#It is so fucked up that this post is adjacent to how the churches present it

[this-is-my-main-i-follow-from]

You were born beautiful & okay & yes flawed,

& instead of sacrificing things every day of your life you just need one single sacrifice (& the thing sacrificed is still eternal & didn't die & fall off the face of existence)

& you should live by love & live your life in active thanks, not verbal thanks, active thanks meaning going out & living with love & not doing evil to others

& the word is relevant to the context it was written in so you need to learn how to apply it in this world which essentially boils down to "conduct yourself with love"

because you will be completely & fully united with the purest most infinite love in the end, & the "unimaginable torture" is lack of love & very few people ever get there & even upon passing you still are able to unite with Love after some time spent undoing the hatred you spread in life. According to some traditions, even if you spend one eternity in suffering, you will have another chance to unite with love.

Posts like this are why I hate the church. It presents itself in such an awful way that people get an understanding of it like this, & then they abandon it because it honestly sucks & they can find love in other places. At the same time though, this post is... well... it is exaggerated & sad. The churches need to stop acting the way they do because they make people think like this. Life is beautiful, why do the churches need to make it come off like this?

Look, we joke a lot, but really, "you were born evil, wretched, worse than the scum of the earth, and it took killing a god to make you salvageable, so now you'd better be grateful to that god and thank him 10,000 times a day for it and fill your thoughts with him 24/7 and abide by the letter of his every word, lest you suffer unimaginable torture for all of eternity" is a truly horrendous thing to believe about yourself and other people

[my-watch-begins]

Peeping Sam II.

Pairing: Rafe Adler x Reader. 

Warnings: swearing, gun play, mentions of violence. 

Words: 3921

Part I. // Uncharted Masterlist. 

Rafe keeps his hand over your knee as both of your legs rest on top of his thigh. Sitting comfortably on the leather couch of the living room, a maid makes several trips back and forth bringing breakfast options that included fruits in just about every color, toast, avocado, scrambled eggs, croissants, about twenty types of tea and the best coffee money could buy.

Rafe always had coffees but his breakfast options varied here and there, you stuck to tea and always had toast and avocado.

"What about those meetings I told you to handle yesterday?" He asks, stabbing a piece of green apple with a fork and leading it to his mouth.

"Handled, Johnson and Prescott wanted to hold off on the investment of the new production plant" you could already see Rafe's eyes roll in annoyance.

"Market research says it's perfect time to start production"

"I know, I told them if they wanted to stop the investment, you had the right to request 45% of the initial investment capital, as per contract" you answered smugly.

"But that's not in the contract" he replied in a questioning tone.

"I know, by the time those idiots lawyer up and skim the contract to prove me wrong production will have started and profit margins will prove you right"

You turn to give him a winning smile as you lean over to the fruit tray, feeling Rafe's hand on your thigh, teasing upwards and in between your legs.

"That's a smart move"

"I learned from the best didn't I?" You tease giving him a side glance, noticing that he's giving you one of those rare looks of adoration, looking at you through his lashes and a small but genuine smile peaks from his lips.

Before you leave the fruit tray alone and can move to straddle him, he perks up in his seat and smiles.

"Samuel" he called, his hand beckoning for him to come closer. You turn around, finding the one he was talking with, he looked around the room dodging your inspecting eyes "please, join us" he motioned at the couch adjacent to his.

Sam sat down and cleared his throat, his eyes finally meeting yours, you gave him a polite smile.

"I don't think I've properly introduced you to my fiancée" he presented, your hand lifts up over the table, Sam quickly draws his and shakes it gently "(Y/N) darling, Samuel Drake" he introduced to you "I thought your days of seeing woman naked without knowing their name were behind you Sam" he says, his head lowering as he spoke.

"He did not see me naked" you interrupted.

"I was there, he did" Rafe fought back.

"He was looking up" you excused with a shake of your head, not believing that the fight you'd had yesterday was still continuing.

After you'd made your way out of the pool and joined Rafe, he scolded you for swimming naked knowing that there were people in the house, you'd refuted that argument by telling him he didn't seem to bother to have you grind over him in the plane at the sight of the flight attendants. He was not happy with that answer, so by some weird logic he decided to fuck your brains out, you absolutely did not complain.

Sam didn't wanted to be caught up in the middle of a fight, so he quickly shook his head and spoke.

"Don't worry Rafe, she's not my type"

He took more offense by that comment than you, so he frowned and tilted his head to the side.

"And what's that? Beautiful?"

"Taken" he swiftly rebounded. You chuckle lowly, and gave him a praising twist of your eyebrows as your hands lead the steaming cup of tea to your lips.

"Oh" he gasped surprised, then chuckled "well, I thought you two should meet anyway since she's the one you'll be answering to if we don't find the treasure soon"

Sam's eyes rested on your face, seeing you pull an annoyed twist of your lips as you glanced at Rafe.

"Not a fan of pirates (name)?" Sam asked, leaning over the table to grab a toast.

"I mean, the only experience I have with pirates is riding the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disneyland" you dismiss "though I like that one better, that one hasn't made me reprogram my wedding five times"

Rafe pronounced your name in a warning tone, making you clasp your tongue and roll your eyes, pulling your legs from his lap and turning on the couch until you almost give him your back completely.

"In any case, Rafe is the one who likes history out of the two of us" you pat his thigh loudly enough for Sam to hear on the other side of the table "I like to focus on the other side of the timeline, the future is always more promising"

"Well, opposites attract I guess" Sam said with a little smile.

Rafe led his hand on your thigh, you turn your head to his.

"Sam and I are leaving today, we'll be back in a few hours" he mentioned looking at Sam, when he finished he turned his head to you and gave you a quick smile.

"Sure love" you answer shortly, then mirrored his smile with a little disdain, you certainly didn't like to keep the happy couple façade after touchy subjects like how much fucking time he'd wasted on that stupid treasure.

You stood up shortly after that, heading to the office space upstairs. You had assumed he was gone a few minutes after, so you wandered around in the state, landing on the wing where you knew Sam had made his office. He had books lying around, peppers scribbled, glasses and bottles, but the corner of a laptop peaking from under a stack of papers caught you eye.

You pushed them off and opened the laptop, the screen lights up asking for a password. You frown and place your hand on your hips, pushing your tongue behind your teeth on your palate. A quick trip back and forth later, you take the computer and tilt it to the side, plugging a flashdrive to the side. The screen glitches, overriding the password requirement and showing the desktop.

If Rafe was the history savvy, you were the technology one. If there were things to worry about that had been developped in the last twenty years, he didn't care how the thing got it done as long as it worked.

You spent a few minutes digging through his search history, expecting to find a bunch of Google searches for porn, instead there are a few searches about Avery. After going back and forth on the search history, one of them catches your eye.

There was an auction to be held in the next two months, the lot numbers had already been posted, and a few pages of useless junk later, you found the one that Sam was looking for. A wooden cross.

You were sure Rafe would spill a bunch of knowledge about the year or was made, what it was made of, to you it was just a cross.

You snap a photo of the screen with your phone. There were a lot of searches about wooden crosses after that, and you knew this one was important because Rafe had one he'd gotten from some jail in Panama, at least that's what he'd said when he showed it to you.

You deleted the searches you'd made, closed the laptop and covered it back up. There was still no sign of Rafe or Sam at the state by the time you were finished, so you headed to your own computer and pulled files from the Adler collection until you found the cross Rafe had, cocking your eyebrow in interest as you noticed that the one Rafe had was actually broken at the bottom. The one that was going for auction seemed to be intact.

You sat at the desk, rubbing your fingers on your earing as you thought. Sam had found this new cross months ago, had he brought it up already to Rafe and he hadn't tell you? Did Rafe knew about it at all? Because if he did, he certainly would be excited about the finding, he would be excited to tell you.

The state was so silent you heard the front door shut, so you stood up and walked along a few hallways until you  reached the main living room, seeing just Sam walk around and heading towards the opposite hallway.

"Sam" you called, he turned around quickly, his hand stopping halfway his path towards his neck. "You came back alone?" You ask. Sam's hand finds his neck and rubs it as he sighs.

"Yeah, Rafe was meeting with some woman at the church, so he suggested we continue later, he staid back"

"I see" you say with a quick nod. He gives you a quick smile as he turns around, disappearing in the hall.

