#-before then (mainly because my work ethic is trash)

[mufos-photo-album]

Whenever I think about Sky: The Two Embers, I can't help but feel excited but also dreadful at the same time. On one hand, obvious excitement for getting an animated series for one of my favorite games + possibility getting some lore clarifications. On the other hand, the dread stems from those possible lore clarifications. Like, what will become of my headcanons and planned stories if they conflict with canon...

[seokgyuu]

After your flawless job-interview, Seokmin hires you as the newest addition to his company. Just that, once you start, it seems like you’re not who you previously portrayed to be. Instead, he finds himself faced with mini-skirts, push-up bras and gawking co-workers, not to mention your absolute lack of work ethic. Obviously, he needs to fire you! Just that, when he tries to… you simply don’t let him.

Pairing: Boss!Seokmin x Employee!F!Reader

Genre: Porn with the smallest bits of plot, workplace “romance”, Smut MDNI!

Warnings: Morally gray characters, Seokmin is obviously reader’s boss and shouldn’t be fucking her, power imbalance, reader gets objectified a lot, but she enjoys it, reader is… acting very dumb (on purpose), Smut warnings under the cut!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hi everyone!! welcome to this little work of… filth! Making my return with a Seokmin fic just felt right (also I just could not stop thinking about this). Please let me know what you think with a reply or a reblog, it would mean the world to me!! also a big thanks to @shadowkoo for making this AMAZING banner and to @bitchlessdino for beta-ing!!

tagging: @okiedokrie, @inkchwe, @shinysobi, @gyuhanniescarat, @haologram, @beomcoups @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics (just some of my fellow dk enjoyers)

Smut Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, praise (good girl, etc.), degradation (whore, etc.), unprotected sex, titjob, breeding, usage of the word “Sir” in a sexual context, tell me if i missed anything!

His phone rings. The Harry Potter title music is playing, letting him know it’s his sister calling. He can’t pick up, or well, no, he can, considering his hands are free, but he probably shouldn’t.

Having talks with his employees about having to let them go is Seokmin’s least favorite thing about being the boss. He never wants anyone to feel like they weren’t good enough or couldn’t live up to any expectations, but sometimes… sometimes it was inevitable.

Like with you.

When you had first walked into your interview, you impressed him with your sharp tongue and your witty humor. Your resume looked perfect for the job, and your previous experience was exactly what he needed. He hired you the following week and deemed his decision a good one - until you showed up for your first day.

See, before anything else, Seokmin is simply just a man. A man with eyes and needs and desires.

The mini skirt barely covered your backside, showed off your legs and those perfect thighs you had hidden from sight before. Your dress shirt would have been fine for the office if only it wasn’t… half open. Or at least open enough to see your breasts almost falling out of your push-up bra.

He knew back then that he should say something. Tell you that this wasn’t appropriate to wear to work. But he didn’t. For the same reason, his mostly male staff began coming into work more punctually, more eagerly and stayed for even longer hours.

It was a mistake, he thinks now, not to say anything to you on your first day. Or any other day after that.

A mistake or the single best decision he had ever made.

Truth be told, he’d never called you into his office to discuss his decision to let you go if it was only about the clothes (or lack thereof) you wore to work. No, he was fine with the clothes, more than fine, actually, if you took just one look at the amount of tissues discarded in his office’s trash can.

But… you lacked certain skills he had thought you’d easily have, considering your previous jobs. You struggled doing, in his opinion, the most basic tasks, and more or less let the others do the work for you. The work he paid you to do. Instead, you sat at your desk all day and played Solitaire or scrolled on Instagram.

The two of you almost never interacted, mainly because he was scared to say the wrong thing or stare too long at your breasts he couldn’t stop thinking about anyway. When it did happen that he had to talk to you, it mostly went with him going back to his office with a raging boner and a guilty conscience.

One time, he brought back some prints from the copy room, only to find out you had been the one to print them. When he asked around the room and you were the one to raise your hand and get up from your chair he almost choked on his spit. You made your way over him, your tight dress hugging every single one of your curves, the slit in the side showing off where your stockings began, the neckline down far enough for him to see the lacy material of your bra once again.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee, Sir,” you smiled at him, your fingers touching his when you reached for the pile of papers. He felt like you shot him and as a result, he shot a huge load of cum into one of his tissues when he was back in his office.

Then, he met you at the coffee maker one time, witnessing you eat a fucking banana in one god damned bite. He couldn’t believe his eyes when you basically deepthroated the fruit all while looking directly into his eyes. He popped a boner right then and there.

All in all, it was safe to say the woman he had met in the interview was gone and he had absolutely no clue why or how he had let you fool him that day you met.

A part of him was angry at himself for letting it get this far, but he couldn’t deny that with every glimpse of your exposed ass and tits, with every encounter like the prints or the banana, he decided to give you one last chance to prove yourself. So far he had given you about 151 chances and you’d screwed up all of them.

Which is how he ended up calling you into his office.

Which is how you ended up sitting in front of his desk on one of the comfortable dark red armchairs, your legs crossed, yet another mini-skirt rising up far enough for Seokmin to at least imagine he can smell you. The shirt you were wearing was tight and cropped and your blazer was lazily hung over the back of the armchair.

“So, Y/N,” he began, shifting on his seat and trying very hard not to look at your tits, “do you have any idea why I called you in here?”

You shook your head no.

“No, sir, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?”

Sir. Oh good lord, Seokmin had to swallow down the pathetic moan he feels creeping up his throat.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I have noticed that you’ve been handing your work off to Chan a lot. Soonyoung as well, and while I understand you’re the newest employee, you have been here for almost five months now, Y/N, and I did expect you to already, you know, do at least a certain amount of work by yourself.”

Your eyes widened the more he spoke, your pout prominent once he finished.

“I’m sorry, Sir, truly! They always offered to help me and I just- I just didn’t want to disappoint them,” your voice strained, almost sounding like you were about to start crying. Seokmin felt his heart speed up.

“I understand that. But still - it must make sense to you that-,”

You jumping up from your chair made him stop mid sentence. He watched how you stalked over to him, your big eyes staring him down with something he couldn’t pinpoint even if he tried.

“It does make sense, Sir, and I want to apologize. I can do better, please don’t fire me.”

Seokmin was frozen in his chair, his seated figure looking up at you, almost panicking when he realized how close you were. If he raised his hand now, he could touch your thigh, could let it slip higher, could-

“Please, Mr. Lee, I’d do anything to keep this job.”

Which is how we get to… now.

His phone is still ringing on the desk, but he’s still nowhere near answering it. He is too focused on your mouth around his rock-hard cock, on the way you look up at him with watery eyes, on the way your hand is fondling his aching balls.

You dropping to your knees might have been the single most hottest thing he has ever seen before. Or well, maybe this right now tops it. Your tongue is flat against his shaft, dragging it along his veins, licking up all the precum that doesn’t directly land in your mouth. You suck on his tip, tease his slit, and moan when you take him all the way.

And Seokmin? He thinks he might have just entered heaven. His hands are itching to touch you, to push you down and fuck up, to lose control, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you with his mouth dropped, with his heart going at triple speed in his chest.

This is wrong. So, so wrong! He shouldn’t let you suck his cock as a way to keep your job, for god’s sake!

Once his tip crashes against the back of your throat, his mind goes blank, and all the thoughts from before disappear. They make room for new thoughts instead, thoughts that finally allow him to do what he wanted to from the second you had walked in on your first day.

The groan he lets out causes you to drip into your panties. And the way his hands now find the back of your head almost makes you come. Your eyes roll back for a second, before you bring them back to look at your boss.

Your extremely hot, perfect boss who took so fucking long to bring you into his office. Who could not take a hint at-fucking-all.

He begins to thrust up into your throat, letting out moans you wish you could record and replay as many times as you wished. His cock is big, just as big as you had hoped it to be. He’s veiny and perfect and his angry red tip is going to become your favorite thing to suck on. He tastes salty and sweet and bitter at the same time, melts on your tongue, and gets you to clench around absolutely nothing.

“Fuck,” he cries out when he picks up his speed, nails digging into your scalp as he continues his hard and fast thrusts, his cock beginning to twitch, his balls tightening dangerously. You need him, want him and almost demand him to come down your throat. To give you everything he has to offer. You press your tongue harder against his shaft, cheeks hollowed out, and you can feel his orgasm nearing with every passing second.

“I’m gonna- fu-fuck, I’m gonna c-come!” His cry is almost taking you over the edge too.

Seokmin sees red and white at the same time, opens his eyes, and stares down at you with his pupils blown and his cock finally emptying his seed inside your awaiting mouth. It almost breaks him, seeing how you swallow all of his cum like a pro, never breaking eye contact.

Breathless, Seokmin slowly gets down from his high, watching how you lick up his cock, your eyes twinkling with mischief, giving his tip a small kiss before finally leaning back, batting your eyelashes.

“So tasty, Mr. Lee. Now, should I get back to work?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It kind of becomes a thing. At the beginning, Seokmin calls you into his office and you suck his cock, make him come, go back to work. All while still wearing your skimpy outfits to work and doing the minimum requirements to not be a complete waste of Seokmin’s money. Even though he figures with a cold shiver running down his spine, it seems like he’s paying you for something totally different now.

You’re enjoying this to the fullest, having a right out blast. Not just because you get to have Seokmin fuck your throat every other day, no, but because of how he looks at you. When you met him that first day at the interview, you already knew you wanted him. Knew he was going to be your next little project. So far you had never failed, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start now.

Working at the company for five months hadn’t exactly been your plan, though. Five months until he finally called you into his office. Five months of you choosing the most outrageous outfits, knowing every single man in that office wanted a taste of you, but only wanting one of them to actually act on it.

“Holy fucking hell, yeah, just- just like that,” he’s leaning against the wall behind his desk, you back on your knees, his cock hitting the soft inside of your cheek over and over again. He’s holding onto your hair with one hand while the other is pressed against the wall next to him. You lick and suck and fuck his cock against your cheek, drool running down your chin. You’re painfully wet, throbbing, and needing him to finally put his cock in you.

By now (3 weeks after your little blowjob-job started) you know his tells, can sense when he’s about to come. So, when you hear that first little noise, you let go of his cock with a plop and get up. Seokmin’s eyes open and he looks at you, visibly confused.

“Wha-,” he begins, but you just take a step forward and crush your lips against his, your hands grabbing his face.

For the first few seconds, Seokmin doesn’t really grasp the situation. You’re kissing him. He begins to melt, his hands somehow finding their way to your waist and when you lead him back, suddenly seated on his desk, his mind goes blank. You want him to fuck you. Want his cock to go inside that probably sweet tasting pussy of yours. He moans into your mouth.

“Take me, Mr. Lee, please, need your cock in me, need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe after and sighing in relief when he immediately moves to get your panties off of you.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot.” He kisses you again, wild and uncontrolled, your panties now landing on the floor. You part your legs and grab his cock, bringing it to your awaiting entrance. There is no stopping the moan that escapes you once his tip slips in, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip harshly. He licks over your teeth, feels his mind fog up, no thoughts just you, you, you.

Then, he’s fully inside of you. Twitches, groans, kisses you harder. And fucks you like a god-damned beast.

The pace he sets is brutal and you’re lucky it’s after hours so no one is at the office anymore. They for sure would have heard the way the desk is bouncing against the floor with every thrust as well as your high pitched moans, and Seokmin’s low growls.

He fucks you like he owns you and you live for it. His cock drags along your walls, fills you like he was made for you, hits your sweet spot over and over again as if he’d done this thousand times before.

“Fuck, yes!” You basically scream, your body falling backward, only his strong hands holding you up as he speeds up once more.

“God, shit, how are you so tight, baby?” He moves to kiss your neck, licks over the salty skin, revels in your taste, in the way you shiver under his touch. You wanna scream and cry and mark his body with your mouth and nails - and so you begin to pull on the hem of his shirt, which he gladly helps you to take off completely.

He’s built like a god. Wide shoulders, bulked up arms, abs like they were painted on. You let your nails drag over his torso, finally sliding them to his strong, muscular back. When he pushes into you even more, his lips not getting enough of your own, you dig into his flesh and hear him hiss. Still, he doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes even harder. Fucks you til you scream his name while experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life, milking his cock of all he had, cum filling your pussy to the brim.

After that it spirals.

He fucks you every chance he gets. He is addicted to you and your pussy. Whenever he needs you, he gets to have you.

He bends you over his desk during work hours, drilling into your pussy like a mad man while pressing his hand over your mouth to make sure no one notices. He comes inside you and stuffs it all back in there with his fingers, pulls your panties back up and sends you out to continue your work day as before.

When lunch time comes around, you meet him in the building’s cafeteria and he drags you to the nearest supply closet to fuck your mouth and then your cunt, telling you what a good little slut you are and how well you always take him.

He sends you pictures of his hard cock after work, begging you to come to his place and bounce on him - but you never do. It’s a game for both of you. No fucking outside of work, no dates or anything like that. He gets to keep fucking you and you get to keep your job - easy as that.

Just that… you’re not really bad at your job. Seokmin is slow to figure that one out, you realize.

When your seventh month at the company begins, he is so focused on getting his cock inside of you, he doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped handing off your assignments to your colleagues. You’ve actually grown quite fond of this job and the team - and Seokmin for that matter. Not that you want to admit that to him, or confess that you’ve been playing this part of the dumb girl with the slutty outfits simply to get his attention.

“I love when you get to the office with no panties on, gods, you’re a dirty little whore.” Seokmin’s hands are on your ass while you bounce on his cock. He’s sitting on his desk chair, admiring the view of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock. His dirty words make your pussy flutter around him and you whimper, your hands braced on his shoulders.

“Mhmm, only a whore for you, Mr. Lee,” you moan, biting down on your lip. There is no chance you’ll ever grow tired of seeing the way he looks at you when you fuck. His hooded eyes, his red lips dropped open. His cheeks flushed and his hair a mess.

You enjoy being on top, enjoy watching him watch you, setting your own pace until he can’t hold back any longer and wraps his arm around your waist, pushing you down so he can fuck into you at his desired speed.

“That’s right, you’re my whore, your pussy belongs only to me.” He squeezes your ass cheeks and moans when you clench around him again, thrusting his hips up once. You can tell he’s about to lose control, about to hold you down and fuck you senseless. There is nothing quite as hot as Seokmin losing his composure.

Just two days ago, you teased him by being flirty with Soonyoung all day. Seokmin had not thought of himself as possessive, but somehow when it came to you…

Safe to say, he fucked you against his office door two minutes after your last encounter with Soonyoung, simply shoving up your skirt and ripping off your panties, his cock deeply buried inside of you the next second. He fucked you so hard you couldn’t properly walk even the day after.

“Yes, Mr. Lee, my pussy belongs to you, I am yours, Sir.”

You bounce on his cock quicker now, throwing your head back when his hands move to your breasts, taking them both into his hands and cradling them. His fingers press onto your nipples, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and teasing you. With every touch of his, you feel yourself nearing your high.

“You’re so beautiful, always so good for me, isn’t that right?” He breathes out, licking his lips as his eyes are glued to the way your tits look between his hands.

He fucked them a few days ago, your tits. Had you kneeling between his legs, squeezing them together as he fucked his cock between them with the lube he now stored in his bottom drawer. They had felt amazing around him, but nothing compared to your cunt, to its warmth, to its tightness.

“Oh- oh! I’m- I’m gonna come, Mr. Lee! Please, can I come?!” Your orgasm is so close, is ready to crash down on you and when Seokmin moaned out a yes, you let it happen. Waves and waves of pleasure erupt in your body and make you fall forward against his chest, his hips now beginning to thrust up, his moans turning more and more desperate.

“Good girl, such a good girl, fuck- I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fill you up with my cum, breed you like my own personal whore, hm?”

Your nails dig into his skin desperately as he fucks you fast and hard, his right arm now around your waist, pressing you down while he uses you for his pleasure, crying out your name when he comes - white hot cum landing inside your spent pussy, painting it the colours of his affection for you.

Seokmin fucks both of you through your orgasms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your lips passionately when his hips still. You kiss him back, arms wrapping around his neck, your high still present in your bones.

“You’re perfect,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips and you smile, kissing him again, fingers brushing through his hair.

For a while, you make-out just like that, him still safely buried inside of you, some bits of your combined releases dripping down onto his chair.

Only when Seokmin’s phone rings do the two of you part. You give his cheek a small kiss before climbing off his lap and looking for your underwear, all while you put your dress back into its place. Your boss watches you, wishes he could just do this all over again instead of answering his phone. Reluctantly, he takes the call and watches how you wave at him, panties back on and clothes and shoes back where they belong. He waves back, greeting the business partner on the other line.

And when you leave his office and close the door behind you, when none of your co-workers even pay you any mind, you realize that maybe you like to keep it this way for just a little while longer.

[trash0receptacle]

Headcannon

Before that however: I’m sorry for not being active lately I’ve been very, stressed, busy, and tired. Since school started back my mood definitely declined a shit ton. With that being said writing is a way of coping for me so this is really just gonna be what I need today. If it helps you then that’s wonderful too.

Tw: Deppresion, Anxiety, and Anorexia

Paring: Lucifer x f/Mc

Also the way I right Luke is supposed to be taken platonically.

(Mc’s Pov)

Life had been shitty lately a lot more shitty than usual. I suppose it started when I heard some of the other succubi talking about me in on the way to class.

“She’s so lucky!”

“I know why does that bitch get to live with the brothers?”

“What do they even see in her?”

Sure I shouldn’t have taken the comments so personally but hell I take everything personally. So thats when my self doubt started forming roots in my mind again.

Before devildom I already had a lot of unresolved trauma and pain but the brothers really helped me. They were there for me when I needed them and made me feel wanted however after Belphie escaped the attic things went downhill for me mentally. The situation caused me a massive relapse and I began my destructive habits again. It went unnoticed for the most part mainly because they didn’t know the full scale of my past. All they knew is that I struggled and was medicated but nothing else. Perhaps Barbatos knew but he never said anything and I don’t believe he truly knew what went on inside my head either.

