#this shit is going to be Hard. and i don’t expect my mother will stick around the further into my transition i get

[the-casbah-way]

i never ever cry in front of anyone ever but there was this boy i was OBSESSED with in primary school when i was like seven years old because he was the fastest boy in the class and he had cool spiky hair and i always thought it was a crush until i came out and realised it was gender envy of some form and today my friend out of the blue told me that i look like him and we looked at his instagram together and i actually do. i look almost exactly like him. and i cried like an absolute wanker because i’ve been so miserable my whole life being perceived entirely the wrong way and i went home today and looked at myself and realised i look like the boy i always wanted to be when i was a kid. and whenever i feel bad about myself i get to remind myself that i look like him so i shouldn’t feel bad because back then i couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to look like this. and t will only make it better and even though the idea of starting it is still so scary to me i keep having moments like this that make me realise how good it’s going to be even if some of it will suck. i always focus on all of the ways my transition has gone and will go wrong and i forget that it’s going to go right in a lot of ways too

[inoreuct]

horse girl zoro/prince sanji au that @redgitanako and i talked about way back when because it suddenly crossed my mind OKAY HERE WE GO

zoro’s a travelling bounty hunter with three horses. yes, three. don’t tell kitetsu and enma but wado’s his favourite

wado was kuina’s horse; when kuina died she was so sad because she didn’t get why kuina was gone and for a while zoro had to emotionally support a horse AND himself, but horses are smart creatures. wado understood by herself after a while. they don’t really talk about it.

on that note, zoro talks to his horses. people look at him like he’s a few crayons short of the whole pack but they don’t say anything because he looks scary as hell; built like a brick wall, one eye gone, gnarly scar across his chest and all

(they’ll never know that he’s having an argument with enma about buying supplies where one party is contributing in possibly-misinterpreted horse looks. the crayons aren’t missing— but it’s admittedly a little hard to prove they’re there, zoro, we can’t keep defending you like this)

sanji's the third prince of the kingdom that hires him; sora’s the queen, and his siblings are all decent other than regular sibling assholery. judge is on the run and they’ve made the collective decision that they want his head on a stick.

zoro expects sanji to be a stuck-up priss because he LOOKS like a stuck-up priss— look at his perfect hair. his clothes. his heeled boots and his stupid curly eyebrows

but NO. well, yes, sanji IS a little bit of a stuck-up priss but also, he’s good with horses?? wado takes to him like a DREAM and zoro's flabbergasted because anybody who has ever tried to coddle her other than zoro or kuina has gotten kicked in the head, but sanji's petting at her neck and cooing at her in baby-talk and she's licking sugar cubes and apple slices out of his palm. zoro feels so betrayed.

like of COURSE his horse had to take a liking to the boy he hates OF ALL PEOPLE.

(zoro. at this moment the horse is smarter than you. listen to her.)

reiju’s the princess here, but sanji’s the one who got all the magic-esque affinities. animals LOVE him. he would be a literal disney princess if not for the fact that he doesn’t love them back

like SQUIRREL. WHY ARE YOU SHITTING ALL OVER MY YARD. GO AWAY. WHY IS A DOG TRYING TO LICK MY HAIR. WHYYY IS THIS BIRD BRINGING ME STICKS ALL THE TIME. he’s trying to fall asleep. he hears a TSKTSKTSKTSKTSKTSKTSK. he sits up and gets right out of bed and starts yelling at the lizard on the ceiling.

he does have a pretty mare called maple, though! (and zoro can’t help but love her too; it’s a sign that the mosshead doesn’t clock until much, much later)

and then zoro comes into his life with his three horses and sanji yanks him in by the collar like "listen up, swordsman. i do not CARE how sweet your horses are. i do not CARE how— how— WHATEVER you are. if you stink up my stable i will make you sleep in it, are we clear?" and zoro just nods because he’s having a bit of a gay crisis

sanji is 1. pretty 2. entirely able to hold his own and 3. Wado Approved™ and zoro does NOT know how to deal. at all. he’s holding onto wado’s reins for dear life. he wonders if the same ultimatum would apply if he swapped out the word stable for bed and immediately wants to dunk himself into the horse trough.

meanwhile sanji isn’t spared at all. sora sits on her throne, one eyebrow raised as her son goes on and on about how "mother i hate the swordsman you hired. he's green. and ugly. like a troll. like an OGRE. his hands are too big. his boots are too shiny. his earrings are cute but only because i want them. his EVERYTHING smells like horse. he might as well be a horse with how strong he is, did you know how many hay bales he carried at once??" and she’s just like,,, "honey are you sure this is hate"

she certainly wouldn’t mind them being together. zoro is rough around the edges and does smell a bit like horse, admittedly, but he was clearly raised right— he’s respectful in his own gruff way and he does things with immense care. sora’s noticed. she knows her son well enough to know that he’s noticed, too.

one day sanji bumps into zoro on his way out of the baths and wow. okay. so he doesn’t smell like horse ALL the time and oh his hair is damp and there's a towel around his waist and he is very, very shirtless and sanji turns around in a panic and walks face-first into a pillar.

he watches zoro care for his horses, carefully brushing through their manes and coats as he speaks to them softly, and alright. maybe this guy isn’t all bad. animals, sanji has noticed, are brilliant judges of character; horses especially can be testy and temperamental, and they don’t hesitate to kick anybody they don’t like.

zoro’s horses love him, and it’s obvious. maple looks forward to the snacks he slips her when he thinks that nobody’s looking. that says a lot more about his character than anything else.

after a few days zoro has a solid plan down and sets out to find judge, and suddenly the stables are empty. sanji finds himself going out with maple more and more, exploring the woods around their forest to pass the time because he needs something to keep his mind occupied and there’s only so much he can cook. judge might be a piece of shit, but he’s also an evil genius, and sanji refuses to admit he’s worried even though he is.

and then zoro comes back with judge’s war helmet wrapped in a cloth, gore dripping off the bottom edge as he sets it at sora’s feet.

he’s a little banged up, tired as hell with a couple of scratches here and there— nothing serious, but sanji still drags him to the infirmary and cleans him up perhaps a little more emotionally than either of them had expected

he passes out for a good few days afterwards but sora invites him to stay for a little longer, a time frame that nobody specifies. zoro just kind of… doesn’t leave. it’s strange for him; he’s wandered, always. he gets antsy staying in one place for too long, but this blond prince that is strangely kind and gives back as good as he gets is really something else.

the days pass. they race and bicker and soon enough, all three of zoro’s horses have brass name plaques tacked above what are now their stalls. he had a room in the palace and a place at the dinner table. sanji’s hair has grown long, now, and neither of them talk about the way that zoro’s stay has become something that feels more permanent—

until zoro finally finds the balls to give sanji one of his earrings as a courting gift. it’s the first one of many, but at that moment sanji just looks at it wide-eyed and zoro starts to shrink back all like "if you. don't want it that's alright. i'll get you something new, something else—" because look, he knows he’s not much. he has money, but not enough to give sanji something really nice. not enough to get something that’s more impressive than all the jewels and gold that the prince could have at a whim. he’s a bounty hunter that came from dirt and this earring is the most precious thing he has to offer, but he understands if—

sanji kisses him. yells something borderline incoherent along the lines of about fucking time as he shakes zoro by the shoulders, but he’s smiling very brightly and he’s very beautiful and zoro has a feeling they're going to be just fine.

(sora and the siblings breathe a collective sigh of relief, because the pining looks and dejected sighing were really getting a little ridiculous.)

(they speak too soon. after they get together it somehow gets WORSE.)

this was a ride… (get it. get it.) okay i’ll stop HOPE YOU ENJOYED HEH i know a lot of places are having a flu season/covid wave going around rn so make sure to hydrate and eat well!! muaks 😽

[hatsunevitu]

when kyle was 16, his parents (mostly dad) decided that he had to understand how money are earned by hard and honest work, so they cut off his pocket money and gave him an advice to finally find a part-time job. kyle didn’t mind it much, so after a week or two of choosing the right option he decided to stick to something as peaceful and less stressful as possible, so he chose to get a job at the local library as an assistant. he already had experience in working with literature and students books – he was tutoring his classmates for a year by that time, plus the librarian was his mother’s friend so he didn’t expect any difficulties to get into his way.

until cartman learned about kyle’s new work and decided it was his moral duty to go into the library that he has never visited before and pester kyle every goddamn day. because kyle couldn’t do anything to stop this since he wasn’t allowed to start conflicts as a worker there. it also was prohibited to shout at the library so most of the time he was cursing and threatening cartman in a whisper. neither was he allowed to kick him out because the librarian truly believed that every child has the right to be in this sacred temple of knowledge.

and it was terrible.

every day kyle was expecting another trick from cartman – either it was total reorganising of the books on shelves from alphabetical order to matching colours, or a request to find a very rare book that only was in the library in one copy somewhere in the farthest corner of the room at the highest shelf – only to realise cartman absolutely knows this book has been missing for, like, three years by now.

kyle: Can you please stop bothering me?! You don’t even read books!

cartman: Sure I do! But paper books are sooo last century, I’m into e-books now.

kyle: THEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE LIBRARY EVERY DAY, YOU SADISTIC ASSHOLE?

cartman: Making your life even more miserable and complicated than it already is?…

kyle: Why am I even surprised? I should’ve really guessed.

AND THEN one day kyle sees cartman in the library and mentally prepares for another portion of mocking, but surprisingly for him, cartman doesn’t even look at him, says simple and brief “hi” and goes straight to the reading hall, grabbing one of the books on the shelf. kyle can’t help but feel curious, because he’s never seen cartman so concentrated and serious – at least not the last few weeks. he sneaks up to him from the back:

kyle: What, have you finally realised what you’re actually supposed to do at the library?

cartman, shivering a little: You’re not supposed to scare the shit out of your customers too, huh, Kahl?

kyle: What even is this book? Knowing your tastes, I won’t be surprised if it’s, like, fucking Mein Kampf or something like that.

cartman, rolling his eyes: It’s none of your fucking business. And I wouldn’t read Mein Kampf, who do you even think I am?

and then kyle grabs cartman’s book and with surprise sees that it’s one of his most favorite books (i’m not sure what exactly it is but my personal hc is that kyle is really into dystopias and stories with political controversial subtext…), and he really can’t help but start discussing it with cartman. after, like, a whole half an hour of kyle infodumping him with the history behind this book, he realises they actually have pretty similar taste, and cartman’s analysing skills are so great he really understands all of the hidden messages in books, and they, well…. eventually start hanging out in the library discussing books they’re reading rn. to the point where kyle almost forgets about his other duties at work ‘cause he gets really consumed by all these discussions with cartman.

and he tries to tell about this to stan and kenny but they both just laugh because these two nerds who have finally found a conversation partner are fucking hilarious.

+ bonus about their preferences: they both are really into morally grey and/or generally antagonistic characters. and although it’s totally predictable for cartman, he was really shocked when he realised kyle adores “bad” and “immoral” characters as well (we aaaaaall know why…)

also i think kyle is more of a “plot” person who really enjoys reading about how the world in the book works, meanwhile cartman mostly prefers digging into characters, relationships between them and their psychological traits and traumas, yk? and it really helps, because each of them often notice little details the other might’ve missed.

[ladyelissarose]

‘A Mother’s Revenge’

Chapter 2 - ‘Backfire’

Warnings: Call Of Duty stuff, lots of warfare and guns and bloody shit to expect, angst and a little bit of fluff (only because of flashbacks) enjoy ;)

‘Flashback’

“Jacob!! Come here!!”

I made it a point to scream so loud that even my windows shook, as I called out to my husband, Jacob. I sat crisscrossed on my restroom counter against the large mirror behind me, and hugged my stomach tightly as I awaited his arrival. From where I sat, I could hear his loud and quick steps that were sounding louder as he neared me. Soon I heard his frantic voice crying out,

 “Baby girl!! Where are you!?”

To help calm his now erratic heartbeat, I replied more softly,

“I’m in our restroom, Baba.”

 “Oh ok!”

BANG!

I covered my mouth with my hand and gasp,

 “Oh baby are you ok?”

Slowly the door then opened and I saw my now hurt Jacob walk in while rubbing his head and limping, he pouted at me with puppy eyes,

 “I tripped on my sweatpants and rammed into the door.”

My sorta motherly instincts kicked in and I instantly reached my hands out for him to come to me, I cooed at him as he drew closer,

 “Aww honey… are you ok- oh you hit your head pretty hard!”

