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infiniteglitterfall · 4 months ago

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I guess this might be why the UK seemed to go so antisemitic so quickly

I'm researching the 1947 pogroms in the UK. (Actually, I'm researching all the pogroms and massacres of Jews in the past 200 years. Which today led me to discover that there were pogroms in the UK in 1947.)

From an article on "The Postwar Revival of British Fascism," all emphasis mine:

Given the rising antisemitism and widespread ignorance about Zionism [in the UK in 1947], fascists were easily able to conflate Zionist paramilitary attacks with Judaism in their speeches, meaning British Jews came to be seen as complicit in violence in Palestine.

Bertrand Duke Pile, a key member of Hamm’s League, informed a cheering crowd that “the Jews have no right to Palestine and the Jews have no right to the power which they hold in this country of ours.” Denouncing Zionism as a way to introduce a wider domestic antisemitic stance was common to many speakers at fascist events and rallies. Fascists hid their ideology and ideological antisemitism behind the rhetorical facade of preaching against paramilitary violence in Palestine.

One of the league’s speakers called for retribution against “the Jews” for the death of British soldiers in Palestine. This was, he told his audience, hardly an antisemitic expression. “Is it antisemitism to denounce the murderers of your own flesh and blood in Palestine?” he asked his audience. Many audience members, fascist or not, may well have felt the speaker had a point. ...[The photo of two British sergeants hanged by the Irgun in retaliation for the Brits hanging three of their members] promptly made numerous appearances at fascist meetings, often attached to the speaker’s platform. In at least one meeting, several British soldiers on leave from serving in Palestine attended Hamm’s speech, giving further legitimacy to his remarks. And with soldiers and policemen in Palestine showing increasing signs of overt antisemitism as a result of their experiences, the director of public prosecutions warned that the fascists might receive a steady stream of new recruits.

MI5, the U.K. domestic security service, noted with some alarm that “as a general rule, the crowd is now sympathetic and even spontaneously enthusiastic.” Opposition, it was noted in the same Home Office Bulletin of 1947, “is only met when there is an organized group of Jews or Communists in the audience.”

The major opposition came from the 43 Group, formed by the British-Jewish ex-paratrooper Gerry Flamberg and his friends in September 1946 to fight the fascists using the only language they felt fascists understood — violence. The group disrupted fascist meetings for two purposes: to get them shut down by the police for disorder, and to discourage attendance in the future by doling out beatings with fists and blunt instruments. By the summer of 1947, the group had around 500 active members who took part in such activities. Among these was a young hairdresser by the name of Vidal Sassoon, who would often turn up armed with his hairdressing scissors.

The 43 Group had considerable success with these actions, but public anger was spreading faster than they could counter the hate that accompanied it. The deaths of Martin and Paice had touched a nerve with the populace. On Aug. 1, 1947, the beginning of the bank holiday weekend and two days after the deaths of the sergeants, anti-Jewish rioting began in Liverpool. The violence lasted for five days. Across the country, the scene was repeated: London, Manchester, Hull, Brighton and Glasgow all saw widespread violence. Isolated instances were also recorded in Plymouth, Birmingham, Cardiff, Swansea, Newcastle and Davenport. Elsewhere, antisemitic graffiti and threatening phone calls to Jewish places of worship stood in for physical violence. Jewish-owned shops had their windows smashed, Jewish homes were targeted, an attempt was made to burn down Liverpool Crown Street Synagogue while a wooden synagogue in Glasgow was set alight. In a handful of cases, individuals were personally intimidated or assaulted. A Jewish man was threatened with a pistol in Northampton and an empty mine was placed in a Jewish-owned tailor shop in Davenport.

And an important addendum:

I've read a whole bunch of articles about the pogroms in Liverpool, Manchester, Salford, Eccles, Glasgow, etc.

Not one of them has mentioned that the Irgun, though clearly a terrorist group, was formed in response to 18 years of openly antisemitic terrorism, including multiple incredibly violent massacres. Or that it consistently acted in response to the murders of Jewish civilians, not on the offensive. Or that at this point, militant Arab Nationalist groups with volunteers and arms from the Arab League countries had been attacking Jewish and mixed Arab-Jewish neighborhoods for months.

I just think the "Jewish militants had been attacking the British occupiers" angle is incredibly Anglocentric.

Yeah, they were attacking the British occupiers. But also, that's barely the tip of the iceberg.

Everyone involved hated the Brits at this point. If only al-Husseini and his ilk had hated the Brits more than they hated the Jews, Britain could at least have united them by giving them a common enemy.

#jewish history #jumblr #fascism #antisemitism #when anti-zionism IS antisemitism #seriously if you declare that something is never ever antisemitism we know you're writing yourself a blank check to be antisemitic #like. you may not consciously be aware of it #but the more you're emotionally invested in the idea that anything said or done in the name of anti-zionism isn't antisemitic #the more you will ignore or fail to notice or outright defend things that other anti-zionists do that ARE antisemitic #not to mention things that YOU do or say or believe that are antisemitic #especially because most people aren't very aware of the details of different antisemitic tropes #you're not an expert on what is antisemitic and why to begin with and now you're buying into a belief that muffles your perception of it #and gives you motivation to disbelieve and deny it #and there's already psychological motivation to disbelieve and deny it when it's coming from you or your peers or people you admire #and then there's the belief that jews just cry antisemitism to silence valid criticism #aka the exact thing that we always say marginalized groups don't do. and that it's offensive to claim marginalized groups do. that one.#the entire discourse has been set up to protect and propagate antisemitic beliefs from the start #which is not particularly progressive nor is it necessary if you actually want to support palestinians but go off etc #wall of words

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nikidontsurf · 10 months ago

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GEORGE HARRISON and PATTIE BOYD leave Kinfauns to go to the Walton and Esher Magistrates Court, March 18, 1969.

She was at Kinfauns, their bungalow home in Esher, Surrey, playing genial hostess to a group of visitors from Scotland Yard’s drug squad. She recalled the events in her memoir Wonderful Tonight: ‘Suddenly I heard a lot of cars on the gravel in the drive – far too many for it to be just George. My first thought was that maybe Paul and Linda wanted to party after the wedding. Then the bell rang. I opened the door to find a policewoman and a dog standing outside. At that moment the back-doorbell rang and I thought, Oh, my God, this is so scary! I’m surrounded by police.

The man in charge introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Pilcher, from Scotland Yard, and handed me a piece of paper. I knew why he was there: he thought we had drugs, and he said he was going to search the house. In they came, about eight policemen through the front, another five or six through the back and there were more in the greenhouse. The policewoman said she would follow me while the others searched and didn’t let me out of her sight. I said, ‘Why are you doing this? We don’t have any drugs. I’m going to phone my husband.’ I rang George at Apple. ‘George, it’s your worst nightmare. Come home.’

The officers clearly thought the Harrisons would be at Paul’s wedding. The timing was not a coincidence. (...) Pilcher had already busted Mick Jagger, Brian Jones and Donovan, as well as Lennon and Yoko the previous year. National treasures or not, The Beatles were no longer protected from the law. - ‘And in the End: The Last Days of The Beatles’ Ken McNab

I was with George in the office when that call came through. It was the end of a long day at Apple. Pattie rang and said, ‘They’re here – the law is here,’ and we knew what to do by then. We phoned Release’s lawyer, Martin Polden. We had a routine: he came round to Apple, and we all went down by limousine to Esher, where the police were well ensconced by then – and I stood bail for George and Pattie. They went off to the police station. We were all extremely indignant because it was the day of Paul’s wedding, a poor way to celebrate it. The police can be so nice.

George was calm about it. George is always calm – he sometimes gets a grump, but he’s always calm – and he was extremely calm that night, and very, very indignant. He went into the house and looked around at all these men and one woman, and said something like. ‘Birds have nests and animals have holes, but man has nowhere to lay his head.’ – ‘Oh, really, sir? Sorry to tell you we have to…’ and then into the police routine.

That’s how calm and how cross he was, because, as he said, he kept his dope in the box where dope went, and his joss sticks went in the joss stick box. He was a man who ran an orderly late-Sixties household, with beautiful things and some nice stuff to smoke.

In my opinion he didn’t have to be busted because he was doing nobody any harm. I still believe what they did was an intrusion into personal life. - Derek Taylor in ‘The Beatles Anthology’

#i think pete shotton's recollection of that event involved george chasing one of the photographers #through his garden with police running after them and the whole thing looked like a slapstick comedy #and i believe it did in fact look like that #mustard yellow turtleneck jumper you know it's serious #they look so good #pattie boyd #george harrison #the beatles #beatlesedit #thebeatlesedit

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foxmulderautism · 9 months ago

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just got the first date with bobby experience which was witnessing a guys asshole prolapse in a john waters film

bobby as a movie head kind of hilarious to me because unlike beau he’s not fixated on one specific genre so his canon fave movies of all time are so varied. you start dating bobby and he’s excited to show you all his fave movies and it’s like midnight cowboy, strangers on a train because he thinks farley granger is hot, videodrome, suspiria, a really mid romance drama because it has al pacino playing a character named bobby, the evil dead, every david cronenberg and john waters movie and also the muppets take manhattan

#the way i had to stop and think about which was the worst part to draw attention too #absolutely horrible movie. five stars.#bobbys favorite scene is when they kill and cannibalise the policemen at the birthday party #I think he would put on some shit like pink flamingos as like a test LOL

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evermoredeluxe · 5 months ago

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How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World

By Chris Willman

By Alissa Gao for Variety

On the morning that Taylor Swift’s “Eras Tour” is about to begin a three-night stand in Dublin, the older gentleman taking charge of my passport at airport customs has clearly had his fill of Swifties, probably processing them by the hundreds already today. When I reveal myself to be one too — despite being arguably the wrong gender, inarguably old and lacking a telltale “Lover” mascara star over my right eye — his disdain is palpable. Suddenly, I’m getting way more screening questions than anyone not on a watch list should. “What do you like about her?” he sneers, peering up over specs.

This is probably the wrong time for me to point out Swift’s Irish heritage, or to assert that she is this generation’s James Joyce. (The original king of the Easter eggs, right?) I wouldn’t really go that far — I’m only on record as doing my best to certify her as this century’s Beatles. Trying to figure out how to answer him, the past 18 years of extolling Swift in print flash before my eyes. I end up murmuring the bare minimum: “Um, her songwriting.” This seems to disturb him further. He snaps back: “Aren’t they all the same song” — a slight pause, and I know what’s coming next — “about her breakups?” Then, abruptly, he stamps me through, sparing me a detour to Interpol for more grilling.