Not even two hours later, without sign of Rafe still, you walk to the gym in your workout clothes intending to rub the treadmill for a warm-up, quickly amusing yourself when you see Sam bare chested and laying back on a bench doing presses.

You grip your phone and walk to him, he's busy listening to music on his own phone so he doesn't listen to your step approaching, and he certainly doesn't see you until you've thrown your leg over his lap and sat just over his crotch. He's so caught of guard he can't push the weights up so he lets them fall, the safety bars at the side catching them with a metal thud.

You smiled wickedly and leaned your forearms on the bar that sits barely an inch above his chest.

"I'm sorry to interrupt" you dismiss quietly with a move of your hand. He tugs the earbuds out to listen, a mix of surprise, worry and something more coloring his face "But- I just wanted to know... How did things go at the church? Found anything?"

"Um-" he stutters, his eyes running back and forth between yours. You see several beads of sweat forming in his face, though you didn't know if it was you or the workout. "No, sadly. But Rafe staid back to talk to someone who's going to dig around the site much quicker than just the two of us"

"That sounds lovely" you say mindlessly, as if that was going to be your reaction no matter his answer, squinting your eyes as you smirk "though, I think it would be better if we just told Rafe about the cross that's going for auction at the Rossi state yeah?"

You lived for the moments when color drained from people's faces, when their pupils dilated, when their mouth fell agape at the pretended surprise as they thought quickly how to collect themselves.

"I-I don't-" he stammered, you leaned your face down, your chin coming to your hands still pressed to the bar as your hips pulled back on his crotch, quickly noticing that Samuel Drake was not a "brief" kind of guy.

"You wouldn't take me for an idiot" you whisper "would you Samuel?"

"No, absolutely not" he replied immediately, shaking his head profusely side to side.

"Good" you smile, then lean back, teasingly grinding your hips before you stand up, giving him a quick smile. "Nice catching up with you".

Sam struggles to lift the bar back up to their hooks, but as soon as he's free he jumps to his feet and exits the gym, heads quickly to his room and jumps clothed into the shower. He lets the cold water cascade over him for a few minutes before he takes off his clothes. He still feels like his body is tensed up, his arms hurt by the sudden lost of power and how they had come to such an uncomfortable position while being held down under you. By the time he finishes his shower there's still a light layer of cold sweat on his body and he feels like he needs one too many cigarettes to calm down.

It was just his luck to run into Rafe and Nadine just as they cross the entrance on his way to the patio.

"Sam" Rafe salutes "you look like you've seen a ghost" Sam assumes he looks pale and wide eyes still, quick on his feet he takes this opportunity to tell Rafe about the cross, making him believe it was that why he was so shaken up, because of the huge lead it supposed.

Rafe bough it up, and Sam listens to the quick strategies him and Nadine throw around to get it, but his mind is somewhere else.

He has to get the fuck out of the state.

It's only a matter of time before you out Rafe against him and he didn't just got out of jail to end up dead by the hand of a literal couple of psychos.

Rafe pins the conversation with Nadine for later after he sees that their methods are not exactly aligned on how to get the cross, before he sets our to find you and maybe take you out for dinner, he makes a few calls to known contacts to ask about the auction, and he's promised he'll be put on the guest list if he so desires.

Rafe finds you in the closet of the bedroom, just dressed with a tank-top and a thong, rubbing cream on your legs in circular motions.

"You're back" you say when you see him in the reflection of the mirror "you've been gone all day"

"Remember Nadine Ross?" He walks a few steps into the closet and sits down with a tired sigh on a large ottoman.

"Yeah, the one from the private militia"

"I met her today and had to show her around the cathedral, she has the manpower to scout the place faster"

Rafe gets lost at the sight of your hands rubbing your legs up and down, switching from one to the other shortly after he stops talking.

"Sam found something though" he continues as he blinks, seeing that you've stopped to glance at him "you know... A while back he said Avery was recruiting other pirates, and the cross that we found was broken, so something must've been inside of it. He found another cross"

You just lift your eyebrow curiously as a smile peaks from the corner on your mouth.

"And this cross, where is it?"

"It's going up for auction in a few months, we're brainstorming on how to get it"

"Just buy it" you say with an obvious tone, leaving the cream bottle on one of the open shelves, walking a few steps along it you find your pajama bottoms and slip them on, hearing Rafe let out a chuckle behind you. You turn around with a frown as you finish fasting the pants at your waist.

"You're a god-damned tease, did you know that?"

You tilt your head to the side and lift your shoulder to your cheek, smiling innocently.

He doesn't smile back, instead he ducks his gaze down to his hands, then crossed his arms at his chest.

"If we end up at the auction, you're not coming with me" he sanctions, making you straighten in your spot at tighten your lips "you're a distraction, and I can't have that"

You chuckle humorlessly, then cross your own arms at your chest.

"And who-"

"It's not decided if we are even going to the auction, but if we are it'll be Sam and I"

Another chuckle escapes you as your hands shot up in the air and drop down to smack your thighs, you turn around to leave the closet.

"He's the most obvious choice, as soon as we get the cross we can get to work on finding out the next clue"

You just shake your head and give him a swat of your hand.

"Yeah, sure" You walk to the vanity in the corner of the room and grab your jewelry. You see Rafe leaving the closet through the mirror.

"And how are you going to be better help than him?"

Your mouth falls agape, you turn on your seat to give him an angry look.

"By being loyal to your for one"

Rafe rolls his eyes as he jars his hands on his waist.

"Sam is as loyal to me as you are, I got him out of jail"

You shrugged your shoulder, standing up and walking to the bedside table,you retrieve your phone and tap the screen as he looks back with an inpatient frown, you walk to him and press the phone to his chest.

"And if he's so loyal to you why did he tell you about the cross two months after he found it?"

He frowns just a little, grabbing the phone that's pressed to his chest, then inspects the photo as you walk around him and out of the bedroom.

Rafe inspects the photo, the dates, the searches, and he absolutely refuses to believe that they're real.

How fucking dare he?

He grips the phone and takes one angry breath.

You walked out of the bedroom and into one of the large hallways and towards the kitchen to instruct the cook to make something for dinner.

You heart jumps to your throat when you're pushed to the wall of the hallway, a set of hands push against your mouth as your body is squished between the wall and the hard muscles of the assailant's chest, you eyes lift up to find Sam's brown ones in a twist of rage.

Your blood goes from boiling of rage to freezing when you see his other hand lift a gun and press it to your cheekbone just above his rough hand on your mouth, gripping you with force.

"I do not trust that if I take my hand off of your mouth you won't scream for that nutcase you call a boyfriend, so here's what we're going to do" his tone is low, menacingly enhanced by a raspiness of the back of his throat.

You can smell blood already, and the barrel of the gun is pushing so hard on your skin you swear you can smell the gunpowder emanating from it.

You can't think, your brain has suddenly short-circuited by the sudden thought thag if his finger moves barely half an inch, a bullet will pierce through your cheek, skin, bone, tissue, muscle, bone again, and exit through the back of your head. The worst part is; you're sure it wouldn't even kill you instantly, it would take a few seconds of agonizing pain until you die.

All of these thoughts have made you suddenly start shedding tears that land on the barrel of the gun and the back of Sam's hand, and just then you notice that he's talking to you, his hot breath colliding with the streaks your tears have left down your cheeks.

"The combination to the garage door" you heard him repeat, but it feels like you're underwater, the pressure on your ears is so much they've started ringing.

Why isn't Rafe coming out of the fucking room already?!

You shake your head, but he grabs your face with his hand and pushes you further back on the wall making you whine in pain and let out a muffled sob.

"Don't tell me that you don't know it, I know you know everything about the state" he pushes the barrel of the gun. up and into your eye socket.

A door opens on the end of the hallway and Sam looks to the side, he lowers the hand with the gun still clutched and grabs you by the arm, you're numb, your muscles are so tense he has to pull you by the arm and drag you to the end of the hall, quickly into another one you recognize as the one that leads to the garage door.

In the second it takes you to realize that you're free and call scream for help, you're pulled forward and onto another wall, your hands mitigating the crash against the wall, the cold end of the barrel pushes against your neck making your skin crawl up in goosebumps.

