#why are they acting as if its a common mistake to say slurs

[tactlesstuesdays]

why do people not care about the homophobia as much as the racism? also it doesn't matter if you were mad, if you said it so openly and without normal regret it is probably in your regular vocabulary

[s4m-1s-l0st]

Don't get me wrong, I do see the positives in - for lack of a better word, - normalizing mental disorders. Although it does have its fair share of problems, which stem from the way the majority of media talks about it.

Example 1. Watered down autism being used as the punchline

This is clear in the way people talk about such topics, as if it's just a fun little adjective to make your remarks seem more quirky and relatable, saying things such as: "Why did [insert pronoun] do that, is/are [insert pronoun] acoustic?" (please note that the majority of people who say this say "it" as the pronoun they use to refer to the person who does something slightly weird/out of the norm, this is done intentionally, to subconsciously show the receiver of the message and the person saying this, that the person in question is less than them, so much so, that it's not even a person, it's an "it", which is used in a derogatory way. This further reinforces the narrative that autistic people are sub-human, and therefore should be shunned for the way they behave.)

Example 2. Watered down Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Another example is the "everything needs to be organized, omg I am so OCD!" which just completely undermines the stress that individuals with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder go through. Because it's not as simple as being a "clean-freak", or occasionally needing to double-check whether you turned the stove off. I'm sure that the folks with OCD wish it was as simple as that. But OCD comes with unwanted, intrusive thoughts, that cause a lot if distress to the individual. Which brings me to my third example:

Example 3. Intrusive or impulsive thoughts?

It has recently become popular to say something along the lines of "Intrusive thoughts won." when talking about getting your hair dyed or confessing a crush to someone. That is a common mistake, but the thoughts being demonstrated here are actually impulsive thoughts, since they don't bring distress to the person thinking them, and it's not affecting them negatively in their day-to-day life. Intrusive thoughts are more like unwanted thoughts of harming someone or yourself, racist thoughts, where your brain keeps thinking of a slur and you can't get it out of your head, it can be about distressing and disgusting topics such as incest, and if you're religious it can be thoughts of heresy. These are intrusive thoughts, as they cause great distress to the person forced to deal with them. IMPORTANT NOTE! People who struggle with intrusive thoughts are not inherently bad people because of them. These thoughts are unwanted and involuntary. Just because someone has these thoughts doesn't mean that they want to act on them, and that's what categorizes intrusive thoughts!

TL;DR stop watering down mental disorders, and learn the difference between impulsive thoughts, and intrusive thoughts. P. S having intrusive thoughts does NOT make you a bad person!

If you want to hear more of my opinion on this topic feel free to write a comment, or rb this :)

P. P. S i ain't reading allat again, so pls ignore any mistakes in grammar or punctuation because I'm tired as I wrote this rant really late, and I can't be bothered to proofread it.

[gryphsdeadbones]

homophobia/biphobia kinda mentioned?

One of my friends was like, watching Freemind and said, deadass, 'so... is he like, repressing gay thoughts? Like, is he bi or something? He gives of a bi mood to me I have no idea why.' And someone else pointed this out too but like... Freemind is a bi in denial. So now all I'm thinking is Freemind saying no homo about a lot of things, mostly out of fear people will think of him as gay(lets be honest this mans was in 2007, fear of seeming or looking gay was huge then.) and Feetman getting mildly infuriated about it.

Freemind genuinely feels that way about someone, like, 'damn too bad this guys dead, he had some muscle...'

Then he'll realize the other two are behind him and just cough and go, 'what?? No homo jeez'

He has internalized homophobia/biphobia, and yeah.

Might make Freeman sad because he remembers when HE went through that.

HE REALLY DOES now that im rewatching fm. he’s afraid of something trivial like earrings ?? out of all things, afraid wearing it would make him look gay

“like a sailor” 

then in the same fuckin episode or so he like? he says he wants to be a pirate. “but that counts as sailor too”

for all we know it could mean nothing at all and just grasping at straws, but it is there. It’s like? A sort of direct parallel or so. He sounds repressed as hell with internalized homo/biphobia

and the beautiful thing about aus and stuff is we can kinda do whatever we want, so freemind can be as gay as much as we want. i dont know what ross scotts reasoning for the r slur stuff was, and i dont really care to know; all i vaguely know he’s sorta chill with like. freemind characterizations i guess?? so like either way [does a cool remix on gordon freemind]

that era was just such a bad, bad time. i know it was for me before i discovered my identity. And society / the internet itself was much much more of a cesspool back then, not many had the common sense and etiquette ppl have nowadays.

freemind does have the capacity to grow and change if he were allowed to.

in-universe, feetman would probably be? less harsh? but still firm in letting freemind know when he’s acting up and doing unacceptable outdated behavior. theyre grown ass adults with fucked up problems, but they know how to solve problems. finding solutions is kind of their thing, as scientists.

communication issues could be a thing, but since they all the same person at their core, they’re even More aware. Who better to call you out on your bullshit if not from an outside party who is also kind of yourself?

its just. so important to grow up in the sense of admitting your mistakes, and forgiving yourself of the dumb shit youve done in the past, and constantly strive to be better than the previous hell you’ve been through, and to just think.

...I got carried away but yes, Gordon Freeman (all 3 of them) very much reads as bisexual with a lot of fuckin issues. I can see him very much struggling with romance, but regardless, he’d treat his partner RIGHT and like. really grow together with whichever character you see he ends up with.

[three-blogs-in-a-trenchcoat]

Why Kiteman?

Recently I’ve seen a lot of people criticising Kiteman’s character, and saying the show would be better without him, or with him changed to a female character, like Selena. But I think Kiteman is the perfect character for that role.

Please note that I said character. He isn’t perfect in any way for Ivy, or as a person, but he’s not intended to be. Here’s why I think that Kiteman can only be an unknown straight white guy.

His relationship with Ivy is intentionally a cliché. He’s the insecure guy who gets the girl everyone thought he has no chance with. If Ivy wasn’t in a relationship, or not with him, it would be a lot more clear that it’s just a placeholder until they find each other with Harley. The show uses this trope to raise tension. We’re used to the “nice guy” succeeding, but here we don’t want that to happen. But why?

One of the obvious diversions from the vanilla “nice guy gets the girl” story is that Ivy is the main character, not Kiteman. Naturally, the most important character is Harley, hence the show’s title, but Ivy comes in a close second. To most of the world, she is the cool girl. She has superpowers, she doesn’t care what other people think, she leads her own life. These are all qualities that make people “cool” in our eyes. But because she’s a main character, we also see how she acts when she’s alone with Harley, her best friend. She’s really awkward, she slurs her words, she’s really not the Cordelia type.

This shift of focus not only allows us to see Ivy through a more objective lense, it also allows us to see Kiteman through Ivy’s eyes. In the second episode, when Kiteman helps Ivy get the antidote, we see a common trope again: the guy misunderstandig the girls signals, and thinking she wants something more. But he doesn’t subtly hint that he’d like to go further, instead gets naked in her bed; and also, we see the whole thing from Ivy’s perspective: she didn’t give any signals, and she’s grossed out by his attempt.

But, after all this, they get together. The show goes out of its way to show how over-the-top Kiteman is, but at the same time it reinforces the trope, making us think this is a “love” meant to last. He proposes to Ivy, and it’s nothing like she would ever want: public, with a ring she doesn’t like, and way too soon into her first relationship in a long while.

I’ve touched on why Kiteman isn’t right for Ivy, and why she stays with him anyway. But that’s not the whole story. Ivy isn’t right for Kiteman either. And, after everything, he is just an insecure guy who never learned how to act around women, and he’s ideas of romance probably came from movies. His biggest mistake is not paying attention to Ivy, and treating her like his “dream girl” instead of an actual person whose needs and preferences might differ from what he imagined his girlfriend would be like.

Kiteman needs someone who’s way more open than Ivy, who can put him back in his place when he steps out of line. Someone who can say after the proposal that she’s flattered, but their relationship is not there yet, and she doesn’t want to rush things. With four episodes left in the season, and one titled Lovers’ Quarrel, I hope that they get to clear some things out, and that it doesn’t end with Ivy apologising, like when he proposed, but her actually doubling down and saying that she meant it. I don’t expect them to call off the wedding, but that doesn’t mean everything has to be perfect for them. And when they do break up, I hope he will have learned that a relationship is about compromise, and that if he’s afraid of losing someone, the solution isn’t to tie them down, but to set them free and give them a reason to stay.

[everything-laito]

(idk if this needs a TW: abuse, violence, memory loss. )

This might sound dunb but if i took a baseball bat and hit Laito as hard as i possibly can would it trigger something to make him act different? Or make him forget about himself/Yui and he’d bo longer be abusive?

It’s not a dumb question, because I do not believe there are such questions, so don’t worry about it! Although this did make me laugh because it so vividly reminded me of the “horny bonk” meme salfkdjgaslf it just fits Laito to a T lol

Never thought I’d pull on my STEM jeans completely up on this blog, but here we are, and I’m incredibly excited! 

klSFJklagsdf note that neither of my majors involve neurobiology/neuroscience but I do know a good chunk, let’s jump right in! Also, I’m assuming that Vampire brains are similar to human brains in this manner as well lol 

and as always, rant under the cut!

First of all, I’d say that being hit with a baseball bat to the head is a type of blunt force head trauma. This type of trauma can cause a concussion or a contusion. Concussion, as commonly known, is caused by shaking of the brain, while a contusion is a direct injury to the brain. A more severe case is a contrecoup, which is injury that occurs at the brain opposite of impact. 

Here are some symptoms of blunt force head trauma injuries (or traumatic brain injuries as a shorter term):  | Convulsion | Partial paralysis involving one or more limbs | lost of consciousness | personality changes or irritability | confusion | drops in blood pressure | diminished coordination | slurred speech | blurred vision | severe headache | vomiting | 

Here’s my source!

Apparently personality changes are common after a traumatic brain injury, and can even effect the brain long after it’s healed (neuroplasticity babyyyy). This is what this article says. Your personality doesn't change, it’s more of the moods are so overwhelming it feels like you’re a different person:

Many people suffer from social anxiety, irritability, anger, depression, feelings of overwhelm, general anxiety, mood swings, or emotional lability (teariness) after their injury. But make no mistake: While these symptoms can make it seem like you’re a different person now, your personality is intact. It’s just buried under the weight of symptoms that are so, so hard to handle.

Think of personality as a collection of traits, and your mood as your current state of being. Normally, our moods don’t last for weeks and months on end. But after a head injury, negative moods like sadness, anxiety, or irritation can drag on, making patients and their families mistake the emotional symptoms for personality changes.

Lmao, flashbacks to the whole American football controversy???? ooooooop! But no, it would not affect Laito’s personality in the case you are thinking about. It really would make that shit worse. I could go on about nature vs nurture and what personality really is, but ima just say this here:

The reason why Laito is abusive + has a facade is because it is his way of coping with emotional, psychological, and even physical trauma earlier in his life. He projects his situations and feelings onto others so he feels “better about himself” and to get “revenge” in a sense. 

So it’s not as simple as you think it might be. However, let’s take this a step further. If we were to change someone on a chemical and neurological level like this and do it the old fashioned way; aka not emotionally or mentally confronting these issues that could be solved but change the brain physically. 

I’m talking about lobotomy/leukotomy. 

If you don’t know, this is a type of neurosurgery that severs connections to the brain’s prefrontal cortex; aka the anterior frontal loves of the brain. This was common in Western medicine for about two years to “help” mental disorders. However a lot went wrong, and some people got more aggressive, patients developed seizures, emotional blunting, or just unable to mentally function. There’s a lot of unexpected and mixed consequences about it, basically it’s just: don’t mess with the brain.

If we’re talking about memory loss in general, or amnesia, can be caused by brain damage or disease. The hippocampus is commonly associated with memory (and memory loss) as well as the medial temporal lobe. A protein, RbAp48, is also associated with memory loss when it is deficient. Without me going off on genes n such (that actually happens to be related to my concentration for one of my majors) its basically like not having this protein = you’re unable to carry out the certain pathways and such in order to remember something. Deficiency in this protein usually means you have a damaged memory. 

Amnesia causes can usually be categorized into head trauma, traumatic events, or physical deficiencies (like hippocampus atrophy; which means that part just isn’t used). The type of amnesia associated with head trauma is usually anterograde amnesia (also its an effect of long term alcoholism so stay safe kids). It’s also associated with post-traumatic amnesia as well. Or just remove part of the hippocampus since we’re delving into the darker era of neurosurgery. But acute blunt force trauma to the head in the hippocampus region could make Laito lose his memory, but it definitely could result in other consequences that are unexpected or just “undesirable” 

TLDR: dont mess with the brain lol it’s the most important organ for a reason, your neurons can't repair themselves, shit’s permanent! 

DSLFKJ Strawberry, you probably did not expect this answer to be well, this. But welcome to everything-laito, where I will talk your ear off B) 

Hopefully you enjoyed though, despite it being balls to the wall LMAO! See ya later! -Corn

[billyhardgrove]

all i want for christmas is booze (b.h)

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS BOOZE

Pairing: Billy& Reader Word Count: 2.9k approx. Warning: Swearing

Summary: You’re about to head over to your parents for Christmas until you find the one guy that you despise sitting on a bench by himself.

PART 2 || (part 1 here)

-

“Billy?” You cooed, timid and hesitant as to what you were doing.

For before you was someone you detested, someone you couldn’t stand, but he seemed so sad, so isolated, it almost hurt you to see him like this, to see him the way you never expected. Billy was always so rowdy and cocky, his obnoxious personality and non-filtered words giving you nothing but feelings of annoyance and irritation.

But now, well, he was the complete opposite. And having grown used to the loud outgoing Billy, this quiet and secluded one concerned you and perhaps unnerved you a little. You wanted to know the reasoning for his given state, and part of you hoped there would maybe be a way for you to change it. Because God knows, for different reasons, you hated this Billy more than you hated the cocky one.

At your voice, the boy’s head shot up to look at you, suddenly aware of his surroundings and of the girl he lived next door to. Giving your sister and her boyfriend an apologetic look, you knew you couldn’t just leave Billy like this without knowing why.

“Y/N!” Billy slurred slightly, giving you a crooked smile and a small wave with the bottle of Jack in his hand. He glanced at you before looking at your outfit. You were dressed nicer than usual – your normal attire that Billy would see you in tended to be sweats and a hoodie – and Billy noticed this as you took a careful step towards him. Your hair was in a style other than a three-day-old bun and your face held a light layer of makeup that accentuated your gorgeous features. “You look amazing.” Billy breathed absentmindedly as he continued to stare at you, and you couldn’t fight the blush that lit your cheeks flattered at his unexpected compliment. But realising his amateur mistake given the relationship the pair of you had, Billy had to ruin it. “For once.” He added, and your small smile that had begun to play on your lips dropped a little as you realised he was still the rude Billy you had grown accustomed to.

Sure he may be acting all sorry for himself, but that didn’t mean he had completely changed his wicked personality.

You were about to roll your eyes at his snarky comment, tempted to just leave him where he was and not let him ruin your favourite holiday. But then another part of you decided to take a different approach to how you interacted with the boy today, just to see what would happen.

“What are you doing out here alone?” You questioned with concern, quirking an eyebrow as you took another step towards him.

Billy kept his gaze on you, licking his lips before bringing his toxic cigarette back to his chapped chattering mouth. Exhaling the smoke through his nose and mouth simultaneously, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Pre-drinks.” He smirked, lifting up the bottle of whiskey in his hand to bring attention to the beverage. Then, he lifted the bag-covered bottle to his lips and took a large swig of the fiery temptation, not even flinching as he had grown used to the scorching sensation raining down his throat.

