#but he is getting an HBS so no complaints here

[capitalisticveins]

How does Elliott, the ACTUAL dreamwalker, not have a sleep aid, but Blake, the FAKE dreamwalker, does???

[chaifootsteps]

Armchair Psychology Anon here (not a real Psych just seeing patterns)

I uh... hmm.

So Lilith/Eve is the true villian, wanting to destroy the relationship of Charlie and Lucifer?

Of course it is. (If true).

And her liking these tweets of Luci x Lilith lately makes a whole lot more sense. The fans are most likely not going to take this well if this leak is true. Also, it makes sense that her trading card crops out her face, gives her no last name, and makes her look sinister as hell. She also still has not yet had her VA revealed and no real good look at her.

I just... it's interesting as well that Alastor is secretly sent to protect Charlie. (Male character, too, of course. And seeing someone say he's also a father figure now makes sense as well.) I always liked the idea that he was secretly going to turn on the Hotel and Charlie (or just leaves) and be an obvious hidden antagonist. And it's interesting that Charlie DOES end up forgiving her. Viv mentioned spending time with her mom over the holiday, so it's clear that perhaps that they do have some sort of civil relationship at the very least.

And of course, the Root of Evil is a woman.

Chai, I say this as nicely as possible, especially after carefully analyzing and seeing the complaints of HB as a whole, and that recent interview with Brandon asking about how women are written, and about Ghostfuckers (whilst also knowing about the leaks of it). Also likes silly tweets about being depressed, and most of her main cast of Helluva consists of depressed characters. Especially Stolas (who is also rich, and Vuv defends like crazy (He's her self insert/her father rolled into one character). That one is not too hard to see. Most people are depressed these days (myself included).

Vivienne needs therapy.

She needs it if she hasn't already been getting it.

I understand that writing out trauma is therapeutic. I have author friends who do it. I do it myself. But I also see my own therapist every week.

She clearly hates women. She loves her own father and incorporates loving father/daughter relationships into her own work and clearly does not let anything get in the way of that.

That's why the main character is allowed to be woman. Because it's Viv and the relationship with her own father. Charlie is also bi... which Viv is apparently too.

Something else I've noticed is older bad dads.

Which is ironic because God punishes Lucifer (his son) and Luci wants to be good for Charlie.

I think it's quite possible that maybe her grandfather was not as kind to her father, as her father is to her. See Crimson to Moxxie (it can be assumed Moxxie wants children and would be a loving father). See Paimon to Stolas, and Cash to Blitzo.

But then, going down the line of the newer fathers being better to their daughters. Stolas tries with Octavia (doesn't try very well), Blitz REALLY tries with Loona, Millie's dad seems to have a healthy relationship with her. Perhaps her father has shared with her that his relationship with his dad wasn't great and that he wanted to be a better father to her and her sisters. And whatever her mother did to her/her father...yikes.

Her latest IG post also does mention being depressed about "plans changing" and that food from her dad helps.

I just... wow. Viv can be so easily read. She really doesn't leave anything hidden. And she can't stop herself from writing out her truth.

And that's not going to go over with the fans or public at all, I'm sure of it.

It is also interesting to have a male voicing Katie Killjoy. Hmm. Not that I have a problem with men voicing women, but when it comes to Viv... I don't have a good feeling about it. I've also noticed Brandon seeming a bit miserable in his IG posts and his HH ones don't seem very excited either.

I think his declining views on his own channel other than the 2 HB ones say a lot. Especially when he's clearly trying to placate Viv by saying he's "one of the worst writers of HB".

Chai... oof. I don't know what else to say. We'll just see what comes next.

Thank you for all of this, Armchair Psychology Anon. Your writeups are always fascinating to read, in a haunting sort of way.

I don't know what's going on in Viv's personal life and family history, but all this is pointing to something that demands a really good therapist. Viv being an awful person doesn't negate that.

[multifandomgrabage]

Random and non cohesive HB thoughts, particularly season 2:

I don’t condone or support Stella’s actions, but I am very disappointed in how she is written. Im fine with her being a villain, and I’ll even let a lack of a backstory slide! My main issues with Stella are:

A) Being 1 dimensional. Please, give her traits outside of “bitch” and “angry at Stolas”. The majority of the fan base already is (somehow) in support of Stolitz, you don’t need another prop to keep your ship going. (subpoint to a): Also, not a fan of the “wife finds out that her husband is queer” trope, but whatever, she is a villain. Its pretty fucking basic though.

B) Her lines. My fucking gosh, her lines are so fucking flat and weightless. You’d think that something an abuser says would stick and sound intimidating, but no. We get “I LiKe ToRmEnTiNg YoU”. For fucks sake, what was that?! As someone who grew up with an abusive mother, I can confidently say that no one will say that. Its like they didnt respect their ADULT audience enough to figure things out and felt they had to have a giant ass neon sign screaming

“LOOK HERE, THIS IS ABUSIVE, SHE SAID SHE LIKES HURTING HIM! A-B-U-S-E! NOW GO AND FORGET ABOUT ANY TERRIBLY TOXIC THINGS STOLAS OR BLITZO HAVE DONE”

Clearly the show is meant for adult audiences. We don’t need to be told what is and isn’t abuse. Why not do a little something called “show vs tell”? Some alright examples they have previously done are the portraits usually having just Stolas and Octavia, or a pissed Stella. Or seeing how she threw a fucking imp butler across the room.

I got a bit off topic, but here are some ways id probably write her:

A narcissist. To the outside world, she is friendly Stella, who just likes to party and smile. She has a perfect family, and everyone loves her. But under the surface, in order to feel superior she puts Stolas down constantly, through verbal abuse and perhaps some physical. Her love for Octavia is conditional, she is only pleased as long as everyone is doing everything to her command. All this possibly stems from an inferiority complex that she desperately covers through a high ego, false confidence and making sure others feel lesser to her.

Some possible lines?:

“You are nothing without me. You think you can make it on your own without me? You cant even take care of Octavia, what makes you think you can handle yourself”

“You would choose a lowly imp over me? I guess I shouldn’t have expected more from someone as low as you”

“You don’t even deserve to have me, consider yourself lucky that I am willing to stay”

“You look so damn stupid like that, singing in your self pity. Had you stuck with me, you wouldn’t have been in that position.” That or someone else mentioned Blitzo and Stella being childhood friends, her being arranged with Stolas, and then having the cheating incident

whoever had that idea is a genius.

C: Why is her design so damn good? I love fancy pigeons and they made her a fancy pigeon. (this isn’t a complaint but a thought)

Moving on from Stella, lets get to S2 E2…

I was so excited to have an episode where it wasn’t the Stolitz shipping show. I got my hopes too high. The one positive thing Ill say is that I enjoyed the adoption flashback. Maybe I read too much into it but it feels kind of like a commentary in how shitty the adoption system is, especially to teenagers. Any kid really, as they’re treated like literal dogs, and then kicked out on the street.

Back to me complaining about shit:

For one, why did we spend so much fucking tome in that stupid ass sitcom? If Stolas is such a caring dad, shouldn’t he just leave and look for Octavia? So much character growth could have happened in that time.

I know that Loona didn’t just tell Octavia to just deal with her dad neglecting her just because “he’s trying”. Its HIS responsibility as a parent to take care of his kid, and Octavia has every right to be upset st him and her circumstances. Her parents have been unstable, but after a divorce, even more so. Her dad has straight up ignored her, in favor of arguing with Stella. She did nothing wrong and has nothing to apologize for. I got so excited when Stolas started to apologize, but then Octavia apologized.

Did I mention that there was 4 minutes of Octavia and Loona together at most? Despite the thumbnail? Yeah, that blowed.

Honestly the only reason I keep up anymore is because of the animation and the weak dying hope that it’ll get better.

thats all ig, please don’t be rude in the comments. You can disagree but keep it civil. Going to bed now, bye

EDIT: So Imma randomly add a brainbarf of thoughts here too, because I do not feel like organizing shit. My brain's thoughts just expand everywhere, so bare with me.

Another reason why Stella's abuse doesn't really land is because Stolas just... doesn't seem afraid of her at all? For someone who claims to love tormenting someone, she sure is doing a shitty job at it. The way that Stolas would just have the balls (or cloaca ig) to keep going out using Blitz, worry free despite his wife doesn't give the vibes of "Victim of Domestic violence, verbal and physical abuse" to me.

To continue on why her abuse doesn't land, it has to do with the nature of this show and how it portrays stuff. It gets very confusing. Loona assaulting Blitz, Blitz and Asmodeus (on separate occasions) touching Moxie's groin area (without consent) and Multiple characters using slurs against Moxie is supposedly "funny".

Personally I don't find it humorous, but I do get somewhat jaded and desensitized to stuff like that happening. Not to say that it's acceptable behavior, but you do kind of get used to it and take it a little less seriously in the context. In S1E2 Stella is seen screaming and throwing shit around. This *can* be seen as portrayal of abuse, but given that many characters do similar shit it can also be seen as another unfunny attempt at humor.

Fast forward to season 2, if you've lasted that long you should expect some edgy shit like that to be written in a way that tries to excuse it. But all of a sudden, we get "Actually, abuse is bad. Feel bad for Stolas because he is abused by his wife. Yeah, we constantly make our characters do abusive things too, but it's funny when they do it, just ignore it and feel bad for Sad Gay Owl Man."

What? The fuck? Is the deal with powers, especially human disguises? Initially I thought that maybe only Succubi and Incubi, as well has hellhounds had the power because some hellborns are more powerful than others. How would that work if Hellhounds are below Imps in the hierarchy though? By that logic, shouldn't Imps also get that power? So that idea doesn't work. I don't fucking know why or how any of this works. Theres no storybuilding or explanation for it. For something that appears so often, I think there should be. The purpose of a human disguise is to blend in among the human world, so I can see Succubi/Incubi having that power because I'd assume they're some of the only demons allowed to go to the human world. I wouldn't know why a hellhound would come to Earth, but I guess they just have the power too?

Speaking of rules about demons on Earth that weren't explained!

Stolas is able to summon himself in some big scary owl demon form without his book ANYWHERE near him in "Truth Seekers". Yet in S2E2 he can only conjure up a poorly designed human form because now his powers are attached to the book? HUH?! Where is the consistency?

Also, given that IMP is big enough to get a commercial, how have they not gotten in trouble for breaking what I assume is one of hell's only rules? We know that they aren't supposed to be there, and yet this seems to have no consequence? Having them have to try and fly below the radar in hell would raise stakes a lot more imo.

But whatever, fuck the rules, because there are none!

______________________________________________________

Unrelated rambles, but still kind of relevant and similar? I just don't want to make a separate post.

I don't like Andrealphus' design. It's way too bright and saturated and honestly has my eyes strain a lot, despite not being red. I kinda wanna redesign him. Also I feel like he's gonna be yet another gay stereotype, which is always fun to have /s.

Lucifer's design is underwhelming. Not necessarly because the design is bad on its own, but because of two things:

A) Too many characters look like that. We have too many skinny white Tumblr Sexyman Twinks. We have too many characters with that copy paste smile. Too many characters in suits. He just doesn't stand out. This leads me to my next point.

B) His design doesn't say "Lucifer, King and Ruler of Hell, Fallen Angel". It says "Generic Vivziepop Snarky Guy with a quirky interest". BEFORE SOME OF YALL START SAYING "B-but ackshually he pwobably haz a more dwemwonic fowm 🤓", respectfully, no. I feel that the leader of hell should have a default design that commands some kind of respect out of fear, it doesn't have to be crazy, but it should be intimidating, and stand out. What kind of king just blends into a crowd of his own people? Especially in a fantasy? This is fiction, and there is no reason to hold back and not try something new. In fact, 90% of the characters being skinny could actually be used as an advantage, because then you could just make Lucifer's bodyshape different from the default and he'd already stand out much more.

Fuck it, two redesigns coming up. When I'm done I'll link them here.

[leslie-lyman]

Rights and Wrongs

summary: “I’m not keeping it, Jack. I knew that before I called him and told him. I don’t know if I want kids, but I do know that I don’t want them now. Not like this. And not with him.”

Or: Whiskey helps you get an abortion.

pairing: Whiskey x f!reader

rating: M

word count: 6.4k

warnings: possible dead dove do not eat; unplanned, unwanted pregnancy; early pregnancy symptoms including vomiting; descriptions of what pregnant people have to go through to get an abortion in the state of Kentucky; abortion clinic protestors and physical and verbal harassment of patients; reader has a medically unnecessary but state-mandated trans-vaginal ultrasound; use of moderate anesthesia and recovery from anesthesia; allusions to past loss and trauma (it’s Jack, I’m assuming know his backstory); not super-explicit description of reader getting a surgical abortion; Jack being a little naive in the way well-meaning straight white dudes often are but also being pro-choice as f*ck

Author’s note:

*Fleabag voice* This is a love story.

Hey there folks. Please read the warnings on this one. I know that pregnancy can be a tough topic for a lot of people to read about. Everything I’ve described here is what you actually have to go through to get an abortion in Kentucky. (Or, well, it was, until two days ago when the Kentucky legislature overrode the Governor’s veto of HB 3, which has resulted in a complete stoppage of all abortions in Kentucky.) If this is not a thing you want to read about, for whatever reason, I respect that completely.

However, if you read this fic and think it might be a good idea to spout some anti-abortion nonsense at me in response, I am going to pre-emptively suggest you kindly shove it up your asshole instead.

Abortion is health care. Abortion is a human right. You will not move me on this. I wrote this fic because I have a lot of anger and fear and frustration that the human right to bodily autonomy is about to be completely gutted in my country. But I also wrote it because abortion is normal. People get abortions every day. And I wanted to write and read a fic where reader gets her happy ending with Jack and an abortion is how it happens.

Additional note: This fic is also a fundraiser! April is when many abortion funds host their biggest annual fundraisers, and you can help! For each note this fic gets between now and the end of April - every like, reblog, and comment, even the ones that are me replying to someone, and hell, I’ll include asks and DMs about this fic too - I’ll donate a dollar to the Kentucky Health Justice Network, a fund providing direct financial and other assistance to people in Kentucky who need abortions.

If this sounds like a journey you’d like to go on with me, then let’s go.

Masterlist.

———

This afternoon has been taken up by two phone calls you never thought you’d have to make.

The first to the Kentucky Women’s Health Clinic. The second to your ex-boyfriend.

The call with the clinic goes well, better and easier and kinder than you’d expected, even if their first available appointment is further out than you’d prefer. The call with Michael goes even more poorly than you’d thought it would.

He hadn’t been your ex for very long; only about two weeks. Your breakup had not been amicable; nearly three years of dating had come to a car wreck of a conclusion when you’d discovered explicit texts and photos of several other women on his phone, going back months. He hadn’t tried to argue with you when you’d confronted him; instead, he’d blamed you for his forays into infidelity. You worked too much. You were too focused on your career. You didn’t devote enough time or effort to your relationship anymore, so no wonder he’d started to look elsewhere. Never mind that this was the first time you were hearing these complaints.

You weren’t heartbroken so much as furious. Furious with him, but also furious with yourself for not seeing the signs and ending things sooner.

And now, calling to tell him about the…situation you find yourself in only leaves you feeling humiliated.

“So this is your ploy, huh?” He says after you’ve explained. “This is how you’re gonna try to get me back?”

Your mouth hangs open, and for a moment all you can do is splutter wordlessly in rage.

“Are you serious?” You hiss at him. “I already told you I wasn’t planning on keeping it, and you still think that this is some kind of plan to, what, trap you into getting back together? As if that’s something I would even want?”

The volume of your voice has now crept upward to a full yell, and you admit it makes you feel marginally better.

Your conversation devolves further from there into a full-on shouting match, much of which is a re-hash of the row you’d had when you broke up.

“See, this is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about,” Michael says at one point, his tone one of smug vindication. “You never put your personal life first. At the smallest inconvenience you - ”

“This is not an inconvenience,” you seethe. Why is this so hard for him to understand? “Listen, I called you to tell you about this because I thought you deserved to know, but I guess even after everything I still didn’t comprehend just how much of a selfish asshole you are.”

“Takes one to know one, honey.”

That does it.

“Fuck you.”

You hang up and sink down onto the couch, not making any effort to stop the tears from falling.

The sound of your name, followed by the closing of the front door, makes you jump.

Shit. Jack’s home. You’ve been his guest for the past two weeks, having had nowhere else to go on such short notice after moving out of Michael’s apartment.

“Everything alright, darlin’?” he asks, “I swear I heard you hollerin’ when I was still clear down the hall about somethin’ - ”

You try to wipe your face and pretend like nothing’s wrong, but the instant Jack sees you he rushes over.

“Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart - ” he crouches down to your level, reaching up to brush the last of the tears from your eyes, concern written all over his face. “What happened?”

You don’t want to burden him with this. Not after everything he’s already done for you.

Not when he’s been the best friend you could ask for the past few years, the two of you meeting and growing steadily closer after you’d taken a job at Statesman (the distillery, not the spy agency). Not when Jack’s always been so generous with his time and his friendship, a rock-steady presence in your life who has been there for you no matter the circumstances. Who insisted you come stay with him after your breakup in his spacious Louisville penthouse, who refused to let you pay him any sort of rent, who assures you you’re welcome to stay as long as you like until you figure something else out, and whom you’d had to talk down from going over to Michael’s place himself to have words with the man on your behalf.

To share this with him feels like too much on top of all of that. Especially when you know about the tragedies in his past. Part of you is afraid that if you tell him, he’ll turn away from you. That he’ll call you selfish, just like Michael did, or think you’re committing some terrible sin. That if you tell him what you intend to do, it will cause an irreparable tear in your friendship.

But it appears you no longer have a say in the matter. Not when Jack is looking at you like this and you know you’re not just facing Jack Daniels, your best friend, but Agent Whiskey, an elite secret agent who will know if you lie to him. You gulp in a breath and try to steel yourself for this conversation before words start tumbling out of your mouth.

“I’ll tell you, but Jack, let me just say that if anything I say makes you uncomfortable we don’t have to keep talking about it, I’m a big girl, and I can handle my own shit - ”

“Darlin’,” he says, in a quieter, kinder version of the firm, no-nonsense tone he uses to bark out orders to subordinates, “what’s wrong?”

Just rip the band-aid off. Just do it. Just tell him -

“I’m pregnant.”

Jack’s eyebrows damn near disappear beneath the brim of his Stetson. Whatever he’d been expecting you to say, it clearly had not been that.

He looks down at your stomach as though it will appear any different from the last time he’d seen it this morning.

“You-you are?”

You nod. “Yup, I’m knocked up but good.”

You can see the gears turning in his head as he runs through the implications of this revelation.

“And am I correct in assumin’ that the other responsible party in this scenario is Michael?”

You nod again.

Jack swallows and rubs at his chin with one hand, a gesture you’ve long since come to recognize as something he does when he’s nervous, though you can’t imagine why.

“Are y’all still broken up?” He asks, and there’s something tentative about it.

“We are,” you rush to assure him. “Believe me, we are. Something I’ve never been more sure of after the conversation I just had with him.”

Jack frowns at you. “Ah. And am I also correct in assumin’ that he did not take the news well?”

You can’t help but laugh at the enormous understatement, but there’s no real humor in it.

“I’m not keeping it, Jack. I knew that before I called him and told him. I don’t know if I want kids, but I do know that I don’t want them now. Not like this. And not with him.” You scrunch your face up into a grimace.

“It’s not-it’s not just that he didn’t take the news well, it’s that I told him I was pregnant, I told him I’d made an appointment for an abortion, and he thought I might be making it up to try and get him back. Do you know what he said to me at one point?” Tears prick at your eyes again, and it’s more from frustration than anything. “‘If you’re going to get rid of it, why are you even calling me?’ I felt he should at least know, and I’d hoped that maybe he’d be willing to help me through the process if nothing else. Abortions aren’t allowed to be covered by insurance in this goddamn state and they aren’t exactly the cheapest things in the world, but regardless, Jack, I told him I was pregnant and it was like, it was like - ”

You blink up at the ceiling, unwilling to look at Jack as the tears start to fall freely again. “It was like he didn’t even care.”

“Oh, sweetheart-” In one quick movement Jack sits down beside you and pulls you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. That bastard does not deserve you. He never did.”

You let yourself melt into Jack’s embrace, the oddly comforting smell of old cigars still clinging to the thick gray wool of his blazer, no matter how many times he gets it dry-cleaned.

“Took me two damn days to work up the nerve to call him, and that’s the reaction he gives me,” you grumble into the fabric. “Unbelievable.”

You feel Jack’s back stiffen.

“Wait,” he says, pulling away slightly so he can look at you, “you mean to tell me you’ve known about this for two days and you’ve been keepin’ it all to yourself?”

