#all he knows how to do is grow and sell dope

[stiwfssr]

[frnchgirls]

rubberneckin'

eddie munson x benny cross x reader

summary: when you finally meet benny, a friend and client of your mechanic boyfriend, eddie, the three of you make some self-discoveries, and discoveries of another kind.

wc: 3.7k

warnings: 18+, nsfw!, filth with plot, unprotected sex, finishing inside, threesome :]

a/n: my first full-length fic! thank you so much to @themorriganisamonster for posting this idea <3 it was too unique to pass up!! also big thanks to @steph-speaks for giving me a hand along the way! title inspired by the elvis song with the same name.

the white wicker armchair under the awning of eddie's porch acts as the perfect place to hide away from the scorching august sun. it's where you've been seated for the past half hour, sipping from a glass of lemonade that's sweating just as much as you are. you huff as the droplets of condensation fall from the base of the cup and onto your lap, dampening the fabric of your dress. it isn't that big of a deal, the moisture would probably evaporate the second you step out from the shade, but the sight of your wet hands acts as a reminder of the slick discomfort growing between your thighs. you stand and head for the front door, flushed and eager to get back in the air conditioning.

that is, until the distant rumble of an engine disrupts the dull chatter of cicadas, stopping you in your tracks.

your head whips around to locate the origin of the noise. it grows closer, louder, quickening your heartbeat like the soundtracks of those horror pictures your boyfriend's always forcing you to watch. you've been to his house enough times to be familiar with the tunes of the neighborhood; the bark of the byers' dog, the ringing of bells on bicycles, and the hum of steve's bmw. but this sound is unfamiliar, it doesn't fit in with the rest of the domestic hubbub. and the culprit turns the street corner.

it's a motorcycle, painted cherry red and mounted by two men. the rider is older, indicated by the grey streaks in his stubble and wrinkles on his skin. even his button-up and denim jacket remind you of your father. the passenger must be closer to your age, skin smooth aside from some sparse facial hair. his dirty blonde locks whip in the breeze as they pull in front of the house, and the duo exchange a few remarks before he throws a leg over, hopping off the bike.

he makes his way to you, hands stuffed in his pockets, and his expression is unreadable. forget the ac, his blue-eyed gaze chills you to the bone. he stops and plants his feet just in front of the curb.

"you eddie's girl?" he questions, voice gravelly as he tilts his head in your direction. how does he know? oh god, did that moron finally get himself into trouble selling dope? the menacing patches on the stranger's vest do little to quiet your thoughts. "who's askin'?" you retort, and he feigns hurt, clutching at his black tee in the spot where his heart would be. "he didn't tell ya about me?" he searches your face for a sign of deception, but there isn't one. you're just peering down at him from the top of the porch steps and shaking your head. "i'm benny, friend of his. came here to check on my bike."

his words have you breathing a sigh of relief. eddie was pretty behind on his work, hence why he was holed up in the backyard and not there spending time with you. benny's story was entirely plausible, and you were almost certain you saw a chopper just like the one he rode in on the last time you checked on your boyfriend.

"well, eddie's real busy right now. his uncle's van broke down yesterday and that's been his priority. family advantage, y'know." you explain, shifting your weight between your heels. benny's all too quick to reply, "i thought i was family." and you almost laugh. he sure is confident; cocky, even, but he seems nice enough. "your bike's in good hands." you reassure him. his eyes rake over your form, fingertips grazing his bottom lip. "looks like it." he says, and his unabashed flirtation makes you gulp.

you wonder if you should acknowledge it or just change the subject; tell him you'll let eddie know he came by and have him give him a call. thankfully, you don't have to make that decision. the rider breaks the silence, calling out to benny, "c'mon kid. we gotta go." and the blonde claps his hands together before slowly backing up. "i'll see you thursday." he declares, and you find yourself once again at a loss for words. benny turns, strutting back to the bike, and it's as if the skull on the spine of his jacket acts as a symbol of your fate.

you watch as the pair take off, and he glances at you over his shoulder more times than is socially acceptable before he's out of sight. the whole interaction has you furrowing your brow as you retrieve your forgotten drink and trudge back inside. to your surprise, eddie walks through the back door just seconds after you, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a black and white bandana.

"hey, baby." he hums, expression softening as you come into view. you discard your half-empty cup on the counter and approach him, mustering a smile. "hi." you respond, and eddie can tell something's not right. there's a vacantness in your eyes, like you're there with him physically but not so much mentally. "you okay?" he asks. you're eager to nod, "yeah, everything's fine." but he knows you. "are ya sure? cause, i think you're a liar." he half-jokes, hands cupping your cheeks, "and i'm gonna get the truth out of you if it's the last thing i do."

before you can fully process his words, he's leaning in to kiss you, sweat-soaked hair tickling your skin and making you giggle against his lips. your protests are muffled as he persists, pecking all over your face until you finally manage to break away. "how many times do i gotta tell ya to tie your hair back when you're workin'?" you groan, wiping your neck with the back of your hand. eddie just smiles, waiting. try all you might, he's not moving on until you tell him what's up.

you sigh at his determination. "okay, fine. that guy who just came by, benny, why didn't ya tell me about him?" you ask, and upon hearing his name, eddie's breath hitches. "benny was here? what- what did he say?" excitement drips from his words, and if they didn't know any better, someone might think he was asking about a damn celebrity. you bite your lip as you recall, "i dunno, just that he was checkin' on his bike." he nods, averting his gaze before evading, "well, you know i don't like talking about clients."

yet, just the other night, eddie had rambled on for at least an hour about jason carver trying to rip him off over car parts.

you decide not to pry further, walking over to the fridge to fetch him a beer while he takes a break from rotating tires and what not. you're determined to figure out what's really going on for yourself, even more so when you hand him the drink and remember out loud, "oh, he told me he was comin' by again on thursday." eddie nearly chokes on his sip. he doesn't believe you, thinks you're fucking with him. you promise that you're not.

this new information sends him into a panic.

just when you were starting to think he was dragging his feet finishing up his work on wayne's van, he gets it all done within the next few hours. and the following day, he focuses all of his attention on benny's black bike. every time you check in with him, you swear he's going over the same things again and again.

"eddie, i thought you tightened that twenty minutes ago." you tell him in the afternoon. "baby, how many times are you gonna paint over that scuff?" you ask in the evening. he just brushes it off, using the excuse that he needs everything to be perfect. eddie sends you away to bring him a tool from the garage that he doesn't even have so he can get you off his back.

thursday rolls around, and your boyfriend's knee is bouncing like a basketball as the two of you wait on the porch for benny's arrival. you don't think you've ever seen him this nervous, and you scold him when he lifts a hand to his mouth and goes to bite his nails. it's a bad habit you were sure you had already weaned him off, until now. before you get the chance to start a petty argument about it, your ears prick up on a now familar rumble. you smirk a little as eddie's eyes light up and he fixes his posture. who knew some guy was all it took to have him acting proper?

benny turns the corner, sitting pretty behind the rider on the back of that red bike, and your boyfriend springs to his feet when they park in the driveway. the blonde waves to his friend after he gets off and watches him speed away. "you two look good together." are the first words he mumbles as he fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. you blush. you know you're in for quite the morning. "one of ya got a light?" benny adds, and eddie practically jumps over the porch steps with a zippo in hand.

you don't pay much attention to their discussion; you just follow them to the shop in the back and watch. eddie's smiling so hard, you're sure his cheeks must hurt, and he stares a little too long at the bob of benny's adam's apple as he takes a swig of beer. worst of all, you notice the way he adjusts himself in his pants when his friend manspreads in a folding chair. the realization hits you like a truck.

eddie likes him. and you're starting to think you might, too.

benny vows to return the next day with payment and departs on his newly repaired bike without a hitch. you and your boyfriend are left alone at the kitchen table, prodding at the food on your plates with your utensils as an air of tension builds between the two of you. the urge to confront him itches like a rash, and before you know it, you're putting down your fork and lifting your head.

"i see the way you look at him." you confess, and your voice shakes. eddie's stunned, lips parted and staring back at you with those big doe eyes you'd grown to love. you feel the same way about them, even now. "you can't pretend you don't like him. and if ya don't like him, you at least want him." your boyfriend clears his throat. fuck, what does he say? what can he say without losing his girlfriend and his friend all at once? he needs you. both of you.

"jesus h. christ." he groans, reaching up to hide his face in his hands, but you lean over the table and catch his wrist. "hey, i'm not mad, y'know. just want you to be honest so i can help ya." you say in an attempt to comfort him, and he flashes you a lopsided grin. "right, and how exactly are you gonna do that?" his ignorance has you shaking your head. "by telling him. i mean, what's the worst that can happen? bet ya fifty bucks he already knows."

eddie lets out a dramatic gasp, taking a piece of broccoli between his ringed fingers. "what're you trying to say?" he asks, and you chuckle as you lift your hands up in defense. "i'm tryin' to say that you're obvious. and besides, just look at 'em. people crushin' on him is somethin' he's gotta be used to by now." your boyfriend rises from his seat with a smirk and pelts you with his vegetables. "i am not obvious!" he exclaims, and you squeal as you duck for cover and run away. "i think we should have a threesome!" you call out from the end of the hall, and that's enough to make him chase you into the bedroom and retire for the evening.

the next night, you're chatting with eddie while he lubes up the brakes on billy's camaro when benny stops by. just as promised, he has the money and tosses the wad of cash on the tool bench with a thud. "want some help?" he asks, blinking down at your boyfriend's obscured boots through his lashes. he doesn't wait for him to respond, scooping up a glob of grease with his hand before sliding in under the front bumper. the sight of them shoulder to shoulder in the confined space of the car's undercarriage warms your face.

the threesome idea had been on your mind the entire day. you knew you were gonna bring it up with benny, you just didn't know when. was now as good a time as any? he could leave as soon as he finished helping, and what would you do then? your mouth moves faster than your brain, and soon you're blurting, "benny, we have somethin' to ask you." you're pretty sure you hear eddie drop a socket, but you can't tell from this angle.

"we do?" he pipes up. you watch benny shift a little next to him. "eddie and i were wondering if you wanted to have a threesome." you don't even finish your sentence before chaos ensues. "nope, nope. that was all her idea." your boyfriend asserts, scrambling out from under the car. benny does the same, just with more leisure. "ya don't wanna fuck me, munson?" he interrogates, and you know he's doing it just to get him flustered. your smirk matches his own.

"no! i mean- yes, but-" the blonde interjects before he can babble any further, "okay. why not?" eddie looks at benny, then he looks at you. "you guys are serious." he grumbles, running a hand over his face. "well, i'm gonna need a minute, y'know. i've gotta shower and clean my room and-" benny interrupts him again, "you shouldn't keep your girl waitin'. she don't mind if we do it here. don't you, pretty?" the nickname has you biting your lip and obediently shaking your head.

your boyfriend lets out a chuckle of unease. "look at us, we're filthy." he gestures to their grease-coated hands and the dirt on their clothes. benny ignores him. "give her a kiss." he commands, and eddie's legs carry him to you. he presses his lips to yours. it's gentle, safe. his hands hover over your forearms, not quite touching you. "you call that a kiss?" benny scoffs, and eddie breaks the contact to glance at him. the blonde strides over, gripping the back of his neck and kissing him forcefully.

it's sloppy, benny's plush lips completely engulfing eddie's. you can hear wet smacks as the two collide and pull apart. at one point, benny bites down on your boyfriend's bottom lip, eliciting a deep grunt from the back of his throat. you conceal a moan. "show her what you just learned." benny hums, detaching himself. eddie's frazzled, pupils blown wide as he does what he's told, moving to replicate the kiss on you. the blonde seats himself on the hood of billy's car, watching as you're caressed with a newfound confidence.

eddie's hands fondle your ass, slipping under the skirt of your dress to plant oily prints on your cheeks. the sticky feeling has you clenching around nothing, pressing your chest to his as his tongue laps at the seam of your mouth. benny's jaw clenches and he palms himself through his jeans at the view. "c'mere. strip her f'me." he orders, unzipping his pants while your boyfriend yanks your dress over your head. the direct contact of the cold air on your skin makes you shiver.

benny notices. "lemme warm you up." he whispers and wraps his arms around you to pull you between his legs. one hand grips the back of your thigh while the other cups the underside of your breast. benny sucks a nipple into his mouth, laving his tongue over the hardened bud, and your knees might have given out if it weren't for him holding you up. eddie just stands there, dazed and growing harder by the second while thinks about hargrove killing him when he finds out what they're doing on his car.

the blonde pushes his boxers down before separating from you and instructing, "gonna have ya get this dick nice 'n ready for him." as the words are spoken, you look down and catch a glimpse of him. benny's as long as he is thick, with a single vein running along his shaft, and there's a nest of brassy hair at the base that's sure to tickle your nose when he hits the back of your throat. with that thought, you waste no time in getting on your knees to taste him.

eddie reaches for his waistband in an attempt to relieve the throbbing in his pants. "did i give you permission to touch yourself?" his friend barks, and he whines, clasping his hands together behind his back. "atta' boy." benny growls, lowering his head to watch as your mouth bobs up and down on him. the sounds you make together are obscene. the squelching of your spit acts as background noise to his pornographic groans. he forces himself to pull you off when his hips begin to jerk involuntarily. he's sure his dick is more than wet enough now.

