#Are there replacement buses? Are there fuck

[thespacelizard]

great northern go one fucking week without service being delayed and cancelled dogshit challenge level astronomically impossible

[sixaustralia]

okokok quick &j thought dump before I sleep

I got to see Murrse, Maycob & Jorcois & they were all AMAZING I love them sm

the people next to me must’ve thought I was insane when I literally squealed at the ensemble members coming onstage pre-show

I saw Lorinda!Juliet for the first time and omg. I’m obsessed, she is INCREDIBLE!!!

I’ve had Domino stuck in my head for the past week so it was nice hearing it live

I forgor about Lance’s fuckass penis cover thing 😭😭

tbh everything about Lance was hilarious I love him sm

Maycois!!!! I forgot how heartbreaking their storyline is. May thinks they’re unlovable & then Frankie loves them for who they are but is engaged to their BEST FRIEND!!! Like WHAT?!

THE MOULIN ROUGE BIT idk how many people picked up on it but I’m too obsessed with that show to NOT get the Roxanne reference 🙏

I sincerely apologise to the people sitting next to me, I was practically vibrating out of my seat as we approached It’s My Life

I cheered so loudly for Blomeo bc I’m obsessed w them (save me Blake Appelqvist. Blake Appelqvist save me.)

One More Try is so fucking beautiful, jumeo u are everything

Romeo’s fuckass French accent 😭😭 “‘Ello brozzerrrr”

Just Romeo in general. I love him. He’s so fucking pathetic. He has nothing going for him except a hot wife. And for most of the show he doesn’t even have that 😭

After Anne said “marriage doesn’t always mean a happy ending” someone in the audience said “ouch!”

During “fuckin perfect” some people in the audience silently cheered/vibed when she sang “fuckin” idk why, but good for them tbh

in conclusion I love this show so much & im so glad I saw it again

[theflyestwhiteboyofthemall]

so hard being bus pilled in a country that absolutely does not have a functional bus system actually. the country has no functional systems fuck the country isn't even functional grrrrrrr

[technicontrastron]

The ceiling is falling on my head i've been stuck at home for too long now. But i can't just go out tomorrow because technically there's a work function on wednesday i need to be up early for (yes during my time off). Except nobody checked with me on how we're getting there. Those wankers probably planned something in the smoking break and didn't bother telling me.

[makerscockandballs]

filled with the unfathomable rage of a million suns that one can only gain by travelling with Deutsche Bahn

[vogelmeister]

im having a not great week. hopefully my wrapped is good.

[thesquidgame]

Predictable

Hwang In-ho x wife!reader

Part One Part Two

Summary: Your peaceful married life is disrupted by strange symptoms.

Warnings: ANGST, money issues, hospitals, disease outbreak (MERS), disease symptoms (not MERS), poor working conditions, bad coworker, (implied) understaffed hospitals, panic, health problems, medical condition, neurological symptoms, blood, graphic depictions of medical emergency, vomiting blood, stepping on glass, extended TWs: here

Word Count: 2k~

Your apartment was dingy and small. It was on the outskirts of Seoul, and your had to take three buses to get to work. But it was alright. Your house was clean, and In-ho came home every day before you and made dinner. Your schedule was a bit more unpredictable. As an ER nurse, you tried whatever you could to get home on time, but mostly, you ended up at work until midnight. 

It was a hectic job, but you were used to it. Unlike some of your colleagues, nothing extreme had happened to you in years, the first and only time being when you were accidentally stabbed with a needle. Still, it was stressful, but In-ho made all of that anxiety go away the second you saw him.

Whenever you came home, your husband would smile, kiss you, and present the delicious dinner he had made you. You would then sit at the dinner table and talk about your days, sometimes for hours, into the early hours of the morning. Then, you would wake up and do it all over again.

Your friends remarked on how boring you and In-ho’s lives were, that there was no real excitement, and that you were just going through the motions. You couldn’t disagree more. You loved going through the motions, and waking up every day knowing what you would do, and that your husband would be waiting for you at home. The predictable joy was your paradise. In-ho would wonder too, questioning if this was what you wanted. He couldn’t imagine how someone like you would want to be with a boring policeman with a 9-5 job. You couldn’t explain it, didn’t need to, you just loved spending time with your husband.

Your wedding was small and cheap, in the worship hall of a local church on a Saturday afternoon. Your family didn’t have the money for a flight to attend, and you couldn’t afford to bring them to you. So, your family was replaced by your friends, and Jun-ho walked you down the aisle.

The reception was in your house, and you and In-ho had stayed up late the night before making food. It was the best day of your life, and your friends and family stayed up late eating in the basement of the church at folding tables.

That night, you and an In-ho made love for the first time (always a gentleman), and as you slept on his chest he promised you that he would do anything for you. Even if he couldn’t give you much in terms of nice clothes, or a nice apartment, he would make you as happy as he possibly could.

In the fifth year of your marriage, both your and In-ho’s careers became enormously stressful. The MERS outbreak in South Korea made your hospital one of the central trauma centers for victims, and In-ho received a promotion, giving him more and more hours away from home.

One day, during a long shift, you almost passed out. The hospital was loud and frantic, and you fell over in the middle of the ER, the voices and lights around you becoming a blur. You only were able to regain focus when a doctor grabbed you by your shoulders and screamed in your face, “Get the fuck up and treat your goddamn patients!” He screeched, the force of it causing spit to fly into your face.

Dazed, you got up and continued treating patients, pushing your brief pass-out back into your mind as just a brief fluke.

Over the next week, you were less and less hungry when In-ho would make food. He would look at you concerned, “Honey, is there something wrong with the food? I thought this soup was your favorite.” 

You offered a weak smile in return, “I love it In-ho, I just don’t have an appetite today. Sorry.”

He smiled back, “All alright, just let me know if I can do anything.”

Work got more hectic for both of you, and moments of exhaustion grew in you more and more, but all could likely be attributed to the stress of the job.

The nausea started a month after the exhaustion. At least once during a shift, you would have to run to a bathroom to throw up. After one especially hard day, where, with still six hours left in you had already thrown up three times, you called In-ho crying.

“In-ho.” You said through sobs.

Nothing else passed your lips, but immediately your husband broke out into a flurry of questions, “Honey, what’s wrong? Is everything okay, did something happen?” You could hear the panic in his voice as clearly as you could see it if he was standing right in front of you.

You didn’t say anything for a minute, just continued crying as you heard In-ho try to interject several times, but each time he stopped himself, waiting for you to say something.

You were just about the explain the situation when you heard someone knock on the door of the bathroom, “Nurse Hwang, are you in there?”

“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute.” You said, your hand shaking as you held the phone.

“We need you out here now, you can’t waste time in the bathroom.” Your coworker said. She was nice, and a recent graduate of college. Her inexperience and fear were evident, and while whatever problem she was facing was likely her responsibility, she would be torn to shreds by your boss if she didn’t do everything right, and you had to help her.

“In-ho, let’s talk when we get home.” You said, forcing your sobs back into your throat.

“(Y/n), wait-” You didn’t let him finish, hanging up now was already hard enough but if you let him talk longer it would only get worse.

The chaos of your shift only got worse and worse, and it was nearly 4 AM by the time you got home. You felt like death itself had risen and slapped you across the face.

In-ho was sitting at the table, his leg bouncing so hard you could feel the vibrations through the floor. “(Y/n), what’s wrong are you okay?!” He said, panic radiating off his skin as he reached up and grabbed your hands, searching his gaze up and down you.

You had called him earlier tonight, hadn’t you? But for some reason, the why just wasn’t there, “I- I called you earlier today, right?”

His brow furrowed in confusion, “yes, you were crying. I’ve been terrified for hours. What happened?”

You looked away from him, “I- I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean, you don’t remember? Honey, what’s going on?” He grabbed your shoulders, out of concern, and you winced away from him.

“Ow, that hurt.” You muttered, rubbing your shoulders.

The fear only seemed to grow in his eyes, “I didn’t grab you that hard I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, it’s just been a long day.” You gave him a half-hearted smile, “can we just go to bed?

He frowned but nodded and gently wrapped you in a hug, “Of course, let’s sleep, and tomorrow we’ll see if you can remember.”

Nothing came to you in the morning, and when you took your shirt off to change into your scrubs, you noticed purple bruises on your shoulders from where In-ho had grabbed you the night before. 

“Honey, is everything all right in there, you’ve been changing for a while?” In-ho called in from the other room.

“Yeah- yeah, everything’s okay.” You put your shirt on, not telling In-ho so as to not upset him. You knew that he hadn’t grabbed you that hard, so you didn’t want to scare him with freak bruises.

In the next month, it became harder and harder to function. Your body constantly felt exhausted and weak and sore, and you almost never had an appetite. Sleep was rare to come by due to a constant itching feeling that would spread over your body.