"Enter the code" Sam grunts, you look down and then at your shaking hands. One of them slowly lifts up to press the buttons one by one. The door next to you makes a click and you're about to sink to the ground, your legs unable to keep you up by the sheer fear of having a gun pointed at you, but Sam doesn't let you. He grabs you by the arm again and opens the door, giving the hall behind you a quick look to check that you're not being followed just yet.

He drags you to a jeep and seats you in the passenger seat.

"I don't know what you think you're doing but kidnapping me is really not a good idea" you manage to let out between shallow breaths.

"You're just leverage, don't think you're so special" he pushes a button inside the car to open the garage, the cold wind suddenly hitting your bare arms and feet. The car screeches against the pavement as he sets the car on reverse and quickly exits the garage.

The drive is quiet, you've started to relax your muscles enough to breath normally, giving Sam a few side glances as he drives.

"We're far enough, you can let me go now" you try to persuade, instantly knowing that's not a good idea, it's freezing outside, you're barefoot, only dressed with a pair of pants and a tank-top, you're already shivering at the gushes of wind that sneak through  the cracks between the metal and the fabric tarps of the Jeep.

"Not until we're at the airport, and I know I'm going to get away with this"

"With this you are" he gave you a quick look "but Rafe is still going after you and that stupid cross"

"He can try" he said with a confident shrug "but if he has it, he would still need me to decipher the clues"

"Don't think you're so special" you bark his own words back at him "you're just some common thief with an unhealthy obsession".

"So is your boyfriend".

"With the difference some pirate treasure it's not the only thing he has going for himself, you can't really say that, can you?"

Sam slams on the break and swerves to the side of the road, then grips the handgun that he'd left in his lap.

"Earings" he says, you frown, he tilts the handgun to the side quickly "your earings, take them off"

Your hands undo the clasps of the earings one by one, he motions at the dashboard, you leave the pair laying on top of it.

You are startled when Sam leans towards you, he opens the door and pushes you out of it, your feet landing below you and into the snowbank that's laying on the side of the road. Your hands come up to hug yourself, seeing the Jeep pull up to the road again and speed away.

You begin to shiver violently, your feet dragging from the snow and up to the pavement, you look to one side, then another. With a sigh that leaves your mouth intermittently, you start to walk back to the state.

[fics-by-maria]

Good to be Bad [3]

Based off this post by @musicfeedsmysoul12

Warning: This story will be rated Mature for mild sexual content and violence, dead dove do not eat and all that. Warning for mentions of character death in this chapter.

Previous | Masterpost | Next

She’s on patrol when the alarm at a small art gallery goes off a block away from her. She’s on the roof of the shop when she’s knocked off her feet by a shadow. She’s trying to regain her bearings when the most pleasant voice she has ever heard speaks.

“Now what have I caught?” The voice was a playful purr, smooth and deep, it reminded her of how siren songs were described in mythology.

“Who the hell are you?” She packs all her frustration into those words, giving the shadow a glare. Not an akuma, those were never this subtle, but still not a normal Parisian criminal.

“Me?” He stepped out of the shadows, allowing the heroine to see him for the first time, “I’m Stray, I��ll be disappointed if my reputation doesn't precede me.”

Her breath caught in her throat, she knew who he was, but how much he looked like Chat Noir hit her hard, and sent her spiraling into her worst memories.

-

She had brought an orange tulip to his grave, his favorite flower. Gabriel stood next to her, the air heavy between them.

“Do you have it?”

“No. I buried it with him. I can't go on, and not just because the Miraculous was taken. I was a bad father, but it was never my intention to be cruel.”

“Does your little protege know that the ring is now unobtainable?”

“I don't think she'd care. She didn't have a wish, only a desire to be rid of you. The hit that killed him was meant for you.” Bitterness tinged his words, and she understood, it was because of her that Adrien was dead.

“I know, and I wish he hadn't been so dedicated to protecting me.”

Gabriel sighed, the once mighty man humbled.

“I can’t hate you. Lord knows I’ve tried. You made him happier than I ever could, and you’re sparing me now, even if I don’t deserve it. I am in your debt.”

“Just go to therapy Gabriel, don’t fuck up your second chance.”

She left the graveyard, managing to make it to the church bell tower before she broke down into tears.

-

“You broke her. Stray you said two sentences to her and already broke her, wow.” The addition of a new voice ripped her from the vortex of memories and jolted her back into the present. A new figure, a larger man in a leather jacket and helmet, was standing at Stray’s side.

“So to what pleasure do I owe the crime bosses of Gotham visiting my city?” She manages to hiss out, readjusting her position to be able to retreat at any sign of motion. Everyone knew that Red Hood didn’t exactly fight fair.

“We happen to be here for business, but now I might just stay if you keep directing your sharp words at me.” Stray’s tone was far too casual to be accompanied by the look he gave her and the words he said. He stepped away from Red Hood, sauntering over to her. He looked down at her, smirking, before lightly gripping her chin and tilting it upwards. Rooted to the spot and staring into Stray’s eyes, she didn’t notice that Red Hood had moved until she felt his words against her ear, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Gorgeous and mean aren't you, princess? I wonder what else that wicked mouth of yours can do.”

It was then that Marinette stopped functioning altogether, luckily for her, Red Hood had stepped out of her space, allowing her to use her yoyo to grapple onto the adjacent building and disappear for the night. She had some choices to reconsider and a very, very cold shower to take.

Tags

@gingerdaile @shizukiryuu @crazylittlemunchkin @snowstar1016 @indecisive-mess-named-me @zebrabaker @abrx2002 @maribat-owns-my-ass @jessigurl-design @copitix @trashystar420 @northernbluetongue @my-name-is-michell @starwindmaden @dorkus-minimus @princess-of-fangirls @sassakitty @area51qt @echpr

[hoshigomi]

Kurenai-ing! a (not) review~

This is NOT a review, but it IS all my thoughts on Kurenai Yuzuru’s first concert as an OG, Kurenai-ing!! in chronological order as they happened in the show. These thoughts are:

Biased

All over the place

Unfiltered

Honest

Every single one of them is loving and positive

Without further ado!

To start off, from the day this was announced, there was absolutely No Way In Hell I was going to miss this show. They found a way to cast all my favorite OGs, somehow including Uzuki Hayate who wasn’t even ever IN Hoshigumi, (save for Airi and Kai, F, but I see Kai like every day). Today was emotionally weird and I felt off heading to the theatre but honestly, before the lights even went down, when BENIKO began her preshow speech over the intercom? Any bad thing that’s ever been in my life just MELTED away.

The evening started off with “紅 in Male Role” which was just her as you’re used her her in otokoyaku mode. The whole cast got introduced. My love, Ichijou Azusa was the first onstage which rocked. Everyone did Killer Rouge. There was something REALLY sweet about seeing like a bunch of people who Were in Killer Rouge vs. a bunch of people who Weren’t In Killer Rouge all slaying it. Watching Toshi do this number made me daydream about a universe where she was in Hoshigumi and also a universe where I’m married to her. This daydream repeated itself multiple times throughout the evening so I’m gonna denote those moments with a (**). Whenever you see (**) know I was thinking about being probably married to Uzuki Hayate. This was the only point in the show in which I was skeptical of the men being there. I don’t LIKE men, period, but I especially don’t need them in my Takarazuka- adjacent material. (They quickly changed my mind in the next bit of the show.) After the men and Beni all dipped offstage, our Lovely Flawless Incredible OGs (Ichijou Azusa, Kisaragi Ren, Uzuki Hayate, Toa Reiya, Katori Reira, and Umesaki Eve, sang Sayonara Minasama (yeah like... the song they play when people retire or when QR is closing or when they need you to Get Out Of The Theatre.) No one could hear it because everyone was busy laughing. Renta was, as expected, completely unhinged, Shiiran was fake crying, it was a disaster because honestly, I don’t know who looked at these women and was like ‘yeah let’s give them free reign of the stage what’s the worst that could happen?’ It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and then, the curtain just straight up went down as if the show ended.

Of course it DIDN’T. NEXT UP?

