#I think a woman struggling to get out of probation or get clean

[heyitschartic]

Squealer's power seems really good though? She makes like aircraft carriers and shit. If there's a downside I don't know about it

Well sure, she's an architect tinker. Once she's got her stuff big enough she's a force to be reckoned with, but she has to get there first and the state we see her start off with in canon is pretty dogshit. Reaching the point where she's stable enough to actually get those mega projects out will be horrific and the nature of her powers mean she'll be vulnerable until those larger projects are done.

Though that's the point of the whole power isn't it? A focus on vehicles because escaping on your own feels impossible. A hyperspec x architect tinker. An obsession with a goal that you can never reach all the while struggling against the larger society around you.

[c-0-yote-teeth]

Hi I just need to scream here for a bit bc I been holding it together irl and need to get this out

Tw for death of a loved one, abuse, drug addiction, mental illness- possibly more

My mom died last year. November 15th. I will never forget the phone call from the woman she was staying with.

"Your momma died last night."

What do you say to that?

"Oh."

I loved my mom, and I still do. But her dying has forced me to look back on my life and, unfortunately, revisit all the trauma I experienced at her hands. Not ALL of my trauma, mind you, but... Enough. She was supportive of me as a person and that made the abuse very difficult to process mentally. She didn't care that I was bisexual, she was too. When I came out as trans at 14, she supported me fully, going so far as to buy me a new wardrobe even though I didn't live with her at the time. When I fucked up and got pregnant at 16, she moved me back down near her and was the most amazing Mima my daughter could have ever wanted.

But she was also a manipulative abuser, and an addict. I was physically abused in place of my siblings, blamed for things going wrong in her life, accused of sleeping with her drug dealer boyfriend and doing crack, and, coming to a head at the ripe old age of 14, she tried to kill me. I was put into foster care after bouncing through a few family members houses, and I didn't speak to her for about a year. When we did speak, it was very limited and I was hesitant.

When I found out I was pregnant, she was one of the first people I called. I moved in with my grandma and Megan rekindling my relationship with what I thought was a changed version of my mother. Little did I know.

The entire time I was gone, she continued abusing my siblings, her and the guy she was seeing mutually abused each other for YEARS, she continued doing drugs and drinking, and then we all moved into a house together. She did meth. She saw people in the trees. She was only happy if she was drunk or high, but even that was 50/50.

The slightest thing would set her off, and she would go feral. One of my siblings moved in with their dad, the other stayed with my mom and my daughter while I moved to the next town over to get away from the drugs and toxicity of my hometown, start a career, and get financially stable enough to have my daughter. (Remember, I was a teenager).

The cops were called one night when the fighting between my mom and her husband got really bad, and my brother and daughter both ended up staying with me in my tiny apartment, until my brother also moved in with his dad.

After that, my mom got clean! She stopped doing drugs AND drinking, and even smoking cigarettes! She moved in with me, started an LGBTQ pride based small business, donated her proceeds to organizations like the Trevor project, got her license and car fixed... it was nice. She worked her way up to be a support counselor for LGBTQ victims of abuse of any kind, worked with organizations to set up needle drops for people with addictions to dispose of used needles and obtain clean ones and Narcan, and fentanyl test strips, all for free.

And then, one day, she just... Gave up. She struggled with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, and other mental illnesses I'm sure I had no idea about, and I think that it was just... Too much.

She relapsed. She drank, she smoked, she shot up, she snorted. She got kicked out of the recovery house she moved into, moved back in with me, fought with me and was subsequently kicked out of and banned from my house, attempted to drive to her exes house an hour and a half away drunk, crashed her car, moved back in with her ex, broke probation and got arrested more than once.

When she went to court, her options were:

A: 5 years in prison, out in as little as 3 on basis of good behaviour

Or

B: 2 years in prison, 8 on probation.

And you know what she decided to do?

She fled the state. She fucking left. She bounced around the country with money from who fucking knows where, stayed with other addicts she had met along the way and saw all the things she wanted to see. National landmarks, mountains, and even the snow for the first time.

And then, she died. She was 45 years old.

And now... It's her birthday. She would have been 46.

If you stuck around all the way to the end of my tragic story, I'm sorry. There is no happy ending. There is no justice. I just needed to get this off my chest. Her life was a rollercoaster of tragedy from beginning to end, crashing through and derailing other people's rides in the process. I'm 23 now, and I'm doing... Okay. I struggle with my own mental illnesses, as evidenced by this very blog. I don't really know how to end this, but... If you think this story is bad, you should hear about the rest of my life.

- Ransom.

[ifyouarefictionaliwillpunchyou]

Idk happened to you guys my journey was easy

I'm a professional Woman and I'm in maine, for reference and we're a liberal state so that probably made it easier. I was going to college and fucking STRUGGLED. I couldn't figure out what was going on and it took a lot of talking before I had the guts to admit something was wrong. I talked to my free college therapist and described my problems and he told me right quick it was probably ADHD and told me I should take medication. I said I wanted to try and figure it out without medication. I couldn't figure it out and my grades kept dropping and dropping over the months to the point I was on academic probation and About To Unironically Drop Out so I tried a week long trial. That went well and I got the best grades I had in a while best grades in a really long time and it was an eye opener. So when I went home for the summer I told my doctor straight up during a regular check-up (as I had been meaning to schedule a specific appointmentfor months but never got around to it) "I think I have adhd can you screen me" and told her about my experience at college and how it was badly effecting my life. She essentially said "ah, ok let's get you on trial medication" I said Pog that was significantly easier than expected. And then was told to call three days in advance before picking my first meds up. I. Didn't Do That because I thought it was like call three days before I go to the store and like three weeks went by before they were like "go pick up your medication wtf are you doing?" And I was like "Oh Shit fuck woopsies" and went to the pharmacy where I proceeded to be unable to figure out how my insurance worked and then paid for it myself. INSTANT FUCKING GAME CHANGER BROTHER HOLY FUCK. I got so much Money, College, Cleaning, keeping up with friends and family, Emails, I STARTED DOING MORNING STETCHES shit that had been piling up for months ALL DONE. INCREDIBLE. and I used my new superpower to set up a SHEDULE!

Now I was probably lucky or something but for me getting my medication was a matter of getting a notification on my phone that I needed to go to my yearly checkup and was like "oh shit I didn't schedule that ADHD doctors appointment" and just bringing it up to my doctor on the spot like hey I know this is a check up but can you screen me bc I forgot to schedule a doctor thing. So that's my story so don't give up your doctor probably just sucks! I also described to my doctor that my ADHD was affecting me in my money pockets and that really important stuff that I needed to do involving money and major life descisions was not getting done for months and months because the ADHD. I also think my doctor clocked me as Neurodivergent fairly quickly because I went wearing what I normally wear and I guess maybe I looked like it?? Also most of the time I was like "I don't want to be a hypochondriac so can you double check idk if college therapist counts as real diagnosis" and she said yeah that counts if your free college therapist says you have it and put you on a week long trial. So now I have medication so yay for maine 👍

[cloud9in]

You’re the only one who’s writing poppy x mc fics sooo, i have a request “ bea is a bad girl (like in a gang) in high school and also went jail couple of times for getting in trouble in high school senior year poppy was new transfer student and after 2 months bea join back school and met poppy bea and they just click yk like a connection slowly they started dating and in school everyone was shocked to see bea in a relationship ( bad girl and new girl) poppy is always worried about bea and few days before graduation bea got hurt really bad and poppy gives bea 2 options that she has to choose between her or her this (gang).. bea didn’t say anything to her so poppy left, after 2/3 years they met in college bea was a different person but so does poppy they become enemies (no one knows why they hate each other) one day they were arguing and poppy shout at her and says why you're back and bea put her hand on her cheek and smile and say i am here to win you back because i love you 😬

Promises (Poppy x MC)

Part 1/?

Can i just say I'm absolutely invested in this plot? You've got me hooked on my own story, as hectic as my life is, this is enjoyable to write. I hope you like it as well @iamsimpforpoppy

Word count: 1.8k (i got carried away)

“You know what to do Jackson, same old shit.”

“Yeah but it feels like a movie every damn time”, Bea responds confidently as she unbuckles her seatbelt. She sports a black mask with a yellow bandana, a vivacious color worn by only the Southside Spades, a notorious street gang who were known for robbery, and occasional blood.

Bea found herself wrapped up in the world of gangs when she turned sixteen. But before that the brunette would assist in transporting goods, also known as hardcore drugs. There was plenty enough to go around so Bea could indulge in any she wanted. Drugs didn’t give her the high she craved though, instead it was the thrilling game of cat and mouse with the cops.

Every now and then she’d get thrown in the slammer overnight. But this particular evening earns her one year in the NY State Penitentiary. See, the cops never gathered significant evidence to build a case against her, even though she was well aware of Detective Steinhelm who had some sick obsession with her. Following her everywhere, until Bea confronted her directly after noticing the same black sedan parked a street down from her house.

But she played the game right, and nothing ever led back to her. Until now.

“Where’s the money Bradley? I feel like I’ve been kissing your ass all week, the boss needs it now.”

A skinny blonde boy who looks like he had better days grunts in annoyance, “You’ll get your money...I’m just a little short right now.”

“Time’s up Ken doll, you know Carter will have your head for this.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Maybe this can be between us…”, Bradley strides carefully towards the blonde, a disturbing grin on his face which screams junkie. “Back the hell up now.”

Bea pulled her knife out with ease and pointed it towards him. She didn’t plan on actually using it. Murder was way out her budget for a simple money pickup but she knew that it would scare the boy easily. Except he kicked the blade out of her hold which prompted it to screech across the concrete before coming to a stop. Before Bea could think her fists reacted as she intercepted a punch that aimed straight for her jaw. She twists Bradley’s arm and he falls on his knees in pain. With his back to her, she kicks him down until he’s flat on his stomach.

“What is it exactly that you plan on doing now Bradley?” The blonde boy struggles under Bea’s foot but manages to reach around and slash at her ankle with a surprise shiv. Bea yelps in pain before kicking his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Stupid idiot. Had to make this harder than it should’ve been.”

Bea eventually finds the stash of money hidden under his mattress, an amateur hiding place at best. She congratulated herself for another job accomplished (kinda) and headed home. What the seventeen year old didn’t expect was the repulsive sound of a siren filling her ears as she stepped out onto her driveway. Her blood rushed to her head when she spotted Detective Steinhelm among the police officers surrounding her and retorts, “oh come on. I thought I told them about you harassing me. What do you want? Back here to strip search me again?”

The older woman only watches the blonde in eerie silence before smiling and gesturing to a police officer. “Beatriz Jackson you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law-”

“What the actual fuck!” Bea yanks her arms out of the officers reach which initiates a struggle for dominance. This was nothing new to her, but it still felt sickening. Like she was some pet.

“You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire.” Detective Steinhelm finishes speaking and approaches the still scuffling blonde, “if you keep resisting I will tase you myself.”

Bea bites back the urge to headbutt the old hag right in her stupid face but she didn’t need any extra charges, for whatever the hell it was she was being charged for.

“Tell me why the fuck I am being arrested and I’ll calm down.”

That’s when Bea notices a familiar (bruised up) face from earlier. His smirk was enough to eat at her skin and she felt burning hot rage.

“Your blood was found at the scene of Mr. Denbroughs assault. You are being arrested in the case of second degree assault with intent to hurt someone with a deadly weapon.”

***

Bea only got one year in prison due to her kickass lawyer Ina Kingsley who played the minor card at every opportunity given. She also pointed out the fact that the knife wasn’t bloodstained, and Bradley never had any stab wounds so there is no proof the weapon was ever used against him. And it technically wasn’t. Good thing she didn’t bring a gun instead.

She did miss her 18th birthday though. And a few months of her senior year. But that’s what summer classes were for right?

All eyes were on the blonde when she returned, and whispers spread throughout the school about a certain new girl. Bea paid no mind to the fingers that pointed in her direction but the newcomer did manage to catch her attention, and pretty quick at that.

“Hey Jackson, how was solitary confinement?”

“I heard they make you use the bathroom right through the tiny food slot.”

Bea rolls her eyes and pelts a piece of not-so-fresh bread right at Ford’s head. The other people at the table join in on the laughter and Bea shakes her head and smiles, “it was Juvie you dumbass, and they made us sit in a circle together every Thursday like we were in an AA meeting.

“That’s jail for babies, goldilocks here wouldn’t last a minute in a real prison”, Carter joins them at the table with a cocky smirk, yet his eyes soften when landing on Bea. She shares a similar look with him knowing they’ll have a real conversation later. Because they definitely didn’t get to have that when Bea was getting dragged away to the police station in cuffs, and every event after that.

“It’s our girl’s first day out, we have to celebrate. And it’s not like she’s on probation...right Bea?”

“I do have a curfew, and I’m on juvenile probation so…when we partying?” The crew laughs as Bea shrugs. Her mother will deal with it. Zoey scoots in next to the blonde and wraps her arm around her shoulder in a side hug. “So glad to have you back Bea, and we are not risking you breaking parole so let’s just go to a sport’s bar tonight.”

Bea nods her head in agreement as the first warning bell goes off and everyone starts to clean up. Zoey taps on her arm and points towards one of the farther tables where a lone figure sits, wiping her hands with a napkin. All Bea saw were blonde tresses until she turned and they made brief eye contact.

“She’s the new girl, Poppy Min Sinclair. Rumor is she’s got a rich white daddy. You should totally invite her to the party.”

“And why would I do that?”

Zoey squints her eyes and leans in closer, her hands under chin in thought, “she seems like the broody type, you two would click.” She laughs at Bea’s comical expression but the blonde can’t bother to look in her direction, she’s way too wrapped up in what little the stranger a few tables away had to offer. She would sit on that thought, Bea was not one to shy away from anything.

