#great american taxi

[krispyweiss]

Song Review: The High Hawks - “Temperature is Rising”

The High Hawks hold a mirror up to contemporary America - and don’t like what they see - on “Temperature is Rising.”

The third advance single from Mother Nature’s Show (Feb. 18) is thus a frustrated, slow-burning rock ‘n’ roll song that owes little to the supergroup’s roots (Leftover Salmon, Railroad Earth, Horseshoes and Hand Grenades, Great American Taxi and Hard Working Americans) as the vocals spill out through gritted teeth and over a tangle of electric guitars.

The temperature is rising/lie’s already spread/echoes all around us/taking what we want to be fed

Following “Diamond Sky” and “Somewhere South,” “Temperature is Rising” succeeds in critiquing modern trends with sincere concern and without sounding stilted or preachy. And the music is a perfect fit.

Grade card: The High Hawks - “Temperature is Rising” - B+

2/2/24

[mariocki]

Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964)

"Miriam? He really... isn't here, is he? Just now, I thought I heard... sometimes at night, when I wake up, it seems as if he really is here. Don't turn on the light. It's not real when it's light. It's only real when it's dark - dark and still."

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"JUDGMENT RESERVED ON PAROLE BREAKER," North Bay Nugget. April 25, 1934. Page 16. --- Joseph Feeney, Awaiting Trial For Kidnapping, Faced New Charge ---- Joseph Feeney, Detroit, who with Nelse Paananen, Sudbury, is waiting trial here on a charge of kidnapping, has a long prison record.

This was revealed when Feeney was arraigned in police court Tues- day morning to answer to a charge of breaking parole. Magistrate Weegar reserved judgement.

Convicted on a charge of false pretenses at Belleville, April 12, 1933, Feeney was sentenced to 12 months definite and 12 months indefenite at the Burwash Industrial Farm. He was paroled March 27, 1934.

Failed To Report E. J. Etherington, Toronto, assistant parole officer for Ontario, told the court Tuesday that Feeney had reported to the board only once and that his parole had been cancelled last Friday. Feeney left a job on a farm in Rayside township, Sudbury district, though the agreement had been that he was not to make a change without first securing permission from the Parole Board.

Mr. Etherington read Feeney's record. It said: January 31, 1929, charged with uttering and publishing at Detroit; January 15, 1930, accused of breaking and entering at the same place. One week later he was sentenced to a term in Marquette Prison for breaking and entering at Highland Park, Michigan.

Habitual Criminal Feeney was received at the State House of Correction, Michigan, as a habitual criminal on April 21, 1930. Convicted of larcency, second degree felony, Feeney was sent to the State Reformatory in Michigan, May 4, 1931, to serve a term of two and a half to seven and half years.

Feeney and Paananen were committed for trial when brought before Magistrate Weegar Saturday morning last on a charge of kidnapping and robbing with violence Emile "Musty" Geroux, North Bay taxi driver, April 13.

[obaewankenope]

American to English translation for fic

So I read and write fanfic, as do lots of others, and I've noticed that when it comes to British shows or movies, Americanisms or American terms crop up often. It's mostly because most don't know we have specific terms for things in the UK, and I've seen references here and there before, but I've decided to write one of my own. Feel free to add to it tho! I'm gonna put it up on Ao3 too and any additions, I'll reference the tumblr and link them on Ao3 too.

AO3 link is here!!

Anyway, here we go I guess.

Some Americanisms to English-isms

Gas = fuel/petrol/diesel (we tend to specify the type of fuel the vehicle uses, diesel vehicle or petrol vehicle for example)

Gas station = petrol/fuel station

Gas court = petrol/fuel court, or sometimes forecourt (not often with this one tho)

License plate = registration plate/reg

Diner = cafe

Fast-food = takeaway (this is sort of interchangeable. McDonald's is called fast food, a meal from a pizza place that delivers is takeaway)

Motel = hotel

Side-note: We tend to use specific named hotel chains like Premier Inn (or Prem-Inn for short) or Holiday Inn or Travelodge. We also have Britannia Hotels and several others. If the fic is based in a specific place, local hotels or famous ones may be better options. For example, in Liverpool, we have The Shankly or Adelphi.

Cab = taxi or black hac for a specific type of taxi.

Side-note: These are what you see in BBC Sherlock, for example, and are a UK staple. They're less popular or common-place nowadays but there are dedicated taxi companies that use them. There's on in my town that operates until 4pm each day. They are also usually more expensive than a car taxi but they have oodles of space and you can have a pram/buggy kept upright rather than folded-down in them which is brilliant.

Cop = police officer

Side note: more informal, colloquial terms include "copper", "the fuzz", "tit-head" (because of the nipple hat okay, just look up the hat, it's hilarious), "bobby", "rozzer" (pronounced r-o-z-er not Row-zer), and "the bill" (there's an actual show called this btw. It can be a good reference for anyone writing crime fic in UK). There's more but those are the most common. Older terms do include "peelers" and "old bill".

Second side-note: the police have a whole host of terms, colloquial and slang that can be a great thing to include in fic, which I'll link a glossary of here. It's not all UK centric but cross-country policing is a thing so that may just be a boon imho. Also the short-hand acroynmns used are useful so here's a link to the Metropolitan Police glossary of those too!

Patrolman = constable or police constable

Antenna = aerial or TV aerial

Fall (season) = autumn

Bill = banknote or specifically "tenner", "fiver", "twenny" (not "twenty"). We don't have single banknotes like a dollar bill. We have pound coins

Dimes, nickels, etc = pound coin, two-pound coin, fifty-pence, penny, two-pence, five-pence, ten-pence, twenty-pence (link here about the coin currency)

Drug store = chemist or pharmacy

Optometrist = optician

Primary care physician = GP (general practitioner) here's a link about UK medical terms for doctors etc

Side-note: here's a link about medical terminologies etc between American and UK

Social security number = national insurance number

Liquor store = off-license or, specifically, Bargain Booze™

Liquor = spirits (usually)

Store = shop

Target, Walmart, etc = honestly, it's probably gonna be Tesco, ASDA, Morrisons, ALDI or Lidl

Superstore = supermarket

Shopping cart = shopping trolley or just "trolley"

Yard-sale = car-boot/car-bootie/car-boot sale

Attorney = barrister or solicitor (solicitors you go to for legal help, barristers tend to be involved in actual court matters, like a the Crown Prosecution Service), here's a link that explains it better

Janitor = caretaker

French-fries = chips (although McDonald's French-fries are just that, French-fries)

Intersection = crossroad

Highway/freeway = motorway

Interstate = usually an A-road or a motorway, we don't really have interstates here)

Overpass = flyover

Turnpike = toll motorway

Windshield = windscreen

Trunk of a car = boot or car boot

Hood of a car = bonnet or car bonnet

Truck = lorry

Sedan = saloon car

Blowout = puncture or flat tyre

Pavement = road

Sidewalk = path

Subway = underground (like the London Underground)

Drapes = curtains (though we do use "drapes" we tend to say "curtains" more)

Pacifier = dummy or "dodo" or "dodi"

Diaper = nappie or a pull-up (if its like underwear for toddlers)

Baby crib = baby cot (though we do use "crib", we tend to say "cot" more)

Baby carriage/pushchair/stroller = pram or buggy (more specific type tho, here's a link about the differences)

Trash/garbage can = bin, dustbin, rubbish bin

Garbage/trash collector = binman/binmen

Mail = post

Mailman = postman

Mailbox = postbox

The movies = cinema or pictures

Movie = film (less common nowadays with influence of Americanisms but I still use "film" and a lot of people my age and older do too (25+)

First floor = ground floor okay, it's the ground floor because it's on ground level

Sneakers = unless they're Converse, it's probably just "trainers"