"lay on your back." benny huffs, lifting himself off the car and gesturing between you and the hood with his thumb. you comply, pressing your thighs together as your rear hits the freezing aluminum. "take your clothes off. all of them." benny grumbles, spinning to face eddie, and your boyfriend dares to protest. "it's like sixty degrees out, man. i could just-" the blonde gets right in his face. "do it because i told you to." he explains through gritted teeth, and eddie lets out a shaky breath, tearing off his clothes in a hurry.

his friend's eyes light up with satisfaction. "stand between us, so i can fuck you while ya fuck her." he wiggles a finger between the three of you, and another complaint dies in eddie's throat. he doesn't want to find out what'll happen if he tests his patience. your boyfriend settles in front of you, placing a soothing kiss to your knee. opening your legs, he curses under his breath at the sight, "jesus christ, baby." benny peeks over his shoulder and chimes in, "her panties are soaked." eddie nudges the garment to the side and slides the tip of his cock between your folds.

he shudders, not only at the feeling of what he's doing to you, but also at the feeling of what benny's doing to him. "you ever put anything in here, munson?" the blonde questions, circling his friend's hole with the pad of his thumb. eddie offers you an almost apologetic glance. "yeah, yeah. uh, i have." he murmurs, and you can hear the other grin behind him when he responds, "good. guess i don't need to waste time stretchin' ya out." the words are followed by the sound of benny hawking a glob of spit into his hand, slathering it on his shaft and mixing it in with yours.

"wait- i-" eddie tries to object, but he cuts himself off with a strangled sob as his friend bottoms out inside of him in a single, fluid motion. it might be the most delicious sound you've ever heard. the intrusion has him lurching forward, palms flying to the metal on either side of your head. your breathing staggers at the sudden movement, and you lift your hands to his tattooed chest to hold him steady. "you're- an- asshole." your boyfriend grunts between thrusts, now being fucked by benny at a ninety-degree angle.

the blonde laughs, really laughs for the first time since you met him and says, "pretty sure that's you, big guy." eddie scowls, proceeding to take his frustrations out on your pussy as he slams into you. benny's thrusts just intensify the strength of his, and you compulsively wrap your legs around the two of them. eddie tries to keep a steady pace, but it's so hard when his ass is being pounded and his brain is going a little numb. his clumsiness doesn't escape his friend's attention.

"tell your little boyfriend to fuck you right." benny urges you, punctuated by giving the aforementioned a sharp spank. eddie hisses at the contact and doesn't stop when you reach up to tug on his shaggy hair. you're not sure what comes over you. perhaps just as benny was what eddie needed to start acting right, he's what you needed to find your voice. "better find a fuckin' rhythm, munson." you snarl, fingernails digging into his scalp, and like the flip of a switch, he does exactly that.

with both of their thrusts now in sync, it's not long before their moans grow higher in pitch, signifying their impending release. "shit, shit- benny, oh god- i'm gonna-" eddie whines, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching around his friend's cock. he wants to pull out, knows he should, but the blonde's tan frame meanly traps him inside your cunt. "i'm sorry, 'm so sorry. fuck, baby." your boyfriend whimpers, spurting thick ropes of cum into your womb. little does he know, the way he throbs and pumps his warm fluid inside you is enough to send you over the edge.

you and benny groan in unison, with him able to pull out in time and release over his fist. "oh, that was fuckin' good. who knew you were gonna be so tight?" he quips, and you fall into a fit of giggles, his friend's words making eddie blush even more than he was before, if that were possible. the blonde wipes his soiled hand on his shirt and helps you up with his clean one, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you lean into him. "guess we'll have to switch places next time, hm?"

your gaze meets eddie's, and the two of you exchange a look of surprise. "there's gonna be a next time?" he asks, voice tinged with uncertainty. benny dodges the question with a grin before asking one himself, "hey, how big is your shower?"

turns out there would be a next time, and it might be coming sooner than you thought.

[gen4grl]

Wheeze, here we are at long last before I have to go into College/Life lockdown again. You won't believe how much can happen in a month and the huge projects that lie ahead, but anyways! - It's cool how you have a PHD in Silver Handling. The closest acronym I could get for that was calling it a Psy.D (precarious Silver yeeting doctorate LOL) anyways you're so right, good analytic potential AND its interesting that it's him being Giovanni's son that you point out. I like that bit too, and I'd love to hear what about it makes it so dope to you :D - Twitter is the trenches </3 glad you like it here more :3 tumblr is THE place for neurodivergent folks like us and HARD AGREE on reading game dialogue. its my favorite lore hunting technique. I cannot fight Gyms until every inch of that city has been explored. - Literally bouncing up at down at the mental imagery of Leaf sitting at a blocky computer with Bill. I can just vaguellyyyy reach out to that era through memory, of idk, images, did I ever see them in person? in dreams? all I know is that even in the early 20s the age of dial-up phones wasn't instantly forgotten. maybe at someone's house. but there is SO much 90s to project there and it can be so enjoyable. nostalgia + growing up + that one era that is more romanticized in retro aesthetic and the social culture bc that's how the neighbors eldest daughters grew up and how do we, in modern times, achieve that? - if it's controversial, nobody's yapping about it when it comes to other characters lol. Leaf is pretty consistent if you keep an open mind so taking from other media 100% makes sense. I do it too :P oooh Silver and Leaf meeting on 5 island I love that!! aw man, with the Rocket base and that Scientist I'm just full of giggling here. Pff, Archer is going to get his butt kicked by the boss's son's friend HA tfw the same kids you see running around take down TR - oh I like how you bring the environment and economy into it, solid reasoning for moving + Pallet connects to the ocean that leads to Cinnabar, no? but yeah :D great customer base, little homey place but close to Viridian and the Indigo Plateau as well, plenty of people stopping by! omg Leaf coming from the hair sprouts 😭 oh that's clever I like it! - really enamored with the Bill + Leaf aspects of your story, it's just really speaking to some deep corner of my soul's memory. im so stoked somebody else likes this haha my Leaf is a bit more politically motivated (at least in one universe lol, bc it's the anime which is an utter disaster and she wants to be Champion to clean house and heal the economy) but also someone oughta do something bc Lance is working like 5 different jobs 😭 also, I can imagine with most of your HCs centered around character relationships they might feel like a hard sell compared to cold facts and I 100% feel you. so much of my fic is just character dynamics nobody else would get it LOL. but I'm honored you have so much you'd want to yap about it. fully encourage and love yapisodes - I looked at your Silver post and you said it's only if you're playing as Red but good news, Scientist Gideon STILL asks that if you play as Leaf. He says "Giovanni's kid" not his son :D - at the time you asked that, I was writing 6.1k of a chapter for another fandom, but lately I've had Leaf on the brain again and rlly want to get a solid outline for that series going. <-- the kind of yapping better suited for DMs lol. yess, love seeing how the Pokemon world is connected in media. utterly obsessed with Gen/Evo Specials, you can imagine the cheering when Silver's episode dropped 7 years ago he's so <3 <3 <3 if you like Silver + Leaf sibs then you feel like someone I can smuggle into Dad Lance city that doesn't leave her out, but hey. oldest daughter problems maybe if we incorporate the tendency to focus on Kris/Lyra/Ethan and thanks to Masters, LILLIE?!?!? <-- understand Johto kids but LILLIE???? and every time I see Lance with Red/Blue I'm like "aight, so I gotta fill this vacancy myself"

helllloooo first of all i want to say sorry for taking so long to get to this😭 my last couple months have been a mess and i’ve been dealing with annoying health issues (in every way). i apologise if this reply isn’t as long or thorough as usual🤧

i think what i like about the silver giovanni connection so much is how well it connects johto + kanto story wise. johto to me is still a very undeveloped and lowkey forgotten region unfortunately but silvers character is easily the shining part of the region. i also think it’s cool how he’s also connected to red (or leaf) due to the whole reason giovanni abandoning him being because of red/leaf’s defeat of team rocket, ultimately crushing his ego lol - just one big butterfly effect that i thoroughly enjoy :p and as stated in my post, i like despite how hard he tried not to be, silver was quite similar to his dad until the events of the the johto story. seeing his growth makes me so happy 🤧🤧🤧✨

lmao talking of reading game dialogue … the offical pokemon twitter account made this post for fathers day (i think…? my fathers day isn’t till september 🤷🏻‍♀️)

and the amount of people in the comments literally suprised gave me a stroke like??? lacey being clays daughter is explicitly stated LOL pokemon fans never cease to amaze me 😭😭😭

you’ve really got me thinking about kantrio in the 90s now LOL. i can see them all tryna message eachother on some aol type site and someone’s dial up cutting totally ruining their convos - most likely blue cause daisy wants to talk on the phone to bill or something … hmmm… ideas are brewing!!!! actually to sound old my family had dial up till 2009… insane😭😭 i used to get so mad at my mumma using the phone cause i just wanted to play club penguin LOL - oh and thx u for the compliment on the leaf + bill dynamic <3 bill is one of those random ass side characters that still is so iconic … i have so many hc’s for him too LOL no character can escape my headcanons

oh and i am the minister at the dad lance church!!! i’ve always seen him as not just a mentor to silver but the other johto kids and definitely the kanto trio before they grew up - that saying i still think as adults they turn to him alot since … half of them don’t have dads (both in canon and my hc LOL). i think as adults, the kantrio definitely have a more friend based relationship with him but as kids he definitely helped them through the spotlight that was put on them at such a young age.

ehghhh i very much apologise for this reply, my brain feels very disconnected from my body today and i feel like this hot mess of a reply shows LOL. again, i really apologise for the late reply. i wish you the best of luck with ur studies and writing ✨✨✨🩷🩷🩷

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

You sharing your story inspired me to share mine too, although on anonymous bc reasons.

When I was 19 I met the person of my dreams, after living a life similar to Col's (fuck we even grew up in the same hood as middle schoolers before he went to Cleveland) you had to grow up fast there, in those days, I was drinking and smoking weed by age 10, in a gang by age 11, selling dope by age 12. Anyway, this person...It seemed we had everything in common. They understood me in ways no one else ever had before. They were a few years older than me, but not too many that it felt weird, just felt that they had a little extra experience and that made me feel safe with them. We started out as just friends with benefits, and then they drew bigger lines, slowly claiming me from others who wanted to offer me more. It was such a gradual process the way this person got their claws in me. At first it felt safe to be with them. But eventually it felt dangerous to be with someone other than them. They convinced me that because of my past I was unlovable (something the parental figures in my life convinced me of as well) that no one but them got me. That we were destined for eachother. They began cheating on me when I was out on deployment, would even post it to MySpace (yes I'm old). And id have to explain to everyone in my Division that it was fine, that we were just FWB. The only part is, I wasn't allowed to have side flings. This went on for two years. He convinced me that I was the love of their life, but would take my car and go to the bar with their side piece, they would take my credit card and spend my money on the side piece. Even when I was layed up in the hospital alone with a late term pregnancy about to be lost, they took my car and my credit card to spend on the side piece. I felt so alone because no one understood why I stayed with them but the reality was I truly believed I was worthless after all the love bombing I got from this person in the beginning and how gradual the tearing down process was. They made me feel that I was the reason our relationship had gone sideways, that if I had just been this way or that way or whatever that we would still be happy, that they wouldn't have cheated over and over again.

The thing with Narcissistic Abuse is that they fully make you believe that you are worthless and that everything is your fault. They do it gradually by giving you the love you've always dreamed of, always needed from your parents but never got, a promise that there IS love in life and that you're worthy of it! But then they convince you that they've learned that you aren't worthy of it at all, and then slowly, strategically they take it away,piece by piece, bit by bit, day by day and each piece taken is blamed on your behavior or lack of behavior. They make it all your fault, not theirs. They make you believe that you are worthless, undeserving of the love they gave before they got to know you. They make you believe that now that they know you, you make them sick, you're disgusting, they don't know why they put up with you. They tell you to change. They tell you they're perfect and you are broken so it's your responsibility to change or to "heal" to better the relationship.

To those dropping Colson bc of him staying with MF, please consider this: have you ever been neglected by your parent that was supposed to love you? To the point of running the streets just to have a pseudo family? Have you ever gotten everything you ever needed, ever got the love you dreamed of since you were little and had it turn from a dream come true into a waking nightmare? If not. Maybe try to see it from his point of view. Maybe stop thinking the world is as narrow as your experiences and remember there's a whole world out there you've never even witnessed. Let alone lived in, let alone fought to come up out of. ✌

"at first it felt safe to be with them. But eventually it felt dangerous to be with anyone else." This line. This line right here. That's exactly it.