You open your mouth to try and explain, but Jack halts you.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re under any obligation to ever tell me anything, sugar, but this seems like a mighty heavy burden to carry all by yourself. You needn’t ever feel like you have to shoulder such a thing alone, you know that, right?”

You shrug, unable to meet his eye, suddenly becoming fascinated with the worn brown leather of the couch instead.

“I wanted to tell you,” you say, “but I was - oh god this might sound so stupid, but - I was scared. I wasn’t sure how you’d react, both to the news and to my decision about what to do. Because, you know - ”

You gesture vaguely, hoping he understands the reason for your trepidation. This was a man who, not long before you’d met him, had been willing to let millions die because of a grudge he’d held that was eating him alive. He hadn’t been successful, thank god, and he’d put in the serious, long hours in therapy while chained to a desk assignment for over a year before being let into the field again. But still, you’d hate to think you’ve reopened that wound.

Jack makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. He tilts your face upward to look at him, then gently brushes your hair behind one ear.

“Darlin’, my past and my traumas are my responsibility. That pain of losin’ my family is always gonna be there, but what’s important is that it doesn’t control me anymore. So while I appreciate you lookin’ out for my feelings, the only feelings I am concerned with right now are yours.

“As for the nature of your decision - my family was taken from me. Me and my wife’s choices about when and how we wanted to have our baby boy were taken from us. The last thing I would ever want to do is to have that choice taken from anyone else.”

You swear you normally don’t cry this much. Perhaps you can just blame it on pregnancy hormones. But you didn’t realize until just this moment how much it means to you to hear Jack accept your pregnancy - and your decision to terminate it - without judgment. To find that your fear of your best friend rejecting you is unfounded. Your head drops against his shoulder as an unexpected feeling of relief washes over you.

Jack leans back on the couch, gently pulling you with him until you’re tucked safely under his arm.

“When’s your appointment?” He asks. “I can tell Champ I’m takin’ a day or two off work, I figure they won’t want you to drive yourself to and from the clinic. And I can be here for as long as it takes for you to recover.”

“Jack, you don’t have to - I don’t mean to ask this of you - ”

“You’re not askin’,” he interrupts, resting his free hand on your knee and squeezing, “I’m offerin’.” His broad palm spans so much of your thigh, his touch making you feel tingly and warm even through the fabric of your jeans. “I’m here for you, sweetheart. Now, tell me what you need.”

———

Three weeks. It’s three weeks between the time you tell Jack and your appointment, the severe imbalance of the supply of abortion services in your area compared to the number of people needing abortion care meaning lead times for appointment slots are lengthy. Every day is money out of your pocket, too, the delay in getting the procedure meaning that you’ll be far enough along that a cheaper medication abortion will no longer be an option. Instead, a significantly more expensive surgical abortion awaits you, which means your risk of side effects and complications, while still small, increases, as does your recovery time.

The feeling of helplessness you carry around constantly only grows as all you can do is wait for time to pass.

And in the meantime, you’re still pregnant, when you very much don’t want to be.

There’s no escaping the typical effects of a first trimester pregnancy that start wreaking havoc on your body. You can’t blame it, as much as you want to. Your body doesn’t know that this ultimately isn’t going to go anywhere; it’s not like there’s a pause button you can hit or a hold for abortion switch you can flip.

Through all of it, Jack is a saint. He’s endlessly patient and gentle, never getting upset with you when a mood swing hits and you snap at him for no reason (though you always feel terrible and apologize for it after). He fills the apartment with every snack and weird food combo you crave. He takes on chores you were used to doing yourself - washing your dishes, doing your laundry - when fatigue hits you so hard things like just getting into your pajamas and brushing your teeth take all your energy. He holds your hair back and presses a cool washcloth to the back of your neck when you’re hunched over the toilet from morning sickness, even in the middle of the night.

It’s during one such incident, about a week before your appointment, that you hit a breaking point.

It’s just after midnight, and you’ve been in the bathroom for half an hour. Everything about you is a sick, achy mess, and you’d be humiliated that Jack is sitting here on the tile floor next to you to see it all happen if you still had any energy left to care. You take a swig of water from the cup he holds out to you and swish it around before spitting it into the toilet bowl. You rest your forehead against the edge of the porcelain and let out a moan of pure frustration, the sound raspy and froggy coming out of your raw throat. You’re so exhausted and sick and absolutely done.

“I hate this, Jack,” you whine. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I just want this to be over. I just want to stop feeling like shit. I just want my appointment to fucking get here, and I know this might sound callous, but I just want it gone.”

“I know, sugar,” he says, scooting over to rub a hand up and down your back, his other tracing a path along your arm. “I hate seeing you like this, knowin’ there‘s nothin’ I can do to make it better. But it’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

You think sometimes about the notion that he’s probably so good at taking care of you right now because technically he’s done this before. And in the deepest, most secret part of your heart you’ve started to wonder if this is what it would be like, to be Jack’s wife, to be having Jack’s baby. To have him take care of you because he wants you, because he loves you. It’s a fantasy that appeals to you far more than you’d like to admit.

There has always been something there, hidden under your otherwise platonic feelings of friendship towards Jack. But you’d only been with Michael a few weeks before meeting Jack for the first time, and while you found Jack handsome and charming and sweet, you’d buried any feeling that threatened to develop into a crush on the man deep, not wanting to jeopardize your new relationship.

But now, without the excuse of Michael to motivate you, and with more evidence than ever before right in front of your face of what a good friend, a good man, Jack Daniels is, whatever you’d suppressed has come roaring back with a vengeance, a dormant seed finally bursting free from the ground and rapidly climbing towards the sun. But it’s a development you’ll figure out how to deal with after your appointment. One problem at a time.

“You make it better just by being here, Jack,” you tell him. And it’s true.

Something flickers across his face, some flash of emotion you can’t place. He takes a breath and looks like he’s about to say something to you, but at that moment another round of nausea hits you, and any reply he might have made is interrupted by the extremely attractive sight and sound of you dry heaving for the third time that night.

———

“I don’t like the look of this, darlin’,” Jack says warily, eyeing the group of protestors on the sidewalk.

You shrug. “Neither do I, but if you want to get to the clinic, you gotta walk through that crowd.”

There are two abortion clinics left in the entire state of Kentucky. And every day that the clinics are open, people show up to protest and harass the patients. There’s about two dozen of them in front of the Kentucky Women’s Health Clinic today, nearly half of them standing with enormous signs depicting blown up images of bloody embryos covered in giant text with phrases like “BABIES ARE MURDERED HERE” and “CHOOSE JESUS” and references to Bible quotes you’re sure are in no way taken out of context.

State law requires that you give your consent to the procedure face-to-face 24 hours beforehand, but fortunately you were able to do it over Zoom the day before. For the better part of an hour afterwards you’d ranted at Jack about the information you’d been given, essentially a lecture dictated not by any medical professional, but by the almost exclusively straight, white, conservative men who made up the vast majority of Kentucky’s legislature.

It’s such condescending bullshit you’d shouted at him, suddenly having more energy than you’d had in weeks. That poor nurse had to tell me that medication abortions can be reversed, which isn’t true. She had to tell me at length about the adoption options in this state, as if adoption does jack shit to solve my “I don’t want to be pregnant anymore” problem, or mitigate any of the serious health risks of carrying a pregnancy to term. God knows how many years of education and training this woman had to go through to become a nurse, only to now have both of us be force-fed sanctimonious anti-choice, anti-science horseshit just because some crusty old men still haven’t come around to the fact that women are people.

But seeing the crowd outside the clinic now, you’re at least grateful you’d been able to jump through that hoop with a video call, instead of having to go to the clinic twice.

“Well then, if there’s really no avoiding’ those folks - ” Jack reaches over your legs to open up the glove box where his dual pistols are waiting. As nervous as you are, you still get a little thrill from his arm brushing across your thigh.

“Jack, stop.” You put your hand on his arm to still him. “I appreciate the thought, but you can’t bring weapons into the clinic. They’re understandably a little paranoid about that, you know?”

Understanding dawns on his face, and he looks abashed.

“Sorry, sugar,” he says. “I was just thinkin’ about giving those nosy nellies out there a reason to keep their distance.”

You give his arm a squeeze. “I know you were. But let’s just get in the door, okay? Whatever you do, don’t let them provoke you. I’m gonna be in no state to bail you out of jail if you let one of them get a rise out of you.”

He nods.

“Let’s go.”

The second you open your door, the noise hits you. People chanting and yelling, at least one of them into a bullhorn. Someone’s playing music through a portable amplifier that has both seen and heard better days. More than a dozen people swarm towards you and Jack the instant you’re out of the car, all of them pushing in way too close for comfort, and almost all of them men. Two clinic escorts in orange safety vests take up posts on either side of the two of you, providing you with what buffer they can and offering words of encouragement and distraction.

Jack doesn’t hesitate: he wraps one arm around you and tucks you in close to his side. Your arm automatically goes around his waist and you cling to him, turning your face into his jacket and breathing in the comforting smell of whiskey and leather and Jack.

Strong man protects you, whispers your lizard hindbrain despite the highly inappropriate timing, finding Jack’s presence achingly attractive even through the rising anxiety of walking through a hostile crowd.

You try to tune out the specifics of what the protestors are trying to shout in your ear, mostly variations on “don’t murder your baby” and “we can help you” and a good deal of yelling about God and Satan and repenting for your sins. But after a minute you realize that they aren’t just yelling at you. They’re also yelling at Jack.

“Don’t let her murder your baby!”

“If you do this, you’re going to hell!”

“Be a man, don’t let her kill your child!”

Your throat closes up in horror. Of course, of course they would assume that Jack is the father, with no thought at all to what the circumstances might actually be, how hurtful those words could be for him to hear. You wrap your arm even more tightly around him, feeling more guilty than you’d thought possible that you’d dragged him into this. But apart from the occasional “Fuck off!” when one of them gets too close, Jack says nothing to the protestors, instead walking quickly along the sidewalk with his spine ramrod straight, like he’s trying to use every inch of his build to appear as intimidating as he can.

You’re almost to the clinic when suddenly someone steps right in front of you, a middle-aged man big and bulky enough to make you stop in your tracks. He’s wearing a sweatshirt that reads “JAIL ABORTIONISTS.” Before anyone can do anything he reaches out and grabs your free hand that’s not holding a fistful of Jack’s jacket. He grips it tightly and tries to shove some kind of a pamphlet into your palm.

“Hey - ” you start to say, more out of surprise than anything else.

Jack reacts instantly, inserting himself between you and the protestor before the man can even start on his spiel with an honest-to-god snarl in your defense. He moves like he’s about to hoist the man up by the front of his shirt, but as the man lets go of you you manage to bring your arm up to stop Jack from doing anything to further escalate things.

Because you know from the look on his face, deep and sure in your bones, that if Jack had his way, the man who’d grabbed you would be dead.

Strong man protects you, purrs that stupid cavewoman part of your brain again, instead of being horrified by the notion of Jack killing someone for harming you.

“Don’t you touch her,” Jack growls, and you swear you’ve never seen him look more furious.

Several additional clinic escorts move to put more distance between you and the protestors and hurry you both the rest of the way inside.

As the door shuts behind you, the sounds of the people outside become muted. You inhale a shaky breath. Jack cups your face in his hands, looking you over to make sure you’re unhurt.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asks, with so much genuine concern in his voice it makes your heart ache. He gently runs his hands up and down your arms. “That son of a bitch didn’t hurt you, did he?”

But you barely hear him, immediately launching into a stammered apology.

“Oh my god, Jack, I’m so sorry, those awful things they were saying to you - ”

There’s a moment, then, where you both stop and look at each other, realizing you’re each far more concerned about the other’s well-being than your own.

“It’s okay, honey,” he finally says, and your tummy flips over at the unusual endearment. His voice gets low and quiet in the way that it does when he’s making a serious point. “You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for. Those folks out there - it’s just ugliness for the sake of being ugly, for the sake of feelin’ more righteous than others. Nothin’ they can say can hurt me. But what I truly cannot stand - ” he lets his hands fall away from your face, but not before brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek, “is when people do not mind their own fuckin’ business. And when they think they can put hands on the people I - on the people I care about.”

You smile tentatively up at him. “I like when you use your calm, Serious Jack voice on me.”

His mouth quirks up in surprise.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Always makes me feel better.”

He pulls you into a too-brief hug. When he lets you go, he asks, “Alright, darlin’, ready to do this?”

If Jack is with you, you’re ready for anything.

“I am.”

———

The first part of your appointment feels remarkably similar to any other doctor’s visit, just with slightly more paperwork. You sit in the waiting room with Jack, filling out form after form and then waiting to be called back.

Finally, a nurse pokes her head out from the back and calls your name. You stand, and she sees you have someone with you.

“He can come back with you too, if you like,” she says, jutting her chin in Jack’s direction.

“Oh.” Shit. You haven’t talked with Jack about this, and you’ve already asked him to do so much, but after your awful experience outside, part of you really, really doesn’t want to be alone without him for the rest of this.

You turn back to him, trying to find the courage to tell him it’s fine, he doesn’t have to go with you, but once again, he reads you like an open book.

“Do you want me to go with you, darlin’?” he asks quietly, and you know once again he’s doing it to let you say yes to his question instead of having to ask him outright.

You curse yourself for not being strong enough to say no.

“Please.”

He stands, and lets his hand settle on the small of your back.

“Ladies first.”

———

The next hour passes in a blur of nurses coming into your exam room to take your vitals, have you fill out some more forms, and take samples for bloodwork. Finally, you get to talk to your doctor about the procedure itself.

Dr. Andrea Morgan is a tall, slender woman in her mid-fifties with an absolute riot of curly black hair tumbling over her shoulders. She has the reassuring, no-nonsense air of a physician who knows exactly what she’s doing, but also the kind demeanor of someone who understands how scary getting an abortion might seem.

You like her immediately.

Jack, on the other hand, has decided to fully embrace the role of your bodyguard, and proceeds to interrogate the poor woman like he’s on assignment for Statesman before he’ll let her perform what you know is a very common, very safe, relatively minor procedure on you.

Dr. Morgan takes it all in stride, talking the both of you through what the abortion will actually entail, what side effects to watch out for afterwards, and for how long to take it easy once it’s over. You’ve also elected to have her insert an IUD while you’re there, figuring you might as well do what you can to lessen your chances of ever being back in this situation again.

“Most people are able to resume normal activities within a day or two of their abortions,” Dr. Morgan tells you. “But depending on how your body adjusts to both the procedure and the IUD insertion, you may find an additional day of rest is necessary. Now this kind of IUD will start providing you immediate protection against pregnancy,” she holds up the t-shaped device, the version that’s made of copper, “however, you shouldn’t have vaginal intercourse for two weeks following the abortion to ensure everything heals up properly and there’s no risk of infection.”

Jack makes a muffled noise next to you and you glance over at him. For the past twenty minutes this man has listened and asked questions about your health and wellbeing and has sat through a truly shocking amount of discussion about your reproductive parts without blinking an eye, but for some reason this is the thing that now has the tips of his ears turning beet red.

If Dr. Morgan notices, she says nothing.

When all of your questions are exhausted, she lets you know she’ll be back to perform the procedure shortly, letting an ultrasound tech into the room.

“Now hang on a minute, sugar,” Jack says as the woman starts setting up, “what’s this about?”

You’ve actually been dreading this part more than anything else.

“We have to do an ultrasound before performing an abortion, sir,” the young tech says. She looks like she can’t be more than a year or two out of school, and you wonder at what bravery a person like her must possess to work at a place so constantly under threat. To know the risks of being injured or even killed for working in an abortion clinic are serious and real, and decide the work is worth doing anyway.

“An ultrasound?” Jack frowns in genuine confusion. “Lord knows I’m no doctor, but that seems a little unnecessary, don’t you think?”

“It’s required by state law, sir,” the tech replies, giving you a sympathetic glance. “We have to show the ultrasound as well as describe the fetus in detail. If we can detect a heartbeat, we have to play that sound too.”

Jack twists to look at you in horror.

“I know, Jack,” you say, aware that you’d have to go through this and already hating it.

“That is - that is just cruel,” he splutters in disbelief. “This is, what, some attempt at manipulatin’ folks into changin’ their minds? Or some sort of punishment for you makin’ your own damn decision about your life?”

“I’m not gonna change my mind,” you tell him, your voice somehow much calmer than you feel. “And it’s only a punishment if I choose to take it as one. If I choose to feel ashamed about this, and I don’t.”

Your inner rage is outwardly reflected on Jack’s face, and for a second he looks like he’s about to start arguing with the tech about subjecting you to this.

“It’s okay, Jack. I mean, it isn’t, but it’s something they have to do. If they don’t, they could be shut down for being out of compliance with the law, and that doesn’t help anyone.”

“I have to display the images and talk about them,” the tech says, “but you neither have to look nor listen if you don’t want to.”

She also offers Jack the chance to step out if either of you is uncomfortable with him being here for this part, but he shakes his head.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” he says, and you desperately hope he doesn’t notice the little shiver that runs down your spine. If only he meant it in all the ways you want him to.

Because of the stage of pregnancy you’re in, the tech can’t just slather some jelly on your stomach and get the image she needs. Instead, she puts a condom and some lube on a small probe that gets inserted into your vagina. It’s about the same level of discomfort as getting a Pap smear, and knowing that there’s absolutely no medically sound reason for you to be in this position right now makes you start to shake with anger. This, beyond anything else you’ve experienced today, feels like a violation.

The tech makes some adjustments and fiddles with the machine, and then up on the screen next to you, there it is. A grainy image of, you assume, your baby, though it’s difficult for your untrained eye to make much sense of what you’re seeing.

“I’m going to start describing it now,” the tech alerts you gently. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Sugar,” Jack says, his voice low but steady, “look at me.”

You do. Jack’s sat himself down in a chair at your side, making him for once just a little shorter than you are. His eyes betray the outrage he still feels on your behalf, but you can tell he’s trying to tamp it down, aware that that’s not what you need from him right now.

“Don’t listen to her, listen to me.”

It’s an easy command to follow. You could listen to Jack’s warm, confident drawl all day.

“You have been so brave through all of this. I know your decision about what to do was an easy one for you, but then to face down all these hurdles bein’ put in your way, determined to not let anyone or anything keep you from makin’ your decision a reality? I have never, ever been prouder of you.

When this is over, I’m gonna take you home and you’re gonna rest for as long as you need to. We’ll order whatever takeout sounds good to you, and we’ll watch any movie you want.”

“Even The Parent Trap?”

That makes Jack smile for perhaps the first time all day. He’s never particularly cared for that film, one of your all-time favorites.

“Yes, darlin’, even that one. You are not gonna have to worry about a single thing after this. I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You’re glad they don’t have you hooked up to a heart rate monitor to broadcast the sudden rapid increase in your pulse. Jack’s already taken such good care of you. You think you may want him to do it forever, if he’d be willing to.

———

At last all of the preliminary hoops have been jumped through, and Dr. Morgan re-enters your room just as another nurse prepares to hook up an IV of mild sedatives into your arm.

The drugs don’t knock you out completely, but they do make everything look and feel like you’re drifting along underwater. You can see the slightly blurry shape of Dr. Morgan moving around between your legs, and you can feel things happening down there, but it’s like the part of your brain that allows you to actually react to stimuli has been switched off.

Suddenly, however, things sharpen enough that you register a serious amount of pain somewhere near your cervix. Your body tenses up and you whimper, going white-knuckled around the arms of the dentist-style chair they have you reclined in.

But when you look down, you realize one of your hands isn’t squeezing around the arm of the chair -

- because Jack is holding it.

Something else breaks through the haze then, a sound, and you realize it’s Jack, whispering more soft praises and talking you through it.

“You’re alright, darlin’, you’re alright,” he says, “You’re doin’ so well. It’ll be over soon, just keep hangin’ on to my hand, there’s a good girl. My brave, strong, precious girl. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Jack.

How is it that this man is so perfect? Whatever did you do to deserve someone so selfless, so kind, so generous?

You love him.

The revelatory thought bursts through your mind like a beam of sun through clouds and oh god.

You love him.

You should tell him that.

You have to tell him that.

Right now.

You open your mouth and try to form words, but apparently the part of your brain capable of coherent speech has also been temporarily switched off, and what comes out is garbled nonsense.

He huffs out a laugh, and you feel his other hand come up and softly pet your hair away from your face.

“Hush, darlin’, it’s alright. Whatever it is, we can talk about it when you’re not so loopy from all these drugs, okay?”

Kind, handsome, and smart.

What would you ever do without him?

———

After the procedure Dr. Morgan keeps you in the room under observation for over an hour until she’s satisfied that the sedatives have worn off enough that you can go home. You’re still a bit out of it, which turns out to be a blessing in disguise because it means you don’t really remember walking out past the protestors a second time.