Baggage = luggage

Purse (as in the bag) = handbag, or "purse" but that tends to be the thing you put your money and cards in then put in your handbag

Vacuum cleaner = hoover or a specific brand like Henry Hoover™, which you'll find we tend to just call Henry (though I have a John Lewis hoover I got from George, ASDA that I've named 'George' and yes, I do say "I need to use George in a bit to hoover" regularly)

Sweater = jumper or, if it buttons up it's a cardigan or cardi

Closet = wardrobe

Elevator = lift

Call collect = reverse charges

Schools = we have primary/infants (11yrs)and secondary/high school (11-16yo) with some high schools have sixth-form college (16-18yo) or actual independent colleges for the same ages

College = university

Semester = term

Vacation = holiday

Kindergarten = nursey/reception

Flashlight = torch

Wrench = spanner

Backyard = garden

Cookie = biscuits

Chips = crisps (like Walkers™ or Lays™ in the States)

Pants = trousers

Cottoncandy = candyfloss

Dude = bloke/fella/mate

John Doe = John Smith

Exhausted (tired) = knackered

Cell phone = mobile

Cell data = mobile data/4G/5G

Bathroom/restroom = loo/toilet (informal term "bog")

Thanks = cheers

Soccer = football

Y'all = "you lot"

Fuck off/hit the road/go away = bugger off

Some slang phrases too

Bits and bobs = stuff, usually random

Take the mick/mickey = making fun of someone or over-exaggerating

Bob's your uncle = there you go, basically

Bog standard = typical, run of the mill kind of deal

Gutted = feel upset, disappointed

Dull as dishwater = basically really, really fuckin boring

Chinwag = basically "shooting the breeze" or just having a talk/chat

.

If you have any others that you think of or want added, reblog and add em! Tags too if you'd prefer but reblogs would be easier ☺️

[charmac]

Danny did a little interview for AARP Magazine in December. I haven't seen it copied anywhere past the paywall and I enjoyed reading it, so wanted to repost here

(Article is pasted as text below the cut)

Noisemaker I was born in Asbury Park, New Jersey. I was the baby, my sister Theresa was 10 years older, my sister Angie was 16 years older, my mom had two sisters, and none of them shut up, ever. It’s an Italian family, so the decibel level is out there. A little smart aleck I went to Our Lady of Mount Carmel School, because if your mother and father didn’t know what to do with you, they gave you to the nuns. … and still a smart aleck I remember when Peter, my nephew, was born. I was 7 years old, and I went over and looked into the bassinet, and the first thing he did was pee on me. It was great! I don’t think there’s a conversation I’ve had with the guy over all these years where I don’t bring up the fact that he peed on me. Also an old softie Do anything you can to keep on an even keel with your family and friends, no matter what happens in your life. That’s all we have. Don’t hide things. You’ve got to get up every day thinking about how you’re going to make it easier for the people that you’re working with or that you love or that you eat breakfast with. Because it’s infectious; everybody starts feeling good. Falling into the business Growing up, I’d spend the weekends at the movies, but I actually wasn’t even thinking about doing it. I got introduced to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in a roundabout way, took a couple classes, and I got the bug. And I thought, I’m not like Cary Grant, but I got a feel for this thing. So I studied, and then I went and started looking for jobs in New York, like every other actor does. I didn’t care what the description was—“male, 6 foot 4, 250 pounds”—I’d go out for the audition. Once I got in the room, I’m going to do what I’m going to do. Becoming Louie I wanted that part, Louie DePalma [in Taxi]. I walked into the room to audition in front of the four guys who created it, and I said, “One thing I want to know before we start. Who wrote this shit?” And I threw the script on the table. And I had a nanosecond of, did I screw everything up? Then they fell on the floor. Louie walked into their lives. Sudden fame I went to the market the day after the first episode aired, and people are stopping me on the street: “Hey, Louie!” They weren’t calling me Danny. After a couple of days of this, I called my publicist, and said, “This is really crazy. People are chasing me down the street.” He says, “Danny, you don’t have to worry until that stops happening.” Now it’s all, “Frank, Frank, Frank!” because of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, which is good. The fans are all you have. Still evolving I think I’m bolder than I’ve ever been—I don’t monitor myself as much. I do say things that are, like, pretty far out, that are really weird, and sometimes I’m inappropriate. But I am always respectful, and that’s because of my two sisters, I swear to God. You have to respect other people’s space.

My happy place Since my two grandbabies have been born, I am just in- corrigible. You gotta tamp me down in the joy department, you know what I’m saying? I’m just so lucky. Blessings have been showered down on me. I wish that for everybody.And the thing is to be aware of it. Don’t let it go. Rhea [Perlman, DeVito’s wife, from whom he is separated but with whom he still spends a lot of time] and I were always able to see those little, incremental changes when our kids were growing up. And I tell my kids that, with their babies: Don’t miss a thing, don’t look away. A sudden case of holidays I’m in the movie A Sudden Case of Christmas with my daughter Lucy, who plays my daughter. It’s just a real warm, wonderful movie, and I loved doing it. As far as the actual holidays go, we have family dinners. Basically we’re Italian, so you know, anybody who’s around, we grab. We get to celebrate all the holidays, because Rhea’s parents were Jewish, so we did all the Jewish holidays, and we do all the Catholic holidays or Italian holidays. My mantra It’s always a good thing to be positive about life, and always get out of bed thinking today’s the day you’re really going to kick its ass. That’s the way to do it

[disneyprincemuke]

you’re embarrassing me * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: inthaf logan and femdriver live in my mind rent free like i love them and they are absolute best friends, your honour!!!

i might be at work today but you can’t stop me from thinking of logan hunter sargeant

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

“happy birthday!” logan smiles, extending his arm to you. “sorry i’m late — i had to get benny to wrap your present.”

you look up from your spot at the other end of the table. you smile, putting your phone down. “oh, i was just about to ask you where you were. thanks for even bothering to get me something!”

you hop up from your position and push yourself through the rows of seats that are strewn lazily. “thank you.”

“of course,” logan smiles, wrapping his arms around you. he presses a kiss to your “happy birthday again. thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“it wouldn’t be complete with you,” you giggle, pulling away.

it wasn’t until you turned back around to the table that you noticed that your friends were staring at you. alex’s jaw is dropped and george looks absolutely gutted. in the corner, lily and carmen are giggling to themselves while lando had his camera up and pointed at you.

“what?” you ask, scoffing slightly at the camera flash that goes off.

alex’s arm comes out to grab george’s shoulder. “she hugged him.”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, so?”

“you never let us hug you,” george says slowly, eyebrows furrowed in frustration at you being oblivious. “you damn near killed me the last time i tried to hug you!”

“yeah?” you hum, grabbing logan’s wrist to drag him along with you. “you sit with me.”

“what?” alex scoffs. “i’m sitting next to you.”

“not anymore. i’ve got a new favourite williams driver,” you beam, shaking his seat to get him off the chair. “and anyway, i already told you logan’s sitting next to me. you’d have bullied him all night if i don’t stop you.”

“and i told you first come first serve!”

“who’s the birthday girl? me or you?” you drop logan’s arm and put your hands on your hips. “who?”

alex starts to act flustered, slumping his shoulder and grabbing his cheeks with a smile. “you’re saying i can be birthday girl today? you serious?”

“ah, piss off!” you groan, shaking his seat again. when the thai doesn’t budge, you look over his head. “lily! alex is being an ass again.”

“alex.”

“yeah, okay. fine,” alex sighs in defeat, pushing himself off the seat. he turns to you. “you get a pass today because it’s your birthday. this won’t happen again, bro.”

logan giggles as he takes the seat previously occupied by his teammate. “what dish did you get? do you have a birthday cake?”