The world felt blurry a lot of the time, you got more confused and forgetful at work and at home, and your bosses would tear into you more and more. It was difficult to bring anything up to In-ho, his schedule became so busy that you talked less and less, and you didn’t want to stress him out with problems that were likely just caused by a stressful job.

Whenever he would notice something, and ask you what was wrong, it felt like pieces of a puzzle that wouldn’t fit when you were answering. Your responses wouldn’t quite make sense, you would say something a little bit incorrect, or wouldn’t completely answer the question. Both you and In-ho were confused by it, but neither had the time nor energy to prod further.

Everything in your life was falling apart and getting worse and worse, but you felt too dazed most of the time. You couldn’t really think about everything happening, and it all just spiraled out of control.

In-ho awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of gagging. He stumbled out of bed, wondering if you had eaten something that upset your stomach.

“(Y/n)?” He asked as he walked to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in front of you. You were crouched down on your hands and knees, a couple of feet in front of the toilet, throwing up. Throwing up near-black dark vomit.

“(Y/n)!” In-ho, in that moment, felt more terrified than he had ever before in his entire life. He ran over to you and crouched down on the ground next to you. Your entire body was shaking, and you kept throwing up. “(Y/n), what’s wrong? What’s happening? What’s going on?” He didn’t know what to do. No amount of disaster or emergency training he had received had prepared him for this moment.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. He grabbed you in his arms, and you shook against his chest as he ran out of the apartment. He didn’t put on shoes, or a jacket. A broken bottle his neighbor dropped in the hallway cut his feet as he ran to the elevator, but he didn’t feel it. You were still throwing up on his chest and his fear for you was all he could focus on.

The car ride felt like it lasted hours. You were in the passenger seat, never stopping throwing up. His feet were cut up, and his white shirt was covered in blood.

He parked right in front of the ER you worked in, not pulling into a parking space. He carried you in his arms to the front desk, and all of the staff stared in shock for a brief moment at the sight of their coworker being carried by her husband, covered in blood. Within a quarter of a second that felt like an hour, they all rushed into action.

Someone took you out of his arms and placed you on a gurney, wheeling you into a trauma bay, while blood from In-ho’s feet followed you in a trail. Your eyes opened and shut, and you focused on your husband yelling your name, “(Y/n), (Y/n)!” As his face and voice faded in and out.

Part two will be out soon!

[trustmypoison]

Joshua x teacher!reader

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘saw the seungkwan x teacher!reader one and i loved it so much 🥹 could you please do one with joshuaaaa? w the same amount of fluff plspls and thank youuuu’

A/N: not sure how many more teacher!reader things I have in me, but I thought this one turned out kind of cute.

TW/CW: kids in general, along with brief mentions of marriage and starting a family.

Joshua, who totally has heart-eyes the moment he finds out you teach kindergarten.

He was already into you before. You’re pretty, and funny, and smart no doubt. But there is something so attractive to him about someone that’s good with kids. And he hasn’t seen you with any kids yet, but he can tell by the way your eyes light up when you talk about your work that you have to be good with them. He promises himself within the first five minutes that he will not fuck this up.

Joshua, who asks a million questions about your job.

What made you want to be a teacher? Why kids so young? What’s your favorite part about it? What’s the hardest part about it? What’s the funniest thing that’s happened? You lowkey feel bad after a while because you’ve done a lot of talking about yourself on this first date, but you won’t hear him complain about it at all. He even brushes it off, saying his job is boring. You scoff good-naturedly, because how good being an international superstar be boring???

Joshua, who volunteers to help you decorate your classroom.

It’s the middle of the semester, but the kids love when you decorate for the seasons. So you plan to take down all of the summery decor and replace it with fall stuff. He stands on the ladder to move around posters and meticulously staples individual paper leaves to your bulletin board. He has to stop and coo at some of the things in your classroom too while he’s there. The cubbies for the students’ belongings are so little and low to the ground for all of them to reach it. The tables and chairs are so low that it looks ridiculous when he sits down to make you laugh. And he loves your big, blocky, kid-friendly handwriting on the board, coupled with some messy kid handwriting near the bottom of the board that you don’t erase.

Joshua, who loves to hear about your day.

He could have flown all around the world this week and he does not care to talk about it for long. He wants to know what games you played with the kids at recess or what songs you taught them to memorize things. He even wants to know what kind of little kid arguments you broke up today. You tell him it’s just business as usual, but he’s totally fascinated by all of it. What gets to him is the ease with which you seem to address any of it. You say it’s just kid stuff, but it gives him heart palpitations sometimes.

Joshua, who volunteers last minute for a field trip.

One of your parent chaperones bailed last minute and you’re scrambling to find someone else to meet the student to adult ratio required. When you look a little teary eyed that you might have to cancel the trip, he’s simply bailing on his plans for the next day to join you. You scold him because his work is important, but he’s insistent. He can miss a single day in the studio.

Joshua, who is so good with your students that it makes you heart-eyed.

He’s exceedingly patient, helping you get coats on all of the kids and taking them to the bus. He’s also incredibly gentle if he has to call one of them down for standing up in the seat on the bus. He holds up the back of the line, good-naturedly guiding stragglers back into the group. You cannot believe he went on and on about how good you are with kids when he’s just like this with zero training. After all the kids are picked up or on the buses at the end of the day, he gives you a confused look. ‘What? Did I do something?’ You smile and shake your head like you aren’t already planning the day you marry him. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

Joshua, who takes charge of making little gifts for your students for the holidays.

He comes over to your apartment with a box piled high with little gift bags. You’re confused because you both already agreed not to trade presents this year. ’It’s for your students.’ You go wide-eyed, picking up one of the bags. Inside each one is a cute little handmade bracelet. Each bag is individually labeled and you have no clue how he memorized all of your students names in just six months. ‘I had to make some assumptions about what size each needed to be, but I have some extras if they don’t work.’ Your jaw is on the floor. ‘Where did you come from?’ Joshua turns a little shy because he doesn’t really know. He’s been so invested in this relationship from day one that he kind of forgets what came before it.

Joshua, who has a ring ready for when the time is right.

He knows it’s kind of early, but he knows a good fit when he finds it. He doesn’t know how you feel about having your own kids, but he finds it doesn’t matter much to him. Not when he knows that you take care of 20+ five year olds day in and day out. He thinks it’s a testament to how good of a person you are. Kids seem to know when you wear a mask, but they love you. He does too, he just has to find the right time to say it.

[telperinquaar]

Hi, you recently reblogged a post about how Nanowrimo is not disallowing or disavowing AI because doing so is classist and ablist and in your tags suggested that you consider this "yikes."

Honestly, it kind of hurt my feelings as a person with a disability who occasionally uses AI as a disability aid. Let me explain.

I use AI frequently for word recall. I have ADHD- a lot of people do. Many people with ADHD, including myself, struggle with word recall. It can be extremely bad, but how bad it is day to day is variable, and not all people with ADHD struggle with this to the same degree. When my word recall is really bad, NLP's (Natural Language Processors) are practically tailor-made to find that exact word I need. As an example, I used AI to remind me just now about the term "Natural Language Processor," which, along with the term "machine learning," is frankly just a better description than AI for these tools. But I will continue using the term AI for convenience.

The fact that people do not imagine this sort of use in conjunction with AI IS a form of ablism. They immediately assume all use is infringing. If they actually talked to people with disabilities (who do use AI), they would discover these other uses, and perhaps the conversation could be elevated to a more constructive state instead of trying to make everyone who uses a tool feel "yikes" for using it. Many of us are extremely conscientious and well informed of the issues involved.

Consider that if someone has said something is ablist (or classist or any other -ist,) they just might have a point and that you should try to discover what that point is before assuming that it's fake. Don't take everything at face value, but don't dismiss it out of hand either. Listen to people who have differing opinions and try to get the nuances of the conversation.

When people think about AI being used in conjunction with writing and visual art, they only consider the egregious uses - which makes sense, as that is how AI is advertised; as a magic technology that solves ALL problems. But those egregious uses are not the only use of these tools. AI does not have to be a magic wand that replaces the creative process of an artist. I have given one example of such a use above, but I could list many more.

If your "yikes" is in regard to the ecological impact - I hope that the overzealous implementation of AI into everything takes the ecological facts into account and that is ammealorated, but please do not throw people with disabilities under the bus while trying to make buses less polluting.

//The only use of AI in this post was to help me remember the word Natural Language Processor - I know my tone is pretty formal and sometimes comes across as AI, but it's not.

Jeezly fucking crow, dude. It was a single-word comment. I hope you sent this to literally everyone else who commented in a similar manner.

I use AI frequently for word recall. I have ADHD- a lot of people do. Many people with ADHD, including myself, struggle with word recall. It can be extremely bad, but how bad it is day to day is variable, and not all people with ADHD struggle with this to the same degree. When my word recall is really bad, NLP's (Natural Language Processors) are practically tailor-made to find that exact word I need. As an example, I used AI to remind me just now about the term "Natural Language Processor," which, along with the term "machine learning," is frankly just a better description than AI for these tools. But I will continue using the term AI for convenience.