You must fall asleep on the ride home because the next thing you know Jack is opening the door on your side of the Bronco and undoing your seatbelt.

You try to brush his hands away and argue that you can do it yourself, but he just shushes you and hauls you into his arms. He carries you like that, bridal-style, all the way up to his apartment before laying you down gently on his couch. He covers you with a blanket as you start to drift off again.

But you fight it, just for a moment, struck by this nagging thought in the back of your head that you have something you need to tell Jack, though you can’t quite remember what exactly it is.

“Sleep, darlin’. It’s okay; I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The last thing you feel before you’re out like a light is the soft brush of lips against your temple.

Part 2.

———————————————————————

Taglist: @honestly-shite @ezrasbirdie @jazzelsaur @girlofchaos @oonajaeadira @magpie-to-the-morning @mandoblowmybackout @thirstworldproblemss @randeerenae @whataperfectwasteoftime @katareyoudrilling @sherala007 @pedroslilbitch @radiowallet @grogusmum @iamskyereads @bruxasolta @i-can-get-back-on @theredwritingwitch @green-socks @xoxabs88xox @steeevienicks @sergeantbannerbarnes @stardustsophia @churchill356 @peterfrauchen @baybrowne @hloke @lowlights @adancedivasmom @kirsteng42 @harriedandharassed @beecastle

[larentsaloud]

Episode over and we now have to repeat the process again 😟

Thyme was so cute in this episode! The pink tee with hairband over his hair....and Gorya being the first one he sees on his birthday!!! Creating a prayer circle for some writer to pick up Gorya/ Thyme fanfiction.

Gorya being awesome self as usual! Looking so pretty in the blue dress and hair done! She was so happy making those cookies for Thyme

I do not like the new guy entry...shady vibes.

anon I am wrecked. soundtrack to this week's episode is unofficially <to sheila by smashing pumpkins> because all I can think about is the pink dye sequence. I just posted it part 1 x but will do part 2 here.

the way they are looking at each other?

it is oddly endearing for a 17 year old, soon to be 18 year old with such tempestuous nature to go all soft, giddy on her presence and demand to have his birthday countdown. it makes HER melt for him. watch.

the sheer panic on his face! oh no! my imaginary gf and IRL neighbour won't get to wish me HB? now what? he's not having it. he wants HER to be the first person to wish him HB. it's only natural when you re crushing as hard as out lil' tiger.

he even employs the heavy guns: pleading eyes and she laughs at his made up reasons for staying out there for a little longer.

they are excruciatingly cute together. and I haven't even gotten to the best part yet!

things that I will worry about til' next week:

new guy shady AF anon, you are right, I don't like him. there's a vibe. I'm getting a Wickham vibe. I thought Ren was it, but that was a red herring. WhoRen departed and now we have a new person to trash. damn. this show doesn't let us breathe. ANGST everywhere.

Thyme's fiancee is low key cute I might develop a crush what if I ship her with thyme? oh actually looks like she’s got the hots for Gorya. so there my new ship. I mean it's unlikely to happen, but then I ship MJ and Kaning so you never know what self-destructive path my brain will take me on???

Thyme's reaction to the engagement. I worry.

how is Gorya going to pay all the house bills on her own

are the cookies OK? are they crushed? they better not be damaged

I needed more soft / bickering thyme x gorya this episode was too short I am calling gmmtv now making official complaint

but above all?

pray for me. it's the come down. 

Dx

PS: re fan fiction I am pretty sure there are some ppl on a03 tag but I can't do that rabbit hole rn, I am working on a poetry book atm and I CANNOT distract myself. sorry. I do promise to create lots fo f4 content though. 

[pollyrepents]

love will make us

Warnings: John changes a diaper (puts on a show about it) and references sex.

Summary: making the most of the mundane with your gangster husband

Word Count: 2.5k of blatant favoritism

A/N: part two to the love language series! Quality time! i love john shelby! No real moment in time this is set, john’s still kicking. the teething moment is inspired by @hb-writes​ ‘s fic The Baby Whisperer 

Arthur | Tommy | Ada | Finn | Polly 

“Come sleep with me: We won't make Love, Love will make us.”

― Julio Cortázar

You listened to the baby in your arms babble to herself, her own incoherent language making her fall into a fit of giggles. You paced the floor for what felt like the hundredth time that evening and she kicked her legs, her attention turned to the stuffed bunny she had thrown to the floor.

 “Is that it? Is this what you want?” You inquired, bending down to grab the toy. She immediately pulled it to her mouth, her nose wrinkling as she bit down on the fabric as hard as a teething baby could. You brushed down her curls, cooing as she pressed her face against your chest. “I know, sweet girl.  Daddy’s going to be home soon and he’ll have the syrup that’ll make it all better.” You promised, smiling as her mumbling renewed around the soft fabric of the toy, gums rubbing against it.

 She began to whimper and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, the telltale sign of her nose scrunching up allowing you a moment to brace yourself for the noise. She began to cry again, her head thrown against your shoulder in a dramatic display of her discomfort. You sighed and started to rock in place, thankful that her siblings had evacuated the house to play with the other children in the lane. A house full of Shelby’s who could talk and walk was chaos enough, the tribulation that came along with teething would only drive complaints. Even your ever patient and curious Katie had had enough, wrinkling her nose at her little sister and shaking her head when you asked if she wanted to hold her to help her calm down.

The heavy front door swung open, thudding against the wall loudly before slamming shut. You peeked around the wall, the sight of John shrugging off his coat as he made his way toward you filling you with gratitude.

He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your cheek as he passed, making his way to the kitchen. “Why’s my girl making all that noise,eh? I can hear her out on the lane.”

“You gave her those Shelby lungs. She’s using them” You rubbed her back in soothing circles, bouncing her softly. “You missed her giggling. She was laughing up a storm by herself.” You glanced up at John’s peaked cap and he swiftly removed it, tucking it into his back pocket. “I think waiting for the teeth has made her delirious. She’s gone absolutely silly.”

“Have they?” He leaned down and narrowed his eyes at the whimpering baby, his own smile threatening to break his serious demeanor. “They made you silly, did they?”

She hiccupped, hiding her warm face against your neck.

“They’ve made me delirious.” You tutted, running a fingertip lightly down her spine. “Up at the crack of dawn and she hasn’t been down for a moment since. The moment you left her bum was sitting up in that bassinet, just waiting.”

“Let me see them then, pretty. Let’s have a look at the teeth causing all this trouble.” He tipped her chin back, gently pushing her cheeks together with his index finger and thumb. The chubby legs against your stomach began to kick excitedly and she began to giggle, her nose scrunching up. John cooed and inspected her dribbling mouth, laughing at the tiny snort that left the child.

“She’s really lost it.” John agreed, fingers tickling at her neck. “No teeth and all that noise about it.”

“Linda says when she was waiting on Billy’s teeth a little bit of syrup helped her.” You rose an eyebrow, using your free hand to reach into his pocket.

“But there’s nothin’ in there yet.” He pulled the baby up under her arms, covering her cheeks in stubbly kisses. “My girl ought to be out there running with her brothers and sisters.” He bounced her on his hip and she gripped his pinstriped shirt, squealing happily. “All that noise can keep them in check.”

“Try and put her down for a nap.” You stretched your sore arms, feeling the slight burn from being in motion for so long. “She’ll be a riot during dinner if she doesn’t get her nap in.”

“When is she not a riot?” John stretched her above his head, grinning as she began to babble downwards toward him. She spotted you, squealing and squirming in his hand with renewed vigor 

“John, not so high.” You scolded, patting his side in passing. “You better have that damn syrup somewhere.”

“Coat pocket. Straight from Polly Gray. She sends her best.” He affirmed, holding the baby eye level. His eyebrows pinched together and he pressed his nose to her round belly and sniffed, pulling back“Oi!”

“What, John?” You made a face, trying to measure out the thick syrup on a teaspoon spoon. “You’re going to make me spill-”

“She took a fuckin shit.”

“Babies do that.” You nodded, intensely focused on the spoon. “All day.”

“You need to-”

“I’ve been changing her all day.” You tried not to smile, seeing John’s face of disgust from the corner of your eye. “You’re holding her, your turn.”

“I just got home!”

“And I just gave her to you. 

John scoffed, “You knew she shit already!”

“I didn’t, I swear!” You laughed lightly. “Bring her here, she needs the syrup.”

“Syrup and a nappy change.” He scoffed, trying to hand the baby off. You took a step back, trying to spoon the syrup into the child’s mouth from a distance. She let out a whine and John quickly pulled her close, pressing his thumb against her chin to keep her mouth shut. She scrunched up her nose and the two of you watched her carefully. As soon as she let out a sharp cry you dropped the spoon into the sink and took a few steps back, smiling at John.

“You can at least fucking hold her down while I change her then.” He grumbled, his lips against the crown of her head. “Wild little thing, she is.”

“Deal.”

“Go get set up a nappy, then.” He glared at you, trying to hide his smile in your daughter’s hair. As you passed him his hand left the baby’s back and swatted your behind.

“John!” You yelped, rubbing at your backside. “You’re so heavy fucking handed!”

“Never complained before.”

“You’re holding our baby!” You tried your best attempt at a scowl as he began to ready your daughter for changing. You pulled her changing blanket over the dresser, placing a hand over her belly when John laid her down on her back.

She looked up at you, already whimpering and trying to turn onto her belly so she could crawl away. You cooed softly, turning her back onto her back and leaning down to kiss her freckled nose. “I know, daddy’s so slow, my love.”

“If mummy has a problem she can change your smelly arse herself.” John gagged dramatically as he folded up the dirty nappy, holding your daughter’s kicking legs down with one hand as she attempted her routine grand escape. “For fuck’s sake-”

“She’s a baby. This is torture for her.” You covered her ears, pouting at her as she hiccupped while he wiped. “How was work?”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath before leaning back down to pull a new nappy from the drawers. “Long. Busy. Stop moving, you. Not making it easier on yourself.”He pinned her nappy back in place, fingers scribbling lightly at her bare stomach. She erupted into high pitched giggles, kicking chubby feet at her father. “What did you do all day? Miss me?”

“Never.” You rebuttoned the baby’s onesie before John scooped her up to hold her close. “Some reading and chores. I should have gotten dinner started when the troops went out, but someone-” You pinched the baby’s cheek lightly and she pressed herself against John, suddenly shy. “Kept me occupied.”

“Can’t blame her for that.” John walked into the kitchen, already starting to put pans on the counter. “I’d want to be on you every chance I got too.” He adjusted the child in his arms and walked over to the bassinet in the living room. He settled her down and you watched fondly, only catching the end of what he mumbled to her.

“Put up a fight in there, eh.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her head before standing up. “Mummy and I have mummy and daddy things to do.”

You couldn’t help a laugh as he waggled his eyebrows, making his way toward you.

“Dinner, John.” You reminded, quirking your own eyebrow.

“But I’ve been away all day.” He protested.

“So have the kids.I sent them out after lunch..” You turned toward the counter, beginning to wash the vegetables that needed to be rinsed and skinned. “I bet they’ll have an appetite when they get back.”

“But I’ve been away from you all day.” His warm breath tickled your skin as he leaned down slightly to kiss along the skin of your neck.

“You have,” Your fingers gripped the carrot, dragging the knife downward toward the counter and pulling up the skin. “I worked up an appetite.”

“Doin what? Waiting on me to get home?” His voice was teetering on the roughness you loved, low and rumbling out of his chest against your back.

You turned toward him, lips just brushing his as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You leaned in, taking his ear lobe between your teeth for a brief second before whispering, “cleaning your teething daughter’s shitty nappies.”

John pulled away from you, unamused.

“Grab some potatoes, and get to cooking, Mr Shelby.” You chopped the narrow end off of the carrot, smiling at your handiwork.

The quieter moments came when the kids were in bed, on the couch.

Whiskey and John and heat, his heavy head on your lap. He read aloud the same book you read to the kids, a preview to make sure nothing in the next chapter was too scary. Your eyes attempted to focus on the newspaper on the arm of the couch beside you, fingers absentmindedly carding through his cropped hair.

“I have never seen him. But I spoke to him as he sat behind his screen and gave him your message. He said he will grant you an audience, if you so desire; but each one of you must enter his presence alone, and he will admit but one each day.” John cleared his throat as your fingers paused, blue eyes flicking away from the novel in his hands. You looked down at him and smiled slightly, beginning your ministrations again. “Therefore, as you must remain in the Palace for several days, I will have you shown to rooms where you may rest in comfort after your journey.”

“It sounds like your fucking brother.” You muttered, eyes on the day’s printed paper before you.

“No it doesn’t.” John’s eyes closed momentarily, finger saving his spot in the book.

“Sure it does.” You scratched at his scalp in slow circles. “We wait and wait and hope he’ll have some news that won’t kill you. That won’t put a bullet in you.”

“What do you want me to tell him, eh? My woman doesn’t want me doing the hard stuff anymore?” He made a move to sit up and you pressed your palm to the middle of his chest, stopping his movement.

“Your woman wants you to be okay.” You briefly tugged his hair once, sharply, making him look up at you.  “He keeps tapping into that temper of yours and I think it’ll kill you.”

“Nothing’s happening to me yet.” His hand lifted to squeeze your side gently, his hands heavy against the fabric of your nightdress. “I’m not going first. I’ll live forever, I think.”

“I’ll kill Tommy if I have to.” You began rubbing his scalp again. “If it means you do live forever.”

“The little ones will run circles around you tomorrow.” John sat up, rubbing a hand over his own hair. His tone was sharper now, the conversation over with.  “maybe we should go to bed.”

“They won’t, because you’ll be home.” You fingered the page of the paper. “Because it’s your daughter’s birthday.”

 “Fuck.” He rubbed his hand over his face, looking at you with tired eyes in the warm light of the fire. “Alright, c’mon.”

 “I’m still reading the paper-”You pulled your legs up onto the couch as John’s arm looped under your knees, attempting to stop him. “John-”

“Don’t start your hollering, you’ll wake the fuckin kids.” He grunted. He stood up, lifting you into his arms bridal style. He tightened his grip the moment you began to slip and clicked his tongue at you. “Enough, Y/N, let me-”

 “Your bones are creaking, old man!” You tried to get down, afraid of John dropping you or hurting himself. “John, you’ll pull something-”

“Yup, so stop making it fucking hard.” He grumbled, his voice slightly strained. He leaned down slightly so you could reach the table, nodding toward the whiskey bottle and the discarded novel. “Grab em, will you.”

“God forbid John Shelby go without his whiskey-watch it!” You yelped as he dropped you rather ungracefully on the bed, tucking your tight curls behind your ear.

“With my wife comes my whiskey.” He uncorked the bottle, taking a sip and handing it off to you again. John stripped himself of his trousers and button down, leaving him in boxers and an undershirt. He nodded toward the book again, digging around the bedside drawer.

“Don’t smoke in bed.” You reprimanded, knowing there was no use most of the time.

“Start reading, then.” He tossed his lighter back into the drawer and the corner of your lip turned upwards at your small victory. “Give me something to do.”

You squinted at the page, the letters out of focus and small. John reached his hand out, your thin framed glasses in his palm.

You began to protest, “I can see just fine! I don’t need- 

“Just put the fuckin things on, please.” He tossed them in your lap and came to lie down beside you. “You’ll give yourself a headache.”

“Fine.” You shoved the frames onto your nose, batting John’s hand away as he reached out to pinch your cheek.

“You look so sweet like that.” he cooed. “Like a sweet old teacher. I’d be sweet on you.”

You scoffed, eyes scanning the page.“Prick.”

“Maybe if you ask nice.” John smirked beside you, tugging you down by your waist to rest against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to the pulse point behind your ear, nuzzling his stubbly cheek and chin against your skin.

“Alright-I found it!” You giggled, bringing your shoulder up to block him. You elbowed him in the side and he snorted. “Behave-and listen! I want to make sure this book won’t scare Sarah and Katie.”

You cleared your throat, shifting your position so you were leaned against him, the book visible to both of you. He pulled the covers up, tucking them in around your waist as you began to read, “Thank you,’ replied the girl ‘that is very kind of Oz.”

[tsukishimaenthusiast]

hb a scenario where reader and tobio are best friends and they are practice kissing and it leads to a make out session 👀 and he’s actually a really good kisser so it throws her off guard

practicing kissing with kageyama

nonnie, this shit is GAS

also my plot was like ,,,, also making this kags first kiss so i hope that’s ok !

update! ok pt.2 is : here

“and hinata always talks about how i’m not popular with girls! he can sometimes barely talk to shimizu senpai… and we’re with her everyday!”, kageyama yelled. you laughed at his complaints. kageyama was going off on another tangent about hinata while you helped him with his homework in his room. “i meannnn, he does have a point,” you added. kageyama gasped, probably because you agreed with someone he had just complained about. “that’s not true. i have you,” he reasoned. you rolled your eyes at him. “that’s not the same, tobio! we’re best friends; we already had a relationship established. just say you’re pressed and go,” you argued. kageyama lightly threw his notebook at you to retaliate.

“have you ever even kissed a girl, tobio?” he folded his arms and nodded. “WHAT???”, you shouted. “in first grade. she came up to me and kissed me. and i ran away crying,” he said. you stared at him blankly for a few seconds before bursting out with laughter. “AHAHAHAHAH!!! YOU’RE JOKING!”, you wheezed, trying to catch your breath. “i meant an actual kiss, idiot.” kageyama narrowed his eyes at you but relaxed them again. “never… why? how many people have you kissed?”, he asked. “i dunno…three? four?”, you answered. he seemed a little shocked but hummed as a response nonetheless.

kageyama soon spoke up again, “were you nervous? like… have you ever wondered if you’d be bad at it or not?” you thought about his questions for a moment. “not really… although i do regret my first kiss. i was super nervous for that one, so it was probably a bad kiss,” you answered honestly. “why?”, you asked. “i would probably be nervous for my first…” you pushed yourself back to lay on his bed. “maybe we should practice then,” you suggested sarcastically. “really??”, kageyama asked. you immediately sat up again. “woah, i was just-“ kageyama cut you off, “i can practice with you so that i won’t be nervous for my first real kiss.” you stared at him in disbelief. you started laughing but stopped when you realized he was being completely serious. “i-i guess?”, you said.

you and kageyama had cleared all the notebooks and textbooks off of his bed and sat next to each other. “well… um. from personal experience, i usually just start kissing someone normally. like this…” you leaned in and gave kageyama a short kiss. you pulled away and noticed that he was slightly blushing. “obviously it’s more than one, though.” you leaned in again, except this time, kageyama started puckering his lips to kiss you back. his lips were surprisingly soft… and he wasn’t rushing anything. you two kissed like that for only a little while longer, then you pulled away. if you were being honest, you were kind of flustered. you were expecting him to mess up or something. “then…then uh, either myself or the person i’m with will start using tongue… i’ll initiate it since this is just practice for you, but you should also learn how to do it yourself.” kageyama stared at your lips in anticipation.

you leaned in again. when your lips were against his, you slowly sneaked your tongue out to lick his lips. you don’t think kageyama realized what you were trying to do, so you kind of opened his mouth yourself by pushing your tongue through his lips. you felt his breath hitch as you did it. he gracefully moved his own tongue against yours. damn, he wasn’t so bad at this… you automatically placed your hand on his thigh and felt him tense underneath you. for some reason, it made you excited. you slid your hand up a little and squeezed, causing his breath to hitch again. you felt yourself grow hot so you decided to pull away. however, your face stayed only a couple of inches away from his.

kageyama’s face was flushed with a beautiful shade of his pink and you noticed that his eyes seemed darker than when you two first started. you thought you guys were done, but kageyama leaned in… to the point where your noses were barely brushing up against each other. he titled his head and shoved his tongue in your mouth. it caught you off guard so you gasped, allowing kageyama to give you an open mouth kissed. he reached one hand over you and placed it on your waist. he squeezed your hip and pulled you onto his lap.

as you moved on top of him, kageyama sucked on your tongue. you weren’t sure if it was an accident or on purpose, but damn did it turn you on. you could feel that kageyama was hard under you and you subconsciously grinded on him. you accidentally let out a moan and froze. kageyama looked into your eyes and let out a deep breath before pushing down on your hips, kissing you again. his kisses grew rougher, but you couldn’t complain… he was really good.

your tongues continued moving against each other, but only for a couple more seconds… because you ended up getting a phone call. you jumped off of kageyama’s lap and answered. “-yup, okay! got it.” you hung up the phone and turned back to look at kageyama. “it was my mom. i have to pick some things up at the store… and she wants me to be home soon,” you said. kageyama cleared his throat, “oh uh, yea. okay.” you started packing up your things to try to avoid him but you could still see him awkwardly stand up and fix his pants in the corner of your eye.

you two stood near his bedroom door since you were just about ready to leave. “y/n… thanks for uh, helping.. me today.” he seemed unsure by his “gratitude.” you bit your lip out of embarrassment, “no problemmm.” both you and kageyama awkwardly stared at each other for what was probably too long. “well, bye!”, you blurted, quickly opening his door. “yeah! see you tomorrow!”, he babbled.

this fr has potential for a pt.2 but idk,, it can go SO many ways … if u guys have ideas lmk😌😌

[rosy-wooyoung]

ATEEZ reaction : surprising them with homemade food

requested: yes, thank you! [honey, I am SO sorry for only doing it now] prompt : their s/o surprising them with homemade food genre : fluff warnings : !! food mention !! (obviously but I prefer repeating it), very poorly written, overbearingly cliché. A/N : so uhm, hi again? this got requested like months ago and i never actually sat down to write it [commitment issues oops] but now I’m happy that i actually manage to do it today! Also don’t mind the mistakes, pleaaaase I feel like I speak like a 5-year old when I have to write something in english (even though I have an c1 diploma in english sdfjhsf i’m so sorry if it’s bad)

Hongjoong

Songwriter!Hongjoong

You finished eating dinner near 8 pm and laid on the couch after doing the dishes.