***

The two became friends quicker than anyone could think.

One day after school, Poppy’s car wouldn’t start. It just didn’t comply. You would think she’d be poised and call her mechanic to come fix it, but instead the blonde slumped against the driver’s side window and let out a visibly frustrated, high-pitched yelp. Bea watched her pace around the car and even...kick?...the front bumper with her heels in efforts to wake it up.

“You know I may be wrong but I think that only makes it worse..” She approaches the helpless blonde with a small grin. Poppy’s persistence amazed her though, she’s never seen anyone determined to beat a car up. An expensive one at that.

“I hope you have some idea how to fix it, unless you’re here to waste my time and ask me on a date.”

Woah.

Okay that definitely threw Bea on a whim. She lets out a sharp laugh and bites her lips in amusement. She strolls towards the front of her car, holding Poppy’s gaze the whole way. She liked that the blonde didn’t avert her eyes. “And if I did? We couldn’t take your car of course, it’s obviously impaired.”

Poppy smiles and turns to look at Bea properly. She checks out every inch of her with no visible shame. An assessment so to say, and she likes what she sees.

“It’s your lucky day Poppy, I happen to know a thing or three about cars, and I desperately want to get this thing working so we can go on that date.” She winks playfully but god does she mean it. Bea silently prayed that the blonde wouldn’t take it the wrong way, but she knew she won when Poppy didn't protest, instead getting comfortable under some shade and holding her hand out, “the stage is all yours Jackson.”

***

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I can’t jump over this obvious not-so-protected fence?”

“Judging by the sign right next to it that says...oh wow who would’ve thought, “DO NOT ENTER”, I don’t think so”, Poppy deadpans. It didn’t phase Bea of course because she was already halfway up the fence when the blonde turned away from the sign. The girl had a point to prove, maybe not a valid one, but still a point.

Poppy pinches her eyebrows in exasperation before looking back up to a nonchalant Bea swinging her legs from the top of the fence. She winks down at the blonde, “join me?”

Poppy didn’t expect to be climbing fences with a charismatic girl who had the same color hair as her when she moved schools, but she found herself embracing every moment of it. Although the trip up there was a struggle and some.

“I swear to god there’s a wire in my ass.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And we’re both going to end up in the hospital. Get. me. Down.”

Bea tries to hold in her laughter the whole way down but lets it loose when she sees Poppy still up there, partly hovering in the air. “Pops...I’ll catch you, don't worry. Climb down slowly.” She doesn’t. But Bea had her feet planted and ready because any moment with the sassy blonde was unpredictable.  And she loved it. Especially because she had Poppy engulfed in her arms and they were so close their noses touched.

Bea promised herself she’d kiss the girl next time.

***

“You’re...in a gang?”

Bea felt a clasp of cold air enter her lungs as she stared ahead. It wasn’t like she could hide it from Poppy. She has a reputation, and word has gotten around about the two getting close. This was just like that one time at the end of sophomore year where Bea met Kelly Hall, a beautiful girl with golden rimmed glasses. Unfortunately she only could imagine what could’ve been after whispers ended up right on the doorstep of Kelly’s parents, and she suddenly changed her number, and switched out of every class she had with Bea.

The blonde didn’t want to entertain the thought of Poppy doing the same, but this was a lifestyle she chose.

“I mean...how?”

Bea sighs and turns to look at her, “I fell into the wrong crowd. Or maybe it’s the right one because I never found a true home until I met them. They’re family, I wouldn’t expect you to get it though and I understand if you want to distance-”

“I of all people know what it’s like to not fit in Jackson. You’ve found people who make you feel safe. Maybe I don’t agree with the troubles that come with being in a gang but I don’t know the whole story.”

“Do you want to?”

Poppy wraps her arms around Bea’s and lays her head on her shoulder, “I want to know that you won’t get yourself hurt but I know that’s nearly impossible.”

Bea exhales slowly, not knowing what to say. She knew that this would upset Poppy but her acceptance meant more. She didn’t know what this would mean for the two of them, if there was a “them”, but she felt more encouraged to share more of her other life with the blonde.

“Just promise me one thing Jackson.”

“Yeah?”

Poppy’s voice comes out softer than expected, and Bea ingests every emotion that comes with it, “Promise me you won’t ever put yourself in a position where you have to choose between me or the gang.”

Bea finds her hand in the space where their thighs touched and latches onto it like a lifebuoy,

“I promise.”

***

“I just remembered something Poppy.”

“What, that you have half a brain cell? I thought that was established Jackson.”

Bea launches a pillow that (purposely) misses Poppy’s head by an inch. If she actually hit her and frizzed up her locks then she’d never hear, or see..or walk again.

“I’m being serious. I just remembered this too, we never went on that car date we talked about.”

Poppy squints her eyes in confusion, but was fully aware of what Bea was referring to. “You mean the first time we met?”

The blonde smiles to herself as she replayed that day in her head over and over again. She couldn’t decide if Bea’s openly flirty behavior is what drew her in or if it was her ability to fix any of her possessions with ease. And for free.

Bea pulls Poppy up by her hands until her back is against the lockers. Another perfect opportunity for the blonde to make do of that promise she made to herself, but something told her to wait just a bit longer. “So what do you say? Poppy Min Sinclair, will you go on a date with me?”

Poppy rolls her eyes playfully, pulling Bea in closer by the collar of her letterman, “now who’s being dramatic?”

“I didn’t hear a no”

“I think you know what the answer is.”

That night Zoey helped Bea prep for her first date with the girl that she could say she was almost in love with. The taller girl brushed some dust off of Bea’s jacket and planted her hands on her shoulders, “remember Jackson, give her the ride of her life. And I mean that in every way possible.”

Thanks Zoe.

Bea watched Poppy drive up in front of her house and something inside her mind couldn’t deny the pang her heart let out when she saw Poppy smile the way she did.

Bea took control of the driving and told Poppy to recline her seat and enjoy the ride, with her seatbelt on of course. Safe sacrifices. They cruised through an empty highway blasting Poppy’s spotify playlist named “Rich Bitch Songs” because that was their ideal perfect date. It’s amazing that the two could even come to an agreement, but here we are.

She watched the beautiful blonde sing her lungs out and couldn’t help but mirror her joy, taking her hands off the steering wheel. The pump of adrenaline prompts a new excitement in the air and Poppy wraps Bea into a secure hug, her hair flying wildly with the wind. Bea slows the car down but the rapid beating of her heart made it seem they were going 100 miles per second.

“I feel so alive Jackson.”

Bea stared at the girl in the passenger seat with a look that could only be described as love.

“You make me feel alive.”

Poppy kept talking and Bea found a way to focus on both the road and the blonde next to her. Because when you truly enjoy something, you’ll find a way to keep experiencing it. And Bea enjoyed hearing Poppy’s voice, she loved everything about her.

“I feel like kissing you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“...Nothing. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

They kiss when Bea pulls over.  A hot feeling consumes them like fire when their tongues collide and Bea plants her hands around Poppy’s hips, pushing her back into her seat until she’s on top. The windows easily start to fog up in reaction to the heat, and not once did they take their hands off each other.

Promise 1/2 kept

--------------------------------------------------------

End Note: This chapter was to build their relationship, more angst incoming. BIG THANKS to @somewillwin for letting me use Jackson <3333

Taglist: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog @a-ghost-girl

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming pt 37

CW: Noncon - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping  - Manipulation

Jude

I fought the urge to throw up when the canner kneed me in the stomach. I managed to grab her leash and pull, helping me straighten up while keeping her off balance.

“You stupid fucking mare. You ought to be fucking skinned alive, I doubt you’ll actually amount to much.” I pulled her close and smiled. “You have a long night ahead of you. How about you be a good girl an-”

A pain exploded in my head and I lost my grip on the leash. The canner headbutted me. I tried to get my bearings so I could catch her before she ran, but found the idiot managed to disorient herself as well. I watched her run diagonally down the path a bit before she fell over.

I used my foot to flip her over and sat down on her stomach. I smiled as she gasped and started to thrash to get out from under me. “I can’t wait to report this all to Eos. Z really ruined you, didn’t she?” Callidora tried to say something but the bit in her mouth muffled her speech. “Too dumb to realize you can’t talk? You’ll figure it out. Maybe. You haven’t even started your first day as a pony and you’re already acting out. You’ll soon learn there are worse things.”

She was surprised when I just got off her. I had made my point, I didn’t need to expend the extra energy. I gestured behind her. She looked skeptical, but I made sure I didn’t do anything to cause her alarm. Eventually she turned and froze. The stable hand that fucked up earlier was finally being taken down from the whipping brace. I had fun with her while I was waiting for Callidora to wake up. She had waited for a few hours in anticipation, suffered through the whipping while I milked all the fun out of it that I could, then I just left her there to think about what she did.

“You can’t say anything. You don’t need to. You’re a pony.” I took a step back until she was out of reach. “You have three options. The barn to do your run. The whipping brace to receive your punishment for what you did. Or you can try to run again and learn all about the other special roles a failure like you can fulfill. Personally I’d love to see you run, but I’ll let you make your own decision. Show me which option you want.”

I stood there and watched the gears turn in Callidora’s head. I watched her weakly struggle with her armbinder, trying to see if it was loose enough to escape without it being obvious that that was what she was doing.

She struggled to her feet, falling a few times in the process. The hoof boots took a lot of training to get used too, most of the ponies were incapable of walking without them once their training was complete. Not that I thought she���d make it through training.

Callidora watched as the stable hand was taken from the brace and carried to a small metal box and placed inside before it was locked. She turned to look at the trail leading off of the property. I’m sure safety seemed so close to someone like her. Finally she turned towards the barn and just stood there with her head hung. I slowly approached her to see if she would try and run, but she didn’t. I wrapped my hand around her leash and gave it a tug. She followed me closely back into the barn.

I couldn’t wait to see Z’s prized bitch break.

Z

I wasn't sure what I was expecting after Rhiannon was dragged out of the room. I wasn't expecting Rayne to usher people back into the room we had been in earlier.

The party just started back up. Maids came around with more plates of food. People went back to chatting. I heard a few talking about the incident. Those conversations were quiet. It was generally frowned upon to speak of someone who was probably going to lose their membership to the Society.

Rayne and Flora went back to chatting with others, moving from group to group as the party began to wind down. Normally they would say farewell to their guests as they left, but they would probably be busy by the time everyone started to leave.

It took about an hour for the enforcers to arrive. The Society’s version of a secret police force. Though enforcers tended to be more concerned with keeping the Society hidden. They primarily investigated potential leaks and captured anyone that was deemed a threat.

I had dealt with them before and our relationship was strained to say the least. Getting pulled into a van and having a bag thrown over your head isn’t a great way of starting a relationship. I watched one of them look over at me and start approaching. I couldn’t help but sigh, I had hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with this.

The woman stopped a few feet away from me and pulled out a notebook out of the small purse around her shoulder. “Greetings Miss… Z? The Torturer?” She looked up from her notebook and raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure what her deal was exactly. She wasn’t dressed like the rest of them, she looked like she just came from a club. A light blue tube dress and some knee high boots.

“You obviously already know who I am, can we just get to whatever questions you want to ask so I can move on with my night?” My patience was starting to wear thin.

The woman just sighed and flipped to a new page in her notebook. “My name is Seraphina. I’m with the enforcers. Blah blah blah. Moving onto the questio-”

I just decided to interrupt her. She wasn’t cutting to the chase fast enough for me. “I saw what I’m assuming literally everyone else did. The box was empty, Rhiannon had it in her bag. No, I was never in the room. No, I never saw anyone enter that room before the party moved there.”

I could hear the pencil in the woman’s hands starting to snap as I brushed her off. She took a deep breath before she continued. “And, in your opinion, do you believe Rhiannon would have committed this crime against another Society member?”

I shrugged. “Rhiannon obviously likes jewelry, she was wearing a ton of it. She’s doing her probation with a metal smith. Maybe she was just jealous she couldn’t make anything as good as that necklace.”

After a bit the woman stopped scribbling in her notebook. “Thank you for your… assistance, Miss Z. If we need anything we’ll be in touch.”

I watched her walk away. I could see part of a tattoo peeking above the dress, it was a pair of angel wings. Some members went too hard on a theme. She went and joined back with the group of enforcers, I could tell she was irritated now.

I tapped a passing maid on the shoulder and told her to bring me a soda. She scurried off as fast as she could manage without breaking into a run. I walked up the stairs so I could survey the first floor from there. Activity was slowing, but I could see that things were still happening.

“Think Rhiannon did it?” Briar’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Mm… no.” I leaned against the railing and looked over at Briar. She was casually sipping on another glass of whatever alcohol they were serving. “Who would be dumb enough too do that?”

“Rayne and Flora seem to think she’s dumb enough. The enforcer’s dragged her out of here just a few minutes ago so I’m guessing they believe it enough.” Briar shrugged and leaned against the railing with me.

“No. Rayne and Eos hate each other. Flora and Eos’s families are both very powerful in this region. Rayne and Emerald’s families are close. Emerald’s family is known for their metal smiths and Eos’s niece just happens to be doing her probation with a competitor.” I paused for a moment as the maid returned with a glass.

“I’m afraid this is all I could find. Master Rayne and Lady Flora don’t often carry soda, but a recent guest of theirs left some of this brand behind. I-I’m not sure if it’ll be to your liking, it’s rather sweet.” I watched the maid gulp as she finished her attempts at mitigating potential damage.