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes once more as Billy made sure to be difficult with you just like he always was. But you took in a breath before, asking calmly, politely.

“Pre-drinks for what?”

“Pre-drinks for what I always do on Christmas, Princess.” Billy sneered, his sly use of the pet name sending heated tingles down your spine with the intended hurt he spoke with.

“Billy.” You sighed, getting rather fed up with this little game he was playing with you. But you noticed the way his eyes flickered to the couple standing a short distance behind you, and you thought maybe they were the reason he was being difficult.

So, turning to your sister and her boyfriend, you spoke quietly to them. “Would you guys mind if I met you at the car?” You asked, giving them a look that told them to agree without question. And wordlessly the two nod before walking, arm in arm, continuing in the direction the three of you were initially walking towards.

Turning back to face Billy, you gestured to the seat beside him, silently asking permission to sit there and he merely shrugged his broad shoulders as if to say ‘be my guest’, before once more bringing the bottle of alcohol back to meet his lips.

“Aren’t you going to be late for your family dinner, Princess?” Billy continued to use the pet name with mockery, as he looked at you through the corners of his eyes once you had sat upon the frosty bench. His lips held the sly nasty smirk they always did, radiating confidence and cockiness.

Rolling your eyes at his desire to be annoying, you shot back. “I could ask you the same thing.” And instantly Billy’s malicious smirk dropped as his head turned round to glare at you.

You had unknowingly struck a nerve in him, that was clear. But he only remained quiet, his icy stare shooting to the side of your face as you avoided looking at him.

And the pair of you sat in silence for a short while, an obvious tension laced between the two but no one making a move to address it. You knew it was none of your business and if Billy didn’t want to tell you the reason for his odd behaviour then that was ok. So instead, to somewhat shift the uncomfortable atmosphere that blanketed you, you made a bold move and reached for the bottle of Jack that was now stashed between Billy’s calves.

Billy watched your motives but made no move to snatch the bottle back as you brought the drink to your own lips. Allowing a small sip of the scorching liquid to slink down into your stomach you couldn’t help but wince, not used to such a strong and overpowering drink.

Turning to hand the bottle back, your eyes met Billy’s as you held the drink before him. And being closer to him you swore you saw something glassed over them, something that appeared a lot like betrayal or hurt. Though before you could be sure his gaze was pulled away from you as his hands snatched a hold of the bottle you offered.

Swinging back the bottle, Billy took another two large gulps before placing it back between his feet. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought, or maybe anger, and his elbows rested on his knees as his head hung low.

You were desperate to know what was up with him, clearly it being something of significance for Billy to be feeling such distress. For as long as you had known him, you had never seen him show even a slight resemblance of this character and perhaps that was what most confused you. The idea that maybe it was because he only seemed to be this way now, as in at Christmas time. It must have something to do with that, right?

Pulling you from your curious thoughts, Billy’s repeatedly chattering teeth caught your attention and you noticed how he pulled his jacket tighter to his body. He was freezing. And you mentally shook your head at the little common sense he seemed to have. If he was thinking of sitting outside in the numb-cold with nothing but a jumper and jacket without getting cold then he obviously had another thing coming.

So, opening the gift bag that you had left on the ground beside you, you began to search through it, looking for something in particular. Your actions caught Billy’s attention as he frowned at your abrupt need to hoke in one of the bags you brought with you.

Finally, you pulled out one of the messily wrapped presents, a content smile on your face that you eventually found it, before you pulled at the paper, tearing it off the hidden item. Billy couldn’t see what you were doing, but then you turned back around to him, a thick, fluffy blanket folded in your hands. Unravelling it from its neat presentation, you handed Billy the blanket but he only stared at it with a look of utter confusion, as though it was an outrageous gesture for you to do.

So rolling your eyes, you stood from where you sat before draping the blanket over Billy yourself. And Billy only stared up at you as you did this, a look of complete bafflement and innocence of surprise. You merely gave the boy a warm smile.

“Quit looking at me like that,” you whined, growing rather nervous under his constant stare. “You were shivering, Billy. I don’t know what you were thinking coming out here in only a jacket.” You lightly scolded him, giving him another gentle smile.

And finally Billy seemed to have snapped out of his mesmerizing state, tugging the blanket closer around himself as he gave you a very – very - small grateful grin.

“Uh… thanks, I guess.” Billy mumbled, somewhat sheepish. He was lost more than anything, confused as to the way you were treating him all of a sudden. It was so out of character for you, being nice. And he wondered why you were acting like this all of a sudden, the idea that you were doing it merely to be a kind person seeming absolutely ridiculous.

He hated you. You hated him. You weren’t supposed to be nice to him. It made him uncomfortable if he was honest, yet also incredibly appreciative.

“What are you going to do about the present though?” Billy questioned, still shocked at your selfless gesture as to sacrifice one of the presents you had bought for someone, to instead give to him.

“I’ll give it to my cousin in the gift bag and say I ran out of wrapping paper.” You shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. And Billy nodded his head.

Another silence fell over the two of you, but instead it being a more comfortable and less awkward one. This almost civil conversation and gesture seeming to settle the tension that had previously built up. But you couldn’t deny you were still thinking over the cause of the tension – the way he reacted to your innocent question.

Given the place the two of you were at, the logical part of your mind decided to blurt out the question you were desperate to know, breaking through the silence.

“Billy, why are you alone on Christmas?” Your question grew quiet towards the end as you trailed off noticing how Billy seemed to close his eyes in frustration at your inevitable words. “Aren’t you wanting to be with your family?”

God, why couldn’t you ever keep your damn mouth shut?

“It’s none of your damn business why, Y/N.” Billy suddenly growled, his voice growing low, dangerous and filled with venom. As his gaze met yours, you felt your muscles draw paralysed while your breath hitched at the way his eyes were so dark and drenched with a storm of warning. Even through the bloodshot drunken rims, you could see the intimidation they held. “Not everyone has a perfect family like yours; not everyone in a family loves each other.”

Your eyes widened a little at his words, not expecting him to imply the reason. The way he said them, filled with angry upset, you swore you felt a lump in your own throw grow at the pain Billy seemed to withhold.

His home life wasn’t a very inviting environment to want to go to over the holidays. And so Billy didn’t. Every year Neil seemed to force it more and more and the fakeness became unbearable. Since moving out and leaving Hawkins, Billy hadn’t been back, and that was nearly two years ago now, so there was no chance of him going there for the holidays either. Instead, Christmas for Billy was a great excuse for him to go out and get drunk while looking for a random girl to fuck; he’d made a somewhat tradition out of it for the past couple of years, or at least he liked to think so.

So maybe there was too deep a meaning in Billy’s words to understand, but you could get the idea for now. You realised it was a difficult subject for him and so you let it be.

Yet his words still echoed clear in your ears; they were said with malevolence, with the aim to hurt you and tear you down, that was clear through his malignant tone. And maybe it did hurt you a little at the way he seemed to hint that you were apparently better than everyone. You weren’t, you knew that. But the idea that he thought that that was the way you presented yourself hurt you.

Billy noticed the offended expression on your face as you stared at the ground in upset. He knew he had ruined whatever civilisation there was between the two of you just there, and he expected you to get up from where you sat, wordless and saddened.

So you did.

Straightening your back, you nodded your head in acceptance of how he was reacting. “Ok,” you spoke quietly. “I understand.”

Standing up from your place on the bench, you bent down to pick the gift bag of presents up from the ground before turning round to face Billy one last time. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you stretched your hand out in an offer as Billy gave you a strange look.

“C’mon, you’re coming with me.” You smiled warmly at Billy, tilting your head in the direction of where your sister and her boyfriend had left a few minutes prior.

“Huh?” He frowned, confused and lost at what you meant. He had heard what you said, but he didn’t trust what you were saying. The soft words he could take, the selfless gestures he could handle, but doing what you were suggesting? Billy had to draw the line.

“You’re not going to spend this Christmas alone, Billy. You’re going to share it with me.” You grinned up at him, his eyes widening and eyebrows raising in realisation you meant what you were saying.

“W-what…” Billy was at a loss for words. This didn’t make any sense. Why would you suggest such a thing? And to him of all people. “I…” He cleared his throat, straightening himself up and suddenly getting his composure again. “I’d much rather go out and get laid.” Billy spoke, and you rolled your eyes at his pathetic excuse. The both of you knew that that wasn’t true, he was still putting on a front and trying to be difficult.

“So? Change it up a little this year.” You humoured him with his excuse, giving him an encouraging look, before saying more quietly. “C’mon, really. No one should be alone on Christmas. Not even you.” You added, just to add to the usual feisty attitude you always held towards him, to at least make it a little less weird of how kind you were acting towards him.

“I won’t be alone though-“ He tried again.

“Billy!” You groaned in defiance. Would he ever just quit it? “Seriously, this is a once in a lifetime offer from me. I’m not normally this nice to you so take advantage of it or I promise you’ll regret it.” You almost threatened him, but Billy’s eyebrows fell furrowed still.

“But that’s what’s weirding me out. Why are you doing this?” He suddenly asked. He just wanted a reason. Sure you’ve been saying that no one should be by themselves on Christmas, but this is Billy for heaven’s sake. Let’s be real, you despised him with everything you had and he made sure of it. So that’s why he really didn’t understand why you were doing what you were doing.

Letting out a sigh, you shrugged your shoulders at him. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” You admitted. Chewing on your lip, you knew you had to give him some answer to convince him so maybe you told him the truth, or maybe you told him a lie, whatever it was, you prayed it would suffice.

“To not feel guilty, I suppose. I don’t want to have known that you were having the most miserable-sounding Christmas and then live with the fact that I did nothing to change it.” It sounded convincing, even to you and maybe it was partially honest, for it sounded like something you’d say to him. The only reason you were doing this was out of selfish benefit and to avoid the sure guilt that would shadow you if you did nothing.

“And if it’s weirding you out that much, then I promise that if you come with me then I’ll go right back to hating you tomorrow, ok? Just please, Billy,” You whined, pouting at him. “I’m beginning to look like Rudolph the red-nosed fucking reindeer standing here, so please just come with me.”

And finally – finally – you seemed to have convinced him. Although still reluctant, he flicked his now burnt out cigarette to the ground and threw the booze by his feet into the bin that sat next to him before finally stepping down from that damned bench. Stuffing his surely-blue hands into the pockets of his jacket, he gave you another small barely-there smile that you appreciated a lot.

No matter what front he held before him, you knew that he was grateful for your generous offer to bring him back to your Christmas with your family.

Maybe he’d be able to experience what a true Christmas day was supposed to be like.

-

Next part?

[thepastelyakuza]

So, how long?( Goro Majima x Reader)

Late night call from drunk majima.

Tags: reader is gender neutral / tiny bit angst /little bit fluff

    It was in the middle of the night when a sound pierced through the silence. Phone vibrating on the empty pillow next to y/n. Going silent then back to ringing again. Annoyed, y/n rolled over to look at their phone. Recoiling from the bright colorful screen.

“Fuck.” Y/n mumbled. Turning down the brightness on their phone.

Through their tired eyes, y/n struggled to see who’s calling this late. Before they could figure out who, the ringing stop. Shrugged, y/n tossing the phone back to the empty pillow. Crawling back under the covers. It wasn’t long before that dreadful ringtone came back. Snatching the phone from the pillow. Through their weary eyes, majima’s face appears on the screen.

“What? Why the fuck is he calling this late.” Y/n groaned.

Y/n thought about tossing their phone to the floor but the common sense in them says otherwise. If he calls them more than once’s, something must be up.

”I hope nothing bad happened.” y/n thought.

Pressing the phone close to their ear. ”Yeah... ” y/n mumbled.

”Heyy y/n-chan!! you sleeping?” his voice echoes loudly through the phone.

”I was.” rubbing the tiredness from their eyes.

”Do know what time it is. It's.” Taking a quick look at their phone. ”Three in the morning!!”

”Really?” he said in a confusing tone. There was a short pause before y/n hear majima getting quiet. ”Well, would you look at that?”

”You better have a good reason.” Already annoyed at Majima for waking them up so late.

“I wanted to tell you how my night was.” He cooed.

“Majima.”

“Yes~”

“Night.” As y/n hover near the end call button, they could hear Majima screaming on the other end.

“Wait!wait!wait!wait!wait! Don’t hang up!”

Reluctantly,y/n went back. Y/n always have a soft for majima begs. “You know I gotta work in the morning.”

“I’m lonely~”

Y/n could vividly see Majima giving them the puppy dog eye. “Fine.” Y/n huffed. Propping themselves up on the bed. There’s something that y/n didn’t notice about majima until now. His speech was slurred.

“Majima, how many did you had to drink?”

“Don’t remember.” He chirped.

“Fuck you mean you don’t remember!? Do you have anyone with you? Where are you? Do you want me to come get you?” Ready to jump out the bed.

As the words been blurted out of y/n mouth, Majima couldn’t help but laugh.

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.” He smiled.

“I guess I have to stay on the phone until you get home safe.”

“Awww you’re so cute. Worrying about Lil ol me.”

Y/n smiled, “It’s what I signed up for.”

“Aww, you made it sound like its a bad thing.”

“Not really, just means I could put up with your nonsense.” Y/n chuckled.

“Love you, y/n.” He cooed. His voice pulling on y/n heartstrings.

Y/n already blushing. “Love you, too.”

The phone got quiet as the noise from the street fills the background.

“Nee, y/n.” accent is gone. His voice, low and hushed. As if he was afraid on what to say next.

Y/n hummed in response.

“How long will it takes before you leave?”

“Leave what?” Confused.

Majima sighs heavily. Building up the courage. “How long before you leave me.”

Y/n breath hitched. They know what majima was trying to say but don’t want to believe it.

“Why you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess you can say I have a bad record with relationship.”

“Explain.”

Majima became hesitate. Gaining enough courage to talk again.

“The first girl I ever fall in love with, she was too good for me. I put her through so much just to keep her safe. She won't know what I look like, cause she was blind. But, she could remember my voice. After I went back, I don’t want her to see what I turned into, y’know.”

Y/n nods. Understanding what Majima was coming from.

“I’m glad that she turned out alright without me.” he whispered.

“I hope you won’t kick my ass for talking about this.” He softly chuckled. Trying to ease the tension.

“Trust me, I won’t. It’s good to talk about how we feel.”

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

“My first wife, our marriage was a secret. We was already skating on thin ice. One day, she made a tough choice to protect her idol image. Couldn't blame her though. The industry can be very strict but my emotion got the better of me. Leaving her behind without a word. My whole life would've changed if she haven’t done it.”

“Haven’t seen her since.” He mumbled to himself.

Lost in own thought. Majima has always hinted about his past to y/n. Hearing the full story now brings a whole new perspective to y/n.

“So I’m asking, how long?“

“I. I don’t know.” y/n said in a worried tone.

“I see.” disappointed. Like he already prepared for the inevitable.

“If it happens, it happened.” Y/n could hear his heart slowly wither away.

“We can’t control the future. But what we have is now. So, let’s make the most of it, okay?” Reassure to him. Y/n hoped that their words got to him.

“You know, y/n. You always know what to say.” His accent came back calmly.

With a sigh of relief, “You not the only one with bad records.”

“You!? Noooo.” Majima acted like he was shocked.

“I do. I use to have a bad habit of falling in love very quickly. From being used to being a “guardian angel. So I learn from my mistakes and do better next time.”

Majima hum in approval.

“Plus, I was kinda afraid that I would scare you off.” Y/n said sheepishly.

