#i almost wrote ms pain

[captain-mozzarella]

MsPaint is my new math notebook margin

[the-ninjago-girl]

Ya wanna know what I just realized? The overall theme of scarlet and violet isn't actually about our treasure hunt, or making friends along the way,

It's obsession.(and how it hurts those around us.)

In the base game of pokemon scarlet and violet, we learn that the professor,(sada or turo depending on which version you play.) was absolutely obsessed with the paradox pokemon within the scarlet/violet book. They were so obsessed with these pokemon that they wanted, NEEDED to make them a reality by bringing them into our own. Their obsession was so bad, that they not only lost their significant other, but neglected their son to the point of completely abandoning him, all for the purpose of "paradise". Not realizing they already had one with their son.

The obsession has been with the professor since their childhood. As seen in the secret cutscene at kitakami's crystal pool with terapagos in your party, it brings the professor from iirc 10 years before the events of the game start. When they ask to trade for the book ms. Brair wrote they offer their copy of the s/v book and tell you "this book captured my imagination as a child and never let go." They were obsessed. It costed them their life, completely ruined arvens childhood, and almost caused the destruction of the Paldea region because they were too obsessed with having pokemon of the past/future along side them.

Then we go to kitakami, and meet Kieran. A boy who is obsessed with the ogre, a.k.a ogerpon. Kieran believes the two as kindred spirits, outcasts in kitakami because they were different. Though rightly upset at you and his sister for not telling him about meeting ogerpon, takes it too far when he steals the mask from his grandfather. As a result of winning the battle to get the mask back from him his obsession shifts, not really about befriending ogerpon anymore, but about beating you/being as good as you are. He becomes mean and ruthless to those around him in blueberry academy, becoming champion in order to try to be strong enough to beat you.

In the underdepths of area zero his obsession with beating you causes him to seek out terapagos, and catch it so that he can finally beat you.

And finally ms. Briar, obsessed with terapagos and proving it was real. Her ancestor, the original author of the s/v book, heath, was claimed and told to be nothing more than a liar after writing what he had found in area zero. Briar was obsessed, determined to prove terapagos' existence to clear her ancestors name, and that everything in the s/v book was in fact real. In kitakami she was more concerned with figuring out the terastal phenomenon than helping to guide the students from the 2 schools on their field trip.

And once in blueberry, she asks you, carmine and Kieran to join her in area zero to find terapagos. Once in the underdepths she puts herself in danger because of a strangely terastalized glimmora, of which you battle to protect her and the siblings. In the final chamber of the underdepths, she eggs on Kieran to take terapagos(in crystal form) out of the tera crystals around it to finally see the pokemon she's been trying to get to for so long, and then tells him to terastalize the pokemon, putting everyone in danger. As the amount of Tera energy is too much for the little pokemon to control, and thus it goes out of control, destroying the environment around it, nearly causing a cave in.

Ms. Briars obsession with finding terapagos nearly caused the group to get killed because she was so obsessed with finding terapagos. Obsessed with proving that heath was telling the truth all this time.

Pokemon scarlet and violet showed that obsession can hurt and harm those around you. That an obsession like sada/turo, Kieran and ms Briars', will cause the pain of others and themselves in order to reach their goal.

[silkjade-archived]

hello!!! i really enjoy reading ur writing~ like, from the wedding dates post it was love at first read hehe pls keep it up!!

n e wayz, i just got back from a medical operation (it was successful!!) and would it be alright to request some hcs of how diluc, childe, itto, thoma, and al-haitham (separately) would take care of an s/o who’s recovering post-op??? no pressure ofco ^-^

glad your op was successful, anon! ^^ wishing you a smooth and speedy recovery!

genshin men taking care of you after a medical operation

⤀ Featuring— diluc, childe, itto, thoma, al-haitham (written pre-release)

⤀ gn!reader, modern au, mentions of medication, use of pet names (babe)

DILUC

he’s taking as much time off as he possibly can to spend with you. if he really can’t be home atm, he’s got his whole team of staff behind him so you’re never alone

the first few days might be rough because of the pain so he tries his best to keep your mind off of it by telling you embarrassing stories of himself, kaeya, and jean from when they were kids

if you need to just vent, diluc’s a great listener; he listens to all your complaints without offering any solutions so go off!

he changes your bandages with the tenderest of touches and places a feather light kiss on top when he’s finished

he isn't really one for television, but will watch with you if you are; who knows he might even get just a teeny tiny bit invested in the reality show you're watching. he doesn't mean to but he'd make the funniest comments (underrated comedian)

but.... he would enjoy doing puzzles with you like a 500 piece puzzle because the 1,000 piece ones can get kind of messy

his driver takes you to all your follow-up appointments so that he can stay with you in the back himself

when you’re well enough, he takes you on short strolls through his vineyard, with your arm linked through his and your head resting on his shoulder. it’s ok you can lean on him, he’s strong

CHILDE

this man has a big family, he is well versed in the art of caretaking. and yet they still show up with a ton of homemade food, remedies, supplies, etc because you’re basically already one of them

he’s actually really strict on making sure you follow discharge instructions, like anything that strays off, it’s:

“sorry, not until we get the doctor’s approval at your next appointment”

childe keeps you up-to-date with all the new tech stuff, so you guys basically have a smart room. ‘alexa dim the lights’ ; ‘alexa turn on the tv’ etc. and he definitely has all the streaming services so you never run out of things to watch

if you’d rather play video games, he’ll let you win without making it super obvious

some oral medications can be a pain to swallow so he makes sure to give you lots of little kisses as a reward

on the more difficult nights, he’ll lay in bed next to you, propped on an elbow with his other hand playing with your hair. it’s very calming especially when he hums and softly sings you snezhnayan lullabies

100% will cook and clean and do the dishes, but doesn’t really want to leave you alone while he goes to the store, so he’s been instacarting almost all your groceries. don’t worry about the expenses though, it’s on him he says as he pulls out his work credit card (it’s actually on pantalone; he texts you that he’ll turn a blind eye to these charges so consider it your ‘get well soon’ gift)

ITTO

itto is very eager to take care of you since it’s usually the other way around; he’s so grateful you trust him in such a vulnerable state, he just wants to do his best and show you how much he loves and appreciates you

....so he definitely wrote to ms. hina for advice the moment you scheduled your operation

before he goes in to pick you up, he’s in the hospital parking lot giving his boys a speech like

“be extra careful around them and mind what you say alright?” you know this because shinobu recorded it and sent it to you

of course they volunteered to help out with daily errands so that their boss can focus on taking care of you

he brings you flowers when picking you up and a silly little ‘get well soon’ card that makes you laugh because it has a dumb pun

to show solidarity, if you're on a strict dietary plan... he's on a strict dietary plan

your comfort is super important to him so it is a no judgment zone here; maybe you feel weird about things like going to the bathroom or taking sponge baths, but itto is sure to completely reassure you there’s nothing to be embarrassed about

“nothing to be worried about babe, it’s all part of the process. I know what I signed up for”

THOMA

he decorates your home as a surprise! just a little something to brighten it up since you’re going to be stuck indoors for awhile

pampers you and treats you like royalty. once you arrive home, all the house chores are already done, your pillows are fluffed, need anything? he’s at your beck and call

makes the best homemade meals— delicious, nutritious, and follows any dietary guidelines

also has some ready in the fridge to heat up just incase you get hungry while he’s out running errands

definitely bought those little pill boxes that have the days of the week on them so you have all your meds organized already. he refills them for you weekly too

he's good at reading your moods, so he can easily tell whether you want his company or whether you want some space; he doesn't mind either way, whatever you need

thoma is an overall very upbeat person and keeps a positive mindset, however... sometimes it can get a little...too much? a little overwhelming? but! he understands how frustrating the recovery process can be so he takes it like a champ when you get a little snappy with him