I shrugged and picked up the glass. “It’s fine. Whatever. Go back to whatever you were doing.” She curtsied and quickly walked away. I took a sip from the glass and grimaced. Calling it sweet was an understatement. I had no idea what kind of drink this was but it was unreasonably sweet. I could feel the start of a cavity coming on from just the first sip.

“You were saying?” Briar’s voice once again pulled me back into the conversation.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. I can’t prove anything, but I doubt that box ever had the necklace in it.” I took another sip and just decided to put it down on the nearby table. Hopefully a maid would see it later on. They’d probably stay up all night cleaning to make sure everything in the house was back to normal by the time Flora woke up tomorrow morning.

“That’s a pretty bold claim.”

“Not really. I don’t know that much about Society politics, but we’re talking about the big families. Rayne and Emerald’s families are close friends.” I gestured towards the woman in purple who was talking to one of the enforcers. “That woman over there went off with Rayne earlier. There was a small commotion earlier when we were changing rooms where that woman bumped into Rhiannon. Emerald probably gave Rayne the necklace, Rayne gave it to that woman, and that woman slipped it into Rhiannon’s bag.”

“Shouldn’t we say something?” I couldn’t really discern the tone in Briar’s voice. It didn’t sound like judgement exactly. She was tip-toeing right now.

“Why should we?” I glanced over at her, unsure why she was even asking.

“Rhiannon is going to get punished for something she didn’t do if you’re right.” I didn’t like the territory this conversation was beginning to enter. It was beginning to feel like all those times she’d question me about things back at the auction house.

It didn't bring me pleasure that she failed her probation and would be sold off. That didn't mean I was going to help her though. By now Society enforcers had probably taken her away to be held until this incident was resolved. Most likely the resolution would involve Rhiannon being sold as a slave and erased from her family tree. No Society family would recognize the existence of someone who had become a slave.

“It’s our word against the word of Rayne, Flora, and the rest of the party of very powerful people. If you haven’t noticed, neither of us are very powerful or high ranked. Not that I particularly care anyway. I’m not here to help Eos’s family, I’m here to ask for help from Rayne and Flora. Even if I cared about Rhiannon, trying to take her side would be a great way to make sure I don’t get their assistance.”

“Rhiannon isn’t Eos.” There was a kind of condescension in her voice. One I had heard before. The sound of someone who thought they were telling you something profound that you didn’t understand, but done delicately like they were afraid you’d break.

“I’m aware.” This conversation was starting to get tedious. Briar’s way of talking to people was grating. Small attempts to get bits of information that she thought would help her come to some big fundamental understanding about who they were.

She didn’t say anymore as we stood there. The party slowly emptied and the enforcers eventually vanished. All that was left was Briar, myself, and the maids cleaning up. We stood there for about half an hour before one of the maids approached us and curtsied.

“Miss Z, Master Rayne has requested your presence.” She beckoned to me and Briar followed a long. When the maid realized she was following she stopped. “I apologize, Miss Briar, but Master Rayne was specific in her orders. Only Z.”

I could see Briar opening her mouth to protest so I held up a hand. “It’s fine. I’m not planning on doing anything rash. We’re just talking.”

She looked at me for a bit before sighing and leaning against the rail again. “Fine. We’ll talk later.”

I followed the maid up two floors and down a hall. I ignored Flora’s art, I didn’t want to spend energy thinking about it. Today had been a very long day and I was running low on energy. It all had to be spent on this conversation.

We eventually reached a set of double doors at the end of a hallway with two maids standing in front of it. When they noticed us walking towards them they knocked on the doors, each grabbed a handle and opened them for us.

Saying the room was grand was an understatement. Though to someone who wasn’t Rayne or Flora I would probably describe it as gaudy. It was like the boutique lounge Flora and I were in earlier, but bright and crystal. It was tasteless and monotone. There was a bar area with bottles and glasses made out of crystal. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Sitting on a couch under it was Rayne and Flora.

“Please, Z, sit down.” Flora smiled at me and gestured to the couch in front of them. I acquiesced and sat down across from them. I looked from Flora, to Rayne and back again. I wanted to see what they’d first, starting the conversation could end badly for me.

"Well, it's been a nice enough evening." Rayne put her arm around Flora and pulled her tight. "A branch of the Rosalind family has been clipped. I doubt Eos will put any real effort into getting her back, it'll just make her look bad when she fails. Either way she'll be jailed for a while before anything happens to her.”

"How unfortunate for the Rosalinds." I was running out of energy to play nice with. I just wanted to cut to the chase.

Rayne smirked at me. "Come on, Z. Surely seeing Eos's sister fail so spectacularly must make you feel better."

“Rhiannon isn’t involved with my issue. I don’t care what happens to her. My problem is with Eos and what she did.” I turned to Flora, trying to get the conversation on track. “Lady Flora, you said you were interested in hearing more about Sasha and my problem with Eos earlier, would you still like to hear more?”

“My darling Z.” Flora began as she laid her head against Rayne’s shoulder. “Rayne has informed me of your problems and I wish to help you. Eos’s niece has been arrested and taken away. Any friendliness between us is gone for a while. I never really cared much for Eos anyway. My lovely raindrop has told me that she has something planned to help you out, but has kept me in the dark about it.”

Rayne smiled and snapped her fingers, never taking her eyes off me. After a few moments a woman in a blue suit walked in. It was a professional look, not the look of someone who had come for Flora’s party. “This is Molly. She has written a contract for us.”

“What do we need a contract for?” Skepticism started to rise within me. She said she was going to help me. Why wasn’t she just going to help me?

“Z, the contract is to assure I’ll help you.” Rayne pulled my emblem out of her pocket and held it up so we could all see it before she tossed it to me. “You have completed your obligation to me, you can have your emblem back. Now we’re back at square one.”

I picked my emblem up off the table and went to put it in my pocket before I remembered I was wearing the dress. I sighed and put it back down. “So what now?”

“If I may, Master Rayne?” Molly piped up, her voice virtually monotone.

“You may.” Flora answered excitedly, literally on the edge of her seat. I’d never seen someone excited over a contract before.

“Miss Z.” Molly approached me and placed a small stack of papers on the table. “My group and I are experts on Society rules. We know how to get your slave back.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You do? Then why aren’t you doing it?”

Molly hesitated for a moment before she continued. “Our services aren’t cheap. Master Rayne has offered to pay for it if you fulfill the contract.”

Rayne smirked at me and laid back on the couch. I looked at her and then back to Molly. “And the terms?”

“Oh, Z. The terms are lovely. They’re a second birthday present for my lovely lilac.” Rayne raised Flora’s hand and gave it a kiss.

“Really? Another gift?” Flora’s excitement was obvious.

“Nothing too good for you.” She hooked a finger under Flora’s chin and tilted her head upwards so she could kiss her. It took all my restraint not to interrupt them. Once they parted Rayne turned her attention back to me. “The terms are simple. I’ve always wondered if a breaker can take what they give. If you sign the contract I pay to get your dog back. They start tomorrow morning. You’ll also start tomorrow morning. You’ll be taken to a chamber below the house and be subjected to the breaker or breakers of my choice. The process will end when Molly’s team reclaims your dog.”

The number of questions I had were a tornado ripping through my mind. I carefully tried to choose the ones that mattered most. “How do I know you’ll actually be trying to get her back and not purposefully extending the time?”

“My group’s reputation is on the line, Miss Z. As per the contract you can only be subjected to the breaking progress while we are working. The longer we take the worse we look. You will start at 8 in the morning. You will be given a one hour break at noon until one. At five at night they cannot do anything more to you, but they have the choice of how to store you. They aren’t under obligation to give you a room to stay in.”

“So they’ll probably be leaving me in some cell.” I took a deep breath and chose my next question. “The breaking process is supposed to break one’s spirit so they’ll be a compliant slave. Some of these processes can be quite damaging. What will happen to me at the end of this?”

“Oh Z, you can tap out at any time.” Rayne had the smile of a predator. She knew she had my attention and was going to savor everything she said. “You are a member. If you tap out two things will happen. We will still pay Molly’s team and your dog will be retrieved. However her ownership will be transferred to someone else of your choosing and you will renounce your membership and belong to us.”

“Excuse me!?” A voice came from the hall. Molly had left the door open behind her and Briar stood in the doorway.

“Raindrop you will have to punish one of the maids for not being around to close the door.” Flora frowned and looked up at Rayne. “Spoilsports seem to wander in if we leave the door open.”

“You can’t just give up your membership like that! You can’t own members! It’s against our rules!” Briar looked livid. She was ignoring me, all of her attention was on Rayne.

“Actually, Miss Briar.” Molly turned to Briar. “Members of Z’s rank can have their membership revoked. It is rare, but possible. If she signs the contract and taps out the fact that she signed it in the first place is argument enough that she shouldn’t be a member. Plus Rayne was one of those who supported Z for membership over slavery in the first place. Losing Rayne’s endorsement while she is agreeing to contracts like these doesn’t help her case. The contract is more of a formality in this sense.”

“You can do anything you want to someone being broken! T-these terms aren’t fair!” I picked up the contract and started to read through it as Briar tried to fight back against Molly.

“On the contrary, Miss Briar.” Molly pushed her glasses up and shuffled through some of the papers in her arms. “If you hadn’t interrupted me I would have continued explaining the contract. It states that options that would permanently maim or kill her are off the table. That includes things like burning, branding, high voltage shocks and the like. Arguably we aren’t even allowed to use Z’s own methods as she was fond of using ice cold enemas to deliver harsh crampings and pain. Water of that temperature can seriously injure someone.”

Briar was about to speak up again when I tossed the contract back on the table. “Signed. Pay Molly and we’ll start tomorrow.”

“No!” Briar snatched the contract off the table before Rayne could pick it up. “No one watched you do it, you need an actual witness.”

“Miss Briar, Z said out loud to all of us that she signed it.” Molly interjected, her monotoned droning never wavering.

“Also, Flora was watching.” I gestured to Flora. Briar looked at her and Flora gave her a small, smarmy wave.

“I…” Briar sounded defeated. She was silent for a moment before she turned to Molly. “I refuse to leave her alone. I demand to be allowed to stay while this happens.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.” Flora interjected before turning to Rayne. “As fun as this idea is, raindrop, how is this my present?”

“Oh my sweet sunflower.” Rayne raised Flora’s hand and kissed it once again. “I wracked my brain for weeks trying to think of the perfect present for you. You loved Z’s work, don’t you?”

“Her work is quite lovely. I’ve never had a canvas quite as nice as the ones that she made.”

“You have quite the collection of her work. So I thought to myself, maybe I could have her make more. But as much as I wanted you to have those canvases, it wasn’t quite the right answer. Then it hit me. You don’t get an artist to just infinitely create more art. It devalues the work.” She looked over at me with the predator smile once again, her teeth gleaming.

“No. The greatest piece you can add to a collection is the artist themself”.

[lovelyirony]

These lyrics are from a song about a human falling in love with a robot but I think they also apply to Tony and whoever you interpret. "They say you cant feel with a heart made of steel, but who says that steel isnt strong?"

Tony Stark cares. Which is kind of surprising when a person first gets to meet him because he just does things without thinking, which isn’t really associated with kindness in any way. 

Pepper Potts is a young woman (who barely feels like a woman even though she can legally buy wine now) and she is struggling to make it to work on time, has on a hand-(shittily)-tailored skirt, and thinks that accounting can suck it because she actually doesn’t like it as much as she thought she did, mainly because it’s not challenging. 

She spent the last two hours of her last day learning how to knit. 

How to knit. 

So then she switches to sudoku and the New York Times’ crossword puzzle (which, by the way, is stupidly hard for no good reason) and then reviews over other people’s numbers for fun. She never volunteered for that, or never thought she would. 

But then she did and she found out that Sam Wittenger has had some very interesting numbers to report that apparently, no one else has questioned. 

She’s not sure if it’s because she’s stupid or if she doesn’t trust authority as much as the next Tom, Dick, or Harry, but something seems off. 

So Pepper goes to their superior and he basically tells her that she’s just being paranoid. 

“Women tend to be emotional,” he chortles, as if he’s not just invalidating everything she’s bringing up professionally. 

And she can’t even say shit about that because then it’s “oh no need to get unreasonable, sweetheart” and there goes her job. 

But she starts to notice that she keeps getting the worst assignments and then she gets put on job probation. 

On probation. 

Which, by all accounts, doesn’t make sense because you’re supposed to report when something is going on, and she doesn’t get why her boss is being so...something about this. 

So, she emails Tony Stark. Because he might answer. 

Oh, he answers. 

Tony has nothing better to do with the rest of his day and he’s been ignoring Obie’s requests for a meeting with Justin Hammer because that’s just like asking if you want to voluntarily stick a knife up your nose. Gross and entirely unnecessary. 

And then he gets an email from someone from accounting. 

Accounting never has problems that they can’t fix on their own. Ever. So there’s this chick named “Ms. Potts” and she tells him that there’s a mistake on someone’s account, but they won’t do anything about it. 

Tony looks through the numbers. Takes about twenty minutes, but only because everyone in accounting generally does their paperwork on time--except for Gary, but that’s because Gary is paranoid about the government and uses at least three hours out of the day to research aliens. Tony loves him. 

Someone’s been using money for a little bit of extra cushion. Which Tony would get if he was a corrupt businessman who cheats his employees out of health insurance. But he doesn’t. 

And then he finds out that Sam Wittenger likes to entertain models at mansions and while it’s not really putting a dent in anything, it’s more of the professionalism mood that gets it. 

That, and the fact that the SO of the whole accountant unit, Mr. Leopold Smith, put Ms. Potts on job probation. 

For essentially nothing. 

And then Tony does some digging and even if Smith works in a company that is known for technological growth, he’s really not that good at hiding any tracks. 