I felt the little pink bump that began to grow on his head and I kissed it gently as he reassured me while squeezing my hips,

 “I’m ok baby girl, thank you.”

In between kisses I said,

 “No, thank you for coming so quickly, even if you had to fight with the door to come in.”

 He chuckled lightly before asking me,

 “About that,  what happened, did you need something? Are you hurt to?”

He began checking me around with vigilant eyes and caring hands, but I pulled him away gently while I confessed,

 “I’m not hurt Baba. But- It’s kind of big… what I have to tell you. But I don’t know how to…”

The feeling of being shy about my big secret now seemed to grow in me, and I no longer felt confident about speaking up. I looked down at his hands wrapped in mine, while caressing his finger that held the wedding band that let the world know he was mine for infinity. I soon lost one of his hands, as he let mine go and reach to pull my chin up, to look at him. He smiled softly and held onto my chin as he comforted me,

 “You know you can tell me anything, you’re my wife, best friend, and so so much more, ok? But take your time, I’ll wait right here.”

 His usual sincerity and kind heart always got the best of me, and tears began to well in my eyes, as I gazed into his homey, warm ones. My lips began to tremble, desperate to let out the sob that was stuck in my throat, along with the words that ached to be released from my tongue. I saw the moment when Jacob grew concerned for me, as he frowned a little and used his other hand to rub up and down my shoulder. I couldn’t have him here growing more worried, for something that wasn’t probably bad news in the end, but why if it was? To him? What let the dam loose was when he voiced in a calm whisper,

 “I’m right here… and no matter what, I stay. I made that promise to you, and I don’t intend to let that go.”

 I then reached behind me, and took out a white stick, and pulled it up to where he could see it, as I cried,

 “Look.”

His eyes darted towards what my hands held, and they locked on the item for a few seconds, his eyes grew a bit serious, and his frown stayed, making me nervous he didn’t like what he saw. In my guilt of who knows what, I began to say,

 “I’m sorry-“

“You’re pregnant?”

I stopped talking, and only nodded, he then took the pregnancy test out of my hands and brought it closer to his face, I guess trying to make sure that what he saw was actually real. I looked down and away from him, scared to confront the unknown. But he was quick to grab my face with one hand and lift it up, I slowly lifted my eyes back to him, as tears ran down, now mirroring his face too, he had started to cry.

 “Baby… I’m gonna be a dad?”

I sniffed and tried to smile,

 “Yeah… you’re gonna be a daddy, Baba.”

In seconds after hearing my confirmation, Jacob threw his arms around me and lifted me off the counter, putting his hands under my thighs to hold me up. My arms secured themselves around his neck, and I searched for his eyes as I was leveled with his face. It was in that moment I fell more in love with him as he beamed at me with a bright smile,

 “You’re going to be a beautiful and great mommy… I’m so proud of you.”

I wiped his tears away and kissed his lips, engulfing myself in his praise and love that always took my breath away. His strong arms held me up tightly and the warmth of his body kept me warm and cozy, with him I always found my home. It didn’t matter where we were, as long as I was with him, I felt safe and secured. His lips always had a honey taste to them, always saying sweet and truthful things, something I forever grew addicted to, sense the day we had our first kiss. When we parted lips to take in fresh air, we embraced in a tight hug that spoke for the many words that were unsaid in that moment, our excitement was too much, yet it was enough for the both of us to understand and feel in silence. Jacob was able enough to hold me up with one hand as I wrapped my legs around his torso, and he used his now free hand to hold my head against his as he whispered a new promise into my ear,

 “I promise, to love and protect my family to no end, no matter the cost. I’ll hold your hearts and souls in the deepest part of me, so no one and can reach or take it. I promise to give all of me, baby girl… I want our family to be as happy as life will permit it, and even then, I’ll fight against all odds to keep you happy. Do you understand baby girl?”

 I caressed his head and kissed his jawline, 

 “I understand, Jacob… thank you.”

“Anything for you baby.”

(End of flashback)

At a motel in Venice…

I slipped on my necklace after I dried off from my shower, and kissed it before letting it sit against my chest. I looked in the mirror in front of me and admired it, their sat my wedding band and Jacobs wedding band, along with the gorgeous promise ring he gaze me when we first started dating, and also my engagement ring. I then grabbed a black shirt I had kept from him, and pulled it over my head, hiding my treasured possession underneath. From the counter I grabbed his silver watch which I wore too, but I a few days ago I remodeled it, and used the golden bracelet I got for Benjamin with his name imprinted on it, as the band for the watch. Soon I had my loose black cargo pants on and my boots, and my hair was in a tight French braid and under my husbands favorite black cap. I had already packed my bags the night before, so that today I could just leave the motel and be on my way to the secret safe house up in Venice. I carried two bags with me, one held a few changes of clothes, with a few very special memories from home and my family, and the other one held what I was going to be using as protection and bait for my mission. Soon I walked out and handed my keys to the owner at the front desk, letting him know that I was my last day there and I wasn’t returning. The cool morning breeze didn’t keep the sun away from warming up my skin as I began to walk towards the bus stop near by. I had decided I wanted that as my source for transportation, so I could learn how the community around behaved and lived, so I could blend in and not stand out so much. The ride was short but I gained a lot of knowledge during the ride, many people were a good source as for me to learn how they went by everyday. The men were always vigilant and suspicious of everyone, (meaning I had to be careful with my every move and play it all normal, If not I could be caught on as suspicious) the women were isolated to themselves and never spoke to anyone really, (which helps me in the fact that I don’t have to worry about making direct conversation with anyone to blend in and behave like them) My next stop was approaching, so I got up and began to grab my bags in hand from the floor. Once I had my things accounted for, I proceeded to walk ahead, but I was pulled back slightly, when someone caught my wrist. My heart jumped out in immediate fear,

 ‘What the fuck-‘

“Lass, you dropped t’is.”

A Scottish voice filled my ears, and made me think for a split second as I turned to face him,

 ‘What a fucking thick accent- Oh shit that’s my watch!!’

 My eyes locked on the Scot that stood before me, his eyes were the bluest that had I had ever seen, so clear and bright. He had a young looking face and a weird looking Mohawk hairstyle that spoke for it, his face held about a 3-day old scruff, and he was kinda tall. And he wore all dark colors. My heart went back to its normal beating when I saw his sincerity and my watch in his hand. I then took what he held in his hand ever so carefully, and thanked him,

 “Thank you.”

He sent me a curt nod and the smallest smile ever, but it was enough for me to understand that he appreciated my thanks. I then went back to my original thought, ‘getting off the bus’. When the bus took its stop, I hopped off right away and stood around, pretending to look around at the scenery. When in reality I waited for the bus to leave so no one could follow or see where I went. When it was out of sight, I began making my way up towards the safe house, I had memorized the directions of the forest so I wouldn’t carry papers and shit like that with me. If I had lost one of them and someone bad found it, I could be in lots of trouble. 

Simon’s POV

All night Soap and I’s mission was to look for Melione’s safe house. And if I have to bloody say something… it was the most fuckin’ difficult thing to find. Well hidden it was in the forest, but what helped us find it after searching for 4 hours, was when we found a river, and Soap for some fuckin’ reason, spotted a camouflaged pipe that was under it, and went up the river. It immediately clicked in our heads what it was for,

 ‘The pipe is connected to the safe house… for fresh water.’

 Quite hidden to civilians, but not for us, now we knew where the safe house was, as long as we followed the pipe. It took us about another 2 hours to follow it from underneath the water, and trace it from underground when the pipe left the water.  The pipe ended at a cave that was covered with garlands of large leaves, I carefully pushed the leaves away, I and sighed in relief, we finally found the safe house. We then secured the perimeter making sure that there wasn’t anyone awaiting Melione to take her down, or even any kind of trap. The safe house was considerably very small, but great for someone hiding away, it was unnoticeable and safe. Once we contacted Price about our findings, he and Laswell, came up to the safe house, and found their way inside. Before closing the door, Laswell gave us specific orders to not go inside, that only her and Price could. I figured that maybe they wanted to interrogate her, question her reasons behind obsessing over a terrorist. I wish I could know, get to see her up close and feel her soul in the room, unleash the secrets she holds onto like air, understand why someone like her, is so broken and hateful?

Now I stood several feet away from the safe house , camouflage to the ground with my sniper gun out, watching out for any uninvited visitors, it was what I did best, I was unseen and unheard, yet mightily affective. Soap should be joining me soon, but Price sent him on another mission for the morning, I hoped he was safe though, I trust no one here, and wouldn’t want them to hurt him in any way, if not, they’d just be added to my Deadpool. 

 “Ghost? Do you copy?”

‘Ay that’s my boy Johnny.”

My chest lifted off a little stone of worry when I heard Soap’s voice come through my comms, I sighed lowly before replying,

 “I copy, what is it?”

“She’s on her way here, saw her on the bus. And she’s pretty packed up. I looked into her bag, it’s full of ammo and shite, I think she’s making her move tonight, LT.”

 ‘She probably is…’

“Perhaps… are you near by?”

“I’m in position, a few feet away from you.”

I noticed Soap’s voice change on that last part, sounded like disappointment, so I asked curiously,

 “Ye alright, Johnny?”

I heard him huff then say,

 “I miss bein’ right beside ye, LT…. I feel so far away from you..”

‘Now I wish I didn’t fuckin’ ask…’

“You know I’m about 10 bloody feet away from you right?

 “Ay…. That’s far.”

I rolled my eyes as his childishness,

 “That’s actually the fuckin’ exact amount of personal space I need, you’re in the right place.”

 I smiled underneath my mask when I heard him whine, 

“Oiii LT, sense when the hell did ya have a personal space limit?”

I lived to mess with him, he was so easy and sensitive.

 “Sense the day you met me, it’s always been there. You just despise me and my wishes, and despite my efforts to shoot you when you cross the line, you fuckin’ miss ev’ry god damn bullet.”

Now I heard him chuckling lowly, of course he knew I was kidding, but it usually took time for him to register that, which made it fun for me to press on until it clicked for him. 

 “Hey lovebirds… ya viene, she just passed me and Rudy.”

That was Colonel Alejandro Vargas, some Mexican fuck that was alright, spoke Spanish when he teased my mask and didn’t want me to know. (Though I’d threaten Rudy to translate for me, I used his fear for me to my advantage so he’d give me what I want. Now I know some Spanish too.) My eyes darted from place to place, now awaiting to spot her, I responded to Alejandro with a question,

 “How long ago did she pass you?”

“You should see her any second now, ya paso des de un rato.”

‘She passed him a while ago, meaning she should be here any minute now-“

“Melione’s in sight, she’s heading towards the safe house.”

My eyes finally caught her, as I watched her take a stop in front of it, and began to look around everywhere, completely missing where Soap and I hid.

Your POV

I had looked around me every few steps at a time, making sure I wasn’t being followed, or watched by anyone. And as far as I could see, no one was. Soon I recognized a few nature spots here and there, that showed me I was at my destination.   

  The tall forest trees practically covered the skies, but the light of day still shone through, helping me find my way around. I avoided the leaves that laid around, afraid that they were probably dry and would crack under any pressure. The sounds of nature were the birds that flew around and rested on branches, the rustling of the trees brushing up against one another, and the crackling of the river flowing through. At any other time, I would’ve found peace in it, a calamity, but not today, every single noise I heard brought chills up my spine and made my heart skip a beat, I couldn’t trust nature at the moment, I had to be sure it wasn’t any one else. But for now, things looked pretty clear and good, so then I made my approach to the safe house, and pulled back the garlands to unlock the wooden door. The unlocking of it was quiet, very smooth, helpful to not bring any unwanted attention to myself. I pulled out my gun before opening up, ready to take out uninvited visitors. With my foot I softly kicked the door opened, and watched it open slowly as my eyes darted everywhere inside. The lights were off inside so I quickly pulled out my flashlight, and then proceeded to walk in carefully. So far things seemed to be in place, my footsteps on the floor were leaving an imprint on the collected dust below me, so I looked around and saw that no one else’s feet were there.

“Looks clear to me… no one’s been here for a while.”

With the same foot I used to open the door, I closed it behind me, holding my breath and silence so I could hear it shut. Then I quickly locked it, and found the light switch beside the door, and flicked it on. The lights flickered above me for a few seconds, before coming to a steady halt, allowing me to focus my eyes to the new light, and give me the chance to look at the room around me, but that was cut short when I heard the floor crack behind me. I shot my head towards the sound but was met with the face of a metal object.