AL-HAITHAM

he’s a nerd and a perfectionist, he read up on everything; your procedure, any medications, side effects, recovery, etc and still bombards the doctors and nurses with questions

honestly he is a little nervous since you’re in a delicate state and he doesn’t have a lot of experience as a caretaker

makes you take your medications at the exact hour you’re supposed to; every 12 hours? he’s hounding you at 8am and 8pm sharp

shhh he doesn’t know this but you accidentally caught him on the phone with an old acquaintance from liyue, scribbling down the recipe for an herbal nourishing soup

on your better days, he pampers you by not letting you skip your nightly skincare routine and even applies it for you

can be a bit of a mother hen which is a pretty stark contrast to his usual, more aloof personality. it’s a mental game you’re playing with yourself, counting the amount of times he peeps in to check on you

finally you call him over and he does the thing where he kneels by your bedside to hear what you have to say

“can you just…lay here with me for a bit…?”

and so he does and tells you about his research and projects until he realizes you’ve fallen asleep

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[beardedmrbean]

A woman in Canada has died after waiting for almost seven hours to receive emergency care at a hospital on New Year’s Eve in what has been described as a “senseless death”.

Allison Holthoff, 37, from the Nova Scotia province, was rushed to an emergency room on the morning of 31 December after her condition worsened from what was initially believed to be an upset stomach.

Her husband, Gunter Holthoff, told CBS news, that she had to be carried on his back to reach the Cumberland Regional Health Care Centre in Nova Scotia’s Amherst town at 11am local time before they spent hours in the waiting room.

“She was obviously in pain,” he said on Sunday, recalling his wife’s excruciating pain and their ordeal. “I was rolling her in the wheelchair and she could hardly sit up.”

Ms Holthoff’s pain worsened as the two waited for more than six hours in the emergency department’s waiting room. They were only able to see a doctor after 6pm in the evening, he said.

By then, the doctor said, it was already too late. She underwent a preliminary examination and the nurse asked for her urine sample.

Ms Holthoff then fell on the bathroom floor as she was not able to stand on her own and required the assistance of two other people to get back onto her wheelchair.

Her condition deteriorated to the point where she was unable to sit in the wheelchair and ended up lying on the floor, he said.

“I told the nurses and the lady at the desk there a couple of times, ‘It is getting worse,’ and nothing happened,” Mr Holthoff said. “So the security guards, in time, they brought a couple blankets out and they brought us a cup of water and I used it to put some ice on her lips.”

As they continued to wait, Ms Holthoff told her husband that she felt she was dying.

“I think that she actually started saying that she thought she was dying in the waiting room outside,” Gunter continued. “She said, ‘I think I’m dying. Don’t let me die here’”.

His wife was then taken to a room with a bed, but no medical equipment. A nurse checked her blood pressure and found it to be alarmingly low.

She then received more urgent care and a doctor came to see her. An X-ray was prepped, but she was unable to breathe.

“The next thing is [her] eyes rolled back in her head and her chest started rising. Something started beeping,” he said. “The next thing you hear is over the PA, ‘code blue, code blue in X-ray.’”

“Even if she would have survived at that point... she had too long a time without sufficient blood flow to the brain and vital organs. It would have been not a life worth living,” he said.

Mr Holthoff said the system is “obviously broken” and “we need change” as “I don’t want anybody else to go through this”.

Elizabeth Smith-McCrossin, a local MLA, wrote a letter to the provincial health minister to demand an “urgent investigation” into the case.

Alexandra Rose, the provincial co-ordinator for the Nova Scotia Health Coalition, said the situation is scary and the province’s healthcare system is in a “dire situation”.

“It’s so scary. And we have to wonder, when is the breaking point? Is this the breaking point now that somebody has passed away? It was a senseless death,” she said.

[bunysliper]

what do you think would have happened if castle had gotten stuck in the AU?

Hi Anon! I hope you're still out there and that this was meant as a prompt (not that I'm not ashamed of how long it took to answer it if it was) and not just a question/discussion starter. Basically, I kind of wrote what I think the answer would be, so I hope you like this!

Hope Yet

He's ashamed of the disappointment that floods his belly when he wakes in a hospital to a dark-haired version of his daughter. It's not that he's unhappy to see Alexis – any version of her – but he'd hoped that he might wake right where he left, on a dingy floor dodging gunfire with Kate a little bit peeved at him for touching something he shouldn't have. Instead, he's… still here. Still in this world where he has miles to go to repair a relationship with his little girl, his mother still has almost complete control over his house because he'd been a schmuck with his money, and Kate – Kate is apathetic about him at best; miles and miles from loving him.

He'd been so sure he would be going home.

"Hi Daddy," Alexis breathes, stroking his hair off his forehead. "I was so worried."

Rick Castle hopes the grimace can be written off as pain from his injuries. "Hi, 'lexis. Sorry, 'bout that."

He licks his lips, looking around the room for anything that he might be able to drink to get the rough cardboard taste out of his mouth.

Alexis comes through for him once again, holding a small cup with a straw to his lips. "Slow sips. You were intubated and your throat might be sore."

He tries not to gulp it down, savoring the water for a moment before Alexis takes the cup away.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asks, leaning on her elbow beside him. He opens his mouth, but she continues first, "Dad, you were shot. What were you even doing that you would get shot?"

He exhales, feeling the tug of new wounds on his chest. "I was-"

"He was protecting me."

Alexis jolts upright, turning to the door.

Rick would be lying if he said he didn't jump a little as well. If his heart didn't speed up at her voice, husky with emotion and a lack of sleep. He doesn't know this her, but he knows her. At the heart of her, he knows Kate Beckett.

"Would do it all over again," he says, hoping to catch her eyes.

She avoids his gaze, looking at Alexis instead, but he sees her fingers twitch before she clenches her fists and releases them. He knows that move, recognizes it as her taking a moment to ground herself before she gives someone bad news.

"I am so sorry, Ms. Castle. I'm Captain Beckett, with the NYPD. Your father got involved in a case my detectives were working and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He made a call to do something incredibly stupid, but very brave, to save my life."

She turns to him, her eyes bloodshot and tired, but flinty and determined all the same. "I can assure you that he won't be put in that position again. Ever."

Castle swallows hard, wishing he could reach for her as well as the water Alexis had given him a few minutes ago. He gets neither, though, because Beckett takes a step back.

"I'm not staying," Beckett adds, licking her lips. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right, Mr. Castle."

"Rick," he rasps. "Or Castle, if you want. Whatever you want, Beckett."

At his bedside, Alexis rolls her eyes. "Please forgive him, Captain Beckett. He's-"

Kate waves her off. "It's okay. I understand. The painkillers do strange things to everyone."

Still, she offers him a look he should be able to read, given how well he knows her counterpart. It's part-quizzical, part-amused, at least enough to cause her lips to lift at the corners.

"Stay out of trouble from here on out, Mr. Castle. Please?"

 He nods quickly, even as he croaks an impish, "No promises."

Beside him, Alexis rolls her eyes. "I'll keep him in line, Captain. Don't worry."

This time, Beckett does crack a small smile. "I'm sure you will, Ms. Castle. I'm sure you will." She licks her lips, lowering her chin. "I'll leave you to rest."