So Tony pays a visit to accounting on a Monday morning, lays it all bare, and tells them both to get the fuck out so he can start hiring more people. 

“You’re believing a rookie over me?” Wittenger fumes. 

“Yes,” Tony says. “Her newness does not negate her concerns. Besides, should I believe a new employee who shares concerns about the company and errors or the fact that you used your company card for funds transfer and then spent it on two women who are being really obvious about scamming you for spa money? Hmm, really hard decision. So hard, really.” 

Tony then swivels to Leopold. “And you. I would’ve thought you had better morals then that, but it appears you have all the sense of an amphibian that likes snow. So I’m going to fire you. You get the rest of your paycheck and some of that extra pay until you find another job. Hammer Industries is always hiring.” 

The crowd is silent as Tony walks around. 

“Where is Ms. Potts?” 

Pepper doesn’t bother to try to cower or hide. She walks towards him. 

“I’m here.” 

“Excellent work. You’re hired as a PA.” 

“Who says I want to be a PA?” She asks. The crowd murmurs; no one really says no to Tony Stark. 

Tony raises an eyebrow. 

“I see two sudoku books from here, a copy of the New York Times which is just outlandish, and one of your knitting needles is in your hair. You’re bored and I am, and I mean this in a factual way, one of the least-boring people in business. So follow me if you want the chance for the interesting.” 

Pepper does follow him. Because he’s noticing way more and she wants to know why. 

“It’s an unofficial part of my job,” Tony mentions when she asks. “If I don’t notice things about people and what they do, I tend to not do as well with business, and I really don’t like that.” 

So Pepper starts working as a personal assistant. 

It’s fun is what it is. Even if she has to remind Tony about fifty different times that he has a meeting at seven, and yes he’s supposed to get there at six-fifty. Even if she has to chuck a couple of snacks at him. 

“...are these fruit snacks? Pep, I’m a billionaire.” 

“Sorry, the grocery store didn’t have that fancy cheese for three hundred thousand dollars. They were sold out.” She pulls a frowny face and puts a middle finger up to flip him off. 

Tony loves having Pepper as a PA. He gives her an astronomical pay raise within the first three months of her job. 

“Why?” Pepper asks. 

“It’s a Thursday. Nothing really happens on Thursdays.” 

“That cannot be the reason.” 

“I’m a mystery, Pep. No one can figure me out, Rolling Stone said so.” 

“Rolling Stone also said that they thought Bob Dylan was a good singer and I’ve doubted their opinion ever since.” 

Tony gasps in mock offense, and the question is forgotten. 

...at least, until two hours later when Pepper realizes that he never gave her an answer. 

And as she works for him and gets to know him better, she realizes that really? Tony is a caring guy. 

He goes on random trips to send things to Rhodey in care packages: things like toys from fast food chains, one random packet of soy sauce, and a couple of letters and pictures of updates. 

Happy Hogan gets treated to the best pay, benefits, and even is on a friendly enough level with Tony that sometimes they watch boxing matches together and discuss the dynamics of television shows and what should be a rerun and what should be forgotten. 

And he pays attention to things. Like what kind of wine she mentions once in a conversation, or what Rhodey writes about in letters. He’s considerate and caring. 

So when the articles come out about if he truly has a heart, she has to smile. 

“Of course you do,” Pepper says simply. 

“And how do you know?” 

“You get pulp-free orange juice,” she answers. “But not because you hate it. You actually don’t mind that disgusting mess. But I do and I don’t always eat enough for breakfast and you let me raid your fridge to find said-pulp-free orange juice. Which is a very nice thing to do.” 

“Oh.” 

Tony doesn’t say anything, but he smiles after she clicks her heels and tells him that she needs to pick up his dry-cleaning after they finally got back to her. 

[doof-doofblog]

"I Thought I Should Pop Something On, Just In Case!"

Monday 15th February 2021

Hello again everyone! Hope your week is going well so far! I know I'm a couple of days behind, but as promised I'll be making a post every day this week to make sure that I'm fully up to date! Part of me is thinking I'm getting a little too invested in EastEnders lately, not that it's a bad thing, but is it weird that I had a dream where I was actually part of the cast and I got to call everyone by their character names and real names? I recall the main two I was more friendly with were Kush (Davood Ghademi) and Whitney (Shona McGarty)! Crazy right?! Ha!

Anyway, there's a lot for me to catch up on so let's jump into Monday's episode. The first thing I'm going to mention is Ash, it's been a while now since we've seen both her and Iqra after they had split up, but it looks as if Ash is finding the break up more difficult that Iqra is. I mean, of course, it was her fault for lying to Iqra for so long so she's bound to feel bad. It appears to either be the day after Valentines Day and Ash is devastated to have spent it alone, as she mopes to her Mum and to Vinny, Suki shows very little sympathy towards her daughter, informing her that she'll quickly move on and forget about Iqra, however Vinny is a little more sympathetic and advises his sister to tell Iqra exactly how she feels. Taking his brother's advice, she decides to make a visit to Iqra after buying her a huge bunch of flowers in an attempt to apologise. Unfortunately, Iqra isn't as forgiving as she was hoping for, regardless of professing her love for her. Iqra makes it perfectly clear that once they once shared as a couple, is now dead, much to Ash's devastation! I have to say though, the one thing I have noticed is that no matter where Ash is, Peter is always lingering like a bad smell! Sorry, but I find it awkward, creepy and pathetic how Peter is kind of chasing after Ash, even though it's been made clear that she is a lesbian! But, I do fear that eventually Ash will fall for Peter's advances ... I don't know about you guys, but I don't really see Peter and Ash being a couple, I really can't picture it! What about you guys?

--

The second thing I'm going to mention is Lucas and Chelsea. Even though he's agreed to transport the drugs to Ibiza for his daughter, he does fear the possibility of getting caught, especially considering the fact that he's meant to be on probation. When he attempts to voice his concerns to Chelsea, she has no sympathy for him and plainly demands that he needs to make sure he doesn't get caught! He tries to explain to her that he's doing the job simply for her, to keep his daughter safe. However Chelsea doesn't seem to care, it's fair to say that he's never really been a proper Dad to her, so why should feel a sense of thanks to him for doing this job for her. She mentions how he never took her on trips to the cinema or spoilt her with popcorn or takeaway food, she states that just because he's willing to take drugs to Ibiza, it doesn't make him Dad of the year! As much as those words hurt him, it looks as if they play on his mind, as later on when she arrives back to Lucas's apartment with information on when the job will be taking place, he notifies her of the lovely food and goodies he's gone to out of his way to make for her. He's really really trying, isn't he? He really wants to make up for lost time and try and be the Dad he's always wanted to be ... It's never too late right? Chelsea acknowledges the efforts he's gone through for her but mentions that it's going to take more than just burger and chips, but as she looks back to the glorious food, a little smile spreads across her face! You guys saw that smile, right?! She definitely smiled! ... So we know Lucas is going to be taking the drugs to Ibiza next month, what are we thinking is going to happen? Will everything go to plan? Or could Lucas get into trouble or even danger?!

--

The next thing I'm going to mention is Max and The Carter's. After finding out the truth from Jack about the real reason why Linda decided to stay with Mick, Max seems to have completely done a U-turn! He spots Linda waiting outside the Minute Mart and takes his opportunity to approach her civilly. Without giving too much away that he knows the truth, he acknowledges that there's no hard feelings between them and that he completely understands her decision to stay with her husband. Linda seems thankful and grateful for him being understanding, but something tells me that when she finds out why, she's not going to be happy! Surprisingly, Max even greets Mick as he walks out of the shop, but of course Mick still holds some kind of hatred towards him so completely ignores the man and walks away. As Linda follows her husband, Max watches them walk away into the distance. Jack notices his brother interacting with Linda and voices his concerns on what he might've said, but Max reassures him that he never said anything, but the one thing he does mention is that he claims it's obvious that Linda still wants him and she's only with Mick out of sympathy! Unless Max is desperate for the woman he's fallen in love with, I really don't see how he is able to convince himself that Linda still wants him. Mick and Linda, Linda and Mick - they fit together like a hand and glove - even though they've had many ups and downs, I truly think that they are going to be a couple which EastEnders will never break apart. They belong together, I'm sure the majority of you must agree?

As the Carter's get back to their apartment, Mick comes to realise that every time he sees Max on the Square, the thought of him being with his wife intimately is going to haunt him, he admits to Linda that the only way they'll be able to move forward is if they sit down and she tells him everything that happened between them. Of course Linda feels that this might make things worse, does her husband really want to know the details of her infidelity? But Mick seems more than willing to just sit and listen to what she has to say, Linda stresses the fact that it wasn't Mick's fault, but she explains that whilst Mick was struggling with his past and wasn't talking to anyone, she felt like she was being pushed away, almost as if he didn't want her anymore. She states that she got pushed away so close to the edge that she very much wanted to have a drink, and Max was there to stop her from taking that drink she so desperately wanted. She claims that it was just a friendship to begin with, but each time she tried to get close to her husband, he wouldn't open up or lash out at her and she ended up falling into Max's arms, just because she wanted to feel wanted, loved. I actually found this moment quite upsetting but yet really touching, they come to the conclusion that all the really want now is each other, Mick wants his "L" back and Linda wants her "Mick" back just as they used to be. Meanwhile, as they are having this heart-to-heart, Max appears to rummaging through all sorts of files and documents, desperate to find something. What an Earth could he be looking for? Eventually when he sits down to his laptop he finds a document on Phil ... What on Earth does he want with Phil?! I'm sure guys know already, but I'm finding it a bit intriguing. We know he's desperately wanting Linda back, but what has that got to do with Phil?! I'm looking forward to finding out!

--

The final thing I'm going to talk about is Sharon and Phil! After everything they've been through, regarding Dennis and Ian, Phil and Sharon are trying to move forward and put everything behind them. It's fair to say that they both share a love for a young boy who sadly lost his life, Dennis seems to have been the main thing which has brought them back together. They had agreed to go for a meal that evening, even though Ben overhears their discussion of their plans and feels the need to voice his concern to his Dad, warning him that she'll only be after his money! But Phil being Phil, he tells his son not to worry and let him worry about his own concerns, he knows whether Sharon will be legit or not. Regardless of his Dad's warning, Ben seems to worry that after everything Sharon has put his Dad through, she simply isn't good enough for him! As Phil heads off to meet Sharon at the restaurant, he can't help but notice she's being chatted up by a young male - as he watches them from a distance, as much as Sharon is laughing along and the interaction being quite innocent, it looks as if he can't get past the fact that it reminds him too much of her and Keanu. I mean, it's understandable, right? 

He decides to head off back to the Arches, leaving Sharon to wait in the restaurant alone. However as he makes his way back to the building, Kat catches up with him, acknowledging that he had a promised her a decent car earlier in the day to help her get to her cleaning job, but the one he left simply isn't good enough. Being typical Kat, she mentions that she wants a refund, but of course in brilliant Kat-like way, she pushes up her breasts and pouts her lips. As Sharon realises she has been stood up, she takes it upon herself to track down Phil, eventually finding him in the Arches. She bangs loudly on the door and he responds by opening the door ever so slightly, enough room for him to peak his head through. Phil apologises that he shouldn't have left her sitting on her own but admits that he couldn't bring himself to have dinner with her, with everything that happened after Keanu, he still doesn't feel he can go back there with her. Regardless of that, he's still going to make sure the Vic will remain in her name, that is what he has promised her and mentions that he will not break that promise! As much as she appreciates his promise, when she slowly walks away from the Arches we see a small tear fall down her cheek, maybe she really did want things to work out with Phil after all? Only, without her knowledge, as Phil closes the door and looks back into the building, Kat makes herself known as she reveals herself wearing mechanic overalls with just her underwear underneath!

Now, Phil and Kat is a intimate pairing that I never thought I'd see! Is it really just a one-off? A random romp? A one night stand? Or is this going to be the beginning of a new romance? What do you guys think? How will Sharon react when she learns that Phil has slept with Kat? Will it be something that Phil or even Kat live to regret? Who knows? It's a very interesting and surprising ending to an episode, I have to be honest! I'm really looking forward to seeing what happens next! Thank you all for reading! I'll be back again tomorrow following Tuesday's episode, and then I should be completely up to date! Enjoy the rest of your day folks! Love you all xXx

[katsbooks]

Schwarze Nacht - Chapter Four

Walter C. Dornez x Reader

‘All orders by Master Integra Hellsing will be followed to the letter. Any complaints will be given in written form to the Head Maid, who will in turn give them to Master Hellsing. You will have Sundays and Wednesdays off to do as you please, within reason and without violation of Organization policy. Otherwise, you will be in the uniform given to you at all times outside of your room. Your shift will begin at 5:30 am and will end only when the Head Maid, Butler (Sir Walter C. Dornez) or Master Hellsing deems it over.

        If there are any questions or concerns that are not addressed in your pamphlet, please consult the Head Maid or Butler.’

           (Y/n) truly hated when she and Grace had to be placed under the direct order of the Head Maid. It was rarely, only when Walter was away on business with Sir Integra, but it was practically torture.

           It was quite evident by then that Delores hated (Y/n). She didn’t care much for Grace, but she absolutely despised (Y/n). She knew that their probation period was almost up—in fact, it would be up within the next few days. She had tried on countless occasions to get her fired, for one thing or another, stupid shit mostly. She actually sabotaged one of (Y/n)’s jobs in an attempt to get Master Integra angry with her.

           (Y/n) had spent over three hours fixing that mess and Walter had not been happy when (Y/n) told him about the sabotage, but there was no way to prove who it was, sadly.

           Poor Milly had quit after her second month, unable to take the stress. (Y/n) felt a little sorry for the girl, but knew it was probably for the best. She was just too timid for the job, honestly.