‘BANG!!”

Then it all went black.

Laswell’s POV

Price caught Melione before she hit the floor, and held her up as he dragged her to a near by chair. I held the chair in place as he sat her down and began to tie her wrists behind the back of chair. He then took the guns and knife out from all her pockets, as I picked up the pan Price used to knock her out, and the gun and flashlight she dropped as she went down. Price was gentle the entire time with Melione, except for when he knocked her out with the pan, but that was only because I forced him and commanded the order. Finally I worded to Price, my thoughts on him being extremely careful with her, treating her like a piece of glass, as he eyed her with curiosity,

“What are your thoughts Price? You seem… invested?”

Price kept his eyes on Melione’s figure as he huffed a sigh through his nose,

“She’s young… small lass in a mess like this is something that I’ve never seen… what she’s capable of… is something I can’t imagine.”

I smiled to myself at the thought of having a good asset in our hands, because he was right, what she was capable of, was beyond us. I was about to open my lips to answer him, when I heard her grunt and jolt awake. I stepped back as her eyes shot opened, and gasped,

“What the fuck-“

“At ease-“

Price tried to keep her calm, but at hearing his voice she tried to get up, but whimpered in shock when she found herself tied up. Melione pulled on the ties as she shouted,

“What the hell is this!!”

I then made my appearance, as I spoke up,

“Stay still and I’ll tell you-“

Her head then moved to face me, and I saw her shoulders drop, like if she was relieved to see a woman. But her eyes, were now glued to mine as she stopped moving and insisted,

“Tell me what is going on… now.”

Price stood away from Melione but close enough to hold her down if her struggling became erratic, and I took an empty chair beside me, and sat in front of her as I began to say,

“We know who you’re after… who you are… and what happened to you… and we only want to help you.”

She cocked her head to the side, and scoffed with disappointment in her tone,

“are you guys some kind of psychopath therapists? You kidnap and tie down people to help them?”

Price shook his head and a hint of a smile went up his lips, at hearing her words, I was just as amused at her humor, I guess? But it just showed me how fed up she was with everyone and everything. I then sighed out my correction to her thoughts on us,

“No… we are the military. And our Task Force has set their eyes on you… on your talent, to dig into very dark web information that we haven’t been able to find.”

Her body went stiff, and her face went pale, I believe she got worried or scared for a second, that a higher government power caught her, but I calmed her thoughts as I made myself as clear as possible,

“But, you’re not in trouble. We actually need your help, because who you’re after now, is who we’ve been after too. And I want you to help us.”

Melione’s expression changed, now she looked interested in what I was saying. She then sat up and clear her throat, before asking in a low and calm voice,

“You’re taking advantage of my rage as a now childless mother and widow to bring in the people that your long-time military trained assassins can’t?”

‘Well Damn, I didn’t expect that… she’s very alert and attentive to one’s intentions.’

Well trying to keep hidden the fact about using her tactics and anger to our advantage was out the window, Melione clearly understood and knew I was going to use her. So to keep things now clear and honest, I replied as honestly as I could,

 “Yes, as awful as it sounds but, yes.-“

She sat back and chuckled in my face,

 “How pathetic of you..”

 I was about to respond an apology, maybe to ease her down, but she interrupted me with a new question,

“How does this work then? All of it?”

I was glad she decided to move on, I then took out a file from Price’s bag, and tossed it onto the table, that was next to her, it slid towards her and stopped right where she could see it. Her head moved down towards it first before her eyes moved, she had them glued on me for a few more seconds before they focused on the file. Price then lifted his hand up and opened the file, as he began to explain what he had written down as Melione’s cover.

 “You will not tell anyone in this Task Force, who you really are. Not your background, your reason as to why your here, your motive- nothin’. For safety.”

 I then added,

 “You will only use the name your using now... Melione. And that’s it. There’s no need for any one to ask for more information of you. All your here to do, is help us target our enemies and bring them down.”

 Melione held silence the whole time, her eyes and attention were on the file only, I watched her attentively. I wondered what was going through her head, what was she thinking,

 ‘Is she going to say yes? Does she agree?-‘

“And I’m working with your team?”

Her voice finally came through, in a question as she continued to read the file,

Price nodded and replied and pointed on a certain spot on the page,

 “Yes, here it says your part of the team, and it’s shown that you were picked for your specialization in technology and military armament. Which we’ve concluded that you are.”

 Melione shook her head slowly, she then looked up at Price and asked,

 “Are you guys providing everything I’ll need, I only have what’s in the bag by Laswell.”

 I watched Price reply simply,

 “Indeed we will provide it all. Shelter, safety, guns and all... we are at your service, sense you’re helping us catch this one”

  Melione then looked at me, and held a breath, she looked like she was seriously considering it, which was good. I really needed her expertise, her anger that came with an adrenaline that was far more than my whole team combined. 

 She was a one man army.

YOUR POV

I basically had everything in my hands, their security, artillery, and much more. I now had the advantage to take what I needed, what I wanted. It’d probably be quicker too, sense they’re a team, and this man is one person, along with his little monsters... but I didn’t want them, I wanted him. He was the beast and monster I so badly wanted to demolish and let rot in fire in hell. Maybe this team had their own ways and plans to take him down, but I had my own... and I plan to use them either way, with or without them. Laswell had a hint of hope in her eyes, as she stared back at me, patiently waiting for me to say anything. I liked holding time in my possession, and right now... I held them both, for I was the one they needed, meaning I had some power. But time was ticking and my anger with hunger for revenge was growing more. I knew I’d bust anytime soon, and I wanted it to be at the right target. So I let out my breath, and simply put forth,

 “Fuck… fine. When do we start?”

[blatantescapism]

Ah yes, it’s that special day where once again I find myself wondering what the ever-living fuck Joe Finigan was thinking.

This is the story of how I utterly failed to have the appropriate emotional reaction to 9/11. Mind the trigger tags. I’d add more but I ran out. This story is insensitive by nature and I probably shouldn’t share it, but it’s also such a weird slice of American life that I kinda feel like I gotta.

So, context.

Columbine happened in 1999, when I was in 5th grade. Schools across the US started to be like, “hm, maybe it’s time to actually address this issue somehow.” Our elementary school brought in some random police officers to talk about it. Police who, if anything, had been trained in how to make kids more traumatized.

We didn’t have active shooter drills back then. They were just like, “Hey kids, I want you to imagine this fucked up scenario that I am vividly describing. What would you do if it happened to you? Do you have a Plan? Will you be able to stick to your Plan even while your classmates are screaming? You should think about it hard, in graphic detail, so that when the time comes you won’t hesitate to make Tough Choices. Breaking your leg because you jumped out a window is still better than being dead! Listen to this story of a girl who hid under a desk, but then the gunman found her and she couldn’t escape because there was no room to maneuver and so she was trapped and the gunman shot her while she bravely said her prayers, we have a weird creepy obsession with painting the victims as modern Christian martyrs and we totally invented the entire story but you won’t realize that for at least a decade. And remember: don’t run in a straight line, run in zigzags so that you’re harder to shoot.”

So yeah, that was 1999, we were 11 years old, and we took that shit very much to heart.

Two years later, it’s 2001. There have been 15 new US school shootings in that time. My sister and I are in middle school, it’s early in the school year but we’ve started to get into a normal rhythm,

Suddenly there is a totally unexpected blare on the intercom. It’s Principal Joe Finigan, he is about to make the most significant announcement of his career, and for some fucking reason he decides that THIS is the best thing to say:

“There has been a, uh, a terrible tragedy. Everyone should go home now. Uh, ask your parents what happened. As far as we know, we are not a target at this time.” Click.

We don’t have any other sources of information. The teachers aren’t telling us what’s going on, but some are crying.

Obviously there must have been a school shooting in town. But what the hell did he mean by “as far as we know, we are not a target at this time”? That makes it sound like the gunman is still at large. Is this a sniper situation? Is it even safe to walk home? Are we going to have to line up in the office and take turns using the school telephone to call our parents?

We cautiously head outside, and there’s a line of parents already out there waiting in their cars to pick their kids up. Oh shit, it must be bad. Was it the kindergarten? Or the Catholic prep school?

Our mom is upset. She says she doesn’t want to talk about it while driving. She’ll show us the news on the TV when we get home.

We get home and steel ourselves to face the news, fully expecting to see the names of close friends and neighbors listed among the dead.

So please imagine how appalled our dear mother is when we say, “Wait a minute- all this fuss is because some buildings are on fire in a completely different state?!”

“As far as we know, we are not a target at this time.”

Dear Joe Finigan. What the fuck made you say that. Please tell me, did you genuinely imagine terrorists being like

“At this time, our target is the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. But next, we shall target a mediocre school in a bland suburban town that nobody has ever heard of! Ohoho! Ah hah ha ha!”

Anyway, there’s something to be said about how after both events, the US response was, “You see, this is why we need more guns. We tooootally promise they’ll only be used to hurt Bad Guys! After all, we’re the Good Guys! USA! USA!”

[cophene]

015 | gold dust champagne.

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pairing : jojolion x gn reader summary : the heir to an limitless fortune goes on a vacation to morioh to find their true love. seems easy enough; only, if that they're unable to find their love, they'll lose not just their fortune, but their life. notes : multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 3.4k+

★ . . . SHUT THE HELL UP.”

“I’m not even saying anything.”

“Then drop that goddamn smirk.”

Joshu did not drop his smirk. It stabbed at you from the corner of your eye even as you kept your gaze stonily forward. You wouldn’t be surprised if your bone dice cracked from how hard you were clenching them. 

“Why don’t you just take it off?”

“Why don’t you just take it off?”

“Because I wore it first and I actually have no problem with unintentionally matching hats with you.”

You sank in your seat. Josuke absolutely adored the SBR hat shop and made your promise that you would buy at least one hat on your vacation. The little purple bucket hat made you childishly happy when you wore it, which was why you’d put it on today for some fortitude. The last thing you’d expected was for Joshu to pull up wearing the exact same hat. Since neither of you could swallow your colossal prides to take it off, you were now matching hats. Which might have been cute for any other date, but Joshu had a talent for making things insufferable.

“I’m just surprised you showed you know how to put clothes together,” you muttered.

Joshu side-eyed you. “My clothes are always put together. You just don’t have taste.” 

You would have bet money Hato had been the one to throw this outfit together. Instead of his horrendous green shirt and bowtie, Joshu was wearing a boxy blue button-down, a stylized gecko crawling up his side and short sleeves baring his—admittedly nice-looking—forearms. A purple undershirt peaked out over his pants, and the fact that it matched with his bucket hat only further supported the fact that Joshu had not chosen this outfit. Baggy black pants and high-top sneakers completed the look, the blue and black of his sneakers echoing his outfit colours.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked. 

Joshu drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. “You’ll see.”

It was so much harder to talk to Joshu in person. Roasting the shit out of him was way more enjoyable when he wasn’t right next to you. When you could actually see him, it felt like your words might actually stick instead of glancing off him. It made you uncomfortable to think you would see if something you said hurt him.

Not for the first time, you wondered if you’d made a mistake agreeing to go with Joshu today. If it turned out to be a waste of a good day, you would kick yourself. The end of your second week was fast approaching, and as prickly as your mother had been, she was right. You really didn’t have time to waste. It would have been so much easier to spend today with Tooru instead. You’d been surprised by how well yesterday had gone and actually looked forward to seeing him again. 

Admittedly, you had been embarrassed to admit to him that you hadn’t remembered him from the fruit parlour, but Tooru had taken it in stride. He had seemed quiet and unassuming, and had pleasantly surprised you with how attentive and perceptive he was. He was a wonderful listener, and had been one of the few people who had actually taken your curse seriously. For someone you had just met, Tooru had a surprising amount of faith in you. Out of everyone you had met thus far in Morioh, no one seemed to get you the way Tooru did. It was too bad you had gotten too caught up in your conversation with him to take out your bone dice. You would’ve liked to see what number he would’ve rolled. Some other time, hopefully.

Reluctantly, you turned your thoughts away from Tooru. As much as you wished you were with him, you weren’t, and you had to be in a completely different mindset to deal with Joshu. Civilly.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

“If it’s not stupid.”

You watched his face carefully. “Do you really want to start something with me? Or do you just want the fortune? Because you realize you can’t have one without the other, right?”