Rick starts to call her back, to insist she doesn't have to leave and she's as welcome as his child and his mother (who, he supposes must be at work at this point, after all, her show opens in – well, probably now, if he's been out that long), but he can't make the words come. This Kate Beckett doesn't know him, and as much as he wants to believe otherwise, he doesn't know her either. He can't expect her to feel at home with him and his family the way the woman he loves does.

"Thank you for visiting," he says instead. "I'm glad you're okay; that was… that was all I wanted to do."

She hesitates for a moment before dropping her hand to cover his. "I know, Castle. Thank you."

Her touch disappears a moment later and she retreats from his hospital room, leaving him to begin to accept that this might just be the rest of his life.

Just two days later, while Alexis is at home retrieving some of his clothing for him to change into when he's allowed to get cleaned up, she returns with a case file in hand and an annoyed, but somehow fond, look on her face.

"If you're feeling up to it," she starts, licking her lips and shifting her weight on those impossibly high heels of hers, "I wouldn't mind having another pair of eyes to check this out; you and my victim apparently run in the same circles."

Rick Castle moves his hospital bed a little more upright, clasping his hands together and grinning. He tries not to look too eager, of course, since he doesn't want to scare her off when she's coming to him – when she needs, nay wants, his help, but he's all in already.

"I'd be delighted, Captain. Lay it on me."

Beckett hesitates for just a moment before crossing the room and holding out the file to him, perching on his bed at his hip and waiting for him to speed read (less speedy than usual thanks to the meds, but he manages) the casefile and offer his thoughts.

It looks like there's hope yet.

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Sun enters Leo

Monday, July 22 - Thursday, August 22, 2024

Leo the Lion*:

• Fire (identity - enthusiastic, energetic, creative, passionate, assertive, freedom-loving)

• Yang (levity - outgoing, expressive, logical, left-brained)

• Fixed (stabilizing security - concentrating, consolidating, persevering, stubborn)

• Interpersonal (social - focused on others)

• "I show"

• Ruler - Sun; exalted - Pluto (in Ms M’s opinion)

• Color: warm reds, sunburn pink, all the colors in a tequila sunrise, gold lamé

(* Gleaned almost completely from the book Astrology for Yourself by Bloch and George; the color is my own theory/belief.)

Leo season is supposed to be a joyous, (re)creative time. We deserve to be noticed and applauded! As astrologer Steven Forrest wrote,

There is a part of you that is colorful and interesting, worthy of taking up some space, worthy of claiming time and attention from other people. You are the hero in your own story and that story is worth hearing - take the risk of acting as if you believe that.

This month, in addition to having fun, you also should pay attention to your own authenticity - “true to your own personality, values, and spirit, regardless of the pressure that you're under to act otherwise,” per mindtools dot com. Authenticity and integrity, mixed in with the partying and drama.

Monday, July 22 - Sun/Leo opposite Pluto Rx/Aquarius, 0°52’. A confrontation? A choice? This is one aspect where authenticity is very much at the heart. How do we stay true to ourselves without completely alienating everyone else?

Thursday, July 25 - Friday, July 25:

Sun/Leo sextile Mars/Gemini, 3°36’

Sun/Leo (3°51’) sesquiquad Saturn Rx/Pisces (18°51’)

There’s a lot of energy, but also some minor timing issues. Recklessness, too; plowing on ahead heedlessly.

Wednesday, July 31 - Thursday, August 1:

Sun/Leo inconjunct Ceres Rx/Capricorn, 9°21’

Sun/Leo trine North Node/Aries, sextile South Node/Libra, 9°35’

Authenticity and integrity again; growing pains. We have to be mature about something, and we actually enjoy it.

From here on, most of the aspects overlap quite a bit - they seem to flow into one another.

Sunday, August 4 - Wednesday, August 7:

New Moon, 12°34’ Leo

Sun/Leo (13°38’) semi-square Juno/Virgo (28°38’)

Sun/Leo (14°36’) sesquiquad Neptune Rx/Pisces (29°36’)

Sun/Leo sextile Jupiter/Gemini, 15°32’

The New Moon is a powerfully intense one. We may not completely trust our own judgement, especially when it comes to our partners, although we’re also confident about getting it right eventually. Lots of enthusiasm and optimism.

Friday, August 9 - Sun/Leo inconjunct Saturn Rx/Pisces, 18°05’. Adjustments; perhaps some ill health. We may feel like giving up, instead of doing the hard, necessary work.

Wednesday, August 14 - Tuesday, August 20:

Sun/Leo (22°51’) sesquiquad Ceres Rx/Capricorn (7°51’)

Sun/Leo trine Chiron Rx/Aries, 23°21’

Sun/Leo (23°48’) sesquiquad North Node/Aries (8°48’), semi-square South Node/Libra (8°48’)

Sun/Leo square Pallas/Scorpio, 24°09’

Sun/Leo trine Eris Rx/Aries, 25°25’

Sun/Leo conjunct Mercury Rx/Leo, 26°35’

Sun/Leo square Uranus/Taurus, 27°11’

Full Moon, 27°15’ Aquarius

Sun/Leo conjunct Vesta/Leo, 27°50’

Serious, serious issues about, you guessed it, authenticity and integrity. When we run into difficulties, and when we’re challenged, we’re furious. Again, the problem is how to stay authentic without alienating anybody. It isn’t always going to be possible to do that, and we need to accept that some people aren’t going to accept us.

Wednesday, August 21 - Sun/Leo inconjunct Neptune Rx/Pisces, 29°18’. Disspirited, delusional, fog and fading - even if we did all the previous aspects “right.” It can knock us off our high horse, &/or give us tremendous creativity. Steven again: “A vision arises for the next stage of your journey; you must surrender to it in order to receive it.”

[stcassiancorpse]

The Cyclone Roller Coaster Tragedy

Disclaimer!!: Everything I say in this essay is purely speculation and theorizing. This is simply my interpretation of how the events may have unfolded. You may also notice that i wrote as if i were an investigator on the case. This is cause I was in a silly goofy mood. I also used little to no science to back up my theory, cause that got very boring very quickly, and I am writing this for fun. Without further Ado, enjoy.

          On September 14, at 6:17 pm, six teenagers in Uranium City, Saskatchewan boarded the Cyclone, a thrilling roller coaster. At 6:19 pm, they were derailed from the apex of the loop, meeting their bitter ends. Who could have known that the the front axle would break when it did? Who could have known the children’s injuries would be fatal? I aim to find out,

          First I’d like to discuss the coaster itself. The Cyclone coaster was a coaster of wooden construction, similar to many other coasters of the era (many of which are also named ‘The Cyclone’). Normally wooden coasters, especially ones of old age, do not contain loops. It is nearly physically impossible, in fact. But lo and behold, this fair found a a way. Seen only once before on the Son Of Beast coaster at King’s Island, this coaster had a steel framed vertical loop inserted into it’s structure. Due in part to the original track’s age, and in part because of the quickness with which this cash-grabbing loop was constructed, it could not have been terribly stable.

          Another part of the coaster worth examining is the cart, as that contains the part that ultimately caused these victim’s untimely demise. The Cyclone’s carriage is made up of two parts joined in the middle. Each section seats six people with three rows of two. The St. Cassian Choir sat in the front of these two carts, leaving the other completely empty. The vehicle derailed itself at the apex of the aforementioned loop after the front axle broke. Given the timing of this break, coupled with the quality of this loop insertion, it is my belief that the hardware for the carriage was worn down each time it switched from wood to steel.

          Onto the victims.