“Me. A yakuza. Scaring me off. HA!”

“Whatever!” Rolling their eyes.

“Here I am, with my heart jumping out of my chest.”

Y/n laughed softly.

“Thanks for talking to me, y/n.”

“What can I say, gotta keep you company while your drunk self walks back home.” Y/n chuckled.

“Well, you can go back to bed cause I’m already home.”

Surprisingly, y/n don’t want the call to end but reluctantly agrees. “Alright, night majima.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

As majima hangs up, y/n hears someone knocking on their door. Feeling a bit nervous, y/n walk to the front door with their phone in hand.

“Just in case.” They thought.

They look through the peephole to see the back of Majima’s jacket. Y/n open the door as a familiar warmth crept of their cheeks.

Majima turned around with a tired smile. Happy to see y/n.

“Your bed got room for one more?”

[szymonwalendowski]

Othello - race and ethnicity

DEFINITIONS AND CONTEXT The play written by Shakespeare in the XVII century is the very first whose black protagonist is portrayed in a positive way, allowing the text to acquire a vital role in the history of drama. Yet the clarity regarding Othello’s race has not always been so unquestioned. As the play has been reproduced on stage thousands of times over the past centuries, so has the perception of Othello’s skin colour. Starting from the publishing of the play in 1622 the characters dark skin remained intact, up to the 1820’s when a scholar by the name of Samuel Taylor Coleridge published a paper in which he states - ,,Can we imagine him [Shakespeare] so utterly ignorant as to make a barbarous negro plead royal birth? […] It is a common error to mistake epithets applied by dramatis personae to each other as truly descriptive of what the audience out to see or know.” (Coleridge, 385). Following the release of this essay Othello was depicted as light-skinned or bronzed until the 1870’s. The problematic approach to the protagonist’s skin colour has been evident throughout history, as well as discussed in the play itself. The term moor refers to somebody from the region of Arabia, Palestine or North Africa, generally speaking - Muslims. These people had the possibility to receive high ranks and gather large fortunes (just like our protagonist did) OTHELLO VIEWED FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF SOCIETY At the time, England’s population consisted almost entirely of white Europeans, and the few black people that lived in the area were heavily associated with negative traits such as dishonestly and hostility. Thus most of the literature created before the publishing of the Shakespearean drama, rarely incorporated characters of colour, and if they did, they were presented as evil, cruel villains, with the sole purpose of causing chaos and pain. Shakespeare’s play acknowledges societies perception of black people, but does not support it. Othello is consistently judged for his race, called racial slurs and undermined by people of lower rank, that nonetheless, feel entitled to insult the man. This is most visibly conveyed in Act I Scene I of the play, before Othello is even introduced. The reader/viewer witness a conversation between Iago and Roderigo during which they discuss the ‘unlawful, socially unacceptable’ marriage of Desdemona and Othello. In fact most of the racially charged vocabulary comes from those two characters and Brabantio, who later joins the scene as well. However, it is evident that Othello has managed to gather respect in his position, as the Duke of Venice, when praising him to Brabantio claims - ,, your son in law is far more fair than black” ( 1.3.291). Said as a compliment, but still undermining the man for his blackness, this is an ideal example of what Othello was usually faced with. Common pre-existing stereotypes in the culture of XVII century England regarding black men, state that they tend to be overly jealous; are exaggeratingly passionate (hence unreasonable) and gullible. All these mentioned traits have been portrayed by Othello in his behaviour, and used by Iago to manipulate him. Fundamental concepts – • Othello is generally respected as a military man. • The Duke of Venice, a person of a very high rank, respects Othello’s opinions, treating him more seriously than his own senators, which is presented in the act 1 scene 3, where the dynamics between Othello, the Duke, and Brabantio are shown. One of the symbols of respect is that Othello was greeted first, before the senator. • Although he is positively perceived, characters do not ignore his race, which makes him an outsider despite his behavior and status. How other characters refer to Othello? Starting from Iago, the characters name derives from Santiago, which is a symbolic title for people who fight against moors ( or moor-slayers ), meaning that he is by nature supposed to be opposed to Othello. Iago, being the villain he is, insults everybody around him, but he has a designated vocabulary reserved primarily to either describe or infuriate Othello, as he refers to him as an old black ram contrasting him with Desdemona represented by an ewe. Desdemona on the other hand deeply admires her husband. Unlike what the people in her surroundings think, she is infatuated in Othello. Portrayed as one of the strongest feminine characters in Shakespeare, Desdemona opposes to her fathers will, falls in love with a man her when socially it would have been unthinkable to do so, and even follows him to war to Cyprus. Her defiant personality has led some to believe that her love for Othello was kindled by his race. Othello’s skin colour, symbolises his exoticism, creates an atmosphere of mystery and ambiguity around the man, and this is what attracts Desdemona the most. She is fascinated by him. Their love is also illustrated by the imagery of the night, representing Othello, adoring the day, symbolising Desdemona. Nonetheless, their romance will be testified against her, as Iago presents her rebellious personality as a reason for her to cheat on him, creating dramatic irony. Emilia as well as Iago directly correlate Othello’s dark skin colour with his evilness. Most characters believe a black ‘outside’, meaning physical appearance, must be related with a dark ‘inside’, accusing him of malicious intents and cruelness, solely based on his exterior appearance. Fundamental concepts - • Most of the characters in the play refer to Othello using race- and ethnicity-centered epithets, i.e. “the Moor”, “the thicklips”. • Characters that aim to present him in a negative way, like Iago, often use various animals with negative connotations, for instance “Barbary horse”, or “an old black ram”. • The dark color of Othello’s skin is used to symbolize sin and evil. For example, Iago uses the term “blackest sin”, and Emilia “blacker devil”. How does Othello refer to himself? In the face of constant judgment based on his physical appearance, it is inevitable for Othello to not think poorly of himself. In Act I Scene III, the character attributes his problems in expressing his language in a courteous manner to his years spent in the military, but as the play progresses, his insecurities start surfacing. By the time the reader reaches Act III Scene III, he states – ,,Haply (perhaps), for I am black And have not those soft parts of conversation That clamberers have” – thus blaming his racial identity for the qualities he lacks. The phrase above reflects how self-doubting the character must have been of himself, if in the moment when he is presented the biggest doubt of his life, he immediately turns to his ethnicity seeking for a part of him to blame, to point out what he was most afraid would happen. Othello, indeed, numerous times wonders why Desdemona fell in love with him, and even feels anxious about having such a lovely wife. The low self-confidence of the character ignited by years of racial marginalizing, has made him an easy target for manipulation, as Iago manages to smoothly slide into Othello’s mind, pull out his biggest doubts, and without providing an explanation leave him to his thoughts. The final monologue of Othello is also crucial in understanding his perception of himself. As he prepares the knife that will later lead to his death, he lays down his principles. He asks the witnesses to ‘’Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate/ Nor set down in malice” a final plead to be remembered by his service for the state, behavior and human, instead of skin color. Othello also makes reference to his race by including exotic metaphors, and his final sentances are as follows – ,,And say besides that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took bt th’ throat the circumcised dog And smote him – thus!” As Othello retells the sotry of one of his many victories while serving for the state, he indicates that he, himself, has become an enemy of Venice. By degrading himself to the level of those he despised most, which is visible in the vocabulary he used to describe the enemy nation, he presents himself as equally worthless as those who he killed, and subsequently stabs himself in a deadly lunge. At his moment of death he identifies himself as a foreigner that despite their biggest efforts, never managed to become part of the society that so deeply rejected him. Fundamental concepts - • Othello often acknowledges his ethnicity, often combing it with some stereotype, like saying that he is a bad speaker because of his race: ”Haply, for I am black/ And have not those soft parts of conversation” • He is conscious of the fact that he is an outsider, but he also knows that his service to Venice is important and that he is a trusted and successful soldier. • In his final monologue he uses many exotic metaphors (dropping tears as fast as Arabian trees, Indian throwing a pearl away), a reference to his background. OTHER LOCATIONS REPRESENTED o Venice - a very well prospering place due to international trade. Its location by the sea not only enabled business connections but also allowed many cultures and races mix in the city. Venetians were considered very open minded at the time, as they emphasised work and their interests rather than religious values imposed by the church. As they liked to point out – “we are Venetians first, and Christians second”. The city was a place of ambiguous morals, perhaps the only city at the current time in which an interracial marriage, such as that of Desdemona and Othello’s, would be somewhat eligible. o Florence - in Shakespeare’s time the city was considered to be the center of education. Cassio, a Florentine, speaks in a very elegant manner, which confirms this perception of Florence. A Florentine was also used to describe homosexuals, and other males with high femininity levels. o Cyprus - a place very different from Venice, as it is a fortified outpost. The island plays a very important role in the play, as the actions starts unfolding once the characters arrive. The size of the area is smaller and the political situation is uncertain enhacing the atmosphere of the island being a dangerous outpost unlawful territory, making it the perfect place for Iago to carry out his evil plan. Cyprus was also the birth place of Aphrodite, a mythological goddess of love, which ties in with the themes of love and jealous.

[mayrasportfolio]

Othello in the context of race and ethnicity

DEFINITIONS AND CONTEXT

The play written by Shakespeare in the XVII century is the very first whose black protagonist is portrayed in a positive way, allowing the text to acquire a vital role in the history of drama. Yet the clarity regarding Othello’s race has not always been so unquestioned. As the play has been reproduced on stage thousands of times over the past centuries, so has the perception of Othello’s skin colour. Starting from the publishing of the play in 1622 the characters dark skin remained intact, up to the 1820’s when a scholar by the name of Samuel Taylor Coleridge published a paper in which he states -  ,,Can we imagine him [Shakespeare] so utterly ignorant as to make a barbarous negro plead royal birth? […] It is a common error to mistake epithets applied by dramatis personae to each other as truly descriptive of what the audience out to see or know.” (Coleridge, 385). Following the release of this essay, Othello was depicted as light-skinned or bronzed until the 1870s. The problematic approach to the protagonist’s skin colour has been evident throughout history, as well as discussed in the play itself.

The term moor refers to somebody from the region of Arabia, Palestine or North Africa, generally speaking -  Muslims. These people had the possibility to receive high ranks and gather large fortunes (just like our protagonist did)

OTHELLO’S RACE VIEWED FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF SOCIETY

At the time, England’s population consisted almost entirely of white Europeans, and the few black people that lived in the area were heavily associated with negative traits such as dishonesty and hostility. Thus most of the literature created before the publishing of the Shakespearean drama, rarely incorporated characters of colour, and if they did, they were presented as evil, cruel villains, with the sole purpose of causing chaos and pain. Shakespeare’s play acknowledges society's perception of black people, but does not support it. Othello is consistently judged for his race, called racial slurs and undermined by people of lower rank, that nonetheless, feel entitled to insult the man. This is most visibly conveyed in Act I Scene I of the play before Othello is even introduced. The reader/viewer witness a conversation between Iago and Roderigo during which they discuss the ‘unlawful, socially unacceptable’ marriage of Desdemona and Othello. In fact, most of the racially charged vocabulary comes from those two characters and Brabantio, who later joins the scene as well. However, it is evident that Othello has managed to gather respect in his position, as the Duke of Venice when praising him to Brabantio claims - ,, your son in law is far more fair than black” ( 1.3.291). Said as a compliment, but still undermining the man for his blackness, this is an ideal example of what Othello was usually faced with. Common pre-existing stereotypes in the culture of XVII century England regarding black men, state that they tend to be overly jealous; are exaggeratingly passionate (hence unreasonable) and gullible.  All these mentioned traits have been portrayed by Othello in his behaviour and used by Iago to manipulate him.

Fundamental concepts – • Othello is generally respected as a military man. • The Duke of Venice, a person of a very high rank, respects Othello’s opinions, treating him more seriously than his own senators, which is presented in the act 1 scene 3, where the dynamics between Othello, the Duke, and Brabantio are shown. One of the symbols of respect is that Othello was greeted first, before the senator. • Although he is positively perceived, characters do not ignore his race, which makes him an outsider despite his behavior and status.

OTHELLO’S RACE REFERRED TO BY OTHER CHARACTERS

Starting from Iago, the character's name derives from Santiago, which is a symbolic title for people who fight against moors ( or moor-slayers ), meaning that he is by nature supposed to be opposed to Othello. Iago, being the villain he is, insults everybody around him, but he has a designated vocabulary reserved primarily to either describe or infuriate Othello, as he refers to him as an old black ram contrasting him with Desdemona represented by an ewe.

Desdemona on the other hand deeply admires her husband. Unlike what the people in her surroundings think, she is infatuated in Othello. Portrayed as one of the strongest feminine characters in Shakespeare, Desdemona opposes to her father's will, falls in love with a man her when socially it would have been unthinkable to do so and even follows him to war to Cyprus. Her defiant personality has led some to believe that her love for Othello was kindled by his race. Othello’s skin colour symbolizes his exoticism, creates an atmosphere of mystery and ambiguity around the man, and this is what attracts Desdemona the most. She is fascinated by him. Their love is also illustrated by the imagery of the night, representing Othello, adoring the day, symbolising Desdemona. Nonetheless, their romance will be testified against her, as Iago presents her rebellious personality as a reason for her to cheat on him, creating dramatic irony.

Emilia, as well as Iago, directly correlates Othello’s dark skin colour with his evilness. Most characters believe a black ‘outside’, meaning physical appearance, must be related to a dark ‘inside’, accusing him of malicious intents and cruelness, solely based on his exterior appearance.

Fundamental concepts -

• Most of the characters in the play refer to Othello using race- and ethnicity-centered epithets, i.e. “the Moor”, “the thicklips”. • Characters that aim to present him in a negative way, like Iago, often use various animals with negative connotations, for instance, “Barbary horse”, or “an old black ram”. • The dark color of Othello’s skin is used to symbolize sin and evil. For example,  Iago uses the term “blackest sin”, and Emilia “blacker devil”.

OTHELLO’S RACE FROM HIS OWN PERSPECTIVE

In the face of constant judgment based on his physical appearance, it is inevitable for Othello to not think poorly of himself. In Act I Scene III, the character attributes his problems in expressing his language in a courteous manner to his years spent in the military, but as the play progresses, his insecurities start surfacing. By the time the reader reaches Act III Scene III, he states – ,,Haply (perhaps), for I am black And have not those soft parts of conversation That clamberers have” – thus blaming his racial identity for the qualities he lacks.

The phrase above reflects how self-doubting the character must have been of himself if at the moment when he is presented the biggest doubt of his life, he immediately turns to his ethnicity seeking for a part of him to blame, to point out what he was most afraid would happen. Othello, indeed, numerous times wonders why Desdemona fell in love with him, and even feels anxious about having such a lovely wife. The low self-confidence of the character ignited by years of racial marginalizing has made him an easy target for manipulation, as Iago manages to smoothly slide into Othello’s mind, pull out his biggest doubts, and without providing an explanation leave him to his thoughts.

The final monologue of Othello is also crucial in understanding his perception of himself. As he prepares the knife that will later lead to his death, he lays down his principles. He asks the witnesses to ‘’Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate/ Nor set down in malice” a final plead to be remembered by his service for the state, behavior and human, instead of skin color. Othello also makes reference to his race by including exotic metaphors, and his final sentances are as follows – ,,And say besides that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took bt th’ throat the circumcised dog And smote him – thus!” As Othello retells the sotry of one of his many victories while serving for the state, he indicates that he, himself, has become an enemy of Venice. By degrading himself to the level of those he despised most, which is visible in the vocabulary he used to describe the enemy nation, he presents himself as equally worthless as those who he killed, and subsequently stabs himself in a deadly lunge. At his moment of death he identifies himself as a foreigner that despite their biggest efforts, never managed to become part of the society that so deeply rejected him.

