#good lord. I need a pepto

[muzzlemouths]

had to take a short break from writing and walk around for a bit because the details of a specific scene made me genuinely nauseous. if anyone is wondering how this next chapter is gonna go

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Gym Membership - Part 43 (Crosshair)

Summary: Layla let's something slip.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I am so sorry for being MIA. I was on vacation for two weeks and then last week was just crazy busy, I didn't get a chance to do any editing or upload anything. Plus this week I just found out I have 700 followers!!! I know it's crazy!

I'm sure it's a glitch, but if it stays that way by mid-August, I'll do another follower celebration.

In the meantime, I hope everyone is doing well. Please know you are all loved.

Special thank you, to the one and only @firstofficerwiggles thank you for beta reading last minute. Love oo.

Love oo

Warnings: Joking, banter, laughing, flirting adjacent, discussions of poor cooking skills. I think that's it, if I miss any warnings, please let me know.

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He chuckled, remembering Avery’s kitchen disasters, “She never made me curry, but she did try making this weird sort of tin can tuna fillet. I’m not sure if she followed a recipe or just went off the top of her head, all I know is that it tasted metallic, spongy and dry at the same time … it … it wasn’t good. I didn’t want to upset her, so I did my best to eat it. Only it backfired on me, when she saw that I ‘ate it with gusto,’ according to her, she kept serving me again and again. By the end, I was running to the bathroom every five minutes. After that, I told her I’d do all the cooking from then on. Felt sorry for her unit, whenever she went out with one, she always insisted on cooking for them. I started telling them to make sure to have plenty of MREs and Imodium or Pepto-Bismol pills on hand.”

“MREs?”

“Military rations. Although we sometimes call them ‘meals, rarely edible’ or ‘meals rejected by everyone,’ it would give them fair warning at least. I often joked she should’ve gone undercover as a chef in one of the compounds; she would’ve done our work for us. With her there there’d be no need for us on the frontlines with her cooking at the helm, she could’ve killed the entire terrorist group with her cooking alone.”

“I honestly don’t know where she got her cooking skills from,” I wiped the tear that had escaped from laughing at Crosshair’s stories, “our mom was an amazing cook. Even my dad knew how to work a stove and a grill.” 

“She told me you taught her,” Crosshair smirked as his eyes found hers.

“That’s a lie. I am a brilliant cook, for your information. I tried to help her and regardless of the numerous times I tried, and Lord Almighty knows I tried, to teach Avery how to cook and even with me standing right beside her, reading out the recipe and to this day I have no idea how she did it, but every time, she screwed up badly. I washed my hands clean of her cooking a long time ago.” I chuckled.

“Right, and I’m just supposed to believe you’re a great cook?,” his tone was sarcastic and bitter, yet it didn’t hit as hard due to the smile that appeared on his face.

“I am a great cook. In fact, I’ll make a deal with you,” I made sure to put on my proudest smuggest face possible.

Crosshair narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head, “What kind of deal?”

“The kind that benefits me greatly, obviously,” I teased. “I have a few things that need to be fixed at my place, nothing major, you know shower head that won’t stop leaking, a window that gets stuck, and maybe a toilet that sounds weird when I flush.”

“Do I look like a handyman to you?”

“No, of course not. That would mean you’d be competent.”

“You want to discuss competency?”

“I mean sure you’re great with weapons, and making yourself look hot in a t-shirt, but I mean really what is that? How does that benefit anyone?”

“Clearly it benefited you, if you noticed.” Crosshair smirked.

“Excuse me, I noticed simply because … you were in my line of sight.”

“Oh really? Cause if I remember correctly, there was a suspiciously identical woman as you sitting at Mel’s table that couldn’t help turning her head every time I threw an axe. Nor did I miss those oh so subtle glances at Hunter’s BBQ.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, all I did was simply make sure you weren’t killing someone while you were throwing an axe at the Battle Axe or whatever, and the glances at the BBQ were just to make sure you were properly hydrated.”

“I see. You were keeping your eye on me for everyone else’s benefit and for my health, is that it?”

“Obviously” I chewed the inside of my cheek, doing my best to avoid smiling at his smirk.

“Well then on behalf of everyone, thank you for taking such good care of me … by keeping an eye on this hot body. However, I would appreciate it if you refrain from undressing me with your eyes, that might be taking it a bit too far.” His eyebrow quirked as he popped in a toothpick fighting back a taunting smile.

“Hold on.” I lifted my finger, a little annoyed with his accusation when he was no better, “Who was undressing who? Let me tell you something buddy, do you think all your subtle glances went unnoticed? Cause let me tell you they were noticed.”

He smirked as he leaned further on the desk, twirling his toothpick in his mouth. “So Mel noticed and told you, right? Because let’s face it you aren’t one to notice a house on fire. For a lawyer, you lack observational skills.”

My mouth gaped open, “That is neither here nor there, and excuse you, but I have observational skills when it’s something worth observing.” I held up my hands waving them, “You know what, we’re getting off-topic.” I let out a sigh as I looked at him shaking my head, how he was able to irritate me and still look good doing it, was really annoying. I huffed, before a smirk appeared on my lips against my will, “Listen the point is, I am in need of help with some things around my place that needs fixing, you do that and I’ll prepare a meal that will … no, that shall restore my family’s honour.”

Crosshair let out a loud laugh at Layla’s description, he didn’t even have to think twice he knew his Avery was a disaster in the kitchen, “Well at least she was talented in other aspects,” he smirked.

“I don’t want to know, and judging from that smirk, I really don’t want to know. But yes, thank goodness she was organized and a brilliant investigator.”

“She certainly knew what she was doing in bed…”

“Stop!” I held up both my hands in front of my face, “There are certain things I will never need to know about my sister. That is one of them.”

“Fair enough” Crosshair chuckled, “So when do you need these things fixed?”

“When can you come over?”

“This weekend?”

“Great”

“Good”

“Fine”

“Done”

“You always have to have the last word don’t you?”

“This coming from the person who can’t let me have the last word”

“What? I’m totally letting you have the last word”

“Really?”

“Of course”

“When?”

“Now”

“Now?”

“Yes”

“Don’t believe you”

“You are so infuriating”

“Yet you find me hot”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Hmmm, nope”

“Alright, well this has been fun” I stood grabbing my bag, smirking at his idiocy. “You really are a pain in the ass, you know that.”

“Yeah, but that’s why everyone loves me, they try to deny it, but eventually they all cave in.”

“Mmhmm, anyway I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Sounds good, I’ll be there around 5?”

“That works” my hand rested on the doorknob of his office, “Oh any dietary restrictions?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, then see you Saturday”

“Saturday”

I wanted to say one more thing just to irritate him, but I let it go. I just nodded in agreement and went out the door. I could feel my heart beating faster as I replayed our conversation in my head. Maybe I was just nervous about getting to know him better, that would make sense, right? Ugh, why did I make the comment about how hot he looked?

There was nothing I could do, the words had gone out of my mouth and he would no doubt enjoy teasing me for a long time about it. 

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@justanothersadperson93​ @liadamerondjarin​ 

 @spicymcnuggies​ @lady-ren​ @firstofficerwiggles​ 

@darkangel4121​ @discofern​ @kavecika​ 

@monako-jinn-stories​ @ladykatakuri​ @avathebestx​

 @theroguesully​ @furyhellfire66​ @carodealmeida​ 

@ciramaris​ @sprout-fics​ 

 @dindjarin-mandalorian​ @clonethirstingisreal @crosshair-is-the-superior-clone

@totallyunidentified @griffedeloup @leotatombs

@leotawrites @helenaslost @badbatch-simp24​

[eievuimultimuse]

As much as leatherhead knew it’s not exactly smart to go interrupt their brother when he’s deep doing- work. Whatever it is that counts as work, but. They see little choice in the matter. Not with their insides feeling like an all out brawl was going down between the upper and lower intestines, they are never eating bepop’s cooking again,

So, the titular superfly would see a shadowy sillohuette standing in the entrance hallway the only light from a pair of dusty looking night vision goggles. Slouched down more than normal, tail dragged on the floor. “Mate? I threw up.” The voice is mumbled between a barely moving maw. He’s a genius, he’s certainly got to do some genius thing to fix it.

     IT WAS TRUE; Superfly did have a habit of getting quite engrossed in whatever technological-related task whenever he was at it, surprisingly capable of tuning out a LOT considering how noisy their home usually was, what with having a total of nine inhabitants. Sure, if a fight broke out or something, it’d snap him right to attention. Otherwise, the only way to get it was to talk to him directly, which…yeah, he didn’t exactly make that an easy task either; he often lacked patience for it and he wasn’t exactly known for being good at hiding this fact. How he saw it, though, it just meant that it’d teach them to save their interruptions for something more urgent.

     He’s got his claw braced against the metal, using it to help keep balance as he’s leaned very close to the contraption, carefully trying to screw something in. A table’s been pulled up beside it with the other screws he’ll need, figuring it’s quicker than going back and forth across the room to fetch them. He’s so focused on the task at hand that he doesn’t even register the sound of his sibling shuffling in the hallway to see him. It’s only when he’s finished with the screw he’s dealing with and going to grab another that he notices them. At first, he’s just casually reaching out to get it — then his head snaps in their direction, emitting a buzz that undoubtedly gives away that fact that the green glow startled him. If that didn’t do it, then surely the fact that he bumped into the table that HE put there and knocked some of the screws off would do it.

     In the moment between when he did that and when Leatherhead speaks, he shuts his eyes and inhales sharply, brows furrowed. He’s definitely prepared to say something, but they’ve already spoken first, and when they do he promptly releases a sigh — still a little frustrated by what just occurred, but otherwise patient. Okay — getting sick ?  That is certainly a valid enough reason for them to come to him. He’ll give them that.

     “ That right, “ he mumbles, placing the screwdriver on the table  ( he’ll pick up the screws after; it’s more just an inconvenience than anything that he dropped them ). Looking them over, it’s certainly still evident that they’re still not in the greatest shape. At least it saves him from having to ask if they think they’ll throw up again, because it certainly looks as though they could. It doesn’t take long for him to offer a solution; lord knows with the sort of lot he was dealing with, throwing up wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.  “ Lemme see if we still got some Pepto ‘round here somewhere. “ He’s hoping he doesn’t have to make an impromptu run out to fetch some, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had to make such a run.

     Before he goes digging for that, though, it’s only natural that he questions, “ The hell’d you even eat, anyway ?  Ya’ seemed fine just an hour ago. “

[the-firebird69]

There's a large number of people who are trying to identity theft constantly and it is illegal. We're looking for people here who are threatening us in our son and we're looking for you now.

-you guys don't like being threatened and we're going to start doing it we hear threats coming out of you you're going to feel it we're very big very powerful and cloaked and arcade you same size and can swallow you in one bite and then you're gone

-there's several people who need to leave here I'm making a list send it out and we're getting rid of you

-a whole bunch of things happened today and a tons of stuff is coming out about Max and their plan and foreigners too and it's huge they're both exposed but most of the max it's important because I have a plan for the foreigners it involves it too

-a giant number of people can see Tommy f huge numbers of people are attacking him he's under a massive dress he's going to fail soon and everybody knows it there's a giant amount of hardware being destroyed and ships and space being destroyed and he's going to be out everyone's ganging up on him it's too big he's got stuff that's way too huge it can't be left to succeed and the war on him is on

-Trump went to federal courts while he's in federal court the max attached attacked very fiercely and it is a proof of them and a template on a son and they want to kidnap our Empress his wife using it and it is horrible but that's the plan they have and it was proven today

We are launching countermeasure after countermeasure but we really need a ton of troops and we need to be able to assign it to it and volunteers and we need them now for this duty. It is something that's going to last for you and he wants to meet people helped him and in the future and he wants to help you and they're going to assist him and they know what he means

-there's a ton of things happening here but one of them is that we have an issue with some of the people here they're hugely violent towards our son and need to leave we are developing a system we're also building bases a lot of them and immediately

-the muck has been moving out at about 7:10 p.m. today and our son was sleeping can't believe they accept four and a half hours this afternoon and you really needed it he only had 6 hours last night he felt a lot better and then the muck was down another foot in the river and harbor to four feet in the river and 5 ft in the harbor and it is flowing out fast very fast right now it's almost high tide so it's going back in and it will start to go out at 12:20 a.m. and it will bring a big chunk of it out we we estimate 3 ft out of both the canals have been losing a few inches each time and now they're down to about 2 in to 12 in mostly it's about 6 in and it's getting worn down slowly it'll be out although it is kind of pressurizing now

-there's a lot of flatulence all over the place it doesn't make a ton of sense because the stuff's been here forever we started drinking that Izzy and others copied him and it's not stopping and you have to stop the Izzy and you have to treat it with Pepto and probiotics

-there's a huge number of people who are at a store so you did it on purpose and he saying no I didn't it tasted really good and they say that's terrific

-we're putting warrants out on John Green the Lord and son and they're idiots and they need to be brought in continuously his forces are in their strict attack and he still carrying on like his loser low life Street version and getting his people killed and we need to know why he's such a loser

-they held to the numbers that they came up with this morning and the firings are continuing well into the night they we're done at 5:00 p.m. as a side note Ben Arnold says they reduced like 3%, it makes sense that they drag it to prison and that's our cover and you can't fight it and a son says who cares you're going to be receiving serious hits and he can't figure it out and they're stupid because of the brain surgery that ghwb did

-has a huge number of people trying to break into Charlotte county only have an army out there there's a big one and The shield is working there are 450, people in the inner ring and there are 10 million on the outside ring that's a lot folks they're going away soon but there are 300 billion on the way from North and South combined and there's going to be cut down and more will be forthcoming and the populace of warlock here will reduce and several percent again from about 20% the 17% with this one attack if it continues they will be weaker here significantly shortly

