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jeanmoreautemple · 1 month ago

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TGR wrap up thoughts:

Chapter 17 might just be the worst torture in the whole series. This is why I can’t read an Andrew POV book. My heart woudn’t take it. I hope Zane gets paralyzed or gets killed violently or something.

Chloé Moreau was a full on mob wife that could have civilians killed just like that? And the Algerian arms dealer that Elodie was sold to was a contact of hers?? Carmela Soprano or Connie Corleone vibes I’d say.

JEAN HAS A CHILDHOOD!! EXY YOUTH!! TEAMMATE!!! THAT CARES!! and knew about Elodie!!!!

I want to apologize to everyone for doubting Jerejean being balanced, it’s clear Jeremy will need Jean as much as Jean needs him.

Jeremy exclusively sleeping with people who treat him like his family??? Belittling his efforts and calling him a whore?? Who choke him and don’t care that they leave marks on him?

Jean finding Laila hot!! Jeremy wasn’t completely lying when he told his mom Jean had a crush on her, and I know it makes him nervous.

Annalise blushing just from seeing Jean in person- the satisfaction I felt was unmeasurable.

Jeremy obsessing over Jean’s taste in women but not in men? Getting crazy jealous of Laila, Renee and Annalise but not Kevin? Interesting.

Jean knowing how to braid hair!!! Because of Elodie!! 🥲 Laila brushing Jean’s hair and Jean braining hers??

So many wrist and temple kisses???? This is beautiful. And in a Nora book??

Elodie is officially “missing” and interpol can’t track her sale? Oh Nora don’t make me hope…

If she’s actually dead then both Noah and Elodie would have been dead for 4 years as of 2007, assuming Elodie was killed shortly after being sold to the armsdealer in Algiers.

Jean is already good at cooking, ceramics and knows how to drive a motorcycle 🥹

Jeremy’s biological dad is in Korea? He was removed af with Jeremy in their call but I seriously think he’s gonna support Jeremy if he decides to leave the Wilshires.

Jeremy and Jean being called faggots and whores by Jeremy’s hookups, his biological brother, Warren Wilshire, the press and other exy players, and just about anyone outside the Trojans… it was enough with Jean’s rumours and Lucas… WHYYY NORA

Overall Colleen, Thea and Sergio and this Finn might have been the nicest ravens to Jean? But he still puts Zane in that group after chapter 17 wtf.

Jeremy craving Jean so badly when Jean leaned into him and was between his legs in the hotel room vs Jean getting immediately uneasy and putting Jabberwocky between them when Jeremy put his head near Jean’s crotch area… I can’t wait to see how Nora will handle them getting intimate.

A word for word confirmation that every single person in the nest knew Jean’s age. I don’t have to delete my three posts about it yayy.

Now the public knows Jean’s age too!!! Hope the slut shaming drecreases a bit too.

Jeremy needs to cry. In Jean’s arms.

William Hunter basically saying he’s on Jeremy’s side and not Mathilda’s… I hope they keep in touch when Jeremy leaves for good / Mathilda & Warren kick him out in book 3. I wonder if he’s gonna be the one to give Jeremy his passport and other documents ?

Derek, Derrick and Sebastian not being sure whether Jean likes girls but not having any doubts on whether he likes men lmao.

Cody going “can I ask you something? You can lie…” when he mentioned that Jeremy must absolutely love how Jean says his name hshshsh EVERYBODY KNOWS.

Renee and Jean lying to each other when they ask if they are okay 🙃

Renee supporting Jerejean?? Idk how to feel about that, it’s been only a few months! She’s stronger than me for sure.

Cat and Jean matching bikes!!!

Aaron driving Andrew’s car after the trial!!!! LETS GOOO

Andrew and Renee being press partners and Andrew not saying a single word, BFFs.

Idk how to feel about the Ravens going psycho on live TV. They weren’t even playing or trying to hide it, they were just swinging for the foxes. I felt like it was all very convenient and kinda fanservicey.

Thea showing up again for like 3 pages and fruitfully telling the new gen ravens to kill themselves?? I’ll take it😭 but proclaiming absolute loyalty to old racist Tetsuji? Didn’t Jean say that he killed a freshman boy in her last year?

Jeremy and Renee speaking for the first time on the phone, about Jean!! How awkward was it? I want them to meet in person but it’d be so bittersweet for Jeanee.

Cat and Laila suspiciously made absolute 0 comments on Jerejean this book, when even Renee was teasing. Jeremy erasing the text message about Renee’s looks so Laila wouldn’t start asking questions, but then he just openly searches for a Marseillais French teacher? They are being careful af.

Jeremy blurting to Jean “Maybe Laila’s not as good with her tongue” is CRAZYyy and Jean recovering surprisingly well by saying “I will tell her you said that” . It’s as if Jeremy always has his feelings in check except with sex?? He’s worse than Jean.

I still can’t believe Warren called Jeremy you little faggot just like that. Fuck him, Mathilda and Bryson.

Kevin’s exy tunnel vision was depressive af to read: “Everything I want and need still lies ahead of me; it is a waste of time to look back so long as that holds true” ????? But he needs to drink to talk and lie about the nest and Riko??

I get Kevin and Thea have grown complacent with the nest and don’t have much need to challenge what they saw and experienced because they love exy first and foremost and they are doing great in that regard but omg I can’t believe Jean is close to being the healthiest ex Raven???

Bryson was such a caricaturesque loser villain, he got beaten up by Jean and only ran away to show his mommy?? He better have been the one to leak Jean’s address.

Oh James Rhemann… the man that you are.

Once again I want to erase chapter 17 from my mind. The trilogy finale better be the happiest I’ve ever seen.

WILL JOSHUA SHOW UP?

Jean’s childhood teammate’s letter, the marseillais tutor, Chloé revealed to call some serious shots in the Moreau family? I think it’s all a big giant red herring towards Elodie 🥹

#jean moreau #tgr spoilers #the golden Raven #tgr #Jeremy Knox #Kevin Day #Renee Walker #Annalise Wilshire #cat alvarez #Laila Dermott #my mind

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theunholyvirginemilyprentiss · 25 days ago

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Requested by @lazyclumzycat-blog

THE BAU ON BLACK FRIDAY

JJ: Has been ‘testing’ a Peloton bike with Elle for forty minutes, and she will be done ‘testing’ it when the U-Haul the team pitched in to hire arrives.

ELLE: Is furiously cycling whilst maniacally eyeing the lady using her stroller to boot shoppers out of the way, saying ‘try it, bitch’ with her eyes.

EMILY: Is being held hostage in the back of the store by an armed robber. Ironically, the home security section was half-off, so she currently has a Ring Doorbell stuffed down her bra—the lady with the stroller was on a mission, and she did not want to get tackled for nabbing the last one.

PENELOPE: Frantically zooming through the tech aisles with a shopping cart yelling “Out the way, FBI business!” She may or may not have flashed her badge to a twelve year old for the last Nintendo Switch…

TARA: Has been standing in the homeware section for thirty minutes eating a burrito and trying to decide between a rice cooker and an air fryer. Eventually, Rossi passes her and shakes his head, tutting.

ROSSI: “If you give that pasta maker so much as a lingering look, you are dead to me.”

MORGAN: Electric slides out of the store in full riot gear with a flatscreen TV mounted on his shoulders, and joins Gideon at the tent he’s set up in the parking lot. “You don’t want anything?”

JASON: Grilling burgers on a grill, watching the chaos unfold as shoppers fly tackle each other. “I’ll wait for the Christmas Sale.”

SPENCER: “Good call. According to sources from Gitnux, there have been 12 reported Black Friday related deaths and 117 injuries since 2006.”

LUKE: “Black Friday? I thought today was Wednesday…”

HOTCH: Emerges from the store with the robber in cuffs, Emily trailing behind him looking dishevelled.

EMILY: “Please, enjoy your burgers! Hotch just had to pull a Die Hard to save my life, but by all means, carry on.” She sighs, taking a seat. “Ooh, is that the good ketchup?”

Check out my Masterlist for more BAU scenarios!

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simsyworld · 2 years ago

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Reclaimed Roots, A Legacy Challenge.