Fundamental concepts - • Othello often acknowledges his ethnicity, often combing it with some stereotype, like saying that he is a bad speaker because of his race: ”Haply, for I am black/ And have not those soft parts of conversation” • He is conscious of the fact that he is an outsider, but he also knows that his service to Venice is important and that he is a trusted and successful soldier. • In his final monologue he uses many exotic metaphors (dropping tears as fast as Arabian trees, Indian throwing a pearl away), a reference to his background.

OTHER LOCATIONS REPRESENTED

o Venice - a very well prospering place due to international trade. Its location by the sea not only enabled business connections but also allowed many cultures and races mix in the city. Venetians were considered very open minded at the time, as they emphasised work and their interests rather than religious values imposed by the church. As they liked to point out – “we are Venetians first, and Christians second”. The city was a place of ambiguous morals, perhaps the only city at the current time in which an interracial marriage, such as that of Desdemona and Othello’s, would be somewhat eligible. o Florence - in Shakespeare’s time the city was considered to be the center of education. Cassio, a Florentine, speaks in a very elegant manner, which confirms this perception of Florence. A Florentine was also used to describe homosexuals and other males with high femininity levels. o Cyprus - a place very different from Venice, as it is a fortified outpost. The island plays a very important role in the play, as the actions starts unfolding once the characters arrive. The size of the area is smaller and the political situation is uncertain enhancing the atmosphere of the island being a dangerous outpost unlawful territory, making it the perfect place for Iago to carry out his evil plan. Cyprus was also the birthplace of Aphrodite, a mythological goddess of love, which ties in with the themes of love and jealousy.

[shamblesramble]

The House of Eidolon

He watched her running down the alleyway from his balcony.

A pretty thing, he thought to himself. But slow. The three figures behind, however, now they kept a fast pace. In all fairness, running down a muddy alleyway in the rain whilst wearing heels and carrying a baby would certainly constitute a handicap, but he knew if he had been running for his life he might’ve disposed of the heels at least.

Possibly the baby too, he mused as he made his way down the stairs, where he grabbed the cloak from his servant and left the house. Their trail was easy enough to follow, even in the rain, and he was in no particular rush. In truth, it did not matter if the girl had been murdered before he arrived - only that the killers didn’t leave immediately. He stifled a yawn. What an awful night for business.

The desperate footprints of the heel-clad woman were already filled with rainwater, and the man decided to quicken his step a little. Presently, he came across one of his associates, sodden and solitary at the corner of two lanes.

“Good evening, Master. The others have them cornered up ahe-”

“Yes, yes, well done, wonderful. What can you tell me about them?” The two began to walk together.

“The woman is a daughter of Valentino Ceresa, one of the heads of the Radice-Nargi Trading Company. Seems she’s been in hiding - was in hiding - ever since her dalliance with a commoner produced a bastard.”

“It’s always a commoner, isn’t it? What was he, a baker?”

“Fisherman.”

“Fisherman? Surprised she was even let down that far into the city. So I assume this is a standard disposal job; find the daughter, kill the child, dispose of the daughter if necessary and so on.”

“It appears that way, yes. Although we aren’t sure who the client is yet.”

“Well I suppose we’ll have to ask the 'assassins' that ourselves. As long as they haven’t done anything stupid before we get there.”

“They are being corralled as we speak.”

“Marvellous.”

The Master soon found himself in a small plaza; private, secluded. Out of sight. The slums stretched so high that the rain was struggling to reach the ground on its own. Several of his men loomed large over the four figures; two of the would-be murderers held their blades ready, whilst the third was using the woman as a shield. The Master’s men watched them coolly, bowstrings taught with a ready volley. The mud had been unavoidable, but he had hoped that his boots would be spared the worst of it. It seemed there was little luck for anyone this night, though hopefully he wouldn’t have to add blood to the mix. As he walked closer, he could now clearly see these assailants were no professionals. They hadn’t even covered their faces, and one of them had decided to use a sword for the job.

A sword! For a simple kill job! Might as well kill her with a fishing rod for all the attention it brings. Wouldn’t that be a delicious irony.

“Thank you for your patience gentleman, my lady. My leg is not as trustworthy as it used to be, and in circumstances like this I’m afraid my slowness becomes all too obvious. My name is Master Zeno, and you four are unaccounted for.”

There was visible confusion among the assailants, their grip slacking momentarily. He retrieved a small, well-thumbed notebook from his jacket pocket, and continued:

“Mirta Razza - strangualtion and disposal on behalf or Sir Alfonse. Angsar Pohl - poison, administered in a public place on behalf of Ingulf the Salter. And finally: Athild, Wife of Walstan - throat cut, and body sunk to the bottom of the Royal harbour. These are all the appointments that we were made aware of today, which were paid for in advance and executed to a satisfactory result before the skies opened and I ruined my good cloak following your messy trail. My question, as you can probably guess-” A fat raindrop landed on the open book, and Master Zeno let out a defeated sigh- “My question is what you four are doing here when we have not received a contract for any daughter of Valentino Ceresa since… three weeks tomorrow?”

Their confusion was now palpable. The woman too. Even the baby had stopped crying. Finally, the boldest of the three men spoke up:

“We don’t want any trouble…”

“Says the man holding a sword and running after a woman and a baby. I really wouldn’t patronise me considering your position. I’ll ask again; who are you, what are you planning to do here?”

“Our boss would kill us if w-”

A swift signal and an arrow ledged itself in his eye. Blood. Wonderful.

“Two of you are left to tell me what I want to know. I strongly suggest that one of you grow a cock in the next five seconds or-”

“We don’t know who it was! Our boss just said to kill the baby! We don’t even know who she is! We don’t even know why!”

Master Zeno snapped the notebook shut and put it away, increasingly annoyed.

“The audacity of you three- two - to waltz into this city and start chasing our citizenry down our back alleys without our express consent is the most stupid, dangerous, and downright disrespectful action I’ve ever witnessed. Do you have any idea what the repercussions for this will be? I’m not even aware of any space in our cells at present, are any of you?” He gestured to his subordinates but received only uncertain murmurs and slight shrugs in reply.

“It doesn’t matter, not like you’ll be alive to witness it anyway. Asha, take one of them to the head office while I talk to our distressed friend?” Another damp thud, and only one man was left standing. His hand trembled so much as Master Zeno’s associates approached that he dropped his sword, and a trail of urine began to blend with the mud and blood as he was escorted away. Master Zeno stepped over one of the bodies and bent down with a small groan to meet the glazed gaze of Ceresa’s daughter. She was sheltering the baby as best she could, but was transfixed on the arrows in the dead men’s eyes.

“Are you able to stand?” he asked. She managed to tear her eyes away from the corpses to look at him, and nodded slowly. “Let’s get you out of here, shall we?”

Master Zeno poured more hot water into her cup, and she hugged it to her chest greedily. The baby slept soundly in a cot as he resumed his place in his chair by the magnificent fireplace. Together they had returned to the Master’s house. The last ruffian had been escorted to the House’s private prison so he may be interrogated, that they may learn his employer. There was nothing more to fear tonight, the woman had been assured. Now she waited for a break in the clouds and a head-start on the day. The fire soothed the chill in their bones, and the damp cloaks dripped onto the rug as they dried. Steam swirled above their drinks, and between the murmuring rain and crackling flames, a conversation of sorts began.

“Terrible business in that alleyway. The last thing I craved tonight was a midnight walk. Now I’m afraid my cloak will never dry out. Though I’m sure a bit of rain was the least of your worries Miss Ceresa.” The girl remained silent, pressing the cup harder into her chest.

“You should be aware that what happened there was not an act of chivalry; those men were operating outside of their jurisdiction, without sufficient authorisation from our House. We will certainly not stand to be out-competed in our own front garden, and it just so happens to be the case that we were able to intercept them before the job could be completed, lucky for you. And your child.”

Her eyes flicked up, with a venom he had learned to ignore over the years.

“Do not doubt my ability to protect my child, Master. I would die first.”

“And die you very nearly did, might I point out. Bravado echoes pleasantly inside a warm hall but I wouldn’t make a habit of it. Certainly, I wouldn’t wish to convey to an assassin that I was willing to die. That would take all the fun out of the chase. Speaking purely from experience, of course.”

“So I was right. You’re a Lurker.”

Master Zeno leant forward a little in his chair, his mild tone slipping slightly at the slur.

“I’m a member of the House of Eidolon, and I expect you to refer to me as Master Zeno or simply Master, is that clear? You would do well not to insult the person responsible for saving your life. Make no mistake Miss Ceresa, I was under no obligation to intervene.”

“Why save me at all, then, if my life is so expendable? If our lives are so easily taken? Who am I to you?”

He relaxed again. “Nobody at all, which is precisely the point. There is no contract on your head that we have been made aware of. Our quarrel is with whomever sent those pantomime bullies after you. It was entirely unprofessional and we will need to organise a reply. As for why I brought you back with me, I find that questioning a near-corpse is far more agreeable than a full-corpse. So, consider whatever information you may be able to share with regards to a possible contractor - anyone who may want to kill either of you - to be your saving grace. Think of it as payment for services rendered; compensation for your continued existence.”

The girl’s icy stare faltered as Master Zeno sipped his scented tea. After several moments, and an exaggerated eye-roll, he added:

“I will remind you that by saying nothing you only lengthen the amount of time the killers have to try again.” She looked down at her cup, then over to her baby in its fresh swaddling. She could feel how damp her hair still was. The fire spat out an ember.

“I will tell you everything I know, but I cannot be sure of who it is exactly. I have been in hiding for no short while.”

“I understand. Whenever you are ready.”

The next morning, Miss Ceresa and the baby were gone. Master Zeno was finishing his breakfast upstairs on the balcony. His servant was brushing the crusted dirt off his boots by the front door when a courier with a missive arrived. It was delivered presently, and even before Master Zeno asked for his letter opener he had half-guessed its contents. He was no less disappointed by it once he read it himself. His servant cleared the breakfast away as he drafted a new letter; direct and succinct in its composition. Satisfied, he finished it with a flourishing signature and a wax stamp, before he handed it over to the waiting courier.

“Make sure this gets to the housemaster in Lopt as soon as possible, their party is already travelling that way.”

With a swift bow the courier was gone, and Master Zeno returned upstairs. The servant had left him a cup of tea, at his direction, and as he held it close he breathed deeply of its sweet scent. He let out a loud sigh.

She really had been far too slow, he thought. Such a shame.

(Image by Prawny on Pixabay)

[armeniaitn]

Letters to the Editor: August 5, 2020: Propagandizing for the enemy

New Post has been published on https://armenia.in-the.news/politics/letters-to-the-editor-august-5-2020-propagandizing-for-the-enemy-43229-04-08-2020/