-we have a scam approved no Jason is trying to get our son to estimate roofs and take a portion of the commission but our son feels that the roofing material is not the code and that he won't pay him any money just as he did when they went around looking at houses and he bought several so it's a waste of time and he wants to use it to ruin social security it's a bad time for that it's a good time to light it up he doesn't want to do the work and get nothing it's a waste of time

-several other people have ideas and they may they may work and they're going to go ahead and try them we said today was interesting if the money is considered to be legal they can try and use it for a prison and it would light up our son like a Christmas tree. And they're saying is threatening social security but it's not really true and they don't have an angle there but they had several for other monies when is the money from Wells Fargo at UMass Amherst and his mom was saying it and she was listening to and people are trying to get that money and even Mac might be so horrible deal for him now it's going on right now there's several other sources what is money from Bank of America for overdraft that's not illegal but people say it is and their full s*** so we don't understand it it's very lame and we're not going to do that one the other is when he was in the low desert he got money for the mortgage he got it back from Saxon mortgage with the check came years later so they're saying it's illegal and that's not illegal they were in the wrong and it's money that was owed to him because of their behavior and they got sued by other people and they're going to go to jail it's a waste of time. It's a few other things but you're he's right people mention tons of stupid things there are people he's been threatening for money and John remillard is one and if he pays from Court he'll say that it was because of threats but that's ridiculous cuz of course telling him to pay so where is he going to take the case. The other is Dan who is critically injured but it won't pay him any money he's a moron too. So really it'll get money it'll get money is not going to come forwards but he says they owe me at the lottery and he can tell people that the lottery is fraudulent and people go after them and they did and that's one source. It's about $25,000. The other source would be proceeds from the sale of his mom's house and we are trying to get it in court and they would be using Camilla against him those are two very good ones the second is right on the money but the first one he would be threatening them with getting them in jail so it would work too. There's a few others that are similar when is the post office keeps on giving s*** about the money but they don't have any money and he doesn't have any there it's kind of lame. It's a big list of real ones now the next one is somewhat real who sold his car for less money than it's worth and he's mad about it actually called them up and I sent him an email said you purposely took my car and I want it back and I want my money back and you owe me from your stupid s*** at Kia and made it get damaged in the first place so assuming them for it and it looks threatening to them and they want more likes to threaten him into it and stuff yeah but really these people are lame and he says it and he doesn't have any money and they like it cuz they think he'll go to prison but really if you have money here they start trouble with you instantly.

We publish now

Thor Freya

There's a whole bunch of things that you can do but really these people are very lame and don't understand what they're doing it is a terrible group of jackass

Olympus

[trashytummiez]

Bubbly Bottle Caps

I got this idea from @squidbiscuit‘s latest drawing of James after drinking way too much soda.  I love bois who get really bloated and burpy from soda like that and the jiggly belly on James was just too much to ignore.  >///<;

"EEEEEEEEI!!!  What marvelous luck!!”  James squealed in his posh accent.  The Team Rocket scoundrel and his partner in crime, Jessie, made out like the bandits they were with this latest snag.  While Jessie and Meowth were busy gawking at the cargo they may have some luck selling off to some of their other Team Rocket associates, James had his eyes on the real prize.

About a dozen rare, imported glass soda bottles.  No.  Seriously.

His eyes practically turned to hearts when he leaned down and observed the sparkling bottle caps atop each one.  They were all rare, unique from one another, and sparkled almost as much as James’ excited, glassy eyes.

“Marvelous!  Simply maaaaarvelous!!”  James exclaimed in his flamboyant tone of voice.  “My Bottle Cap collection’s about to get sooooo much sparklier!!”  James cheered in a voice much more higher pitched than usual.  He got very excited when it came to his bottle cap collection.  It was sometimes hard to tell if it was sad or kind of adorable.

He immediately unscrewed the cap to one soda.  Then, he brought the cap mere inches from his eyeballs.  He observed its every inch, admiring its perfect form with the same attention and adoration one would convey admiring a diamond. 

To James, there was no difference between the two.

He eagerly set the bottle cap into his pocket then grabbed the next bottle.  But before he could twist the prized cap off, he stopped and looked down at the first drink he disregarded for the cap.  The young, blue-haired villain picked up the bottle and looked it over.  He carefully sniffed at the fizzing top.  

It was a crisp vanilla cream soda, which happened to be James’ favorite brand of soda.  Not only that, but even though they were on the clock and wanted to get the goods in and out as soon as possible, James wasn’t one to waste anything.  Least of all delicious, creamy-tasting and crisp soda.  

Against his better judgement, James brought the soda bottle to his lips and began to drink the bottle.  It quickly dawned on him that if he was going to get his caps and deal with the soda in a non-wasteful manner, he’d need to hurry it up.  So, the young villain went from drinking his soda to downright chugging it.  His throat bobbed while he slugged his bottle down.  It was a genuine shame to have to rush through the drink, but it was easy to chug, simply because it tasted so unbelievably good.

He finished it in impressive time, huffing but then smacking his lips at the flavor.  “Mmmm, sweet as pie!”  James said happily.  Then, he grabbed another bottle and popped off the cap.  Once again, he was gawking like a giant nerd at the beautiful cap and how great it would look with some of the others.  Then, he pocketed the cap and, like the first bottle, decided to guzzle it down.

Two bottles down, James burped into his fist then grabbed his third bottle.  But when he popped the cap off, his stomach gurgled loudly, making him feel a little uncomfortable.  He paused and rubbed his black-clad stomach gently from under his white Team Rocket Uniform.  Burping again under his breath, James huffed.  He had an appetite and had been known for overindulging a bit too often, both he and Jessie alike were known for that, but he wasn’t used to chugging so much soda at once.  His gurgling stomach told him that this wasn’t a good idea.  But that stubborn side of him that both loved the taste of this particular soda and hated wasting food or drink alike won out. 

So, he pocketed his third bottle cap and guzzled the drink down.  He would’ve paced himself, but he didn’t want to leave Jessie or Meowth waiting or for them to stick around longer than they needed.  Lord knows they’ve had egg on their face far too many times to wanna deal with another blunder when things were actually going well with this latest scheme.

Especially with these glorious bottle caps on the line.

After downing his third bottle, James couldn’t help but let out a large burp, definitely a lot bigger than he was expecting.  He covered his mouth and blushed after.  He took a moment to place a hand on his stomach when it grumbled again.  It was starting to feel bloated, and definitely heavier than usual.

James whined nervously down at his burgeoning middle.  He felt up his stomach, and the way it sort of jostled around on account of that added soda bloat.  He hiccuped from the jostle and blushingly covered his mouth.  “Curse my innocuous and totally awesome hobbies,” James complained.  But then again, he was already a fourth of the way done.  Getting through the rest couldn’t have been that bad, right?

Wrong.

The more those bottles began to add up, the worse that poor, oddly dashing crook began to feel.  His usually thin stomach turned into a pretty sizable potbelly that stretched out his black undershirt and gurgled intensely.  James was looking miserable when he downed his sixth bottle.  His eyes were clenched shut and each gulp caused him to strain slightly.

Almost immediately after setting his empty bottle down besides the others, a huge burp exited James mouth and actually lasted a few seconds.  James groggily patted his belly, causing it to slosh and gurgle some more.  “Ungh, too much soda,” James whimpered, weakly rubbing his bloated belly while it gurgled intensely.  

He looked down at his stomach and blushed in an embarrassed manner.  His stomach was getting so big from all that soda swilling around inside of him.

BWWWOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRPPP!!!!!

And James was burping so much that he lost any right to call himself the one with good manners within their little gang.  James yet again covered his mouth and blushed embarrassingly.  All that soda in his gut was making him incredibly gassy.  

No hobby in the universe was worth this much torture.

Except bottle cap collecting unfortunately.

So, James popped the bottle cap off and pocketed it without even taking a second to admire the new addition to his collection.  And he tortuously drank that seventh bottle.  His stomach groaned unpleasantly from the extra soda, but he was committed to enjoying both the new caps and all that soda, even if it killed him.

He really hoped it wouldn’t though.

BBBUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRROOOOOORRRRPPPP!!!!!!!!

Another giant, gassy burp signified another bottle drained.  James was so full that he had to sit himself down onto the ground and lean back just to ease some of the pressure off of his stomach.  James lazily grabbed another bottle, not even bothering to try and hold in yet another massive burp that forced its way out of his mouth.  He blushed a little because they were so loud, but he was too full and too groggy to even excuse himself anymore.

Instead, he just carelessly tossed that damn bottle cap into his pocket and drank.  The gulps got louder, as did all of the noises bubbling from James’ heavy and round stomach.  It hurt, but it didn’t deter James at this point.  

It should have.  Like several bottles ago.  But somehow, he powered on through.  The empty glass bottles just kept on littering the floor beside James, who punctuated the completion of each soda bottle with a massive, sometimes even painful-sounding burp.  

BBBBEEEEEEEEEELLLLLUUUUUURRRRRCH!!!!!!

James was gassier than he’d ever been in his whole life.  And that wasn’t a compliment.

But the pain and embarrassment would be worth it in the end.  Or at least it would after a long nap and a lot of pepto bismol.

Finally, the bloated young man finished all twelve bottles and had a pocket full of beautiful, brand new and rare bottle caps to add to his collection.

BBBBBRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!

It wasn’t worth it.

James lazily slumped back on the floor.  His pants had long been undone because his belly had grown so massively bloated from twelve bottles of soda chugged in rapid succession it James almost looked pregnant.  His beer belly stuck out so much that his undershirt rode up and revealed his bare round belly for all to see.  The dazed and exhausted James gently pat his stomach.  He was so full of soda that it actually jiggled and sloshed from the pat.  All James could do was groan and whimper while rubbing his round, sloshing belly weakly.

“...Unnngh...too...much...soda...” James whined, burping wetly and whimpering some more.  He looked and sounded like he wanted to cry.

“...What in da hell?”  Meowth’s low, street-level voice called out to James.

James yelped nervously when Meowth and Jessie approached their soda-filled companion with bags of loot in Jessie’s arms and a single bag in Meowth’s.

“James, what on earth happened here?”  Jessie asked, lightly kicking James’ massive belly with her foot.

It sloshed and jostled with an immense gurgle that followed.  James’ eyes widened and his cheeks puffed out.  And before he could even entertain the idea of holding back what was coming...

BBBWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

James let out the loudest, queasiest burp he’d ever uttered in his life.  It was so intense that the bottles besides him actually rattled, as did his soda-filled stomach.  Both Jessie and Meowth flinched, but immediately looked at each other and had the same thought.

“Bottle caps.”

James let out a tiny burp and flopped onto his back whimpering.  His huge gut swayed like a fleshy wave from all that soda sloshing around inside of him.

“...Nrgh...I...don’t ever...ever...ever...want to see another soda for as long as I live...” James whined and even went a little green at the mere thought of drinking any more soda.

“Well, that’s too bad, becauuuuse...” Jessie grinned eagerly and held up one of the bags of loot which rattled in a dreadfully familiar fashion.  “Imported sodas!  The cream-flavored kind!”

“They ain’t worth squat but boy d’they taste great!”  Meowth exclaimed.

...James proceeded to cry right there on the spot.

[nightfall-kachiniko]

How about Mikasa with a s/o who is sick? Ur doing to lords work by feeding us simps.

Ah ofc! And I try my best haha

Sickness. Mikasa x Sick! Reader

“Ugh...” you felt your heat become hot when you put your hand to it.You’d honestly not been feeling to well for the past day or so. You still got up to do stuff like clean the stables, yard work.. yatatata.

It was around lunch time and you all were talking having a great time. But your body wasn’t.

You sat next to you girlfriend Mikasa, resting your head on her shoulder, her arm softly brushing your hair. “You okay y/n?” She asked.

“Mhm.. just uhm..not feeling so well...”

She looked down at you, “what’s wrong?”

“M-my stomach hurts really bad..” you whimpered out. And with a small nodd she stood up and helped you up to, “We’ll be back”

She walked out of the dining Hall, still holding onto your hand. And when you got back to the dorm room you both shared, you felt the pain worsen, your stomach hurting more.

“Ach!” You grunted, falling to your knees your arm crossing your stomach.

“Mm..” your small whimper concered your girlfriend even more.

“Y/n!” She got down to your level, reaching her arm out to hug you.

Mikasa pulled you into her lap, rubbing your back. Tears of pain fell down your face as it worsened. You whined and cried, making sounds of discomfort and hurt. “Shh... calm down” She said to your shaking self. Your girlfriend softly stroked your hair and pulled your head more into her neck, trying to help calm you.

“It’s okay..”

“It hurts! Owwwww... It hurts!” You cried out.

“I know dear.. I know..” she reached over to the nightstand where some pepto Bismol was (a/n:ultimate pink drink xD) and looked on the back of it, seeing how it could help you and how much she should give you.

You felt her arms twiddle and fumble opening the bottle and pouring some into a small cup. “Here,” the raven haired woman put it up to your trembling lips.

“Mmmgh.. mm..” you whimpered and nodded. You felt it go down your throat, your stomach still being clenched by your arms.

“Mkay.” Mikasa softly kissed your forehead, “good..”

She put her hand to your stomach removing your arms from it. She began to soft rub it, trying to make you feel better.

A small kiss landed on your head, you buried your head back into her shoulder sniffling and trying your hardest to not cry more.

Small sobs still escaped your lips, desperate for the pain to go away.

“When did it start hurting hun..?” The voice said, softly in a calm manner.

“A-about t-two days ago after training...”

“Two days ago?” She repeated

“Mm..mm y-yeah..”

“Mkay..”

She kissed your forehead again, trying to let you know she is there and that your gonna be ok.

The pain softly died down little by little.

“Come on.. I’m going to get you to sleep you need rest” she cupped your cheek and pulled your face towards her, off her neck.

“O-okay..” Your love kissed your lips gently as she helped you stand up.