Now in the present moment I am contemplating what the succubi were saying about me. They’re right, “what did they see in me?” Surely it wasn’t my looks. I’m decently smart but I have no work ethic. The only thing I know I’m good at is being kind yet I’m a bitch half the time. So that’s when it came back to my body. The thing I’ve always hated about myself because I was never skinny enough, tall enough, pretty enough, curvy enough. I was never enough for someone to care about me.

I started skipping meals here and there. I still ate 2 out of three meals but I figured losing weight couldn’t hurt but then before I knew it I was lucky to even eat once a day. I was always good at making myself lose weight but not so drastically that you could tell I starved myself. For the most part I seemed healthy. However since I was going unchecked it kept getting worse. First my curves disappeared, then it was my hips sticking out, after that my cheeks began to sink, and finally my hair began coming out when I brushed it. I knew what I’d done but I couldn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to hurt them and in the past asking for help only got me ridiculed or hurt.

“No one wants to here about your problems mc it makes us sad.”

“You wonder why I don’t like you!”

“You always beg for compliments!”

“Your fat anyway.”

Those words just kept circulating inside my mind and wouldn’t stop. I wanted to get better I really did but it was hard to force myself to eat. However I couldn’t rely on anyone else for fear of hurting them or them hurting me so I stayed silent. That was until my ddd pinged and I received a text from Lucifer.

Lucifer: Please come to my study mc.

Mc: Uh sure... is everything alright?

No response.

This is unlike Lucifer whats wrong? Is he mad at me? I guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting otherwise he will get mad. I got up and walked to his study inside the library. On the way I noticed the house of Lamenation was eerily quiet. There was no noise besides the sound of my feet walking through the hallways. When I arrived at the door to the study I was surprised to not only see Lucifer but everyone else?

Simeon resembled a worried parent, Luke seemed confused and angry, Diavolo was most serious I’d ever seen him, Barbatos stared at me with what I assume was pity, Solomon looked at me like I was a ghost. However the brothers appeared in worst shape. Mammon seemed on the verge of crying, Levi had guilt written over his face, Satan like Luke was angry angry, Amso was for once frowning, and Belphie and Beel looked disappointed. However I couldn’t read Lucifer’s expression but I could tell something was definitely off.

“Uh hey guys... what’s wrong you look like someone died or something?” I tried to laugh off the uneasy mood in the room but it was to no avail.

“Mc if you could sit down we have some things we must discuss with you.” Lucifer spoke solemnly

They had to have figured it out. Of course I knew this would come out eventually but it still felt like a stab to the heart none the less. I sat down not even listening to the others words. All my energy was focused into not breaking down in front of them but I’d stayed “strong” for too long and tears began to silently fall down my face. The talking stopped and I felt them all look at me which just made the tears fall harder. I felt my wall crumbling down as the final straw on the camels back was placed. I just cried for what felt like hours. Once I began to calm down I finally spoke in between sobs and breaths

“I-.... I’m so-...sorry.”

The room became silent once more. No of them knew how to respond to the broken girl infront of them

“I just didn’t want to burden you guys.... you have your own problems and don’t need to put up with mine” “nor would you want to” I mumbled the last part but I didn’t go unheard.

Luke got up and ran over to me enveloping me in a hug. He just stood there hugging me as if he didn’t I would fade away. I just hugged him back feeling slightly better by the angel’s hug.

Simeon was the first to speak

“Mc we aren’t angry at you. I think I speak for everyone when I say we are worried.”

A silent agreement was exchanged throughout the room.

Diavolo spoke next

“While Barbatos wouldn’t divulge all of what he knew for the sake of your privacy he warned me that you needed an intervention.”

I chuckled halfheartedly knowing my hypothesis was indeed correct.

“Well I figured it would come to this eventually.”

*time skip*

“Can I go back to my room now?” I whisper

I wasn’t really asking rather I just said it and got up to leave. The others stayed still likely digesting the information I’d given them. I felt ashamed and exposed. I hated seeing how much my words affected them and I really needed to be alone at the moment. Eventually I made it to my room. Walking in I closed the door and just cried.

(Lucifer’s Pov)

No one bothered to utter a word after Mc left and no one went after her either. Eventually my brothers excused themselves to go where, I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours that passed but Solomon, Simeon, and Luke left saying they should head back to purgatory hall. Which left Barbatos, Diavolo, and I alone in the study. For the first time since I’d known the prince I couldn’t tell what was going through his head. Barbatos eventually composed himself however and turned to me.

“I believe My lord and I should make our way back to the palace..”

I just nodded in agreement as the pair left me alone with my own thoughts. I’d never seen that side of Mc before. Of course I knew somewhat of Mc’s history either from her file or her own account but clearly things had been left out.

I eventually got up and left to go to my room knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus on my work even if I wanted to. On the way there I passed by Mc’s room and noticed the light was on. I debated knocking or leaving her alone when a voice called out.

“If your gonna stand at my door like a creep you might as well come in.”

And so I did.

“Hey Lucifer...”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Foot steps. I can tell who’s in the hallway by how they walk.”

“I see then.”

The room’s atmosphere felt awkward as neither one of us bother or start conversation. So I simply sat down on the floor across from Mc, who had her head in her knees. (The fetal position) Eventually she brought her head up to wipe tears from her eyes and said with a broken laugh.

“I’m sorry you had to seem me like this. I look pathetic right now..”

“Mc why do you say these things about yourself?”

“Why not it’s how I view my self Lucifer. I’ve heard it from your mouth before”

“I’m just a mere human.”

I cringed at the memory knowing she were right of course.

“Mc I-“

“You don’t need to apologize or explain I understand I pissed you off then. It was just an example”

Wanting to change the topic of discussion I asked her a question.

“Why didn’t you come to any of us?”

“Denial...”

“Denial of what?”

“That it got out of control.”

“Is that all?”

“Not exactly...”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“I- just please don’t get angry...”

I silently nodded my head as a watched Mc loosen up a bit.

“I think it might be my lack of trust towards really anyone.”

Mc started looking into space as she continued.

“I’m terrified of needing people or letting people help me. Part of it is when I have in the past I ended up hurt and alone. So I stopped I started being the one to help others.... then I needed help and I was cast out like a piece of trash. According to them I was selfish for needing affirmation and love. So that was when I decided I didn’t need that again.”

I sat silently contemplating her words.

“I’m truly sorry mc.”

“I would say it’s fine but it’s not. It hurts like hell but that’s life isn’t it? You learn to love and trust then you get your heart stomped out like a burning ember. The people you love leave you or die and you can’t do shit about it.”

“Wait what do you mean by die?”

“You know this sounds awful but you should be thankful Lilith didn’t suffer... sure it hurts that she’s gone but you are able to remember her before then since her “death” was quick. Painless.”

“I’ve had to watch the people who were my Lilith for lack of better terms die and suffer for months or years. I watched their bodies grow weak and feeble. However I was a child then and couldn’t do anything.”

I didn’t know how to respond so we sat in silence until

“Why’d you tell me this Mc?”

“Honestly I don’t know. Likely it’s because my body is physically exhausted and my filter was turned off.”

I noticed the tiredness Mc was trying to hide for the first time.

“You should sleep mc.”

“That’s ironic coming from you Lucifer.”

“I’m being serious mc.”

“What are you going to do? Mak-“

She didn’t get to finish her thought as I picked her up and carried her to my room. I knew she shouldn’t be left alone and I wanted to make sure she would be alright.

We arrived at my room and I deposited her on my bed. I sat in on of the chairs by the fire figuring she’d want the bed.

“Ok but why is your bed more comfortable than mine? Like sis you don’t sleep wtf!”

I just sighed knowing she was probably out of it but she was kinda of adorable when pouty.

Eventually she quieted down and her breathing became slower.

Mc’s POV:

“Mc you need to wake up”

“Five more minutes”

“Mc wake up!”

I felt the covers being ripped off. A dick move really.

“Ahh I’m up I’m up asshole!”

Wait why is Lucifer looking down at me? Why am I in his room? Shit I cussed him out. Well death never seemed that terrible

“Well if you’re awake now you need to come downstairs to eat breakfast. No, you can not object to this either.”

With that he left probably to go make sure the house isn’t on fire. I walked over to his bathroom and splashed water in my face to wake me up and noticed how emaciated I appeared.

Where my cheeks always so pronounced? Or when did my eyes start looking glassy and dark? I brushed it off not wanting to delve deeper into my insecurities. So I made my way to the dinning room. When I got there all conversation stopped and 7 pairs of eyes shot in my direction. I awkwardly made my way to the table and sat down.

I tried eating breakfast but it’s always been something I’ve never been able to stomach. I honestly never feel hungry when I wake up and it’s not like devildom food is exactly tasty. I was about to get up to leave when

“Mc you need to eat more.”

“Lucifer is right mc.”

“Ok...”

I sat back down and tried to eat what was on my plate but couldn’t so I sat there looking at it. I looked over to mammon’s plate and noticed how much food his had compared to mine and figured at least one of them knew it was a process to get me to eat again.

“I really can’t eat anymore otherwise I might be sick.” With no objections I got up and took my plate to the kitchen.

As I was washing it in the sink slowly some of the brothers came in aswell. First Asmo offered to take me shopping but I didn’t feel up to it. Then Satan asked if I wanted to go to the library again I didn’t exactly want people to see me like this so I declined. So levi offered we could play video games or something and I took him up on his offer.

He made sure I ate lunch that day which I honestly forget about sometimes. By the end of the day the other brothers excluding Amso, Satan, and Lucifer were all piled in Levi’s room.

Belphie was passed out in the bathtub of all places. Mammon was trying to impress me with his video game skills and Beel was munching on snacks behind us. It felt normal.

Eventually I got tired of it and decided to have some alone time. I was on my bed watching tik toks. (But fr tho I do have a problem with tik tok) Laughing at some etc when a knock was at my door.

“Come in”

I said this without looking up figuring it was beel looking for snacks or even Satan wanting to come in here and read. When I didn’t hear anything I looked back up from my phone surprised to see Lucifer standing there.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I just heard laughing and was wondering is you were alright.”

“Oh yeah sorry about that I’m just watching stuff in my phone.”

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He smirked

Damn not that smirk. Stop blushing Mc you got this. It’s just Lucifer.

“Uh... sure...”

Damn that wasn’t smooth.

End. (Unless I am asked to make a part two)

So I’ve been working on this for a while because I’ve wanted to make something actually decent. I wanted to do a happy ending and remind you guys that you’re amazing. And no matter who you are you’re loved and remember that.

- Caroline



[aros001]

Read through light novel vol. 16. Random thoughts.

"Who is this OC looking f**kboy?"

Those were genuinely my first thoughts upon seeing the art of Takt on the throne. And it would seem my immediate dislike was not unfounded.

Seriously though, everything about him is like someone's self-insert original character for their shitty power fantasy Shield Hero fanfic.

"He dresses really cool, like all modern with jeans and pockets, and he can use all the holy weapons and vassal weapons, and his level is above 300, and he has a harem of totally hot powerful women, and he's the king of his own country, and he can counter everything that people use against him, and he can steal powers he doesn't have, and he can beat Naofumi and all the other heroes with, like, no sweat at all!"

I want All For One to come in and kick this little twerp's ass. Show him what a real OP villain who can steal powers is like.

This isn't a critique of the writing by the way. It feels like Takt is supposed to feel like that kind of character who plays to those tropes and is REALLY easy to hate.

I both do and don't like how Naofumi is acting in the prologue. Obviously I don't like specifically what he's doing because it's creepy and uncomfortable, but I really like the reasons for why. The dude is fried from everything that's happened and unlike Itsuki it's not because of a curse. He's grieving from a heavy loss, easily the biggest he's had since coming to this world, and unlike with Ost's death he has no one he can yet focus his anger on, so he's feeling completely lost and mixed up. Another great moment from Sadeena in helping him regain at least some of his sanity. Sex is a common way people try to find comfort after a terrible loss and if that had been the case I think she would have slept with him or even encouraged Raphtalia to be the one for that. But she could see pretty clearly that wasn't the case. Naofumi wasn't looking for comfort. He was practically a zombie, just going through the motions.

“It seems that from among the four holy heroes, the Shield and Bow have been most active over there. Based on their level of activity, there’s also a bias in the legends about the seven star heroes. They mainly talk about the Hammer, Claws, and Whip.” A bias. The Shield and Bow did complement each other well, that was true.

F**k that! Sword and Shield, BroTP!

“Putting that together with what we learned in Kizuna’s world, it sounds like the effects of the fusing of worlds,” I pondered. There was a wave that had combined the Shield world with the Bow world, and then the Shield and Bow world had been fused with the Sword and Spear world to create the current one. It was only natural that a bias in the legends would arise.

"Worlds lived, worlds died. And nothing will ever be the same."

I've talked before that I'm a big fan of the concept of a Multiverse in fiction, especially in superhero comics. Right away I liked that the four Holy Heroes came from different parallel universes and then getting Glass and L'Arc showed that there were also parallel fantasy universes also fighting the waves. And now we get this theory from the characters that Raphtalia's universe is an amalgam, made up of other previous universes that fused through the waves. It's very Crisis on Infinite Earths and JLA/Avengers.

Reading Queen Melromarc describe the king of Faubrey and I'm just remember a scene that I and many Overlord fans love to the depths of our hearts, of Sebas the butler encountering a naked little fat man who got his sexual thrills off beating the women the brothel provided him. Sebas, like any true gentleman, kicked him in the dick so hard he exploded. Is there some to hope that a similar fate befell the king whom apparently married and killed (and probably even worse than that) 9,999 women? Not even Witch deserves that. Nobody deserves that.

Even though it'd probably take him to a dark place he shouldn't go, part of me was hoping for some karma to occur when Witch revealed herself as Takt's ally to Naofumi. He no longer had the shield, meaning he could attack her like he never could before, meaning he could kill her with his bare hands. I'm glad he used the defense rating attack on Takt, because there's been great long-time set-up for that, but yeah, I wanted Naofumi to at least get to break Witch's nose after everything he's been through. And if Witch wasn't irredemable before, she most certainly is now, proving she has no loyalty to anyone other than herself. She used Naofumi and the other heroes from the beginning for her own goals. Her mother had enough control that she couldn't just do whatever she wanted. And Melty was standing in the way of her getting the throne. She's still a terrible person but there were at least reasons for her to be against these people. But Trash? Her father, who has been loyal and on her side since the beginning, who doted and spoiled her from a young age because of how much he loved her? She had no hesitation in ordering him killed along with everyone else. There was no reason behind it. It was just pure cruelly, greed, and self-satisfaction.

And then...there's the Queen. ...F**k. Y'all bastards were really good at keeping that spoiler hidden. I was accidentally spoiled that Alta was going to die but not through this site. I had no idea the Queen was going to die. Of course Naofumi couldn't have the Shield during that part. If he made Mirellia into a shield like he did Ost and Alta he probably would be unstoppable, because she was just that f**king awesome.

We're pouring one out for you, your majesty. May your youngest daughter inherit your great wisdom and unbelievably hilarious slapping ability.

I'm really glad with Trash's development in this book. Like I've said in past posts, I can feel basic empathy for him given his backstory, but feeling sorry for him was not enough to actually put me on his side, because he was not putting in any work to actually be better or redeem himself. He was just acting angry and crazy and then just sad and withered. Here? While he had to be shaken and roused into it (can't blame him for that as he just lost the love of his life), he puts in the effort to make use of himself and holds himself accountable for his past actions. I really like that he wants to continue being called Trash. That is his penance. Not more feeling sorry for himself or blaming the rest of the world. It's time for him to be the man he knows he's supposed to be.

With all that though, Melty was definitely the person I felt the worst for after the death. Of all the younger characters, despite being royalty and mature for her age, she is the person who feels the most like a real kid, and her crying her eyes out while clinging to Naofumi hurt just like it should, because this little girl just lost her mom. No idea what the expectation is in Melromarc for when Melty should take the throne but for her it's always going to feel too soon, because how could it not?

“Daddy . . . thank you for approving my marriage. You’ve finally agreed to let me marry Ollie,” she said dreamily.

“I’ll make you forget this ‘Ollie’ soon enough, although his keeping you a virgin for so long is something to be thankful for!” Takt cackled. It was clear that he was using some kind of illusion to make her think he was her beloved. “Those who don’t give proper thought to their daughters’ happiness have no right to live!”

Oh good! He's a rapist too!

So Naofumi was the Shield's first choice and the other three were the Bow, Sword, and Spear's third choices. I like the credit that's given that the first choice is not guaranteed to be the best, as they can become just as corrupt or egotistical, or the third choices are not guaranteed to be the worst, as they can grow into real heroes. I'm just wondering how the selection process worked and why they all couldn't get their first choices. The Holy Weapons apparently have some sway over the universes they pulled them from, given the promise of granting wishes if they want to return to them. My immediate theory is that the weapons all set up paths that'd lead their choices to being summoned but just through sheer coincidence and randomness all the first choices, save for Naofumi, kept missing the path. Going down the list, the weapons become more desperate and thus are more willing to use more extremes to get their choices, thus why Ren, Motoyasu, and Itsuki had to be killed in order to be summoned. They missed their window with their first and second choices so now they absolutely have to guarantee they get their third, even if the methods are less than ethical.

With the big final boss, the World Eater as Naofumi called it, I'm theorizing that he/she/it is using the waves to fuse multiple universes into one so that he/she/it can eat it all in one go.

I only have two issues with this volume and they're both kind of nitpicks. The first is with Trash's plan, specifically with the Glawick ore. I don't remember it ever being established before in the series. I really liked the Rucolu fruit being used in the Cal Mira wave battle because it was set up way beforehand, so it feels like a lot less of a Deus ex Machina. Same with Naofumi using defense rating attacks after his battle with Glass. That's good set-up. The ore doesn't break the story, it just feels very convenient that such a thing happened to exist. If I'm mistaken and it was set-up before and I just forgot, please let me know.

The second is Naofumi and Raphtalia being separated again after a trip into another universe. The story next volume seems like it'll be very different from last time but that part does feel like a repeat of what we've already seen. Plus, with the new status quo of Naofumi knowing how she feels about him, I want to see their interactions now that he's recovered a bit from the loss of Alta. Again, it's a nitpick, since I'm certain they'll find each other again, but I don't like feeling like I'm being deliberately kept away from what I want to see.