In the cab into town, the driver is blasting a local talk-radio personality sharing his dismay about the fans of an awful superstar taking over his country. The host reads an email sent in from a hater who says, “A year ago, when tickets went on sale, my partner and I made a reservation to take our kids out of the country this Friday morning. … Thank you for creating a safe space with your show.” I start to wonder if Swift might have met her match at the Cliffs of Moher.

But from my drop-off forward, the next three days are like living in a Swift-topia. The mile and a half to Aviva Stadium each night is like Disneyland when it shuts its doors early for an affinity group. Whether stopping in the pubs or walking through the charming neighborhood of Victorian brick homes adjoining the fancy new stadium, there’s that warm feeling of people who are united by one quality: They are all super in touch with their feelings — or else they wouldn’t be Swift fans. And they all are happy to stop on the street or over pints to talk about poetical expression. (Well, except for the occasional taciturn, invariably straight young male who has signified his supportive-plus-one status by wearing a jersey bearing the name of Swift’s Super Bowl beau, Travis Kelce.)

So it is that I end up chatting with a middle-aged gay man in a sequin-covered shirt whose female companion whispers to me, while he steps away to trade friendship bracelets with a 10-year-old girl and her mum, that Swift’s music just helped him through a difficult breakup. The girl then runs off to trade her homemade bracelets with a pair of high-helmeted Dublin policemen loaded up to their own elbows with friendship swag — unexpected accessories for long arms of the law.

All the stories about American Swifties swarming overseas to catch “The Eras Tour” turn out to be true: You couldn’t swing a neon golf club around here without hitting a Yank. Approximately one out of every five fans I approach is visiting from the States — and the jubilation they’re feeling about the night’s impending concert is compounded by the fact that nearly all of them financed a European vacation and a concert ticket for roughly the same amount they would have paid on a secondary ticketing site for a typical four-figure ticket to one of last year’s predatorily repriced U.S. shows.

Remember the venerable stereotype of the Ugly Americans, brusquely trampling over refined Europeans in their travels? Thanks to Taylor Swift, who has a gift for laying out global welcome mats, this is the summer of the Spangly American.

At the stadium on night one, just down the row from me are a group of millennials from New Jersey, several in glam unitards inspired by the “Lover” or “1989” portions of the career-spanning show and looking like they were costumed by Swift’s own designer, with fake jewel-encrusted microphones to match. I ask how many hours went into perfecting these nearly pro-grade outfits.

“About 80 hours for mine,” says Megan McLaughlin. “Hers probably longer,” she adds, nodding toward one of her sisters, Margo Steinberg. “She knows all the glues and the best gems.” Indeed, confirms Steinberg, “I was working on mine since January. And, yes, I did quit my job to finish it!” She adds, when I ask if she cares to share any secrets to a particularly good look, “You have to use the B-7000 glue.” (A third sister, Amelia McLaughlin, admits she resorted to buying her spangly dress off Etsy — “I was doing a PhD, but I had to match these girls’ enthusiasm” — while a fourth, Carolyn McLaughlin, skipped the glitter and went for a red dress that matches Swift’s from the “I Bet You Think About Me” video.)

Certainly, there is an element of cosplay to many of the fans’ outfits. Some have seen footage of the new segment Swift added to the tour beginning in April 2024 — devoted to her most recent album, the 31-song “Tortured Poets Department” — and have managed to manufacture gowns that look like they’re made of paper and feature lyric excerpts printed on them in script, à la Swift’s custom-made Vivienne Westwood dress. I meet a group of American women who became friends as literature majors in college who have “Tortured Poets”-themed outfits, one duplicating the Westwood dress and the other with handmade printouts of the latest album’s lyrics pinned all over her black dress, as if she were literally pulling pages out of Swift’s playbook.

It’s the devotion to lyrics, even more than glitter, that is most impressive about the bespoke outfits fans have concocted for the occasion. There are scores and scores of Swifties wearing homemade T-shirts — sometimes singular, sometimes matching with a friend, like walking Burma-Shave signs. Some of the messages are obvious, like the dozens of laddies wearing “It’s me, hi, I’m the husband/boyfriend/father, it’s me” shirts. (Bet that seemed really original at one time.) But a lot of them refer to more obscure songs or stanzas, as if every nearby street or stadium loge section is full of human Easter eggs, begging to be unpacked. It’s hard to think of any other superstar in the history of stadium tours who could have inspired as much fan-crafted clothing rooted in the power of words.

Combos of middle-aged mothers and their teen or 20-something daughters abound; some of them have seized on Swift’s mentions of her own mother, Andrea, to come up with their T-shirt ideas. On Lansdowne Road, I talk to a mum whose red-on-black shirt says, “Had to listen to all this drama,” accompanied by a daughter bearing the legend, “And here’s to my mama.” (This is a reference to Swift’s song “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.”)

Later, in a stadium Guinness line, I chat up a pair of thirsty locals, the daughter’s shirt reading “I call my mom, she said …,” with the mom’s shirt completing the thought: “It was for the best.” (Damn it, I had to Google to recall that’s from a “1989” Vault track that came out last year.) I ask the daughter if she had to explain to her mom what she was wearing. “She’s 52,” she replies. “I don’t think she knows.”

Age is really no guarantor of not getting it — the popular #SwiftieOver50 hashtag on X proves that. Although outnumbered, plenty of older people are unaccompanied by a minor, or by anyone who has been a minor in the past 20 years. I approach a middle-aged couple, Jean Sebastian Conley and Natasha Gagne, again bidden by their matching shirts — “Who’s Taylor Swift?” and “Who’s Travis Kelce?” They turn out to be French Canadians who found their 206-euro SRO tickets to be a steal compared with the extravagant resale prices they briefly considered back home after being shut out of the initial on-sale. I ask what attracted them to Swift since, unlike so many others here, they didn’t grow up with her.

“I really fell in love with her with the ‘Folklore’ album,” Conley says, referring to her low-key Grammy-winning album recorded during the early months of the pandemic. “I think different audiences and older audiences found her through that and ‘Evermore’ because they were more singer-songwriter, a little bit rougher indie music, and that’s what we like most. So that’s how I got hooked.” For her part, Gagne says, “I like everything she represents. And when she redid all her masters, that’s where I thought she was a lady boss.”

It’s a reminder that, for however many mini-narratives Swift packs into the three hours and 20 minutes of an “Eras” show, there are really four or five years of backstory that feed into the audience’s shared awareness. When she sings the ominous ballad “My Tears Ricochet,” accompanied by a coven of stone-faced dancers, at least some fans will understand it as a distant reflection of her very public feelings about the men she considers her business bêtes noires, Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta, who bought and sold (respectively) the rights to her first six albums, spawning much vitriol as well as four “Taylor’s Version” rerecorded albums to date.

When the dancers put their grins back on, Swift plays an ebullient excerpt of a very recent “Poets” bonus track, “So High School,” which every person in the crowd will know is inspired by Kelce. There are some breakup songs of recent vintage too — yes, Mr. Customs Man! — like “The Smallest Man in the World,” which may or may not have cost Matty Healy, the 1975 frontman and former Swift paramour, a night of sleep.

The whole tour is themed around not just the newer records but the rerecordings that have made every older album in her catalog feel improbably fresh. It was, quite possibly, the single most baller move in the history of the record industry … and led to the career-retrospective concept for what is already unquestionably the biggest tour in the history of popular music.

Any discussion of the charms of fandom isn’t meant to forestall discussion of “The Eras Tour” as big business. The numbers are fuzzy because Swift’s camp does not release grosses from her shows, unlike nearly every other artist at the stadium or arena level. Even when the tour wraps after 20 months on Dec. 8 in Vancouver, it seems likely those numbers will continue to be guarded with a zeal on par with the government of North Korea’s. Many industry experts believe the gross will approach or even surpass $2 billion.

What is known for certain — even without a confirmation from Swift World — is that she broke the all-time tour-gross figure when she hit the $1 billion mark, whenever exactly that might have been. The two trade publications that specialize in the touring industry have slightly differing estimates: Billboard calculated a cumulative gross of approximately $900 million when she took a break at the end of 2023, figuring that she would crack $1 billion shortly into the tour’s resumption in April, while Pollstar estimated that she had passed $1 billion by the conclusion of last year. Any way you guesstimate it, Swift took less than a year to break the previous record of $939.1 million, which Elton John grossed with his “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour across nearly three years of shows.

One source close to the production said early in the “Eras Tour” era that her average gross each night is $14 million. Others believe that is a highly conservative estimate, with a possible total that on at least some nights edges closer to $17 million. One remarkable aspect is that this does not include the revenue from any inflated resale tickets — which, as anyone who has tried to get tickets through Vivid Seats or StubHub knows, mostly have gone for several times their face value. It was little publicized, but Swift had “dynamic pricing” turned off for her ticket sales, possibly to avoid the controversies Bruce Springsteen encountered when the face value on some of his tickets leaped to the four-figure range upon their first sale. Swift left money on the table by not participating in the scalping of her own tickets, which had an average price of around $230 and topped out at $499, excepting VIP packages, which zenithed at $899 — all well short of what some other superstars ask nowadays. Of course, neither Argentina nor anyone at Wembley Stadium ahead of Swift’s opening night performance in June will be crying for her when she’s in reach of $2 billion without the resale inflation … not to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars in merch.

(This is extraordinary also because Swift hasn’t done any press to promote the tour, except for when she was selected as Time Magazine’s Person of the Year in December. But she doesn’t need to — the tour is constantly being celebrated on social media with every outfit change. And it’s also become so huge, it’s featured more A-list sightings than the Oscars, from Julia Roberts to Tom Cruise to Stevie Nicks, who had the surprise song “You’re on Your Own, Kid” dedicated to her in Dublin.)

Benson Boone, whose “Beautiful Things” is the most-streamed song of 2024 in the U.S. and the world, says he felt dwarfed when performing as the opening act at one of Swift’s seven shows at London’s Wembley Stadium. He has forever committed to memory the exact attendance figure he was given for the night: “89,497,” he says. “Just her stage alone is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen — 300 feet of it!” he says. “I took in every moment. It was cool for me to experience another artist’s world and learn from it. I want to work that hard and be the captain of my ship.”

Although it’s maddening to a media that likes official box office reports and can’t get them, it’s easy to see the wisdom in not flaunting those figures if you’re a superstar artist who counts on being seen as relatable. Swift certainly is proud of breaking records — she posted a tweet when “The Tortured Poets Department” spent its first 12 weeks at No. 1 on the album chart, one of only three albums in history to do so. But she’d rather count fan impressions than dollars. By the same token, she doesn’t publicize or confirm acts of generosity that leak out, like the sizable food-bank donations she makes in every city she tours, or the $100,000 bonuses that the tour’s 50 truck drivers reportedly got for Christmas.