Mikasa helped you over to you bed and laid you down.

“Get some rest..” she kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back with a heating pack..”

“M-mkay...”

As a small peck softly was placed on your forehead, your gaze began to fade as your eyes closed, slowly drifting off.

[vancafreader]

Fine Art Comics of Canada: Sixties to Seventies - Heart of London, Snore & More by Robert Dayton

Part One: The Heart Of London

There was a time where artists were making vast ripples away from Toronto and other outsized hubs. London, Ontario was such a place, all eyes were on it in the late 60’s and not Toronto. The Heart Of London comic book from 1968 was actually an exhibition catalog, an overview of the art that was happening there at the time. Organised by The National Gallery of Canada, this exhibition traveled from London to Toronto, Kingston, Edmonton, Victoria, Charlottetown and, of course, The National Gallery H.Q. itself in Ottawa.

This catalog/comic book consisted of fumetti, comics done using photos for the images. Fumetti was most prominently used in the 60’s by Harvey Kurtzman in Help and Playboy, prolifically in numerous Mexican comic book melodramas, and in Italian comics featuring the masked master criminal Satanik. Heart Of London’s particular fumetti is further stylized by heavily contrasted processing causing colours so bright that they make everything heightened artifice, buzzing as if emanating from a higher plane of being.

Cover of the Heart Of London catalogue

The Heart of London logo in Pepto-Bismol pink is rendered somewhere between Archie and underground comix titles. Above it, The Comics Code of Authority symbol -a comic book mainstay of the day implying that the work is of safe moral quality- has been altered to “National Gallery of Canada”, the institution that made this comic book and exhibition happen. The cover features what appears to be London public workers, perhaps? These men in yellow hard hats casually stand in front of a store with a Coca-Cola logo also coloured Pepto-Bismol pink, Pop Art style, at the city’s main intersection in what very well may be the heart of London.

The comic opens with a quote placed above a looming Brutalist parking lot, huddling various small businesses below it. This quote contains the phrase “heart of London” but it is rather self-deprecatingly not about London, Ontario but London, England in World War One. Sharing a name with London, England has often made this Ontario city the butt of many a joke, ie. “I live in London… (long pause) Ontario” with its population being just over 200,000 in 1968. Named in 1793 by Lord Simcoe, Upper Canada’s first Lieutenant-Governor known for starting the abolition of slavery, he was also fervently British, his vision for Canada was for it to be like England which he looooved, desperately (but stiffly) wanting this particular London to become Ontario’s capital. Alas, Toronto was chosen instead. Related, always related to everything: the term “cosmic consciousness”, the higher state of consciousness, was coined in London in 1872 by Richard Bucke, a psychiatrist and head of The Asylum For The Insane, after he received a blinding vision, illuminating him. Besides being active in asylum reform, Bucke was heavily involved in the arts -the vision occurred after an evening spent reading Romantic poetry as well as poems by Walt Whitman, who he later befriended. Yes, London, Ontario is an eccentric place.

The artists involved in the Heart Of London show were part of what was known as “London Regionalism”, a loose-knit movement of artists who were adamant about residing in London, away from Toronto or New York. Artist Greg Curnoe helped establish some of the very first artist-run centres there. He was an early member and huge proponent of CARFAC, a Canadian organisation that fights for artists to get paid and paid fairly for their work. CARFAC was founded in London by Heart Of London artists Jack Chambers and Tony Urquhart -along with Kim Ondaatje.

Besides Curnoe, Chambers, and Urquhart, the eleven artists in Heart Of London included John Boyle, Bev Kelly, Murray Favro, Ron Martin, David Rabinowitch, Royden Rabinowitch, Walter Redinger, and Ed Zelenak. They are all profiled in fumetti form talking about their practice through speech balloons and captions, along with quick biographical details. Many of these artists were known for their inventiveness, they were influenced by a variety of subject matter -including comic art- without falsely delineating these influences into false boxes of high or low art. They didn’t just make work in the visual art field either. Along with a Hart Of London work-on-paper, Chambers made an experimental film with the same name in 1970. This film intensely shows brutal shots of an abattoir in Spain interspersed with London scenes; it has been described by Stan Brakhage as “one of the greatest films ever made.”  Both Curnoe’s Heart Of London painting from 1967 and Jack Chambers’ 1968 work-on-paper Hart Of London are in the show.

Noted curator and historian Judith Rodger told me that Curnoe’s Heart Of London piece depicts The Forks Of the Thames downtown, “arguably the heart of London” near many of the artists’ studios with Greg’s studio as the main hub or heart of it all. As for the idea of a comic book catalog, it was a mystery until Rodger guided me to Katie Cholette’s PhD thesis Memory and Mythmaking: the role of autobiography in the works of Jack Chambers and Greg Curnoe which states that it was the idea of William Bragg, assistant to the director of The National Gallery’s extension services. Cholette’s paper quotes Bragg from the Sept 29, 1968 New York Times’ Arts Notes column, “…The idea was to make a kind of scrapbook, to talk as a group, not individuals. Their work is kind of echoed by the comics—it’s really their bag […] Everyone likes to read comics once in a while, anyway.” Due to its uniqueness, the catalog garnered a lot of press for the show. Beverley Lambert (Bev Kelly in the show) says, “I think we all thought it was pretty neat and it was funny. It got people’s attention.”

When I talked to artist John Boyle about this comic book catalog, he said right away, “It’s too bad that Greg Curnoe isn’t with us anymore, because he was really interested in comic books. And he always did comic book or comic-like drawings from the time he was a little kid.” In the book Greg Curnoe Life And Work, author Judith Rodger’s description of his 1963 painting Myself Walking North In the Tweed Coat could be ascribed to many of his works. “The flat, vivid colours; schematic outlines; and text all come from his love of the comic book.” As well as the inclusion of the name of the newspaper strip Mary Worth in the piece. Another colourful painting casually inserts Dick Tracy into the frame as a representative of one of his interests. Curnoe’s series of cut-out collages were often shaped into cartoony and anthropomorphic forms.

Curated by Pierre Théberge at The National Gallery, Boyle readily notes, “Both Curnoe and Chambers talked up all the other artists who were around in London, and ended up persuading Théberge to have a group show to get a sense of the whole London art scene.”

The comic book itself doesn’t give William Bragg’s name at all, nada. The designer is credited: Roger Duhamel, FRSC, Queen’s Printer and Controller of Stationery, a federal government official, as well as the design firm: Eccleston + Glossop International. All of the photos, however, were done by the late Don Vincent, of whom Boyle says, “He was a friend of ours, of all of us. And a really terrific photographer. And he documented the whole London scene as it unfolded taking photographs all the time of everybody in this show and just of London, his whole life was photography.” Vincent’s work also appeared in 20 Cent Magazine, a delightfully scrappy local art magazine started in the mid-60’s with many of the people in the show, including Boyle and Curnoe, contributing writings and drawings. 20 Cent Magazine sold for 25 cents, ha! Vincent also photographed The Nihilist Spasm Band who are regarded as the first noise-rock band; this amazing, mind-blowing, intense and milk-spurtingly funny act was founded by the late Greg Curnoe, with Boyle and Favro (playing unique guitars that he builds himself) as still very active members over fifty years later. They are unique cultural ambassadors bringing such songs as “No Canada” to the world, having performed in Japan and in Vancouver at The Western Front with poet George Bowering guesting on guitar, and have had a documentary made about them by the late noise artist Zev Asher.

In one of Heart Of London’s comic book panels about Boyle an early issue of the four color MAD sneaks its way in. I asked him if he read MAD, “Yeah. Although that is from the designer. I read MAD, although not madly.”

A very young Boyle states in one of his panels, “The day I can truly defile myself in public, I will have accomplished everything, and I will no longer have a need to paint.” Reflecting today he says, “I still think that actually, and I think I may have succeeded. Because I do still have the need to paint. But I don’t have the need to show it anymore, or to get applause or approval from anyone. And I don’t know how that arose in me. But I kind of had a fair amount of attention and approval and acceptance and shows in fancy places and meeting important people and pleasing art administrators. And I kind of reached the conclusion that most of them aren’t worth pleasing and their opinion was not as good or not as important as the opinions of other people that I happen to know. And I thought they made a lot of mistakes and people that they chose to support. And also, their approval was very fickle. They were very fickle about it because as soon as fashions would change, their eyes were directed elsewhere and the people they thought were geniuses today were no longer geniuses tomorrow. I did kind of lose my enthusiasm for the art world, but not for painting. So, I was mistaken.”

The final pages of this catalog feature a few reproductions of pieces from the show itself, including Bev Kelly’s window paintings which, with its window panels, adapt quite easily to the comic book form, comparable to an ornate and mysterious painted comic page. The layout, however, was a bit fast and loose with one of her works being printed sideways. In her fumetti section she says, “These windows aren’t ‘real’ windows, they are still paintings. They don’t have sashes and you can’t see through them. A real window is to look through, these are to look at.” Painted on canvas, the window pieces used lumber to make the frames of the paintings, carved to look like the ribbed mouldings of window frames.

Bev Kelly was the sole woman in the show and when I asked her about this she said, “I’m very happy that they didn’t concentrate on this issue that I was the only woman. I didn’t want to be known as an artist because I was a woman.” Having recently moved to London from Saskatchewan with her husband, they were warmly welcomed by Curnoe and she would go see The Nihilist Spasm Band play every week at The York Hotel. Her first solo show was at The 20/20 Gallery in London.

She spent the first two years of her life in Biggar, Saskatchewan where the signs read, “New York Is Big, But This Is Biggar.” Being in London changed her notions of places like New York being the absolute cultural mecca. Beverley says, “There was a really vibrant cultural community there. You know what a regionalist Greg was. He really believed, as a lot of writers do, that you should write about what you know, or you should do your art about what you know, including where you live and so on. And, of course, when I started on the windows that was right out where I was living. The first ones were of my house and then I walked around and took pictures of various houses that I thought looked interesting. When I got a studio in London above one of the businesses downtown I used some of the windows there as inspiration for my works. And then when I went back to Saskatchewan, I was very into that, looking around at what is there where you live. I even got a grant to travel around small-town Saskatchewan and look at the local -in air quotes- ‘folk art’ or untrained artists, let’s say, just painting odd things on their house or their property or whatever. So, I went and I did interviews, took pictures of them, and I imagine I must have produced some kind of a report on it because I probably had to for my grant. So that led me into being more observant and looking more at where it’s from and what is around you and that you don’t have to go to some huge, big place to find art.”

Bev Kelly was her married name and she returned to using her original name, Beverley Lambert in the 1970’s. Lambert did a series of three large lithographs for International Women’s Year in 1975 on women’s issues dealing with real news stories that happened on the prairies. Many of these prints were donated to many women’s centres across the country. She has also worked in clay doing an entire main street based on the fictional Saskatchewan town in the humour book Sarah Binks by Paul Hiebert. Beverley Lambert currently resides in St. John’s, Newfoundland where she makes art and is active as a conservator.

Flip the comic over and it is the same but in either French or English depending on where you first started reading!

Boyle comments, “Last night, my wife and I were looking at the Heart of London catalog. She was amazed that this was a National Gallery touring show with a lot of artists who became major artists in the country. And it looked like they were trying to spend as little money as possible by making this skinny little comic book-like thing on newsprint and I think there’s a large measure of truth in that. Because, again, I remember when Greg Curnoe had a big one-man exhibition retrospective at The National Gallery and the catalogue that they did for him was kind of a minimal thing. It was like a paperback book with one colour reproduction and a number of inferior black and white reproductions and basically a list of artworks in the show. And in the same year, The National Gallery did a big one-man exhibition of Donald Judd, the American sculptor, and his catalogue was a huge coffee table book that weighed about 15 pounds and was three inches thick and loaded with colour from beginning to end. And that just, I think, represented a specifically Canadian problem.” When I mention this to Hairy Who member Art Green he responds, “Well, of course, because they’re trying to impress their betters in New York, so you get a job at The Whitney or The Museum of Modern Art. Canada has been an incubator for museum directors since forever.”

Hairy Who catalog page by Art Green, courtesy of the artist

This style of catalog for Heart Of London corresponds nicely with The Hairy Who, another such grouping of artists around that time who were part of “The Chicago Imagists.” Their three Chicago art shows starting in the mid-60’s were accompanied by comic books that also doubled as exhibition catalogs. The Hairy Who weren’t very aware of the underground comics scene then just barely getting started, they chose this method out of creative necessity, printing a glossy catalog was cost prohibitive. Green explains, “And the printing was expensive and not very good. And we didn’t want to have a show that was called ‘Six Recent Graduates’ or something unexciting like that. And so, we realised we all liked comics and we all knew how to do colour stripping because we’d taken silk-screening courses, we figured out we could do it. And it was cheap.”

Delineating further, The Hairy Who made playful art inspired by a wide range of neat stuff. The London artists were well aware of The Hairy Who. In fact, The Hairy Who were even going to show in London at The 20/20 Gallery. Boyle notes, “20/20 was kind of a precursor to the art in the so-called artist run centres, most of which aren’t run by artists anymore. But anyway, it was one of the first and it was all sponsored by local people in London. And I don’t think it lasted longer than a couple of years, but it was a terrific gallery while it lasted.” Many of the artists in The Heart Of London show were active in 20/20, which lasted from 1966 to 1971. Greg Curnoe discussed the show with Hairy Who artist Karl Wirsum, who in a letter to Art Green wrote, “Well, if they go ahead and publish a comic book, that would be all right.” Green notes, “He may have thought that the 20/20 Gallery was more well-funded than it probably was. But it was on, we all agreed to do it. We were looking forward to it.” Green himself left Chicago for Canada in 1969. The 1968 Democratic Convention had transpired and as Green puts it, “Everybody was angry at everybody.” He was dissatisfied with his teaching job there as well, so when offered a job at NASCAD, the art school in Halifax, he leaped at it.