After having patiently waited for your boyfriend to come home, you decided to go to bed as the clock neared midnight, still no trace of him.

It’s only when you washed your face and applied your serum that you changed your mind.

Putting on your shoes and your coat, you grabbed the plastic bag carrying the Tupperware filled with the food you had prepared for dinner and made your way out the door.

You weren’t keen on walking alone at night, but fortunately, his studio wasn’t that far, so you managed to make it safely there.

Knocking on the wooden door, you received no answer, so you slightly pulled the door open, only to be met with silence.

Hongjoong had noise-cancelling headphones latched on his ears, head bobbing at a certain rhythm as he scribbled some lyrics in his brown leather notebook.

The notebook he carried everywhere, even when he was around you.

Sometimes, he would get inspiration just by watching you sleep, read or cook. Writing down whatever crossed his mind, he never showed you what they said. 

However, you paid no mind to his privacy. You respected that he kept it a secret, you did the same with your poetry book.

You knew how it felt when someone read pieces of art you’ve created, you feel naked and exposed to the reader, and it made your guts churn of anxiety when someone even tried to look into your notebooks.

But now, you had a problem to deal with. How do you make yourself noticeable without scaring your boyfriend to death? 

Banging your fist on the door didn’t work and calling his name didn’t work either.

He jumped out of his skin when you softly placed a hand on his shoulder, a yelp unintentionally coming out of his mouth. 

Turning around, he noticed your figure and laid a hand on his chest, the other grabbing your forearm as a sign of affection.

“Sorry baby, I didn’t know how to make myself noticeable.” You said with an apologetic look, but Hongjoong waved it off.

“It’s okay, sugarplum. Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“Well, since it’s past midnight and you weren’t coming back, I decided to bring a piece of home to you and brought you this.” You lifted the plastic bag and handed it to him. It was his turn to look at you, remorse filling his eyes as he realised that he lost the notion of time and stayed behind at the studio to produce.

“Thank you baby, but I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and he stood up, hugging you tightly as he kissed your cheek. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“It’s nothing, baby. You should eat now, it’s going to cool down,” you whispered as you let go and he sat down, drawing another chair to have you by his side. He kissed your temple before you rushed him to eat, noticing his eyebags and his tiredness written all over his face.

You were getting tired as well, but Hongjoong was a hundred times worth it to stay up late at night, to see him with a bright smile and adoring eyes on his face as he tasted the food you cooked.

Seonghwa

CEO!AU 

“Hello Miss, where can I find the office of Mr Park?”

“Park Seonghwa?” the receptionist said, and you nodded, replacing a piece of hair behind your ear. “The head department is on the 19th floor, at the far end of the left corridor.” You thanked her and made your way to the elevators, waiting with other employees.

You greeted people you knew by sight with a nod and a smile, going to the floor reception. Some people stopped talking, listening to your words.

“Excuse me, is Mr Park Seonghwa here?”

“Yes, but he’s currently in a meeting. It’ll end in a few minutes,” she said, looking up what seemed to be his schedule on the computer. “Do you have an appointment with him?”

“Oh no,” you stuttered as you could almost feel his coworkers’ eyes on you, “I’m just his wife, and I need to give him something he forgot at home.”

“No problem, I’ll guide you to his office. Please follow me,” she announced, standing up, her heels clicking on the white tiles. You awkwardly smiled and bowed at his colleagues and followed the secretary, thanking her as she showed you the door of his office.

Your husband appeared a couple of minutes later, reading a file while talking on the phone. You cleared your throat, and Seonghwa looked up, his phone almost falling from the shoulder that was pressing it against his ear.

“Can you please fix a schedule with my secretary, I have a lot of work to deal with right now. Yes, yes thank you. Have a nice day too. Goodbye Sir.” he ended his phone call, sliding his smartphone in his pants pocket. 

Tenderly looking at you, he smiled and approached you.

“Honey, baby. I didn’t expect you to see you here,” he warmly said before capturing your lips in a sweet yet passionate kiss, an arm wrapping around your waist.

“I’m because my husband, whose head is constantly into business, forgot his lunch before going to work this morning,” you stated as you lifted the brown paper bag, his eyes widening as his shoulders softly subside in relief.

“What did I do to deserve a wonderful wife like you?” he asked as he took the bag, kissing your cheek at the same time.

“I don’t know, but your wonderful wife would appreciate that her husband wouldn’t forget his lunch every day because she’s taking time on her lunch break to bring the food to him.” You arched a brow, and he chuckled, his arm never leaving your waist.

“I love you,” he muttered, and you softly kissed his lips.

“I love you too. Enjoy your lunch darling,” you said as you made your way towards the door, shooting him a smile before walking away.

Little did you know that once you were out of sight, he went out to the lunchroom to eat his food - something that he never did -, showing off the fact that his wife came to bring him lunch.

He earned the complaints and whines from his colleagues, whose partners didn’t even look at them when they came home. 

And with that, he asked his secretary to cancel a meeting in the early evening to come home earlier than you, preparing you a nice, lovely dinner to thank you for your gesture. 

Yunho

Architect student!Yunho

In the small apartment that you shared with your lovely Yunho, you were about to prepare dinner, but you realised that there was nothing in the fridge. 

Quickly turning off the stove, you put on your shoes and jacket and made your way out the door, a quick trip to the convenience store.

You arrived in front of the store as the sun was setting, the last rays of sunshine hitting the windows, sending beautiful scenery in front of you.

You knew that Yunho was working hard, as much as you did, but you wanted to surprise him a bit, so you decided to buy the ingredients to cook his favourite food.

Packs of meat, vegetables and rice in your bag, you were off to go home.

Riding the bus, you checked that you had everything and stepped off at your stop. 

Yunho hadn’t moved from his spot while you were absent. He was still focused on his work, an HB pencil in one hand and a ruler in the other.

You placed everything down on the counter and started working on your duty.

Boiling water, grilling the meat and stirring the vegetables in a pot. You were so in your thoughts that you didn’t even register your boyfriend walking in the kitchen, sneaking his arms around your waist while prepping your shoulder with kisses.

“What’s cooking, good looking,” you snorted at the pun, and he chuckled, kissing your cheek as you cooked the meat while stirring the veggies.

“Open up, handsome,” you say as you bring a piece of meat to his mouth with the spatula. He opened his mouth, and you dropped the piece of meat on his extended tongue, munching on it after kissing you.

“Maybe two more minutes? But otherwise, it’s perfect, I liked the way you seasoned it, baby,” he stated, and you smile, stirring the food for a couple more minutes.

While eating, Yunho looked exhausted but happy. He did a little happy dance when you placed the plate in front of him, earning a kiss on the cheek for taking care of everything.

“I know we can get pretty busy with college and work,” he started before taking a sip of water, the food feeling extremely hot in his mouth, “but I’m glad we established a pattern of regularly eating together,” he admitted, smiling as he reached across the table for your hand.

“It feels good to be just the two of us, it’s sometimes tiring to have someone around constantly,” he nodded at your words, his thumb softly rubbing your knuckles.

“You’re right, our friends can get pretty hectic,” he chuckled and so did you, the subject of the conversation coming back on studies.

“So, how’s your project doing?” you demanded, and he just shrugged.

“It’s sometimes hard to get inspiration, but once I get it, everything goes smoothly,” you nodded and kept listening as your partner explained his work, a passionate sparkle in his eyes, outshining the ceiling light hanging above your heads.

“So yeah, we’ll see how it goes. Normally, if I didn’t mess up too much, my professor should be happy about the plans.”

“Why wouldn’t he be happy?” you questioned as you took the last piece of food that you had on your plate before crossing your cutlery.

“I mean… There are elements of my imagination in my work,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his warm hand leaving yours, “but I took into account every piece of advice that you gave me since the beginning of my work, and honestly, I think I wouldn’t have gotten this far without them.”

“Oh shut it,” you snorted at your boyfriend, but immediately calmed down as you noticed the same serious expression on his face, “are-are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he smirked, and you both stood up, going back to the kitchen to fill up the dishwasher.

“But you’re the one majoring in architecture, not me,”

“I know,” he retorted as he wiped the counter, “but it sometimes helps to have an outside point of view. Someone who doesn’t constantly have their nose in the theory and lecture notes is very helpful for creativity. You’re my muse Y/N, you have such amazing ideas that everything seems brighter and easier when you help.”

You chuckled at your boyfriend’s praise and went for a hug, squeezing him tight around you.

“I’m so happy that we’re together,” you said as you laid your head against his chest, his hand going into your hair.

“You don’t know how much I love you Y/N,” he said as he kissed the crown of your head.

“I think I have an idea,” you said as you looked up at him.

“No, you don’t, I love you more than you can ever see or imagine,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. He was giving you all the love and affection he had for you in this kiss, and you felt complete.

Yeosang

Idol!Yeosang

Waking up to the sound of your alarm, you were quick to turn it off to not wake up your boyfriend sleeping next to you.

Forcing yourself to start your day this early is such a pain in the ass, but your income makes it motivating and worth it. Plus, you wanted to save time for tonight because you knew how lazy you could get when it came to cooking.

So, at 6 am, you put on an apron over your pyjamas and started cooking the meal for tonight - Yeosang’s favourite - while preparing your breakfast at the same time.

Being good at multitasking has its perks after all.

Around an hour and a half later, you were done with cooking and washing the dishes, now getting ready to go to work.

The sun was rising, making the task of getting out of your comfortable apartment a little less painful.

Yeosang didn’t move an inch when you closed the main door, still dead asleep in your shared bed.

It was his first day off after going a few months without truly resting, and you could tell that his body needed it. When he came home last night, he was slow and could barely keep his eyes open during the show you chose to watch, he was tempted to use your shoulder as a pillow.

But it was one of the rare times that he could spend alone with you so he wouldn’t let that pass.

It was finally midday when you looked at your phone, still no news of Yeosang. 

Knowing how tired he was, you didn’t worry about it, he was probably still asleep.

And you were right, his body went into recovery mode.

He woke up around two in the afternoon, shaken awake as a truck honked just under your windows.

Yeosang was still tired even though he slept for over twelve hours, so he decided to stay in bed for a bit longer.

He finally got out of bed around three as the rest of the group asked to play a bit of Among Us with them.

He stayed behind the computer for the rest of the afternoon, deciding to go for a run as the day was coming to an end, only eating a banana while he was getting ready.

It smelt like you had cooked something this morning, so he wanted to wait a bit until you came home to eat with you. 

You were about to close the door behind you when you heard a familiar low voice.

“Y/N, wait!” Yeosang was in his sports equipment, slightly out of breath as you let him in.

“Hi,” you said with a smile as you swiftly pecked his lips. You both took off your shoes, hurrying your boyfriend to take a shower as you entered the kitchen.

You could finally settle down to eat when he appeared from his shower, making your way towards you before prepping your neck with kisses, asking about your day.

“Woah, you cooked my favourite dish?” he asked as you put a plate in the microwave.

“Yes! I figured out that you’d appreciate eating something special on your free day,” you replied, and Yeosang hugged you tightly from behind, giving you a big smooch on your cheek.

“Thank you, love,” he mumbled against your skin as a ‘ding’ drowned his voice out. 

You both sat down on the couch, your plate in hand and enjoyed the food and each other’s company for the rest of the evening.

San

Hacker!San

“Sannie?” you asked as you walked into his dimmed bedroom, his computer screens being the only sources of light in the room, alongside with LEDs ornating the walls.

Headphones screwed on his ears, he rapidly typed on his computer, lines of coding appearing on the screen. San couldn’t hear you, he was a tad bit too focused on his task to pay attention to his surroundings.

As a way to make yourself noticeable, you turned on his bedside lamp, startling him as he took off his blue light glasses, Grime blasting from his headphones as he let them fall around his neck.

“Sweetie, do you need anything?” he said as he spun his chair around, observing you.

You were balancing a plate, a glass filled with coke, a napkin and some cutlery on a trail, carefully making your way towards your boyfriend as you tried not to spill anything on his fancy setup.

“Dinner’s served,” you sweetly chanted as you finally laid the trail in front of him, the smell of fresh, homemade food invading his nostrils.

“Thank you, baby, you’re amazing,” he said as he encircled an arm around your waist, making you fall on his lap. You smiled as he laid a soft kiss on your upper arm, grabbing the fork with his other hand before bringing the food to his mouth. He gratefully hummed and nodded as he munched on it, shooting you a wink as he looked up at you.

“It’s delicious baby girl,” he mumbled after swallowing, directly taking another bite. He lightly frowned as he didn’t see a plate for you. “You already ate?”

“Yeah, I called you a couple of times from the kitchen, but you seemed busy so I didn’t want to bother you,” you said as you shyly tightened your ponytail, a disappointed look growing on his face.

“Y/N, babe,” he started, tightening his grip around your figure as he put the fork down, “you should’ve yelled for me to come to eat with you... You’re my girlfriend, coding and hacking come after you, okay? I love you more than anything, I can and I will put everything aside to spend time with you. So next time, I’ll come downstairs to eat with you, alright? I don’t want to know that you’re eating alone in our home.”

“Yes Sannie, but-”

“Shht, there are no buts,” he said as he kissed you on the lips, keeping on eating the food you cooked for him with you still on his lap after he made sure that this wouldn’t happen again. You watched your boyfriend filling his stomach and talked with him about everything, just catching up on the last few days that you spent separated from each other.

“I love you darling, thank you for the amazing food,” San said as he cupped your face, placing a big, soft kiss on your cheek.

You giggled and slightly moved his beanie, being able to play with the hair at the back of his head.

“I love you too San, I do,” you whispered as you straddled him and rested your head on his collarbone, his hand rubbing your back up and down your spine.

“Wanna cuddle?” he suggested, and you were about to say no since he looked busy, but you caught yourself just on time, his light scolding coming back in your mind.

“Yes, please,” you mumbled, and he approved, removing his headset from his neck and shook the beanie off his head, replacing his hair in a somewhat correct way.

“Alright,” he softly mumbled while wrapping his arms around you, carefully standing up as he laid kisses on your exposed skin. It didn’t matter where it was, every spot that he saw some skin, he had to kiss it.

And that’s how you spent the rest of the night cuddled in San’s arms, his cold hand drawing circled on your stomach, sending shivers in your body as he soothingly rubbed the skin.

Mingi

Dancer!Mingi

You huffed as you nonchalantly threw your phone on the table, your boyfriend being unreachable as you called him for the nth time tonight.

You knew that he was training and improving his dancing skills, but you wished that he could take small breaks here and there.

Not to text you back, you could wait, but for his sanity and health.

There’s a reason between working hard and overworking yourself.

And Mingi seemed to struggle to distinguish the difference between the two notions.

You never said that it was easy, you were struggling as well, but sometimes you wished that he’d understand it better than you do. 

The clock neared midnight, and he still wasn’t home. You started getting slightly irritated as he was probably overworking himself and not eating.

But you couldn’t blame it for that, you did the same when you had big exams or assignments coming up, you tended to ditch breaks and skip meals.

So, since you were caring about your boyfriend’s well being, you stood up and went to the fridge, where a container filled with the potion you had prepared for your boyfriend was.

Putting on a warm sweater and some pants before making your way out, locking the door behind you.

You took a longer road to go to his practice studio, but you found with relief that the convenience store was still open, sighing in relief as you read that it wasn’t going to close anytime soon.

You took drinks for the two of you and some extras as you thought that some of the boys could be still practising, paid and headed to the practice room.

When you arrived, you waved at San, who looked exhausted and sweaty, surprised to see you out at this hour.

“You’re here for your lovely Mingi?” he teased as he declined to give you a side hug due to his current state.

“Yes, I was getting worried since he wasn’t coming home,” you declared, and San smiled, finding adorable that you were looking after your boyfriend.

“You can go, he’s still in the practice room, he’s the only one left.” you thanked him and gave him one of the spare drinks that you bought since you didn’t know who would still be there with your boyfriend. His dimples appeared when he thanked you, and you wished him a good - yet short - night of rest before entering the building.

When you arrived in front of the practice room door, you noticed your boyfriend dancing through the window, and you could see that his movements were slower and less energised than usual.

You slowly opened the door, your eardrums being attacked by loud music, the bass resonating in your stomach as you made yourself seen.

When Mingi saw you, a sort of relieved yet guilty look appeared on his face as he went to the stereo to lower the music.

“Hey,” he said in a whisper, eyes carrying a truck of guilt in them.

“Hi babe,” you said as you handed him the plastic bag, “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t have eaten, so I went out and bought this for you,” you said as you sat down together, in the middle of the room.

Mingi was more tired than he wanted to show. You had identified a pattern within him, his looks on his face and his figure betraying him. When he was as hunched over as he currently was, you knew that his back was hurting and that he was overworking himself.

However, you didn’t say anything, your behaviour and gaze unintentionally telling him what your opinion was. The silence was the best option. You were both exhausted, and the last thing you wanted to do was to start a fight this late in the evening. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Y/N,” he said before clenching his jaw to stifle a yawn, but you caught it.

“You’re welcome honey, but you know my opinion on your behaviour,” you added, and he nodded, eating his mouthful.

“I know, I know,” he sighed and kept on eating while you opened the two soda cans laying in front of you. Mingi took a few gulps of it, and you got another one from the plastic bag, your boyfriend looking at you with wide eyes.

“But, let’s not talk about this now, the last thing I wanna do is get in an argument with you,” you said, and he listened, thanking you as you handed him the can. “I already barely see you during the week, so I don’t want to get into a fight when I have an opportunity to see you,” you sighed but smiled anyway, Mingi’s guilt increasing in his heart.

“I’m sorry-” 

“Shht,” you said to your boyfriend as you gently rubbed his back up and down, applying some pressure on spots that you knew were aching. “Are you coming home soon or do you plan on sleeping in the guest room in the building?” you asked as you watch your boyfriend take another bite of the food you had prepared for the two of you.

“Let me finish this amazing food, and we’re going home,” he answered, and you nodded, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s very tasty by the way,” you knew that he was trying to change the subject and you appreciated the effort, trying to forget his neglect of self-care and simply smiled at him.

When he finished his meal, you stood up and put everything in the trash, noticing in the mirror that Mingi struggled to get up, a grimace abruptly replacing the smile he was giving you moments ago. As soon as you turned to face him, he tried his best to erase the pain off his face. You didn’t raise it, but you made a mental note to yourself to try and reason him later. And, if it wasn’t working, you’d call Hongjoong for help. Maybe he’ll listen to him. 

The walk home was silent, quite awkward. Your boyfriend tried his best to be as natural as possible, but his back pains were making him hiss and silently groan in pain at almost every step he took.

“Okay, maybe I did a bit too much tonight,” he said as his voice hesitated, alerting you. He looked broken, his bottom lip between his teeth as he kept on walking to your place, feeling a wave of relief as your apartment building came into sight. 

You held his hand and grabbed his forearm with your other free hand, helping him to walk until you finally arrived in front of the elevator.

As soon as you entered your home, you sped to the bathroom and ran a warm bath, sprinkling some relaxing salt in it before helping Mingi to take off his shirt.

Once he was done, you helped him to get out of the tub and took care of him. He stared at you in awe as you dried his hair with the blow dryer and assisted him in putting on his pyjamas before walking him to bed.

Quickly doing your nighttime routine, you walked to your bed with heating patches as your boyfriend was already lying on his stomach, the most relieving position for him to sleep into. You slightly pressed some areas in his back, and you applied some patches where he grunted more loudly.

“Alright, now rest, baby,” you kissed his cheek, and he extended his hand to grab yours.