           (Y/n) glanced at the clock as she scrubbed away at floor to the galley. It was already past two in the morning and she still had the kitchen to scrub, on top of cleaning the guns. She rubbed her tired eyes and looked at the floor, sighing softly. She would finish, right around the time the Head Maid would stomp in and tell her to do it again and do it right.

           Yeah, she truly hated it when Walter was away.

           She was just glad that he would be returning with Sir Integra sometime in the early morning.

           (Y/n) looked at the clock again, before returning to her work, scrubbing hard on the floor. Her arms were sore, her hands and knees raw from the floor and the cleaning chemicals. A whole week she had to endure the abuse that Delores threw at her. Between climbing the rafters to clean the gutters of the house (a job that terrified her, because she was nearly phobic about heights), spending nearly five hours cleaning, waxing and detailing the vehicles, and this chore, plus what was already given to her by Walter, she was exhausted. She had gotten very little sleep because she was up every night late just to finish her list.

           Though they were only gone a week, it felt like a month because of her exhaustion.

           It was close to three in the morning when she finished the kitchen, and had stepped into the galley when a familiar voice asked, “What are you doing still up at this late hour?”

           (Y/n) looked over tiredly at the dark man—Alucard?—sitting one of the galley tables, watching her with those ruby red eyes of his.

           “Finishing my work,” she replied flatly.

           “At three in the morning?”

           “….the Head Maid seemed to think that third time was the charm for the floors,” she mumbled. Her whole body ached and she still had one more job to finish. Alucard hummed as he observed her.

           “Have you slept at all?”

           “When?”

           “This week?”

           “Here and there….not nearly enough, though,” (Y/n) admitted. “I’m surprised I’m not hallucinating yet. Unless you’re a hallucination, in which case, I should probably stop talking.”

           Alucard chuckled, and he unfolded his hands to push to his feet.

           “You should go to bed. You should get rest while you can,” he said.

           “I can’t. I still have the guns to clean,” (Y/n) sighed and for a moment, she thought she was going to cry. She really must be exhausted to be that emotional. She clenched her jaw, though, and kept the lump in her throat down.

           “You need sleep. You’re only human.”

           “I’ll be fine. Walter and Sir Integra are returning within the next few hours, and Sunday’s only a day away,” she said, trying to sound confident. Alucard sighed in slight exasperation.

           “There’s no arguing with you, is there?”

           “Absolutely not,” (Y/n) said with a tired smile.

           “Very well, then. I’ll sit with you, then, until you finish,” Alucard said. (Y/n) blinked.

           “Wha—no, that’s not necessary! Shouldn’t you be in bed yourself?” she protested. Alucard gave a dark chuckle.

           “I sleep during the day,” he said with a dark smile. “Now then, shall we?”

           (Y/n) gave a sigh, but led the way to the gun range.

           Alucard sat with his back against the wall across from the table (Y/n) worked up. When she felt like she was about to drift off, he’d start up a conversation to keep her awake and working. By the time she had finished the guns, though, it was well past time to awaken. She would go without sleep yet again.

           It had been two days since she had slept.

           Alucard escorted (Y/n) to her room for her to shower quickly and change her uniform. When she stepped back out, she found Delores standing outside the door.

           “It appears that the Master and Butler will be delayed for another few hours,” she smirked and (Y/n) felt her heart drop. “Before you even touch the list that Walter has given you, I want you to do this.”

           (Y/n) glanced down at the sheet of folded paper in Delores’ hand. She took it reluctantly and flipped it open. Her eyes widened a little and she looked at Delores in disbelief.

           “B…By myself? This is a group task!” (Y/n) exclaimed.

           “Not today, it isn’t. Get to work, girl,” Delores sneered, before she walked off. (Y/n) stared after her, open-mouthed, before looking back down at the sheet. Delores wanted her to completely clean the gun range, with no assistance. It took at least two people to move the target hangers in order to clean the area around them.

           (Y/n) glowered in the direction of the Head Maid’s back and after heading to the galley for a quick cup of coffee and an apple, she made her way back to the gun range. She was unaware of the figure watching with a pair of narrowed red eyes, before they disappeared into the shadows.

           (Y/n) had barely managed to get the target hangers out of the way so that she could start scrubbing the floor of the gun range. Her body was screaming in protest as she did and her hands and knees stung terribly. For over three hours she worked on that gun range, scrubbing and cleaning and moving heavy items out of the way.

           Her legs shook underneath her as she walked and she barely acknowledged the gun range door opening as she moved the target hangers back into place.

           “Miss (Y/n), what are you doing?”

           She blinked and wearily looked over towards the doorway. Looking puzzled as he looked at her was Walter, his brows furrowed a little.

           “Cleaning the gun range, sir,” she said, somehow managing to not slur her words.

           “That is a group job, dear. Why are you doing it by yourself?” Walter asked, walking over as (Y/n) struggled to lift the target hanger again, having set it down when she addressed the Butler.

           “It was one of the jobs Delores gave me to do today.”

           Walter’s brows furrowed more, looking around the gun range.

           “…did you already finish?”

           “Yes, sir.”

           “You moved the hanger by yourself?”

           “Yes, sir.”

           (Y/n) gave up and straightened up, facing Walter. He took a moment to observe the clearly fatigued girl, his eyes lingering on her red and raw hands for a moment.

           “….why don’t I help you move the hanger?” he said, walking over to the opposite side. (Y/n) didn’t protest, leaning down to pick it up again to finish moving it into place.

           “Thank you, sir,” she sighed, glad the gun range was finally done.

           “Indeed. Follow me, please,” he said, his tone strangely clipped. (Y/n) blinked, but followed him out of the gun range. She quickly realized that he was leading her to Master Hellsing’s office and wondered if she was in trouble for something. She thought over her list, was she late with a job?

           Walter told her to stand outside the door for a moment, before he slipped inside. (Y/n) stood there, listening to the sound of muted voices for close to five minutes, before she heard Walter returning and motioning her inside.

           “Stand here for a moment, (Y/n),” he said, before leaving her alone with Sir Integra. (Y/n) shifted nervously under Sir Integra’s hard gaze. Was she really in trouble for something? She honestly couldn’t think of anything that would warrant such a thing.

           It was several moments before Walter returned, and he wasn’t alone.

           Delores accompanied him and when she caught sight of (Y/n), she seemed to sense that something was about to happen that she wasn’t going to like.

           “Delores,” Integra started.

           “Yes, Master Hellsing?” (Y/n) barely kept from grimacing at the sickly sweetness in the woman’s voice.

           “Walter tells me that he found his attendant alone in the gun range, cleaning it with no assistance. Why was she alone?”

           “I don’t know, Sir. Perhaps you should ask her why she was cleaning the gun range without the others,” Delores said. Integra looked towards (Y/n) with a raised brow.

           “…the Head Maid said to clean the range before my other duties,” (Y/n) replied.

           “Did she now?”

           “I did no such thing!” Delores scowled. “The little strumpet told the other girls that their help wasn’t needed and she could do it herself!”

           (Y/n) was feeling rage start to bubble in her stomach. She would dare lie to Sir Integra about this? (Y/n) pulled out the paper Delores had handed to her.

           “What’s that, (Y/n)?” Walter asked.

           “The instructions Delores gave me for today,” she said. Delores realized her mistake and went to snatch the paper out of (Y/n)’s hand when another gloved hand appeared out of nowhere and plucked it from (Y/n)’s fingers.

           It was Alucard, who calmly unfolded the paper and skimmed it.

           “It appears that Miss (Y/n) is correct, Master Hellsing,” he said, tossing the paper at Integra. Integra took a strong pull from her cigar, before sighing, leaning back in her chair.

           “(Y/n).”

           “Ma’am?”

           “Why are your hands raw?”

           “I was scrubbing the galley and kitchen floors last night, ma’am,” (Y/n) replied.

           “Have you slept?”

           “Not since the day before, ma’am. By the time I’d finish my list, it would already be time to get up.”

           Integra took another pull from her cigar, letting the smoke roll out from between her lips as she looked at Delores with a withering stare. (Y/n) was forced to stand there in the silence for what felt like forever, before Integra spoke again.

           “Delores, I want the truth, and you’d better pray to God it’s the truth,” Integra warned. “Have you been the one harassing and sabotaging (Y/n)’s job?”

           Delores threw (Y/n) a venomous glare.

           “….I am.”

           “Explain why.”

           “The little harlot is unnatural. She doesn’t belong here. She’s a poor excuse for a maid of the Hellsing family,” Delores bit out. “She’s rude, disrespectful and should be put out on the streets.”

           ….Yeah, (Y/n) was seriously getting pissed off now. She bit her tongue to the point of blood to keep from saying exactly what was on her mind at the moment. Who the hell did this woman think she was?!

           “Funny, from what I’ve been told she’s very polite, possibly one of the most respectful people I’ve met and a very hard worker. The fact that she cleaned the gun range by herself is proof of that. If anything, Delores, you’ve help this young woman, not hurt her,” Integra stated. “However, your behavior will not be tolerated. Your harassment of this young woman will not be allowed to continue. You will be stripped of your job and you will not return to the Hellsing manor. Another one of the seasoned maids will temporarily fill in your job.”

           Integra hit a button on her phone and a voice answered inquiringly.

           “Please send a guard to escort Ms. Delores Reck off the grounds,” she said and within a few moments, an armed guard entered the office.

           “Y-You can’t do this to me! Sir Integra, I was hired by your father, surely that means something to my name? I’ve been here for years and years!”

           “Indeed, so you should have known what the consequences of your actions would be. Don’t let me see you here again, Delores,” Integra drawled. Delores sputtered and protested as she was led out of the room.

           (Y/n) felt relief knowing that her main harasser was finally dealt with. It seemed that was the only thing keeping her up, because she felt herself wobble dangerously and black spots flashed in front of her eyes.

           “Miss (Y/n), are you alright?” she heard Walter’s concerned voice. It sounded strangely muffled, like she had cotton in her ears.

           “No, I feel…” (Y/n)’s knees buckled and she pitched forward.

           “She’s going to hit the flo—”

           It went black suddenly.

I’m so glad so many people enjoy this story!!! 

[leonalmalsy]

In my version of Persona 5, Ryuji’s Mom would be the Team Mom.

I’ve been replaying Persona 5 in conjunction with the new anime when a thought came to me. If Sojiro is the Team Dad, then Ryuji’s Mom should be Team Mom. Think about how awesome it would be to watch his mom interact with the Phantom Thieves

I see her as a woman with fading black hair. She would have a sweet smile. But you’d be able to see some bags around her eyes. She has a job that requires her to be out of the house by seven in the morning and can’t get home until five. In her spare time, she makes charms (ofuda) to sell for extra cash. She will give you one every time you visit her. These charms act like buffs and debuffs. Also, there is a random chance that she will give you one that will increase experience or money.

Ryuji would introduce his friends to his mother quite early. The gang would watch how differently he is with his mom and be confused. He doesn’t swear. He helps out around the apartment. He’s a complete 180 around her. Sometimes, she calls him Ryu-chan, a name that makes him embarrassed when she says it. Of course, she’ll have baby pictures that she’ll pull out to show. As much as his friends may tease him, they can see how much he loves his mom.

Each of the Phantom Thieves would have a different interaction with his mom. (Let’s call her Aya for simplicity.)

Morgana: Morgana is there with Ren when he meets Aya. Of course, all she sees is a cat. She can’t understand what he is saying. Morgana can’t believe it. He was expecting someone just like Ryuji, loud and obnoxious in his own words. He can’t fathom how someone like her is his mother. Aya, for her part, treats him like the cat that he is. She asks Ren to pet him. Morgana doesn’t want to be treated like another cat but Ren makes him do it, just to make Aya happy. Aya starts petting Morgana scratching his belly. At first, Morgana struggles. But then, Aya finds that one spot that actually makes him purr. How can Ryuji’s mom have such magic fingers? It’s worth being a cat for fingers like this.

Ann: Aya remembers Ann from middle school. She comments that Ann’s become a beautiful young woman. They bond over middle school memories. Aya brings out the dolphin that Ryuji bought for her. He blushes and begs his mom not to bring up that incident but she can’t help it. He was so cute at that age. Aya would ask if she could brush Ann’s long hair. Of course, she would agree. Aya is gentle with the brush and hums a melody that Ann doesn’t recognize. Ann, for her part, begins to tear up at the kindness Aya has and wishes that she was this close to her own mother. Accidentally calls Aya mom by mistake during one brush session, making Ryuji blush. Aya is fine with it.

Yusuke: Aya doesn’t understand how Ryuji is friends with Yusuke considering they have completely different interests. Yusuke sees Ryuji’s apartment and is amazed on its kitsch design. Neither Ryuji nor Aya understand what he means by that. Yusuke is immediately inspired to draw. Needless to say, it is quite avant-garde. But Aya takes it in stride. She notices that Yusuke is rail-thin and asks if he is eating properly. Yusuke replies that he eats thin rice soup and soba noodles once a day. His stomach growls, embarrassing him. Aya decides to give him a meal. Yusuke will try to object but Aya has none of that. She resolves to feed him every time he comes to their apartment. He may be a bit strange but that doesn’t mean she should be a discourteous host.

Makoto: Aya knows she is the student council president since the beginning of the school year. She gave a speech in front of the students and parents. Aya is glad that Ryuji is friends with her. Perhaps his grades will improve. (A mother can dream.) Makoto helps Ryuji with his homework, even though very little of it sticks with him. She also asks if she can help Aya with the cooking. Aya smiles and says that she could never ask that of a guest. Makoto insists on putting out the plates and cutlery. Aya knows that Makoto won’t take no for an answer here so she relents. Eating like this reminds Makoto of the times she had dinner with her father and sister. Now, she spends most of her time eating alone ever since her sister changed, becoming more and more obsessed with getting ahead in life. When she realizes that she said that out loud, Aya tells her that she is welcome to have dinner with them any time.