Alas, the show didn’t happen. In a letter to Art Green, Curnoe writes, “We had to cancel The Hairy Who show and a lot of us were disappointed.” Boyle notes, “I suspect that it got caught up in the death throes of the gallery. And they would have had to cancel whatever exhibitions they had coming up.”

Green notes that both London and Chicago are far enough away from the more major centres that artists can, “…be free to go their own way because there’s not much at stake partly and nobody’s paying attention. And I remember the first time I had been in London, we were driving on our honeymoon to Halifax where I got the job. And I thought, ‘I’m gonna stop here and get a Canada Dry.’ I’m driving down what’s the main street that runs north south and pulled into a corner store. And I said, ‘Do you have Canada Dry?’ ‘No, but we got America Dry.’  I have never before or since seen a bottle of America Dry. I bought it and it wasn’t as good as Canada Dry. And, and that’s not a dream. I mean, I have never seen it ever again. But that made me say, ‘Wow, this is a weird place.’”

While Green was teaching at NASCAD, Curnoe came for what Green calls, “One of his annual excoriations, if that’s a word, he would rip them up one side down the other in public, for being a Canadian art school with no Canadians teaching, hardly any, and all yanks -and it was true! And so anyway, they would invite him and it was almost like a ritual. He would be in the public, there’d be 400 students there and Greg would just rip the place apart. I had known Greg, I heard about the show and so on, and we got along fine. And afterwards he’d come up to me and say, ‘Well, how did I do?’ ‘Greg, you’re doing great, but you do realise I’m a yank’, but I agreed with him 100%.” Both Curnoe and Green commiserated on how Canadian art was neglected at the school. “If he had been in Chicago, Greg would have been a member of The Hairy Who or maybe started it. But he was more political, he had to be, and Chicago, the politics were so acidic that you wouldn’t have wanted to be to be involved in it, unless you went in full immersion. And we were decidedly unpolitical. Although we all agreed on the politics of it. We were a collective in the sense that we wanted people to collect us.” On this, Art Green is a tad glib, having made art responding to and criticizing Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. Both Art and Greg would visit with each other in various Canadian cities: Halifax, Vancouver, Toronto. “Nobody appreciated Greg in Toronto, they went out of their way to un-appreciate him. And luckily, they did put a put up a pretty nice retrospective after he was safely gone.”

Of London, Green notes, “I think that for a period of time. I don’t know how long it was maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours, maybe a few months? Maybe a few years. London, Ontario was most interesting art scene and literary scene in the whole world.”

The propensity for great art still ran in the water there, the stream flowed, there was a continuum and a recognizing of that history. London has some great galleries including Forest City Gallery, founded by Jack Chambers and Greg Curnoe, where The Nihilist Spasm Band plays every Monday night.

In 2013 The London Museum held the group show L.O. Today with artists Jason Mclean, Marc Bell, Jamie Q, Billy Bert Young, Amy Lockhart, Peter Thompson, and James Kirkpatrick. Many of these artists are a part of the Canadian Psychedooolic art comic movement that began in the 1990’s, captured and collected in the book Nog A Dod, edited by former Londoner Marc Bell and released by Conundrum/PictureBox. Much of the work in Nog A Dod occurred in Vancouver with a couple of these London artists relocating there, immersing easily, doing a lot of collaborative drawing and art books with other Vancouver based artists. Yes, ‘Canadian Psychedooolic’ was named after the fact by Bell, but we weren’t thinking of ourselves as a movement or a group at the time. Yet all of these art books had an unfettered comic wildness, funny, and expansively playful. And Nog A Dod got out there, impacting and influencing a lot of artists the world over. Furthering the connective tissue, in 2003, The Western Front in Vancouver put on an art show featuring ‘documents and ephemera’ from musical acts The Nihilist Spasm Band, The All Star Schnauzer Band (a somewhat fake band as mail art project involving Bell, Mclean, and Thompson) and July Fourth Toilet, a Vancouver based group that often involves many Nog A Dod and Nog A Dod related artists, including yours truly occasionally wearing outlandish semi-functional semi-nude costumes specially designed by Jason Mclean. The show was curated by Jonathan Middleton, who is now Executive Director at Art Metropole, a Toronto based artist-run centre dealing primarily in artists�� publications.

Getting back to Greg Curnoe. Released in two parts in 1970, The Great Canadian Sonnet contained numerous images by Curnoe. Described as a “Beaver Little Book”, the format was modeled after the popular Big Little Books, distant cousins to comic books so named for being small, square and thick. Big Little Books were marketed to children and featured popular comic, cartoon, radio and film characters of the day in text-based stories with illustrations on every other page. Some Big Little Books had flip-it cartoons in the top corner so one could make the character move. With its second volume The Great Canadian Sonnet does this as well, stating “See ‘em move – just flip the pages” on the cover and, sure enough, in the corner a spot rolls up a hill-like abstract shape transforming into a medley of human faces.

Written by poet David McFadden, Curnoe riffed off lines in his text creating a great many detailed pen-and-ink drawings for the book with titles that included “Proud Possessor Of Meaningful Pain”, “One that will be Truly Loved by the Prime Minister”, and “The Empty Universe” which featured a drawing of a tin of apple juice and a packet of bird seed -the book’s drawings contained many such absurdist pairings. The Great Canadian Sonnet was published by Coach House Press who were -and still are- known for releasing all manner of experimental works including poetry, prose and beyond. Both volumes together weigh in at over 400 pages, with every other page being a drawing by Curnoe.

Many thanks to Jason Mclean, Marc Bell, and Judith Rodger for their immense help with this piece.

Thanks as well to Art Green for use of his respective artworks.

Part Two: Scraptures, Snore and More coming tomorrow, Friday, August 20!

Robert Dayton

www.robertdayton.com

www.patreon.com/CanadianGlam

[daily-best-vampire]

Wacky Vampire Cooking

Premise: Nukesaku creates an awful cooking show where he actively fails at making food because he’s dumb. Have fun? Please don’t follow his advice in irl.

Nukesaku’s Wacky Vampire Cooking with Nukesaku

HI! I’M NUKESAKU, YES I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE I’M STUPID, BUT I’M NOT!! I’M THE BEST!! WELCOME TO MY COOKING SHOW, MADE BY ME AND ME ALONE!! NO HELP FROM BILLIE JEAN! NADA FROM VANILLA ICE! NOTHING AT ALL FROM STUPID STUPID TELENCE!! IT’S ALL ME!

WE’RE GONNA MAKE A CHINESE DUMPLING TODAY, WHICH SOUNDS KINDA GROSS, BUT IS GOOD! IT’S MORE LIKE A CHINESE BREAD POD. THE ONLY DUMPLING I WANNA TAKE IS ON STUPID MASTER DIO’S HEAD! EHEHEHEHEHEEHEHE- PLEASE DON’T HURT ME

SO FIRST, YOU TAKE AN ENTIRE SACK OF FLOUR AND POUR IT INTO A BOWL. AND THEN, SINCE THESE THINGS ARE MADE WITH SOURDOUGH, YOU POUR HALF A BOTTLE OF LEMON JUICE INTO IT, AND SMASH IT UP WITH YOUR BARE HANDS! THIS IS FUN SINCE YOU CAN LICK OFF THE MUSH! YOU CAN ALSO ADD SALT AND SUGAR, BUT IT’S NOT NEEDED. SINCE THIS “YEETS” THING IS A FUNGUS AND MAKES BREAD RISE, GO INTO THE FOREST AND COLLECT WHATEVER MUSHROOMS YOU FIND!

THEN, YOU FIND LEFTOVERS, LIKE A BLUE CHEESE HAMBURGER OR FRENCH FRIES, AND SMASH THEM INTO A MUSH! ALSO, ADD VEGETABLES, SUCH AS RAW CHICKEN, CAT FOOD, AND CUCUMBERS. MAKE SURE TO ADD HOT SAUCE, AT IT MAKES IT TASTE REALLY GOOD! ADD MORE FOREST MUSHROOMS AND EDIBLE LOOKING BUGS, AS IT MAKES IT LOOK GOOD, I SWEAR! LORD DIO ATE A DOG BEFORE, IT’S FINE.

NEXT, KIDNAP THE PERSON WHO’S HOUSE YOU BROKE INTO’S WIFE AND...UH... “BORROW” HER BLOOD. IT’S USEFUL FOR FLAVORING!! PUT THE COOL SOURDOUGH MIX INTO THE OVEN AND HEAT FOR A REALLY GREAT 450 DEGREES!! THEN FORCE IT TO WRAP AROUND THE MUSH, AND COOK AGAIN!!

I MESSED UP. IT SHOULD NOW BE A “CHAIR-COLE” BLACK AND KINDA WEIRD SMELLING. POUR MORE “BORROWED” BLOOD, AND ALSO HOT SAUCE. FIND SOME PLAYDOUGH AND SALT IT. THEN, GO INTO THE PERSON’S MEDICATION CABINET, AND FIND SOME COOL STUFF! I USED THE FOLLOWING FOR FLAVOR!

*ACTIVATED “CHAIR-COLE” *” PEPTO-BISMOL” *LIQUID COUGH MEDICINE *COUGH DROPS *ANTY-DEPRESSANTS *MINT OIL *” ASS-PRIN” *” VASE-EL-INE” *LIPSTICK *BIRTH “CONTROL” (LIKE HOW DIO CONTROLS TIME?? MEDICATION CAN GIVE YOU THE POWER TO CONTROL WHO CAN GIVE BIRTH!?) *LAXY-TIVES

SO YOU TAKE ALL THE STUFF IN THE MEDS CABINET, SPREAD IT ONTO THE TABLE, AND SMASH IT INTO PIECES WITH A HAMMER! THEN, PUT IT ALL INTO THE PLAYDOUGH, AND MIX IT IN!! THEN, WRAP THE BURNT STUFF IN THE DOUGH, DRENCH IN OLIVE OIL, AND “MIKE-RO-WAVE” FOR 2 MINUTES!

THEN YOU’RE DONE!! I ATE THEM MYSELF, AND I WAS ONLY CONSTIPATED FOR TWO WEEKS! THEY’RE REALLY GOOD. NO-ONE I KNOW WANTS TO EAT THEM, BUT THEY’RE JUST JEALOUS!! NUKESAKU OUT!!

[l0chn3ss]

Inmates - 3

“On The Offense”

Different words were exchanged every day, and oftentimes they were matched with playful pinches or hard jabs to the stomach.

The others who watched them interact were worried, to say the least, but truth be told, Maka and Black Star really wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Chicken, Maks?”

Black Star stood in her path to the classroom, acting as if he were some big obstacle that no one could face. His feet were wide apart, arms crossed, and he wore a smirk on his face that could only be read as a challenging one. If she spent any more time on him than she’d already had, Maka would have to call the day a loss.

“Move, Star,” she glared.

“So, you are chicken?”

Maka was weak to these simple words, ones that grade school children were taught to ignore. And she would have forgotten them easily had it not been for the person making the remarks in the first place. She rolled up her sleeves.

“I’ll wreck your shit,” came her response.

In the middle of a busy hallway, in front of their next class, they clasped hands and butted foreheads, trading insults and swear words.

Inside of the room, Kim sighed. “They’re at it again. Really? Right in front of my salad.”

“You hate salads,” Jackie said, barely glancing up while a crowd of freshly admitted NOT students crowded outside.

“My point is, it’s too early for this shit.”

“Agreed,” Soul said. He’d gotten the chance to slip in when Maka had wrestled Black Star away from the door. “I’m pretty sure that Maka called him something in the morning, though, while they were still at home.”

“Anything could probably trigger that fire cracker. I don’t know why she didn’t know otherwise.”

“I think she enjoys it,” Tsubaki called from a row down.

Kilik joined in. “The crowd enjoys it, too, apparently,” he said, jabbing a thumb behind him. “Do you think class will start late again?”

“It better not.” Jackie clenched her book tighter. “I studied for too long to run out of time on another test.”

The group of friends continued to watch, minus one, until two teachers came to pull Black Star and Maka apart.

“Yeah, just come in. Leave your bag wherever,” Black Star said, pushing his door open.

Kid took a brief look around before following his friend; Patty and Liz trailing behind. They didn’t do home visits often, but Black Star had an opportunity that they couldn’t refuse.

“I’ll get my fame-moose corn and clam chowder re-heated. How’d y’all find out about that anyway?” he questioned.

“‘Smelt it on ya hands,” Patty said, tapping her nose, following him to the kitchen. “And everybody knows soups are ya specialty.”

“Plus Kid forgot to go shopping for dinner.”

“I was away for five days, Liz. What have you both been eating for the last week?”

“Out,” was the answer.

Black Star ignored the conversation. “Soup is easy. You start it early, throw everything into a pot, and let it do it’s thing-- hmm, half is gone.”

“Thieves? Bandits?” Patty cracked her knuckles. “Those mutherfuckers.”

“Chill, there’s still plenty for all of us.”

Liz asked, “Enough for Maka to join, though?”

Before Black Star could answer, the person in question stepped out of her room, fully dressed and adjusting her gloves.

“Hard pass for today,” she said. “I told some kids I’d beat them until they were better. Try to enjoy dinner, though. We have Pepto-Bismol in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Guess you guys will be out there for the whole week, then,” Black Star squinted, crossing his arms. “Good luck helping, I guess. I hope they don’t give up on you too early.”

“There’s a reason why they asked for my help and not yours.” Maka crossed over to the counter to pick up a heavy thermal bag, hanging it on her arm.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, just going to force feed them some chowder as punishment.” She gave it a pat. “A torture device, but still legal in the state of Nevada.”

“Ah, giving the kids a proper final meal before you send them to their grave, eh?”

“Bye, choke on dinner!”

“Choke on my d--”

“Okay, who’s setting the table?” Liz intervened.