“Thank you for everything, baby,” he said as you shook your head with a faint smile, feeling the tiredness getting the best of you.

"It's okay, Mingi," you whispered as he lifted your linked hands to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand, a loving gesture that you particularly appreciated.

“Sleep well, baby, and think about what we’ve talked about at the studio, okay?” you mumbled, giving him one last kiss before falling asleep, still holding his hand.

“I love you,” Mingi mumbled before falling asleep, as well. 

Wooyoung

College AU

Entering the library, you tried your best to hide the plastic bag from the librarian, hoping that she wouldn’t notice the smell of food following you like your shadow.

You weren’t allowed to bring food inside the library, school authorities were scared that you’d stain the books or not clean the tables, which was the case when you went to work in the library.

You had always found this disrespectful that people would leave their trash on the tables without cleaning, it exasperated you.

Why was it so complicated to put your trash in a bin?

But since you thought that you were quite a clean, hygienic student, you allowed yourself to sneak in food for you and your friends.

When you arrived near your friends, Mingi was the first one to spot you, hungry for the content of the plastic bags you were carrying.

Your friends discreetly clapped their hands as you arrived as a hero at the table. You shushed them when they got a bit too excited over the food, reminding them that you weren’t supposed to eat there.

Since you were the one that went and bought the food, you were the one distributing the small containers the Chinese takeout the employees had put the food in.

Wooyoung was the only one who was kind of sulky because he wasn’t fond of the place you bought the food from since that event. That event where one of the cooks had put in a sauce containing bell pepper, and he hated them.

He always associated this restaurant with this event, and now he doesn’t set foot at this establishment anymore.

But before he could even say anything, you took the container in front of him and gave him a blue bento box, making him frown yet didn’t say anything.

“Enjoy, everyone!” you whispered as you all started to eat. 

You slightly observed your friend’s reaction next to you as he opened the container.

Wooyoung discovered that his food had nothing to do with Chinese takeout. It was homemade food, cooked by you and his eyes opened wide.

You giggled as he took his fork and started eating hastily, munching on the food with closed eyes and a content look on his face.

“Is it good?” you questioned, and Wooyoung eagerly nodded, taking another bite as he didn’t even swallow his first one. 

“It’s perfect,” he answered, rice almost falling from his mouth as it was full. Hongjoong, who was sitting next to you, slightly elbowed you in the ribs, a smug look on his face.

Wooyoung wasn’t expecting the fact that you would make a detour to your apartment to take and heat homemade food just for him. 

He was touched, but now he was too focused on devouring his plate to care about anything surrounding him.

A few moments later, as he had finally emptied the lunch box, he rested back a bit, a hand on his stomach.

“Wow, I’m full,” he said as a hiccup took over him, immediately slapping his mouth as the sound came out of his organism. 

“Did you see at the pace you ate? Y/N isn’t even done yet,” you puffed as Seonghwa took you as an example, known among your friend group that you were the quickest to shove your food down your throat.

“It was worth it, though,” Wooyoung said, and you shook your head, the indirect compliment sending warmth to your cheeks. 

“And what do you say to Y/N?” Hongjoong said before taking a sip of coke as if he was a mother scolding her child.

“Thank youuuuu,” he said as his voice trailed on the last word, resting his head against your forearm, only to have you put your fork down and ruffle his hair, a way you use to say “you’re welcome” when your mouth was full.

Once you were all done with eating, you placed everything back in the plastic bags and started working again, Wooyoung’s head never leaving the spot on your upper arm.

You didn’t mind him, you were sometimes adjusting his head as your muscles started getting sore, but nothing much.

A while later, as you wanted to stretch your arms above your head, you woke Wooyoung up, his head almost slamming on the table as you moved your arm.

“Mmh?” he said as he woke up, wiping the fatigue away from his eyes, nodding as you asked him if he was alright. “Food coma is kicking hard right now,” he added, and you smiled, relieved that he felt a bit better after his nap. 

“It’s okay, but you need to go to bed now, it’s getting late,” you said as you packed your stuff in your backpack, putting your coat back on.

“You’re going home already?”

“Yes, it’s almost midnight, and I have a presentation tomorrow at eight,” you explained as a pained smile drew on his face, and you agreed with him by nodding. 

“I’m out now, good night guys!” you said to your friends as you stood up, waving goodbye as some of them looked like they would leave this place near dawn.

You bid farewell to the librarian as well and braved the freezing night, hurrying home as not to catch a cold.

And run into someone suspicious and creepy but that’s another thing.

“Y/N!” someone said behind you as you paused in your steps, recognising your friend’s voice.

“Woo? Aren’t you staying with them?"

“No, I’m tired, I honestly don't know how I'm still awake,” he said, and you started walking again with him by your side.

“And…” he stopped in his tracks, and you frowned but imitated him. “I wanted to thank you for being considerate and caring towards us, but particularly towards me,” he said, and you chuckled, waving it off.

“Of course, you are all my friends after all,” you said with a smile as you looked at your friend, who had an indecipherable look on his face.

“That’s... that’s the problem, Y/N,” you looked at him confused and blinked, not knowing where he was coming from.

“What do-”

“Y/N, I like you,” he blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise, not expecting him to confess right now, in the middle of the night in the freezing cold when you could both fall asleep standing up. “More than friends,” he added, and you nodded while looking away, feeling the red spreading on your cheeks. Your friend took a step closer and cupped your face with his cold hand to make you look at him.

“What about you? I've been dying to know, even if you don't feel the same,” he said in a breath, and you inhaled sharply, confused about the sudden question.

“I- I think I do too b-”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, and you suck in a breath, anticipating his next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Wooyoung asked, face dangerously close to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

“Of course.” 

Jongho

College AU, Student abroad AU

“Mom?” you asked as you came into the living room, your iPad with a Chrome tab opened in hand.

“Yes honey?” she answered, looking up from the TV, your dad slightly huffing as he couldn’t hear the news.

“You know Jongho, right?” she nodded at her words, initiating you to keep going, “I’ve just gotten off the phone with him, and he seems very sad and down,” you explained as you sat down next to her.

Your dad’s attention immediately shifted to you and your mother as a boy was brought up in the conversation.

“Who-”

“Honey, no, it’s not her boyfriend,” your mother said, and your dad blinked, surprised by her reaction and shrugged, his attention going back on the telly. “And? Do you want to do something to cheer him up?”

“Well, I concluded that he’s a bit homesick, so I wanted to prepare a Korean dish for him. Wanna help?” Your mother agreed and stood up from her seat, fixing her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Sure!” she says as she washed her hand. “So, kimchi fried rice. What do we need?”

A few hours later, here you were, in the kitchen with your mom, right back from a trip to the convenience store to get the ingredients. You read a bunch of recipes and even watched a tutorial, trying your best to make it as similar as possible to the way they made it in South Korea.

You were struggling a bit at first, but everything turned out alright in the end, happily placing the mixture in a safe spot to let it rest for a couple of days. You were proud and satisfied with what you’ve created, truly hoping that it would heal his visible homesickness.

A few days later, you placed a container filled with your preparation in a paper bag along with your lunch and went out the door after saying goodbye to your parents, who were still eating breakfast. For once, you were happy to go to college, because you were dying to see Jongho and his potentially positive reaction. 

The lectures go faster when you pay attention to the teachers, amazing. In no time, here you were in the cafeteria, eyes scanning the crowd to see your friend. Once you caught sight of your “target”, you made your way over and sat across from him, a gentle yet faint smile decorating his face when he saw you.

“Hi Y/N,” he said after swallowing a piece of his industrial sandwich. He looked heavyhearted and tired as if he had spent the entire night on his phone speaking with his family on the other side of the world.

“Are you okay?” you sweetly asked, and he weakly nodded, and you kept staring at him. “You sure?” you raised your eyebrow with a concerned look, and he just shrugged.

“My feelings didn’t really subside,” he stated as he referred to the conversation he's had over the phone with you the other night. You reached across the table and softly rubbed his forearm, the gesture making him weakly smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I can help,” you say, and he shook your head.

“I appreciate your kindness Y/N, but I don’t think you can do anything about this…” his voice faded as he thickly swallowed, the sight of your friend being so close to crying made you pout.

“Okay,” you said as you withdrew your hand, Jongho internally whining at the lack of warmth. You searched in your bag and pulled out two steaming lunch boxes, one for you.

And one for him.

“What is this?” he asked as he turned the box between his hands.

“It’s a surprise! Open it,” you smiled as you innocently opened yours, stabbing your hot food with your fork.

Taking the lid off, his eyes widened, going back and forth between the kimchi and you, sitting across from him with a soft smile on your face.

“You seemed so down last time we called,” you said as you ate a spoonful of your lunch, “so I made you a dish with my mom that I remembered you liking. I know it won’t bring your family to you, but it’s still something I guess,” you explained as Jongho pursed his lips, nodding at your explanations, never looking at you in the eyes.

It took you a few seconds to register what was happening, and you drop your fork in your box.

He was crying.

You stood up and sat down next to him, circling your arm around his shoulders.

“Oh Jongho,” you said in a concerned tone, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just wanted to make you happy. I know how hard it is when you miss your home and family, I just wanted to give you a bit of family love and warmth that you can’t have right now.”

“Thank you so much Y/N, really,” he said as he sniffled, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. He chuckled as he realised how emotional he's just gotten over food, and he turned to the side to give you a proper hug. 

“Thank you,” he whispered in your ear and squeezed you tight against him, feeling his rapid heart beating against your chest.

“It’s okay, Jongho. Taste it first, I wanna know if we can make you some more further in the school year,” you gently rubbed his upper back and he smiled, grabbing your fork from your lunch box.

“It’s delicious,” he said as he munched on the kimchi fried rice, reaching for your hand and rubbing your knuckles. 

He looked at you with such adoration in his eyes that you got shy and flustered, your hands going clammy as he wholeheartedly approved your work, taking another bite of the food.

“You’re welcome,” you said in a soft voice, and you smiled at each other, enjoying each other’s company for the rest of the lunch break.

___

A/N: I like it but not a lot... I don’t like it. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it!!  

[theliterarywolf]

2019′s Animation Hidden Gems

So, another year has come and gone. And, in regards to animated content, we had a sizable smorgasboard of offerings both on the mainstream end and the Indie scene. 

I figured I would go over some of the ones that caught my eye that I don’t see many people talking about or, if they are talking about them, they’re focusing on shitty e-drama rather than the content in of itself. 

So, let’s begin!

... Just going to use a ‘Read More’ break due to the length of this post as well as spoilers for certain things within.

Tuca and Bertie

So, we’re just going to acknowledge the fact that Netflix’s cancellation of this show before it even had the chance to hit its stride (which coincidentally timed in with the team behind it, the same team behind Bojack Horseman, getting the rights to unionize -- but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence~) was one of the shittiest things they did this year, right? Right. 

Anyway, Tuca and Bertie was one of those shows that, while it took me a good few days to finally watch it (due mostly to Netflix burying this show underneath those damn Ted Bundy movies and that fucking Beyonce concert/documentary/what-the-fuck-ever), was definitely a front-runner for adult-centered animation this year. 

While the wacky animation styles can sometimes throw initial viewers off, by the time the series is halfway through you’re fully engrossed in how it helps to tell the stories this show wants to focus on. 

While, yes, the show was a little heavy-handed in one of the early episodes about women in the workplace (that whole scene of Tuca screaming obnoxiously in the board-meeting to signal that no woman had spoken in 30 minutes was kind of grating even though the message is sound), the series as a whole is a great change of pace in regards to having adult animation centered on/aimed towards women. The characters work great together, the sound design works wonders, and Netflix cancelling this show despite they themselves not promoting it is such a damn crime. 

My personal favorite part/episode: While the episode “The Jelly Lakes” was a great, poignant display of showing Bertie opening up about her past trauma and sexual abuse, the episode that I always resonate with during rewatches of this series is “Plumage”. The way that it tackles not only reconciling with addiction but emotional/psychological abuse and how it often comes from sources that are on the outside beneficial hits so close to home. The fact that it was handled with tact and respect while still being in this wacky world of talking bird-people was amazing. 

Sound and Fury

I... am just going to come out and admit it, my brain still hasn’t 100% wrapped around the ‘what does it MEAN?!?!’ aspect of this animated album but, damn it all, is it a feast for the ears and eyes. 

I honestly can’t talk about it too much because half the enjoyment comes from watching it for yourself.

My personal favorite part/episode: I can’t quite remember what the song’s name was, but visually it was the section that focused on the homeless veteran basically being left outside to die while the city is about to be decimated by a nuclear bomb. The fact that the segment shows everything, right down to how the cat he tries to rescue agonizingly burns to death when the bomb hits, has stuck with me.

Love, Death + Robots

Well, you guys didn’t think I was going to let 2019 pass without me gushing about one of my favorite animation anthologies of the year, did you? 

Seriously, I am so glad that Netflix has greenlit a second volume for this project because it really is the type of stuff I like to see: collections of vastly different stories using different mediums and styles. 

While two of the entries aren’t as strong as the others (”The Witness” and “Ice Age” freaking suck, don’t @ me), the bulk of the anthology is immensely strong and well-executed and no amount of people whinging about ‘myeh, it’s too sex-filled and violent~’ is going to ruin that. 

My personal favorite part/episode: The segment “Suits” still takes my award for best in show, but I still like the series potential of “Shapeshifters” and the attempt at cosmic horror in “Beyond the Aquila Rift”. 

Satellite City

I hate, hate, HATE that my initial exposure to Sam Fennah’s creative world, much like other people’s first exposure, was via that DAMN Nostalgia Critic review for The Wall!

But, in all seriousness, Fennah’s web-series as well as the book that he’s been working on are so excellently crafted. 

The character design: I’ve gushed so much about the character design that doing so again here would be a crime. But it really is wonderful seeing monster designs that think ‘monstrous’ first and ‘marketability’ second. 

The voice acting: everyone in here does an exceptional job with their performances and giving life to not only the characters but the world surrounding them. Seriously, they’re all amazing and I can only hope that their talents are showcased in other projects. 

The animation: the fact that it’s all done and rigged by one person is awe-inspiring enough but the way that Fennah works to make sure that the characters don’t stick out too much from their real-world sets is incredible. 

The writing: It would be so easy for a series like this to stick to wacky hijinks, violence, and toilet-humor, but no. We have excellently crafted, mature dialogue, we have incorporated world-building that doesn’t rely on exposition dumps, we have diction that rivals some of the commercial hyper-hits of the current year.

Seriously, I wish that more people watched this series; it’s so good..!

My personal favorite part/episode: This relies on some spoilers, but I have to talk about what I think the highlight of the series. While the episode “Slice of Life” gives a good display of the core cast in a day-to-day setting with Lucy Lacemaker giving an incredible monologue about the nature of life and immortality at the end, no where else does the work behind the craft of Satellite City shine more...

Than in Episode 20 - “The Order of Things”. Satellite City centers around the Kivouachians, a species of unworldly creatures who have been around for billions of years but, due to war and betrayal, lost their homeland and have been scattered across the Earth. 

During this war, many died, many were punished, many were tortured, and many were left to deal with horrific trauma and PTSD. 

While this episode has the connecting tissue of informing others that the series’ antagonist has escaped her prison, it also centers upon the heavy issue of destructive, toxic relationships and how people can let themselves waste away and decay just because they can’t find it in themselves to let go of something that may ‘make them happy’. 

We also get a dialogue from Lucy Lacemaker about the nature of art and imitation, but it’s simply the cherry on top of the sundae that the prior themes build up. 

... Seriously, j-just go watch the show; put has-been critics out of your minds and just go appreciate this series for what it is.

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss/Holidaze

God, I can only be in awe of and respect Vivienne for getting to the point that she has gotten to. Two well-received animated pilots, an adorable holiday special, industry ties, and a portfolio that surely can fill two phone books at this point. 

Seriously, though, Hazbin Hotel is great: an adult animated show with an interesting art style, engaging characters, and a world that I really want to see more of. 

Helluva Boss is great too! That show has a more intimate cast and less insanity so if the barrage of visuals in the prior turned you off, then the latter would probably be more your cup of tea. 

Finally, Holidaze is fucking adorable. It boggles my mind that people were getting upset at this special for coming out and doing something different when most complaints against HH and HB were ‘ugh, she really can’t do anything aside from “offensive people in hell are offensive because HELL, lol”’. Well, here you go! Something wholesome and cute and heartwarming!

Some people just want to bitch and moan, I swear...

My personal favorite part/episode: See, here’s where it gets tricky. I love the feeling I get from Holidaze. I love the characters from Hazbin Hotel. I love the setting/premise of Helluva Boss. 

But I wouldn’t want all of those things crammed together. 

So, all in all, VivziePop and her colleagues have done an amazing job with these shorts and I can’t wait to see what 2020 has in store for them.

Dororo (2019)

Look, man! I get it, okay?! When it comes to anime where the main character in a feudal-era Japan setting goes around killing demons, everyone and their grandma was gushing over Demon Slayer. 

And, you know what? Demon Slayer is a good show; it has really good animation and Nezuko is best girl. 

... But fuck ALL OF YOU who slept on Dororo (2019), man! I get it, Amazon having the streaming rights to it made it all sorts of awful to try and keep up with, but even so this show was way too ignored by people.

Which is a damn shame because in regards to revamping classic anime IPs, this is right up there in ‘damn, they actually did a good job’ along with Casshern Sins and Devilman Crybaby.

My personal favorite part/episode:

... Have I mentioned that the theme song for this show is an absolute BANGER?!

That’s all I have for now. I still have yet to watch things like Klaus and I Lost My Body, and I was unfortunately unable to watch Promare due to not having the funds for it when it was in theaters, and -- Oh my fucking GOD, I’m just now finding out that Netflix has Hey Arnold! The Jungle Movie after trying to find a way to legally watch it for ages. 

But I hope that I was able to introduce some of you to some animated pieces that got a little overshadowed this year. 

Here’s hoping for more amazing stuff to grace our eyes in 2020!

[thenonbinarydetective]

Ok I finished Mystery Box earlier today and I literally could not possibly recommend it more. I recommend it with my entire being I love it so much. So here’s a rundown/review.

For those who don’t know, Mystery Box is about the lives of Carolyn Keene and Franklin W. Dixon if they were real people. The story takes place in 1920s Paris with a lot of cameos from other famous authors and such of the time like Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein. And how their lives end up shaping their characters.

Franklin or Frank Dixon lived in Bayport his whole life until his brother, Joe, goes to war. Frank can’t because of an old injury that never healed. First it’s believed that he was killed but then it was revealed he may have actually deserted. They already had a memorial for him and since desertion is a criminal offense, Fenton Dixon decides it would be better for him and their family if they pretend he’s dead. Frank doesn’t want to give up on Joe so he ditches Princeton and goes to France. He becomes a private investigator there who specializes in missing persons.

Carolyn Keene, lived in River Heights with her father Carson. She lost her mother when she was 12 in a trainwreck. Shortly around the time she graduates high school, her father proposes to a woman half his age. The woman basically makes it “it’s you or me” for Carson’s affections cause she passed an evil stepmother class with flying colors. Carolyn doesn’t really want her father to choose so she leaves to fulfill her dream of traveling around the world. Eventually, she’s noticed by this guy who invites her to go to Paris with him because he likes her poetry. There she meets F. Scott Fitzgerald and she realizes some things about writing and love and life and all that stuff. Which leads to her making up a bedtime story for his daughter, starring her doll Nancy who loves to draw. She doesn’t begin writing the novel straight away but she does it for fun.

Of course, the Dixon Boys and Carolyn has their fair share of adventures before all of this started that are meant to inspire the adventures of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew.

Time passes and shortly after vomiting on a carpet, Carolyn goes to the beach and later meets Frank. They talk for some time and make plans to meet later. They’re kinda cute and have a bit of a whirlwind romance for the following three weeks it’s just taking walks, having dinners, and making love. Carolyn only wants one thing to Frank, that he never lies to her because she’s been lied to enough. Unfortunately, he does. It was only a little white lie that then spirals into a bigger one.

There’s a lot more but that’s a pretty good rundown.

Now for the review bit, the story was great and a whole lot of fun. I love the characters and seeing how different parts of their lives end up “inspiring” the stories. Pretty much all the ND/HB characters have their “real-life” counterparts in the story. The only slight complaint that I have is that the Hardy Boys counterparts kinda got more attention. Not just because Frank Dixon’s whole story of searching for his missing brother Joe is one that Frank Hardy has lived out several times. The ND characters, besides Carson, felt kinda thrown in at the end. It’s not a huge complaint. Carolyn and Frank are cute separately and together. I also kinda like that Carolyn and Frank don’t act exactly like their characters. They’re their own people and aren’t basically just Frank Hardy and Nancy Drew. A lot of the historical characters were a really cool addition to the story. A lot of the times they were really funny, especially Gertrude Stein. I could make memes for so much of this book but no one would understand. It was definitely a good blend of mystery and romance overall. The ending was kinda bittersweet, I will say that Frank and Carolyn do end up together but there are some characters who don’t really get their happily ever after and I really wish they could. I’m just going to privately imagine that things get better for them. Like Carolyn’s little sister who needs to be taken away from her horrible mother.