BENIKO! She’s back in all her long haired leopard print glory, strutting through the audience through the stage- this time waiting for her? two pieces of mancandy (Kominami Ryuhei and Tagoku Tsubasa) at her beck and call in the ??? PALACE OF VERSAILLES, I GUESS? This was, as all Beniko bits, an improv standup show with a more than a touch of drag sensibility. There was some booty shaking, some fake muscle suits on the slender men, and a lot of laughter. I had tears in my eyes and I have NEVER heard a Japanese audience make this much noise. One of the guys made Beni break when he laughed in the middle of his line, causing Beni to buckle over and snort into her water, it was just.. a treat. These men were NOT equipped to handle Beniko- but then, without practice, who is?

When this all ended, there was a BURST of flame on the screen and standing, sihouetted in backlight, was Toshi(**), looking like (**) I dunno like the worlds hottest woman rockstar (**) and if that wasn’t enough (**) then she STARTED SINGING AND YOU GUYS?

WHAT THE FUCK?

I feel like a lot of things that have happened in Takarazuka are unjust, including several Top Star Careers That Never Were, but as of tonight, the TOP OF THAT LIST is that Toshi never MADE IT. Also that like I never made it to her ochakai. There is another world out there where Toshi has been My Person since day one and I am still in her fanclub to this day. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t like  searching her name on Twitter as we speak trying to find out what Her OG club deal right now is, not that I need to be in ANOTHER OG club, (long story,), but GOD. Holy hell. Her voice is absolutely TOP notch and she was (**) BELTING out this introductory piece and I don’t think I breathed during the whole thing. It was HARD ROCK (**) you guys. (**) (**) (***********************************************************************************************)

From there we had a Takarazuka Medley (labeled in the program as “紅 in neutral”- sense a theme here?)

The medley featured bits from:

Lucky Star!

Gemini (Beni’s infamous girl/boy number from Etoile)

Bouquet de Takarazuka

Stuck Together from Catch Me If You Can, (featuring Renta as Kai’s part, which, oof, I can not wait for Kai to get to see.)

Estrellas

The theme song from Kamatari

Another World (just the first bars of this backing music got laughs)

Om Shanti Om

the God of Stars prologue (and you guys? I would have NEVER expected it but both me and the lady next to me just started CRYING once Beni kicked in with the 今！始まる！素敵な冒険！ bit. We shared a look and like laughed at ourselves. I did NOT see that coming but... more thoughts on Benigumi later. Just know that Dear Reader, I cried.)

Eclair Brillant

Bolero

A Piece of Courage

A song that the program cites as Quimbara which I actually didn’t recognize but (NSFW BELOW, DON’T LOOK IF YOU’RE UNDERAGE, DON’T LOOK IF YOU’RE HANKYU, DON’T LOOK IF YOU’RE GONNA SLIDE INTO MY DMS ABOUT ME NEEDING TO HONOR THE SUMIRE CODE OR WHATEVER because shut UP we all have DESIRES, MA’AM,) I spent the whole time with my eyes fucking transfixed on Shiiran out of everyone in the cast because between her time on the ground and her time idk standing and flirting and making bedroom eyes and like touching people with the tips of her fingers she was just in general doing some NASTY shit with her mouth and pulling girls around and I don’t know if she was playing aggressor or hard to get (or BOTH???? AT THE SAME TIME????) but she sure was grinding on Umesaki Eve and I guess what I’m trying to say is I could physically not breathe. I could say more about what she was getting up to but for like, frankly, my own dignity in this Starbucks I’m gonna leave that memory where it belongs.... in the confessional booth at church.

The medley ended with Beni doing a song from Mozart (but like, not the Mozart that Hoshigumi just did.)

I can not make this up but the program calls the next section of the show “紅 in the Flashy.”

This is where one of Tokyo’s special guests, Miya Rurika, pops up in the same rockstar style as Toshi(**) and I admit I actually thought she was Renta until the audience lost their shit. Guys, Miya looks BEAUTIFUL right now. Her and Beni both seem to be growing their hair out but right now Miya especially has this gorgeous blonde like wavy thing going on and really? Feminine makeup and honestly I was kind of transfixed by her. She sang her song and then was around forrrrrrr

All the Kurenai 5 material! Kurenai 5 (or 4, minus Tenju Mitsuki who is very much currently Acting In A Takarauka show) took over the next bit of the show was and it was every bit as precious as you’d hope. First of all, the way they play off each other is SURREAL and like nothing has changed between them. While I’m sure stuff HAS CHANGED, the love and the fun they have for and with each other has not. They encored some of their old songs, and you’ll be pleased to know that Tenju Mitsuki was present in cardboard cutout form, pushed around on a tiny wheeled platform by Katori Reira (who may I just add, along with Umesaki Eve, made every song they were in sound like there was a whole troupe worth of musumeyaku onstage. Girl can SING.) Beni turned to sneeze at one point and sneezed directly into Miya’s mic on accident.  They also played a video message from Mikkii. It still took a while for the cardboard cutout to stop being funny. My favorite part of this segment was when Beni cracked Renta up and kept giving her shit until she was on the floor laughing and unable to say what she had been trying to say and then Shiiran straight up took the mic out of Renta’s hands and spoke for her. さすが、Shiiran. 

The show was winding down at this point, but Beniko made a reappearance (”BENIKO in DELUSION”, according to the program). We transitioned out of that ad lib with a number for the ladies, Reira and Eve. It was boppy and jazzy and idolly and I got the idea into my head somewhere in here that Katori Reira HAS to play either Velma or Roxie in Chicago before either of us die and if I have to personally fund that happening, well, help me find my wallet because I’m off to the bank.

During this Beni changed into... not her otokoyaku clothes again but not BENIKO, just, herself, but girly. (Program calls this: 紅 in Feminine).  She does a speech about herself and what she wants out of the future and whether she wants to be called a 女優 (explicitly FEMALE actress) or not post-TKZ, and somewhere in here she had a talk with Utahiroba Jun, another man who is completely and utterly obsessed with her, and rightfully so. He was a guest but didn’t actually perform aside from with EVERYONE in one song.) Beni rounds out the concert in a beautiful dress singing her heart out and I’m truly really touched by how far she’s come and how beautifully she performs.

There were, as there tend to be, like 83746958 encores(**) and people running on and off stage. 

This was without a doubt one of the best nights of my life. I laughed until I cried, I straight up Normal Cried, I couldn’t Breathe for my like, unsumire thoughts, I was touched, and I was so so happy. Beni is my all-time favorite top star and probably always will be, and more than a singer or actress or dancer or comedian, Beni I think embodies the title of “entertainer” better than anyone I’ve ever personally had the pleasure to watch onstage or off. Watching her has made ME want to take more risks in performance and in life and to just do my best with everything life throws at me. Tonight she was so much of the Beni we all got to know and love in Takarazuka, but like, unleashed and able to be her truest, funniest, biggest, most loving self. Her ability to talk to the audience and everyone onstage and keep character and keep her humor and balance without missing a beat is unparalleled.  I really, truly love this woman, and I am so so so happy I got to see this incredible kickoff of her OG career. 

If I think of more, I’ll add it, but for now, as Beni hersef finished off the night by saying: Go your own way!!

[soulvomit]

This is what *i* refer to when I talk about Boomer culture. It's the one thing that *is* unique to the culture of Boomers and isn't just mislabeling Greatest/Silent attitudes as Boomer.

In response to a few of the @'s and critiques:

basically the whole point of my half baked analysis about "lifestyle liberalism" isn't to accuse actual praxis based liberal politics of any special level of selfishness that conservative politics doesn't have. I can still find lots of arguments that liberalism is on the whole more beneficial to a larger number of people. The problem is when people who deep down are basically conservative, like limited applications of liberalism - especially ones involving no actual structural/institutional change - because they're in a unique position to benefit, then this gets passed on as what liberalism is about: a depoliticized set of weaponized social memes that result in reduction of service coupled with rise in self-centered laissez faire culture, which is presented as broadly liberating to everyone because it offers more personal freedoms with actually *less* accountability than 1950s white culture did. Fuck, at some point I'm feeling that I'm going to argue that the 70s liberalized popular/ consumer culture evolved from the 50s consumer boom more than it wants to admit.

Also, relatively few of us here, and probably no one who follows me, *are* ever going to be 100% lifestyle liberals. It is a really, really privileged cultural space - it's where you are still told to pick yourself up by your bootstraps but also told "your negativity is bringing people down, man."