Futaba: It’s difficult for Futaba to open up to Aya. The death of her mother is still fresh in her memories. Plus, she has a hard time talking to strangers. For three visits, Futaba curls up into a ball. Aya doesn’t take it personally. She patiently waits while taking care of some housework. On the fourth visit, Aya asks Futaba if she wants to help her make cookies. Futaba is a bit reluctant but agrees. They make a big mess together but it’s still a lot of fun. After cleaning up and putting the cookies in the oven, Aya notices that Futaba’s glasses are a little crooked. Without thinking, she adjust it for Futaba. This small action reminds her of her mother. Futaba breaks down crying. When Aya asks why, she tells her that that was something her mom use to do. Aya puts a friendly hand on Futaba’s head and tells her that it was a sign that her mother loved her very much. Now, every time Futaba comes over, they make cookies.

Haru: Haru meets Aya after the death of her father. Ryuji tells his mom about Haru’s situation. Without even thinking, Aya hugs her. Haru breaks down in tears. She feels so conflicted about her father. On one hand, he is responsible for the suffering of his employees and the mental shutdowns of his competitors. On the other hand, he’s still her father and she still has so many good memories of who he used to be. Aya tells her that it’s okay to feel conflicted. After getting to know Haru, they bond over gardening. Haru asks if Aya would like to work for her, promising her better money and better hours. Aya smiles and declines. As hard as she works, she does enjoy her job. Haru does give Aya some of the vegetables she grows at Shujin, telling her that she’s giving them to Ryuji’s mom so she can get honest feedback on its taste. Aya realizes that this is just Haru’s way of helping out.

Akechi: Aya never meets Akechi. Ryuji doesn’t like him and he’s not invited to his place. Plus, by the time he joins the group, the gang is suspicious about him, figuring out that he’s actually working for the enemy.

Ren: You can begin Aya’s confidant right after Kamoshida’s Palace.

Rank 1: Aya already knows about you. She heard the rumor that you had been on probation because of assault. She’s very suspicious and hopes that you aren’t corrupting her precious son. She makes you a deal. If you keep her son out of trouble, she’ll make you charms.

Rank 2: Aya finds out that you and Ryuji are Phantom Thieves. She finds one of the calling cards Ryuji used on Kamoshida. She puts you on blast for bringing her son into a life of crime just like you. Ryuji comes to your defense, saying that they exposed Kamoshida’s crimes of physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. He also tells her that Kamoshida broke his leg on purpose because he didn’t want anyone else to bring glory to Shujin’s sports teams other than Kamoshida. He also tells her that he enjoys being a Phantom Thief. Aya relents though she does tell you that you have to be careful next time. Don’t let her son do anything that could get him arrested.

Rank 3: Aya asks Ren to help her and Ryuji with some grocery shopping. If these two are going to be Phantom Thieves, she should at least get to know him. He asks why he was arrested for assault. Ren explains his life story. Aya tears up and apologizes for treating him like a criminal. Just be careful being Phantom Thieves.

Rank 4: Aya asks Ren what is his favorite food. When Ren asks why, she replies that she wants to make him a meal. She is so happy that he and Ryuji are friends. Ryuji hasn’t been this happy since he was running. She asks if Ren’s parents talk to him. Ren admits that he hasn’t spoken with his parents since he started living with Boss. Aya hugs Ren and tells her that she will be there for him.

Rank 5: After taking down Madarame, Aya asks Ren what does he wants to do as a Phantom Thief. Best answer is to fight for people who are in the same position as him. Aya then asks what would happen if it came to protecting himself or protecting his teammates, what would he do. Best answer is protecting teammates. Aya tells him that that’s good but he also needs to look out for himself as well. He is the light that draws others to his side. It’s now not just about him. Be careful.

Rank 6: After bringing down Kaneshiro, Aya asks Ren why they targeted a mafia boss. Best answer is because they targeted students and no one could stop them. Aya sighs. She’s scared for her son and for his friends. Fame shines a spotlight on them and could be their downfall. She wonders if Ryuji becoming a Phantom Thief was her fault. When Kamoshida broke her son’s leg, it felt like it was her fault. She heard Ryuji tell her about the abusive training. Aya thought that it was just his way of encouraging the team. When Ryuji was laying in that hospital bed, all she could think about was how she failed him as a mother. If only she had taken his complaints seriously.... Best answer is “It’s Kamoshida’s fault, not yours.” Aya smiles like her son. Thank you.

Rank 7: After their trip back from Hawaii, Ren and Ryuji go to Ryuji’s house one day only to see Aya being hit by a man. After yelling at him, the man runs off. Ryuji runs after the man while Ren takes care of Aya’s wounds. Ren asks who that man was. Aya says nothing. Ryuji comes back and swears up a storm, talking about getting back at that bastard. He couldn’t catch up to him because of his bum leg. Aya tells him that it isn’t worth it. Please don’t get revenge. I can’t lose you, Ryuji. Ryuji tells him that he can’t forgive his father. Aya begs her son to let this go but she loses consciousness. The two take her to Takemi. She has a couple of bruises and a black eye but she’ll recover. Aya thanks Ren and Ryuji for taking her to a doctor.

Rank 8: Ryuji asks the gang to help him change his father’s heart. Of course, they agree. Shinji Sakamoto’s shadow is found in Mementos. He tells them that Aya spent more time taking care of Ryuji when they were together instead of doing what he wanted her to do. That’s when he started hitting her and Ryuji. He is the dominant person in their relationship and he’ll do anything to make sure they know it. Ryuji yells at him that his mom is better off without him. Shadow Sakamoto is Hanuman, weak to Electricity. After beating him, Shinji explains that his father beat him and his mother. It’s the cycle of violence. Ryuji tells him to shut up. Just because he was abused, it doesn’t give him the right to abuse his mother. Shinji agrees. He’ll turn himself in. He apologizes and tells Ryuji to be a better man than him. They steal his treasure, a home run bat for Ryuji. After completing the mission, they go to Aya after she fully recovers. She tells them that Shinji called and apologized for hitting her and for being a terrible husband. He also told her that he would turn himself into the police. She asks if they had something to do with his change of heart. They tell her yes. She thanks them but also tells them that she was scared that something could have happened to them. Aya can’t stop them from being Phantom Thieves but she couldn’t bear it if something terrible happens because of it. Don’t do anything reckless. Be safe.

Rank 9: Aya is back in the apartment. Ryuji and Ren are doing everything for her: cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping. Aya thanks the boys for helping her. Ryuji tells her that he is always going to look out for her. He’s going to be a better man than his father. This makes Aya cry. That’s all she ever wanted. She looks at Ren and thanks him. It’s because of him that Ryuji is becoming the man that she always suspected he could be. Thank you. (Note that you can’t romance Aya. Bros don’t date bros’ moms.)

Rank 10: Happens after Ren fakes his own death. She visits Ren at Leblanc after hearing the news. She breaks down in tears after seeing that he’s alive. Aya panicked, thinking that he was dead. She tells him she can’t lose him too because Ren has become her son in all the ways that matter. All of the Phantom Thieves are her children and they have become fine people. She knows that they need to complete their mission and change Shido’s heart for the sake of Japan. Hugging him, she tells him that she will do everything she can to help him succeed. So call her day or night and she will come running. You will always be welcomed in her apartment.

When Mementos starts taking over the Real World, Aya is scared but she cheers them on. She knows they can succeed at anything if they put their minds to it.

When Ren is imprisoned, Aya takes it on herself to find Ren’s parents. She will tell them that she spent the entire year with him and told them that he was an excellent kid. They should be fighting to get him out if they were good parents. If they would’t, then she will do it herself. Parents should always do their best for their children, supporting them when they need it the most.

When Ren is preparing to return home, he meets with Aya one more time. She tells him that she is thankful for having met him. He turned out to be a good influence on Ryuji after all. She gives him a good luck charm (her NG+ item) and tells him that this will protect him on his next journey. Please be safe and remember, you will always have a home here.

So that’s my idea. I think that there is great potential here. Ryuji can’t be best boy without having best mom.

[creativitytoexplore]

Tony Ambrosio's Unsuccessful Life of Crime Is Finally Looking Up by Michael Drezin https://ift.tt/2xnTIVE It takes a lot to teach hapless petty thief Tony Ambrosio a lesson; by Michael Drezin.

Anthony Ambrosio, Tony to his friends, is not an honest man. No need to be. No one who ever made it big, made it big being honest. Honest or not, indications are Anthony Ambrosio will never make it big in crime because he doesn't have what it takes. He pulls mostly minor scams like selling weed that isn't weed, or bootlegged CDs where the cover doesn't match what's inside. And he gets caught like flu in winter. Tony's always getting caught. He does his time without complaint, 'cause that's the way real men do time. And then he starts the cycle all over again. No thought about what went wrong, or how to do it better. He does the same thing, in the same way, every time. He can't see that a life of crime is not for him because Anthony Ambrosio, Tony to his friends, is not an honest man. Not even with himself. And so when he told himself he had enough money for a fine meal at the Actor's Crib (insiders call it the Crib), a five star restaurant in the heart of NYC's theater district, it turned out he did. It's just that it wasn't on him. Upon the direction of management Alberto, the waiter, called the police. When they arrived Tony was arrested and until he was able to see a judge, he spent an afternoon, evening and the next morning in jail.

Anthony Ambrosio aka Tony Ambrosio aka Little Tony of Arthur Avenue, has been arrested like 100 times before. Pull a job. Get arrested. Tony was so regularly arrested he knew what to expect for dessert any day of the week whenever he was jailed. Tony started his life of crime at age 14. Beer, his first heist. Problem is, he got regularly caught doing it. His mentor suggested he bring his own shopping bag, but by then Tony was banned from most places that sold alcohol. Years later, when he graduated to burglaries, it took only one try to realize a yellow Dodge with a bumper sticker saying Proud parent of a Harvard graduate was a poor choice for a getaway car. It's not that Tony had bad ideas. It's more like he had no ideas. Like an impulse purchaser, Tony was an impulse desperado who never kept his impulse in check. Could be he was raised that way.

Tony's mom supported her and Tony by playing poker. Most often, she did so wearing a low cut leopard print blouse while chain smoking Evet's filtered cigarettes. She played in high stakes games held in the private room at Gino's (Fine Italian Cuisine) in the Little Italy section of the Bronx. It was mostly a men's game, but anyone who could afford the five thousand dollar minimum could play. Big fat cigars were banned ten years ago because they stunk up the restaurant, and except for Francesca these were no smoking games. She knew the dangers of smoking, everyone does, but she felt she had a realistic perspective on her habit. It was the same as her realistic perspective on life. Nothing bad would ever happen to her. If she thought about it at all, I'm sure she wasn't happy her son was sent to the principal's office nearly every day, but boys fight. What could she do about boys being boys? She didn't do much in the way of cooking, or cleaning, or any of the things formerly known as woman's work, but she always left Tony money for McDonald's, or pizza, or the like. Tony never lacked for anything that up to twenty-five dollars could buy. Besides poker, Francesca had a talent for attracting well-to-do men. It was just such a man who, in return for intimate companionship, staked her to her first major league poker game. That was maybe ten years ago, but even in early middle age, she was eye candy. She had a trim figure and an oval face framed by long, formerly dark, brown hair. If there was any flaw in her package, at least in my view, it was the unoriginality of a woman with tip over bazookas having brassy blond hair. The fact that she wore black framed glasses toned it down some, but not enough for men who liked a reserved looking woman. Still, anyone thinking Francesca was an uncaring mother would be wrong. She was teaching self-reliance to her young son, same as her parents taught her. In that effort, although she didn't know it, she was getting help from her boyfriend Joey Sanitation. Joey was in private sanitation, that is, he collected business refuse while the city collected residential garbage. The industry was heavily regulated in New York to rid it of the mobsters who once dominated the field and who, through front men, still do. Joey was too advanced in his legitimate career to break the law the way street thugs do, but not too old to tell stories of his own, earlier days, when a street thug was exactly what he was. Tales of crimes and tales of survival in prison, make for interesting listening even if you are not an impressionable 14-year-old. (If incarcerated, find a guard to bribe. There will be one. From special meals to skipping out on your work detail, they make life easier.) Joey was someone Tony could look up to, a substitute for the father who left too long ago to be remembered. With Joey Sanitation as inspiration, Tony lived his life the way any 14-year-old on his own would. He did whatever seemed like a good idea at the time.