One fateful day, as you flip the pages in the local newspaper, your eyes fall upon an advertisement for an affordable farm on the outskirts of town. This farm had fallen into disrepair, abandoned and forgotten by its previous owners, who had inherited the farm but chose to not take care of it. Despite its rundown state, a flicker of hope ignited within your heart. Your dream of owning a small farm to raise your future family may become a reality!

You call the owner’s of the property and they start asking for more money. This went from being an affordable farm to a pricey one! You decide to take a leap of faith and go for it. Packing your belongings immediately and setting out for the neglected farms of your dream. When you arrive, you see just how neglected the farm truly is. You find a weathered farmhouse, its paint peeling and windows cracked, surrounded by overgrown fields and rotten fences. But you see beauty hidden underneath it all.

You see a vision of what this farm could be. A fresh coat of paint, rescued animals, beautiful old oak trees flourishing, children riding their bikes and fishing in the pound. This is where you want your new life you begin.

Required Packs: For Gameplay: Cottage Living, Cats and Dogs, and a pack that allows yard sales. House is made with a bunch of packs but is mostly just all clutter! Main items are from the gameplay packs.

Rules: Aspiration must be country caretaker Start with $500 Place @simsyworld’s lot from the gallery called "Abandoned Farm" hashtag #reclaimedroots or #reclaimedrootslegacy Each generation must live on the family farm. This may call for an extension of the house, a second floor, or a basement. If your sim has more than one kid, they can move out. But the sim you decide to cary on the legacy must live on the farm. Your house has no wifi, so no computers or gaming consoles. A TV can be bought after you fix up the house. Your sim cannot have a job. Make money by yard sales or odd jobs. Your sim’s teenager sim’s can have a part-time job but they must still help out on the farm Wake up by 6:30am every day to take care of the animals (can take a nap after animals have been cared for) Cannot use “the hand of god” (selling in inventory) UNLESS there is more than 20 in a stack of crops. All other items must be sold during a yard sale. Have a yard sale at least once a week, every Sunday. If it is raining you can skip the yard sale. Sell anything you collect, baked goods, rocks, ect.

Generation One

Name the farm after your last name

Clean the house, buy a new mailbox, pick the weeds, and apply a fresh coat of paint to the house.

Find a stray cat to be your farm cat. This cat likes to live outdoors, so place a bed and food outside. If you get a full relationship with the cat, it can live indoors.

Buy 6 chickens and name each one.

Build a relationship with each animal before getting a new one

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Befriend the animals and complete the country caretaker Aspiration

Reach level 10 for Farming, Fishing, Cooking

Fall in love with a local farmer

Get married and have a ceremony on the farm

Have 1-2 children

When your first child is born, rescue a puppy that will become best friends with your child

When each sim ages up to a child, you must buy them a bike as a birthday present so your sim’s child can go on adventures.

Teach your children how to fish, cook, and garden

Generation Two

You grow up loving the farm and craving the taste of fresh produce. You watched your parents sell produce and baked goods every Sunday morning and thought it would be a great idea to go bigger! You decide to work towards your goal of making your name in town a staple by opening a store named after your family!

Have the Freelance Botanist Aspiration

Paint the house a new color since after all these years it needs a fresh coat.

Buy your family their first computer now that you have wifi

Reach level 10 for Cooking, Baking, Charisma

Find a stray dog to adopt into the family

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Fall in love, get married, and divorced. This relationship didn’t work out.

Own a bakery, store, or restaurant that focuses on the idea of selling food or produce that is fresh. You do not have to have yard sales after you build a store.

Become good friends with at least 20 sims outside of your household.

A local baby/child was dropped off at the fire station. You decide to adopt this sim to live on the family farm!

Build max relationship with your sim’s child.

Teach your sim’s child how to garden, cook, and fish.

Fall in love and get married

Have family dinner all together on Friday nights including your sim’s siblings who moved out

Generation Three

You were adopted into the most loving family. You fell more into the creative side of life. Always drawing, painting, doing arts and crafts. When you got older you fell in love with the relaxation of making floral arrangements.

Have the Painter Extraordinaire Aspiration

Reach level 10 for Floral Arrangements, Painting, Gardening

Make 3 masterpiece paintings

Befriend all the animals on the farm with max relationship

Inherit the family business and turn it into a floral arraignment store. You can also sell your paintings here.

Have 5 maxed relationship friends who you always hang out with

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Fall in love with 1 of the 5 friends.

Have family dinner’s on Friday nights and friend dinner’s on Monday night

Find a stray cat to adopt. This cat is obsessed with you and follows you to work at the floral arrangement store.

Marry your best friend and have a ceremony. Invite all of your friends and family

Have as many children as you feel is right.

Do homework with your sim’s children every night

Looking for a Discord server for simmers? Check out our 920+ member server called SimsyWorld! We host weekly challenges and giveaways if you're interested! Click HERE to join!

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nelson-riddle-me-this · 5 months ago

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My Playlists (spotify)

MOVIES

The Philadelphia Story (1940) I Married A Witch (1942) Bathing Beauty (1944) Desrt Fury (1947) Adam's Rib (1949) Rear Window (1954) Some Like It Hot (1959) The Apartment (1960) 101 Dalmatians (1961) The Pink Panther (1963) A Shot In The Dark (1964) What A Way To Go! (1964) Walk Don't Run (1966) Top Secret (1984) Matinee (1993) The Flintstones (1994) Austin P♂️wers BARBIE (2023)💗🌺💗hype Post-BARBIE Challengers (2024)

The Dick Van Dyke Show mixtape Holy Party, Batman! Holy Bearskin Rug By A Roaring Fire, Batman! Scooby-Doo Where Are You! VIBES The Mary Tyler Moore Show (1970-77) Columbo (s1-6) Frasier Crane-y The Nanny (1993-9) 3rd Rock From The Sun (1996-2001) Cowboy Bebop vibes Spongebob PartyPants The Case Study of Vanitas (2021-2)

VIDEO GAMES

🍑Animal🍒Crossing🍐Vibes🍎 Grim Fandango💀(1998) Music to Play EVIL GENIUS By Destroy All Humans🛸🐄(2005) Destroy All Humans 2 ☮️🛸(2006) My Sims Agents (2009)

SEASONAL / WEATHER / NATURE

🌬️Music for a🎐Blustery Night🍃 🎃Halloween Party 2022🎃 Cloudy Day by the Sea

MISC.

🎪Abandoned Fair🏚️ Dick Van Dyke's Gymnasiorioum! Drive-In / Drive-Out (for driving to/from a drive-in movie) Flight of the Concorde Get a CLUE!🔎 Go-Go Granny! NO THOUGHTS - HEAD EMPTY Psychadelic Bake Sale Sears Parking Lot Snoopy's Bike Ride 🔧💪Swing Shift🎷🔩

#my playlists

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justforbooks · 2 months ago

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Osamu Suzuki

Suzuki chairman who over half a century grew the company into one of the world’s largest car and motorcycle manufacturers

Osamu Suzuki, who has died aged 94, was one of the global automotive industry’s longest serving leaders. A director since 1963 of Suzuki, the motorcycle and small car manufacturer based in Hamamatsu, Japan, he rose through the ranks to become in 1979 the firm’s president, a position he relinquished only in 2019 to ascend to the chairmanship. Latterly, as is customary with elder statemen of Japanese industry, he became an adviser, the title he still held at the time of his death.

When he first joined Suzuki, in 1958, it had been in the automobile business for only four years, building the tiny two-cylinder, air-cooled Suzulight car, in a country that was still finding its way as an industrial power. It had been founded in 1909 as a loom manufacturer, but the collapse of the cotton market in the early 1950s galvanised a move towards automotive endeavours.

Suzuki produced its first motorcycle – really a 36cc motorised pedal bike – in 1952 but 10 years later would notch up its first Isle of Man TT victory. In 1976, Barry Sheene won his first 500cc World Championship on a Suzuki RG500. The loom-making arm of the firm was separated from the automotive side in 1960 and, under Osamu, Suzuki expanded into the production of outboard motors, wheelchairs, all-terrain vehicles, and prefabricated housing.

He progressed conservatively to make Suzuki the largest small car producer in Japan, always with a keen eye on cost cutting, even on a shop-floor level: in one plant he famously had some of the light bulbs removed to save $40,000 on electricity.

