But they were still children.

The question today is, if we can feel for a family that was literal royalty, despite their father being an undeniable tyrant against our own families...can we also feel for Palestinian and Israeli families, during a conflict that is vastly more complicated than Imperial Russia?

Or do they need to be cute mice and glittery princesses to get our attention?

[virtie333]

hello there! i noticed in your most recent ask you stated that you used to train raptors and parrots for a zoo. as someone who’s incredibly interested in that career, i was wondering if you had any tips or tricks for getting started?

i’ve been consistently volunteering at a local wildlife shelter, and im working to join the education program they have so that i can begin to work with their raptors. is there anything else that people interested in this career can do?

thank you!

I'm going to be honest with you, I got very lucky to get into the world of birds. When I applied for a summer job at the small zoo in the Black Hills, which actually specializes in reptiles, my desire was to work with the miniature horses they also raised. I spent my first summer giving pony rides to kids!

However, the area we gave rides looked over the weathering area, the place they kept the raptors, and I would see the person run back to get the eagle they used as the final bird for every show. When they asked me that winter if there was any other department I was interested in, I told them the birds. I spent my winter break getting introduced to them and spent the next four summers working with them.

My boss was a falconer and a licensed wildlife rehabilitator. All her staff were temporarily licensed as well, so we could handle all the raptors. We performed shows (that's Skyler above, a Harris' Hawk), took care of sick and injured raptors, and took care of the parrots that were on display in the Sky Dome.

Moche, the blue and gold Macaw I helped raise from a baby, is still there, almost 30 years later.

I'm going to assume you live in the U.S. (or at least North America)?My suggestion would be to keep volunteering, keep getting whatever experience you can. If you know of a licensed rehabber in your area, volunteer to help them. If you can find any falconers, ask to shadow them as they care for, train, and hunt their birds. The more experience you get and the more professionals you can use as references, the more likely you'll be able to find a job in the field.

Are there any zoos/theme parks nearby? The smaller the zoo, the more likely you'll be able to get a position with limited experience, as I did. Obviously, the bigger zoos and theme parks will want professional experience. My boss worked for Bush Gardens before she came to us, and she is now the Education Director at the Minnesota Raptor Center.

If all else fails, just study up on falconry as much as you can and find one to apprentice under. Every state has different laws, and since North American Birds of Prey are protected federally, they have rules, too, but it's definitely a reachable goal.

I hope any of this helps! When I graduated college, my main goal was to work with horses, but I ended up working as a vet tech for 18+ years. I was the designated 'bird lady' at the clinic for all those years, as none of the vets had a huge amount of bird experience, so they always made sure I was their tech for bird appointments. I don't get to work with them much now that I'm at a boarding kennel, though we have boarded one or two in the past few years.

I miss it and them very much, but I will always have the memories.

[beardedmrbean]

A woman who left Alabama to join the Islamic State in 2014 now says she regrets her actions and is hoping to return to the United States.

"If I need to sit in prison, and do my time, I will do it.… I won’t fight against it," Hoda Muthana, now 28, told The News Movement from the Roj detention camp in Syria, according to The Associated Press. "I’m hoping my government looks at me as someone young at the time and naive."

Muthana, who was born in New Jersey to Yemeni immigrants and was raised in Alabama, ran away from home at the age of 20 to join ISIS. Raised in a conservative Muslim household, she told her family she was going on a school trip but instead flew to Turkey and crossed into Syria using funds from secretly cashed tuition checks.

Once she arrived in Syria, Muthana says she was detained in a guest house reserved for unmarried women and children.

US-BORN ALABAMA WOMAN WHO JOINED ISIS IS NOT AN AMERICAN CITIZEN, JUDGE RULES

"I’ve never seen that kind of filthiness in my life, like there was 100 women and twice as much kids, running around, too much noise, filthy beds," she recalled.

She said the only way out was to marry an ISIS fighter, and she eventually married three, giving birth to a child. Her first two husbands, including the father of her son, both died in combat. Muthana says she divorced the third.

But the former American now says she regrets everything except for the birth of her son and hopes to return to the U.S. and become an advocate against extremism, making the case that she was brainwashed by the terrorist group when she left Alabama in 2014.

The Islamic State at one time held swaths of territory in Iraq and Syria and at the height of their power became famous for brutal executions and terrorist attacks that they frequently boasted about on social media. During that time Muthana appeared to be a vocal supporter of the group in interviews with Buzzfeed News and on social media. Posts from 2015 on her Twitter account showed her encouraging more Americans to join the extremist group and carry out attacks at home, including drive-by shootings, vehicle rammings and targeting large gatherings on national holidays.

ISIS BRIDE CLAIMS SHE’D BE MODEL CITIZEN IF SHE'S ALLOWED TO RETURN TO US: ‘I DIDN’T HATE AMERICA’

She now claims that her phone was stolen from her and the posts were made by supporters of ISIS, but she would now use her experiences to speak out against extremism.

Muthana had her citizenship revoked in 2016 by the Obama administration, which argued her birthright citizenship could be canceled because her father was an accredited Yemeni diplomat at the time of her birth. That decision was maintained throughout the Trump administration, which continued to ban her from returning to the United States.

Attorneys representing Muthana have claimed the move was in error, arguing that her diplomatic accreditation ended before she was born. But U.S. courts have upheld the position of the government, while the Supreme Court declined her appeal to hear the case last year.

She now remains in a detention camp in northern Syria that houses thousands of widows of Islamic State fighters and their children. She continues to claim that she was a victim who will now advocate against extremism.

"Even here, right now, I can’t fully say everything I want to say. But once I do leave, I will. I will be an advocate against this," she said. "I wish I can help the victims of ISIS in the West understand that someone like me is not part of it, that I as well am a victim of ISIS."

Hassan Shibly, an attorney for Muthana’s family, argues it is "absolutely clear that she was brainwashed and taken advantage of." He added that the family believes she should be allowed back to repay her debt to society and help others from "falling into the dark path that she was led down."

"She was absolutely misguided, and no one is denying that. But again, she was a teenager who was the victim of a very sophisticated recruitment operation that focuses on taking advantage of the young, the vulnerable, the disenfranchised," he said.

[on-a-crescendo]

Little Firecracker

A Bakugou Katsuki-centred MHA fanfic ficlet based on @creativepromptsforwriting 's "Prompt #1: Write about a family wedding where you are the only single - besides a ten-year-old."

@creativepromptfills - would love a reblog 😁

[I am On_A_Crescendo on Ao3 as well!]

"Oh come on Katsuki, it won't be as bad as you think." Mitsuki had wrangled her son into a suit and was now lassoing a tie around him. All of his energy was going into resisting the process.

"Everyone always asks me where my date is at these things! I'm tired of being interrogated!"

"Your cousin will be disappointed if you don't show up to her wedding; you two used to be inseparable when you were little! The only thing that got in the way of that was when they moved to America." The tie situation had not gotten any better. "I give up! Masaru!"

Katsuki's father entered the room as a frustrated Mitsuki exited. He sighed. "Please Katsuki, it's only a day. We can get the wedding over with and maybe you'll enjoy the reception. The venue isn't far from here either."

Katsuki allowed Masaru to complete the process of tying his tie. "Fine. If anyone asks where my date is though, so help me...I also don't understand why there's dancing? Am I seriously going to be expected to dance?!"

"The groom is American, it's what they do there. And no - you don't have to dance if you don't want to. Might make for a boring night though."

Katsuki scoffed as he followed his father out to the car.

---

"Katsuki!" His cousin, adorned in her wedding gown, crushed him in a massive hug. "You look so good, all grown up and handsome! Who would've ever thought given how much of a miserable gremlin you are!" She laughed as she punched his shoulder. "So, no lucky date here with you? What a shame!"

Katsuki fumed. "No, I didn't bring anyone..." he said through clenched teeth.

"Their loss! Have fun dancing; I expect to see you out there on the floor soon!" She floated off to socialize with other family and friends.

Katsuki walked over to a table and kicked a chair out so that he could sit down. A small, blonde girl approached him.

"What's your problem?" she asked.

"Huh?" Katsuki glared at her. He had no idea who she was, but he figured she belonged to some relative he hardly knew.

"Why are you so angry?" she inquired.

"Can you just...leave me alone alright? I don't need some kid asking me questions just like the adults do."

"Are you angry because you don't have a dancing partner?"

"No!"

She shrugged. "Then why are you pissed off?"

"Should you really be using words like that? How old are you, seven?"

She stomped down on his foot and he let out a pained yelp. "NO! I'm ten! And you're one to talk, I've heard about you from father, Katsuki. You're not exactly an angel yourself!"

The girl had pointed toward her father and Katsuki realized it was one of his cousins whom he had not seen since he was very young.

"Dance with me," she said adamantly. "I don't have a date either, but I want to dance with someone!"

"What? Absolutely not!"

She raised her eyebrows and looked down at Katsuki's uninjured foot as if to say 'and I'll do it again if you don't do as I say!'