I also have ADHD. I also struggle with word recall. You know what I do? I google things. I use dictionary and thesaurus websites. I use OneLook, which suggests associated words, similar words, and similar concepts.

Not everyone who uses AI is stealing from artists, no, but it's well known that AI does scan people's art--almost always without their consent--to generate pieces. It's also been seen around places like AO3, scraping fics from unlocked accounts.

Personally, I dislike the implication that disabled (or poor--that's what "classist" means here) people are incapable of writing without an AI generating something for them. I've written 100k+ words on AO3, and all of them are mine. I've talked to friends, I've written parallel fics, I've rewritten my own stories, but those words are mine. I wrote them. A disabled person. To imply that I need AI to do that pisses me off.

And believe it or not, my primary dislike of AI isn't ableist or classsist or whatever. (I'm not even against all forms of AI! I understand that in some fields, analyitical AI is quite helpful--I've read that it's great at finding breast cancer, for example.) My primary beef with AI, especially generative AI like ChatGPT is the fact that:

It will just lie to you. It will just make up things. There are people who have used it in court cases (it didn't work), and there are people using it to write books--everything from cookbooks to mushroom identification guides. (Guess what amateurs need expert help with when they're starting out? You know, so they don't die?) It's also happened with animal care guides. AI doesn't need to be used in a generative context at all.

There is also a massive environmental impact that I rarely, if ever, see talked about.

[girlbloggersfolly]

DELTA DAWN - part 1 // Camp Woodrow

Pairing: camp counsellour!joel miller x camp lifeguard!afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (not yet but it will be) 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: (1979 summer camp AU) After making a spontaneous trip northwest to a summer camp in need of staff with a few new friends, you find not everyone is so welcoming.

Chapter warnings: age gap (20 + 49), a whole lot of me waffling, extreme slow burn enemies to lovers ect ect ect, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, complicated relationship (not joel and reader.. yet), perv!reader, f!masturbation. absolutely NO use of y/n, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, and she can swim duh. This chapter is very tame, basically, just setting it up.

a/n: ok wow this is exciting, first chapter done and i'm pretty happy with it. Just a warning, i really mean it when I say slow burn, there will be no fluffing around at alllllll for a couple chapters, i'm not sure where i'm taking this or how long it will be, i'm thinking maybe 4? anyway enough chatter there'll be enough of that in the fic, if your reading this i love you sooooo much!!!!!!!

Camp Woodrow 1979

The Knack blasted from Sharon’s stereo, smoke plumed from Billies Joint, you’d been driving for a night or so. Mid-morning sun streamed through the windows, it was a brackish heat you had been getting all too used to. You’d met Billy, Sharon and Abel in Salt lake city at a gig, and now you were pleasantly stuck with them for the rest of summer. The drive from Salt lake city to Oregon was long, even longer in Sharon’s dads Buick which hadn’t seen the inside of a mechanic’s since 71’. The three of them had been working at Camp Woodrow each summer since they were, what was it? 15? Somehow they’d managed to persuade you to pack up your whole new life of groupie love and tour buses into a beat up Buick, taking the scenic route up to Oregon for a long, stagnant summer of campfires and controlled water sports, organised fun. You’d made the mistake of mentioning to Sharon you had lifeguard training; there and then it’d been decided you’d be the perfect replacement for their good friend Woody, who usually took the role of Lifeguard in camp, he was off in L.A, having made a name for himself in adult film. It was a long story you’d heard each salacious detail of. 

It’d been a total coincidence, meeting the three of them. You’d let some girlfriends drag you to a gig in a shifty basement venue (Billies band’s place (who weren’t nearly the legendary group they thought they were)) and had been… charmed by Billy… You’d fucked, he was just okay at it but he was easy on the eyes, knew a good dealer and it was cool to tell people you were fucking a hotshot ‘rock star’, even if he was less than generous in the bedroom. Soon you were fast friends with the whole group of them, groupies and all. So here you were, head in Billies lap, high off the broken sun on your face and second hand smoke, his hand drumming along to Doug Fieger’s voice on your bare stomach. You’d hitched a ride in Sharon’s dad’s car with her, Billy and her ‘it's complicated’ Abel.

“Are we there yet?”

Billy coughed through a cloud of smoke, yellow tinted sunglasses making him look all the pretentious rocker he wished he was. 

“Can you open a fucking window, do you know how hard it is to get that smell out these seats?”

Sharon said through agonising chomps of that wad of gum she’d had in her mouth since they’d driven through Boise. Billy cranked open the window. The hideous thrum of wind on the highway beating through the static air of the car. Your hair whipped around furiously and you sat up, stirred from the holy-half-high state. 

“Happy?” Billy said over the obnoxious sound of the engine and the wind. Sharon scoffed loudly over the sound. “I asked when are we going to fucking be there.” He spluttered yet again over his joint, smirking at you while he complained like a child to a very frustrated Sharon. “It’s just down the next turn,” He said, looking at the map in Abel’s lap, he was more focused on the magazine in his hands, you peaked over his shoulder, a sexy nun, the big, hot pink letters ‘TEASE’ haloing the cover.  

“We’re lost,” Billy hit his head back against the window, gosh he could really be a baby sometimes, you remarked internally, increasingly tired of the whole ‘Billy’ thing, a sticky situation you’d gotten into. The car broke into complaints, Sharon, searching frantically for the inconspicuous turning and little wooden sign to Camp Woodrow, stationed at the mouth of lake Calgonie. They’d eagerly shown you their collection of polaroids from the camp in the first few hours of the drive. It was exactly as you’d imagined, a classic all-American summer camp, straight from a gnarly slasher flick. 

“Motherfucker!” Sharon retaliated triumphantly as she manoeuvred the cranky old Buick down the sharp dirt road turning Camp Woodrow 500 yards. Bullseye. The road was almost too narrow, lined with unruly trees, leading up to the clearing in the dense foliage. Billy threw his joint out the window, stretching so his shirt rode up, showing off that lean torso that he was so damn proud of, flashing you a movie star grin. You tucked your hair behind your ears, putting your chuck taylor’s back on after the drive. You knew you all stunk of weed and BO.

 The car came to a pained, screeching halt in a makeshift parking lot. There were two cars parked in the other ‘spaces’, you noticed a blue Ford F-100 pick up, covered in mud and dust, your dad had one of those. Sharon let out a suggestive moan as she stretched, slamming the door behind her so hard you thought it might fall off. You all followed after her, Billy’s arm over your shoulder proudly, as if he was the one who’d just driven for 10 hours instead of whining the entire drive. You told yourself to just get over it, the summer was too long and too hot to hold onto this strange resentment you’d been harbouring for him as of late.

“Hey Abel! Sharon!” You heard from behind you, spotting a man you hadn’t seen before. He was shorter and well built, had a groomed moustache and lustrous black curls. “Tommy!” Sharon squealed, The pair embraced. You took the chance to get acquainted with your surroundings, turning away from the reunion to the woods behind you. Beautiful, it really was. You were a city kid, a suburban mole, so any chance at kindling some kind of a relationship with nature had you jumping at the opportunity, even if it meant dealing with children - Billy included. Trees as far as you could see, as high as you could see, the air clearer than you’d known it in the weeks you’d spent with these stoners.

“You remember Billy,” Abel said to Tommy, motioning to the boy next to you, who waved in his wanton fashion; too cool to put any effort into something as taxing as a wave. “Of course,” Tommy put his hands on his hips, it was hard to forget Billy. “And who’s the lady?” Tommy grinned, sauntering over, offering his hand to shake. Before you could introduce yourself, Sharon did it for you, telling him your name, which he repeated to himself. “She’s Woody’s replacement… lifeguard.” Sharon added, showing you off like an action figure. You fiddled with the hem of your denim shorts absentmindedly. “Ahh, lifeguard,” He had a firm handshake, making polite eye contact, you knew you’d get along with him. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m super excited to get started.” You said warmly, the words falling from your mouth in something like a croak, you realised you’d hardly spoken for the entire drive, absorbed in tireless thought. Tommy clapped his hands together and turned to Abel and Sharon, then back to you and Billy.

“Well the kids are coming tomorrow, so, should give y’all time to settle,” He gave a little talk, friendly, he was what a camp manager should be, what you expected him to be. It immediately settled you, but the dead weight of Billy’s arm on your shoulders, tying you to him, was a constant jarring reminder of the mess you’d got yourself into with him.

The path to the camp staff cabins was a pretty one, scenic, you listened to your own steady breaths merging with the sounds of the forests. Billy walked ahead of you, his own suitcase swinging as him and Abel laughed their way into their own cabin. Separated by gender, convenient for yourself. Sharon lit a cigarette and grabbed the bottom bunk. You guessed it was so she could sneak Abel in and fuck him a little less conspicuously.