The only thing left to say is that it’s on Amazon and you should buy it.

[96thdayofrage]

Payne trial on April 18 calendar call

Last step before jury trial

Nearly three years after Hannah Payne was charged in the murder of Kenneth Herring after she attempted a citizen’s arrest, the parties are scheduled to appear in court on Monday, April 18 for the 9 a.m. calendar call in Room 406 before Superior Court Judge Shana Rooks Malone:

A calendar call is the final step before a jury trial. During a calendar call, the defense could ask to suppress evidence, to dismiss the case, or enter a negotiated plea. The judge could send the case to a jury or decide whether another hearing is required first.

At the December hearing, defense attorney Matt Tucker said he planned to file an immunity motion, which gives Payne the chance to argue she fired in self-defense.

Payne faces two counts of felony murder; one count each of malice murder, aggravated assault, and false imprisonment; and three counts of weapons possession during commission of a crime. If convicted, she could be sentenced to life in prison.

Last year, the Georgia Assembly passed and Gov. Brian Kemp signed HB 479, which repealed the state’s Reconstruction-era citizen’s arrest law in the wake of Ahmaud Arbery’s and Kenneth Herring’s fatal shootings. The new law specifically forbids the use of deadly force during citizen’s arrests, “[e]xcept in circumstances involving use of force in defense of self or others, involving use of force in defense of a habitation, or involving use of force to prevent the  commission of a forcible felony.”

The Clayton Crescent asked Tucker for clarification on whether Georgia’s “stand your ground” law applies in the Payne. The defense of self or others is an “absolute defense” under Georgia law. If Payne can show she acted in self-defense, she could avoid the recommended life sentence.

“It’s not really self-defense,” Tucker said. “It’s a situation where she got out of the car, and had her phone saying ‘I’ve got police on the line.’ He tried to ram her. And the 911 tapes I finally was given, you hear the engine rev up, hit her car, and her scream. And that’s when she pulled a gun and he grabbed her and said, ‘I’ve got something for you, bitch,’ and tried to pull her in the car. So in that tussling there is when the gun goes off, and by the angle of the shot into him, it appears that the gun was pointing at him, not from her angle, but coming back at her. So he was trying to twist that thing around to shoot her, whatever, I don’t know. I can’t really see that part, but I can only go from the trajectory of the bullet of entry of the body.”

Tucker said the public has only heard part of the 911 recordings so far.

“The Department of Corrections guy tells her to go follow him and get the tag, the 911 people tell her to go get the tag, and she’s caught up in it,” he said. “Then they say, ‘you both need to stop and come back here,’ she pulls in front of him, and that’s where the nightmare begins.”

Tucker also said Herring had “a big old knife in the front seat, he’s got some drugs in there, and he’s grabbing her and, you know, pulling her in, and that’s kind of what I wanted the state to see. ‘Cause we can’t use it [the video] in the real trial, but I flew up and down the still shots of it, and you can clearly see where his hand is on the gun, he’s got her shirt almost pulled off, and she’s on her tippy-toes just trying to get out of the car.”

Race, justice, and COVID-19

The NAACP Clayton County Branch says the case is taking too long to go to trial. President C. Synamon Baldwin has spearheaded a campaign to increase public awareness of the Payne case. On March 8, Baldwin and Herring’s brother, Keith, filed a complaint with the Georgia NAACP about the case’s slow pace.

In that complaint, Keith Herring wrote, “My brother Kenneth Herring was murdered in cold blood by Hannah Payne. This murderer is out on bond and has not been brought to justice. Our family needs the help of the NAACP.”

On April 2, the NAACP Clayton Branch held an online discussion about delays in the case:  

Statewide judicial orders during the height of the COVID-19 outbreak slowed down the entire court system in Georgia, with Clayton County Superior Court judges having to work out when their cases can use the available courthouse pod reserved for hearings via Zoom.

“We understand COVID pandemics and the backlog in the judicial system, but this case happened in May of 2019,” attorney Gerald Griggs told WAOK’s Rashad Richey last month. “And here we are, three and a half years later, and there has not been any justice. So they’re calling on citizens of Clayton County to join with the family in demanding this case make it to trial, and ultimately the facts come out and justice be served.”

Initially, the case drew national attention because it involved a white woman shooting a Black man. Payne was granted bond twice. Critics say that, had a Black man shot a white woman, bond would have been far higher or no bond would have been granted at all.

Social media lit up, excoriating Payne as a racist “Karen” and a “female George Zimmerman” who assumed she had the right to pull over a Black man at gunpoint while he was having a medical emergency:

After Payne’s first bond was granted on May 31, 2019, Payne’s family and friends denied any racial motivations on her part:

Herring’s widow, Christine, and emergency responders say Herring was suffering from a diabetic emergency and may have been trying to drive himself to Southern Regional Medical Center when he got into a fender-bender with a truck:

According to courtroom testimony, Herring got out, then got back into his pickup and drove off. Police say Payne witnessed the accident and called 911, but kept following Herring even after the dispatcher told her not to. Payne allegedly then used her Jeep to cut off Herring at an intersection, then approached his window, yelling “Get out of the f___ing car!” At some point, Payne allegedly pulled a pistol on Herring, a struggle ensued, and Herring was fatally shot in the abdomen. Prosecutors say Payne told the 911 dispatcher, “He shot himself with my gun!”

On November 20, 2019, the district attorney’s office requested the case be postponed until because Georgia Bureau of Investigation Medical Examiner Dr. Stacey Desamours, who did Herring’s autopsy and is a state’s material witness, was on medical leave until February 3.

More than 25,000 people have signed a change.org petition “that Governor Kemp and the District Attorney of Clayton County, Tasha Mosley, fulfill their job of prosecuting this killer and getting her off of the streets.”

Multiple bond hearings

Critics are particularly upset by the fact that Payne has been granted bond on two different occasions. Payne’s attorney filed several motions to reconsider her bond, arguing that she has ties to the community and is not a flight risk, and that a gap in one of the 911 audio recordings did not include a key part of the defense’s evidence.

On May 31, 2019, Clayton County Magistrate Court Judge William West, who is white, granted Payne $100,000 bond on one count of malice murder.

Payne’s case was sent to Clayton County Superior Court, where Judge Shana Rooks Malone, who is Black, is hearing the case.

On June 20, a grand jury added seven charges to the case, and Malone issued a warrant for Payne’s arrest, denying bond on all charges.

On June 21, 2019, Payne turned herself in to the Clayton County Sheriff’s Office.

At a July 12, 2019 bond hearing, prosecutors presented a recording of a 911 call that the defense said “had silence in the most important part of the recorded [sic].”

In a July 25, 2019 motion to reconsider bond, the defense pointed to a video of the incident, which it argued “will show the missing part of the 911 call, which we contend was taken out of the 911 purposely.”

In an August 1, 2019 emergency motion to reconsider bond, the defense argued “the video, as well as one of the 911 tapes, would clearly show Ms. Payne was attacked by the alleged victim.” Again, the defense claimed the audio had been manipulated on purpose.

On August 5, Judge Malone denied the request.

On September 3, the defense filed an emergency request to reconsider bond, saying the video and a witness statement would show Herring “attempted to run Ms. Payne down with his car before any gun was pulled” and that Herring “proceeded to attack Ms. Payne further by grabbing her shirt, cutting her chest area and ripping her shirt almost completely off.”

Judge Malone denied that request the same day.

On September 27, 2019, Malone granted Payne $220,000 bond on one count of malice murder ($100,000), one count of aggravated assault ($25,000), one count of false imprisonment ($50,000), and three counts of possession of a firearm during a felony ($15,000 each). Conditions included an ankle monitor and 9 p.m. curfew.

On September 30, 2019, Tucker wrote Malone, asking that the September 7 order be modified to include the original $100,000 bond on felony murder. Otherwise, he said, “the Clayton County Jail will not release Ms. Payne until they receive a new Order for Bond,” despite the fact that Payne “was bonded out by Anytime Bail Bond for this charge.”

On October 1, Judge Malone issued the modified bond order, which included the reinstated felony murder charge ($100,000), a second felony murder charge ($50,000), aggravated assault ($30,000), malice murder ($100,000), false imprisonment ($25,000), and three counts of possession of a firearm during a felony ($5,000 each), totaling $320,000.

Payne has been free ever since. Under conditions of the bond, Payne has to wear an ankle monitor and has a 9 p.m. nightly curfew. On July 16, 2020, her attorney, Matt Tucker, asked the court to modify the conditions of her bond, citing increased costs due to COVID-19 court delays. That motion was denied.

Tucker told The Clayton Crescent the ankle monitor costs $385 per month, and that if the charger for the GPS-enabled monitor wears out, people have to pay an additional deposit for a new charger.

Outside events

Since the case was filed, some unusual events have taken place outside the courtroom:

Court records show the lead detective in the case, Keon Heyward, was dismissed from the Clayton County Police Department after testing positive for drugs. In a Brady notice to the defense, Chief Assistant District Attorney John Fowler wrote, “I was notified by Investigator John Gosart that Clayton County Police Detective Keon Hayward was terminated from the police department for testing positive for cocaine and marijuana. I confirmed this information on February 10, 2020 in a phone call with CCPD Lt. Thomas Reimers.”

Self-styled activist/bounty hunter/actor Sir Maejor, whose legal name is Tyree Conyers-Page, told reporters that he was Christine Herring’s spokesman after Payne’s first bond was granted. He then moved to his home state of Ohio. There, the FBI raided Page’s Toledo home. Page was arrested on federal charges that he used social media to raise funds for his Black Lives Matter splinter organization, then allegedly spent that money on fancy clothes, firearms, strippers, and the house in Ohio. A judge found Page to be in violation of his pretrial release condition to stay off Facebook but allowed him to remain out on bond. On March 25, his jury trial date was set for October 18. Page has an in-person pretrial conference set for tomorrow, April 13, at 11:30 a.m.

Georgia Attorney General Chris Carr named Assistant District Attorney John Fowler, who had been prosecuting the case, to the Georgia Department of Law Prosecution Division. The announcement was made July 17, 2020, with Fowler to start on July 20.

Herring’s brother: “People are so freaking gun-happy”

Late Tuesday, Herring’s brother, Keith, who lives in Moultrie, spoke with The Clayton Crescent. He said he’s been waiting five or six weeks to hear from the DA’s office after leaving a message there.

“My biggest concern, more than anything, is that there have been major trials that have taken place—even one that’s been here in the state—since this incident happened,” he said. “We’re talking about national, world, worldwide news, cases that have been dispensed of over in Brunswick, and we can’t even get this one to trial.”

His responsibilities in Moultrie have kept him from coming to Clayton County, for the most part. He’s waiting on a marker for his big brother’s grave.

And he’s waiting on justice.

“Some part of this is just cut and dry. He was shot trying to get to a hospital during a diabetic episode. He was shot and killed by someone who had absolutely nothing to do with it, or had no instance of humanity or anything, or just that fact that hey, this is a man, he is a human. But we live in a society that where, especially in this great state of Georgia, that people are so freaking gun-happy.”

He’s disgusted by Georgia’s new constitutional carry law.

“There was a bill that was just signed today by our idiot governor that doesn’t require you to have a permit to carry a gun. There you go. That should decrease crime. I mean yeah, yeah, surely that should decrease crime, all of the crime that we have in Georgia. When we just start arming vigilantes, which is basically what this young lady was—a vigilante.”

When she shot Kenneth Herring, Hannah Payne had only recently gotten her Georgia Weapons Carry License.

“But once this thing gets to trial, I will be there,” Keith Herring vowed. “I will be there with bells on. And I just pray to God that they don’t allow her to walk out of there on some stupid technicality or some stupid Jim Crow law. I hope and pray that they don’t.”

Key coverage of the case to date

May 7, 2019 “Man shot dead in fight over wreck near airport” (Robin Kemp, Clayton News)

May 14, 2019 “Armed woman witnessed accident, followed victim, police say” (Robin Kemp, Clayton News)

June 3, 2019 “Payne free on bond in traffic shooting case” (Robin Kemp, Clayton News)

June 21, 2019 “Payne faces new charges in deadly shooting incident” (Robin Kemp, Clayton News)

December 10, 2019 “Hannah Payne murder trial on hold until February 2020” (Robin Kemp, Clayton News)

December 31, 2019 “Top 3 Clayton crime stories of 2019” (Robin Kemp, Clayton News)

February 27, 2020 “Hannah Payne murder trial delayed again; was set for March 9” (Robin Kemp, Clayton News)

September 4, 2020 “Clayton County NAACP Youth plan silent march Sat., Sept. 5” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

September 13, 2020 “Roderick Walker still in custody as activists plan rally” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

October 2, 2020 “Former police chief sues Forest Park, alleging racism” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

March 5, 2021 “Man shot on I-75 in Morrow in latest metro interstate gun-reated incident” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

March 31, 2021 “Day 40: Last call at the Gold Dome” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

October 14, 2021 “Missing persons and diabetes: who’s coming for you?” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

October 14, 2021 “BREAKING: Payne pretrial conference set” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

November 5, 2021 “New diabetes support standards” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

January 21, 2022 “Payne could face trial in January 2022” (Robin Kemp, The Clayton Crescent)

[mattfractionblog]

THINGS THAT POINTED TO UP

- a few of my favorite things, 2017 -

Every writer gets asked where we get out ideas from time to time. As far as burdens of our field go, that I work in a field that people ask about sometimes doesn’t register as a complaint. On planes, at parties, in the waiting rooms of hospitals, I am an Interesting Person To Sit Next To, which often countermands the first impression I radiate, which is Ew Weirdo.

The answers, unless the writer in question is feeling pissy, tend towards the same-ish neighborhood of responses: “everywhere” or “my life” or “the news” or “dreams” -- all leading to the generally same dénouement of “Writing is a discipline that requires a lot of work, and working a little bit every day gets you a little better every day” and so on. I think I read Stephen King sometimes claims to get his ideas from a little store in New England somewhere, for a buck a piece. But really it’s sitting down and doing it a lot until you fool someone into paying you.

OR SO WRITERS WOULD HAVE YOU THINK.

I am violating the rules of the Secret Writers Union doing this (sorry gang) but I don’t care, it was a hard year and I want to talk about good things in the inexorable march towards the new one. So here you go, cats and kittens:

The real secret to writing are Palomino Blackwing pencils.  

Some will say you gotta go 602, others maybe the basic black; I myself even dabble with the pearl or even the bright blue HBs (sorta like ordering off-menu, that one you gotta find for yourselves), because why go through life with one hand tied behind your back. That’s how any of us do it. Any writer. All writers. Everywhere. We write with those pencils. That’s where the ideas come from. None of the writing comes from us, it’s the goddamn pencils, we’re like muscle-vessels and they Krang the shit out of us through the hands. We hold on and they swoop themselves across the page and when you look down, you got words and subjects and objects and predicates and shit, boom boom boom.

Even Sondheezy agrees, the only pencil worth using are Blackwings. When they went out of business the first time, he bought all the dead stock.

I like to keep away from my keyboard for as long as possible anyway; having Blackwings means having a pencil that makes me love the physical act of putting marks down on a page. That was good to have this year.

[happy-ending-massage-in-karachi]

Full Body Massage in Karachi | Happy Ending Massage in Karachi | Spakarachi.com

For a complete and relaxing massage experience, one should opt for Full Body massage in Karachi. Here you will get the complete list of certified, professional, massage therapists offering Full Body Massage services in Karachi. You can check Full Body Massage facility's contact number, website, address, menu, prices, videos, reviews, business hours, online booking facilities, notes to guide you and the massage therapist's fee. Moreover, here we will also discuss how to find a genuine Full Body massage provider in Karachi. You can also get more information from the internet.

There are many SPA in Karachi who also offer full skin rejuvenation massage. They include Dr Adeel Chowdhry, Dr Sajjan, Mr Zafar Ahmed, Mr Safa Kamal, Mr Mustafa Ahmed Shehnaz, Ms Bilala Elma, Mr Ashiqiya Ashraf, Mr Shabir Ahmed and others. The best place to search for these Full Body massage service providers is internet. Here you will get Full Body Massage reviews and Full Body Massage in Karachi map. Some of the popular cities where people go for a Full Body massage are Karachi (CA), Lahore (Lahore), Quetta (KP), Ferozepur (ER), Hyderabad (HB), Karachi (CD), Quetta (QC), Rawal port (RK), Gulbarga (GY), Habibiapur (HB), Hyderabad (HD), Heron Island (NS) and others.

These Full Body Massage Service in Karachi is specialized in stimulating the body's nerves for different types of medical and health treatment and relaxation. It is an ancient massage therapy. The term "full body massage" originated from the Sanskrit meaning "to cover all". This type of massage therapy was used by the ancient Hindus to heal their muscular as well as skeletal system. Full Body massage provides a variety of therapeutic benefits for those suffering from muscular or skeletal pains such as neck pain, joint pain, back pain, headaches, stress and tension, insomnia, etc.

The Happy Ending Massage in Karachi also helps to relieve tension and stress from the mind. If you are feeling stressed out or if your life is getting out of control, then this massage is right for you. When a patient comes for this type of massage he/she is normally treated with herbal or home remedies before the massage starts. Some patients come to the massage therapist with complaints on their shoulders or back that they cannot be relieved by a regular massage therapist. In these situations the massage therapist will ask you to lie down on a table or couch, while he/she removes all your clothes and wraps you in a towel.

Before any massage therapy takes place, the Full Body Massage Karachi will usually use warm, light and soothing oils on the body of the patient. You will be asked not to remove the towel during this time. The Full Body Massage therapist will then use his/her hands to work on your back area and the muscular areas. The massage therapist will use kneading and gentle stretching movements to release tight or knotted muscles and encourage blood flow.

The massage therapist will also apply light pressure on pressure points to increase the circulation. Once the client is completely relaxed, then he/she can take his/her clothes off. The massage therapist will then start working on the areas that were massaged. Sometimes a client may feel discomfort on his/her body due to different massage therapy techniques used. In such cases the client should let the massage therapist know about it so that he/she can change the technique or change the oil used.

Full Body to Body Massage in Karachi is getting popular as a sport. A lot of people come for Full Body Massage therapy in Karachi because they find it very relaxing. This form of therapy uses smooth and rich texture muscle of the patient. A lot of professional therapists who are also skilled athletes teach the massage therapy to their clients. These professionals are also well versed with the sport science of sports and know which muscles need more focus when performing certain movements.

A professionally trained and experienced massage therapist knows how to provide Full Body Massage in a very safe and effective manner. They are also able to apply the necessary treatment on the patient's body. Some of the most common injuries treated through Full Body massage are back pain, stiff necks and strains etc. Hence you should consult a professional massage therapist before hiring them.

[loiterer87]

So, the other year I got challenged to do some creative writing/flash-ficcy thing by  a mate. I sent it to her and another mate who does writing sometimes for their opinions and they seemed to like it. Then I sat on it for ages because I do that sort of thing a lot...

Anyway, I decided sod it, let’s stick it up here and see what happens. Here’s a short, Urban Fantasy thing I wrote up t’other year featuring my character Dave from the Loiterers comic doing something his mates don’t know about...

                                        A DECK OF MANY THINGS

Heidi texted me.

'Dave, you in town?”

It was winter and I was out with my studio mates, all of us had a different reason to celebrate. Mostly it was Christmas revelry, but each of us had our own reasons to be cheerful. I had just posted out the last three commissions of the year and was happy whiling away the rest of the day drinking. After replying, she sent me back another almost instantly.

“Ring me.”

I sighed, excused myself and slipped outside the pub.

“What?” I said. It wasn't exactly a winter wonderland outside, but it was cold enough. I wanted to get through this quickly and go back to my pint.

“Someone's got a Deck of Many Things.”

It's basically a pack of magic cards. Doesn't matter if it's your standard lucky pack of Fifty Two, a cursed Tarot set or someone just faffing about with an enchanted deck of Magic the Gathering, some of us of a certain generation of magic-users started calling them a Deck of Many Things. Yes, Gary Gygax has a lot to probably answer for.

“And this is important... how?”

“This someone's not supposed to have it.”

“Isn't stuff like that your job?”

Heidi is part of what can be described as a cross between a Neighbourhood Watch Association and a mystical security force. She'd say 'she walks the city, night and day, protecting us from threats, unseen and unheard... blah blah blah, prose of the purplest hues, etc.' It boils down to her and her group keeping everyone safe from dickheads with magic. Usually armed with a big stick.