I'm so sorry for all you've been through and you're amazing for still being here and sharing this. Thank you. I was terrified to put my story out there but it hurt seeing him attacked. You understand it better too because while I hung out with a bad crowd, you were truly where he was really.

I'm sorry for your loss, I think you said you lost a child. I had two miscarriages with him and one after an assault when I was young and it always hurts to hear others going through it. If you ever need to talk my messages are open and I won't tell who you are. Just saying, I'm here.

I'm not ever happy to hear someone else was in such a terrible relationship with a narcissist but that... Understanding I guess? always helps so seriously thank you for sharing and thank you for letting my page be the safe space to do it. Love you, even though I have no idea who you are. Thank you for helping me feel less alone today. You're very brave 🖤

[chimerickat]

Hey, do you have/do any platonic writing for Reader and Kaiba? I’m aro ace so I’m not into romance. (And frankly, Kaiba seems aggressively aro ace to me, but I understand that there are tons of girls with crushes who desperately want that to not be true, so obviously there’s a much larger market for romantic stuff.) But SOMEHOW, over the last year, I’ve developed such a squish (platonic crush) on this disaster of a man.

I just want to be friends. I want to help him make virtual reality games, and slowly grow to be friends because we have shared interests, mutually feel protective of Mokuba, and are both needlessly theatrical. Kaiba would show me the cool stuff he’s working on, and I would be suitably impressed and give good feedback like a sensible person, but also, when Kaiba tells me things like he wants to launch Duel Monsters cards into space so if there are aliens they’ll learn how to play his favorite game, I’m like, “That is ridiculous, but I love ridiculous things because I too am ridiculous. Also, that is a dope idea and you should do it immediately.”

I don’t want to fix him, I just want to largely ignore his past and have adventures and become someone he trusts. And we’ll have a great time helping each other out and problem solving for twenty years or so—at which point the Ener-D Reactor will blow up and ruin everything. I don’t know what you headcanon as happening to Kaiba at that point. Personally, I imagine he ends up being the public scapegoat for all the destruction, is bared from using his technological know-how to help the newly formed Satellite, and is found guilty in a kangaroo court. I can’t bring myself to accept that he would probably be executed, so I say he’s sentenced to live in Satellite for the rest of his days, separated from Mokuba and having lost most of his worldly possessions. (Maybe he owns a house in the area that became Satellite, and he gets to keep it and his cards?) And uh, realistically, that event will be my own downfall as well, because everyone knows I’m his friend, and heck, my name is probably in the documentation for the first Ener-D Reactor somewhere. But let’s be real, I knew from the beginning it was dangerous to befriend Seto Kaiba, and I did it anyway. 🤷‍♀️

Hi! *Waves* Thanks for reaching out! :) I can see an aro-ace reading of Kaiba. (Overall I try to be supportive of headcanons for Kaiba but an aro-ace reading is one that I can vibe with.)

First, I’m going to recommend a fic by someone else because I think it’s more what you’re looking for and I am reading and enjoying.

Acquaintances by JoeyTaylor is a reader insert focused on Kaiba and Mokuba that doesn’t have any romance at all.

Now as to me personally…

How to Trick a Sick CEO is a very short one shot that can be read as the reader being an overly meddlesome best friend. The idea was romantic partner but there’s nothing in the actual text that states that.

Maybe Someday has a reader who is Not Interested in Kaiba romantically. However Kaiba is interested in her so you might not vibe with that.

Here’s a link to all of my Kaiba centric work without any romance at all. It’s not Reader insert stuff though:

I also have some recs by other people if Kaiba centric is stuff you enjoy.

If you like my writing, I’m definitely open to writing a reader insert for Kaiba where the relationship is best friends. :)

ALSO, if you’re open to fics where the romance is Not the plot but rather a background that you can ignore, I would like to try to sell you on A Handful Of Bullet Shells. We are 50k into the story and you have to squint real hard for any romance. It’s more about the relationship developing between Kaiba and the reader ( who is working on one of his games). Right now they’ve gotten to a point where they’re friendly (and I don’t mean wink wink friendly). Eventually there will be romance but it’s not going to be the focus. (Disclaimer: I try to sell this fic because I think it’s my best work when it comes to Kaiba’s characterization but I also feel the lack of romance due to that makes it less popular.)

Also, Virtual Remains is a thriller and based on my current plans you can skip the last chapter because that’s the only place any hint of romance will show its face. (I’m not even there yet. I just don’t see any romance featuring in this until like the very very end and even skipped the romance tag because of it.)

Posting this publicly because my followers may have other platonic Kaiba recs?

[xtruss]

I Lost White Friends When I Finally Spoke Out

— Leron L. Barton | Wednesday July 26, 2023

LeRon L. Barton (Pictured) tells Newsweek about the racist experiences he has had with his white friends over the years. Courtesy: LeRon L. Barton

Having friendships with different types of people is a wonderful concept. To learn, trade ideas, have great experiences, and grow with folks from all kinds of backgrounds is a goal that I have always wanted to achieve.

As someone who loves gaining knowledge and immersing myself in various customs, it's essential for me to expand my social circle. I have friends who are Black like myself, Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Italian, Salvadoran, Irish, Indigenous, and Arab. We discuss politics, food, sports, music, traveling, film, and life. I love having a wealth of friends that will bring different perspectives in life, and that I can impart wisdom to as well.

However, race and racism have always been difficult to discuss with white people due to the possibility that they may deflect, or be in denial—which is why the subject of race has been the hardest to broach.

Remembering back as a young kid, my family did not have a lot of white friends. It is not because they didn't like them; my cousin married a white woman. It's just that in Kansas City, Missouri, our social circles did not cross.

My grandparents, mother, and father instilled a lot of Black pride in us. We were taught that everyone is the same, but also that Black is beautiful. For me, that was necessary living in a time that told you that you were the opposite.

My brother and I went to a predominately white school and mostly played with Black kids. Still, like many African-Americans, we welcomed white people and held no malice toward them.

I did not make any white friends until my junior year in high school. We all played sports together, listened to hip-hop, and ate the same food. Plenty of friend groups were integrated, including mine. We had Black, white, Asian, Mexican, Puerto Rican, and Indigenous folks in our clique.

It was dope to be able to learn, build, and enjoy other cultures. However, I always noticed there was a difference in how people of color interacted with each other and how my white friends did. There was a warmth in how we hung out. My family welcomed them and vice versa.

But when it came to my white friends, I felt there was a ceiling, a stopping point. A lot of the interactions were surface-level and not deep.

I was always race conscious; being in Kansas City does that to you. It was, and continues to be, a very segregated city. Still, I would try to laugh off racist jokes I heard at work and amongst people in social situations.

I can recall during an offsite lunch event, police entered the restaurant and a coworker joked: "Oh they must be looking for you LeRon." They all laughed, and me being the only Black person at the table, brushed it off and tried to laugh along with it.

My white friends and associates would ask me things like: "Do you play basketball? Do you know anyone that sells drugs? Have you ever been in a gang?"

And they even asked if it was okay for them to say the N-word in a rap song.

These were my day-to-day interactions with white people. I am not trying to paint them all as being harmful and bad, but I have to be honest.

Things began to change for me in 2012. Trayvon Martin was murdered and there was this national conversation about race. Many people had been arguing both sides of the incident.

When I would talk to my white friends about the shooting, the protests, and the uprisings that followed, they would say things like: "What was he doing out there that late? Do we know for sure if he attacked Zimmerman? Why protest and destroy property?"

It was almost as if the rose-colored glasses I had were flung off. When unarmed Black men such as Mike Brown and Alton Sterling were killed by the police, I would see negative comments on social media from friends.

Someone that I had known for years had complained about the protests destroying their quiet neighborhood. Other folks would say "All Lives Matter" or "What about Black-on-Black crime?"

These were the same people that loved Michael Jordan, listened to Snoop Dogg, and cheered Ray Lewis as they watched the Super Bowl. It was as if they only consumed Blackness as entertainment, not as people.

Soon after, I began to write about being Black in America. I would call out racism white explicitly and highlight the inequities of police arrests and shootings, employment, health disparities, and home ownership.

Some white friends noticed my shift in tone and faded away. My televised interviews and podcast appearances became too much for some. I was known as "militant" to a few folks and angry to others.

One friend in particular could not understand why I was so mad. I explained to him it was because as a Black man, if I scare a white woman or make a white law enforcement officer nervous, that could be my life.

He then said: "I don't see you as Black, just as a man." I replied: "That is the problem, you don't want to acknowledge the issue here, racism." He and I stopped talking shortly after.

I was the cool guy when we were going drinking, clubbing, and talking about non-serious things, but when I discuss "The Talk", a conversation that Black parents have with their children on how to survive when they reach a certain age, I am too serious or divisive.

I realized the ceiling I have with many white people and have accepted it.

I've met other Black people that do not have white friends. While I do not subscribe to nor agree with that thought, I do not judge them. Being Black, or being any racialized person in a world that tells you you are less than, is hard. Having to justify your existence every day to people you are close to is even harder.

I think back to this quote I read from Stud Terkel's masterful book Race. Terkel is interviewing a young African-American man who does not have white friends. He asks the guy: "Why do you only hang out with Black people?" The young man laughs and says: "I don't have to worry about them being racist." I think about that sometimes.

Today, I have a few white friends that are "grandfathered" in. Seriously, they are people, such as one of my best friends "Frosty," that I can have serious discussions about racism and how we can change the system. New friends are "vetted."

Writing and discussing race is a very important part of my life. If I have to argue with you about why we are upset when another unarmed Black man is shot by the police, this is not going to work. If I have to explain to you why saying the "N-word" is wrong, cultural appropriation is bad, something innocuous as the slogan "Black Lives Matter" is a positive thing, or why Malcolm X is my personal hero, then this friendship will not work out. I am not teaching "Intro to Blackness 101."

Some reading this may say: "Well LeRon, what if people don't know? We have to teach them."

To that, I say no.

I believe that Black people live in a country that constantly tries to strangle every bit of self-respect, pride, individuality, love, and life out of them. It is an everyday challenge for us to maintain our mental health.

I ask white people who are well-meaning to practice self-reflection. Interrogate your racist blind spots. Educate yourselves. Fight against the system that oppresses us and others.

Black people do not have enough time in the day to survive and help you become not racist. Being a friend is about accountability and work.

— LeRon L. Barton is a Writer, Author, and Speaker.

[ricklipton]

full name: reefer rick lipton birthday: april 13th zodiac: aries hometown: san diego, california current location: verse dependent occupation: dealer of the drugs family: marshall lipton ( father ✝ ) , henrietta lipton ( mother ✝ ) positive qualities: honest, alert, bold, introverted, private. negative qualities: blunt, ungrateful, vain, tactless, lazy.

tw: drug abuse, alcohol abuse, death.

his parents were addicts to put it bluntly. his father was a drinker and his mother a chronic speed user. it was nearly inevitable that rick was going to end up in the world of it. at fifteen he started dealing for the guy his mom would buy from, the woman encouraging rick to do so because it'd get her some weird discount for what she'd pump herself full of. he was in and out of trouble throughout his time in high school due to selling and getting into fights, spending a few stints in a juvenile hall where eventually he missed the passing of his mother. it was sad, mind you, but rick wasn't surprised. the warden had pulled him from where he'd been in order to tell him, sharing the information that she'd overdosed and they hadn't gotten to her in time. rick had blinked and asked 'is that all?' before being dismissed.

he didn't attend her funeral.

wasn't all too surprising when three years later at his new age of eighteen that his father got into an accident one drunken night and didn't make it. the police had sat him down, but he knew before they even said the words what was wrong. and, again, rick was giving a low 'is that all?'. he had never had a close relationship with them. yes, they raised him. they got him to where he could take care of himself, but that was exactly it. the moment he could care for himself? they were back in their worlds. they never cared about what he did. why should he care what happened to them?

he didn't attend his funeral.

as he got older, rick continued to sell and get himself into situations he shouldn't. again. arrested here or there, but never staying long. he was always back out and at it again, selling for guys he's known since he was fifteen... or at least he had been. he'd started running his own business, if you will, growing his own weed out in the woods by the lake he lives near. it's no secret he does it, but it's also no secret he's willing to grab his rifle and scare some teens off. he sells more, but he doesn't produce anything beyond weed. he gets the rest of his shit from friends and bigger dealers, often driving to meet them and collect what he needs. riskily driving back to where he lives in order to sell and garner a better cash deal.