Suzuki motorcycles arrived in the UK long before its cars, alongside Honda and others helping decimate the British motorcycle industry from the mid-60s onwards with dependable, easy to maintain two-wheeled machinery.

The now collectable Whizzkid Coupe and Jimny off-roader (sold in the UK as the Satana and Samurai) were relative latecomers to the Japanese car sales bonanza from 1979. The Suzuki Alto of the early 80s was the cheapest automatic car then available in the UK, priced at £4,000, while the 1985 Swift was the firm’s first four-cylinder “supermini” sized vehicle.

The Bedford Rascal – better known as the “Sooty van” in the TV puppet series Sooty and Sweep – was really a rebadged Suzuki Carry, or “kei” truck, built to conform to strict Japanese light commercial specifications. These Rascal/Carry trucks were a spin-off from a deal that Osamu Suzuki struck with General Motors in 1981 to sell its economy cars in North America with Chevrolet badges, in return for giving GM a 5% stake in the company.

Osamu would also preside in 2009 over a tie-up with VW that ended in a court battle, and latterly collaborated with Toyota on the design of self-driving cars.

From the late 60s, production of the small Fronte rear-engined cars ramped up under Osamu’s leadership but, unlike its rivals, Nissan, Toyota and Mazda, Suzuki did not give in to the temptation to move upmarket, preferring to use its resources to build satellite plants in emerging markets where its small runabout cars had most appeal.

Beginning in Thailand in 1967 – and followed by Indonesia, the Philippines, Australia and Pakistan in the 70s and 80s – Suzuki expanded its operations on the Pacific rim rather than tackle local rivals head on, although between 1967 and 1970 Japanese production rose substantially, based at four new locations.

In the early 80s Suzuki became the first Japanese manufacturer to establish a manufacturing outlet in India, where its new front-wheel drive Alto/Fronte broke the stranglehold of the outdated Hindustan ambassador (a locally built 1950s Morris Oxford), and the equally ancient Fiat 1100-based Premier Padmini to become the bestselling car in India. Osamu Suzuki made over 200 flights to India in an effort to get this historic deal done.

By the beginning of the 2000s Suzuki had 60 factories in 31 countries as sales rose tenfold to a value of $19bn.

The son of Toshiki and Matsuda Shunzo, and born in the city of Gero, Gifo Prefecture, in central Japan, Osamu graduated in law from Chuo University in Tokyo in 1953 and worked in the loans office of a local bank before joining Suzuki in 1958. Around the same time, he married Shoko Suzuki, the granddaughter of the company’s founder, and, as per local tradition when there is no male heir, adopted his wife’s family name.

Had Hirotaka Ono, the son-in-law he had been grooming to take his place, not died of cancer in 2007, Osamu would probably have enjoyed a much longer retirement. A keen golfer into his 90s, five years ago he handed the reigns of the company to his son Toshihiro, the eldest of his three children.

🔔 Osamu Suzuki, industrialist, born 30 January 1930; died 25 December 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Osamu Suzuki #in memoriam

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rezcowgirl · 3 months ago

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December. Monday Morning. Okay.

Shiver and smile.

Be born in December. Riiiiight near the end, but not end enough that your parents get a free TV for having the Official New Years baby…Don’t worry about it. Dad will win a huge TV in a prize draw at Safeway. Eventually.

There’s so much chocolate on sale, and I was born on this day! A month early, colicky as fuck, with a heart technically already broken. (<- Don't worry. Got that confirmed all cleared up when I had those other heart issues that I still have weird scars scars from because the electrodes made my skin melt. Need another 3 day thingy in February. Bleh.)

So, I’ll never be 34 again! Yay!

Once, my friend Unkyo pulled up for a Covid picnic on her bike, carrying 4 pounds of u-pick-it blueberries and an uncharacteristically sour expression. She was really aggravated. I had never seen it on her before. Apparently, she forgot her ID and the staff at a liquor store wouldn't let her buy anything. Her 18-year-old daughter was literally working at an ice-cream shop across the street from the park we were hunkered down in. I laughed and laughed, but she was genuinely annoyed. She was 45 at the time, and I thought it was cute and flattering.

Obviously, we shared our wine with her.

It’s fairly notable when I do not get ID’d buying alcohol. I almost always do. I know it’s not a huge flex given that I do not have an 18-year old daughter, but I DO have a fat baby face! I really don’t mind being ID’d - I like saying “I’m 35 :)”, and I wore a fake nose ring for the photo, so I like it.

I did NOT get ID’d on the most recent run. Aries said “Congrats - could it possibly be because there are not many 18 year olds that would be buying Moet & Chandon?”. And yeah. Probably helps. (It’s the ONLY champagne Aries likes…) I somewhat aspire to be ID’d at 45 like Unkyo, but Unkyo is an easy beauty, inside and out, and I am a rotten, crispy husk of a man, so I’m not going to worry too much about meeting this goal. My real goal is to make it to 45 and not die. So far so good!!!

I spent Friday with my old roommate and some other friends I don’t get to see very often and felt all gooey with love again. Wistful? Not quite nostalgic - she is better as a friend than a roommate. To be clear, I was the problem. I need a lot of alone time. It was hard. She forgives me my aforementioned rottenness, and she lives in New York now. I miss her so much, but we both don’t keep in touch because we suck at it. But it means a-lot-a-lot to be able to sit down and be like: “holy shit I love you tell me everything” and it’s not weird. She’s one of those rare always-sweet types, and I always want to protect it. She must not lose it. No no no. We’re having her and her husband over on the 5th, and I’m going to try really hard to NOT ask if they're going to move back to Vancouver...

Saturday we hopped around to different cocktail lounges, and I think we met some kind of trickster god. We were at our third stop, and we ended up being seated outside, which apparently most people turn down, but it was amazing. We had our own fire, we got complimentary cider, and we could converse without yelling. I wanted Aries to take some photos of us, so he did. But lurking nearby was this very friendly and relatively drunk guy, obviously also bar hopping and waiting to get in. He said “no, no, stop, you can sit down, I’ll take the photos from here”, so Aries handed my phone over and he took about 15 photos for us.

They’re basically all unsalvageable. In every single one, something is fucked up. Someone is mid-blink so their eyes are closed, but there’s still the ghost of a pupil overlaid over the eyelid, making it SUPER creepy. Or someone moved, so their face looks long. There’s one where Aries has one eye open and the other closed? There’s one photo of Ali that does not look like her at all?? It’s not like we’re all blurry in them. There’s just at least one person fucking up in each of them. I am perplexed and impressed, and now I have all these laughably terrible photos from my birthday pub crawl. But I love them anyway.

Here are the last pieces of 34. I found heart stickers on a walk. I'll stick one in my 2025 planner, and one on the wall of a goth night bathroom.

#personal

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autocarindianews · 1 month ago

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Best TVS Bike for Off-Roading

When it comes to off-roading, having a rugged and powerful bike is essential. TVS bike models are known for their durability, performance, and affordability, making them great choices for adventure enthusiasts. If you are looking for the best TVS bike for off-roading, the TVS Apache RTR 200 4V is a top contender.

TVS Apache RTR 200 4V – The Ultimate Off-Road TVS Bike

The TVS Apache RTR 200 4V is designed for both city rides and off-road adventures. With a 197.75cc, oil-cooled engine, it produces 20.82 bhp, ensuring a powerful ride on rough terrains. The bike features dual-channel ABS, superior suspension, and high ground clearance, making it an excellent choice for tackling uneven roads and dirt trails.

The TVS bike price in India for the Apache RTR 200 4V starts at around ₹1.46 lakh (ex-showroom), offering great value for an adventure-ready motorcycle. If you are searching for a TVS bike for sale, dealerships across India offer financing options, discounts, and exchange offers, making it easier to own this powerful machine.

TVS Ronin – A Stylish Off-Road Cruiser

For those looking for a more versatile option, the TVS Ronin is a fantastic choice. This scrambler-style motorcycle comes with a 225.9cc engine producing 20.4 bhp, ensuring a smooth yet powerful performance. Its high ground clearance and long-travel suspension make it suitable for light off-roading.

The TVS bike price in India for the Ronin starts at ₹1.49 lakh (ex-showroom). You can find the TVS bike for sale at various TVS dealerships or online platforms offering attractive deals.