“The source of your power, the one true hero, now orders you. Reconsider the state of all things once more and bring down a storm of flame upon my target! Drifa Firestorm!” Takt completed the spell.

...

“The source of your power, just a hero, now orders you. Reconsider the state of all things once more and scatter the storm that would burn its target! Anti Drifa Firestorm!” I read the magic Takt had incanted and activated magic to nullify it. With that, the fire tornado scattered into nothing, as though it had never existed.

Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch!

“I’m here to destroy everything you possess,” I menaced quietly. “Your pride, your dignity, everything you treasure. I’ve already half-destroyed your composure and your arrogance. Now it’s time for the other half. False hero, possessing six of the seven star weapons and the shield from the four holy weapons! Now face the reality of being defeated by a regular guy who holds none of the legendary weapons!”

No wonder Raphtalia couldn't be in this part. After hearing that line I don't think she'd be able to hold herself back and would have tackled him like a wild Albedo in heat right then and there.

I am so looking forward to when this volume's final battle is animated, especially the part where Naofumi gets his shield back. That is going to feel like such an epic, heroic moment.

So Rishia unlocked Pay-to-Win. ...I don't really know what to say to that. What do ancient magical relics care about money? ("What does God need with a starship?")

So the person Malty had Ren give a sword lesson to back in vol. 11, was that Takt, King Faubrey, or someone we don't know yet, like the mastermind behind everything?

Is Kizuna marked for death now? From how Fitora made it sound to Naofumi, when a Holy Hero dies a new one can't be summoned if the others are still around. If Kizuna's world works similarly, she might have to die or there'll be no Holy Heroes other than her.

Naofumi really likes his Dragon Ball Z, doesn't he? Which is appropriate given I just realized that the Energy Blast from the Spirit Tortoise Shield is almost literally the Kamehameha. Seriously, Kamehameha translates to "Turtle Destruction Wave".

So...what the heck do I do now? I've spent about a month reading through 16 volumes of Naofumi's rise and I know there are at least 6 other volumes that haven't been translated to english yet. I'll probably go find another LN series to read until vol. 17 comes out in July. Though I am curious if RoTSH has a fan translation site like Overlord and Konosuba do.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/shieldbro/comments/fot3tj/read_through_light_novel_vol_16_random_thoughts/

[iol247]

Opinionista • Ismail Lagardien • 15 March 2021

Fifteen years along the road to nowhere, and the worst is yet to come

We are at a point, now, where instead of pointing to the perversity of misguided distribution, corruption, theft, maladministration, tenderpreneurs, and State Capture, discussions are deflected – and the spectrum of opinion has been narrowed.

In 2015, Justice Malala published his book We Have Now Begun Our Descent. Without having read the book I sat down to consider South Africa’s future, and concluded that there was little to no hope for the country. I was in Bonn, Germany, at the time, after four or more years in the secretariat of the National Planning Commission. Although the Covid-19 pandemic has had a dreadful impact on South Africa’s political economy and society – as it has on almost every country in the world – the country’s problems took a turn for the worse at Nasrec at the end of 2017, and Malala’s “descent” gained momentum. 

I want to break with orthodoxy, and say that it is the politics, not “the economy,” as the old canard goes. Homo economicus might believe that the economy is everything, and everything is the economy, but “the economy” is those millions of transactions that humans make every minute of every day, and the personal and public political decisions that enable or disable those people (from making those transactions).

A collapse that preceded democracy

Before I continue, I want to share a passage I wrote between 1991 and 1993, when I was the southern African correspondent for the New Straits Times of Malaysia. I don’t have the exact date of publication, because the person who decided to make a “portfolio” of my work neatly trimmed my reports and columns but failed to include the date. I was going to save it for my memoir, but here it is – written at a time when the apartheid government was losing its grip on power and state institutions in the early 1990s:

“It is as if a villainous character had every day, over the years, gone to the Union Buildings, the seat of government in the capital, Pretoria, and methodologically and systematically undone every single screw, bolt, nut and nail of government. Every day, now, for months on end, a section of government in South Africa is coming apart. It is difficult, now, after a spate of scandalous exposes in recent months to say exactly when the disintegration first started, or when the first door, window or desk in the Union Buildings collapsed. What has become evident, however, is that the state is collapsing bit by bit, in slow motion, while its powers of rehabilitation [are] dissipating with its political might.”

It has been reported, over and again, that the democratic government inherited a state that was on its knees. As the Afrikaner historian Herman Giliomee wrote, a decade ago, March 1985 marked, “the day apartheid started dying”. 

Wrote Giliomee: “Pik Botha recalls: ‘I will never forget the night of July 31 when [Minister of Finance] Barend du Plessis phoned me… [He said]: ‘Pik, I must tell you that the country is facing inevitable bankruptcy … The process has started.’”

We had growth, and increased social spending, but the thieves saw opportunities

The first democratic government of South Africa, led by Nelson Mandela, was fully aware of the terrible state of the economy. They managed, within a decade or more, to provide utilities and access to public goods and services (including social grants) to millions of people across the country (all necessary for a stable, progressive social democracy), while managing the country’s finances, avoiding profligacy – and through it all, produced growth and a Budget surplus. 

This demonstrated that you can reduce poverty, provide social services, deliver public goods and services, as well as manage the country’s finances. The problem that emerged, after the first 12-15 years was not lack of growth, or a contraction of the economy, it was about distribution – much of the growth did, indeed go to social spending, but a lot more began to go into the wrong pockets. Corruption, maladministration, cronyism, nepotism and prebendalism took root – what good was the ANC-led state, if it did not line the pockets of its leaders, and members who were deployed to state agencies, and boards across the country?

Fast-forward to a few years later, and we are at a point, now, where instead of pointing to the perversity of misguided distribution, corruption, theft, maladministration, tenderpreneurs, and State Capture, discussions are deflected – and the spectrum of opinion has been narrowed. Somewhat simultaneously rose the politics of identity (the ugly version), and instead of policies focusing on social problems, they focused on contortions of language, the politics of revenge, populism, scapegoating, and the speeches and statements of leaders were increasingly laced with words like “bloodshed,” and all the while xenophobia, aimed mainly at Africans and Asians, has spread. 

A careful read of Carl Niehaus’s eight-page submission on likely policies of the ruling alliance, suggests we are expected to choose between Radical Economic Transformation by policy (ANC), or Radical Economic Transformation by force (EFF). At what point do the ANC’s radical forces join the EFF? Impossible, but not improbable. 

Are we there yet?

Let’s take stock, briefly, of where we are. We know that “the economy” is in the pits. But what makes an economy stable, expansive, progressive and able to secure social justice? Don’t ask an economist. To them it’s all cost-benefits, assumptions, laws and models which they mistake for truth. And anyway, people who are so sure of their own predictive powers belong on the beachfront with fortune tellers. What makes an economy work is everything else: the people, the institutions, the policies, ethics, food, water, shelter, clothing and, well, energy. If we start just with energy, consider the fact that we may have load shedding  for at least the next five years. 

This week, Eskom’s Chief Executive Officer, André de Ruyter, confirmed that “there will be a shortfall in supply of electricity of approximately 4,000 megawatts over the next five years as announced by President Cyril Ramaphosa. We welcome further interventions announced by the president, which will include a further request for proposals for a further 2,600 megawatts from wind and solar energy.” 

Using non-economic rationalist orthodoxy, us ordinary citizens know, intuitively, that you cannot run a shop, a workshop or any heavy industry without a stable source of electricity. We also know that you cannot get to work without commuter trains running. We also know that we place our lives in danger with every taxi ride. While us mere mortals don’t travel abroad much, if at all, we know that planes belong in the air; that the public broadcaster is meant to serve as, well, a public broadcaster; the police are meant to serve and protect; our military personnel should be able to march in straight lines, and its hardware has to be up to date (you can’t have stockpiles of ammunition that is outdated); along with the police and military, the state security system ought to make us sleep better at night, and criminals need to be prosecuted – even if they are among the highest office-bearers in the ruling alliance. 

A woman walking to work is not safe. A family sitting at home watching TV is not safe. A farmer working his or her fields is not safe. The driver stopping at a red light is not safe. Do we really expect someone to invest in an existing or new industry or fund innovation if a faction of the ruling party calls for “the mass nationalisation of industries including mines, insurance companies, steel and chemical companies”? The future of work is changing, but our major union leaders, supported by barbarous professors, want our workers to stay in the bondage of assembly lines – instead of retraining them for new, more innovative means of production.

All of these represent the life world of everyday people in South Africa. Every time anyone buys a loaf of bread or a bag of oranges they comprise “the economy”. Speaking of oranges, you can return the land to “its rightful owners” and (with the help of the former white owner) farm citrus products, but if individual oranges have a fungal disease you may not be able to export your produce. That’s not a racist conspiracy. (I use this one example because I have some insights into a related domestic issues case, and about the way the World Trade Organisation works.) 

This can go on and on if we can’t guarantee: the safety of investments; a reliable stream of energy; community and personal safety; trains that run; a reliable justice system – with judges who are unimpeachable; a postal service that is functional; public servants who do the jobs they’re paid to do; teachers who teach; nurses who are paid well, and don’t sign in for one another when they want to escape parts of night duty; and if we don’t play our part, as active citizens.

The government can build schools, but parents must make sure their children attend school, and show an interest in the child’s education. The government can provide trash cans, but people must use them. Visit downtown Johannesburg and you may get a sense of how filth has built up – it’s not quite at the levels of Naples, but give it time. While we hold the state and political parties to a high standard, we need to, also, report on citizens who refuse to pay or steal electricity and water, then cry foul if they are brought to book. That, is largely, the result of ANC promises. With another election in a couple of years, do we really think the ANC, or any political party is going to tell people to pay their electricity bills or get cut off? And so, it’s not “the economy” it’s everything we do, and say, every day, that makes the economy work. 

We may have started our descent, as Malala, wrote almost six years ago; my loss of hope has deepened – helped along by #statecapture revelations. But let me turn to the observations I made in the early 1990s, with regards to the National Party:

“What has become evident, however, is that the state is collapsing bit by bit, in slow motion, while its powers of rehabilitation [are] dissipating with its political might.” 

https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/opinionista/2021-03-15-fifteen-years-along-the-road-to-nowhere-and-the-worst-is-yet-to-come/

Submitted by TT

[homebuyes065-blog]

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[squirrelly831]

Without His Bonnie

Masterlist

Genre: Angst

Characters: Dean/Hyuk x Original Character [Chelsea]

WARNING: Major character death and violence

Enjoy~

When Chelsea agreed to marry her boyfriend, Kwon Hyuk, of 4 years, she didn’t think of the idea of planning the wedding mainly alone due to Hyuk’s constant work ethic. He worked with two men, Jiho and Hyoseob, in their own company and they were very wealthy and well off. Hyuk’s work was how he met Chelsea ultimately as she was an up-and-coming photographer.

One day, while at work Chelsea got a call from someone who wanted to employ her for some investigation shots, something she did on the side. This case was a man who assumed his wife was having an affair on him and so he hired Chelsea for $5k to find out and collect evidence. It was easy enough job. All she needed was to follow the wife for a few nights, snap some photos, and then off she went.

She followed the man’s wife at a safe distance the first night and found her enter a karaoke place that’s sign was lit up in red. Chelsea snapped a coupled shots of the wife entering and the building. It was a known place for escort services and she knew she wouldn’t be able to enter or get closer without blowing up her investigation. She rapidly shot pictures as people entered and exited the karaoke building not once glancing up as she did. After she stayed out for about an hour and a half in her car, she headed to her work to develop the images in her darkroom.

She returned home after developing the photos and rubbed her tired eyes. “I’m home.” She let out a yawn as she kicked off her shoes.

“You’re late today?”

“Ah, shit!” She jumped at the sudden voice of her fiancé. She met his amused gaze and she scowled. “I hate when you just appear.”

The side of Hyuk’s lips widened in a side grin, “It’s not magic, babe.” He held out his arms and as if magnet, she was in his arms instantly. “Long day? You feel tense.” She didn’t verbally answer. Her eyes drooped as she took in his scent. She felt so safe… so at home in his arms. Hyuk untangled himself from Chelsea and led her exhausted body to their shared bedroom. “Get out of your work clothes and we can go to bed.” He kissed her forehead before he went to the bathroom to get ready for sleep.

They climbed in bed, Hyuk’s arm wrapped around Chelsea’s waist as she pressed her head in his chest. Too tired, Chelsea kissed his chest, whispered an I love you, and instantly went to sleep. Hyuk rubbed her back as he watched her sleep.

The next day, Chelsea woke to Hyuk gone. She was at work and her mind couldn’t stop wondering to her fiancé’s disappearance. He typically left a note or a text, but today… nothing. She flipped through the photos from the night before, she grabbed the photos of the wife and stacked them in one pile. Chelsea tossed the rest until she saw a familiar face in one. He wore one of his suits that she had pressed only days before. His arm was wrapped around a woman who was clearly not her. Another man beside him with a grin as he had a woman on either side. Chelsea stared at the photo in disbelief not understanding why her fiancé was with the woman.

The door of her store chimed, “Hello! Give me a second!” She put the photo away with her stash as she went out to greet her guest. Waiting were two police officers, “Hello?” She approached them curiously. “How can I help you officers?”

“Are you Chelsea Loggs?” She nodded. The first officer who spoke held out his business card, “I’m Detective Lee and this is my partner Detective Seong, we have a few questions about your fiancé. Is there somewhere private we could talk?”

Chelsea went to her front door and locked it before she flipped off the OPEN sign. “We can go back to my private office.” She walked past the officers and headed to the back with them following. They entered her office and she guided them to some chairs, “Would you like some tea?”

“No thank you. We won’t be long.” She took a seat at her desk as the second officer pulled out a folder. “Are you aware of Kwon Hyuk’s business?”

Chelsea straightened her back, “You mean his business with Jiho and Hyoseob? Of course, it’s how we met.”

The two officers exchanged looks, “Could you elaborate?”

“Sure, ummm I did some promotional photo-shoots for their company, would you like to see the pictures? I’d have to do some digging since it’s been some years ago.”

“That’s not the business we’re talking about, Ms. Loggs. We mean his underground work.”

“I’m sorry? Underground work?” She shook her head, “We’re talking about my fiancé? There’s no way he’d be involved in that.”

The second officer placed the folder down on Chelsea’s desk, “Yes, well, we have been following your fiancé. He goes by the alias Dean in the underground. He works with Jiho also known as Zico and Hyoseob known by Crush. They’re called Fanxy Child and they have become very active in prostitution rings and drugs.” Chelsea opened the folder and her eyes opened slightly as she saw a picture of a woman that she saw in the picture with Hyuk. “This woman” the officer tapped on the image, “Was found brutally beaten, raped, and had her throat slashed in the shape of a cross. The throat slashing is the work of Fanxy Child.”

Chelsea got up from her chair and ran to her trash can as she threw up her breakfast. The officers gave her a pity look as they watched her cough. She rushed off to the bathroom and washed her mouth before she went to her stash of photos. She returned to the officers with shaky legs, “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, our apologizes. We didn’t mean to frighten you.”

A stray tear slipped down Chelsea’s cheek as she looked down at the picture with Hyuk, “I only got sick because…” She held out the image, “I was hired to track a guy’s wife and so I took a lot of pictures that I developed last night…” The officer took the picture and his partner looked over it. “I didn’t know I took a picture of Hyuk and that girl last night until I got the photos done.”

The officers eyes lit up with the new evidence, “Are there more photos?”

“Not that I know of, this is the rest of the stack I haven’t gone through” she held out the pictures.

One of the officers took the pictures from her and they stood. “Thank you for your help. We can put you in a protection program if you like. If Kwon Hyuk and his accomplices find out your involvement with us, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Chelsea pressed her hand to her mouth as she was told the news. She shook like a leaf as she told the officers she would think about it and they left. Once alone, Chelsea’s legs gave from under her and she cried.

It had been four years since that day. Four years since she last saw Hyuk. Four years since Hyuk saw the outside world.

He watched the gate that severed him from the outside world. Hyuk walked out and approached the two men who leaned against the car. He smirked as he held out his hand and took the first guys hand. “Zico. Crush. Knew you’d come get me.” They gave each other a bro hugged with their hands still pressed together against their chest before he did the same with the other. “You find her?” Hyuk asked.

Zico adjusted his sunglasses as he held out an index card, “Crush located her a couple months back. We could have taken care of her for you.”

Hyuk took the card and smirked, “Nah, I needed to deal with it. She’s my fiancée after all.” He looked at the addressed that was etched on the paper. Chelsea had four years to make up for and he was going to make sure she paid up.

“Ready? One, two… Smile!” Chelsea snapped the photo as a family of five posed for the picture. “That was great!” She looked up from the camera and the family moved around. “I’ll have the pictures fixed up and prepared within a couple of weeks.” Due to the situation with Hyuk, Chelsea fled South Korea and returned to her hometown. She continued her photography work back in her hometown and lived in a secluded small town.

Once at the office, she uploaded the images on her computer to edit. Chelsea opened the first image and began to make small adjustments when she caught something off to the side in the picture. A man leaned against a tree behind the family and looked directly at the camera. She zoomed in to the man to edit him out of the image. However, when she zoomed in and caught the clear image of the man’s face Chelsea jumped out of her chair in horror. The color drained from her face as she locked eyes with Hyuk’s eyes in the picture.

Her breath quickened as she ran around her office to gather some things. The store door bell chimed and Chelsea shook. Didn’t she lock up today? “I’m sorry, we’re closed” she stuttered.

“Aw really?” His voice made her blood run cold, “I was really looking forward to a session with my backstabbing fiancée.” Chelsea looked up and met Hyuk’s dark eyes. She stepped back and his lips pulled to a smirk when he saw her reaction, “Long time no see, love.” He shut her office door and locked it, “You know, I didn’t know you were into sleuthing.”

“Hyuk…” she whispered “It wasn’t like that…”

“Really?” His lips fell as he glared at her, “Then tell me how it really was?” Chelsea shook her head unable to explain. Hyuk tsked as he drew out his gun, “That’s what I thought.” Chelsea reached in her bag near her, pulled out the pepper spray, and as Hyuk took steps near her she sprayed him. Hyuk let out a yell as he closed his eyes. Chelsea ran past him, unlocked the office door, and ran out to the back exit of her shop. Hyuk let out a growl as he tried to focus without the terrible stinging in his eyes. His arm ran across her desk knocking everything off with loud bangs and clashes before he went after her.