'reefer' rick was his coined name due to the weed being grown and sold, but it was a title that stuck even though he was a whole drug store when it came down to it. people know who he is, but no one is ever bothered enough by his presence to call someone. sure, angry parents have called to report their kid was buying from him... but... could you prove it? probably, he didn't care. if he hadn't learned his lesson the first fifteen times he went to jail... when was he going to?

the difference between rick selling all this shit and using? he doesn't dope up on speed or meth. he doesn't get himself to the point of where his mother used to, same with his father. they'd both let their vices take over entirely and erase him from their lives... which is what he did in return. rick doesn't talk about them or care to, choosing instead to remind whoever he may be talking to that he raised himself. he didn't have help beyond the advice and chuckling comments of dealers, uncles to him really.

nowadays rick is often found at his home, living out his life in a homebody fashion that barely gets him out. he doesn't mind it. people come to him, his dealers... buyers... whatever. he's an at home guy and he's living his best life because of it, but that doesn't mean he isn't actively aware of how lonely his life is. he knows that his dealers aren't his friends, he knows his buyers aren't his friends, and who wants to be friends with the town dealer? whatever. it doesn't bother him. he's fine.

[sittingonfilm]

read below ↓

Shouts & Murmurs

The Millennial’s Lament

By River Clegg - June 5, 2024

The Millennial awakens. His alarm has not gone off. He wakes up this early now, naturally. He sighs. He hums the first few notes of “Rolling in the Deep,” a song that he believes came out four years ago. He sighs again.

He walks. I am no longer young, he thinks. Being young was my identity—my whole generation’s identity. Now what do we have? He ponders the phrase “O.K., boomer.” Soon, he knows, young people will make up a similar expression for millennials. Something like “Sure thing, millennial,” he muses, but said in a mean, sarcastic way. The thought unsettles him. Pants are becoming wider, and he doesn’t know how to cope with that.

Certain words have passed the Millennial by, and he wonders, wistfully, if he messed up by not saying things like “phat” or “dope” when he had the chance. He always thought they’d sound dumb coming out of his mouth. He was probably right. Still.

The Millennial once went to a concert in the basement of a Brooklyn dance club. He cannot remember the name of a single person he went with. Or what the band was. All he can cling to is the fact that, once, it happened. “It was past midnight,” he tells himself, “and I was not in my home.” He silently repeats this phrase as though it’s an incantation against death itself. The Millennial yawns.

The Millennial has seen much—horrors and wonders alike. He thinks about the vastness of time, and the unknowability of the future. He remembers an era when putting bacon on, say, cinnamon rolls and then selling them was considered new and bold. His right knee has been in pain for seven months.

He sits. He scrolls. He reads a headline about pornography addiction. He mulls, Is that a serious issue these days? It might be. When the Millennial was growing up, smut could be found only in old magazines or online, in images that took hours to download. There was so little of it, in other words, that addiction would have felt like an impossible luxury. Huh. Now the Millennial is thinking about pornography. This makes him think about the film “Boogie Nights,” which makes him think about how Paul Thomas Anderson made it when he was only twenty-seven years old. The Millennial is now unbelievably sad. He mentally recites the landline phone numbers he remembers from childhood.

He rises. His leg has gone numb from the sitting. It’s his right leg, and he figures that this is probably related to the knee pain he’s been dealing with. He owns a big, stretchy physical-therapy band that a doctor once told him would help. He has used it twice.

The Millennial is a father now. His daughter is three. He has another on the way. The Millennial is tired virtually all the time. Coffee does nothing. He assumes it’s because he didn’t sleep enough in college. Great. Now the Millennial is thinking about college. He felt so young then. So free. He thinks about the people he’s lost touch with. Would they even remember him now? The Millennial is about to cry. No, wait. The Millennial is experiencing acid reflux. The Millennial burps.

He thinks more about fatherhood and, more generally, about the future his children will inherit. This is unimaginably scary, so he stops. He walks to the refrigerator. He pulls out the leftover roast chicken from when he cooked a few days ago. It’s the one impressive recipe he knows. If he were to throw a dinner party, this is absolutely what he would make. But he does not throw dinner parties. Nor does he attend many. He vaguely assumed that, as he grew older, and participated in fewer all-night benders, he would begin to take part in more sophisticated, grownup gatherings. With a few exceptions, this has not happened. Is it because he’s too busy with parenthood? Or simply because he is no longer a fun or interesting person to spend time with socially? “Was I ever?” he says to himself. Oh, God. He goes back to thinking about his children’s future.

The sun sets. Whatever comes with its next rising, the Millennial will face it with the blank, unflinching gaze of a man who is beyond feeling. A man whose generation no longer fits into the story society tells itself. A man whose laptop has a folder titled “million-dollar app ideas $$” that he has not opened since 2014.

He sighs. He remembers again how pants are getting wider. At least they’re comfy, he thinks. Can he adapt to these newer times after all?

He breathes. He smiles. Suddenly, he’s filled with an unfamiliar confidence. “Sure thing, millennial!” he says to himself, still grinning. Then his phone buzzes. It’s an e-mail from his primary-care physician. The Millennial really needs to stay away from salt. ♦

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Wall Street (1987) ORIGINAL TRAILER [HD 1080p]" on YouTube

This is a huge movie don't go up there someday soon and try and find our stocks they can't figure it out it's those two huge companies that signed over to us some people are saying I can't remember who she is but it seems familiar and there are a few more companies to assigned to us well assigned to us today I know it's Monday

I'm trying to Thor stuff and it looks suspicious. I'm a beautiful woman too and she has certain looks to her and mine are similar but not the same. Couldn't believe how beautiful she was how beautiful it sounded it was this beautiful voice and they're far away kind of you can hear it clearly it's very strong and crisp.

**the company is a cellular phone company and it is Motorola and it is being signed over because we mentioned it to Ben Arnold no he's providing the chips and it still is and it's a good company it's big and everybody is still uses it and they don't know it and the phone works better than other phones it has good shielding very quality Case and it uses parts sit down to burn out

other companies that we are getting signed over to us and acquiring on Monday are

there's going to be some movement right now and it is troops and they're coming down the road from the north and it was Michael ordered it before he's doing this it's a huge group and they're trying to meet up with these idiots they're heading North now they're going there with small arms and other and they're leaving town

**and there's another company and it's a cell phone company and it is LG and they're signing over to us tomorrow we'll have 90% of the stock with Motorola will have 100% of the stock it's going well and we're going to make some deals and get things done

**another company signed into us on Monday and when you do it some stocks or exchange and we did mention that yet but really there's a bigger reason and this company probably is it. It's Nynex. And it is more than a telephone company it is a cell phone company it's a routing company they route calls it is an underground wiring company in building edifice transfer station company boost companies space satellite company and they run all the lines and they sell the hardware telephones and everything it is gigantic they also have telephone books and they track phone numbers and they have landlines number huge numbers of landlines.

there's another one whoops and it is and BG just figured it out it's Jose Gaspar that purple haze is from the purple and it's from the gemstone that they are using to dope lasers to hit the morlock

there's a few different things happening and one of them is that Mac is going to get his faculty back pretty soon it's coming up very fast it's in a very bad movie it starts from and a horrible movie and after that and it's not shot the bottom of us and it grows back but the Indian tries to kidnapping fails the others revive him and the nursing back to health in the hospital and are carefully doing it and people are not helping them and he's eating and drinking and he says fish and wheat spaghetti instead of doing that and steak and potatoes and pasta and yogurt any calcium cycle and so they start doing it and getting what they could and he started feeling better in a week he was growing back and it said that they did it because Trump left and he can't find him really went out to the Midwest and got incorporated into a statue while the clothes were fighting out there and now you're doing my job. Start laughing subject who laughed and left since you're on your own that means amscram. Tried to get him out of there actually had to leave on his own now that happened after so anyways there's a lot happening right now they're heading up there and they'll probably meet at the North Port to Inglewood line and a little bit north of that in that dry patch and there's a lot of them way too many but that's about 15 miles from here and we don't think that the max will push them back

That was Thor and Freya again

**one more I might be it it's a giant company and it's a telecom company and they all have this money in it still and we are acquiring it and they can't figure out how but it's by stock they have the money in it and they let the stock go because you have to put a marker on it if you're going to hold it with this particular stock and it is why it's a huge company you have got to be ready it's AT&t gigantic firm and they name these walkers AT&t because of it

These are big companies and Mac is the one ordering things to happen not the guy in front he doesn't have that much memory and bja will be there in one flow of the cuckoo's nest and you can finally go home and Trump leaves and who the hell would want to be near that bag

Was my husband the last part

Hera

Zues

Tons of phosphate got blown out the other day and the sea life is growing and meaning the vegetation like madness and it is humongous now oxygen is up to 24 tonight will be out 28 and it's going to go way up probably tonight to 32 it's too high but the sun will like it and I'll have to clean his blood and we recommend a pill or two and other people would have to do it it says he feels it already it is getting up there it's like 26 and he's laughing because her son heals fast it's like only like a brand new Denali Cadillac I've never used to it and it's it's not even that great I've worked in his laughing it's kind of like nuts cuz we didn't see nuts but you know they're just trying to make it. He wants to use the technology to put them into arts in the movie and have them each do it and yeah there's software you can change it a little change some of the lines and things put your own voice in your own likeness your own size person. Mac promise that they're going to do that. This is the company and it's because of that and it's because of its size it's like 90% of the world's phones and they don't want it and they screwed up and it's Trump is trying to fix it and he thinks it's the Japanese

And he forgot it was a Chinese Telecom company so okay that was in trouble but he goes there because he thought it was yukio change she was Chinese and it was

Thor Freya

Olympus

[epuiseeparmedia]

And the trolling works. It has been reposted everywhere. No media should care about some made up Asian trophy won by a European 🤪 but CR7 went full “Narcissist Ronaldo says stuff in the most obnoxious way with a big carnivorous smile and a million dollar suit” mode and journalists couldn’t help themselves.

I don’t know if he was genuine or not, or if I should be embarrassed for the media falling for it or impressed by the hustling. MBS should give him a raise, he is almost single-handedly burying the Henderson storyline in one interview.

Yep, the English speaking press is falling over itself about Henderson (French only worries about Benzema). His team was 8th in a « farmer league » and Southgate can only do so much nepotism for Henderson without him losing his own job, so even though Ajax is 5th in a better farmer league, the optics (mythical Ajax) are a better selling point to a public who mostly never watch an actual match in Netherlands league and a press all too willing to sell the story of the return of the prodigal son.

Imagine failing in a “farmer league” and blaming the farmers of your failure. That’s why the Saudi pretty much let him go without a real fuss, because they aren’t stupid enough to make a scandal over him (also they apparently kept all their money because Henderson wanted to be clever with his taxes). And then they can turn around and say playing for them is not the end of one’s career, try it for a year or two and then return to Europe richer, no string, etc. Again, never paying MBS for SPL or anything if I can avoid it but I don’t like doublespeak.

Journalists were all in Qatar for the last World Cup, are falling themselves over Dubai and Qatar state sponsored clubs, even Saudi Newcastle gets the occasional positive coverage. The press can’t publish one article about the City breaking rules and follow it with ten of how great Guardiola is, how superbly PSG dominates the ligue 1, knowing those are not fair fights and pretend to actually give a damn about the first article.

Neville, Beckham and Rio Ferdinand were all carrying water for Qatar to buy Manchester United. Said Qatar bought the fifa for hosting the cup, got thousands of workers killed for stadiums barely used after but for far too many people it was all okay because Jassim was going to erase the debts to bring Mbappé and unicorns and puppies to the club. Yes, now we got an oil-soaked 70-years old who also owned a cycling team with doping allegations. But two bad choices don’t cancel each other.

Yet the most honest proposition from that group of oil-soaked dictatorships, enhancing their own league and boosting its own rating, meaning any corruption very much stay in their country or Asia at most, is met with hostility.

It’s not principle (beside the occasional gay journalist), the main motive is losing on worldwide tv rights money trickling back to the press if people decide to watch something else than European football. As I wrote before, we have reached a peak in how much people are willing to pay to watch football, football tv shows, and have started illegally streaming or cutting back in time and money spent. The pie no longer grows or at a slower pace and the number of mouths to feed on it grows. The US promise land might not be enough and if they lose MENA…

And don’t let me start with the incoming SkySports meltdown about the first superleague season if that white whale actually starts next year and all that ucl tv ads/subscribers money is also lost in a few years. We may find one or two Real Madrid « scandals » to kill it.

I see Cristiano Ronaldo trolled the French for some Saudi PR job. As a French …

Meh.

I don’t care for ligue 1 and I am still not giving MBS my money either.

PS: And I will forever hate City and everything Guardiola touch.