“Normally, yes, but not right now.”

I could vaguely hear some singing in the background. It took slightly longer than I care to admit but eventually I realised what she meant. She was celebrating with her family. All of them.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...”

“...I'm at the point of merry right now.” I sighed.

“You're also the only person who's in town who answered.”

“...So, Deck of Many Things then...”

She told me that a seer had phoned her about it and that it was happening live. At the Cuthbert Broderick Wetherspoons.

I swore. Heidi noticed. I was about two minutes walk from there, if that, at another pub down the road.

There's a book, in a library somewhere called 'Like Attracts Like: A Study on Luck, Magic and Probabilty' by a guy called J. Ohljson. It's about how magic-users and magically-inclined folks essentially find themselves becoming weirdness magnets. I hate it. I was thinking about it and how much I hate it as I made my way across Millennium Square and up the stairs into 'Spoons.

It was busy. I couldn't immediately tell who the pillock with the Deck was so I headed up to the bar and ordered a drink.

“Don't tell me Heidi sent you!”

I looked up at the bartender. It was Lee. Lee doesn't like me.

“Evenin', Lee...”

“Of all the people she could've asked...”

“I was the only one who answered. We both have to deal with it. Now, what's going on?”

He looked at me distastefully. Probably trying to work out whether or not it was worth me helping the Watch.

“Look, while you're mentally wording your letter of complaint to Heidi and her lot, can you get us a pint please? I'm supposed to be celebrating tonight.”

His grimace increased, my smile became shit-eating. He responded by putting a pint glass full of water in front of me.

“My right, far end of the bar. Five of them.”

I downed my glass while stealing a glance in the direction Lee mentioned. I could see a small trio at the far end but...

“Three lads, two girls. One lad's nipped out for a smoke, not sure where the girl went.”

“You're definitely sure it's them?”

“Guy who got the first round went for all the really expensive shit. Paid contactless with a Queen of Diamonds under his actual card. Our till had a brief glitchy flicker and miraculously his bill was paid.”

“Is that it?!”

“Also, the guy outside is busy performing fire-breathing tricks right now.”

He nodded behind me. Looking round, he was correct. There was a drunken, braying idiot belching a jet of fire that'd impress a dragon. You know, if it had really low expectations. The crowd were amazed though. Very drunk, thankfully, but impressed.

The guy was clearly a student. Another glance at his friends inside confirmed it, all modern clobber and all pissed. It was coming up to Christmas after all. They were also watching their mate outside and one of them, the money man Lee mentioned, was idly thumbing through a half opened pack of playing cards.

“Definitely a Queen of Diamonds?”

Lee nodded, “Please don't wreck the place.”

I tried thinking of something clever to say but he had a point. Try as I might, and honestly, while my magic's not really that strong or destructive, sometimes things break. And the Cuthbert Broderick's facade is mostly glass.

Getting up, I left my bag on the seat and asked Lee to keep an eye on it.

“What you doing?”

“Piss. I need to think. Get us a proper pint while I'm gone.”

I left him before he could answer back and headed downstairs.

The toilets were probably the old cellar of the place. As you go further down, the nice smooth walls suddenly become old red brick. And the ceiling is really low. In the past I've bashed my head on it even with my head bent. I passed the communal sink area and into the gents.

As I went about my business, something was bothering me. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt as if there was a camera or something on me. Most unusual for the gents, normally everyone keeps to themselves. Snatching a quick glance around there was me and another guy. He had his eyes down. That wasn't it.

Then I heard a giggle. Not loud, like a little snicker that slips out. Again, there was no one else in the room. I carried on. Again, the giggle. Another look around and I thought I saw something  for a second on my left. I pretended not to notice and sniffed. And there it was, a sickly sweet perfume in the air. It was almost as if it was peering over my shoulder. The smell was godawful and got up my nose in the worst way. I sneezed.

As I jerked my head left, force from the reaction driving it forward, it connected with solid air. I also distinctly heard a girl go “Ow, shit!”. I finished up, headed out and back upstairs.

“Yeah, they're proper magic cards.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young blonde walking past, tissue hiding a bloodied and broken nose, shooting a very dirty look in my direction. She headed straight for her friends with the cards.

Lee's face and shoulders dropped and he groaned. “We need to clear out the place, don't we?”

“Now now, not necessarily...”

“How's your thieving skills?”

I said nothing, then, “Let's not pull the fire alarm just yet! That's all I'm saying.”

I looked through my bag. There was very little actually useful in there. I grabbed my A6 sketch book and shoved it in my jacket pocket. Rifling through the pencil case I carry led me to grabbing a pencil, old wood and blunt lead job (probably HB), and the Magnum. A permanent marker so chunky, it has little practical purpose in my day job. This stuff however? Conjuring magic symbols and creating works which alter a tiny bit of reality is so much easier with a bit of kit which actually leaves a decent-sized indelible mark.

I chucked the rest at Lee, “Keep an eye on that, will you? Maybe also hang around the fire alarm.”

“...You're not going to make me regret calling this in, are you?”

I shrugged. Downed the beer I'd ordered for liquid courage and decided to do something stupid.

On the way outside I grabbed a glass of something clear off an empty table. In hindsight, I should probably have sniffed it before taking it but I was kind of drunk. It might've avoided how bad things got.

The fire-breather was still showing off when I got out the door. I shouted to the prick just as he was about to give it another round. He turned, flames flicking the corners of his mouth.

“Does that leave you with bad breath or does it just make everything taste like burnt toast?” I asked to him and the incredulous audience. He snorted derisively.

“No really,” I continued, “I would also resort to circus skills if I was that desperate for a shag at a fucking 'Spoons!”

That got his attention. He sneered, took a deep breath and as soon as I saw a flash of orange I threw the drink in my hand.

Turns out it was vodka.

There was a short flash in the guy's face as the vodka met the flame and then a lot of screaming. The crowd panicked and scattered while the fire-breather was on the floor frantically trying to put his face out.

As he slapped at his face and shirt, I sauntered over and picked up the card off the floor. The three of hearts. Turning back and there was a little commotion inside, no doubt my antics had got their attention in there too.

Amongst the people who'd just seen the fireworks were his friends. I tapped the window to properly get their attention. They looked, I showed them the card. Then tore it in half. I took a step back, tilted my chin up and thumped my chest in that unspoken way which translates to “Come on then.” I also saw Lee staring agog at that display of completely immature bravado. At him, I just shrugged. Then he went and pulled the fire alarm.

All the doors suddenly burst open, patrons and staff trying to get out of the building, I waited for the initial rush to subside before slipping in and heading up a nearby staircase to the mezzanine. Soon as I made it to the centre I got on my knees and pulled out the Magnum. The strong smell of the ink did not help with my beer-addled state and made it harder to concentrate of the magic as I drew.

I could hear angry voices below me as I neared completion. Peering down through the glass bannister, I could see the remaining card-wielders arguing. A second later, one spotted me. Shit. I took the marker to the glass and drew a seven pointed asterisk which looked like a shatter pattern. I capped the Magnum and held my drawing hand over it for about three seconds before smacking it as hard as I could.

Upon impact, the glass blew outwards like a bullet had gone through it. The fragments spiralled and contorted in the air like a flock of razor-sharp birds in flight before piling down at the four. The girl with the bloody nose screamed as the shards rained down. After they'd finished I saw her heading towards the exit screaming “That is it I am so done with this magic shit!” The ring leader tried to calm her down but she was having none of it.

“I don't care! It was funny when you nicked 'em but now I've got guys throwing glass at us! I'm going home!”

And that was the last I saw of her that night. Unfortunately, me listening in had also alerted them to my presence and one of the remaining two guys was beginning to head upstairs with a handful of cards.  I turned to face him, only to hear the sound of a card deck being flipped through. He was gone.

Then he was behind me and all over my back. Fucking. Teleportation. I fell to the floor as he shouted something tough at me, I wasn't listening. All I was concentrating on was working the pencil out of my pocket. It was a lot harder than expected, what with his weight pressing down on top of me and what I was sure was another pair of arms trying to keep me pinned.

After retrieving it, I drove it point down, straight into the first hand I saw which wasn't mine. He screamed, the hand vanished back into nothingness and I managed to roll the guy off while he was dealing with the temporary phantom pain. I snatched the pencil up off the floor and headed behind one of the pub's decorative bookcases. The pencil's end was covered in blood. That was good, I whipped out the sketchbook and started some rudimentary Voo-doodling.

I stole a quick look at the guy; daft blond cow-lick, neck tattoo, white rugby shirt, before putting pencil to paper and sketching a quick headshot in blood and lead. He might have seen me, because just as I finished the last lines a bolt of lighting struck the case I was hiding behind and caught fire. I wiped the pencil on my jeans and ducked behind a table as another bolt arced overhead. And another striking the table leg. Clearly, his aim was off.

“God, this one's shit...” He said, throwing the card aside. I took the moment to finish off the ritual. I stood up, held the sketchbook image out and declared: “By book, blood and lead, I bind you!” He hurled a pint glass at me in response.

I was back behind the table when I remembered there was more to say. I held the book up again, “And in binding, your will is mine!” Bloody beer brain! Knowing my luck, it probably messed the spell's effects about.

He threw another. Yep, definitely not working properly, I thought. The teleport card made its presence again, this time startling me by having the guy appear in front of me. I swung both arms in  panic as I saw him materialise in front of me. The spell did work though. Sort of. I saw him appear, then suddenly jump to the right, colliding hard with the railing. Okay. So, I couldn't control his complete will, just his direction.

I tested this by pulling the book back left, leading my new puppet back the other way into another bookcase. He charged at me, every direction the book pulled him merely annoying him. We ended up doing some strange violent dance, him throwing punches at me, me leading by book and dodging the odd fist. A jab came towards my kidney which was flung back towards a chair. Which smashed. This continued for a while, punches, dodges, the odd furniture being struck. Which I noted didn't always end in destruction. At some point, I also noticed that he had two cards left in his back pocket.

I snatched the pair when his back was turned and when he turned back, pulled the book straight up, this time the effect was different. Blondie staggered back like he'd been chinned with an uppercut. Even better, he staggered back and stood right over the thing I'd drawn earlier. A trapdoor.  The floor beneath his right foot suddenly gave way and he fell through, only getting stuck fast as his crotch slammed into it, leaving him and his one free leg jutting awkwardly out of the hole.

At this point I should probably mention I have a habit of drawing undersized trapdoors. Don't know why, I just do. Maybe it's a time thing. Either way, what with the combination of dizziness and understandable pain on his face, I think he was done for this round.  

Then everything around me was filled with broken glass. A lot of broken glass. Most of it smelling like some booze or another. After several cuts to my face and yet more holes in my jacket, I'd had enough. I was the floor when I started shouting, it was full on childish tantrum shouting, I'll admit it. I don't remember exactly what it was other than something along the lines of “Oh, will you just fuck off?” All of a sudden, the glass stopped. It fell to the floor like whatever had been holding it up had just dropped everything and left. Peering over the edge to the ground floor confirmed it.

Leading pillock was shouting at the only other remaining member of his little crew. She had another card in her hand and was heading for the door.

“What the fuck, Nat!?”

“I don't know, Bobby! He just shouted at me and I just want to go!”

“What!?”

“Don't you start! You got us into this shit! You-- Forget it, I'm off home!

And with that, she threw the card on the floor and stormed out. I laughed.

And then Bobby saw me. “Don't move!” I shouted. He didn't. I looked over at my hand. Still had Blondie's two remaining cards gripped tightly in it. I figured one must've been some sort of compelling voice thing. Looking back down, Bobby was still stood frozen. After some standing and stretching, I made my way back down to the ground floor.

“Alright then, tell us, “ I said, still holding the pair I had, “where'd you get these?”

“...”

I sighed, he still couldn't move. Whoever enchanted these things clearly didn't do a decent enough job, the do-what-I-say card took my words too literally.

“Uuugggh, alright! You can move, but tell me who you got the cards from!”

“I took them from this weirdo who lives in the same cluster as me at Beckett. He's into all that weird shit. Told me he made them himself. I thought it'd be a bit of a laugh to take 'em out.”

“Was he one of the lads here tonight?”

“Fuck off! He was on acid or something, I took 'em from his shelf and he didn't notice a thing. I even tripped on his coat on the way out and he didn't even flinch!”

I was about to ask him to hand over the rest of the deck, but I'd forgotten that 'You can move' has multiple meanings. By the time I'd started my next sentence, I had to quickly swap the back end of it for simply the word:

“MISS!”

And that was just seconds before I dodged out of the way of a chuffing great black battle axe burying itself into the staircase behind me. Thankfully, it was embedded deep enough into the wood that Bobby had to really work to unstick it. This gave me enough time to put some distance between us. I couldn't get another command out before he came swinging at me again! This time smashing a table. Then another. And one of the windows.

The wind blew a sharp cold draft through both of us and sadly, one of the two cards I had left in my hand. Bobby noticed this, grinned and raised the axe. I saw the card flit in the breeze before I saw the axe coming up and thought quickly.

I ducked, cringed and either shouted another command or screamed as the axe came down. It was not the most dignified way to die in this game, but really, I've yet to hear of one that is.

Then I noticed I wasn't dead. Bobby noticed too. He pulled the axe back and tried again. Swinging for my midsection. Again, nothing. Around this time, I'd stood up and flinched when he tried yet again to no avail. We both stared at each other confused. I felt myself confirming, yes I was still whole and intact while Bobby tested the axe on another table. Which smashed. I still had one card left and checked to see which it was. Then I grinned as I worked out what was going on.

It was the Joker. I turned it face down and quietly picked a piece of broken table leg off the floor and a half spilled glass of something. Bobby was trying to dislodge the axe from the floor. As I crept up, he must've realised something about the magic and dropped the card he was holding. The axe vanished, he picked it up again and the axe appeared in his other hand. He turned and thrust the blade towards my neck! Nothing. He still hadn't figured it out.

Not missing the moment I threw the mixture of broken glass and alcohol in his face! When he dropped the card again while shrieking was when I broke his nose with the table leg. As he laid writhing in a pool of many varying fluids, including some bodily ones, I stepped over him and retrieved the rest of the deck. Out of the fifty-four in the pack there was still about thirty plus. I flipped through them before pocketing them and digging out my phone.

There were three missed calls from Heidi and maybe three times as many texts.

“What the hell did you do!?!” Her voice was harsh and shrill with a mixture of concern and outrage. “Lee called and said you'd gotten into a full on war with the gang who had the deck!?”

“They were a bunch of drunk students...”

“Why didn't you just steal it!?”

“How?...”

She was silent for a good thirty seconds before asking, “Is it over, at least?” I looked around, even if I couldn't see the fire on the mezzanine, I could smell it. “I got the deck, yeah.” I stepped behind the bar and pulled my bag up onto it. Still talking to Heidi.

“Heidi, it's mostly cosmetic is the damage. Also, I had no idea what I was walking into and some of these cards have destructive properties!”

More silence. I dug out a compact mirror marked with stray correction fluid and a small pot of black corpse paint I borrowed from a band I'd done some work for in the past.  Eventually she said, “When you say 'cosmetic'...”

“One of the guys tried electrocuting me and another had a big fuck-off axe! What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“...Alright, go home, Dave. At least the building's still standing. Can we talk later?”

I was applying the black paint around my eyes in the style of an old-school bank robber, “That'll be fine. Got to go now, need to paint my fingers.” I hung up and put my phone away before smearing the remainder of the paint on my fingertips.

The emergency services showed up just as I'd grabbed all my belongings from all the floors and walked out one of the broken ground floor windows. No one stopped me or even noticed. I've used the Burglar Mask trick so often I don't even try to sneak away from people anymore. With the mask over my eyes and fingers. No one can see me, not unless they try very hard. I surveyed the damage, several of the ground floor windows were broken as was one of the glass doors. There was the small glow of fire coming from the mezzanine and the whole ground floor was a mess of glass, liquid and splinters. I could even see Lee talking with one of the police on site all the while looking around for me.

I took a deep breath and decided to head home to sleep off the inevitable hangover.

It was about a week later when the whole thing about the Deck came up again. Heidi had rang to tell me that it had been destroyed. She was just calling to let me know and if any of the missing cards had been destroyed. Outside of the fire-breathing one and one or two others I'd ripped up I'd assumed the rest were taken by the fire. This seemed to satisfy her. After she hung up I went back to clearing out my messenger bag, there'd been a bit of debris inside since and it was starting to muck up some of the pages in one of my sketchbooks. Digging around led to me discovering what turned out to be the Queen of Diamonds.

It took another minute or two to remember, this was the magic money card. I put it to one side and grabbed the jeans I was wearing that night from the laundry bin. In the back pocket, beside a used tissue and forty three pence was another one. I must have put it in there and forgotten about it after the blonde guy smashed his balls on the floor. I considered ripping them up there and then, but...

I remembered I'm also a starving artist and a mage. Neither career was especially rewarding. So I decided to keep hold of the Queen for a rainy day. The other card was the Nine of Spades and I never did see what that one did. I still don't, come to think of it, but it may come in useful somewhere along the line.

[lawrencedienerthings]

Why these Colorado journalists wear masks, and other local media news Your weekly roundup of Colorado local news & media

#facecoverings👔 🎊 🗞 👹

Colorado News

To mask or not to mask. For some Coloradans in the news business, that’s not even a question.

From a recent news-behind-the-news item produced by Denver CBS4’s news director Tim Wieland:

Here at CBS4, we’ve been wearing face coverings for the last four months. As “Captain Party Pooper,” I had recommended face coverings back in early April; two weeks later, it became a requirement.

During these last four months, we have talked to family members grieving over the loss of a loved one to coronavirus, profiled patients who battled the virus for weeks, interviewed health care workers who described the process of putting someone on a ventilator, and reported on employees who have lost jobs and businesses forced to close. It is often heartbreaking work. We don’t want to continue telling these stories. So if the simple act of wearing a mask gets us a step closer to that end, I’m all for it.

Captain Party Pooper asked some of his team members at the station to weigh in about why they wear a mask.

“It’s smart,” said one, while another said she wears a face covering to help flatten the curve. “I believe it’s in the best interest of public health,” said another. “It protects you, and it protects me,” a third said. One said she does it to protect her grandmother, while another wants to protect coworkers. Yet another said donning a mask is for “the greater goal of keeping each other safe & stopping the deadly virus.”

One journalist said he couldn’t live with himself “knowing my selfishness brought upon grief and hardship for another.” Finally, one reporter said, “When wearing a mask while on the air I close out my reports pointing to my mask saying ‘covering’ Colorado first as a reminder to others.”

The spirit and limits of a new police transparency law

In the wake of nationwide protests following another police killing of an unarmed Black man in America, Colorado lawmakers passed “one of the most comprehensive police reform packages in the country,” The Denver Post reported — a clear impact of those nightly demonstrations outside the state’s seat of power.

But months before that, lawmakers hammered out another piece of legislation related to how law enforcement officers conduct themselves. The bill’s title was “Peace Officer Internal Investigation Open Records,” and it was “groundbreaking,” according to the Colorado Freedom of Information Coalition, which tracks government transparency issues and advocates for more open government. The new law requires police to make public their records of internal affairs investigations. To an extent, anyway. The point was to allow the public to evaluate how police officers are evaluating each other when their conduct comes into question.

But since the law went into effect in April, Jeff Roberts, who directs the CFOIC, has found a mixed result for how it’s working in practice. “Journalists who cover criminal justice matters are grateful for the access provided by HB 19-1119, but they can be frustrated by its narrow scope,” he wrote recently. “The law — the result of legislative compromises — applies only to records ‘related to a specific, identifiable incident of alleged misconduct involving a member of the public’ while an officer is in uniform or on duty.”

In a post at his CFOIC website, Roberts rounded up some recent news coverage and how the new law was able to advance some accountability reporting or hinder it. In July, for instance, he found “the Fort Collins Police Department denied a reporter’s request for a log of complaints filed since the effective date of HB 19-1119 because the request did not identify ‘a specific incident,’ nor was it limited to “internal investigations involving a member of the public.” (Read the whole post to see how other agencies attempted to stifle disclosure.)

But this week, one reporter said she believes the new law had an impact on her own reporting for a cover story in The Colorado Springs Independent about local police officers being disciplined after moonlighting for a neighboring sheriff’s private security company.

From the story, headlined “BUSTED“:

Nine Colorado Springs police officers took part in off-duty operations that led them to place trackers on vehicles, mount a secret camera to monitor a house in El Paso County, dig through trash and follow several citizens without their knowledge, including in Colorado Springs.  They also used Colorado Springs Police Department phones, computers and cameras, and some carried their department-issued weapons and badges — all to benefit Teller County Sheriff Jason Mikesell’s private security business, iXero LLC.  Those activities violated CSPD policies, including a ban on use of police equipment for private purposes and a mandate that officers receive permission in advance for outside work.