Joshu pursed his lips. “Sure I can. You just have to fall for me. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“But that wouldn’t be true love.”

“Look, it makes sense in my head, alright? I want your money, but I don’t want anything to do with you.”

You frowned. What Joshu said didn’t hurt because you’d known that from the beginning. “I get that, but I don’t want you to waste your time. I’m going to lose my fortune if it isn’t true love. And that means my feelings have to be reciprocated.”

“You never said that.”

“Falling in love is easy,” you said. “It’s holding on that’s hard.” 

Joshu didn’t answer. His expression turned inscrutable.

“I’m not kidding around this curse stuff. If this month goes by and I can’t find my true love, I’ll—” your throat closed, the curse preventing you from saying the word die. “I’ll lose everything. It was fine when you wanted to mess with me before, but I don’t have time for that anymore.”

You hated how small your voice sounded. It was nearly lost under the rumble of the car on the road. You clenched your jaw, looking everywhere but at Joshu. 

The car stopped at a red light. “Do you think you could fall in love with me?” Joshu asked.

“What?”

“I don’t get what your approach with this is,” Joshu said. “All you’re doing is going out with people who show an interest in you. Why aren’t you going after the people you want?”

You blinked. “Because there’s no guarantee they’ll like me back.”

“The same can be said for this! If someone ends up loving you, how shitty are you going to feel if you don’t love them back?”

From the start, you had thought it would be best if you let people come to you. If you were too bold, too eager, too quick, you would set yourself up for rejection. It would be easier to learn to love someone than to suffer being rejected, right? If they loved you already, wouldn’t it be that much easier?

“Yeah, I’m an option, but only if you want to let me be. Spend today with me and figure out if there’s even a possibility you could love me. Because if there isn’t, it really is a waste of time.”

“I thought you just wanted my money,” you said faintly. “Why are you giving me legitimately good advice?”

 “... Because I don’t like seeing you run around with anyone who will have you. If this is your curse, you should start acting like it.”

Who was this person and what had they done with Higashikata Joshu? You stared at him and the car was quiet until Joshu flushed.

“At some point this stopped being a joke and now it’s something I’m actually interested in. So thanks a lot. I’m wasting my time for you.”

You wondered if you had been looking at this wrong. If at some point you had started to look forward to Joshu’s texts instead of dreading them. If at some point you had started to talk to him because you wanted to and not out of an obligation to be nice. 

If Joshu wanted you to use today as a measure of how much you liked him, what did that mean? Hadn’t he just admitted he only wanted your fortune? But that wasn’t all he’d said.

Could he actually be interested in you? 

The thought wasn’t as unpleasant as you expected.

“Just forget I said that,” Joshu muttered. He stopped the car and put on the parking brake. “We’re here.”

You eyed your destination warily. “You brought me to the movies?”

“Is that a problem for you?”

It wasn’t, really. It was just that it seemed very … normal for someone like Joshu. 

Joshu allowed you to pick the movie. And the seats. And the snacks. You wondered why he was being so agreeable until you realized he wasn’t planning on spending a single yen on this date.

“Wait a minute. You’re not expecting me to pay for all of this, are you?” you said.

Joshu’s face twisted. You were relieved that he really had been under all of that somewhere. “What? Can’t spare a few thousand yen from your trust fund?”

“That’s not the point. You’re the one who brought me on this date. You should be paying.”

“You have a literal fortune that never runs out and I should be the one paying? Have you heard of socialism? The wealthy have to provide for the poor. It distributes wealth.”

Now you were the one twisting your face. “And where is this coming from?”

“Two years of sociology, asshole.” 

“You’re not even poor. It’s the principle of it. Or didn’t you say you were trying to impress me? I’m really getting a feel for how courteous and generous you are right now.”

Joshu glowered at you. You raised an eyebrow. “I’m only too happy to take my trust fund somewhere else if you don’t want to do this.”

Joshu turned away and stalked towards the front counter. He made a show of extracting his wallet and withdrawing the stack of banknotes inside. You only frowned. Why had he been so stingy when he had at least 500 000 yen in there?

Even growing up wealthy, you had never thought to buy out all of the seats around you so you could have a private bubble in the theatre. It made you feel guilty, but Joshu showed no such restraint as he kicked back his feet, taking up three seats at once. It didn’t surprise you that Joshu was one of those people who acted like they owned the place, cackling and shouting and being a general nuisance. You all but dragged him out of the theatre once the credits started rolling, intent on getting out before the staff could throw you out.

“Excuse me, sir!” one of the ushers called. Your chest seized until you saw that the girl was waving at Joshu with a huge grin on her face. “Would you like to enter your ticket stubs into our lottery? We’ll be drawing from the lottery very soon! The prize is a limited-edition full-size figurine of the main hero!”

“Sure, why not?” Joshu dropped the dozen tickets he’d bought into the lottery box. You shot him a dirty look that he ignored.

Surprisingly—or not—Joshu won the lottery. He raised the box over his head, grinning aggressively at you as though you were supposed to feel something. You watched dubiously as he headed over towards you, only to be stopped by a man with a goatee.

“Excuse me, but that’s an amazing figurine! Would you mind if I bought it off you?” he asked eagerly. He was already taking out his wallet. “I’ll give you twenty—no, thirty thousand yen for it!”

The figurine changed hands. The insufferable grin hadn’t left Joshu’s face and you felt your insides shrivel a little. 

“What was that about?” you asked flatly.

Joshu shrugged, flipping through his freshly-obtained banknotes. “Who knows? You should be happy. Now I have enough to cover your dinner.”

It turned out Joshu didn’t skimp when it wasn’t his money he was using. He drove you to the other side of Morioh to a classy, five-star restaurant. The two of you couldn’t have looked more out of place among the finely dressed couples, but Joshu couldn’t care less. He ordered the host to take the two of you to their best table and proceeded to order the most exorbitant items on the menu. Your eye twitched at every order, because if Joshu ended up not being able to pay, who else would foot the bill?

Deep, red wine and succulent cuts of beef and pork arrived on immaculate plates. Plump shrimp and steamed peas and broccoli. Perfectly seared fish and roasted chicken. About halfway through the meal, Joshu squinted at his plate of roast beef. He pinched something between two fingers, lifting it pointedly. The gesture was so familiar, you almost expected to hear Karera’s voice. 

“There’s a piece of hair in this dish.”

With comical swiftness, your server, host, and a line of other stiffly-dressed employees proceeded to your table. They all bowed deeply.

“Our sincerest apologies for the disturbance,” the server said, his body at a ninety-degree angle. “We don’t know how this could have happened. We have wasted your precious time and insulted your esteemed patronage.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. The service has been wonderful,” you said quickly, shooting a look at Joshu. You wouldn’t have put it past him to pull a Karera and put one of his own hairs in the dish just to get out of paying. “It’s nothing. You don’t have to apologize.”

The server shook his head. “This is a most egregious mistake. Your entire meal will be free of charge and if it at all improves your mood …”

The hostess stepped forward, meekly placing an envelope on the table. “It is not much, but if you would accept this compensation, we would be most humbled.”

At this point, even Joshu had to be suspicious. He eyed the envelope. For a second, you hoped he wouldn’t accept it. 

But then he snatched up the envelope, rifling through it. A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Today’s my goddamn lucky day! Money just keeps on pouring in!” To the server, he said, “If you’re so sorry, why don’t you get us another bread basket?” The man nodded quickly, whisking everyone off.

“Joshu, what the hell is going on?” you asked. “Where is all of this money coming from?”

“The hell am I supposed to know? What, are you gatekeeping being rich?”

“No, but don’t you think something weird is going on?”

Joshu scoffed. “You were the one who wanted me to pay for your shit. That’s what I’m doing. Why don’t you just enjoy it instead of bitching and moaning?”

Something just felt off. You brushed your bone dice in your pocket, feeling their comforting chill. Was it so hard to believe that Joshu was just lucky?

Joshu took you to a nightclub after dinner. Normally, you loved throwing yourself into a city’s nightlife. Right now though, you only felt a looming sense of apathy as Joshu tried to shoot peanuts down a girl’s cleavage. He had abandoned you for a busty group of girls as soon as you’d entered, leaving you to sit at a booth by yourself as he draped himself all over them.

The only thing that showed Joshu even remembered you was a bottle of champagne one of the servers brought over. There’s real gold dust in this champagne, he said, as though that could make up for the shitty day you were having. Even you, with your limitless fortune, had never thought about drinking gold dust champagne.

You didn’t even know why you’d tried giving Joshu the benefit of the doubt. He had just seemed so earnest yesterday, asking you out, and then again in his car. It had surprised you much he cared under that blasé attitude of his. As you scrolled through your past messages, you wondered where he had found the energy to consistently send you stupid things every morning.

Was he being serious? Or wasn’t he? Did he like you or not? Did it really matter?

Under the strobing lights in the ceiling, you stared at the brand on the back of your hand. It looked so dark all of a sudden, so stark. It was starting to feel impossible that it would ever fade from your skin.

“Oh. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You tilted your head, and the slightest hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. 

“Tooru. What are you doing here?”

“What most people tend to do at nightclubs,” Tooru said. Despite that, he appeared very much alone. He didn’t even have a drink in his hand.

“You have a very sad idea of clubbing,” you said. You waved at him to sit down across from you and poured him some of your golden champagne. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place he looked here, with his careful expression and shoulder teddy-bears.

Tooru tried to say something. When you indicated that you couldn’t hear over the music, he slid across the booth until his shoulder brushed up against yours. His voice in your ear made your stomach dip. 

“Are you here with anyone?” he asked.

“Sort of,” you said, resisting the urge to glance at Joshu. You suspected he was still in the same position with those girls. “We must have lost each other, though.”

“Good thing I found you then. To be honest, I was just thinking about how nice it would be if I could see you again.”

“You have my number.”

“I like seeing you face-to-face. Feels more natural.” Tooru’s eyes gleamed. “It feels like we’re hiding when we’re behind a screen.”

You blinked. “I guess?” 

“Ah, I said something weird. Sorry.” Tooru took a drink from his glass, wincing a little as it went down. “Why don’t we continue our conversation from the other day? About your curse?” 

Tooru seemed oblivious to the loud music and shouting around you. The two of you might as well have been the only people in here with the way his attention was pinned on you. It was odd how well he could tune everyone out like that.

“What do you want to know?”

“Who did your curse come from exactly?”

“I don’t know if you believe in them, but an ancestor of mine approached the mountain gods and asked to have his fortune reversed.”

“Do you think that’s fair?” Tooru asked. “Why should your family receive a boon when there are thousands of other people the mountain gods turn their backs on?”

You frowned. “It’s not like I went to the mountain gods myself.”

“Maybe not. But your ancestor’s blood runs through your veins, so at least a part of you is responsible.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you said, your hackles rising. “Maybe it wasn’t fair, but it’s not like anyone else in Morioh has the same curse I do. They might be struggling, but at least they—they can still continue on. At least they have a chance.”

Tooru’s pupils were dilated. “And what do you mean by that?”

They’re suffering, but at least they won’t die by their nineteenth birthday.

You turned away from him. You didn’t know where this interrogation had come from, but you didn’t appreciate it. You took a large drink from your flute. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Tooru said. “People have told me that I’m too intense and need to learn how to draw back.” He rested his head on the table, waiting until you looked at him before smiling sheepishly. The gesture made him seem boyish, like a chastised schoolboy.

“I really want to help you, you know. I want to learn as much about your curse as I can to do that. I like you. A lot. It would be a shame if you died.”

You didn’t quite smile. “I’m just not used to talking about my curse. I’m not used to people actually taking it seriously. It’s hard for me to talk about.”

“I don’t want to push you. Just tell me what you're comfortable with.”

You didn’t know what to make of Tooru’s questions. Did he have some kind of hidden agenda beneath the polite curiosity? Maybe they were questions you should have asked yourself ages ago, but it had just seemed easier to accept the curse and not think too hard about it. It was then that you remembered your bone dice. Tooru’s questions weren’t unwelcome, you decided, but you wanted to make sure you could trust him before you told him anything else. Just as you were taking out your dice, shouts from the other side of the nightclub caught your attention.

“Huh? But what’s the problem?”

“Please follow us outside, sir. We don’t want to make a scene.”

“I don’t understand what the hell you want to talk to me about! If it’s about the champagne—”

Joshu struggled as a pair of burly men lifted him bodily from his seat and hauled him outside of the nightclub. Everyone stared gape-mouthed after him, and your mouth went dry.