“Oh look who came in. Mr. Late McLate Pants.”

Black Star mocked her tone. “Hurr, I’m Maka, Miss Always Early. Why don’t you tell everyone why I’m late, huh?”

Kilik tried, “Actually, there’s still some time before--”

“Oh sure! I’ll tell them,” Maka sneered. “Someone was stuck doing a mountain of dishes before they could leave. How are your hands? Pruney?”

“You knew it was my day to be on sink duty, so you made a huge ass breakfast for yourself and only left me with toasted Wonder Bread. You’re a sick, cruel monster.”

“At least I toasted it for you,” she said sweetly. “The entire loaf, too.”

“How do you think it makes me feel to wake up to the smell of a breakfast burrito, only to get pointed to fucking Wonder Bread?”

“I just thought it fit your standards.”

Ox whispered, “But I love Wonder Bread…”

“Why do you hate each other so much?”

They looked at their friends, and then at each other, suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Hate? Oh my lord, nah fam. No, no, no,” they wheezed. “Who hates who? Us? Me? Nah, you got it so wrong, my dudes.”

Confusion settled into their friends’ faces; awkward laughter joined in.

“Ah,” Maka sighed, calming down. “Guys, come on. What on earth are you saying?”

Liz waved a tentative hand. “Well, you’re always insulting each other, and smacking, and angry, and-- I don’t know, acting like you do?”

“Like that time you tripped Maka while she was carrying her lunch,” Tsubaki chimed.

“Or when you both started throwing other people’s shoes at each other,” said Soul.

Kilik muttered, “Sometimes with the person still attached to said shoes.”

“As if you all haven’t been tossed around as weapons or meisters before,” Black Star snorted.

“That’s an entirely different thing,” Liz said. “Come on, what the everloving fuck is going on with you two?”

Black Star threw an arm over Maka’s shoulder, who reciprocated the action, grinning.

“No, we don’t hate each other. We’re just offensive soulmates,” she explained.

“Sarcastic squad goals,” said her roommate.

“A deplorable duo.”

“Bosom bitches.”

“Significant shitheads.”

“One true problems.”

“I’ve got ninety-nine problems and all of them are you!”

Black Star pointed a finger gun, “Ayy!”

“Seriously the only thing I hate about him is that he slurps his ramen--”

“Ah, ha. And she does the same. Like a goddamn vacuum picking up screws--”

“As I was saying-- he slurps like a toddler learning how to eat--”

“At least I know how to.”

“Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean, you little shit?”

“You need me to spell it out for you? I said, at least I know how to eat like a basic human being.”

“Well, at least I am a basic human being--”

“Yeah, basic as fuck!”

“Ok, now you want to fight, huh? Is that it? Let’s go, Star.”

“Prepare to get wrecked, Maks.”

The both of them clasped hands and butted foreheads, pushing each other with all of their might while their friends left for lunch. They were tired, all of them were goddamn tired.

Written for @mastar-week MaStar Week 2018 Day 1: Tomfoolery

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

[emmelfish]

Folks, we made it here. It’s NUPTIALS time.

And Dina Caliente bogarts the alcohol before the ceremony’s even begun.

Dina: I’m just – I’m happy for you Brandi, really I am, but Mort-Mort hasn’t called since he got his leg over and I fear I may never fulfill my Marry a Rich Sim want. I just feel so vulnerable right now.

Dina: But yeah you make maternity marriage gowns look super classy and you look beautiful, and Darren – pink becomes you, so... happy wedding guys!

Dina: Let’s all get wasted! Not you obvs Brandi.

Le sigh, still a snooze, even with booze. Hopefully the party score will pick up!

Yep, Brandi’s best boys are all wearing pink, even though she’s not got a hint of her fave color on her wedding attire. Hey John Burb! Better not have been poking any more holes in your Durexes or switching out Jen’s birth control for Altoids. Hiya Dusty, how’s college?

Dustin: I’m still Undeclared since you all threw me in that dilapidated dorm and exited the game.

Undeclared! Great TV show. Uh, we’ll get to it, we just need to change your LTW to Top of the Criminal career because I want you to be a babyfaced mobster, and then you can take the Mathematics.

Dustin: Yay, numbers. That’s almost as fun as wearing a pastel suit.

YOU’LL THANK ME!

Hubba hubba, Tara Kat scrubs up well and has switched out her regular day hat to her fancy one! Thanks girl. Could you have a word with Dirk about changing out of his urine-soaked, blood-stained scrubs for this pivotal moment in his family life? Normally he doesn’t do a single thing to piss me off.

Dirk I swear to god if you don’t change into your powder pink suit I’m gonna make you watch your dad and stepmom making out on a freaking loop.

DIRK!

Holy heck Brandi is freaking huge.

Ah sheesh finally, he Superman’d it at the last minute.

John, there’s telling the bride she looks beautiful as everybody should, and then there’s full-on Jon-Voigt-in-Anaconda leering. STAHP IT.

John: Ah like ’em maaaarried, ah like ’em preeeegnant...

Feminists everywhere, please kick this man hard in the danglebits so he can make NO MORE BABIES.

Vows!

Brandi: From the first moment I saw you...

Brandi: ...it was around five seconds until we boned and made twins.

Darren: It was indeed.

Dustin: That’s... that’s it?

Beautiful, wonderful, round of applause everyone.

Presenting Mr and Mrs Dreamer! It’s a shame about the automagic surname change, I’d much sooner a double-barreling (for both spouses, the way they do in France!), but alas, The Sims 2 hails from a far less woke era. Maybe I’ll get round to fixing that if I ever make the effort to fire up SimPE.

What the... the hell time you call this, Beau Broke?

Beau: Fashionably late.

Dustin: Why in Watcher’s name do I gotta look like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and young Neil Patrick fucking Harris over there rocks up in a tiny tasteful tux?

Because it’s hilarious, that’s why. And also, those fun suits you and Dirk are wearing didn’t come in child size.

Good lord, who rattled Dina’s cage?

Dina: I just remembered about Jessica, A Baddie, breaking into our house.

Oh for crying out loud Dina get over it, it’s been like an entire season since then and you get mad about this one thing every three minutes.

Staring in disbelief is Tara Kat’s default mode, and it suits her little face swimmingly. To think she was once on Darren’s list of Maybes to Marry, before I gayed her up with SPOILERS! Haha, not yet pretties.

Dirk, it’s their wedding, can you not give them a PDA free pass this one time?

Dustin: Yeeeeah, adulting, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. C’mere you long, tall... curvy... bubbly... yeah, sexy champers.

Had some wine coolers before the bus ride over from SSU did we, Dusty?

Beau what on earth’s wrong? You look distressed and yet your angry thought bubble is vacant. Are the tails on Dirk’s suit offending you?

Beau: Yeeeeessss!

Of course Angry Brandi Art Face had to put in an appearance at her wedding. Or perhaps the furrowed brows are because of the somewhat generous portion of prosec her dear son is pouring himself.

I love how all the toasts are literally only about Brandi, but she chooses to represent her new husband by doing him a heartfart.

Dirk: Hey so Dustin, our girlfriends are related... we’re officially family... do you think that means we’ll get married?

Dustin: Dude, are you high?

Dirk: I’m just... very confused about my life.

No Beau, you don’t get any sadly. I promise you that a nice rosé cava will be your drink of choice when it’s your turn to go to university.

Hey, the party score is up! Don’t stop me now, I’m havin’ such a Good Time, I’m havin’ a ball...

Tara: Brandi, your bewbs are so big that your cleavage can prop up my champagne glass!

John: That’s hot.

Yay, look how happy everyone is! Wow, I simply can’t think of anything that would ruin this perfect moment (obvious foreshadowing is obvious), it’s just what you’d want from a Sims 2 wedding.

Guests are chatting away, siblings are dancing...

...only three minutes to go. I’d take a Good Time score. Come on, we can keep it up...

...Daz is delicately feeding his bride the cake instead of smashing it in her face, good man, Beau’s all aglow in the zone...

...John’s heartfarting a lesbian, he can but dream, but at least it’s a nice dream for him...

...there’s a mother and son dance-off happening, Diggy’s being great with kids as she always is...

...besties dancing – holy shit we hit Roof Raiser! Is that all it takes? A little all-round positivity? Well then. Remind me to throw MOAR wedding pardies.

Beau DO NOT KILL MY ROOF RAISER VIBE with your grumpus face!

Beau: It’s this rain, it’s playing havoc with my corsage.

Rain on a wedding day is lucky! And you like music don’t you kid, just sing that Alanis song. 🎵 It’s like ray-ee-aaaain...

Dina: Goodness gracious. Brandi’s eldest, you’re growing like a weed.

Huh, interesting! The special event camera just kicked in. I wonder what that could be fo –

WHAT

THE

FUCK

I... just... I’m wordless. ACR, you are a freak. Goodnight dear Simblrverse. Stick a fork in me, I am DONE.

Hey – great party though!

[guildwarsstartrekskyrim]

Long Live the Lich: Review

There’s lots of feelings that I have with this entire episode.  Some good, some bad, and some kinda meh!  Because there’s spoilers, everything’s under the cut

The story opens up the entire zone to the Domain of Kourna.  It looks a lot different than it did 250 years ago (then and now comparison coming soon!).  First, we meet up in Amnoon because Gorrik had been arrested.  His arrest and trial happens to coincide with the arrival of Kryta supplies.  After a deliberation, we manage to get Gorrik released and make our way to the docks to find Blish.

We meet up with Lord Faren, who seems incredibly excited about the arrival of the ship.  Meanwhile, you, Gorrik and Taimi search through the boxes to find Blish.

The first sign of trouble comes when the ship arrives and everyone is infected by the scarab plague.  And suddenly, you face a huge imitation of Joko. He makes you fight against the recently fallen, and one of his prized fighters. With the help of Aurene, you manage to defeat this fighter and Joko leaves.

Now the search begins, a meeting with the ghosts of the Primeval Kings, the recruitment of the ghost army, Krytan militia, Sunspears and the Olmakhan charr, you reclaim a foward base using some serious tech from Blish (thank in part to his arm falling off and through a rift in space time... did we mention, Blish is a golem? Blish is a golem, by the way).

Finally, once everything is pulled together, the additional assistance of the local hylek tribe, and the creation of a bramble wall from Canauch’s bag of tricks, and it’s time to storm the castle.

With Braham, you enter through a storm drain and make your way up, finding the most disturbing sight of your own body, mutilated in several cells, and throughout a torture chamber.  Fortunately, the apparition is merely that, as you find a ring which helps you dispell the sight for a moment.  With this ring, you navigate through a series of traps until you reach Joko’s chambers, fighting some of Joko’s personal guard and a familiar face from Path of Fire.

The fight against Joko begins, and he pulls out whatever he can to defeat you, but it appears in a sraight up fight, Joko can’t do any better against you than he did against Turai Ossa.  He lay broken and defeated.

Or so we think.

With a spell, he holds you and Braham while he decides to monologue.  I guess that is the main failing of all villains, because it gave Aurene enough time to dive in and...

Bon appetite, I guess?

Yeah, Aurene eats Joko.  May need a Pepto for that meal.

With that, the episode ends.  Now time for thoughts.

First and foremost, the use of Joko being a Joker ripoff was really dull. It happened with Scarlet, now we had it with Joko.  While not the same kind of “crazy” it was still a form of crazy.  The calls for stage hands and scenes was like it was pulled from the pages of a Batman comic as the Dark Knight fights through Arkham Asylum and fight against his Rogues Gallery.

Aside from the portrayal of Joko, the story was interesting.  The collection to get the beetle was cool as it took you all over Tyria, even to places like the Silverwastes which we haven’t seen much of before Heart of Thorns.

The last battle, which crashed on me twice and I was forced to restart once thanks to Joko being stuck in a wall, was okay.  The revelation of the ring and the apparitions of your character’s dead body only being an illusion was a neat trick.  The traps that followed, however, were over used and frustrating at best.

Fighting the Lich King himself was fun once you actually could get to fight him.  Using the ring to find him, and then taking him out.was a blast.  And him being impossible to kill only made sense.  He monologued, which is the big mistake of every villain, until Aurene came in and ate him.  Yes, she chowed down on centuries old lich.  Gross!

Which begs the question; Living World Season 3 was six episodes long.  We’ve hit three in Season 4.  What now?  We’d have three episodes left.  I hate to speculate at this point in time, but I am worried for Aurene.  Of course when she goes potty and Joko becomes a poop monster, that could happen, too.

While the story was good and Joko got exactly what he deserved... maybe not being eaten by the daughter of Glint...it came a little earlier than I thought it would.  But then again, maybe the attention gets focused on Kralkatorrik.  So what then?  What happens now? We can’t kill him.  How do we put him to sleep?  I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

The beetle!  Pretty cool!  Way better than the griffon and not nearly the pain in the ass to get.  A simple collection that took some time, but didn’t take up over 250 gold to get.  As I stated before, it was pretty fun   Even the entire episode was pretty good outside of the hiccups.  Stealthing was really neat, and it would be cool to have an item that you could use all the time in game.

It’s gonna be interesting to see what comes up in the next episode.

[theliterateape]

Tilly’s

By Wayne Lerner

IT WAS 10 A.M. WHEN THE PHONE RANG.

“Whadda ya doin’,” the surly voice said. 

Then he laughed that hoarse, loud laugh that probably disturbed the people in the office next door.

I could see him as he talked. The mouth surrounded by the scraggly beard, moving at a thousand miles an hour. Him walking and talking at the same time since he never sat for too long in any one place. Medium height, medium build, and large hands with fingers, which had been broken years ago. The hands hid the story of a man feared by many when he was much younger.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm working, taking care of things here. I am saving peoples’ lives or, at least, I’m putting up with the doctors who are saving peoples lives.”

“We’re going for lunch,” the voice said.