Chelsea cursed herself for deciding to live in a secluded area instead of the big cities of New York City or L.A. where she could have blended and hid. However, she never expected Hyuk to come after her. Not after all these years. Chelsea fell forward as a sharp pain went through her chest. She hit the dirt ground hard. Her hand went to her chest and pulled back to see blood cover her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked back. Hyuk stormed up to her with his gun in hand ready to fire again. “Hyuk… You don’t have to do this... Please… I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

Hyuk pointed his gun at her head with a deadpan emotion. “I know you won’t.” He was out for revenge. He was out for her blood. He didn’t need someone like her in his life, but he also didn’t want someone like her out in the world who could try to bring him down again. Hyuk knew Chelsea would go back to police. And that, he couldn’t allow. His cold eyes stared her down and a smirk appeared on his lips, “It was nice knowing you, princess.” He stated before he pulled the trigger. The bullet went between her eyes and her body collapsed. She was dead in seconds. Hyuk watched the pool of blood begin to form beside her head. “It’s too bad” he pocketed his gun, “And here I thought you could have been my Bonnie.”

-Written by Squirrelly831; gif by respected owner

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[thepartyresponsible]

this fill is for @journeythroughtherain who asked for a winteriron AU based on the last book i've read. i actually had to go back a few books for this one, because i’m currently in the middle of a grim nonfiction kick, and figured no one actually wanted a winteriron fic about, like. global pandemics.

anyway, this is very loosely based on faerber’s copperhead, and it also picked up firefly elements, and...okay, so i basically wrote a post-war, space western. so that’s another bizarre AU for the list. this one might end up on Ao3, because it is 4k+ words.

also, this is mainly winteriron, but there’s a bit of bonus clint/steve.

Bucky can tell, in one look, that the deputy is going to be a problem. The mutinous twist of his mouth is almost enough to make Bucky stay on the train. But there’s nothing for him any farther down the line.

Whole damn galaxy of reasonably terraformed planets, and he ends up here. It nearly makes him think his faithful service in the war wasn’t as fully appreciated as the bureaucrats made it out to be. He sighs, sets his shoulders, and steps off the train.

“Yeah,” the deputy says, drawling it out so Bucky can feel every ounce of disrespect and derision in that one syllable, “figured it might be you. You’ve got that authoritarian look about you.”

Bucky thinks about offering to shake his hand, but the man stays where he is, slouched and sullen, arms crossed unwelcomingly over his chest and eyes tracing the metal of Bucky’s arm. “I take it you’re Stark,” Bucky says, instead.

“Well, shit,” he says, “and here I was, doubting your abilities. What an absolutely outstanding demonstration of deductive reasoning, Sheriff. Brain like that should set this town right in a month.”

“Is the whole town as sweet as you?” Bucky asks, shifting the weight of his bag across his shoulders.

Stark’s jaw tightens, and a look settles across his face that indicates the problems Bucky will have with him might, at some point, push a little beyond workplace annoyance. “Deputy Barton was the resident sweetheart,” he says. “Got picked up for questioning in the purges. Haven’t heard anything from him since.”

Bucky sighs. No one ever tells you, when you join a revolution that’s supposed to lose, that someday you might have to deal with all the ugly fallout of winning. The anticorruption purges were a clusterfuck from the start.

At least he’s not Steve, stuck playing figurehead. At least he got to wash his hands of the whole thing and leave.

Of course, it would’ve been nice if Steve left with him.

“If he’s innocent,” Bucky says, dutifully, “he’ll be released once he’s cleared.”

“Oh, sure,” Stark says. “I bet they’re already feeding him to the refugees.”

“That was a rumor,” Bucky says. “And an ugly one.”

He’d spent a couple months, post-conflict, setting up on a security team for one of the refugee stations orbiting Nesmo. He doesn’t like to think about it, but it wasn’t the worst place he’d ever been. There was food, always. Maybe not much of it, but enough to survive on. And none of it was ever made out of other people.

“Yeah,” Stark says, eyes dark and serious, mouth pulled up into the kind of smile that means Bucky’s the joke, “butchering’s too quick for you people, right?”

Bucky thinks it’s probably pretty easy to be a moral purist if you sat the whole damn war out, policing some backwater mining town. Easy to cling to ethical absolutes when the only death you’ve seen is sick miners and soldiers shipped home in boxes.

“You wanna have some kind of fight?” Bucky asks, more curious than anything else. “Is that what it’s gonna take you get you to stop running your mouth like that?”

Stark’s jaw works like he’s thinking about it. His fingers twitch toward his palms, and Bucky thinks he’s actually going to have to do it, going to have to announce his presence in town by dumping his only deputy into the dirt, but then Stark’s eyes dodge back to Bucky’s arm, and he straightens up, scowls down at the ground.

“Okay,” Bucky says. “Then you wanna show me where I’m supposed to sleep?”

Tony leads him over to his place in silence. It’s rundown and dirty, coated with reddish surface dust, just like the rest of the town. But the inside is clean, and, after Tony fusses with the security system for a bit, it seems reasonably safe.

“Thanks,” Bucky says, as Tony starts for the door. “Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Well,” Tony says, cheerfully enough, “we can hope for a brain aneurysm.”

Bucky sighs, but lets him go without comment. He doesn’t expect he’ll get a much warmer welcome from the rest of the town.

He’s proud of the war he fought. On his good days, he still believes in the purity of their cause. Freedom, liberation, equality, peace.

On his bad days, he thinks about all the things he’s seen, and heard about, and done. And he thinks maybe they were wrong, thinking people deserved things like freedom in the first place.

  Stark shows him around town the next morning, introduces him to half the town as our new imperialist overlord and the other half as self-important space-trash. “You know,” Bucky says, after he’s met the bartender who is not in any way a madam and all six of her pretty employees who are definitely, certainly not prostitutes, “you’re starting to hurt my feelings a little.”

“They let you keep those?” Stark says, eyes wide with fake-surprise. “Damn, you must’ve been some general’s favorite.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky says, struggling to decide between offense and admiration. “How do you have any teeth left in your mouth?”

“Soft, pretty civilian,” Tony tells him, tapping against his own chest like he thinks he’s making a point Bucky hasn’t noticed a dozen times over. “People are gentle with me, on account of my protected status.”

Civilian status wouldn’t have protected Tony if this rock had become strategically important. These people who’ve been sneering at Bucky all morning would’ve been laid out in their streets, executed before they could be used for information.

It wouldn’t have been Bucky’s side. At least, it probably wouldn’t have been.

There were revolutionists who did terrible things. There’s still a backlog of war crimes for the courts to work through.

Maybe the only difference between Bucky’s side and the other side is that Bucky’s people are executing their war criminals and Hydra would’ve given them medals.

Medal or execution, it probably doesn’t matter much to all the civilians and POWs who are already dead.

“We have to work together,” Bucky says. He’s too tired to fight Stark about his attitude. Anyway, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if people hate him. They have the right to do that. He killed the people who would’ve told them that they didn’t, and so it’d be a little contradictory for him to get fussy about it now. But they do have to work together.

“Too bad for you,” Stark says. “It’s just shit bad luck that they grabbed Barton instead of me.”

  Bucky calls Steve that night, and Steve looks like he hasn’t even thought about sleep since Bucky left. Bucky called to complain, to outline every single thing about this shitty town that makes him wish he’d never left the capital planets, but one look at Steve’s worried frown and bloodshot eyes makes him into a liar.

He sings the planet’s praises for a full ten minutes, until Steve finally starts to smile. It’d be shitty, making Steve worry. He’s the one who left and made Steve deal with the cleanup all on his own.

He asks about Sam, and Dugan and Morita. He gets Steve to laugh, exactly twice, and he figures that’s probably better than anyone else has done since he left.

At the end, almost as an afterthought, Steve asks if he’s met anyone yet, because Steve’s never going to realize that Bucky’s not quite the charmer he used to be, back before he lost his arm and most of his charisma.

And Bucky shrugs, plays up a smirk, lets Steve think he’s still the brash, charming kid he used to be. And then he thinks of Tony, and, a second later, he thinks about the missing deputy.

“Hey,” he says, “Stevie. I’ve got a deputy who got caught up in the purges. Can you look into him for me? Name’s Barton. Clint, I think. If he wasn’t a spy or an asshole, it’d be nice to have him back.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “sure, Buck. I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, and doesn’t think about it again.

Two weeks later, Clint Barton walks into the station, unannounced. He’s stocky, and blonde, and he has an earnest, honest face that nearly distracts from the muscles of his arms and the quick, professional assessment in his eyes.

“Holy shit, Barton,” Tony says, rocketing to his feet so fast that he knocks his coffee over. “What the hell is this? Did you jailbreak yourself?” He pauses, jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Bucky. “That’s the new sheriff. If you’re a fugitive, we’re gonna have to kill him.”

“Hey, Stark,” Barton says, grinning as he wraps him in a back-slapping, friendly hug.

Bucky thinks maybe he should leave, let them reunite in peace, but then Barton saunters right over to him and offers his hand, easy as anything.

Bucky scrambles to his feet, caught a bit off-guard, and reaches out to shake the first hand he’s been offered since he came into town. “Hey,” he says, “I’m Bucky Barnes.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, laughing a little. “I know. Steve Rogers says hi.”

Bucky smiles, patient and amused, because he knows the look on Clint’s face, knows exactly what it means when people say Steve’s name like that.

Well, he can’t blame anyone for falling a little in love with Steve. In small doses, it’s probably pretty hard to puzzle out what an insufferable shithead he can be.

“Steve Rogers?” Stark repeats, loud and incredulous, and Bucky thinks, if he had another cup of coffee in his hand, he’d drop it all over again. “You know Steve Rogers?”

“Sure,” Bucky says, enjoying Stark’s skepticism more than is entirely appropriate. “Known him my whole life.”

Stark falls into another one of his moody silences, although this one seems lighter than any of the others, almost playful. Maybe he’s just glad that his friend is back.

Maybe his friend is more than his friend.

“Glad to have you back, Barton,” Bucky says.

“Thanks,” Barton says, with another one of his cheerful smiles. There’s a weight to that word, a gratitude Bucky doesn’t really deserve.

Hell, Steve did all the work. All Bucky did was make a phone call.

  It’s not like the whole town falls in love with him overnight, but, suddenly, there are a lot fewer assholes making his life difficult everywhere he goes.

“Well,” the bartender says, pushing another glass toward him, “no offense, Sheriff. But we had to be sure you weren’t an absolute prick before we started wasting manners on you.”

“No, I get that,” Bucky says, because he does. “But what was your plan if I was a prick?”

She shrugs and leans over, elbows resting on the bar, and Bucky doesn’t look down her shirt because he’s a gentleman. And also because he’s seen exactly what kind of weaponry she hides behind the bar, and he didn’t make it through a whole Goddamn intergalactic war just to get his brains rightfully blown out in a bar in a mining town on a forgotten outer planet.

“We sent Tony out to greet you,” she says, like it was a whole plan, Stark being at the train station. Like it was some kind of trap. “We figured, if you could weather his gentle disposition, maybe you’d turn out alright. And if you couldn’t…”

She shrugs, and Bucky thinks about how this town’s gone through two sheriffs in three years.

He can’t tell if he’s flattered or terrified. “Huh,” he says, and takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint says, sliding behind the bar. “Mel wanted me to tell you that her latest needs some, uh. You know.” His eyes dart to Bucky and then away. “Gentle reminders of the rules of polite society.”

“Right,” Natasha says. “And the latest is--”

“Well,” Clint says. “It’s possible that he’s, ah. Indexing the supplies. In the storeroom.” He’s been holding his right hand behind his back this whole time, and Bucky honestly can’t tell if he’s being treated to this farce because Clint is catastrophically bad at lying or if it’s just another setup by the citizens to see if he’s an asshole or not.

He’s a little charmed either way.

“Theoretically,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes as he tosses back the rest of his drink, “if you stashed a guy in the basement because he was beating up his company, I wouldn’t have anything to say about it. Except maybe ‘congratulations’ and also ‘don’t make this my problem.’”

“Theoretically,” Clint repeats, narrowing his eyes.

“He knows this is a whorehouse, Clint,” Natasha says, patiently.

“It’s a brothel,” Clint says, defensive. “It’s classy.”

“Sure,” Bucky says, because it is, as far as these things go. “And classy places don’t dump bodies where the sheriff is obligated to do something about it.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, nodding. He drops his hand, and Bucky finally catches a glimpse of the blood smeared across his knuckles. “That’s always how I judge class, too.”

Bucky smiles, a little more thin-lipped than he’d like, and excuses himself.

It’s not that he can’t stand the sight of blood. It’s not that it makes him sick. It’s just that he shouldn’t mix it with the booze he’s been drinking. It messes him up, makes him think about things he’s been working hard to forget.

He goes home, and he’s fighting it off, trying not to call Steve, trying not to call Sam, and then there’s a knock on his door, and Tony shoulders his way in with a problem that could absolutely wait until the morning.

“Heads up, sunshine,” he says. “You would not believe what the Vaughan boys got up to in the next town over. Let’s go fetch them back so they can tell us all the details.”

“Stark,” Bucky says, “it’s late.”

“C’mon,” Tony says, holding the screen up. There’s an image of all three of the Vaughan boys, joyriding in a modified excavator, barreling down half-empty streets, with smiles on their faces and what is very clearly moonshine in their hands.

It reminds him of Steve, and the Howling Commandos, and being young and stupid, back when he could afford to be either.

“Shit,” he says, staring at the huge, monumentally stupid grins on their faces. “How pissed is their ma?”

“Oh,” Stark says, a little rueful, a little gleeful. “It’s not gonna be a mercy, bringing them home.”

Bucky can think of a dozen kids, not much older than the three in the picture, who won’t ever be coming home to their mothers.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching for his jacket. “Alright, Stark. Let’s go get them.”

  Steve comes to visit a few months in, probably because Sam makes him. He looks awfully worn down for someone who’s been modified never to get sick or need much in the way of nutrients or sleep. He shows up on the night train, having missed a grand total of three connections because he’d been swarmed by worshipful civilians, and Bucky dumps him into the spare bedroom and isn’t at all surprised that Steve doesn’t stir until sundown the next day.

Everyone loves him immediately. Bucky does his best not to be a jealous asshole about it.

“It’s just the face,” Natasha tells him, encouragingly.

“And also the ass,” Clint says, craning his neck to stare.

“Barton,” Stark says, openly ogling, “I know you’re not over there, objectifying a war hero.”

“Sure as hell am,” Clint says. “I see why you do it so Goddamn much. Nat, pour me something from the capital planets. I’m feeling patriotic.”

“I hate every single one of you,” Bucky says, scowling. They’re all watching Steve through the windows of the bar. He’s crouched in the street, being mauled by kids, and he’s smiling so wide and so happy that Bucky’s thinking about sabotaging every single ship on this planet.

Stark clears his throat and shoots a positively poisonous look Clint’s direction. Bucky thinks that’s interesting, but doesn’t have the processing power to pursue it right now.

“Hey, Clint,” Bucky says, because he’s resigned himself to being a jealous asshole but sure as hell isn’t ready to give up on being a good friend. “Steve’s got a thing for trouble.”

“No shit,” Clint says, voice gone soft like he’s awed by even the insinuation that Steve might someday glance his way. “Buck, that’s fucking perfect, because I’m in trouble all the damn time.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “I noticed.”

  The funny thing is, when trouble shows up, Clint and Steve are nowhere to be found, no doubt off making daisy chains out of garrotes and smiling sweet and doe-stupid over their combined weapons cache. Or maybe just holding each other in their stupidly muscular arms.

The point is that it’s him and Stark, pinned down in at the station, because some Hydra holdouts heard Steve was here and thought they’d lodge their grievances by storming the damn town.

“This is such bullshit,” Bucky says. Or tries to say. He’s having a big of difficulty, maybe.

“Shush,” Tony advises. He’s crouched behind the desk with Bucky, waiting out the latest burst of fire while he reloads, swapping battery packs on his carbonizer.

“Bullshit,” Bucky repeats. He spits up a bit of blood this time, and then he has to take a deep breath to remind himself he’s not on some dead ship in the black, breathing through a failing mask, artificial gravity field flickering in and out, reasserting itself at the least opportune times.

“Come on, Barnes,” Tony says, “don’t die. We just got you broken in.”

It is just like a hysterical civilian to think a couple blasts and a malfunctioning arm is going to be enough to put Bucky down for good. Bucky’s modified, same as Steve, just a little more cheaply. They don’t die easy.

“Sweet of you to worry,” Bucky says.

They lit up his arm with something electric, something that overwrote the sensors, keeps flooding his brain with pain. It’s bad enough that it may’ve tripped something in the neural implant.

“Keep tasting red,” Bucky mumbles. It’s not the best sign.

Stark glances over at him. For a long second, he hesitates. “Yeah,” he says, finally, “fuck this.”

Thirty seconds later, Bucky’s watching in disbelief as Iron Man, resurrected from the battlefield, lays beautiful waste to the dozen or so Hydra loyalists camped out in the town. Natasha steps out onto the porch of her establishment, some kind of modified repulsor rifle in hand, and melts the skulls of three of the idiots who try to run away. Steve and Clint, arriving back in town looking slightly disheveled and completely pissed off, pick off the rest.

“Goddamn it,” Bucky says, as the red taste in his mouth picks up heat, sparks with a sound he can’t decipher. “Goddamn it,” he repeats, “this is supposed to be my peaceful retirement.”

Iron Man drops beside him, faceplate shifting back. Tony stares down at him, face pinched and worried, a rueful grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he says, “sorry, Barnes. You picked the wrong town.”

  Everyone makes a fuss. Everyone. Bucky is mortified.

“Can we focus on what’s important?” Bucky asks, as Banner does something nauseating with the burns on Bucky’s chest. “Did everyone in town know Stark was Iron Man?”

Natasha and Clint exchange glances. Natasha looks blank and composed; Clint looks like a six-year-old caught stealing candy. Bucky sighs heavily.