[honeycombstrawberry]

aaaa omgomg okok this is the 🍃 anon hehe i guess i just wanted to get someone else’s thoughts on adrian/vigilante with a reader who is a 🍃 dealer lmaoo but like strictly just a 🍃 dealer like she makes cute little edibles and packages everything so nice and pretty (shoutout to all the lady dealers out there) plus, i’m a sucker for unlikely relationships or like an opposites attract kind of thing especially cause i mean TECHNICALLY whacky tobacky is legal?? idk sorry if i’m being dumb aaa

you are absolutely not being a dumbass this is so cute i'm obsessed with this i want to do a little thread about it!!!!

adrian with a partner who's a dealer!!

as we know when 🍃 was illegal it was his duty as vigilante to kill people who partook which is absolutely unhinged but he doesn't see it that way so we're just gonna glide past that right into the thread

so now that 🍃 is legal adrian's rewired his moral compass about it but he still hasn't tried anything. old habits die hard and he also doesn't really know what he's doing so it's just easier to not bother so he never does

chris offers and john offers and memorably once emilia offers but he has not partaken before. not before he makes a new friend

he finds out that chris gets his 🍃 from somebody in town who owns a little store so he gets curious. just to see if it's somebody he maybe remembers roughing up when he was vigilante before everything got legalized

he's surprised to find it's not only somebody he's never seen in evergreen before but an actual frankly fucking beautiful person with an awesome shop that makes everything themselves

like you grow everything yourself. you have your own grow space and you make your own edibles and you roll your own prerolls. you package everything in packaging you designed yourself. a local glassblower sells pipes and stuff in your shop. like you're fully committed to the local dealer vibe and the place is so dope

this is absolutely not what adrian understood all of this to be about so he ends up asking you questions and the two of you actually spend a fair amount of time together that afternoon while you explain everything to him, and it's endearing how fascinated he is and how many questions he asks

adrian comes back multiple times. like over and over he returns to you and asks questions about the shop-- but then he's also asking questions about you, and you're asking questions about him, and then you're just getting to know each other

and then eventually you ask, since he's always asking questions, why doesn't he just want to try, maybe? and he thinks like, if anyone should be the one to show him, you'd probably be a good person for that to be. and this is when he finally decides that maybe this is worth a try and he says he'll try it with you

as it turns out adrian deeply vibes when he gets to enjoy 🍃. like it goes a long way to calming him down and letting him vibe for a second without freaking out. he enjoys his experience and a lot of it has to do with you-- how you select a strain carefully for him, how you guide him through it, how you help him with it

it becomes something you do together, and you introduce him to different strains and ways to take it, and he tries anything you'll offer to him. he just loves being with you and enjoys everything you've given him so far

eventually he asks maybe with a little help with a pipe and you shotgun smoke into his mouth and your lips brush and then you're kissing. and he apologizes but there's nothing to apologize for, and then the two of you are just kissing

he ends up reevaluating a lot of his moral code after that, since he's in love with somebody he would've beat the shit out of a few years' ago without hesitating, but he doesn't end up changing his mind about most things. he's still a lunatic and a maniac at the best of times

he does, however, fully fall in love with you and realize he enjoys 🍃 and there's a lot of merit to trying new things!! which is a lovely little lesson to take away from all this, if not the exactly correct one

i know this was silly but i had a lot of fun with it!!!! now time to partake myself i think!!!!!!!

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @ladyrebel25

[bitchesgetriches]

So I have a full time kinda boring job and I also enjoy making art. People are interested in buying some of my art and right now, any money I make I plan on just re-investing into my art because someday I think it would be dope to grow my art stuff and just do my boring job just part time or not at all. Anyway … at what point does my art stuff actually become a business? Is there any resources for people who are taking tiny baby steps into self employment? Right now I don’t even think of it as a side hustle because I’m not in Money Making Mode yet

I love this question!

I think your art becomes a business as soon as you start thinking of it that way. Self employment is a fantastic goal to strive for, and I know a lot of artists who have successfully turned their art into a business. My friend Jon is a working musician and 100% of his income comes from playing gigs and selling merchandise. He quit his day job (he was an elementary school teacher) and the very next day played a paid gig, and from there he considered music to be his business.

Anyway, I think you have a solid goal, and I think the best advice we have for you is in these two articles:

Becoming a Millennial Entrepreneur (In the Midst of a Pandemic) With Katelyn Magnuson 

11 Awful Mistakes I Made as a Self-employed Freelancer, and How You Can Avoid Them 

[breanime]

His Vows (with Bonus Boy)

Pure fluff ahead!

Billy Russo: Never in a million years did Billy ever think he’d be marrying someone--much less someone he actually loved. Affection, loyalty, vulnerability, those things that were required for love came hard to him. And yet, with you, he felt them. Looking at you made him feel incredibly strong and somehow especially weak, like he could take on the world, but only if you were by his side. The orphan in him wanted to spend thousands on your wedding, wanted to make a statement, a declaration for everyone to see. But the man in him knew better. The man in him--only recently discovered through your support--didn’t need to impress strangers, didn’t need the approval of his “betters”. He only needed you. So as Billy stood in front of the judge, Frank and Curtis at his side, your parents and best friend behind you, he knew this was right. You told him you didn’t want a big wedding, didn’t need the fanfare, and that alone was enough to make Billy, over 100 confirmed kills under his belt, fall to his knees in devotion. You only wanted him. He reached out then, taking your hand in his, and let the small audience around you fade into the background. “Despite what my guys at Anvil might say,” he began with a slight smirk, “I’m not really one for speeches,” he paused, hearing Frank’s scoff and Curtis’ chuckle, before going on, “so I’ll keep this brief. I never thought I’d have this. Growing up, my only goal was to become somebody, and even then, that was more about proving something to myself than anything else. But then I met you. And damn,” he shook his head, his smirk turning into a rare, genuine smile, “if you didn’t change everything. So thank you. Thank you for making me into the man I am today, and thank you for staying with me, working with me, being so patient with me. I love you, and I promise, from this day forward, I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re the happiest person on the planet,” he looked into your shining eyes, a sense of certainty going through him, an instinctual push that let him know that he was doing the right thing, “I love you, and I’m so happy to be your husband.”

Logan Delos: As soon as you and Logan had walked down the aisle, officially man and wife, Logan pulled you away. “Logan,” you laughed as he led you down a hall, “what are you doing?” “I’m having a private moment with my wife,” he answered, opening a door and pulling you into the spare room with him, “My wife. Mrs. Logan Delos,” he grinned down at you, “Fuck... How’d I get so lucky?” You laughed, and Logan reached over and held your face in his hands, staring down at the rest of his life. “I’m serious... How did I get so lucky? I mean... I’m a perpetual fuck up, the bane of my father’s existence and still, despite all of that... I got you,” he sighed sweetly, “I love you, princess. I’m gonna love you till the day I die, and maybe even after that too,” he smiled at your responding laugh, “Definitely after that. Fuck,” he let out a breath, laughing at the end of it, “I just... I just won at life, babe. I mean--look at you. Look at us! I always thought I’d spend the rest of my life in-between lovers, just waking up smothered in a sea of dicks and--” “--You realize we’re in a church, right?” You deadpanned. He laughed--Logan laughed a lot when he was with you--and he leaned down and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you moaned against his lips. “Ah ah,” he teased, pulling back with a smirk, “you know we’re in a church, right? But seriously, babe... I never thought I’d be a one-woman guy. But you... You’re all that I want. You’re everything. You just... You just came into my life and changed everything. I was just running around, fucking around... and you just burst in and gave me... Purpose,” he sighed happily, “It wasn’t until I met you that I realized why I was put on this earth. I was born to be yours. I was born to marry you and love you and take care of you, and I will,” he leaned down and kissed you now, his kiss soft and slow, nothing but love in his touch, “I will.... So now, let’s go get drunk and dance so we can get out of here, and I can really show you how I feel.”

Jax Teller: “I promise to treat you as good as my leather,” Jax recited, that famous Teller smirk on his face. You laughed as the room erupted in cheers and applause, and Jax kissed you. He was smiling when he pulled back, those blue eyes of his twinkling with love for you and you alone. “I really lucked out when you agreed to be my Old Lady,” he said, his voice making the laughs die down, all eyes on him, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life... especially with love,” he admitted, “I was stubborn and ignorant and lost, but even through all that... You were there. You kept me grounded, you showed me what it meant to be a man and an outlaw, taught me how to reconcile those parts of myself, and for that... I’ll always be grateful to you, darlin’. You understand me--all the parts of me. I don’t ever have to worry about how to tell you things, or keep things from you. You get the club life. You support me. Hell,” he chuckled, “even my Mom likes you, and we all know what a tough sell she is.” The crowd laughed, and when you glanced over at Gemma, she had tears in her eyes. She gave you a small, approving nod, and that, coupled with Jax’s words, had you crying too. Jax laughed, gently reaching out and wiping your tears away with his thumb, “I love you. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life. No matter what life throws at us, I know we can handle it. You and me... we’re meant to be together, baby. We’ve been through enough to know that that’s true,” he smiled down at you, a soft, special smile on his face that was just for you, “I know everyday isn’t gonna be perfect. There’s gonna be times when we argue, but I promise you--here and now, in front of everyone we love, that I will never go to bed angry at you. I promise to always do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe, and happy, and protected,” he leaned a little closer to you, every inch of him devoted to you and you alone, “I promise that I will be the husband and the man you deserve. And, most importantly... I promise to ride you as much as my Harley.” The room erupted in laughter again, and you were still laughing--and crying--when your husband kissed you again. You knew, from that kiss, that he would keep his promises to you. Every single one. 

Coco Cruz: “I’m not... I’m not fucking great at this,” Coco began, his hands in yours, his eyes darting around the room, “You know, public speaking and all that shit... But, uh, I think it’s important to, uh... To speak my truth, so...” He took a breath, and you squeezed his hands in yours, and that was enough to calm his raging heart. Coco looked at you, his wife, and felt a completeness that he’d never imagined he’d feel in his life. He swallowed, willing himself to speak. “Everybody knows that, when I became a Mayan, when I joined the MC, it changed my life. I was in a bad place, you know? Just came back from Iraq, my mind was all messed up. But the MC helped me get right, you know? And then there was you, and all of a sudden, I realized... I was made for you,” he leaned forward a bit, swaying as he spoke, his hair blocking everyone but you from his sight, “I used to think my life was just some sick fucking joke. Then, when I became a Mayan, I thought it was all about being a warrior, being a brother--and it is. But there’s more to it then that. I didn’t realize until I met you, but... I was born to be with you. From the second I saw you, I knew I needed you. I need you way more than you need me,” he smiled, a soft chuckle coming from his lips, “It’s true,” he turned, addressing his brothers, “You guys remember what it was like, right? When we first started dating?” He was met with low murmurs and laughter. “I was a fucking mess,” he laughed, “I kept asking Taza and Hank how to be a good boyfriend. And somehow Angel ended up giving me advice, which was basically just ‘man up’,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you, “I just... I just need to say, you’re perfect. And I know you don’t like when I say that, but it’s true. You’re perfect to me. Even when you’re a fucking raging psychopath,” he chuckled at your fake incredulous look, “you’re perfect. You help me see past the bullshit, help me see that life don’t just gotta be some fucking struggle... You make me happy, man. So happy. And I just want to make you happy, too. I want to be a good husband to you, and I’m gonna try. And even on days when shit ain’t perfect, I will still love you with all my heart, so...” He took a breath, his heart pounding as he looked down at you, his perfect person, his wife. “... Let’s fucking party!” You laughed, wiping your happy tears as the room erupted in cheers and the sounds of beer bottles clanking together. This was the first day of the rest of your life, and you couldn’t be happier for it. 

Angel Reyes: Angel sighed, his eyes welling up with tears. “This,” he began, stopping when he heard the sound of his own voice breaking. He cleared his throat, “This is... This isn’t how I imagined it. Like, when I was a kid, I mean. Like, not to be soft and everything, but... I used to think about this day, you know? Me marrying some dope girl, being in love, my family here to celebrate. So I mean... I’m happy,” he nodded, “I’m so... Man, I’m so happy. I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, just... I feel like... Like I was incomplete before this, you know? Like this woman... she’s the other part of my soul. And I’m so happy, it’s crazy. It’s scary. I keep waiting to mess it up, keep waiting to say or do something to bring it all crumbling down, but... it won’t. I trust that it won’t,” he nodded again, meaning the words he spoke with all of his heart. Angel reached out, his fingers--adorned with no other ring but his wedding ring--brushing against his mother’s altar, “Watching you and Pop... I always wanted a love like yours, and now I got it, and I’m so happy, Ma... I am, but,” he blinked, the first tear falling, “...but I wish you were here to see it. I wish you could have met her; I wish she could have met you. You would have loved her, Ma. Pops loves her, EZ loves her--I tell her about you, but... But it’s not the same,” he wiped his tear, shaking his head a bit, “I know you’re looking down at us from Heaven, I know you see us, see her,” he sniffled, swallowing his tears, “And that’s good enough for me,” he chuckled lowly, “I know you saw when we first met, saw me pulling that machismo crap, trying to impress her. You saw it ain’t work, either,” he laughed again, “I bet it was you that gave me the idea to bring her lunch at work, wasn’t it? Yeah... That has you written all over it, Ma,” he tapped her urn, smiling warmly at the memories, “I love her so much... And I know you would have loved her, too. I just... I want to be a good husband to her... a good father---someday--to our kids,” he took a breath, “So, Ma, please... Be with me now like you were with me when I proposed, give me that same courage and certainty you gave me before, yeah? Cause in a minute, I’m about to go out there in front of all our family and friends, and I’m about to commit myself to this woman for the rest of my life, and I... I need you with me, Mami,” satisfied, he kissed two fingers and pressed them against his mother’s urn, “Thank you.” He straightened up, fixing his hair and wiping his eyes again. Nodding to himself, he walked off, murmuring, “Good chat...” all the way to the altar. 