Letters to the Editor: August 5, 2020: Propagandizing for the enemy

Propagandizing for the enemyWith the headline “Netanyahu: Annexation is still on the agenda” (August 4), the reporters are apparently still buying into our enemies’ propaganda line – if not stating an outright lie!It’s also laughable, as the article starts by quoting the prime minister himself saying that Israel may still apply sovereignty.It has been pointed out by many columnists in The Jerusalem Post that the term “annexation” is a misnomer. The proper term is “applying sovereignty” or applying Israeli law to the areas mentioned in the Trump peace plan.So why does the Post continue to mislead the entire world by putting the word “annexation” in the headline?The article itself mentions the terms applying sovereignty or law no fewer than nine times. Nowhere is the word “annexation” mentioned – except when quoting the French foreign minister.AVRAHAM FRIEDMAN Ganei Modi’in PHYLLIS HECHT Hashmonaim The Trump and Netanyahu monstersIn “Callous inhumanity” (August 4), Heather Stone manages to cramp into her short article demonizing US President Donald Trump words and slurs including: he is callous, inhumane, inept, narcissistic, ruthless, prostrated himself, enables hate, emboldens violence, depraved indifference, doesn’t value the lives of civilians, soldiers or schoolchildren and more. Guess what? The writer is the Chair of Democrats Abroad – Israel. Does she really believe that this type of “political hate journalism” will influence anybody to change their voting preferences to Democratic? Rather the opposite. The article is hysterical, largely unsubstantiated and says nothing about real issues of concern, such as the Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren approach to Israel and the takeover of the Democratic Party by the radical anti-Israeli left wing. YIGAL HOROWITZ Beersheba Regarding Ehud Olmert’s latest article (“Police vs. the citizens,” (July 31), my previous letters regarding Olmert’s “yellow journalism” have not been published, but enough is enough! What kind of excuse for commentary is “until Netanyahu leaves and with him his delusional wife and deranged son!” This is not journalism, it is simply dirty revenge. I do not remember anyone attacking Olmert’s family using such words during his terms in office. While Olmert evidently hopes that Netanyahu will soon disappear into the depths of the sea or some other place, we might recall that Maasiyahu Prison served well enough for Olmert. The author of this letter was never the prime minister of Israel, but has also never been imprisoned for any criminal offence.PROF. KENNETH KOSLOWE Petah Tikva I rubbed my eyes three times before re-reading “Yair Netanyahu given tweeting restraining order” (August 3). I had to make sure that my eyes were not deceiving me.To censure a son for defending his father would, in normal circumstances, be ridiculous, but here, when the man is being constantly vilified, cursed, slandered, witch-hunted and judged guilty before trial, it is unforgivable.Let your readers (and the honorable judge of the Jerusalem Magistrates Court) put themselves in the position of young Netanyahu, watching every day and all hours of the day and night how a mob led by mobsters (protest leaders Gonen Ben Itzhak, Yishai Hadas and Haim Shadmi) screams through the streets of our capital city, unable to digest the fact that their philosophies (nay – their motives) do not represent the majority of our citizens, as shown decisively in all the elections of the last 30 years. Unable to defeat the older Netanyahu by fair means, they have descended to the foul means of incitement to riot. What would you do, if not stand up to defend your father? Well, if you would not, then you are all either lying to yourselves, or just plain degenerate.You may not agree with or even condone his coarseness of tongue and forthright manner of reacting, but just think how hurt this young man is seeing the father whom he has venerated for so many years and felt pride in his tremendous achievements for the benefit of the people of Israel and the unprecedented upswing of diplomatic prestige in the international sphere that he orchestrated – seeing him torn to pieces by our “unbiased” media and unfettered mobsters.LAURENCE BECKER Jerusalem Could someone please explain to me (and to other bewildered people) why the government allows demonstrations of tens of thousands, where social distancing is a bad joke, and we can only have 20 or so people at my son’s wedding at the end of the month? What is the logic behind this rule?Perhaps we should call it a demonstration, (but for love and happiness). Then we will get a permit for the 300 we wanted to have.And it won’t be violent.BATYA BERLINGER Jerusalem Inclusion confusion“US Jews opposing Israeli policy must be included in Jewish unity talks” (August 2), comes from the extreme Left, as indicated by its use of the anti-Israel pro-Palestinian loaded terminology such as “occupation.” Writer Ilan Bloch claims “millions” of American Jews who are “deeply engaged with Israel see its actions as going against the essence of Judaism itself.”Really? Does the writer have any solid evidence to support these wild assertions? Deeply engaged? Really?Are these “millions” really knowledgeable about Judaism? How many of the alleged “millions” had anything remotely resembling a Jewish education?There were so many untruths and distortions in the article that discredit it, but the basic point the author seems to be making is, “You may disagree with us profoundly but please don’t ignore us or forget us.”To which the only reasonable answer can be, “So don’t try to impose your outdated irrelevant political and fundamentally non-Jewish secular positions and beliefs on us.”DR. JOSEPH BERGER Netanya Disengaged and enragedRegarding “Disengagement was ‘absolute mistake” says mission commander” (July 31), the anniversary of the expulsion of the Jews from the 21 communities comprising Gush Katif on Tisha Be’av 2005) seems to bring out chest-thumpers who confess their wrongdoing. Contrite retired generals (like Gershon HaCohen featured in this article), politicians and policy makers join the ever-growing list of those who admit their folly, their fateful and fraught mistakes that led to the forceful disgorging of 8,500 law-abiding civilians.Indeed, prime minister Ariel Sharon and his government (including then foreign affairs and finance minister Benjamin Netanyahu) all bear shame for supporting and executing what was arguably the greatest tragedy in modern Israeli history. In fact, it was an orchestrated and stinking maneuver featuring Likud and their cynical coalition partners, assisted by a gleeful Supreme Court.How does a catastrophe like that occur? Where are the checks and balances crucial to democracy?But beyond skewed governmental decisions, where were the common sense and basic decency that dictate that the innocent get support and protection, while the terrorists get a good thrashing?Personally, I’ve had enough of the hand-wringing politicians and leaders who, like clockwork, annually cry “Peccavi.”Israel deserves better. We must make our leaders take responsibility for their actions, through mandated accountability and transparency. To the point, laws need to be put into place, a Freedom of Information Act that gives ordinary citizens the right to pry open – unhindered and in a timely manner – government archives. Existing, empty laws that shield corrupt leaders under one pretense or another are less than worthless.Enough of the chest-thumpers. It’s time for public action.ZEV BAR EITAN Nof Ayalon UNReal UNRWA remarksRegarding “New UNRWA head to ‘Post’: No glorifying terrorists in our schools” (July 30), who does Phillippe Lazzarini, the incoming commissioner-general of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) think he is fooling? UNRWA schools are using PA textbooks. Even if a teacher doesn’t praise people like Dalal Mughrabi (who was involved in the 1978 Coastal Road massacre in Israel that killed 38 Israelis, 13 of them children) in the classroom, what is to stop the students from reading about them on their own?And if UNRWA obeys UN protocols, why has UNRWA abetted Arab nations in maintaining apartheid in the Middle East? I refer, of course, to the differentiation between people claiming descent from Arabs who fled Palestine generations ago and people who don’t make that claim. Members of the former group have been sitting in refugee camps in Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Gaza and the so-called West Bank for several generations. Although living among people with whom they share language, religion and ethnicity, they have not been given citizenship in the Arab countries and they will not be given citizenship in any (actual) Palestinian state that the leaders of the PA and/or Hamas may ever deign to establish.TOBY F. BLOCK Atlanta Accentuate the positiveIn “A Different Country” (August 3), Herb Keinon presents a positive side of our state of affairs. As a mother and grandmother of young men who have served in special military units, I was especially touched by the mention of the reservists celebrating the weddings of their two comrades. I was reminded of the wedding of our son 26 years ago who had served in the first “Duvdevan” unit. Dancing enthusiastically with him in a large circle were his army buddies. One could feel the closeness and love emanating from the group. Our son was the only one who had a kipah on his head. Till this day, the former soldiers of that unit have kept in contact with each other and never miss an opportunity to meet on momentous family occasions. How heartwarming it is to see the love between people who rise above their differences of faith, status, political affiliation and find a way to express respect and affection for each other. The media would do well to focus on another reality in Israel that is not permeated with overwhelming hate. TZILA RABINOWITZ Jerusalem So sayeth SethRegarding “Seth Rogen: Herzog misrepresented our conversation” (August 4), Seth Rogen should know that the more he says the worse he makes it. Now is the time to shut up. Like many other “liberal” Hollywood Democratic Jews, learning to say his lines does not give him any special knowledge or abilities in any other field, including Israel. To say that Israelis often joke about Israel doesn’t cut it either. In the pre-PC days, famous Jewish comedian Henny Youngman used to joke about his wife: “Take my wife – please” or “My wife said, ‘For our anniversary I want to go somewhere I’ve never been before.’ I said, “Try the kitchen.” That’s comedy – but if someone tries saying it about my wife, suddenly it’s not funny.Consequently, if Rogen, the player of many “stoner” roles, wants to redeem himself, then he should follow the example of both his parents and work unknown in a kibbutz in Israel for a few years – and then come and talk. But we all know that ain’t gonna happen.DAVID SMITH Ra’anana Arguing for ArmeniaAs a grandson to survivors of the Armenian Genocide, I read Herb Keinon’s piece (“How can Israel navigate the divide between Azerbaijan and Armenia?” July 30) with great interest. Keinon tries to explain Israel’s current dilemma in dealing with two allies who are in conflict through the lens of realpolitik, but what he fails to point out is that this goes beyond politics. Armenians and Jews share a common history sadly defined by persecution and genocide. That’s why it’s so surprising that Israel feels that it needs to be neutral while Azerbaijan tries to finish through their unprovoked aggression what Turkey tried to do to Armenia more than 100 years ago. Then again, it’s also incredible that Israel has yet to recognize the Armenian Genocide. Foreign relations and human rights should not be mutually exclusive. This shouldn’t be too complicated for Israel. They can stand with Armenia, a country and people that have been victims of oppression and who promote democracy, or be aligned with a country ruled by an authoritarian and be on the wrong side of history. Political expediency should play no role in this debate. Of all countries, Israel should know that all too well, given that it was founded in the wake of genocide. The choice is really simple. STEPHAN PECHDIMALDJI San Ramon, CA On targetRegarding “Iron Dome intercepts Gaza rocket fired towards southern Israel” (August 4), the Gazans have now fired nearly a hundred rockets at Israeli civilians so far this year (an average of one every other day) and thousands since 2000 – more than the total number of rockets the Nazis shot at Britain in all of World War II.Thank God for Iron Dome; the only damage this time was to vehicles from the shrapnel, but the Gazans still have thousands of missiles pointed at us and Hezbollah has even more. It amazes me that this ongoing evil war crime gets virtually no mention in the world press and no condemnation from civilized countries or from the UN.May God and/or the IDF continue to protect us – especially in light of the fact that “Israelis near borders still don’t have access to shelters” (August 4) – and punish the evildoers.I. COHEN Sderot Read original article here.

[wang-yeon]

Hypnotic| Jungkook

Jungkook is eager for one last fuck and you feel obligated to give him that

Warning: Usage of weed, cussing, smut, Daddy Kink!, Fuck Boy!

Genre: Smut

Word count: 6.5K

A/N: Get Yourself some holy water.

Mistakes. The world is filled with them. Mistakes were the skum of the earth riddled in its core only to erupt taking as many lives as it could with it. Not killing them of course, just damaging them permanently. Males had this effect, not all males but specific types. The types that only saw women as a garbage bin to dump there goods into not thinking twice about it.

As years passed by this topic began to trend within boys later being called the infamous fuck boy. The world was crawling with them. People would often blink an eye not minding there existence while others were very much drooling over there existence. High school was drowning with them. Wanting nothing but a quick fuck. Jungkook was one of the ever so famous ones walking around school, eyeing women as recycling bins.  

Jungkook often referred to himself as the innovator the one who ruled the female species. He was the original while all the others were impostors. He had every girl wrapped around his finger. It was disgusting, but if i said this i would just be a Hippocratic. Sadly i was one of the many girls wrapped around his finger. I wasn’t caught up in his looks or the way he swooned me but i was caught up in the sex. Yes as much as i hated to admit it Jungkook pleasured me in a way that was indescribably. This still didn’t change my perspective on him and his idiotic ways. I didn’t even plan for this night to happen throwing me for a curve ball. We were at a trashy high school party filled with sweaty bodies and overly hormonal teenagers.

Of course with the obvious alcohol lurking through everyone’s systems everything became even more tempting. So naturally sleeping with Jungkook didn’t seem like the worst alternative in the world.

"Hey, princess decided the where something tight tonight all for me?“

I visibly rolled my eyes at his drunkenly common behavior. Funny how he always acted like this but the alcohol just intensified things making it further more interesting. Why had i just noticed how attractive it was till now but i wasn’t gonna cave in just yet. Jungkook placed his arms around my waist bringing me closer as he began talking to me in a drunken slur.

"Its okay baby you don’t have to admit it. Ill always know that i’m the only one that can make you dripping wet."

fuck. He did have an affect on me wither i liked it or not and with this enchanting contact i felt as if i could ponce on him at any moment. I maintained my cool for a moments notice till his hands gripped tighter upon my waist as his breathe fanned my neck as he rocked us slowly. The music was a mindless blur set in the background that we managed to pick up through the slightest of dance. His hands stayed on my waist with the occasional dip but he managed to keep his boundaries, surprising. Maybe it was the change in behavior or maybe it was the way he carried himself but i was certainly thinking about doing the unspeakable. I hate the affect you have on me.

"Don’t fight it baby girl, that isn’t healthy. Embrace it.”

Jungkook finished his statement smirking at me biting his lips as his grip tightened on m waist. I hadn’t realized that i had said that sentence out loud, but maybe my confession wasn’t truly a bad thing. It sure as hell was a bold statement that i didn’t intend to say but maybe this will eliminate some of the stress and tension built up due to him.  Jungkook traveled his lips down to my neck a form of marking his territory. I bit my lip making sure not to let any moans travel past my lips to afraid to egg him on and what his next moves might hold. His hands hooked around my thighs lifting me up and holding me against the wall, making his bulge rub against me. His mouth continued the violent assault on my neck as he grind against me making me through my head back. I couldn't take it anymore.

I let a small moan by pass my lips making sure it didn’t draw enough attention for him to notice. Of course Jungkook being the little fuck boy he is he hears the slightest moans of any female even with the quietest of moans. The simple moan was enough to cause his whole facial expression to contort into a lust filled on making my heart pound. His eyes flickered trough out my body before he let me down from our previous stance to lead us upstairs. I hadn’t realized how we were so out in the opened with a crowd of people till we reached a secluded place. That being a bathroom.

It didn’t matter because within seconds he bent me over the sink and began hiking up my dress. My moans became uncontrollable and constant as he met ever thrust sending me into pure nirvana. It was clearly effecting him as well as his breath became very labored and tiny moans left his mouth but he manged to compose himself. The bathroom had been filled with our moans mixing together as well as the sound of skin slapping but due to the party down stairs we assumed no one really heard our commotion.  Jungkook couldn’t compose himself any longer as my walls clenched around him,making him let out a staggered moan. I followed after his enjoying the sound of him being in complete and other bliss. I moaned Jungkook’s name as i felt myself begin to approach my climax before i felt a tug on my hair bringing me closer to Jungkook. Jungkook bent down and halted his movements coming close to my ear still holding my hair.

“Call me Daddy.”

His statement was surely unexpected and sent me off guard. I never truly understood why people were into the kink of being called daddy but i didn’t judge it. I just didn’t understand it. I certainly didn’t feel like it was appropriate to call Jungkook my daddy. At my lack of response Jungkook tugged onto my hair tighter as he slammed a thrust  into me making me whimper before he halted his actions and repeating his previous statement. I huffed in realization that he wasn’t gonna keep on going till i filled his desires. It just a word what could hurt.

"Daddy, please fuck me.“

I moaned as the words left my mouth awaiting for Jungkook to finish his damage on me. I could tell that the word had changed his whole demeanor now. He seemed to gain even more lustful making him pound into me at an unbelievable force. At his new efforts i continued to let the word flow from my mouth as it encouraged him making me cum within seconds him pulling out of me and following soon after. (Use protection kids)

I shake off the memory as I turn my attention back to Tae who mindlessly keeps talking not caring if i pay attention or not. We had been at our high school football game not really paying attention while sitting in the bleachers. This giving me the perfect chance to settle my chaotic thoughts. I had been confused ever since the night me and Jungkook had sex. All these things swirling in my mind, it mostly being why the hell did i even like every second of it. That’s the part that i hated the most. I couldn’t except that i actually liked it a lot. He really did have an effect on women, and i hated that i was possibly one of his victims he trapped.

"Your boyfriends here for you.”

My gaze shifted to a smirking Taehyung as he pointed to a sweaty Jungkook eyeing me as he stood next to the railing of the bleachers. I rolled my eyes muttering how he wasn’t my boyfriend and how he never would be. You cant change a fuck boy no matter how much you believe you can.  I make my way over to him leaning over the railing eyeing Jungkook’s permanent smirk. Damn he did look hot in his football uniform and i hated myself even more for even acknowledging that detail. He really was fucking me over and not in the way i wanted. I placed my hand on the railing leaning over to get a full view of him which now that i’m thinking of it wasn’t the best idea. Jungkook placed his hands on mine smiling brightly at me as if his smile gesture didn’t affect any part of me entirely.

"Hey i didn’t expect you to come to this game, just to see me i assume.“

"Well you assumed wrong, i didn’t come for you.”

"Hey its okay i know your lying, wouldn’t be the first time you came for me anyway.“

I blushed at his bold statement shaking off his hand before he stopped me with a tug on my wrist and dismissing it as a joke. Jungkook’s eyes softened at my embarrassed state. I knew he secretly enjoyed seeing me weaken beneath him, its what drives him. Seeing me be affected by his words only inspired him to do more just as i wanted him to. Once again i was falling under his enduring words that sent chills throughout my whole body and i surely hated ever minute of it.

"I miss you."

Jungkook looked up at me with sincere eyes almost as if he was speaking the truth, which in some ways he was. He missed the sex as did i. It really wasn’t bad it was rather enchanting. I’m glad he shared the same feelings i did it made me feel slightly better. I straightened myself up trying to come up with a response.

"I miss fucking you too.”

"Well, i wasn’t expecting that but now that you brought that to my attention. I miss that too.“

Jungkook was slightly taken back before his hungry eyes scanned over my body mostly eyeing my slight cleavage. Jungkook grew even more cocky due to my statement making me wish i hadn’t said anything. Jungkook was alright to stand but once he grew over confident in a situation i wanted to punch him in the face. Honestly doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

"To bad its not gonna happen again."

Jungkook laughed dryly squinting his eyes at me trying t detect if i was telling the truth or not. Luckily i held my poker face making it hard for him figure out my true feeling only fueling him more with confidence. We didn’t need anymore of that.

"Alright I’ll tell you what, if our team wins you have to fuck me again. Honestly your a good fuck and i hate for someone else to touch you like i did.”

I observed the score and our home team held a rather low score. There was no chance they could win. We never win, so whats the chance.

"Deal and if you lose we never fuck again.“

What was i doing. I did want to fuck him so i don’t even know why i said that. A part of me wanted them to win but the chances were fairly low. Maybe this will be good for me. I need to move on he is a fuck boy after all. There simply no good. I make my way back to my seat after the deal we made sitting next to Taehyung. I ignore all his questions about the conversation hopping the the deal was possibly a joke but deep down inside i knew it wasn’t.

When Jungkook wanted something he aimed to get it without a fail.  

Of course our sucky ass football team finally ended up winning.  How interesting that this is the first game they won all season. Without Jungkook they probably wouldn’t have won as he was making the majority of the points as if his life depended on it. Taehyung cheered as Jungkook made the last touch down with a loud cheer erupting from his throat sending the crowd into a blaze. I even got up from my seat cheering as well from sheer excitement before my eyes met Jungkook’s making me slow my cheers. Jungkook looked at me licking his lips before mouthing something i didn’t understand. Ah fuck, what did i get myself into.

I was walking along the football field making my way over to soccer practice before i felt hands trail across my waist. I was turned around beginning lifted up into the air by a happy Jungkook smiling and all. He spun me around before he stopped hands gripping my ass.