Goddamnit, Joshu. 

“I should go,” you said, rising from your seat.

“Friend of yours?” Tooru asked.

“Something like that. I’ll text you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Tooru lifted his champagne flute to you as you pushed past people to follow Joshu outside.

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[heatwavering]

when-harry-met-sally-ification of hangster is genius!!!! i would love to hear more about that if you don't mind sharing!

also - what's on your bradley bradshaw playlist? what's genre do you associate w/ him the most?

oh god. oh you don’t even know man. hangster being harry met sally (1989) is one of those things that only makes sense in my head or with a lot of background context, because if i were to just come out and say “rooster is like sally because he’s a chronic perfectionist and an emotional powder keg that lets everything pile up until the last moment (plus his mom is meg ryan), and hangman’s like harry because he’s an cynical asshole who’s actually gooey on the inside and doesn’t speak before he thinks and chooses to push peoples buttons and yearns more than he lets on” to someone who’s only seen both movies in passing, i’m going to get a lot of blank stares and nervous laughter. "isn't that every romcom couple ever?" yes. but i mean--

BAR. FOR BAR. I have wayyy more examples and comparisons but my computer explodes every time I try to add a picture or god forbid a gif. mostly, the "we've met before and it went terrible both times, but the third time we met it stuck and we managed to finally find equal footing and fall in love," is sooooo special to me. and since when harry met sally is an 80s movie (derogatory) and people bog down on the "men and women can't be friends" thing it gets a lot of flack, but by the end of the movie the whole dynamic shifts and becomes more like "why are we putting such big expectations on a relationship when I just love you. plain and simple. no wishy-washy philosophy applies because we've outgrown it and now know each other as equals." (plus that whole first "idea" is brought up by a cynical twenty-something who changes his entire worldview by the end of the movie bc he's fallen in love. why stick to your guns about an idea that's outdated when (a) people are too complicated to fall into your boxes and (b) uhhh who cares. you're in love. I always thought the change in harry's character is supposed to reverse his previous claim in the beginning of the movie and make fun of it for being kind of elementary. but maybe I'm thinking too hard about it.) I'm definitely glossing over some plot points and nuance and whatever but again, this dynamic is something that came directly out of my mind and basically only applies to how I've sandcastled hangster into what I want to see. plus I watched WHMS at like nine years old and it might've had some debilitating side effects. enjoy with an entire pile of salt.

about music now. I'm one of those people that is the ugly kind of pretentious about character playlists (his ass would NOT listen to hayloft by mother mother, shit like that) but also spends net zero time actually building a playlist that follows a timeline or theme. so I just sort everything into two separate playlists/categories: songs that [insert character] would listen to "canonically" and songs [insert character] is aligned with in my own opinion. sometimes there's overlap!!! and sometimes I'm forcing myself to decide if Bradley listens to third eye blind or is the kind of guy who makes fun of people who listen to third eye blind. I still can't decide. I wasn't alive when he was in high school. and you know you're up a creek without a paddle when American Pie (1999) becomes reliable historical material. anyway here's the best way I can describe the difference in the two:

Bradley's own playlist: teenage boy from SoCal in the late 90s early 2000s. in my mind he was always kinda quiet in school and did partake in band so he could play the piano (yes, in jazz band. if I hear a Whiplash joke I'm airing the room out) and spent a lot of time listening to anything and everything that wasn't uhhh Britney Spears adjacent. but lots of blink-182, foo fighters, Pearl Jam, nirvana. probably some early Coldplay. maybe some of The Killers when he got to college, and Radiohead but in secret and when Maverick wouldn't bully him for listening to so much "sad ass (unspoken: gay) music." and of course he's Goose's son, soooo: Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Jim Croce, Billy Joel, Allman Brother's Band, Hall & Oates, CCR, Eagles, etc. From Maverick (and Ice): U2, Pearl Jam, The Cars, more dad yacht rock, maybe Metallica (??) depends on if you think Maverick would ever mess around with something hair metal adjacent. of course he prays at the alter of Bruce Springsteen like his fathers before him. and his mom filled in everything else: Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Paul Simon, Wham! (George Michael being outed....hoo boy. #1 topic NOT discussed at the Bradshaw-Mitchell-Kazansky dinner table.), George Strait, Hootie & The Blowfish, miscellaneous female country music from the 90s like Faith Hill and Shania Twain. Alison Krauss & Union Station! Alanis Morissette! The Goo Goo Dolls? now I'm just listing things but you get the picture.

my playlist about Bradley: anything about hating your dad or your hometown with lyrics that apply. see photo below and you'll get the vibe.

[also, that ONE specific photo of miles teller in project x is the photo that sailed a thousand fics. i love that photo. i wrote this entire fucking fic around that photo. it’s so bradley nicolas bradshaw to me.]

but overall my biggest examples of songs that apply to him (for me) are Little Giant by Roo Panes, Release by Pearl Jam, and The Long Way Around by the Chicks. Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten bc of how it makes me feel about Maverick and him (sick in the head.) souvenir by boygenius. faith by bon iver. Hot & Heavy by Lucy Dacus and The Steps by HAIM for hangster vibes. too much Taylor Swift and Maggie Rogers that I don't know how to explain without having a published fic. I have a ton more and I want to pick like 10 songs from each section and go into heavier detail, but I should probably put something out before I dig myself a hole pffft.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

(Guess who has made it to GG season 6 and wants to fix the dumber shit. Also this is likely not how these kinds of things go and I don’t care.)

“Your honor, if I may.”

Rory frowns as she turns around, watching Lenny rise to his feet. He’d shown up for her court date, but her mother hadn’t, and it feels...

Wrong.

All of this feels wrong.

The judge, for her part, looks deeply confused. “Why is Lenny Bruce in my courtroom?”

“Friend of the family,” he tells her. “Rory and her mother are my neighbors. I’ve known Rory since she was very little, and have much more experience witnessing her day-to-day behavior than her very agitated grandparents here.”

“Mr. Bruce, I’ve already given my decision,” the judge points out.

“I’m aware,” he concedes. “But just a little bit more information about all of this, and if your decision stands, then so be it.”

She sighs heavily. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Lenny nods. “Wow, I haven’t said that sentence in a long time.”

“Mr. Bruce.”

“Right! Look, this kid is a responsible person to a ridiculous degree,” Lenny explains. “Once time she accidentally left my house with a spoon she had used to eat ice cream, and when she brought it back twenty minutes later, she was crying because she thought she’d stolen from us. She was twelve at the time. I’ve known her for nearly two decades. That feeling of immense responsibility has not wavered until now, which leads me to believe that there is a real issue here that should be addressed beyond youthful indiscretion.”

Rory looks down at her shows, biting her lip. She wishes deeply that the floor would swallow her whole.

“I’m concerned we’re looking at a breakdown caused by burnout and the extreme stress of living up to very high expectations,” Lenny finishes.

The judge nods, looking thoughtful. “And what would you suggest?”

“Reducing the community service hours, and throwing in a few hours of court-ordered counseling,” Lenny responds.

Emily is on her feet, then, incensed. “How dare you! My granddaughter is not crazy! She doesn’t need counseling! You don’t know anything about her!”

“Sure, because a decade of babysitting and almost two of seeing her nearly every day of her fucking life from September to December every year -”

“Mr. Bruce,” the judge warns.

“Sorry, your honor - oh. Another thing I haven’t said in a while.”

The judge sighs heavily and sits back. “I will reduce the community service hours to 100, if Miss Gilmore agrees to fifteen sessions of counseling.”

“This is preposterous!” Richard booms.

“You’ll have to excuse the Gilmores, your honor,” Lenny waves a hand. “The rich are still terrified of mental health services, but I feel, after everything I’ve gone through in my life, that it’s important to make sure the courts provide help for people who need it, and not just punishment.”

The judge nods and turns to Rory. “Miss Gilmore? Do you accept this deal?”

She nods slowly, swallowing hard. “Yes, your honor.”

“Good. You are all dismissed.”

Richard is on Lenny instantly.

“How dare you stick your nose into my family’s business!”

Lenny rolls his eyes. “Lorelai’s pissed as shit at all of you, fine. But someone had to have noticed that this girl is losing her fucking mind, and if it wasn’t any of you, I guess it had to be me.” He turns to Rory and pats her shoulder gently. “See you around, kid.”

She dashes after him as he walks out of the courtroom. “Lenny, wait.”

He turns, tilting his head at her.

“I...thank you,” she says quietly. “Just- thank you.”

He nods and gives her a quick hug. “Don’t be a stranger, huh?”

She nods, and watches him walk off.

[thisandthat-whatever]

How many times have I blocked you, leech? Me not posting your incessant messages which you continuously send with your vile shit is not “hypocritical” when I repeatedly told anons to not send me stupid shit.

But you are like a chewing gum stuck under a shoe, useless, worthless and hard to get rid of because you have no self dignity and you still keep sticking around places where you are told you are not welcome (get some self-respect , ffs. And stop trying to use my dog’s death against me because it makes you look not only gross but also weak since it shows you have nothing to argue with me , so you resort to these made-up scenarios about my dead dog (what is next, my mother’s death? Go on, make up shit like how I killed her or was horrible to her even though I was not, but truth never stopped your lies, so go ahead and lie about that too while you are at it).

My dog was not “sad” looking, you dipshit. He was a gorgeous senior 15 year old, so of course he looked his age. Let me see you when you are 80 and rank your “sad look”. He still had his puppy big eyes full of life in that photo. The only difference between his young self and that photo was his brown bits of fur around his face became white, and that is called natural aging, you dumbo.

Also, I didn’t “refuse” to give him an honorable death. Our last visit with the vet we had no such convo about euthanasia. He had had a heart disease for the last three years but was still managing well. When I recently told you on my blog that he lived beyond his breed’s life expectancy, you ignorantly and ill-intently made up a scenario in your head where I supposedly “refused” an “honorable death”. Lie much?? First of all, who are you to decide what constitutes an honorable death to begin with for you to assume mine didn’t have an honorable death. Maybe you are sending your pets to an unnecessarily early grave when they still have quality of life and happy days left in their lives. I pity any pet that may come across you. Your intentions are so evil that your home would not be a safe place for any pet.

Now stop being a disgusting garbage and using people’s dogs’ deaths to try to “hurt” them. And doing all this while you are a scaredy-cat grey face. 😬 This look is bad for you; do you not get it? 😬 You are so desperate to “hurt” me that you are reducing yourself to sub-human levels. This is you looking like a shitty person. It has nothing to do with me or my dog. The more you go unhinged and send me ask after ask (through VPN no doubt since I blocked your ass at least four times), it is safe to conclude you just have no self-value because you can’t let your resentment towards me go unless you say disgusting (and untrue to boot) shit anonymously (coward on top of everything. Do you even have ANY redeeming quality? Seems not).

That last paragraph of yours is not for me to get attention or sympathy, but for you to show your true evil colors which don’t take much to get out of you apparently.

I would say “get a life”, but I don’t see any hope for you, since you are someone this vitriolic just because I said Timmy looks like a rat .😂😂🐀

I will keep on blocking you, but go ahead and send more shit if you like which will promptly be blocked again. This was the last attention you got from me. Sorry, but your time is up here which means you will need to showcase your sickness elsewhere.

[allthingsfangirl101]

CE Chapter 11: Controlling The Frustration

Masterlist

Whenever George had a problem he couldn't figure out, he went downstairs to the gym. The only way he could think was to strap on a pair of boxing gloves and go a few rounds. When he'd beaten enough of his men, he'd go head-to-head against a punching bag. He usually got so focused, he wouldn't stop.

"You're gonna break your wrists."

"I have a doctor standing by," George said through his teeth. He threw a couple more punches until one hit too hard and he felt it in his wrist.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath. He took his glove off and shook out his hand but that only made the pain worse.

"I hate to say, "I told you so" but as you're mother," Olivia said, trying to hide her smile, "I believe it's my job."

George looked up at his mother, a small glare in his eyes. She sighed as she walked over to him and examined his wrist.

"It's also my job to tell you when you're being an idiot."

"Gee," George sighed sarcastically, "love you too, Mom."

"Hey," she said, hitting him on the back of the head. "Don't forget I know more than you. Especially about marrying into this life. I know you're frustrated and you want to fix things, but sadly, there's nothing you can do. At least not right now. What did she say the other night after you told her?"