You sat on the top bunk, staring up at the damp ceiling, smoking a cigarette and listening to Sharon tuning a little radio, she cursed over the static.

In the evening you and Sharon decided to take a walk, leaving the boys to turn their cabin into a gas chamber, the forest stunk of them. “C’mon Lifeguard,” Sharon taunted, grinning at you through her cherry chapstick-ed lips. You took it all in, the forest, which opened up to Lake Calgonie.

“Holy shit,” You breathed as you stepped out onto the dock, the sun was setting over the trees, casting a vibrant orange hue over the lake. Your trance was broken by the click of Sharon’s Polaroid camera, the whir of the picture being processed. “It’s something, huh?” She nodded, somewhat proud of the landscape. “This is-” You started, unsure of the right word for how you felt, a little stoned from earlier, weary from the drive, muscles aching, brain heaving from the whole Billy thing, in complete awe of the situation you were in, impossibly, fucking happy. “Is it deep?” You turned to her, realising she was taking a picture of you. Click, Whirrrrr.

She fanned the two polaroids for a bit, tucking them in her bra, a trick she’d giggled about a few weeks ago. “Yeah, gets pretty deep in the middle,” She shrugged, more absorbed in the development of the polaroids she’d taken of you. She noticed the curious, awe-struck look on your face.

By the time you and Sharon returned to the camp the fire was blazing, crackling pleasantly, Billy, Abel, Tommy and an older lady. “Now, I know it wasn’t you two dumbasses who got the fire started,” Sharon landed the playful jab as she planted herself on Abel's lap, announcing her arrival the way she always did, her laugh echoing through the forest. Billy shuffled up to make space for you on the log, his arm around you in seconds, you were sure that that fucking arm would break your damn shoulder soon from how much he rested there. 

“Hey where’s Joel?” Billy asked suddenly. You were only half listening, now the fully developed polaroids were being flashed at you; it was you looking over your shoulder in candid surprise, engulfed in the flashlight and the rich sunset from behind, like a deer in the headlights. “Well what’s he doing in his cabin?” Billy said loudly with a cocky chuckle.

You tuned him out, letting your brain run away with itself, watching as the older woman examined the polaroid that Sharon was passing around for admiration. “Beautiful ain’t she,” Sharon quipped, shooting you a playful wink as she peered over the older woman’s shoulder at your picture. Tommy poked at the fire, blowing at it expertly, so this was the country man. “Oh, this is Lou by the way,” Tommy nodded towards the bright eyed older woman, “She’s one of our senior camp leaders, and our chef,” He said with a tight smile towards you, clearly the introduction was pointed. It was dark now, the faces of your friends and acquaintances lit up by firelight, illuminated in the orange. 

“Hey I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You whispered to Billy, waiting for him to direct you. “It's between the weird tree, with all the branches, remember? and the bigger Cabins, showers there too.”

It was the first time you’d been alone for a couple days. As much as you were charmed by your fast friends, a long lonesome walk to the john was very much needed. Abel’s lighter, you'd borrowed one night from his coat pocket, clicked to life in your hand, the small flame lapping at the cherry end of your cigarette as it hung between your lips. You walked slowly to prolong your time alone, admiring the trees, listening to the forest by night and the gentle padding of your sneakers across the dirt.

After relieving yourself in the makeshift hut you wondered if you could even call a ‘bathroom’, you wandered as slowly as possible down the path, blowing plumes of smoke into the still night, feeling the trees sigh around you. You imagined what your parents were doing right now, sitting in their condo in Cedar city, probably off to bed. You rarely thought of them anymore. 

You were brought to a standstill by one of the larger cabins, you took a drag of your cigarette and stood watching the window. You suddenly felt like a complete peeping tom; a man appeared in the window, not a man, a wife-beater clad god. He paced up to the edge of the room, giving you time to properly take him in; a quality of moustache you’d only seen in porn flicks, a soft, yet muscular torso, paired with arms that looked like they could snap Billy in two. You let the cover of nightfall mask the growing warmth on your cheeks. He stretched, wife beater riding up to reveal the unruly outline of a happy trail. Jesus christ. He was older, that was obvious enough, late forties? early fifties? You tucked your lips into a thin line, gazing at him, feeling like one of the fucking creeps you so often complained about and really not caring.

“Who is that guy?” You mused to Sharon back in the cabin, as she went through her skincare regiment in the janky little mirror, your limbs draped down from the top bunk like a fancy throw rug. “What guy?” She said, the tube of moisturiser taking up her full attention. “I ran into this guy when I went to pee? Moustache, in his forties, maybe fifties?.” You were like a teenager again, batting your eyelashes up at the ceiling. “Joel?” She cooed, turning to face you abruptly, clearly she had the same idea, you’d pulled her attention now. “You met Joel?” She seemed very impressed by this, but met was a strong word, you’d watched him in his cabin for a minute or so. You suddenly felt like this was something you shouldn’t have done, for whatever reason, maybe it was that sultry look in her eye all of a sudden, the accusatory tone in her pouty mouth. “Mhmm” You hummed warily, sitting up to look down at her from the top bunk. She scoffed, massaging her skin “Joel’s Tommy’s big brother, he runs the camp with him, total hunk right?” She teased. It made sense, Joel had looked like his brother, taller you thought, a little rougher around the edges. “How come he wasn’t at the fire?” You pictured him in his cabin, all alone. You now remembered Billy asking for him earlier. “He’s not the biggest fan of um, Billy and Abel, caught them sneaking in these girls, y’know, getting high a couple years ago, but they were like 17, like he’s had it out for them for a while.” This story didn’t come as a surprise, you imagined a young Billy and Abel getting caught smoking pot with girls by the lake. “It’s really only thanks to Tommy that we were allowed back, Joel would’ve gotten rid of them a while ago, wouldn’t’ve been outta line to either,” Sharon rambled on, all you could think about were those broad shoulders, the curve of his aquiline nose, it was a perverted stereotype you didn’t mind filling, young girl absolutely taken by an older man she most definitely could not have. “It’s a shame, he’s so fucking hot,” Sharon said as she pursed her lips, applying a healthy amount of lip balm to her pout. 

Camp LIFEGUARD t-shirt on, little red running shorts that covered next to nothing, chuck taylors to match, another pair of Billies big brown sunglasses on your nose, you were every bit the summer camp lifeguard. Tommy had your lifeguard certificate and paperwork, breakfast had been a breeze, it was all ready. The kids were arriving in the afternoon, so you had the morning to scope the place out alone, leaving Sharon with the guys and taking the path to the lake.

The lake was invigorating as you dipped your toe through the strangely still surface, chuck taylor’s, socks, shirt, glasses and the little metal whistle all bundled into a polite little pile on the edge of the dock. You sat down, taking a deep breath and splashing your feet gently in the water, the tiny ripples lapping back at your calves. It truly did feel like a movie to you, clad in that red, lifeguard swimsuit, hopefully catching some sun.

The morning was pleasant, if a little humid. As warm as it gets in the pacific northwest, you basked in the quiet of the lake, sliding slowly into the water. It was eerily calm after the recent chaos that had become your beloved life. 

You hadn’t swam leisurely in a while, not in a lake for even longer. You avoided the silty bottom by pushing off immediately to the middle, planning to test just how deep this lake was. It was strangely clear, you could see the bottom for a while, but as you swam out, below you it was just your flailing limbs treading in the dark blue. The hum of a boat engine broke the trance you’d been under all morning, snapping into consciousness as a small speedboat made its way around the lake, right up close to where you were treading water. You hadn’t seen it from the dock, hadn't noticed any waves.

 It came to a quick halt, splashing water in your face. “Motherfucker” You spluttered as you spat out lake water. You wiped your eyes and shielded them from the sun to see who this obnoxious, nautical asshole was. He looked down at you, crouching, silhouetted by the sun. 

“You shouldn’t be swimming without a lifeguard.” As your eyes adjusted to the bright light you identified the asshole: Joel, your blood ran colder than it already was. You could see him better now, dark glasses on, those sun kissed forearms, his slightly sun bleached STAFF t-shirt, that low, southern voice still unbearably charming, pouring over you like molasses even when he was being cold.

You realised you were staring and looked to your left at the dock. “Sorry, sir,” You started, hoping he’d appreciate the formality, “I am the lifeguard,” You grinned up at him with a saccharine bat of your eyelashes, really trying to appeal to the sexiest man you’d ever seen. He was still staring down at you in the water, sunglasses giving away nothing.

He let out a short scoff, obviously not amused. “Well what happens when you drown?” He said coldly, he did not seem at all charmed by that killer grin you flaunted so well, so you let it drop ever so slightly. Maybe you couldn’t kill him with kindness? “No lifeguard out to save your ass,” He looked down at you pointedly, still crouched beside you like you would’ve done with a kid that dived in a no dive pool. 