“no, we were waiting for you, silly!” you laugh and pick up the menu from the table and lean into him. “we also just arrived not too long ago. because somebody-“

“hey! it’s not my fault the uber cancelled on us!” george screams from your other side, reaching forward to hit you on the shoulder. “it’s not my fault!”

“it is,” alex sighs, shaking his head. he looks at logan. “this idiot forgot to tell us he booked a taxi — i was fresh out of the damn shower!”

“no, it was her fault!” george fights back, pointing at you.

at that point of the argument, you’d already drowned them out while you looked at the menu for something to order. you simply look up and press your lips together. “are we ordering cake?”

“absolutely! it’s a birthday, duh?” alex scoffs. “anyway, let’s take a picture so you can post it on your instagram about how great friends we were to you.”

you stare at alex. “sure. if you say so.”

you turn as lando gets up to ask someone to take a picture. “wait, your hair is messy,” you grumble, instinctively reaching out to fix logan’s hair. “how benny let you leave looking like this, i’ll never know.”

“what?” you hear logan mutter, pulling his head back slightly. “i did my hair. you don’t like it?”

“what?” you go up an octave as you try to laugh it off, retracting your hands. “no, it looks good.”

“but you said-“

“oh, look! lando’s found someone to take a picture,” you point over at the man holding lando’s camera. you dust off logan’s shirt and straighten it slightly. “look good — i’m announcing to the public that i’ve adopted you as my grid kid.”

“he’s turning 23 this year, you know that, right?”

“shut up, alex.”

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Lacking Data

Collecting data and seeking insight in everything significant to his work, has always been Sherlock’s highest priority. And he’s been quite successful in his endeavours too. But when it came to personal matters regarding himself and romanticism, he declared defeat. Which he didn’t bother to linger on. Until one day, when he met a man, most people thought of as ordinary, even boring.

Sherlock encountered Mike Stamford one of the last days of January. When Mike asked how he’d been, Sherlock told him he was searching for someone.

“Dead or alive?” Mike asked with a grin.

Sherlock rolled his eyes exasperated.

“I could use a flatmate. Preferably a living one,” he retorted dryly. “But…”

He trailed off, and Mike prompted him to complete the sentence.

“As you know, I’m no easy man to be around. I can’t think of anyone wanting to share quarters with me.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Sherlock. I’m sure there’s someone out there that match your criteria,” the doctor assured him.

Sherlock just scoffed and turned back to the microscope.

***

The experiment proved to be fruitless, so he sent Molly to get him coffee. When the door opened, far too soon for it to be her, Sherlock startled. He was not prepared to see Mike again, but what made the detective almost lose it, was the man Mike brought with him.

Ex-military. Doctor. Psychosomatic limp. Deployed somewhere warm.

Slowly, Sherlock approached Mike’s old friend from medical school, John Watson.

His face was open, trusting. He didn’t hesitate when Sherlock said he needed a phone, which he really didn’t.

“Here. Take mine.”

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

Sherlock didn’t need to seek insight. All of it was clear as day to him. Served on a silver plate. The phone told him the rest of the story. 

Granted, he’d been wrong about Harry, which John told him about the day after.

“There’s always something,” Sherlock muttered under his breath.

John just looked puzzled, but mostly awestruck. Not one word of mockery, distaste, or anger. Just: Amazing. Extraordinary. Brilliant.

When Sherlock told him what people normally said when he deduced them to shreds, John frowned and clenched his fist, the one not holding his cane.

It seemed like he was ready to punch the people who told Sherlock to piss off.

“Where have you been all my life?” he wanted to ask the remarkable man, but Sherlock was too afraid, so he stayed aloof, playing the sociopath he claimed to be.

***

Despite Angelo’s rather boisterous appearance, Sherlock always felt a calmness fall over him when he was around the man. He wanted to show John off to his Italian friend, and simultaneously letting John see a different side of Sherlock. It was a risk to let his guard down, but if his calculations were correct, the outcome would be glorious.

So, instead of biting John’s head off when he subtlety asked about Sherlock’s romantic preferences, he answered truthfully.

“Yes, John. I am unattached. Just like you.”

Sherlock couldn’t take his eyes off John’s tongue. It wet his lips continuously during the meal, and Sherlock wanted to taste it. The lack of data of how it would feel to kiss John and to be invaded by that rosy piece of flesh, almost drove the great detective mad. 

***

The chase through the city had never been so intoxicating and thrilling. John was right behind him, his cane safely taken care of by Angelo.

“Welcome to London.”

The American passenger in the taxi couldn’t believe the politeness of the British police, and Sherlock felt dizzy just listening to John’s incredulous laughter at the insane encounter.

They were breathless and giddy when they locked the black door of 221 Baker Street behind them.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done!”

“And you invaded Afghanistan.”

A knock on the door. Sherlock gestured for John to open.

“It’s for you.”

John’s astounded look when he returned with his cane, brought by Angelo, made Sherlock’s stomach do a somersault.

“How?” John said and shook his head in disbelief.

He leant the cane on the wall and approached Sherlock carefully. When he stood toe-to-toe with him, John took a hold of Sherlock’s upper arms.

“You,” he said softly. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me, for me? How am I ever going to repay you, thanking you for letting the sun into my life again? For making me want to live.”

Sherlock just stared down at John, unable to grasp what he meant. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary. Well, to be fair, the idea of visiting Angelo’s had been a whim. Not at all planned beforehand. He was a bit perplexed that something impulsive could make such an impact. 

When Sherlock asked about that, after their fifteenth kiss, John told him he was wrong.

“It wasn’t dinner, Sherlock. I’ve been in that situation lots of times. It was the chase that made me feel alive and useful. Not that dinner wasn’t lovely, because it absolutely was, but it seems that running after you is one of those things I’m suddenly addicted to. Just as that sinful mouth of yours.”

And with that, their sixteenth kiss was a fact.

------------------------------------------------------------

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[woman1festo]

big info post about the Maryland mall shooting and the shooter, Darion Aguilar.

( i have compiled this post in my notes from all different news articles, sources and google searches. it wasn't too easy to find much, but i hope this is enough insight/info.)

Darion Aguilar was a 19 year old, as described by his mother as a as 'a gentle, sweet kid' who has never been interested in guns.

'If you were to go in his room you would see what a gentle sweet kid he was,' she said, adding that he was a vegetarian because he was concerned about animal welfare.

He was also described as a "good kid" who "is quiet, kept to himself. Nice, normal, calm demeanor."

That was until January 25, 2014. He took a taxi around 10:15am, then he had entered the The Mall in Columbia where he was dropped off.

He went downstairs to a food court directly below the store, authorities say surveillance tapes show him sitting and walking around for nearly an hour. this may have been due to the fact that he was obsessed with the Columbine shooting. it's suspected that he waited until the time of the shooting had lined up to the original one in 1999.

(Investigators found thousands of searches on Aguilar's computer related to mass murder, school shootings, guns and explosives.

He also looked up websites for people with mental health problems, and he told a doctor he was hearing voices in the months before the shooting.)

Reports have said that Aguilar took a picture of himself inside the dressing room at Zumiez in the minutes leading up to the shooting and posted the photo to tumblr with a caption reading,

"I had to do this. Today is the day. On previous days I tried this I woke up with anxiety, regret and hope for a better future this day I didn't, I woke up felt no emotions no empathy no sympathy. I will have freedom or maybe not. I could care less."

It was said in mentioned selfie that some of way he is dressed, wearing a white t-shirt, boots and cargo pants with his shotgun in a sling around him, is reminiscent of one of the Columbine killers.

Police say he bought a shotgun last month – a 12-gauge Mossberg – and kept it hidden as a taxi cab dropped him off at the mall. before exiting the dressing room, Aguilar dumped his backpack out, changed his clothes and assembled the gun.

As soon as Aguilar stepped out, he raised his gun, took a few steps, aimed at his first victim, Brainna Belolo (21), and fired, killing her instantly.