First time Tony was arrested for shoplifting, his first time out, a security guard reached into a jacket pocket and found items not paid for inside. When asked how they got there, he had a simple defense. "I borrowed the coat," he said. And he's the kind who needs someone to blame, and so when he got arrested for not paying at the Crib he blamed his waiter for believing he had money to pay for dinner at a place as expensive as that place is. The thing is, when he wants to, Tony can make a decent enough living dumpster-diving for information to sell to identity thieves. But making money, having it on you, and spending it are three different things. No talent or special skill is required to buy things with money. A child can do it. The thrill for Tony, the excitement, is in getting over, in getting something for nothing. If you don't understand that, you're either too square to explain it to, or not being honest with yourself. Still, some might argue, given that Tony did order and eat, no gun to his head, his waiter could reasonably assume he would pay when the time came. The way Tony sees it, that's a mistake. Not his mistake. It's a mistake in the way restaurants are run. Tony came to this insight by way of life experience, which taught him that placing trust in people almost never works out well. He thinks restaurants should be run like stores. There they make you pay before you get the merchandise. They do that for a reason. Clearly, it's not Tony's fault the Crib isn't run that way. And using that logic, that impeccable logic, Tony was certain at the conclusion of the Crib's case against him, he would be a free man. "It's not like he asked if I could pay, Your Honor. Is he not, thus, as guilty as I?" But the judge did not consider the guilty waiter theory much of an excuse, and he sentenced Tony to thirty days of dishwashing at the cafe. Alberto, as witness for the prosecution, hearing of Tony's defense, was deeply offended that a man of honor, such as he, would be accused of being a negligent waiter. But what could he do? He was not long in this world before he realized dishonest people abound. Tony fulfilled the obligations of his sentence with admirable diligence. For 30 days he arrived on time, kept to himself, scrubbed dishes for eight hours and then left. At the end of his sentence, Tony told himself he had enough money for a fine meal at the Crib, and he ordered one. He ordered lobster prepared in clam sauce. No wine to go with it. Coffee was fine. When he was through and unable to pay, Alberto was, once again, directed to call the police. When they came, Tony was arrested and once again blamed Alberto, witness for the prosecution. And once again Alberto was offended at Tony's attempt made to sully his good name, but what could he do? Waiters do not get to pick their customers. Alberto was satisfied that he lived his life doing unto others...

It was high noon when Tony was released from the Bronx House of Detention for Men. Like checkout in a hotel, his time inside was up, his probation sentence to be served. As the gate clanked closed behind him, after walking through the cement yard and past the barbed wire fencing, he looked up at the cloudless sky and then down the block where children, five or six in all, ran under water spraying from a capped fire hydrant. A time and temperature sign brought to the community by Third Avenue Bank read 89 degrees. A Mr. Refreshment ice cream truck was approaching, its bell ringing the same few sounds over and over, and all looked right with the world except that not ten feet away a purse snatcher was plying his trade on the oldest-looking, shortest (under four feet), whitest- haired, most wrinkled, bony fingered, four-eyed woman in oversized pink-lensed sunglasses Tony had ever seen. Her silver-tone cane fell to her right side as she struggled with her assailant to hold on to her purse, and what Tony guessed were the proceeds from a cashed Social Security check inside. Tony suspected she was fighting, as best she could, to hold on to her food and medicine money and that part of her rent not paid by the government. He and Tony were in the same line of work, but Tony had standards. Stealing from the elderly was permissible, but doing so violently was out of the question. That's just wrong, was the way Tony saw it. Problem was, Tony wasn't much of a fighter. So he walked on by, called 911 from a safe distance, and hung up satisfied he made the world a better place for being in it. Before he left, he heard a police siren in the distance. Tony hopped the turnstile and took the number 4 train to Times Square. In the city he walked past the places where the peep shows used to be before Times Square was ruined by becoming a family-friendly destination. He stopped to remember the girls he saw- on film for 25 cents a peep. Where are they now, he wondered. A short time later, after waking past some of Broadway's oldest and most famous theaters, he was at the Crib.

As required by his sentence, for 30 days Tony arrived at the Crib on time, kept to himself, scrubbed dishes for eight hours and then left for the day. When his sentence was up, Tony was very hungry and so he ordered lobster, stuffed with shrimp and scallops and accompanied by a fine Chardonnay. He had baked clams to start. He skipped the coffee. Being pleasantly looped, he saw no need for coffee to kill his buzz. But by now Tony had learned his lesson. Take care of others (at least those that can help, or hurt). This time Tony left a generous tip that he removed from a nearby table just as Alberto was delivering the cheesecake. He slipped it into Alberto's outstretched hand. In brotherhood with a fellow employee, of sorts, Alberto forgot to leave a check. Well, better late than never. Twenty-two years after beginning life, Tony learned something new. Who knows. Could be he'll learn all kinds of lessons. Like plan an escape route. Wear gloves. Bring your mom's DNA to the job. The friends of Anthony Ambrosio, the ones who call him Tony, hope, however unrealistically, that someday he will succeed, that he will be at the top of his game and that the FBI will consider him to be a most wanted man, his face on posters, a major player in the minor leagues of crime.

[dcnativegal]

Compulsion & Identity

Ruminations of a Certified Alcohol & Drug Counselor--Intern

I’m sitting in one of the group therapy sessions with clients who have kept sober from a variety of substances for months or perhaps only days. They pee into a cup or suck on a saliva stick to prove their sobriety to me and their probation officers. They are biding their time and showing up and jumping through hoops that include community service, visits to Treatment Court, and paying off probation fines. Each one of them has harrowing stories. I have so much respect for them. Even when I know for sure they are flat out lying.

I’m trying to understand what it’s like, mentally, emotionally, and socially as they maneuver through their lives and all their important relationships as a sober person. We talk about it. One person admitted, I still don’t know who I am, sober.  I know I was funnier when I was high…

I’m learning all about “Substance use disorder” which is the newest term. (No longer abuse, and less use of the term ‘addiction.’) I have a stack of books with titles like “Buzzed” and “Uppers and Downers.” I remember from my early social work training that there is a stunting of brain maturation when a person starts using a substance regularly. Each of these people starting using as young teenagers. The growing human learns to navigate through life with the help of the mellowing effects of pot, the mania and energy of meth, the disinhibitions of alcohol. There are supremely stupid choices that are made under the influences.  They don’t know how to deal with frustration, with a broken heart, with the moments included under the umbrella: ‘shit happens.’

I don’t know anyone who deals with ‘shit happens’ perfectly.  Well, maybe the Dalai Lama, and the late great Maya Angelou.

My personal drugs of choice are carbs and yarn. Carbs may kill me in the end. I’ve developed pancreatitis, in large part because it’s a side effect of an injectable drug that worked well for me for a couple of years. The other part of why is, simply, gluttony. (Noun. Habitual greed or excess in eating. Ouch. Literally.) My side started hurting in December, and I self-diagnosed kidney stones, so upped the liquids. Didn’t get into see my family nurse practitioner until mid-January. NOT kidney stones but pancreatitis. What the…?  Clear liquids for me. Who knew that there are dozens of kinds of broth.  Although the pain did not disappear, it lessened, and the lipase and other lab values went down to normal when I stuck to liquids. When I eat solids again, the pain and labs worsen. So I’ve been off and on solid food for a while. Every one to two weeks, I give a couple of vials of blood and 3 hours later, my nurse scolds me. Kinda like peeing into a cup, or sucking a saliva test strip. Clean UA? Good labs? It depends on behavior.

Humbling.

A client ‘bangs’ (injects) meth. I indulge in a cookie, or three. Not equivalent, exactly. But pancreatitis is dangerous. Meth is, too.

When ‘shit happens’ to me, which includes simply a bad day, I realized some time ago that I have  a sense of entitlement, of somehow ‘deserving’ the special treat of new yarn, or a Peppermint Patty. Because…. Insert self justification here….  I can imagine that some of the same justification goes on in the mind of people who use meth or pot or beer compulsively.  “I’ve been good… It was a shitty day… Fuck you, bossy bitch, I’m going out… “  As I stand in the checkout line at Safeway, I’m like, I’m tired, just one Peppermint Patty won’t kill me…

Dark chocolate, ice cream, cookies. I’ve heard alcoholics say that if there’s alcohol in the house, it calls to them. Same for me with chocolate. Valerie hides it. At the moment, I think we are totally out. Which is good. (I found her stash. ‘Bye, ‘bye stash. I am a gluttonous theif.)  I’ve been keeping a pile of tiny chocolates in my office for my clients. I give up. They’re all gone now. I couldn’t resist them. I’ll put stress balls in the box that held the mini-snickers and Twix. The Twix were very popular. I was especially fond of the mini-Milky Ways with dark chocolate. Val discovered Russell Stover’s sugar free peppermint patties. Oh. My. God. They are now on the banned list, even though they are sugar free. Even after I start feeling sick, I can eat 10 at a sitting. Like the rat hitting the cocaine water until he dies.

I knew someone who had a compulsion to use pornography. The idea would take root and next thing, that person would be walking into a strip club. Feeling disgusted later, dirty and depressed, the urge would diminish for a while, until the next time. My basic feeling about this whole arena is: tip the sex worker very well and be respectful. But, the compulsion, if it harms relationships with real live humans outside the club, is a problem. Not to mention how porn distorts what men think women actually enjoy.

Cravings.

Chocolate or yarn doesn’t HAVE to be a problem, but for me it is. Everything in moderation, except for me with sugar or yarn. I can ignore a wine bottle. No interest in illegal drugs. But keep sugar away from me. And no more yarn… hm… until I hit the new Willows store in Christmas Valley again.  Seed planted, insert rationalization: I’m supporting an independent local business! (I think this is called ‘stinkin’ thinking’. )

What is your ‘self medication’ of choice, dear reader?

Weed, which seems to be the drug of choice for teens in Lake County is a mixed bag. Pun intended. It made me paranoid and more anxious than I already was when I used it in college. It’s legal in some states but federally illegal. The medical marijuana card is a great thing for those who need it. I’ve seen the videos with people who have Parkinson’s go from violent tremors to graceful movement. For young people, though, I’ve seen it among my kids’ friends, how all motivation seems to vanish. It is the slacker’s drug of choice. I have teenaged clients who are mandated to see me because of weed, and they pee into a cup. I want for them every ounce of motivation to get them out of poverty and do well in school, find a trade, make a better living than their parents.

Our group discussion gave me a chance to revisit my own struggles with identity, as well as my own compulsive behavior.  Perhaps there is a parallel between my deep discovery in my early 40s that I am really and truly gay and my clients’ growing familiarity with their sober selves. For me, it was 2003. My husband had given me permission to figure out whether or not I was gay, bi, whatever. He’d had a serious heart attack, and earnestly pointed out that life is short. What a gift. What insanity.  This journey led to the end of our marriage, which was a hard and painful process but also, to lives lived with authenticity. Thank goddess for therapists. The kids survived and thrived, and he has been with a lovely, gifted, hilarious and STRAIGHT woman for something like 10 years. I have been with the cowhand for nearly 6.

What made that part of my history relevant, perhaps, to the path of the newly sober, is that I had to regroup my identity. As my children’s father put it, I’d changed teams. Not only was I on a different team, that team had a culture, a lingo, a look and feel that was perceptible by something called ‘gaydar’ which I had the beginnings of but really needed to step up. I rented every classic lesbian movie I could find, and some of them were terrible, but all of them taught me something. As a feminine-appearing gay woman, I needed to learn about femmes and femme culture since I am so not a butch. I read Joan Nestle, founder of the Lesbian Herstory Archives, and the hilarious Leslea Newman who wrote, ‘Out of the Closet with Nothing to Wear’, and the classic, “Heather has two Mommies.” I watched lesbians, especially in lesbian spaces. I learned about my own body, my own range of gender expression.

I moved to the Oregon Outback to be with my sweetie full time instead of half the year, and out here, I miss gay space (like a gay bar, community center, or Pride event), other gay people, any tiny glimpse of a gender bending queer sensibility.

We all feel this way, in each of our identities. Jewish people feel more comfortable when surrounded by other Jews. Women feel relaxed when there are no men present, and vice versa. Alcoholics can avoid the stigma when they are with other alcoholics. Ranchers enjoy the company of other ranchers.

Just this past week I met, FINALLY, another gay person who lives in Lake County. This person is married, and so now I know there are FOUR GAY PEOPLE IN LAKE COUNTY.  We’ll have a tiny gay pride parade in our living room come June, with a very large rainbow flag.

For my newly sober clients, it’s an adventure to learn who they are with their families, with their wives or husbands or girlfriends or boyfriends, with their employers, at their church. To say to their children, “yes, I have messed up, and I’m getting it together. No need to be sarcastic with me. I am still your parent.” They seek out the company of others in recovery to survive. There are several twelve step meetings in the county, thank goodness.  Since all of my clients started using in their early teens, there is a lot of growing up to do, all the while they have very real and heavy adult responsibility. It’s a lot to manage, in a punitive and financially strapped environment.  

For the sober, a hot bath has to take the place of a beer, or a bowl. All of those strong emotions cannot be mediated by a substance. Frustration? Anger? Sadness? How does one deal with those without an upper or a downer?  And if I have a rough day, I do not have to buy a Peppermint Patty.

I seek to relate to them and their stories, even while I immerse myself in online courses about substance use disorder. It’s a bit narcissistic, I know, to search for my own parallel struggle to humanize theirs. But as Anne Lamott once so wisely said, I am the turd around which the world revolves.

On New Year’s Eve, I went to Soul Collage at Toni’s house in Paisley, and made a New Year’s mandala (which I shared a picture of, two posts ago.)  In the center is a primate surrounded by bananas, and around the primate were examples of embodiment, words of encouragement, and healthy foods. It was shortly into 2017 that I was diagnosed with pancreatitis. I am now FORCED by my side pain and bad labs to get my eating act together, out of the realm of gluttony. Be careful what you wish for.

I went to Soul Collage again recently, and created two cards to help me tell the story of my clients, and also my own story. They depict the journey from serious faces to happy faces, with stops at

·        Know thine enemy and maybe befriend them, (the man and the skunk, the user and the dealer, the lesbian and the Trumpette)

·        Find your people and cuddle up to them to rest (like a pile of kittens)

·        Be creative in all things, with colored pencils or your new sense of who you can be now

·        Get used to feeling your feelings including the negative ones. They will not kill you. Smoking or ‘banging’ them away is procrastination. So are Peppermint Patties.

·        Do the work. No way to short cut the work. Carry the water that needs carrying and don’t be a whiney child about it. I know it’s a bitch to be a grownup and exercise self-control when other people are allowed to be such pains in the asses!!! Remember: sometimes, I AM THAT BITCH.