Also, I'm not talking about the *specific policies* of California NIMBY liberalism - I'm talking about the *culture* of it, because I'm eventually going to go on to discuss New Age culture, the culture space of "wellness," the culture space of codependency and 80s pop feminism (which *both* radfems and intersectional feminists push back on), and also dating and the weird sex politics of the 80s and 90s, and how all of this is informed by the "Cult of the Self." And the weird social status and class warfare in geek culture. The thing is, I kept feeling like these were all basically part of the same broader culture space.

The whole point is to acknowledge a certain set of behaviors and ideas *as a broad culture space and worldview* (whose members claim all kinds of political ideologies). Lifestyle liberalism isn't any individual fish in the tank, or any particular school of fish in it, it's the water itself. I am analyzing it as a cultural, social, and psychological space more than as a political praxis.

My broader environment (raised in Los Angeles around status seeking middle class yuppie "fake rich" spaces and around New Age culture in the 70s/80s, to progressive parents; moved to Bay Area in mid 90s, worked in tech for a while) was heavily influenced by this set of cultural memes.

It's not *bad* that many people have more choice of how they live their lives, or more to choose from at the marketplace, and I'm certainly not in favor of authoritarian culture. Again, lifestyle liberalism is an individualist space but individualism itself isn't lifestyle liberal, and lots of really important things are fundamentally based on individual adult people - not their families, communities, churches, etc - having say at all with regard to their lives. Abortion and gay marriage (and freedom not to marry at all) are some of the the biggies we think about, and there are other fundamental individual rights that we didn't always have. Your family doesn't get to pick your spouse anymore, you don't need your husband to open a bank account for you, you are not accountable for your dead parents' personal debts, your family can not have you committed if you are a grown ass adult anywhere near as easily as they could in the 1950s. In many social spaces it's no longer acceptable to tell someone what gender they identify as or what religion to be. So it's absolutely necessary to distinguish the solipsism of lifestyle liberalism from actual praxis that concerns individual people.

For what it's worth, too, I feel like everyone with any actual political commitment at this point, on *either* side, hates lifestyle liberalism. The real lifestyle liberals at this point are probably just Objectivists. The problem is that lifestyle liberalism dug its hooks *deep* into the white liberal culture space where I'm from.

It's possible to grow up with damage from being raised in these middle class liberal spaces *and nobody talks about it.* Lifestyle liberalism took the credit for lots of real gains that were often lost because lifestyle liberalism did nothing to protect them (and sometimes blamed us for their loss), when in fact lifestyle liberalism had nothing to do with these gains at all. Lifestyle liberalism equates individual feelings and beliefs with praxis, so you have a culture space where lots of people don't think they're racist (to name just one example) because they don't ~FEEL~ racist. The thinking of many of these people is that they are a consumer in desegregated spaces, how could they be racist? Because after all, no class analysis exists ever, what you do with the freedoms you have is up to you, right?

The lack of acknowledgement that difference or inequality even exists, coupled with equating the middle class to the rich, meant that lots of institutions and culture spaces and industries even *lost* any kind of parity they had, because lifestyle liberalism largely constructed as the individual self-betterment rights of people who had never actually lost their privilege or left privileged spaces to begin with.

Like, I remember talking about sexism in tech in the 90s (which at the time wasn't as dominant a thing as it became later). But it was always dismissed by both men and women in the industry and was barely even talked about in hushed whispers. We just didn't have the words. 90s tech culture had a number of women senior programmers and women managers, and it wasn't even heavily bro yet. It wasn't until the dominant work culture shifted to "brogrammer" (itself a product of lifestyle liberalism, I'll argue) that anyone even admitted that any structural inequality was there and even then it was a struggle to acknowledge that company culture is a structural problem at all.

Part of it was that sexism had rebranded by the 90s; it wasn't grandpa's male chauvinism, it was a new post-Sexual Revolution, post-"Women's Lib" world of limitless options and any restriction on any privileged person's behavior - *especially* when it was selfish or oppressive - was represented as oppression of that person. Any complaint on the part of the person being punched down on, was framed as them not being liberated enough. All the world's problems were solved, right?

This is part of the cultural gaslighting I feel like a lot of Gen X came up with, but in many cases got perpetuated anyway (because lots of people who think lifestyle liberalism is politics and not culture, think they're pushing back, when really they're just rebranding).

It's hard to exit a space that everyone thinks gives you the most options unless you're actually forcibly ejected from that space. (Like the downwardly mobile children of yuppie Boomer parents. The ones who made good just kept the system going.)

Whereas people *do* talk about exiting authoritarian spaces. Also, people often need somewhere to exit authoritarian space *to.* and what's often presented is either another equally authoritarian space... or lifestyle liberal space.

The problem is, you can't really exit *to* lifestyle liberal space because it is inherently privileged, often results in loss of status and social capital to those who leave (because status signaling and social capital are - in my opinion - a really big part of lifestyle liberalism), and the pull to authoritarian space was often the validation of experience of lifestyle liberal/me-generation gaslighting. Sometimes the gaslighting of authoritarian space seems like a relief in comparison because the rules are explicit, whereas lifestyle liberal culture is a huge space of unwritten rules and expectations.

Lifestyle liberalism tends to not be either culturally sustainable or personally sustainable - the massive pushback it's getting now, when we couldn't even question that these systems existed in the 90s, is evidence of that.

Also, it requires a huge base of aspirationally wealthy and wealthy people in order to even function as a dominant culture meme, because of the degree to which it was about leveraging economic privilege. (Economics play a huge role. Lifestyle liberalism in practice turns into class warfare.) So the erosion of the middle class probably has a role to play. Because I feel like what I've seen in recent years are lots of people cut out of the lifestyle liberal social space because the middle class is losing so much adjacency to the rich, and even the illusion of adjacency. But now we have a culture space with 30+ years of entrenched mores, institutions, and viewpoints to deal with.

I feel Leftism is pushing back - in fact it's the whole cultural appropriation discussion that made me want to identify this culture space, because a lot of the appropriative practices critiqued were in liberal social space, not traditionalist or conservative social space.

And I feel like non-traditionalist conservatism became friendlier to lifestyle liberalism over time.

I was raised in this culture space, and it's fucked up, and I banged my head against the wall trying to succeed in it, then blamed myself and my own mental wiring for issues that turned out to be wholly structural and cultural. I tried to get therapy but found that therapists *generally* were in this same culture space as well and many seemed to mainly be about bringing people back to lifestyle liberalism.

I'm a downwardly mobile Gen Xr who is the kid of upwardly mobile parents, and I had to identify this set of cultural memes in order to recognize that I was being gaslit by them.

It's possible that a lot of the culture of lifestyle liberalism was a consequence of a strong economy to begin with and a consequence of disliking authoritarian culture but staying within one's privilege bubble.

And I'm not saying it is a bad thing on its own - it's that it's not praxis at all, but for 30+ years, was mistaken for it. Lots of people called themselves liberal who were only describing their personal lifestyle beliefs and choices and a set of consumer patterns. Lifestyle liberalism is to liberalism what mall goth is to goth.

It's that it leads to really selfish, narrow, and callous culture memes when left to its own devices and that it's a whole social system, not merely a praxis. It gets weaponized against vulnerable people in insidious and devastating ways, and then those people get blamed for their own bad experiences. Sometimes the lip service ends up being a way to wash your hands of the problems of other people. Sometimes lifestyle liberalism even ends up enhancing the social problems that praxis liberalism tries to oppose.

There are lots of problems we haven't been able to wrap our minds around, because of not being able to fit certain behaviors into either a conservative or leftist or even liberal framework. For example: protesting a war then demonizing the dominantly marginalized people drafted into it, seems inconsistent, right? No, it's totally consistent within the framework of lifestyle liberalism. It's punching down, it's actually class warfare with a smily face and a flower, as opposed to just plain old class warfare.

And my mom, who grew up poor in Venice and experienced its gentrification in the 60s, has talked lots about this - you couldn't even acknowledge that "baby killer" praxis was punching down, or that gentrification was happening. But to many of the poor people, and or POC, and or actually marginalized countercultural outsiders living in Venice, "the Man" had finally won, but he had come wearing long hair and a beard instead of a flat-top.