Katsuki groaned as he stood up. She grabbed his hand and pulled him so eagerly to the dancefloor that he almost fell over. As they danced to various uptempo songs, Katsuki actually found himself having more and more fun bit by bit. They chatted as they danced, and the more he learned about Akane the more she reminded him of himself.

They sat at a table after a long session of dancing, and Akane informed Katsuki that she was thirsty and that he should get them some sort of a drink. Katsuki stopped scrolling on his phone and set it down as he rose to do as he had been told. The consequences of doing otherwise would only be painful.

After he returned, they finished their sodas quickly as Akane coaxed Katsuki onto the dancefloor for another round of dancing. A slow ballad came on and Akane hopped onto Katsuki's feet with absolutely no hesitation.

"There's a boy you like from school isn't there?" she asked bluntly.

Katsuki looked around in a panic, hoping that no one overheard. He shushed her as he scowled. "Why the hell do you say that?"

She smirked. "I went through your phone while you got our drinks! You should really put a lock on that thing before just leaving it wherever. Rookie move! You'd think that's something they would teach you at hero school! Anyway, I saw what you had been texting about with whoever 'Shitty Hair' is on your contact list. You have a crush on a boy named Deku! You even have Deku's number saved in your phone too!" She giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "I feel like a secret agent!"

Katsuki was quiet for a moment. He finally decided how he wanted to reply. "So what if I like him? It doesn't matter, there's no way he likes me back. I've been a complete shithead to him."

"You're a shithead to everyone!" Akane replied, almost in hysterics from laughing so hard. "Well, I'm really happy that I'm right about how much you like him!"

Katsuki looked down at her in confusion as she hopped off of his feet and seemed to be looking behind him.

"May I cut in?" The voice made Katsuki's eyes go wide. He turned around slowly to find Izuku in a suit, hand outstretched and smiling.

"Oh thank God, please do - I'm sick of him, Deku! I'm really happy that you got that text I sent telling you to come! You made it here in time to rescue me!" Akane tossed her arms above her head melodramatically as she ran over to hug Auntie Mitsuki who was looking on in bewilderment. Mitsuki slapped Masaru's shoulder with the back of her hand to get his attention and pointed over toward the boys. They both smiled, pleased that their son ended up having a great evening after all.

"Akane is quite the firecracker, huh?" Izuku asked as he and Katsuki continued to slow dance. "She reminds me of a certain someone."

"I can't believe you actually came...Izuku."

"Of course I did - all you ever had to do was ask."

The next song was uptempo, and Izuku ran over to grab Akane's hand. He brought her out onto the dancefloor.

"Look, I ended up with a date after all!" she shouted at Katsuki and stuck out her tongue.

"Oh no, you don't!" Katsuki laughed as he grabbed one of Izuku's hands and one of Akane's. The three of them spun and danced until Akane was told she had to leave.

"I love you Katsuki!" She hugged him so tightly around the middle that he could hardly breathe. "Please don't wait to see me again until you and Izu get married, okay?!"

She skipped off leaving Katsuki blushing. "I love you too Akane," he said to himself quietly. Izuku grabbed his hand as the two of them waved goodbye to her.

Another ballad came on.

"Can I have this dance then? I'll ask you myself this time." Katsuki squeezed Izuku's hand.

Izuku grinned. "Always."

[chronicallymargaret]

the beginning

One morning in February of 2012, my mom had knocked on the door to wake me for breakfast and I told her I didn’t feel well. She went and grabbed the thermometer and it read 102℉. There was a sickness going around the high school at the time, so she told me to take some meds and rest. The next morning, my mom woke me up again to check my temperature and it had barely gone down. I stayed home again and followed the same regime. After my fever finally broke, my body didn’t feel right. I thought maybe I was just overly tired from being sick or maybe it was just the cold medicine wearing off. Eventually, I got to the point where I really didn’t think about the pain because I didn’t want to worry anyone. The family wounds were still healing from losing my first best friend, my grandpa, six years prior to cancer. Plus, I never liked people worrying about me because I knew that no matter what, I would always be okay - or so I thought.

High school was hard enough - let alone having a medical condition that not a single doctor in the tri-state area knew a single thing about. I kept my symptoms away from my parents for a very long time. Eventually, like most parents, they caught on that something wasn’t right with their kid. In December of 2012 along came the typical parental questions: “Margaret, are you doing drugs?” “Come on, kid, just tell me what’s going on with ya.” “Kiley Mae. Sit your ass down and start talking.” And then the never ending conversations and tears started to flow. I explained that, no - I was not doing drugs (I really was quite innocent here, Ma and Pops. Only a couple of times, I swear.). I finally broke down to my parents and told them the truth: Ever since that February morning in 2012, I’ve had a headache and chronic pain nearly every day.

Next thing I knew, my mom started researching and researching and more researching. She tried countless times to get clinics/doctors/specialists - you name it, she called them - to even listen to her. She called Mayo Clinic nearly EVERY DAY - practically begging on her hands and knees to fit me in to be seen by someone, anyone. She was my voice because no doctor or person took me seriously. I was “craving attention, a drama queen, drug addict/seeker, hypochondriac, lazy, not good enough, problematic, selfish, waste of money, time, and space.) I watched my dad’s hair slowly turn more and more gray as he worried about whether he should go to work to make money for the never-ending medical bills or go with his wife and daughter to find out the answers. (I hate how corporate America works. Since when has money become more important than one’s health? It’s disgusting and I wish we could change the system.) I watched my sister lack the attention from my parents that she deserved because they were constantly worried about me. (I am in no way, shape, or form calling out my parents. They have ALWAYS done their best in EVERY situation and that is why I am so proud to call them my parents - my heroes.) My high school friends secretively raised money to buy me a miniature pet pig to try to help make me feel better - my parents appreciated the kind gesture but said no because I needed to focus on my health. (I WILL own a pet pig one day - Dallas has already approved.

I have had a majority of my POTS symptoms under control over the last 10 years, but 2023 really screwed up my body. Due to all of the trauma and stress from not only everyday life, but miscarriages, surgeries, and mental health episodes as well - my body has been in FULL overdrive. I've been struggling trying to keep my life going and trying to ignore my health because I don’t want to give in to the fact that my POTS is getting WORSE and not better like I had been telling myself - and everyone I know - since the day I was diagnosed in July of 2012. Back then - yes, this was a frickin’ decade ago .. totally gross, I know. [“POTS was only seen in approximately 500,000 Americans. (https://www.aafp.org/pubs/afp/issues/2012/0901/p392.html)."] Imagine being 15 years old and you're a literal drop in the ocean of people who have something medically rare. What in the frick are the odds of that?

Flash forward to now, February 2024, I have nearly every symptom back plus new ones. My chronic symptoms are headaches - different intensities and locations, lightheadedness and dizziness, severe brain fog - I try not to drive on these days as I typically forget everything, insomnia, anxiety (omg .. I said the BIG “A” word), and depression (oooopps, I did it again bahaha). My new symptoms are: chronic abdominal pain - intensity and location has varied over approximately three months now, dry heaving, hot and cold intolerance (I told my work mom’s I feel like I’m going through menopause with how many hot flashes I have .. they giggled and said “Ohhh Kiley Mae, you have no idea what you’re in for - this is hardly nothing.” Also, can we talk about how important work relationships are? I love my work moms and work family - I’m very blessed on that front.), and vomiting.

The news that I learned today was that due to the dry heaving and vomiting, I now have a large hiatal hernia - part of my stomach is on top of my diaphragm. I’m currently waiting for a call to schedule a barium swallow test and I have a referral in with the University of Nebraska Medicine with a POTS specialist. I personally believe that I’m going to have chronic headaches and abdominal migraines - but I’m holding onto a little bit of hope that the doctor I currently have is going to confirm that the abdominal discomfort is from the hernia, not POTS. I plan on keeping this updated regularly because after I figure out what’s going on with me - I want to share my path of life so no one has to go through the medical trauma that I have.

Medical trauma is a huge part of not only who I am as a person but talking about it is the therapy that I am working through right now. I will eventually spill all of the emotions, but for today I’m going to talk about today. Because today was a very good day and I deserve to celebrate it.

My parents have become “snowbirds” and fly to southern Texas for the winter. Unfortunately, my endoscope ended up being scheduled while they were gone. I told my parents they didn’t have to come back home because it was a simple procedure, and everything was going to be okay. (Yes, I’m 27 and still take my parents to certain medical appointments because I’ve been hurt - I’m working on it.). I don’t know if it’s because I finally did it by myself or if the staff was told to be extra careful with me or what - but I had the most relaxing experience ever. No one looked at me like I was weird when I stated that I had POTS and would need an extra bag of saline. The first anesthetist actually shared with me that she also was diagnosed with POTS. I immediately got a smile on my face and asked if she was kidding. Coming from a small town, not very many people understood what my diagnosis is and again - I’ve been used to being a single drop in the ocean.