“Well,” Steve says, “guess it kind of makes sense. Didn’t Fury get you assigned out here?”

“Fury,” Bucky says, grimly, “is a wily bastard.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Tony says, voice soft with focus, “if none of you said anything about it. I’m retired, just like Barnes.”

He’s been patching up Bucky’s arm since Bucky woke up. There’s something intimate about it, something that makes Bucky feel vulnerable, watching Tony, bent over the fried inner-workings of his arm, putting him to rights.  

“Said what about what?” Steve says, because he’s a loyal son of a bitch, or maybe because he’s always ready to thumb his nose at anything even vaguely approximating an authority figure. “I’m on vacation. I didn’t see anything.”

“I was staring at Steve’s ass the whole time,” Clint says, earnestly. “I was having a holy experience. I didn’t see anything either.”

Steve grins, ducking his head, and Bucky makes a retching noise, just to reintroduce the idea of professionalism to the room.

“I got a little shot,” Bucky says. Stark stares down at him, mouth pushed flat, eyes hesitant, almost worried. “I got shot,” Bucky repeats, “and, as I’m a civilian now, I was too busy getting hysterical about it to properly assess my surroundings.”

Stark smiles at him, small and uneven, like he’s not sure if he should commit to it or not. Bucky feels something kick in his chest, and he’d like to blame in on the blast wounds or the tinkering Stark’s doing, but he recognizes the feeling, even if it’s been years, even if the last time he felt it was before the war, when he was still young and stupid and willing to get hurt.

  There’s a party. It is, technically, a going away party for Steve. The trouble with that is they planned the party before Bucky got hurt, and now Steve’s staying an extra week, ostensibly to keep an eye on Bucky. That’d be a lot more believable if Steve hadn’t packed up all his stuff and moved into Clint’s place two days ago.

Anyway, the party’s planned, everyone’s here, and no one really cares that they’ve lost their excuse. It’s a harsh existence out here, dry and desiccated and lonely. It’s an effort, making anything light and frivolous. Bucky thinks it’s sweet, that these people are still willing to make the effort, willing to remind him how to do it.

“I thought,” he says, to Stark, as he’s helping Bucky stumble home. “I thought you hated us. The war. The revolution. Figured you were a loyalist.”

Stark snorts, rolls his eyes so theatrically that Bucky has to stop, plant his feet, admire the show. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m real shocked that your approach to the war was ‘with us, or against us.’”

“Well,” Bucky says, magnanimously, “’s kinda hard to maintain an open mind, when people keep trying to kill you. Kinda narrows your thinking.”

“Hydra killed my parents,” Stark says. They’re outside Bucky’s house now, and his security system is happily beeping Stark inside. That should be worrisome, but Bucky can’t for the life of him think of why he’d care that Stark can sneak in anytime he’d like.

“Shit,” Bucky says. “Sorry.”

“Dad was always---” Tony breaks off, makes a waving gesture with his hand. “Dad was a futurist. He said things, publicly, that he should’ve kept quiet. Mom was collateral damage. They were supposed to kill me too, but my aunt, she got me out.”

Bucky swallows. He remembers, back before the war. The way people would just go missing, no word, no bodies, no nothing. He remembers the terror campaigns. He remembers the stories, about people coming home to find their children gone, their wives or husbands missing, every single one of their family photos turned backwards or upside down, faces marked out.

They made a better life. They did. They bought it with the blood of people who were willing to fight for it, and fighting’s never a pure thing. Wars aren’t won by chivalry and fair play and noble ideas. They bought a beautiful galaxy by making themselves ugly. Someday, Bucky’s going to find his way to being alright with that.

Iron Man never compromised. But then Iron Man was never a soldier.

He remembers the stories, passed between hard-edged girls and desperate boys, soldiers who still wanted to believe in some kind of higher power. Iron Man, and Rescue, and War Machine, who’d swoop down on ships with no life support, trapped battalions, injured fighters stuck out on the battlefield. Heroes, who’d save the lives of doomed people, carry them to safety, buy them time, hand them their lives back like saints or angels saying, Here, try again.

Bucky had seen Iron Man, once. Just the one time. Iron Man and Rescue, hovering on the edges of the very last battle, witnessing the moment when Hydra finally surrendered.

By then, War Machine had been missing from the field for a very long time.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, again. “About War Machine.”

“Oh,” Stark says, blinking. “He’s not dead. Everyone always thinks--- he didn’t die. He’s doing better now.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, and it’s a small thing, really. Just one life. But he feels it like a weight rolling off his shoulders. He can’t keep the stupid, happy smile from bubbling up on his face. “Good. That’s--- shit, Tony. That’s good to hear.”

“Hey,” Stark says, with a sideways smile, “you know my first name. Look at you.”

Bucky can’t help it. It’s been so long since he wanted any damn thing. He thought he’d lost the knack for it. He’s sure as hell lost the knack for controlling it. One second he’s thinking hey, I’d like to kiss him, and the next second he’s fitting his mouth right over Stark’s, like he’s got any kind of claim to it.

There’s a long, stretched-out moment where nothing happens. And then Stark pushes him up against his own front door, wraps a hand around the back of Bucky’s neck, and kisses him stupid and breathless, leaves him gasping like some idiot kid, getting kissed for the very first time.

“Try again in the morning, Sheriff,” Tony tells him, as he opens Bucky’s door and pushes him inside. “If you’re still interested.”

Bucky runs his tongue over his lip, grins at Stark. He thinks, now that he remembers how, he’ll be interested every damn morning.

“Sure,” he says, as Stark’s smirk falters, eyes following the movement of Bucky’s tongue. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stark salutes, a little sloppy, a little mocking, and Bucky, for the first time in living memory, doesn’t have to fight the reflex to salute back.

Stupid, love-struck, hysterical civilian, Bucky thinks. It feels like a gift.

[thesassycloset-blog]

Glock

Pairing: Platonic Jong2min Genre: Drama?? Action?? Humor?? Rating: PG-13 (mentions of torture) Word count: 1,136 Prompt: loosely based on this mafia au by this genius. This is bland?? bc i’m experimenting, never done mafia but it was cool and inspiring so more to come yeh

“Brat.” Minho mumbles, shaking his head.

Taemin huffs “Pussy.”

“Not here either.” Minho sighs as he throws yet another folder on the table.

Jonghyun clicks his tongue.

They’ve already trashed the whole main office looking for the money, — the files Jinki specifically asked him to find and be careful about — but nothing showed up. Probably hidden in a way that was lost to the world. Questioning hadn’t gone well either, the few guys at the base claiming they didn’t know anything even as Taemin’s blade cut through their fingers.

Jonghyun peeks from under his bangs at the two losers in the middle of the room tied to their chairs side by side, eyes shut in fear.

“I think they are underestimating us.” Taemin is examining them, crouched in front of both with a small pout and pained expression on his face “Are you underestimating us?” As powerful as his looks might be, the innocent effect is lost with the knife he has perched on one of the men’s knees and the blood splatters on the side of his neck from the guy he sliced on their way in “I too could go without my nails, maybe that’s why you don’t wanna chat?”

“Just leave them there and come help.” Minho chastises, opening and closing books “The time you waste with torture could be used in searching instead.”

Taemin throws a bland glance back at Jonghyun, who catches on the frustration towards the pacifist and shares it with a roll of his eyes. Typical Minho, ruining the fun.

He complies with the request anyways, albeit grudgingly, shuffling to one side of the large desk and lingering there, a hand stuffed in his pocket and attention on the dust spores on the surface instead of on the actual documents sprawled over it.

“I’m sure I can get it out of them in less than ten minutes.” Taemin breaks the silence, pout back on his tone “Searching won’t help with that. I need my guns.”

“No guns.” Minho frowns down at one paper “We are meant to retrieve their dues. Simple as that. It’s unnecessary to be that messy.”

“What in our job isn’t messy though?” he says wistfully, looking out the window.

“This.” Minho shoots him a look “This isn’t messy. Stop with your tantrum already just because I took your guns away.”

“Ass, by the way.” Taemin bites “Your reasonable method hasn’t even worked for the past hour.”

“Maybe if you helped—”

“Enough.” Jonghyun finally cuts in, shoulders sagged and head thrown back “I’m getting tired of your bullshit. Both of you.” he gives a pointed glare at each man before going back over his set of documents “We have orders, we have instructions and we have work to do. What we don’t have is time to be wasting on this. Just get the job done and then kill each other, for what I care.”

The two glare at the other one last time.

“Brat.” Minho mumbles, shaking his head.

Taemin huffs “Pussy.”

“That’s it—”

“Cut it out!” Jonghyun jumps between the two, arms outstretched and pushed against each lean chest. The first set of narrowed eyes go to Taemin “You. Take care of this.” then turns back to Minho with a calmer expression “You. Let’s check the living room again.”

The tall man doesn’t waste more time. He throws the book he had been perusing over the desk and marches towards the door, all the way pointing two of his fingers from his gaze to Taemin’s while the younger stuck out his tongue.

Jonghyun heaves a sigh.

Being the one in charge of the children when the other two are not present is enough to wear him down. One, he can handle. Minho’s ethical and measured way was easy and efficient and a nice change of pace; Taemin’s underhanded and impatient methods were always fun and got the job done quick.

Together, though...  

He ruffles the back of his head.

Immediately after Minho’s gone, Taemin glances at him expectantly.

Yes.

Yes, right.

Jonghyun drops his own folder along with Minho’s, takes a few steps around the table until he’s face to face with the younger, and leans in to order a hushed “Be silent” against his pierced ear. As he pulls back, the man makes sure to slip Taemin’s favorite on the side of his waistband.

The only reply he gets is this mischievous smile.

A contagious little thing he does when he’s about to work.

And if it weren’t because he has a personal matter he has to take care of for Jinki, Jonghyun would stay and watch him do his magic.

So, he just flicks Taemin’s chin with a curled finger, gives him one last wink and leaves the room with an ominous click of the door.

Taemin’s gaze falls on the two tied up men.

“You’ve spoiled him too much.” Minho grumbles, almost to himself.

Although it’s not, and Jonghyun really wants to sigh again “Yes, I know. I shouldn’t have taught him how to interrogate and torture. The guy gets a little too into it. That is not normal. I might’ve turned him into a psycho. I get it, Minho.”

“I just think it’s not good for him.”

“You just think it’s not good for you that he gets things done quickly in an unethical but professional manner.” He says it rushed and in one breath, trying to end the pointless discussion. “You should drop it. The competition between you two will lead nowhere. Both ways to do things are useful for the family and Jinki won’t change Kibum for anyone.”

Minho gives him a look “Are you sulking?”

Jonghyun rolls his eyes “Yes, Minho. I am sulking I won’t ever be the second most targeted man in the family.”

“You’re already famous enough to be the third, though?”

Jonghyun gives him a blank look and is about to retort when a muffled bang echoes through the basement.

The pair’s heads whip to the closed door of the main office, Minho shooting up from his crouch and ready to jump on the action. Jonghyun blocks his way with an arm, impassive, just as Taemin saunters out of the room — dusting off the lapels, adjusting his collar, fixing his cuffs.

He notices the tall one gaping at him and stops.

“What?”

“Did you just shoot someone?”

A drawn out blink “No?”

Which is obviously a lie.

Mainly because he knows Taemin, but also because the young ass is now smirking like a little shit.

“I can’t fucking believe it.” Minho’s mouth twists with annoyance, a piercing glare directed at the older man “You gave him a gun?”

“Depends.” he turns to the young shooter “Did you get it out of them?”

“Ledger book inside the TV and the bed holds the money.”

“Then yes, I gave him a gun.”

[realsamcalloway]

2/22/17 - Interview With Musician Brody Dalle “Style Evolution From AUS to The USA” (www.regardingstyle.com)

Originally posted February 22, 2017 and appearing on www.regardingstyle.com.

© 2017 TRSB (Sam Bone)

A Conversation with Brody Dalle, Regarding Style (And More)

By Sam Bone

The indie/punk rock/alternative music scene has been a desolate, lonely lull since 2014. It’s been nearly three whole years since fans of Brody Dalle’s haunting-yet-dangerous growl and lyrical prowess have heard anything new. If you’re a genuine fan of Brody’s (which I have no shame in admitting that I adore her immensely and forever!), then you’re probably one of the 300,000+ people who follow or “Like” her social media posts. It is from within this social media sphere, where fans grasp onto every tweet, photo and post in general, in hopes of a tour announcement or a Beyoncé-inspired surprise album drop.

This question has been an ongoing one for Brody Dalle since she and her (former) band of misfits, The Distillers, hit the punk scene in the late 90’s/beginning of 2000. The Distillers self-titled album was single-handedly the anthem record equivalent of ammunition of that time, and every record Brody has since released has only added as kindling to that raging fire. Back then during the “debut era,” fans of Dalle were in high school (or just out) and most of those fans have grown up right alongside with her. It didn’t matter what was happening, either.

Fans of Brody Dalle don’t “mess” around, and have stayed with her through it all, the good times and the bad. #Punx4Ever, right?

Since the debut in 2000, Brody released two more records under The Distillers moniker, Sing Sing Death House (2002), and Coral Fang (2003), followed by her Spinnerette project which saw the release of an album with the same name in 2009. Most recently, die-hard fans rejoiced when Brody flew solo with the powerful and equally as memorable Diploid Love (2014).

In January of this year the stage was set for me to interview Brody and in an attempt to tackle something she has never spoken about publically; her personal style and fashion sense. I know I’ve always been pretty curious about this subject, so I’m willing to bet that other fans share my feels.

Being a badass punk poster girl, plastered on the walls of both guys and gals the world over (her fans expand across both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans), Brody Dalle’s sense of style has a direct correlation to ethical fashion in that punk style requires a love of thrift store shopping. Tattered and torn hand-me-downs are always in high demand no matter what rock subgenre you identify.

Without further ado, here is our 2017 conversation with Brody Dalle, Regarding Style.

 Hey there, Brody! I’d like to start off slightly unconventional by asking what’s got you angry lately?

The insanity right now-- the attitude and the words that come out of the Orange-Faced thing. Pence. Speaker Ryan and Bannon. He's terrifying and completely delusional and represents the Christian alt-right. Fuck all of them; their gross incompetence and their being unqualified, arrogant fucks. The lying, the misogyny, the racism, the homophobia and the unfairness of it all. The (Russian) hacking. The lack of people being held accountable. It's disgusting, embarrassing and horrifying. The hypocrisy of banning Muslims from entering the United States when this country was founded on freedom of religious beliefs.

It's baffling really. By the way, it’s only been a week.

I don’t want to get too into that here, because it’d be unending, but I will just say three words: I feel you. How are you, otherwise? How is your family? Congratulations on the birth of your newest son, Wolf!

Thank you so much! My family is wonderful! My son Wolf is a sunbeam rainbow baby, sweetest little munchkin ever. As far as myself, I'm doing better-- Going from 2 to 3 kids was a massive adjustment. Wolf is about to be one, and it's taken me about a year to get back on my feet. It's been a bit wobbly trying to balance the kids with no sleep, having to breastfeed, and issues with my health (rheumatic fever with chronic pain). Also balancing my husband’s schedule, kids school schedule, and then our family… friends… just our lives, in general… all while trying to balance my own personal life and get back to creating. Just started in the studio a couple of days a week.

How do we do it all though?! I asked my mum if life has gotten crazier and she said yes… life used to be much simpler, slower, and we didn't always have to be “on” and available.

I feel as though technology has much to do with society’s rapid pace, also that “rat race” you once spoke of is real. The struggle is real. Since the Distillers all the way through now, your style has influenced a lot of people, both girls and guys. Where did your sense of style develop? What are your earliest memories?

I guess it all started with the punks in Melbourne. I made a book for my mum when I was about 6 years old; it was of punks walking down the street whistling and girls doing handstands. I asked her why she thought I drew punks in the book with the mohawks and she had no idea, but suggested maybe I'd seen them on the street. Perhaps it was a prophecy ha!

I was in a movie about teenage delinquents called "Hard Knocks" when I was a baby, but I doubt I would have remembered it as I was 8 months old at the time. Right after that I went to see Cyndi Lauper at the Tennis Center, and Madonna was all over the TV and in the magazines-- I remember spending every waking hour putting those records on and dancing for hours in the living room with a black beauty mark drawn above my lip with my mum’s eyeliner.

My mum collected Vogue magazine, and I remember perusing though the 80’s ones and noticing all of the different angles, the neon colors and all of the multicolored make up. I sewed a pair of pants at my grandmother’s house once, but when I put them on they fell apart and I was discouraged with fashion after that.

I remember wanting certain things, the first thing I ever wanted, as far as fashion, was a purple feather in my hair for school photos when I was 5 years old. After that, it was a pale pink pair of sneakers at the tennis shop my dad would go to on the weekends… I begged him for months to buy them for me, and finally he acquiesced.

My first pair of Chuck Taylors were red and I got them when I was 8. My parents didn't have much money, so we shopped at Target for clothing which was the equivalent of Cole’s today, which I'm sure is way cooler than Target was back then. But it was mortifying, and I was teased mercilessly. Doc Martins were all the rage but they cost about $100 which, of course, my parents laughed at. So I ended up getting fake Docs… a mean girl at school made me lift up the bottom of my Docs and then ridiculed and teased me in front of the other mean girls, and well, that was that.

My Uncle Frazer gave me my first guitar and also my first surfboard; a Strapper Thruster with a giant red sun on it. I went through a surfer girl phase and got an undercut and wore giant rusty t-shirts and surfer boots and brands. I longed to be a pro surfer but there are no waves in Melbourne, the best waves were at least an hour away. Plus, I was pale as a ghost and I looked nothing like the tanned bleached blonde beach girls. I gave up surfing after being tossed around like a rag doll in 20 foot waves in Coffs Harbour, I thought “This really isn’t for me anymore" as I did full cartwheels underwater for a minute at a time.

One of the first records I ever bought was Mothers Milk by RHCP. When I was 12 and on my way to Vaucluse Catholic Girls college in Richmond, the RHCP got on our tram. They walked right up to me and talked with me for 5 minutes before getting off a few stops later… so weird to think about that, cut to The Distillers opening for them in German stadiums 12 years later. They actually remembered our encounter. Fucking weird mate.