But within the cultural framework of lifestyle liberalism, it starts to make sense. So do a lot of things which seem ethically or politically inconsistent on the surface.

I feel like a lot of the more committed lifestyle liberals i knew, became libertarian or even conservative and stopped really giving a lot of lip service to leftist ideas.

Some even went traditionalist - because part of the dynamic of the 80s was that lots of these people had married and had children, and only had traditionalist cultural frameworks to function within once they were no longer swinging singles. The thing is, so much of lifestyle liberalism was not scalable to the family unless you had a lot of money. You had to actually be rich enough to afford the Montessori education and the macrobiotic afterschool snacks and to live in communities of "Positive People" that of course were in higher cost areas. (I've struggled with what so many New Agers mean when they say they want to live around "conscious" people. What they mean generally is that they want to live in rich liberal spaces instead of rich conservative ones.)

Lifestyle liberalism heavily favored the priorities of a large population of young childless, affluent singles. I feel like this is where you get the Silent Generation observation of "Boomer liberals who turn conservative after age 30," because in many cases it *was* about optimizing the freedoms and advantages of a semi-affluent youth culture.

For the most part though I feel like lifestyle liberalism isn't an individual take or set of takes or an individual praxis so much as a broader set of cultural memes. And, btw... it's really, really capitalist and consumerist! It basically treats people as independent consumers and groups of people as marketplaces.

The things that made me think of this and feel like I needed to analyze it:

1. Lifestyle liberalism is a really, really dominant theme in the world I was brought up in, and there is a lot of personal damage I had to overcome because of being in these environments. It infected every single part of every space I lived in, but was presented as the only option besides traditionalism.

2. I had these viewpoints for a long time, and continued to internalize them well into my 30s. I struggled in spaces that pushed back for a long time, because lifestyle liberalism isn't just a political or social viewpoint, it's a whole way many people in my age group are socialized to exist.

3. I struggled with why, after I became unhealthy and broke, many family and my old friends treated me differently and it wasn't about being actually rejected. It's more that they existed in spaces I could no longer move in, continued to say that i was welcome there, but did nothing to actually make it easier for me to be there, all the while maintaining the plausible deniability and moral certainty that they were inclusive of me.

4. I had to *unlearn* a lot of lifestyle liberal viewpoints to survive outside of that space, in spaces where survival was based upon pooling of effort and trying to problem solve interpersonal relationships, rather than being able to just opt out of any situation I was slightly uncomfortable in.

5. This space wasn't actually giving or helpful - it was basically a bunch of solipsists in the same room together - and when I actually started to have any requirements for real emotional or social support, these spaces left me to twist in the wind. "You're like, really bringing me down, man."

[padfootagain]

Sunlight And Flashes (II)

Part 2 : The trouble with fame

This is the second part of the Sunlight and Flashes series. 

I hope you like it, and thank you again dear anon for your request.

PS : you can thank @haritini2000 for his gift of foresight that made me post this 24 hours in advance.

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3175

Ben had been often impressed during this trip with you. Because of how rich the architecture was, and the complicated statues, and the many fountains, and the very old monuments... The Colosseum had been very impressive to him. Seeing the long flight of stairs, and seeing all the complexity of the organization of the building, with the many floors under the building that were now revealed to the visitors... He had been very impressed.

But he had to admit that Saint Peter's square was probably coming in second in his list of most impressive places.

"I feel so little," you said softly next to him, staring at the gigantic basilica before you.

"I reckon it's meant to make you feel like you're very little," he nodded, his eyes roaming across the buildings, and lingering on the large columns that surrounded the entire square.

"The Vatican doesn't like to make things like normal people do, right?" you joked.

Ben smiled next to you, brushing his fingers against yours, and you automatically intertwined them together.

"Let's go to the museum, shall we?" you asked, and Ben nodded.

You walked together out of the square, heading for the museum nearby.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight of men in traditional clothes inside the Vatican. The richly decorated rooms, and the tall statues... you felt like you had travelled through time, and you were almost expecting yourself to fall face to face with a musketeer or a princess in a large velvet dress.

And judging by the look on Ben's face, he felt just the same.

"It's a strange place, don't you think?" you told him.

He could see a little frown on your face, and he knew you enough to recognize it.

"You don't like this place much, do you?"he asked softly. "I thought it was one of the places you wanted to see."

"I wanted to come here," you nodded. "But I feel... uncomfortable here. Kind of oppressed. You know as if... the weight of history was upon our shoulders. Plus... the security guys constantly watching us aren't helping."

Ben chuckled, and he guided you down an adjacent corridor where there were less visitors.

"Do you want us to get out?" he asked.

You shook your head.

"We need to reach the 'Capella Sistina' first."

He smiled, resting his hands on your waist.

"One more week here and you'll be fluent in Italian," he teased.

"I'll be fluent in the names of famous places, not in Italian," you laughed.

But you saw him focusing on something behind you, and he hurriedly took his hands off of your waist.

"Ben?" you asked.

"Why don't we keep going then?" he asked you, and before you could reply, he was walking further into the Vatican.

He kept throwing glances over his shoulder, and you knew he wasn't listening to you when you talked to him...

Until you reached the Sistine Chapel and you both froze as you stepped into the vast church.

Everything was covered with paintings. There were so many people gathered in there, you couldn't see the ground, but you guessed that the floor was richly decorated as well. Wherever you looked on the walls, on the ceiling everywhere... there were biblical scenes painted all over the place.

Both you and Ben remained frozen for a few seconds, your mouths falling open in awe. Until someone from the security pointed at your camera saying 'no photo'. You nodded, putting your camera in your bag, and you walked further into the room.

"I have to admit, that it was worth the rest of the visit," you breathed.

"How the hell did they manage to do that?" Ben whispered. "I mean... It's gigantic and yet all the proportions are perfect..."

"Can you imagine that Michelangelo was lying on his back, facing the ceiling to draw that," you said, pointing at the famous scene of the 'Creazione di Adamo'. "For thousands and thousands of hours..."

"No I can't imagine," Ben admitted.

But then his attention was brought back towards the present as he recognized the paparazzi from the Trevi Fountain walking into the chapel. Clearly he was looking for the two of you through the crowd, so Ben turned his back to the entrance, hiding you as well.

You frowned at his strange behaviour.

"What's wrong?" you asked softly

He heaved a sigh.

"I think the guy from yesterday is back," he said.

He seemed nervous, almost afraid. And you failed to understand why.

"The paparazzi?" you asked.

He nodded, checking over his shoulder again.

"Well, let him be then," you said.

"I can't let him be," Ben replied.

"Why not? He's just gonna take a few photos."

"That's the whole problem. He'll take photos of us."

You narrowed your eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked, your tone colder than you expected.

"Not what you're crazy mind is imagining," he replied, heaving a sigh.

"I hope not."

You had raised your voice, and all the men from security seemed to simultaneously turn towards you.

"I'm not sure we're supposed to speak that loud here," Ben whispered.

"Why does that bother you so much that some guy could take a picture of us? Are you ashamed of me or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

You shook your head, anger burning through your veins.

"Let's get out of here," you breathed, and you didn't wait for Ben's answer to stride towards the exit.

"Y/N..."

He stopped you as you walked out of the chapel and into the corridor.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said again. "I don't want us to fight. It's our trip..."

"Why does that bother you so much?" you asked again, walking down the corridor with him.

"Because who I love is my business and my business only. I thought we had agreed on that. On me not making official announcements or anything."

You heaved a sigh.

"Why don't you just tell the guy to go away?"

He intensely looked at you.

"What if I'm wrong and he's not taking pictures of us?" he asked back.

"Then you say that you're sorry, that you made a mistake and you walk away."

He shrugged, turning back towards the man who kept on following you.

But there was no doubt to have, he was taking pictures of the two of you.

"Stay here," Ben ordered, before walking to the paparazzi.

At first the scene seemed quite calm, but then the man raised his voice, speaking in Italian, and Ben raised his voice too and...

Security walked towards the two of them...

"You've got to be kidding me..." you breathed.

You walked towards the little group, but...

"Look, I just want him to stop following me across the town taking pictures of me and my friend," Ben explained.

"Is she your girlfriend?" the paparazzi asked with a heavy Italian accent.