“Where are we going?”

“Tilly’s.”

“Tilly’s? Where’s that?”

“Corner of Madison and Paulina, sucka. Today, we’re taking a ride.”

“Why am I going to Tilly’s? I’ll be the only white guy there!”

Hats laughed again. “Nope, there will be two of you. You and George Washington on the one dollar bill. I’ll pick you up at eleven forty-five. Be ready. We’re going to my ‘hood.”

Eleven thirty came and I grabbed my coat and walked downstairs. A beat-up ‘73 Bel Air was huffing and puffing at the corner, just outside of the hospital’s front door. Lord knows the car could’ve used a new muffler or baffle. The noise bellowing out of it was guaranteed to make the cops give us a ticket.

Then again, maybe not, considering where we were going for lunch.

Hats was sitting there, no seatbelt, no hat, no gloves, no coat, no nothing, just a big smile on his face and that loud, raucous laugh when he saw me. Hats moved easily between black slang and white language depending upon who he was talking to. Today, he was all slang because we were going to his turf, the area he roamed when he led the gang. It was cold and snowy that day in January but that didn't matter. He knew he would park right out front.

“Suckas, I’m here and I want Walter’s fine cookin’!”

The short ride was interrupted with incessant belching of fumes from the back of his car and his phone ringing. 

“Yeah. No. I’ll get back to you later. I gotta talk to the alderman.”

In between calls, I asked, “Why don’t you get a new car?”

“ Why do I need a new car? I like this one. It has character, just like its owner.” 

“This car is dangerous to drive. I'm worried about you and especially your wife and kids.”

“Ain’t nothing to worry about, Mr. Volvo. I’m a pro-fessional driver!”

“This car is fucking dangerous.”

“You look worried, white boy. Don’t stress. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Yeah, that part I’m sure of, but I’m also sure that this beater could break down and I’ll be trying to get back to the office and all your buddies in this neighborhood will be looking at me, thinking, ‘What’s that white boy doing here? Maybe we ought to step out and help him!’ I’m not so sure I’m looking forward to this experience!”

Hats laughed that crazy laugh again, so loud that it made the car windows shake and then he turned to me.

“Man, ain’t nothing ever going to happen to you. We be brothers and you know’d it.”

We parked in front of Tilly’s in a No Parking Zone. 

Hats would never park in a handicap space, but a no parking space was fair game.

The engine stuttered twice and then finally died. 

As we entered the front door of Tilly’s, Hats roared a big hello, announcing his arrival, Hats’ style.

“Suckas, I’m here and I want Walter’s fine cookin’!”

Tilly’s was a mainstay on the near west side of Chicago for the folks who grew up in that neighborhood and those who came from the southside to enjoy real southern cooking. 

I had heard about it for years from him and now I was going to have an adventure I would not soon forget. The west side burned after King died and businesses were looted...but not Tilly’s. It opened the day after, just like always. And it served bums and cops alike.

“What the hell am I going to eat?” I asked him.

“You’re gonna eat what I want you to, boy.”

My stomach was starting to churn and not in a good way.

“Grits, chitlins, pig’s feet, fried chicken, and any other shit I’m gonna put on your plate. And you better make sure you eat it all ‘cause they be watching you. See what you’re made of. Do you belong or you just a visitor?”

Men and women, regardless of age, came up and gave him a big hug. He was in his element.

He paid special attention to the young men and women, stopping to ask them about school or their jobs and their families. He was firm in his voice but soft in his heart. These were his investments and he was making sure to manage them carefully.

We moved to a table right next to the counter so he could be close to the kitchen.

Hats yelled out to the cook. 

“Walter, what the fuck you doing? Where’s my food?”

Walter stuck his head through the opening between the kitchen and the dining room and gave us a big, toothless smile. His unruly gray hair was molded into a big afro, held back by a hairnet. He, too, had a scraggly beard, but longer than Hats’. It looked like it hadn’t been trimmed since Kennedy was president.

“I’m gonna bring it out when it’s nice and hot, but not before, so sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!”

Hats laughed and said, “Yeah and bring me another plate for my friend over here.”

Walter looked at me.

Now, my stomach was doing flip flops and it wouldn’t stop. I was getting queasy so I reached for the Tums I always carried with me.

“You mean the white boy’s gonna eat home cookin’? Don’t know he can take it.”

And Walter roared long and loud. And so did the other folks in the restaurant.

Tables were placed close together so many people could be served at one time, certainly more than the law allowed. They sat on ripped vinyl chairs, which scraped along the dirty floor as they pulled up to their tables. No mustard or ketchup on the table, just hot sauce and lots and lots of napkins.

I sat down across from Hats and made eye contact.

“I’m not gonna be able to eat this stuff ‘cause if I do, you’re going to have to take me to the emergency room.” 

Hats laughed. “This ain’t no Jewish deli, fool. It’s Tilly’s and you need to be here.”

Walter brought the food to the table. His white apron was covered in grease, his hands burnt in many places. He had a gentle smile, which contrasted with his booming voice. He used both to keep his rowdy guests in order and that usually worked. If not, Walter would pull his piece, which he hid beneath his apron. They knew he wouldn't hesitate to use it. Tilly’s was his home and nobody better fuck with him.

Walter smiled at me, “Here's your food, sir.” 

“Don’t call him sir. That here is James. No sir, just James.”

“Good to meet you, James.”

“My pleasure, Walter. It’s a treat to finally be here at Tilly’s. I've heard so much about it from Hats.”

Walter laughed.

“We'll see how you feel when you’re done eatin’ my cookin’. I’m not sure they serve this here food at your restaurants.”

I looked around as he put the plate down. All eyes were on me. I was in a suit with polished shoes, my overcoat folded over my chair. They were in dirty overalls or torn jeans, tattered shirts, and jackets with big, gaping holes.

I was out of place and I knew it. So did they. They kept watching me as I took my first bite.

I didn’t feel scared, just uncomfortable but I knew Hats and Walter would watch over me. 

I grabbed the fork and a piece of bread and started in. 

“Spicy! Holy shit!”

Food tastes I never had before. Sweet, sour, harshness and burning, like Walter used a bottle or two of horseradish and Tabasco just for me.

I picked at the food to be polite but I knew I couldn’t eat the whole thing. 

Hats watched me out of the corner of his eye with this big shit-eating grin on his face. I must have consumed a gallon of water to damp down the heat in my mouth and a loaf of bread to settle my stomach.

In a quiet, white voice, Hats said, “If you want to work in the community, you have to pass the first test. This is the beginning of our journey.”

“Okay, I’m up for it. You know I am. Nothing could be more important.” 

After about thirty minutes, I managed to eat most of the food. In between bites, I snuck two Tums into my mouth, knowing that I had some Pepto back at the office. I just had to make it for a little while longer. 

Just then, the vibe in the restaurant changed. No longer was I the entertainment. Folks shifted in their seats or swiveled on their stools at the counter to talk with Hats about problems they were having.

“What’s up, Melvin? Hats inquired.

In between chewing on the toothpick in his mouth and wiping the sauce off his chin, Melvin made the first ask. “What can the hospital do for me? Are there any jobs open?”

“Mevin, you clean? I can’t be getting you an interview if your demons still got ahold of you.”

When Diane left, the restaurant got quiet.

“I’m clean, Hats. Honest. I’m going to my meetings every week just like I told you I was.”

“Okay, Melvin. Call me on Tuesday and I’ll see what I can do. But don’t fuck me again, Melvin. That’ll be the third strike and there ain’t no more!”

As Melvin returned to his stool at the counter, a very distinguished looking woman approached our table. Her dress was clean and pressed and her hair done up like she was going out on the town.

“Diane, you look great!” Hats exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking this good, especially at Tilly’s.”

Walter sneered at Hats but Hats continued.

“How’s your daughter, Diane? Is Tessa off the streets? I put the word out to make sure no one hurts her. And I’ve talked to City Hall about getting more patrols in the area to grab the creeps before they bother her and her buddies.”

Walter moved over to make room for Diane to join us. He knew this would be a tough conversation.

Diane dabbed at her tear-filled eyes and sat down. 

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Hats. After James died, I’ve tried to keep her moving straight but my job keeps me so busy I can’t watch over her all the time. And I do have other kids to concern myself with, you know.”

“I do, Diane. I know. This is shitty but we will make it right. Can you and Tessa come to my office a week from Thursday? I got someone I want her to meet who may be able to help. But I gotta do some legwork first.”

Diane rose slowly from the table, kissed Hats, gave him a long, heartfelt hug and quietly left the restaurant.

Hats played the role perfectly.

He was the community representative and he knew how to talk with his people. 

He never made a promise he couldn’t keep but he did make promises. 

And then he would deliver on them. 

His relationships with the power structure in Chicago and Springfield along with the special connection he had with the hospital’s President allowed him to build trust by being good for his word. And I was getting the education he wanted me to have. He knew, in the future, I would have to represent the organization to these same people, sometimes with him and sometimes alone. They had to see me as being good for my word as well.

When Diane left, the restaurant got quiet. The customers turned in their seats to resume eating Walter’s fine cookin’ and to listen to the conversation we were about to have.

Walter looked at me and then Hats.

“What’s going on with the new Bulls/Blackhawk stadium, Hats? We sure could use the jobs here on the westside and it would be good for business. Cops would have to patrol more ‘cause folks with money be coming to the games and the city sure don’t want no trouble. That could help us get rid of our ‘friends’ on the corners too, ya know.”

“The plans are going to the City Council next week,” I replied. “I’ll be there representing the hospital. I’ll talk to the Mayor and the alderman about the timetable, contractors and jobs and I’ll get right back to you. And you can be sure I will let them know your concerns.” 

Walter just nodded as he got up to go back to the kitchen.

“May I have the bill please, Walter?” I asked. 

Hats never carried any money when he was with me. 

“There’s no bill today, James, the food is on me. It’s always on me when Hats eats and you done a good job with your plate.”

Walter shook my hand and turned to talk to Melvin before going back into the kitchen.

I grabbed fifty dollars from my pocket and dropped it on the table. Money well spent.

I got back into Hats’ Bel Air knowing that my life was in danger once more.

“Hats, thanks for taking me to Tilly’s. You’ve talked about it for so long, I just had to see it for myself. And, man, do I like Walter. He is someone I would like to get to know a lot better.”

Just a mile away from the hospital, but light years away from the life I know.

“Hey, Hats, before I forget. Let’s make a date for next week. Walter said he would make me his special egg dish for breakfast.”

Hats just roared.

Wayne Lerner is a retired healthcare executive and an associate professor of health systems management. To stay off the street and out of trouble, he is a board member of a safety net hospital system and teaches a graduate level course in the fall at a local health university.

A lifelong Chicagoan and White Sox fan, he lives in the northern suburbs with his wife of thirty years. Together, they have five grown children (with spouses/SOs), five grandchildren ,and five grand-dogs.

Wayne has published in professional journals many times and even edited a book on a major hospital merger but he has never achieved a dream he had while in high school and college to publish an original work of fiction... until now.

[welcometothecinema1]

Split - A Lil’ Lookie at a Movie Subtitle: “The Line Between Genius and Madman is Closer than Ever”

The Welcome to the Cinema Guy says hi!

Through a series of unfortunate events, I found myself seated in a large, dark room, surrounded by a fellow audience of skeptics at a screening of the new M. Night Shayamalan film, Split. I accidentally missed his last big one, After Earth, on purpose. 11% on Rotten Tomatoes is no bueno, habaneros.

Split is a fully immersive schizophrenic experience.  It runs the gamut of near-genius level cinema that Early-Shahalaman was known for, right down to the nausea inducing depths of his later work such as Lady in the Water, or perhaps, Avatar the Last Airbender *hiccups loudly and a small trail of bile runs down chin*.  The audience is left to make sense of that grand disparity, the bizarre spectrum that is Split. My friend, whom I went to see it with, even suggested that Shyamalan might be trolling the audience by purposefully directing well and then not well, to somehow reflect the varied states of the identity disorder patient, portrayed willfully and with gleeful restraint by James Macavoy.  Nice try, but I think the truth is much simpler. And sadder.

There is good direction and bad direction, very good camera work and very bad camera work.  The cinematography is truly remarkable.  This is the idiosyncrasy of Night.  He is capable of directing the tough-to-direct scenes flawlessly, but he goes on and stumbles over the easiest thing of all – expository dialogue, due to his showmanship.  Lines inserted with the grace and care of a neurosurgeon with stage four Parkinsons.  See fig 1.  The psychiatrist character, in M. Night’s cameo scene, where he plays some sort of building security guard, asks of him, after gazing at the well shot security camera footage: “See the way he walked through the trash like that? (in reference to one of James Macavoy’s characters 24 personalities), no normal person would walk through the trash on the street like that.”

Really, psychiatrist lady? Would they not? I sure as hell would.  I love to romp around through trash between my day-to-day meetings and appointments. I dragged my ass through fourteen street corners littered with dry gum, empty pepto bismol bottles and pizza pizza boxes to make it to your mentally addled film, didn’t I? Where the hell is the logic in that line….HOW DID THAT MAKE THE CUT, M. NIGHT?

That is the essence of late-form M. Night Shylaman.  His directorial decisions don’t make any fucking sense.  How does one go from a compelling third act that delivers thrills, chills, beautiful shots and layers, that ties up the divergent plot points together nicely into a gritty, little bow, to a line about a security guard’s proclivity for fast food: “Why do you continue to purchase that microwaveable chicken drumstick – in an apparent act of prolonged suicidalness?” This line also comes from the psychiatrist.  She gets most of the bad ones.    