He continued on to aim at his next victim, Tyler Johnson (25) , who was said to be near the front of the store, hitting him multiple times. he also died instantly.

Aguilar then stepped out of the store and fired two shots across the mall on the upper railing. One struck a railing while the other struck a woman in the heel. He then turned towards the food court, fired one shot and struck a wall right outside the Great American Cookie store, very narrowly missing more victims.

Next Aguilar turned back to Zumiez and fired through the glass at a mannequin before re-entering Zumiez, sticking the shotgun in his mouth and shooting, killing him instantly.

A total of nine shots were fired by Aguilar, out of the 54 rounds of ammunition he brought with him. The backpack he had with him contained homemade explosives, most likely made with fireworks, but were not powerful enough to cause major structural damage, police said.

"(Aguilar) was just silent. Focused. There was no sort of expression or emotion," an eyewitness recalled.

Despite officers arrived less than two minutes after the first 911 call, they entered to find Aguilar dead.

Desperately searching for a motive, police discovered his journal, which was about 20 handwritten loose-leaf pages in roughly chronological order. In a portion police released, Aguilar makes an angry, expletive-laced statement in which he anticipates the killings in "a couple of hours."

"I'm going to [fucking] kill you all in a couple hours I'm anxious, I hate you all so much you are pathetic pieces of [shit] who deserve to die. Worthless you all are [fucking] worthless. Everything seems fake. I think that I may already be dead," one journal entry read.

He apologized to his family for what he was about to do, that he wrote he was ready to die, that he wanted to die and hated others. He never mentioned to his family that he needed any help for his mental illness. While he talks about killing people, he never gave any specific targets.

Sources say it also shows a hatred of certain groups and a general unhappiness with life. 

[favorite-music-tourney]

Adjusted Round 1 match ups

I’m against the government by Defiance, Ohio - Little Boxes by Malvina Reynolds

Vienna by Billy Joel - Miracle of Life by Bright Eyes

Hungry Dog on the street by the Taxpayers - Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell

Excursion Around the Bay by Derina Harvey band - I am a Union Woman by Bobbie McGee

Jolene by Dolly Parton - Wild World by Cat Stevens

At Seventeen by Janis Ian - The Battle of New Orleans by Johnny Horton

Everybody's Talkin' by Harry Nilsson - Do you Believe in Magic by the Lovin Spoonful

Blackbird by the Beatles - Mr. Tambourine Man by the Byrds

Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter Paul and Mary - Blister in the Sun by the Violent Femmes

Ooh La La by the Faces - Ain't No Sunshine by Bill Withers

Tear the Facists Down by Woody Guthrie - Fire and Rain by James Taylor

Rule #4 Fish in a Birdcage by Fish in a Birdcage - Strangers by Apes of the State

Angel From Montgomery by Bonnie Raitt - I'd work for Free by Blake Rouse

I'm not a good person by Pat the Bunny - Ho Hey by the Lumineers

Lyndon Johnson Told the Nation by Tom Paxton - Pure Obsession by Mirabai Kukathas

Not Yet/Love Run by the Amazing Devil - Budapest by George Ezra

Diamonds and Rust by Joan Baez - Paradise by John Prine

What a time to be alive by Matt Press - Ballad of a Wobbly by David Rovics

Glad to be Gay by Tom Robinson Band - Nebraska by Bruce Springsteen

All The Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands by Sufjan Stevens? - Kill the Boy Band by She/Her/Hers

Every Town will Celebrate by Mischief Brew - Oak & Ash & Thorn by The Longest Johns

The Galway Girl by Sharon Shannon and Steve Earle - Curses by the Crane Wives

You're So Vain by Carly Simon - The Chemical Worker's Song by Great Big Sea

I'm Gonna Be an Engineer by Peggy Seegar - Follow Me up to Carlow by the Young Dubliners

American Pie by Don McLean - Murder in the City by the Avett Brother

Rhododendron Honey by Leslie Fish - The Fox by Nickel Creek

California Dreamin by the Mama's and the Papa's - Ohio by Neil Young

It's too Late by Carole King - There is Power in a Union by Billy Bragg

Have you ever seen the rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival - I ain't Marching Anymore by Phil Ochs

The Wrote and Writ by Johnny Flynn - Wayward Prodigal by Cora Reef

Landslide by Fleetwood Mac - Place to Be by Nick Drake

Space Girl by Shirley Collins - Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons

Delta Dawn by Tanya Tucker - Where have all the flowers gone by Pete Seeger

Take Me to Church By Hozier - Solidarity Forever by Utah Phillipps

Let the Mystery Be by Iris Demont - Brave as a Noun by AJJ

A Horse with No Name by America - Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel

Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega - A Song for a Computer Programmer by Cricket!

War on the Workers by Anne Feeney - War isn't Murder by Jesse Welles

Me and my Bobby Mcgee by Janis Joplin - For What It’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield

You're Dead by Norma Tanega - The Gambler by Kenny Rogers

Color in your Cheeks by the Mountain Goats - March of the Jobless Corps by Daniel Kahn

Stick Season by Noah Kahan - O Valencia by the Decemberists

Fuck it by Days N Daze - Dream a Little Dream of Me by Cass Elliot

Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen - The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down by The Band

Deny Defend Depose by Joe Devito - Big Rock Candy Mountain by Harry McClintock

Annie's Song by John Denver - The Funeral by Band of Horses

Union Maid by the Almanac Singers - 32 Flavors by Ani Difranco

Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash, And Young - Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

The War Racket by Buffy Sainte-Marie - Hurt by Johnny Cash

One Great City by the Weakerathans - Loose Lips by Kimya Dawson

Feed the Machine by Poor Man's Poison - Everything I Own by Bread

I want wind to blow, the microphones - City of New Orleans by Arlo Guthrie

Todos Juntos by Los Jaivas - II: The Road Giveth by RENT STRIKE

Roll On, Columbia, Roll On by the Highway Men - Ballad of Ho Chi Min by Ewan MacColl

Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison - Time in a Bottle By Jim Croce

The Trolley Problem by Windborne - One Kind of People by Amigo the Devil

Season of the Witch by Donovan - House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

The Times they are a changing by Bob Dylan - Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapman

Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls - Two Headed Boy by Neutral Milk Hotel

Heave Away by the Fables - Your Heart is a Muscle the Size Of Your fist by Ramshackle Glory

Who would Jesus Bomb by Jordan Snart - Electricity by Sister Wife Sex Strike

Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell - Plastic Jesus by Tia Blake

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald By Gordon Lightfoot - Bread and Roses by Judy Collins

Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford - I'm a Believer by The Monkees

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

I've been living in Japan, just outside of Tokyo, for a year and a half. It has been a lifelong dream of mine to live in Japan for about a year and a half, but I will be going home to America in short order.

Japan is a unique and wonderful place, however, I get tired of seeing leftist Americans touting it as some kind of socialist utopia. If one can support oneself without having to join the Japanese workforce, it's probably bearable, but the truth is, being part of Japanese society can be weighty business.

Having been here only a short time, I can't pretend to be an expert. I've only scratched the surface of a complex and nuanced society. Even as a student, though, the tireless bureaucracy, relentless work schedule, and comparatively introverted (and conservative, I might add) way of life is taxing. Albeit, I'm a rather undisciplined, artistic type. This is to say nothing of strict, upstairs/downstairs class etiquette, and of course, language barrier.

All of this is liveable, with the right mindset, but what Americans don't understand is how very fortunate we are for our freedoms and the services we often take for granted. Namely, the way our health care system operates.

Recently, I had the misfortune of getting a kidney stone, which is, of course, excruciatingly painful.