"We won, damn i didn’t think we would but we did. I even heard you screaming from the bleachers. Little do people know that i can make you scream louder than that and for a longer period of time.”

I smacked his chest making him put me down as he laughed. I turned around a proceeded walking not caring if he was following me or not. I heard his foot steps quicken in pace making me smirk to myself. He snaked his arm around my neck bringing us closer as we kept walking.

"Where you going, we have something planned.“

”Later. We have something planned later. I have soccer practice and that cant get in the way of your little eager friend in your pants.”

Did he not get the definition of waiting. It okay cause i was secretly just as eager as he was i just had a better way of hiding it making him whimper slightly. He most likely thought i couldn’t hear it but i did and damn did it turn me on. Fuck i hate him so much.

"Alright ill pick you up after soccer practice. Now i just want to plan things out where exactly do you want to do it. I was thinking in either a hotel or hell maybe even my room.“

"How about in the back of your car?"

Jungkook gave me an absurd look. I would have played the same look if i didn’t have a logical reason. See i know if the mood was played sensual then i would definitely begin catching feelings for the kid and i want anything but that. We already had sex in a bathroom so whats another terrible place to have sex. A car. You cant move around and it screams everything but sensual. The last thing i want is to catch feelings for a fuck boy.

"Alright, i guess. As long as we handle our business we should be fine. Ill pick you up after soccer practice.”

With that Jungkook sloppily kissed my jawline making me whimper slightly as he smirked at the simple sound. The next moments between us were sure as hell to be interesting.

"So let me get this straight. You and Jungkook made a bet to see if you would have one finale fuck. Jungkook won meaning now you have to fuck him in the back of his nasty ass car. Damn i didn’t think you had it in you Y/N. I feel like a proud parent.“

Me and Tae sat underneath the bleachers passing a joint back and forth, straying away from the soccer practice. I had confessed to him about the altercation that happened earlier today and what had happened between us at the party.

"Don’t forget we fuck in a strangers bathroom.”

"Oh i didn’t forget that part. You don’t know how lucky you are. If Jungkook was gay for a day i wouldn’t waste the chance to fuck him.“

Taehyung was bisexual seeing both men and women as a delight to fuck. Tae and i had our far share of moments but it didn’t go anything beyond. He was probably the best fuck i had besides Jungkook.

"So be honest with me. Does he have any kinks?"

I took the joint inhaling the smoke squinting my eyes trying to think of anything. I think back to the night of the bathroom as the events come to my mind. I sit up slightly thinking back to when the demand of call me daddy left his mind making me smirk in remembrance.

"He actually does. A daddy kink.”

Tae was shocked by the words that left my mouth as he put his hand on his chest displaying a surprised expression. I nodded my head in delight passing the joint to him. I still didn’t see the point of the daddy kink, it was still strange to me but the thought of it flowing from my lips as Jungkook pounded into me harder sent me into overdrive.

"I cant believe you can handle all that. I would die from a heart attack but fuck right after i die.“

I looked at Tae in a strange way before busting out laughing as he joined me. I rested my head on his shoulders enjoying the moment between us. Originally i just needed a smoke to get my mind off of things and hoping that it would ease the things that were soon to happen between me and Jungkook but now i forgot about all of that as i laughed with tears brimming my eyes with Tae.

Our laughter was cut short by the voice of our soccer coach asking if he had seen us. The other soccer members shook there heads not knowing our destination. The coaches foot steps closer to our hide away making me and Tae stop out the joint and hide behind the trash can conveniently placed under the bleachers.  

The coach looked around before groaning due to not finding his team mate and water boy. Tae didn’t even like anything associated with soccer but he became the water boy as it was a simple task and he could get to see me. Me and Tae laughed slightly snickered at his irritation. No one liked coach as he was to aggressive at times. Always pushing the people the their limit and beyond. That’s why me and Tae came up with the perfect conclusion to ditch soccer practice and by the looks of it we would be stuck  here till the end of practice cause of his revolting behavior. This wasn’t a problem for me and Tae it was almost as if we had our own little paradise as we talked about our daily sex life while everyone else was dying at soccer practice. We clearly had the advantage of having a better time.  

Soccer practice was nearing an end meaning we had to make our big reveal without anyone actually paying attention to us. Of course it didn’t run as smoothly as we predicted as Courtney opened her mouth seeking for chaos.

"Were you two fucking this whole time, that’s fucking disgusting. I could treat Tae better tho.”

She sent a wink to Tae’s way making us both physically cringe. Sure she was pretty but she did the most unnecessary things. If she just kept her mouth shut half of the times she wouldn’t be that bad and everyone would focus on her beautiful appearance and okay personality, but for know she was still using her mouth. What a shame.

“Courtney shut your dumb ass mouth. You know you fuck more than thirty men under those damn bleachers all but Tae cause he doesn’t want you’re STD riddled ass. Now move along."

I didn’t have anything against her sleeping with a lot of men if anything good for you. Getting laid was probably everyone main priorities in High School, so if that’s what she wants to do with her time ill praise her. The part the disgusted me was how she said such a provocative things at Tae it was obvious how uncomfortable he was. He seemed to lighten up at my comment as he covered his mouth attempting to not let any laughter flow from his lips. As for Courtney she was radiating from her madness. Making it ever more funny.

"Coach Y/N and Tae were in the bleachers having sexual intercourse while we worked hard at practice.”

Coach turned around looking at us with big eyes. Me and Tae were debating if we should just make a run for it but what was the point when our presence had been so obviously known. Courtney looked at us with a victorious smile. One that i wanted to slap off her face.

"Are you too fucking serious. I swear all you teenagers do is hump each other till your limbs fall off!“

Coach said as he approached us with his mild anger. I hated when he got like this. Its not his yelling that scared me but the vein the painfully bulging out his forehead. As he kept on talking i couldn’t even pay attention to what he was saying as his vein began to pulsate. That amount of stress cant be healthy.

"Y/N are you even listening!”

"It sounds like to me you need to get laid.“

I nodded my head and crossing my arms in a professional form. This is what me and Tae loved to do. We loved to tease coach making him angrier distressing that poor vein on his forehead. He needed to ease down and get laid once and a while hopefully that will make him calm down.

"Yeah coach had any good pussy lately."

Coach shook his head holding his forehead in disappointment. He didn’t know how to respond. He simple dismissed us before telling us we would have to extra laps need practice making us groan. Tae wasn’t even on the team making him groan louder as we walked off into the parking lot.

"Looks like your daddy’s here."

Tae smirked and pointed into a direction where Jungkook stood smirking. Damn he really wasn’t joking about this shit. The worst part was that he was radiating confidence making him even more hotter.

"Go ahead go to him. Ill ask Jimin to give me a ride, he should be done with dance practice  anyway.”

I looked at Tae making sure this is what he actually wanted. He pushed me to go walk in Jungkook’s direction making me roll my eyes but secretly thanking him.  I made my way to Jungkook, leaning against the car hood before he pushed himself up. I stood in front of him taking in his appearance as he placed his hands on my waist bringing me into a closer proximity with him.

I could smell his cologne as my face pressed against his chest. Jungkook began to kiss down my neck not minding the people who were leaving my soccer practice. Jungkook craved the attention as he didn’t mind a blink.  I gripped onto his hair closing my eyes slightly but still felt the gaze of others lingering on us. Jungkook’s tongue swiped across my neck making me shut my mouth tighter attempting to not make any sound. Jungkook didn’t like my non response as he turned us around and placed me on the hood of his car while he got in between me. He continued his violence on my neck.  

The act of his tongue was enough to make me dripping wet by the second. I could tell he was as eager as me as he pressed himself against my women hood. His tongue traveled against my jawline making me let out a small whimper, causing a reaction to erupt from Jungkook.

"I knew you missed Daddy’s cock.“

I moaned slightly answering his question. I couldn’t believe that i was actually doing something so willingly out in the open. The thought of this being so public turned me on slightly. Teachers and students catching us  at any time while we just continued on not caring about there opinion as we were lost in lust.

"We should get in the car before i cum in my pants.”

Jungkook backed away from my neck laughing at his comment. I hopped off his hood and walked to the passengers as he opened the door. He bowed jokingly as i entered the door and thanking him at his actions. Jungkook got in the car starting the engine before pulling out of the school parking lot.  We had been driving for merely twenty minutes as Jungkook was attempting to get to our sacred destination. Music had been playing in the background of our small conversation that we somehow attempted to create.

I couldn’t help but stare at the obvious bulge in his pants rather than the actual conversation at hand. I hated how he had the control over me. Jungkook began mindlessly singing to the song displayed on the radio. He had a very lovely voice one that sent chills throughout my whole body. He obviously must have known it too. He was perfect at everything without a fail. Certainly anyone who possessed his skill would acknowledge its abilities to any passerby. As the song came to an end i decided to take notice.

"You sing very lovely.“ I turned my head to his seeing his reaction. I was surprised to see a smile and a light blush form on his face indicating he was flattered. Jungkook didn’t need to be flattered he never was because he always knew what the person was telling him was already true and didn’t need to be reminded of such thing.

"Thanks, that means a lot. I don’t sing often its just a hobby."

Jungkook shook his head telling how he wasn’t the best at it. This was surely a lie he definitely sung better than me or anyone i knew for that matter. His voice sounded of the most angelic angels. I was lucky enough to be beside him while he sung or else i wouldn’t have heard the beauty flow from his lips.

"Are you kidding me. You should really take up on it. It would benefit you greatly."

Jungkook began smiling more waving me off. I could tell he was getting embarrassed but still seeks for me to spill compliments from my lips.I didn’t mind though, like other times he would just smirk knowing everything flowing from my lips were true.This time however he was having a hard time believing my compliments but still accepted them however with a warm smile.

"I’m sure you sound better than me."

"Alright, put some music on. Ill show you how terrible i sound."

I turned on the radio actually attempting to sound some what good but failed effortlessly. It was true i sounded like a dying whale compared to him and everyone else. Jungkook made this evident as he began laughing shamelessly and turned the radio done not baring my singing any longer. I laughed along with Jungkook before i stiffened as his hand touched my thigh not knowing the effect that it would have on me.

Jungkook turned his head squeezing my thigh seeing my reaction making his smile form into a knowing smirk. Jungkook bit his lip traveling his hands into my soccer shorts moving his hands around my women hood. His hands dipped to my clit making me throw my head back from the simple touch. I held onto his wrist before he pulled his hand away completely, licking is fingers and counting driving.

"Don’t be so eager, baby. Were almost there."

Jungkook flashed one more smile my way before focusing back on the road. This boy was sure to be the death of me.  

We had finally reached the destination. After occasional touches and small conversations leading to the biggest of laughter’s we reached the destination. Jungkook had took us to lookout point. A place that focused on the whole aurora of the city giving us the perfect view of the whole city layout. It was a lovely view but why couldn’t he had picked somewhere less.

I still had been convincing myself that i didn’t like him and this view and his body was enough to make me think other wise. Jungkook parked the car looking my way licking his lips. It was obvious he had been eager since the moment he picked me up from practice.

"So, lovely view right. Not as lovely as you tho."

Jungkook flashed a bright smile and closed his eyes tightly. I rolled my eyes smiling slightly at his attempt to make me swoon. It was sweet but the only thing i was focused on was fucking him to but it bluntly. If i got side tracked by anything but that i was surely to get myself into some deep trouble.

"Lets not talk."

I reached over a gripped Jungkook’s neck bringing him in closer for a chased kiss. Jungkook was slightly surprised but took moment of the kiss. The kiss was full of lust but if you felt ever so closely you could sense a bit of passion. Now that it comes to mind this had been our actual first kiss. It was as if even more emotions i had for him began flooding into me all at once. I had wanted the feeling to come to a halt but was to caught up into it as it was to intense and not wanting the feeling to stop.

I unbuckled my seat belt attempting to grow closer to him. Jungkook brought his hand to my waist slightly going under my shirt feeling my exposed skin. Jungkook gripped onto my waist before pulling me onto his lap.  My hands massaged throughout his hair as our tongues mixed together in bliss. His hands still remained on my waist bringing my shirt up ever more slightly exploring my exposed skin.  

"As much as i love your soccer uniform i think it would be lovely if it was displayed in the back set.” I flushed at the ugly uniform i had presented on me. I could have had a chance to put something better on but he was already parked outside. Good thing i spent most of the practice under the bleachers meaning i didn’t smell of sweat and hard work.  

"Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Only you can pull off this uniform. You look pretty hot.“

Jungkook’s hands traveled to my cheek making me look at him. This had been one of his tricks. Peppering me with compliments and reassurance. The hard part was to not actually fall for his bullshit. Jungkook helped me pull off my top throwing it into the back seat still keeping his eyes on me. He removed his shirt as well making me groan at his appearance. Football was certainly treating him well. After all the early morning non stop practices he was certain to have them all pay off. It sure wasn’t a bad sight either.

We continued kissing as i leaned down making his kiss. His hands griped my waist tightly but nervously moved up ever so lightly as if he was debating something. His hands soon traveled up to the back of my bra unhooking it making it come unloose.  

The kiss broke momentarily as he eyed my still non exposed breast. I slowly took one strap off as i did with the other in a moments notice. I loved teasing him as he whimpered slightly reminding me that even a fuck boy couldn’t handle this simple pressure. As i took off my bra i tossed it to the back seat not minding anything as Jungkook stared at my chest.

"You beautiful, you know that right."

There he goes again, trying to trap me like his other victims. I wouldn’t submit myself to become on of the many girls under his control only to be miserable as he moves onto the next girl. I nodded my head dismissing his affection counting kissing him. His hands massaged my breast making a slight moan leave my mouth.

The sound caused him to buck his hips making me feel his very evident boner but his pants got in the way of the full feeling. I took action unzipping his pants as he focused his mouth on my breast. His tongue rolled against my nipple as he massaged the other breast making sure not neglect the other. A series of pants left my lips focusing all my attention on his assault on my breast. I broke out of my state as i felt his pants become undone leaving him in just his boxers.

"Well this isn’t fair. You still have your shorts on. I think we should change that.”

I lifted myself up attempting to take off my shorts off only to knee him in the stomach. A groan escape from his lips. Guilt filled through out me as i began to rub his stomach asking him if he was seriously hurt.

"Yeah, i think it would help if you rubbed my dick too.“

Jungkook flashed his infamous smirk causing me to slap chest. I had actually thought he was in some sort of pain. We were in a car that provided little amount of space so what was i expecting. Someone was bond to get hurt at some point. I had finished undoing my short tossing them back with the other items along with my underwear. I had now been laying naked on top of Jungkook. He had never seen me fully naked before last time only seeing my lower half as my dress was pushed up.

The way he was eyeing my naked being was enough to make me be filled with confidence but i didn’t focus much on it only wanting to see Jungkook and the rest of him. I pulled his underwear down exposing his length as it sprung free. I hadn’t had the chance before to take it all in but now as i eyed it made me more wet by the second. As i positioned myself on his he stopped me for a moment before lowing the seat providing a more comfortable laying position.

I looked at him asking if he was to which he nodded. i lowered myself onto him as we both let out a small moan flow from our lips. I began grinding on his dick feeling the bliss take over my lower region. It felt so good to be back in this state feeling completely on peace only focusing on each others bodies molding together.  I had been so caught up in the moment that i hadn’t noticed what had dared to leave my lips.

Daddy

Jungkook’s once tightly closed eyes soon opened wide as he looked at me. His grip on my waist had been tighter as those words left. He smirk licking his lips knowing that he had an effect on me.

"You wanna make daddy happy?”