Miguel Galindo: “I am not a man who can easily admit he was wrong,” Miguel began, chuckling along with the rest of the church at his words, “Okay,” he admitted, shaking his head a bit, “I never admit I was wrong,” he paused, looking into your eyes, and he felt that familiar tug in his chest that he always felt when he looked at you--pure love. “But I was wrong. As many of you know, I was married once before. And I thought that I’d spend the rest of my life with that person. I was wrong,” he reached out for your hand, taking it in his, the warmth of it spreading through his entire body, all the way into his heart, “I was wrong, and I have never been happier to admit that. Because from that failure, came you. And I’m thankful for you every moment of every day,” he smiled, and your heart flipped in your chest at the sight of your soon-to-be-husband, “It isn’t easy to be with me, I know,” he nodded, giving you a silent acknowledgment, “But you... You just know me. You know how to read me, how to get me to talk when I don’t want to,” he laughed, “how to shut me up when I want to talk... I’m at your mercy. And what’s more,” he leaned forward a bit, “...I like it,” his smile widened at the sight of yours, “I remember the day that I realized that I needed you in my life for the long haul. It was when we flew to Iceland. You fell asleep against my shoulder. You were so tired... And I was too. I was frustrated and tired and irritated, but when I looked down at you... Mi amor, I felt nothing but gratefulness. Grateful to have you in my life, grateful to be able to have you by my side, to have you as mine. I’ve been blessed with many great things; a wonderful son, multiple successful businesses, a beautiful home... But it’s you, my love, you who makes me take a step back and really see how lucky I am. Because all of the money in the world would mean nothing if I didn’t have you to share it with,” he reached out and wiped your budding tears, smiling fondly at you, “I love you,” was all he said before he was kissing you, and the resulting applause blooming around you was nothing but white noise with Miguel’s lips against yours. He whispered something against your lips as the church applause your love, just a short, simple sentence that had you crying with love. “Thank you, mi amor, for proving me wrong.”

Nick Amaro: “Gil and Zara and I are so happy to welcome you into our family,” Nick said, giving a special smile to ring-bearer Gil and flower-girl Zara, both of whom grinned back at him, Zara flashing you a quick wave, “Gil keeps saying that I took too long, and Zara says I should have just married you months ago, and they’re both right,” he laughed, “But I wanted to give you this--the wedding, the reception--because I know this is important to you. It’s important to me, too,” he took a breath, looking down at your intertwined fingers before looking up again, smiling at your beautiful face, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, my career, but you...” He sighed happily, “I know I can get in my own head a lot, but somehow, with you... It just seems like everything falls into place. I mean... That’s your power. You just make everything seem so easy. I see you with the kids, with your job, with me,” he chuckled, “And it’s like you instinctively know what to do, how to handle me. You make it look easy, and you can ask Olivia, dealing with me, isn’t easy.” He looked over at Olivia, her eyes shining with approval as she watched you together. “But you do. For good or bad, better or worse,” he took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, “I love you. Completely. Totally. And I’m going to continue on loving you until the day I die,” his smile reached his eyes, and they shimmered with love for you, “And probably even after that, to be honest. Every morning when I wake up and see your face, when I hear you and the kids laughing, when I see the joy you bring into our lives... It makes me feel so... secure,” he nodded, pleased at his choice of words, “And you know better than anyone how hard that is for me: to feel secure. You just... You make everything easier, more manageable... And everything I do from here on out is for you and the kids. I love you...Mrs. Amaro.”

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny couldn’t stop smiling. His mom was there, his Graceland family was there, and most importantly--the future Mrs. Johnny Tuturro was standing in front of him, just minutes away from becoming his wife. “Alright, alright, alright,” Johnny began, “Everybody shut up, I got somethin’ to say!” Jakes groaned in the crowd, “Jesus, Johnny, then just say it!” “Don’t rush him,” you called back, giving Jakes a friendly glare. Johnny laughed, kissing your cheek, “Thank you, baby,” he stood up straight, “Look, anyone with eyes can see that my girl is fly,” he started, making everyone laugh, “But for real, the moment I saw her, I knew she was different. I mean, she’s gorgeous, yeah, but she’s also smart, brave, a certified badass--sorry for cussin’, Ma--and the love of my life,” he smiled down at you, eyes soft, “I love you, I love you, I love you. And I am so happy to be making you my wife,” he turned pointing off into the audience at Briggs, “Which by the way--ha HA! I knew she wouldn’t go for you! Best bet I ever took, seeing which one of us was gonna get your number... though I ain’t gonna lie, you had me scared for a moment there when you started getting chummy with Charlie,” he chuckled, “But I was the lucky one. That was the start of the rest of my life, and I want to make every day we have together a perfect day. No matter what life throws at us, what happens at work, what we go through as people or as a couple, we’re always gonna have each other’s backs. Me and you,” he went on, “We were meant to be, baby. Fated. And baby, I promise you, I will be the best husband I can be. Because that’s what you deserve. And as happy as I am to be here with you right now, in front of all of our friends and families... Man, I can’t wait to get out of here and just be with you,” he grinned, and you could see the dirty promise behind those sweet words, “I’m crazy about you, baby girl, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he leaned in, kissing you, his next words whispered, so only you could hear him, “can’t wait to have married sex in the limo, either...” 

Rio: When you woke up, the late morning sun painting your body in its light, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Rio’s eyes. They were soft and warm, that deep brown peering down at you and making you feel like the most beloved person on the planet. Which, of course, you were. “So?” He asked, caressing the side of your face with two of those long, sinewy fingers. “So what?” You asked, already in a daze from the softness of his voice and the sweet smile on his face. “So what do you think? How’d the first night of matrimony go? You ready to give back my dowry yet? Sell me back to my father?” You laughed, cuddling closer to him. “Nah, I think I’ll keep you. I mean, you did come with a cow and two chickens, so I guess you’re worth it.” He wrapped his arms around you, and you closed your eyes, melting into his touch. “I love you,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the crown of your head. “Love you, too,” you said back, rubbing his back. “Hey,” he pulled back a bit, looking down at you, “Yesterday was perfect,” he began, “The wedding, the reception... I ain’t never seen Marcus so excited to talk as he was when he gave his speech.” “Oh, don’t remind me,” you sighed, smiling at the memory, “I cried so hard; it was such a good speech.” “Yeah,” he nodded, kissing your forehead, “He was so proud to be able to tell you how much he loves you,” Rio sighed, “but, here’s the thing, mama... There was one thing about yesterday that I wish I could change.” You frowned, “What?” “I kinda wish we would’ve done vows,” he admitted. “Really?” You asked, eyes wide. You and Rio had decided early on not to have vows, you’d both agreed that it was so private, you didn’t want to make a spectacle out of your love. But hearing him say that he’d wished he’d given you his vows had your heart pounding. He nodded, “Yeah. So... I was thinkin’... Maybe I could say my vows now. I mean, I ain’t write nothing down or anything, but I just wanted to say... I love you. I love what you’ve done to me, to Marcus... I love the way you brighten up my life, how you accepted my son with open arms, how you work so well with me, the way you inspire me, the way you make me want to flip my game. I love how I can tell you everything, how I never have to hide any parts of myself with you,” he titled your chin up, smiling down at you, “I love having you as my wife. I love you, Mrs. Rivera.” He kissed you then, and you kissed him back, sighing against his lips, pressing yourself against him. “So,” he grinned, “How was that? Decent vows?” You laughed, kissing his nose, “Perfect.”

Bonus Boy

Tommy Shelby: “I have something I want to say,” Tommy announced. Everyone in the church grew silent, and you couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Jeremiah’s face as he turned to you. Every eye was on you, and you turned to Tommy, curious as to what he was about to say. “I want it known,” he started, his voice booming through the church, “That this is the last time I’m ever getting married, because this is the woman I was always meant to be with,” he looked over at you, those brilliant blue eyes piercing right through your soul, “Me whole life, I’ve spent planning, thinking, rethinking. Every move I’ve made as a businessman has been a calculated one, but with you,” he said, his focus on you and you alone, “It’s all instinct. I don’t have to overthink or second guess with you, because I can feel that you’re what’s right. You’re what’s been missing. And now that I have you... Well, there’s peace. Peace in me head and me heart that I thought had left for good. And I have you to thank for that. So now, I want to make you a promise, and I want to make it in front of all of our family and friends, because if nothing else, I know Aunt Pol, Jeremiah, and our Ada will make sure I keep it,” he gave you a small smile, and just that one gesture was enough to have you nearly swooning, “So here it is. I promise, from this moment, till the day I die, to always love, honor, and respect you. I will never lie to you, I will never leave you. I am yours,” he promised, “Every part of me; even the parts I don’t like, belong to you. And everyone,” his voice got a bit louder, and he turned a bit, addressing the crowd, “will know that you are Mrs. Tommy Shelby, and they will treat you accordingly.” You smiled; his words were as much an announcement as a threat. “Now, Jeremiah,” he said, a friendly note coming back into his voice, “Let’s get on with this ceremony, eh? I want to take my bride to London.” 

*******************************************************************************************Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip here, I would greatly appreciate it!

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[fancyfade]

Okay, a lonely place of dying thoughts. This will be long

So, I just finished re-reading a lonely place of dying. before I get to far into it: This is specifically to analyze the way the character and information is presented to the reader. It’s not to say “so and so is a bad character” or “this is a bad plotline”.

Starting off: they were definitely playing it super safe for the comic reader when they introduced Tim. It feels as if he is introduced literally as an audience avatar. For a large portion of the time before we meet him, we literally are seeing through his eyes -- the panel is positioned so that we would be at his head height, looking at whatever he’s looking at. we never see him except for his hands (so the audience can presumably imagine themselves in his shoes).

this isn’t the way they usually frame unknown characters or characters whose identity is obscured to create an air of mystery -- and there’s an excellent comparison in this same plotline, because there is a character with their identity obscured, who was framed a different way

[image: first two panels are of two face, who is wearing a trench coat and a fedora that casts a shadodw and obscures his face so we cannot tell who he is. His face is completely in shadow. he is talking to someone behind him. he says "Tomorrow. The zwei brothers warehouse. Two am. Now go back to your wife. the fat lady's about to sing." in the next panel, we see him from behind. the back of his head is entirely in shadow to avoid giving us any hints as to who he is. the man he's talking to, Gerry sky, says "whatever it is -- later." two face says "now. 'payroll activation'" and gerry says "okay, okay -- now."

next there's a panel with the dialogue whited out. We still see two face, wearing gloves and having nearly all of his skin (except for his face, which is always in shadow) covered. First we look at him from above and he is small against a dark room with a bookshelf in the background. Then there's a closeup of only his gloved hand as he turns off the radio. We see him from behind (thighs up) as he stands in front of a window, then another shot of his gloved hand trying to touch the radio. and both his hands clench in fists. He hits the radio, breaking it (his body is still off screen except for his arm and hand) and then at his feet we see the broken radio. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of two face on panel

Notice: The presumed “camera angle” is dynamic around Two face. We see him from multiple angles -- from both in front and behind. When we are looking at the same thing he's looking at, we are positioned behind him, like we're looking over his shoulder. the close ups on his hand are not positioned as if he's looking at his own hand and we are in his head pay special attention to the panel he's adjusting the radio on and the fourth panel of the page -- we're looking from the side of him or from behind him and under his elbow there.

Two face is our mysterious bad guy. This is how they visually frame a character they want an air of mystery around.

compare that to the framing around tim

[image: first, we are looking through a camera that is continuously taking pictures of Batman as he stumbles down a slide, walks shakily to his batmobile, and takes off. then the camera is lowered (we see the hand that is lowering the camera in the view, it is below us as if we were looking through this person's eyes) and put inside a duffle bag. after that, we see something in the conrer of the screen -- an arm wearing a jacket?) and puddles of blood, then a bike tire -- but not the rest of the bike, which is off panel -- cutting through the puddles of blood. next pages shows a bunch of internal monologue that has been blockedo ut. a series of batman and robin pictures from the newspapers and a picture of batman swinging on a line in a scrap book. (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. we can see the hand grabbing this picture as if we were holding it.

then we appear to be behind whoever is on the page, looking at his elbow, as he opens up a drawer, then we're back "inside" his head again as he holds up a photo with the graysons (john, dick, mary) and the drakes (tim and his parents). 3 year old tim is sitting on 12 year old dick's leg. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of  Tim in Panel

okay sorry forgive me but this is fucking fascinating in my opinion. Notice that for two face, most of the close ups on his hands were specifically away from his point of view -- we weren’t positioned where his eyes were, but looking from the outside in.