An addendum to all this is how the “Eras Tour” film — released last fall, less than halfway through the actual tour — grossed just over $180 million domestically and $261 million globally, beating the records set by Justin Bieber’s concert film in the U.S. and Michael Jackson’s globally. Massive big-screen spoilers only heightened, rather than diminished, resale demand for the shows yet to come on the 152-date tour and helped precipitate the movement among Americans to head overseas, to make up for the supply found sorely lacking at home.

“She is the torchbearer for the live industry,” says Andy Gensler, editor of Pollstar. “It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before, and it’ll be a long time before we see it again. Her timing was exquisite: The pandemic created this yearning and hunger for live entertainment like nothing else in our history, so she couldn’t have picked a better time to go out.” Pollstar called last year a “historic golden age” for touring, as the top 100 global tours collectively surpassed $9 billion — up 46% from 2022 — with Swift obviously contributing a significant chunk of that total. (This year, the trade reports that overall tour attendance is down, with flat grosses, representing a slight reckoning for the live industry that, obviously, isn’t impacting “Eras.”)

“What my partners and I talk a lot about is how it’s one thing to have a big tour in North America. It’s another thing to have an equally big tour wherever you are in the world and to do doubles and triples in these markets,” says Bernie Cahill, an Activist founding partner and manager of acts including the Grateful Dead and the Lumineers. “It’s an anomaly. It’s not normal. And don’t forget, you’re going into what I call asymmetric venues, which are venues that are not really built for music; these are venues that are built for football games or soccer games and can be very challenging to do music. And they get it right every time — Louis Messina [Swift’s tour promoter since her earliest days] and his team are world-class.” But for all that globe-trotting, he notes, “there are some artists that you see do a show and you know they don’t even know what city they’re in. I always feel like Taylor knows exactly where she is. She has a relationship with that city or that market and those fans and she’s connected to them in ways that are very authentic, that you can’t fake.”

The one big snafu in the rollout of “The Eras Tour” occurred in November 2022 when the Ticketmaster system melted down after too many North American dates went on sale at once, causing thousands of fans to experience long delays. The on-sale broke the all-time record for tickets sold in a single day at 2 million, but it also nearly broke the world’s largest ticketing platform. Swift herself was Teflon in this situation, as the blame fell on a ticketing system not capable of handling so much of the Swift-loving world at once. And although most of the problems people have with Ticketmaster are different from what fans faced in the “Eras Tour” debacle — mainly, hidden fees and monopolistic practices — it could have big legislative consequences anyway. Dean Budnick, co-author of “Ticket Masters: The Rise of the Concert Industry and How the Public Got Scalped,” believes that the Swift hullabaloo was the main catalyst for Congress enacting reform. “There’s no question that perhaps there’s gonna be some meaningful change in ticketing as a result of what people experienced with that on-sale.”

That sense Cahill spoke about of the singer making it clear to an audience she knows exactly where she’s at is in full force in Dublin. Swift introduces the “Folklore”/”Evermore” segment by suggesting that she had a spiritual locale in mind when she started writing that more intimate material, locked in during the first part of the pandemic. “It keeps me up at night all year long: Which era is the most Irish?” she half-jokes to the crowd. “I’m gonna make a case for it being ‘Folklore’ … This album’s imaginary world had a whole aesthetic — like I lived in this cabin in a really green, nature-y, moss-covered landscape. You see where I’m going?… Another thing that I think makes it more Irish than the other eras is, ‘Folklore’ was all about storytelling. And I know you hear this a lot, but you guys are naturally gifted storytellers, right?”

Later on, Swift will cement the local connection by playing, as a “secret” surprise acoustic song, “Sweet Nothing.” She doesn’t have to give the crowd any explanation for that: From the first notes, Irish Swifties will immediately recall that the lyrics reference to the coastal town of Wicklow. The real cherry on top of the show for locals at any international Eras Tour stop, though, comes with a customized moment each night during “We Are Never Getting Back Together” when the spotlight is put on backing dancer Kameron Saunders for a couple of seconds, as he blurts out something locally appropriate, and cheeky. One night in Dublin, it’s the Irish catchphrase “the neck of ye!”; on another, he yells out “pog mo thoin,” meaning “kiss my ass!”; the massive, knowing laugh that inside joke gets makes it clear this isn’t entirely an audience of American tourists after all.

But the basic theatrics and emotional currents remain consistent from show to show. If Swift is surprisingly reticent to make her “Eras Tour” numbers public, that may be, in part, her desire to keep the focus primarily on a personal fan connection. Music industry veterans are taken aback by Swift’s ability to be giant and intimate onstage. “She’s a master marketer of herself — and she is not afraid to be vulnerable to her fans,” says Michele Bernstein, who runs a consultancy that works with stars like Drake. Bernstein could almost be quoting the lyrics of “Mastermind,” where Swift describes herself in almost comically omniscient terms, then dives into a bridge about how no one would play with her as a little girl.

People like my guardian of the customs gate may complain about Swift’s songs centering on her romantic splits, but that subject matter magnifies her own insecurities and weaknesses, expressed in genuinely eccentric wordplay, in ways that keep the audience in thrall to someone they perceive as a humble underdog as well as a veritable cage fighter. She could do a $10 billion tour someday and still keep the crowd enraptured by how she measures up to, or rallies to exceed, the smallest man — or men, or Kardashians — in the world.

This plays out in the “Eras” show in all sorts of symbolic ways, like the new segment in the “Tortured Poets” section where she seems to have fainted from the vapors of failed romance. Dancers in tuxedos try to revive her while a swing version of “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” plays over the PA. A pair of women dressed as nurses fit her with what looks like a majorette’s uniform — or, with all its off-white stripes, is it really meant to resemble a straitjacket? The resemblance is probably not coincidental. Swift fans know there’s nothing like a mad woman.

The most exhilarating moment that has been added to the show this year has her gliding down the ramp on a platform, appearing to anyone at floor level like she is levitating like the witch she makes herself out to be in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” Taylor Swift: She was Agatha all along!

Yes, there is much to unpack. But in Dublin and in every other city where “Eras” has alighted, there is also pure inspiration for those who maybe haven’t always felt like they’ve had a voice, whether it’s her LGBTQ+ fan base or, well, women. It’s a modern transmutation of Beatlemania in which Swift manages to be all four Fabs, and a mirror, as well as object, of that gaze. You don’t have to be a woman to experience the explosion of pure female joy that takes place on a mass scale at an “Eras” gig, but for men, it doesn’t hurt to have a healthy sense of where you might sit on the female spectrum.

Outside Aviva Stadium, two young Londoners have formed their own two-woman straight-gay alliance: One is wearing a shirt with the hand- drawn words “You’re obsessive and crazy,” and the other’s shirt has the phrase “You’re gay,” each with an arrow pointing to the other. This echoes the original lyrics to Swift’s 2006 oldie “Picture to Burn,” which was rerecorded after some were offended by “gay” as a possible teen epithet. “I am obsessive and crazy, and she is gay,” laughs Zoe Gibson, pointing to her friend, India Day. “We want to bring back the original lyrics. We never found them homophobic — we want to reclaim it.” Day adds, “We’ve listened to her since we were 4 years old, so obviously there’s the nostalgia factor. But for me, she speaks on quite a lot of issues like gay rights and feminism, and all of her songs perfectly sum up the experience of being a woman.”

Some of the shirts are apropos for Pride Month. Seeing a boy of no older than 15 or 16 wearing a homemade “But Daddy I Love Him” shirt (the title of a “Tortured Poets” fan favorite), it’s easy to imagine some courage was required to don that apparel. Along the same lines, I spot any number of women making their own statement in shirts with the modified exclamation “But Daddy I Love Her.”

Gay or straight, 6 years old or 60-something, female or just female-allied, the crowd inside gets its sway on early in the show, with the arrival of the gentle, waltz-time “Lover.” It’s not one of the big set-pieces of this nonstop Broadway-style production — the spotlight is just on Swift and her acoustic guitar — but it might be the one where the entire audience feels like it’s at a four-minute campfire. No wicked witchiness here, just winsomeness.

Down on the floor, I’m seeing what amounts to a Taylor Swift mosh pit: gangs of two or three or five young women, ignoring the fact that Swift herself is just yards away from them on the ramp. They’re singing and acting out every last line to each other, as if the superstar isn’t even towering right over them. A waste of their euros? Hardly. Swift will capture their full attention again as the show proceeds, but in the moment, she isn’t just a superstar — she might be the world’s greatest community organizer.

#variety 2024 #variety #eras tour #taylor swift

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lawlietscaramels · 1 year ago

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Yandere ╾ L Lawliet

Because apparently I fell into a yandere stage and this is my tunnel out.

CW typical yandere stuff (stalking, obsession, overprotection, manipulative, worship, dependence, monopoly, killer)

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

Yandere L is interesting because I think yes, he could absolutely be a yandere

canonically too

BUT only if you defined a yandere by "do they have the traits?" as opposed to "what do they do?"

so first: what KIND of yandere is the detective? top five traits incoming.

STALKER

Let's just get this one out of the way

He obviously to some degree "stalks" people just for his work, through cameras and policemen if not in person

he's a stalker guys. that's it.

so he wouldn't have a problem just turning up wherever someone who interested him was

again

and again

and again...

He's pretty hard not to notice because of his peculiar mannerisms, but he's also literally black and white enough to blend into the background.

So if he was careful (he is) it would take a while before you noticed you were seeing him everywhere you went. And by then you wouldn't be able to think of a time where he wasn't sitting quietly somewhere in the background.

L knows this.

he knows you're going to assume he just happens to live in the same area as you, or something like that.

I don't think he'd actually follow you into your home but he would go when you were out someday to set up cameras

and I think L would genuinely believe himself to be a good person

what if he goes away and you get in trouble? you don't always have a roommate, who would notice? well, now L will, and he is quite able to get you back to safety. but back to the stalkery.

oh man he's gone through your stuff. your closets your phone whatever. he wants to know about you

one day he might just arrange for a little... near accident somewhere you both frequent

and oh my oh gosh oh diddly darn

guess who just happens to be there to save the day

(L. it's L. notice him please?)

OBSESSIVE

There are two things that L is canonically obsessed with: work and desserts

but if he found a romantic interest that list suddenly has a third item: YOU.

especially if you bake him cakes or help him in cases. because then he ties those things he loves to you.

and I'll just quickly mention these traits are always a little bit in his personality but the order I'm writing in is the order they come out more strongly around you.