          It’s important for us to note the order in which the victims were seated, as their positions at the time of the derailment would affect the trajectory of their fall and their injuries sustained. From left to right in each row, front to back; Constance Blackwood and Ocean O’Connell Rosenburg, Noel Gruber and MIscha Bachinski, and Ricky Potts. The final victim, known as Jane Doe, was decapitated during the accident, and so her identity remains unknown. Each victim is understood to be of average weight and height, with the exception of Ricky. Potts suffered from a rare degenerative disease that greatly affected his size.

          Ocean O’Connell Rosenburg, seated in the front right-hand seat, was said to be the most apprehensive about boarding the ride according to witnesses. Luckily for her, she received minimal injuries, despite the unfortunate condition of death. Since she was sitting in the front row she would have been experiencing less g-force than those in the back rows, and wouldn’t have hit the surrounding track with as much velocity. Its likely she fell almost straight down, hitting the track below. I theorize she was struck in the torso (the largest part of the body), and most likely broke a few ribs, experiencing lung puncture and cardiac seizure, possibly as well as a broken spine. All of these injuries compounded would have led to a near immediate death. This means she experienced minimal pain in the moments before her death, but most likely still experienced great amounts of shock and fear. 

          Constance Blackwood, sitting to Ocean’s left, sustained injuries similar too, but not exactly like, Ms. Rosenburg. Because she would have been slightly to the left of Ocean, I believe she also would have been slightly off center to the track. She may have hit one part of the track first, breaking a limb or two, before hitting a second part of the track and sustaining further injuries. Ultimately, she too would suffer cardiac seizure, as it is the most common cause of death from falling. She was heard laughing as she fell. 

         Those in the second row would experience slightly worse injuries than those in the front. They would be experiencing more g’s as they were propelled from the ride. Mischa, sitting directly behind Ocean, would have almost entirely bypassed the track. Keyword, almost. Mischa would have hit the track, sustaining a massive head trauma and possibly a broken neck, before landing on the ground beside the coaster. While you would think a head trauma would kill him instantaneously, he would have been alive and alert for at least a little bit before succumbing. He probably wouldn’t have been able to move, both from deficits due to brain injuries and shock. 

         Noel Gruber, the most romantic boy in town, his violent delights had a violent end. We’ll keep it short and simple; Noel had direct impact with the track, but flipped midair. His legs absorbed the impact, breaking immediately. The bones punctured his torso and shredded his organs.

        Ricky Potts was sitting behind Noel Gruber, the right hand side of the cart. Ricky would have experienced some of the absolute worst injuries, for many different reasons. First, Ricky is in the back row. He would be experiencing the most g-force, flung with the most velocity from the vehicle. Secondly, Ricky has a rare degenerative bone disease. He would be smaller than the rest, and much more fragile. Ricky flew the farthest, the hardest, and didn’t have the bones to withstand that kind of force. He flew past the loop, straight towards the ground, where nearly every bone in his body was broken. He may have experienced internal bleeding, brain swelling and bleeding, and any plethora of cardiac issues compounded by his condition.

         The sixth victim experienced the worst injury of all. Complete and total decapitation. Her head was never recovered. Not much is known about her, as we were unable to identify her. She was sitting next to Potts and behind Bachinski. She flew with a similar trajectory to Mr. Potts, but collided with the loop rather than passing it by. It is believed she struck a support just so that it tore her head from her body, possibly destroying the head in the process.

         At 6:17 pm on September 14, a small chamber choir from a local catholic school boarded a roller coaster. They expected a thrilling ride, but got far more than they bargained for. Perhaps we may never know exactly why the coaster broke, or how exactly the children died. What we do know is that a terrible tragedy befell a small town, and the best we can do is try to comfort them with the little knowledge we have.

[warningsine]

Françoise Hardy, an introspective pop singer who became a hero to French youth in the 1960s with her moody ballads, died on Tuesday. She was 80.

Her death, from cancer, was announced by her son, Thomas Dutronc, in a post on Instagram that said simply, “Mom is gone.” No other details were provided.

With songs like her breakthrough 1962 hit, “Tous les Garçons et les Filles” (“All the Boys and Girls”), and later “Dans le Monde Entier” (“All Over the World”); her lithe look, prized by star fashion designers; and her understated personality, Ms. Hardy incarnated a 1960s cool still treasured by the French.

“How can we say goodbye to her?” President Emmanuel Macron of France said in a statement on Wednesday, a play on the title of Ms. Hardy’s 1968 hit “Comment Te Dire Adieu” (“How Can I Say Goodbye to You?”).

She was the only French singer on Rolling Stone’s 2023 list of the 200 best singers of all time.

Ms. Hardy’s ethereal, almost frail voice expressed a particular kind of youthful French ennui, though it became fuller with the years. She sang of love sought and not found, of love lost, of time passing, of hopes unfilled, in words written by herself, by the French pop legend Serge Gainsbourg, and even by the Nobel Prize-winning novelist Patrick Modiano (who wrote, in the song “Étonnez-moi, Benoît,” “Astonish me, Benedict, walk on your hands, swallow some pine cones, Benedict”).

Ms. Hardy captured the melancholy of her generation, born, like her, at the end of World War II and, like her, unsatisfied by France’s material progress in the decades after, in the “Trente Glorieuses,” or “30 Glorious Years.”

That youthful discontent, anticipated by the Existentialists — she was sometimes considered their pop-singer adept — exploded in the demonstrations in France of May 1968, when her fame was at its peak, though she disapproved of them and fled to her retreat in Corsica. The words Mr. Gainsbourg wrote for her that year incarnated the icon of cool she had already become: “Under no pretext/Would I want to have/The reflexes of unhappiness.”

Indeed, her cult of steely, solitary sadness would keep her well shy of movements of mass solidarity, leading her to reject what she called “the intolerances of the left” and steering her later toward right-leaning affinities with the likes of Nicolas Sarkozy, the former French president, or the misanthropic writer Michel Houellebecq.

A damaged childhood with a single mother led Ms. Hardy to seek refuge in inner exploration, through songwriting. As she told Le Monde in 2016: “I am incapable of dissimulating and lying. Writing a song, on the contrary, forces you to go deep into what you have lived, and felt.” Songwriting, she said, was “an outlet.”

Everything was already present in the lyrics to her first hit, “All the Boys and Girls,” which she wrote in 1962 and which sold more than two million copies. She later disavowed the song (“I’m ashamed of ‘Tous les Garçons et les Filles,’” she said in 1995, when a collection of her work was released), but all the essential sentiments of longing and nostalgia were there:

“And me, I walk alone, because I am loved by nobody,” she sang.

Without joy, and full of ennui. When will the sun shine for me? Like the girls and boys of my age, I ask, When will my day come … The day when my soul is no longer in pain?

Her career was launched. The next year, 1963, she released her first LP; received a major French music award, the Grand Prix de l’Académie Charles-Cros; and appeared on the cover of Paris Match. By 1965, she had become a hit across the English Channel; she recorded a 45-r.p.m. single in London, “All Over the World.”

Bob Dylan fell for her, writing about her in the liner notes of his 1964 album “Another Side of Bob Dylan.” He began, “For Françoise Hardy/At the Seine’s edge/A giant shadow/Of Notre-Dame.” When he held his first concert in Paris, in May 1966 at the Olympia, he refused to return to the stage after an intermission unless she came to see him in his dressing room. Dylan was 25; Ms. Hardy was 22. She duly appeared.