Why Choose a TVS Bike for Off-Roading?

Durable Build: TVS bikes are designed to handle rough terrains with sturdy frames and superior suspension.

Affordable Pricing: Compared to competitors, the TVS bike price in India is budget-friendly for off-road enthusiasts.

Wide Availability: Finding a TVS bike for sale is easy, with multiple dealerships and online listings.

Whether you choose the Apache RTR 200 4V or the TVS Ronin, a TVS bike ensures a thrilling and adventurous off-road experience.

#tvs bikes #tvs bikes india #tvs bike price #tvs bikes for sale

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whumpster-fire · 1 year ago

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Leading Thieves Say Millennials and Zoomers "Ruining the Crime Industry"

A variety of criminals have spoken out over the past few weeks, saying that crime just doesn't pay like it used to because Millennials and Gen-Z-ers are so broke, they have nothing of value to steal.

Stephen "Fingers" Gilligan, Pickpocket: Pickpocketing has been on the decline in America for a while, but it's getting ridiculous now. Nobody carries cash anymore, and even cards aren't paying out. The other day I stole a wallet with five debit cards, and all but one of them declined. The last one had just enough to buy a Sierra Mist from a vending machine. That was my second best score all week. The best was a $40 Olive Garden gift card and a crumpled, discolored $5 bill that I had to use archeological techniques to retrieve without it disintegrating in my hand.

Burt Crustman, Mugger: Man, nobody walks through dark alleys at night since the pandemic hit, and when they do? Jackshit. The only valuable anyone under 40's got on them these days is their phone. Admittedly lotsa people have $3000 phones, but you know what the market for fencing iPhones is like? It's shit! Everybody's buying new phones because their phone's the only nice thing they can afford!

Monty Derailleur, Bike Thief: Well the bike theft business would be going good, if people ever used the bikes they bought. The sales are high, but the fact of the matter is, the bike lanes around here are shitty or nonexistent, there's no room to take them on the bus, and there's no bike racks so everybody knows it's gonna get stolen.

Jerry Rigby, Car Thief: I don't know what you're talking about, Grand Theft Auto is booming. There's $75,000 pickups, $60,000 SUVs, $100,000 Teslas, and most people can't even afford to buy a used car legally so fencing's never been easier. The reason it's hard for those of us in the business is twofold. First, too many people living out of their cars. Second, the competition. You see a nice car parked somewhere, you gotta be on it like that, or the fucking illegal towing rackets will beat you to it. It's nearly impossible to make a living as an independent car thief.

Dwayne Pipe, Burglar: The only reason to be breaking and entering in the post-Pandemic years if to use somebody's shower. I swear to god, half the time when I break into a place, the only furniture is a mattress on the floor and a mid-sized computer monitor as a TV, and those are only good for scrap because with planned obsolescence the way it is, they have a life expectancy of about 6 weeks after theft. To be honest with you, I'm running a loss on most jobs. The only reason I haven't gone straight is because all the legal jobs pay jackshit too. That, and I really like replacing people's family photos with pictures of Nicholas Cage.

Brittlyghn McKannyck, Shoplifter: Shoplifting these days is a hobby, not a career. Half the time the stores are too understaffed to even stock the shelves, and if they're not, everything's locked up. I had to get a guy to unlock a magnetic tag on a box of Crispix the other day. If I didn't live with my parents, there's absolutely no way shoplifting full time would be viable.

Norman Gore, Master Hacker and Identity Thief: Scamming people out of their financial info or cracking passwords has never been easier, but the scores just aren't worth it. I keep getting into bank accounts that pending overdraft fees. It's pathetic. I have to leave the lights off so my hacker den's only lit by the monitors, and type on three or four keyboards at once to hack enough people to make ends meet.

Jack Gazebo, Digital Pirate: Oh my fucking God, people, stop paying for streaming! Learn to torrent! I'm telling you, man, this generation just doesn't have the technological literacy to pirate media.

Captain Tom Stillcutt, Analog Pirate: Let me tell ye something, matey, it be a sad day for piracy. No more galleons laden low with gold doubloons, rum, and exotic spices, nay, it be all scurvy container ships full o' mass produced plastic now. Me last prize was a forty foot container loaded full of over a hundred thousand Funko Pops, en route from the East Indies. The worst part of it was as the cap'n I gets a double share o' the booty, whether I want it or not. I've been makin' one walk the plank every day, and my cabin's still full of the blasted things. Shiver my timbers, I hate these damned Zoomers! At least the ones in me crew are happy.

Geraldo Cardamom IV, Gentleman Thief: The economy's just horrible for heists these days. Art heists? Jewelry theft? All the rich idiots are blowing their money on crypto, NFTs, and custom furniture from hipster woodworking YouTubers. Nobody just has a gallery in their house with priceless antiques in glass cases below a conveniently placed skylight, or millions of dollars in cash and gold bullion in vaults behind secret doors with seven different elaborate locking mechanisms anymore. Nobody secures their valuables with networks of criss crossing laser motion sensors. The only guys with that kind of money are assholes like Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, and they don't have the sense of style for that. They just hire a bunch of assholes with guns.

Carmen San Diego, Legend: You must be joking, right? The reason I retired is because the infrastructure in this country is so dilapidated it's impossible to move it without it disintegrating. My last heist was "stealing" the World's Largest Pothole in Lansing, Michigan. I lifted the entire six lane wide, fifteen foot deep pothole out of the ground, disassembled it, and shipped it across the country to a warehouse in Las Vegas, then filled in the hole with pristine asphalt so it looked like it was never there. Nobody investigated. Nobody came after me. The city threw a parade in my honor. It didn't even take a month before my record holding pothole was dethroned by one in Cleveland, leaving me with nothing but a bunch of dirt, crumbling asphalt, and broken dreams. That's when I realized it was time to call it quits. Well, maybe the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid, but it already looks stupid enough in the middle of Tennessee that the only way stealing it would be funny is if I put it in the original Memphis.

#shitpost #the wide world of crime

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anamelessfool · 1 year ago

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Papa Knows Best (AO3)

From my "Domestics" Ficlet Series

GEN Young Primo (1962)

Tags: Mother and Son, Vintage Suburban Childhood, TV Rots Your Brain, Single Mom, Latchkey Kid, Fluff and Humor, Maybe I should send this to my Therapist, Sorta Sad Fluff Because That's My Brand

First and foremost dedicated to @fishwithtitz the most badass mom I know (besides my own), @ghuleh-recs because they like my Young Papa HCs. Also special shout out to @thew0man and @can-of-pringles for their unbelievable support.

Ficlet below the cut!

1962

Primo [Irving Robert Olson] was born at the New York City Chapel of the Satanic Church of the Void in 1953 to Sister Nance and Brother Nihil. He and his mother left the Church in 1960. Looking back, the fact that his half-brother Secondo was born the following year was probably a strong factor in Nance's decision.

The world wasn’t designed at all for a single parent household. His mother Nance did what she could to be there, but it was hard making ends meet as a poet and freelance writer so she was often out late, teaching at the nearby college or researching for the occasional newspaper gig. Nance would date other men but none stuck around, especially when they had strong opinions about her son. She preferred being alone anyway.

Primo early on learned to take care of himself, and to understand that she couldn't really attend all the bake sales, meetings and neighborhood events like the rest of his classmates.

He would ride his bike home easily enough, over the train tracks, quickly past the kids shooting bottles off of the rails with bb guns. Primo was the heaviest kid of his age group, and the other boys delighted to remind him of that. (He also was the strongest kid so they kept a healthy distance from him when they started crowing about his weight as he rode past.) He would arrive at the house soon after the train track gauntlet, parking his bike by the front yard vegetable garden. The key would always be under the mat and a sandwich in the fridge just for him. If Nance would be home past five o’ clock there would be a note for him with a silly doodle by the phone.

Primo had a big imagination, but he was never interested in books. The two things he really enjoyed was his portable turntable and the television. He had the entire week’s programming memorized and luckily Nance wasn't around right after school to chide him about too much of it rotting his brain.