“I’m a strong swimmer.” You cocked your head, he scoffed again, shaking his head in casual disbelief. You were too absorbed in working out whether he looked more like Burt Reynolds or Tom Selleck. “I don't care how strong’a swimmer you are, missy,” He retaliated quickly, your lips parted in slight surprise, you weren’t used to people being even slightly unpleasant to you, thanks to your people pleasing.

“I'm sorry?” You said in the wake of your surprise.

“Look, lifeguard, I’m gonna ask you to strongly swim back to the dock right about fuckin’ now,” He stood up to his full height chuckling at you in that southern baritone, again darkened to a silhouette by the sun. You remembered how good his muscular body looked in that wife beater, his goddamn broad shoulders, then pushed the thoughts from your brain, it was fucking embarrassing, you batting your eyelashes and grinning at him like he wasn’t reprimanding you.

After hastily making your way back to camp, a complete state, your cheeks annoyingly hot with embarrassment and a sinking feeling that you could only call ‘horny’, you caught up with the rest of the guys. They’d somehow got the radio set up and were sitting around it outside the boy’s cabin like moths to a light, Buffalo Springfield was playing softly, the sound slightly subdued, broken by static every so often.

You leant on the wall beside them, trying to collect yourself after whatever the fuck that was. “How's the water temp, sugar,” Billy landed a light slap on your ass. You couldn't even look at them, afraid to see your own flushed reflection in their tinted sunglasses. “Tepid.” You heard yourself say absentmindedly. You knew two things for sure, Joel was an enigmatic pain in your ass; another to add to the ever growing list. The other, he had you wrapped around his little finger, you hated yourself for it, but hated him more. “I need a dart,” You sighed, keeping your eyes on your feet as Billy lit your cigarette.

The kids arrived intermittently once Abels casio read 15:00, hoards of them, and quickly. Bumbling groups of girls and boys, completely feral. You silently thanked god that all you'd be doing was watching them, making sure none of their little heads stayed underwater for too long, leaving the morale-boosting, camp spirit stuff to your friends and the other staff. Luckily no water sports on the first day, so you were free to lounge around without worrying about some kid dying on your watch.

You sort of wished you had a way to get your mind off the whole Joel thing, it really shouldn't have gotten to you as much as it had. But there was something about the whole thing, something simply despotic about the way he looked down at you, ordering you about, it fucking jarred you all afternoon, distracting you even from Billy’s hand on your ass.

The next time you saw Joel that day he was with a few kids, a couple suitcases tossed over his shoulders, a big grin on his face as he spoke to them, it wasn't mocking, wasn't charged with some quick-witted comment that he’d make sure really stung, it was paternal, sweet. You don’t know why you thought he’d be cold to everyone.

Damn kids didn't know how good they had it as he made them laugh, beaming with child-like enthusiasm. “Who’s that?” You asked Billy quickly, as if you didn't know full well who that was, as if he hadn't been the only thing on your frazzled, embarrassed mind. Billy scoffed, watching Joel just as intently as you had been. “That’s Joel Miller,” he said that name with more passion than you’d ever heard him put into anything, “Him and I don’t get along so well, sweets,” He nodded, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at these pet names he’d been experimenting with. You tuned out the rest of Billy’s moaning, regretting even asking him, the phrases ‘Grade A asshole’ and ‘hypocrite’ were tossed around quite senselessly. 

You needed a shower, everyone did but you weren't going to be the one to tell them that. With a crispy towel in hand and Sharon's flip flops you haphazardly made your way through the dark forest, the kids all in their cabins, staff eating round the campfire. Sharon said she'd meet you there in 20, at least one other person in this damn place knew when they needed a shower. The shower shack was something you’d have to get used to. Even in the abysmal water pressure, even with the ceiling completely caked in cobwebs occupied by creatures you really did not like the look of, the hot water was balm. It washed the smell of the lake off of you, and the dizzying BO you’d gotten used to in the last few days, cleaned off that lingering scent of pot from your skin.

You sang quietly to yourself, an Elvis song that'd been stuck in your head all week. “Your kisses lift me higher,” you scrubbed yourself with the ratty bar of soap you’d found in Sharon's wash bag, the song falling out of you at an increasingly enthusiastic pace, volume rising as you let the water infiltrate your scalp.

“I just might turn into smoke but i feel fine,” Billy was not an Elvis fan, never had been, but that didn't stop you from humming along every time he entered your brain. You heard another shower start and Sharon getting in, not for one second stopping the music falling out of you. You weren't a particularly gifted singer, but in the shower that never mattered. After singing the song countless times you turned off the water. “Just a hunk’a burnin love,” You hummed, the cool night air causing your skin to goose pimple, your nipples to harden as you wrapped your body in the itchy little towel that really didn't do much to cover you up. 

You lit a cigarette as you stepped out, deciding to wait for Sharon outside the showers as she’d instructed earlier, admiring your reflection in the clouded mirror, wiping them clear. “Hurry up, fuckin’ cow,” You chuckled, raising your voice over the sound of the shower that was still going. Like a spell, it stopped, for once she was feeling nice.

"‘Bout time,” You giggled as you combed through your hair with your fingers, cigarette hanging precariously from your lips. You didn’t look away from your reflection as you grabbed your toothbrush from the pocket of your shorts which lay in a little discarded pile beside the sinks. “It's like being at The Westgate, Las Vegas,” The familiar voice chuckled, that condescending comment about your spectacular rendition of Elvis’ ‘burning love’ going right over your head in favour of utter shock and realisation, which hit like a ten ton truck.

You practically spun on your heels to see a smirking Joel Miller shirtless, a towel slung carelessly around his hips. The wind was knocked out of you as you let your eyes linger on his torso, just how fucking built he was, beaded with water, his chest sprinkled with hair matching that on his face. Holy shit. 

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, hugging the towel tighter to your body, scooping up the toothpaste you’d jetted all over the sink from squeezing the tube in your state of shock. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. “Thought you were Sharon,” You said shakily to the sink as you washed the toothpaste from your fingers, your voice now lacking the confidence it’d possessed when you called Joel Miller a ‘fucking cow’. You felt like slamming your head through the mirror right about now, not daring to check if the heat that had spread across your cheeks was visible. “Thought you were Elvis,” He quipped, ever the witty bastard, pulling out a small razor and some shaving foam, clearly he was planning on staying. 

You took a drag of your cigarette to pull yourself back to earth. “You make a habit of sneaking up on girls in the shower?” You heard yourself say, like your mind hadn’t turned into that of a perverted teenage boy after you saw him last night.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” So he knew he was hot shit, standing there more naked than you were comfortable with in that moment, that towel doing very little to distract you from the fact he was right there, all of him, rubbing shaving foam on his jaw. “You're too old to be talking like that,” you said coldly through your dead-pan, the biting words lacking the fire you intended for them. He chuckled slightly, his low voice almost a growl, reverberating through you as you attempted to squeeze your toothpaste onto the toothbrush without making another mess.  “Definitely Billy’s girl,” He said to himself as he held his razor up to the light.

Now that was too far, you turned your face to him, lips parted into a half-hearted scowl as you watched a couple droplets fall from his hair, you held on to the little towel for dear life. “What's that supposed to mean,” You shook your head in disbelief, that had truly been a low blow. “Well you are ain’ch’ya?” He shrugged, bringing the razor to his cheek, you said a silent prayer to god that his hand would slip. “No,” You said after a moment's hesitation. Billy wasn’t your guy and you certainly weren't his girl, he was a friend you sometimes, reluctantly let hump you until he finished. “He know that?” Joel scoffed, suddenly very talkative, you hadn't expected that from the authoritarian asshole who’d scolded you this morning, now a scintillating asshole. “Seemed awful comfy this even-” You cut him off quickly. “It's none of your business Joel,” you snapped, turning back to look at your glassy reflection.

This man would be the death of you; all of this, and now another mouth to ask you about Billy. “Billy’s a prick,” Joel said casually as he shaved his face, it almost startled you, the first thing you agreed with him about. “Aren't you perceptive?” The sarcasm rolled out of you, prompting another of those short, patronising chuckles from Joel.

“What's the appeal then?” It was a good point, why did you hang around with Billy when you could admit that the kid was a complete dickwad. Was it those looks? the way people seemed to gravitate towards his obnoxious laughter? It was all embarrassingly shallow.

“We hang in the same circles,” You shrugged, now completely absorbed by watching Joel shaving so expertly, still hoping your prayer would be answered. “Is he a good fuck?” Joel asked brazenly, not looking away from his own cold expression in the mirror as he cleaned up his moustache, your breath caught in your throat and you stamped out your cigarette on your ratty sneakers to disguise your prudish shock.

The answer was no, a dead no, no matter how much he thought he was. “And there's another thing that's absolutely none of your business,” You began brushing your teeth, glancing at him to see the telling smirk on his lips, that was all he needed to know. 

After a much needed break in the conversation you spat out the toothpaste, holding your hair back and running the tap. You turned to leave with the pile of clothes in your arms, you’d rather’ve taken the short journey to your cabin in the little towel than spend another damn second in that room with Joel fucking Miller. “Hey, kiddo,” Joel interjected casually, you turned to look at him with an obedience that made you sick.