·        Allow time for joy, for running free, for deeply enjoying pleasure that doesn’t carry guilt. Find that joy if it’s new to you, the guilt-free kind! (Salad? Sigh. Knitting with the yarn I already own? YES.)

·        Make a home within yourself if not in the outside world. Make that home cozy and full of love. Beautiful and familiar. Full of life and healing. (I’m ALWAYS working at this, the finding and maintenance of home…)

The journey to sobriety, to a whole and generous life, is not a straight line, more like a circle or a spiral, hopefully forward. All the same, as Proust said,

The real voyage of discovery consists in not seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.         

[fungi59765976-blog]

The Big Idea

DRIVEN TO SUCCEED: THE BIG IDEA.

AN INTENSE DESIRE TO IMPROVE, THRIVE, and, RISE ABOVE. A LOVE STORY ABOUT THE PROSECUTION OF John Driver, and the mystery mincer machine.

By

The OUTLAW John Driver

November 5, 2018

WWW.LUBRX.blogspot.com

NOVEMBER 07, 2018

dissemble

[dih-sem-buhl]

verb

1. to conceal one's true motives, thoughts, etc., by some pretense; speak or act hypocritically.

2. to give a false or misleading appearance to; conceal the truth or real nature of: to dissemble one's incompetence in business.

♠️ THE GLOBAL GAMING ARENA AND ITS THEATER. ♠️

#1. PROXIMITY IS THE ONE THING I CAN PROVE THE ARGUMENT THAT MOB AND GARCIA COMMITED A PLETHORA OF XIVIL MALICIOUS SCAMS AS FREELANCERS DIRECTED UNDER SECUROTY CONTRACTS.

https://1drv.ms/w/s!AsqklJ_F_8cygXKwzwT5beJMh4Rg

“Way to go Scooby, now let Velma lick my box, before she has to get to work at TSA.” -Mystery Machine

“It takes an IDiOT to solve this and come up with the BIG IDEA.” -COS

SPUNK SPIRIT. LOVE FORCE. (sounds painful)

Chapter one: The DATE SCAM was to FIX the location of the TARGET, and to… LOVE. LOVE WITHOUT RESPECT be ones toxic and will result in DOMESTIC violence. LOVE understands LOVE, it needs NO talking . Let’s examine the mind of a woman that is on CYBER DATING, and assume she is NOT a FREELANCER….an over weight mother of two as she puts it. No friends and a Stalker named Randy.

If you Love a girl, it is better to fight for her happiness, rather than leave her in sake of her happiness. LiSa and I are in LOVE since we met on POF in June 23, 2016.(see

“Now you’re messing with my emotions.” – Fat Kid and cake.

LOVE can Cure. And, LOVE can Kill. The SPUNK SPIRIT LOVE FORCE, LLC. Is the Rhetorical use of the word, as the name of the empty-shelled LLC operated by Garcia, to have an account to be compensated for harassing, and investigating a Target, and the name of the DATE SCAM.

I mean, wtf does a woman need cyber dating for anyway? I’m pretty sure they can get a date anyway, anytime, with any guy. And, a blueprinted funnel close scripted dialogue, worth a coffee date follow through closer. Fishy. So, you gotta be already for anything with a female like that. Even for an idiot like John Driver, that should send a red flag up. First, instinct is she is a witch. Driver recognized the mental conditioning, and the seemingly desperate and immature desire to hurl herself out of a moving vehicle if it meant he was “dumping” her. The drive was adding up to an excessive amount of gas, wear and tare on the vehicle, to drive to Egypt, every other day to make a connection, and empty the balls, enjoy a bee Jay sesh, and that was it.

Relationships are difficult to nurture and they don’t happen just because the perp checked the box. Then to expect the same results from the past relationships, never adapting or learning new skills of communication, ultimately ending in a toxic, and insane hot mess of drama.

If a domestic spy has learned more about you, than you know about yourself, they can manipulate and direct the tone of the population, I mean the relationship.

The pornstar wife, the worried old lady, the struggling mom, the spoiled child of a controlling mother, and a nasty, drunk that says things like, “your gonna go broke just like all the rest of the guys I DATED.”

I was beginning to believe that all women have several personalities, and it may be true. Until you encounter a professional mind fucker, and a Heart EaTER. It’s almost like a spell or a hex was cast, or like she was reading his mind, and they just hit it off like Romeo and Juliet. Then, it turn into, “I think he is mentally ill. I’m scared.” What was, I’m worried about you. When are you coming back. And, do you love only me? I require a connection, and monogamy.

Now, playing that against a secret relationship, that she knows Dunaway, and Dunaway knows SACKETT, totally explains the shit eating snicker on the rice Patty face of the village scam artist, DUNAWAYS mom. What a dinger. Eventually, as a fighter, observation of the little slips added up to a conclusion that is not desired. You mean I’m being played, and if I raise up the point I don’t laid. I’m all in at this point, and I felt the punchline, just didn’t realize it was a toe punch kick to the dick and taint when I was bending over, cleaning the kitchen floor, unable to relate that doing things to make her happy, makes me happy, but, she is a Prostitute. She will jack you off on her tits anyway in your car, weather you perform with kindness, or a vulgcrassity. If she always comes at him with kindness, manners and no swearing, she is flawlessly able to bluff that she is honest and trustworthy. A deception and a skill. In the same sense that, Driver can inflict pain, even snap bones, like tailbones, aka coccyx, leaving zero trace, with a cool head, and a denial, has an incredible sense of credibility, when the police ask her a question and she lies to them.

The word LOVE is like a cluster firework bomb. When it goes off, you really do not know what to expect. The color, the amount of distance the flames spread, and in any direction. It’s very rarely controlled, and done in a laboratory setting. Love e is violent, and Love is not peaceful. It’s a hostile situation you are getting yourself into, so, since her ability to bleed the meat sword is inevitably used like currency, the skill of fucking her to within an inch of her life is the only chance a man’s got of controlling her, even if he makes less of an income than her. It’s every woman’s dream. Man handler her, but, don’t be caveman, be respectful and sweet to her.

At the scheduled time of fixing his location so the punk haters can confront, ambush and rope him in a street theater, she will disappear with a rational response of the kids this and that. You can’t argue kindness, and she has him tricked out anyway. Denial is her skill to avoid a confrontation like the last one, because, now, she is conditioned to take the pean, get the neck message, get the fish tanks cleaned, and the man-shit daily that is this awesome guy that she sometimes was just tolerating, and laughing at, not with, always an Over inflated sense of her self, and her joint bank account with her parents. Parents retired from Los Angeles County Personnel and in 100K $ club, or, SECRET SOCIETY OF WELL TO DO'S. These are the fucking assholes that are always in a confrontation with a neighbor, always in a litigation case over petty shit like stamp thievery, and always quick to judge other races, and expect to be fucked by a loser, or, don’t encourage him, he will kill your son. For reals. I met that grandma grey wrinkled sack of elephant skin bag of bones with a faint whiff of cancer growing within her wicked body, only one brief encounter, and she has judged me entirely, oh wow….. Liars get cancer, Howard Stern taught us that fact.

Chapter two: NEVER TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER. Due Diligence and the obsessive quest to obtain information, and the sick fucks that use Domestic Spying to master-bate, mimic, and hate on an unsuspecting citizen, an individual referred to only as TARGET, MARC, LOSER, or, John MACHINE Lober

“If you give up now, this will all be over.”- Sr.

Chapter three: PERJURY

“You have lost all credibility.” -OC Judge, written on request for civil harassment restraining order against Micheal Owen Bradley.

I do not give a fuck, yes, zero times ten FUCKS to GIve about our judicial system. Our officers of the court are the judge and jury. They are respected by myself . Judge Dredd is not just a movie, and militarized PULICE, with the ability to read thoughts, intentions, and charge a citizen on an “implied” threat of a crime is intense. It must be avoided and resisted, as long as possible, but, a situation will demand participation from the nation, the citizens that haven’t moved their wealth into south America banks ten years in preparation for the toppling of the house of cards, and became a citizen of another country, like a punk ass bitch. “If I had six days to live, I would spend it defending MY country.” Insisted Jim Kelly with a general Patton DVD on loop in the background.

“Oh? Because that is a bitch ass threat, and I think you are a pussy, because I fight to defend this country everyday, for 50 years. I will die on my feet, no matter the odds against me, and I will win. You. You’re fucked because you have diabetic feet. The most important body part for retirement. How the hell are ya gonna do anything with those, you fake ass fuck?” If you can’t overwhelm the enemy because he has information he is not disclosing, confidential, probate and stolen personal information, then humiliate, and impose your self confidence upon him, and his clearly lesser athletic abilities. The rage was building in his fat grey head as the interrogation proceeded, and I read this little boy-man like a book. Kelly snapped when I disclosed the occupancy agreements violations and the fraud. I was on point for him to present a firearm at all times, especially if he was out of my eyeballing, then back. I even asked him,”wheres your gun general Fatton?” It has been suggested that I do not play well with others. What is your definition of “well?” I can relate. Can YOU?

Chapter four: COPS ARE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES.

“You will never see justice. Just stay away.” – Threat Assessment Detective, Long Beach City Police Department.

“You WILL see justice in this matter, Lober. I am NOT recommending a 242pc. It was self defense. You simply struck him before he struck you.” -Riverside County Sheriff, Deputy M. Moore.

I never realized that a cop has such an enormous amount of authorization that he has the power to arrest, or use deadly force, but, inversely, he is the GATORS bitch puppet. It’s a LOV3 hate relationship with these fuck head Gators. A marine and a street cop walk into a bar. The Gator and the Detective duck under it, avoid injury, do all the drugs, fuck ALL the sluts, and drive the coolest cars, like Magnum PI. The cops get an honorable burial.

The cops want to so intensely to tell on these scumbags, and fuck up the lying Gator, but, will not because they are aware of the scandalous-ness abilities at FUCKERY they are capable of. Considering NCIS level FUCKERY, o ha e a perspective of why I put his life on danger by dropping the name bomb with an enhanced twist of embellish theory. How about sitting in a Safeway parking lot, 2:30am, tossing out del taco trash, when the beat cop lirks up behind you and adjusts his batman utility belt,” is this your trash?”

“Good morning Officer. Any idea where the hell Deputy Moore is? I’ve been waiting here for an hour to do the follow up Investigation with him and I’ll pick up the trash too.”

“What’s the investigation about?”-inquiring cops mind wants to know.

“I can’t tell you that, silly. It’s an investigation.” I pronounced.

“okay, we’ll pick the trash and stay outta trouble. Bye.”-Just like that.

Chapter five: DATE SCAM AND THE SPUNK SPIRIT LOVE FORCE, LLC.

DUNAWAY/SHACKETT. “OH, FUXK. THEY KNOW EACH OTHER THE ENTIRE TIME. THAT MEANS, OH MY GOD, THAT MEANS….”

Owner occupancy/ FHA/ HUD/ AND MORTGAGE AFFINITY type FRAUD by VIETNAM VETERANS/Private Investigators

LES LINKOGLE, WILLIE AURTHER “SALAS” RAMIREZ, PATRICK D MCNEAL, AND MARIO D GARCIA, M44, OF MENIFEE, CA. 27207 KEPLER STREET, are suspected of defrauding the SECRATARY OF VETERANS AFFAIRS of millions of dollars, by flipping HUD/ FHA LOANS, by opening empty shelled llc's to act as their own bank, violating occupancy agreements, and, possible identity theft, while, creating an enormous syndacite think tank.

Other participants in the scheme are: HEATHER DAWN ZABEL, F, MICHEAL OWEN BRADLEY, KATHLEEN M JACOBS, Marie M Dunaway, Charlie and Lois Weir, LARRY LEMONT LINKOGLE, AND, BRIAN DEEGAN. There are several hundred more individuals Nationwide included in the comprehensive reports. I can provide a glimpse of what I actually know, from a COMPREHENSIVE PERSONAL REPORT I received from a licensed Private investigator.

Willie SALAS RAMIREZ lays out a blueprint from his criminal and civil record, by first being sued by THE SECRETARY OF VETERANS AFFAIRS for forcible entry detainer. There were additional civil judgements , speeding tickets, and disruption. Willie was a Vietnam vet.

Willie then opened an empty shell LLC for his first purchase of a HUD property and became his own mortgage banker with THE SEC OF VET AFFA, and DEPT OF VET AFFAIRS. Flipped it to a buyer and collected the FHA loan.

The individuals are utilizing these properties to Target civilian citizens apparently for a USDOJ.GOV/COPS PROGRAM. I am aware of this only because of the tactics they have attacked me with for the past 16 months on 27185 KEPLER STREET, MENIFEE, CA. Lisa Traudt and I are members of the newsletter. IN a summary report, these individuals attempt to obtain a civil citation in lieu of an arrest of a target, to exploit the targets possessions, and, obliterated his finances and or life. The malicious act of FALSE FLAG incidents to create a false reality and give a Looney energy that is rationalized by reasonable person.

MORTGAGE FRAUD

Larry Lemont Linkogle comprehensive, Metal Mulisha Deathsquad, Briar Rose Winery, Temecula,CA.

https://1drv.ms/b/s!Al2TLfT5Fx75klD4aTaXW1IGXqxq

https://1drv.ms/b/s!Al2TLfT5Fx75kk_YE03YrRx95S0l

Spunk spirit LLC./ SPUNK SPIRIT LOVE FORCE

https://1drv.ms/b/s!Al2TLfT5Fx75kksTlLzxoVEpPh4C

Michael Owen Bradley, Adams Ave., Costa Mesa, CA.