I hated everyone and everything after that-- I got into Nirvana, Hole, Mudhoney, and Sonic Youth, and then I started going to All-Ages shows in

Melbourne. The bands I loved the most were The Meanies, Tumbleweed and the Hard-Ons.

Then, flares and ripped band t-shirts were the fash. Eventually I started working at Friends of the Earth when I was a 12-year-old hippy/anarchist. That was a Co-op that my parents shopped at. I bought my first item of clothing with the money I had earned; vintage orange and brown flares, which I wore to death to every Tumbleweed and Meanies All-Ages shows I ever attended in Melbourne.

Then it evolved to Dead Kennedys and Kyuss t-shirts. That's right, Kyuss... they were my favorite band. I also wore Levi's jeans, one pair at a time until there was NOTHING left!

After that, thanks to Courtney Love, it was 1940's tea dresses, nighties, and ripped fishnets worn with shitty, op-shop high heels and Chuck Taylors.

After that, I got into Discharge, The Exploited, Cock Sparrer, Oi Polloi and Last Resort. I got beat up by two street girls in the city wearing Bon Jovi t-shirts, and they fractured my arm... I was so pissed I shaved my head the next day into a Chelsea haircut and I dyed it blue. Also by now I could afford to buy real vintage stuff with the money I made from my jobs, and I also bought my own Docs and any op-shop find, especially plaid mini-skirts.

So my look was Courtney Love meets Skinhead. A lot of tops had to have the “Courtney Love white collar.” Then when I was 17 years old I saw “Betty Blue” (the film), and that changed everything-- I wanted black hair in a choppy bob. Black hair became my favorite thing! I got into do wop music and started cleaning up my look; black hair, up in a high ponytail with long side burns and big hoop earrings, Revlon Color Stay in Berry Red, black liquid eyeliner and Creepers-- plaid Creepers. Mini-skirts. Bomber jackets.

By this point I was in L.A., so I was being influenced by so much in Los Angeles and also New York, mainly trash and vaudeville. I was hanging around a lot of older, cooler punk chicks. My friend Tomomi made mohair sweaters.

I started cutting up my t-shirts after I'd seen a girl on the street with her t-shirt cut into tassels-- I didn't know that was an option and it changed the game. I became obsessed with, wore and collected Polly of California heels. I also discovered trashy lingerie and agent provocateur. I admired Vivienne Westwood. My friend Evelyn had a shoe store called Diavolina and I became obsessed with shoes.

I met Agatha Blois, who made most of my pants that I wore on stage… another game changer. Rosalyn Mazzola (“Casper Rose,” for you diehards out there) had these naturally occurring dark circles under her eyes and I loved the way it looked so I recreated it by using MAC's color 'texture', which is still my favorite for smoky eyes.

Right before we made Sing Sing Death House I met Rosalyn, and I fell in love. She was so beautiful and androgynous-looking, like jaw-dropping beautiful… I felt so ugly next to her. God I loved her so much. We kind of morphed into each other for a while although her thing was more gutter than mine. We dressed like dirty squatter boys and put our eyebrows on with black sharpie, it lasted for a week sometimes longer. I look back at old photos of us and think we looked pretty scummy but we weren’t, I swear!  I’m a very hygienic person, my favorite smell back then was this raspberry body spray that smelt more like cotton candy. They stopped making it of course, they stop making everything that’s awesome. I had my managers hunt down the last box in America. I wear mostly vanilla these days. The way you smell, your scent, is as important and memorable as your clothes. 

I will add this- my style icons in the past have been Kurt Cobain, Courtney Love, Lydia Lunch, the Misfits, Beatrice Dalle in “Betty Blue,” Discharge, The Exploited, Sex Pistols, DEBBIE HARRY ❤️, Vivienne Westwood, Oi, Agatha Blois, other punk girls.

Thank you for sharing all of those memories. I remember first hearing The Distillers on a sampler… I think it was one of those oi, garage punk compilations. Anyway, it had the rough cut of LA Girl on it, from the Oldscratch EP. It was of course this audio that lead me to visual curiosity so I checked out the band, and I remember the days of Rose and recall that she was very street punk, which obviously appealed to me. Moving on, do you have a vault of super-secret punk rock DIY designers that custom-make your garments? Who/what are some brands and designers that you respect?

Ha! I used to when I was touring more! I'm not much of a “fashionista.” I'm lucky to know and have some very talented friends who happen to be incredible clothing makers and designers. I'm not really too into brand names per se, it's more that I know what I like when I see it, or I’ll get inspired by something old and remake it. I did have a love for Vivienne Westwood, in fact my look in The Distillers was really a mash-up of Vivienne Westwood, Agatha Blois, t-shirts scoured from Goodwill, "wife beaters" from Target, Polly of California, trashy lingerie, vintage coats, various jeans, Submission, Very Bad Horse, spray-painted hooker boots from Hollywood Blvd, Agent Provocateur, very sick and cool shit from Japan and my old friend Tomomi (Fukuda) has a store called Camden Lock. I love Agatha Blois as a friend, and her designs had a big impact on me, she and I worked really well together. Ligia Morris made a badass jumpsuit and some stage clothes for Reading and Leeds festivals in 2004. Corey Parks makes the meanest leather jackets and pants ever. I love Hedy Slimanes, and obviously his influence made that company (Yves Saint Laurent, YSL) what it is today. Punk is Hedy's staple diet I think, not sure where YSL is headed now.

When it comes down to it, it's not the label, it's what I like in the moment.

That’s great, and it’s also very cool that a lot of those more indie-back-then designers have really sort of exploded in the sense that they are doing their thing with their boutiques and brands. I know you’re busy, thanks so much for your time. Lastly, what can fans expect from you next?

I’m slowly coming out of the 1-year baby fog of losing myself completely. It’s a scary process to unravel but I usually get songs out of it. My plan is to write two records which I’ve just started.

I know fans will love this news! Again thank you so much, nothing but the purest wishes for both you and your family!

You can stay up to date with Brody oh her Twitter and Instagram profiles.

Certain elements, such as links and photos, may have been removed from the original version of the above article.

[cuckoomagazine]

Interview with blogger Amy McColgan (a.k.a. Green Leafy Gael)

Tell us a little about yourself.

I was born and bred in Donegal and went to an all-Irish primary school. I went on to study Irish and Spanish in college and then did a Masters in translation after that. Before I went to college I also did a diploma course in TV Production through Irish in the Donegal Gaeltacht. I’m now living in Spain working as a freelance translator but hoping to move to Barcelona soon and get something a bit more secure!

When did you become a vegan and what made you decide to change your lifestyle?

I lived in Spain in 2012/2013 during my Erasmus year. It was my first time owning a smart phone and I took a liking to Instagram. I followed a lot of health and fitness accounts and took a big interest in health and wellness. One week in February 2013 I watched around 6 documentaries about food production, animal welfare and the links between a Western diet and all the most common Western causes of death (heart disease, cancer, diabetes, stroke). The Monday after that was the last day I ever ate meat. Over the course of that year I educated myself on how the meat and dairy industry have essentially paid their way into the food pyramids. There are so many deceiving scientific studies done and articles written to promote this kind of food and it’s tragic because that is the very food that’s killing us. When people from Asian and African countries move to Western countries and adopt the Western diet, they also adopt Western diseases that they wouldn’t have gotten if they continued with their traditional mainly plant-based diets. Learning bits of information like this just astounded me and yet it made so much sense. Never in my life have I understood something so well – the only thing holding me back from going fully vegan was our culture and society. Saying no to family members’ food and learning how to go without dessert in a restaurant is hard work and it takes time to get brave enough to do that! Eventually, within a year I was fully vegan – although at home and when cooking for myself I was always vegan. 

Throughout that year, I allowed myself to learn of the horrors of the animal agriculture industry. Not just the sick conditions of factory farms but standard, legal practices that are done on the most highly praised farms, such as pulling piglets teeth out and castrating them without anaesthesia, dehorning calves without anaesthetic, separating calves from their mothers so soon after birth so they don’t drink the milk meant for us humans, keeping sows in crates so small they can’t even stand up; I could go on. Standard farming and slaughterhouse practices are seen as “necessary and humane” but only because they’re part of the farming business. There’s nothing ethical about it. If someone shot a bolt gun through a dog’s head and then slit his throat and skinned him before he even properly died – the country would be up in arms about animal cruelty because it’s not normal for us to eat dogs. It’s “normal” for us to eat cows so we don’t bat an eyelid when it’s done to them. Knowing all this made going vegan an absolute necessity. I could never ever live with myself if I knew I was contributing to modern day slavery and torture of the most innocent and docile creatures on earth.

Who would you consider to be your biggest influence?

I really admire Dr. Michael Greger who runs the website nutritionfacts.org and wrote the book “How Not To Die”. His selfless contribution to the health of the world and sharing true and factual scientific studies has made it so easy for everyone to learn about food and how it impacts out health. He makes complicated scientific studies make sense to the layperson through his short and snappy videos on the NutritionFacts.org YouTube channel. He does all this for free and even the proceeds from his best-selling book went to back into the nutritionfacts.org non-profit.

 How do you source content for your blog?Do you stumble upon recipes or create your own? 

I don’t source content no. I just write about different vegan products that I might have tried or different tips or tricks that I think might help people on a vegan journey. At the start my recipes were inspired by my local Ballyholey Farm in Donegal. They grow a vast array of vegetables completely organically and every week they’d throw me some random veg and say “do something with that” – so a lot of my recipes are purely experimental! They always turn out surprisingly tasty though!

 What would you consider to be the main purpose of your blog & YouTube videos?

To inspire people to go vegan or to assist people through their vegan journey. I want to educate people on the true effects of the food we’ve grown up eating. It’s not something you can learn about in the mainstream media (although slowly but surely that’s changing). I like the idea of leading by example so I just try to share my life experiences and show people what I’m doing and why I’m doing it – that way is the least “preachy” I find. People are always interested in other people, so, if I can get people interested in my way of life, they might end up saving their own life. Also, I feel it’s my duty to the animals. I can’t sit back and do nothing about their suffering. If I can get someone to buy a cruelty-free and vegan foundation the next time they are buying make up instead of an animal-tested one – I’m happy. If I can get someone to choose a soy milk latté instead of cow milk the next time they order a coffee – I’m happy. If someone tells me they’ve decided to cut out meat altogether – I nearly cry with delirious excitement.

Do you find it easy to maintain your blog while living your daily life?

Not when I’m working a full-time job -  it’s very hard to find the time to work, eat, sleep, blog and vlog. Often times, social interaction with friends suffers! But now since I’ve lived in Spain I’ve been working at home on a freelance basis. So, when the work is quiet that means I get more time to focus on editing videos and writing blog pots. However, it also leaves me stuck financially which in turn leaves me with no nice ingredients to make nice recipes! I’d absolutely love to be able to focus on my blog and my channel full-time. As well as being beneficial to people’s lives, it’s also really fun to do and I get to use skills I’ve always loved using as a child such as taking pictures, editing pictures, making videos and acting the eejit in front of a camera!

 Is there a particular vegan dish that stands out as being the best you have tried?

No – because there are too many. Think of all the vegetables in the world (not just peppers onions and carrots), and all of the fruits in the world, and all of the grains, beans, legumes, spices, and herbs. Now think of a combination of each and every one – we’re talking millions upon millions of options! I’ve made some delicious meals in my life but as soon as I’ve made them I move on and try something else. In restaurants (that serve vegan food) I always try and get something different. I absolutely love weird combinations of food. I used to put random things in sandwiches and my mum said I get that from my late Granda. My mum is the complete opposite to me though and makes the same dinners every week – all are fantastic. But I have to say her lentil shepherd’s pie is a winning family dinner. It really is delicious and nutritious. (recipe on the blog if anyone’s wondering!) The meal I had in Sova Vegan Butchers in Dublin was one of the best vegan meals I’ve ever had. They’re so innovative and creative and it’s such a good experience eating there. I had the “scallops” and a “schnitzel” – 100% vegan, 1000% tasty. Recently I was in London and that whole day of eating was probably the best day of eating I’ve ever had – from breakfast to brunch to lunch to dinner. The Ethiopian food I got at Spitalfield’s Market was phenomenal. I have a vlog on my channel from that day again, if anyone’s interested!

 Tell us a little about the fashion side of your blog. You mention you like to buy clothes that are not brand new and ethically produced. Can you explain that a bit more? 

Well I’ve always heard about sweat shops and child labor, all my life. I don’t think that side of fashion has ever been unknown to anyone, but we definitely do just turn a blind eye to it. I did most of my life, but then when I went vegan, I kept thinking to myself that I shouldn’t be ignoring the plight of these poor sweatshop workers. I didn’t know too much about it though, but it was on my mind. I shopped less in fast fashion places because of it, but, only in the last 2 years have I completely quit fast fashion. I decided to become a minimalist 2 years ago and with that I learned a lot about the environmental impacts of clothes production, the vast amount of waste and pollution it produces, and the working conditions of the garment workers. 

The factory collapse in Bangladesh that made headlines should have caused a worldwide shift to ethical fashion but profits of the big companies actually went UP that year! Shocking. I would recommend anyone interested to watch the documentary “The True Cost” – it’s extremely interesting. Since I quit fast fashion I’ve obviously still had to buy clothes. My budget hasn’t exactly allowed for me to buy better quality and sustainably-made clothes because they tend to be more expensive, so, I tend to focus on second hand clothes. This is even better though because it reduces waste and doesn’t use any resources. I love using Depop and Ebay, and I absolutely love vintage shops like Nine Crows in Dublin. Etsy is a great place to get handmade and vintage items as well. My proudest purchases, though, have to be the ones I’ve found in local charity shops. It literally is a case of “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”.

For people out there who are looking to start their own blog, what advice would you give them?

Being Irish I think we have a tendency to get embarrassed about promoting ourselves or speaking up online. There’s something about our culture that makes it slightly weird for us to see someone doing their own thing and being different in public/online. I’ll admit, even I find it strange sometimes if I see someone I know doing something a bit “different” online. It’s in our nature and I’ve no idea why. That said though – this is changing fast! One good thing about globalisation is that some of our very Irish ways are dissipating and more people are deciding to do what they want and put themselves out there. So, I would say to anyone who feels like they want to speak out through a blog or share anything through a blog, try not to be embarrassed or scared about what the ones down the road will think of you! If you have a good message to share people will benefit from it. I was terrified about putting myself out there – especially on YouTube – but I felt the message was too important not to share. Some people definitely thought I was mad, but I’ve had more people tell me that they’ve changed because of my blog/channel, or thank me for sharing what I’ve shared. So, you could be shocked at the impact you could have!

What is your proudest moment to date?

The Irish language is a big passion of mine and I love to promote it, so, when I was invited to be on Róisín on TG4 I felt like that was a big moment for me. Speaking Irish, working with the media, and promoting veganism all in one day – it definitely was one of the highlights! I also loved being in my local paper, The Donegal News, last year, as I grew up reading this paper every Thursday night when my Dad would bring it home. Plus, the title of the piece was “Champion of health” – that was cool! But, one of the best things that has happened since I started trying to spread this message was my family, one by one, ditching meat. My mum is vegetarian, my dad is vegetarian (sometimes pescatarian) and my younger brother is also vegetarian. Having that burden of worry off my shoulders is a great thing – now I only need to worry about my youngest brother whose diet gives me anxiety!

 Have you any particular goals for the future?

Get my youngest brother to go vegan! It’d do wonders for all his football injuries…No but really, I’d love to be able to work full-time on helping people go vegan. I’d love to take people shopping to Dunnes or Tesco and teach them all about what they can eat and what recipes they can make for their families. I find blogging and making YouTube videos really enjoyable so it’d be great to somehow be able to do it full-time. I’d love for veganism to grow massively in Ireland over the next 5 years and I’d really love to have some part in it.

To find out more about Amy’s blogs, recipes and vlogs, follow her below on the following links:

www.greenleafygael.com

@greenleafygael

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[cassidy-malta]

March 22: Q & A

Holy buckets, based on the amount of food questions I’ve gotten, I will make an entire post dedicated to food in the very near future. Here’s some of my favorite questions! 

(This week we went to a Mexican restaurant where Hayes, Kameron, and I bought 3 burgers, 2 tacos, a nachos plate, a pizza, and a piece of cake. When Luther is paying, we go all in.)

“I have a question: how are you affording all this stuff?” -Tracy Jaquette

This is a very very very valid question. To be completely honest, I’m mainly using my mom and dad’s credit card and they get mailed the bill (ha- only half joking!). My family and I have been saving for this experience pretty much my entire life, as going abroad has never been a “maybe/maybe not” for me but a “definitely- I want that” type of deal. In addition to saving, my extended family have been chipping in by helping to purchase little travel-needs, weekend excursions off the island, and my flights to and from America. Luther supports me greatly in that all of my scholarships transferred over with me so the comprehensive program fee is my remaining Luther tuition (after financial aid is added) + $1000 dollars (I’m on my own for my flights and spending money beyond a $70 weekly food stipend Luther gives me). Finally, I’ve been stupidly frugal while here. To fly around Europe is cheap (I spent about 30 euro to get to Greece and back), when traveling I stay in hostels (dorm-like hotels with many beds and few amenities) and pack many of my meals/make my meals in the flats. I always ask for student discounts and kids meals when I’m out. Every euro counts! 

“Quality of the classes.  I get that there’s in class and out of class education going on.  It sounds as though the benefits are split 85:15 with out of class being the most helpful.” -Steve Woods

“Is the percentage of religious participation as low as the rest of Europe?” -Steve Woods

“Is there much of an environmental ethic?  Parks, clean waters, no litter, etc.  (Greece was horrible for litter and polluted harbors.)” -Steve Woods

These questions are actually all related! Out of class time is certainly beneficial but I would say in terms of education, it’s more of a 60/40 split (out of class is still more beneficial, but not that much of a split). I’m taking two courses on Catholicism (For those in Malta who do practice religion, they’re more than likely Catholic. With a cultural history and identity so ingrained with Catholicism, it helps to have a basic understanding of the religion), a Maltese contemporary ethics class (we examine ethical issues facing the country including religious issues, welfare systems, healthcare, immigration, business, diversity, etc...), and finally a history course (we literally started with the cavemen and are currently working our way through the medieval period). So because of these classes, I am better able to understand the layout of the island, the people, and I am able to answer your other questions! 