“Next time you find yourself peepin’ on me in my cabin, just knock on the door.” 

You huffed an exasperated, short breath as you slammed the door to the cabin behind you, happy that Sharon was nowhere to be seen. You changed, cursing Joel under your breath over and over and over again as you pulled one of Billy’s ‘Supertramp’ t-shirts over your wet head of hair. That motherfucker! Where could you even start?

He’d seen you watching him. He’d known all day that you stood in the treeline in the unassuming disguise of nightfall, smoking as you’d watched him get ready for bed. He’d called you ‘kiddo’?! you groaned as you curled yourself into the quilt on your top bunk.

You guessed that Sharon was banging Abel in the next cabin, Billy had probably passed out from a long day of doing absolutely nothing. No matter what you thought about to get your mind off Joel; the image of him shirtless and dripping wet, his quick retaliations, nothing helped. You counted sheep, sang ‘Burning love’ a couple more times through, the shame just didn't wear off. He’d gotten the better of you today, catching you out at all the right moments, embarrassing you over and over again.

Finally, after stalling what you knew would be your only relief after a day like this, you let your hand venture under your panties, touching yourself gently at first, ego too bruised to allow yourself what you really wanted. Soon you were practically crying his name into your pillow, back arching desperately. You’d broken into a slight sweat, lips parting quiet ecstasy as relief washed over you. 

You made the decision then and there, it was sink or swim, you weren't going to let today happen again, not let your epic, man-eating reputation be stamped into the dirt  by some old washed-up cowboy with an ego for days and some strange Tom-Selleck-esque power over you.

You were going to become Joel Miller's worst fucking nightmare. 

PART 2

[mbta-unofficial]

Why is the North South Rail Link a waste of time ? (at least compared to the Grand Junction West alternative)

Well the short answer is there’s too much shit in the way.

Now, unless you somehow talk Massdot into using literally the big dig right of way from the Massdot Merrygoround to the Bill Buckner bridge in all his shortstop fuckup glory there will never be trains on the short way. Can you imagine trying to get massdot to do literally exactly big dig 2 right next to Big Dig 1 since they had such a good time the first time? or, even better, busting down the walls to a big dig tunnel to replace lanes of car traffic with lanes of rail? You would be shot. They would give you a 6 minute head start before a pack of greyhound buses tore you limb from limb. They would invent hoax medieval torture devices to test on you for quality assurance purposes before marketing them to the sex dungeon in se7en.

But consider: A railway that goes straight from south station to north station. Through cambridge. It’s right there we don’t need to build shit the MBTA already used it for non revenue moves as recently as 2010. And, get this, it’s fuckin gorgeous. it goes over the charles and everything.

Here she is. Real life girl next door rail infrastructure that will fuck you. All we need to do is fix it up a little bit. But see people from out of state don’t get it. They think, damn, that hypothetical bitch bad as hell. They don’t comprehend that the baddest bitch is the one that’s there for you in the form of rail infrastructure that is revenue line ready in 3-5 years of inexpensive maintenance. And all you fucking new yorkers who want to take the downeaster can get on the subway fuck you

[stardancerluv]

The Past Follows Like Your Shadow

Part 6

Summary: It is Halloween for Gator and reader.

Notes/Warnings: 18 & Over. Oral M receiving. Harsh Language. Sexist behavior. Underage drinking (DO NOT DO THIS!) Be safe!

Monologue from film Halloween ‘78 used.

❤️s, reblogs, comments & feedback.

The world of sparkling snowflakes, happiness and magic, swirled around you. The glowing keys on the laptop clicked and clacked under your fingertips. You smiled, you moved a few last words around and then one more sentence. The made the final revision to your Christmas book finished. The illustrations were so sweet and matched the magic you wanted to create on the pages.

******

“How is it out there?” She asked.

You shrugged. “Not horrible. Gonna take awhile. My aunt held onto so much stuff.”

“Take your time. The book looks great. It will be a good addition to the series.”

“Thanks Janice.” You smiled. You were lucky to have such a good agent. She encouraged your creativity.

“Let’s do a catch up lunch when you get back alright?”

You brightened. “That will be great.” You sighed. “I miss the big city.”

“Already?”

“I forgot how small this town.“

“You’ll be back and navigating through the seas of taxis and buses soon enough.”

The shrill sound of the doorbell filled the house. You rolled your eyes, before squeezing them shut. This town and the people in it had a way of interfering with things.

“Someone just rang the bell. My aunt’s only neighbor has been acting like she has been assigned to be my nanny.”

A chuckle filled your ear. “Well, someone has to make sure you eat your vegetables and drink your water.”

You both shared a chuckle, before the bell rings again.

“I better go and get that.”

“Alright! Once again, love the book. I’ll be sending the proof copy out to you asap, if you’re not back already.”

“I better be back by then.”

You pushed end and then closed the laptop. Getting up, you stretched and made your way downstairs. A tall shadow darkened the milky glass.

Fear knotted in your stomach. What if that was Roy, it suddenly dawned on you that he could show up as easily as Gator had.

Your stomach churned at the thought of him. You were adult. You didn’t have to take his shit. You gave a curt nod to yourself. Made you feel a little braver. Like the night before with two hands you pulled the door open.

You gasped. You didn’t know where to look first. Gator was lost in his own moment, his eyes narrowed as he squinted looking out at the expanse of land that encroached on your aunt’s property. He took a pull on that vape. A puff of white swirled and twirled around him. You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched with sheer delight at casual manner he scratched, more like tugged at his trousers. That’s when you saw his one arm that was wrapped in a cast. Unease filled you.

“Gator!” You squeaked. “What the hell happened?” Concerned replaced the unease and your heart picked up speed.

He made a half hearted expression. “Are you not going to invite me in Tulip? So I can tell ya?” He took another pull on his vape, exhaling a large plume of white above him.

“Oh, yes of course. Come in.” You motioned him in. “Come in.” You shivered as the fingers of the autumn breeze attempted to take a hold of you.

He grimaced and walked in.

“Want me to make you some coffee?” You offered.

It was one of those old coffee makers, you’d figure it out for him. He settled faster then you expected in the living room.

You winced as you saw him flinch. “Fuck.” He mumbled.

You watched as he put too much pressure on the casted arm as he sat down.

“Nah. Just come sit beside me.” He patted a place beside him.

“Ok.” Your heart continued to pick up speed.

How did he still have this effect on you? You felt like you could just wilt at his feet. You could barely think.

The two of you played in the mud, gotten grass stains on your clothes with all the adventures you shared. A friendship starting where the memories of childhood begin. Then one day all at once, not remembering exactly how it began but passions were ignited and they were as intense as the sun’s rays on a summer day until it all shattered. When it ended, you were left broken and your entire reputation had been destroyed.

But here you were, last night the two of you had been like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t run any longer.

Trembling inside you realized that you had been merely surviving after you ran away. That no matter how you tried to forget the past or push it away, this was your destiny. This town, this man. Distantly, you felt and even saw how he was not the same man and yet you were drawn to him.

Deep down you should fight this, you had to. It was not going anywhere. He’d never divorce Mary Sue. All of this had no future. Why would put yourself through all this pain again. You didn’t think your heart could handle it.

He whistled as you drew closer, it made you blush. “Damn, how you are even prettier then when you were mine.” Once again you realized he had made his vape disappear.

“I doubt that. Alot has happened since then.” You tucked some hair behind your ear.

No matter how many light, fluffy stories you wrote or how many bottles you drank; to get didn’t change how you felt. As you tucked your leg under yourself settling beside him, you were as giddy as a teenager.

“Tulip, believe me. You are still a knock out.”

These sweet words, made you bite the inside of his cheek. “So you were wrangling a bad guy?” You tried to say light heartedly. “From the looks of it, he may or may not have gotten the upper hand.”

His eyes slid your way. You felt the look. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

“When did you get this smart mouth?” His lips twisted.

Seeing him here. How he sat, how he spoke. It did something to you. Your mood shifted. Inwardly, you began to crave him. You remembered how much it had been fun to try this or that when the two of you explored sexual things.

You tried to look demure. You hoped he wouldn’t laugh. “Are you going to show me how to put it to better use?”

“I would love to. But are you sure?”

An air of smugness fell over his features. They only furthered the excitement you felt grow in your stomach.

“You barely could take me last night. What makes you think your mouth can handle me?”

“I can try and you can tell me all about what happened.” Just offering it, just talking to him like this and the familiar ache began grew between your legs.

He reached out with his good hand, his fingers grazing your cheek. “I knew you could be a good girl; my good girl.”

“I can be at times.”

He cupped your chin. “We’ll see. And right now, its not a good idea for you to let your smart mouth run after all I dealt with today.”

Excitement filled you. Leaning over, careful to not put any major weight on him, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, which he didn’t return. “I’ll make you forget all about that.” You whispered.