The anesthetist made sure to mark my charts and inform the rest of the care team my condition, what to expect, and what I would need after I woke back up. Anesthesia tends to send me into a flare up - especially with cutting off food and water after midnight. Once I got taken into the operating room, my actual anesthetist started asking me questions about POTS. He stated that he had heard of it, but only until recently. I started to explain how long I’ve had it. Then I just started word vomiting because this was a whole new experience for me - how I just want some answers but I’m sure they wouldn’t find anything. I had already come to terms with the abdominal migraines starting. He looked at me in the sincerest way and said, “Wow. You’re a strong woman. You’ve been through a lot but you’re so cool about it.” That statement right there hit me. I realized in that moment that, holy shit, I’ve persevered. I’ve climbed a huge hurdle today and I can’t wait to keep climbing.

If you've read this long - just know that I see you and I love you.

[loudlooks]

Fender Bender

Tiva meet cute AU, requested here.

Word count: 1606 (it was half that when I started editing, something got out of hand)

.

As the green light changed to yellow, Tony slowed down, smoothly coming to a full stop. He revved the engine—hard to resist after driving around in a Japanese rental for a few months—and grinned widely, the roar of the revised 1967 engine music to his ears.

In a split second, the sound of screeching tires, instantly followed by the crumpling of metal, wiped the grin of his face. Instinctively, he hit the brake pedal as if his life depended on it, knuckles turning white as his fingers gripped the steering wheel like a vice. The Mustang jerked forward, and his whole body tensed as the seat belt snapped him back into the leather seat. Once the car came to a full stop, heartbeat pounding in his ears, he slammed the steering wheel with both hands. “Oh, come on!”

Unbuckling the seat belt with one hand while opening the door with the other, heat flushed through his body. “One week,” he grumbled, all but jumping out of the car, anxious to inspect the damage, and give the idiot that slammed into him a piece of his mind.

Spotting the white of a deflated airbag through the windshield of the other car, and movement of the driver’s door, Tony assumed the other driver most likely was not severely injured either.

From the corner of his eye he spotted the back of his car, stopped dead in his tracks, and ran both hands through his hair. “Are you kidding me!”

Taking a closer look, it became clear the front of the other car seemed to have folded itself around his Mustang’s rear fender. The crumpled hood of the Mini was about five inches higher than it should be.

Tony stood up straight. A Mini! His Mustang Shelby, a highly desirable classic, a feat of American engineering, rear-ended by a Mini. He groaned in frustration, as footsteps came to a stop beside him.

Running a hand over the shiny bumper that was exposed, he snapped, “Where did you learn how to drive?”

“Israel,” a woman’s voice said sharply.

Not the answer he expected. He turned towards her, spotted a small burn mark on her chin, most likely from the airbag, before making eye contact.

“Where did you learn how to drive?” she shot back.

“Me?” he asked incredulously, then pointed a finger at her. “You rear-ended me.”

Her eyes seemed ablaze in the streetlight. “You suddenly hit the brakes for no reason!”

“I slowed to a halt when the light turned yellow.”

“You speed up when the light turns yellow,” she said, gesturing widely at the traffic light.

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. “Not in America!”

“Well, that is just dumb,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed. She was going to be a pain in the butt.

The woman briefly looked away to check out the vehicles. “It does not look like your car is that badly damaged.”

Tony complained. “I’ve only had this car for a week.”

She glanced at him. “What happened to your previous car?”

“It got totaled.”

“Oh!” She pointed at him. “You are a bad driver.”

Tony clenched his jaw and glared at her. In a carefully controlled tone, he said, “A thief totaled it during a police chase.”

“Oh, well, that is why you have insurance, yes?” She looked at him with a glimmer of sympathy, and he realized for the first time how attractive she was.

Giving her a quick once over, his thoughts immediately snapped back to his car insurance. He scrubbed a hand over his face, remembering the paper work, the red tape, the endless phone calls, the burning hoops of fire they had made him jump through to get the money they owed him according to his policy.

She shrugged. “It looks like an old car.”

He held up a finger, the tension in his neck building. “It’s a classic car.”

She made a face. “What is the difference?”

His eyes widened, mouth open, yet at a loss for words. This was insult to injury. Definitely a pain in the butt.

“I will back up my car,” she said, “to get a better idea of the damage.”

Gut churning, he held up a hand. “No no no no, we’re filling out the paper work first.”

She glanced away, then stepped in closer. “I was hoping we could,” she looked him up and down, and  bit her bottom lip, “skip the paper work.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, he opened the right side of his jacket, exposing his badge and gun. “I’m a cop,” he said matter-of-factly.

Her gaze flitted down once more, a dangerous look appeared in her eyes. “Nice gun.”

She licked her lips, and a knot tightened in his stomach.

“I bet you impress a lot of women with that,” she raised her eyebrows, “or men.”

Tony’s brow furrowed as he let his jacket fall back into place. Technically he was off-duty, but this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to flirt their way out of trouble.

“Miss-“

“Ziva,” she said abruptly, stepping into his personal space.

He did not like this. He inhaled sharply through his nose, a delicate, tropical fragrance clouding his mind momentarily. The deep and mysterious look in her eyes would’ve made Jules Verne’s head spin. It was certainly making his head spin. Or maybe that was a concussion.

Tony blinked slowly. Oh no, he did not like this, at all.

She pulled out her phone. “I know some people who can repair your car in no time.” And before he could comment, she was focused on the conversation in rapid-fire Hebrew. Cradling the phone against her shoulder, she fished a pen out of her pocket, grabbed his left hand and began writing.

The warmth of her hand, combined with the almost tickling sensation of the pen moving over the back of his hand, sent a tingle down his spine. He inhaled deeply, itching for another whiff of, what was that, coconut? Vanilla?

Ziva looked up at him abruptly, a dark twinkle in her eyes.

Tony swallowed hard, as she continued the conversation, never breaking eye contact. The tip of the pen had long left his skin, but for some unknown reason her hand hadn’t. Not that he was complaining.

She ended the conversation with one of the few Hebrew words he knew, and pocketed the phone and pen. “Meet me here,” she held up his hand, “in an hour.”

He glanced at the address, rough part of town. Busted a chop shop there two months ago. Didn’t quite go as planned.

“Do I need to remind you I’m a cop?”

“I would not mind checking out your gun again,” she said in a smoky voice, “as a reminder.”

Her thumb ever so lightly caressed the back of his hand. Or maybe that was just his imagination, heightened senses, rushing adrenaline, car crashes, and all that will do that to you. Not to mention beautiful, mysterious women that change their mood like a weathervane.

“Why don’t you want fill out the paperwork?”

“It is such a, how do you say, pain in the button?”

Tony shook his head slightly. “Butt.”

“But what?”

“No,” he pointed at his backside, “butt, double t.”

Ziva’s eyebrows squished together. “You want to show me your butt?”

Tony opened his mouth, then stopped short. His instinct had been right, she was an absolute pain in the butt.

He rubbed his brow with his free hand, becoming vaguely aware of a headache. “Are you in the country legally?”

She shrugged, holding his gaze. “Legally enough.”

Tony leaned in closer, and stared at her fixedly. “Do you have any idea how shady you sound?”

Ziva tilted her head, a coy smile tugging at her lips. “I have an idea about how intrigued you are.”

He stood up straight, and wrinkled his nose.

Ziva chuckled, let go of his hand, and patted his cheek. “Do not worry, I will not let anything happen to you.”

Tony licked his lips. Either his car would be fixed by the end of the evening, or both he and the car would end up disassembled for parts. Maybe he should let his partner know where he was going. Wait, when had he decided he was going?

Ziva walked backwards towards her car, holding up a finger. “One hour.”

He glanced at the address again, mind racing, and offhandedly said, “It’s a date.”

The wide smile Ziva sent him made his stomach do somersaults.

“Only if you bring flowers,” she said, and winked, before disappearing inside the Mini.

Tony cocked his head. Beautiful women always knew how to get his motor running. Through the windshield he watched her rip out the deflated airbag, casually throwing it on the passenger seat, as if she had done so a dozen times before. He pursed his lips, beautiful women with a dangerous edge shifted his motor into higher gear.

“I’m not sure your car is safe to drive,” he called out to her.

Ziva popped her head through the door window, amused look on her face. “I have driven worse.”

The Mini’s engine roared to life, as Tony’s mind tried to hold on to this roller coaster of a conversation. “What?”

The Mini backed up, and with unnecessary speed, and far too little distance, sped past him, making him jump back against the side of his car.

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Crazy chick.”

Once seated in the driver’s seat, he checked his watch, and mumbled, “I wonder if Walmart has any fresh flowers left.”

tagging @ziva-david​, @indestinatus​, @benedettabeby​, @hopeless-nostalgiac​

[practicalmagicintuitions]

Yes, they were making fun of a child (in their family) who chose to be who they really are. Talking about a minor’s genitals and making fun of their body, saying it would be such an inconvenience if they would have a child like that. They also mentioned that if their own child were gay, they’d want nothing to do with it and they also mention this in front of their child. So imagine if this child is indeed gay (or wishes they were another gender), they are growing up hating themselves because of their hateful parents.