In what world did that dialogue not get cut? WHO GREENLIT THAT SHIT? To try and understand the mind of the mad genius of Mr. Night is to enter a paradoxical world of hyper-pretense, of brinksmanship where the two players are both Mr. Shahalamang and to win is only to regain the credibility once lost, like a poker player in a deep hole who has to somehow bluff his way into winning the hand.  One can only assume that these poor attempts at expository dialogue, these bad directorial decisions, are attributed to a mad grasp for the public’s respect after 15-20 years of critical and box office disaster. He overreaches, and then overreaches, and then overreaches, again and again, and again.  He twists and counter twists, engaged in a fencing duel with the ghost of his former 90’s glory.

But despite myself, I want him to succeed. I want him to stop sucking and doing horrible shit. I want it so damn bad. Because I am beginning to understand that M. Night’s struggle with his own ego, to have the need to constantly one up himself, is the same struggle that grips the entire Hollywood machine.  Substance supplanted by Style – budget and CGI in replacement of story. It occurs to me that directors work best under constraints and worst when given no limitations.  Look at Lord of the Rings against the Hobbit.  Look at Jaws against say, BFG.  Look at Split, which cost $9.5 million, against say, After Earth, which was made for $130 million. There is no comparison I need to make to establish the glaring facts – you do not need a huge budget to make a great movie, and in fact, financial constraint forces creativity, the way a deadline keeps work getting done. Obviously there are limits to this – you can’t make a compelling Titanic on $500 dollars and a maxed out VISA. But this is the rule.  Enforce constraint and be rewarded.  Are you writing this down, SONY?

Anyways, yeah. It was an alright movie overall.  There’s a bit of a twist at the end that leaves fans of early Shyalamin agape, including myself.  The third act is good fun, and watching Macavoy just devour his roles (for those of you who’ve seen the film, no pun is intended) is intensely rewarding.  But it’s the little moments, the idiotic quirks in the dialogue or the direction that leave you really breathless – with shock, and maybe anger.  He really needs to rein in that dialogue, man. Besides that, solid effort. Thank you, M, for returning to form. Please studios, stop giving him money though. Unless you liked Avatar the Last Airbender in which case give him $200 million dollars.  

-          February 6th, 2017

-          Signed, “Welcome to the Cinema” Guy

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[diaryofacrazypregnantlady-blog]

The journey begins...

Good morning to my fellow non-sleepers! For those of you who actually take the time out to read this, i hope you enjoy it. This is going to be my outlet of thoughts throughout my pregnancy because lord knows i have a lot of them. I am going to be honest and blunt. Please understand NOW that i am more then excited to be a mother, however i am terrifed. You may not like all the things i have to say so i decided to make this first entry i quick bio on myself so you know my baby is coming into a loving beautiful home and no further judgment can be passed. All about me... for now.... My name is Stephanie, and i am a wife to the most amazing man in the world. My hisband and i met in 7th grade, and started as friends. When graduating my husband decided to join the United States Army. He was deployed to Afghanistan where he served in Operation Enduring Freedom. We started dating officially when he first joined, after boot camp HE got the lovely opertunity to be stationed over in Germany, while i, being the lucky winner i am, got to stay home in the US of A. We spent 1 very long enlistment apart, following a move home where we were on our on from day 1 of his return. Before the deployment, at the ripe age of 19, we were wed. At the age of 20 (for myself) was when my perfect husband was sent home and we had to figure out how to be married and make in on our own. Skipping over all the gory details i will we refer to as the 'in-between years' we have been through an awful lot for such a young couple. However, in our 6 years of marriage not even as much as a pregnancy scare. Until the day... On one Friday night, some time after thanksgiving, i stopped at the drug store because o wasnt feeling so great for a few days now. Walking down the isles looking for a medicine to heal my awful sixkness, i happen to pass the at home pregnancy tests. Thinking to myself, huh, i picked one up along with some pepto to stop feeling like i was going to barf everywhere. Now, as stated before, we never as much as had a pregnancy scare, this i mean a true scare with missed periods and all. I, of course, being a married woman of 6 years have certainly taken my fair share of pregnancy tests, more for the thought of it. So when i arrived home my husband did not think much of it, being that i am a weirdo and have done this before. Now, before you get all 'you didnt take the test at the right time' blah blah blah on me, please understand this was more of a 'i am sure i am not prego and is mostly for my reassurance' kinda test. I went into the bathroom, took the test, washed my hands, took some of my trusted pepto, and beushed my teeth while that baby was developing. I glanced down when going to rinse my mouth and saw it. The 2 light little pink lines. Of course i thought, no way, so i showed my husband who began to hyperventilate and we pulled our shit together. If you have taken pregnancy tests before you know they come in a pack of 2, beings that i only used the 1 i still had 1 left over, however, we went to the drugstore and bought 2 more boxes, just incase that was a bad batch. The following morning i took 1, positive, next time i had to pee took another, again positive. Next time, positive, well you get my point here. Turns out, i am pregnant! The good... I am married to my true soul mate. Now, if you dont believe in soul mates then shame on you, stop reading this second, and go out to find your right person! We are amazing together and we will love this baby so much. We feel truly blessed and will do all we can to be the most amazing parents. The bad... We are best friends, and we both have a tendency to be selfish, especially with eachother. Due to our relationship complications in the very beginning hubs and i tend to have massive separation anxiety. We were not expecting this. I mean, we loved to practice and were not necessarily preventing it, but for 6 years we did a lot of practice and very little prevention. We. Are. Terrified. The ugly... Morning. Sickness. Let me tell you right now, if you are one of the lucky ass mofos who never had any type of morning sickness, please do us all true sufferers a favor, bask in your pregnancy heaven in your own damn mind and dont say it out loud. As someone who has had HORRIBLE morning sickness (i need to make a side note and say i hate that it is called MORNING sickness, its all day sickness. Calling it morning sixkness makes you feel like, 'oh well my morning is going to suck but at least i have the rest of my day to look forward to'. You dont. The entire day is ruined.) We HATE when people say 'that must be awful, i was never sick. Blood vessels in your face pop. A million bllod vessels around your eyes pop, your body hurts so bad, and 90% of the time, you puke up NOTHING. you work that hard heaving and popping a million blood vessels in your face for tou to throw up mucus. Morning sickness, you can go straight ro hell. In conclusion, for now, i may have been surprised. I may be terrified, tired, ugly, and exhausted, but my god. I can not wait to meet my baby.

[thedesperatehousehusband]

They're Golden. They're Globes.

Tis the season. Awards season. Where every other weekend Hollywood gives itself a handjob for the amazing, life-changing art they created over the past year. I really do appreciate them giving us Bachelor in Paradise. There’s no better birth control or reason to remain abstinent than that show. Of course, the cruel reality is this: I love the awards shows so, so, so, so much. What are people wearing? Who is willing to be part of a silly bit? Who is having no part of the host’s silly bit? Who is snubbed? Who makes a political statement? Who looks like they’ve been run over by a bus? Who appears to have a new and improved face? I’m looking at you Nicole Kidman. The Golden Globes were on last night. I just did not have it in me to stay up until the end of the show so this post is a day late and a dollar short. Much like most things in my life. I’m nothing if not a day late and a dollar short. The opening of the show was fantastic. Jimmy Fallon looooooooves celebs. He’s not there to roast anyone or make people uncomfortable. He’s super effusive so why not recreate the opening from La La Land? Why not, Jimmy Fallon, why not indeed? It was tons of fun. The monologue was great. Comparing Donald Trump to Joffrey Baratheon was inspired. We’d fucking be better off with Joffrey Baratheon. Overall the show was very good. Quality speeches. A few unexpected wins. A few WTF wins. A fair amount of normal Hollywood Foreign Press love of stars. Apparently the color of the season is a nude to light beige covered in sequins. Who chose that? Anna Wintour? Christ almighty. WEAR SOME FUCKING COLOR. No one looks good in nude. Especially these pale ass bitches whose skin never sees the sun. I’m looking at you Nicole Kidman. I thought Viola Davis looked outstanding. That yellow dress fit like a glove. Her hair was done. That’s another thing. Why do these stars not do their hair? Clearly they are paying some celeb hairstylist a trillion dollars to make them look like they’re on their way to Soul Cycle or whatever the fuck trendy workout is hip in LA at the moment. Thank you, Viola Davis, for doing your hair. Onto the awards….. Some person who is apparently British won Best Supporting Actor. His name is apparently Aaron Taylor Johnson. He is apparently in Nocturnal Animals. You should be sensing that I have no clue who this person is. I have not seen Goliath. Nor do I want to but Billy Bob Thornton gave a cogent, sensible speech. So I guess that counts for something. Get your Golden Globe for Best Actor in a TV Drama. We never started watching black-ish. But when Juan is out of town that’s typically what I watch on OnDemand. I am quite happy for Tracee Ellis Ross. She’s a treasure. I love how grounded and normal she seems despite having grown up with Diana Ross as a mom. That’s quite a shadow to come out from under. The Globen Globes looooooves to latch onto an entirely random show. This year that show is Atlanta. It won for Best TV Comedy. It’s not really a comedy. It’s not really a drama. I don’t really know how to categorize it. We watched it. We liked it. We didn’t love it. But Donald Glover seems pretty down-to-earth and is clearly talented so whatever. No more. No more of this The People vs. OJ: American Crime Story. I can’t. I just don’t give a shit. I don’t care. I lived through it in 1995. It was boring then. It’s waaaaay more boring now. I like Sarah Paulson and she is a worthy actress to bestow with accolades but I’m over this OJ shit. She’s also one who did NOT do her hair. Her award was presented by Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman. Were they high? Why were thy giggling? Nicole…..NO MORE BOTOX. Reese…NO MORE SELF TANNER. Ooof. Jesus. One more time. OJ won for TV Limited Series, Movie or Miniseries. Make it be over. Hugh Laurie won for his supporting role in The Night Manager. I so want to watch that. I tried to find it on our OnDemand over Christmas but it wasn’t available. Thanks a lot, Brighthouse. I loved in his speech when he said that this would be the last Golden Globes because the current political climates hates Hollywood, foreigners and the press. Hilarious. But where is your hair, Hugh? You be going bald! Oy. Carrie Underwood apparently went to the Pepto Bismol store for that dress. I guess I don’t want people to wear ANY color. I want them to wear a good color. That pink is not it. La La Land won all the music awards. Score and song. Duh. The composer of the score gave a nice speech and the lyricists from La La Land also did the Broadway show Dear Evan Hanson, so we love them. Viola Davis is butter. She’s amazing in Fences. She’s going to rule the awards shows all year for Best Supporting Actress. Ryan Gosling’s speech made me cry. He really loves Eva Mendes and his kids. His dedication of the award to Eva’s deceased brother was really lovely. Plus La La Land is remarkable and he OWNS that fucking movie. Emma Stone gave an equally lovely speech when she won for Best Actress in a Comedy but she decided on that awful nude color. Emma, you need to do better at the SAG Awards and the Oscars. La La Land is cleaning up. Screenplay is the latest in a growing list. Kristen Wiig and Steve Carrell were hilarious. The joke about their haircuts was amazing and their bit about their first animated movie was inspired. Zootopia wins for Best Animated Feature. That was a great movie about accepting diversity and overcoming challenges. It’s adorable. Tom Hiddleston’s speech was a little much. So you went to South Sudan and some of the relief works binged watched The Night Manager? Good lord. But at least Tom Hiddleston won as opposed to someone from that fucking OJ heap of shit. Claire Foy is yet another actress who needs a better hairdresser. That dress wasn’t great either. The Hollywood Foreign Press loves the Brits this year and every year. The Crown is supposed to be awesome. I am struggling to get Juan on board. It also won best TV Drama. Meryl Streep. Mary Louise Streep. I can’t say it enough. That speech was EVERYTHING. I was rapt. In tears. Hung on every word. Viola Davis also killed it while introducing Meryl. But apparently some asshat who takes to Twitter a lot think Meryl Streep is “overrated”. What the ever loving fuck ever. Meryl can trot out a movie every year and I’m totally fine with her getting nominated for awards. She’s that good. La La Land for the sweep….Best Director for the very, very young and eager Damien Chazelle. He’s maybe 14. Best Comedy. Duh. What the fuck is Sing Street? That category beyond Deadpool was terrible. Good for La La Land. Donald Glover is two for two with a win in the TV Comedy Actor category for Atlanta. Entertainment Weekly was right. They said that Atlanta was going to be the rando show that the HFPA lavishes with love. Casey Affleck looked ridiculous and his speech was meandering. I think he deserved to win for Manchester by the Sea. But he needs some press training and some sartorial training from his older, hotter, better look brother. I am sure that Isabelle Huppert is a lovely actress but I am sooooooooo not interested in Elle. We have seen the preview for that stupide (I’m trying to be French) movie like 200 times at the Keystone Arts Theater. I do not need to see the movie because I’ve already seen it just by watching the preview. Nope. And then the big award of the night. Best Drama. Goes to whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Moonlight. Nary a peep from this movie all night long and then it wins the big award? Color me surprised. Albeit happily surprised because that movie is riveting and wonderfully well done but I was very surprised. So that’s that. Another Golden Globes in the books. I hope that Hugh Laurie is wrong and the show goes on next year. We’ll have to wait and see what the Oompa Loompa has in store. Jesus fuck. It’s going to be a rough go.

[mama-ghostie-61542]

A Thousand Lifetimes

Rating--M++ for language and themes

If you recognize it--IT AIN'T MINE

Sorry for OOC-ness

Chapter 6

Wolf

As I awoke the next morning, I could not help the happy feeling that pervaded everything. After the craziness of getting the kids around to go with their father for his weekend, I sat down to meditate before I cleaned my house.

I wafted the cedar and sage smoke over myself, clearing the air and myself of all negative energy. I sat there for almost an hour before whispering, 'Morning, Sweets.' Then, I got up and went to grab a shower.

I could feel eyes on me.

'Hello, Darlin'. How was your day?'

'Fuckin' crazy,' came the reply. 'So far, it has been a mad house and we aren't even at the show yet. I will let you know when we finish up; cool?'