One of his favorite programs (besides the Lone Ranger) was a sitcom entitled Father Knows Best. On the afternoons it was on, Primo would scoot up too close to the television, twisting the volume knob until it would not crank any further. He even dared to eat his sandwich right in the living room, the plate balanced on his lap. No one but the bronze Baphomet sculpture on the side table ever witnessed his small acts of defiance. But it was a little ritual that he enjoyed as the music swelled and that familiar house with the white picket fence appeared on the screen.

He felt odd watching it, like he was spying through the window of a classmate’s house. Trying to understand the ins and outs of this perfect family and their small dramas. Often he imagined the television screen was a window to an aquarium, a zoo exhibit featuring a rare organism. Sometimes he felt it was the smiling figures on the screen that were the real people, and he himself was the creature in the enclosure. Those were not very good days.

At the end of each episode Father would strike a dapper figure, poised against the stiff gray couch, wearing an equally stiff but smart suit even in his own home. He'd thoughtfully put his pipe to his lips, nodding at his son standing sheepishly in the middle of the living room. “Now I suppose, Bud, that today you’ve learned the importance of telling the truth,” he would chide smoothly. His voice would keep a manly tenderness despite his scolding. “And because you didn't tell the truth today, you lost the money that you were planning on buying Barbara’s birthday present with.”

“That's the pits, isn't it,” Primo said out loud, half to himself and half to the bronze Baphomet nearby.

But like the namesake, Father always knew best, and the son would get a few new dollar bills, a playful rifling of his hair and an order to go out and play. THE END, announced the title card, and the music would wash across Primo sitting in the living room alone.

“Is Mister Walter coming back this weekend?” Primo expertly captured another one of Nance’s Sorry pawns. It was evening and the two of them were doing their usual after dinner bonding time. It was fun to chat and play board games with his mother, but Primo secretly enjoyed them better when there were three people playing.

“Mr. Walter…hated cats,” Nance muttered through her cigarette. Apparently a lot of them hated cats. Primo thought it odd this was a hard limit for Nance since they had never owned a pet bigger than a goldfish.

“He was alright,” said Primo. “He liked watching TV with me.”

“TV rots your brain,” Nance replied. “Have you been enjoying Robinson Crusoe?” She had gifted the book to him for his birthday and had subsequently planted it in strategic locations to encourage him to read it. He kept reading the first page, getting confused, and then putting it down.

“TV makes sense.”

“Yeah, of course it does. Take a plot, throw it in the mixer and then drink it up. I once got offered a job writing one of those family bilgefests and turned it right down.” Nance had forgotten they were playing the game. She tapped her nail on the table. “You're smarter than that, Irving.”

“Mom, it's your turn,” reminded Primo. He stared hard at the game in front of them. “There was a good Father Knows Best episode today. Bud lost the money for Barbara’s birthday gift.”

“Father Knows Best?” Nance’s neat ponytail twitched. “Irving, you know best.” She moved her piece and collected one of her son’s pawns off the board. “Sorry.”

Primo started to feel her seething agitation, although he knew it was never about him. “Are you…thirsty?”

“Are you offering?” Her small elfin smile started to emerge. “Shall we split a Coke?”

Primo nodded and obediently went to the icebox, grabbing one from the door. He pulled out two glasses and carefully emptied the bottle into them, stooping and staring with intensity as he ensured the Coke was perfectly divided between them. He returned from the kitchen, fully smiling now, and handed one to her. Nance did a silly toast and then they clinked glasses.

Nance sighed and ruffled her son’s hair. “I'm sorry this is hard. But it's necessary. You'll understand soon. This world is full of idiots who wait for things to happen, and it never comes. Who expect things to go a certain way. Who think someone else knows what's best.”

Primo suspected she must have had a rough day. She was usually cheerful, quippy and energetic but today she gloomily tapped the ashes from her cigarette into the crystal ashtray and stared at the Baphomet across the room. At last she sipped her glass and waved her hand around.

“But all of this? All mine. I made this happen. I did it. And I'm not holding my hands out at the sky either. I'm grabbing what I want with my fist.” Nance's face softened. “And I love sharing it with you, son. I choose to share it with you.”

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Terzo/Omega Fics

Please comment and reblog! Thank you.

#ghost scenes from the void #young primo #papa emeritus i

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batsplat · 9 months ago

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'From the first time I worked with Valentino I realised he is so, so curious. He wants to know everything: why is this exhaust pipe like this, why is that exhaust like that, why does the rider do that, why do other riders do something different? In fact, when he was 14 or 15 another of Graziano's friends, Marco Lucchinelli [1981 500cc world champion], used to call him Virus. This was his nickname for a few years, because he wanted to know everything and he was always attacking people with questions. This is Valentino - curious and intelligent. Racing with him was a beautiful period in my life because he was very easy to work with. For me the impressive thing about him was his riding, but also that he was very friendly. "After Brno 1996 I immediately thought that he was a phenomenon, not only a phenomenon with his riding but a phenomenon in communication. He has all the characteristics: he is a fantastic rider, he is friendly, he is spontaneous, he's not fake, and he smiles with everybody, so all the grandmothers, the grandfathers, the wives and the kids fall in love with him - the people who know nothing about engines and racing. He had a big effect on Aprilia sales. We sold a lot of bikes and scooters and we made a lot of Valentino replica machines. "During that period Valentino sometimes fucked with me. In 1997 he was a big fan of Jacques Villeneuve [winner of that year's Formula 1 title with Williams-Renault]. He kept telling me, 'Carlo, I want to meet Villeneuve!' He was such a fan that he hated Ferrari at that time, because of the Villeneuve versus Michael Schumacher thing. So I called Carlos Ghosn at Renault, who I knew because at that time Aprilia was doing good business selling scooters in Renault dealerships. It was arranged that Valentino would meet Jacques at a big motorsport awards event in Bologna. "Before the event I went out for dinner with Valentino and Uccio Salucci. At the end of the meal Valentino went to the toilet. And he never came back! In the auditorium there was Jacques with his car and there was Valentino's bike, but no Valentino. All the world's TV and media were there, so Beggio was very angry and wanted to kill me. I still don't know where he went that night. He won't tell me!"

Carlo Pernat in Oxley's 'Valentino Rossi: All His Races'

valentino with villeneuve in 1998

#brr brr #//#he was just doing whatever #'virus' is a crazy nickname #//clt

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talltoontales · 9 months ago

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~ Friggin Friday ~

[Story 32]

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Prompt: You've been transported to a 2000's live-action Disney movie & your only key to getting is by making the MC's dreams unobtainable through any means necessary. Prompt By: r/wingman66 (Reddit) Started Writing: 07/09/2024

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Word of advice: never buy a TV from a witch's garage sale.

Because I've been in this Chinese restaurant since eleven in the morning, downing fortune cookies like cheap shots, looking like an absolute maniac! But the only way outta this C-tier movie is to keep Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan for swapping bodies, and the quickest way to do that is to make sure this place doesn't have any more terrible-tasting mystic fortunes to give…I'm gonna be sick!

|| || || || ||

Ok, so fun fact: if you eat your weight in fortune cookies you will vomit until you pass out. But enough about my ongoing hatred for fortune cookies. Time for plan B! Jamie Lee Curtis, who is now in Lindsay Lohan's body, should be meeting with this world's version of the mean girl trio.

Which doesn't really hit, now that I think about it. Because I know Mean Girls came out in 2004, and Freaky Friday, I think, came out the year before, but whatever!

Regina- I mean…who am I kidding? Her actual name doesn't matter. Regina's about to trick Jamie Lee Lohan into getting gift-wrapped, causing her to stumble over a nearby bike rack and eat grass. However, if my math is right, I should have set in motion a Final Destination-style series of unfortunate events where, instead of landing on soft-ish dirt, Jamie'll get knocked out for hopefully the rest of the movie's run time…

-Pulls Out Phone-

Wow, '09 and '04 again! How do I even know that this movie exists? Wait, that's riiiiiight, Parent Trap and the School Sleepover. Man, those were better days. Why couldn't I get trapped in Parent Trap? Could've been done by now.

-Jamie Lee Lohan screams as she topples over the bike rack onto dirt-

What the-where's the duffle bag of football helmets? Where's the horde of test frogs? What happened to the-

-The school shakes as a muffled explosion goes off, followed by fire alarms-

Oh yeah, forgot about the toilet bombs. Oh, man, I should probably make sure that janitor's okay. Alright, first, help the janitor, and then we slash pretty boy's motorcycle tires.