For tim, we’re almost always looking through his eyes, contrasting to two face

and for tim, even when we were not looking through his eyes, in the very first page, he wasn’t even on panel -- we knew nothing about him, we just saw the edge of his bike. the second page we saw a bit of his arm but we never zoom out far enough to see his whole body and definitely not his face -- even if it would be obscured by shadow.

The first read through, I assumed they were going for an air of mystery, but the contrast between how they handle two face and tim to me makes it clear that they weren’t -- it might have been an unintended side effect, or a bonus effect, but it wasn’t the main purpose. The audience is literally viewing most of the panels Tim is in through Tim’s eyes. He is almost literally an audience avatar.

My general hypothesis here (which I think I am supplying proof of) is that Tim is intended to be an avatar in universe for the “average comic reader" (with some assumptions made by the writer about the average comic reader re: race, age,  gender, socioeconomic class)

For more support of this, let’s see how Tim talks about batman and robin --

[image: 3 comic panels from batman 440 featuring newspaper clippings (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. there is internal monologue from (the framing of the scene implies tim drake, but at this point he is unknown to the audience) reading “He seemed happier with dick. Now, I guess it’s like he just doesn’t care. But I want him to care again. I want him to be the batman I remember.” then, we have panels from the new titans 61 dick, as nightwing, is reaching in to talk to tim. he grabs tim's arm. dick says, “I don't believe this. that man raised me. I've gone through hell with him and because of him. Don't lecture me about him until you've cared for him and loved him as long as I have”. dick puts his helmet on and drives off on his bike. before leaving, he says "when jason died, he took robin with him." Tim cries and calls after him: "I... I was only thinking of the team... of what Batman and Robin meant! You can't let a legend die like that, Dick..." end image]

end image/begin comment - Tim’s perception of Batman & Robin

Notice in the first panels (with the newspaper clippings) that Tim is reminiscent, he specifically talks about ‘teh batman and robin’ that he remembers. The narrative puts more significance for tim on the fact that batman is not happy and he is not the batman tim remembers, rather than the fact that batman is beating people nearly to death (tim notices this, and it seems to be a “because batman is so clearly sad” thing -- which this is not I believe intended to be a commentary on tim’s priorities, since the general narrative seems to be using bruce’s ultra-violence as a sign he’s angsty).

Then, compare dick’s reaction to bruce with Tim’s.

Dick’s connection to Bruce is extremely personal. Bruce, Batman, whatever, is his dad and raised him and, like he said, put him through hell sometimes. His connection to Jason’s death is similarly personal.

Tim’s connection to Batman and Robin is extremely abstract and idealized. He is thinking of them as, say, a comics reader might think of them. As a crimefighting team who are not together anymore, and this is bad.

this is just bulletpoint 2 in “tim is supposed to represent the audience”, not intending to be a condemnation of tim.

Thirdly

[image: first, a comic panel from Batman 440 showing a close up of Tim’s hand as he reads a paper and him thinking ‘No! the haly circus is closing?’ then, a series of comic panels from the new titans # 60. first, we see mr haly (off screen) and his cigar (on screen) as haly gestures at a photo of the flying grayson's on the wall. then he says "Yeah. Cost us a fortune and brought down our selling price. You know, sometimes I sit here and just remember the good old days. We were barely breaking even back then, too -- but man, were we having fun. then, we see dick grayson wearing jeans and a red shirt, walking through the circus ground. first, he looks kind of dejected and his hands are in his pockets. the narration box reads "he leaves, trying to reconcile the past and the present. Kids grow up and change. but why should everything do the same? The animal cages stink with waste. Was it always this way? At times like now, he wishes for never-never land." then, dick turns as he hears something and says "Hunh? That scream?" end image]

end image/begin comment - Nostalgia as a Theme

Nostalgia is an EXTREMELY strong theme in this comic. Batman is different, he’s not like he used to be. Haley’s circus is different and at risk, but Dick goes back and meets the performers he used to know -- some are still the same, some are in a more rough situation (alcoholic clown). Someone’s trying to kill his friends in the circus, it’s not really a place of childhood innocence for Dick.  Dick explicitly wishes to be in never-never land (the imaginary far off place where you never grow up)

How things should be -- both in Tim’s mind and Dick’s mind, Haly’s mind  -- is the idealistic past, but we clearly can’t go back to it -- Dick says that the first thing Bruce taught him was how to grow up.

Next bulletpoint:

[image: first are some comic panels showing Tim Drake talking to Dick Grayson and Alfred Pennyworth in wayne manor. Tim says “You know, since I was able to read, I clipped every article I could about Batman and Robin. Heck, I used to fantasize about what it would be like to be robin. I study hard. I get mostly A’s. I work out. I’m no circus acrobat, but I’m pretty good, I guess. But mostly, I read aobut you two. You’ve both been so important to me in so many ways. And when I see that without Robin Batman is going off hte deep end, I know there’s serious trouble.” next, we see Dick stepping forward and talking to Tim. he says "But you haven't told me anything I don't already know. I want the rest of it. All of it." end image]

end image/ begin commentary - textually a fanboy

Textually, Tim is presented as a Batman and Robin fanboy -- that’s how he found Batman’s secret identity (link)

He studies Batman and Robin from afar. He reads about them. Kind of like a comics reader would. he wants to be Robin. Again, superhero comics have some wish fulfillment element and definitely wanting to imagine yourself in a character’s shoes is an appeal for many fans. Tim wanted to imagine himself in robin’s shoes and fantasized about being him -- there’s kind of two layers here, one is the presumed audience member reading tim, wanting to imagine themselves in his shoes as he interacts with his heroes, the other is tim, who wanted to imagine himself in dick’s shoes.

re: the second posted image in this set: Tim hasn’t told dick anything that dick doesn’t know, because tim doesn’t know anything dick doesn’t know -- he is the comic reader here. That’s also why he’s so up-to-date on all of the other comic character’s stuff -- we see him list off all of the teen titans, he talks about jason’s death casually, he knows that alfred is batman’s confident -- he pretty much has all of the information that a reader of DC comics would have if they just got beamed into the DC universe at this point.

[image: first, two panels, one showing tim smiling and thinking "Wow! And I thought Harry did it. Man, Dick is good". tehn we see dick holding some photos and talking ot tim, who is at his bike. dick says "These pictures, two face is back in town, isn't he?" Tim says "You can tell, just from them? Wow! You're even better than I thought." the next scene is in the batcave. Dick is nightwing and is about to leave on his motor cycle, alfred and tim are behind him. tim says "no, not nightwing, Dick. don't you understand -- Batman needs Robin!" he turns to look at alfred and says "Doesn't anyone understand?" Alfred says "Perhaps, young man. Perhaps master Dick understands profoundly -- perhaps that is why he brought you here." tim looks surprised. end image]

end image/begin commentary: The old robin’s approval

another very important thing here: DC plays it as safe as possible with tim’s introduction, trying to make the audience like him, and one is definitely establishing that Tim both looks up to dick and thinks he’s cool (first two panels) and that he has dick’s presumed approval/blessing to be robin (last three panels). it’s also important to note that while tim is portrayed as competent, he never shows up Batman and Nightwing -- he rescues them because two-face lured them into an expert trap, but he doesn’t outdo either of them on fighting or detective work. this has an in universe explanation -- he is 13 years old, just starting out -- and an out of universe explanation -- if he’s not showing up anyone’s favorite character, he is presumably more palatable and less threatening for the presumed reader.

that’s what i mean when I say taht DC played their intro of tim very safe -- he falls in with the established characters, already likes them, is practically already a fan of them with full fanboy connotations. The idealized past is presented as something as desirable, both to the reader and to the characters themselves, and there is a strong current of nostalgia and returning things to how they “should” be with Batman having a robin. Tim voices what many readers may feel: That batman lost his way, that he needs Robin, and he gets to act out those feelings in the comic. the text acknowledges that they can’t just force dick back into it, that people have to grow up, and dick passes the mantle to tim.

overall I think that tim’s employment here was effective, but I look forward to seeing more when he’s allowed to be himself rather than an audience avatar. I understand lots of people like audience avatars and he was wildly popular presumably for those reasons, but I personally found the plotline lackluster at points.

[capochinootea]

How the Shishigumi met Baby Louis

Me thinks Baby Louis and Shishigumi wholesome time ^-^

Free

When Free first met Louis, it was in the middle of a shootout. He was 17. Young, brash and bold. A few weeks into the Shishigumi, and he's already considered an elite, impressing those who have climbed the ranks for longer.

It was an unfortunate time when Free was met face-to-face with a child, a herbivore child, no less. Guns drawn, ready to fire at their leader’s command. In all Free’s years of living in the Back Alley Market, this is by far, the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened.

Members of the gang yelled for back up. He was ready. Ready to take on their opponents, but what he sees is a much taller, more mature lion- Ibuki, he realizes, blocking his way, hands extended.

...What?

Confused and slightly irritated, he was handed a child and the lion left to help his comrades. Poor and confused 17-year old Free sat there, as the fawn- aged 6- he guessed- giggled at him, oblivious to the danger they’re both in.

---

Ibuki

Livestock. Ibuki never fancied the business. Even for a gangster lion like him, selling livestock- he thinks of it so immoral. You must be completely fucked down to the core if the mafioso lion has more heart than you.

When news travelled to the Shishigumi of a livestock trafficking ring not having paid their share, Ibuki breathed a sigh of relief. An excuse, he thought.

Finally.

But when he got there, it was like a place after war. It smelled of filth, abandon and decay. The building barely stands, it’s pillars a breath away from collapse.

In it lay a single fawn, blood stained but alive. A living, breathing being surrounded by death, of carcasses and corpses. The fawn looked as though he was the god of death himself, mortalized in a fragile being, cursed to wander the earth, leaving death in his footsteps.

---

Dolph

For a lion who’s lived in the market for more than 2 decades, he thought he had seen it all- the mundane, the gruesome, the ridiculous. Hell, the Shishigumi is proof of that. But somehow, not even the pole dancing mice could top this.Standing there, by the mansion’s gates was Ibuki, a sleeping fawn in his arms, bundled in his suit jacket. If he were any more shocked, his jaw might have hit the ground.

Surely the trip to the livestock trafficking ring didn’t hit Ibuki’s head. If not, then that’s probably not Ibuki at all. He was pretty damned sure that if anyone in the Shishigumi were to replace the old chief (should his ultimate demise were to ever happen- he hoped soon), it would be Ibuki.

Yet he stands there, a soft look in his eyes, the happiest he looked since he joined. He can’t help but feel dumb. The market is just full of surprises.

---

Hino

It was Wednesday night. The mansion silent and empty, its corridors barely illuminated by the hanging low light above . Almost all of the lions had left for the night, sans a few lower goons keeping watch over the gates. Sitting by the hideout’s make-shift home bar, nothing felt out of the ordinary.

He cradled the cheap whiskey in his hands and circled the drink slowly. He watched the drink as it created a mini whirlpool, his reflection on the glass.

His brows furrowed in confusion. Something was amiss. This isn’t right.

His tail moved back and forth, fur standing, mind on edge. Someone foreign was in the mansion. He continued to watch his reflection, but there was no sign of the intruder.

Too late did he realize, as a creature suddenly latched onto his leg. He would've kicked the stranger out of instinct, but when he caught a glimpse of wide ears flinching, the smell of lion on him, all sense of dread died.

Looking down, he sees a fawn, toothily grinning at him, hugging his legs like they were pillows.

“What are you doing here little guy?” Hino crouches, hands folded so as to not hurt the tiny creature.

The fawn giggled, clutching his face in his mini hands. They’re warm, he noted. .

“Mr. Lion!!” He cackled.

And like a child calling for its mother, Ibuki came running up the stairs, his glasses out of place, strands of his mane flying everywhere. He looked like hell.

“Louis!” he called and bolted right after where he sat.

Such a strange sight to see. A huge lion cradling a fawn, no bigger than Ibuki’s hands. A smile found its way to Hino’s flawless features. It’s a beautiful Wednesday night.

---

Sabu

He’s getting old, he realizes. His mane is getting harder to grow, his joints more prone to aches. He wonders if growing old is a gift, with what dangers lurking in the Back Alley Market. You’re lucky if you still have all your limbs intact by the age of 30.