"She said she needed time," George said, sitting down on a nearby chair. He put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. "But. . ."

"There's no 'but', George," Olivia cut off her son. "If Ellie asks for time, you have to give it to her. If you don't, you may lose her. Forever."

Olivia walked over and kissed his forehead before leaving the gym. "And besides," she chuckled as she stopped and turned toward George. "You need to realize that your position in this town is going to interfere with your relationship."

"Mom," he sighed but she held a finger up for him to stop talking.

"George," she sighed, "you can't keep this life from your soulmate. She needs to understand exactly what she's getting herself into."

"What if she doesn't want this life?" George asked, his stomach dropping at the thought.

Olivia sighed as she walked back over to her son. She grabbed a chair and moved it in front of him before sitting down.

"This life isn't going to be easy for her to adjust to," she said gently. "But with the right man to help her. . ."

"It's up to me to help her adjust," George finished for his mother. He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair again.

"Take it slowly," Olivia continued. "Don't expect her to jump in, head first. Give her time and ease her into all of this. Trust me. It's a lot."

"I know," George said, glancing at his mom. "You went from being an accountant's daughter to the Queen of the Mafia. And all of Dad's men respect you and would take a bullet for you."

"Exactly," she smirked. "It took time and that's what it's going to do with Ellie. Take some time, let her come around. And she will. But you got to help her."

"I can do that," George said instantly. "I can do what Dad did for you."

"That's my boy," Olivia giggled. She stood up and started to leave. She stopped in the doorway again. "Just because you're soulmates, doesn't mean it's going to be easy," she said as she turned around. "But through work and patience, it will get easier."

                                * * * * *

"So?"

"So what?"

"What happened on your first date with your soulmate?"

Ellie looked away, hyper-focusing on scrolling through a list of upcoming novels.

"That bad, huh?" Amanda giggled.

"Let's just say," Ellie hesitated, "he left to confront a guy."

"Confront a guy? What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know," she cleared her throat. "You should've seen the look on George's face when this guy interrupted the date. He looked like. . . He was ready to hurt the guy."

"Hurt?"

"Kill," Ellie said, her voice dropping. "He left to "handle it".  I didn't stick around to find out what that meant or to see how he handled it."

"Damn," Amanda said under her breath. "That's kinda hot."

"No," Ellie said, quickly standing up and starting to nervously walk around her shop. "It's not hot, Amanda. It's creepy and. . . threatening."

"But he's your soulmate," she shrugged.

"That doesn't mean I should risk my safety to be with him."

"Whoa, hang on," she said, grabbing her so she couldn't run away. "He's your soulmate, Ellie. He's not going to hurt you."

"I don't know that. I don't know him."

"You haven't gotten to chance to get to know him," she tried to reason.

"Yeah," Ellie sighed, "but I'm not sure I want to get to know him."

"Ellie," Amanda sighed. "Don't you think you should give him a chance?"

Before she could say anything, the bell above the door rang. Amanda patted her boss on the shoulder before walking over to help the customer. Ellie sat back more in the chair and took a shaky breath.

Her breath got caught in her throat when she saw the black SUV parked across the street. She instantly recognized the guy leaning against it as one of the bodyguards from their first date.

"I'm gonna go get a coffee," Ellie said as she grabbed her wallet.

"Can you get me one too?" Amanda called from somewhere in the maze of bookcases.

"Of course," she said, walking out.

Jacobs straightened up, hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup when he saw his boss's soulmate walking straight toward him.

"Did he send you?"

"No, ma'am," Jacobs replied.

"Please don't call me ma'am," she said instantly.

"George did not send me," he chuckled. "But I will say that ever since he walked out of your store after your first date, he's been out of his mind with worry. George is very concerned about you, Ms. Ellie."

Ellie sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. Jacobs stood up and pulled the chair out for her. She smiled as she sat down. He then nodded toward one of the waiters who instantly came over.

"What can I get you, Miss?"

"Can I get an iced tea?" Ellie ordered. The waiter was about to walk away but she added, "Oh, and a latte. Both to go."

"Of course," he nodded before walking back into the café.

"Ms. Ellie, I don't blame you for needing time," Jacobs said once the waiter walked away. "The mafia is a lot. And being the soulmate to our leader means you have a big part in it. You won't be making any of the decisions, not really though. A mafia boss's wife is there to help him. You're on his side. You're there to help him at the end of a long day when he. . ."

"I'm there to comfort him after he's killed someone?" She cut him off.

"Actually, yes." Jacobs nodded. "Not always killing someone though. I've known George for a long time, Ellie. At the end of the day, he's exhausted. If he had you to come home to, you'll remind him of the good in the world."

"I'm not sure if I want any part in this," Ellie said, looking at her hands in her lap.

"You won't have any part in the business side," he said quickly.

"What about. . ." She stopped talking and looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Please, Ms. Ellie, continue."

She took a shaky breath as she looked up at him. "What about George's. . . business partners? I'm sure they might not like. . . me or see me as leverage. Can he protect me?"

"Yes," Jacobs said instantly. He leaned closer and dropped his voice. "I promise you, Ms. Ellie, George will do everything and use all of his resources he has to protect you. He would do anything for his men and, especially, his mother. I can't imagine what he would do for you. His soulmate."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself," she chuckled.

"I am," Jacobs nodded. "I've known George all of his life, Ms. Ellie. He is a dedicated man. You'd want for nothing. You'd need nothing. You would have everything you wanted. He would make sure your life was perfect."

"What would I do for him?" Ellie asked, her face slowly beginning to turn pink.

"You'd be his escape," he said simply. "You'd be the one good thing in his life, Ms. Ellie. The one part that made him smile. The part that gave him hope."

"Do you think I could?"

"You already have," Jacobs smiled. "Ever since he's met you, George has been different. A good different. In the few short days you've been in his life, he's matured in ways I never thought was possible."

"You're a very sure man, aren't you, Jacobs?"

"I try to be."

Before she could say anything else, the waiter came over with her drinks. She started to pay for them but Jacobs insisted on paying.

"You don't have to," she sighed.

"George would insist," Jacobs said, "if he were here."

She didn't bother arguing. She grabbed the drinks and stood up. She was about to walk back to her shop but stopped.

"Thank you," Ellie said softly.

"Just a reminder that George doesn't know I'm here."

"That's not what I was thanking you for," she said. "Thank you for taking care of my soulmate."

"Of course, Ms. Ellie," Jacobs nodded. He hesitated before taking a chance. "Do you think you'd be willing to take over?"

Ellie bit her lip, her face beginning to burn again. She thought about it for a second before gaining a little bit of confidence.

"I think I am."

Jacobs sat back in his chair, smirking as he made sure his boss's soulmate got back to her shop safely. He grabbed his coffee and slowly took a sip.

"Spunky girl," he chuckled under his breath. "She'll do him some good."

[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Calendar: Day 28 @whosxafraid​

“O’RIAN! Report to the Captain’s office immediately.” The Voice of God crackles across the sickening heat. “Oh, shit, dude,” House says from his perfect position of hiding in plain sight, standing beside the other SEAL. “You forgot to polish the dolphins. I even reminded you.” Luka mutters something about House’s mother mating with dolphins behind a dumpster and straightens. His shirt sticks to his back with sweat and his face is soured by the too-bright sun causing him to squint, the too-dry air clinging to him like saran-wrap made of dust. He grabs his shovel and slings it across his shoulders, then quick-jogs over to the Qwonset that acts as administration. Salutes the man once he’s crossed over into the Captain’s office. His mind races over every conceivable scenario he can think of, enumerating in his mind what possible sin he’s committed. “At ease. We just received TDY orders for you. You’ve got fifteen minutes to shower, shit, and shave before you and your seabag are sitting on the bird that just landed.” “...Sir?” “I know you didn’t just ask me questions, son. Get going.” Hurry up and wait is a game Luka knows well and the wait takes the shape of a lift from Camp to NAMRU-3, then a longer flight to NAVSTA Rota. It isn’t until he’s herded off a chauffeured civilian car that it all comes across as a conspiracy, a second small travel bag added to his seabag, and a manilla envelope gets shoved in his hands, the details of his TDY. One that grants him 48 hours of leave from his post. Signed by the Rear-Admiral, and a note on white unlined paper. The heavy scrawl already familiar if the greeting didn’t give it away. ~ UF, you’re my gift. Make the best of it but I swear to Christ if she isn’t happy when she goes home, I’m sending you back to yours in a box. Seriously though, I had to ask for a favour, something I never do. Just make sure the package in the included bag gets under her tree or by her coffee cup, and play it stupid if she asks about Santa. Don’t think that’ll be hard.

And Merry Christmas, frognuts. R.~ It’s an entire villa that was rented out, decorated beautifully and tastefully in a style that isn’t the happy chaos of his childhood, or the much more manic style he’s seen back in New York. But when he walks in and sets his bag down? She’s standing there, staring at the pool, or the cliff beyond where the ocean is kissing the shore with white capped waves. She jumps out of her skin, clearly not expecting anyone, before she turns. The way she holds her wine glass, it might as well have been a knife. A second ticks by, followed too closely by another as she fixes him with those wide Disney princess eyes. “Lulu?!” A single word drawn out in a throaty gasp. She sets the glass down carefully, its sherry or wine completely forgotten, and before he can even answer, she’s running. Launching herself at him. “LULU!” Arms all but choke him. Legs coil around his hips with the intention of blocking blood flow, and her lips press against his neck. Maybe Christmas is made for miracles, but Riley’s still a dick.

[kimmimaru]

This is a ridiculous and rambling, nonsensical post and I’m sorry for it, but I have a lot of stupid late night thoughts I need to write down just to stop it from circling my head. So I’m sticking it on my blog. It’s under a cut so it doesn’t burden anyone’s dash. No joke, little of this makes any sense, it’s essentially just there for my own purposes but obviously if you really want to read you can, just don’t expect to understand it, because I don’t lol.

I am still awake at 3am. Mostly can’t sleep because my brain is torturing me, won’t shut the fuck up. So I’m here, on tumblr, making it worse.  I am having bad times obsessing over my own artistic talents and wondering what the fuck I’m going to do because I feel weirdly restless, like there’s something I should be doing but I can’t work out HOW. Like I need to get my fucking life together. I know there’s no time-limit but I dunno...I’m feeling more and more like there IS and it’s weird and unsettling.  When I was a kid literally the only thing I wanted to do when I grew up (other than become a Jedi) was draw or paint. Arty things are the only things I’m even remotely good at. But I can’t sell anything I make, no matter what I do. So my brain goes; well, you’re just not good enough! And I know I’m good, I just think maybe I’m not good ENOUGH. Which is annoying because what the fuck even IS good enough? I enter competitions and my work doesn’t even get displayed, I don’t care much about winning, but it would have been nice if people could have seen the fucking work. But nope.  I’m 35 and the only perfect thing I’ve ever ‘made’ is my daughter (yes, ok she’s not perfect to everyone but she is to ME). I just wish I could give her more. Having lost my mum (nearly a year ago now) it started dawning on me that I need to leave her something, I don’t want to leave her with nothing but burdens. I know, my mother didn’t mean to, she had plans and stuff but it happened and now my siblings and I are struggling to get shit done and it’s weighing everyone down. And the same thing will happen to my daughter as well and I HATE myself for it.  I feel like I’ve wasted my life, which is stupid but feelings are feelings.  I’ll admit, when I was young I wanted to be famous. I’ve always felt weirdly panicky about dying and being forgotten. It’s hard to explain, death doesn’t scare me, at least my own doesn’t. It’s inevitable. But I wanted to leave behind something. I don’t want to just disappear, if that makes sense. My hope was I could do that through my art. Art lasts. And yes, I have a child who could be considered me leaving something of myself behind but she’s not me, I don’t want her to be me. I want her to be herself. Make her own mark on the world in her own way.  What I WANT to do is go back to uni. I want to study, finally get the degree I fucked up last time around but that costs too much. I want to set up somewhere to sell my art work. I want to travel to more places, although I’ve been to Greece and seen mount Olympus, I’ve been in a hot air balloon over the Nile in Egypt as the sun rose, I’ve been to Bulgaria, skinny dipped in France and seen the remnants of the Berlin wall in Germany (I’ve obviously been to Scotland, Wales, Cornwall and Ireland too) but the world is big and I want to see more places. I want to go to Italy, Japan, Norway and as many other places as I can. But at this point I doubt I ever will. Essentially I’m just lamenting all the shit I could be doing but can’t because money. Same as everyone else I suppose. Anyway, my mum believed in reincarnation and that every time someone is reincarnated they do so to learn something in this new life, but I have to wonder wtf I’m supposed to be learning here because so far it’s not clear at all. Maybe it isn’t supposed to be clear but a nudge in the right direction would help a lot.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[calypsoff3]