I have never had kidney stones before, and I'm alone in a foreign country; I thought I might be dying, so I called an ambulance. I thought, it's free, right? Why not? Even if I were in America, I might have called an ambulance, but then again, possibly not, because the great thing about the US is that most people have a car, and anyone with family or friends can get a ride to the hospital, if they need one. I'm also fortunate in that my older brother is a paramedic. In Japan, though, calling the ambulance seemed like my only recourse. And, indeed, it is free.

The ambulance came. I speak enough Japanese to talk with the paramedics. I got into the ambulance without my eyeglasses or my coat, and I was certain I would soon be given drugs to at least take the edge off. That's how it works in the US.

No such thing occurred. The paramedics took my blood pressure, and maybe listened to my heart. They asked me questions, and they drove me to the nearby hospital, which is less than five minutes from my apartment.

For almost an hour I was in the back of that ambulance, genuinely suffering, in pain, vomiting. We sat and sat. The paramedics kept saying, just a little longer. I found out later they have to have authorization from a doctor to administer any drugs, so they either decided for themselves that I didn't need any, or the doctor they contacted did. I suppose the level of my suffering was weighed according to outward appearance, and I will admit I pride myself on a high tolerance for pain; it was determined I most likely wasn't going to die and didn't need immediate relief from my pain.

Eventually, I was taken into the ER. They put me on the EKG and took my blood pressure, and then they left me alone with a little bucket to vomit in. A couple of nurses showed me compassion, but they were very busy. The old man on the other side of the curtain was in bad shape. I thought to myself, at least I'm not him. He kept complaining that he was cold and asking where he was. They kept telling him he was in the hospital and that his wife had been called.

For an hour, I lay in the ER with no medical attention and no drugs to stave off my agony. Eventually, I was submitted for a CT scan. After the scan, I was wheeled away into a corner where I received minimal attention and no drugs. In time, the doctor came to tell me I had kidney stones, and he prescribed me some glorified ibuprofen. The only nurse there who spoke any English asked me if I felt better, and, obviously, I didn't, but she told me it was time to go.

I managed to navigate the process of picking up my medication, paying my bill, and getting a taxi to take me home, but it was almost four hours after I called the ambulance that I was finally able to take the medication that at least somewhat dulled the pain, and I can tell you this: if I had known that I had a kidney stone, I would have stayed in the comfort of my own bed and taken Tylenol and suffered with some dignity.

In America, it's true we pay a lot to ride in the ambulance, and we pay a lot for health care. I have many times been subject to outrageous ER and miscellaneous medical bills.

However, the fact that we pay for these services does ensure that we will receive decent care unless something goes very wrong. American paramedics are authorized to administer drugs and do whatever is required to comfort and soothe the patients they've taken charge of.

And I can tell you this: I would much rather deal with the headache of insurance and trying to find a way to pay my medical bills than be left in seemingly endless agony for hours on end.

There are many wonderful things about Japan, but contrary to popular belief, health care is not one of them, and even though our system is not perfect, I will never again sit by and abide people who piss on it.

This is a great read and I would highly suggest you submit this somewhere for publication. It's also super interesting to me, because I had a kidney stone about a year and a half ago that I went to the hospital for, so I can directly compare our experiences.

I didn't take an ambulance. I live pretty close to a really good hospital, so I had my husband drive me. When I got there, I went to the receptionist and told her that I had a kidney stone and was in a lot of pain. She had me fill out my information and within 5 minutes I was being taken into the ER. A nurse came in very quickly, set up an IV, took vitals, and left. Very soon she came back with some pain medication. After about 20 minutes or so, I was taken to get a body scan, and that took maybe 5 minutes and I was back in my room. Another 5-10 minutes and a doctor came in, said my scans showed a kidney stone, and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was still in a lot of pain, and soon after he left another nurse came in and gave me morphine. During all this, they found out that I had a serious blood pressure problem. Like, I was two points away from where it would have been considered immediately life threatening. So they gave me a prescription for blood pressure meds, along with heavy duty opioids for the pain, and scheduled follow up appointments for me for the blood pressure and with a urologist to make sure I didn't have any kidney damage. I think I was there for a total of 2-2/12 hours, and they still offered me a hospital room outside the ER if I wanted because the pain hadn't completely stopped, but I'd much rather go home, so that's what I did.

The whole thing cost me nothing, by the way. I didn't have insurance, but I qualified for the hospital's own internal insurance for low income ER patients, which got me 90 days of free medical care, and after that was up, they extended it for another 90 days, and after that was up, they helped me get onto a real insurance plan. One that I'm still on now, though I'm probably going to get moved over to the plan my husband's new job gives him when the renewal period comes up. And while I'm not suggesting my experience is the norm, it does present an interesting contrast to yours.

[free-for-all-fics]

Quick random thought/Prompt about The Recruiter from Squid Game. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this and I’d love to read it! 🔴🔺🟥

You’re a foreign exchange student or otherwise a foreigner (American, Canadian, European, whatever kind of foreigner you want to imagine) who is living in South Korea to study abroad. You speak Korean fluently or close enough to fluently so there’s little to no language barrier and you can get around. Everything is going well for you. College is great, your friends are awesome, you keep in contact with your family back home. But then something unexpected and out of your control happens that leaves you without anywhere to live. For whatever reason, living in a dorm on college campus is not an option for you and/or you lose access to your apartment. Your friends try to help you by giving you money and offering to let you couch surf at their places for a while, but they can’t offer their own places to you for very long nor indefinitely, only temporarily for whatever reasons they have. You’re either too proud or too embarrassed or a combination of both to call your family to ask them for money because you know they’ll probably just worry and say it’s a sign and push for you to come home prematurely and finish college in a local university or online, even if they were initially supportive of your decision to study abroad in South Korea. It’s dangerous for a woman to walk or travel alone, and yet you moved to a different country where you don’t know anybody. But you know most parents just naturally worry about their children all the time, even in adulthood. It’s not just yours.

Though it’s extremely difficult, you learn to adapt and find ways to get by for a while so you can still work and attend college by using public transport like the subway and taxis to get to your university and back, and utilize public places and services to do your laundry, take showers, get food, etc. You’re just a woman with just one suitcase or one duffle bag and a backpack. You’re practically living a nomadic-esque life on the streets or under a bridge when you’re not attending your college classes, moving from place to place to evade police and thieves and such. Or maybe you’re eventually caught sleeping in your workplace after hours and get fired as a result because the money you’ve saved up plus the money you make from your now former job isn’t enough for a new apartment at the moment. Whatever the circumstances for your misfortunes are, you end up hanging out and sleeping in Tapgol Park most of the time when you’re not attending school. You don’t tell your friends about your living situation because you don’t want to burden them. They’ve already helped you enough and you don’t want them to worry, so you lie and say you’ve found a place to stay.

One day, The Recruiter approaches you in Tapgol Park after your classes are over and holds out a bread roll and a lottery ticket, asking you to pick one or the other. He speaks to you in English, no doubt noticing you’re not a native Korean. He’s not the first person to do this to you and he won’t be the last. You’re used to it. When you speak to him in practically fluent Korean instead of English, his surprise quickly turns back to his original expression of mostly neutral with just a touch of smugness. It’s so quick that if you blinked, you would’ve missed it.

(Maybe unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s seen you. Maybe he’s seen you around Jonggak Station or other Korean subway stations without you ever noticing him and has been keeping tabs on you ever since even though he doesn’t intend on recruiting you for the games. No matter what line you use to ride the subway, he’s conveniently where you are or going the same way you are. While he’s a stranger to you, he knows all about you. Maybe he speaks English to secretly test you to see if he can use the potential language barrier against you to gaslight and manipulate you by acting as your friendly and helpful Korean “translator” so you’ll heavily rely on him for help, but that Plan A backfires when he realizes how knowledgeable and proficient you are in the language, so he thinks to himself how he’ll have to come up with a Plan B. He knows based on his research, you’re a college student who studied Korean, but he underestimated you and how far along you got in your studies.)