Tbh, Americans are in a whole different category, to me they are lost causes. In Europe I don’t feel like people are going “overboard” with the social awareness. A lot of dickheads use the word “woke” as a pejorative, it says more about them than about anything else. People should be considerate of one another, something that seems to have gone lost the last few years, especially after Covid, they lost their empathy by being stuck at home and being confronted with themselves I guess, instead of using it as an opportunity to grow.

If someone wants to be addressed in a certain way, then I will do that, it doesn’t make a difference for me, but it does for them.

If a transwoman wants to use a dressing room for women, that doesn’t mean they are going to assault anyone. Are there men who will want to take advantage of this and pretend to be trans? It is a possibility. But that problem lies in the fact that we live in a society where men are not being raised right and women are raised in fear.

We shouldn’t punish all trans people, because there are some non-trans people who will try to take advantage of it.

First of all I 100% agree with you on that example, it is horrible. No one should do that, or say that especially in front of kids. But I have to disclose since I have a real interest in this topic and listening and reading about it a lot, I don't support child transitioning. If you heard testimony of detransitioners they were basically groomed and brainwashed by adults and let down by the system. There is less harm in waiting for 18 years or more than realising your body, your mind, and your potential life was mutilated and taken away from you just because you were a kid and because of that, you were an easy target. I do not believe in BS like "if we are praying hard enough or son will be straight" no. But denying our kids blindly or letting them do anything blindly is the same side of the wrong coin. In one case the parent is not supportive enough and the other is too supportive (it's a thing like toxic positivity). When I read something like "child who chose to be who they really are" sorry but I feel this is the laziest, most simplified argument ever and I just cannot stop rolling my eyes. Children are children for a reason. Mainly because they don't know who they are yet. If a child at age 3-4-5 etc can decide about their gender without any challenge from a parent and authorities why don't we let 6 years old to vote? Drink? Why don't we give them guns, and send them to wars? What if a child says he wants to be a firefighter? You will let him run into a burning building? Or he is saying he is Superman and can fly. Would you let him jump off the 35th floor? I hope not. Have you seen the video about a cute little girl trying a lemon for the first time? She says no and makes faces but cannot stop eating and licking it. She says one thing and at the exact same time, she does the exact opposite. Because she is a child. Parent-children dynamic is important. Why do modern parents think that hierarchy means they are bad, abusive parents? Actually, it means the opposite. With boundaries and rules, you give your child the feeling of safety and a controlled safe place they can exist. And this space is going bigger and bigger with age. That's why being a teenager was so significant in the past.

America is an essential factor simply because almost every viral idea comes from there. The English language can transform other languages easily especially since the internet and SM, so the things happening there will happen in other parts of the world sooner or later. Maybe not in the same form and not every idea but some. That's why I was shocked that they banned abortion in many states. This is something that I am afraid of will spread all around Europe. I mean we already have counties like Poland where is almost impossible to get an abortion and they are letting women die. And since many people still think America is the land where everything is right, if they rule something it must be the correct decision, right... ?

Woke as a word is interesting because I indeed use it as a negative. Why? Because most people I see and call themselves woke are radicals and I don't support radicalism. And as I witnessed they are the one who has zero understanding and acceptance if someone is thinking a bit differently. This doesn't make me a dickhead because I am the one here who is trying to maintain a balanced conversation without name-calling. This is also something that woke people don't like to do as I experienced.

"But that problem lies in the fact that we live in a society where men are not being raised right and women are raised in fear."

This is a very interesting point, but this is just a half-truth. So based on this (that women are living in fear of men) where do you put trans women? Because they are biologically and genetically men. No matter what. Logically speaking. Or do you think if an adult man declares himself a woman he automatically falls off from the "men who are threatening" category? I like to see this argument being presented in female prisons where somehow magically rapes and pregnancies are happening. And what about same-sex couples? Do you know that every single study says in same-sex relationships domestic violence is higher than in heterosexual ones? So what about an abusive lesbian relationship where there is no man involved? Or what about an abusive gay relationship where no woman is involved? And if we are saying men are not being raised right, do you realise many of those men have a mother too? So if they are not being raised right is a shared responsibility between a man and a woman, between a father and mother. Or I don't understand who you refer to, who did a bad job raising those abusive men? Fathers only? Yes in some cases definitely, but in some cases mothers are acting as if their sons were god who can do anything. I am sorry but I don't believe in the man bad women good thinking. We are humans with incredible flaws.

The key to this argument is where do we draw the line to protect biological and trans people from impostors? Because women are facing a very new fear of men right now. When men are getting awards for being a better women than a woman. When they are letting is sports, when people demanding not to use the word mother and refer yourself birthing people etc. This is damaging biological women and girls. Their opportunities and mental health. Why their mental health doesn't concern anyone? Why do they have to give up their dreams silently and in fear of being labelled this and that just because someone wasn't good enough in a men's race or being offended by some words?

When a phoney like DM is threatening women in many ways he is also damaging the trans community. Those people make it harder for everyone and silently make people stop supporting the majority of trans people who just want to live their lives. I am sure when most people like me raise voices and concerns they are not talking about the adult trans people who just want to live their lives. For me, it's about leaving children out of it and understanding and accepting that even though they are now living as a woman, biology doesn't change, so they simply cannot be female swimmers at age 20 after having been a mediocre male swimmer for 19 years. Or saying no way when a man who is very proud to be a woman for a whole week starts to order biological women to do and not to do or say things. And interestingly, if you read deeply in comments and opinion peaces most trans people totally aware of this and concerned by this as well.

"We shouldn’t punish all trans people, because there are some non-trans people who will try to take advantage of it."

That is the point, besides some radicals, NO ONE want's to punish trans people. Saying some facts is not punishing. Asking for fair treatment in areas where male-female strength is a factor is not a punishment. People are not opposed to trans, people are opposed to the very dominant, mentally ill people like DM or the other one I don't know his name, whose fans basically harassed and sent death threats to a mom on youtube. Those people are hurting everyone, using real people's trauma for shortcuts. And because they are influential, getting the screen time, the big money, they are influencing the conversation about this. And people raise their voices because of this. Not because someone simply wants to live as a woman. But because they are involving children, silencing young women and moms, etc.

I really recommend this video and the comments. Maybe if a gay black man says his opinion this will mean something...

[thepropertylovers]

In a Small Town Like Ours, Where Do We Fit In?

This past weekend, we went to our first birthday party for one of the kids’ friends. It was for Riah’s best friend in his class, a girl who was also in Pre-K with him and one he talks about all the time, the way that best friends do.

PJ felt exhausted from working on the farm earlier that morning, so it was me and the kids for the afternoon. Her parents said all of our kids could come, not just Riah, which was great because our other two wouldn’t stop asking if they could come all week. The best part? They live three streets over from us, so we were able to walk there and hang out for a few hours.

Since our children are so young, this was really our first…function? event? that we have been invited to outside of family invitations, and while I didn’t really dwell on this thought, it did cross my mind once or twice: How would we be received as the only gay couple at the party?

We knew how it would be raising kids here, especially since we grew up in this town. We’re used to being one of the only, if not the only same-sex family at basketball and soccer games, and school breakfasts and things like that. We’ve chosen to live our lives in a very unapologetic way, and have basically gotten to the point where if people don’t accept us, we don’t make space for them in our life.

Luckily, and I can’t stress that word enough, we haven’t encountered any homophobia while living here since we’ve been out. At school, everyone has been so welcoming and accepting of us and our family. At sporting games, I don’t feel anyone giving us side-eyes or judging us. Maybe it’s because we grew up here and it’s a small town and everyone knows everyone, but we feel we have a real sense of community in our town. The teachers and the parents feel like friends.

And it was no different at the party this past weekend. The kids were running in the yard, darting in and out of the house, eating pizza and cupcakes. The sun was shining but it wasn’t too hot, and I found myself on the front porch talking to some of the moms that I’ve come to get to know over the last year.

While we were there, I also met the birthday girl’s grandma, who shared something with me as we were about to leave that touched me. She told me our kids were so lucky to have the two best dads who loved them. I told her we were the lucky ones.

Little things like that have been happening more and more lately; people sharing things with us that surprise me, especially living here. Our mailman last week being among the most significant. Are these signs that things are finally changing? Are people becoming more accepting in small towns than we previously thought?

NPR reported that a recent study from the Movement Advancement Project, which is a think tank that advocates for LGBTQ+ equality, found that between 2.9 and 3.8 million LGBTQ people live in rural America, which is up to 5% of the rural population and up to 20% of the LGBTQ population.

They go on to say:

“For the most part, they chose that life for the same reasons other Americans do: tight-knit communities with a shared sense of values that typically revolve around places like the church, schools or local businesses.

Same-sex parents, like many other parents, also gravitate to life outside the cities. The report says that "the highest rates of parenting by both same-sex couples and LGBT individuals are in the most rural regions of the country." It points to data from The Williams Institute at the UCLA School of Law that says 24 out of the 30 states where same-sex couples are raising children are mostly rural in the Midwest, the South and the mountain regions of America.”