Ben heaved a sigh.

"I said friend," he corrected the man.

You froze.

You saw that Ben was saying something else, you saw his lips moving, but your brain couldn't listen.

You were a friend?!

But then you started as you realized that someone from the security staff was holding your arm, pulling you towards the exit of the museum...

And two minutes later, you were back in the street.

"Did we just... get thrown out of the Vatican?" you asked, turning to Ben next to you.

"Looks like it."

Apparently the paparazzi was released in another street, because you couldn't see him anywhere.

"I'm sorry," Ben said softly, leaning against the wall behind him. "I fucked up everything."

"We were at the end of the tour," you reassured him.

But there was something in the way you fled his gaze, in the quiet way you answered him, in your way of standing several meters away from him that showed him that something was wrong.

"You're mad at me."

His tone was not inquiring, he wasn't asking a question. He was stating a fact.

And indeed, you were infuriated.

"I don't really know how I should react to the fact that you've described me as a friend," you said slowly.

He took several steps towards you, shaking his head.

"Y/N..."

"Ben... you just told someone I was just a friend!"

"I don't want the whole world to know about us because some idiot took a picture of us," he replied.

"Are you ashamed?" you asked.

He shook his head.

"Of course, I'm not ashamed of you. I'm proud of you, I'm the proudest man in the world."

"But you're freaking out that someone could learn about us?" you asked back.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"No... I'm afraid that it could be used in the press when I'm not the one who officially spreads the news."

"What are you waiting for to spread the news then?"

He silently stared at you.

"Because that scene you made it's... insane," you went on.

"It's not supposed to happen that way," he breathed.

"What is? You and I finally becoming official? Sorry, I thought we had become official two fucking years ago."

"What's your favourite place in town?"

"What?" you asked back, taken aback by his strange question.

"What was the place we went to that you preferred?" he asked again.

"I... I don't know... probably... the Trevi Fountain," you answered.

"Alright, then we're going there now."

"What?"

"We're going there right away," he repeated, and he walked towards the main road, looking for a cab.

"No... we're not going anywhere," you protested. "We're in the middle of a fight!"

"Y/N... please..."

"You're not getting out of this so easily..."

But he shushed you, crushing your lips together...

And you loved his kisses so much, how could you defend yourself against such an argument?

"Y/N... please, trust me. Trust me, I need to do something with you right now. Just trust me, would you?"

"Ben..."

But he caught a cab, and the driver guided you through the city.

"We need to finish this conversation," you insisted. "It's important."

"Trust me it's not as important as what I have in mind," Ben answered elusively.

The driver stopped just a few streets away from the fountain. Ben hurried outside the car, holding the car door for you, and the second you were outside he took your hand in his and guided you towards the fountain.

Of course he got lost and you lost some time.

But he didn't seem to care.

He had this expression of determination on his face that he had when nothing anyone could tell him could make him change his mind. But you noticed that he seemed nervous as well.

"Ben...what are you doing?" you asked.

He didn't answer, finally recognizing a street, and guiding you in the right direction.

"Ben, I really think we should finish this conversation," you went on. "Because..."

But you finally arrived before the fountain, and Ben made his way through the crowd, still holding your hand.

It's only once you were right at the edge of the water that he turned towards you again, sweeping the sweat away from his forehead.

It was true that the weather was particularly warm, and you felt graceful for the fresh breeze that blew next to the fountain.

"Okay, now we can talk," he said.

"I reckon you interrupted the debate after I've asked if you were ashamed of our relationship," you said, crossing your arms before your chest.

He shook his head, a dreamy smile on his face.

He was supposed to get angry too, to shout, to at least raise his voice... but instead he was smiling like an idiot, and he didn't seem to care.

What was wrong with him all of a sudden?

"You're making me the happiest and proudest man on this Earth, Y/N," he said.

You felt your anger vanish a bit more every second...

"But you're all upset because someone could take a picture of us together," you replied.

"Because... because I need to know something before we make an official announcement. And when I do scream to the whole world that we're together, I want to do it my way."

"I think we should do it then," you said. "I don't know what you had in mind, but I think we should do it. Because today it's just one paparazzi that troubles you, but I'm not going to hide our relationship. Do I need to remind you how long we needed to get where we are now?"

"I was so stupid," he breathed. "By then I was an idiot. It took me two damn years of friendship to finally admit to you that I didn't see a friend in you at all... and even then it was an understatement. I was already in love with you. I fell in love with you the very night we met at this party my brother had organized and I heard you singing 'Don't stop me now' completely out of tune, dancing on this table."

You remained frozen, staring at him.

Even after two years of relationship, he had never spoken a word about all this...

"I've been in love with you for four year, not two," he went on, taking your hands in his. "And... and it's not at all how I imagined this would be like, but that's okay. You've always had a talent to mess up with my life anyway."

You rolled your eyes, although you could feel your throat dangerously tightening.

"I have no problem with showing the whole world we are together," he went on. "I'm proud to have you by my side. But I need to know if we want the same thing first. I need to know just one thing. And actually, that's in order to get this answer that I organized all this for you. I thought... I thought that you deserved it to be perfect. I realize now it doesn't matter where or how I ask you this. All that matters is that..."

His voice seemed to break, and he cleared his throat. His voice was your entire world. You were standing there, in one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen, surrounded by strangers, but all you could hear was Ben's voice and all you could see were his dark eyes, as if reality itself had suddenly shrunk and was just Ben now.

"I love you," he said, smiling. "I love you with all my heart and... and I know that won't change. And every time I think that it's absolutely impossible for a human being to love someone more than I already love you, you do something that makes me fall even harder for you and... and I never want this to stop."

He took something out of his pocket...

And when you saw the reflection of the light upon the diamond he held in his hand, your eyes grew very wide.

And then he slowly kneeled down, his brown eyes never leaving yours.

"I want to spend all my life with you," he said. "Would you like to spend all your life with me too?"

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth in shock.

It was so hard for you to breathe, your heart was beating so fast, you couldn't think, your brain was like frozen.

"Would you marry me, Y/N?" he asked, a shy smile on his face.

But you were too shocked to move, and the longer you remained silent, the more his smile faded.

Because the two of you had never talked about marriage, and none of you had spoken about how your relationship should evolve since you had moved in together and...

And this was way too much for your poor little heart.

"Y/N?" he breathed.

He slowly stood up, panic rising and rising more and more by the second inside him.

Finally, you uncovered your mouth, and it's only when your tears reached the corner of your lips and you tasted their salty bitterness that you realized that you were crying.

"You... are such a moron," you said, your voice hoarse with tears.

He raised an eyebrow, but he was bad at hiding how scared he was.

"You are such... such an idiot," you went on. "You're a pure idiot Ben Barnes."

You shook your head, still crying, and Ben was completely terrified by now.

"But I love you so damn much," you breathed.

Before he could react you had crushed your lips together, and it took him several seconds to let you deepen the kiss and rest his palms on your cheeks.

You kissed him for what seemed to be forever, unwilling to let go.

When you eventually broke away, he stared at you, a slightly shocked expression on his face.

"Does that mean 'yes'?" he asked in a breathy whisper.

You grinned, nodding.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Yes!"

He swept you off your feet, grinning and laughing, and crying, and you both were a mess and everyone was looking at you, but you couldn't have cared less.

When he finally put you down again, dropping loving kisses all over your face, he took your hand, and slipped the ring around your finger.

You rested your forehead against his, both of you staring down at the engagement ring that now enlaced your finger.

"Love, love come on, dry your cheeks," he breathed, taking your face in his hands again, and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs to sweep the tears away.

"You too," you smiled, drying his cheeks as well.

"Alright, come on."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and took his phone out of his pocket.

"Show your brand new jewel to the world, this is going on every single account I own on the internet," he said, grinning.

"You're mad, you know that?" you laughed, kissing his cheek.

You looked at his phone, grinning, and a second later, Ben had sent the photo throughout the whole world.

"So... that means you've made an official declaration," you said.

"Yep... now paparazzi's can take as many pictures of us as they want," he mumbled against your lips.

You chuckled, your laugh shushed by his kisses.

"I think I love this place even more now," you said.

"I think it works. This fountain must really be magical."

"Why?"

"Well, my wish came true. I asked that you'd agree to spend your entire life with an idiot like me."