Ms. Hardy’s singular look — tall, long brown hair, a natural reticence — catapulted her into the worlds of fashion and film. She was dressed by André Courrèges, Paco Rabanne and Yves Saint Laurent and appeared in movies by Roger Vadim (“Castle in Sweden,” 1963) and John Frankenheimer (“Grand Prix,” 1966).

She disliked making films, however (“I cried every night,” she told the Le Monde interviewer), and soon stopped. In the 1970s and ’80s, there were more albums and experiments with jazz and bossa nova styles. But by then the public fascination with her had cooled, and in 1988 she announced that she would stop singing, though she continued to write songs for others.

She returned to singing in the late 1990s and 2000s with a turn toward a more rock-oriented style, recording an album with Thomas, her son from her marriage to Jacques Dutronc.

In later years, as illness overtook her — she was diagnosed with cancer in 2004 — she retreated into astrology and gloomy autobiographical writings. “The pessimism I attribute to myself, or that others attribute to me, is perhaps quite simply realism,” she was quoted as saying in 1997, after a concert with the singer Julien Clerc.

Françoise Madeleine Hardy was born on Jan. 17, 1944, in German-occupied Paris, in a clinic at the top of the Rue des Martyrs, in the Ninth Arrondissement, in the middle of an air raid. Her mother, Madeleine Hardy, was a bookkeeper, and her father, Étienne Dillard, who was largely absent during her childhood, was an already-married industrialist. The class divide between her mother and her sometime father marked her life, as she made clear in interviews.

She went to a Roman Catholic parochial school in the neighborhood and later attended classes at the Institut d’Études Politiques and the Sorbonne.

But it was the gift of a guitar from her father, after she had received her high school diploma at 16, that she later remembered would prove decisive. She would practice for hours in the kitchen of her mother’s tiny apartment. By age 17, she had landed her first recording contract.

She would later say that her long relationship with Mr. Dutronc, whom she met in 1967 and finally married in 1981, inspired the “sufferings, frustrations, disillusions and profound self-interrogations” that suffused her songs. They separated in 1988.

As her health declined in the 2000s after her cancer diagnosis, Ms. Hardy became an outspoken supporter of euthanasia. In 2016, she was placed in a coma, her doctors thinking that she would never wake up. She did, and went on to record another album, “Personne d’Autre” (“Nobody Else”), which proved to be her last, in 2018.

Her son is her only immediate survivor.

In his statement on Wednesday, Mr. Macron described Ms. Hardy as a singer who “with reserved elegance, almost shy, didn’t hesitate to lay bare, raw emotion in her sentimental ballads.”

“She sang of love,” he said, “that was dreamed, deceived, wounded.”

[taestarii]

🂡 find you - chishiya

[chishiya x fem!reader]

synopsis - chishiya promised he would find you after the borderlands

warning! swearing

i haven't wrote in a long time, especially for aib. i hope you guys like it!

"I will find you, no matter how long it takes." Fireworks rang through the air signifying the end of the hell they called the Borderlands. "It's over, my love, we did it."

-

Y/n shot up from her bed with an intense pain immediately hitting her side. "What the fuck?" She groaned, moving her hands to cover her waist.

"Oh, great! You're awake." A sickly sweet feminine voice rang out from the other side of the curtain. "I'm your nurse. I just need to change out your gauze." Gauze? Nurse?"

"What the hell happened to me? Why am I here?" A million thoughts ran through her head all at once, not a single one leading to anything that could have possibly happened to her.

"You were one of many unfortunate people in the meteorite distaster of Shibuya. It really is a shame, so many people died. Almost all of our hospitals..." The whole world disappeared for a moment. Meteorite disaster? How is that even possible? It was only a few fireworks and..

..fireworks?

The memories hit her so fast, every moment she spent in the Borderlands flooding back. Every death, every game, every friendship. Her fingers ghosted over her lips, one name kept coming to mind.

Chishiya.

"I will find you, no matter how long it takes."

But she couldn't wait that long, she couldn't sit there and wait for him. She needed to find him. Y/n's nurse finally left the room after changing her gauze, and Y/n already had the shoes should found at her bedside on. "Pinch and pull." Y/n bit down on her lip as she ripped the last of the tubes out of her arms. Groaning in pain she stood up and raced out of her wing as fast and her legs could take her, making it down to the main lobby.

"Helloo, Ms. L/n! I brought you some of the war- ..Y/n?" The nurse scanned the room and noticed her shoes were gone. "Shit," grabbing the wall phone, she spoke into it, "3rd floor east wing, code yellow!"

"Hello ma'am, how can I help you?" A very uninterested receptionist looked up at her. "I need to know where someone might be staying." I need to know if he made it.

"The name?" "Chishiya." The receptionist popped her gum and looked up at her again. “I'm gonna need another name." Another name? Who the hell else is named Chishiya?

"You know, the stars are really bright tonight. I don't think I've ever seen them like this before." The stars lit up so beautifully she could almost swear they were right there. "Really? Have you never left Tokyo?" Y/n thought for a moment. "No, I don't think I have. My parents never had time to take me anywhere else." "Yeah, my parents didn't either." Chishiya sighed. "What were they like? Mr. and Mrs. Chishiya." Chishiya closed his eyes and tried to remember anything good that happened with his father, nothing came. "Shuntarō, do good in school. Shuntarō, do better. You know all the...“

"Shuntarō! Chishiya, Shuntarō!" The receptionist looked back down her computer and started typing. Could she go any slower? "Relation?"

"What?"

"What is your relation to Mr. Chishiya, ma'am." What does it matter? "I'm his, uh.." What even were we?

"..girlfriend." The receptionist looked her up and down before typing again. "Uhhh, it seems like he's in the recovery ward. 4th floor, west wing, 4507. They're not currently allo-"

"Thank you!"

That's all she needed to hear before she was off again. Her lungs felt like collapsing as her legs carried her up 4 flights of stairs. There were people everywhere, doctors rushing to get to patients, grieving families, patients who got discharged. Most people were all here for the same reason Y/n was, but some people weren't as lucky.

Her mind flashed with images of all the bodies, the people, the deaths. The nameless faces who will never get a chance to chance to see their families again, all people who weren't as lucky as her.

With every step she took her heart grew heavier with the possibility that Chishiya wasn't lucky. She was with him in their last moments, she was sure he was breathing. He had to be, right?

4505..

4506..

4507.

She took slow steps into the room, the air was still and quiet.

"Y/n?" She whipped around at the sound of the voice. His voice.

She barely got a chance to see him before his arms were around her in a tight hug. "I found you." She sobbed, gripping on to his shirt. "You did, love, you did." His grip on her tighted while he ran a hand down her hair.

"So sweet, I got a toothache." Someone groaned out from behind the curtain. Y/n unwrapped herself from Chishiya's arms and pulled it back. "Oh, shit. Niragi?"

She took a step around to the edge of the bed to get a good look at him. "You look horrible." Niragi huffed and turned over. Y/n shot a look over to Chishiya, silent "wtf is he even doing here" being exchanged through glances.

Y/n took Chishiya's hand and led him out of the room. Pulling him into another hug, she sighed. "I'm really glad you made it, Chishi.“ He scoffed. "Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?"

The setting sun illuminated his features perfectly. She ran her hands over the cuts and scars decorating his face. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"What's stopping you?"

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

I would not normally send you anything written by Karl Rove. I’ve always thought of Rove as the evil genius of the Republican Party. He worked for Richard Nixon and was senior advisor and deputy chief of staff to George W. Bush, where he became one of the architects of the Iraq War. 