Obsession is also tied with stalking.

Some days he watches you and dreams about you smiling at him the way you smile at the rain and the sun and the world.

he imagines how everything will work out. you're a distraction to his work: he would have to find a way to integrate you into his life in a way that allows him to be close to you and not distracted. he imagines he imagines

you'd find a way to fit into him while he was sitting, your body pressed up against his torso, legs pulled up, head on his shoulder.

he could play with your hair with one hand. you could feed him sweets.

L is for the first time not in control of his own thoughts. it's new and unpredictable so it's completely terrifying to him, and for a while he'll slink away into the darkest recesses of society and draw away from you.

but it doesn't stop. it gets worse.

he can't look outside without wondering if you're looking at the same skies. can't eat strawberries without wondering if you like them.

so then he does a full 180 and will devote all of his available attention (some must be spared for work) to you. if you don't already work together or if he hasn't made contact during the stalking at all, this is when he does it.

he reaches out to see if you'll take him.

and when you do (it's not a question of if, see manipulative) he will calm down a fair bit.

but he is still, quietly, obsessed

OVERPROTECTIVE

what can I say?

gosh he just wants to keep you safe.

He's seen every bad thing about the world through his work, he knows bad things constantly happen to good people.

but. not. to. you.

L just won't let it happen. he can and will secret you away in a hotel room. never enough for you to become suspicious, to rattle at doors and windows. And you move with him, every couple of weeks, so it's just an adventure, dear.

also I think he'd use darling in a sweeter sense. dear or maybe doll is his yandere pet name for you.

He probably has several trackers somewhere on you. probably not IN you... probably...

also you know that nail polish they developed that changes colour when it comes into contact with common poisons in drinks? he makes you use stuff like that. for your safety.

hate hate hates that he can't be with you all the time. you tend to find yourself with reasons to stay at home when L's not around. once again see manipulative.

he does trust you, he really does. but he doesn't trust the world. men in particular are often disgusting. it's just true. he's seen it time and time again as a detective. who knows what scary things could be out in the world? and if they knew you were dating, that you had ANY relationship with the world's greatest detective? L's afraid he's putting you in danger. please just humour him and stay home for a week, dear. you can work on your baking.

if you started getting really rebellious, thought you were being chained up, whatever, L would let you go and do whatever you wish. He doesn't want you to feel like that! He loves you! he may or may not have organised for a brush with death for you so that you realise how right he is about the horrors of the world and want to stay home like he asks you so nicely to.

you're just so pure. so innocent.

there, there. he won't let them hurt you.

he'll even close all the blinds so the darkness of the world can't reach in to taint your beauty. isn't he the best?

MANIPULATIVE

IT'S CANON.

I can't think of any particularly specific examples but he lies about everything. Whenever he throws out a number (5%) it means he suspects someone over 90%

so he has no issues bending the truth

sigh if L's manipulative side is triggered it's triggered ALL the way. one one hand he hates doing this to you

but on the other it's for your own good and you're being stupid.

He will do ANYTHING to make you believe him. he will manipulate you into thinking he's being manipulative so he can get upset at your lack of trust in him so he's able to manipulate you

did that make sense...

can cry on demand.

but it's not all about making himself the victim, he will also just.. isolate you if you're starting to drift away from him. Suddenly your friends find other interests, your family are renovating the house or your parents won a radio prize for a vacation.

and L is the only one left. and he himself is distant until you cry and plead and apologise

the isolation thing is actually a yan trait itself and the scenarios above are also kind of training. but they're only a part of the bigger trait.

he will also manipulate situations and other people, not just you.

L just wants what's best for everyone

(coincidentally this always aligns with what is best for L.)

he's so smart though. it's really really difficult to realise he's manipulating you unless he wants you to.

WORSHIP

you're so pretty, the most perfect thing he's ever seen

you're an angel, really.

and people who don't respect you as such are going to get a subtle but clear message from L to STEP AWAY.

cold glares.

he will literally turn his head 180° like an owl to stare at them while he walks you away

they might end up fired. I mean someone who can't see what's right in front of their eyes doesn't deserve whatever job they have...

he just wants to spoil you sometimes and he has the resources to do it and more.

sometimes this gets a little suffocating but it's sweet. mostly.

it's nice to have time with your boyfriend instead of big, grand, empty rooms. L just doesn't have a lot of time. He does his job to protect you, protect you from everything in this world because it is all inferior to you.

I do not like to think about how he would react if you happened to meet Light...

I wasn't sure about whether or not to put this in the top five because I don't think he'd see himself as inferior. his IQ is big. but you could still jump from his ego down to his IQ and fall for hours. he thinks you're more good than he is but he's under no delusions about your relative intelligence or anything.

but yeah, I think he's a worshipper.

Just... a quiet worshipper. all his yan traits are kinda quiet tho haha

L wants to give you the world. he would sacrifice anything for you.

he would take a bullet for you

his work makes this a good possibility. he'd prefer not to get shot but he'd still do it for you.

probably the most harmless of his yandere traits. this one comes out when he decides this is it, you are it, forever.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS

really quickly a couple of the other traits L might have and express are:

dependence (mostly for manipulative purposes. he will cry if you ever fight. L is honestly quite dependent on you, he might die without you-- or more likely just force you back into his arms-- but he puts on a lot of an act, a puppet master pulling strings behind the stage. he wants to be seen as vulnerable, not just a stoic and brilliant detective. because which one is it easier to lose your heart to? and you must lose your heart. you stole his first.)

monopoly (when he has time, he needs you to have time for him and only him. he doesn't have a lot of time. will manipulate you into spending time with him but it's more of an occasional pest thing than anything. quite harmless. especially because he works a lot. you have plenty of time without him, which makes him sad, but he can't help it. and you wouldn't love him if he stopped you from seeing your family and friends...)

killer (yeah... not in the top five by any means but if someone tries to hurt you? god forbid, if they SUCCEED? you'll be stuck at home for a couple of weeks while L frets over you. and sometime in that couple of weeks.. well.. maybe that someone who hurt you finds themself in trouble with a gang. L's not doing the dirty work himself but he's behind it and you will never find out. if they only TRIED to hurt you L won't be able to justify killing them to himself, but they'll quickly find themselves in jail.)

YANDERE?

so back to what I mentioned in the first part: L is a yandere, IF you're only basing the classification on the fact that he has these traits and the ability to act on them

but as anyone who's watched police or court drama knows, you need more than means and opportunity:

you need MOTIVE.

this is where I can't base my thoughts on canon so much anymore. the only people who we really see L caring about the death of (spoilers‼️) are: the FBI agents (though not on a personal level); Ukita (pretty sure that's his name); and Watari (though L himself dies too soon after for this last one to be useful)

so. Ukita.

L probably wouldn't care enough for the guy to go yandere for him LMFAO but we do see him refusing to rush in and take action without thinking, something which a yandere might be more inclined to do if they cared about someone.

HOWEVER we also see he's trembling. like he's a little in shock about the death and what it means, but also he wants to do something about it.

a yandere urge, brought out by something bad happening to someone he cares about.

My point being?

L has the traits of a yandere, and has the ability to act on any of them any time. he's smart, he's rich, and he has the trust of the entire world (or respect at least)

but he doesn't act unless triggered.

and ofc because he doesn't have a canonical love interest, we can't prove either way what he would do for/to them.

but I think he is more deredere (love) than yanderu (sick).

anyway, L is smart enough to realise that the yandere doesn't usually win the game of love, and that the things are not things you should be doing for/to someone who trusts you. not things you should be doing to someone you love.

but sometimes, when his emotions are high and so is the danger to you or your relationship,

his control just slips

and you might just find yourself locked in a hotel room while he works on the Kira case.

SO IS HE A YANDERE?

no. I'd say that he's a kuudere.

cold, cynical, sarcastic sense of humour, views feelings as a weakness but DOES have them and will open up over time.

but oh...

wait...

according to the dere wiki...,

"Due to the way a kuudere acts, a yandere can easily pretend to be a kuudere when not acting insane."

...

so, what do we think?

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

but hey that's just a theory... a DERE theory! aaand cut.

𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

©lawlietscaramels. Do not repost on other sites, claim as your own work, edit, rewrite or “fix,” feed to AI or otherwise use unethically.

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tsvwords · 2 months ago

Text

If you try and seed this supposed god amongst comfortable people, amongst well-off people, you’re gonna get a deeply unhappy lesson in just how many good citizens will skim over your pamphlet once and then turn it over to the police.

And then all your hard stapling work? That’ll be for absolutely nothing.

Stop thinking like a fucking mark. You’re smarter than this.

This isn’t a god for people like you. It’s not there to offer comfort.

It’s a god for the desperate, the hopeless - all the poor bastards across the Straits who’ve had to confront the material reality that they could be seized by five armed policemen, dragged down a corridor and hallowed any second from now.

Set your god loose in the prisons. Not the libraries, not the care homes - the prisons.

That’s where it can circulate - if there’s anything to it.

— Chapter 26: My Song, My Sorrow and I.

#the silt verses #quotes #tsv 26

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jackiequick · 1 year ago

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Meet The Crew | Fast Five Fanfic 🇧🇷

Pairing: Brian O’Conner x Mia Toretto, Han x Soffi

Pre-relationship: Valentina Toretto x Deckard Shaw

Setting: Fast Five (2011)

Summary: Being the run for more than 2 years going from country to country, city to city, just to run away and survive. But what happens when Dom comes up with a plan to get their lives on track? Steal from the biggest man in Brazil. Then your gonna need a crew.

Characters: Dom, Brian, Mia, Tej, Roman, Val and etc.

Click here to see information for the rest of her story.

——

The last few days have ran cold. After arriving in Brazil, everything took a turn and keeping bigger lives at stack.

First with Val finding out what Mia is pregnant, having not told Brian yet. Then the heist they went on that Vince planned going haywire with Val, Dom and Brian getting caught then running to the safe house. To the argument between everyone on Vince not playing fair, where he left to go do his own thing.

And now!

They were being chased by policemen and Reye’s men across the streets and on top of the building finding themselves hiding out. Dom wanted to spilt up until Mia announced that it wasn’t the best idea.

Brian agreed with Dom, until Val said, “Tell ‘em sis..”

“I’m pregnant.” She said with a smile, out of breath from running across the bay.

Dom and Brian were shocked but happy. Hell, Brian was overwhelmed with joy fulling his best girl into a kiss. Val told them that they needed to stick together cause they’re family just got bigger.

It was settled that night by the boys while the girls slept that they had to stop running now. Make a life for themselves. So it was made to get their earning attention and some cash. Buy they’re freedom.