Four. Part 2

Pressing my lips into a hard thin line, he can’t just not come. He’s really going to leave me in Barbados, he can’t do that. Now I am just stumped on what to do, I fear he’s heard what I said, and I know whatever I say will always upset him more then what others say about him “you stressed out?” Noella said “mhmmm” I said “speak to me cousin” seeing Junior playing around, I don’t even have it in me to tell him off right now “Chris is leaving Barbados, he’s had enough” Noella cringed “he seemed pretty quiet on the table and just taking it all in, they laughed at him being in jail and yeah” shaking my head “I think he heard what I said too, did you say he was walking from the kitchen? Because he never entered the kitchen I was in there with mom and she was saying I need to control Chris, he can’t ruin her day. And I said what can I do to control him? He is hard headed, and the I said maybe it was best he didn’t come because it’s just stressful and I think he heard that and Chris, like with me saying it. That will upset him more than anything and then on top of that, Imani hearing about jail and he’s a bad man. Oh my god, and now he’s like respect my decision I’m going home” Noella cringed “I did see him die inside a little when the kids said you’re a bad man dad and they was in shock, I will go and see to him. I will see if there is anything I can do, I fuck with him. He knows that” Noella said, “I’ll come with too” Rorrey be popping out of nowhere “mhmmm” I just don’t know, I should go “me and Chris have beef at times, so what. He family man, let’s roll Noella” Chris is mad with me, I just know it. I did it; I confirmed his thoughts of going “besides your sons be acting out, you stay” Rorrey laughed walking off, he’s going to go. Chris isn’t staying now, he’s accepted it and he will go, I feel so bad now. I swallowed hard before walking off, seeing in the living room and the kids are in there. I don’t even know what to do anymore, like my mind is gone. Let me go to the dining room, I just need to make sense of things and know how to bring it up because I am in the wrong, I did it. I am remembering everything Sade has told to do and be like, Chris isn’t bad like he would be, but he walks away always, he won’t stick around to make things worse in terms of arguments. Looking into the dining room, Clinton and Curtis are sat there with his wife and kids, not shocked my mother too “oh he’s attention seeking and will make sure everything is about him. Like I said Monica, Rihanna is a good girl, but she plays into his antics that he’s inherited from his mother” Clinton is really playing in my face and acting he rules the roost, and they are huddled like headless chickens “he was quiet, that is also attention seeking to show he isn’t doing anything. Maybe they need to tell the kids the truth about themselves, how is that even your fault dad” Curtis said “I told Robbie, she just need to make sure he’s quiet. It’s not about him, she did tell me that he’s close to his mother now. He sees her regularly so maybe it’s come from there” Clinton laughed “she raised her kids badly and then I’m the problem. He went jail because he wanted to get rich quick and he expected me to see him, oh I do love him but no” Curtis’s wife saw me “Hey Rihanna” walking into the dining room “no it’s ok, continue” I said, this is so full of shit.

They are huddled like some hate group for my husband “really mom?” I said to her “like really, do you just discuss my husband?” I am not happy about this “no, we are just having an adult conversation, he just never grows up. You carry him, he does anything for you but the people around you he is mean too. His father knows him, he does. He said he has no sense” my mother pointed at Clinton “right, are you both done?” I said “Clinton you didn’t need to bring up him going to jail, you know what he went through. Telling his past to his kids wasn’t the move, not when we are trying to bring you both together. You have made it so difficult, and you Curtis. Don’t be up in husband’ face acting like you run this home, this is my mother’ home. You are a guest so know your place, don’t bitch about my fucking husband in this house again. I don’t care mom, don’t look at me like that. My husband was here first, remember that. Don’t ever make him feel like he don’t belong here. Why the fuck should I buy a new home in Barbados, we should be here. You just pissed me off now, mom you just giving me stupid eyes for what? You think I am going to back you up by bitching about him? And Clinton, you ain’t nice. I don’t know, I stay away from you a lot. I have changed the whole set up not for my husband but you. I feel like you have made a dent in my fucking family, and I do. Know your places, don’t play in my husband face like that again” waving them off, they are bunch of losers just huddled together like that.

This whole thing, this whole situation is blowing me like tomorrow is the wedding, but I need to gather myself “girls, Imani. You too, whatever was said at that table, don’t mention it again to your dad unless he wants to speak to you. I can’t protect you if he loses it with you all, it’s not nice what your pawpaw said” Clinton barged in “don’t bring it up to him, I mean it. I am not going to defend you at all if so” looking behind me “can I speak to you?” Clinton said, “for what?” I said, I don’t want to hear his shit “please” he gestured for me to leave the room, I am losing my mind right now. I don’t even know if Noella and my brother can stop him from leaving, Chris won’t listen to many people in life. Clinton closed the door behind him “I am sorry for upsetting you, I don’t want to do that. I am sorry that we was talking about my son, he is my son, and he is rude” squinting my eyes at him “I don’t think you have another son Clinton, let’s be real. I think this relationship is dead in the water, I want you to keep his name out of your mouth. I want Curtis to know his place too, you won’t be my step dad and never will. You keep my mom happy, good for you but don’t think for one second you have this new life and things will be nice, and the next time you mention a thing about Chris to his kids that is negative you won’t see those kids and don’t ever be negative about his mom either. You hate Joyce, I get it. She broke your heart, you loved her. You hate her so much that you can’t stand Chris, I don’t know, you may deny it but I think you need to just keep things sweet by not speaking on my husband” Clinton swallowed hard “fine” I smiled at him “don’t bite the fuckin hand that feeds you” I said walking off, this is so infuriating.

It wasn’t even ten minutes and my mother asked for me, I am not shocked at all “Raihan, sit there. Rylee, put his shoes on, we need to go” making my way towards my mom, following her out to another room. This is her pissed off with me because of what I said, he snitched on me clearly. I feel like a child again but here we go “don’t bite the hand the feeds you? That is so mean Robbie” rolling my eyes “did I or did I not happily pay for this event for you? I am happy to do it, I gave you the money for it but not at the expense of my husband’s happiness, the gifts, the honeymoon. Chris agreed with me to do it, he knows but then he wants to act brand new, I am over it, it’s done mom. Just don’t pull me aside for him again, thanks” walking around my mom but she grabbed my arm “don’t ruin my happiness” shaking my head “I am here, am I not. But he isn’t my dad so let’s just leave it at that, I am happy for you” walking off, I am happy for her, but I hate that I have upset Chris, I know he heard me say it but I need to go home, he is probably gone by now.

I am not even mad anymore; I am just numb to the situation. I am very numb to what my dad said to my kids, he is so ignorant towards what he said to my kids, he is acting like it’s nothing. I didn’t even tell my own kids about my jail time because it’s so irrelevant to what they need to know, my dad is ignorant as it comes. People think I am the crazy one, I am the one in the wrong when it real terms I am the innocent one but then Robyn, I was shocked at her. She is just talking behind my back, why make me come here then. I could be at home making more music and having a relaxing time. I am packing my stuff and going home, I have told Robyn and she knows I am pissed off that is why she hasn’t come home, she knows I am, but I have done the nicest way possible and told her to let me go, maybe she is obeying. Hearing the bell go off downstairs, who the hell is that. Robyn knows to come into the house, if it’s my dad then I am going to ignore it and close the door on him. I sighed out making my way out of my bedroom. Jogging down the steps and from the stairs you can see from the window “hey cousin” Noella said laughing, I sighed out. I want to ignore her, but I can’t. Walking over to the door, unlocking the door and opening it “oh Rorrey” I said, “what’s up, we came here for you man” opening the door wider “for what?” I asked, Noella smiled “just to see cousin, and also it’s wack over there, drama” closing the door behind them.

Rorrey and Noella are just helping themselves to drinks, they are funny “here” Rorrey slid over the glass with whiskey, I caught the glass before it slipped off the edge “now, we just came to speak to you. Not to talk you out of it, but to see what’s up? Personally, it was a little wack he bought up that, I ain’t ever seen the shock on the kids face, I mean if my son said that to me. A bad man, I would be hurt so I know you hurting” Rorrey said, nodding my head “yeah” I dragged, downing the contents “did you hear what Robyn said? She thinks you did that is why you left” Noella asked “I did” I mumbled “you know when you come here for your wife and then she feels the same way, that I am going to fuck things up, I feel a type of way. She could have said it to me, I am not a bad guy. I will accept it, I don’t feel too good about the situation. Then my mother in law saying stuff, like man. We are deep into our marriage, I knew this would happen. The guy is not good, but we move. He is making out like it’s just a conversation, but it’s not. Then Robyn just, I don’t know. What can I say huh” I laughed “don’t go though, this is your home too” I laughed “I don’t think it is Noella, I like Barbados but as long as that man is here. It ain’t, being in this home isn’t the same as being there. The family, just everything. But it’s me being awkward, you know” sighing out “I am going, I ain’t being here. I appreciate y’all coming out though” I laughed “you was very upset when I saw you, then Rorrey wanted to escape so we came” they are sweet “you are family Chris, we argue. So what, I fuck with you a lot but my sister. She is caught up I think. Trying to make mom happy and then you” clearing my throat “she can be happy, just leave me out of it. Your mom, she needs to be careful yeah. My mom isn’t that fucked up like he thinks she is, like hear me out. Robyn got depressed, right? She was being so different, acting out. Pushing everyone away, we saw it, we knew. My mom did it. She was living with this, doing these weird things, and behaviour for years. Now my dad had this second life, and he lived with my mom but you telling me you wouldn’t see this behaviour as weird? Like something is wrong, she isn’t her? Like you would, I did, we did. To me he just didn’t care, I thing he loved her in a very weird way, but what do I know huh” I laughed “maybe he was too engrossed with his second life” Noella got a point.

Rorrey just here pouring me drink after drink, but I am done now “so you going back then still?” nodding my head “I am disappointed in your sister, she isn’t even back yet so you know she is avoiding me” I laughed “speaking of her” Rorrey said, she is ringing him “what’s up?” he answered the phone “I respect your decision to want to go, you shouldn’t have to stay somewhere you don’t feel comfortable to be at, it’s really not nice for you” smiling at Noella “she is asking if you will be here when she comes back?” Rorrey said “no” I said blatantly, I am not staying in Barbados “he said no" Noella cringed “have a good wedding though, why should I sit here while y’all celebrate that” I laughed “she said she wants to speak to you before you go, so will you wait” nodding my head “he said ok” but I am not, I am going before she does. I don’t want to hear it, let her have her moment with them and I can do my own thing “she is coming back” I laughed “I am going now” Rorrey gasped “what?” licking my top lip “I am not going to lie Rorrey, I don’t want to hear her excuse. Like for me, it’s like. You know when you tell someone to come to something, like an event and you know the person doesn’t like the person, but they come for you. Then you hear them speaking on you, it’s bullshit, I am sorry. It’s just a little fake to me and I can be abrupt, but I am real. That is the thing with me, I am real as shit” Rorrey rubbed his chin “what can we say about that” I shrugged “then when she comes back I will be more understanding I guess” Noella poked her lips out “tell her that I heard it though” dapping Rorrey.

Sat at the airport waiting, I ain’t taking the jet. Leave it for Robyn and save the planet a little, I called Herb and he didn’t pick up, but he is calling now “what’s up, what’s up?” Herb said, “I am coming home; I will come over to yours” I said “ain’t it your dad wedding?” I laughed “bruh, I am leaving. So much shit went off, I’m done and I’m coming home just be there when I come” I am not staying here any longer then I should “Rih too?” He asked “nah, she staying but I will explain it to you when I get there. I would call my mom but she’s asleep and whatever” clearing my throat “some shit went down then? I feel you’re sad bro” I chuckled “bro, it’s ok. Speak soon though” disconnecting the call, as soon as I did Robyn is calling. Let me answer it even thought I don’t want too, answering the call “really? Just lie to me, my brother told me. You went Chris, how could you do that” I am not shocked she is crying “no need to cry, call me when you’re less emotional if not then have a lovely day at the wedding” I said “how could you Chris, I wanted to speak to you” I sighed out “we can just once you relax, have a nice night Robyn” putting the phone down, I can’t deal with her being this emotional on the phone.