According to our ethics course, in the 70′s church attendance was at 84%, and steadily decreased to 43% by the early 2000′s. This is due to a political shift in the 1970′s that pretty much is the equivalent to our “Separation of Church and State”. After a long staunchly Catholic history, the passage of laws (decriminalisation of homosexuality & adultery, laws based on gender, divorce, lgbtq, womens rights, etc) by a non-Catholic government in addition to how interconnected Malta has become with the rest of the world (which consequently has made people more outspoken and opinionated on issues of morality) are said to be the main reasons that Maltese church attendance has dropped. 

In terms of environmental ethics, before Malta’s 2004 entrance to the European Union, it had outlawed plastic bottles and established an extensive glass recycling program. However when joining the EU, they had to abandon their anti-plastic ways for legal reasons but many of the products on the island still come in recyclable glass bottles. The streets are messy but that could just be attributed to the waste removal system as well as the fact that this is a city. Products on the shelves are marked if they’re bio-friendly. Compared to other cities, it seems to really be progressive overall. It’s certainly not perfect and there is a hefty amount of trash on the streets. 

“Any weird animal encounters?” -Steve Woods

I took my shoes off last night to move a big crab. 

(I almost lost a toe to this big guy because I took my shoes off. What this picture doesn’t show is my peers yelling at me telling me to run away as the crab was in attack mode)

“What is one thing you're gonna miss most when you are back in the States?” -Nam Nguyen

“If you could never go back, what would you miss the most?” -Natalie Hackbarth

This was a tough question to answer that had me stumped but I’ve decided that I can not capture with words what it is that I am going to miss most. I am simply going to miss Malta. If I had to choose, I will miss the walking the most. I am definitely going to miss the necessity of walking everywhere, the weather that allows the walking, the people, families, and dogs I see when I’m walking, and the adventures I embark on each time I walk out of the flat door. The large lots and spread out cities in America do not compare to the tightly condensed and claustrophobic atmosphere I have learned to love here in Malta. Not having Walmart or Target at my fingertips can be frustrating, but the adventures I’ve gone on in search of a single item are valuable and exciting and I certainly will miss that part of Malta. 

“Where is Gort?” -Joshua Lutz

Here, enjoying the sunshine.

(Gort, my trusty sloth aquired on my Mission Trips summer job is here with me in Malta, enjoying the wine culture as much as I am!)

“The real question: what's your average Fitbit score?” -Liesl Allen

Painfully high. 

(These are averages- my personal record while in Malta was a Sunday in February when I got 35,000 steps)

“Favorite phrase to spout in Maltese...” -Margo Nelson

“Mela”. A Maltese word that means: whatever, yes, no, maybe, sure, okay, although, alright, therefore, um, but, so, then, well (etc). We hear it between every word in Maltese conversation. 

“Have you gotten lost in Malta yet, and if so, how did you find your way? (idk i'm just a sucker for mildly embarrassing stories)” -Lexa Krug

Girl I get lost every single fricken day. The best moments are when I finally swallow my pride and admit to my companions that I have no clue where I am and they inform me that we are a block away from the flat (sigh). 

“Oddest encounter with a boy human.” -Avery Mossman “You find yourself a nice Maltan boy?” -Chris Kim

There are no men on this island. I haven’t seen a single male in 3 months. What’s a boy?

“To someone going on this trip next year, what is one useful piece of advice you would give me?” -Wyatt Anians

To take the words of StoryPeople author & Decorah artist, Brian Andreas, “Say yes. Whatever it is, say yes with your whole heart & simple as it sounds, that’s all the excuse life needs to grab you by the hands & start to dance.” Let life take your hands. Do everything you thought you never would. When someone asks you to go to the new lebanese grill, get happy hour drinks, go out for St. Patricks day, whatever- just say yes. Go with it, dude. Message me when you start packing (slippers are a must. As is stick deodorant). 

(I said “yes” to hitting the town during St. Patty’s day and ended up in the midst of a massive street party- much larger than I ever anticipated. I had so much fun though!)

“If your trip to Malta was a reality show what would your tagline be and what would your theme song be?” -Natalie Hackbarth

My tagline, “Sorry, I was napping.” 

My theme song would probably just be an array of screaming. 

“What, if anything, have you learned about yourself while there?” -Chloe Grube

I thought I was strong before this, but this has given me a whole new resilience I never knew I had. I’ve survived every one of my worst days. I know my posts make it seem like I’m having the time of my life, but there are ups and downs. Our group has quite a bit of interpersonal drama, I miss my friends and family painfully, and I haven’t gotten any decent alone time in about three months. This is an incredibly challenging and stressful adventure but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

(This is my roomie, Maddie. She’s been an amazing friend and source of comfort to me when things get rough)

“What is one highlight of the experience?” -Joan Francois

One highlight would certainly be Rome. Rome was a dream come true and exactly what I was expecting from this trip. It opened my eyes to a new culture and I got to see the things I’ve been dreaming about. Additionally, I had a lot of very very very good food. 

(just look at me cheesing in The Colosseum!!!!)

Thanks for your support and all of the awesome questions- Some remained unanswered as you guys had some really tough ones and this was already a really long post! On Friday, I embark on an adventure to England all by myself- yes, two days after a terrorist attack. Yes, I am going to London, yes, I am going to the location of the attack, and yes, I’m scared. However, I know the risk of getting hurt is small and I will not let my fears hold me back from exploring the world. That being said, send your prayers, good vibes, etc my direction as I travel. 

[gethealthy18-blog]

What is Sustainable Clothing + Is It REALLY Sustainable?

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/what-is-sustainable-clothing-is-it-really-sustainable/

What is Sustainable Clothing + Is It REALLY Sustainable?

The past few years has been a journey for me in coming to terms with my own purchasing choices and how they may or may not be particularly sustainable for both me and the planet. To be fair, I’ve never been much of a fashionista, but when I’m not in leggings I do enjoy putting myself together and have admittedly (and sometimes poorly) fallen for the latest fashion trend. But research is also now showing that textiles and footwear account for a substantial amount of carbon emissions and our need to have the latest pair of pants or our fifth grey sweater (someone please explain why I have more than 1 of these?!) is impacting our planet. It’s time we start talking about sustainable clothing and what really makes our fashion sustainable.

Sustainability seems to be the latest trending word. Which is great because awareness is key in seeing any change, but I also worry that people aren’t understanding the full picture. Before diving into what sustainable clothing really is, I wanted to have a transparent conversation about fast fashion and what we need to be aware of when it comes to being more sustainable with our clothing choices.

What is Fast Fashion?

We can’t have a conversation around sustainable fashion without discussing fast fashion.

Ready for me to get on my soapbox? If you’ve been an avid reader of the blog you know how important protecting our environment is to me. I advocate for organics, I shared how to make your kitchen more sustainable and I love sharing tips for living sustainably. If you care about this planet, you have to care about the fashion industry. The fashion industry is one of the major polluting industries in the world.

Fast fashion is extremely harmful to the environment. Their goal is to produce as much product as possible, as quickly as possible. They chase fashion trends and pump out product to the consumer, not caring if they overproduce too much or if the products themselves are crappy. Trends pass through this country quickly and a lot of this clothing ends up at a thrift store or in the trash. The apparel and footwear industries together accounted for more than 8 percent of global climate impacts — the equivalent of 3,990 million metric tons of carbon dioxide in 2016, according to a report from Quantis. Total greenhouse gas emissions related to textiles production are equal to 1.2 billion tons annually. This is not something we can ignore.

There are a few big issues with fast fashion: 1. the emissions of clothing production, 2. the emissions from discarded items that end up in landfills and 3. poor working conditions and pay <–not a sustainability issue but a human issue. There are many other issues but these are the ones I’m going to focus on.

What makes a clothing brand sustainable?

To be fair, there is yet to be a full solution that offers no negative impact of clothing production. Really it’s about mitigating these effects. In my opinion, sustainability looks at the brand as a whole.

1. The actual clothing is made from environmentally friendly materials

2. the company is aware of their environmental impact i.e. water usage, chemical usage, waste byproducts, natural fibers.

3. Instead of jumping on the latest trends and overproducing their products, these companies are thoughtful about what and how much they’re producing

Sustainable clothing can also be referred to as slow fashion. They use high-quality, lasting products made using sustainable, eco-friendly practices.

That being said, small changes are important so even though a company like Madewell isn’t a sustainable clothing brand, they do have a denim donation program where donated denim is to be used as insulation in houses for Habitat for Humanity. To my knowledge companies like Madewell and J Crew are in the process of becoming Fair Trade Certified (a step in the right direction) and even H&M now has some ethical clothing items and has committed to sustainable measures. This includes becoming 100% ‘climate positive’ by 2040 and a commitment to making the first two tiers of its supply chain climate neutral by 2030. It has also pledged to use 100% recycled or sustainable materials by 2030. Though 10-20 years is a long time…But like I said, we need to applaud brands that are taking steps in the right direction.

Though not perfect, there are certain certifications and designations that indicate a clothing brand is trying to be more sustainable:

1. B. Corp – Not exclusively sustainability focused but B.Corp certification covers the company’s entire operation and measures the positive impact of the company in areas of governance, workers, community, the environment.

2. Fair Trade – mainly about fair wages and economic equality, Fair Trade does have certain standards that work to keep the planet healthy by prohibiting the most harmful chemicals and taking measures to protect natural resources.

3. Organic – Many textiles use cotton which is where organically grown cotton is a far more sustainable clothing option

4. Bluesign Approved – A new designation for environmental health and safety in the manufacturing of textiles. It provides independent auditing of textile mills, examining manufacturing processes from raw materials and energy inputs to water and air emissions outputs.I

So why is sustainable clothing so expensive?

I want to reframe this a little bit… Sure on the surface, sustainable fashion brands are going to be more expensive than Forever 21 or Old Navy but how long do your cheap clothing items last?! Like I said earlier, slow fashion is using high-quality fabrics and creating products that last. Having said that, slow fashion tends to be more expensive. There are many reasons for this including:

1. Cost of production is higher

2. Paying ethical wages to employees is more expensive

3. Sustainable materials are pricey

Now add all these things together and of course sustainable fashion is more expensive. Brands producing their products using clean energy, paying fair wages with safe working conditions and using reusable or sustainable materials are investing a lot more in the production of their goods. My suggestion? View clothing pieces are investments. Buy less but know you are buying higher quality and doing good by the planet.

My Favorite Sustainable Fashion Brands

This section deserves a post of its own which is why I’m sharing my top sustainable clothing brands in this post.

Like this post? Here are a few others you might enjoy:

All about Sustainable Clothing with Lee Vosburgh from Style Bee (Podcast) How to Create a Capsule Wardrobe Does Organic Really Matter?

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Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger. The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

James Dennis Casey IV

James D. Casey IV is a southern poet with roots in Louisiana & Mississippi. He currently resides in Illinois with his Beautiful Muse, their retarded dog, and two black cats. Mr. Casey has authored five books of poetry, and his most recent title is Isomorphic released September 24, 2018, through Cajun Mutt Press. His work has also been published extensively by literary magazines and small press venues including Outlaw Poetry, Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, Dope Fiend Daily, Under The Bleachers, Zombie Logic Review, Horror Sleaze Trash, Pink Litter, Spillwords Press, and several others internationally. Mr. Casey mainly spends his days writing poetry, but also enjoys practicing magick, and cooking Cajun cuisine. Links to his books and other projects can be found here: https://­cajunpoetjames.wordpr­ess.com/

Drunk on Metaphors cajunpoetjames.wordpress.com

The Interview

What inspired you to write poetry?

It was a few things that happened to me throughout my life, then some things that hit me all in the same year. I started writing at a young age, but I didn’t begin to take it seriously until I broke my neck and back in 2009. Then my Mom passed away of cancer, and a good friend of mine overdosed and died on my living room couch. I had a lot of down time and was severely depressed so I was writing really heavily every day, and I decided to submit some work to a few places. After I had a few publications under my belt I decided to go through all the back-log of poems I had written over the span of 20 years or so and publish a book. Now here we are, five books later, and it’s the love of my life. If I didn’t have writing I don’t know where I’d be today, probably dead.

2. Who introduced you to poetry?

It was something I kind of stumbled upon on my own. My Mom was an avid reader, but she wasn’t really into poetry, though she used to take me to the local library with her when I was young. I remember running across a book by Robert Frost, and that sparked my interest. As I got older I started reading a lot of the beatnik generation poetry, and that’s what really made me want to become a writer. I love Bukowski, Ginsberg, Kerouac, Burroughs, but especially Buk. His work just resonated with me on a level nothing else could.

3. What was it about Frost that sparked your interest?

I’d never read poetry before his work, and I fell in love with it. I even wrote one titled Fire & Ice not too long ago that was a nod to his poem with the same title. He was the first rhyming poet I remember reading, and it was so musical to me, that’s what drew me in. Since then I’ve steered away from the rhyming end of the spectrum when it comes to writing, and it’s still something I enjoy now and then, but I’m not a big fan of it like I was in my youth. After reading more free verse and other unstructured styles of writing that’s where I found my true love for the craft. But it was Frost’s musical way with words that sparked my interest.

4. How would you describe the level at which Buk resonates with you?

He has a way of slipping in between sleaze and beauty with an ease and style all his own that I’ve never seen anyone else able to achieve quite like he does. I dig that. He can speak to me on so many different levels. My favorite poems by him are from two completely opposite ends of beauty and sleaze as well. One is The Roach Hotel and the other is The Laughing Heart. It’s incredible the amount of ability he has to write in such a no filter way. He can express human emotion like no other writer I’ve read, and I love him for it.

5. What is your daily writing routine?

I have two different routines when it comes to writing. Sometimes I’ll wake up early, make some coffee, put on some tunes and have a mellow day just pecking out a few poems. Other times I’ll wake up late, start drinking booze, and chain smoke while I’m violently clacking away at the keys for hours without a single break. But both methods usually produce several poems, and I do write every single day. Even on days where I feel a bit mentally blocked I’ll force myself to sit down and write. It may not be any good, but I do it just so my head doesn’t explode. There’s always so much going on up in my grey matter that it feels like it will sometimes anyway. Writing has always been a therapeutic tool for me.

6. Is therapy the only motivation to write?

No, I write for several different reasons. If I need to get something off my chest, express myself in various ways, for creative or artistic purposes, personal goals, love, hate, all forms of passion whether it’s good or bad, and I find that most times writing is the only way I can say some of the things I need or want to say in the way I intend them to be said. Poetry is language in its most distilled form, and it’s easier for me to communicate that way most of the time.

7. What Is your work ethic?

Well I do admit, writing is definitely a full-time job for me, even though not a very profitable one. Especially doing it all on my own. Self promotion can be a bitch sometimes, but I put 100% of myself into everything I do. I also run Cajun Mutt Press, initially I started it to publish my own books, and now I’m publishing other writer’s work. I put 100% into that as well, and I love doing it. We have 5 titles published so far, two of which are mine, and we just started in early August.

8. How do the writers you read when you were young influence you today?

I feel like I’m part of the old Beatnik Poetry scene, even though it’s in the past and there’s a new generation of poets at the helm. They still influence me now that I’m older. Sometimes I feel like I was born into the wrong generation because it’s so different and more complicated now. Even poetry, you can read from the old greats and see that things were different – better in a way – and now things are on a totally different level. There’s still some of the same stuff going on in poetry, but it’s magnified into a whole new creature. The writers I read in my youth, and still to this day, influenced me to concentrate on simpler things in life. I try not to get caught up in the hype of today’s bullshit and just live in the now of my own reality, because everyone’s reality is subjective. That is how they influence me today.

9. Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

There are a lot of great writers out there today, and I’m a big fan of a lot of the stuff I’ve been seeing on Facebook and other social media platforms. If I was to name them all the list would be ten feet long, but there are a few I can name from the top of my list of poets/writers that I admire. Ron Whitehead, I love his style of Kentucky Gonzo Poetry. John Patrick Robbins, not only a great outlaw writer but also a dedicated Mad Editor to more than one venue – The Rye Whiskey Review being my favorite. Ryan Quinn Flanagan, that man is one of the most prolific poets I’ve ever had the pleasure of running across. K.W. Peery, I love how he integrates blues and outlaw history into his work. There are several more, but like I said the list is ten feet long. These are just a handful of my favorite current writers that also happen to be friends of mine.

10. Why do you write?

I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I’m a writer, that’s what we do, we write. If I didn’t write every day I think my head would explode, it’s as simple yet complicated as that.

11. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”

I think you know if you’re a writer, I’ve always known. No matter how many degrees you earn or brevity you claim, good writing isn’t something you can teach. It has to be learned by personal experience. I’ve been writing for many years, but I’m no master of the craft by any means, and it gets to me when people say they are. Especially young writers with a degree from somewhere and a cocky attitude about it. Some of the best writers I know weren’t taught, they learned on their own. So to “become” a writer I guess you kind of need to already be one, and know it, in the first place.

12. Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.

I have several irons in the fire right now. Also, I just published a book that will be the first in a series I plan on doing titled Owls in Hot Rods with Pink Elephants and Dead Bats. That one came out on August 2nd, and I just published another book of poetry September 24th titled Isomorphic. They’re both through my own publishing company, Cajun Mutt Press. I’ve also published a few other writers’ work, and have a couple of books in progress from myself and various others. So I’ve been pretty busy in that department, but I love doing it. We also have a featured writer spot we do twice a week on Wednesday and Friday. If anyone reading this is interested they can look us up on Facebook for details.

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews:  James Dennis Casey IV Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.