…probably should have done that first.

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Ok, so that did not work at all, but on the bright side, Jamie Lee Curtis' character is a pretty good therapist, so I got that going for me.

Anyway, no more, Mr. Subtle. It's the big concert, and I gotta show stopper, and by that, I mean over a thousand dollars in professional-grade fireworks at the heart of the city's electrical grid. Can't rock with no power!

-Laughs maniacally while lighting the fuse-

…wait a minute…these are rockets…rockets explo-

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-Jerks awake on the couch as the credits for Freaky Friday roll down the TV screen-

Oh, thank God that worked! Not to self, next, get trapped in something fun like Lilo & Stitch or one of the Rugrats movies or…

-Jumps off the couch over to the DVD rack, frantically searching through the stacks until finding "Speed Racer 2008."-

I take it all back, this was the best purchase I've ever made!

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. . . . . . . . . .

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story. If you have any comments, critiques, or criticisms, please don't be afraid to let me hear 'em (as long as they're constructive (or comical)). Also, if you have some spare time, check out my blog for more stories like the one above. Stay safe, drink plenty of water, and be kind to yourself and others. ToonMan, AWAY!

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[Last Story] || [Next Story]

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#writeblr #2000s disney #freaky friday #magical shenanigans #nostalgia #magic story #writing #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writerscommunity #writing blog #short story #short stories #disney movies #tv movie

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deceptive-daydreams · 2 years ago

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Rock Bottom - A Rhiannon Story - E.M

Girl Dad!Eddie x Step Mom!Reader

4K Words

An additional story to this blurb. Eddie is feeling run down and invalidates himself as a dad but you’re there to mend him back together.

Warnings - angst, sad thoughts, insecurity, a smidge of smut but nothing major

A/N - This is not proofread, I was just in my feels and kept writing.

Masterlist

Eddie is having a particularly hard time on a Friday night, he had urged you to go out on a girls night with Robin because you deserve it so now he’s trying to entertain his mini me throughout the evening until bedtime. Movies have been watched, finger paintings are littered across the kitchen counter, toys are scattered around the cozy living room, and an abandoned plate of dinosaur chicken nuggets sit atop the coffee table—all indications of how hard he’s been trying to keep her occupied. They even played outside until it got dark, Eddie teaching her how to ride a bike and encouraging her as her wobbly legs peddled down the driveway. A few cuts and scrapes didn’t stop her, only because every time she fell her dad would pretend he wasn’t paying attention, the broken fence down the street suddenly interested him. He knew babying her every time she got hurt would only make her wail, letting out the loudest cries imaginable. This way she would keep getting up and trying again.

Exhausted was an understatement for how Eddie felt. He felt obliterated by the simple act of being a parent today. Guilt plagued his mind as he thought of all the ways he could be a better parent, he just couldn’t see himself measuring up to the higher class citizens of Hawkins who could provide their kids with the newest toys and the most eccentric birthday parties. He couldn’t afford the trampoline Rhin saw at the store that she squealed over, shouting about being able to do gymnastics like the girls she’s seen on TV. Couldn’t even afford the name brand stuff at the grocery store, always purchasing the least expensive option. The auto shop he worked at, Sal's, paid decently and was enough to cover the mortgage on the tiny house the two of you picked out eight months ago along with your contribution from your job as a sales associate at the JC Penny at the mall. He’d also pick up shifts at The Hideout when he could for some extra cash. It wasn’t a lavish lifestyle and he hated himself for not being able to give you and Rhin everything you deserved.

Every time you and Eddie started a savings jar, sat neatly on the dresser of your shared bedroom, you’d have to empty it out for some kind of emergency like the time a leak in the roof turned into a waterfall one summer night when it rained especially hard. The hole in the ceiling of your hallway made you both sigh in frustration but you had to have it patched up and ended up with a hefty bill, paid by none other than your savings jar.

Nausea threatened Eddie as he went through the bills laid out on the kitchen counter before him. Everything was adding up—lights, gas, water, mortgage, phone, the loan he took out to pay for some tools he needed at work. Though he wanted to puke his guts out from utter irritation at the situation, he was forced to give himself a reality check as he felt a tug at his jeans, his daughter looking up at him with huge brown eyes. Not just huge brown eyes, huge brown eyes just seconds from crying. Before he can bend down and ask what’s wrong, she’s howling with cries.

“Daddy, I-I ripped my drawing!!” He doesn’t hesitate when he picks her up and holds her to his chest, wanting to cry as well but for other reasons beyond her comprehension. Bouncing her up and down to soothe her, he cradles her head and paces around the kitchen. Summer was about halfway through and the bugs were screaming outside, a symphony of chirps through the screen windows letting some much needed air into the house. “S’ okay Rhin, you wanna make a new one?” He asks hopefully, knowing it’s a long shot. Her snotty little face rubs into his T-shirt as she shakes her head, sobs escaping her tiny body. “Okay, okay, shhh. I can tape it back together, huh? We’ll tape it together, good as new.” Eddie only prays that she calms down soon because his emotions are riding high too and he can’t bear the guilt of crying in front of his daughter. “T-t-tape it together?” She mumbles against his chest, voice wobbling, her hands clenching his shirt tightly. Her dad nods, still bouncing her up and down. “Yeah, c’mon. Daddy will fix it.” He won’t admit it but a single tear trails down his cheek as he sniffles and goes to sit down in front of the coffee table, setting Rhin gently on the couch while he kneels on the floor. He’s able to repair the drawing, leaving his daughter smiling however his heart still breaks for the future. A future where his daughter sees him as a deadbeat, where he carries on the Munson legacy of shitty dads. I will always be ten steps behind.

—

Robin pulls into the driveway as you hum along to the radio in the passenger seat, gravel crunching beneath the tires and the smell of bonfire lingering in the air. The local seniors must be doing their yearly tradition before they embark on their final year in high school. The car jerks abruptly as Robin breaks, a quirk of hers—break checking.

“Okay, this is your stop!” She chirps, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

For girl’s night the two of you went to the movies, something you didn’t get around to a lot anymore since taking on the role of a mom. The movie was okay but nothing to write home about. After, you and Robin ended up on the curb outside talking on and on about anything and everything since it wasn’t something you got to do all the time. Just catching up.

“Bye, Robin! We’ll pick up where we left off next time. Promise.” You refer to when you cut the conversation off earlier, insisting that it was getting too late and that you wanted to get home. She begrudgingly agreed but also understood that you had a family now and that always came first. With a few more goodbyes, she was off, tires screeching as she backed out of the driveway and drove off.

It was around 10:30PM now which wasn’t that late and you were grateful that Robin had sympathy toward your situation, never making you feel bad about not staying out as late as you used to. The porch lights illuminated the way to the door as you got your keys out of your purse. You opened the screen door and twisted the key into the lock of the white wooden door with chips in its paint job.

The house was silent, making you think that Eddie had probably fallen asleep in Rhin’s bed with her again. The TV displayed a blue screen, the VHS tape it played before being finished ready to be rewinded. The lights were off save for a lamp in the corner of the living room offering a dim glow. Setting your keys on the table next to the door, you kicked off your shoes and left your purse on the hook on the wall.

Making your way to Rhin’s room, you carefully nudge the door with your finger to peer in only to find Rhin sound asleep, no Eddie. Smiling softly at her peaceful slumber, you turn and enter your room across from hers. It’s completely dark except for some moonlight streaming in, cascading across the queen sized bed. Your husband is nowhere to be found and if you remember correctly, the bathroom light wasn’t on either so where could he be?

Confused, you step back out into the hallway and head for the living room again. The kitchen is adjacent to that, the open floor plan creating a giant room. You hadn’t checked the kitchen however he’s not standing there either and all the lights are off. Your feet slide across the carpet, walking to the kitchen and stepping onto the linoleum. The house settles beneath your feet. Flicking the light on, you suddenly catch a glimpse of curls just under the counter on the other end of the island. You excitedly make your way over, thinking you’d just won an improved game of hide and seek. You were so wrong.