I looked at Jungkook questionably as his dick twitched inside of me. What was he going to ask of me? None of the less i didn’t want to disobey as i nodded slightly.

"Why don’t you bounce on Daddy’s cock, princess?“

I moaned at his simple words. It was crazy how he could control my emotions bringing me into an over loaded lustful state. I did as he asked loving the state he was putting me in. Our small moans soon turned into loud pants enjoying the nirvana flowing through us. Even though we were full on fucking in his front seat i didn’t enable us to have a terrible time due to the lack of space. We made the most of it finding the experience exciting.

"Fuck, Daddy."’

I threw my head back as Jungkook eyed my bouncing breast enjoying the seen. Small groans left his lips as beads of sweat collected on him from the overwhelming stimulation.

"Look at you. Bouncing on daddy’s cock not ashamed of being caught. Your such a dirty girl for daddy aren’t you. Remember your all mines, princess. Only daddy can make you feel this way.”

I moaned as he became more aggressive. As his sentence trailed on i could tell he was becoming more possessive as his thrust met mine making me halt my actions as he continued his. I became a moaning mess as he thrust into me at remarkable speeds.

"Your daddy’s remember.“

"I’m all yours daddy."

Jungkook gripped onto my ass as he met ever thrust. I couldn’t handle the amount of force he was putting but i didn’t mind as it was sending me into pure oblivion.

"Really? I can tell how you act around Taehyung. Your always all over him. He needs to know your mines. Not his. You understand princess? Daddy doesn’t need you to be a little slut.”

I nodded to breathless by his actions. Jungkook really didn’t need to be jealous of Tae. I didn’t even know why he was acting his way. Maybe it went along with his kink but i couldn’t help but over think it. Had Jungkook secretly been envious of Tae because of our closeness.

I pushed all the nagging thoughts to the back of my head as the feeling was taking over me. I made my orgasm very evident as i moaned loudly making Jungkook groan as my juices flowed over his cock. I could tell Jungkook was approaching his orgasm as his face contorted and his movements became more labored. Jungkook pulled out before he released himself coming all over his stomach displaying one more moan leaving his lips as he became undone. Jungkook pointed to the napkins in the glove box as i cleaned the cum off his chest.

I threw it in a plastic bag before Jungkook brought me closer our chest touching and his hands circling my waist. He placed a sweet kiss upon my lips. It wasn’t lustful like other ones were or that’s at least what i assumed. It certainly was different from other ones though. One that wasn’t as rushed as if wanting to stay in that moment for as long as we possibly could.  

The kiss came to a halt as he ran his hands through my hair bringing me to rest against his chest. His heart was pounding out of his chest from the previous events that accrued, enough to make my own heart to begin pounding as well. His hands still combed through my hair making me sigh in peacefulness.

I hadn’t known if after sex Jungkook did this with any of the other girls but i liked to believe he didn’t. I sure as hell didn’t, making the experience ever more strange.  The standard feeling felt like a warmness in my chest engulfing my whole being and even though it was a foreign feeling i felt oddly satisfied by it. Yet it was sure to scare the shit out of me. This feeling ways sure enough to prove that i was becoming one of his victims due to his flirtatious ways and my idiotic ones.

Just like the ole wise tale says i was sure to end up damaged all like the rest.

[neothebean]

Oh, yeah, almost forgot to post a segment of my writing haha. Here you go (it’s long):

Yuma Tazino was a decidedly intimidating woman. Even in her raging panic over Miu’s sudden attack, Filly had hesitated to send for her. She knew from talk that the Tazino family had no insignificant amount of wealth—hell, everyone in Bergard had heard it by now. It was one of the major talking points whenever people discussed the “Kidamari ladies,” as they were generally called, at least in Filly’s circles. Judging by Yuma’s behavior—and even Miu’s, sometimes, Filly thought—that wealth had come with a social status to match.

So it was with some trepidation that Filly Roan led Mrs Tazino into her own cluttered office. At least she would be in control there, being in her own field. The cramped office usually made visitors a touch uncomfortable. That would even the game a little.

But, as Filly took her seat behind her desk, Yuma continued to stand, staring her in the face. She had impeccable posture, that woman. And a tall, lean figure that would have perhaps drawn in the men if there wasn’t a dangerous sort of power lurking behind her every movement. And though Yuma wore a modest Highlands dress—hardly any fancier than ones Filly herself owned—and had braided her hair to match Highlands fashion, they couldn’t cover the sharp look in her eyes or the hard set to her jaw. 

Miu resembled her mother a lot, Filly thought. 

“I thought the girl’s parents would be here,” Yuma said. Her accent, like Miu’s, was clean and clipped. Unlike Miu, Yuma had a certain command of the language that made Filly think she must have learned it from a native speaker. Hardly noticeable, but since she was used to listening to Miu, Filly had noticed almost immediately on their first meeting.

“Couldn’t make it,” Filly answered, her eyes flicking to the empty chair. Why wasn’t she sitting? Couldn’t she just sit? “Her mother will be here in an hour or so to take her home. They work long hours, that’s as soon as either can make it.” Might be better, anyway. (Name) could get hysterical, at times, especially over Carcajou. Who could blame her, with two dead sons and even more stillborn children before them? An unlucky woman, and plenty old before her time, too. No, it was certainly better that she and Yuma Tazino not have this meeting together.

“Please, sit,” she added, gesturing toward the chair. Spirits, this woman made her nervous standing there like that. “Might as well get comfortable. Much as you can, anyway. Hopefully this won’t take long.”

“I’m sure it won’t.” Yuma finally sat, settling into the chair with perfect poise. She crossed her legs and placed her hands carefully on her knee. 

“Well, let’s, eh, get to it, then.” Get it together, Fils, she told herself. When was the last time she was this unsettled in front of a parent? Probably the last time Boar Sower had stepped into her office, drunk off his rocker, screaming about his boy’s grades. That had been quite some time ago, fortunately; all staff was now required to report his appearance as soon as it was noted. “The simple fact of the matter, ma’am, is that Miu handled herself quite inappropriately this afternoon.”

“Indeed,” Yuma said, the word dropping out of her mouth as if it tasted bad. “She was not raised to behave in such a manner.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t.” Filly nodded, buying herself a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’ll go over the incident as quickly as I can, Mrs Tazino, and then we can discuss what to do about the, eh…problem.”

Yuma made no response, only sat in silence, her eyes locked on Filly’s face. Cripes. So that was where Miu got that cool look she was so good at. She put on her best no-fuss voice. “Right. From what I’ve gathered—from witnesses, mind you, Miu doesn’t care much to speak on her own behalf—Miss (Surname) and Miu were engaged in a verbal argument. Cari—Miss (Surname)—said a few rude things, what children don’t, of course, and then, suddenly, Miu leapt on her.”

“What sort of rude things did this Miss (Surname) say?”

“Nothing she hasn’t said to Miu before,” Filly said quickly, trying not to let that commanding tone get to her. She shifted in her seat anyway, just a little, hopefully not enough to be noticed. “You see, Cari thinks a little highly of herself. She’s been told off a few times for her outward thoughts, but I assure you, Miu has never given her much response in turn. They’re rarely even near each other. The way your daughter acted today, ma’am…I’ve never see her like that. I don’t know what came over—”

“What were the words, exactly?” 

Filly couldn’t find her voice for a moment, Yuma’s tone was so cold. “Eh, I don’t have the exact words, I’ll admit. The girls who were there were a bit upset over the whole thing, and Hart, well…it’s hard to get him to say a bad thing about anybody, even if it’s true. Not even to protect Miu, I guess, though he usually tries to.” Then again, considering he’d been at the receiving end of Miu’s blows, too, perhaps he wasn’t too keen on her protecting her this time.

One eyebrow went up slightly at the mention of Hart’s name, but it returned to normal just as quickly so that Filly had to question if she’d really seen it or not. “Surely you can tell me something.” Calm but unrelenting, demanding an answer. “I’d like a little insight into my daughter’s situation here. She’s never told me of any problems in her classes, but there must be something, if she’s settling things with her fists. That’s not the way she was taught to conduct herself, and Miu is usually a good student.”

“You’d probably get a clearer version from Miu herself, ma’am.” Was Yuma really not aware of the obstacle course Miu had been traversing since entering her class? Perhaps she should have another meeting with her sometime. Or write a letter. That was easier.

“As you’ve said yourself,” Yuma replied, the sharpness in her voice hinting that she was getting tired of the current direction of the conversation, “Miu is a bit stubborn when it comes to telling her side of things. She’s no different at home, I assure you.”

“Well, then, eh, let’s see…” Filly shuffled through some papers on her desk as if looking for notes. Truth be told, she was stalling. She knew the sorts of things Cari had said—they were the same as the others, she could be quite certain of that—and they were damning things, indeed. That didn’t make Miu’s behavior any less egregious, but it might in a mother’s eyes.

She finally picked up the master copy of her syllabus and looked at it as if reading notes off it. “Looks like Cari called Miu a name, no one would tell me what it was.” That was a lie, but she didn’t care to repeat the word in front of Yuma. It wasn’t awful, not as bad as things Peccary had said, and not even specifically a slur against Kidamari. But it wasn’t anything that should be repeated in polite company, anyway. “Cari was being, eh…generally mocking. That’s a Cari standard, ma’am, nothing new. And then…eh, Hart wouldn’t tell me the exact words, but Cari said something rude concerning Miu’s father. That was the end of the words and the beginning of the fists.”

There was definitely a reaction this time, no mistake. Yuma’s face darkened like sudden storm clouds, her mouth stretching into a hard, thin line. She sat mutely for a long few seconds, her eyes fixed on Filly but not seeming to see her.

“Thank you for your elaboration,” she said finally, her eyes still a little distant. “Let’s discuss Miu’s punishment.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Filly floundered, taken aback by her sudden shift of interest. It made her wonder what had gone on with Miu’s father. Of course, that was an even more common discussion topic than the Tazino’s financial status. “Eh, usually, I try to make students who get into fights work together somehow, make them seek a common goal. Sometimes it eases tension for the future.”

Yuma finally moved her gaze off Filly’s face, instead staring past her shoulder, out the little rectangular window high up on the wall. She seemed to be thinking, though if it was about the current topic or a more personal one, Filly couldn’t be sure.

“I did have an idea, if you’re agreeable to it.” She was feeling a bit more confident now that she didn’t have that chilly gaze fixed on her. She hoped Yuma would acquiesce to her suggestion; she’d be glad when this meeting was over with. 

Yuma’s eyes returned to her, a silent gesture of interest.

“You see, Cari is quite…industrious. She works odd jobs around town to earn spending money. I thought maybe Miu could help her during the summer break. Might even be good for Miu, get her out and about in town, you know.”

Yuma glanced away again, as if considering. It was only for a few moments, but it felt incredibly long to Filly. She really couldn’t wait to be out of this room, away from this woman’s overbearing presence.

“Yes, I think that would be suitable. No pay would go to Miu, of course.”

“Well, I should think that would be up to Cari’s em—”

Yuma shook her head in a way that prevented argument. “No, no pay, I’ll have to insist on it. She’ll help the whole break?”

“All six weeks.” If they could get through it without another incident, that is. “Plus an essay from Miu about the experience. You know, what she learned, how she feels, has she learned her lesson. Standard stuff.”

Yuma nodded once, curtly, and began to stand. “Very good. I think it will serve its purpose. If you don’t mind, Miss Roan, I’d like to see my daughter now.”

“Sure, of course.” Filly nearly fell scrambling out of her chair. Yes, please, madam, let me hold the door for you! “I’ll lead you to the office.” “I can find it, thank you.”

Yuma waited for Filly to open the door, then stepped through it as if she was as glad to quit the meeting as Filly was. She watched the woman go, walking down the hallway as if she owned it, and let out a sigh.

And she’d thought the heat would be the most uncomfortable part of her day.

[purkinje-effect]

The Purkinje Effect, 23

Table of Contents

“Name y’poison.” Geek slurred and poked at one of the Neighborhood Watch ghouls. “S, ss’on me.”

“I think you should go sit yourself down,” the cockney-programmed Mr. Handy interrupted, nonchalantly cleaning out a glass with a dish rag and its pincers as it balanced a bowler on its domed top. “…After buyin’ this fine gentle-ghoul a beah.”

“Ssh, sure thing, Charlie. Anything for you, you sh– shiny bastard.” The pink ghoul slapped fifteen dollars on the counter in front of the guardsman in a three-piece suit. “Y’want a Gwinnett? He’s got all the Gwinnett you can chug.”

The ghoul thanked him, unsure as to the correct response.

The Third Rail wasn’t especially large, having once been the loading platform to the Blue Line. Down the stairs and to the left, one found the stage act, and to the right, the VIP lounge which had once been the station general store. The bar itself was straight ahead through a smattering of mismatched kitchen tables with a variety of chairs. A thick arch of smoke, from tobacco and Jet alike, veiled the ceiling, and lent a unique vaporous aroma to the thriving hub.

Geek sat himself on a pool chair in the corner with a bottle of whiskey, next to Hancock. Hancock had resumed the mayoral frock and tricorn Geek had come to know him for. The two melted into the furniture and soaked up the jazz noir the Rail’s own red flower, the sequin-gowned Magnolia, filled the place with.

“You do know this is my bar, right,” Hancock murmured into Geek’s shoulder. “You just dumped all your hard earned cash into Goodneighbor’s coffers. Keeping this place running funds upkeep on the city. Such generosity, such beneficence. Today, you’re the Patron Saint of Goodneighbor.”

“Are you tryin’ t’tell me gettin’ drunk here has a purpose?”

“Hey now.” Hancock shoved him playfully. “Don’t it always?” He took a swig off his bourbon. “You… you holding up all right? Breakfast of champions, am I right?”

“My only complaint is that I find myself even harder t’get drunk. Guessin’ it has somethin’ t’do with scar tissue and all that ss, stuff.”

“If this is a ghoul thing, it’s only partly that. Heh. Why do you think I do everything to excess? Every ghoul I’ve ever met has had something about em’s louder than any human. Demeanor, interest, appetite. Aspirations. Even good ol’ Kent over at the Memory Den, my man’s thing is potent and grandiose memories. The nerve just don’t work the same after the radiation damage. It takes a lot to… properly stimulate a ghoul.”

“Are you proposin’ the kinda experimentation I think you are?”

“I wouldn’t be against it, whenever you felt up to it, that’s for damn sure.”

“I’ll drink t’that.” He did.

“I’ll drink to you drinkin’ to that.” He did.

“And I’ll drink t’you drinkin’ t’my drink.” He did. “Keep this up an’ I just might actually get drunk tonight.”

“…All jokes aside, I’ve been meanin’ t’ask ya. Been eatin’ at me since we headed back this way.” Geek looked to Hancock expectantly. “Did you… know that shot would do this to ya?”

“–Fuck no. This is probably just about the last thing I could’a expected. But I figure anything could’a been better’n how I was goin’. …Ss, sorry if that sounds ss, ssh, selfish.”

“I’m sure you woke up to the lot of us yelling at each other. We thought you were dead. I… I was struggling with the idea you’d died so quick after meeting you. To be perfectly honest, traveling with you has been one of the smartest decisions I think I’ve ever made. I haven’t always been the smartest, or the bravest. I’ve made mistakes. Heck, I continue makin’ ‘em.”

“Hey now. I don’t fault ya f’what happened cause of the sS Psycho. You mean it, though? You actually like bein’ around me?”