But they needed a team.

The next day, they planned as well as they could looking above the city.

“Okay let’s run through the basics.” Brian said leaning against his girl with a smile.

“First we need a chameleon. Someone who can blend in.” Dom said winking at Val and added, “Anywhere and can handle themselves.”

Soffi and Han were on they’re mind from the last heist.

“What else?” Mia asked.

“Hmm. A fast talker.” Dom said, “Someone who can bullshit they’re way out of anything.”

“I got that!” Brian announced with a smile.

His mind went to Roman.

“This guy has a lot of surveillance, so we need someone who’s good with circuits.” Mia added, meaning Tej could do the job.

“And with those circuits, Reyes is gonna have walls. We’re gonna need guys to punch through those walls.” Val told them with a nod.

Leo and Santos could do it.

“Hmm. Weapons and utilities.” Val added smiling.

Giselle was skilled for that.

“And last but not least. Two precision drivers. Two guys who won’t crack under pressure.” Dom said with such pride in his voice and a grin at only grew by the second.

“Oh you know we got that!” Brain repiled with a teasing grin that match his friends.

That left Val and Mia with research and experienced planning.

———

24 hours later. The team came together.

Roman and Tej walked in jokingly insulting each other.

“When you gonna give Martin Luther King his car back?” Roman asked, putting his bag down.

Tej scoffed, “As soon as you give Rick James his jacket back.”

They both cracked a smile, giving one another a bro hug. That was when a motorcycle rolled in, parking right in front of them. It was a women who was riding. The said women got off, removing her helmet as she shake her hair with hearing the guys.

“Sexy legs babygirl, what time they open?” Roman asked with a half smirk.

That was when a handheld gun landed right in between they’re faces, resulting in both men to back up a second.

“They open the same time i pull this trigger. Want me to open them?” Said Giselle with a small grin.

As if on cue, Leo and Santos walked in joking around in Spanish. Roman felt offended as him and Santos started bickering. Tej and Leo brought themselves into the conversation too as Giselle rolled her eyes.

“I thought cock fight were illegal in Brazil.” Han said walking with his girlfriend who smiled at his comment.

“I guess not.” Add Soffi with a smile, glancing up at Giselle.

That was when Dom announced himself with a smile, “I see you all met!” Mia, Val and Brian walked in behind him greeting they’re friends.

Val and Mia ran into Leo and Santos arms for a tight hug, having not seen each other in a while. Brian noticed Soffi standing off to the side, grinning to introduce himself.

“Hey.” He said with a toothy grin, welcoming her to the group.

“Hi..” She replies with a soft smile, noticing a warmth to the blonde that eased her.

“I heard about you.”

“R-really? F-from who?”

“Dom. He talks a lot about his time in the D.R. He said you and Han help him pull a heist there.”

“Oh yeah! It was burning there but we got the job done. I just don’t know why we were called here. I mean, what can i do to help?”

“Dom and his sister said you were like a chameleon. Trying to handle the situation and blend into the crowd?”

That was when Dom spoke over them saying they got a job to do, leading them to a group to debrief. Brian and Dom explained their target along the issues as everyone cut into the conversation.

“Sounds crazy. You brings us to a whole other country so we can rob the dude who runs it? I thought this was business, sounds personal to me. Is this was it is? I got love for y’all but personal ain’t good business. I can’t do this homie.” Roman said turning to walk out.

Val shared a smirk with her brother as she said, “So what we’re talking about is 100 million dollars.”

That’s when Roman stopped in his tracks, spinning around flabbergasted as he exclaimed, “Y-you say wha-? A-a-huna—you see sometimes i be overthinking man. And i know we just met girl, but you just kinda gotta..”

“Roman stop talking.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Soffi couldn’t help but snort at his reaction, being a little surprised herself by the announcement of that much money. Brian shared a smile with Mia as Dom kept explaining saying whatever they can take, they split it evenly. It surprised everyone.

Then Soffi stopped to think and spoke up, “As soon as you hit the first one. They’re gonna do everything they can to protect them.”

Giselle and Han added something else, as everyone nodded to their reason.

“Exactly.” Dom simply said with a smile, planning on what to do.

With that being said, the guys went to Reyes underground place to make themselves known, that they mean business. Burning his money and coming up with the next part of the plan. As well as keeping eyes on the police department scanners. Then the plans were set into motion.

The guys did the heavy duty part like breaking into police station to see the safe they would steal, placing extra cameras around town, and searching for extra ways to get around the city. Han and Val even ordered in a replica of the safe to replace with during the heist.

Because he’s hella rich.

Roman was eating while watching them work. Tej looked over his shoulder to see Val sitting by the stairs holding a pin and needle. She was pulling some fabric together, having a placement made for their safe.

“Girl what are you doing?” Tej asked, holding up his stack of paperwork.

“Isn’t it obvious? Tini is going to the beach later haha!” Roman exclaimed with a laugh, which earned him a glare.

“Who told you that nickname?” Val said glaring at him playfully.

“Brian. I think he told the others too.”

“Remind me to whoop his ass later.”

“What? Its cute!”

“What’s cute?” Said a voice that belong to Soffi, who was snacking on a bag of chips.

“Tini!” Roman yelled.

“Who’s Tini?”

“Vally over here!”

Val groaned shared a look with Tej who snorted at her annoyance.

It clicked for Soffi as she gasped with a smile, “That’s you nickname? I didn’t know that!”

“I’mma kill Brian..” She muttered, “Only he ever used that nickname before. Now y’all know.”

Tej chuckled, “Welcome to my world! Roman will never shut up about it now.”

“It’s cute! I-I like it.” Soffi said, noticing the fabric in her hand, “Uh, w-what’s with the bikini? A-are you going to beach?”

“That’s what i said!” Roman yelled once again chuckling, “If so babygirl, can i come?”

“No, I ain’t going to be beach. Someone else will. Since Tej said the safe needs Reyes fingerprints, and we can’t exactly get them..” Val said, looking at the tech genius.

“…you’re gonna swipe his handprints to use it against the piggy bank’s system. Smart girl!” Tej said, finishing her sentence.

“Exactly! Han and Soffi are up.”

“Wait seriously? R-right now?” Soffi said, looking over her shoulder to see Han.

He leaning against the wall with a smirk hearing his name as he chatted with Giselle.

“Nice. I like the easy stuff.” Han added with a smirk and kissing his girlfriend’s cheek, “See you outside babe.”

“I-i-wait! Han! Ugh!”

“Time to work our magic baby!”

He walked out with a grin that made her blush. Roman and Tej teased the girl for blushing. Soffi was a little confused about the actions she would take until Val pulled her aside into a room to change. Soffi was gonna wear the purple bikini and Giselle was gonna be there in the background as back up, just in case.

But it was her case to do.

She was a little worried it won’t go well however she saw the look in Val’s eye. A look of bravery and courage that would result in confidence for the task.

Val even joked, “Honey i seen you in action. It’s easy.”

“Alright, alright. Give me the towel.” Soffi replies joking, snatching the towel out of her hands and run out.

All Val can do was laugh as she went back to hanging out with Tej and Roman. She knew Soffi, Han and Giselle would get the job done they’re own way, but it was time for that to wait.

However that didn’t mean Val wasn’t gonna have some fun herself, heading out to buy extra drinks and catching a ride to the exact spot where Giselle told there they would be.

She stayed nearby the palm tree with Giselle watching them, reading the room then quickly walked away.

Han was snacking on some chips and chatting with Soffi who sipped her drink. They were eyeing Reye and the group on the high deck of the guesthouse across of the low end the beach. The pair were flirting and chuckling, wondering what was the man’s plan.

“I make six bodyguards.” Han said, glancing over his the guest shoulder.

“Seven.” Soffi added watching them, “The guy with the fanny pack is a tourist.”

“You think we should stay here after this is over?”

“Sure! I like the beaches here but you should watch your habits first.”

“Huh? What did i do?”

“You quit smoking, babe. I’m happy you did! But the snacks you were eating today, a lot more than usual.”

“I know. I’m handling it. I��m getting better.”

“I know and I’m glad you are.”

Han noticed the men on the stairs and sighed, “Well this is a real bust. We can’t get his fingerprints out here. Call Val, do some more reconstruction on the plan.”

“No..I don’t want to do that.” Soffi said, looking at the house and her outfit for a moment.

“She will understand. Giselle is here, we can try to do something else as we figure something out.”

“Or..um..uh-l-let me t-try something here. P-please?”

“Y-you sure?”

“Y-yeah. Watch out for me.”

Soffi took a breath, not wasting a second as she let the towel fall off her body and onto the floor. She smiled to herself feeling good swaying her hips walking away from the table in her purple bikini.

At that same time, Giselle followed beside her with a wink wearing her own valued bikini.

Han was left with his jaw dropped onto the ground, his fingertips stopped before ever reaching his mouth with the bag of nuts. He smiled softly to himself, biting his lower lip chuckling.

“Damn.” He muttered to himself.

The man speechless in place as both women walked over to the open house party, past the guardsmen smiling.

Soffi sat on the armrest of the chair where Reyes sat with a smile, as Giselle rested her hands on the shoulder of Reyes friends. She laughed at his jokes. Meanwhile Soffi smiled chatting with Reyes as he placed his hand on her bottom against the fabric of the bikini.

Han raised an eyebrow at his movements, rolled his eyes at the action with a grin.

She got the handprint.

“Nice.” Han muttered with a nod, waiting for them to finish to head over to the beach.

———

Later on the trio returned back to the bunker to find Roman and Tej working on the vault. They were confused once they returned with nothing but two bikinis in hand. One purple and one red.

Both men looked confused. Until Soffi lit a flashlight over the bikinis Giselle and Han were holding. Two handprints for extra measurements. In result the guys smirked and joked.

Tej smirked, “So did he just smack the ass or did he grab and hold on to it?”

Roman laughed as Soffi smirked waving the flashlight at both men jokingly.

————

Some stuff happened afterwards. Almost getting caught by the cops resulting in them putting a tracking on their trucks and testing how fast they were in the cars for the heist drifting away as quick as possible. But no one was fast enough, but it’s because they need certain cars to get past the city with ease.

Police cars.

So the boys went off, expect for Santos and Leo, to search for them. Meanwhile the girls stayed by relaxing, chatting about what they would do with their money.

Giselle wanted to go sightseeing without watching her back. Valentina wished for the ability to travel the word and have her own small adventure. Soffi wanted to open up a small shop to bake and sell her favorite treats, using the money left over for something special. Mia just wanted to relax at a small beach house and have her own little thing going on before she left to go to the store.