What you find instead as you round the corner is a distraught Eddie sitting on the floor against the counter, eyes wet, lashes parting with droplets, nose red, and his knees pulled to his chest as his hands rest on top of them. His fingers shake while he tries to soothe himself by tapping them against his knees. Cheeks adorned in fresh tears and shaky breaths leaving his lips, his eyes show panic as he spots you. Your heart drops at the scene in front of you, your husband absolutely broken, alone in the dark before you got there. There was no telling how long he’d actually been there suffering in silence. Wiping away the tears frantically with the collar of his shirt, he attempts to ward off any emotions that had washed over him, brushing them aside as he always did for the sake of those he loved.

Sliding down next to him, you tuck your knees underneath yourself as you clasp your hands in your lap, determining what to do next. You’d seen Eddie cry before but not enough to know exactly what to do the next time it happened. Instinct takes over and you tuck one of his curls behind his ear, ever so slightly grazing his cheek with your touch. His gaze avoids you like a sickness, he doesn’t like to show vulnerability in times when he questions himself as a parent. Otherwise he thinks you’ll come to realize it too, that he’s good for nothing, trailer park trash that only made it out because of you. You leaving was one of his biggest fears, something that ate at his brain.

Your soul aches as his lip quivers, his teeth sinking into the plushness, nearly drawing blood. A nervous habit he had that left him with chapped lips more often than not. He’s still dressed in his clothes from earlier, a white band t-shirt and black jeans. The overhead light is now becoming too overwhelming and you sense that there’s a reason he left it off. So you hop up to flick the lights off before returning to your original position in front of him. There’s not a lot to illuminate the two of you on the kitchen floor but there’s enough from the dim lamp in the living room and the moonlight from the windows.

“Eddie?” You ask quiet as a mouse. Again he grabs the front of his shirt and smears his flowing tears on it, silently begging for them to stop. “Eddie, what happened? Talk to me.” Your hand grazes the top of his, rings cold to the touch before you feel the warmth of his skin as you settle your hand there. Shaking his head, his curls bounce and he inhales shakily.

A whisper into the darkness, barely there reaches your ears. “Nothing.” A lie. An outright lie, he knows. But it’s the only answer he can come up with, only wishing that you wouldn’t further the conversation while simultaneously knowing better and knowing that you wouldn’t give up. He can’t stand the look on your face, the pity you offer him.

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you upset.” You enlighten him, thumb brushing against his knuckles. He lightly knocks the back of his head against the counter behind him, a small thump echoing in the quiet of the kitchen. Looking at the ceiling, inhales through his nose and exhales through his mouth.

“I’m a shitty dad.” He’s aired out the dirty laundry, given you a peek into his mind. The way the words roll off his tongue stab you in the heart, a bloody mess left behind with a multitude of questions. How could you say that? Who made you think this? Who do I need to confront? You don’t really believe that do you? It all circles your brain. A breath is caught in your throat, you nearly choking from the horrible statement he just made.

You just wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, his breath tickling your neck. His shirt is held tightly in your hands and you find a couple of tears leaking onto the material of the back of his shirt. His body shaking, you start to feel the front of your shirt grow wet, his hands holding your forearms desperately.

You stop yourself from falling further into a lake of tears, hand coming to rest at his jaw as he sobs into you. “Why would you say that?” You whisper, nose against his cheek pressing into his wet face. There is nothing more heart wrenching than seeing him fall apart in your arms. The way he trembles and looks so small, you’d give anything to end any pain he was going through right now.

Pulling away slightly, his bloodshot eyes and glassy face look at you. You shift to sit in between his legs, your knees under you as you face him, hands clasped behind his neck while his eyes are sad pools of syrup. He speaks up, voice cracking. “I-I can’t—I can’t give Rh-Rhin everything she w-wants. C-can’t give my b-baby what all t-the other kids have. C-can’t even p-pay the bills on t-time. C-couldn’t give you a-a proper house. O-one that doesn’t b-break all the fuckin’ t-time.” His voice shakes as rivers continue flowing down his face. He’s holding your thumbs in both his hands, something he does to calm down, squeezing lightly when he gets more stressed. “N-not even a-a proper wedding. H-had to give you a secondhand ring. Nothing—nothing I do is good enough.” The way he talks so lowly of himself has you almost breaking the composure you built up for him but you hold on a little bit longer. He continues talking, he can’t stop now and as heartbreaking as it is, it’s good for him to get everything out before you swoop in and give him some clarity. “Every fuckin’ person i-in this shitty town ha-hates us and it’s all my fault. All my fucking fault.” He squeezes slightly harder but not enough to hurt. You have him release one thumb and bring your fingers up to his hair, stroking his scalp comfortingly while he still bashes himself into the ground. “My d-daughter can’t have a normal life cause guess what? Her dads such a-a fuck up, screwed e-everything up before she was even born!” His wavering tone makes you want to wrap him up in a warm blanket and never see the outside world again. “Rhin should-should have everything the other kids have! I-I should be able to afford that-that damn trampoline!” His features flash with rage before melting back into sorrow. You swear he’s almost about to throw up with how riled up he’s getting.

That’s when you feel you need to intervene or else things will get nastier and he will drown in his own sea of insults and self hatred. “Shhhh, c’mere. Shhh. Enough. Enough.” You tell him softly, pulling his head into your chest and stroking his jaw with your thumb. “No more of that.” His sobs are muffled into your chest, hands grabbing at the front of your shirt for dear life, his breathing is uneven and every now and then he hiccups from crying so hard. The man you love so deeply in your soul is crumbling in your arms. Crumbling from the pressures of the world, the cards he’s been dealt, and his own poisonous thoughts.

“Look at me.” You tell him, firm but sympathetic, encouraging his face to pull away from you and angling his jaw with your hand. Reluctantly, he listens, irises glassy, the usual dark chocolate warmth they bring temporarily turned to vulnerable self loathing black holes. “You are the best dad she could've ever hoped for. The best husband I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams. Stop. Being. Mean. To. Yourself.” You punctuate with a small tap to his nose, a stray tear threatening to drip from it. Your words resonate with him but he still feels responsible for everything not perfect in your lives. You can see it in the way his eyes shift from you to his lap, contemplating. Grabbing both his cheeks in your hands, the light stubble tickling your fingertips, you press a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s get some air. C’mon, let’s go baby.” He can’t protest as you’re already standing, pulling him up by his arm, your touch lingering there as if to say I’ve got you, I’ve got you and I’m not going anywhere, no matter how scared you are.

Guiding him out to the front porch, you leave the front door open with the screen door being a barrier to the inside just in case Rhin wakes up. Immediately he pulls out a cigarette as he sadly slumps down onto the porch step, staring out into the night. His hands tug at his curls, one hand wiping his nose as he sniffles. His breathing is still recovering from the sobs that racked his body just moments ago. You claim the spot next to him, wood creaking beneath you. He inhales as much as he can from his cigarette before he shakily breathes it out. You intertwine your fingers with his free hand, rings pressing against you as he weakly grabs your hand back.

“You don’t see what we see.” You speak up, gazing at him like he is the only star in the night sky. Head shaking in denial, he drops his head, sighing as if he was going to chime in. “Don’t you dare go and beat yourself up again, you’ve had enough.” Your head rests on his shoulder, nuzzling into him lovingly. “Do you know how many men would go out of their way to build their daughter a brand new princess bookshelf? Or draw flowers on the sidewalk with her sidewalk chalk? Or even play hopscotch with her in front of all the neighbors that have nothing better to do than be mad that your daughter is happy?” At this he frowns, the type of frown where you’re trying to keep from crying, where your lip wobbles and you can’t control the sting of tears. “And personally, I don’t see any other men creating the most beautiful, most romantic proposal. With the ring from the antique store that I’d been looking at every time we stopped in. No, it’s not from some big designer and it’s not a huge rock like a lot of these show offs lead us to believe we need.” You offer him a little smile, looking up into his eyes. The smallest twitch of his lip leads you to believe you’re luring him from the dark corners of his mind covered in cobwebs that clouded his thinking.

A little scoff escapes him. “I paid like fifty dollars. What a big shot.” He says sarcastically, still putting himself down, but at least you’ve talked him down a level. “And I’m still going to get you one that you deserve one day. When I figure all this shit out.” There’s a lump in his throat as he talks.