He keeps his hands with the bread and lottery ticket outstretched towards you, repeating his request for you to pick one - the bread or the lottery - in Korean this time. You look between the two for a few seconds and, you’re not sure why but, instead of picking either, you look back up at him and ask if you can pick a third option instead. The heat from the sun beating down on you must be getting to you and fogging your brain for you to be feeling this extremely bold. You feel like you have nothing to lose today because, when he looks at you in confusion and asks what you mean by that, you just say, “I pick you,” and grab him by his tie to pull him down to your level and in for a kiss. You’re not sure what fucking demon or spirit possessed you or what the hell you were thinking when you did it. Call it an impulsive decision or whatever, but you don’t have time to question your sanity before you feel him kissing you back. He even drops what he’s holding to wrap his arms around your waist, hips, or neck and keep you in place as he pulls you closer. Wait, what? He’s actually kissing you back and seems really into it. Okay. An unexpected reaction from him. You weren’t expecting him to reciprocate, let alone this enthusiastically. You were half expecting him to push you away and ask what the hell you thought you were doing since, you know, you kinda assaulted him. But he doesn’t seem to mind or care that much about your assault. Okay. Maybe you can work with this. The first thing you noticed about him was that he was incredibly tall and handsome, after all. The light from the sun shining behind him made him look heavenly. Almost like an angel.

He surprises you again when he offers his house for you to live in while you study, claiming that it’s too big and there’s too many rooms for just him. You know your survival instincts are screaming at you to say no and politely turn him down because hello?? You just met this guy and know nothing about him. You know his offer sounds too good to be true and that there’s bound to be some catch. Nobody does something as generous as opening their house to a stranger without expecting something in return. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to just let you freeload off of him out of the goodness of his heart. You know damn well he seems like an angel but could be a devil in disguise. But you also know you’re desperate and can’t keep going on like how you have been. You have a feeling he knows that too. Whatever. That’s a problem for future you. Current you needs a place to stay. Whatever the price is for having a roof over your head, a warm bed to sleep in, and meals in your stomach that aren’t just cheap convenience store food, you’ll pay it.

He takes you home with him and you’re not ready for how lavish his place is. It has everything you could dream of and more. It even has more than one level and an elevator. Though all of the black furniture, flooring, and decor in his house is a little intimidating and off-putting, you admit it is stylishly done even if it reminds you too much of the inside of a coffin or death. But he’s right. It is too big for just him. But he doesn’t even have any pets. Why not? He clearly has the space and money for them. Does he not like animals? It must be a pain in the ass to clean and maintain his house, unless he has people who do it for him. Is that what he wants you to do? Act as his maid to earn your bed and meals? Or does he want something else from you? The thought that he wants sexual favors from you as payment crossed your mind when he first offered to let you stay with him, but that didn’t creep you out or deter you from accepting as much as you thought it would. If that’s the case, you think exactly like you did before: He’s tall and he’s handsome. He looks to be in his late thirties at least. Maybe even his early or mid forties. Even if he’s so many years older than you, you look at him and think he’s almost got a DILF thing going on, even though he doesn’t have kids. He looks like he works out and you think he probably has got amazing arms and shoulder muscles despite his suit making him look deceptively slender.

Does he reveal his unhinged side like what we saw in Season 2 or does he keep up the polite facade we saw in season 1? Or maybe you’re in a Jekyll and Hyde situation where he treats you like a princess and fucks you like a whore or vice versa and treats you like a whore but fucks you like a princess. Maybe he can flip flop between his two personas at any given moment and it sometimes feels like you’re tiptoeing around glass or dealing with an unpredictable ticking time bomb and you have to think carefully about how you’re gonna get through these outbursts and moods of his relatively unscathed. He loves games of all kinds, especially the ones with high risks and high rewards. And he wants to play with you. He has so many fun toys he could use on you. Toys for him could mean actual sex toys or literal weapons.

Whatever happens after that is up to you.

Whether or not you know about his darker side and/or the games and what he actually does for work to make his money and sustain his luxurious way of living, imagine he never kills himself while playing Russian Roulette with Gi-hun. Imagine sometime in the future, you’re married and have a child together. When your child is born, a lot of color is added to the house. Toys, your child’s room, picture books, their clothing, etc. is colorful because you and he both know that babies need a lot of color and other visual stimuli to aid in their development. You’ve watched him read to your baby and point to the pictures to teach them basic nouns like animal or object names or hold up paper ddakji tiles and flash cards of different shapes in front of them to teach them what colors and shapes are. A red circle, a blue square, a green triangle, a yellow star, a purple umbrella, etc. He maintains his love of games too, but the ones he plays with your child are obviously normal, child-friendly and age-appropriate games from both your home country and Korea, like Gong-gi.

“My turn!” Your child grabs the colorful plastic stones in their small fist and throws one in the air as they try to catch the others.

“What would my father say?” Your husband asks you as he sits across from them on the floor.

“That you’re building a very solid friendship with your child.”

He may or may not have told you about his past and how his father really died.

“No, darling. You've dropped a stone so you have to start over.”

“No!” Your child loves that word ever since they learned it. You’ve been trying to break them out of that habit, but it’s still funny sometimes.

“Don't be so mean. Let them continue from the stage they were at.”

He playfully glares at you. “It won't be very helpful later on if we don't teach our child how to lose.”

“Go ahead and cry, darling. Make Appa feel guilty.”

“Don’t encourage them!”

“Oh, hurry up, Appa! It's your turn!”

He takes the stones in his hand and throws them down on the floor, throws one in the air, then picks up one at a time to start the game anew. Both you and your child watch in awe as he clears all of the stages effortlessly, even the flip at the end. He’d never admit it out loud, but he loves the sparkle in your child’s eyes as they watch him like he’s a superhero or something.

Throughout the years you’ve known him, you’ve never, ever, ever seen your husband cry. Not once. Not even on your wedding day or when your child was born and he held them for the first time or on their 100th day celebration. But then, when your child is three years old, he lays out a fountain pen, a bill of 50,000 won from his briefcase, and their favorite toy in front of them. He wants to see which one they will pick. When you ask what he’s doing, he tells you that a lot of Korean people do this with their toddlers. It represents what you'll value most when you grow up. The fountain pen is intelligence, the money is, well, money, and the toy is fun. He says he’s just doing it out of curiosity and boredom. It’s interesting for him to see which one your child will pick anyway. You watch as your child just sits there and stares at the items. He sits across from them and waits patiently. They crawl towards the objects, he holds his breath, and they push everything aside and push themselves up on their feet so they can waddle right into his arms instead. He didn't realize that he was one of the choices. And that’s the first, and possibly the only time you see your husband cry. Through his tears, he makes a teasing comment to you about how your child definitely takes after you because, like you, when he gave them a choice, they instead picked a different option that he never even considered.

[krispyweiss]

Song Review: The High Hawks - “Somewhere South”

The High Hawks answer Jimmy Buffett’s boozy beach calls with the baked-by-the-sun-and-the-bud response of “Somewhere South.”

Musically pleasing with a rolling rhythm and joyful fiddle, the track is lyrically simplistic as Leftover Salmon’s Vince Herman sings:

Somewhere south/we’ll be laughin’ and a-smokin’/feelin’ like we’ve got it figured out/there ain’t no doubt/I’ve got an intuition/there’s gonna be good fishin’/and we’ll finally get that time to all hang out/somewhere south

The track follows “Diamond Sky” ahead of the Feb. 18 arrival of Mother Nature’s Show, the second LP from the supergroup that also features members of Railroad Earth, Horseshoes and Hand Grenades, Great American Taxi and Hard Working Americans.