If only they could clear they’re names just as quickly.

By the same time she returned from the store as the boys did. They were racing in cop cars, with Brian winning against Dom. But Mia returned with a certain someone. Vince.

Everyone stood up in defense and confusion about his return. Some didn’t even know who Vince was but stood up to protest against against the man. Mia was trying to explain what exactly happened as they thankfully listened.

But Val was ready to pounce at Vince, it took Soffi and Tej to hold her back as she yelled at her oldest friend. Brian was about to get in Vince’s face wanting some more answers until Dom shut both of them up. Calling his oldest friends over to help him fix the car to talk, letting everyone cool down and allow Vince to eventually join in their plans.

Eventually everyone did. Cooking dinner for one another, bringing out more chairs and couches to sit on, extra tables and a radio. Some sat around tinkering with items, Dom was fixing one of the cars with Vince and Brian meanwhile Roman, Tej and Han talked. Everyone was speaking with the idea what would they do with their millions of dollars.

—————

Everyone had plenty of ideas. Some traveling, going to Las Vegas, getting cooking classes, buying houses and so much more. Tej wanted to start his own business to fix cars and not let people get ripped off.

“You peoples dreams are to start day jobs?!” Roman exclaimed, looking at them like they crazy.

Mostly looking Tej like he was just talking crazy for suggesting that idea in the first place.

Soffi crossed her arms, “What’s so wrong about that, Roman?”

“Everything! Y’all got money, use to the buy luxury gifts and items like you couldn’t afford before.” Roman said, sipping his drink.

“So what will you do then, Roman?” Valentina added, standing next to her friends with Giselle behind her grinning.

So in result the man explained how he do plenty of things, from buying himself suits to his very own plane. All the girls smirked and laughed, teasing Roman that they will try to steal the planes and jets for they’re own plans. Tej and a few of the others rolled their eyes chuckling.

Val grinned saying she will use Roman’s jets to travel the world and such. From Italy to Cuba to Hawaii and a sweet return to the Dominican Republic. Soffi and Giselle saying they will join her, suggesting France as well. A mini girls trip, including Mia and the others.

Roman jokingly got offended and rolled his eyes teasing them back, going to get everyone refills as they waited for dinner to be served. However once he stopped at Brian and Mia, he got hella confused. Mia kept saying she can’t drink and Brian insisted, leaving Roman with odd look on his face.

Until Brian rubbing his girlfriend’s nonexistent bump as Roman’s eyes lit up. It clicked.

“Ohh! Are you serious right now?” Roman exclaimed with bug eyes and a cheeky grin turning to Dom, “Is that the reason you let him beat you in the quarter mile? Hahaha that was a baby gift!”

Mia was giggling brightly.

Brain looked at his best friend, trying to defend himself and said, “No, that’s messed up.”

“That was a baby gift.” Roman repeated with a growing grin

“No, your not taking that from me.”

Tej walked up with a smirk acting all chill and asked, “Wait wait wait, hold on a second. So, did he just smack that ass or did he grab it?”

Val smirked bursting into laughter as she rubbed Brian’s shoulder jokingly and walked over to Dom. She grinned seeing they’re friends all congratulate Brian and Mia on the pregnancy.

Mia stayed hugging Soffi and Giselle the longest.

“Baby gift, huh?” She asked teasing him smiling, “Wanna explained?”

Brian followed behind her giving Dom a look, wondering the same thing as they both shared a matching smile.

“Baby gift?” Brian repeated.

“I have no idea what they’re talking about.” Dom replies with a smile, shrugging.

“Yeah sure.” Val added.

Once everything died down still celebrating the new, Dom called everyone to circle back for he can give a small toast.

Everyone chuckled, giving small smile to each other and leaned against the other person enjoying the moment.

Each member had a drink in their hands as they looked up to listen to the man who put all of this together.

Dom took a breath took as he look around the room and then spoke, “Money all come and go, you know that. But the most important thing in life will always be the people in this room. Right here. Right now. Salute mi familia.”

“Salute.” Said everyone raising their beer bottles, as you heard the light cling once they were brought together in a circle.

Everyone smiles, some sipping their drinks and others lean against the person next to them for a tight squeeze.

It was real.

They’re all here in Brazil.

Together.

And they’re finish off the week pulling off an heist.

It’s gonna be nuts.

Thank you so much for reading this fic! It’s one of my favorite films and it was a great treat to toss theses characters into it.

What did you think about it? Let me know in the comments below.

Please reblog, like and share for more stuff like this

Tags; @hanlueluver @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @whitewiccan @msrochelleromanofffelton @starkleila @thisgirlisonfayeeer @meiramel @gcthvile @yetanotherwells @rooster-84 @rickb-chaos @mandylove1000 @sherloquestea and etc

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powerupcomicstonight · 4 months ago

Text

More Woosterposting

“You!” growled the diminutive aggressor, eyeing me as a graphic designer might regard a client who’s taken his work and swapped Comic Sans in for all the fonts. “So this is the degenerate manchild with designs on corrupting my innocent daughter!”

This took me squarely aback. I had not expected to cherish Sir Watkyn Bassett’s company, strictly speaking, but it had not occurred to me that the old patriarch might go aggro at the very sight of me.

“What-ho, Sir Watkyn!” I replied with a bright situation-diffusing smile. “So this is the kindly old bean who Madeline’s always praising to the high heavens!”

“Don’t what-ho me, Wooster!” Sir Watkyn snapped. “I’ve seen your videos, you know! You are a violent and lawless young man! I shudder to contemplate the irreparable fissures in the moral foundation of an individual who would award a score of 9.5 to a video game which allows the player to simulate, of all unsavory acts, stealing a policeman’s uniform!”

It would be a stretch to say that the pieces were falling into place, but there were pieces, and they were working their way clumsily down the y-axis. Madeline’s old ancestor had evidently vetted my Youtube channel, and found something that disagreed with his aged sensibilities.

“I’m sorry, Sir Watykn. Are you referring to my Grand Theft Auto review?”

“So, he admits it!” Cried Sir Watkyn of the Bassets in triumph.

“And that bit about stealing policemen’s uniforms, was that really the worst thing you saw me do in that game?”

“I had no appetite for further demonstrations of anarchy and mayhem,” he declared firmly. “I can readily imagine that this so-called game allowed you to escalate the situation to still higher levels of hooliganism, perhaps by vandalizing a police vehicle, or even shooting out the windows of a police station. What I saw made me feel sick, and I was forced to stop the video.”

...

I located Jeeves in a quiet corner of Sir Waykyn’s library, serenely editing Wikipedia on his laptop.

“It’s worse than I thought, Jeeves," I announced. "Sinister, in fact. I’ve broken bread with Sir Watkyn Bassett, and it’s come to light that he’s the boomer who reported my Youtube channel.”

“Would this be the excitable party whose censure resulted in the five-day suspension, sir?”

“The very same. I have taken damage, Jeeves. Bring me a whiskey-soda, and my new camouflage Crocs.”

#Jeeves and Wooster #Woosterposting #Sir Watkyn Bassett #Camouflage Crocs #GTA

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imsobadatnicknames2 · 4 months ago

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wrt your post about US elections influencing the whole world and the "European privilege" we exhibit: yes and? The dogshit american empire rules us. Before them it was the soviets. Before that it was the nazis and before them it the austrians and hungarians and turks. What is your fucking point? we KNOW your ratfucker private-sector-imported political class is salivating to make us work 7 days a week for 14 hours, and cook us in our cities by burning 30 trillion times more petrol. We have to see your fucking politicians' faces on every social media site and be swamped with gofundmes for black folks shot dead by your SS policemen. Are you trying to say politics is a distraction from labour disputes? WHAT? It's the same. Politics IS labour dispute. None of us are free until we all are, we KNOW. FUCK. Like no bitch, we KNOW the IMF is fucking us in the ass because a bunch of US economists normalized the Ayn Rand ideas of market capitalism 50 years ago. Yeah we would machinegun them for christmas if we could but we CAN'T. We can't even vote for the slightly less gaza genociding party but you can. SO SHUT UP! Don't you fucking understand we're governed by your economic power with no recourse or representation? That everything comes from you because you're at the top? Even fucking LEFTISM is INFESTED by tankie shitheads from america whose only idea of communism is that it must be good because they've reversed american exceptionalism in their heads and think anything opposing the US must be better? I can't even go online without some redfash LA shithead telling me about the virtues of Ho Chi Minh and Ceaușescu. GOD. If Trump pulls NATO out of europe Putin will be at my doorstep TOMORROW. Shut the FUCK up about europeans complaining that you english ratfucker colonists are governing us. Vote blue no matter who, strike, kill your bosses, guillotine your politicians and maybe our children - which we wont have - can live in peace one day. And for the love of gun-toting truck-driving hillbilly american Jesus shut the FUCK up and let europeans complain. CHRIST.

I love when I get five paragraphs long asks that can be completely invalidated with the following words:

I live in the global south.

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keyaho · 3 days ago

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Can I request male exotic dancer 🕺🏾 Terry Richmond.

ʀɪᴄʜʏ ʀɪᴄʜ

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : Anya joins her friends for a night out.

Carmines was the top exotic strip club in Atlanta. Somehow, Anya found herself dolled up by her friends and entering the club for a girls night. Shirtless, sweaty and glistening, men danced up on individual stages with hordes of women flocking around them with singles in their hands. The same singles Anya had stuffed into her clutch. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, they fogged slightly from the warmer temperature in the room and her quickening breath. This was out of her element and she, though dressed to the 9s, was out of place.

"Shots!" Stephanie, her best friend and bride to be, waved over a bartender and ordered shots.

Anya was confused as they left the bar and towards a long hallways. As they walked down, Anya noticed there were private rooms. Filing in one by one, the group of five girls found a suite stocked with food, a mini bar, and stage that could fit at least six of the dancers. Their hostess was all smiles and laughter as their group joked around with her.

"Alright, alright,' the hostess said, calming them down, 'you arranged the full experiences with our top guys, so we have it all planned out for you."

"Where is he!" One of their group members asked.

Anya learned they had specifically requested a dancer known as Rich. She hadn't been able to look up the dancers on the website, but it wasn't hard finding his videos online. He was tall, thick frame and muscular with a low cut hair, blue-green eyes and caramel colored skin. His smile was goofy and infectious and the way women literally drooled when he walked into the room wasn't a bad look either. Anya ws anticipating his set.

"He's here of course,' she replied, 'he's up first actually. You know he's in high demand. So get settled we'll start in a few."