'Ok, Haka. Talk to you then,' I whispered to him.

His spirit seemed to sag against me for a moment before he whispered, 'I love you, Ghost. Remember that,' he sent as he caressed my face. 'Always have, always will. The distance and these crazy schedules could never change that.'

'Sweets, you know I love you. You also know, you don't need to tell me, I already know. I know you need me to be steady when your schedule is crazy like this; to be the one constant point in all the crazy.'

I could almost feel him nod on my shoulder, before the feeling of being enfolded into his strong arms came over me. There was peace and contentment in that space.

Kihyun

The show that night was crazy! All the amazingly pretty girls, and the only one on my mind was half a world away. Sometimes this connection sucks. I feel so alone sometimes. But tonight, there is excitement, adoration, and pride coming from our thread. I could not help the smile as we left the venue.

There was a girl that was right by stage left. I am pretty sure she tried to flash me a few times, but, as per normal, all I could think about was her.

Then, I caught up with the conversation going with the boys.

"Did you see her rack? Good Lord," Honey giggled.

"I know. Those were huge," chuckled HyungWon. "Death by tittie"

"Where was I," I asked, oblivious.

Min replied, "You were on the other side. You didn't see the size of those cocomelons."

"Those things were big enough to have their own post codes," Changkyun laughed.

HyunWoo grinned, then suddenly jumped and grabbed his ear. "Ow." He looked at me. "Control your woman; think she just flicked my ear."

Suddenly the words, "Diving Swan," were whispered on my cheek.

I grinned. "I'm sorry, Ducking Swan. I'm too far away to control that."

"Oh, God. Don't call me that. Who told you that name? And it's Diving, not ducking."

"What were you thinking of to make her mad, anyway?"

"Suffocating in tatas," he chuckled. "It'd be a lovely way to go."

"Wonder how many words there are for breasts, in the world," Changkyun mumbled.

Honey laughed, "Almost as many as folks who dream of dying in them."

Four hands shot up.

"Yes, Please," Min laughed.

"I'm game," HuyngWon grinned.

It was all I could do to laugh.

Min smiled at me, "We all know, you are in lurve."

Honey smacked Min's arm, "Don't talk about our sister like that, Moron."

"I'm in lurve," chuckled Swan.

"You are not," I laughed. "That's those microwaved burritos you insisted on eating. Nasty things. What you are feeling is decidedly further south."

Changkyun giggled, "And could probably be cured with some Pepto."

We all lost it laughing.

We got back and all split off to go wind down in our own ways. I started to meditate, I tapped our thread. I tried several times to get her attention that way.

She was working again.

As I settled in, I decided to try something else. I saw her working at the sink, her dress showing off those broad but feminine shoulders and her delicious back. I wanted, so much, to pin her to the counter and have my way with her. However, I opted for a more seductive approach. I gently caressed my knuckles up her spine, beginning just where her dress stopped and ending where her spine and neck met.

She shivered.

"Good night," She asked.

'Hmm,' I agreed. 'Would be much better if I were home.'

'Or if I were there," She whispered.

'If you were here, I would be getting told to quiet down already. It would be my goal that everyone on the block knew who's cock was deep inside you, touching all the right spots.'

'You are such a fuckin' tease, Haka.'

'It's only teasing til I get home. After that, it's a guarantee.'

'Go shower. Raincheck,' she sighed.

I knew what she meant. I had smelled it on her a week prior. She smelled like tasty, delicious things that I just wanted to eat up.

'Raincheck,' I agreed, as I dropped my head to her shoulder, then held her for a moment.

I went to my room and piled up my pillows to read for a bit.

Post-Christmas 2019

Bryn PoV

At midnight, the phone rang. I picked it up expecting a normal call but found my little brothers face smiling at me.

"Sissie! How was your Christmas!? Sorry. Schedule was crazy."

"All good. Don't worry about mine. How was yours," I asked.

Although I was tickled to talk to him, I knew that sooner or later, he would find out; that he would be able to pull the truth out of me and it would kill me all over again.

"What did you get this year?"

I sighed. "Don't worry about what I got. What did you get?"

He looked at me for a minute and then smiled sadly. "I got an amazing pair of handmade convertible mittens from my awesome big sister," he said softly. "Bryn," He started," What did you get?"

"Don't worry about what I got," I replied.

Joey's eyes narrowed as he looked at me for a solid minute before he spoke. "He didn't get you anything, did he?"

"Joey," I sighed while looking away.

"I'm only gonna ask this one last time. What did you get," he asked again, his dark eyes boring into mine.

I sighed and looked away so I didn't have to see the disappointment on his face. "A sweater I made and some pencils I bought."

He groaned and leaned forwards on his elbow, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Don't lose your temper, Joey."

"I won't," He said. as he sat back. "He isn't worth it. But, dammit you deserve better than that. I won't yell or scream, but he did piss me off. Sis," He started, then shook his head as he collected his thoughts, "He refused to get your teeth fixed until it almost killed you. I'm just upset that he doesn't seem to care. You deserve better."

Just then, I.M. popped up behind him. "Hi!"

"Heya, Kiddo," I replied as he glared at I.M.

I.M. smiled and took a deep breath, then held his nose and acted like he was going under water.

"What was that all about," I asked.

Joey PoV

"I don't know. I don't think I want to know," I answered as I held my hands in my lap, picking at those gloves. "Sis, you really need to leave." I hoped the sincerity I felt could be seen. It bothers me that she does so much and never gets any thanks for it. I mean, I wish she would have left last year, when she was sick and his friends were more important than taking care of his sick wife.

After a moment, she replied, while running her hands over her short chestnut brown hair, "And where would I go? You know I have the shop and the boys have all their services set up here already! Do you have any idea how hard it is to up and run with not one but two kids with special needs," she yelled as hazel eyes caught fire and seemed to burn.

"I don't know," I said, trying to keep my voice soft, "But I know that staying there isn't good for you. You deserve so much better. The longer you stay, the more the memories cut. Then, the more hurt and disappointed you feel. And the more disillusioned you are, the more empty you feel."

It was at that split second that she looked at me and I could see how hollow she looked. Like the fire that kept her going was suddenly extinguished. I felt myself start to choke up. It was like watching the strongest person you know, die a little.

"I'm sorry, Sis. I will talk more later," I said as I felt the tightness in my chest. It wasn't just the anger at his treatment of her, but her defense of staying. It was watching the assbag slowly killing my strong, brilliant, big sister by a million papercuts and being powerless to stop it.

"Later, Joey. Love you."

"You too, Sis," I sighed as I hung up.

I walked out onto the terrace of our dorm, sliding into my coat as I went, and sat in the only chair that was obscured from view. I sat there trying to get a handle on how I felt when a hand closed over my shoulder. I looked up behind me to see Minhyuk there and moving around to pull up a chair.

"Everything ok?"

It was all I could do to shake my head.

"Tell me," He prodded.

Sitting there, I tried so hard to hang on to my temper, before yelling, "That fuckin' rat bastard forgot her again!"

He pulled back a little as his eyes got wide. "Wow. Tell me how ya really feel."

I was soo beyond mad that I stood up and punched a wall, bloodying my knuckles on the brickwork. But before I could hit it again, Hoseok, who just happened to be visiting, grabbed my arm.

"Whoa. What is the matter? What did the wall do?"

"The wall didn't DO anything but it was there when I lost my temper."

Suddenly, Kihyun was behind me dragging/pushing me inside, while yelling at HyunWoo for help.

"We need to get your knuckles cleaned up and bandaged before they get infected. What the hell possessed you to coldcock a brick wall, anyway," Kihyun went off, all while glaring at me in between pouring the peroxide over the back of my hand. "You could have broken your hand. And then you may have gotten dropped! God knows they are looking for any fucking reason this year."

"The douche left her high and dry on Christmas, KiKi. Completely fuckin' forgot about her," I growled, in English, from behind HyunWoo, who was holding my arm steady over the sink.

He suddenly stopped pouring as his head snapped up at me. "You're kidding?"

I shook my head, "Wish I was."

His eyes seemed to suddenly burn with anger. Before anyone could stop him, he dropped the peroxide bottle in the sink and took of at a dead run out the door. He didn't bother telling anyone where he was going. Hoseok found him 3 hours later, sound asleep and still sweaty, collapsed by the heavy bag in the weight room.

Kihyun

I was so mad, I didn't even know where I was going until I walked into a heavy bag. Then, for the next hour, I proceeded to beat the hell out of it, stopping intermittently to scream profanity at said bag. As all the rage burned out, I collapsed to my knees. I could feel how hurt she was. But in that moment, a wave of exhaustion washed over me and I let it take me.

I was suddenly in an art gallery. The whole exhibit was eyes. They looked familiar. It dawned on me then, that all these eyes were mine. They had been hand drawn, on parchment with ink, on canvas with paint, and on card in graphite. I walked over to the woman in the crowd and instantly recognized her. There she was. The woman in all of my dreams. Her long, chestnut waves, heavy and thick, fell around her face and over her shoulders, only to continue down her back until they almost touched her ass.

I cupped her cheek and moved in to kiss her when I heard her voice behind me.

"Wow. I forgot how pretty I was at 17."

I jumped back. "17," I yelled before turning around."

My Ghost, with her short buzz-cut with sparkles stood there, looking at the construct of her younger self. She sighed, "Yep. Back before I traded looks for brains," and then shuffled over to a barstool in the corner. "The older I get, the more impatient I get. The more impatient I get, the more cynical I get. Then, the more I wish I was still her," again she sighs as her shoulders slump and she sits with her head in her hands. A soft sob escaped her lips before she continued, "Maybe then, I could just stop. Stop seeing you everywhere. Stop dreaming of your eyes. Stop seeing them in my coffee. Stop feeling them on my back," she sighed as tears tracked down her cheeks. "But the shitty part is; if I stop dreaming of you, they win. The demons win, cause then I will have nothing left. You have always been the one the others were judged against. You were my anchor, my lighthouse; the beacon leading me home. The one person in the world who can handle me when my temper gets the better of me. The only one who can keep me together when I fall apart.,"

Then the pictures changed.

"And there are all my mistakes," She whispered as she walked past me, to a table in the middle of the room. On said table, there were several bottles of alcohol and a sack of smoke. "Yep. ALL of my mistakes, every single one lied and said they were you. So, I found a way to cope,' she said as she turned to walk away.

"Wait," I yelled as I grabbed her arm, sliding my hand down to her wrist.

"Haka, you are everything I could have wished for, did wish for. But, I am no good. I am too broken for an angel like you. Too beat up for a king."

"Too beat up? Too broken? Wolf, you don't understand. I will NEVER give you up. I will NEVER give up on you. Trust me when I tell you this, Baby. I love you. I will ALWAYS fight for you. Even if I am fighting you for you," I said as I pulled her into me. It tore me apart to see the tears in her pretty eyes. Did she know how those eyes had haunted me, tortured me. "Hear this now, Wolf," I said as I cupped her cheek and tipped her face to look at me. "I will find you. I promise you that. Just please, please, don't give up on me. I know it's hard to walk by faith when you are losing hope. But, Mami, please, PLEASE don't give up on me. I know, I have been the worst kind of asshole, making you wait, but I can promise you that I will happily spend my life making up for it," I said as I held her close, the top of her head just under my eyes.

It hit me then, that she fit perfectly in my arms. "And anyway, Baby, you were made for me."

She chuckled, "Nah, Babe, I think you have that a little backwards."

"Semantics," I whispered as I hugged her tight and buried my nose in her hair, filling myself up with her smell. "Never forget that I love you; heart and soul. You light me up in ways no woman ever has. And if you need me to be your lighthouse, your beacon; then I will gladly do just that. But, don't give up on me. Please don't give up on me. I love you, Wolf."

"Love you more, Haka."

I woke up in my own bed with HyunWoo looking at me like I was dying.

"What happened," I growled.

"You had us worried. It took us three hours to find you. Honey thought you were on a plane."

"I wish I was. Now really, what happened? The last thing I remember, other than dreaming of my Queen, was Honey saying something about," I trailed off. It hit me what had happened. He told me that she had been neglected again, and I saw red. "Nevermind. Go get Honey."

He settled himself on the edge of my bed in less than two minutes. "Well, hi there. Have a nice nap?"

"Shut up, cheese weasel," I growled. My eyes were closed, fighting both the migraine and the memories.

"Would a cheese weasel remember to bring you two aspirin and a water? Answer, no. I already talked to Sis. Somehow she got it in her head that you are better off without her. Wanna tell me how that happened."

"No," I groused as I took the aspirin.

"Too bad. Tell me anyway."

I explained the whole thing to him, before letting him see.

"Uhhh. You do realize that there was one very large unfinished portrait, right. It looked like an ungodly mish-mash of styles, more or less. It cleared up by the end. Do you know what that means? Also, do you know who or what she meant by 'demons'?"

I shook my head, and instantly regretted it, "Not sure about the portrait. To be honest, I didn't even see it. But, the demon is her mother and all of her venom and toxicity."

He sighed, "Means she only sees herself clearly through your eyes. Did you know that she knows where you are because you shine this bright light."

"I told her I would always be the beacon guiding her home."

"Dude...Only gonna say this one time. Get my Sister the hell outta there."

I turned the page, only to find the chapter finished. Sitting on my bed, I thought about what she had written. It was nearing midnight, and I thought about pulling out the next chapter.

But before I could, I felt her through whatever our connection is.

She kissed my cheek, softly, and whispered, 'You should be in bed, my love.'

In that instant, I would have given anything to be able to cuddle up with her for a bit. I could almost smell her skin on my pillow. It hurt to know that she was so far away.

A part of me worried that she hadn't taken breaks while writing, I know how she gets. If she is working on something, it has most of her focus. She forgets to eat and get the boys on their homework.

A/N--Edited. Dates are off vs. original work.