CSPD Internal Affairs (IA) investigators even suggested some actions by those officers — members of the elite multi-agency Metropolitan Vice, Narcotics & Intelligence Division (VNI) — might have violated state laws against trespassing and conducting investigations without a private investigator’s license.

A few more paragraphs into the story, which relies on details from internal affairs documents, reporter Pam Zubeck writes: “The IA report was obtained by the Indy under House Bill 19-1119, which forces disclosure of police internal affairs reports upon their completion.”

Roberts wonders if the agency released that particular IA report because of the new law, since its scope is somewhat narrow and the Springs report in question pertained to off-duty activities. Regardless, “obviously, there is a substantial public interest in officers using police department equipment to benefit a sheriff’s private security business,” Roberts says, adding that releasing the reports to the reporter was the right thing to do.

Read the Indy story here, which is getting attention from other journalists in the state, and includes a snide comment to the reporter from a sheriff’s office source (the “he” I refer to in the tweet below):

I have a lot of respect of Pam's work and while everyone's entitled to their personal opinions, there was nothing wrong with that story to warrant that response.

— Andrew McMillan (@AndyMackReports) August 6, 2020

Roberts would like to see Colorado lawmakers go further in shedding more light into agencies, pointing to states like New York, as well as cities, including Denver, which, he writes, “opened public access to the internal affairs records of police officers and sheriff’s deputies.”

Dispatch from a Colorado news desert

Last week I reviewed the Colorado connections in Washington Post media columnist Margaret Sullivan’s new book Ghosting the News about American news deserts and the crisis in local news. This week, COLab’s Tina Griego wrote about Yesenia Arreola, Beatriz Soto, and Alex Sánchez.

From her recent piece:

The three live in a news desert, not one defined by the lack of news outlets, but by the lack of news outlets that cover in-depth, in Spanish, in a consistent, culturally informed way the Latino communities strung through the Eagle River, Colorado River and Roaring Fork valleys from Aspen to Parachute. This stretch of Colorado splendor is home to thousands of Latino families, who, like Arreola, Soto and Sánchez are immigrants or children of immigrants, many working in the essential industries of mountain, ranching and farming communities: construction, ag, hospitality.

News about, to and for these communities comes via social media. It comes via government outreach. It comes via Spanish-language radio stations, which are not headquartered locally and not news stations, but whose hosts have assumed the responsibility of, say, interviewing the Garfield County Public Health department about COVID because 30% of county residents are Latino and they are disproportionately affected by the new coronavirus. The English-dominant newsrooms do what they can to cover these communities, working themselves into exhaustion while hamstrung by advertising losses, by furloughs, by reduced print runs…

“News is power,” Arreola, an administrator at Colorado Mountain College, told Griego. “It equips people to make decisions, to be engaged citizens. I see it from a social justice perspective. It is the just thing to do to provide access to information and when you don’t do that, when I see it in my own community, it becomes personal. It becomes emotional.”

Read the whole thing here, and find out how you can help.

Ugly history: Colorado’s Klan newspapers

Complete Colorado columnist Ari Armstrong this week delved into the history books and plumbed the depths of Colorado’s (thankfully short-lived) haunted history with the Ku Klux Klan. In the 1920s, Colorado had a Klan governor whose motto, Armstrong writes, was “Every man under the Capitol Dome a Klansman.” These days, a Denver neighborhood is in the process of changing its name from Stapleton to Central Park because of its link to the name of a former Denver mayor who was in the KKK.

In researching this dark period for the news site of the libertarian-leaning Independence Institute think tank, Armstrong came across the intersection of the racist organization and newspapers.

From Complete Colorado:

To get a better sense of the Klan’s views and agenda, we can turn to a Colorado Klan newspaper (one of several in the state), the Rocky Mountain American, published weekly out of Boulder from January 30 through July 31, 1925. The Klan was a fraternal and service-oriented group that often led charity drives. The masthead of the paper includes the phrase, “Non Silba Sed Anthar”—not self, but others. This orientation toward others extends only to members of the in-group; the masthead also says, “Put none but Americans on guard.” And the Klan had a very restrictive view about the true American.

The first edition of the Klan paper begins with the question, “Why the Klan?” The rambling answer mentions “decadence of public and private morals succeeding the war” (WWI) and government corruption. The essay explicitly denies that “race conflict” and “religious intolerance” played a dominant role in motivating the Klan. Here the writer protests too much. The same paper regularly published anti-Catholic and racist screeds…

But apparently newspapers also had a role in repelling the Klan from gaining political traction in certain parts of the state.

Armstrong conducted a podcast interview with Bob Alan Goldberg, a University of Utah historian who wrote a 1981 book called Hooded Empire: The Ku Klux Klan in Colorado. In that interview, Goldberg says leaders in Colorado Springs, what he called “the wealthy leaders, the elite leaders, the people who ran the newspapers,” saw the Klan “as a major problem right from the beginning, and they basically organized to make sure the Klan could not get a foothold.” The KKK did get a foothold, he said, “but never could get any power.” Those city leaders and newspaper folks, Goldberg said, “stood united” and rallied the “rank-and-file of the community not to favor the Klan.”

In Grand Junction, Armstrong writes in his column, “newspaper editor Walter Walker at first tried to control the Klan by opening a benign local chapter; his pandering failed when the Klan kicked him out and sharpened its hateful edge.”

What you missed on the Sunday front pages across Colorado

The Durango Herald reported police arrested a local church leader “in connection with sexual assaults” on children. The Grand Junction Daily Sentinel reported the extent of freeze damage on this year’s Palisade Peach crop. The Coloradoan in Fort Collins examined how pairing police officers with therapists works but doesn’t happen often enough. The Gazette in Colorado Springs reported how people in rural parts of Colorado have different political views than those living in more urban areas. The Summit Daily News reported the class of 2020 finally walked across the stage at socially distant ceremonies. The Colorado Springs Independent’s cover story this week reports on local police officers getting in trouble for their side gigs as private investigators for a neighboring sheriff’s private security business. Westword’s cover story digs into the death of Elijah McClain at the hands of police. Boulder Weekly’s cover story is about how the pandemic threatened signature-gathering and city officials delivering wrong information.

Cops credit a local TV station for helping crack down on ‘illicit spas’ 

The police department in Colorado Springs is “implementing major changes to the way it investigates illicit massage parlors tied to organized prostitution, potential human trafficking, and possibly more serious felony type crimes,” following an investigation by the local TV station KRDO.

From the local ABC affiliate:

Police leaders credit an ongoing KRDO NewsChannel 13 investigation that began in 2019 for exposing the issue in the greater Colorado Springs area.

That TV special report investigation was called “Hiding in Plain Sight” that found “36 massage parlors in the city that have recent reviews specifically outlining explicit sexual acts that can be purchased inside.” The report notes “Since our initial investigation, some of these parlors have closed.”

For a recent update, a police lieutenant in the city’s metro vice unit told KDRO, “Out of your coverage, we took a look at where can we be better? What things can we do better? How can we look differently at these investigations? Are there other things that are going on?”

The police force in the Springs “has not made any recent human trafficking arrests tied to the illicit spas,” KRDO reports.

The Steamboat Pilot newspaper turned 135

For its 135th birthday, the newspaper its publisher says is “said to be the oldest business in Steamboat Springs” celebrated with a keepsake edition called Pilot Proud that celebrates its role in the community.

The journalism project reeled back into the history of the newspaper with items about its 19th-century pioneer publisher, moving from linotype to an offset press and computer system, and the top 20 stories that shaped Steamboat Springs over the years. In some of them you catch the spirit of an evocative time back when newspapers provided the only news in town.

From one of the Pilot Proud pieces:

In an era when friends might not see one another all summer until the County Fair arrived, that kind of small town news was treasured. “I think of how the paper reached out to local communities and had reporters in all of them,” Jay said. “In summers, we got the local gossip in Clark with the ‘Clark Callings’ column, We were always eager to read it to get what the rumors were. We also had Clara Henry at Hahns Peak in the summer.” To be clear, the columnists didn’t deal in hard-hitting journalism, except perhaps when they reported on traffic mishaps.

But that has changed to an extent, according to Publisher Logan Molen who wrote his own piece for the celebratory issue:

And while today’s Pilot & Today journalism provides greater enterprise and more of a watchdog role than The Pilot in its early years, we continue to publish information that long has been the fabric of small-town America: The Record police blotter, weekly real estate sales, business changes, reader photos and stories, the school honor roll, fair results, local activities and much more. I hope that mix remains in our products for the next 135 years, because that’s the kind of intensely local content that creates tight bonds with you and your neighbors.

“The Pilot’s history is marked by peaks and valleys, and the recent pandemic has tested us. But the Pilot crew remains strong, and we’re determined to keep this ship afloat,” wrote Editor Lisa Schlichtman in her own contribution. “And as difficult as the last four months have been, COVID-19 has served to reinforce the important role a community newspaper plays in keeping people informed and providing them with the information they need to navigate any crisis. Simply put, we are a vital piece of a healthy, functioning community, and we work hard to live up to that responsibility.”

Find a timeline of the newspaper throughout the years here that includes some old photographs.

More Colorado local media odds & ends

Outgoing reporter: “This job truly is something else.” (And not in a good way.)

The Denver Post is looking to reduce the average age of its guest opinion writers.

The Gazette has embarked on an “occasional series to capture views among Coloradans.” The Denver Press Club will hold its annual gala virtually. (I’ll be there, will you?)

Learn about evictions policy as the governor and a Denver Post reporter tweet at each other. (Same reporter points out misleading information from the governor and a TV station during a Spanish-only town hall.)

In a post-truth, well-some-say-this-but-some-say-that society, a deep look into how Elijah McClain died after a ketamine injection and a pile-on by police. (<– Read it.)

Newt Gingrich signal boosted a Colorado College student’s Portland dispatch.

A Mountain Journal intern was given a task as a college student that “prompted her to reflect in this op-ed…”

Fill out this survey that seeks to “shed light on the experiences of people working at local U.S. newspapers with a print circulation below 50,000 readers.”

An inmate sent a Colorado TV news anchor a homemade dollhouse in the mail. “That was … interesting.”

First Amendment lawyer in Colorado Springs case: “It’s clearly established that you can’t arrest someone for saying ‘f— the police…’”

Vermont college student about The Colorado College COVID-19 Reporting Project: “Every student newspaper should aim to provide a similar overview of what students can expect.” (Archive here.)

The Colorado Sun is hosting a “first-in-a-series of statewide discussions on race, relations and bias in Colorado.”

VICE scoop shows how political operatives handle the press: “…you would just ignore that call and let me know and the campaign would handle it.”

Regan Foster takes a job at CSU Pueblo, but says it doesn’t mean she’s leaving The Southeast Express.

Mollie Bryant of Big If True in our neighbor state asks: “Who owns the future of our newsrooms?”

*This column appears a little differently as a published version of a weekly e-mailed newsletter about Colorado local news and media. If you’d like to add your e-mail address for the unabridged versions, please subscribe HERE. 

from https://ift.tt/3a6EJyv https://ift.tt/31ob5Aw

[arplis]

Arplis - News: My 22 Goals for 2019

Goal #1 — Spend More Time Doing What I Love Just look at that forecast! Fall has finally arrived and before you know it I’ll be wearing my beloved puffy coat and snow will be on the way! I couldn’t be more excited. And those nighttime temps! I’ll need to bring Miss Lemon in. Goal #2 — Garden, Garden, Garden The HH broke out Manny yesterday after he dug up a beautiful 18″ planting space for my baby gem boxwoods and muscari border. We added a few bags of compost to the spot to help the plants get established. We will probably need to expand the planting space in a few years once the boxwoods get a little bigger, for now, scale wise, everything looks as it should. I’ll do a proper post later in the week and show you the new boxwood border. If you haven’t ordered your spring bulbs yet, I ordered 400 tulip bulbs and 500 muscari bulbs from Van Engelen Wholesale Bulb Company and the bulbs were fantastic. The bulbs arrived in about a week and were packaged very well. I highly recommend them. Goal #3 — Plant an Orchard {Calling it Quits on this one.} Lemon is about ready to have babies!!! Two of the Meyer lemons have gone from a dark green to a pale lime green color over the past few weeks and I don’t know for sure, but I think we have another week or two to go until it’s time to harvest our first two Meyer lemons of the year. HOW EXCITING! It will have to be a home birth though {as opposed to an outdoor one} because temps are dropping below 50 tonight {and for 6 of the 7 days in the upcoming forecast} and the lady at the nursery told me when outdoor overnight temps are consistently below 50 degrees at night, that’s when you know it’s time to bring your citrus trees in for the winter. Luckily we have the perfect sunny indoor spot plants, so all is well. Goal #4 — Gussy Up the Potting Shed Done! Goal #5 — Grow Enough Extra Vegetables, Eggs and Flowers to Earn $1500 at my little roadside vegetable stand. It was totally my intention to grow a ton of fruits and vegetables to sell at the farm-stand when I made my list of goals for 2019 last winter, but then we moved. So, that whole goal was sort of a bust. The new peeps wanted the vegetable stand, and we were happy to leave it for them since it was made specifically to match the front of the house, so hopefully the tradition will continue. Goal #6 — Finish Every Single Unfinished Rug Hooking Project in My Pattern Bin + 10 Things from back Issues of Magazines/Books I’ve Been Meaning to Make.  I was able to hook 3 small pieces last week {2 from my pattern stash} and once I get the backing on the make dos and finish the back of the rug I’ll add them to my Etsy shop {hopefully in the next two days}. 73 rugs in my pattern bin {now down to 32} 183 hooked flowers {finished 133, now down to 51} 10 “things” from back issues of magazines {finished 0} Goal #7 — Create 12 New Rug Hooking Patterns {with at least half of them being large ones} DONE! So far this year I’ve added 12 new rug hooking patterns and 13 beginner rug hooking kits to my Etsy shop. New rug hooking patterns I’ve created and added to My Etsy Shop this year: Tullia and Thomas Turkey Double Nantucket Whale Runner Miss Henny and Penny Miss Penny Simple Kitty Primitive Flowers 2 Fat Cats Annabell’s Big Day Old Fashioned Double Tulip Fat Brown Hen Busy Little Bee Queen Bee Rug Hooking Kits Busy Little Bee {in 2 different colors} Folk Art Heart Small Nantucket Whale Primitive Crow Miss Robin {in 2 different colors} Simple Kitty Primitive Flowers Sunflowers A Basket of Spring Posies Fat Brown Hen Chicky’s Garden Goal #8 — Split and Stack 2 Cords of Wood for Next Winter  All that firewood! We sold it. 😉 Goal #9 — Do Something with the 5,002 Photos on My Phone Current number of photos on phone is 11 million. Goal #10 –Lose the Muffin Top Actually doing well on this goal and fully expect to fit into my pants by the end of the year. Apparently living in the city and walking for pastries is an excellent workout regimen. Who knew? Goal #11 — Run, Walk or Crawl a 5k, 10k, Half Marathon and Marathon I have signed up for both a half marathon and a 5k! 🙂 Looks like this baby will be checked off around Thanksgiving. Goal #12 — Read or Listen to 26 New Books {17 down, 8 to go} This past week I listened to I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron. It was okay. The first half was basically a {funny} list of complaints, but the second half was much better in my opinion. The audio version was short {around 3 hours I think} and so it passed the time as I painted a closet. If it was in paper form would I sit down and read it all the way through? Probably not. I did enjoy her book, I Remember Nothing much, much more. Currently on Request: Mr. Churchill’s Secretary by Susan Elia MacNeal The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley Books I’ve Read or Listened to So Far This Year: Marilla of Green Gables #1 Still my favorite The Great Alone #2 The Aviator’s Wife #3 Before We Were Yours #4 Secrets of a Charmed Life #5 Where’d You Go, Bernadette #6 Carnegie’s Maid #7 The Gown #8 Unbroken #9 The Alice Network #10 The Shape of Mercy #11 Will’s Red Coat #12 Big Little Lies #13 I Feel Bad About My Neck Bunny Mellon  {Doesn’t count because it was my second time} On Writing {Doesn’t count because it was my third time} Walden Finder’s Keepers Delicious! Following Atticus Goal #13 — Try 52 New Recipes. 24 down, 30 recipes to go. OCTOBER. October is going to be my month for cooking! Goal #14 — Clean Up 52 Old Recipes on the Blog 9 down, 44 to go. I’ll get crackin’ once fall {and cooler temps} come around. Goal #15 — Fill 100 Canning Jars 48 down, 52 to go. Anyone ever canned quince jam before? Using quince from an ornamental bush rather than a tree? Gaaaa. These suckers are ROCK hard and tiny {1″ – 2″} and I’m not even sure I’d have enough to make the effort worthwhile. {I’d need about 2 pounds of quince for a batch of jam}. I mean I like jam and all, but I’m not sure I want to go through all the trouble. Any advice would be AWESOME. So far this year I’ve I canned: 7 jars Peach Jam 7 jars of Strawberry Jam 15 jars of Carrot Cake Jam 15 jars of Spiced Pear Jam  4 jars of Almond Pears. Goal #16 — Finish Furnishing Our House A couch and two chairs have been ordered! Once we get those in place I’ll order a rug {I’m not 100% sure on the size we need yet} and then I’ll paint the walls and create some artwork to hang up and we’ll be good to go. I am SO looking forward to getting the family room all done up in a beachy, nautical theme. Classic New England, that’s what I’ll be going for. Weeeeee. Goal #17 – 52 Dates with the HH {29 down, 23 to go} Bakery dates are the best! Goal #18 — Take One Adult Education Class Done {I’ve taken 3!} I’m keeping the first class I took with my neighbor top secret for now {Mel know’s what it is though} 😉 Spoon Carving Class with Heather. Mini pottery lesson {I loved it! and now I want to sign up for a full class} Goal #19 — Secret {for now} Holiday Project The big reveal will be on Friday, November 1st. Goal #20 — Create 12 Wowie Zowie Party Platters 5 down, 7 to go. Cooler temps mean CHEESE. Right? 😉 I’m looking forward to making up another platter this week. Goal #21 — Visit 12 General Stores 8 down 4 to go. So far this year we’ve visited: Chase’s Daily {I think it should count} Squam Lake Marketplace Harrisville General Store Dodge’s Store in New Boston, New Hampshire Zeb’s General Store in North Conway, New Hampshire Dan and Whit’s in Norwich, Vermont Hussey’s General Store in Windsor, Maine Goal #22 — Compete with Carole….. Get on My Front Door Game On While I currently have a bundle of Indian corn hanging on the front door, once we get closer to Halloween I’ll hang Mrs. HB’s beautiful wreath she made me up on the door. Have you ever seen the movie You’ve Got Mail? You know the part where Meg Ryan is walking through the downtown area in the fall with her pumpkin and just soaking up the city? Well that’s how I feel right now. I still cannot believe we bought a home in a walking downtown area. I’ve think we’ve met at lest 75% of our immediate neighbors already. The house is much smaller than we’re used to, the lot is small too, but I can walk to the bakery, to the farmer’s market to buy a pumpkin and get an entire garden section planted in a day. And you know what… I kind of like it. I don’t even mind all the people walking their dogs past my door {probably because there is no HOA}. Man oh man, what a difference that makes. Change is good. Front Door Bling I’ve Made So Far This Year to Compete with Carole: Late January : Valentine Heart Late February : Shamrock Late March : Giant Carrot May: White wave petunia hanging basket June/July: Tin Star and Flag Bunting August : Sunflower September: Indian corn and pumpkins ************** How about YOU? What are your goals for 2019? If you told us about them HERE, check in! We want to know how you are doing. Because seriously, it’s so much easier to get those goals checked off your list when you have people rooting for you! 🙂 Have a great day everyone, Mavis You can read more about my 22 goals for 2019 HERE. Have a Great Day! The post – Week 39 of 52 appeared first on One Hundred Dollars a Month. This content was original published at One Hundred Dollars a Month and is copyrighted material. If you are reading this on another website it is being published without consent.          Comments Mavis Congrats on the move! I've always thought that your's and ... by Judy You can get a pair of over-the-ear style wireless headphone, so ... by Crystal We had a beautiful quince bush in the front of a previous ... by E in Upstate NY I listen to audio books and podcasts while washing dishes. I ... by Mrs. M Thanks! That answers that…I may need to wait until some ... by Mama Cook Plus 5 more... Related Stories – Week 40 of 52 – Week 38 of 52 – Week 37 of 52 #12GoalsForTheNewYear

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/my-22-goals-for-2019