“I continue to see myself in you more and more with every passing day, and to see you thrive with things I feel we have in common brightens and warms me as much as a good glass of bourbon. You’re like sunshine.” Hancock smiled privately after another sip. “What kept me together in the fuss was hoping, ah. This ain’t an easy thing to admit, even with the liquor. Even going into it, it sounds selfish. Since the night at the gravel pit, I couldn’t stop thinking about you turning ghoul somehow, so we could do this long-term. I can’t help but feel like I willed this on ya.”

“There’s a lotta power to a man’s dreams.” And nightmares. Further comment was drowned out by more whiskey.

“…I told you about my run-in with Vic, but I never really explained me going out into the ruins on my personal Renaissance. You know I’m not stranger to the chem life. I came across a hit of an experimental radioactive drug, last hit of its kind. I knew what it’d do to me. I did it anyway. I figure if I couldn’t see the bastard in the mirror anymore that I was before the drug… All the terrible things I let happen that I felt I had no agency to intervene in… Maybe it’d end it for me. Best hit of my life, I gotta tell you. But… every ending is a new beginning. If anything, you of all things have proven that to me. Reflecting back on my life, I’m ready to stop running from myself, thanks to you bein’ in it.”

Geek stared into the mouth of his now-empty whiskey.

“Guessin’ this might a made me more attractive to ya. …Heh…” The pink ghoul looked up at the beautiful singer at the mic on stage across the room. “Could’a ended up with any girl in the Commonwealth, an’ ya got stuck with me.”

“I could say the same to you.” Hancock reached over like he was trying to grab the whiskey bottle, but grabbed something else instead, eliciting a wheeze. “I don’t think the injection did all too much to that.”

“That’s… some Halloween costume, Blue.”

Geek and Hancock straightened up to find a familiar dark-haired woman in a newboy cap and red coat standing before them, her face not quite visibly frozen in alarm. Geek glanced dismissively to his Pipboy to check the date. He regained eye contact while he picked at his empty socket not unlike one might pick his nose, detachedly fishing a finger around in it.

“It’s not too real, is it?” He rubbed the oil he’d found, around between his fingers, eye shut in thought. “…Tch, funny. Hadn’t heard anybody mention Halloween in ages.”

“Eugh. I just… I had to find you again. I had to know if you were okay. And when I heard a rumor a pink wastelander had taken up in Goodneighbor, I had to investigate. Turned out to be true.”

“More like y’had t’know if I’d figured out more of the bullshit going on in my vault. Like how the paste turned out t’be just plastic? That’s a real hilarious one. A dogged reporter told me that one. Y’might a heard about that, though.” He lit a cigarette and let out the first breath through his gashed nostrils. “Y’lied t’me ‘bout that doctor bein’ a bad lead.”

“If you don’t mind, Miss Wright, we were in the middle of a private conversation.”

“Pardon me, Mayor. Unlike you helping him drown himself into alcoholic oblivion, I want to figure out what’s wrong with his vault, so I can help him fix it and get his folks better!”

Hancock straightened forward, intensity in his rigid features.

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about what’s going on between him n’ me.”

Incredulous, she gesticulated aggressively with her hands a moment, then pointed accusingly at the mayor with a sharpened brow and a snarl.

“I know he probably wouldn’t be your pink lookalike if it wasn’t for you!”

Glass erupted with a bang. Geek had thrown down the whiskey bottle between his feet.

“Are y’tryin’ t’start a bar fight? Because it sounds like y’steerin’ for a bar fight.”

Piper softened, nearly sorrowful at being shut down like this.

“Have you completely given up on saving your people, Blue? Just feel like detaching from reality instead of addressing the real life threatening issues you’ve got going there? I traveled all the way up here, on a hunch, just to check in on you, and I find you a wad of pink ghoul jerky chewed up by my SECOND least favorite mayor in the Commonwealth.” Her tone spluttered into bitterness. “When’s your flavor gonna run out, Blue? When’s he gonna spit you out… or swallow you?”

Geek just stared at her a good bit. Needing another hit off his cigarette was the only thing that unstuck him. He looked down at his glass mess and nudged it with his feet.

“What do you really want.”

“I want answers. And I thought you did, too.” She shook her head slowly at him.

“I found my answers. You should find the door. This is a celebration, not a pity party. Do I look miserable t’you?”

She slapped her legs and threw her hands up.

“Fine. If you’re going to just… give up. I’ll go. I’ll go myself.”

If Hancock hadn’t formed a reflexive iron grip on Geek’s thigh, the pink dreg would have shot right up into her face. The mayor nonchalantly finished off his bourbon, and calmly set down the bottle on the coffee table in front of them.

“YOU CAN’T GO THERE!” Geek slouched back into the couch, withdrawing into his own ferocity. “You can’t. Y’won’t find answers in 82. Just more problems.”

“You’re a mess. Coming here was the worst thing you could have done. All I can hope is that it helped, me telling ya where the Vault-Tec building was. If you even got that far…” The reporter helped herself to a Nuka Cola off the coffee table, and tipped her hat brim at the two ghouls. “Forget you.”

Once Piper had ascended the subway stairs and exited, Hancock let go.

“The fuck was that?” he asked Geek.

“She… We met in Diamond City. She wanted an interview. Fascinated by me. After, she was convinced she had t’take me to the HQ building herself, personally. Things didn’t get that far, clearly. My compulsions, and security, got to me first.” Geek pulled the cork off a bottle of vodka with his teeth and swallowed it, and started in on the liquor. “More I see of that girl, more I’m convinced she’s just a morbid-curious driver slowing past a seven-car pile-up on the interchange. Keeps takin’ the exit just t’loop back around for a second look, too.”

“She means well. She’s just too pointed when her heart’s in it. She’s been like that since she was a kid.”

“You know her? Like, actually know her?”

“I’m from Diamond City. Course I know her.” He leaned into Geek, and draped an arm across his shoulder. “She’s gotta point, y’know. A real misguided one without all the details, but. You think you can safely say that serum evened you out and you feel healthy again? I know you well enough by know to suspect you’ve been trying to fabricate a plan to take Tinker Tom out to the Deep South of the Commonwealth.”

“They’re probably better off dead.” He let it linger too long without elaboration. “Poisoning an’ starvation are a hell of a way to go, but being alive two hundred years, when you’re too scared to come up top so you just lock yourself in y’bedroom unless it’s mess hall hour? With the same twenty-three books to read over and over. The gym equipment is worn to annihilation. Y’try t’create t’pass the time… but then when you’re done with your grand opus two years later, whadda y'do with the next ten? And now… now I’m sure this serum made me a ghoul? Am I gonna live another two hundred years? What do I do with that?”

“You’re up top now, for one thing. And… and you’re with me, long as you want me to be. There’s a whole wide wasteland to sightsee. And a whole lotta wickedness that needs its head bashed in. If they don’t know they’ve got this choice, they don’t know they have a choice. You felt trapped there. Went crazy inside your head a bit, ‘cause you’re intelligent. But you came all the way out here to Scollay Square to find answers, and I feel like you’re onto finding a solution, too. We really should figure out a way to at least pitch Tom’s serum to them, and make it your folks’ choice.”

Geek chugged the rest of the vodka in one go, set the bottle down, and stood.

“I’m not the only one who went crazy inside his head in Vault 82.”

Then he walked off to clear his head.

[bobvsuniverse]

We’ve Got a Problem Here, Jose’

(a rumination about race)

   Something happened to me a week or two ago that has made a lasting impact.

 I have a hard time knowing how to think about it and a harder time attempting to explain it and my reaction to it.

 Maybe someone out there has some thoughts that will ad productively to the thinking I’ve been doing since it happened, so I thought I would attempt to write a description of it and my response to it. But that has turned out even more complicated and hard won than I had imagined.

 I think this story, and my quandaries around it, are best dealt with in a conversational, Socratic, if you will, format, but I also think it is something worth putting down on paper. So I’ll try.

  Susan and I were parked in a lot in the woods near one of the Fall beauty spots not far from where we live. It was midweek and busier with leaf peepers (as we call them) than we had expected. The rest of the year there are rarely more than a half dozen cars parked in this lot…  and even that’s more than usual. It can be blissfully empty… empty enough that you can sometimes hear the springs that come out from around the roots of the cedars at the bottom of the hills.

  When we came back to the car after hanging out at the view spot for a while the people who had parked next to us, on my driver's side, were also in the process of leaving. I had to go to the passenger side of the car to help the dog into the car and to take up the time they needed to get into their car. A big white Lincoln SUV.

 Even here I have trouble with how I should describe their car… or them. Will that impact telling the story in an unfair way? Will it inculcate a kind of bias that actually does harm to my telling of the story? Will it contribute to a defeat of my purpose? What is my purpose anyway? What I mean is: I find Lincoln SUVs ridiculously designed. That automatically causes me to assume that there is something ridiculous in the people that buy them. It was white. Like a refrigerator.

 And I want to be fair.

 Anyway: the woman crossed for a second time from the back of the cars to her now open passenger side door. The cars were parked closely.

 Suddenly she said: “Looks like we got a problem here, Jose”

 What?

 I don’t think I’ve ever been called Jose and am not familiar with it being used as a typical, common, way to refer to strangers. And her manner was notably outside the usual social protocol with which strangers initiate conversation. She was more directive, kind of like she was a teacher in my school unfamiliar to me, but who “knows” me… does that make sense? As if some assumption of prior knowledge gave her the right, even responsibility, to reprimand me about something.

 No matter. I remember feeling matter-of-fact about it at the same time I was puzzled.

 I crossed to the back of the car. For one thing I was on my way around the back of the car to the driver’s door anyway, once I was done with the dog.  So when the woman called me “Jose’” I may have moved more quickly than I normally would have. I also wanted to see what it was that she identified as a problem.

 I had left my gas cap off and it was still stuck in the clip on the little open door where I feed my car gasoline.  We had filled the car in a little town about 20 miles away. The co-op there sells gas, often at 10 to 15 cents a gallon cheaper.

 I was lucky I hadn’t lost my gas cap.

 Something kept me from being immediately grateful for her calling attention to it the way she did. And I may have been mistaken in that spontaneous gut response. I don’t know. It wasn’t a purposeful withholding of gratitude, though I was still puzzled by being called Jose. And her manner, which I never really came to terms with over the course of the events, outside of finding it out-of-sorts with my expectation in most other situations of the same kind. After I thought about it for a while as we drove away, in retrospect, I think I grew to understand it more, but even understanding it actually muddles the entire situation. The question of my own bias interferes with a clearer, more definitive explanation. Sort of. In a way.

 I just couldn’t figure out why she called me Jose.

 So the first thing that popped out my mouth was “Did you just call me Jose? Why would you call me that?”

 And she shot back rather icily: “ well, I didn’t know your name.” She may have repeated “we’ve got a problem here”…. she said it in that same overly instructive tone.

 Then I tried to thank her, after I said  “well.. that sure isn’t it”, but it was a clumsy nearly incoherent attempt and I got into my car and waited for them to back their white Lincoln SUV out.

 Then it occurred to me. I bet she called me Jose because she assumed I was not a bonafide white person! Like her and her hubby!

 Was that it? I mean, could it be that she just has an idiosyncratic way of interacting with strangers? Shit. I struggled with this for a while and it still stays in the mix of how I ruminate about the circumstance.

 And her tone.  I’m not familiar with any pattern in which overtly, even unconsciously, racist people call an unfamiliar but assumedly Hispanic man Jose’.

 Even here, I have to say, I am less than sure whether or not this is the most appropriate word for the group of people she may have thought I belonged to…  but then, if it was in fact a racial slur, what group of people does she, can she, even imagine that to be?

 It is a puzzle.

 Something else too: her tone, her condescension. It was really there. As if only someone unlike her could make such a dumb mistake as forgetting to replace their gas cap after filling the car..

 Susan and I talked this over on the way out of the small lot and down the narrow dirt road that was deeply shaded by yellow-leaved trees.   We decided that it was a racial slur, though a plausibly deniable one (“ I didn’t know your name”).  We talked about how that is how racism works anyway. And how, often, usually,  people who practice even outwardly racist talk and behaviors do not believe they have done it out of racism.

 No matter.  This stuff might keep spinning around in my head as long and persistently as it spins in the culture at large.  It keeps spinning largely because the delusional assumptions about race it is based on are in the end nonsensical, utterly absurd.

 Still…  my next question, to myself, was and is just as riddled with a bizarre complexity.

 It’s not as if someone’s assumption of my being other than “WHITE” has never come up before. Especially snce I moved north from the city. We are, my family, a dark and swarthy people, especially the men as they age… at least in terms of some bizarre spectrum of skin tone that people seem to have locked in their head in spite of any evidence that skin tone is purely a matter of how much sun you and your forbears were required to live under.

 There have even been times when I have relished the idea that I am part of a lost tribe of some browner-skinned people and can relinquish my whiteness, at least in part.

 But even that kind of thinking is so “white”… isn’t it?

 It did/does happen often enough that I decided to take one of those spit tests. You know, the genome score you can get by sending your saliva to the Mormons? I also thought that it was entirely disingenuous of me to entertain a notion of being related to the magnificent non-“white” tribes of the planet, dishonest without some even paltry degree of “proof”. As if there is proof of such an individuated adherence to the completely scientifically unverifiable existence as the commonly accepted idea of Race.

 And I had for a time entertained the idea that I was up to one-eighth Native American, based on some pretty circumstantial and flimsy evidence about how one of my great-grandmothers looked in the old family pictures that circulate. I knew that. And though I also understood the failings of genetic testing of the sort that I eventually participated in, I wanted to clear the matter up for myself as much as I could.  

 It did. Though now I am sorry, a little ashamed, I took my fantasy of being partly “non-white”  as far as I did. Even if my ruminations on the subject were largely private ones, those kind of co-optations are among the worst. And it is something White people… whatever they are, whatever that means… are kind of sickeningly and persistently guilty of, if only from the standpoint of being descendent of groups of people responsible for unspeakable acts against the very groups they now seem to want to be a part of in very intimate ways… through their blood and gene pools!

 Someone explain THAT, please…

 In the end, how do I complain about that? About my being browner than many “white” people and sometimes being mistaken for a non-white person? How do I report it?

 One hardly benefits from doing it from the standpoint of declaring definitively that I AM A WHITE PERSON every time someone makes some side crack or passively cruel remark that passes judgment on me or out of nowhere mentions my skin color because I am not as … what?… WHITE?..  as they are.  

 Lord.

  But first: can someone clear this up for me? Is it a thing to call a brown-skinned person, assumed to be from the Americas south of the United States’ border, Jose’?  Has that been a practice of secret or not-so-secret white supremacists? It seems to me it is… and it seems to me I’ve heard it before, but I’m not sure. I’m getting old and all this grossly putrid evidence of racism gets lost in its loo of obstreperousness. In that mix of inherited cultural information bullshit one constantly has to sort out.  I grow old. I grow old.

 It’s weird to try to talk about this, because one could easily come to the conclusion that this IS a declaration of white ness.  And after all, I can hardly escape my whiteness, my automatic inclusion in the exceptionalism that white people expect and are enculturated with.  

 Even when I was under the false impression that there might be something other than northern European and Irish with a smattering of Spanish and Greek (and Finnish for those epicanthic folds) in the history of my blood, I was always working out the thought, the fact, that regardless: I was raised as a white boy in white culture… or at least in a white supremacist culture. Denying that would be crazy.

  So how do I talk about this? How do I think about it? It’s kind of like the phantom of some crazy 18th century race inventor man has come to the door again to insist that I fit into one of a series of boxes that he can’t really, and has never ever, figured out. Because they are not there, not really.

 My name isn’t Jose’. That is all.

 Some days I wish it were.

 **

 -- Bob Vance

[ellenesh-blog]

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