Silently, he opened his legs. His good hand smoothed his trousers. You noticed the holster on his thigh was empty, you looked at him. “Back in the car, can’t have you and I having an accident.”

Nodding, you continued to let your hands move higher caressing his thighs. You looked at him through your lashes.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

You slipped down to the floor easily finding your place between his legs.

He nodded. “Yeah but I’m enjoying the sight of you.” His lips curled. “Between my legs, is the perfect place for you.”

“I enjoy being here.” You felt good.

*****

“He was creepy as fuck. But we’ll get him. No one breaks my fucking arm.”

Your stomach churned, in a bad way. From the sounds of it, this Munch guy, had issues. He didn’t seem to care.

This was not good, his tip tickled the back of your throat. It made tears prickle your eyes. You had to distract yourself from what you heard. You worried for Gator. This man sounded more terrifying then Roy.

You hollowed your lips taking him deeper. Easily you controlled your breathing. Your brushed up against the wiry curls that nestled his base. His length, how it felt as he slid between your lips made ache and need increase between your legs.

Hearing a moan breaking his lips you glanced up at from under your lashes at him. Your excitement soaked your panties. His head was thrown back, eyes closed and his lips were parted. His breathing shallowed. The slicked back strands became unruly.

You slid him from your mouth with a pop. Still holding him. “You going to last Gator?” Your lips grazing his tip as you spoke. “Last time, you came uncontrollably on me and in my mouth.”

You hummed thoughtfully as you just sucked on his tip. You could feel as his body tightened.

“Oh, I can last tulip

His moans grew louder. You moaned yourself around his length as you felt his good hand, his fingers nestled in your hair, gently pulling.

“Even now, you are going to smart mouth me.” Glancing at him, you saw that his lids had grown heavy, his eyes half closed as they met yours. His fingers tightened making you whimper louder around his hard length.

“Do I need to shove my cock down your throat so you choke on it?” His voice had grown even raspier.

It elicited pleasure from you, making you moan at his words. They fueled you desire. You increased your pace as you bobbed up and down his length. Taking him deeper, some salvia and spit escaped your mouth, wetting the wiry dark curls.

A chuckle, came from him. “Aw, there you go. No smart words.”

His fingers caressed where they laid on your head. You pressed your thighs together. You longed to reach down and give yourself some relief. But you didn’t dare. He deserved this after what that psychopath did to him.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck.” He mumbled above you, he trembled. “Don’t you fucking stop. Don’t you..” His words trailed off, only incoherent moans and his harsh breathing could be heard.

A soft sound escaped from you as you felt him shake before he spurting into your mouth. He was tangy and sweet. Eagerly, you took it all. You struggled a bit but managed to swallow it all.

Sighing, you say back on your ankles and licked your lips. You watched as he inhaled deeply, rapidly. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he sat up a little straighter, his eyes met yours and a small smile spread across his face.

“Damn,” He licked his lips. “that felt amazing.”

You smiled, you couldn’t stop your self from wiggling where you sat under his gaze. It did little to help your ache.

“Aw, my tulip is all flushed from sucking me off.” His lips curled, as he quickly tucked away his softening member and fastened his trousers. “Aw, did sucking my cock get you all achy and needy baby?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “Yes.” Desperation, cloaked your voice.

“As you should be. Come up here and straddle me.” He patted his lap.

Your legs trembled and shook as you rose. You eyed, his broken arm before looking back at him.

“I’ll manage. Now do what I said before I change my mind.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, as he swallowed. “I’m sure I have somewhere I need to be.”

You braced yourself on one of his shoulders as you straddled him.

******

You tucked yourself into the corner of the diner. You had no desire to attempt cooking. Turmoil, churned in your stomach. It had been two days since Gator had been on your doorstep and you kneeled between his legs.

Did he really have that kind of strangle hold on you, that you missed him. Seventy - two hours ago, his name would have not passed your lips and now, your body ached for him.

“Sweetie, you look like you could use some pie.” The waitress said, sweetly and placed a slice of pumpkin in front of you with a heaping of whipped cream.

You smiled up at her. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have.” Her simple act of kind really stuck you.

Her smile grew warmer. “Halloween, doesn’t have to always have tricks. Sometimes its the treats that mean the most. Now eat up dearie.”

You smiled and nodded. That’s when it hit you, that it was freaking Halloween. How had time passed and it almost slipped by you. You gobbled up the slice as you were stuck with an idea.

******

With a few ooofs and a handful of umpffffs, you carried one of the larger pumpkins from the farm stand to your car. You knew you’d find one, only had taken you about twenty minutes of driving around.

With a few muttered curses you then managed to carry it into your aunt’s house. You finally placed it on large, kitchen table. With a roll of your shoulders you went back closed the front door. A crisp breeze blew in, it sliced right through your hoodie, it made you shiver and pause.

Shoving your hands into the large pocket, you stood there at the clear night. The moon was a silver disk and the stars twinkled. It was the kind of Halloween, you would have wished for when you were younger.

Sighing you finally closed the door. Going over to your laptop, you cued up the hotspot and after a few clicks you found and rented one of your all time favorite horror movies, Halloween. The music still gave you chills when you heard it.

******

Jumping, you looked over at your window. Once again Gator’s tapping on your window.

He covered his mouth laughing. Shaking your head you went to your window. Opening it, you scowled at him.

“Scaring me again, Gator and laughing.” Huffing, you hugged yourself. “I should just let you climb back down and sneak back to your house.”

He held up a copy of Halloween and a flask. Your brow furrowed. “Isn’t that your father’s flask?”

He nodded.

You pressed your lips together.

“Mission accomplished. Now let me in.”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright.” And you stepped aside.

******

That had been the first time whiskey passed your lips. It burned and tingled. It filled the two of you with giggles.

You had thought you were so smooth pushing a towel in the gap between your bedroom door and your floor. You still could feel the relief that you had heard the floorboards creak moments before the knob turned.

Gator and scuttled under your bed. You snapped off the tv and practically leap onto your bed and under your covers before the door had opened.

Your mother’s fingers fluttered across your forehead as you pretended to be fast asleep. You had heard her worry of you being warm. That perhaps, the chill of autumn had taken ahold of you.

She lingered a little longer as she grabbed some clothes you had tossed in haste and with creaking floorboards, she left shutting the door behind her.

Gator, scrambled and pulled himself up and leaned on the edge of you bed. His elbows, dug into your blanket and mattress. That little bit and he made your bed dip.

“Boy, that was close.” He had whispered as one of his hands cradled his cheek.

“It was.” Your heart was beating hard in your chest.

******

As you grabbed grabbed one of the large spoons. You could have sworn you saw something move just beyond the kitchen window. Shaking your head you went back to the pumpkin and soon, began scooping out the seeds and stringy pumpkin bits. Wrinkling your nose, you had forgotten what the inside of a pumpkin smelled like. You went back to scooping.

Distantly, Donald Pleasance’s voice drifted over to you. Wiping your hands on the towel that sat beside the pumpkin you dashed to your laptop to watch one of your favorite scenes from the movie.

“I spent eight years trying to reach him. And then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was living behind those boys eyes was purely and simply evil.”

The curtains became transparent as lights flickered and shone on them before the lights snapped off. You could have sworn your heard something. You stilled but swallowing you got up and crept over and peaked out from the edge of the curtain.

A chill ran down your spine as the figure drew closer. They were clad in dark clothes. You barely could make them out their form in the inky black of the night.

Spotting the mask over their face and you gasped, was that a Jack Skellington mask? You couldn’t move. You felt rooted as they walked right over to you. You attempted to back up but your feet wouldn’t move and your hand clutched at your curtain. Your heart picked up speed.

They stopped in front of you, moving their masked face which gave your even further chills they tapped the glass.

@delikaitxx @keerygal

[causereyna-artie]

Free Palestine!

I am aware that I don't have a huge following base, but I do want to go this out there.

I was speaking to my niece, and the topic of war came up. I asked if she knew about the Palestine war going on right now, and I'm proud to say she gave me a 10-page essay on why. But when I asked her about what she was doing about it, she came up short. She said as a minor with no money, there was nothing she could do. I realised that a lot of minors might think that. Soo, here's a list of things that people who think their hands are tied regarding Palestine can do:

1. Raising Awareness

It's not overused---it's a classic. There manifold ways to spread awareness, but you have to make sure you have the right idea on what this about it; reading articles, newspapers, listening to podcasts and speeches on it. I'm not a big newspaper reader, but lately whenever I'm free, I take a stack of any newspapers from 2023-2024 and cut out the articles that look like this:

An article in the paper by Save The Children UK (I apologise for the poor quality of the image)

or anything related to Palestine (brownie points for links/sites/codes that you can donate through) should work and stick it into any notebook, either that I'm done with or not going to use or that I'm currently using. Sometimes I print out articles from the internet, but there sure as fuck are enough things about the war in the newspapers to give you a whole book. Once you've filled up the book, place it anywhere people will come across. My favourites are public libraries, DLR (the subway/tube), parks, in stands at markets (ex: I place a bunch of them around the whole, say, Greenwich market), but literally anywhere people cross everyday works. Then I make more and more, and place them everywhere. Like I've put this in people's mailbox. Anywhere where people can see what a dire situation this is.