Isn’t that fascinating? While I believe there will most likely always be more work to be done, maybe things really are changing for the better in small towns like ours. I know how I feel being at school functions and I honestly feel safe and at ease. I never feel threatened or judge, and I hope that continues as the kids get older.

We all had a blast at the birthday party, and I think a big part of that was because of the parents who are raising their children to lead with love, kindness, and acceptance, especially towards those who may look different than their own family. In small, southern town like ours, where do we fit in?

The more I ask myself that question, the more I think about how it’s not necessarily about fitting in, but more about being treated with respect and acceptance, the same as everyone else. Who really wants to fit in anyway?

[trangyapping]

8/13/2024: This presidential election is about winning over the moderates: if Trump wants no Kamala, he would tone down war, war, war rhetoric and win over the Muslims and moderates who want to end the Israel-Hamas war and focus on the stupid American borders with America's broke ass bank account, all the obesity and fat adults and children, gun violence, and inflation. This goes for all Christian Zionists, look at what happened to your Zionist Democrat president, Biden. He's behind the back burner and no one will remember him except the blacks and the gays. If you patriots, white supremacy, KKK don't want a black woman controlling your country, then you have to succumb to to the Muslims and end this Israel-Hamas war that is not even your war from they didn't bomb your country--they attacked Israel because Isreal is still stealing their land even though Isreal claim they are civilized nand equality. There's a good change you patriots, white supremacy, KKK, Nazis, conservative Christians, and Trump will lose this election. Succumb to the Muslims or lose to the blacks, gays, and illegals again for 4 more years. You can't win everything. Kamala is already gaining favors from the Muslims who want to end Israel-Hamas war even though she's married to a Jew. It's up to you: lose to the blacks again and get another 4 years of Biden with open-policy abortion, or lose to the Muslim this 4 years after you helped Isrealis bombed the hell out of Gaza even though Gaza was the Hamas land in the last 400 years. I was going to vote for Trump, but upon learning he's a Christian Zionists just like you conservative Christian Zionists dying to get your claws on Jesus' birthland to place your Christian democracy gay freedom flags in Jesus' birth town, I decided to not vote and beging my process to relinquish my genocide-gay-Spanish-as-2nd-language American citizenship starting with voting, unless the vote prevents a civil war or WWWIII. Lots of thinking and compromising for you Jesus people this coming months huh? Talk to your Jesus or be like me, talk directly to Jesus' father for I guarantee you with my life that Jesus' father knows more than Jesus. Haha, got all your Christian balls and tits with my psychology didn't I. Oh well, off I begin my process to leave your precious Christian America eternally as soon as I clean up your mess. Off I go wash my hands with Clorox because I don't know where your Christian balls and tits have been. As for you blacks, four years of Biden's supporting you is enough man. I am sick of some of black people and kids raising hell in California and in liberal cities. I am sick of your druggies in the streets when they should institutionalized. I am sick do you illegals raping women to death. I am sick of being forced to learn Spanish as a second language in America with massive of Spanish speaking illegals coming and some of them do such awful crimes against women and underage girls. Tell your Jews and Isrealis buds end the war and say good bye to Jesus' birthland as your prize land, or suffer in open-door policies in abortion, children cutting off their genitals, gays making gay porn in capital Hill, Spanish as second language, some illegal raping your women, massive debt support two wars Israel and Ukraine, druggies everywhere, inner City and suburban crimes everywhere, etc. I side with th Muslims because they religion teachers me that God is not a human being. I believe your Bible said Jesus was God's son. If Jesus was God's son and he could do miracle, do you think God is a plain human being to give birth to a son that does magical wonders? If so, the show me the man who have birth to Jesus by placing Jesus in the womb of Maria without intercourse and without IVF then I'll drop the Muslims like hot potato and side with you Christians and Jews, and isralis. Trang's thinking at 51.25 years old.

[scentedchildnacho]

Andrea said she is kind of delusive the children were obviously enjoying playing in the pool when I told her the children are standing too near one another waiting for the slide and you know when children play with guns and start absorbing a lot of aid to themselves only

And then police see another child that expects immediate first service off impoverished underserved populations and pushes the child back into the Rio grande

Ya know when a people acts like a storm god only releases them from exposure

Yea I guess these are the energies my anxiety responds too in America with a history of child murder I think oh there could be more maintenance and regulation without a god it could be man...

Ya know like a day people just monitor the chlorine and bacteria levels and it closes for the weekend for general repairs just kind of shut down the flow without natural divinity....

Because it's car pile ups here and children cool down in heat waves when car emissions don't raise temperatures past natural law as well people acclimate and heat at normal advised lifestyles when man made pollution is reduced

Like a day children could have Mexican candy and fried chicken and enjoy a little fever these things are actually very good for one to enjoy

Ya know kind of watch for the things that claim there is a heresy and nothing you can do about people hiding people

It's well you don't have to care because they broke the monarchs rules in some way...

Or it's mother is a juvenile pretty jerk that was sold through international online catalogues so you don't have to care because the mother doesn't actually care about people here the way my mother had to or a prior generation had to really care fully and work for others with some level of esteem....

I guess that's why I chose to not have children I didn't want to work so hard the way my parents gave everything to that life just never wanted to be so sacrificial...and their like my narcissism but still have kids and it's out of place here

Ya know like German wives stealing some of the American folk communities kids

Uhm I guess I notice I grew up with selection and if I was called philosophy and masculine service then one doesn't have babies also...

Ya know when ya notice vanity is kind of gay and children aren't responded to by a woman anymore

Ya know gay

Ya know when ya job and then school work also so people finally put sex in the city on TV because you have an unaddressed oral complex need

Okay they as mother's just aren't my archetypal perfect person whatever....so it's not another word for God mother it's just that lady with a canal

David asked about the women across the street at the restaurant so I said I tried to go in there for dinner and I was bullied at school and my legalize friends warn me to not get into reefer madness but ya know when you notice chicks kind of ganging and staring at you with a psychedelics virus

The waitresses just remind me of my school friends hanging on me and taking me to meet men and it was kind of factless and it made me cry and feel humiliated and I probably got mouth infections and it wasn't treated.....they kind of remind me of people whose pimp gives them quotas or undesirable partners and they steal too much off food so it's not paid back to you unless their male friends give it back to you for sex services.....scary like that...

It's not like people are over there...it's too radical and not the agreed upon rules

Ya know when ya notice a date is actually just undesirable for people the way ya notice other dates are just desirable for people in general and common psychopathy why should I have to when it's Her....kill her...

I hate to say it but I think the gang fantasy over there is genocidal and they will put you into a situation to kill you to save themselves....

Or Leonard w. Hamilton when you notice Man gone and life ruled by deities or men with a cosmos in their head and woman an empty moon to look at....or ways of thinking about law that doesn't have to do with morality....

[monochroma-reviews]

FILM REVIEWS I: Valley Down Girl (dir. Alastair Kiern

Why exactly did I decided to do Valley Down Girl as my first film review? Because that movie is now permanently burned into my brain, both as a cringefest and as a reason why diversity is important in your teaching staff.

For context, back in Year 4 our teacher was...a specimen, to put it bluntly. She was the only person born on the west side of the Atlantic in my school's teaching staff, and so for many kids, she was their only reliable source of information about what life was like in America (my Mexican heritage only gets you so far). It did not help the quality of information she was giving out that she was born and raised in some reeeaaally remote town in the south of Lousiana (either Cameron or Hahnville).

Anyway, at the end of a long week she would always put on a film for us as a "treat", and the only two films she would play were Valley Down Girl and Jesus the World's Patriot. I could write a whole essay about how World's Patriot changed me inside, but for now sticking with Valley Down Girl.

First of all, it is incredibly unlikely that your film is going to be an accurate portrayal of living in the South as a picture-perfect white family if your directors are named "Alastair" and "Julian". (And I still find it hilarious that this saccharine fest was Alastair Kiern's first directorial outing). The two try their best with a limited budget and the incredibly strict controls set on it by the LCPA (Lousianan Conservatives' Patriot Association, which I believe was done in like ten years prior to us seeing the film for the first time), but the end result is just a mess.

Shirley Dawson is kind of a relatable POV character (before being dumbed down by her asshole of a arranged husband), but everyone else is just ineffectively stupid, astoundingly racist (even for 1930's Deep South rural communities), or in most cases both. The one main black character in the movie (who's played by a modern-day GOP donor) is just kicked to the ground again and again an the movie just portrays it as "comedy" or "justifiable".

Of course, it being created by a conservative Christian organisation means that there are some obligatory beats. It starts and ends with Bible verses, there is an all-American red-blooded sex scene between Shirley (whose actress was 17 at the time) and her horrific partner (played by Earl Daley), and the main messages it carries are one of patience, humility, meekness and what-the-hell-are-you-sure-this-isn't-Utah-or-something-jesus-mcfrying-cornwheel. A mixed-race couple are scorned and dehumanized, and as kids we just sat there appalled at what we were seeing (at least most of us were).