In another room, Terry was half dressed, watching the cameras of the room he was booked for first. Every patron knew the rooms were being recorded for safety and that agreement was in effect as soon as they entered the club. Brushing down his waves, Terry rolled a piece of gum around his mouth as he chewed. He could hear the thumping of music and though there was no sound, he knew the suite was full of chatter and excitement. His eyes scanned the screen and he spotted the bride quickly among the girls, her demeanor and outfit were hard to miss.

He always picked one girl from groups to give a special attention to and he made the decision before going into the room. He wanted to see them at ease. He was about to turn from the screen when he noticed her. She was in all black; a cropped one shoulder top that showed off her stomach with a matching skirt with a slit that went dangerously high up her thigh. Terry watched her tug on it and he smirked. The way she pushed the clear frames up her face as she bounced between two girls trying to toss shots down her throat made him laugh. It was clear she was out of her element and that was exactly what he wanted to play with.

Terry left the monitors and finished dressing. He opted for his usual aesthetic. Tight jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat. Southern through and through he stood out in his standard uniform among the firefighters, policemen, and whatever else the guys here would pick. Being able to be himself made the job easier. He rubbed oil and a light scented body butter into his skin, making his fresh tanned skin glisten. He slid gum into his mouth, Winterfresh, to help with his budding nerves. It kept him grounded and he knew it drew focus to his thick pink lips.

While most here stripped down completely naked, Terry didn't. That was his signature. He'd unbutton and unzip his jeans, take a soft dainty hand and rub it just to the tuff of black hairs peeking through, but he never went full nude. Not that he wasn't comfortable or lacking, but some things were better seen up close in private.

As he was scrolling his phone, taking a few Snaps as he did for the night, the hostess knocked on his dressing room door. He pulled it open to see Savannah's face, her bright smile greeting him as she held up his itinerary for the night. The current group of ladies in the suite and a few lap dances later tonight, but he was surprisingly free.

"They are probably drunk, but know the rules." She said, stepping in while passing him his cut for the night. He required pay prior to performing.

"Yeah,' he licks his lips, 'I watched them for a few on the screens. Rowdy."

"Bachelorette party, you know the usual. A two song set, some chocolate and fruit feeding, you know, the normal drunk girl shenanigans." She sighed. "It's going to be a long night."

"It's all in good fun,' he laughs. "I got it handled Savannah."

The lights in the suite suddenly went low and Anya took a seat behind her friends who had piled on the couch. The room was warm as she sat on the stool and swung her feet in anticipation.

She recognized Ludacris's voice as the song began instantly.

I'm 'bout to throw some game, they both one and the same…..

Anya like her friends began reaching into her purse. As she was tugging out the wad of ones a large hand covered hers, lips right beside her ear as a deep voice sang the next lyric and sent chills down her spine.

"Cupid's the one to blame, say it,' he hummed.

Anya's mouth slacked as he smirked and stepped around her. Still shrouded in darkness, she could see the outline of his chest and abs, the thickness in his arms and the slope of his broad shoulders. She lifted her hand instinctively, a few inches from touching him, and Terry stepped froward, letting her grazed her fingers down his chest.

"Oh,' she pulled back, cheeks hot as he winked.

The music played on and he circled the couch, catching the attention of her friends. They cheered his name while she was trying to catch her breath.

Rich! Rich! Rich!

Between Ludacris and his dance moves, Anya was drenched the seat of her thong, soaking the stool and hoping when she stood up there wasn't a puddle. Terry moved to the stage in a low crouch, slinking his body up and the cords in his back flexed, his shoulders slithered to the beat of Ludacris's rap. She wanted to see every molecule of him and leaned froward, her elbows on the back of the couch in admiration. A low fuck slipped from her lips as he looked over his shoulder at them…..at her.

He was lightyears ahead of the Magic Mike dancers, grinding around the stage with hips that made Anya wonder what it felt like to be under him. The way he was able to hold his body up as he rolled his hips towards the floor to the beat of the music while money rained down on him had her memorized. She felt something wet on her arms and looked down, realizing she was drooling on herself. Her glasses were fogged up and she almost missed the way he crawled to the couch, palming the bride to be as she cheered and shoved a few bills into the front of his pants.

More money fell from their hands as Anya made eye contact with Terry as he climbed into her friends lap. Straddling her, he let her rub up and down his torso while pulling her in by her chin. She noticed then the strawberry in his mouth. The green hull was on his end and he leaned in, the tip of the fruit brushing against Anya's lips. His hand dropped to her neck, holding her in place as he bit the fruit and pushed the rest into her mouth with his tongue.

"Oh…..he nasty."

She barely heard it as the blood pumped behind her ears.

Taglist:

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem

@captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated

@swavydadon wabi-sabi1090 Blackgurlkillinit prawspektn iterum-incipi chiachia14 liquorlaughslove L0vesicktimes kinginwithbreezy-blog eilujion Atomicqueenbitch-blog gabbywontlose Heytaewrites 1333286ab-blog Keyera-jackson deja-r

Solunaseira 1thrasherkookie1 moooonluvr ashykneee cocogoddess0g zoey101-2 reignsboy19 cicici03 Elizablu lous-house-of-thoughtsl reci1996 romansglow mjcurlsss yana3sworld chloeijuana nun0ir simplyzeeka taureanstargirl mzv11

Disc0fair browngirldominion Murrylove venusesworld uceyliyah Venusesworld prettyfilmz simplyzeeka heytaewrites Liquorlaughslove

#terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x black oc

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instinct-wild-dc-irl · 4 days ago

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OPEN ENDED RP, ANYONE WANNA RP OFF THIS?

A 9-year-old Swift -who sometimes wandered in-mask as Instinct- darted through the alleys, 20 dollars clutched in hand.

He'd filched it off some rich guy -he didn't look to see which one, he'd just grabbed the bill and bolted- and was headed somewhere specific.

To an old gangster's hideout. Out here the street people betted with each other over the craziest things, street people, and while little Swift didn't trust adults that much, he did make bets every now and then.

Anyway....

Swift darted over to a small shack hidden in a cluster of abandoned apartments. He banged on the door until a old grizzled hobo with an eye patch, dark orangish dyed hair, and torn clothes opened it.

"What'd ya want, pipsqueak?" The man hissed in an Australian accent.

Swift waved the 20 dollars in his face. "Remember that bet we had on how long it'd take Kango to run off from that foster home? And i lost? You said i had two weeks to get you the fifteen bucks. Well, I managed to find a 20 bill and it's all i got, so you get 5 bucks extra!"

The gangster snatched the 20 bill, and inspected it. "Where'd you get this, you little gremlin?"

Swift rolled his eyes. "Not telling."

Dingo narrowed his eyes, clearly guessing that Swift had stolen it, but he snorted and threw a five dollar bill in Swift's face.

"I asked for 15, not 20, kid."

Swift looked surprised, but nodded quickly and pocketed the money. "Well, i'm off."

The old hobo's hand shot out and he scruffed the younger street dweller. "And where would you be going? Last i heard some of the Motor Speed Gang saw you sleepin' out on the roofs near the higher-class area."

Swift tried to wriggle free. "And? It's quieter there."

Dingo sighed. "Kid, I know it is, just be careful. It's a tad dangerous in that area. The odd policeman is huntin' those grounds again... and so are the Bats. Keep careful."

Swift nodded. "I'll steer clear. Cya, Dingo!"

And off the little boy went.

---

Swift darted through the alleys a few nights later, having just dodged some policemen by the park. His not-human senses were up and at it, and he could hear a gang fight somewhere to his right.

Suddenly he ran into someone and fell back. The person swore and looked down at him.

Siwft froze, blinking in and out of scent-sight as he did sometimes.

It was one of the Bats.

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octuscle · 11 months ago

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I just got arrested for possession of weed and I’m using my one phone call on you. Please help me out man, I’m begging you, can you please get these cops off my back?

Hell, the three police officers don't look like they can take even a little bit of fun. They don't say a single word for the first five minutes. And then they pepper you with questions. Honestly, you're still a bit stoned, you can't take the cops seriously. But they still scare you. You ask which of them is the good cop and which is the bad cop. "There are three of us, you little pissant. And we're all bad!" is the answer.

You are asked how much weed you have at home or whether they should carry out a house search. You giggle and ask how much they need. And surprisingly, one of the officers says that they definitely need it. He exchanges a fist bump with his neighbor. And the first one undoes another button on his shirt.

The next question is, what kind of drugs do you use? You say a beer now and then, cigarettes rarely but sometimes, weed three or four times a week. One of the policemen goes out and comes back with four bottles of beer. Another one takes a fag and offers you one too.

Things are slowly becoming relaxed. You start talking about music. You don't think Nirvana is that cool. Shit, is the boombox supposed to be brainwashing now? You can really only bear it with a joint. You can bet the cops' hair is getting longer. And that they're getting younger overall. One of them goes out and comes back with weed from the evidence room and four more beers.

The guys are really nice. They're all enthusiastic skaters. And they can really take a lot of weed. One of them asks if you've ever fucked a cop in a prison cell. You unbutton your pants. "Dude, not here where everyone can watch. In the prison cell." You walk through the police station giggling. You get to unlock the cell and even put on a police cap. The three cops go into the cell. "Shit, dudes, I forgot about the weed. I'll be right back." You close the cell and look for the interrogation room. But you're so stupidly stoned that you forget what you wanted to do after just three steps. So you leave the station. Fresh air helps. You're in the mood for a big burger right now. And a bit of weed at the skate park. One of your stoner buddies is sure to have something to smoke.

In the cell, the three cops laugh their asses off. One of them pulls the packet of weed out of his trouser pocket. "The Dude can look for it for a long time," he says. "Let's start fucking," says the second. And the third drops his pants.

#male tf #reality change #chronivac #age reduction #stoner tf #ai image

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maryannecrimsworth · 2 years ago

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You do need a friend

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Guide for tormented hearts

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Selectively mute reader

Warnings: I'm going for the slow burn and reader it's really traumatized, prepare for some angst scenes and a whole bullying session. The part two will be softer if anyone likes this.

Summary: You did it, you stayed with your brother — you were finally free from your parents. Everything goes wrong one last time but after all the police investigation and doctor visits, you were back to Nevermore, not to your parents' Lycanthropy camp. You were at school for the very first time in your life and no one would actually speak with you. At least you thought no one would until your brother makes you meet his goth friend.

Some reader's characteristics: R has anxiety disorder, selective mutism, and is a really unique type of outcast. Reader's background it's derived from my Wednesday fic, The Hunt.

You couldn't remember a thing.