[alexander-hamilton-tm-blog]

Hamilton character sheet

Hey! It's been eons since I've been on google plus, especially to roleplay, so I'm sort of trash at it for right now, but hell if I don't improve (⊃‿⊂) Since I'm mainly going to be roleplaying Hamilton, what am I saying I'm only going to be roleplaying Hamilton and more often than not, I'm going to be Alexander himself, I thought I might as well make a sheet for him! I have a lot of different headcanons and stuff, plus the prefered ships, so I figured I might as well just make this. (✿╹◡╹) Hope it's helpful! []PS: A lot of my headcanons are changing his appearance and nationalities to Lin's, aha[] Basics Name (& pronunciation): Alexander Hamilton (Ham-ill-ten) Date of Birth (& age): Janurary 11th, age varies Place of Birth: Charlestown, Saint Kitts and Nevis Gender: Male Species/Racial Origin: Puerto Rican Social Class/Community Status: Depends on time Language: English/French/Spanish Family/Friends/Pets/Etc: Rachel Faucette Buck (Passed mother), James A Hamilton (Father), James Hamilton (Brother), Peter Lytton (Cousin). As for friends, John Laurens, Lafayette, Hercules Mulligan, and Aaron Burr (depending on timeline). Physical Description Height: 5'5 Weight: 115 pounds Hair: Deep brown/black, to shoulders Eyes: Dark brown Typical Clothing/Equipment: Either oversized clothing in a private, or comfortable workspace, or a suit of some kind that'll usually be found in deep green. More often than not, he'll be dressed in traditionally feminine clothing. He wears glasses, and always has a pen on him. Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: Stubborn, quick to anger, witty, intelligent, loud, fervent, bold, argumentative. Also flirtatious at times, even when the situation hardly calls for it. Charming in a way, he has a nonstop attitude, with a workaholic view on life. Skills/Talents: Writing, arguing, debating, playing piano, speaking multiple languages, and public speaking. Favourites/Likes: Writing, arguing, reading, drinking, and starting up political rivalries. Most Hated/Dislikes: Spending time out of work for things he deems necessary. Goals/Ambitions: To prove that he's more than what people think he is, and to maintain a legacy - to have a group of men to lead in the war. Strengths: Anything where literacy is a need. His work ethic, his determination. Weaknesses: How quick he is to anger or aggravation, how stubborn or mouthy he is. Fears: To die without anything to be remembered by. Spiders. Hobbies/Interests: Writing, reading, playing piano, discussing politics, drinking. Philosophy of Life: "If you stand for nothing, what'll you fall for?" "You get nothing if you wait for it." "God help and forbid me, I wanna build something that's gonna outlive me." Attitude Toward Death: He's more than willing to die, as long as he's laid something down on the table to be remembered by. Fetishes/Kinks: BDSM, bondage, belittling, insulting, degrading, praise, approval. He's a masochist who likes to be feminized. He's a sub bottom - I will never play him as a dom or top. Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience: Probably being shot or going a week without sleeping - depends. Sexual Preference/Experience/Values: He's a gay sub/bottom. Kinks are listed above. Like I said before, I'll never play him as a dom/top. Education/Special Training: He received individual tutoring and classes in a private school when young, before entering King's college as a private student. Place/Type of Residence: Depends on roleplay, usually a house. Work-related Skills: Writing, public speaking, argumentative skills (debatable for being work related), and being trilingual Past Occupations: Lawyer, Military Leader, Economist, Journalist, Political Scientist, Government Official - also depends on roleplay Additional Notes Ships: Hamburr, Jamilton, Lams (depends), basically any male ship that hamilton could possibly be involved with usually because it depends. Like, I've had a roleplay where he was with,, everyone,,, and it worked because of how my partner wrote them! A lot of what I write depends on the roleplay, so take that with a grain of salt. Writing style: I can be lit, semi-lit, advanced, really anything; though I prefer going full detail and in-depth with what I write. More often than not, I bounce off of my partner's writing style. The one thing I'll refuse to do is one-liners, and I'd prefer if my partners don't do one-liners, either. Along with that, I don't do group roleplays. I only do one on one.

[alexatwood86]

Housing as Healthcare and Substance Use Treatment

Is Zero Tolerance Working for Drug Users?

Having a roof over your head is one of life’s most fundamental necessities; yet it eludes so many people in our society. Most of us who live in large American cities see homeless individuals on a daily and hourly basis.

Substance use is only one of many contributing factors to homelessness, but it is a substantial obstacle in securing and maintaining housing. Not only can substance use lead individuals to make poor decisions that can jeopardize their living situation, but larger systems of authority can restrict a substance user’s ability to obtain and retain housing. In fact, most transitional housing and sober living apartments have strict zero tolerance policies about substance use. This forces many substance users, especially those with chronic and persistent mental illness, to return back to the street after a single relapse.

I believe abstinence-based housing is inconsistent with the disease model of addiction, a concept that is – ironically – propagated within the very same programs. Basically, we have two systems when it comes to housing;

Treatment First, which focuses on laying a foundation of sobriety and mental health compliance.

Housing First, which focuses on maintaining housing.

In this article, I will discuss my experience with both housing paradigms. Then, we take a look a why I believe that Housing First is not only effective in treating substance use, but is also the only ethical on humane approach. Finally, I invite your questions or comments about the issue of drug use and housing.

We want to hear from you! Your comments are welcomed at the end. We’ll try to respond to each piece of feedback with a personal response.

Treatment First

Treatment First operates on a continuum of care that requires chronically homeless individuals (who are often mentally ill with Substance Use Disorders) to meet nearly impossible expectations. In fact, many find this system almost impossible to navigate. What are its core requirements?

The treatment continuum usually starts with a detoxification program or a shelter. If the client stays in the shelter, they could then move on to residential treatment program where they must maintain mental health and substance use compliance in hopes of finding more permanent housing. Only when all these stages of treatment are completed is the individual rewarded with housing. If the individual relapses at any stage of treatment, he must then go back to the first stage and try again from the beginning.

Sober Living Environments (SLEs) as “Treatment First” Examples

I spent seven years working for a nonprofit that operated a detox and three sober living housing buildings on the same property. Before I rant about the problems with abstinent-only housing, I want to say that this program was expertly managed in a loving and professional way; it was a godsend to the people who came through the program. As far as SLEs are concerned, the program I worked for was superior for many reasons; mainly that we were a nonprofit and had beyond reasonable rent, as opposed to most sober living that charge exorbitant prices.

The issues that I have are not with the way individual programs are run (although there are many that I take issue with), but, rather, with the ideological clash of the disease model and abstinence-based treatment. This program is the perfect example of a Treatment First program. We bookended the continuum of Treatment First by offering detox first, with a glimpse of the housing they could be rewarded with if they played by the rules.

Being a county funded detox, many of our clients were homeless and lived on the street. Some detox clients were hand selected as potential sober living residents; they were asked directly if they were interested in housing. But it took more than just being picked, they then had to “prove” themselves as worthy and earn their place in the community.

The process began when the client entered detox. To prove that they were serious about becoming a permanent resident, they would have to go to residential treatment for an extended period of two months to one year. Once they completed the residential program, they could come back and receive a sober living residence. However, finding residential treatment was not always immediate and often required the client to go live at the local shelter and wait for a bed at a residential treatment center, which could also take a couple of months. If the client used a substance at any time in this continuum, they had to go back to square one, detox, and hope to start the process over again.

The Contradiction: Treatment First and The Disease Model

Countless times, I would see clients jump through all the necessary hoops and return to us like the prodigal son. However, rejoicing was short lived; forgiveness was nonexistent. Sometimes, it only took a couple of days before a drug test would be the impetus of a key being collected and property being thrown in a trash bags for the former resident to carry toward an unknown fate.

Is this how we treat people who have a disease? By punishing them for having the very symptoms that reflect the disorder?

The treatment for addiction is basically a process of convincing the afflicted that they have the disease of addiction. This disease is primary, and cannot be attributed to anything other than genetics and bad luck. The symptoms of the disease are the loss of choice and control of using drugs. Many believe that addiction is a disease , a concept that takes the maintenance of sobriety out of the client’s control. The disease theory remains constant, and unwavering, even while we rip away a sick person’s humanity when the client proves our hypothesis correct by using drugs.

Just imagine if an asthma clinic kicked out a patient for having a cough.

The Morals of The Disease Model

The reason that there is so much ambiguousness in the treatment of substance users is because the disease model of addiction cannot be separated from the “moral weakness” perspective. This is because:

The medical diagnosis of Substance Use Disorder relies on observing human behavior as a symptom of the disease.

Behavior is thought to be rational and voluntary.

Therefore, drug using behaviors are perceived to be controlled by values and thoughts.

Addiction is framed as both a lack of control and a lack of motivation. Since both motivation and behavior are connected to morals and values, it is impossible to separate the medical model and the moral model, although they claim to be two distinct schools of thought.

Housing First

Housing First’s focus on harm reduction, takes away some of the moral judgment and stigma of using substances, by viewing substance use as a relationship with substances and not a disease.

Housing First is a housing model that was first developed by Pathways to Housing, Inc. in New York City. What separated this model from traditional residential treatment and housing was that, unlike the mainstream of housing in the country, Pathways didn’t have a sobriety requirement for admission to obtain and maintain housing. Basically, Housing First is where chronically homeless individuals are given housing as the first intervention of services. Instead of having to earn housing through maintaining treatment expectations, residents are given housing first and then other interventions are then made if the resident chooses to do so.

Housing First and Social Work

Social workers, or support services, play a key role in carrying the legacy and practice of Housing First. Case managers maintain a case load of residents who are in their Housing First program. Housing First has been implemented in two ways:

Via scattered sites known as assertive community treatment (ACT).

Via on-site support known as congregate housing (CONG).

ACT is the longest practice of Housing First, wherein clients are put in housing apartments in various market rate buildings. Then, support services checks in with them in their apartment or at the social service office. The newer implementation, CONG, has Housing First residents live in the same building and support services work in the same building as their clients.

My Introduction to Housing First

In my first year of graduate school, I had the good fortune to intern at a supportive housing building. This building was a CONG program; all the resident’s in the building were in the Housing First program. Coming from a Treatment First experience, I was unfamiliar with Housing First or harm reduction in general. What I saw contradicted everything that I had thought I knew about substance use and what it meant to have the disease of addiction.

In this building were several residents who maintained a relationship with substances while also being able to maintain their responsibilities to varying degrees. In my time there, I worked with individuals who used substances, and met the criteria for Substance Use Disorder. Although these residents were actively using substances, we were still able to work on other issues, such as employment or family relations, that were important to them. I began to see that substance use and other problems can be independent of each other.

According to the disease model of addiction, substance users only get worse over time, and substance use must first be addressed before any other issue can change for the better. This was not what I observed in my time in supportive housing. What I saw were individuals who had a changing, and not always harmful, relationship with substances. They were able to improve other areas of their lives without changing their substance use at all.

Harm Reduction: The Foundation of Housing First

The central role that allows Housing First to be effective in retaining chronically homeless individuals diagnosed with severe mental illness and Substance Use Disorders is the centrality of harm reduction in the clinical practice. Instead of placing moral value or pathologizing substance use, harm reduction is a client-centered practice wherein the client chooses their own goals, regardless of their relationship with substances. Harm reduction recognizes that substance use is on a continuum, and any change which reduces harm or improves quality of life is considered a positive treatment success. The harm reduction alternative that is found in Housing Fist has been shown effective in:

Improving service utilization.

Lowering public costs.

Better substance use outcomes.

Does Housing First Reduce Substance Use? And Does it Matter?

The research is mixed and unclear whether or not residents in Housing First use fewer substances than other forms of treatment. There is definitely not an increase in use, but as far as less use is concerned, the jury is still out. Some studies show that Housing First has a greater reduction on alcohol than illicit drugs; some studies show a decline in both illicit drugs and alcohol; while others show no difference at all.

What is shown across all studies is that Housing First is more effective than Treatment First in:

Significantly more days stably housed

Superior quality of life

Fewer criminal convictions

Fewer emergency room visits

And within this list lie both the problem of the Disease Model and the solution of Harm Reduction. Focusing on the frequency of substance use is missing the forest through the trees. When believing that addiction is a disease, the only measure of success is the amount of substance used, but within a harm reduction framework substance use is viewed as just one part of many parts of the human life, and success is measured by the decrease of the negative consequences that substances have on the other arenas of life as a whole.

Isn’t Quality of Life Enough?

Sociologically speaking, drug use is not a disease but rather one of many relationships that a person has with their environment. When we get so caught up in policing people’s behaviors, and bodies, we forget that the main purpose of any medical treatment is to increase quality of life. Life’s problems and substance use are independent of each other. Many people use drugs because they are homeless, not the other way around.

The Housing First paradigm shows that substance users are just as able to maintain housing as non-substance users when the variable of punitive substance use policy is removed. It is not the drugs that are creating a lower quality of life, it is us. We, and our socially constructed rules, are single handedly creating havoc in the lives of our most vulnerable citizens by punishing them for doing something that has been a part of the human experience from the beginning­––seeking the intoxicating rush of dopamine. By viewing substance use as a disease we let society off the hook, and squarely place the cause of the illness on the individual.

Unmanageability and the DSM Diagnosis

Social problems and difficulties interacting with the social environment are significantly accounted for in both past and current standards for diagnosing Substance Use Disorder. Of the eleven criterions for Substance Use Disorder listed in the DSM­-V, at least four specifically deal with the environment. If a person met only the four environmental criteria, and none of the physical symptoms, they would be diagnoses with a moderate Substance Use Disorder.

Negative social and environmental criterion make up over 1/3rd of the clinical diagnosis of having a mild, moderate, or severe Substance Use Disorder. Adjusting one’s ability to interact with their environment, directly impacts their diagnosis of having Substance Use Disorder regardless of the amount they use or their level of physical dependence. Things like homelessness, criminal arrests, and emergency room visits directly affect those four social criterions for Substance Use Disorder

And this is why Housing First is an effective treatment for Substance Use Disorder without actually altering the pattern of substance use in the individual. By treating the individual’s ability to successfully interact with their environment, not necessarily their drug use, the substance user lowers the diagnosable severity of their Substance Use Disorder without changing the amount or frequency of their substance use. Having housing is the most basic requirement to being able to maintain any resemblance to stability. Allowing substance users the same opportunities to obtain housing can actually “cure” people of mild and moderate Substance Use Disorders.

The Ironic Terminology

The irony lies in the names of the two housing paradigms; where the two modalities actually are named in a way that would be better suited in the reverse. Clinicians who work within the Treatment First continuum realize that finding housing for clients represents most of the time spent with their residents. Finding their clients a place to move onto after they have completed their current stage of treatment consumes all of the clinicians time. Conversely, Housing First clinicians can actually take the time to work on treatment goals with their clients because housing, the most difficult piece to the treatment puzzle, has already been taken care of. Placing individuals in housing as the first stage of treatment frees up time for clinicians to actually do their job and facilitate positive change in their clients’ life.

Ethics and Social Justice

Those who work in Housing First and supportive housing believe that housing is healthcare and very little can be accomplished from a mental or physical health perspective if housing is not secured. Not only is housing a basic component of well-being, it should also be a human right. The conditions that people live in when on the street are both emotionally and physically exhausting. It is inhumane to expect such a large portion of our population to live in such dire circumstances; especially when mental health and substance use create a complexity that further hinders the ability to improve one’s life.

Drug use itself is a civil rights issue. Drug laws and drug norms are socially constructed in a way that disproportionally effect different groups of people. People of color have higher rates of arrests than whites although both groups use drugs at the same rate. Our society seems to be confused on what type of stance we want to take on drugs. Clinically, it is mostly accepted that addiction is a brain disease, and therefore not something that the afflicted person can control. Knowing that a substantial portion of homeless people have this disease, Substance Use Disorder, it is bizarre that we allow a mainstream of abstinence based treatment to bar so many people who need help from finding appropriate and humane housing. Abstinence based treatment is a set up for failure for the most vulnerable.

Ecosystems Theory and Housing First: Looking at the Big Picture

For substance use to be addressed properly it needs to be looked at systematically. The Ecosystems theory prospective is the best lens to see substance use as it pertains to supportive housing. Ecosystems theory draws from both the ecological perspective and systems theory. Ecological perspective emphasizes the social environment and the ways in which the person interacts and communicates with the people in their environment. Systems theory looks at how all the individual areas (systems) of a person’s life are just small parts of the sum of an individual’s life, and how each system interacts with the other systems. This is basic social work theory that forces clinicians to look beyond the individual and see them as a complex series of interactions between people and institutions. It allows us to step back and realize that macro and mezzo systems have a direct effect on the individual.

Treatment First and traditional abstinence based treatment is just about the exact opposite of ecosystems theory. The medical model of addiction sees addiction as a primary disease that a person is born with and is not caused by any other condition. When addiction is seen as a disease of the brain, social factors such as poverty, homelessness, oppression, and the socially constructed criminal justice system have no impact on addiction, but rather are secondary to addiction. It operates on the assumption that life’s problems are a result, or symptoms of, the disease of addiction. Since problems stem from addiction, disease model theorists believe that sobriety must come before treating other life problems and once sobriety is found most of those secondary problems will take care of themselves.

Person-In-Environment

Central to Ecosystems Theory is the concept of “person in-environment” which views the human experience as constant interactions with various surrounding systems and being dynamically involved with each simultaneously. These systems could include family, friends, work, social services, and drug using peers. Housing First, and supportive housing, are the optimal clinical setting for working with “person in-environment,” because support services are working with clients in the client’s home environment. Particularly with CONG services, clinicians are able to observe their clients in their natural home environment. The home is a place where many of the client’s systems overlap and it is the most practical place to clinically assess residents.

Final Thoughts

The system that Housing First sees as the most import is, of course, housing. Housing First sees housing much like Treatment First views sobriety: that little can be accomplished until the primary problem is addressed. Supportive housing follows Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, which states that the most fundamental human needs must first be satisfied before other desires can be satisfied. Shelter, along with food, is one of those needs that are the most basic. The housing system lays the foundation for all other systems.

To expect an individual to address any type of problem area in their life without first having the most basic human need of shelter is impossible. Only once people have satisfied their need for shelter can they begin to comprehend changing their relationship to substances or mental health management. Without housing, any intervention is a setup for failure.

Referent Sources: Explorable: Ecological Systems Theory.

NCBI: Housing first improves residential stability in homeless adults with concurrent substance dependence and mental disorders. 2013.

NCBI: The role of housing: a comparison of front-line provider views in housing first and traditional programs. 2011.

The International Journal of Drug Policy: Where harm reduction meets housing first: Exploring alcohol’s role in a project-based housing first setting. 2012. Wiley Online Library: Changes in daily substance use among people experiencing homelessness and mental illness: 24-month outcomes following randomization to Housing First or usual care. 2015.

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