Jesus motherloving. I'm reviewing a religious conservative film, so I will take the Lord and Lord-mini's names in vain however many times I please. Jesus. God damnit. Christ. Jesus Christ on a bike. The ghosts of the beings who relax in heaven cannot affect me here or in Hell. *right where were we?*

So, in general, Valley Down Girl gets a 2/10, and my closing thoughts are "kind of ironic that such a religiously pious film was made with a cast and crew that was like 50% closeted queer".

[avis-and-panda]

My FNAF characters

So, since the first chapter of my FNAF fanfic kind of introduces each of the main characters, I'll write a short introduction for each of them here. I'll write a full character profile for them when more information about them is revealed in the fic.

Chika: Full name, Chika Kubo. Height, 5'3". Age, 15. She's supposed to be Chica from the FNAF games. Since I wanted to give each of them an actual name, I had to come up with a name that's kind of like Chica, I suppose, and it took me a while to do it. Eventually, while I was watching anime, I realized one of the characters is named Chika, so I decided that was what my variation of Chica was going to be named. As for what Chika means, I forgot, but it has something to do with flowers. Kubo means "sunken ground" or something along those lines. Chika is 100% Japanese but was born and raised in America, as far as she knows. None of the kids actually remember anything before their life at the Pancake Plaza. She has a very peppy personality but tends to be quite naive, however she isn't to be mistaken as a push over. She knows how to play the drums and the piano, but the former is her instrument of choice. I know that in Security Breach, Chica plays the guitar, but I switched it because I thought the drums fit Chika's personality better. She also loves to bake and dreams of opening a bakery one day.

Frederick: Full name, Frederick Atonal. Height, 5'10". Age, 16. He's supposed to be Freddy from the FNAF games. It wasn't very hard to choose his name considering "Freddy" is usually a nickname for Frederick. It did take me a bit to choose his last name, but I eventually settled on Atonal. I'm not entirely sure how or why I decided on "Atonal" since I can't seem to find the meaning of the last name, but the meaning of the word is "lacking a tonal center or key" which i guess is fitting? Anyway, Frederick has a very shy personality and tends to try and make himself invisible as much as possible despite his size; he is also very friendly and happy-go-lucky. He is 100% American. Like in the games, Frederick knows how to sing and taught the others how to sing too, but he also knows how to play a wide variety of instruments. He loves plants and tends to the ones around the restaurant regularly. He dreams of owning a greenhouse one day.

Felix: Full name, Felix Fronius. Height, 5'7". Age, 16. He's supposed to be Foxy from the FNAF games. It took a bit to pick his name, but I decided on Felix relatively quickly. His last name was chosen on a whim with no real meaning behind it. I was considering changing his last name, so I looked up the meaning of it and found that it's a German aristocratic last name and ultimately decided to keep it. The character has no connection to any real-world aristocratic families though. As for Felix, it means "lucky" or "fortunate", which I found to be a little ironic. He is half German half Japanese. Felix is very sassy yet very quiet. He is shrewd yet tends to be quite reckless in terms of his own health. He is also quite perceptive and blunt. Like Frederick, he knows how to play a variety of instruments. Unlike all the others, he is very good at acting. He doesn't really have a dream or an aspiration in life, but he does love to solve puzzles.

Ben: Full name, Benjamin Adley. Height, 5'5". Age, 15. He's supposed to be Bonnie from the FNAF games. Like Felix, it took a bit to pick his name, but I eventually decided on Benjamin. I'm not sure how or why I decided on Adley as his last name, since I'm not sure what it means either, but I think it's nice. he likes to be called "Ben". He is 100% English. He is very quiet and introverted but not necessarily shy. He tends to be very judgmental and overall, not happy, but he does take pride in his achievements. He is inventive and likes working in electronics. He doesn't really have a "dream" since he doesn't actually believe they'd make it out of the restaurant, but if he could, he would find a job in electronics.

That's all I can say without spoiling anything at the moment, so I hope you enjoyed reading these short descriptions.

By for now!

[halyconicabditory]

P2: Names and Writing

Jackson? Here. Jamie? Here. Jessica? uh, Jess uh Jocelyn? um, I'm sorry is it, Jess.. e .. lyn? My cheeks fill with heat and I can tell they're getting redder by the millisecond. I raise my hand, my throat feels clogged, and I clear it. "It's Jess. You can call me Jess, It's easier." I slouch down trying to melt with the chair, unnoticeable by those who surround me. What a stupid name I think to myself, I wish it was easier. Embarrassment lingers in my head, and it will repeat at least three more times with a different teacher with the same butchered pronunciation this semester, and again for the rest of my life. However, That’s now, Let’s go back a few years.

On an archipelago, 180 degrees from where I was born, was my mother in 1997, 6 years before I was born. She was always smart and she always thought outside of the box. On her normal nine-to-five Monday through Friday work day, she headed to her office. Respected, well-known, and hard-working. She didn’t need another job, but she thought about her future. She wanted a place of her own, a house for herself, her soon-to-be husband, a few kids, and many dogs. She knew there would be an easier way to obtain a good house, at least from the inside. She called a familiar friend to get her foot in the door, and on her lunch breaks, she would read real estate books here and there. And just like that, she was ready to sell her first house. Give and take a few real estate legalities, there were no strings attached. Just a prominent woman and free weekends, she was ready for her first open house. Weeks went by, no buyers, but she didn’t give up. She was persistent. One day a lady came in with her young daughter, with a name my mom had never heard before. Jesselyn. “It's french,” said the lady. “It means hard-working and successful woman” My mom fell in love with the name. It was unique, it captured what my mother wanted her future to be, similar to her, hard-working. She had a good feeling, maybe it was the name, maybe it was her commitment to her dream, but she sold her first house, to an unsuspecting woman, and her daughter, Jesselyn (JESS Lean) . Two houses later, a broken-off engagement and a one-way ticket to America, my mother arrived in New York in 2001. Fast forward a year later the feeling she had when she sold her first house lingered back to when she met my father. 14 months later, adamant about choosing the name of her firstborn daughter, I was born.

In a predominately white suburb of New York City, just 45 minutes north was an elementary school packed with eager 4 and 5-year-olds embarking on the start of their educational lives. A chorus of “Hi’s”, “Hello’s” and “I like your spiderman backpack” echoed through a colorful classroom. “What’s your name?” asked an eager 5-year-old boy named Tommy, knuckles deep in his nose. “I think her name is Jesselyn,” said our kindergarten teacher in an elongated and heavy vowel-toned voice. “Are you ok with Jess?” Bright-eyed, eager 4-year-old me went along with it. I didn’t want any trouble, I was four! Sheepishly, I believed I had to agree. For the rest of my primary and secondary school years, I went by the nickname “Jess”. Hiding the latter of my name, hiding also the uniqueness that went along with it. For 13 Years I lived through the facade of “Jess”. A normal, all-American name, for a normal, all-American girl. People I’ve never met insist they know the true way of pronouncing my name, even including my dad, who pronounces it as “Jess uh lin”. Butchering the accent with their American tongue, convincing me to even doubt my mother, who gave me the name. I have never met anyone with the same name as me. Never, until I walked into my french class on a Friday morning at 9:05 am. I took my seat and the professor walked in and jumped right into attendance. “Jesselyn?” “Here,” I said in unison with the girl sitting directly to my right. We both laugh and look at each other. “Oh my god,” we speak at the same time again. The professor continues on as we reside in our own small talk. “Have you ever met anyone with the same name?” “No.” wow. It was too good to be true. I asked her “How do you spell your name?” She responds. Perfectly announcing each letter until she skips the second E and goes straight to the L. “J E S S L Y N” aha! Not quite the same, unique on its own as well. We bond over shared experiences of mispronunciation and awkward roll call happenings. I haven’t spoken to her since the first day of class. Maybe the interrelation was too weird. Maybe we wanted to be our own as we have our entire life. A friendly wave and hello here and there, but never in-depth as our first encounter. 

The experience I have with the name goes deeper than I realized. It was not just an uneasiness with myself. It turned out to be some weird internalized racism I felt towards my mother, and who I was. Angry at why she had chosed such an obscure, nonconforming name. I did not blend in. It made me stuck out. No one besides my mother and her family and friends could pronounce it correctly. Oblivious to my own inner racist tendencies, going along with my father and my American friends, mimicking my mothers accent when she yells my name. I am older and I do regret it. I have a deeper understanding. My name might be weird, but I was born here, I speak a universal language, I fit in with or without using my full name. My mother, who worked endlessly and started a new life in a new country is who experiences this endless racism. Born as Indahwati (In - duh - wat - tee) in her country, she was also given the name Aylie ( I - Lee) , as her Chinese name. Before ever stepping foot on American soil she went by Indah (In - duh), Indahwati and Aylie. Beautiful names that I adore. While starting her new life she was forced to adapt and start a new american name. Ellie (El - lee). No one would ever dare to even pronounce Indahwati, and Aylie was too confusing. She took her name Aylie, and changed it to Ellie. Hearing my father refer to my mother as Ellie has made me sad recently. The lack of respect or courtesy to attempt to say her name, choosing the easy way out.  Researching the origins of my name has led me to a deep dive that not only exposed the importance of my name but also the importance of self worth, character and psychological impact it has had on me and my mother as well.