If you have any means of social media, use it. Post about the latest things in Palestine, even if its anything as small as a story. Every little thing counts.

SPEAK ABOUT IT. BRING IT INTO YOUR DAILY CONVERSATION. FOR PEOPLE EFFECTED BY THE WAR, IT IS A DAILY SITUATION.

EVERYTHING COUNTS. STICK FREE PALESTINE STICKERS ON BUSES, READ POSTS ON PALESTINE, TELL YOUR FRIENDS!

2. Websites

Websites supporting Palestine, and ones that don't (boycott these):

Arab: For Palestine, for refugees. Take not that the sites provides support to multiple other things, like children and poverty.

Disney Plus: IT SUPPORTS ISNOTREAL'S WAR CRIMES AND GENOICIDE. I give full credit for this to @connabeth, who's post led me to know about this. If you own a subscription or are considering getting one, PLEASE CANCEL IT. As a huge PJO fan, I am begging you not to watch the show on there. Cinema can be pirated, and lives can be saved.

Wix.com: It is an Israeli site, and there should be nothing more said about it. @captdedeyes post (thank you to the creator for reaching out to me personally and giving me the link!) covers replacements to try instead of Wix.

Deviant Art: Linking back to Wix, it is the owner of site.

Know it disgusts me the amount of websites to boycott compared to the ones supporting Palestine. For more check out BDS.

3. Supporting

Support Palestinian artists, over here. EVERYTHING MATTERS.

This truly is an important cause, so I'll be updating this whenever I think of things that minors (or anyone) can do regarding the war.

PLEASE SHARE THESE WITH PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE AND REBLOG/ADD YOUR OWN WAYS OF DOING SOMETHING FOR THE WAR CURRENTLY GOING ON.

[redwidow616]

I'm gonna fucking kms i forgot one of the replacement buses only drives one station before it loops back, i just wasted even more time

[momo-de-avis]

Like genuinely what is your problem? What is people's problem? Once it genuinely took me 1 whole hour to do a stretch in downtown lisbon that takes 5 minutes if you just go straight ahead, and while granted it had two stops for tastings it was genuinely the most chaotic thing I've ever witnessed because they could not stop going to the bathroom. They went into every bathroom within sight. At one point, when I thought it was finally over and I had finally arrived at the fucking elevators that were going to take me out of there, a woman just said she couldn't hold it any longer and BOLTED out of there trying to find a bathroom, even though we had just been inside not one, but two cafes. One of them was a family with two kids, one a vegetarian girl who was also on her period and yes I had to know this because we all had to stop for her to buy pads, and another kid who was allergic to everything imaginable and would not stop until she went around everything inside that store figuring out what her kid could eat and I could not get it through to her that I had a budget and I couldn't just get anything I felt like. Last week a woman screamed at me because she completely misheard my directions, went the opposite way, then came back guns blazing, saying I was incompetent because I did not count everyone and I told her, miss. The city is crowded I need you to stick close to me, I count regularly but mistakes happen. Immediately after this she pisses off, separates from the group to take pictures and nearly stays behind again. What the fuck is your problem? What is wrong with you? It once took me 5h to do a 3h30 tour because a couple decided fuck your time and fuck my time and they just had to piss every 20 minutes and it got to a point where another client asked me if my plans for the afternoon were ruined. I have never been as close to telling someone to go fuck themselves as I have been today. If you're buying a tour guiding service fucking read what it entails. I cannot pull a porta potty out of my ass. It's not only about the schedule. It's not even about the fact that I have been up since 5AM and it's 8PM and nowhere near Lisbon. It's about the fact that the bus driver cannot driver any longer than X amount of hours and you fuckers push it too far, we're gonna be stranded on the side of some fucking gas station waiting for a replacement.

And that isn't even addressing the disgusting picnic they set up on the bus which I overlooked even though eating on buses is actually illegal here

[mariacallous]

“Ireland is on the brink of civil war,” white nationalist Nick Fuentes declared Monday during his show on Rumble. “It’s going to be ugly.”

Ireland is not on the brink of a civil war, but riots did break out in Dublin last week following a stabbing outside a school that left three children and two adults hospitalized. Despite an unknown attack motive, the situation spiraled.

Ireland’s far-right community quickly claimed that this proved immigrants pose an inherent danger to Irish society: Within minutes of the stabbing, far-right Telegram channels lit up with questions about the attacker’s ethnicity. It was eventually reported that the attacker was a naturalized Irish citizen who came to Ireland from Algeria in 2003. Less than two hours later, well-known figures within the Irish far-right community were organizing their followers to meet up in Dublin’s city center that evening. The riots quickly turned violent with police cars, buses, and trams set on fire. Dozens of shops were looted, and a number of police officers were injured. In total, 34 people were arrested on November 23.

Ireland’s own far-right community, like the far-right in the US, has been fueling anti-immigrant sentiments in the country for years. And this dark international alliance of far-right, anti-asylum American and Irish influencers is unsurprising. During his show, Fuentes, the leader of the America First movement, said that Conor McGregor, an Irish MMA star who called for war in Ireland in response to a report that noncitizens could vote in Irish elections prior to last week’s Dublin riot, should “rise up.”

McGregor, Fuentes said, needed to “salvage the country because it’s either going to be the Irish or it’s going to be the blacks … only one side is going to come out of this alive.”

Some far-right influencers in the US have also pushed elements of the great replacement theory, a conspiracy claiming that a globalist elite is working with Western governments to force out native populations through immigration.

Tucker Carlson, who now broadcasts his show on X, told his millions of followers that “the Irish government is trying to replace the population of Ireland with people from the third world.”

Former White House adviser and 2020 election conspiracist Steve Bannon, who is currently strategizing for former US president Donald Trump, responded to Carlson by declaring: “Ireland is a powder keg.”

Meanwhile, Catturd, the hugely influential pro-Trump account on X run by Florida shitposter Phillip Buchanan, told his 2 million followers to make the hashtag #IrishLivesMatter trend—which many duly did.

Elon Musk, who this week told X advertisers to “go fuck yourself,” also weighed in, claiming on X that the Irish prime minister “hates the Irish people,” and agreeing with another far-right influencer who posted on X saying Ireland needed McGregor to run for office. “Not a bad idea,” Musk wrote in reply.

McGregor, who, just 24 hours before the riots broke out, posted “Ireland, we are at war” to his 10 million followers on X, has become a lightning rod for international and local far-right support. McGregor has not fought an MMA fight for more than two years and has since spent much of his time outside of Ireland, including in his home in Florida. His social media posts over the past year have become increasingly political and have been directly influenced by many of the same far–right figures who encouraged their followers to meet in the center of Dublin ahead of the riots. The Irish police are currently investigating the riots, and McGregor is one of many currently under investigation for alleged incitement to hatred.

In far-right Telegram channels, poorly-generated AI images of McGregor proliferated, showing him in various poses ranging from standing patriotically in front of a burning bus to debating in parliament, as well as ones of a bare-chested McGregor holding a rifle and leading a mob of similarly-armed Irishmen. “Rebellion 2023?” wrote the operator of the far-right Telegram channel who posted an image.

Some experts believe that all of the attention that US far-right figures are giving to Ireland’s far-right community is now emboldening Irish figures to continue pushing their rhetoric. “In Ireland, this international attention appears to have been largely welcomed by far-right communities here who see such attention and promotion of their cause as a positive, and are drawing on this attention as further support for their campaign to target asylum seekers and migrants based on lies and falsehoods,” Ciarán O’Connor, a senior analyst with the Institute of Strategic Dialogue think tank, tells WIRED.

Irish far-right influencer Keith O’Brien, who is known online as Keith Woods, has maintained relationships with the far right in the US. O’Brien has become a leading figure within the Irish far-right movement in recent years, and spoke at a notorious white supremacist conference in Tennessee this summer. Over the past 12 months, his profile has grown internationally too, thanks in large part to both Fuentes and Musk. Fuentes has hosted O’Brien on his online show several times, while Musk has responded directly to O’Brien on X, particularly around a new anti-hate-speech law that is set to come into force in Ireland soon.

O’Brien, who did not attend the riots in person, told his Telegram followers that they were the government’s fault. “They flooded our country with unsustainable levels of migrants, planted small communities with migrant centers, responded to legitimate concerns by labeling all opposition ‘far right,’ and passed the most draconian hate speech laws in the world to shut us up,” he wrote. “When you deny people an outlet to express concerns they know are reasonable, you make them desperate.”

While two of the children injured in the stabbing attack have been released from hospital, a 5-year-old girl is still there with critical injuries.