But the fact that Rove wrote the following piece in today’s Wall Street Journal reveals both what the Republican establishment thinks of Trump and the civil war now brewing inside the Republican Party. I thought you might find it as interesting as I did:

***

A Catastrophic Debate for Trump

Karl Rove

Tuesday’s debate between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump was a train wreck for him, far worse than anything Team Trump could have imagined.

Ms. Harris was often on offense, leaving Mr. Trump visibly rattled as she launched rocket after rocket at him. A New York Times analysis found she spent 46% of her time on the attack while Mr. Trump devoted 29% of his time to going after her. Debates aren’t won on defense.

Ms. Harris pressed Mr. Trump on the economy, the Ukraine war, foreign policy, healthcare, the Jan. 6 attack and especially abortion, leaving him flustered and often incoherent. In return, he criticized her on border security, climate change and the Israel-Hamas war.

Mr. Trump had to know the vice president would try to get him to lose his cool. She did. She went after him on his multiple indictments. She called him “weak” and belittled him as a six-time bankrupt, spoiled inheritor of wealth. She said his former national security adviser thought him, in her words, “dangerous and unfit” for the Oval Office.

As is frequently the case with Mr. Trump, he let his emotions get the better of him. He took the bait almost every time she put it on the hook, offering a pained smile as she did. Rather than dismissing her attacks and launching his strongest counterarguments against her, Mr. Trump got furious. As her attacks continued, his voice rose. He gripped the podium more often and more firmly. He grimaced and shook his head, at times responding with wild and fanciful rhetoric. Short, deft replies and counterpunches would have been effective. He didn’t deliver them.

Mr. Trump did a terrible job at his most important task—tying her to President Biden’s failed policies. He did an even worse job prosecuting the argument that she’s a far-left politician out of sync with America’s values. The Trump campaign’s mid-debate fact-check bulletins that flooded email inboxes were far more substantive and effective than his responses at the podium.

Mr. Trump’s failure wasn’t for a lack of material. He had plenty in the Biden-Harris administration’s record to work with, especially on inflation and the crisis at the border. In one of his strongest moments, he hit hard on the botched Afghan withdrawal. Even then, he got sucked into an argument about his administration’s negotiations with the Taliban.

There was no sustained, specific indictment of her record on almost any issue. Mr. Trump offered angry responses, pursed lips and eyes darting mostly down, seldom looking at her. And what was it with his makeup that left white circles around his eyes? This was his most important opportunity to make an impression of strength and relative stability.

Both candidates made significant misstatements. Ms. Harris said her opponent “left us the worst unemployment since the Great Depression” and Mr. Trump declared inflation under Biden-Harris “probably the worst in our nation’s history.” But his false statements far outnumbered hers by my count.

Mr. Trump had a great comeback to Ms. Harris’s agenda for change. She’s had 3½ years as vice president, he said, so “why hasn’t she done it?” But that was in his closing statement. It should have been the attack he started with, continually repeated, and closed with, undercutting every new policy proposal she offered.

It matters how debating candidates carry themselves. There, it was no contest. Ms. Harris came across as calm, confident, strong and focused on the future. Mr. Trump came across as hot, angry and fixated on the past, especially his own. She mastered the split screen, projecting confidence and wordlessly undercutting him by smiling while shaking her head as he spoke.

Many undecided and swing voters will make up their minds less on any single issue than on their visceral reactions to the candidates. Ms. Harris did herself much good with that crowd Tuesday. Mr. Trump didn’t.

Even more voters wanted to learn something new and reassuring about the candidates in the debate. She provided them plenty, while he didn’t.

Trump enthusiasts will be upset that the ABC interviewers fact-checked the former president far more than they did Ms. Harris. Then again, he gave them plenty of material to work with—such as repeating the bizarre claim that Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, are eating the pets of local residents. That was probably Team Trump’s lowest moment.

Will this debate have an effect? Yes, though perhaps not as much as Team Harris hopes or as much as Team Trump might fear. But there’s no putting lipstick on this pig. Mr. Trump was crushed by a woman he previously dismissed as “dumb as a rock.” Which raises the question: What does that make him?

***

[site470]

This is a fake Scp I wrote back in 2023 so enjoy

Scp file report

On scp 2036 (carbeduck / jonathan)

Class: safe

Main researcher: Dr Jupiter

Status: contained at site 470

Containment procedure:

Scp 2036 is to be taken out of head researcher Dr Jay’s offices every morning and taken to the courtyard to allow it to swim and run around, unless the weather conditions are unsuitable then a simulated one will be provided. Scp 2036 is to be provide amply ice water for drinking, bread is to also provide for scp 2036 make sure all the heads have an equal number of of bread slices to stop the heads from fighting ( WARNING DO NOT STEP IN IF YOU SEE THE HEAD FIGHTING THE PAIN YOU WILL FEEL FOR THE REST OF YOU LIFE IF YOU GET HIT BY ITS FLAMES IS NOT WORTH IT CONTACT THE NEAR SECURITY PERSONNEL THEY KNOW WHAT TO DO)

Description:

SCP 2036 is a three headed duck with black feathers on most of its body with white feathers on its belly, each head has a pair of horns, SCP 2036 stands at a foot tall whething in at 28 pounds. Scp 2036 was found wandering around at [REDACTED] park in [REDACTED] SCP 2036 share a lot of characteristics with the mythical creature cerberus guard dog of the underworld mostly in the three heads and the ability to breath fire.

Notes:

● SCP 2036 does not seem very fond of site director ms B reasons unknown at the moment

● SCP 2036 is very much bread motivated you can get it to do almost anything with one pieces of bread

● Testing between SCP 999 and SCP 2036 Has been requested but no word back from site 19 yet

[gritsandbrits]

Something i wrote in the heat of the night: A ttte x self insert drabble

This morning I'm getting ready for the day. The sketchbook I bought it out of walmart some time ago sits on my shelf begging for attention.

Growing up I loved to draw,but too many times I was made fun of for drawing. I didn't even make a B above art class I took in high school. My poses would be awkward and clumsy like a disney movie protagonist. My stuff barely got noted on all my socials. What was the point of making anything if it just gets overshadowed by better artists? Writing was a no go either. Who'd want to read any of my crappy fanfics? So I stopped posting.

I stop brushing, quickly grab my bag and leave the room. Hmph who cares if I don't draw anymore. At least I wouldn't get mad fun of or be forced to look at my own work.

As I walk by the train yards I hear a loud whistle, and see one of the Scottish Twins pull up beside me (separated by fences but fairly close to maintain a healthy volume).

"Oi! I want to speak to you for a second!" Donald shouts as he wheezed hot smoke in anger.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask. This was the first time Donald was mad at me.

"What day is this?" Donald said.

"It's the twenty-eighth," I say.

"And how long is that from the ninth?"

I pause for a bit to calculate the time frame. That would've been nineteen days ago. What was so important about the ninth that had gotten Donald so upset?

"What number is September?"

"The ninth month. Why? Did I forget something?"

Donals coughs in irritation and waits for me to draw my own conclusions. After a minute I gasped as I realized what he meant.

"Crap! I forgot all about Nine-Nine!" I say. Nine-Nine was Donald Day. It was something the fandom did for all the engines numbered one through twelve: make content based on the month and matching date. I had mentioned on my blog that I would give him something. Mostly to make up for the other times I missed celebrating the other engines.

"Uhmm..."

"THREE WEEKS! And you haven't stopped by once, not even to say thank you!"

I flinched. "I'm sorry I busy with work and my appointments-"

"Ya say you REMEMBER to celebrate me Day, ya post bout how you will make somethin' for me yet ya still forgotten!" The engine huffed crossly.