I don’t know why I’ve always been ashamed of my name. It eases over as time goes on and I learn more about myself and being able to be comfortable in my own skin and what I would respond to when the call of my name is being said out loud. I can not help but wonder if maybe under different circumstances regarding where I was born and where I grew up If I wouldn't be taught to be disappointed and to hide my name.

[buffintruder]

my white professor of japanese language in society is not the worst person but sometimes she says things. and just. do you ever think about the implications of what you are saying

[rosecoloreddesire]

My Devil In Disguise, Pt . 4

The Blocked Road To Fame, Chapter 4

Austin! Elvis x OC, Elvis x OC

Summary: Annalise Snow is a girl that Hank Snow raised to be a good all American girl that all the other girls would want to be. Well when a boy that comes from the same Memphis Annalise missed…it turns out she’s a little more wild then she thought. Will she travel to the ends of the Earth with a boy she just met? Or will she be left in the dust?

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: swearing, yelling, 50′s racial standards in music, Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis’ Hound Dog performance, proofread twice, angst!

Note: Thank you so much for all the love on my other stories! You guys ae all amazing and I love all of y’all! I still don’t know when or how I’m gonna end this series but I hope y’all enjoy! Thanks!

“It’s Milton Berle! The whole of America will be watchin’!”  Elvis tells the shop owner as he complains B.B and him are running him out of business. Annalise laughs and places a hand on Elvis’ chest. 

“He don’t watch television, Elvis. He just sews the threads on y’alls backs!” She pats his lapel and winks as B.B twirls her around. He turns his attention back to Elvis as she sat down. Her attention on one of her friends helping her latch her new shoes.

“So what’s it gonna be? What’s gonna blow their wigs off?” He stands still as the shop owner measures him.

“Well the network wants me to do a ballad but I left that up to Annalise. So I’m thinkin about cuttin’ it up with Hound Dog!” He smiles and B.B whistles.

“Ho! Elvis Presley...Hound Dog? Strange things are happenin’ everyday. What’s my little Snow gonna do?” He fixed the bow on her ponytail as she looked up at the men. She places a finger on her chin in thought.

“I was thinkin’ pitchin’ and slowin’ down Heartbreak Hotel! I heard my daddy would be watchin’ so I think that’ll give ‘em a shock!” She shook her shoulders back and forth as the two men snickered at the thought.

“Did you go to Beth-Ann for the fittin’? I wanna make sure my little star looks like a real one on that television screen!” B.B wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she nodded. She looked up at Elvis as his measurements were checked as well to make sure his outfit was well in order for the performance. He looked ethereal just getting a fitting. She was gonna be a mess for when he performed later, huh?

“I can’t wait! Elvis you’re gonna love my outfit! I promise it’ll be show stoppin’! I’m gonna make my daddy pass out!“ She clapped her hands together and giggled, her feet swinging back and forth above the floor. B.B rubbed her back and stood up. Dusting his shoulders off, he placed his hand on Elvis’ shoulder.

“Honestly, E.P. That dress might make most of America’s men pass out! She’s gonna be a knock out! I told her it might be a little too much for them conservative white folk!” He chuckled as Elvis crossed his arms.

“Damn I might get a little green in the face, darlin’. I’ll try to keep calm durin’ my performance.” He winked as Annalise flushed pink. She was doin’ this really to make her dad upset. That she was no longer an angelic symbol but…teasing Elvis? That sounded like the best plan in her head.

“Now now, kids. Don’t get too excited! You guys gotta make it there first!”

———————————-

“I feel like my entire body is gonna fall, Elvis. I-I don’t think I can do this!” Her hands shook and they felt sweaty. She felt her body shiver and break out into a cold sweat. She thought this was going to be fun but she was going on right after Elvis and she KNEW it was gonna be a tough crowd after that. A gentle tug of her hand releases her from her thoughts.

“C’mon baby. I promise you’re gonna do great! Are you wearing that coat for the performance?” Her breath stopped and she wrapped the coat tighter around herself. She shakes her head and Elvis kisses her on the forehead as his name is called out.

“I can do this. I can do this.” She peaks around the navy curtain and her family is smack dab in the middle of the crowd. Her head clouding with doubt as she’s thinking about performing. Not even Elvis performing can distract her from seeing her daddy’s scorn face. How was she going to sing with him right in front of her face?

“Now, Miss Snow. Let’s take this jacket off and get you a little somethin’!“ Colonel Parker took Annalise’s coat and handed it to some assistant. He smiled as Annalise’s body shook. She took her hands as she smoothed her dress out, sweat becoming prominent in her system.

“How about you just sing your little Hallelujah or Amazing Grace! You’d be beloved for being Hank Snow’s Conservative Lass again! Make your money with your daddy again and Elvis won’t-“ She whipped her head back as he stopped his gaslighting. She raised her finger to his face.

“I ain’t gonna hear another word come out that mouth, Parker! Elvis and I are a package deal!” She scoffed as he put his hands up in surrender. She couldn’t believe the nerve of this man and why Elvis was wrapped around his finger. 

“And welcome to our stage, Miss Annalise Snow!” She dropped the coat from her shoulders and winked at Tom Parker.

“And don’t cha worry, Parker. I can get Elvis to do whatever I want too.” She took a deep breath and shook her hands out. What the hell was going on with her? She walked past the curtain waving at the cheering crowd.

“Miss Annalise, you look gorgeous tonight! Now, Elvis really cut a rug! What’re you gonna do to one up ‘em?” She giggled at Milton and turned towards the audience. She made eye contact with her daddy. His face was etched in surprise, laced with a complete sneer of disgust. She smiled and looked at Milton.

“Imma sing Heartbreak Hotel! Elvis helped me pitch it up and even helped me record it in the studio at RCA! Though y’all will have to wait and see if I release it.” You sent a wink to the crowd and a few men audibly groaned. She covered her mouth and a blush made it’s way to her cheeks. The music began and her body began to relax as she was back in her element.

“Well, since my baby left me. Well, I found a new place to dwell.”

Her daddy’s jaw seemed to go slack as he watched his daughter dance for this audience. She was just like Elvis. Her raw magnetism was pulling these young men (and even a few ladies) into sin! How deplorable!

“Well, it’s down at the end of Lonely Street. At Heartbreak Hotel.”

Annalise couldn’t stop thinking about the way Elvis tore up the stage with Hound Dog. How many of those girls were feeling the same feeling she felt when she met him on the Louisiana Hayride? She gripped the microphone stand and slid her hand down it slowly.

“Where I’ll be, I’ll be so lonely baby, Well, I’m so lonely. I’ll be so lonely, I could die.”

She began to drag the mic stand with her as she walked a little closer to the camera. She sent a kiss and wink as she ended the song. Her way of singing the song was definitely more different than Elvis’. She bowed and waved at the crowd not missing her brother’s enthusiasm as he held a small sign that read, “Annalise Snow’s #1 fan!”.

“Holy, mama. I don’t think I ever wanna sing again. I just wanna hear you sing every single damn song I’ve ever sung.” Elvis’ southern drawl dripped into her ear as a protective hand found solace on her lower back. Her body felt afire.

“Well you didn’t do half bad yourself, Mister Presley” She whispered. Her hands fumbling with his lapels just so she didn’t have to look in his eyes. His electric laugh ruined that plan however. She tilted her head in confusion.

“I saw your daddy’s face out there, darlin’. He was so shocked to see ya rock that song! I’m gonna have to treat you to somethin’ special. Let’s get you ready to go home, baby.” He grabbed her coat and her hand. He laid a quick kiss on her forehead as they tried to run out of the venue as quick as they could.

——————

“Bar Elvis Presley from Television?! This is ridiculous! Just because you’re movin’!” She threw the pile of newspapers to the ground as she ran her hands shakily through her auburn hair. She bit on her nails, large hands grabbing hers as Elvis kissed them softly. The piano seemed so far away from them as she stared at the floor. More and more headlines reading their names.

“They also want you sent back to Louisiana, darlin’. They think your bein’ held captive by me and Beale Street. They got pictures of us there. I-I don’t blame you if you do but-“  “ 

“This is ridiculous Elvis! We’re doin’ what we love! We ain’t hurtin’ no one! Elvis I promised you I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth!” She grazed his face with her fingers as his eyes seemed to slightly soften upon the small act.

Annalise Snow: Victim or Sex Icon?

School Expels Presley Fans

Sexy Snow Melts Fans Into Sin

Elvis the Pelvis Belongs In The Jungle

“That’s one of the most childish expressions I’ve ever heard coming from an adult.” Annalise sighed in agreement. She came to rest on his lap. Tom Parker once again graces the pair with his presence.

“The New Elvis Presley! And of course the New Annalise Snow!” Annalise’s jaw dropped at the costumes. A hellish butler tailcoat and what looked like a damn communion dress! The damn thing looked like a large tutu!