“Baby.” You breathe, tilting his cheek toward you. “I don’t want another ring. I want this one. I don’t care about money, the most valuable things in my life are the people. You are my everything. Rhin is my everything. My family.” Your eyes are welling up again, this time in admiration for your family. “And Wayne. The three of you are all I’ll ever need.”

A chuckle escapes him, leaving you a bit puzzled but you wait it out to see his next words. “I don’t know what the fuck I did to find you in this shitty world. But I’m glad I did it. Whatever it was.” He nears the end of his cigarette and puts it out, holding onto it cause he knows it’s important to you not to litter the yard, or anywhere for that matter with cigarette butts.

“I can tell you what it was.” You scoot a little closer to him, if even possible. A delicate kiss is placed on his pillowy lips. “You’re a hundred times the man any of these assholes are.” Another kiss. “You’re kind. Even when you get angry, you step away so you can think rationally. Most of the other dads just scream at their families and pretend like it never happens until they lash out again. You’ve never lashed out at me or Rhin.” A peck to the apple of his cheek. “You’re handsome. Obviously.” His cheeks tint pink, you can see it even in the porch lighting. “You always nudge me to the inside of the sidewalk when we’re walking. You give Rhin your last few quarters to play that game at the grocery store, just to make her smile.” Another peck to his other cheek. “You’re so selfless and compassionate. You would give up the clothes on your back just to see your little girl happy.” This time you press your lips to his for a little longer than before. “Being Eddie, is what you did.” You finish.

The way he looks at you, face inches apart from yours, his lashes casting a shadow over his own cheeks with the most enamored gaze in his eyes, it nearly has you in a puddle at his feet. “I love you, I don’t have any other words to explain what you’re making me feel right now. I just love you.” His voice is a little hoarse from all the turmoil he went through. “And I’m going to keep loving you til the end of time.” His fingers brush against your arm, giving you goosebumps. “You have my word on that, sweets.” You can’t help the way you go bashful on him at his promises. “Don’t close up on me now, we’re married.” He has a small grin painted on his face.

All you can do is pull him in by the back of his neck for a kiss full of all of the emotion you have for him. “Feel better?” You mumble against him. He hums into your mouth as the kiss deepens.

“Much better.” He’s greedily grabbing at your thighs, pulling you into his lap to straddle him. For the next ten minutes or so you just drink each other in, passionately moving your mouths in sync with each other. Eventually you find yourselves laying back on the porch, his arm around you and you pulled into his side as you stare at the roof. He asks about your girl's night, you give him every detail, then you ask about his day. What kind of endeavors Rhin put him through. Suddenly he shifts the conversation.

“I want another baby with you.” You’re shocked at his admission before he speaks quickly again. “I-I mean in the future. When we’re financially okay…if that’s something you’d want.” His nerves are everywhere, you can tell by the way he drums his fingers on your arm.

You sit up quickly, hovering over him with an expressionless face. “I want a baby with you too.” You find yourself speaking without having to think. A wide smile appears on your face and you’re back to kissing him, over and over and over. “I’d let you get me pregnant right now if we could.” You say truthfully

He laughs at your honesty, arms snaking around your waist. “Oh yeah? I wanna get you nice and pregnant so bad.” He bites his lip, as you grind your hips against his. “But y’know…we could always practice.” He offers, rolling himself up into you, the friction gives you the slightest bit of relief.

“I would love to.” You breathe desperately just above his lips, the two of you scrambling off the porch floor to hurry inside and quietly get to your room. That night he makes the sweetest love to you, offering every piece of him as you did earlier while comforting him in his worst moments. He spends what feels like hours in between your legs, licking, teasing, sucking. His hands caressed your body like you were some kind of artwork. He worshiped you in ways another man never could or ever has, ever.

~end~

Masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #vics blurbs

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thebonegoop · 9 months ago

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Summer Memories

Sitting down as I write this; I can hear the splashes of water from children making cannonballs in the neighbor's pool and the subsequent banshee-like screams of a pack of now-drenched mothers yelling at their kids. I'm also sneezing gunk like I'm having a demon exorcised from my body (The Zelda Rubinstein way, of course).

You may be asking yourself right now - Lincoln, what does that have anything to do with this post? Well, my dear Watson, it means summer we are just beginning another summer! So, for the inaugural post of The Bone Goop, I'll discuss eight great summer memories!

#1: Ice Cream Trucks

Okay, okay – Maybe I never had a traditional Ice Cream truck come down to my town – so sue me. I was raised in – said in my best George Burns Voice – God's Country—a place forgotten by all who didn't dwell there. But like an oasis in the desert, we did have one truck that came around town once a month - THE SCHWAN'S TRUCK. While serving primarily to adults looking for overpriced frozen steaks and vegetables, they did sell a minor assortment of ice cream goods. Let me tell you, orange cream push pops never tasted so good as when I bought one from the Schwan's man. He dressed in all white like Reggie from PHANTASM and would sometimes take pity on poor country kids by putting in an extra push pop for us to fight over like wild dogs.

#2: Summer Minutiae

I'm a big fan of waxing poetically about life, so only I could think back so nostalgically about the utter boredom summer can bring as a kid. We all remember the highs that summer can bring, but there is also beauty in the lows. While I'd take riding bikes with my friends any day, many summers were spent alone, bored in my mother's backyard garden, watching fish in the pond or imagining a safari adventure through her overgrown Pampas grass.

And if one was truly bored in the summer heat, find the closest slab of concrete and a bucket of chalk and spend your day expressing the inner Ar·teest inside of you.

#3: Water Parks!

I have a confession – I've almost drowned twice while visiting these water-themed wonderlands. I was 11 and full of youthful confidence in my swimming abilities as I stepped foot in Lexington's Pirate-themed water park during a trip with my best friend. That was until I was pinned underwater by a giant plastic riding Crocodile like I was in a Wrestling Federation match. It takes real love to enjoy something that tries to kill you.

#4: Sleepovers

As a kid, one of the best things about summer was the Sleepover with your buddies. A one-night no-holds bar contest of wills - fueled by junk food, movies, and chaos. We had it down to a science: Blanket forts, Hot Pockets on tap, Gameboy Colors holstered in our pockets ready with Pokémon (complete with link cables), and maybe most importantly the tape rentals. Setting the mood for the night was imperative, so finding the perfect movie was the priority. STAR WARS or JURASSIC PARK were the faithful standbys, but the best nights were when someone smuggled a VHS TV recording of ROBOCOP and HALLOWEEN. It was like sneaking contraband through airport security.

#5: Jackass

While the show was watched under cloak and dagger at night, my friends and I would often recreate the extraordinary stunts we saw during the day. Johnny Knoxville had a shopping cart, but we had a Big Wheel and trashcans! Hot summer days were spent building ramps up coal piles and flying off in terror. Hi, I'm Lincoln, and this is Jackass!

#6: Calling Your Bluff

Many of my formative summer years were spent at my neighbor's kitchen table playing various card games like Canasta and Poker or Scrabble. We didn't have air conditioning, so they'd make Kool-Aid pops out of plastic ice trays wrapped in plastic with toothpicks poking into each cube. These were MacGyver: The Adolescent Years.

#7: Yard Sales

Summer is Flea Market season, Baby! Truthfully, I don't make the time for Yard Sales like I used to, but rummaging through other people's trash was like second nature as a kid. So, it was even more devastating that my mom once went without me while I stayed with my grandparents.

The fogs of memory preclude me from knowing why, but I remember being extra grumpy about life while she was gone. The childhood vitriol melted instantly when she picked me up, and I saw the treasures she'd bought me – a pristine RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK VHS tape and a MONSTER IN MY POCKET figure!

#8: It's Good to Be King

Summer wasn't summer if it didn't include one trip to King's Island - the Ohio amusement park made of dreams and overworked costumed employees. At the time, every ride and character were made to resemble Hanna-Barbera properties. Having lunch with your partner is great, but having lunch with Scooby Doo AND Space Ghost? On top of riding roller coasters? That was pure magic.

The night was complete only if I bought a blue Candy Rock stick for the ride home. It was the perfect day (Ignore that everyone but me got Pinkeye on that trip.)

I hope these memories stirred up some of your own about the magic of Summer. Thanks!!

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