"Well I was busy! I just forgot about it, I'm sorry."

"This aint the first time either lass! Ya say you'll do something for Duck on his day, then didn' show up. You made nothing for Toby and Percy on their days - poor Percy's still peeved about it by the way," he added.

"But I did something for James," I reply quickly. "I let him speak on my blog!"

"Only for what a couple of hours then went right back to posting the regular as if nothing's happen. You didn't give him anything physical much less meaningful!" Donald exclaimed.

I try to say something but he cuts in. "You do this every time. You say you'll celebrate whatever engines day then forget all about it! It's almost like you do it on purpose!"

His words struck bolts into my hearts. The pain finally sunk in, and I lower my head in shame. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Lassie we don't expect grand gestures or even a trophy. What we want is your acknowledgement but it seems you don't do that."

It takes me a minute to find my voice. I try to look inward for answers but my soul produces a static noise.

"I don't know I guess I don't.. Draw a lot. My art isn't good," I say. Donald sniffed at my pathetic tone of voice

"Really? You have artists who use - what that program? MS Paint. Yeah MS Paint! Or whatever they can get on hand and create a lot of things. You mean you don't make anything because you're afraid? Not even a doodle?"

"You are so wrapped up in ya own self, ya don't let anyone else in. Why is that?"

Donald stares at me for long minutes. The weight of his words settles in, as if he expects me to be crushed by the weight of my actions. I don't blame him. I promised him and the others and broke those promises. There was no defending that.

Finally after long damning minutes Donald wheezed a sigh of satisfied relent.

"Look Grits everyone is busy look at me! But that's not an excuse to ignore everyone! It's not even a good excuse to deny your own self."

I stood quietly taking it all in. He was right. I've been holding off my own skills and myself and using work to justify pushing everyone away. No excuses.

"All we are asking is for you to draw just ONE thing. Anything it don't have to be Picasso or some renaissance paintin'. Just one scribble of us would be fine," pleaded Donald.

"I'll try," I uttered meekly. Donald smiled.

"You're a great kid, but there's more to life than being afraid all the time.. If you don't take any risks or let anyone else in, then it wouldn't BE a life would it?"

I shook my head in agreement. "No it really wouldn't. Thank you Don. I needed that drag."

Donald starts to back up. "Remember grits just one doodle! I'm keeping track on it you hear?!"

"I will!" I shout back as I wave him goodbye.

After seeing go I think about his speech then decide to go back to my house. Perhaps I need that sketchbook more than it needs me.

[prolix-yuy]

Beginners guide to your fanfic tag game!

Thanks for the tag @wannab-urs! I was just thinking about what would be my quintessential to-read list, so let's get into it:

SW!Frankie: Francisco Morales x F!Reader Ms Jackson

This fic is truly the OG. I made most of my fandom friends from this series and it's still a wonderfully heart-filled story that I love to return to. A softer Frankie with an unexpected profession, it's sexy and fun and all the domestic bliss.

I Think of You: Din Djarin x F!Reader

My longest series words-wise (Frankie has more works!) and one that has so much more still planned out before it. This was the first fic I posted here and Mando was the whole reason I rekindled my love for writing, so it's a good place to start. It starts as a one-night stand and grows into two people navigating the galaxy (and their feelings for each other).

Best Laid Plans: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Murch

I wrote the first part of this series on a whim after I really enjoyed playing with Dieter in Below the Line, but this really grew and became a story I would think about and plan out new chapters so easily. This is also one of my favorite Reader characters because I put a lot of myself into Murch, and seeing her get love makes me all emotional. A hesitant pairing up at a party reveals Dieter's true nature, and she accepts him with wild consequences.

Cognitive Dissonance/Decoherence: Jack Daniels x F!Reader Sugar, Westworld crossover

This is only the second series I've completed and boy, was it an incredible labor of love. From the research to the almost painful sections where they are trapped in the push-pull of attraction and fear, it was a rollercoaster I loved bringing to life. Jack as a host in Westworld wooing a guest - until he's a lot more than a host.

Bangathon 2023

This is technically cheating, but I'm so proud of all the stories and fun lil half-fics that came out of the impromptu Bangathon event I held last year. Plus, if you enjoy the format...better keep an eye out this summer. There may be another right around the corner...

NP tags: @iamskyereads @psychedelic-ink @pedrito-friskito @julesonrecord @trulybetty and @qveerthe0ry because you jut asked me this!

[heavencasteel420]

The second chapter of the current version of Tonight, Tonight was originally going to be longer and include some school scenes, before I decided to make it a one-scene affair like the first chapter. Here’s a scene with Jonathan and his sort-of friend Brett:

“Shit,” said Brett Ackerman, as he slid into the desk next to Jonathan’s in homeroom. “That was due today?”

Jonathan glanced at the spiral notebook and paperback copy of The Bluest Eye on his desk.

“Tomorrow,” he assured Brett, after swallowing a mouthful of Oatmeal Creme Pie. “Don’t worry, I’ve barely started writing it.”

Brett ran a hand through his curly black hair and inhaled sharply. He was a short, skinny boy—almost a head shorter than Jonathan, who was five-foot-eight in combat boots—and he drummed his fingers and tapped his feet even more than Jonathan did.

“I forgot we had to read a book,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. Then he opened up a spiral notebook and resumed working on a drawing of a busty, bikini-clad woman firing a machine gun at a man-sized lobster. Jonathan was familiar with this work; he’d been watching Brett labor away at it for a week.

“All right,” he said. “Have you read anything on the list?”

If it had been someone else, he would have rolled his eyes at their laziness. Ms. Lafitte, a twenty-something bohemian-looking lady, was neither a boring nor a tough teacher. They had to write analyses of three books during the semester, and they could pick any they wanted from a substantial list that she’d provided. Most of the books weren’t even that long, which Jonathan appreciated, considering his work schedule. (He also had a soft spot for Ms. Lafitte because she’d given him the rosemary plant, but that was neither here nor there.) Brett wasn’t lazy, though, or stupid. He just forgot shit, no matter how often he wrote things down. He also couldn’t concentrate on anything but his drawings or seem to keep his mouth shut. He was always in trouble, with teachers and with other students, and Jonathan hated the idea of piling any more on him.

“You know I haven’t,” Brett said miserably. He started drawing an American flag pattern on the woman’s bikini. “They’re all boring.”

Jonathan didn’t try to convince him that books were interesting, even though he couldn’t imagine thinking otherwise; from what he gathered, Brett found the act of reading a book to be almost physically painful.

“I’ve read some of them,” he said. “Listen, I’ll write down what happens in I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. You just have to write it in your own words, okay?”

“Thanks,” Brett said, perking up. Then he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the Oatmeal Creme Pie. “I can’t believe you eat that shit for breakfast. It’s not even food.”

(This was from a version where Gloria has already left when Jonathan wakes up, so he has a slightly less harrowing conversation with Lonnie in the parking lot and eats a Little Debbie for breakfast because nobody is there to tell him “don’t eat a cookie for breakfast.” He’s also reading Toni Morrison instead of Maya Angelou, for reasons that escape me now. Brett is Brett Ackerman instead of Brett Mason, for the reason that I hadn’t yet decided that Miri would be Miri Ackerman. Miri was going to appear in the chapter, too, but she was going to be more hostile to Jonathan then she is currently, partly because Gloria is genuinely unpleasant to the teenage girls who work for her and Miri’s like “who would sleep with such an asshole” but also because—having gotten pregnant by an older guy—she sees the situation in a grim light and is frustrated by what she sees as his hopeless stupidity. Also the diner was still a Hardee’s.)