Sitting by the kitchen counter, he closes his eyes. Ah, well it’s not like he could complain. In fact, he’s lucky to be alive, limbs and all.

“Up!”

He cracks one eye open.

..What?

“Up! Up!” Standing there, a creature unlike him. A fawn. No older than 6 he thinks. Clutching what he assumes is a stuffed animal, a small pout laced its face.

He had so many questions.

“Up! Up!!!” The fawn demanded, now running around, making soft tap tap taps against the floors of the mansion.

How youthful, he thought, picking up the child, giggling as his arms wrap around its tiny waist.

“Funny lion man!” it cackles, now trying to climb his head, to touch his mane. He assumes his mohawk is a different sight from what the fawn usually sees.

He still has so many questions.

He let the fawn play with his mane, not minding the strands that now fall against his face, covering his eyes.

“Ibuki!!” the tiny fawn suddenly shrieked, hurriedly trying to climb down from his now lopsided mane. He watches the young fawn dash to the other, who caught him as he propelled himself in the air.

How youthful, he thought again.

---

Miguel

It’s not like he’s not used to the fearful looks most herbivores and even the lesser carnivores give him. He’s big, brawny, a lion through and through. A literal king of the beast. To say he was used to the wary stares, the jealous glares, is the simple truth.

His footsteps alone are enough to spook a sheep down to its very core. He need not speak to intimidate a room full of hyenas, no. Even baring his fangs would be too much.

Which is why he found this whole ordeal completely and utterly ridiculous.

A tiny fawn stood before him, staring up at him. Fearless, he thinks. No! He was awestruck… mouth agape and ears perked up. He looked at him like he’s something to behold.

“Big Lion Man!!!” it cackles.

Odd..

It was so odd.

He felt his heart swell beneath the hard muscle, beneath tendons, flesh and bones. Never before has a creature looked at him with such delight. From a herbivore no less.

---

Jinma and Dope

If there’s any duo more suited to work together in the Shishigumi, the title befalls on one Jinma and Dope. Another successful negotiation. Another night of festivities.

Tonight, the table was decorated with an assortment of meals, meat cooked to perfection. A flawless buffet. An impeccable occasion.

Until Jinma caught a glimpse of movement beneath the table covers. An intruder? A spy? That’s impossible. It just is. He knows no one would have balls big enough to go alone in the Shishigumi headquarters unscathed.

He eyed the table covers with great intensity. He squints, watching the creases of the fabric, waiting to see any sign of movement. Nothing. Not until a foreign tiny hand slipped under the covers to grab a lone piece of meat sat atop the table.

In an instant, he lifted the white sheet, uncovering the thief hidden below the covers. He expected a young lowly canine, or mayhaps a racoon, only to find a giggling fawn munching on the small piece of meat he’s stolen.

“The fuck..” he heard someone mutter behind him. Dope, he thinks.

“Hello!” The young deer greeted, mouth full of meat.

This is weird.

Jinma watches as the fawn finally moves to unveil himself out of the white sheets, walking towards Dolph, who picks him up like it was something he’d done before.

This is so weird.

The two lions watch with their heads tilted to the side. Confused, they see Dolph smile at the tiny fawn he was cradling, who was still chewing the meat he’d stolen.

“The fuck” Jinma mutters.

---

Agata

“What??” Agata squawked, hands balled into a fist. How could they do this? To a lion, barely the age of 16.

“I.. I can’t! I’m not sure how to?” he countered, looking anywhere but the scene before him.

A child, clinging to the cuffs of Ibuki’s suit jacket. A fawn, 9 or 10 years old- by the looks of it.

“Agata, it will only be for an hour or two,” Dolph explained.

Like that’s going to change anything.

“But! Dolph-san, why? We don’t even know who this kid is? I mean.. Why can’t we just give him back to his parents?” He blurted.. The words left his mouth before he could process what he had just said. He prayed to whichever gods listening to him to please not make him babysit a child- and a herbivore child too!

Ibuki furrows his brows, before sharing a look with Dolph, who looks as equally as upset. A beat, and then,

“Louis stays with the Shishigumi,” Ibuki stated, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“You can’t be serious!” Agata whined, his arms flailing. It was a fight he couldn’t win. He frowned.

It didn’t take Agata more than a second to realize that his outburst had caused Louis to hide more behind Ibuki, his teeth bared, eyes burning with passionate hate.

Ah... He really did not like babysitting.

[johns-prince]

“I’ve seen religion from Jesus to Paul” I always thought that line wasn’t about John worshipping Paul, but about other people worshipping Paul. I mean, John is criticising religion in this song, he’s criticising worship. He didn’t believe in Jesus, so “from Jesus to Paul” doesn’t seem like it’s supposed to be about himself and his religions imo. I always thought it was about beatlemania and how people worship Paul like a god when in reality he’s just as flawed as any of us. It’d fit with John being mad at Paul.

I might be wrong of course! I never thought about it as John saying he worshipped Paul, so my point of view isn’t really well thought out or anything. It’s just what goes through my head when I listen to the song. I hope you don’t think I disagree with you or anything 🥺 I just love discussing mclennon

No, I think you’re right, but I also believe it’s more complicated than that.

I found something, and I find it really interesting:

“In this angry and bitter song Lennon attacks a number of falsehoods such as the idolatry of the Beatles and how he is the focus for many of those involved in the peace movement.” [x]

It’s incredibly curious how John went with using only Paul’s name, if that’s what this song is supposed to be about. If it’s supposed to be about the whole band itself, why only use Paul’s name in it? Why be so direct as that? We know why—

“The lyrics are some of Lennon’s most vitriolic, taking shots at religion, his parents, drugs, and even his former songwriting partner (“I seen religion from Jesus to Paul”). It presents a clear perspective on the past, a theme he would revisit on the Imagine album’s ‘Oh My Love’ the following year.” [x]

Now that make’s better sense, since I don’t believe this was taking a shot directly at The Beatles and the period of idolatry (Beatlemania), but taking direct shots at Paul. 

It’s hypocritical for him to basically claim people were worshipping Paul like some God or religion, when John was being no better in basically being quite obsessive about the man. The opposite of love isn’t hate, but indifference.

And again, if this song is supposed to be about criticizing the worship and idolatry of The Beatles, why is he only directly referencing Paul McCartney? 

Doesn’t add up. 

To me this song is not only for John to “air out” his supposed grievances, and emotions/feelings towards Paul, but to be petty, and lash out at his ex-partner.  

This song screams scorned lover to me, someone who’s clearly hurt, deeply hurt, and is lashing out and using music to convey how he feels. I don’t agree that it presents a clear perspective on the past, because it’s John in the 70s and we all must acknowledge that 70s John is not at all a reliable narrator, and often contradicted himself in interviews and double backed on what he’d say about the past, and what he had to say or feel about Paul. It’s his perspective, that’s true, but more-so a skewed perspective on not only the past, but of his feelings at the time and heat of the moment, towards Paul.

John was probably not only envious (To John, Paul is stable, he’s put together, and John recognized and acknowledged that Paul was extraordinarily talented and could very well succeed without him), but hurt that Paul, it seemed, didn’t need him to get along. A fear that most likely rooted and became a nagging insecurity, after Paul unleashed Yesterday in 1965, and then came the questions of whether Paul would leave The Beatles (John) and start a solo career. 

It’s obvious that the band broke up because of what was going on between John and Paul, their falling out due to John’s growing lack of involvement due to his use of heroin, which made him unapproachable and testy, his unhealthy escapism into Yoko and her influence/presence. In the end, it’s no real surprise that Paul left. John resented it, even if it was his fault, his doing and behavior that left Paul with no other choice then to abandon ship. 

So, Paul left him, and was planning on going solo, and launching his own band in the next year.

Now let me point something out put on your tinfoil hats let’s see if I don’t lose any of you here lol—

Now that I showed you what I been through Don't take nobody's word what you can do There ain't no Jesus gonna come from the sky Now that I found out I know I can cry I, I found out I, I found out

Okay, so I’m reading the two lyrics “There ain’t no Jesus gonna come from the sky,” and “Now that I found out I know I can cry,” as connected. While yes John didn’t seem to believe in Jesus, he was still spiritual. Now, take those two lyrics, of some messiah not going to come and how the realization of it, of the fact this religion or ‘God’ isn’t going to come down and save you— and finding this out, of course you’re going to cry. 

What you believed was going to somehow save you, save you from the miseries of life and save you from yourself, wasn’t actually going to come, or happen, that can really break person who was relying on such faith. 

I seen through junkies, I been through it all I've seen religion from Jesus to Paul Don't let them fool you with dope and cocaine No one harm you feel your own pain I, I found out I, I found this out I, I found out

Now, I do agree that John is knocking religion and idolatry worship, but also taking shots at Paul. 

But I just think John’s outing himself here, because, okay look. John’s seen through junkies— John was a junkie when writing this, let’s be real. He can say he isn’t fooled by them, but he clearly is— he was fooling himself. 

So let’s just go with John is apparently attacking The Beatles here— we all know John loved The Beatles, and had just as much faith and passion for it as Paul did. He put all his eggs in that theoretical basket. 

And throughout the height of The Beatles, who were the two always together? Who had plans about sticking together and growing old together still making music? Who two had ideas to write a musical together, one day? 

John and Paul were John and Paul, and both believed it was always going to be that way. They’d mentioned running off to Scotland to escape a potential draft, Paul had said that after The Beatles he and John would still continue making music together, that as they got older they’d even make music for other, younger musicians to play. It was ALWAYS John and Paul, like, always. 

So imagine you have all this faith in someone, all this love, you see them as a stable structure in your life, someone who rarely let’s you down, who’s ALWAYS going to be there for you, who has shared so many intimate experiences with, who knows you and has seen you without your armor on, seen the good the  bad and the ugly and still wants to be with you, who you’ve shared similar, vivid dreams with, who would experience misery and fear with you (the LSD trip), who seemingly shares a secret and unspoken language with you— only for all of it, to fall flat, for it to go horribly wrong, for them to (unintentionally) reject you, to hurt you and leave you feeling abandoned and alone. That perhaps they don’t love you in the way you’d come to the realization that you wanted them too. 

For you to realize, or feel, like they can’t save you, that they can’t fix you. Because, like you said, Paul isn’t perfect, he doesn’t always have it together, he wasn’t as stable as John believed him to be naturally— Paul’s just as flawed as any of us. He was struggling too, and simply couldn’t always meet John’s sometimes unrealistic expectations and desires.

I think in some way, The Beatles, and thus Paul, were somewhat of a religion to John. He believed in them unlike anything else. Even if partially satirical, the comment of them becoming Bigger than Jesus, I think that in itself is worship (even if that’s unintentional, or perhaps a Freudian slip) of what they all created together— what John and Paul created together. That they could become more popular than Jesus Christ himself, and the religions he’s attached too. 

So I honestly believe John was just telling on himself throughout this song. How John wrote his songs, they were personal, they had something to do with him, how he felt and perceived things, his desires and fears— even when attacking or criticizing someone, or something else. 

Cor I could be 100% completely wrong in my interpretation and analysis, and I’m just a biased McLennoner who needs to shaddup.

Now a side tangent real quick because I found this and I have something to say:

“This song includes the line: "The freaks on the phone won't leave me alone, so don't give me that brother, brother." Lennon explained the lyric to the January edition of Rolling Stone. He said: "I'm sick of all these aggressive hippies or whatever they are, the "Now Generation," being very up-tight with me. Either on the street or anywhere, or on the phone, demanding my attention, as if I owed them something."  [x]

In 1969 he and Yoko did that performative, elitist Bed In For Peace for two whole bloody weeks. Not to mention spreading all that “War is over if you want it to be,” sloganeering. Of course they (the hippie Now Generation) expected something from him, he’d been playing political activist with Yoko for attention, and he got it. So for him to be bitching about suddenly being looked too as some leading figure for these movements, I think is pretty telling. 

Like how it mentioned up there, that John had an issue being part of the main focus for those in the ‘Peace movement’, I think it’s funny, or at most annoying, how people claim John was some hippie or commie when, I think it was clear, he didn’t want anything to do with those individuals or whatever they were selling (I mean John was materialistic and a capitalist, all the boys were) John wasn’t political, he wasn’t very interested in all that, and like with most things, his fascination and interest in it faded quickly and he became bored and disillusioned by the ideologies and political figures, and dropped them.

I’m not saying John didn’t care, like anyone he had opinions and thoughts, feelings on subjects— he wasn’t seriously into politics. He wasn’t a political leader, he didn’t want to become a political figure or martyr, he wasn’t a radical of any sorts, and had admitted later on about being embarrassed about who he was during the Imagine period of his life, and regretted a lot of what he’d said or done. 

Anyway... I know this was supposed to be about dissecting the lyrical and personal(mclennon) meaning too “I’ve seen religion from Jesus to Paul,” but it really is all over the place. Sorry about that.