No, you remember one thing: laying down and blacking out for once, after spending three nights staring at the bedroom ceiling non-stop. Then you finally closed your eyes and when you opened them again, you saw your own brother painting above you, despair in his eyes and blood covering his red skin.

He shouted questions at you as an animal crawled behind him. You blinked a few times and did not reply, your attention was on the animal, on the beast now standing in front of you.

“Y/N!” Your brother made you sit up, completely unaware of the monster in his back, and asked again: “Who made you sleep? Who guided you?”

Your mouth dried and your stomach crunched as the monster kept getting closer. You knew that monster. The Hyde. Your parents talked about it in the last few months, it was why you came to Jericho in the first place. And it was about to hit you when your brother stood up.

Hank turned his back to you and pushed the monster away, his hands now turned into claws.

You hated when he transformed, and your hatred only grew as you realized what you have done.

While your brother was fighting the beast, you stood up from the ground and looked around the place. You have never been here before but you knew it from pictures. The Pilgrim World, The Outcast Convention. There were bleachers all over the grass and spotlights illuminating the stages your parents were sitting on a few minutes ago. Maybe hours. How long have you been asleep? And why was this place so empty? Where did the crowds go? And there are—Oh. You looked at the person on your feet. A werewolf, you guessed, as she was growling and sleeping peacefully in the grass. There were about five more teenagers in the same state as hers, blacked out on the floor. Then you understood. You understood what you have done.

You have ruined the Outcast Convention.

He covered you with a blanket as the policemen ran through the place. They were after Tyler, your brother told you, not you. You were sitting in the paramedics' triage line when your brother broke out from the mess and noise and sat beside you.

“I need you to answer me this time, okay?” He whispered in your ear before you could see more policemen emerging from somewhere behind you. You heard the alert on their radio. The Hyde was arrested. “Who made you sleep?” You finally looked at him. "Was it mother? You can shake your head.”

You nodded slightly. Yes, you remembered your mother ordering you to go to the bed and then singing a creepy lullaby for you. It was horrible — she was horrible, but it worked. Or maybe the stinky towel in her hand that worked very well.

Your brother’s whole expression stiffened as you replied. He already knew what your mother did to you. He used to help her with it.

“You can’t go back.” Hank mumbled and instantly regretted it. He shook his head before looking at you again. “I freed myself from them, Y/N.” He whispered. “I’m not going back to their camp, and you don’t have to go either. We..we can stay here. You can study and I can work here in Nevermore. I have friends now, they can’t make us leave. Not again.” You saw a tear running down his cheek. “Do you want to? Would you stay with me?”

You felt his strong grip softing around your shoulder, all the intensity in his behavior was clear but he would never risk hurting you. Not anymore. That’s why he needed you to say ‘yes’, he needed you to run away with him.

So you accepted it, you nodded your head convincingly, and you never saw your brother so happy. You never thought he would cry for joy — but he was crying and hugging you even with so many hurt people around him. Hank then stood up and asked you to follow him as he healed the wounded people. The people you hurted, you thought, even though he made no mention of it. Your brother's curse was the perfect risk control for yours: you wounded, he absorbed the wound. No one could ever prove your guilt — your parents' guilt, and the show kept on going. But not anymore.

Now you were a student at Nevermore.

You liked it at first. The school, not the people. Outcast or normie, teenagers were mean in any form. But no one really tried to talk to you after the Convention, and it made things way easier. Everyone knew your name — well, your L/N, but it worked nonetheless — and your brother talked with all the teachers about you. Which meant you didn’t have to sit in pairs nor speak to anyone in class. Even some of your exams were different so you didn’t have to present anything in front of a classmate.

“The teachers and the principal are very comprehensive” Hank told you after you came back smiling from your first day. “But you’ll have to speak to some students at some point. I can help you with it.”

“Why?” You replied immediately. “There’s no need.”

“You are in high school.” You rolled your eyes in response. “You do need a friend.” You walked straight to your room and did not utter another word to your brother for the rest of the day.

Then his schemes began. Well, he was the school advisor after all. And you were now his messenger.

Hank sent you a quest everyday: to deliver a letter, a note, a corrected exam, a chocolate box.

“Chocolate?” You asked as soon as he handed you the box.

“Well, she’s having a really bad time, she needs it.” You rolled your eyes again and walked after the poor girl.

You understood your brother’s strategy: he wanted you to knock on the door, greet the person and then deliver the package. Naive man. You actually only put the package in the hallway, knocked on the door and walked away. No speaking needed at all.

By far, you have barely spoken to anyone.

Some people tried: Xavier Thorpe and Enid Sinclair, your brother’s friends, tried to small talk with you a few times, but you only smiled awkwardly and shook your head until they gave up. There was also this goth girl with them, she was your brother’s friend too, but you could not make yourself look at her. It was hard enough to look at Xavier, who you knew for years, so imagine looking at someone who seems to be a wrong word away from murdering you. Nope. Not a chance.

But Hank — oh, how you hated him sometimes — has this “getting out of your comfort zone” obsession and would never leave you alone.

“No.” It was the first package you refused to deliver. You would not walk to Ophelia Hall to deliver a blank paper note to her. “No, Hank. Please, can’t we just go home? I’m exhausted.”

Your brother looked up from the papers on his desk and watched you with concern. He had noticed how the bags under your eyes had grown, but he had refused to put you to sleep.

“I won't lock you up.” Hank reminded you. “You have to learn to control it.”

“Whatever, Hank.” You sighed, your shoulders and eyes weighing a little more than usual. “Can we go home?”

“Wednesday is with the key to my bike. You have to meet her, wanting or not.”

“Why would she—?” Hank helped her with her creepy stuff, of course, they had a deal after all. You gave up questioning and grabbed the blank note from your brother’s desk. He wished you good luck before you slammed the door.

Yeah, sure, an elf definitely needs luck.

You stomped your way to Ophelia Hall. Ophelia, the girl who was driven mad by her family. How ironic.

The Housemaster didn't even bother with your presence at that point, he just let you pass. You silently strode through the halls, as you were getting used to doing, and no students really noticed you. At least that's what you thought until a shrill voice hurt your ears.

“Pretty L/N!” Was it even a human voice? “Come here, beautiful.” You obviously ignored her. “Oh, wait.” You heard laughter. “That’s the weird L/N.” Oh, fuck, like it's even possible to mistake you for your brother. “Will you reply if we growl?” The voice grew louder on your back. “I think we need to bring a fur to crawl and sniff your ass! This way you will be a good pet, won’t you?” Do not react. Do not react. Do not—you felt the paper scratching the palm of your hand. Your firsts were so strongly closed that your arms were trembling. Your whole body was trembling and they noticed.

The voice finally gained a face and a group of teenagers appeared in front of you. You didn't even notice that you had stopped walking.

“How ugly. You are even worse up close.”

As if you are a beauty.

“It is a pity that you have absolutely nothing to do with your brother.”

Of course I have not, we’re adopted, you stupid bitch.

“Piss off, Gwen, he’s trying to help Hanky. You know, he’s his messenger.”

“That’s why he keeps ghosting our dorm? No, I do not believe that.”

“Come on, you think he’s a perv or something?”

You watched the two girls talking. Did they always have to be this tall? Your neck was already hurt because of your exemplary posture, and looking up certainly didn't help.

“Look at him. He sure is.”

You felt a drop falling into your eyes and winched in reflex. Fuck. Your forehead was totally soaked, as was your clothes. You took a glimpse of the crushed paper in your hand: it was completely wet. You ruined the blank paper note. Pathetic.

“You suck at this.” The voice laughed again. “That’s your message?” The girl grabbed the paper from your hand before you could move away. “You can not speak, you can not deliver a single note, you can not look even me in the eye.” The girl leaned over you. “Is there anything you can do?” You could feel her scoff on your face. “You worthless piece of shit.”

You did not respond. You did not look up. You were barely breathing. Sweat kept running down your face as the girl gave up. She got tired of waiting for a slight response from your and turned back. She was about to finally step away when you moved your foot.

The girl was unexpectedly face down on the ground and her friends gasped at the ugly fall. Everyone looked at you. Oh, how satisfactorily angry they seemed.

“You did it on purpose, you asshole!”

“I can’t believe you’re laughing!” You were not laughing, only smirking a little bit.

“You’ll pay for this!”

A foot kicked your shin, which prevented you from running away. Then a fist hit your face and an elbow struck your back. You stopped recognizing what was hitting you once your knees touched the ground. Your vision turned into a blur and your ears heard nothing but a whirring as they slapped your head. It didn’t actually hurt: you were too numb to describe it as something uncomfortable, and you were used to beatings. But then a boot, somehow, managed to get between your crossed arms and sunk into your stomach. You could feel the weight getting deep in your gut, and the acid taste of your lunch emerged into your mouth. You did not hold it back.

You puked on the girl's shoes and got her socks to be soiled as well. Your throat was burning and dry coughs were already escaping from your dirty lips when you heard the screams distancing themselves.

They had run off.

You crawled on the floor, moving away from the vomit that slipped down the girl’s legs. You do not even know if you have thrown up in the right one.

You growled in anger as you grabbed the dirty paper note from the ground and stood up. Wednesday’s door was only a few feet down the hallway and you needed to go home. You quickly saw her room’s door and stormed in without even knocking.

You were met by a circular window, half colored, half blank. A girl shouted to your left, and a subtle movement came from the right.

You didn’t look at anyone, you didn’t speak to anyone: you simply targeted the key on Wednesday’s desk and rushed to it. You tripped on something on the way — on Thing — but that didn't stop you from taking the key and turning back to the door. You were about to slam the door shut when a cold voice reached you.

“My message.” You were still holding the paper. Fuck. You threw the squashed paper at her feet and left without saying anything.

You felt Wednesday's eyes following your movements — analyzing your soaked uniform, your bruised face and dirty lips, but none of that mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the cold metal between your fingers, the key to your escape, to your brother's motorcycle. Your blood flowed through your veins as the wind cut through your ears, and you ran through the school until you reached the parking lot and the motorcycle.

You started the engine and ran out of Nevermore without looking back.

The cold wind didn't cool your mind, but shivers ran down your skin as you jumped off the bike and left it in the driveway. You barely closed the door and ran into your bedroom. To the glass cell that opened only from the outside. You locked yourself in and threw yourself to the floor as the salty taste of tears mixed with the acidity of everything you had eaten during the day. You were still crying.

And you kept crying until your body got exhausted.

You fell asleep.

@tnnadia @stupendousbananajudgeshark @colezb @aroaceanxietylemon @elduster @iwkaaaaa @mikooooks @chaoticteenagetrash

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams #wednesday fanfic #selective mutism #original character #wednesday addams x male reader

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