You laughed, running your fingers through his dark hair.

"Well... mine worked as well, you know?" you said.

"What did you ask for?"

"I asked for you to remain my idiot for the rest of our lives. I guess we can say it worked quite well."

You both laughed, and you couldn't remember being so happy.

The rest of the trip felt like heaven, both of you were on little clouds, from which you visited Italy and took lots of crazy and ridiculous selfies with Ben.

And when you came across paparazzi's again in Firenze, Ben offered them some champagne...

[toshootforthestars]

(NYCLU on twitter, link to video) (alt. source)

On Mr. Watkins

As bosses did little, Syracuse cop coerced women for sex, they say; ‘I was terrified’

Ex-Syracuse cop who had sex on the job ‘doesn’t yet want to plead’ in tampering case, ADA says

Activists hammer Walsh with demands, frustrations in marathon police reform meeting

The meeting took place almost exactly a year after a similar episode at St. Lucy’s Catholic Church. Advocates — many of whom were at City Hall Thursday — unloaded frustrations and stories of police brutality to Walsh and Buckner at that meeting, following the violent 2019 arrest of Shaolin Moore on Grace Street.

Moore was dragged from his car and punched during a stop for loud music. Buckner deemed the use of force appropriate, drawing backlash from some in the community.

Thursday, several speakers referred to that 2019 meeting. Andrew Croom, an attorney with Legal Services of Central New York, said he presented a 17-page document to the mayor at that meeting detailing well-researched changes needed to the department’s use of force policy.

After a year, he said, there had been no follow-up on that.

“For the past year you’ve talked about the use of force policy,” Croom said. “But when we show you it’s not enough, nothing happens.”

The department revised its use of force policy last spring, but activists say it still needs to improve to include language about protecting human life.

Yusuf Abdul-Qadir, director of the local chapter of the New York Civil Liberties Union, led the meeting. He spoke before and after each attendee and often challenged or corrected the mayor and the police chief.

Speaking for the groups, he demanded radical change to overhaul the police force — an institution he said evolved out of white supremacy.  “Business as usual is over,” he said.

Abdul-Qadir promised that activists would not ease the pressure they’re exerting, nor would they stop protesting until significant change is evident. The desired changes include cutting millions of dollars from the police department’s annual budget and forcing officers to live in the city.

The annual budget for police is $49.5 million, which is about 20% of the city’s $253 million overall budget.

(Trevon Logan)

(Asher Vollmer)

(source)

…

Me: 

Syracuse is in dire, dire straits, and it’s solely due to failed leadership, City, County, and State.  Just absolute zero fucks.

No one in charge in Syracuse, from cops to the water department to DPW to the Mayor’s Office to the Onondaga County Legislature, no one in charge gives a single fuck about Syracuse or the people that live there. A few examples:

Lead paint is a problem in Syracuse.  STILL.

Look what Syracuse Fire Department did back in 2017.

The Syracuse Citizens Review Board struggles to do its job.

The Syracuse PBA is just as you’d expect.

Here’s a brief summary of the 2010′s in Syracuse. Here’s another one.  Remember the Syracuse Billion proposal to rebuild the collapsing water system in Syracuse?  Never went anywhere.  No progress with Mayor Walsh, seen being scolded in the video above.

Yes, the surrounding tony suburbs are all racist as fuck.  Many people that work in Syracuse (and for Syracuse) live OUTSIDE Syracuse, and the argument that Syracuse’s municipal payroll props up the ‘burbs is a good one.  Sure, the argument already seems to be “iTs A dRoP iN tHe BuCkEt” yet imagine what this is like in bigger cities, like NYC?

Don’t get me started on Interstate 81.  (The mega-project has stalled.)

There’s this reddit thread…

Finally, read this...

The Atlantic:  How to Decimate a City (Nov. 2015)

Neighborhoods like this one, in the south part of Syracuse, have historically been poor, but residents here say they’ve seen things worsen in the last decade. Darlene Sanford, 38, runs a daycare in her great-grandmother’s spacious 19th-century house near the highway. Sanford remembers walking to the black-owned small businesses that lined the streets here when she was a girl, but most of them have disappeared.

Although most of the houses on Sanford’s street have well-mowed lawns and manicured bushes, she now feels a sense of unease. A few weeks ago, she had to call 911 after a man living next door was targeted in a drive-by shooting, just after Sanford had put the younger kids in her care down for a nap. She no longer leaves her house at night. She’s thinking of leaving the city entirely.

“Over the last few years, it’s been pretty tough,” she said. “The violence has gotten worse.”

The week before I visited Syracuse, seven people had been shot in four days, including a public-bus driver whose cell phone blocked the bullet.

“We see a lot of generational poverty here,” Rebecca Heberle, who runs the local Head Start program for PEACE Inc., a nonprofit in Syracuse, told me. “People face so many challenges—their power has been turned off, they have infestations, they need money for food, formula, diapers, a bus pass.”

It wasn’t always this way.

Search for Syracuse in the rankings of cities with the highest poverty rates in America, and the city has moved up every 10 years like an underdog racehorse gaining on the winner (or in this case, the loser). In 1969, the city’s poverty rank was 72nd in the nation of cities with a population of 100,000 or more, with 14 percent of its residents living in poverty. By 1979, it had snuck up to 44th, with a poverty rate of 18 percent.  By 1989, it was tied for 26th with a poverty rate of 23 percent.

The story of how poverty became one of the defining characteristics of Syracuse is specific to the city and the region, but in some ways it is illustrative of the many policy decisions that have made all American cities more segregated by race and income over the last 15 years.

Like many cities in the north, Syracuse became home to a growing African American community in the post-World War II years, as migrants fled persecution in the South and came north looking for jobs.

Many settled in the 15th Ward, a neighborhood adjacent to downtown. Clarence “Junie” Dunham, who is now 81, lived there in an apartment with no hot water, at a time when a milkman still delivered bottles from a horse and buggy.  Dunham’s parents and their friends had moved to town from the south, and many had little beyond a middle school education, but they worked in the factories and farms in the region and made a good enough living. There was poverty then, he told me, but he remembers that time fondly, largely due to the existence of a close-knit black community that socialized around Wilson Park, a square of green grass and trees in the center of town.

But to outsiders the majority-black neighborhood was “slum land,” ripe for redevelopment because of its proximity to downtown, according to Joseph F. DiMento, who was born and grew up in Syracuse and is now a professor of law, planning, and policy at the University of California-Irvine School of law.

In the early 1950s, a small group of builders proposed that the city obtain “slum land,” clear it, and get it ready for development—for private industry to do so would be too costly, they said, according to DiMento, who authored a paper on so-called urban renewal in Syracuse.  “Racial barriers have created an overcrowded condition that many experts felt may some day lead to troubles,” The Syracuse Post-Standard wrote in an article in 1954.

At the same time, the city was working to get a piece of some of the money made available in the 1956 Federal Highway Act, which authorized money for the construction of the Interstate system.

A strong highway network, city leaders argued, would make Syracuse one of the largest cities in the country because people would be able to easily commute to downtown from outlying areas. In 1956 the state approved a $500 million bond for a project that would raze the 15th Ward and erect an elevated freeway that bisected downtown. That this construction would destroy a close-knit black community, with a freeway running through the heart of town, essentially separating Syracuse in two, did not seem of much concern to local leaders.

They wanted state and federal funding, and were willing to follow whatever plans were proposed to get it.  “The city was almost unimaginably passive about these decisions,” DiMento told me.

“Rather than fostering a sense of neighborhoods, city officials viewed distinctive city sections as expendable or blighted areas needing to be razed,” DiMento wrote in his study of the construction of I-81 in Syracuse.  

Today, I-81 runs north to south through the city; its most prominent part is a 1.4 mile section of elevated highway that separates Syracuse University from downtown and the city’s high-poverty South Side. Underneath the elevated highway, the streets are dark and clogged with cars trying to get on the road, and next to it are some of the poorest neighborhoods in the city.

It runs over Wilson Park, the place Dunham used to play as a child, and over the blocks where he and his childhood friend Manny Breland used to collect scraps to take to the junkyard for extra money.  “That’s where I used to live,” Breland told me, pointing to a stairway in a parking garage that abuts the freeway.