[nicetrynicetry]

109

There’s a scene in season 3 of Transparent where the character of Sarah goes to visit her dominatrix for their weekly session of spanking and consensual degradation, only to find that “Pony”, the dominatrix, has fled town to live out of state. The man relaying this information offers to stand in for Pony: “yeah just tell me what kind of slut you are and I’ll just flog the shit out of you”. Sarah says “no, no, no, it has to be a woman”. “Good luck with that”, says the man, “Pony’s the only lady pro-dom I know who works with chicks. There’s really no money in it. I mean it’s really not that hard for a woman to find someone to treat her like shit for free”

Between sleeping til noon and the frantic painting in order to forgive myself for sleeping til noon and the 3 hours of TV watching I do to unwind from painting frantically, I barely have any time to write the little end of year lists that art magazines now ask me to write. What are your trend predictions for 2024? one asks. What are the “tops” and “flops” you’ve seen in the culture this year? Favourite show and music and food and sex position and bird call? But make no mistake, I am flattered and ultimately honoured to be asked, to be considered worthy of weighing in. And when I get down to writing it all, I put a lot of effort into my answers. I search my phone messages for times I used the words “worst thing ever” or “I love this” trying to refresh my memory on what I saw during 2023 and felt strongly enough about to text a friend. I am heartbroken to discover that both the video B sent of an ice-cream man’s funeral and my favourite Kodak Black interview are vestiges of the year before. But I press on, for I am a bargain basement cultural critic now

Meeting with my mum on Sunday provides the perfect space for me to vent about the shoddy private healthcare I received this week. Nobody dislikes overpaid doctors quite like my mother. Sometimes I wonder whether she will eventually loosen her grip on this disdain, now that she’s retired from the NHS and opportunities to move into private practice are surely everywhere, a veritable minefield of blood money. Though her going private is as likely as my becoming a tax evader, which is to say nigh on impossible. Bag-chasing is, I guess, simply not in our DNA. We go to see the Frans Hals exhibit at the National Gallery and stand in front of each 450 year old painting together marvelling at how modern-seeming they are. Hals refused to paint anything other than portraits, but what he does within these limits makes a good case for sticking to one thing. A hooker is treated with the same pictorial respect as a wealthy fabrics merchant, nearly everybody ruddy-cheeked and making facial expressions you expect not to see on the 17th century’s permanent record. I am jealous of his use of the colour black, deeper and darker than an unlit alley, and richer, even, than the literal velvet I use. Also the man somehow managed to live to 80. I’m guessing he had better doctors than the ones I saw on Thursday. Or perhaps it was just luck, or spending time around so many people rather than rotting away in solitude kept him young. On sale at the gift shop are neck ruffs bastardising the ones Hals’s subjects wear in the paintings

“Someone is grooming my cat”, says mum when we get back to my house for tea, and I’m confused. “Not sexually”, she explains, “but literally brushing out the knots and matting in his fur. And I don’t know who it is! He just returns home with this beautiful coat”. We laugh. We discuss my granny’s upcoming surgery, a four hour affair to remove all the glands in her neck. Granny, the archetypal Virgo (if you believe in that kind of thing), is handling the illness poorly. Her insatiable lust for total control has been compromised by suddenly, in her mid 80s, needing help. She both wants to die and does not, and this is now everybody in the family’s problem. My mother, as is often the case, has borne the brunt of her irritability, escorting her to doctor’s appointments and having to apologise to staff for the trail of destruction HER mother wreaks. My granny is rude and short-tempered, and my mother is easily embarrassed - a disaster of a combination. There is also of course the added layer of mum being a doctor, understanding more than most how important it is to be kind to staff who don’t have quite as lofty a status as hers. I am, for whatever reason, a favourite of my granny, but equally sympathetic to my mother’s plight. It’s a whole multi-generational knot

The evening is uneventful, I do laundry, I unscrew a mirror I hate from the wall of my bedroom and put it out of sight. I look at the internet, then get so sick of war footage I cold plunge, which I have mostly stopped since cooking up this theory that the stress response gave me gastritis. Plus just the thought of doing it every morning was ruining my mornings, even giving me preemptive chills as I’d make my way to the tub. But it is phenomenal, like a Wim Hof baptism. Once in a while. It’s called moderation I don’t know if you’ve heard of it

[umbra-regina]

At Heart/Night Shift

(TW)

All the trigger warnings, probably. Seriously, you have been warned.

Let’s be honest for another moment, yeah? 

Because if we’re being honest, I’m absolutely a romantic at heart. I fall in love with the smallest of things and doing so breaks my heart every day. I love too easily and take too long to hate. I’m no longer cautious with who I care about; the tiniest bit of attention, the barest hint of loyalty and I will kill for you. If we’re being brutally honest. 

When I’m not being honest, I try to make people believe I don’t give a single fuck about them. I paste on my cold, distant persona that I crafted out of pieces of my mother and my father and the books I wasn’t allowed to read and the shows I shouldn’t have watched so young and I try my damnedest to convince the people that I’ve begun to grow attached to that I couldn’t care less about them. It works, sometimes. But it always hurts when it does, because if we’re being honest (and we are being honest, right?) I hate making people think I don't care. Keeping that distance hurts. It hurts and I don't know how else to protect myself because people use those attached to them and I'm tired of being used. I could always just start repressing the attachments, the affection again, but it was so lonely and I never want to go back.

Which leaves us here. Honestly, I'm craving connection, attention, Hell even interaction. So lonely it hurts. Even in the room, in bed with my husband, curled up with him - so lonely it hurts. I think it's the bit where he's behaving like he's ace - nothing wrong with that, but I wasn't expecting that kind of a change considering how we were before we got married. And the lack of vulnerability, the connection that unfortunately only occurs during sex? I feel fucking touch-starved and I'm being given all the snuggles I could ever need. It feels like something is missing and that is the best way I know how to describe it.

And dear gods, if he tells me once more that I can "just take care of the issue" (that's what he calls it, when I'm aching and soaked) by myself, if I am told to "Just use your toys!" one more time, I'm going to start sobbing because yes, the release is nice but it's so absolutely not the point and I don't know how to tell him how it fucks with me when he physically recoils with that look of disgust from the evidence of my arousal.

See, I know this is probably part of his past trauma. He says he's still attracted to me, but "the idea of sex is disgusting. Oh my god. I used to stick my penis INSIDE of you. We had period sex. That's so.... disgusting. And so unsanitary."

I mean, that sounds like a trauma response, right? He vaguely remembers being assaulted as a child, by a "sketchy neighbor." This is absolutely a trauma response. He needs support, and to be reminded that I'm here for him and I love him no matter what. I shouldn't be affected by this so deeply but my gods

It feels like something's wrong with me. It feels like I am overreacting. Like I want something I shouldn't. I should be able to handle a lack of fucking sex. It's literally just sex; plenty of people go without it all the bloody time. And here I am, losing my mind over it. It feels like I've done something wrong, like I have failed somehow and I don't even know how. All I know is that ever since my husband got drunk and hit his kill switch, I have been losing my shit one day at a time and I can barely hold myself together anymore.

(My husband has a kill switch. He shuts off his emotions just like some people shut off lights. You can physically watch the life leave his eyes and it fucks with me so badly. Last time it happened, I was so fucking close to hiding in the bathroom and leaving a few lines in my hips because I know that makes my brain shut up but I didn't. I kept it together better than that. And our friend, the Kid, tried so hard to get my husband to turn it back on but it didn't happen until my husband woke up the next morning)

Now, there comes a hollow ache in the middle of my sternum at about 0300 every night (early as midnight some nights). It's familiar and it's old and it's something I thought I outgrew years ago. Like an old ex you can't get rid of because you were childhood friends, it's back and it claws at my lungs the way only a childhood friend can. It feels like my chest is collapsing in and maybe, maybe if I fold into it enough it'll fill. I've begun to hate the night, to hate the dark - an old friend of mine, one who was always with me when I was crying alone and young - because night means I'm alone again (the joy of night shift. Heaven for an introvert, hell for an extrovert. Or someone who craves interaction, like me).

And while I got used to being told I was a bad person all my life, and being told I wasn't good enough or that I was worthless - got used to being pushed to the side and neglected (that's why I try so hard to help others, apparently, 'cause everytime I stop someone from feeling as bad as I do emotionally, it heals me ever so slightly), it doesn't mean I'm still used to it. Doesn't mean I'm still capable of shrugging and turning away, because I let go of that armor when I learned what it was like to be around people who openly, kindly, gently expressed their love. I'm not used to being alone anymore, and anything that makes it feel like I am alone again cuts to bone.

It makes me want to cut to bone, either with my words or in regards to my own skin. Well, maybe not to bone - shallow scrapes burn and sting longer and hurt more. They're better for the endorphin rush that makes your brain go nice and fuzzy. Quiet. No more of the thoughts that make you question your worth, no more of those stones that are other people's words weighing you down. Just.... silence. Clarity.

Honestly, I miss it. I miss the peace. The calm. The ability to fall into dreamless sleep instead of tossing and turning and overthinking. And I'm trying so hard to stay away from it but lately, it's been a losing battle. At this point, it's either "feel like I'm begging for attention" or it's "use a potentially dangerous but very effective coping mechanism." I'm too proud for the first and (unfortunately) smart enough for the second. Yay, intimate knowledge of human anatomy.

Anyways. If I'm being honest, I'd like to be fucked and held and dominated and adored, and I'd like someone to play with me and sit next to me in comfortable silence as we both do our own things. I wish my husband would ask me if I was okay more often. I wish I was more comfortable asking for help. I wish I had friends nearby who were okay with me showing up at two in the morning and I wish I was okay with falling apart on their couch. I wish I wasn't so good at staving off the complete mental breakdown I can feel coming on and I wish I was better at repressing my shit so I didn't have to worry about mental breakdowns. I wish my brother still talked to me. I wish I'd known better when I was a child. I wish I'd known I'm okay with open relationships when I got married and I wish my husband was too. I wish I'd fucked more people before I settled down. I wish it had felt like my parents loved me instead of tolerating me growing up. I wish I'd never stopped dancing and I wish I was ageless and able to make those I wanted ageless and I wish I'd been good at fighting and I wish my childhood had been more traumatic so I'd have justification for feeling the way I do and I wish I'd had a good childhood so I wasn't this fucked up and I wish I'd never learned what it was like to be sad and I wish I'd never learned how easy it is to make it all

Stop.

[somethingsgottagive1821]

Today i went to my OBGYN appointment and im happy with it. Honestly i was expecting it to go way worse then it did. And kinda surprised they didn’t weigh me but that must only be for when your pregnant and I don’t plan on being that anytime soon. Dr.P had a lot to say which i expected ! He always does but he keep it all so real and honest and i need that from him but that’s not something i always need which is why i picked the PC i have she’s super nice and after what she shared about her mother I know she understands where i am coming from . Anyway Dr.P recommended a drug for me for weight loss because i am literally killing myself with food . Without even weighing me he can see just how much weight i have gained since I’ve given birth . And its just so disgusting i feel like im dying right now my body is so sore all the time and i know i need to cut the shit and loose weight but i seem to go on diet after diet and i just can’t stick to anything . The only Time I’ve been able to stick to the weight lose is when Dr. P was holding me accountable every week at a weigh in and i also had someone in my stomach that I was trying to protect also it was just different . Even though that life i worked so hard for is now alive and in front of me and i should still be fighting for my health for her i just can’t ! Ugh i hate myself so much most days I don’t even know what the point is. But I can’t think like that anymore ! I have to put myself first so hopefully when i go to the doctors Next Monday i can speak with her about what Dr.P recommended for me and go from there. I guess that’s all i can do for now. Well i can also quit drinking soda . But i feel like im trying to stop so many toxic things i do at the same time its driving me crazy! I have to just pick one and once i can kick that habit i can fix the next one right? I just really need to get on track with the Therapist. We are currently playing phone tag everyday it feels like I can’t keep up . And we haven’t been able to have a real conversation or even set a date to have the first in person meeting. I’m trying to be patient but the person I’ve always been is telling me that there’s no point and to just give up. I just need a cheerleader in my corner telling i can do this . I hate to put that on to someone else but clearly I can’t cheer for myself right now . Fuck i hate this .

[ecoamerica]

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