Grade card: The High Hawks - “Somewhere South” - C+

1/12/24

[whyeverr]

👀

Frankly shocked we are getting another EP this quarter (and obviously quite worried what that means for present and future bugs 🤦🏼‍♀️) but a Hot Date pack? I’m intrigued…

Wishlist (in no particular order):

Vibrating heart bed (for real this time)

Heart-shaped hot tub

New (and/or refreshed) romantic interactions

Astrology / romantic compatibility

Dating apps

Blind dates

A more robust system for non-romantic hookups than “woohoo partners” — one-night stands without a cheesy first kiss would be a great start

Polyamory support beyond the Player reward trait???

Another non-American / Eurocentric world? 🤞🏻

I would also love for this of all packs to somehow herald the return of cars with a taxi / rideshare system (Hot Date!) and maybe a lover’s lane car makeout / woohoo location but I know that’s a pipe dream. 😆

[itsphoenix0724]

Dancing With Shadows (Azriel x Reader)~Chapter 2

Warnings: SMUT, shower sex, oral (fem receiving)

Word Count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is entirely self-indulgent, I can't even help myself

Azriel always loved plane rides, the feeling of soaring above the earth was exhilarating. He thinks back to a funny dream he had as a kid, you had cracked up when he told you about his childhood delusions of having bat wings and flying through freezing mountain ranges. The memory of the golden sound of your laughter warms something deep in his soul. As much as he loves planes, Az is more than ready to get off this one because he knows what’s waiting for him at your apartment. You had tried to insist on picking him up from the airport, but his flight was getting in at 4 am your time so he opted to take his time getting his bag and stop for a shitty airport breakfast. After spending a mind-boggling five minutes contemplating the sheer size of an American large fountain drink and collecting his bag he calls a cab at a respectable 6:30. It’s a half an hour's drive from the airport to your apartment and he and the taxi driver chat about why he’s in the city. 

“Ya know, there’s a pretty good bakery about 15 minutes away from your girl’s apartment. I could drop you there instead, and you could walk the rest of the way.” He raises an eyebrow at Azriel who can practically see your face light up at the sight of doughnuts in his mind. 

“That would be great thanks.” Az nods, and the driver lets him out of the cab a few minutes later. He tips him handsomely before shutting the door and walking into the bakery. It’s a quaint shop with a pink sign reading “Alis’s” in cursive letters hanging in the window. Azriel thinks you might’ve mentioned this place a couple of times. He smiles at the old lady who bags his pastries and blushes at his accent. He also does his best to ignore the way she sends a pitying glance at his hands. You know about his hands, obviously, and hadn’t shown him an ounce of pity. Support but never pity. It was just one of the many things he loved about you. 

God–love. 

The word rocks through him like a tidal wave. He’s known for a while, he hasn’t said it to you yet, but with finally having you in person he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. Plugging your address into the GPS on his phone he starts the walk to your apartment. He thanks whoever may be looking down on him when he passes a flower stand and buys the biggest bouquet of roses the merchant has to offer. 

Eventually, he reaches your front door. 

He wasn’t nervous at all until this moment, hands suddenly sweating around the flower stems and a bag of doughnuts. Dropping his duffle on the ground he gathers all his courage and knocks on your front door. It gets thrown open faster than he can knock a second time and he has you in his arms before he can blink.   

Azriel might think it’s weird that the first thing he notices about you is how good you smell, like clean laundry and chamomile tea, but he’s too focused on the feeling of you in his arms to care. You’re actually real, actually here in front of him. It feels odd to see you in person instead of on his phone screen. He maps each little detail of your face that’s been hidden from him over cameras.  

“You’re beautiful,” it’s the only thing he can seem to get out of his mouth at the moment and he delights in the way pink floods your cheeks. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” comes your sheepish reply, a star-splitting smile stretching across your cheeks. You thank him for the flowers, dashing off somewhere to find a vase. He’s wracked through with an odd sensation looking at the things he knows. He’s seen your apartment multiple times before, he knows almost every intimate detail. He knows the shelves of your bookshelf are organized based on genre, starting with your favorites. He knows which room is your bedroom, your bathroom, your office, and what is in your snack cabinet. Az thinks he could probably navigate this apartment with a blindfold tied around his eyes. 

He’s just never been here before. 

Then he’s wracked with new things. The intimate details that he’s craved so desperately since knowing you. Like what your candles smell like, the rumpled blankets on the couch, and the slippers you haphazardly kicked under the coffee table. This is the first time he’s set foot in your apartment but he feels like he’s home. 

Azriel toes off his shoes gently as you return with a vase full of roses, you stare at each other for another beat. Like distant planets so used to admiring from afar now pulled into each other's orbit. You seem to remember yourself after staring at him a moment longer, still frozen in time in your doorway. 

“You brought me doughnuts,” your stomach growls and Azriel laughs as he hands you the bag for inspection. You seem satisfied with his choices, tongue swiping across your bottom lip as you consider the options. 

“Can I come in?” Azriel asks with a tilt of his head, amusement sparkling in his hazel eyes. You’re knocked out of your stupor once more as heavy red rises to the tips of your ears. 

“Of course,” you mutter shyly and reach down to grab his duffle bag. He bats your hand away without a second thought, hauling the heavy bag over his shoulder. He had to bring some computer equipment with him, unfortunately not quite off the hook from work completely. 

“Where should I put this?” he questions, looking around the apartment. 

“Oh, you can just put it in the bedroom,” You start to direct him there but Azriel is already down the hallway and throwing open your bedroom door. You wander down the hall behind him, adoring the way he appears in your space. “I made us a dinner reservation tonight by the way. Italian.” Azriel lets out a satisfied hum before taking you in his arms again, tucking you safely into the warmth of his chest and resting his chin on your forehead. 

“What else do you have planned for the week?” He mumbles the question into your hair line and you’re so overwhelmed with butterflies that you forget to answer. You’re simply stuck staring at his beauty that he has to jostle you to let the words loose. 

“Well, I figured I’d take you to all the major tourist attractions, and some of my favorite hidden gems, then whatever else you want to do.” You reply with a noncommittal shrug and Azriel locks his gaze onto your eyes and then tracks down to your lips. Heat lights up your spine like a detonating cord trailing its sparking path to dynamite. 

“Can I kiss you now? Please?” He mumbles to you, lips almost brushing as he speaks. Your nod comes almost embarrassingly quickly, but Azriel doesn’t care as he hauls his mouth to yours. His kiss is electric, a drug you’re immediately addicted to and you never want to stop. His hands are roaming your body mapping every inch of you because he knows that this week could never be enough of you. You break apart, laughing giddily into each other's mouths before delving back in, eager for one more taste, before you drag him back out into the kitchen to enjoy your doughnuts. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Yes Rhys, I’m alright. Everything’s more than alright.” Azriel is reclined on your bed relishing in feeling of being in your space. The two of you had spent the afternoon lazing around, finally holding each other as Azriel worked on some things for his job. He watched the sunset through the gauzy curtains as Rhys’s voice droned over the receiver of his phone. “Yeah the flight was alright,” Rhys asks another question but Azriel’s ears are perked when he hears your shower turn on, a quick glance at his alarm clock tells him that you have two hours before your reservation. “Hey Rhys, I’ve got to call you back.” He can distantly hear Rhys’s protests as he disconnects the call, and pads on nearly silent feet to your bathroom. 

Azriel’s never been a religious man, but he thanks every god he can think of when the door handle turns easily under his grip. 

He hopes you don’t kick him to the curb for crashing your shower, but the thought of finally seeing your body, in person and bare for him, is more than Az can bear. Throwing his shirt over his head and kicking off his shorts and boxers in one go he steps into the shower. Naturally, you jump at first, your eyes fly open and you almost launch your shampoo bottle at your perceived assailant. Once you realize it’s Azriel all of your anxiety turns molten in the pit of your stomach. You shamelessly eye him, eyes tracking a burning trail from his face down to his toes, paying particular interest to the area between his legs. 