“You have got to be kidding! I ain’t wearin’ that! How is Elvis gonna move in those?” She looked wide eyed at Elvis who returned the same look.

“That’s the point! They think you have broken the segregation laws. They wanna send Elvis to jail for his moves…and you to a church to learn the ways of a nun! We will take care of this the easy way!” The man pulls on the outfits on the rack and grins. Time was running out for the next performance and the pair’s brains were reeling. They knew they’d be embarrassed but why was the Colonel so happy about it?

“Just for this show? And that children’s charity concert?” Elvis let out a deep sigh as the Colonel nodded.

“Then we can put this all behind us.” Tom smiled as he placed the costumes in the hands of the two young lovers. The two picked at the costumes and hastily began to change.

“Let’s get this over with, Elvis.”

———————-

“GOD DAMNIT! I know how to do a skit! I-I coulda made it funny!” Elvis growled throwing the tailcoat to the ground. He rubbed his hands over his face. Annalise all but threw herself on the ground as tears poured from her eyes. She’s never been more mortified in her life. She messed up the lyrics and everything as she stared at the audience and could feel Elvis’ unwavering anger near her. She’s never seen him this angry since they’ve been together.

“The most stupid, embarrassing humiliatin’ thing I ever did.” Scotty placed his guitar down and placed a hand on his hip. Like he was trying to keep his anger at bay but his words came out seething.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?!”

“WE’RE MUSICIANS!” Scotty raised his hands up in disbelief. The yelling kept ramping up as Annalise tore off her dress behind one of the partitions and got back into her regular clothes as she tried to get between the two arguing men.

“PLEASE! Guys, let’s all just go home and forget about it! It’s been a long day,” the two began to pack up in silence as Annalise went to rub Elvis’ back,” you did great regardless, love.” Elvis froze but smiled softly. His anger still rampant in his eyes but clouded for the moment by his steady still trying to keep those tears in for him. He stopped a tear from falling down her cheek. He grabbed his bag and intertwined their fingers.

“I love you so much, darlin’.”

“I love you more, Elvis.

“Let’s go home, darlin’. Lord knows we need it.”

———————

Fans littered the entrance to Graceland as they made their way to the gates. Fans holding memorabilia dedicated to both of them. Saying they wanted the old them back on signs. Trying to pull at Elvis from outside the car. Annalise shrank herself down in the back. She’d never been out in the top down convertible with Elvis but at least she was in the back. She let Elvis go in first as she stood staring at the house once again.

“Where did I go wrong, Jimmie?” She shook her head and that’s when the yelling started. Where did the path divulge into this mess? She winced as she made her way through the door. It was always apparent when Gladys was drinking and when it was too much.

“It was the most embarrassing moment of my life, daddy.” Elvis was already laying down on the piano bench as she made her way in. Vernon waved her over but she stood awkwardly to the side of his chair.

“Those people were using you to poke fun at the whole South! Gettin’ a laugh at puttin’ a hillbilly in a tailcoat and singing to a dog! And then puttin’ my poor lil’ Annalise in that tragic white trash bag?!” Gladys walked away holding two bottles of beer in her hand.

“Damnit, mama. It was either that or get canceled! Then that’s it for television. Colonel says I’m running out of states that I’m welcome in. A-And they don’t pay unless I can perform.” Elvis began to sit up as he spoke. Annalise clung to the wall and tried her best to keep the tears in her eyes. She bit on the side of her cheek to keep from sobbing. She knew Gladys was drinking uncontrollably lately but it didn’t stop the fear that ran through her body as they fought. Was this Annalise’s fault? If he would’ve stayed with Dixie would this still be happening?

“Someone’s gotta think about keepin’ a roof over our heads.” Vernon said as he lit his cigarette. Annalise tried to cover her cough as he smoked.

“A roof over our head? We’ve always managed to keep a roof over our head, Vernon!” She said incredulously. She huffed and turned around again.

“Colonel has got us all of this!“ Elvis retorted. Annalise just wanted the fighting to end.

“I don’t want all of this! You’re unhappy!” She pointed at her son.

“I AM NOT!” Annalise flinched at his voice as Gladys slammed the table with her hands. The tears broke the dam she was trying so hard to keep closed. Vernon grabbed her hand and rubbed it in small circles as she fell to her knees. How was everything going wrong when it was so right a few hours before?

“You’re losing yourself booby! Look at Annalise! This isn’t the life you both need!” The two stare each other down as Vernon continued to comfort the shaking leaf that was Annalise. Gladys seeming to have a sober bit of empathy went to go towards the girl to comfort her but was interrupted by the group of guys running into the house.

“Don’t track mud in the house, Billy! Get out! Get out of my god damn house! Trailin’ mud in my house doin my damn head in,” he grabbed his coat and rubbed his temples,” Mama, you ain’t ever happy. No matter what I do. No matter how much I give ya. It ain’t ever enough. And I wish you would not drink so god damn much. It’s not good for ya!” He turned grabbing Annalise’s arm and pulling her up. He wiped her tears and took one last look at his mom before running out into the rain to his car. Annalise turns back, shocked. 

“Booby! Wait!” Elvis picked Annalise up and she slid to the passenger side as Elvis hopped on after her. The engine roared to life and they whipped on out of there makin their way to the gates. Annalise panicked looking for something to hide her face. Elvis pulled her arm down. His eyes were afire in rage.

“No hidin’ now, Darlin’. I’ve got nothin’ left to lose.” The gates opened as Elvis pressed through the channels on the radio. He ignored the fans and flashing lights as he pulled out. Trying to outrun the cars he knew would follow. Annalise took a deep breath. The crisp air hitting her face and slowly relaxing her racing mind. What the hell happened to them?

————————

“Elvis, we’ll get killed if that damn Parker finds out we’re here!”The neon of Beale Street beginning to call her to the streets of her heart. She smiled but knew if they were caught that was the end of them. She could see B.B hanging out one of the windows of Club Handy. A crowd of people surrounded Elvis as he exited the car. He came around and once again picked up the shaking girl. He spun her around in his arms as people around them squealed and hollered. He placed a soft kiss to her lips and she finally smiled.

“Please, darlin’. I wanna just forget today. Let’s go have some fun, yeah?” He tilted her chin up with his finger. She nodded as she twirled around to talk to a group of women. The pair began signing autographs and hugging fans trying to make their way to the club doors.

“E.P.!”

“B.B.!”

The lovers make their way to Club Handy and finally breathe as they see the performer for the night. Annalise left B.B and Elvis to talk in the back as she went to the front. She danced with her dresser Betty-Ann and her daughter, Sally. Annalise hollered as Little Richard bent forward taking her hand. She fanned herself and giggled as the girls did the same.

“I saw your dress on the television the other day! Momma did a bang up job on ya, Miss Snow!” Sally clapped and rubbed her moms shoulder in support.

“Honestly, Miss Snow is one of my favorite customers. And not because of those way too big tips, lil thing.” Betty Ann grinned and spun around.

“I’ll always be your customer! Maybe when I get real famous I’ll hire you to be my personal wardrobe designer!” Betty-Ann jumped for joy and squealed. Her best customer and her against the world! She would’ve been delighted.

“And Sally can come with and do your hair, lovie! You better keep your promise, youngin’.” She pushed her shoulder and embraced her. The trio went back to dancing and continued to cheer on the performer. Annalise twirled and twisted. Her body intertwined with the music as the night went on. Forgetting about how awful the whole day had been.

“Hey, can I cut in? Time to dance with my star client! Right, little snow?” B.B wiggled his body, the girls snickering. B.B and Elvis made their way to the little group the girls had created. Elvis held her close and wanted nothing but her body as close as possible. With everything going on what if she was sent back to Louisiana? He didn’t even care about the jail time anymore. He cared about her being safe and in his care.

“Baby, I’m so sorry about all of this goin’ on. I-I want you safe and I-” She cut him off by grabbing his face, kissing him as hard as she could. Her lipstick staining his lips slightly. He stared down at her while B.B and the girls oooo’d. Annalise knew Elvis was overwhelmed and she knew he wouldn’t tell her that. She was going to be there for him like the good steady she was.

“Come on, Mister Presley,” his eyes seemed to darken,” dance with me why don’t ya?” His hands curled around her waist and she threw her head back in laughter. Their foreheads resting against each other as they danced.

Soon enough she’d find that picture in the paper along with the pair dancing with the others. What Annalise saw was a family and an amazing time. What the world saw was politics. The club started to wind down.

“There are strange things happenin’ everyday.”

Elvis and B.B went to the fire escape and she stayed to help clean up. She swayed to the music but all she could think of was the charity concert. She wasn’t allowed to perform at it after the police said it would put her in ‘danger’. She fought but was ultimately denied. She was told however she could sit in the front or the side by colonel.

“I’m worried, Miss Beth-Ann. I-I don’t know what I’d do if Elvis was put in jail.”

“You fight for him.”

“Fight?”

“You show those little white men who the hell they messed with, baby!”

Annalise nodded and picked up the cups on one of the tables. This was her boyfriend and she would do anything for him. Anything. To the ends of the Earth, Presley.

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