[gerec]

1, 8, 10, 22, 25!

1. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

I wrote a new pairing I never would have thought to do in a million years lol but the idea came to me and now I am obsessed! For some reason, I want to write a whole series based on The Innocence We Lose, about Erik as a young, trophy omega spouse and how he has to learn how to navigate New York high society in the 50s/60s.

8. Did you write for a new fandom or ship this year?

I don't know if I'm boring or just set in my ways but I rarely if ever switch fandoms (have done it only once), and even for those that I actively read (Bagginshield, OFMD) I don't have any urge to write for any of my favorite pairings? Can't explain it, though within the X-Men fandom I'm always trying out new pairings lol.

10. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

I'm always happiest with the current fic I'm writing (which in this case is the SM fic I'm trying to finish and post before the new year).

22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

This excerpt from It's Complicated (Not My Baby Remix), a remix of one of @widgenstain's hilarious ficlets that I made angsty lol. I just...love the tension in this scene and how fucking awkward everybody is after Charles shares Erik's memories of what happened (basically Erik is knocked up post DOFP and it could be Charles OR Logan's):

It seems unnecessary, and maybe just a little uncharitable, though it’s probably the least he deserves given the feelings his future self had developed for Charles…

---chess board works well enough as a peace offering, and the apology goes further to soften Charles’ ire. The tension between them shifts to something less hostile, more heated if no less intense, and Erik thinks – hopes – that it’s enough. He wants, anyone but especially Charles to touch him; it’s been so long since he’s felt the warmth of a human being---

---less gentle than he remembers, but at least he isn’t angry anymore. He works Erik open with his fingers, clumsy and a little desperate himself; two people who’ve forgotten how to be intimate with each other (anyone) in their years apart. Charles presses him against the sink in the plane’s tiny washroom, one arm around his waist, and Erik almost cries at being held – feeling alive – after so much time alone. A tear falls down his cheek when Charles pushes in; it’s so good and overwhelming and painful and he wants—

---clear it was a one-time thing; Charles doesn’t even look at him before locking himself in his hotel room with Hank. It’s not enough – will never be enough, but especially now – and the need burns under Erik’s skin. He's eager to feel alive; make himself believe he’s really here and not still staring at four concrete walls—

---doesn’t know Logan and that’s just as well – better, no feelings, no regrets; all he wants is to be touched. He offers the man a drink, another, and another, until they’re both more amenable to the other’s company. From there, Erik only has to palm Logan until he’s hard as a rock; until Erik leads him to the bed and climbs onto his hands and knees, pushing his trousers down and offering…anything, everything if only Logan would just—

The room is silent as a tomb when they pull out of Lehnsherr’s memories; Logan doesn’t think he’s the only one with no words to express what he’s thinking and feeling at the moment.

25. What did you use to write? (e.g. writing programs, paper & pen, etc.)

Always at my desk in front of a large monitor and in MS Word. Have tried writing on a laptop and in other programs but nothing else works for me lol.

2023 In Review - fic writer asks

[cyarsk52-20]

That smile, those hips, mom on the hit list And the perfect nickname too: sweetie pie. ...he is exactly where he needs to be for life!

He’s gonna be a great girlfriend in prison and he’s got the hips to match.

But seriously I feel so bad for his mom. But if he committed the crime (which as it was proven by the court he did) he deserves to be lock up. God Bless Ms Robbie. Tim wash that stupid smile off your face. You are Guilty.

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Court Case

'Sweetie Pie's' Star Tim Norman Sentenced To Life For Murder

Throw Away The Key! Sinister ‘Sweetie Pie’s’ Slayer Tim Norman Sentenced To Life In Prison For Nephew’s Murder-For-Hire

Posted on March 3, 2023 - Bylexdirects

Murder-for-hire mastermind Tim Norman will spend the rest of his life behind bars for killing his own nephew in a conspiracy that rocked the Sweetie Pie’s empire.

Source: MADISON COUNTY, MISSISSIPPI DETENTION CENTER / Official Mugshot

Last September, the former star of Welcome to Sweetie Pie’s was convicted of orchestrating the murder of his nephew Andre Montgomery Jr. A federal jury found Norman guilty of conspiracy to commit murder-for-hire, murder-for-hire, and conspiracy to commit mail and wire fraud.

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According to PEOPLE, Norman was sentenced to life in prison for arranging the fellow shooting and a scheme to collect almost half a million dollars in life insurance.

Tim Norman Received Two Life Sentences For “Cold-Blooded Execution” Of His Nephew

U.S. District Judge John A. Ross gave Norman two life sentences for “a cold-blooded, incredibly premeditated, planned execution of your nephew.”

Tim Norman sought to make $450,000 by having his nephew, Andre Montgomery, killed. Instead, he was caught and will spend the rest of his life in prison. Although Andre’s family was robbed of their loved one, hopefully this result will provide some measure of peace and justice for them,” said U.S. Attorney Sayler A. Fleming in a press release.

Fans of the Sweetie Pie’s show will remember the aftermath of Andre’s tragic death playing out on the OWN program. The pain was unbearable for Norman’s mother, Sweetie Pie’s founder Robbie Montgomery, who lost Norman’s father and brother (Andre’s father) to violence. Now Ms. Robbie has lost another son and 21-year-old grandson to greed in this 2016 shooting.

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Norman didn’t speak on his behalf at the sentencing hearing, but his attorneys submitted letters from family and friends requesting leniency. Despite the damning evidence against Norman, Ms. Robbie pleaded for her last surviving son.

“I don’t know whether Tim did what he was accused and convicted of. He is still the baby that I bore, and I love him as every mother involved loves their child,” Ms. Robbie wrote in her letter.

Since his arrest in 2020, Norman maintained his innocence in the heinous crime. He even Norman blamed “corrupt cops” for arresting him in retaliation for Black Lives Matter protests. Although the 43-year-old didn’t pull the trigger, he pulled all the strings to kill his nephew and collect a huge payday from the family tragedy.

Tim Norman portrayed one image to the public, but there were more sinister intentions lurking underneath. And the measure of someone’s character is what they do when they think no one is watching.  When he thought no one was watching, he planned the execution of his nephew and carried it out, ” said Assistant U.S. Attorney Angie Danis at the sentencing hearing.

Tim Norman Still Takes No Accountability Despite Co-Conspirators’ Confessions

Travell Anthony Hill plead guilty to shooting Andre for $5,000 and received a 32-year sentence. Terica Taneisha Ellis was sentenced to three years in prison after admitting Norman paid her $10,000 to lure Montgomery to Hill. Insurance agent Waiel “Wally” Rebhi Yaghnam got a three-year sentence for helping Norman apply and file claims for multiple fraudulent life insurance policies on Montgomery.

“Five families, especially that of the victim, are suffering and irreparably harmed as a result of Norman’s plot to have his own nephew murdered,” said Special Agent in Charge Jay Greenberg of the FBI. “At least all his co-conspirators have accepted responsibility. To this day, Norman hasn’t accepted responsibility despite the fact 12 jurors unanimously convicted him after seeing and hearing seven days of evidence in trial.”

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A post shared by Tim Norman (@the_timnorman)

Last week, Norman used the same excuses debunked by the evidence and confessions from his co-conspirators.

Thank you for all the prayers. I’m still in disbelief. The feds know 100% I did not do those insurance policies. But the jury didn’t get to hear that. And not one person got on the stand and said that I told them to hurt my nephew. They destroyed my name and image so you guys wouldn’t search for the truth,” he wrote on Instagram.

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