“See something you like?” Az’s voice rumbles. You nod, eyes drooping into a seductive half-lid. 

“I don’t remember giving you permission to invade my shower.” You tease stepping further into his space, every breath causing your chest to bump his. 

“I can go if you don’t want me here,” Azriel replies, moving to leave, but your hand circles hard around his wrist to prevent him from pulling back the curtain. “That’s what I thought.” His voice is smug, eyes as satisfied as a wolf with fresh prey as he surveys your naked form, watching the water run over your every dip and curve. Azriel gently pushes you against the shower wall, lips moving to bite your fluttering pulse. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails leaving a satisfying bite that sends jolts down his spine. Your tongue laps up the water collecting around his collar bones, and Azriel’s moan of appreciation reverberates off the porcelain. 

You pant his name as every hard part of him makes contact with every soft part of you, and Az cups one hand along your jaw as he finally puts his mouth on yours.

“Let me make you fall apart for me,” He begs, hips canting against yours. Your head tips back against the tile, the combination of Azriel and the heat making you delightfully dizzy. “Let me devour you as I promised.” He slowly kneels on the shower floor, the hot water beating into his side, plastering his ink-dark hair to his forehead. Your hands chase it away, revealing hazel eyes burning with desire. He slowly draws one of your legs over his shoulders, you should be afraid of slipping but Azriel’s hold is sturdy, hands confident as he supports your weight. 

If you know one thing about Azriel it’s that he always keeps his promises. 

He licks a trail up your center, leaving golden fire in his wake. He feasts on you, relishing in the way your moans echo loud enough that your entire apartment is sure to hear. Azriel cannot wait to properly take you apart in bed later, but he’ll allow himself this taste for now. He toys with you, playfully flicking and sucking at the apex of your thighs as your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging and pulling as he has his way with you. His tongue slips down and your vision turns white as it thrusts in and out of you, curling to reach the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You fall apart soon after that, the heavens and the earth colliding in a vulgar symphony as your thighs shake around his head. Azriel gently eases your leg down before standing and claiming your mouth, you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. You try to reach for him but he stops you. You shoot him a confused look his thumb swiping up to soothe the crease between your brows. 

“The first time I come with you will be inside you,” he vows “and sadly I do not have the time to prep you for that.” heat flashes through you at his words, and amusement and lust sparkle back at him in your eyes. “After dinner my love I promise.” You nod, and lather shampoo in your hands to start to wash his hair, Az’s head tipping back with a groan as your fingers scratch at his scalp. You wash, rubbing out the creases of muscles and holding each other under the running water. Azriel finishes first, leaving you frustrated in your shower with a searing kiss and the echoes of promises to come after your reservation

[watchmorecinema]

Yukio Mishima has been trending this week for uh, reasons. He was a world renowned Japanese author and all of his work is overshadowed by his actions on November 25, 1970. You might not want to read more about this guy because he is horrible and disgusting, but he's utterly fascinating and the movie about him is brilliant.

He's a really interesting character, to the point that he sounds fictional. He's gay, obsessed with ritualistic death, a right wing lunatic, led a private militia that was halfway to a cult, and also was a legitimately great author. His life is covered in the film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters and it's easily the most beautiful film I've seen in my life. Look at the stills I posted above; every frame of this movie looks like that. It's all just a series of beautiful paintings with people living in them.

The way the film is structured is that it tells the story of his life in three ways. His past is told in black and white flashbacks with static cameras. This is closer to how a movie from the 50's would look like (specifically ones directed by Yasujirō Ozu). The events of three of his books are told with this beautifully stylized look, with sets that look like stage plays. The events of November 25, 1970 is told in an almost normal fashion, with regular colors and competent camerawork. The past is nostalgic, the present is mundane and only in fantasy can you truly come alive.

Through this movie we see the ideology of Mishima coming through. His nationalism, his sexual feelings and his thoughts on beauty and death all come together. Death isn't just a violent and tragic end, it is in itself a beautiful act. Beauty is the only true goal of life and creating beauty brings honor. Growing old and ugly is an act of hate; to die at your peak is to give love back to the world. It is therefore treasonous to live long enough to die peacefully. He pities what heaven must look like now; when men died young and beautiful it was paradise, but now it is filled with old men.

This is an objectively insane way to view the world but it is also fascinating. How much of this was what he believed, and how much of it was just begging for attention? In one instance when asked why he moved to the right politically he said "because the left was full". It was a joke answer, but he clearly wanted to be in the spotlight. His shield society was a paramilitary group dedicated to living a virtuous life of beauty, honor and old ideals. It was also a group of good looking, athletic young men led by a (barely) closeted, conservative gay man. So much of his life could have gone differently but also he was pretty much in control the whole time; he was independently wealthy and revered on the world stage. He could do whatever he wanted, and apparently the way his life went *is* what he wanted.

What's special about Mishima, both in the film and in real life, is that he's a smart and eloquent guy. In films the guy with a crazy worldview is someone like Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver or D-Fens from Falling Down. Travis couldn't understand the alienation and loneliness he felt and he couldn't find any healthy solutions. D-Fens was smart enough but not emotionally strong enough to confront his problems or deal with them maturely. These are people that could benefit greatly from therapy (other examples include Joker from Joker, Rupert Pupkin from the King of Comedy, Frank Murdoch from God Bless America, Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, Tyler Durden from Fight Club and so, so many more).

These are either 20 something year olds that are lost in the world, alienated and lonely, or 40 something year olds with a mid life crisis when they realize that everything has fallen apart. People who don't know where to go, or realize it's too late to change things. Travis Bickle had basically no friends, no family, no charisma with women and a lot of rage and anger. D-Fens lost his job, his self respect and was estranged from his ex-wife and daughter. These are people who's lives are shit at best (Patrick Bateman is a bit of a subversion. He is rich and successful, but his life is completely hollow, his relationships are shallow and he personally is very, very pathetic. I need to write about American Psycho later that film is great too.).

Mishima is different. He's smart enough to understand his issues and how to find help. He's got the money and means to do so. He's famous and rich enough that he could basically get away with anything weird or eccentric so long as it was harmless. On the world stage he was a popular author, and at home he led a life of political activism. If he was unhappy he could easily find healthy ways to fix it. His self destruction was the most avoidable of any of them, yet he's the only one that existed in real life. You expect these people to have serious personality flaws and unfixable (or seemingly unfixable) problems, not to be poetic writers that adhere to healthy living and regularly journal about their emotions, while enjoying respect from their peers and fulfillment in their work.

It's a hell of a film. Paul Schrader has not written or directed anything better (he actually wrote Taxi Driver too, so he had some experience with this type of character before) and it stands out as an incredible experience to watch. Like, Mishima's life is public knowledge and you can probably guess how it went, but I've purposefully not said what happened on November 25, 1970 because I don't want to spoil it. It's an event that actually happened but it's better for you to find out via the film than some wikipedia page.

[shitty-fate-merch-daily]

I was talking with my friends about ‘universal dad behaviors’ in how my great-grandfather (late 1930s, Argentina) decided one day to buy an ostrich, and was convinced that he could train it to pull a cart and run a taxi service around town which would make them filthy-rich.

Of course the first time he let it off the rope later that day it immediately ran off and he never caught it again.

Universal Dad Behavior #1.) Buying some stupid shit on impulse, convinced that it will make his family a fortune

My friend then brought up that her great-grandfather (Japanese-American, 1941, Hawaii) decided to climb and sit on top of the roof while Pearl Harbor was being bombed to idk just watch and had to be yelled at by her great-grandmother for minutes to come down and get inside.

Universal Dad Behavior #2.) ‘I need to Watch’ (a situation that is actively risky and can do nothing about)